《Song of the Silver Moon》
Chapter 1: Winters End
Chapter 1:
Winter''s End
Prince Astellar, the hero of the battle for Demon Strait, and heir to the throne of Ash felt conflicted. Walking beneath the gaze of the colossal statues, the prince felt like a trespasser to an age long past.
The statues had caught his eye. They stood ever-vigilant, guarding between them the gates of an ancient stronghold. The remnants of a darker time.
There were legends told about the castle of Winter''s End. How it was the last seat of the primordial kings. Never for once did it fell, from neither man or god. After finally having a good look at the castle, the General finally understood why.
The castle stood proudly at the summit of a mountain. Its spires jut out from the heavy mists like spears poised to pierce the heavens themselves. The decrepit walls stood testament to the heavy blows that time had inflicted. A chilling, ghost-like shroud envelops the area.
To state that the trek upwards had been rigorous was an understatement. Despite the stone steps and the tranquil weather, their journey had been anything but. Even at the base of the mountain, Prince Astellar had felt a growing pit in his stomach. A strange anticipation built up from the back of his mind.
After a month of frolicking through the north, they had finally reached the enemy''s gates.
An ancient wind blew from the heavens above. Carrying with it the stench of blood and death mixed with the scent of flowers in a morning field.
Change is coming, and Prince Astellar found himself standing in the eye of the storm. The only question left is whether he''d be able to weather the worst of it.
"My lord," Astellar felt a hand on his shoulder. "Scouts reported seeing nothing in or out of the castle." The voice belonged to Vernier. General Vernier, he''s called now.
Astellar did not respond right away. Instead, he leveled his gaze through the mists to glare on the castle whose shadow loomed above them.
"Act with caution, General." He said.
The prince turned his head to the sound of approaching footsteps. It appeared Vernier had gestured for his lieutenants to approach.
"Tell the men to stay on their guard," Vernier ordered. "Be wary of any movement from the castle, regardless of how small. I want our sentries alert and ready to holler, do you understand?"
The lieutenants nodded and left to relay their General''s orders.
Vernier returned to Astellar''s side moments later, "It''s quiet. Too quiet. I expected this place to be swarming with beastmen right about now."
Astellar agreed to his friend''s assessment of the situation. It is alarming how calm what supposed to be their enemy''s final line of defense. Almost like the calm before a--
"My lord, look up!"
And true enough, grey clouds converged above their location. Astellar watched in awed silence to the display of power over nature.
"Sorcery!!!" Astellar warned, but it was too late.
It started off as a gust of wind that soon grew into a maelstrom, and then the snow fell. In thousands, millions.
Astellar drew Sunstrike from its sheath. A chorus of swords leaving their scabbards followed soon after.
"Hold your positions, men!" Astellar rallied the soldiers around him in a defensive formation. Which is difficult to maintain in a freezing cold with little visibility. Worst of all, the steepness of the mountainside spelled demise from a single misstep.
AaaaaaaaAAAWwwoooooOOOOOOOoooo!!
A lone and resounding howl broke through the sound of the screaming winds. It sounded familiar, there was no doubt about it; it could only belong to him. A fleeting memory of that night flashed in Astellar''s mind.
Astellar gritted his teeth, hard. He fought the coldness creeping up his spine with the burning rage he felt in his heart. Still, it wasn''t enough.
''From Ashes, I rise.'' he recited in his mind the words of his house. It wasn''t meant to give comfort but as a promise. To his family and to his ancestors, that whatever happens, he will not surrender. Despite whatever odds stacked against him by Fate.
He did have a promise to fulfill after all. No matter what.
A battle cry rang out from the stronghold, from that guttural language the beastmen use. The words were inaudible, their meaning, crystal clear.
"From Ashes, I rise!!!" Astellar shouted, much louder than what was on his mind. Astellar received a chorus from his men, their courage resounded with every word. The prince hoped he had salvaged their morale.
A magical barrier formed above the formation, shielding the men from a rain of arrows. The prince swore he''ll thank the magi later if they got out alive.
Arrows bombarded the barrier once again and still, it endured.
"Shields up!" General Vernier ordered, his men followed without hesitation.
Astellar noticed the webs of cracks forming on the translucent barrier made of mana.
Like glass, the barrier finally broke against the third volley. A hail of arrows rained from the sky, felling soldiers the moment they landed. It penetrated their shields and impaled their bodies.
A growl in the mists was their only warning.
