《MAYAKEN》


 Chapter 1

    ¡®588 A.D (Low Countries/ Netherlands)


    SkollWoods Villa (Village)


    Rollo knew the legend ofOdo Fenrirwell, his uncle Haswalder would never shut up about it and it was just as popular with every other family in their small villa for Rollo to have a few apathetic sympathizers, who just didn¡¯t care about the great Viking¡¯s voyage to the Great Centre Sea (Mediterranean) anymore. Rollo had heard it a thousand times ten thousand, how the fleet ofOdo Fenrir, vastly depleted from the 300 vessels which began the voyage from the North Sea coasts, had washed ashore on the sands of Egypt, on the tails of a great Storm. There, in that distant and mystic land, they had encounteredAnubisor the phantom of the Egyptian Jackal-headed god, who had granted Fenrir and his miserly band of 200 an additional vessel of finest Phoenician quality to supplement their last two remaining ships from the fleet of 300. It is said that Fenrir and his men had provided the most exemplary service in battle to the god, and he blessed them with the vessel and other more unknown gifts which his lineage still celebrates. The Phoenician vessel, with its snarling-wolf-headed prow that was so lifelike as to be considered to move in certain lights as the legend goes, towed the battered ships ofOdo Fenrirand his 200, through the liquid battlements of the Great Centre Sea and icy currents of the North Sea back to the very shores of Odo and Rollo¡¯s homeland, without a helmsman or a single crew aboard- as the legend goes.


    Now Rollo and all the youth, both male and female, that had achieved the age of thirteen (13) summers or more, were being made to assemble at the granary barn of the Great Manor house, some five miles away, where lived the direct descendants ofOdo Fenrirthe voyager. For some outdated and over-flogged piece of superstition no less- seated on the cart with his Da, as the workhorse trotted its way to the inevitable waste of time Rollo anticipated, he couldn¡¯t help but</a>display the results of an exasperated mind on his face. Some of his peers he had passed on the way with their own parents looked equally as gloomy about the entire ordeal as he did. Gwoenfer, the tanner¡¯s daughter, a bit crazed as she was had made the sign of a hanging when they passed her in group with her dad and younger brother Anslem- this had made Rollo chuckle (Gwenfoer could always manage to lighten his mood, somewhat).


    It was common knowledge that the Great Centre Sea is at distances so enormous at to be traversed only in several lifetimes, and the great cities of Egypt, at even greater distances than the sea at the center of the world, were all but fables and myths to the most rational-minded Norseman. Phoenicia and its merchants were best interpreted as figures of speech, relics of eras forgotten, to qualify naval skill and ability for trade. To the rebellious minds and nature of Rollo¡¯s generation, the legend ofOdo Fenrirwas an unnecessary dogma among the many Nordic traditions for assimilation of youths into the larger adult community- as Rollo¡¯s verbose bond-mate (best friend) Uther so accurately put it; it was all a pile of ¡°hot, fresh manure¡±. Rollo smiled sardonically.


    ***


    SkollWodin Castle


    (Inside Skollvurn Forest)


    The Manor house of SkollWodin was more aptly described as a keep; built on a well-rounded knoll, it was a structure of sheer walls rising as high as 30 feet- a local fortress from the era of the old Romani Empire that had ruled the entire world hundreds of years ago. Now it was inhabited by lords, all called Odo in deference to their legendary ancestor Fenrir, and was home to the local nobility that controlled all of 57 villas scattered haphazardly on the roads and rivers surrounding the keep of SkollWodin. Only the east face of the keep, which looked out on the great forest of Skollvurn, had a wall which rose an additional 20 feet higher than the rest of sheer faces of the keep, with battlements at 50 feet in the air. A single tower rose in the center of the wall, to a towering 90 feet- it was the only landmark which could be seen from the neighboring villas and from its height, near all villas in connection to the keep could be observed.


    **


    Inside of this very tower now, a shrouded figure walked back and forth. He looked to be dressed in all furs, heaped on haphazardly to counter the chill off the North Sea; it was the end of autumn and winter was expected any day from now. But in the gloom of the tower¡¯s highest chamber, it looked like other figures watched the pacer quietly; at first they appeared to have been just other furs arranged in no particular design around the dark room, but upon further inspection eyes were to be seen glinting out of the dark recesses of the fur-covered. All eyes were watching the pacer diligently as no sound, but low growls and the occasional snarl intermingled with the snapping flames of the only torch illuminating the room from 12 feet above, escaped from any of the figures in the room. They could have been statues to the unperceptive mind-and yet they were all in the middle of a crucially decisive conversation; one which could change the fate of the gathering families along the eight major paths to SkollWodin, some of which could be seen from the one slit-window of this highest chamber of the keep.


    ¡°Neinart moves my lord, the woods stink of them¡± came a near-imperceptible growl from one of the watchers, as the pacer continued pacing just before the only door into the chamber, atop which flickered and danced the flames of the torch. Though the torch was in a wooden stockade attached to the stone atop the door frame, the pacer¡¯s head appeared to be just a foot and some inches below the inner glow of the flames, casting a deeper gloom around where the face should be- in normal human terms he would be a near-12 foot giant. This concerned not the other cloaked figures, who were easily at eye-level with the pacer.


    ¡°The Garrison is fearfully low also, my lord, we have fewer than 500 on the spot¡±chimed in another low, rumbling growl. And still the pacer paced, seemingly paying no heed to a now consecutive series of growls from the watchers in shadow. Then he stopped; and all the growling with him- the watchers watched him as he now stood dead-center of the door, directly beneath the flickering flames. He seemed like a prophet upon the prediction of some imminent doom; and his voice gave life to this perspective.


    ¡°¡®Tis not the advancing hordes of Neinart I fear most my dear comrades¡­¡± and he stopped and seemed to stare out of the single slit-window, seeing some distant event that those around him failed to notice quickly enough. ¡°An ancient evil approaches from the sea, and this seemingly random sally against our fortified lines may be but the beginning of the first wave in a series of numerous others.¡± The head of the pacer drooped in its furred-hood, like he was contemplating cosmological questions. ¡°Word must be sent to fortress Bruuksfurt and fortressVerdenstadt¡­ let battle lines be drawn across the twi-valleys according to ancient custom. I command this in my name, as Odo Radagastius of the line of Odo Fenrir. All able-bodiedTheriansare to prepare for full-scale war, for I fear we are involved in greater plots than we are currently aware.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°What magnitude of evil could demand the full force of the hunt, actively on the field, my lord?¡± asked one of the watchers, in a voice stained with bewilderment. ¡°Surely, we alone here could reverse the tide in a swift campaign, without the risk of all three fortresses in united belligerence! What ancient force is this of which you speak?¡±


    ¡°Now is not the time, Siberius¡± said the pacer ever so quietly. ¡°Dromir and Bredda, I leave the mobilization of Bruuksfurt and Verdenstadt to your capable hands. You may all leave now.¡± And with that he walked across the chamber to the slit-window, turning his back to the watchers, who all filed out of the chamber at this gesture from the pondering lord.


    ***


    Murle¡¯Wood


    (2miles from fortress Verdenstadt/ South edge of Skollvurn Forest)


    Three great grey wolves padded softly through the carpet of dead leaves on the edges of the Murle¡¯Wood swamps. The biggest of the three was flanked by the other two, whom it walked just slightly ahead of always. Meander and wander as they might, they never changed the formation; occasionally one would pause to sniff the air, then grunt at the others, otherwise they moved in deep silence, eyes trained forward, ears standing sharp and alert. It seemed they were on the trail of some very important game, perhaps bigger than their little force and so they seemed to stalk with the patience and cunning of hunters. Deeper and deeper into the swampy mosses they stalked- then suddenly they all stopped as if they had come to some unseen barrier. None moved, not even so much as a hair on the tail-end and for many minutes they stayed frozen, still in formation. Suddenly the two wolves on the flank of the biggest, darted with blurring speed into the marshes, away from the lead wolf. It alone continued to stand frozen, eyes set on some distant prey. The wolves were all easily the size of oxen, and the lead wolf resembled nothing less than some great bear as it now lowered its head, hunches raised, and hackles bristling. There was a low enduring growl as here and there, in the mass of fur, near where the head may be, pieces of glistening fangs became visible; some as long as a man¡¯s middle-finger- and from behind a great tree, sagging with vines and dripping moss, stepped a man most peculiar.


    ***


    The man wore a big ash-colored cloak, which he slung off from around his shoulders onto the wet swamp grass. He wore shin-length pantaloons in the Germanic fashion observed by all Nordic peoples, though the fringes at the bottom were heavily tattered and frayed from overuse. He looked to be incredibly dirty, caked in grime; his hair was overgrown and unkempt, forming clods in places from repetitive laying on forest ground; his toes and fingernails formed yellowed claws that curved like talons, near an inch long on each finger and toe- but his eyes glowed an icy blue, like the sun¡¯s reflection off of ice floes in the North Sea in deep winter. Even from a distance of 20 yards or more, in the forest gloom, his eyes glowed eerily, and when he smiled he revealed two dirtied rows of pointed fangs. He wore nothing over his torso but a necklace around his neck, of chords of sinew with a large bronze Greek medusa hanging from it, above his exposed chest. At the sight of him the great wolf barked sharp and loud, as he chuckled and walked forward slowly like one in a trance. Slight ruffles in the undergrowth revealed the hulking forms of the other wolves, returned from their respective chases, now stalking the man with glowing eyes, so that he appeared to be in the center of a wolfish triangle.


    Just over ten yards from the biggest wolf, the man stopped; he began to clap softly. His abrupt stop had also halted the stalking wolves in their tracks; his clapping now seemed to confuse the two, while it clearly irritated the lead wolf. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be this heavily guarded, and by Therians, no less! You¡¯re all Therians of course, correct?¡± said a voice barely louder than a whisper. The wolves remained silent but made no further moves, though their tails had begun to swish back and forth dangerously. ¡°I tell you, if not for Master Martel¡¯s lex Maxima, I would have had a hard time believing in your existence. And yet here I stand, before the jaws of death itself it would seem, cornered by not one, but three wolf-men!¡± As the man spoke, he gestured casually with his clawed hands, turning ever so lightly on the spot so that now, he had his back to the largest wolf and the two others were in his sights- if the man had meant to affront the lead wolf by showing him his back so carelessly, he succeeded. Like a blur of shadows, all three wolves leapt at the dirty, grey man; and the man, moving even faster, like a flash of lightning, was upon the nearest wolf which, in mid-air tried to catch the man it is front paws as it aimed a fatal bite for the head. Quicker than thought, the man had an arm wrapped the wolf¡¯s great head, as big as a horse¡¯s, and another arm gripped and snapped the right front paw of the wolf like a dry twig; the second nearest wolf was upon him as he crushed the first¡¯s neck and, keeping a tight grip on the broken arm, swung the weight of the great beast into the air, using it to club down the snapping new attacker. All of this happened so fast as the blink of an eye, so that barely any noise had been made, except the great deep thud as bones and sinew crushed into the swamp soil. And then the lead wolf was there; its head snapped at the exposed neck of the man as he rammed one wolf atop another; in the face of danger, the man could only stick his free-arm into the mouth full of finger-length teeth, which clamped down hard, severing the man¡¯s entire palm- there was no blood gushing from the stump and hardly a drop stained what looked like purple, dead flesh. And as the lead wolf bit down, it too was dealt a heavy blow to the mid-section by the now free arm, which had just incapacitated two wolves; the blow to the wolf¡¯s ribs sent it crashing dozens of yards away into the bushes, breaking through a tree in the process. There was a silent giggle on the now one-handed man¡¯s lips. ¡°Now there is an even greater handicap, one-armed against two wolf-men¡±, he laughed again as faced the now rising second wolf he had smashed down with the body of the first. The great wolf sniffed at the carcass of its partner, licked the dead snout once and then let out a deep piercing howl that woke up the entire Murle¡¯Wood marsh- it was mourning its dead comrade. Then it lowered its head and snarled savagely at the grey man. ¡°Good dog! Now pay attention to me, you have no time to be mourning losses on the field of battle¡±. As the wolf dashed forth, faster than a blink, the grey man leapt several feet vertically into the air, to a height unattainable by any human effort; his eyes continued to glow and his fangs were still exposed in a ghastly smile. The charging wolf, missing its prey by mere inches, turned mid-leap, hind-paws hunching as its head followed the path of the grey man into the air, preparing to jump after him. Just then another, deeper, more baleful howl emerged from the lead wolf, now back in the chaotic clearing caused by the battle commenced but moments ago on the spot. The other wolf, either heard too late or paid no heed from the recklessness of the moment, but leapt equally as high in pursuit of the comrade-killer. Soft laughter permeated the marsh mists, ¡°You should have listened to your alpha¡± said the blue-eyed man who seemed to float for a moment, as he thrust his blunted stump into the open maw of the rising wolf, shattering fangs and ripping a hole in the wolf¡¯s throat. Two wolves were down and it had been less than half a minute. As the man made his descent into the clearing, he used his good arm to swipe a tree trunk at least feet wide, a young tree. His clawed arms shattered the trunk like an axe would firewood, felling the tree in one swing. Before its momentum could bring it crashing down on the forest floor, the man rammed his gristled stump into the center of the trunk, holding the entire length of the tree, branches and all aloft, as he would his own arm. ¡°Now we have equilibrium¡± said the grey man, as the lead wolf, now alone, treaded a wary, wide circle around him. The wolf snarled and bared all its fangs, a deep rage burning in its eyes, rushing like waves across his hackles down to his tail, and the grey man smiled a wider smile, ¡°Would you like to know the name of your slayer before you die, young one?¡± The medusa head glowed horridly for a brief moment, in the waning light of dusk.


