by Janice Jackson
"Wolf, come here." The huntress called to her
white companion. The day had been hot and the large wolf
had decided to swim in a river eddy to cool off. He shook
the excess water from his thick fur and padded silently
up to his alpha female.
"Waaa!" The woman laughed as he finished shaking
out the water from his fur. The wolf curled his upper lip
in a canine grin as the huntress dried the last of the water
from her hunting furs.
"So, you think you are being funny?" With that
the wolf found himself thrown onto the ground and the alpha
female holding him there on the dirt. The two old friends
wrestled until both of them were now covered in the fine
red soil of the Talos Valley. She let the wolf up and then
said, "I'll race you to the river."
The huntress and her companion swam and wrestled until
the red mud washed from their bodies, the mud flowing like
rivets of blood, clearing away by the time they both climbed
out of the water and up onto a large boulder to dry off
in the heat of the late afternoon.
The huntress's nose twitched as she scented something both
acrid and dead. She climbed down from the rock, careful
not to disturb the large white wolf and began to search
the surrounding area. She found the dried remains of a horse,
the scattered charred bones of human origin. The bones were
loosely piled up, mixed with the remains of burned wood.
The only thing the huntress could attest to was the fact
that these were human bones. Who the people were or how
they perished she could not say. The ruins of a cart and
some desiccated remains of unknown creatures were near the
edge of the woods. She scanned the area for more evidence
of what might have occurred, she found faint blood evidence
of another death, not related to the others, another odd
desiccated creature and blood spatters of a human, whose
remain she did not find. There were more cart tracks, two
sets of tracks belonging to shod horse-like creatures, large
human tracks and some smaller ones. The huntress was pondering
what might have occurred in this area when the wolf gave
a low growl of warning. Something or someone was approaching
the area.
The huntress motioned for the wolf to be silent and they
found a large scrub and knelt down to watch as the newcomers
entered the glen. There were two men; one was leaning heavily
on the other man.
"Graff, I must rest." The smaller man whispered.
"Please, put me down under the shade of that oak tree."
"You are getting weaker and weaker the farther we
get from home. You were my right hand at home." Graff
snarled at the smaller man. He finally showed the man a
mercy he seldom thought of and put him down in the shade
of the old oak. He was worried about Frank's pale color
and the fine sheen of sweat that covered Frank's body. Graff
could not understand what strange powers the deformed creatures
that attacked them had but they had truly hurt Frank. No
one had ever hurt Frank before. No one had ever hurt any
of them before. Graff was worried by the turn of events
but he would never let Frank or his brothers know his fear.
The ugly U shaped would on Frank's forehead worried Graff
too. "What kind of beasts do they have in this damned
valley?" Graff whispered to himself.
The large wolf and the huntress slipped silently backwards
into darker tree-line where the shade hid their presence
from prying eyes. The huntress knew this man and understood
he was very dangerous. Wolf cocked his head sideways, listening
to a faint series of sounds coming from deeper in the woods
as the sun began its decent on the horizon, casting even
deeper shadows across the glen.
Graff's mind would not accept the horror happening before
his eyes. He watched as Frank fell over onto the ground,
a dark red line circling his throat, gray vapors rising
from the wound. Graff turned toward the dark tree line but
he could not avoid the silver disk now ripping into his
midsection, his intestines uncurling onto the pine needle
covered ground. "NO!!" Graff screamed out loud,
"We cannot be killed!" Those would be Graff's
final words, as he fell onto the ground still trying to
hold in his guts.
He and Frank would miss the new horror entering the glen;
creatures all misshapen nightmares quickly discovered the
two dying men and ripped their remains to shreds, the sounds
of their eating filling the glen.
"So, we shall soon have company if we do not depart
quickly." The huntress whispered to her companion.
The great wolf turned to travel in another direction from
the sounds, a deep huffing sound coming from is muzzle as
he expressed his displeasure with the coming invaders. These
were not human to be certain. The newcomers bore the scent
of the twisted beasts they had fought before in this valley.
Fought and nearly been killed by them.
The long shadows of night completely covered the glen in
the next hour, leaving behind the faint sounds of grunts
and snarls as the twisted things made short work of the
two men known as Graff and Frank. The huntress and the wolf
disappeared from the glen, reappearing only to a group of
young men brandishing torches and short swords. She and
wolf watched as the boys hunted unseen creatures. The lads
were nervous, one of them clutched something tightly in
his hand.
