The Wolfmaster

[Keita]

This thing's been haunting me for the longest time now. It's a fragment from what will propably turn out to be chapter 4 or 5. Anyway, I just wanted to get it onto paper and out of my head! I'll maybe expand this thing as time goes by but this is all I have on this particular story right now.

I would like to know what you all think of it and any criticism would be very much appreciated! I'll post a Feedback thread as well! Or you can PM if you prefer.

[Keita]

Darkness reigned as the sickle moon set behind the canopy of trees that surrounded the ancient castle. It had stood in ruins for as long as anybody of the surrounding communities could remember. Even so, nobody dared follow the path that wound upwards through the hills from the lowlands. The path was entirely too well travelled for comfort.

High up, on the crumbling battlements of the ancient structure a shape draped all in black stood, virtually indistinguishable from the darkness of the night. It watched impassively as a lone wagon creaked and rattled its way up the rocky path toward the castle. Below, the driver produced a storm lantern and adjusted the shutter. Three flashes of light assailed the senses of the watcher on the battlements. Quickly and silently, it moved away from its perch and headed for the door that led back inside. It has finally come! Resignedly, the shadow moved away to await her fate.

Inside, guttering torches were mounted on the walls at precise intervals. Black smoke mixed uneasily with the moist air. Doors on either side of the hallway led to rooms that hadn’t been used in many years. Our kind is growing scarce, the young watcher thought sadly. She moved forward with purpose, her stride confident. Impatience made her boot heels click loudly on the floor stones. Far ahead and below her, stone grated and rusted iron squealed as the portcullis was raised. Wooden wheels rumbled on uneven stone as the wagon rolled into the courtyard. Voices called to each other softly, excitedly. Far off a wolf howled. She shook her head in disgust. Ever since the Fall, many members of her kind had lost the knife edge of control that had served them so well in centuries past. As far as she was able to determine, little more than five years had passed since the Passing and the consequent Fall. Far too long. Memories of those awful years clouded her mind briefly before she brushed them aside impatiently. That time was gone and a couple of levels below her, a new future and a new Master awaited her. She lifted her chin proudly and confidence returned as she strode forward. The duty she’d been Made to perform awaited her attention.

She made her way down the stairs to the meeting room. Along the way she encountered many of the others. Her heart clenched in her breast at their condition. Most of them had not yet Returned, and others were still locked in that primitive state of mind that had consumed them at the Passing. She’d been one of the first to Return, to shrug off the dark cloak that had enveloped them and turned them into beasts. She hastened past them. Ahead loomed the iron bound door of the meeting chamber. The timbers had started to rot and the iron door handles ran red, leaving streaks of rust on the wood. She pushed at the door, then pounded it with her shoulder as it stubbornly resisted her efforts to open it. Wood splintered and screeched on the floor, then banged open. She stumbled inside and almost fell, but managed at the last instant to right herself. Inside, her breath made long white plumes in the fridged air. The musty scent of wet stone and rot made her gag. Who knew when last this room had been aired? She glanced around her, frozen in shock. High windows lined the walls on three sides. The drapes, once colourful, now hung in moth-eaten and faded tatters from the rails high above. The fireplace contained a mountain of hardened ash. Thick dust covered the central table and high backed chairs, the chandelier, the floors. Like the draperies, the once proud tapestries and banners that lined the walls hung in sad imitations of glory.