    *


    A/N: hey guys my first work (that i''m publishing online ) hope you guys like it. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

 Chapter 2

    Lilith, first wife of Adam, contrary to popular belief, was the first woman in creation. She was


    also the first to be cast out of the celestial gardens, banished from Eden eons before the creation of


    Mother Eve. Lilith became the goddess of the Dark Arts, from her roving about the faces of the seven


    continents and the depths of the seven seas- much became known to her. Mother of all Sin, doer of


    despicable acts, she was the refuge that Kaen sought after he was banished from the realms of men; more


    accurately, Lilith sought him out, for her own banishment was of a worse kind, doomed to be forgotten,


    never to be acknowledged in any Histories. And she became the consort of Kaen, Mother to Son, a taboo


    among men, but perfectly legal among the Mayaken; and she bore Kaen many strong ones. Before the


    great flood, when Murs-Malael taught magickal arts to the sons and daughters of men, Lilith attended to


    the ageless ones, and learnt much from them, but most of all from Murs-Malael, whose consort she


    became also. And she grew in sins and iniquities, and though her real name lasted but a season on the


    tongues of men, she was known forevermore as Mother-Magick and Lady Sihn, goddess of the Dark


    Rites.


    SkollWodin Castle


    (Inside Skollvurn Forest)


    Odo Radagastius continued to stare through the slit-window of the crown chamber of the tower.


    He had inherited SkollWodin, and with it command of the other two fortresses upon his majority at age


    30. Well before that however, he attended his father Vastius¡¯s councils, and was given nominal command


    over the keep of SkollWodin itself, just as he had bestowed Siberius with command of the SkollWodin


    garrison and its compliments, when Siberius was just 16 summers old. Throughout his own time at


    council, and now, at the head of council, there had never been the shadow of the scale of confrontation


    they now broached with Neinart; the biggest incursion into the Low Countries by the Neinart was in the


    time of his Grandfather Odo Grenrir- that had seen 100 Neinart advancing vigorously into the hinterlands


    of the fortress lines, and the massacre of at least four villas and their inhabitants, some released to death,


    others taken away forever. That invasion had been concluded on the field of battle, as SkollWodin arrayed


    200 of its finest with compliments of 50 each from Verdenstadt and Bruuksfurt; the 300 had shattered the


    100 so completely, none survived and their remains were nailed to great trees on the border between


    Flanders and the Low Countries, as a warning to Neinart. The great war of Odo Fenrir against the council


    of Neinart, before the erection of the tri-forts to guard the twi-valley system at the Low Countries border,


    was almost taking on a mythological aspect to Radagastius whose great-great-Grandfather Fenrir had


    been. Such a full-scale war, involving thousands on both sides and all the darkness of attrition in war,


    could be hardly imagined in the lightly shaded groves and swamps of the Skollvurn forest, and all who


    lived around it were mentally sheltered by several generations of a wasting, languishing peacefulness; an


    attempt to rouse such people to war may be more immediately fatal than any battle itself.


    But Radagastius knew without a doubt that a huge conflagration was imminent in the woods of


    Skollvurn. Out at sea, his inhuman sense of smell perceived only a deep, trackless darkness hovering over


    the waters but seeming to come from it; this shook his indomitable will more than at any other time in his


    existence, for while they appeared peerless as warriors on land, the garrisons of the tri-forts were utterly


    helpless at sea and with nautical arrangements. Radagastius knew not whether to approach the sea, to


    further inquire after his own premonitions, or to quit the fear in his heart, so new to him, and focus on


    halting the advancing hordes of Neinart. Siberius¡¯ watch reported more than a total of 9 score (180 or so),


    so it was plausible that Neinart had advanced with over 200 this time around. A fortnight ago, upon first


    news of the new incursion by Katwulf, Radagastius had ordered half the garrison of SkollWodin to


    dispatch to the surrounding villas, over 50 in number, and man each villa, ten to one. The same orders had


    been relayed to fortress Verdenstadt and fortress Bruuksfurt. Now he had ordered that battle-lines be


    drawn according to the ancient customs of Odo Fenrir and his band, with the protection of the twi-valley


    in mind; he would have to justify himself and this level of agitation to lords Villi and Bruuk. But he


    couldn¡¯t even justify it to himself yet.


    ***


    Road to SkollWodin


    (Skollvurn Forest)


    The month of ErdSkialf was fast approaching and that meant more reddened leaves carpeted the


    valley floors, eerily resembling a bloody road leading to the height of SkollWodin Manor on the knoll.


    Now that they were nearing their destination, maybe because of the near-imperceptible alteration of their


    elevation with every step they took, Rollo began to feel the evening chill closer and closer to bone. The


    sun had started setting a while back, and now that they were on the final stretch to the summons of their


    Li¨¨ge-lord, the autumn colors shone in the day¡¯s last radiance; yellows and light greens, browns and deep


    maroon, making the grey stone of the Manor house and its walls stand out starkly in the deepening gloom.


    They had been walking all day, since just before sunrise, Rollo and his Da, taking turns on the oxen


    Brigelda; Rollo thought they had made good time, his Da grunted his approval with eyes fixated on the


    keep ahead. Till they coerced Brigelda through the gates of the keep, Rowalder couldn¡¯t feel completely


    secure; the oxen was a huge part of his livelihood and how he fed his family and he wasn¡¯t too amenable


    to the whims of lord Radagastius and his warrior-band. He sensed his morose state of mind was affecting


    the youth¡¯s mood as well, and so he looked up at Rollo as the boy swayed to the gait of the climbing


    oxen, ¡°At least you¡¯ll get to eat at the lord¡¯s table today! What a feast it¡¯ll be, eh lad?¡± he smiled up at


    Rollo, not entirely convincingly. ¡°When last I was here, there were a dozen different meats served and


    cooked with spices from the Great Centre Sea. Some tasted so good, your uncle Haswalder forsook the


    company of the lord¡¯s maidens for another leg of braised ham!¡± at this, there was a crack of a cheeky


    smile on the youth¡¯s face, and he laughed as well, encouraging the humor. ¡°That¡¯s why uncle¡¯s got a pot


    already, though he barely visits the alehouse or drinks from the tankard¡± snickered Rollo, now looking at


    the keep with new eyes for the first time during the entire journey. It wasn¡¯t just a lamentable excursion to


    him anymore; perhaps he¡¯ll gain some trifling experience or witness some events to accompany his life


    from thereon, maybe he would tell it to his own son just as Da had told him now.


    ¡°Very perceptive, young lad¡± said Rowalder ¡°I¡¯ll need you to be just as attentive when we¡¯re up


    in the keep, and speak to none unless spoken to first, ok Rollo?¡±


    ¡°Jah¡± came the traditional response from a minor to an elder, and Rollo continued to look upon


    the keep of SkollWodin, not necessarily dreaming of sweet meats and such, but thinking of what wonders


    could be housed for his young mind within such high, impregnable walls.


    ***


    North Sea


    (Waters off the coast of Northern Saxony)


    On some barren coast of the North Sea, a dark ship rocked gently back and forth in icy waters.


    While there was no visible anchor-line trailing into the depths below, the ship barely moved along with


    the currents but stood still as a sentinel, its prow facing the shore at all times. Above it, dark and


    billowing thunderheads boiled and roiled in the sky, illuminated intermittently with flashes of lightning


    and doomsday-like cracks of deepest thunder- yet there was barely any activity on the ship; no crews ran


    here and there attending to the minutiae of navigational necessities, but one lone figure stood behind the


    serpent-headed prow, keeping the same vigil as the ship, looking towards the shoreline. Birds that dared


    to fly near the man quickly settled near his figure, with the bolder ones roosting on his shoulders or head,


    so that the foredeck was cloaked in dark birds of the carnivorous kind- crows and ravens, even a vulture


    and some albatross maintained a silent vigil with the man, not so much as one beak squeaking against the


    sound of the waves and the storm above. The smell of the man, revolting to all who are living, was


    particularly inviting to the carrion-birds, and his milky, putrefying flesh was a delightful sight to them.


    But he stood as one of the living, and his eyes glazed as they were with the film of death still had the


    aspect of sight as his head turned and watched every little movement of life on the opposite shore.


    Thought there was no rainfall yet, his clothes dripped a black pool of water around his naked feet. Here


    and there, where his filthy, clogged rags he had on as raiment exposed his dead flesh, the most horrendous


    wounds could be seen, no longer bleeding but an angry purple-bluish color, signifying dead and rotten


    flesh; a massive wooden stake, at least 2 feet long where visible, protruded from his back- he had been


    impaled once.


    As he watched the shore beneath the gloom of the storm clouds, at last 3 wraithlike figures


    emerged from the forest lining the shore in every direction. Several yards from the tide, they stopped,


    standing just as still as the man on board that dark ship. And for a moment the air seemed to be filled with


    light hisses and whispers as of a rising wind, so that some of the carrion-birds were disturbed and flapped


    noisily about the rotting man. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning that illuminated, for the briefest of


    moments, those figures standing on the shore- there were two women and a man amidst them, with skins


    of the palest white hue, looking for all intent like the dead themselves. At the boom of thunder, the


    watcher on the ship suddenly turned and marched steadily back below decks, through a recess before


    hidden by the congregation of carrion-eaters, who now discharged en masse in a miniature black cloud of


    wings and beaks and talons. At that signal the three figures on the beach turned and disappeared back


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.beyond the woods of the forest.


    ***


    Town of Flamenorum


    (Borderlands Plains, Fields of Flanders)


    In the twilight between sundown and nightfall, a child stood on a promontory overlooking a lush


    purple field. In the evening light, the world seemed only grey and purple, as the far off mountain vistas


    were cast in deeper shadow but the vast fields of poppies as yet unripen, retained their bright hue, just


    before the blanket of night rendered all colorless and unseen. She would have been a beauty of highest


    magnitude if her skin were a more colorful hue than the stark white that it was, though this in itself in no


    major way diminished her aspects; she was still an enchantment to behold with sensuously rounded eyes


    and lips, and features tending to the miniature rather than bogus or protruded. As she was, her eyes were


    half-lidded like she had just awoken from slumber or had been drugged on some potion or elixir-she


    could not have passed for more than 13 summers old. She stared drily at the landscape before her, her


    marble-like face displaying an equally stony demeanor ; fields, rolling on an on for miles, with the barely


    discernible silhouettes of woods, though as clear to her as from a few feet, just before the point on the


    horizon where the mountains rose. Behind her was some kind of crevice into a sheer cliff-face, black as a


    shard of night on the earth¡¯s surface. The ground beneath her feet, which jutted out about 10 yards into


    the air at a 45 degree angle, glowed with a pale white luminescence which complimented her skin color,


    so that the short, knee-length undergarment she wore, seemed like a stain, swaying on an image of


    moonlight. She was in some abandoned Romani marble quarry, from the times of the Old Empire; if she


    remembered correctly, the adjoining town to the quarry was named Flamenorum, after the greater city at


    the heart of Northern Flanders. They were a long away from blu... ¡°We¡¯re a long way away from the


    Bluuten Fields, yes¡± came a barely audible whisper from behind her, hardly distinguishable from the soft


    breeze off the North Sea. Where behind her had been empty space, now stood an ancient looking man,


    that is, in comparison with the angelic cherub whom he now towered over; he looked to be in his mid-


    forties, a feat in and of itself in those times, but because of his excessive height and his emaciated, lean


    form, he appeared far older to the eye. His hair was greyish-white, a mutation proving his Nordic roots


    and except the loose, black woolen cloak he slung over his shoulders, he appeared especially neat, for he


    was clean-shaven and almost preening, for one who appeared to be a vagabond in life. Adding to his


    ghastly appearance was his skin, every bit as pale and bloodless as the little girl¡¯s and his bone white


    claws which now came to rest calmly, almost assuring, on the delicate shoulders of the girl. They curved


    like hooks, two inches long, into the girl¡¯s shoulders, through her cotton garment- there was no blood.


    ¡°And I, with a host such as have never before been assembled by a single Maester, march on


    SkollWodin to exact retribution from Odo Fenrir, for our fallen brethren. 10 score summers, has been a


    wait long enough to avenge our fallen- and the children of Kaen shall wreak a bloody revenge and invite


    in utter desolation upon the places of the Skollvurn. So do I wish, as Martel Merovich of the clan Neinart,


    lord of the Bluuten Fields Coven of the Maya-kith, and so shall it be.¡±


    As he spoke, many other wraiths, like himself and the little girl before him, all of the palest white


    skin, poured out from the black crevice in the marble hill. They spilled out, more and more, all alike


    wearing a simple undergarment or a dark cloak, like they were dressed for the grave, filling the quarry


    with an eerie silence not before present; the very wind seemed to hold its breath as more than a thousand


    wraiths came forth in a great circle around the promontory upon which stood Martel and one of his


    daughters. And atop the diminished quarry where some trees, at an elevation of some 80 feet where the


    marble cliff ended and soil began; the old remnant of a prominent hill overlooking the town of


    Flamenorum. From that height, as the eagle soars, one can see a clear, trodden-path winding its way down


    to the heart of the little town of Flamenorum. Usually a little bustling and busy borderlands town, tonight


    Flamenorum was quiet and without a single source of illumination. The town looked like a storm had


    raged through its eastern gate all the way across and up the back of the old quarry hill. And through that


    debris and chaos, trees and roof shingles shattered and layered about, chunks of brick and mortar littering,


    a quiet file of people walked, up the little hill overlooking the marble quarry. Among them could be spied


    all ranks and file of normal Nordic society, both Slavs and Freemen, in all shapes and sizes and of all


    ages, bearing the most ghastly and brutal assortments of wounds and injuries to the self- they all one


    seemed immune to these horrible accidents, and not a single moan or cry could be heard among the


    people as they gathered up the hill. It looked like another half of the original 4000 inhabitants of


    Flamenorum lay as broken corpses in the chaos around and about the town and its perimeters. The dead


    lifeless bodies of relatives and comrades, loved ones and acquaintances, looked on without apprehension


    on the equally lifeless mass that now shambled past and accumulated slowly and surely on the hill


    overlooking the quarry and its wraith-like occupants.


    Down on the marble surface, now glowing a little more due to the darkening of the night in


    degrees, one of the pale-faced approached Martel and the girl on the promontory; stopping 2 yards away


    from the lord and his lady, it bowed. In that uncanny whisper of a voice, it announced ¡°Master Martel,


    contact has been made by Sea; your envoys have returned and reported of contact with ¡®the Mother¡¯.


