The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (14 page)

He was almost brought to tears at the sight
atop the mound. For in the passing few weeks, his vision had opened
far beyond any reach he believed was possible. Not only in the
sphere of tangible sight, but his understanding and vision of his
existence was much more comprehensive than ever before. He sat down
on top of the hill and forgot the world for just a second. Not long
into his day dream he heard the shouting of Fenris below him.

“Down here, lad, turn your gaze from the
horizon for just a moment!” he shouted with a chuckle.

Neach’s head snapped back downward in the
direction of the ground below. At the base of the hill Fenris stood
with a piece of paper in his hands. There was something scrawled on
it, but Neach was incapable of reading it from such great heights.
He began to head down toward Fenris before he shouted yet
again.

“Stay up there, son, you’ve got to read it
from a distance if you want to hear its true meaning!” he again
bellowed from the forest floor.

Frustration was slowly creeping into Neach’s
psyche. It was absolutely insane to think someone could read such
small print from so far away. Had Fenris finally lost his remaining
screws and gone tumbling toward insanity in full force?

Nevertheless, Neach laughed lightly to
himself and obliged Fenris’ wish. He squinted his eyes until the
slits were nearly closed but still nothing could be made apparent
from the surface of the paper.

“What are you playing at? There’s no way I
can see that from here, Fenris,” Neach hollered.

“Aye, but there is! It’s deep inside of you,
bring it to the surface,” Fenris bellowed back.

Without warning, a strong gust hit Neach on
his right side. He stumbled for a second before regaining his
composure and stature atop the hill. The next move was born out of
both frustration and a real desire to rest his aching bones. His
eyes closed and suddenly the world was rushing around him.

He saw himself running down the hill toward
Fenris but his body was merely smoke. No tangible physical presence
was attached to him at the time, and his ghostly aura approached
Fenris from the front. He read the paper while still in his other
state of consciousness, all the while his body remained atop the
hill, frozen.

It read “du riik tryx walla dirry vo plyx,
hom dirry shalla vo gillet vo wix”. The words were inscribed in a
sloppy handwriting, most likely due to Fenris’ old age. They were
written in the native language of the people of the House, but
Neach had become more adept at comprehending the alphabet as time
passed. Although unaware of the meaning without his new found
translational abilities, the words resonated as he screamed them
into the air.

With an echo, the archaic language of the
House Goedwig filled the ears of all living beings for only just an
instant. The raw power of the spoken word rang true atop the hill
as Neach was filled with ecstasy. His limbs felt light and it
seemed like he’d take flight at any second, but his feet remained
rooted to the ground. Across his right forearm, ink emerged from
his dirty skin.

A mark had risen from his skin and created a
beautiful piece of work across his arm as birds flew overheard
singing songs of old. His name, Coinneach, was grafted into his
skin in the ancient language of his people. Surrounding it was a
picture depicting olive branches and birds that were created in the
highest detail possible.

He looked down at his arm to see the new
canvas that belonged to him and raised his arm high above his head.
From down below, Fenris simply smiled and began to walk up the
hill.

All had become calm again, but Neach was
exhilarated. His breath was short, and his heart was racing: today
he had realized his existence.

Fenris arrived at the summit soon after this
monumental moment. His hands were brought together in applause as
Neach stood and watched over the land below him. His rather frail
body had been transformed in the recent weeks. What had once been
thin muscle and gaunt features, was now the inklings of strength
and chiseled definition. His transition had culminated with this
moment, and Fenris was there to congratulate him.

“You have managed to complete your
transition faster than anyone I have ever known before. For that I
congratulate you, but, alas, something more dire looms on the
horizon,” Fenris stated.

Neach’s gaze was not averted from the open
seas in front of him. Weeks had passed since he arrived on this
island and his full position had now been realized, although it
still felt like Fenris was hiding something from him.

His sneaking suspicion was confirmed as
Fenris turned his back to Neach and made a proclamation.