Oskira, an Elder of the People, found her there, still staring in disbelief at the shambles that surrounded them.
“Gaelen?”
Oskira had been first to Wake, to realise what had happened. Under her gentle guidance, Gaelen had Awakened complete, her soul intact. One of only a handful of their kind to do so.
Heart sore, she turned to the old woman and choked back a sob.
“Have we really fallen this far?”
The old woman drew her close, and soothed her. Over Oskira’s shoulder, Gaelen could still see the whirling dust dully illuminated through tiny cracks in the roof. Unable to bear it, she hid her face in the old woman’s shoulder. They’d worked so hard, Oskira and herself, to gather up all the survivors who had any chance of recovery. For months they had searched and worked the little healing spells that was all the power they could muster. They’d hunted themselves into exhaustion each night to feed the survivors, then worked some more to draw them back. Every day had been a nightmare of fear and pain and horror. And now this. The once proud home of her kind, reduced to a rat’s warren of neglect and decay. Gaelen wept as Oskira soothed her, stroking her long black hair and muttering encouragement in her ear.
Finally, wept out, Gaelen drew away. Oskira watched her concernedly, understandingly. From a deep well of courage, Gaelen summoned a brave smile for her teacher. Oskira smiled back and held out her arm for Gaelen to take. Gaelen’s mind wandered back to the wagon she’d seen.
“Did they find him?” she asked as Oskira led her away.
“Mmm. I would suppose so. Borgan warned them not to return without the boy.” She snorted. “They’re so terrified of him they’d sooner face fire!”
Gaelen shudder. Of all the things in the world that was worthy of fear, her kind lived in terror of fire the most. It was an aspect of the animal instinct that lived in all of them, and Borgan held more than his fair share of that instinct. Gaelen privately detested him. From the moment he’d Awakened, he’d shoved Oskira and herself aside and taken charge of the Pack. He was an Elder, it was true, and Oskira was his junior in age, yet she had Awakened BY HERSELF and had guided everybody ably. By right, Oskira should have been the Alpha until the Master returned. Instead, he’d placed her on the sidelines, put her in charge of the infirm. Gaelen ground her teeth. Borgan ruled by terror, not respect. Not a week previously, he’d tried to take her as his mate. Such things were not proper, especially considering the rank Gaelen had taken in the hierarchy of the Pack. She was Omega! The least one. Borgan’s own mate was numbered among those who would not recover. It made Gaelen sick to her stomach to think what Borgan had tried to do. They’d purposefully modelled their society after the wolf they so revered. She for one was not going to forsake the traditions of her people she’d fought so hard to revive. Now, the most important thing she could ever do for them lay ahead or her. The sacred charge that had been laid on the Omega centuries ago by the first Master loomed ahead. Perform it she would, even if it cost her her life.
Gaelen snorted.
“Oskira, would you have them take the boy to the North Tower please? I’ll talk to him there. Oh, and have some of the Damaged Ones gather nearby. I have a feeling this boy will take some convincing. I want something to fall back on if he doesn’t listen to reason!”
Oskira started to bow, but Gaelen caught her and pulled her up.
“No obeisance is due the Omega. I but do my duty. Now go. I’ll be ready in a couple of hours. Isolate him. And provoke a lot of howling. I need him to be unnerved before I perform the Making.”
Oskira hesitated. She drummed her fingers on the railings of the stairway, then lifted her head. Gaelen’s heart twisted. Oskira’s eyes were lit with worry for her former charge.
“Child, are you sure this is wise? To provoke him will cause you grief…after. You must…”
“No.” Gaelen held up one hand to stop the old woman. Her voice came sharper than she intended and it lashed the old woman like a whip “This is the way I have chosen!” Oskira’s fingers drummed harder on the wood. Gaelen moderated her tone. “Oskira, we are too few. We cannot afford to lose any more. Not if we are to regain what we have lost.” She looked deep into the old woman’s eyes, and saw comprehension dawn there. Her heart twisted once more as tears welled up in her foster mother’s eyes. A moment later, Oskira had her clasped in her arms once more. Oskira wept shamelessly, sorrowfully for a while as Gaelen held her. When she finally broke the embrace, she looked up into Gaelen’s eyes again. Pride shone there. A moment more she hesitated, then shuffled off to do as Gaelen had asked.
Gaelen watched her go, and swallowed her own grief. The moment was almost upon her. She’d best prepare.