The enemy gave them no time to recover. A hulking form appeared from the mists, one after another. One of them collided with Astellar and sent him stumbling back. His body had hit one of the soldiers behind him, and the prince swore he heard something broke. The impact had muddled his thoughts, and for a moment, he saw only stars.
"Prince Astellar!" He heard Vernier''s voice from... somewhere.
"Maintain formations!" "Where did they come from?" "Someone get the battle-mages out here. Move!"
He was aware of the battle that raged around him. The hulking figures appeared out of nowhere. They charged with their sharp, bone-like appendages leveled to the enemy, impaling them. The human soldiers clamored to retaliate, only for the enemy to disappear into the mists.
"Tusks!"
Astellar heard himself shout. The next second, he''s standing on his feet, Sunstrike at the ready to strike down his foes.
His instincts screamed at him. The prince did a side-step to his right, dodging the charging Tusk who planned to impale him from behind. It was close. Too close for anyone''s liking. The soldier on the Tusk''s collision course wasn''t so fortunate.
The beastman growled as he trained his eyes to his original target. The Prince-General readied his sword in a silent challenge.
With a guttural roar, the beastman charged once more.
Astellar calmed his thundering heart. From ashes, I rise.
The Tusk was approaching at an ever-quickening rate. With every step of his hooves, he was almost akin to a high-speed battering ram.
Astellar waited for the Tusk to close the distance between them. One misstep, one miscalculation, was all it would take to a shallow grave.
Now!
With an agility that will make even the hunters from the eastern islands to blink twice. Astellar dodged again, this time he twisted his body to the left. A split-second before the tusks made contact with his body.
Oh, how the Prince relished the look of disbelief that flashed in the beastman''s eyes. He then brought his sword downwards on the Tusk''s unprotected neck. Sunstrike had cleaved through flesh without effort.
The beastman''s head went flying. Astellar hoped it would hit another Tusk on the way down.
Shaking off the blood that adorned his sword, the prince took a moment to survey the battlefield. It seems that more beastmen, not only Tusks, have decided to join the fray. Some he recognized by their bestial features and from his previous skirmishes. Others he had read about in the reports.
The famed Hero of Demon Strait moved across the battlefield like a whirlwind of death. Wherever he went, death soon followed. He aided those who needed it and had slain those unfortunate enough to cross his path.
One. Two. Four... After that, he had lost count of how many beastman that fell from the blade of his ancestors.
Astellar drove his sword through the back of a beastman, before moving on to the next target. He didn''t give much thought about it afterward.
The numbers dwindled on both sides.
"Prince Astellar!" it was Candana, high magus, who approached Astellar with her colleague in tow. Their hooded frames but a silhouette in the raging snow. Beneath the shadow of their hoods is a pair of glowing eyes that stared back with evident power.
Magi, Astellar frowned. They presented themselves with a noble and calm elegance despite the carnage. As if the blood and death are completely beneath their notice.
A blast of energy struck a beastman that strayed too close.
Despite what the prince thought of them, he couldn''t help but smile. I''m still alive. The high magus smiled back, albeit for a brief moment, hidden from the rest of the world. I know.
"Prince Astellar, this weather is an anomaly."
"Oh yeah?" Astellar felt his patience ebbing away. "Tell me something I do not know, Candana."
"My prince," Candana said as if speaking to a child. "This blizzard is a work of magic, a magic that was all but lost in the pages of time. Whoever is in that stronghold, whoever had cast this spell, is a force to be reckoned with."
Astellar nodded. "Can you disperse the blizzard using your magic?"
"We are doing what we can," Candana said. "But it will take time."
"We don''t have time!" Astellar gritted his teeth, "the men are dying as we speak."
Candana''s features remained calm in the face of Astellar''s outrage. "We will redouble our efforts, my Prince." She said. "Until then, take care of yourself."
Astellar decided he had heard enough. He walked past the magus to vent his rage to an unsuspecting beastmen. Too caught up in her fight, she failed to notice the descending blade.
Astellar had finished dislodging his sword from the beastman''s head. A streak of silver moving at the speed of an arrow had caught his attention.
The prince would have dismissed it as nothing more but a trick of the eye if he wasn''t waiting for it to happen. Astellar smiled in anticipation. He had waited for this moment after all.
The Wolven moved with speed and dexterity. Their silver hair and light-colored apparel masked their visage in the wintry landscape. They are the unmatched hunters of the North and its ruler. The little encounters Astellar had with them in the past were all but enough to establish a fact. Never underestimate the ferocity of the Wolven, ever.