    How do you wish to proceed?¡±


    The tall man seemed to purr deeply, with a low steady rumbling, and then he smiled, revealing


    two rows of pointed glass-like fangs, almost sparkling in the marble-light. ¡°In the past, Romani armies


    had always marched on enemies with auxiliary forces in tow and other allies in place. It would appear


    those conditions have been met and I have found favor with the gods.¡± He smirked wider, knowingly.


    ¡°There are no gods, Merovich, we are the gods¡± said the little girl, in a voice that sang like a soft


    breeze through glass. At this the old man laughed a bubbly, rich laughter. Then he spread his arms wide


    apart, as his ghastly, toothy smile spread even more across his stretched face ¡°We march, as the avengers


    of Neinart. We march on SkollWodin.¡± Then he and the little girl, with a puff of marble powder,


    disappeared from sight, seemingly gone with the wind. A moment later, the congregation of pale-faced,


    over a thousand strong, with a force like an immediate gale of wind, and a great rush, all disappeared


    from sight in a cloud of marble chalk. Then the Flamenorii crawled and leapt down the sheer face of the


    cliff, continuing their silent march across the fields and plains of Flanders.


    ***


    Murle¡¯Wood Swamps


    (2 miles from fortress Verdenstadt/ Southern edge of Skollvurn Forest)


    ¡°It is Barwulf, the name. Graeculus Barwulf¡± said the dirty, pale-faced man. His left stump still


    jammed into its trunk, held aloft the felled tree, and he and the giant wolf continued to circle each other in


    the Murle¡¯Wood swamps. Over a distance of just about two yards, Barwulf and the wolf danced a circle


    as imminent of danger as the bodies of two great grey wolves, broken and strewn about, or Barwulf¡¯s


    severed palm in the clearing between both combatants. The lead wolf sustained a menacing, baleful


    growl, filled with teeth and dribbling boiling spittle and eyes that sang of unspeakable rage and savagery.


    Graeculus Barwulf maintained his smile, filled with pointy, dirty teeth. As night fell, the groves grew to a


    degree of darkness hardly achievable anywhere else around Skollvurn, because of the dense growth of the


    swamps and their overhanging, crisscrossing vegetation. They could have been underground for all the


    light there was; and yet the combatants saw each other clear as daylight, as though they were showered in


    light. Barwulf looked for a fragment of a moment, upon his severed left palm, as it lay facing up on the


    swamp soil, like a piece of broken marble. As his eyes ascended back up to fixate on their quarry, he just


    caught sight of a shifting blur as it zipped past his left side, incredibly quickly, even for his eyes. In the


    same moment, he felt the hand of death ever so lightly tickle the hairs on the back of his neck; with no


    space for fear, he leapt with a great bound to the right, swinging his tree-laden arm backwards and


    heavily, as he moved through the air. Just in time, as just then, the great wolf had appeared behind him,


    snapping for his neck and shoulder, with a maw as wide as his forearm. He again saw that blur of shadow,


    just a shade lighter than deepest night, dancing over and under the tree in motion, now approaching his


    person with frightful speed. He felt the weight on his left side increase rather than see it, as he


    instinctively reacted again, lashing out in a savage blow with his whole right arm. It was a terrible


    gamble, to lose both arms, to the same wolf no less; it paid off and his knuckles connected with wet snout,


    sending the great wolf tumbling and spinning a few yards back through the tree-lined darkness of the


    swamps. It recovered mid-air, landing and sliding back a meter or so, on its legs like some nimble kitten.


    Apart from practically erupting venom in the eyes of the great grey wolf, there was no other damage


    apparent that it had suffered from the blow, which had sent a shockwave of air running out from the point


    of impact. It snarled a deep guttural snarl that seemed capable of peeling the bark off the ancient soggy


    trees. Graeculus Barwulf caught his breadth- he was panting. When last had an enemy filled all his bones


    with such tension on the field of battle, he wondered to himself. Not since the emperor Titus in his


    campaigns in Judea some four hundred years ago, which he and his ilk had followed, as a side attraction,


    on a longer voyage to Egypt. Barwulf could not take his eyes off the wolf till it was dead now, the


    creature was too dangerous. Perhaps the most fatal he has seen yet.


    In a low, thundering rumble of a bark, Barwulf heard the wolf utter the words ¡°Phaly Forma¡± as


    its bone structure shifted and danced like water in a bowl, or a shimmering haze on a hot road. In


    moments, the wolf, big as an ox on its four legs, towered over Barwulf; it rose to over 10 feet in height


    and stood on two legs like a man. Its musculature was bulging and grotesque, involving a vastly different


    physiology, but echoing a man-like stature. Now Barwulf¡¯s eyes were literally glued to the apparition


    before him; with a crash his left hand which had still held the entire tree¡¯s length aloft with no apparent


    effort than holding a blade, drooped from alarm or just utter surprise. In that moment, maybe because of


    the noisy distraction of the tree¡¯s fall, the wolf-man blurred from sight yet again. But Barwulf could


    hardly react in time, such was his astonishment. A moment later his head sailed through the night, easily


    decapitated by a massive arm with claws at least 10 inches long; standing closer to Graeculus Barwulf


    than at any other time in their short, eventful, altercation, the wolf-man brought its arm back before its


    face, covered in grizzled flesh and now holding aloft the medusa chain that had hung around the now


    immobile man¡¯s neck. ¡°Lycans are the fastest of all Therians, foolish son of Kaen¡± muttered the wolf into


    its mane, in the deepening darkness of Murle¡¯Wood, as it regarded the chain with eyes now filled with


    pain and weariness.


    *

 Chapter 3

    Anubis Anhekis was once the chief of palace guards of the Pharaoh Ahkmenhotep I; Anubis witnessed the rise of Thebes, as its dominion was stretched over the five cities, as far down as Axum, and Tynis to the West. From Thebes, Ahkmenhotep formed and ruled as the first god-king, the kingdom of ?gyps, which after several millennia of foreign corruption, came to be known to this world as the mystic land of Egypt, in the sands of Africa. When the fledgling kingdom faced an otherworldly threat to its existence, as did all life and civilizations on the Mediterranean, from the hordes of Nineveh and Assyris in the East, out of Mesopotamia, then the first Pharaoh sacrificed Anubis, the prince Osiris ( grandson of Ahkmenhotep I) and two others, to Ra, god of the line of Hotep Kings. Anubis, Xphenhotep, Dagon and Osiris, were chosen by Sethir, high-priest of Ra, for the sacrifice in the newly-built capital city of Memphis; they would be reborn as the Animaeus of ?gyps- the very first Theriantophalis (Animal-Men) to walk the face of Earth. Anubis was reborn as the Jackal, charged with the security and protection of the god-kings of Egypt- he retained his place in the Royal Palaces; Osiris was reborn as the Hawk, the totem-spirit of the House Hotep, and the prince was charged with the protection of the skies above the kingdom, to protect against or mitigate any threats from the heavens or the underworld; Dagon, reborn as the Nile River Crocodile, was charged with safe-guarding the life-giving waters of the Nile, that first, inner border of the kingdom; and Xphenhotep was reborn as the Lion, and he walked the wild places on the edges of the kingdom, protecting the outer borderlands of the lands of Egypt. So were born the first guardian demi-gods of Egypt, over 6 millennia ago.


    <div>


    SkollWodin Castle


    (Inside Skollvurn Forest)


    At the gate of the keep, Rollo saw for only the second time in his life, and within a fortnight of the first, soldiers in iron mail, standing watch at the great towering doors that were the main entrance to the fortress, embedded some 6 feet into a fortified tunnel way. The doors, great big wooden slabs that looked as if they could accommodate his entire villa back home if set down horizontally, were as thick as to have been made of wood from two trees in the composition of just one side. Each door, the one on his right which was standing closed, stood at least 20 feet tall, with large steel bosses, larger than Rollo¡¯s head, riveted into the wood at intervals, making an overall pattern of a practical kind. On each side of the gaping passageway, at least another 20 feet across or just less, 3 guards stood, one before the other, up to the keep walls and they surveyed with stony faces all the traffic that poured in from the surrounding villas into SkollWodin. Rollo now began to feel self-conscious and a little insecure; he had never before been in such a throng of people and he generally rarely got to see so many people in one place, except at the allotted times for annual festivals- he was nervous. His Da sensed it and gave his arm a tight grip as a form of reassurance. Now they were being made to approach the gates two aside, with livestock one at a time, and the line of guests stretched back several meters, growing in a trickle as other families joined in from the several roads that led to and from SkollWodin fortress. Two families before it was their turn, the foremost guard at the open door, on their left-hand side, roared a general halt and all traffic paused as the news was relayed down the line of villagers by word of mouth. And from the bushes scattered here and there on the sides of the knoll upon which the fortress rose, sprung out a particularly brightly-colored red fox, about as big as a pregnant mother soar; it was definitely bigger than any other foxes Rollo had ever spied around the woods in their villa- his Da thought so too, cause he let out a low whistle as he eyed the fox incredulously. Many other families within sight of the creature, were uttering their gasps of awe or disbelief, when, from the donkey-pulled cart just before them on the line, came a loud whisper


    ¡°They¡¯ll stop the entire line just to let a stupid fox in first?! Is the Keep housing wild beasts now too as well as savage warriors?¡± and the whisperer turned in their seat to smile mischievously back down the line; searching for accomplices no less. It was a stunning Nordic beauty that winked back at Rollo as she caught his eye; she seemed too fair to be from these parts, maybe a migrant from across the North Sea, from Scandinavia. Her hair was so yellow as to be almost white and her eyes were a grey color, like storm clouds. Her very fair complexion was stark against the blue woad cloak she wrapped around herself. Her smile was like the final burst of sunlight before the sun falls beyond the horizon and is gone for the night; Rollo could neither respond to her jest nor her friendly smile- he stared back, looking awestruck.


    ¡°Who knows maybe we¡¯re eating big fox tonight¡± said Rowalder, and then he laughed his little mischievous laugh which Rollo had learnt by heart. As he spoke, he had tapped Rollo lightly on his knee, as Rollo was still riding the Oxen, to shake him out of his trance- the boy could only manage a sheepish, rather constipated smile in return.


    ¡°Will you shut it Hilda! You¡¯re gonna get us in the stockades before we even properly arrive¡± chuckled a large grey-headed man, standing next to the donkey-cart. He turned and flashed them with a similarly bright smile to his daughter¡¯s, with the same grey storm cloud eyes, set within lines of wrinkles.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know when to shut up, this one¡± he gestured at Hilda on the cart. ¡°But some fox meat will be appreciated, tis been sorely missed in these parts¡± and he tapped his belly at that, generating a more genuine laughter from Rollo and his Da, and pure hilarity from the girl Hilda, who almost rolled over in mirth. Finally, the guard roared for the line to continue on-ward and into the keep. As they passed the brief shadow in the gate tunnel and all went dark for a minute, Rollo could still see the bright hair of Hilda before them, and the dim light on the other side opened unto a modest courtyard, some 30 yards across, whose opposite end was dominated by the great Manor house itself, with battlements rising away into the night sky. Atop the great doors, embedded in stone like the entrance gates, swung a massive pennant, red in color with a black ring and a black, snarling wolf head within the ring. Finally they had reached SkollWodin; now for the first time in his life, Rollo would see his lord in the same hall.


    ***


    North Sea Coast


    (Northern Saxony¡­ at the unknown ship)


    Below decks, there was an unnatural silence; not even the customary creaks and groans of a vessel on water were to be heard, no winds, no lapping waves- with the descent of the rotting-man down below, the last few carrion-birds had lost hope and flown off. The usual accoutrements of ship design technology were also weirdly absent- there was not a wooden floor below deck, but it seemed earthy beneath the feet and for a few feet down; the amount of soil that could drown a vessel readily, from its excessive weight. Neither were there segmented decks or rooming space, or indeed any allowance for a further descent to a storage area below the first deck- the walls to either side of the almost four-foot divide, were streaked with brackish water, running down what appeared to be the axe and hoe-smoothed face of some underground tunnel, more engendered to an underground mine, than to a ship out at sea. And in the stone passage, recesses into the stone, dotted the hallway at irregular intervals; their darker-than-black aspect the only indication of their presence and of the unknown chambers beyond- eerily quiet, lifeless.


    And in this darkness, the most pristine white serpent slithered sensuously, almost serenely along the earthen floor. Thicker than a fat man¡¯s hips at its widest, the snake could have been well over 20 feet in length- its long, muscled neck elevated its wedge-shaped, flattened head, half a foot from the stone floor, looking so much like a white ship and prow gliding through the blackest, wave-less ocean. Intermittently a thick black chord of a forked tongue would poke out from between white lips, tasting the subterranean air. Eventually the great white serpent curved and twisted into one of the black cavities indicating the adjoining caves along the stone passage; not till near a minute later did the entire length of chorded muscle disappear into the black, for the serpent was in no hurry otherwise apparent.


    **


    In a twilight forest grove, where the trees seemed from an older era, perhaps thousands of years old, moonlight of a purer quality than experienced by human eyes in recent times, cascaded down on lush garden foliage; and the colors of extinct fruits and flowers, some never yet discovered by man, burst forth in their beauty, as much as they would have been radiant in sunlight it seems. There was a quality to the silence of the grove, such that could be hardly replicated by the artisans and engineers of the greatest Kings and Emperors. There was an antiquity, heavy in the air, which scented of primordial winds and the times before time; not a bird chirped that could be recognized by the brightest philosopher¡¯s knowledgeable ears and none stirred but a gentle breeze that tasted of desolation, abandonment and despair. Yet the trees, their fruit, the bushes and their flowers, the very grass itself, was beautiful without compare; though it could have been said to have been crafted by the hands one any one master, it could likewise not be observed to have been engineered by many- it seemed a study in the perfection of nature, like nature¡¯s higher form. The moon above hung bigger and brighter, far nearer to earth than on any of the three continents given to man. And its light illuminated the glittering, shifting scales of the enormous white snake as it slithered its way onto the bough of a giant apple tree, filled to bursting with blood-red apples the size of cabbages- everything in this garden was larger than life. The serpent¡¯s eyes, as though reflecting the moon¡¯s light off the glossy crimson apples, were every bit as bloody as the apples, like twin rubies suspended in a sliding, curling mass of whitest rope. But the serpent¡¯s eyes reflected no light, nor did they gaze upon the succulent apples on the stems before her; her eyes saw the distant pasts of the world¡¯s dead civilizations, unfocused on her surroundings but lost as if in a trance of her own inducement. Nor indeed could her eyes be any color other than deepest, blood red; they had been that way since she was cast out of the original gardens, a replica of which she had so laboriously enchanted over the millennia as her place of solace now and for all time. And the black forked tongue flicked, and the serpent gazed.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ***


    Skollvurn Forest


    (Low Countries/ Netherlands)


    From every corner of the forest, they filled in; like an endless horde they swarmed. They all wore dark cloaks or simple garments; some of the younger ones, the infants and adolescents, wore nothing but pantaloons or short shifts; it was as if the weather harkened not to them and the seasons could not be felt in their bones. They all had the same sickly, stark white complexion, rather chalk-like and just as lifeless. And they made not a sound- for all the movement, and in a similar direction no less, the breeze running through the blades of grass in the plains and meadows edging the great forest, made altogether more sounds than the passing of this silent army. Here and there among the throng, there would appear a haze, a shimmering shadow, almost man-like in dimensions; then it was gone.


