In the Shadow of the Wolf

Chapter 1

Over five hundred years ago, this land was covered by darkness, as the worst war in our history stretched from the Coast of Demirik to the Arcant Mountain Range. The five day journey was lined with motionless bodies that had been silenced for eternity. Open eyes of the dead screamed of untold horrors as soldiers walked by trying to shield their own eyes from imagining their unforeseen end. Some would say death was a welcomed release compared to what awaited them in those days.

The great King Choyral was fighting an unknown enemy that brought fear across the land. This enemy, called the People of the Sith, that had never been seen before, and has never been seen since. They came from the north, in a land undisturbed by any. They were people of magic and power, and a dark history that held little understanding for anyone. Their faces were tattooed with three symbols, each one different, never repeating, and each symbol was connected to one person. Their power was said to be derived from those marks.

The people caught up in this nightmare had begun to lose hope in peace, in themselves, and the promise from their Gods never to desert them. There was a rumor that the Gods had used the war to punish the land, though that idea didn’t appear until generations had passed and the story had changed. The war had taken its toll on everyone and the truth was, after ten years, no one could remember why it had even started.

There were many theories brought to the surface that could explain such a tragedy and help make sense to those who didn’t understand why their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons were being sent off, never to be seen again. Territory or a woman, were the first beliefs behind the war. There were those as time passed, and the fighting grew worse, that felt it was over a mysterious relic with powers thought lost to the people when the Gods stopped walking with man. Even with the disagreements among the people, everyone knew eventually they would be sent off to their deaths to quench the demon’s thirst for blood.

“Ares, what is the truth? You are wiser than anyone I know, yet you play these games. I ask a question and you tell a story. There isn’t even an answer for me within your tale.”

“Nickoli, your impatience will hinder your knowledge one day. In order to learn all, you must be willing to listen.”

As he shifted in a chair that seemed better for torture than a story, he listened as his movements brought sounds of agony from the poorly chosen aged wood designed to be the legs. Nickoli tried to lean back but changed his mind as he felt the chair start to give. The room matched the chair as he looked around tired. The floor had splintered wood as if a great weight had been placed on it until it grew weak and gave in. The was a small rug in front of the fireplace that looked as though it hadn’t been washed in years and the vibrant colors of its youth had faded into grays and blacks from the soot of the burnt wood. The only bright spot was the single window along the wall that showed a promise of a better world outside, through the bars that gave the room a prison like feel with a few extra commodities.

Moments later, the aroma of fresh bread from the oven downstairs entered the room, enticing the sense, as the taste of honey mead lingered on his lips while he rolled the empty cup in his calloused hands. A scar on his palm ran deep, from his thumb to his smallest finger, reminding him of his distant past and bringing emotions to the surface. With a sigh of frustration and a wave of his hand, he waited for Ares to continue hoping it would eventually lead to the answers he required.

“Where was I? Oh, yes.” Ares didn’t shift at all as he continued. He almost resembled a statue, with the only motion being his lips and eyes as they watched Nickoli very closely as if ensuring that he was truly paying attention to every word.

Around the thirteenth year of the war, hope was as hard to find as a candle’s flame in the wind. People began to accept their fate that the end of their lives was closing in and there was nothing more they were able to do. It wasn’t until six individuals from different areas of the land came together. Six people who had nothing in common but a single thread of knowledge that could save the world, for they knew the truth behind the war and how to stop it.

These six people, called the God’s chosen, took on the enemy and found a way to push them back into retreat. It took a year of continued fighting and sacrifices unknown to most to keep the home of the people from being destroyed. Of the six that started out together, only one ever survived to the end and he disappeared, never be seen or heard of again.

There are no books left covering the last year of the war and not much is known before the war ceased. Any true records there was, were destroyed before they could distributed to the people. It is said that King Choyral had ordered them destroyed to keep the people from knowing the truth. It was also said that the King had brought the war upon his own land and could’ve ended it shortly after it began though what he did has never been discovered. All that the people knew was one day the sounds of clashing swords and screams of horror and pain was gone. After thirteen years, that was good enough for them.

“Enough.”

A sound of cracking wood rang through the tavern after Nickoli’s fist met the table from overwhelming anger.

“While I hold great respect for you, I hold no interest in this so called story. You have no information that helps me. I did not travel three days for such nonsense as this. You are wasting my time.”

Even after Nickoli’s sudden explosion of fury, Ares did not even flinch in his chair. A thick tension covered the men like a heavy blanket on the coldest night in winter, as the last words seemed to echo through the room.

After moments had passed, Ares ended the stare held between both of them with a deep laugh as though a joke had just been shared. Nickoli jerked back, caught off guard by Ares’ reaction. He stiffened, as his look grew cold, waiting for Ares to halt his childish demeanor.

“You mock me sir.” Nickoli said as if they were strangers and not friends.

The laughter faded as Ares smile slowly faded to a sly expression, as if he knew something Nickoli did not.
“It is not mockery, sir.” The last word was said with an intensity not often heard from his lips.

“Than please explain, for I come to you seeking answers. I was told you knew how to keep that war from happening again. Now you tell me all the records are gone and I am fighting blind. So unless your story has a hidden meaning, or you have something worth listening to, childish fairytales are behind me and I shall take my leave.”

Without any hesitation, Nickoli headed for the door. Opening it, Ares called from his chair, unmoving.
“You are still young in your ways. While I know you have heard this tale long ago, you have forgotten everything it told. I did not recite the version toned down for the ears of a child, with less death or a happier ending, but that version does hold the key you seek.”

“The key? I am looking for a key.”

“You stupid boy.” Ares harshness was severe as Nickoli struggled to understand. “Think about what else you know from your so called fairytale. “

“You test my patience. It has been over twenty years since I last heard that tale.”

Ares waited, not responding as Nickoli stood in the doorway thinking. Finally he turned to look at Ares who was now staring deep into the fire.

“There was a legend, a legend of a woman.”

A smile came back as Ares nodded his head in approval.

“I am looking for a woman? A woman to stop the war?”

“Not just any such woman, young one.”

“Than make some sense and tell me who before my fist finds something other than a table.”

“You seek the white wolf, for it is she who brings this turmoil and it is she that can end it. Without her there is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable.”

“The white wolf? As you said Ares, that was just a way to soften a harsh tale told to children around the fire. It was added after generations of handing down the story. A way to keep a child’s imagination going.”

“Age can hinder one’s ability to comprehend the truth beyond my understanding. It was added because it was the truth that no one wanted to lose in case of this happening again.”

“She is real than? But in the story, she is one of the old ones, and from what I remember, the last of the old ones. She was hidden away for safety but has been lost for over three hundred years. Even if she is real, she would no longer be alive. They live longer than our people but they do not live forever.”

“Your faith disappoints me Nickoli. She does exist and if you do not find her before they do, it will be the end of us all.”
The last few words fell like a warning as Nickoli nodded his head and walked out the room leaving Ares alone with nothing but a small look of fear he was trying to hide that covered his face. Speaking out loud as though Nickoli was still standing there, he spoke to the fire crackling in front of him.

“He is coming for you Gabrielle.”

The fire flared up as if someone had thrown more logs on it and stirred the contents within. Ares moved in closer as if to whisper to the sparks that dance in the fireplace.

“Hush, child. He is a strong one and smarter than he knows. I trust him more than any.” Ares said trying to sound comforting.

The fire softened and Ares finally sat back relaxing in his chair.