“A war will be waged, Coinneach; you seem to
have arrived just in time,” Fenris said.

“We will need all members of the House, if
we are to survive it, and I trust that you will do all that is
needed of you,” Fenris continued.

“I cannot give you all of the details of
this impending battle, son, but what I can tell you is this: there
is a dark cloud hanging over the Kingdom. Duncairn may not be safe
for very long. It is our job to make sure that the people of this
land remain as such and prosper in the coming months,” Fenris
concluded.

With a nod, Neach headed down toward the
forest floor. His purpose was slowly being revealed, but his story
was only just beginning.

The blood of the House Goedwig flowed
through his veins, and the teachings of Fenris flowed through his
brain. Whatever may lie ahead, he believed he would be prepared for
it. Men had come in the past and men would undoubtedly come in the
future. It was his job to ensure that.

Morning broke with the loud crash of thunder
outside of the hut where Neach and Fenris resided. The patter of
rain could be heard echoing through the trees as it hit the thick
leaves they bore. The truth was, Neach hadn’t slept much
regardless. He had spent the last few hours contemplating what it
was that Fenris had said to him atop the hill.

What was this impending conflict that the
House would find themselves thrust into? Was it a physical war that
was looming, or was it simply a threat to the House’s integrity?
These questions and more bounced around Neach’s head, as if he were
attempting to cage in wild chickens inside of his mind. They
prevented him from rest, and his only respite was the soothing
patter of the rain.

The increasing warmth had led to more
frequent thunderstorms, as it usually did in the Kingdom. By now,
the spring had run its course and was beginning to wind down. The
summers in Duncairn could be both relentless and magnificent. There
would be days with excessive humidity and heat, and days where the
rain won the perpetual battle with the sun.

As he lay on his back, he stared at the
ceiling above him. Little could be done to turn his attention away
from Fenris’ words, but he soon fell into a deep slumber. The
sleepless night had finally taken its toll upon his weary body.

His mind transitioned into the subconscious,
and suddenly he was flying alongside a wolf in an open field. The
wolf was running as fast as it possibly could in the direction of a
river. What Neach couldn’t see from his vantage point was another
wolf running in the direction of the first one. The two looked
destined to collide with each other at full speed. The first was
auburn colored with deep blue eyes, while the other was black with
red eyes.

The two beasts met in the center of the
field and began to attack each other viciously. Neach wanted to
help them more than anything in the world at that moment, but it
felt like he was bound at the hands and feet. It continued for
minutes, while Neach attempted to scream out with no avail.
Finally, the black wolf rose to its feet with blood around its
mouth and scampered away.

At the moment in which Neach saw the face of
the black wolf, he was jolted awake by another crash of lighting.
The thunder seemed to emanate from underneath his bed as it shook
the whole of the hut at its very core. His breathing was heavy and
he was trying to calm himself down as he lay there, sweating in his
bed. Hours had passed since he fell asleep, as Fenris stood up and
headed outside.

Neach rose from his bed and wiped the sweat
from his brow as he rose to meet with the old man.

He headed out of the hut, into the early
morning dampness. The rain had ceased, but the crackling lightning
could be seen off in the eastern distance. Smoke was billowing
upward from the fire in the center of the clearing, and Fenris was
carving a piece of wood with a knife. On the shaft, there was a
caricature of a wolf carved deep into the grooves of the tree
branch. From the detail that was present, it was clear that Fenris
had been crafting this piece for a long time.

His hands slowed, and eventually rested as
Neach approached from behind him. The demeanor he had undertaken
was incredibly somber, a stark difference from the atmosphere of
celebration exuded the day earlier.

“Son, I need you to sit down,” Fenris
began.

He rubbed the palms of his hands together
anxiously, as the deep wrinkles of his face carved into his
flesh.

His eyes peered off into the distance, their
steely foundation surrounded by the clouded cataracts of old age.
He had the face of an exasperated old fellow, but the strength had
not been fully sapped from his bones.