    They bothered not with obstacles in their paths; rocks were climbed without harnesses or proper gear, some trees were sailed by agility that surpassed any previous human ability, others were just simply pushed aside by arms now imbued with the strength of stone itself. No calls echoed through the forest ways for purposes of co-ordination or alignment, no helping hands reached out from one to the other to steady a stumbling gait, or encourage a straggler; all marched in tempo, to some unknown rhythm, and the only order maintained seemed to be that of not eliminating in like manner as all other obstacles, the individuals in their very path. No tools could be seen, no labor animals, no weapons, no sacks containing provisions or wagons for the like.


    The invasion of the great forest was quick and wholesome- greater than six thousand pairs of feet traversed the borders, into the halls of Skollvurn forest, and in the ensuing gloom, the invaders could be readily distinguished only by an equal number of glowing crimson eyes, all set in one direction only: forward, onward. Maester Martel¡¯s army and their auxiliaries had made stupendous time; for the force gathered a night ago had traversed over 400 miles in a night, rested through the day, and at dusk had finally set out and into the area of Skollvurn. Now a bloody retribution was at hand, and not a moment too soon it would seem.


    ***


    SkollWodin Castle


    (Inner Skollvurn Forest)


    Before the great doors to the main building of the keep itself, stood an even deeper complement of mailed soldiers than at the entry gates to the fortress. The sun had finally set, and just before the gates had shut, seemingly for the night, a patrol of 50 cavalry had been dispatched to help escort any remaining stragglers to the fortress before the full onset of nightfall; it was already late evening. Nine guards stood watch at the doors to the lord¡¯s hall, to the 6 posted at the main gates; four to either of the towering wooden doors, these over 40 feet in height and no less ornamental than the heavy main gates. One soldier, in bright red mail, which looked unimaginably expensive to the lowly villagers, stood apart from, and in front, center of the eight. He held a helmet in left arm with a great red plume atop it which reminded many who had witnessed it of the big fox previously given special entry into SkollWodin. This soldier now ordered the assembled families to gather around before the doors to the hall, where resided their common lord; he would speak to them all, in capacity as a herald of sorts though he remained unknown to most if not all, before their admittance into the great hall. He began speaking in a strange, lilting tongue that reminded many of the older parents there of older times, and grandparents long lost and very dear.


    ¡°I am Katwulf by name, commander of the first Cavalry watch of the tri-fortress valley of Skollvurn Forest. I have been empowered by our lord Odo Radagastius, as the herald of the peoples of the villas; I will be responsible for you all- for your feeding, your keep, and your transportation back to your respective hearths. But while you are all our guests, you shall all refer your inquiries and desires to myself, and through me to lord Radagastius. I thank you all, on behalf of the lord of SkollWodin, for your hasty responses to the summons, though on such short notice. And I assure you all that your stay will be a worriless one, if not directly fruitful.¡± Katwulf paused and surveyed the crowd before him, like he was expecting a reaction, or analyzing the reception of his words. He continued.


    ¡°Though we would wish it otherwise, we have called on you all, because our lands once more, from times near forgotten, have again come under siege¡± a gasp ran like a ripple in water through the assembly, ¡°from the same enemy beyond the Fields of Flanders.¡± At the mention of the name Flanders, murmurs arose and harsh exclamations, from those who knew some of the martial history of the forest peoples, and those whose ancestors had served the lords of the fortresses in some capacity in the past. Rowalder¡¯s features slowly drained of color at the announcements from commander Katwulf; Rollo noticed, but could not concentrate fully- he knew not of Flanders in the slightest, not of the history of the forest valleys with the Fields, but he was currently weaving and stretching about to get any glimpse of Gwoenfer, her Da and her brother Anslem. It would appear they numbered among the stragglers. Somewhere inside his chest, a little seed of worry was nurtured, and the reactions of the adults around them failed to sooth Rollo¡¯s distress. Some parents grumbled openly against the lord¡¯s summons, citing that if it were a war on their hands, why had not their entire families been summoned, asking what would befall their family members left behind at home and hearth. As more and more breadwinners subscribed to this argument, the whispers and grumbles gained more volume; for the lord of SkollWodin had only summoned his male subjects, but also all their children, male or female, above 13 summers of age. Now for those particularly skeptical of their lord¡¯s reasoning in most matters, they began to demand answers with immediacy, and not from some lowly herald in a flashy red costume- they demanded Odo Radagastius himself. Why have a flashy name like his, if he seemed not to even exist to those who needed him most? Some noticed the queer smile on the lips of commander Katwulf as he observed the assembly before him in silence for a few moments longer, and were beginning to question the impunity of such a herald, but then he pulled out from its sheath on his hip a great, double-edged sword, with a pale white blade like dried bone. At this, the majority of the crowd quieted at once, some remembering their situation, in the middle of a heavily armed and fortified keep, with well-trained soldiers and sufficient arms to make them but an unpleasant memory in a short time.


    ¡°While I may remind you that your petitions must go through my person, before presentation to the lord himself, I have not refused you, nor do I have the power, to separate you, from the lord¡¯s presence here in his very own halls. You will see and meet with your lord, very shortly. But firstly, a few things. This invasion is of a different sort than any you have heard tell of¡± and now he strolled back and forth upon the first stair, ¡°and while it has been experienced in these valleys, at the cost of some blood, you all have remained in peace for generation after generation¡± now he lifted the large blade over his head, with a single arm, seemingly with no apparent effort than stretching up an arm during an oath.


    ¡°We the garrisons of the tri-fortresses, solemnly swear to uphold our ancient charge and die in the defense of these valleys we all share as home. As commander, I guarantee it, as well as the oaths of all my men presently here or in the field. Look among yourselves, and realize that your gathering is a peculiar one. For you all have much to discuss with the lord Radagastius, and many choices have to be made soonest. For you all, here, have a major role to play; in the turn of events concerning the </a>impending invasion as well as for the future of the Skollvurn valleys and the tri-fortresses. So it is with steel and sword, but also with an open heart and a warm smile, that I Katwulf of Hibernia, welcomes this gathering to SkollWodin Keep. By the power invested in me, by Odo Radagastius of the line of Odo Fenrir, I command all ye, ascend these very steps, no longer as subjects or serfs of the land; ascend these steps as Freedmen, into the halls of SkollWodin Castle!¡±


    At this, the crimson-armored guard turned on his heels and marched smoothly, in the learned dignity of martial men, up the steps towards the towering doors of the great keep. The soldiers nearest the doors turned in tune, pushing against doors that, for all their great height and supposed weight, fell back smoothly and without sound, to reveal a deep, richly lit hall. And at the far end, upon a dais elevated by several more steps, sat one as yet indistinguishable, upon a great wooden high-backed chair, behind which swayed the same red pennant, with the wolf head in a black ring.


    *

 Chapter 4

    The high-priest of Ra, supreme pontiff of the religions of ?gyps, was named Sethir; the first to ever hold the position, he prophesied that he also would be the last to ever hold the office of high-priest, at the end of the greatest empire of ?gyps, when all has been lost and the gods had made their exit into oblivion. This proclamation was inscribed on the sacred papyrus of the priestly caste; it was henceforth known as one of the Doomsday prophecies. It was said that Sethir raised the great god-king Ahkmenhotep from infancy, that he had walked amongst, and instructed the five cities, before they all were amalgamated into ?gyps; it was whispered in hush tones, among the villas and palaces of Pharaoh¡¯s family and courtiers, that Sethir the high-priest was responsible for the initiative that resulted in the creation of the empire, and that it was he, not the god-king, who truly ruled the kingdom. Sethir was famed in the cities of men as one of the legendary age-less ones, and many believed him to be the last surviving member of those known to be immortal. He knew all the mysteries; the winds answered his call, the waters conversed with him, in their own tongue, he knew the individual names of the 7 thunders and he knew of the treasures hidden in the four corners of the earth. He was the greatest sorcerer to ever live, said the Egyptians, and he would continue to live long after all of humanity crumbled away into dust.


    The Great Hall


    SkollWodin Keep (Skollvurn Forest)


    Odo Radagastius, Viscount of the lower reaches of Skoll County in the Low Countries, sat before a sparsely decorated, but grandly acquitted hall. Below his throne platform, a yard from the bottom-most stair, stretched a grand table, with seats for a thousand; two lesser tables, to the sides and beside the colonnade of stone pillars which stretched to the vaulting ceiling over 60 feet high, could accommodate 200 each, but were nonetheless dwarfed by the sheer length and size of the central table. Beyond the colonnades on each wing of the great hall, elegant slim windows, rose into the air to considerable height, and between these windows hung the pennants of the House of Odo Fenrir; the red plain with a black ring around a black wolf head- some hung at half tilt from the tall pillars, swaying like giant silk fans over the hall. Around the semi-circle of the throne dais, on the first and second stair, was arrayed a compliment of 50 of the viscount¡¯s bodyguard, forming semi-circles that created a path in the middle of the stairway to preserve the viscount¡¯s line of sight of the hall. The throne dais occupied a good fifth of the hall; on the platform at the top, where Odo actually sat hung, separate flags with emblems representing the houses of the soldiery represented at the keep- these were set in stone, at cross-angles to one another, behind the throne, some nine posts in all, to represent their allegiance and vassalage to the ruling lord of the fortress and its garrison. Behind these, at the far end of the hall was a semi-circular hollow imposed into the heavily fortified back wall, like a space for a statue, which rose, like the pillars, to the very height of the hall¡¯s ceiling where was interposed a semi-circular dome, of finest, clear glass, which allowed down rays of light on the throne dais in daytime. Towering for almost half of the 60-foot hollow, over the throne and its flags, was a marble statue of Greek Lycanthropy; a towering man-wolf, lower half human but with a bushy, swishing tail, upper half wolf with human physiology, standing on a jagged crag with a terrific snarl on its features. One of the flags of the house was wrapped ceremoniously around the statue, in the old Romani style. This statue stared out over the throne and the rest of the hall from a dominant vantage, and all guests in the hall saw it, and newcomers for the first time, attested that the statue was the greatest show of wealth than any excessive finery and embroidery display.


    As Commander Katwulf strode swiftly but not stiffly down the great length of the hall, some officers standing before the throne, in conversation with the count, broke off at the sight of the crowd of villagers¡¯ entrance into the hall, and even the bodyguard on the dais dispersed; they all went to occupy the lesser tables at the sides of the hall- the officers in one, the bodyguard and lesser ranked soldiers in the other. A large but young officer strode up the hall, with three more behind him; the man was easily 7 feet tall in the same reddish, polished armor as Katwulf, but a short, black cape hung from his left shoulder to his right hip, and hung to just under his knees. He had dark hair falling in curtains down both sides of his face, stopping just below his neckline which was covered in chain-mail underneath the armor, but he was otherwise clean-shaven, having no beard or mustache to speak of. As he passed by Katwulf, he inclined his head in a short, respectful nod and the red-haired man turned as he passed by the towering youth,


    ¡°Where are you headed now, son of Odo?¡± he chuckled, as the passing soldier stopped suddenly, looking bashful. The three guards following also stopped short, all saluting commander Katwulf with a clasped right fist raised to their left shoulders. And they stood in the salute stance while their leader conversed with the commander. It all gave the villagers a sense of the immense responsibility placed in Katwulf the herald, who was now their guide in the keep as well.


    ¡°Murle¡¯ Wood Swamp¡± replied the young officer, as he looked commander Katwulf meaningfully in the eye; then there was a sort of growl and deep moan, emanating from both the young officer and the commander. The closer villagers to the two could swear there was a hound somewhere among them- no humans could achieve such sounds with their throats they said to themselves. But Rollo could almost swear it came from the two in conversation; due to Katwulf¡¯s question and the officer stopping to respond, the entire procession of villagers gathered at the keep had come to a halt, mid-hall. Rollo brushed off the odd throaty sounds as some form of secret code of communication between soldiers, and placed no real weight on the issue. Katwulf meanwhile, was responding to the throaty growls with a soft maintained purring of his own. Then suddenly he nodded and saluted the soldiers in a similar fashion, with right fist to left shoulder.


    ¡°Then you must make all haste, Siberius. Also, wake up secret weapon number three- you must take it along with you.¡±  Then Katwulf turned to face the crowd of villagers and, with a low bow, announced to them in a clear, audible voice and pointed at the young officer who was turning to make his leave.


    ¡°This here is Commander Odo Siberius, Commander of the garrison, and therefore all forces in SkollWodin keep¡± and there were exclamations of surprise and wonder among the crowd; none had missed the name of the young officer. And Katwulf smiled at the desired effect the news had on the crowd, while Siberius blushed red and looked at his feet.


    ¡°Here is the firstborn son of your lord, Odo Radagastius, and future lord of SkollWodin and the tri-fortresses. Acquaint yourselves with the face and bearing, for he is very much your Viscount as is his father¡±. Then the crowd of men bowed low at the waist but some of the children who didn¡¯t know the formality bowed only the head. Siberius did not offer any greetings or platitude to the gathered villagers; he only nodded and resumed his brisk exit from the great hall with his bodyguard. And many stared after him in wonder, some thankful that they had met two generations of their leaders. Shortly after, the throng was at the foot of the dais, looking up at their lord, seated as he was on his high chair with the martial flags swaying softly behind him.