Astellar strained to follow the silhouette with his eyes. The weather and the chaotic state of the battlefield made the task nigh-impossible.
It was exactly like the last time, Astellar thought. The scar on his left cheek was a testament to how their last encounter ended. He found him at last. This will be the day a victor emerges.
The rest of the beastmen soldiers gave the prince a wide berth. It left little to no doubt that the Wolven had found his prey.
Silver flashed in the corner of his eye. The feeling of impending death compelled Astellar''s muscles to react in instinct. Still, it proved futile as a searing pain spread throughout the side of his body. The prince gritted his teeth in repressed agony. The Wolven had struck the vulnerable part in his armor. The thin blade slipped between the plates of steel where there is little protection.
Astellar moved to retaliate despite the pain, but the Wolven was already gone. Swirling snow was all that remained in his wake.
"Damn it!" Astellar cursed. The cloth underneath his armor dripped wet with blood. His mind was on high alert. His eyes darted left and right, expecting an attack from every angle.
The Wolven looked as if he materialized out of thin air in front of Astellar to admire his handiwork. Amber eyes clashed with obsidian in a silent battle. The Wolven spoke in his native language, one that Astellar did not understand.
The prince charged, his sword poised to strike the beastman down.
The Wolven smiled and waited. With a battle cry, Astellar swung Sunstrike in an overhead arc.
The blade had struck air instead of beastman flesh the prince expected. Astellar blinked. His opponent vanished as quick as he appeared, like a candlelight in a snowstorm.
The prince''s eyes darted around like a cornered animal. He searched for that silver streak moving across the battlefield at supernatural speeds. The blizzard had made things more difficult for the prince as it limited his vision. Adrenaline did all that it could to numb the blinding pain that throbbed in his wounded side.
Astellar was at a serious disadvantage.
The prince''s sense of danger flared up, honed from years of experience in the battlefield. His instincts compelled the prince to turn around and step back. He caught a glimpse of glinting steel sailing in a deadly arc a few inches under his chin.
The prince strived to create distance between him and his attacker, but the beastman won''t have any of it. With the grace of that of a predator, the Wolven followed up with a lunge to the heart.
Astellar parried the blow at the last second using Sunstrike. Then using his momentum, tackled the beastman away with his armored shoulder.
The Wolven grunted in pain, then stumbled back before he leaped backward. An agile motion of the beastman''s hands sent a pair of daggers speeding towards Astellar. The blades spun like two twisters converging on the prince''s neck.
''From Ashes, I rise'' Astellar recited in his mind. The words brought forth a welcome calm to the storm that was his mind. ''Still Waters'', his ancestors had called it. An incantation disguised as the words of his house, known only to them and them alone.
The prince became aware of everything. For a moment he allowed himself to marvel at the sight of snow drifting to the ground. Unaffected by the strong winds that blew against his heightened sense of feeling. He smelled the stench of blood and death, reveled in it even.
The prince gritted his teeth. The felt the pain on his side and the fatigue that bore down on his shoulders amplified with the use of such spell.
The Wolven was smiling. Astellar could see it as clear as if he was standing but a step away from his adversary. The way the corners of the beastman''s mouth crept up in a smile that bared his fangs. How the prince wanted nothing more than to strike him down, if only it wasn''t possible.
The daggers spun in a slow arc through the Astellar''s heightened state of mind. It felt almost like child''s play how he parried the twin daggers with a single swing of Sunstrike.
''That should wipe that smug smirk off his face'', Astellar thought.
He was wrong.
The Wolven''s smile grew larger, respect evident in his amber eyes. Astellar narrowed his eyes in response.
"Veren''Mythos," the Wolven said, gesturing to himself.
Astellar''s did a double take. Did the Wolven just..?
The prince''s eyes widened before he managed to recollect himself.
The prince brought a fist to his chest. He hoped the Wolven would understand the warrior''s gesture back in the Kingdom.
He did.
"Astellar Crossis di Rubbelion," the prince stated, with pride in his voice.
Now that the introductions were out of the way, Astellar adopted an offensive stance. His eyes trained on the beastman that could disappear and reappear at any moment.
Veren''Mythos, huh. Finally, Astellar had a name to tack on the elusive figure. The Wolven had been a huge pain in the past. He was the one to orchestrate the raids to the villages and the caravans that dealt with beastman slavery. At least, the ones close to the Northern border.
