Silver Rose

Wolf's Son

Follow me, boy.

Into the dark, thick bushes he followed. They scratched his skin and tore his clothes, but he kept going.

“Zander?! Zander!”

Quickly!

They ran faster. Behind them the sound of snapping branches and stomping boots filled their ears. It was so loud he started to turn his head.

Don’t look back.

He continued to follow the gray tail over a fallen tree, through more thorny bushes, around some elm trees. Then, abruptly, they were out in the sunny open. They raced into a clearing with tall green grass, white and yellow flowers, and a gurgling creek running through it.

“Zander! Zander stop!”

We’re almost there.

They headed straight for the creek. An arrow whizzed by his ear.

“Don’t shoot! You might hit my son!”

He followed the tail into the creek. Water splashed about their legs. It stopped and turned around and so did he. They faced the men who were slowing their run to a walk. They stopped a few feet from the creek—his father and his men with bows posed, arrows ready to fly.

“Zander,” his father said. “Move away from that wolf.”

He placed his hand on the wolf’s neck. The gray and white fur was soft and warm. His father’s mouth twitched in anger.

“I said move,” his father said.

“Caa!” A large bird called overhead.

A couple of arrows shoot out. The startled men stared. His father cried out. The wolf stood still. And Zander threw his arms around its neck, his face against its head. The arrows flew at them. A green light surrounded them. Zander watched the arrows bounce off the green orb and fall into the creek. They were carried away with the water, sticks breaking against the rocks.

The green orb faded away and Zander’s foot slipped against the wet stones. He fell into the cool water. The wolf put a paw on his back as he tried to pick himself up. Then there was a gasp from the men. Zander looked up. They were staring down, at the water. He followed their eyes and saw his reflection crouched below him. Around his back was an arm, not a wolf’s leg and paw, but a man’s arm. The arm led to a man’s body bent next to his. But his face—which looked down at their reflections too—was not so manlike. It was tan with dark brown hair that spiked up around his face, but looked as fluffy as fur. His eyes were shaped like almonds with dark irises, and his ears curved back from his face and ended in a point. The not-so-man wore a tunic and trousers that were a mix of dark green, brown, and gray, with brown knee-high boots.

His reflection smiled at Zander, then looked up.

“You owe me a son, Alder,” he said. “Or have you forgotten?”

Zander’s head snapped up. His father stepped forward; creases filled his face.

“I have—I did—until now.” His father stopped at the edge of the creek. “Please don’t take my son away.”

Laughter filled Zander’s ear. He looked over at the man, but he was still a wolf. In the water he was sort of a man, but next to him sat a wolf.
“A kingdom for a king,” the wolf said. “Wasn’t that our agreement?”

“He is not a king,” said his father. “But I am. Take me instead.”

The wolf and his reflection shook their heads.
“I can’t take you, Alder. You promised me a future king, one to take my place. You gave me your firstborn son.”

“That was so long ago. I didn’t realize then what it meant.”

“But I did. I have been separated from the sons of my loins. It is a great sacrifice. A terrible price to pay. That is why I agreed to help you, Alder Briar the huntsman. And now the Selebians have long been pushed out of your country and you lead your people as king. I have fulfilled my promise to you. I only ask that you keep yours.”

Zander’s father fell to his knees.
“Please, Galcon, I beg of you. Let the boy return to his mother. Take me, do what you will with me. Kill me, eat me, just let him go.”

The reflection’s eyes grew darker, his brows furrowed, and he frowned.
“Don’t you think that if I were planning to kill him, I would have done so already? I’ve been watching you both since the day he was born. I’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

“Then what do you want him for? Surely a wolf has no use for a boy?!”

“We both know I’m not a wolf, Alder. But since I’m still in a wolf’s body, I will need someone to do the things I can’t.”

“I can—“

“No!” The wolf’s jaw snapped. “You have fulfilled much of your purpose. You have brought peace to a land that has known little of it. But this peace will be short lived. There are those which should have long ceased to exist, yet still do. They have been dormant, but the darkness grows and becomes restless. Even now it boils waiting to burst forth like pus from a pimple. And time has given it strength and wisdom. They will not repeat their mistakes. Yet those who would oppose them would rather forget and have. And now at the very time the darkness needs to see that the sun still shines in Andoress, it will not find such a light. The shadow already seeps in.”

“What’s that got to do with my son?”

“Everything,” he looked down at Zander and smiled. “I need someone to wield my sword when the time comes. Will you do so, Zander Briar of Chasilin?”

Zander looked from his father’s stricken face, to the reflection’s patience smile, to the wolf’s dark eyes. He wasn’t completely sure what they were talking about, but he knew it was important and the wolf needed his help. His heart told him he could trust the wolf. The wolf was his brother, more than his brother.

“Yes.” He answered. “I will wield your sword.”

A sob escaped his father’s lips. Zander couldn’t look at his father. He gave his attention to the wolf before him.

“Good,” the wolf said. “You’re a strong boy, but you still need to grow in many ways. You are not yet ready for the responsibility you have accepted. Thus, until you are, I release you to your father.”

Zander’s limbs loosened. For a moment, the world spun. When everything righted itself, he saw his father kneeling at the edge of the creek. He jumped up and ran into his arms. His father held him tight no longer concealing his tears.

“Thank you,” his father said.

Zander twisted around in his father’s arms to look back at the wolf.

“I leave his training to you, Alder,” the wolf said. “I need a leader and a warrior, strong of mind, spirit, and heart.”

Zander felt his father’s beard rub against his cheek as he nodded.
“I can do that… But you will come back for him?”

“Yes. When he’s ready and needed. Take heart, that may not be for some years. I will give you this Alder: Although he may be needed before, I will not come for him until he is ready.”

His father squeezed him.
“Thank you.”

“And you, Zander,” said the wolf, “will not remember any of this until the time comes. Then my sword will be given to my son, and Galcon and his sword will never be parted again.”

Above them, an eagle circled and called. The wolf looked up at it. Then he turned and began to walk away. Zander twisted out of his father’s grasp.

“Wait!” He called running into the creek again. “Where are you going?”

The wolf turned back to him.
“There are other matters we must look into.”

“But how will I know when the time comes for me to—to—“

“When it comes, all of this will be brought back to your remembrance. You will once again know Galcon, son of Louk of Eledor.”

Then Galcon turned and bounded toward the trees on the far side of the clearing. The eagle swooped down and followed. Zander watched until they disappeared in the dark woods.