"Pytre?" One of the boys shouted to their friend,
"I can hear something coming this way."
"No, that sound is not one of the Night Stalkers. That
is a wolf pack from the far mountains hunting for food.
The ones we want make a whining sound as they hunt for meat."
The speaker, his hand still clutching something hidden in
his hand, spoke with a nervous authority.
The huntress and her wolf companion called to the pack
and made it clear that these boys were to be left alone.
The pack quickly headed in another direction, leaving the
boys alone in the valley.
The two watchers waited until the lads returned from their
adventure in the wide area below the hill. The sun was rising
by the time they left the Talos Valley, but they would be
back, hunting as they came. They had found where their quarry
had vanished.
The Black Dragon Inn was still silent, only those who needed
to be awake were up and about at the early hour. Only the
fading embers from the kitchen oven lit the area of that
room. A dark shadow slipped quietly into the fragrant kitchen
room, the furtive movements seen by two watchers.
"Excuse me, Pytre." Came a deep male voice, causing
the shadow to jump. "I believe you must have a very
good excuse for being out of your room at night?"
"Yes, I too would love to hear this one." A female
voice cut in. "Come sit hear by Karl while I prepare
some breakfast for us all. I take it that the others have
returned to their homes?" Dora spoke with a tinge of
irritation coloring her speech.
"Yes, they have gone home." Pytre spoke in a
squeak His vocal cords were still tightly binding his throat
from hearing Karl and Dora waiting for him.
Dora lit an oil lantern with a glowing stick from the kitchen
fireplace. She placed it on the table where Karl Strange
sat waiting for his son. She made herself scarce as she
prepared food for the two men; Karl needed to talk to Pytre.
When both of the men had eaten and Pytre returned to his
room, she sat down next to Karl. She drank deeply from a
ceramic mug of coffee and sighed.
"He reminds me of Odan, Karl." Dora's eyes glistened
with unshed tears.
"Shhh. Dora you know that name must not be spoken
aloud. I know you still miss him, but we must not speak
that name aloud again." Karl put arm around her plump
shoulders in comfort. "There are still too many ears
listening for that name."
"Why did he have to choose that name?"
"The name chose him. He had no choice." Karl
tried to reassure his head cook with words he himself did
not believe.
"Karl?" Dora whispered. "Now we must put
those thoughts behind us. We must think of how to deal with
Pytre and his cohorts. They could have been killed tonight
and we might have been shedding tears instead of having
the luxury of determining what punishment will be appropriate."
Karl spoke the words with a determined tone, but his thoughts
were also on a young lad from long ago.
Moira lay quietly in her cradle, her tiny fingers lightly
touching a flight of bees that danced above her. Some of
the bees flew out of the room looking for the one who fed
the child. They quickly located Dora and buzzed her left
ear to alert her that Moira needed feeding.
"So, the little one is awake is she? Hmm ... Now you
leave me alone for a minute and I shall prepare her a bottle
of goat's milk the farmers brought in just an hour of ago.
It is still warm and rich with cream." Dora rattled
on to the waiting bees. They touched her ear once more and
flew back into the room where their bee charmer awaited
her attendants.
"So, I see you are well attended, Moira." Dora
chuckled as she lifted Moira from her cradle. "Phew!!
Bee Charmer you may be but a stinky one, little girl."
Dora changed the nappy and carefully wiped the fecal matter
and urine from the tiny bottom. When Moira was clean she
returned the child to the cradle and handed her the bottle
of warm goat's milk.
Moira's eyes flashed in delight as she maneuvered the bottle
into the desired place and took long sucks from the nipple.
She gave a tiny giggle of happiness and then after Dora
had sung her a song, she turned over and fell asleep. The
bees returned to the new hive outside the kitchen area and
enjoyed a meal of honey. They would be replaced by another
set of workers who would continue the watch on their bee
charmer.
Karl was standing in the doorway watching Moira sleep when
his ears picked up the sound of buzzing. He managed to duck
his head in time to avoid being hit by the new group of
bees coming to watch the child. He watched as the small
swarm divided, one group flying to the rafters of the small
room, the other group forming inside the shadows of the
cradle hood. Karl's forehead wrinkled up as he thought about
the precision of the bees. He wondered how far his military
career would have gone if his knights had been so devoted
to their duties. He was still shaking his head as he went
to the barn to find Pytre.
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