Astellar wanted to tell the Wolven that not all the beastmen he had freed were better off living in the tundra. Not all the humans that he killed during their raids were all guilty of the crime the beastmen accused them of.
Veren vanished in a swirl of snow that immediately spurred Astellar''s mind into a state of high alert.
Sadly, there stood between them an invisible barrier...
The prince twisted his body to block an attack from behind. The sound of clashing steel reverberated across the battlefield.
The beastman''s eyes glowed a malevolent amber. His hands blurred to send another flurry of blows to the unmovable fortress that was his enemy.
Astellar''s weapon and armor felt heavier than they were before. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. A constant use of ''Still Waters'' took a heavy toll on both body and mind and Astellar was starting to feel it. Outweighed only by the ability to redirect a dagger lunging towards his face made it all worth it.
Every time the prince would attempt to counter with an attack of his own, Veren would disappear out of thin air. The Wolven would then capitalize on Astellar''s vulnerable form with a well-placed strike.
The prince spat blood. His eyes glared behind the dirty mop of ash blonde hair that framed his face. His fingers struggled to maintain their hold on his ancestors'' sword. The armor around his body felt heavy. The Wolven did a great job in tiring him down. Astellar released Still Waters lest it drives his mind to the point of over-exhaustion.
There was no pity in the beastman''s eyes as he watched his prey. With a resolute nod, he vanished once more in an explosion of snow.
Astellar raised his sword to parry but it was too late. The Wolven had embedded a dagger through his forearm.
The prince struggled to create distance between him and his enemy. Instead, he stumbled back and fell on his backside. Sunstrike slipped through his numb fingers and fell on the snow beside him.
''This is how it ends then,'' Astellar thought as he watched the Wolven stalk towards him. ''Pity.''
"Prince Astellar!" It was General Vernier all bloodied and battered. The General positioned himself between the predator and prey, sword at the ready. Veren''Mythos narrowed his eyes at the intruder.
The prince felt relief seeing his old friend, injured but otherwise still alive. He would have told him that, instead, "Save yourself, Vernier! Order a retreat. You can''t beat him."
The Wolven lunged for Astellar before his friend could answer. Vernier blocked the strike with little difficulty.
"You''re right, I can''t," Vernier said, blade crossed in a standoff. "Not alone, anyway."
Astellar glared, but unable to muster the will to argue. Instead, his left hand clasped around the hilt with familiarity. "From Ashes, I rise." The prince said, rising as he did so.
Vernier nodded in agreement and chorused, "From Ashes, I rise."
Veren''Mythos narrowed his eyes to the both of them before disappearing once again in a swirl of snow. The duo readied their weapons. Backs against each other as they scanned the battlefield for any sign of the silver streak.
Astellar parried the blow to his right and Vernier moved to counter with an attack of his own. The dagger in the beastman''s other hand darted to redirect the strike away.
The three continued their deadly dance. Steel clashed against steel as the trio moved like a blur. A maelstrom of blades fighting among itself.
The Wolven would disappear every time he found himself in a disadvantageous position. Only to appear again in one of the two''s blindside.
They were going nowhere and Veren''Mythos had them where he wanted them. It was only a matter of time before they tire out once more.
"Your Highness," Vernier whispered. "Tell my family they are ever in my thoughts. Now until forever."
Vernier overextended his reach when he attempted to strike back on his opponent. The Wolven was there to make use of the General''s misstep.
General Vernier choked in pain as a dagger sliced through the soft flesh in his throat.
"Vernier!" Astellar shouted.
The General did the unexpected by wrapping his hands around the Wolven''s wrist. Vernier smiled at the look of shock on the beastman''s face. A steady stream of blood poured down the General''s armor.
Astellar moved with haste.
"Grrkk!" The agony was evident in the beastman''s eyes. His mind finally registered the pain of a sword driven through the chest.
Veren''Mythos was dead even before he had hit the ground.
Astellar Crossis di Rubellion spared his fallen opponent with a final glance. He then moved to his dying friend''s side.
The General choked to form words but only blood came out. Blood and bile.
Astellar clasped his friend''s hand one final time. "I''ll tell them. Don''t worry, my friend, I will make sure they know." He promised.
A light of tranquility settled over the agonized look in the General''s clouded eyes. Life had finally relinquished its hold.