    ¡°Now you shall all present yourselves, as freedmen of the realm, before the Viscount of the lower Reaches.¡±


    ***


    Radagastius was unlike the stories portrayed the Nordic nobility in all the odes and tales; yes he was tall, perhaps taller than the minstrels had accounted for in the nobility, but he was not fair of hair and features, nor slender like willow or graceful. As each villager went up one by one for introductions, for Katwulf had imperiously insisted that there was time enough, scaring many in the crowd even with a smile on his face, each noticed the battle-hardened features decorating the Viscount as he stood before his high chair now to receive their greetings. The Viscount had only one eye; where his left eye should be was a visceral scarring of tissue that suggested the eye had not been lost gently- though his officers begged him to adorn the scar with an eye-patch in the new manner among sailors of the North Sea, he refused staunchly to adopt such trifles for they would only disturb his concentration. Otherwise the viscount was an almost hulking figure, more like the ogre to be defeated by the graceful lord-knight than the vanquisher himself. He wore armor himself, just like all his officers, perhaps to indicate his preparation for battle in a show of solidarity for his subjects; they never believed the Viscount would actually ride into battle in the eventuality- but the lost eye was beginning to put a lie to that assumption in most of their hearts.


    While the norm for armor among the common soldiery was brown, tanned leather hide and grey steel mail underneath, and the officers, like Siberius and Katwulf donned red and black colored steel armor plates over steel chainmail, the Viscount¡¯s armor was entirely black, in a glossy obsidian-like glow beneath the torch flames. The only color was the red wolf head, as opposed to black on the fortress standards, emblazoned on his chest and the black, and a full length cape he wore hanging from his shoulder-plates to below his knees, which was black on the outside but with a deep red interior- this cape by coincidence was the most lavish thing on the count¡¯s person, looking even more opulent than the glossy black armor. He wore no gold or gem stones on his fingers or head and no fabulous pendants hung from around his great neck- immediately, sum in the crowd got the impression of a veteran soldier, committed to the martial crafts, and coupled with the demure and humble bearings of Siberius, the Viscount¡¯s heir, many felt more at home and comfortable with their lord instantly.


    As the introductions wove on into the night, straggler families were intermittently escorted by soldier squads, from three to half a dozen or more, into the great hall, briefly distracting all in the hall by their entrance. About an hour or so before the midnight hour, a final group of soldiers was led into the hall, but this time with no villager families in tow. They were led by a man and woman, both of similar stature and facial features, both in the red and black mail and armor worn by the officer class. Behind both these officers some forty soldiers trooped in fine, neat formation; their armor and apparel however, were looking the worse for wear, some only wearing chainmail torn and perforated in places. As they approached the dais were stood the Viscount, the soldiers saluted and came to a halt just before the lowest stair of the dais, were the remainder of villagers to be introduced parted ways for them, while the already introduced had taken seats at the great table. The two officers, man and woman, continued to stride up the stairs towards Odo Radagastius; they stopped a stair short of achieving level with the Viscount and then announced solemnlyEnjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Verdenstadt and Bruuksfurt have been mobilized, but at great cost. We have been invaded fully!¡±


    For the briefest of moments, shock flashed through Radagastius, and the quick and discerning could just about realize the fact from his briefly dilated pupil, then he was a graceful statue once more, revealing nothing before the hall and his subjects. Like in the highest tower previously, his voice barely rose above a growl as he asked, ¡°How many?¡± The sibling officers, Dromir and Bredda, looked at each other for a brief moment, the gesture alone presaging the ominous nature of their report. Their white blond facial hair and clear, almost milky eyeballs, more than anything identified the two apart from others; together they now faced their liege-lord and together, they answered


    ¡°At least half a Romanii Legion; there are auxiliaries coerced from the fair folk or hastily converted for the purpose. The heart of Neinart moves against Verdenstadt through the Murle¡¯ Wood. Bruuksfurt in the middle, with SkollWodin, have been delegated to the auxiliary forces.¡± Their voices in unison had a mesmerizing effect on the crowd of villagers who had never heard them speak in such manner, never heard any two speak with such precision and accuracy. Bredda, the older of the two, though unknown to the crowd of civilians at the moment continued on her own, in a startling monotone from the dual voices of both siblings earlier,


    ¡°We believe their focus this time is fortress Verdenstadt. The auxiliary may just be a distraction, however¡­¡± and now Dromir took over the speech; the Viscount was slightly surprised that they had time to show off to the villagers till he remembered that they also spoke simultaneously in times of high stress, a memento from their childhood when they were never separated.


    ¡°¡­Many Serf families have been lost including some on their way here, and the untrained auxiliaries are taking a heavy toll on the neighborhoods of SkollWodin and Bruuksfurt. It seems their standing orders are none at all, just mindless ravaging¡± continued Dromir, and then they again spoke in unison, pronouncing their verdict to the Viscount


    ¡°It is hell in the field, sire. The invasion seems complete¡­¡± they finished in silence, heads bowed in mourning for all the deaths they had witnessed on their retreat to SkollWodin, to complete the mission given them by their lord. At this point, the Viscount inclined his head a little so he could see past the siblings; he noticed now that the squadron, 50 men at full power, was a little less than that number and that the men seemed a little worse for wear, with appearance and gear generally more disheveled than when they all embarked at first light. He hung his head for some of the quietest few moments in his life, when he felt like the entire occupancy of the great hall was fixated on him- though he knew the villagers had not heard a word of what Dromir and Bredda had reported, the soldiers had, including those at the other lesser table across the hall, who had not left the keep but had served duty at home that day. Then he sighed, a great deep sigh that echoed of all things portentous- regret, fear, longing, conviction. Again in a low rumble, his eye now peering at the siblings once more, he commanded them-


    ¡°For now, join us as I commence the Fidelity Oath of the Theriantophaly- it seems I may have to ride out earlier than I expected. I will have Katwulf administer the Initiation Ceremony on my behalf. Keeping the villagers from panic has become a priority, but truth must prevail still.¡± He scanned the faces of gathered villagers, the youths and their parents, silent and anxious altogether. ¡°Go now.¡±


    The siblings turned in one fluid movement and descended down the stepped-dais, curving to the right of the hall to seat among the officers, while their squadron marched in orderly fashion to the left to join the soldiers table, knowing as they crossed the hall with heads downturned that their appearance more than all else, inspired more fear than security in those they were sworn to defend and protect. Before the murmurs among the crowd could gain any significant audibility, the Viscount marched forward and descended the steps in a slow and calculated descent, taking them one by one to catch the attention of all in the hall and draw their minds towards himself and the stately podium of his seat of office, with its flags and the towering statue of Fenrir looming behind.


    The Viscount had wished to have time for the villagers all to receive and digest the information he would now be sharing with them; he knew from experience that it was particularly difficult information to process, by the most open and willing minds, to say less of critics and the high-minded. More than the imminent battle in Skollvurn forest, maybe as much as soon having to announce the loss in death of their possible neighbors and friends to them, he dreaded the speech that accompanied the Fidelity Oath which he had to administer to the villagers and convince them to take as well as honor with their secrecy. Before he reached the final stair from the dais, he turned and looked back up at the high seat and its flags and he trained his eye longest on the statue of lycanthropy it seemed. He sighed again.


    Odo Radagastius looked back at the hall before him, and now his one eye seemed to glow brighter in the din of night that oppressed the shadowed corners and heights of the great space. It was now fast approaching the midnight hour and the keep and grounds of the fortress had taken on that quiet that comes only with deep night and the inactivity of the wild things. And the Viscount began to speak; and he spoke in a voice rich and melodious, like a great orator from the ancient Greek or more recent Romani empire, like one who was born to such things as the forefront of armies and great gatherings.


    ¡°I will not prolong your long journey or your day with the tale of Odo Fenrir- I know that it tired me out also when I was the age of the youth before me tonight. It is enough that the statue of that great ancestor hangs over us all at the end of this hall, and that his spirit presides over this keep. And yes indeed, he is my ancestor; from him came Odo Grenrir, my grandfather and founder of the vales of the Skollvurn Forest wherein you all now reside in your various villages and hearths, and from Grenrir came my sire Odo Vastius, builder of the fortresses and battlements that wall the vales and stand as the bastions of our security, and I Odo Radagastius have begotten you Odo Siberius, whom many of you met in this very hall upon your arrival, a worthy and well-equipped young man.


    ¡°From my youth, upon my majority, I have kept an old and dear secret. One that was entrusted to my great-grandfather by others just as bound in fidelity to the hidden knowledge that now lies in these vales. For those of you who are hard of heart and credulous, I promise ample proof and explanation though you may all find that there is very little time. I believe commander Katwulf has declared my sanction on your status, all, as freedmen from henceforth?¡± There were silent nods and murmurs of agreement but all minds were now occupied by the solemn manner of the Viscount¡¯s speech.


    ¡°This is done as a gesture, not just of goodwill on my part, but of some necessity. It is a tradition that has been followed by all our ancestors since we have inhabited the shadows and outlands of the forest. When any man or woman would wish to serve in the fortresses, as a defender, they are granted freedom, to take the oath of service as freedmen and freedwomen and to honor the fidelity of the secret of the Skoll woods. I attest that many of all your ancestors partook of the same oath and carried the same secrets I now intend to pass on to you, and I attest to no attempt at maltreatment or subjugation through the sharing of this knowledge. You all are free to indulge the secret and the oath as you see fit, and refusal to keep the secret or take the oath shall not result in your death or exile. I swear it, as lord and Viscount of the Lower reaches and the Skollvurn Forest vales.¡± At this point he stopped, scanning the villagers again with his one eye, searching for early signs of discomfiture and dissent. For a third time, he sighed. Then he turned his back on the onlookers seated at the tables before him, and facing the dais again, he first stooped low from his waist, so that most of his bulk covered in armor as he was, was now cloaked by his cape. Then he began to jerk oddly and increasingly violently; short, sharp barks escaped from where he stood and the only thing between the strange activity at the bottom stair and the few yards before the tables and their occupants was Katwulf, the commander in red. And he barely flinched, nor did he react to the frightening sounds and gyrations emanating from the body and shape of the Viscount, his lord.


    Suddenly Radagastius turned around to face the crowd, and this time he seemed taller than his previous bulk. A foot slipped onto the main floor, but it was not finely-shod as before; now it was hairier, extremely so, and the nails on every toe were longer than natural and turning a dark yellow. Through much growling and yipping, through frightful barks and snapping teeth, the Viscount shivered and shook, and now the villagers broke out in sobs of horror and shrieks of fear. Many had gotten up out of their seats and some suggested a charge out of the great hall to safety away from the maddened Viscount and his forces. At the sounds of the confusion and the displeased elements among the crowd, Katwulf who had been watching as solemnly and quietly as his lord had spoken, let out a single loud and resonating bark; the entire hall except for the convulsing nobleman froze, their hearts skipping to their throats as the more primal instinct in them warned them not to move so much as a hair.


    Then the spell was broken as the bell-tower of the keep resounded in the knelling for the mid-night hour, and as the bells rang out, villagers broke out and openly ran for the great doors at the far end of the hall, hysterical in fear. A great howl echoed from behind the fleeing masses, a howl so deep and guttural that the creature itself must have been somewhere in the hall to produce acoustics so original and convincing. Suddenly the fleeing slowed down in their tracks and the frantic felt their heart rates decrease; there was no rationale behind the abrupt reversals of roles in the hall, and deep in their minds the villagers knew that their instincts to flee were justified and the inclinations to return and relax were erroneous. But return they did, many turning in their steps to look back towards the stepped-dais and its flags and statue of the wolf-man. And standing where the Viscount had been, in his black armor and rich cape, stood a wolf-headed man, some eight-and-a-half to near nine foot tall; it stood on its hind-legs like a man would, but those legs were longer than twice the length of the feet of a man of the same height. From behind the wolf-man swung a great and shaggy wolf-tail and on its face, rows of sharp teeth, glistening with saliva, adorned a snarl. The wolf-man growled low and long, and in the heads of all in the great hall swam no thoughts of impending harm or any danger, but a curious notion to stand as still as possible.


    *

 Chapter 5

    The Malignant-the spawns of the unholiest union of Lilith, first wife of Adam, and Kaen, first son of Adam; they are the foremost of the Mayaken, the marked peoples of Kaen the forsaken, and they are the deadliest too for they lead the hosts of Kaen to wage war on the human world. Three sons did the Mother of Sin bear to the father of murder, in the peculiar method of the Mayaken. One of them Mordrael, was known as a child of one of the ageless ones and considered a Nephilim by humanity- as a son of Murs-Malael the teacher of all magicks, he was revered by humanity for his great powers of sorcery before he was taken under, to the dark world of the Mayaken, by Lilith. Cruel Malivaeus, another of the Malignant, was a rival king to Kaen at the birth of cities; having lost a terrible war to Kaen and the Mayaken, with the aid of Lilith, he was cursed with the features of a bat, the creature his fledgling race had held sacred and offered sacrifice, in a more depraved and dark version of the ceremony wherein Anubis and his colleagues where made the guardians of ?gyps. And Meophust the Anakim, was a great ruler among a dying race at the time of the birth of cities, the race of giants- they waged a war of bloodiest attrition against the hosts of men but were overwhelmed eventually for Kaen, in honoring the ancient enmity of his former existence, had sided with man against the Anaks, supporting from the shadows and the hours of night. Meophust was bound by Lilith¡¯s darkest and most powerful enchantments, for the minds of the Anaks were older and more difficult than the minds of men, and the great King of Jotunheim walked with and ahead of the Mayaken forevermore.


    The Great Hall


    SkollWodin Keep (Skollvurn Forest)


    The great towering wolf-man seemed to be smiling to Rollo; while many in the crowds had turned and fled once the bells clanged, Rollo had remained seated, almost spellbound by the transformation that occurred before the assembled host. Many around them had boiled with panic and erupted with their emotions in charge, but Rollo who had spent the best part of the night standing before the dais and staring at the great marble statue of the half-man, half-wolf, was more intrigued by the convulsing Viscount than repulsed; Rowalder had been horrified and anxious for his son, but though he had stood in the initial surge, he stood behind Rollo through the horror, a hand on his son¡¯s shoulder. He only realized later that he had fought his innermost instincts with everything he had, not to flee and leave his only son behind in the madness of the hall that midnight- his mind had resounded with admonishments against the risk of standing down a wild animal, one he had not seen yet but could have sworn was of enormous proportions; yet he stood by Rollo with eyeballs shrunken to points to signify the height of his terror.


