Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (8 page)

Gray moved forward slowly and knelt down beside the beautiful hawk. It looked up at him, screeched and once again continued to rake at the ground. The only thing that he could fathom from its actions was that it wanted him to dig a hole. With a shrug, he began moving the dirt aside. Once he had a hole that was nearly a foot deep, the hawk screeched at him and Gray stopped digging. An overwhelming urge to plant the acorn came over him and he dropped in the seed. Before he could pull his hand back, the hawk reached out and bit him.

Gray reacted out of instinct and pulled his hand back close to his body. The hawk screeched at him. Gray looked up at Eldath and asked, “What? What does it want?”

“The acorn needs three drops of your blood to become attuned to you and to complete the ritual.”

“Oh,” was all he could think of saying and squeezed out three drops.

The hawk must have been satisfied because it began pawing at the ground to fill in the hole. As Gray reached out with his un-injured hand to help, Eldath stopped him.

“Wrong hand. Let your blood mingle with the dirt. It will strengthen the pairing.”

Gray was unsure of what the ghost was exactly referring to but he still complied with his directions and soon the planting was complete. The magnificent bird winked at him once and launched himself skyward. Gray watched it fly off with the wide-eyed wonder of youth. He had heard the stories of his mother’s affinity to this particular bird, enough so that her tribal name when she had been adopted into the Highland Nation was Red Eagle.

He was about to turn away when he noticed a perfectly formed tail feather lying in the dirt. Both of his parent’s cultures put great stock in natural omens. It was a sign from Terra and one he could not ignore.

Gray picked up the feather and studied it for a moment. It was awe-inspiring to hold something so fragile and so beautiful at the same time. With a grin, he tied the feather’s shaft onto his hair tie that was holding his ponytail in place as was the custom of the Highland people. Once that was complete, he replaced his hood and followed the ghost of Eldath out of the sacred grove.

*    *    *    *    *

Anasazi had two rabbits cooking on the campfire when Graytael returned. The ancient shaman did not even look up as his adopted nephew walked into their campsite. “And how was your visit with the Beriadan?”

Gray paused to try and find the right word. “Interesting?”

“And…”

“She spoke to me.”

“I would’ve been disappointed if she hadn’t but understand this, whatever she told you is between you and her.” Seeing him nod, he turned back to the roasting rabbits. “Anything else?”

“She gave me an acorn.”

Anasazi nearly dropped the spit. “That…that is remarkable and totally unexpected, so tell me about your trip to the Nemeton?”

As Graytael launched into the complete story of his day, Anasazi pulled off the rabbits and began slicing up the roasted conies. When Gray had finished eating, he felt overwhelmed with exhaustion and curled up to take a nap.

Anasazi just grinned and moved back to the fire. He was not surprised when the ghost of Red Crow appeared across from him.

“Are you sure about the path before him?”

The ancient shaman shook his head. “No, but I did not choose the path…it was chosen for him. It is the will of those more powerful than either of us that he must journey through the coming darkness.”

Red Crow looked down on the sleeping youth. “I just wish that we could warn him of what lies ahead. He has already been through so much. He should know that there’s a reason for the impending doom.”

“I’m glad that you still see the reason in the madness, many times I still find it cloudy. However I ignored a certain warning once before, I will not do so again.”

Red Crow looked at his oldest friend once more. He always knew that there was something special about the ancient shaman even while he was alive but never could figure it out. Even now, he seemed to know more than anyone
about what was coming, including the two ghosts who could peer through the veil of time. Although even with his vast knowledge Anasazi seemed determined not to interfere directly, only guide those involved. And the spirit that was Red Crow found that…odd.

*    *    *    *    *

It was an hour before dusk when Anasazi finally awakened Graytael.

The half-elf had been surprisingly exhausted after his brief meeting with the Beriadan. Of course, the old shaman knew why but did not tell him. Graytael’s peculiar physiology was still adapting to the tuning ritual he and the ghosts had used on him. Although Anasazi was forbidden to interfere directly with what was coming, his little modification to Gray’s connection with the Weave could mean the difference between the half-elf’s life and death. Even though he could explain it to the young half-elf, the ancient shaman felt it would be best if Graytael discovered those benefits on his own.