[Keita]

Daylight was approaching when Gaelen emerged from her room. She’d swapped her billowing black silk robe for an elegant deep blue gown of satin. The cut was daring, the better to distract and unnerve the young man. Around her narrow waist she wore a silver chain that looped around her shoulder. Her hair was arranged loosely and was unadorned, hanging free. Oskira had done the final inspection and passed her grudgingly. Pride and grief had momentarily robbed the old woman of her usual graciousness. Now Gaelen stood in front of the door that would lead her into the North Tower. She took a last, deep breath and opened the door without knocking.

The boy backed away slowly, his eyes wide and frightened.
Gaelen sized him up swiftly. He was poorly dressed in an ill fitting and threadbare tunic. Its colour might once have been green, but had faded badly to a dull and dirty brown. The black leather breaches had been extensively used and were torn in many places. Likewise, the boots might have been more at home in a gutter than on human feet. He was tall, slenderly built and obviously undernourished. Grey eyes regarded her defiantly, but with much fear. Gaelen remained standing in front of the open doorway, seemingly inviting escape. She held her face carefully impassive and watched him intently.
Her gaze finally unnerved him enough to force him to speak.
“Look, what do you WANT of me?” he demanded. “I want to go HOME!”
Gaelen looked at him calmly for some time, her eyes serious. Finally, she said, “What home? The streets? Back to begging and stealing and selling your…talents? What home…Daeriann?”
He blushed and looked away. Gaelen gave him no moment for thought. “What am I to do with you?”
His head snapped up. “What? What do you want with me?”
Gaelen ignored him. “What do you know about the Wolfmaster?” She watched him carefully as she asked this. So much depended on his answer. She deliberately made the next question sound casual, off-hand. “Have you ever heard of him?” His wide eyes confirmed her instincts and she answered her own question before he could. “No. Clearly not. Good!” She smiled a sinister sort of smile that made him recoil from her.
“I wouldn’t want you to have any sort of preconception to what a Wolfmaster does. Because you see…as far I and everybody else in this place are concerned, YOU are the Wolfmaster. Out there…” Gaelen gestured grandly, indicating the world outside the walls, “…you are nothing, nobody. But here…You can do better. As the Wolfmaster, you WILL do better. Better by us! Is that so difficult,” her voice softened slightly, “…or so bad?”
He looked up. His eyes blazed rebelliously. “I don’t KNOW anything about any Wolfmaster! I’ve never even SEEN a wolf…except when that pack came to me yesterday! I don’t WANT to be Wolfmaster…” stormy grey eyes met hers and he blushed again.
Gaelen shrugged. “You will learn, like all Wolfmasters do!” Seeing his eyes grow even stormier, she shrugged again and changed tack. “Look, you said you don’t know anything about being Wolfmaster, so how can you know whether or not you will like it?” She looked at him levelly. “A Wolfmaster has power, authority…he controls the destiny of the packs, our lives! A Wolfmaster commands our destiny. Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of? Having the authority to command thousands?”
Rebellious eyes met hers, and held them.
“I wanted to EARN it!” he stormed. “I wanted to WORK for it, not having it handed to me on a platter!”
At this, Gaelen laughed. “Do you think being Wolfmaster is easy? That sacrifices won’t have to be made? Being Wolfmaster….” her eyes clouded briefly, as if she was deep in memory. Daeriann stared at her, unable to move or speak. Then she continued, “I was like you once. I didn’t want to be a wolf either, but since that time…so many things have changed! Life can be so much more…” Her eyes softened, but her voice grew more intent until the urgency of her words was impossible to escape. “I know you don’t want to be the Wolfmaster, that you are frightened and alone. Well, so are we! Our existence means nothing without a Wolfmaster! For years we ran around, hunting and playing and rutting like the wild things we are! Time meant nothing because we were NOT! Our souls, the binding of our minds…were gone! The Wolfmaster had left us! Abandoned us! Only months ago did we start to recover, our binding forces restored and we started hunting for a new master. You. You have the force, the spirit of the Wolf in you. Your power, the power of command, of decision! Yours! It is what you are! Like a lion can never be other than a lion, like a man can never become an eagle, so can you never be other than the Wolfmaster! It is your destiny! Like it is our destiny to serve you!”