The prince released his friend''s hand. He will weep later, during the silence of the night. For now, he had a war to win.
"From Ashes, I rise!"
***
As Prince Astellar stood triumphant over the body of Veren''Mythos Selune. Unaware to the pair of amber eyes that watched from afar, hooded beneath a mop of silver hair.
"Farewell," a quiet voice said. "Father."
...
Chapter 2: Ashes and Ice
Chapter 2:
Ashes and Ice
Prince Astellar Crossis di Rubbelion, recently titled by his men as the ''Wolfsbane'', finally breathed a sigh of relief as the white-peaked mountain of Winter''s End grew smaller with every passing second. It was a surreal feeling, the past handful of days felt like a dream. Or a nightmare if the dull pain on his side is any indication. Except, of course, that fateful night that Astellar knew would have severe ramifications to two separate worlds. He remembered every detail of that night...
...still felt the pain of being stabbed through the shoulder by a ravenous pup who pounced as soon as the doors opened.
His soldiers had disentangled the boy from their leader and then restrained by two grown men. Astellar needed only but a single glance to know what warranted the attack. The boy''s silver hair bristled, his amber eyes glared with an intensity that could seemingly kill a lesser man if caught unawares. His expression contorted into a vicious snarl that bared a pair of elongated canines for them to see. Interesting, thought Astellar.
Candana was instantly on his side, "My prince, are you well?"
Astellar grunted, "I''m fine.
One of Astellar''s soldiers moved to impale the boy with his spear. "Fucking animal!"
"Don''t!" A wizened voice pleaded from across the hall. The Wolven King leaned forward on his throne, his eyes wide open. "Please good lord, show the pup mercy. His head is clouded with the grief of losing his father." The King spoke in a heavily accented, but surprisingly fluent, Asharian.
Astellar raised a fist, prompting the soldier to pause on his actions. "He''s not the only child to lose a parent today."
"Nor will he be the last," the Wolven King slowly stood up. "But with the death of his father--my son!--the Lupan people are left without an heir," the king said imploringly, as he weaved through the tense hulking figures that were his final protection. The pup growled.
The Wolven King continued, "We are the last of our kind, my lord."
The prince smiled wryly. "Is that so?", to which the old beastman nodded reluctantly, his sharp teeth gritted. Astellar ignored this and simply stated, "You''ve raided our villages and killed our people. Give me one good reason to stop the blades of my men from slaughtering you all." The soldiers advanced threateningly.
"Yes, we have killed hu--"
"Slaughtered." Astellar interrupted, "Might as well call it for what it was: a slaughter. You have slaughtered innocent people and left burning villages in your wake, and for what? For a hoard of loot and a handful of prisoners? Heavens help me think of a good reason not to do the same here."
"It has always been about the Wildekin''s survival!"
"By condemning them to die on the battlefield!?"
"That is a risk we are willing to take!" The Wolven King snarled, "All of those who fought today on that blooded ground had a stronger chance of survival than the ones who don''t!"
Everyone was silent. The Wolven King cursed in his native tongue.
"Our people are dying, Prince Astellar; dying slowly and yet faster than we can reproduce." He said solemnly, "The war was our desperate attempt to make sure the next generation has something to live for."
"By dying?" Candana asked.
"By dying." The Wolven King chuckled, "Now that I say it out loud, it wasn''t a very good plan, was it?"
"No, it''s not."
"Still, it was the choice left to us." The Wolven King sighed, "So, what happens now, southern prince? What fate do you have in store for us?"
Prince Astellar sighed, suddenly aware of how fatigued his body felt. He really needed a break, post-war politics be damned. "The people in the capital calls for your head."
The Wolven King smiled, resigned to the verdict. "So be it." He said, "All I ask is that you spare our offspring."
"And if I refused?"The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The King bared his teeth in what resembles an animalistic smile. "Then this chapter has no choice but to end in bloodshed." Raw power seemed to exude from every pore of the old beastman''s skin like steam. "Are you prepared for that, Prince Astellar of House Rubbelion? Indeed, I do know of that insignia you wear on your chest, and I know the words. Your family had risen from the ashes, but can it flail long enough to survive in the freezing cold?"
Astellar eyes narrowed threateningly to the insult. "You know me?"
The Wolven King nodded. "Ah yes, I do. Your reputation precedes you, Prince Astellar, the hero of Demon Strait and the slayer of my son. With titles such as yours, how could I not?"
"You have me at a disadvantage here."