Gray suspected that something was wrong. He was never this tired. It had taken everything he had to tell Anasazi about his day and eat something before he fell asleep. Then, he had had the most unsettling and vivid dreams. He could not remember everything about his dreams but he knew they were dark, full of blood and death. Actually, the most disturbing aspect of the dreams was that he was unfazed by the scores of creatures that died under his blade. Men, elves, orcs and minotaurs all fell to his flashing swords. Gray even remembered the coppery smell of blood as he beheaded a vaguely familiar elf in silver-green chainmail armor. He even imagined the stickiness on his hands as the elf’s lifeblood ran down the blood grooves on his blade and splashed over the hilt to coat the leather wrapped pommels of his swords.

Of course, he didn’t mention any of this to his guardian. This was not the first time he’d had dark dreams, just the latest. These had just been so vivid…so real.

He even had the bitter taste of blood in his mouth. Rolling over, Gray spit and saw red. He must have bitten his tongue during the night. Grabbing his water flask, he rinsed out his mouth and turned his attention to the ancient shaman. “So, what’s in store for tonight?”

Anasazi poked the fire with a stick to stir up the hot coals and it flared back to life. “You will journey to the Shrine of Luna and commune with the Spirits of the Wild.”

Gray cocked his head to the side. “But isn’t the Shrine in the middle of the Highlands? That has to be a hundred leagues from here.”

“The Shrine is actually in the southernmost region of the Highlands to be precise and less than a day’s hike north of the Wall. However, the entire region is now controlled by the Dark Alliance.”

“And how are we going to get there?”

“Magic, pure and simple.” Anasazi grinned. “I will open a portal that will take you to the base of the Shrine. This time I will stay behind and keep it open, just in case you need to make a fast getaway.”

“But what do I do once I’m there?”

“You will have to rely on Red Crow’s expertise to guide you through the actual ritual.”

Graytael nodded and wolfed down the leftover roasted rabbit. He doubled checked his equipment, stepped forward and signaled that he was ready. Without another word, the ancient shaman stuck the tip of his staff into the fire and spoke in a language that the half-elf did not understand. A large shimmering portal opened up right in the middle of the fire. Gray closed his eyes and stepped into the glowing light. He felt a brief rush of heat followed by intense cold. When he opened his eyes and looked around, he knew at that moment he was in the land of his father.

He was standing at the bottom of a hill that seemed completely out of place in the surrounding forest. There were no trees growing on it, nor were there any flowers, weeds or bushes, just a thick layer of grass. A very intense peaceful feeling radiated from the hill. Gray turned around to take in the rest of the forest and quickly sucked in a breath of air.

The surrounding forest was dark and felt….evil. That was the only word that came to his mind as he gazed on the woods. There was some obvious evidence of timber harvesting, trees cut down and hacked into smaller sections but it was done in such a haphazard fashion, one had to wonder if they were actually harvesting and not just destroying the woods.

There was one other odd aspect concerning the Shrine. The surrounding area, the forests and lands all around were snow covered, but not the grassy knoll with the white stone shrine on top of it. It remained as if it was early spring, completely untouched by the lands and seasons around it.

When the ghost of Red Crow appeared and saw the devastation, he was speechless. If it had been possible, Gray believed that he would have cried. The ghost stared at the ruined forest for several minutes before forcing himself to turn his back on the desolate landscape and focused his attention to the top of the hill. From their vantage point, the ring of white stones seemed to glow in the early moonlight.

“The legends of our people tell us that this is the exact location where Luna landed when she brought our ancestors north after the first god-war. The Shrine was built by them in homage to our goddess. Each Maenhir was set down to represent the Spirits of the Wild which were to act as our guides.”