During all this, Daeriann had backed away, his eyes wide in fear. Sweat ran down his face and back in streams. Even as he continued to shake his head in denial of her words, she sank down onto her knees, the proud image of an Empress bowing down in supplication. Many others, human and wolf filed into the room and did the same, bowing forward until their foreheads touched the stone floor. All around him, wolves were whining as they grovelled before him. Everywhere he looked, images of scraping people and whining wolves confronted him. His throat closed, his legs tried to run, but there was no escape, no distraction from his power over them! The beautiful Gaelen was a shadow of abject supplication before him, her eyes blue pools of worship. Horror filled him, but his throat was too closed up to scream as the shadowy shapes around him crept closer to whine at his feet, to lick his hands and brush their silky fur against him. His back touched the wall and he looked up. At the back of the hall, Gaelen stood and raised one hand. His eyes begged her silently to get the creatures away from him, to restore the world to its former sanity and order. For a moment more, she stood silent, unmoving, and then, just as his heart sank and his soul shrunk within as courage ebbed away, she commanded the room to clear. For just an instant, her words went unheeded, then one by one, the wolves filed out. Doors closed silently behind them. Daeriann collapsed onto the floor, sobbing in helpless terror. Satin rustled and warm arms held him, arms that offered comfort, comfort he desperately wanted but dared not take.
Nevertheless, he clung to her fiercely with a desperation that frightened him. She said nothing, just held him close. Images of a wolf and her pups came to him unbidden and he laughed.
“You think of me as nothing but a helpless whelp, don’t you Gaelen?” His voice held bitter pain and soul deep hurt, like a child rejected. Gaelen said nothing, but let him go. Her gaze held pain as deep as his own.
“Daeriann…I was nothing before the pack found me! I lived a life without purpose, without hope. Day by day I scraped together an existence so that I might survive to another hopeless day! The fire that burned in me threatened to consume me many times and each time, I stopped at the edge of the abyss and didn’t allow myself to fall because I believed that someday, I would find something! That something found me! The Wolf pack took me and made me their own! Finally, I had a life with purpose! I had a family, friends who cared for me even when they didn’t have to! They took me in and gave me what was theirs even if they had so little to give! I was Omega, the lowest of the low in the pack, the scapegoat, the most expendable member, but at least I had purpose! The pack cannot survive without me! My existence is hard, my place far from secure, but…I belong!” She shook her head. “Humans cannot possibly understand the dynamic of the pack! Why I would submit to being Omega.” Her eyes challenged him. “Because it takes a different kind of power to be Omega! The power to see what needed doing and doing it, the power to ensure the survival of the pack by sacrificing my own, to raise strong pups…and to further the purpose of my kind by making the new Wolfmaster!”
At this, Daeriann’s eyes widened as he understood. Her arms flashed out and snared him. There was no time to scream. In an instant, she was no longer the beautiful Gaelen but a monster of grey streaked white and black. Her face stretched to become a muzzle, a muzzle that contained razor-like teeth. As those shining teeth sank into his neck, the final horror was revealed…even as she bit him, in her eyes Daeriann could see the soul deep regret she felt at what she was doing to him…and the regret that she would never see another day. The duty of the Omega…to serve as scapegoat so her pack might survive…
Daeriann screamed then as his blood slicked down her throat. For a moment, no more he blacked out. When he came to, she was standing over him, in human form once more, beautiful, ethereal. A young woman no older than himself in appearance but who could be centuries old. Her eyes showed incomprehensible pain, that only much later he understood to be the pain caused by recognising new aspects on one self. She had made him Wolfmaster without his consent even as she had been made a wolf. The circle was complete. Even as he bled on the floor, Gaelen fled. Daeriann watched her go for an instant before blackness claimed him.