    The youth Rollo could not explain his excitement either; cold sweats dripped down his forehead and down his neck, wetting his back with tingly fingers of chill. On close examination, his fingers and the rest of him trembled ever so slightly, shivering like he was amidst the chill of a harsh winter night. But his inner curiosity had completely taken over his psyche; the world seemed to move slower and the hall around him seemed extra focused to him as he saw clearer and breathed purer in the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The slight hint of danger, mixed with the chaos and frantic emotions of others around him, fuelled his desire to experience and be a part of whatever secrets the tri-fortresses held and protected within their long stone walls and battlements. Unknown to the young boy, a small smile was pulling across his features- he looked around for the briefest of moments and caught eyes with Hilda, the yellow-haired northern girl he had met at the gates earlier in the evening. Hilda was seated a little down the table and across from him, and she too bore a wide smile across her face; she was seated, cross-legged on the actual table itself, wide as two great beds as it was, and her hands rested on her feet. She swayed lightly back and forth and seemed more than most to be enjoying the outcome of events that night in the great hall. Her grey-haired father sat on the table beside her, behind her more like to Rollo¡¯s perspective, but his eyes were closed and he looked to be dozing in the commotion as his head bobbed and jerked suddenly from time to time, but his lips in motion, looking like he was whispering some self-reassuring mantra, belied his supposed sleep-state. As Hilda caught Rollo¡¯s eyes in her direction, her smile widened to display little white teeth and the impression of barely suppressed mirth she carried swelled stronger in the mind of the lad. Then they were both looking back at the stepped-dais where Katwulf still stood unflinching and immobile as a tree, and where now a great big yellow eye stared out from what used to be the Viscount¡¯s skull. Then there was the deep howl... and the world stopped ever so shortly.


    **


    Odo Radagastius stood before the great hall in wolf form, heaving slightly from the exertions on his body during the quickening of his transformation. As their lord and superior, he still had mental and traditional sway over every creature in the great space, but more importantly in his current mode, that authority surpassed all they could ever imagine a territorial lord having over his subjects. So now the Viscount simply thought of a command to be still, an easy enough command and one as mundane as anything a parent may say to their child. His howl earlier once he had achieved Therian-Forma had been infused with a command for every panicking villager to stop at once and behold their lord. Even those broken utterly by their fear, babbling in fright as they stumbled to safety, had stopped at once, against their brain¡¯s most urgent wishes, and turned back to behold the creature on the dais. Now as Radagastius thought of the command ¡®be still¡¯ he growled a long, slow growl to fill the nooks and corners of the great hall; even the ants and spiders on their webs and with their various burdens stopped in their tracks and moved more. The villagers seemed spellbound, scattered across the hall as they were now, as all stood his ground, immovable like a part of the fortifications and almost lifeless but for the bulging eyes that fought against the greatest mental strains and a primal command that seemed to issue from the very air itself.


    ¡°The Fidelity Oath has not begun yet¡± growled the Viscount, in a more baleful, gravely version of his former rich voice. At this, some of the weaker minds in the hall collapsed as their eyes rolled into their heads from too much mental strain- some foamed at the mouth, convulsing slightly as they slipped into the dark embrace of unconsciousness. There were gasps of shock and pure unfiltered awe shone on the faces of many; a delighted giggle escaped from the crowd of those who had managed to remain more or less at their spot on the table, and Radagastius pinned out the laughter as belonging to a little girl with the brightest yellow hair, who was curiously seated on the great table- she seemed a lot older than she looked, he thought to himself quickly. Then he turned on his hind legs and stalked back up the steps back towards the high seat of his office. When he was leveled on the dais, with his back turned to the hall, he continued his speech.


    ¡°The Theriantophals were indeed birthed by Anubis Anhekis and that demigod was also responsible for the creation of my great sire Odo Fenrir in the likeness which you all see looming over you¡± he pointed a hairy, pawed limb armed with lengthy, curve claws in a sweeping gesture towards the Lycanthropy statue. ¡°In the likeness which you, who are all now still conscious, also see me.¡± He paused then, as the shock ran through the groggy minds of the awestruck villagers. The fact that an animal was speaking slipped unnoticed among the abounding fantasy of the moment they all now shared. Towering over the wooden chair which had shaded and couched his form previously, Radagastius was now a wolf of immense proportions, even if imagined on all fours as should have been the natural posture. His claws were easily the length of a youth¡¯s palm, each; the black armor added more bulk to the mountainous form though the wolf hung his head low between his shoulders. Several mouths in the crowd had not been shut for minutes on end, and the looks of deepest confusion were acquiring greater uniformity.


    ¡°Odo Fenrir is not the first Therian, but we Lycans have scouted and stood watch over the woods of Skoll for over two and a half centuries and our history is a deep and rich one. Think us not an abomination or adverse mutation, an abhorrent stain on the face of the earth; for we have an ancient mission to accomplish, an ancient charge to protect from the deadliest foe- which now renews its efforts at penetrating our humble forest groves and wooded paths. And they do not come for just our land or treasure, but our very souls- for these foes have no pleasures in daylight frolics and displays of opulence, but in simple death, destruction as a perversion.¡±


    As the Viscount spoke, Katwulf quit his position just below the dais- he had stood so for over two hours, and had maintained the general position since he led the entrance into the great hall and towards the formal introductions. He now advanced up the steps, lithe and graceful like a stalking predator, approaching the great wolf-man from behind. Now and then, here and there about his body as he walked would wink miniscule red lights like fireflies and soon a reddish, ochre mist seemed to surround the commander, till he stood just behind the lord Radagastius, like a red flair on the great bushy, swaying tail. A sudden dull bright flash, and behind the great wolf now stood a commander-Katwulf-sized red Fox with a great bright and bushy tail that outshone the wolf¡¯s and reached the standing fox¡¯s neckline. At this sight, more in the crowd dropped to stone floor in convulsions, foaming at the mouth- the fox-headed man turned and chuckled audibly at the sight of so many succumbing to mental fatigue. Someone in the crowd whispered ¡°Master Special-Fox!¡± audibly enough, and then came a giggle. Radagastius thought he knew just which freedwoman or lass had just said that; Katwulf, in his half-turned stance actually looked Hilda in the eye for the briefest of moments.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Then the great towering wolf turned and looked towards Katwulf, who now stood in front of his lord, a man-sized fox, standing on lengthy hind-legs just like the wolf-man before him; they clasped hands or paws as it were. Then, both looking towards the towering statue of Odo Fenrir, Radagastius continued solemnly


    ¡°In the presence of Anubis Anhekis, ¡®DemiDeo¡¯¡± and suddenly, the soldiers and the officers, on both adjoining tables chorused ¡°God of the Therians¡±. Radagastius continued ¡°And with sanction from the Imprinted Witnesses, Odo Fenrir, ¡®Lycanus Maximus¡¯¡± and the troops chorused ¡°The Greatest Lycan¡± ¡°Orion the ¡®Avian Ursus¡¯¡± and there was echoed ¡°The Great Sky Bear¡± ¡°And Lupus Lycanus the ¡°Canis Rex¡± and once more the hall resounded with ¡°the Wolf King¡±. ¡°I Odo Radagastius, fourth Count of the Lowlands by lineage, third Viscount of the Lower reaches and the Skollvurn Forest vales by might of arms, thus hereby entrust all civilian freedmen and women, lad and lass present herein, whether conscious or under, with all senses or lacking some and all, in truest truth and ablest spirit, the knowledge of the Theriantophals and their existence in antipathy to the Mayaken and their breed. Here today, in the great hallways of the Keep of SkollWodin, you are all hereby inducted and re-celebrated in the secrecy of the Therians, and with acceptance of this Oath may be bound in bonds of mutual Fidelity and brotherhood: what is precious to one is precious to the other, one¡¯s treasures are the other¡¯s, one¡¯s secrets will be held by the other, and one¡¯s life must be protected by the other at all costs. Accept the Oath of the Therians under the guardianship of the knights of the Skollvurn Forest and rise as vassals of Odo Fenrir, Lycanus Maximus.¡± And then the officers first, then the soldiers following afterwards all testified ¡°I accept the Oath!¡± in one hearty sound, like one great mass. And silence.


    The villagers, those of them still in their senses enough to comprehend when they were spoken to, stammered and stared, starting to look for all the world like they had just awoken from the deepest trance. They looked from soldiers to officers, then looked between themselves, like the words they sought flittered around them like tiny mites. Almost a minute passed in this near awkward silence, till the white haired officer Bredda spoke aloud, looking in the direction of a young lad who had slowly climbed onto the tabletop perhaps the better to be noticed. The boy had his right hand hoisted into the air, fingers wiggling.


    ¡°Speak your question, lad.¡± The commander¡¯s voice had drawn the eyes of the Viscount and Katwulf back on the quiet crowd of villagers- now Radagastius saw a lad with low cut sandy colored hair and bright blue eyes. Behind the lad, and on the stone floor stood a broad shouldered and tall man who had the same sandy colored hair but with great blonde streaks running through the length of his shoulder-length hair; this man looked like the god of anxiety, and there could not be more nervousness displayed on a human face. But the way the man stood, solidly and unshaking, belied an inner fortitude which could weather the greatest calamities and still come out laughing and light-hearted. The boy displayed such fortitude, mixed with innocence in his young eyes, as he now looked to the two on the dais for answers. He had regarded commander Bredda with a quick look and a respectful bow of the head; he was also very conscious of his Da behind him and his fast swinging hands, which he always tried hard to avoid.


    ¡°May we all be made into wolves and foxes like you two?¡± Rollo spoke slowly and haltingly, he had never been mid-center of such a crowd before, but he took relief in the fact that their little gathering was not even complete yet; Gwoenfer and Anslem, as well as many other families where still on the way to the keep, escorted by soldiers most likely. Behind him, as he spoke, he first felt the lull of quiet as his Da stopped breathing for a moment, then exhaled quietly before whispering ¡°Your name Rollo, tell them your name first.¡±


    ¡°Erm, my name is Rollo Rowaldson¡± he intoned quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed with a hand on his short hair, rubbing.


    For a moment, villagers in the crowd looked at Rollo as the light of his question soaked into their lethargic minds, then they looked between the Viscount and the young lad, willing without speaking it, an answer to the youth¡¯s question as they now felt it concerned all of them. And Radagastius observed the youth Rollo for a moment longer; then he stepped forward a little, centering himself on the dais.


    ¡°That is a matter for another night, an entirely different Oath in a different ceremony. Quite perceptive, young lad! Thank you for your question. Now if you would please answer mine?¡±


    Rollo blinked for a minute, and without understanding why or what inspired the action, he looked back at the yellow-haired Hilda, as if for ascent, when really that should have been his Da assenting. She smiled less, but beamed with an inner happiness or was it humor, and in the tiniest of nods, she indicated to her new friend her answer. He sighed, then turned and without looking at his Da for confirmation, he answered. And as he did, Hilda did two, seconding his voice and opinion in a melodious chorus of two.


    ¡°I accept the Oath!¡± said young Rollo and Hilda simultaneously, to the stunned amazement of many villagers, most of all Rowalder, who now looked like he might lose consciousness from this turn of events. The man with blonde streaks actually spluttered, and looking subdued, he sighed loudly before chuckling lightly. The grey haired man, Hilda¡¯s father, still had his eyes closed but he whispered and tottered no more. And eyes closed, he roared much to the shock of many villagers and the renewed mirth of Hilda ¡°I accept the Oath too!¡± Then Rowalder actually laughed openly; he rubbed a hand over his face in tired expression. Then he walked well into the wide aisle between tables, which was dotted here and there with former runaways standing agape and collapsed bodies, sprawled carelessly. He cleared his throat and putting a hand on his son Rollo¡¯s shoulder again, he began speaking.


    ¡°If the protection and security of the villages and their people is the primary concern of the castles and their keepers, and if the ownership and tranquility of our forest are at this moment being threatened by outside forces we know nothing of, but which you soldier are very aware of, then it follows that acceptance of the oath is in our very own interests. For our families back in the vales and for ourselves here; to make meaning of the summons and the journey here, it is rational to accept the Oath, so that together this battle can be completed with the greater chances of success and we may all be quickly restored to our former lives and activities. We have lived beneath the castles and their shadows for generations, enjoying a serene peace and little contact with strangers, especially of hostile intent. But the world is large and populous, and conflict is only to be expected. Men and women of Skollvurn forest, this is a time to be courageous and honorable. I say we stand with our defenders and accomplish an historic feat. Here I ask you all to do the same, as I myself accept the Oath!¡± At this there was loud cheering from the soldier table, and some of the officers clapped hands and cheered congratulations, as slowly but surely the villagers began to raise their arms and proclaim acceptance of the Viscount¡¯s Oath of Fidelity to the secrets of the tri-fortresses. And shortly there was much cheering and clapping in the hall, as Rowalder picked up and hugged his son Rollo in a huge embrace; many in the crowd who were acquainted also showed physical displays of affection, because of the relief and release of the moment. Many wondrous things had happened, and a talking wolf and fox still stood at the head of the hall; many ponderous things had been said and not everything was to be understood with immediacy, but there was a sense of filial belonging and camaraderie now at sway in the hall and it soother many anxious and confused souls present.


    But the merriment and light-hearts were not last; outside the great gates of SkollWodin could be heard opening once more, and there was much shouting and hollering out in the grounds. Many footfalls could be heard approaching the great hall and the trampling of horses hooves added to the cacophony. It seemed like the night had awoken and the aforementioned battled had commenced while they talked and idled in the great hall. Just as panic began to make a re-entry onto the recently calm and merry scene, the great doors into the hall burst open as soldiers carried in litters with bloody bodies on them; carts were pulled in too, containing more casualties. Curiously, none of the wounded sported any armor, chainmail or other protective clothing, immediately identifying them as civilian villagers, perhaps those on their way to the summons of their lord. This was the disaster Radagastius had feared and hoped to intercept by venturing into the field himself; now the lord of SkollWodin quietly cursed propriety and ceremony- lives could have been saved while they talked and invoked memories. And shortly the hall was in commotion as neighbors and friends recognized each other, ran to the aid of the injured and bloody, and the war seemed to have arrived before time at SkollWodin.