Gray wrenched his eyes away from the Shrine to focus on the nearly transparent ghost. “Red Crow, I’m sorry but what’s a Maenhir?”

“Good, you are listening.” The ghost grinned and paused briefly before explaining. “Maenhir is an ancient word for
‘long-stone.’
Sometimes it is translated as
‘man-stone’
but that is actually incorrect. The maenhirs stand as silent sentinels to watch over the sacred shrine. ”

Graytael nodded but remained silent.

“Tonight’s ritual can be traced back to the beginning of our people. Luna selected Oroqen, a hero of the first god-war, to be the first shaman. She imparted to him the knowledge needed to contact the Spirits of the Wild and through this understanding, the ability to cross into the spirit realm. Our entire way of life evolved out of this ritual.”

“Why have I not heard of this Oroqen before?”

Red Crow looked sad as he continued. “Our histories and traditions are passed down orally. As much as I hate to admit it, some things are lost in the telling. I’m sure you also haven’t heard of the Schism, have you?”

“The what?”

Red Crow smirked. “Before the end of our second generation in the Highlands, nearly two-thirds of our people had forsaken the teachings of nature and migrated south to warmer lands. These became the ancestors of the humans. Those which remained true to her teachings gained the blessings of our totem animals.”

“The Highlanders’ shape-shifting ability.”

Red Crow nodded. “Yes but that is only a recent change in the blessing.”

“But I thought that was how it has always been.”

“Nay. The truth be told, we are a people in decline. We once lived in a grand city far to the north. Every Highlander seemed to have an affinity to a particular totem but served all of them in the name of Luna. It was only after we became more barbaric, more tribal and less civilized that our people gain the ability to shapeshift.”

Graytael shook his head. “Why have I not heard this before?”

“Because it was not known. Honestly, while I was alive, I did not know the complete truth. Our people have tried to remain true to the Code of the Wild but after five millennia, we have forgotten much and even so those traditions that we have remembered have deviated from the original path.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“It is good that you know our true history when you confront the Spirits of the Wild.”

“Confront?”

“Every Avatar of the Wild is different. For example, the Bear and the Wolverine like to test their applicants.”

“Test?”

“Fight. While the Owl and Raven tend to challenge them with word games and riddles.”

Graytael nodded. “So, my challenge will be
dictated by whichever Avatar of the Wild answers my call?”

“Yes.”

“Out of curiosity, what about the wolf?”

“First off, just because your father was a wolf doesn’t mean that you will be one. Many times siblings find themselves at odds with their parents and are chosen by a different avatar. It doesn’t or didn’t happen as often in recent memory as it did in my youth but it can happen.”

Gray cocked his head to the side as he tried to grasp everything the ghost said. “But I thought each tribe was dedicated to one totem?”

“True but only in recent times. Those individuals which ended up with a different totem from their parents would be adopted by a different tribe.”

“Interesting. I’ve always thought that I was destined to be a wolf.”

“And you might be but remember it’s not your choice. The totem chooses the warrior, not the other way around.”

Gray nodded. “So, what now?”

Red Crow pointed to the crest of the hill. As the nearly full moon rose higher in the night sky, the white stones of the shrine seemed to glow brighter. “It’s simple. Sit on the altar, clear your mind and pray to Luna for guidance. And of course, trust your instincts.”

Graytael took a deep breath and began the slow climb up the grass-covered hill. Once he reached the ancient maenhirs, he could not help but run his hands over the smooth white stones. They were cool to the touch but not as cold as he would have thought given the near freezing temperatures in the region. As he moved through the shrine, a calm sense of peace flowed over him. It was subtle. It was relaxing. It was humbling but at the same time, familiar. He realized that it was similar to the feelings he had experienced standing under the boughs of the Beriadan but where that sensation was the celebration of life, full of warmth and renewal, this was more like the cold reality of life. There was nothing romantic about it, everything lives and dies. Everyone is predator or prey, the cycle of life. It was actually a sobering feeling for someone so young and innocent in the ways of the world to be confronted with the ancient secret of life.