As he turned toward Neach, his eyes fell
upon his arm. The new marking had caused irritation for the new
initiate of the House, and he had been subconsciously scratching at
it throughout the night.

“We will have to get you something for that
in a minute, follow me,” Fenris said.

The two men headed off down the eastern
coast of the island. As they neared the edge of the forest, the
trees once again disappeared and were replaced by a multitude of
rocks. The rocks transitioned from sporadic into a full sheet of
cracked Earth along the peninsula.

Fenris motioned for Neach to be seated on
the edge of a stone, as he headed toward the water on the other
side. Inside the water, a green plant grew that assisted in the
healing of abrasions. The same plant grew in the rivers of
Duncairn, so Neach was familiar with their existence.

Neach sat and stared off at the mainland
from the rocky peninsula with a concerned look upon his face.
Something was bothering Fenris, but it just hadn’t been revealed
yet.

As Fenris returned, he brought with him the
plant and placed it on Neach’s arm. A cooling sensation spread its
way across Neach’s whole body, as the natural ointment worked its
wondrous powers on his flesh.

“There’s an evil force out there,
Coinneach,” Fenris began. His palms rubbed together again as the
skin became raw. The anxious habit had taken its toll on his
leathery hands.

“Off in the distance, on the main island of
our Kingdom, one of our own has found solace in the bowels of the
Royal family,” Fenris continued.

“Our very own King, Henrig, is a member of
our House Goedwig. Years ago, when the land was ruled by the
people, before the existence of a King, Henrig’s father was one of
our most prestigious warriors. He fought for the mutual benefit of
the people of Duncairn, as well as himself. Relentlessly he cried
out against immorality and the ruthlessness of the Gods. A son was
birthed to him by the name Henrig,” Fenris said, as he lost himself
in the tale of years passed.

Neach was sat, transfixed by the atmosphere
that Fenris commanded. It demanded the ultimate silence and respect
for the man who had seen many years in this forsaken land that
Neach had only just been exposed to.

“Henrig, son of Golthar, was dissident from
a young age. At the age of 17, he left the embrace of our House and
headed on a mission of his own, to seize power. He gathered a
coalition of others inside the mainland of the Kingdom. They hailed
from the lowlands of Siriac, to the wooded realm of Endal, all in
favor of restoring power to a single man, a man by the name of
Henrig,” Fenris took a breather as he continued to gaze out onto
the ocean waters.

“Years ago he led a group of mercenaries
into Leirwold and erected the Castle Leirwold as a symbol of his
newly found authority. Our House stood by idly, as we felt it was
not in our power to interfere with the Gods’ will. But, now, things
have changed dramatically,” Fenris stated dubiously.

“The man you met in Leirwold, Daniel, he has
been keeping the members of the House updated on Henrig’s movements
about the city. Biweekly he sends word to our settlement, just
outside of Cyll. It appears that recently, Henrig has been sending
out public threats to the members of our House. Using traps that
play upon our stealth, Henrig has spent the last few months
attempting to eradicate our people from the Kingdom,” Fenris
concluded.

Neach sat in silence for the better part of
a few minutes. What had begun as an unknown journey weeks ago had
now developed into a battle for his very existence. Almost as
quickly as he had learned of his life as a member of the House
Goedwig, he learned that one of his own intended on taking that
away. He swallowed hard and turned toward Fenris.

“So, where does this leave us? Are we
destined to fall at the sword of a divergent member of our own
people?” Neach asked inquisitively.

Fenris chuckled again; he seemed to find
Neach to be a humorous fellow.

“Son, you must not let the naivety of youth
affect the clear headedness of your thoughts. If we were doomed to
such a meaningless existence, you would not have been brought
here,” Fenris said.

“We need every member in this Kingdom if we
are meant to survive this attack. The strength will lie in numbers,
and the numbers are most definitely limited. Rest assured our
purpose as a group is to persevere. You, just as much as every
other member of this house, will play a pivotal role in the fight
against our rogue brother,” Fenris concluded as he became somber
once again.