    Just then, Rollo noticed little Anslem standing by his own next to a litter; before he could point, he felt the air shift as his Da rushed towards the spot down the hall in the vast space between the tables and the doors into the great hall. Many carts and litters jumbled the movement in the space and there was greater confusion among the villagers now than at the transformation of the Viscount; finally they reached Anslem who was soaked in blood but appeared otherwise uninjured. Rowalder knelt next to the youth and pulled him into a hug, but Anslem¡¯s eyes were unfocused and continued to stare. Then Rowalder and Rollo looked upon the litter and beheld a ghastly sight; the tanner Hamish lay dead on the litter, his neck a bloody and grizzled hole which still leaked blood in slow rivulets. His jaw and beard, as low as his hips were stained in the darkest blood, so he almost seemed clothed in black. Anslem had been whispering over and over to himself. Rowalder asked him, as Rollo found tears begin to stream down his features


    ¡°Where is Gwoenfer my boy? Where is your sister?¡± He had to shake the young boy severally before Anslem could focus on the face of those who accosted him in his grief. But he repeated the same mantra he had been saying, the only one his pain and horror-addled brain could construct.


    ¡°He took her¡­He took my sister. He took her¡­He took my sister.¡± Over and over, the young boy repeated this phrase, and sorrow and loss ran rampant in the halls of Odo Radagastius of SkollWodin.

 Chapter 6

    The War of Shinar- here the mighty empire of ?gyps pitted the entirety of its power against the forces of Lilith and the Mayaken, as they strove both, for the control of this great city that would be known for all time beyond, as Babylon the great. Though begun in the reign of the god-king Ahkmenhotep II, also known as Pharaoh Horus, it was completed in the reign of Pharaoh Osiris, the demi-god of the sky- who was prevented from leaving the traditional confines of ?gyps while he served the role of guardian of the skies, as the falcon demigod. The final campaigns against Shinar were undertaken by his three fellow guardians Anubis, Dagon and Xphenhotep, with the high priest of Ra, Sethir as overall commander-in-chief. Due to her sorceries, the tar pits from as far as the Sea of Salt, up the coast to Aramea in the north, burned black with Lilith¡¯s fires, and in those days the Mayaken seemed to have overcome their ancient curse and they walked among the abodes of men, beneath the shade of thick, cloudy smoke provided by their mother. The lands of Shinar were enveloped thus, in a deep and perilous darkness for beyond a decade, as the war between the powers raged.


    ?gyps was bested, though not defeated on the field, and her forces retreated from the land, which was henceforth cursed by the priest of most-high Ra. Shinar, which had taken the name from Lilith, mother of darkness, in allegiance and obeisance to her and her cursed spawn, had committed the most horrible atrocities and depravities while the battles had raged, carrying out the darkest ceremonies of magick in honor of ¡®the Mother¡¯ and her immortal consort Kaen- the land was cursed to never depart from the ways of conflict and strife, bloodshed would soak the land and taint its bloodlines, and from that land in the East would all doom and destruction march forth on the world of men. Sethir alone stayed behind, with barely a squadron of cavalry, to complete the pronouncement of the curse. Though it pained the court of Pharaoh and all ?gyps greatly, the curse was placed so as to allow humanity to truly flourish in the land. The dreams of a single, united worldwide empire of all peoples with one shared tongue were dashed- the world now knew two masters, Egypt and Mesopotamia.


    6 miles outside Neuverda Villa


    Skollvurn Forest


    (Lowlands)


    The Viscount rode a few yards ahead of the columns of armed soldiers- the force had departed SkollWodin Keep just about a week ago being just over a thousand strong. Since then however, Radagastius had left garrisons in every single villa they passed through and close enough to. Even a few hearths made up of less than a dozen families living communally were given the smallest compliment of 10 soldiers to stand with them through the nights and in the shady days. Some days ago, commander Katwulf who had embarked with Radagastius and the force, had parted ways with this main force, to proceed ahead by lesser known forest ways to the fortress of Bruuksfurt, the Viscount¡¯s initial destination before a great battle planned for the hills of Verdenstadt fortress, which would be the decisive encounter. Katwulf had taken with him a hundred of the 200 cavalry; leaving Radagastius with just about 500 chain-mailed infantry and the remainder 100 armored cavalry- some 400 other infantry had been shared as garrisons to hold the rear.


    Though the presence of the Viscount was more than adequate, many still missed the fox-commander, as he was known by all the tri-fortress soldiery; his colorful personality contrasted with the almost gloomy character of Odo Radagastius. But many among the remaining forces were grateful a thousand-times over, knowing only too well that many a night, though with weapons in arms and armor-clad, their only saviors had been the ferocious wolf-man and his equally vicious fox-commander. They had fought on, till light of dawn, and still reserved enough stamina they march ahead of the columns and lead the soldiers through the shades and murk of the forest floor. Rowalder and all the newly conscripted men now quite correctly revered the Viscount and commander as little below local deities- they had literally snatched some men away from the very jaws of death, roaring back and biting at those very fated jaws. Even just this past night, Rowalder could count how many close acquaintances and new friends who had a story to tell of how their Viscount, the Lycan Therian, had darted in with blinding speed and dispatched the nefarious, nocturnal enemy that threatened their homes and their very land. Theirs was a fighting march, which could be stopped or slowed only at great cost in blood, and which was persecuted in battle from dusk till dawn and sometimes a little beyond, every day for the past six days on end. None of the men had known so much terror or had ever felt so much fatigue, though they be champions of the harvest in their respective villa, or the greatest of hunters.


    Such was the fate of the force that followed Odo Radagastius, Viscount of the Lower Reaches- and before they reached a villa or hearth, the people on the land had heard of their coming and expected their succor and their shields with a desperation fuelled by the most primal fears. Indeed many in the towns and villages worshipped the sight and image of their lord like he was a demigod, like some great king of old, come marching out of the trees with men of might and daring- if only they knew the truth of their  embellishing assertions and the near impotence of the men-in-arms so gloriously displayed.  As far as Rowalder and others in the columns were concerned, the Viscount and his brutally efficient commanders may as well have taken the field alone, unburdened seemingly, by an over-numerous ceremonial guard which were as useful in their absence on the field of battle, as when they were rallied behind their leader with quavering weapons.


    In the most mysterious tone, on the evening before he departed from them, commander Katwulf had told Rowalder and some others who were taking a breath from camp preparations before nightfall- their presence meant more than they knew to the Viscount, their lord. It was the presence of his vassals and subjects, armed and following behind, that stimulated and invigorated the inhuman strength of the noble wolf-man, insisted the commander. There had been no response to such excessive lip-flap; the statement had made no logical sense to them- the man could easily dispatch all 1000 men he embarked with, on his own-but the red commander¡¯s tone had struck a chord with Rowalder. For a moment he had remembered his lad Rollo, now back in SkollWodin keep, a sworn member of the garrison. How many times had the presence of Rollo, the thought of the lad, inspired Rowalder to be a better man, a stronger man than he knew himself to be? Still, Odo Radagastius of the Lower Reaches was still a ghastly fright to behold amidst battle, father-figure or otherwise. Now as they marched on, leaving Neuverda farther behind, Rowalder¡¯s mind constantly dwelt on the night when the Viscount had saved his very own life¡­


    4 Nights ago¡­


    Skollvurn Forest paths


    (Between Duunstadt and Neuverda Villas)


    They had come at nightfall, and from the intelligence of the scouts, passed around inscribed on pieces of cloth- for the fiends could hear the whispers of ants and mites- nightfall had been but the signal to commence battle, for the Viscount¡¯s forces had been surrounded and stalked all day through the deepest shade. And they were numerous, perhaps in response to the numbers of the Viscount¡¯s men themselves who, with the aid of the blitzing Radagastius and Katwulf, had made short work of the offenders the night before. As always there was no battle cry, nor a distinct front for the charge, but the tell-tale and still terrifying profusion of eerie laughter and whispers, seemingly carried on the wind from long distances but deceptively close to heart. Some men swore the voices were in their head alone and professed madness, begging a swift death from their comrades. Shadows danced and torches flickered with unnerving frequency and blinding speed, making the forest around the soldiers seem alive with some otherworldly presence. Then a man would scream, a deep trill of deepest fear mixed with shock, and then be cut of abruptly- and when his immediate companions searched for him in the night, he would be long gone, sometimes with weapons carelessly discarded.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    So the fiends had picked and played with the columns, till the Viscount and his 1<sup>st</sup> commander virtually exploded into their animal forms, or Therian Forma as it was popularly referred to among keep-defenders. A massive grey wolf and the equally immense red fox darted like arrows into the bushes and undergrowth; then the tide had changed. Trees shook and the forest quaked with a battle approaching supernatural proportions. All the force of 800 or so men could do was make a vast ring of men, with spears dug into the earth and pointed outwards, like the defenses of some army camp; those holding torches were placed in the middle of the ring and squadron captains yelled encouragement and reproach at their men simultaneously. Then two of the fiends marched into the circle of light; Rowalder had gotten a clear look for he was one of the spear-holders in the outmost row of the ring. They were in human form, and walked as a man would, but their eyes glowed icy blue in the night and the flames revealed pointy teeth in proliferation, more teeth than an adult man or woman possessed; one of the creatures hissed and jeered at the soldiers with a wide grin that showed another row of teeth behind the usual set were human teeth rest in the jaw line. Accordingly certain men in the front lines had fallen unconscious, some dropping on their spear-shafts and almost ruining the ring formation.


    Rowalder was producing sweat at an alarming rate and his hold on his spear shaft was tenuous at best; his left knee buckled for an instant but he mustered his resolve, took a chance to wipe the perspiration from his brow and focused as best he could on the devils before him. The soldiers heard soft laughter in the clearing where they huddled, but the two fiends before them only smiled slightly- then they both vanished. There were several screams then as panicked renewed afresh among the men, their leaders were absent and the fiends were present; Rowalder chanced a glance behind, into the thicket of men- just in time to view a soldier being lifted into the air like in flight, though the man struggled desperately and gushed blood from some unseen wound on the upper abdomen. Then he was looking forward again, too terrified to look to any other¡¯s safety but his own; the spear in his hand felt like rope and he was sure it¡¯s only purpose was in helping to center his mental state so that he did not lose control of his bowels- already their little group stank of excrement and unsavory hysteria. He heard silent sobs nearby and loud wailing all around; he could not be sure he was not moved to tears, so much perspiration swam all over his face as to hardly distinguish between tears and sweat. Nor did he have the time.


    As he foundered and quavered on his feet, much in the same manner as everyone around him, a shadow fell on him and he felt a chill, colder than any winter wind since the time of his birth. Before him stood one of the creatures, pale as chalk and still as stone; he had not heard its approach, nor could he smell it- just the cloying smell of thick, rich blood offended his nostrils. As Rowalder looked slowly up at the entity standing before him, several thoughts ran through his mind in parallel; he wondered if these creature, this plague on the earth, had advanced as far as SkollWodin; he thought of his young at home- a boy of six and a of nine; he thought of his wife- her face- and all the stress he would leave behind for her; he thought of his land, a few yards dedicated to his sweat; he thought of Rollo at the keep, and the young Anslem- who had lost his father and sister before his very eyes- at least Rollo wouldn¡¯t see this. He almost smiled but his muscles failed him; he whimpered softly instead. Then he was looking into the dreaded face of death itself; now he noticed that the creature had no whites in its eyes, the eyes were a dead black color, with a sickly light like on an oiled surface, as with fish- it was this pseudo-eyeball that glowed and pinned down Rowalder with the iciest stare, holding down his very soul as it were. The mouth was opened in a slight leer, and the pointed teeth glowed softly too, in their rows like the spines of some creature or the spears of an assembled host- they looked almost hollow, like glass tubes of the most miniscule space; Rowalder could clearly see where the back row of teeth started, from the where the front ended. Now Sleep, Rowalder¡¯s breath caught in his throat- he had heard the words in his mind, like he thought them.


    Then with a rush of wind, like a great wing flap, a furred and savagely-clawed arm punched brutally through the chest of the creature; it had been wearing a loose fitting jerkin open in the front with no buttons, and pantaloons, in the style of house-slaves; it shut one eye tight like in squint, the only sign of pain from the immense fatality just dealt it. Then fast as lightning one of its arms grabbed hold of the furred arm, breaking bones audibly in the tight pinch of the fist. A moment later, a great red blur, like a floating red mist, flew past the creature¡¯s position in front of the ring of spears; as it passed by it revealed a head-and shoulder-less creature standing with an arm still through its chest. Its own arm promptly dropped from grabbing the clawed-arm as it rapidly crumbled on itself, turning into a heap of dust and grit moments later.


    Then Radagastius stood before Rowalder, looking off into the night; though he was in wolf-man form, Rowalder knew his identity and the great sigh of relief that came rushing out of his lungs finally overcame his knees and brought him crumbling down, shaken; as he gasped and shuddered, he realized that he had been in tears for a while. By the time he next raised his head, the clearing they were in was surrounded by several creatures, in male and female shape, of great and small size; all their eyes glowed deadly. The Viscount and a suddenly-appeared Katwulf seemed surrounded, along with their expected-to-be-superior force of numbers. For a moment, the air tinged of desperation; for blood, for life, for exchange with any other hell but this night and this forest. Several of the creatures blurred out of sight, in a multi-pronged attack on the red commander. Equally fast, Katwulf danced and snaked his was among them, dodging and parrying blows with precision and cracking savagery, admirably in human form, or so it seemed to the huddled mass of the terrified; then mid leap, he kicked one of the creatures with an audible bang and a perfect ring of dust- as he slowed, and the creature soared, smacking and felling a tree many yards distant, many saw the great red bush of his tail swaying behind him. The red commander seemed to be enjoying himself, evinced by the wide split fox grin on his features as he fought. Then he had looked across at his lord, Radagastius, who had stood watching him, unapproachable by the fiends as yet. Then they both made to run at each other, across the great expanse between them, dotted with the creatures as it were; a step each they took, in runners stance, then they both blinked out of sight at precisely the exact moment. Then there was chaos; silent roars rent the brains of the soldiers in the ring as they neither knew whether they imagined or actually heard them; every last creature in the clearing had leapt impossibly high with a great sound like a rushing gale, soaring up to the roof of the forest, among the canopy of the highest boughs and their branches.


    At that point, among the ring of soldiers standing agog at the extraordinary scenes of battle transpiring before their eyes, there occurred a strange event that was recalled by many a soldier among comrades for days afterwards; here and there among the mass of men, huddled as they were in the spear-ring, one would hear his companion who held a torch quietly and solemnly request;


    ¡°When I throw it, do not let the torch drop. Hold up the torch.¡± And before they could respond, with a sound like rushing wind, the man standing in the direction from where the voice came could be gone, with a billowing torch arching to the fall overhead. Many a torch was caught and the incident produced not as much chaos among the ranks as even greater credulity, for those who could had seen and had also reported- many the seer was also a torch catcher you see- that the air above them after that incident had been filled with wolf-men, all soaring at alarming speed up into the canopy of Skollvurn. And all indeed testify that at about this time, there was a fearful din as the sound of a great pack of wolves howling, shattered the air and the tranquility of the night.


    Afterwards there was much crack and thundering up in the highest branches, and a near constant rain of dust accompanied by wolf howls for the greater part of a full minute. Then the night reclaimed its dominion and quiet carpeted the darkness and the world around them. And Rowalder was too terrified to continue his vigilance, head bent low in tears for all he had almost lost, all which would have been abruptly left behind-but it was reported by other men, that thereon after, till dawn of the new day, the dark ceiling of the forest was filled with large, peering yellow eyes that accompanied the marching company of men as they regained their decorum and impetus to persecute their intended march.


    **


    Rowalder shuddered through his bones; quietly he reflected over his loved ones, his family, that of his older brother Haswalder; his life was now as a sacrifice for theirs. After much pondering and contemplation, he had come to accept this new role in his life-as a shield, a defense for the vales and their peoples so that a domestic and mundane life could be experienced with ease and dignity to life. The lives of the defenders of the vale were horrendously perilous so that the rest of the vale could achieve comfort in their day to day lives; as soldier they warded off the seen and unseen, known and unknown dangers and disasters intended for the entire population. They were the great wall that encircled the hearth, and ensured that the fires of life, fruitfulness and prosperity continued to warm their homeland. And burn high or low, Rowalder was content to burn, in the knowledge that his family would enjoy his glow.

 Chapter 7

    Anak-Meophustez, better known as Lord Meophust among the Mayaken, was once a great king, in another lifetime. Among the Anakim, the race of giants now extinct in the world of men, Meophust ruled as one of a handful of great-Kings; his dominion was over ancient Thrace (present day Bulgaria, Eastern Europe) before it was called thus. In his time, humans were a new sight on the sands of the earth and seemed an aberration on the face of the planet; giants had ruled the lands of the earth, had fought and bled for their kingdoms and had shared the world out along carefully, jealously guarded lines. Humans were most unwelcome, and because of their diminutive proportions as seen by giants, they were considered rather easy to eradicate; not until the overwhelming proliferation of human life, as evinced by our mass overpopulations, did we become the primary threat and bane of the giant¡¯s existence. Humans had taken giants seriously since the beginning. Upon the incessant, unending pining and complaints of his subjects, who continued to lose lands and livestock to human communities, Meophust decided to take the battle to the human realm before countenancing their presence in his.


    The great king had lived for a thousand and six hundred years before he commenced war against humanity; he persecuted the human lands on the eastern coast of the Great center Sea (Mediterranean) for an additional four hundred years until his glorious death before the walls of his outermost city Illyria (Troy), which he had built to a height three times his own (the great-King stood 50 feet tall). As the tales go, Meophust was slain fighting by himself an army of damned men, demonic creatures quite different from their human lookalikes; the very blow that took the King¡¯s life was infused with the deepest, darkest magick- even to the Anakim who were born and bred of magick. Bizarrely, the slain king was said to have walked away, lifeless, from his realms, to dig his own grave in valleys unknown. Where his body lies is forever lost to all knowledge.


    _______________________________________________________________________________________________


    Verdenstadt Fortress


    Skollvurn Forest (Lowlands)


    The castle of Verdenstadt, unlike SkollWodin on the knoll, stood on a jagged, craggy hill of black stone. The most physically impassable of the three castles that made-up the tri-fortresses, Verdenstadt had incredibly high walls, almost a uniform 50 feet on all sides, with some walls rising even higher. The towers and their spires reached even greater heights and were said to scrape the sky by the populace of the surrounding villas; they could be seen from well over a mile away and they mastered a dominating view of the valley and plain before them. There were some nine towers in all, the tallest of which rose nearer to 70 feet high; it was called the Villi Tower and on its topmost battlements it housed a great censer, which was filled with fats and burned as a beacon each night, taking advantage of their superiority in clarity even at nighttime. The gate to the fortress had a five-tiered defensive battlement built around, which depressed the actual gate itself some 10 feet into the body of the main east wall, facing the safest path up the jagged craggy hillside. In this hollowed space, all the accompanying traps for foes imaginable were most-definitely engaged, and it was believed a trap door was disguised before the very bolts of the gate itself. From the tops of all nine towers, great serpentine pennants rippled and danced high in the air, many a pure black in color, with two red flags atop the main gate battlements and atop the elevated citadel rooftop. The whole place had a decidedly cultivated martial look to it, and it oozed intimidation at all who beheld it. Daily on its battlements patrols stalked up and down and past each other; the trickle of traffic in and out of the castle was severely curtailed, due in part to the perilous single point of access down the incline of the hills. The western part of the castle was built into the stone side of a sheer Cliffside of an adjoining hill, which towered over the walls and towers of Verdenstadt and the summit of which was jagged, slabs of stone. On the northern and southern bottom walls, great slabs of stone had also been hurled near the base, shattered and carved into jagged points to discourage concerted action at the foot of the defenses. Apart from the isolated, donkey path up the eastern hillside, there was no physical way up for human effort, even for mountain climbers. No human war effort, besides blatant treachery could assail the place; it only managed a garrison of 200, all elite veterans of siege and skirmish warfare.


    **


    Maester Martel stared at the walls of the castle atop the hill with a cold sneer on his countenance. Daily reports were whispered on the wind, death-cries echoed and resonated within, from the nearby forest knolls and gorges; the auxiliaries were felled surely and steadily in the woods around the deeper hinterlands, between the fortresses of Bruuksfurt and SkollWodin. Their numbers persisted yet, and just below a thousand of the freshly and fairly marked still stalked and savaged the hearths and villas. Of slight interest to the aged-faced, pale-skinned man, were the whispers of the force of armed men that had marched forth from SkollWodin on-the-knoll; they advanced apace with a swath of dead and dusted auxiliaries. The voices say they numbered near a thousand; they also said this force did not march to some ultimate confrontation but deposited its cells along the way, to arm and defend the isolated peoples; they said he did not have to expect any reinforcements coming to the aid of his prey. His clawed hands caressed and preened greyed strands on a receding hairline as he looked to draw in a deep breath, mid-thought; he needed breathe no air, but succumbed to old habits from a past life. Scattered in over a hundred groups of ten or more, his mayakith prowled the valley passes beneath the hills, and they could smell those who walked the walls of the castle above.


    The Maester¡¯s mind dwelled also on his recent trip to and fro the northern coast, in a path between the fortresses Bruuksfurt and Verdenstadt, slipping through the vale¡¯s defenses. His meeting with ¡®the Mother¡¯ had further reinforced his mood to penetrate the castle before him, as well as infiltrate the entire valley populations; here lay another isolated fledgling kingdom, or state of sorts-a perfect home for his children and their preferred place to hide. On his return trip, as he and his group of ten passed the shadows of the Verdenstadt hills, Martel Merovich had disengaged mid-run, turned and leapt in a great bound that traversed the valley floor to the battlements atop the hills, over 600 feet- he had landed on a currently empty patch of wall. Within moments, he had been surrounded by two Therians of immense bulk in the narrow walkway in midair; had neither turned in either direction to observe the threats nor shifted his gaze from the compound beneath him. There in the empty courtyard stood a sole soldier in a woad blue cloak and like-colored armor; he had stared up at the Maester with a great grin on his face and his presence had seemed to fill the entire castle, like a resonating howl within one¡¯s mind. Momentarily the world had darkened, so that even he, a spawn of Adam had difficulty seeing through the deep shade; all that had remained visible in that gloom had been the bright white eyes of the blue-clad soldier in the courtyard, and his bright white teeth, still displayed in that wide grin- deep sorcery was present in the castle¡­This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Now Martel knew that indeed Verdenstadt was his rightful prey and only he and his ken, his mayakith, could hope of surpassing the near-insurmountable difficulties posed by besieging the castle. Since he had returned from the ship on the coast his eyes had glowed a deep bloody red, as well as those of his ten guards; he had also noticed vast changes in their capabilities- it was like they had left another life behind, like they did their first. Hearing now covered many more miles than before, with a finer, almost unnerving clarity; a single bound may lift them high into the skies, or throw them across a half dozen miles so that they traversed wide countries in half-hours; a blow with real intent could shatter through stone several feet thick as it did when he struck the two behemoth Therians on either side atop the wall. His blows had moved with blinding speed, almost outstripping his own eyes; the blows had each splattered large chunks of the wolves forms like feeble sacks of blood; the force of the blows had then carried the creatures hurtling over a score yards back through the air, like darts from a crossbow , till they shattered two 18-foot guard rooms on the battlements; the shockwave from the attack had shook the walls and even reverberated down in the courtyard, though the stonework took no considerable damages. He had killed them as a response to the sorcerer¡¯s threat-now he watched with inner mirth as they scrambled around re-building their ramparts. And curiously, any of his mayakith who had looked he and his group in the eyes afterwards had also manifested permanently glowing eyes. Now he restricted access to himself, keeping a force of 20 red-eyed mayakith around his person; he had sent Agrippina, his child-like consort, with the remainder of the now hundred strong red-eyed to go share their new enchantments with their ken down in the valleys beneath Verdenstadt. Now he whispered into the wind: ¡°We attack on the night of morrow.¡±


    **


    SkollWodin Fortress


    Skollvurn Forest (Lowlands)


    Rollo opened his eyes to a grey sky, as the air escaped his lungs for the umpteenth time; he had lost count of how many drops and falls to his rump and backside flat, he taken this session alone. He let his mind drift a little, taking in the bleary sky with boiling dark clouds only visible in shifting shades; this helped him avoid the pain, and gather his senses, or so he hoped. And he had reached a decision. As he slowly pushed himself up from the dirt once more, and released a huge breath and with face downcast, he said loudly, ¡°I forfeit. No more, please.¡± He dropped his wooden staff on the ground before him, breathing a little heavily under the slight chill of the day. How was he supposed to protect anyone like this? He thought. On his back every other day, in and out of sessions; he had tried sparring one-on-one with Hilda- they had become close friends since before their parents departed the keep. She too had put him flat on his back. He had begun considering enlisting in the kitchens or the stables perhaps, maybe even the armory if he could manage it, to save himself the embarrassment of being rejected for the armed corps. Shamefully sometimes he had even began to wish his Da could return on a visit perhaps; give him an excuse to quit the keep altogether. He was prepared to swear on both his gonads that he would never tell another soul about what he had witnessed in the great hall, if they would just let him go home. But a dark part of himself whispered his Da¡¯s fate; fallen out in the wilderness among the casualties of the armed counter led by the Viscount and commander Katwulf. Whenever his thoughts strayed that way he would swallow hard and take three deep breaths, calm and measured like he now did in the stable courtyard behind the great hall. It was a much smaller yard but more isolated and convenient for drill exercises than the bustling and busy front courtyard; and now it was filled with a semi-circle of teens just above or around Rollo and Hilda¡¯s age. As finally managed to raise his head a notch, in attempted defiance of the cloak of shame, his eyes fell on Anslem on one edge of the line. The kid had not spoken to anyone other than commander Katwulf since the night of their arrival at the hall; he had lost his father and sister in that night, a huge chunk of his family. And at such a young age, and with such brutality; the lack of any truly familiar faces after the incident also added to the stupor the boy was currently drowning in. Rollo had watched over him from a distance, not having the maturity to combat or alleviate so deep a pain. As he looked at Anslem, the boy looked back. And for a moment there, there was recognition; the old spirit of childhood and friendliness within had acknowledged Rollo¡¯s identity, and had there been the feeblest spark of empathy in that look? And then the boy¡¯s head was tucked carefully back into his chest. That moment, something had dropped in Rollo¡¯s head, like a pair of scales; and his heart reached out earnestly to Anslem. The kid was as his brother- it was Rollo¡¯s place to protect him, ad his Da would him. He exhaled, he blinked.


    **


    Outside Bruuksfurt Fortress


    Skollvurn Forest (Lowlands)


    They swam like snakes in the water, able to easily elevate the upper parts of their bodies above the surface, while seeming to glide along in the water. Their legs worked in a blur that propelled them faster than any other creatures to ever grace the waters; those that swam full beneath the water sped like arrows through the water, arms at their sides, giving their pale bodies a streamline. There were scores of them approaching the round walls from every direction in the water, and in no time many were crawling and climbing onto the beach around the place. The castle was built on water, an astonishing feat of engineering, with much wood involved in fording a river and to form an enormous base around which earth had been packed before construction. They say that the original inhabitants had built the castle before the arrivals of the Norsemen, as a bastion against the dark magicks that prowled the forests around the great river, to keep all sorts of creatures out, like the nefarious wolf-men that plagued all of Eastern and Northern Europa. All this and more could be heard on the whispers of the wind, if but one were a pale-faced mayakith. And as they stared up at the towering walls now, they hear whispers of panic and resolve, fear and determination. They that guarded the fortress were prepared for the savagery to commence.