"And I will have you at a disadvantage for a little longer."
"Your son, he told me his name before he died."
"And you''d do good not to mutter his name in the presence of the unworthy." The Wolven King sighed, sparing a sad glance to the growling pup that was his grandson. "He fell in battle. There is no greater honor for a warrior to be defeated by someone better." The King then spoke in his language. Astellar had a feeling the words were addressed to another, specifically the awe-struck pup.
"Names have power, remember that, blood even more so."
"What do you mean?" Astellar asked.
"The blood of the ancient kings isn''t just for spilling, you understand." Everyone felt an involuntary shiver pass through their body, white mist mingled with every breath. Astellar heard a gasp from the person he least expected. "Who do you think summoned the blizzard in the first place?"
"You dare?!" Candana said, her voice rising in volume with every word. "Who do you think you are playing with the forces of nature?!"
The Wolven King glared at her. "You are a magus, are you not? I sense the power radiating from your soul. You were the one to dismantle my spell earlier." He then asked, "Tell me, magus, do you not do the same? Pray tell the difference between your ''magecraft'' from mine?"
"The difference is that mine is honed from years of training and discipline before I can call myself capable to manipulate even a single element." The magus said, "Even then, us magi knew the repercussions of trying something as controlling the weather. Yet you don''t even care, do you?"
The Wolven King laughed, without humor. "Such arrogance!" He said, "Foolish girl, you speak of ''manipulation'' when it is not so, nor do I have any form of power over nature. I simply ask and it is up to the WInds if they answer."
"But that shouldn''t be--"
"Enough!" Astellar said. "We are getting side-tracked from the main issue here."
"Ah, the question whether you''ll kill my people after you kill me, or not."
"You do not fear death?"
"I fear the future more."
"My prince, if I may have a word?" Candana spoke up. Astellar gestured for her to go on before she flashed him a grateful smile. Candana leaned closer and whispered, "I will not presume to dictate your course of action, I can only advise."
"Then advise."
"I advise they be put to the death."
"That was your advise?" Astellar asked. "That I kill a defenseless child and an old man?"
"I see neither. All that is in front of me are beasts."
"You have beastmen in your ranks, do you not?"
"Beastmen, my lord. That word at the end makes all the difference." Candana said. "And besides, I can think of no merit to their continued existence."
Astellar simply shook his head. The threat to kill the Wolven pup was nothing more but a bluff before, but now he wasn''t so sure. Will he really be able to shed the blood of a child? Chivalry and honor would have answered ''no'' for reasons that need not be said, pragmatism would say yes'' in the chance that the child will be taking revenge in the future; the beastmen would readily march behind a Wolven after all.
The smiling face of Astellar''s own son flashed for the briefest of moments, framed by rays of the afternoon sun, forehead moist with sweat. In his hand is a wooden sword that vaguely resembled Sunstrike. He remembered that day-- it was the day he left to lead the march North. ''Promise you''ll train me after you get back?'' His son will be king one day. Would that mean he will have to face the Wolven in battle years from now? In the end, every path leads to the same destination.
If the situation was reversed, would Veren''Mythos think the same before stabbing Astellar''s children through the heart?
"I have made my decision."
The Wolven King smiled. "So how many will die, Prince Astellar? Just us elderly Wildekin, or everyone here in the castle, including you?"
Astellar cursed. The old fool isn''t making things easier for anyone.
"Kneel." The Rubbelion heir said. The Wolven King smiled in resignation, and then. "Kneel and swear fealty to the Throne of Ash and Your Highness, King Oswald Crossis di Rubbelion."
A tense silence descended upon everyone in the throne room. It lasted for a blissful moment before it erupted into a cacophony of words clamoring to be heard. The look of shock on the old King''s face made it all worth it, not to mention the words of what is undoubtedly outrage from everyone else.
"My prince, this is insanity!" "After all they did?!" "Beastmen I can accept, but these are savages!"
"Silence!" Astellar ordered.
"Prince Astellar, are you certain about this?" Candana asked. The urgency of her tone betrayed the calmness of her voice.
Astellar refused to respond, he instead continued to address the Wolven King. "I will also be taking under my custody and protection this child, to make sure the bond of this new alliance remain strong and faithful."
The words felt like acid in his mouth.
The Wolven King, once he managed to get over his shock, simply smiled.
"I accept," he said, and things will never be the same again. For the world of humans and beastmen alike.
..
Chapter 3: Gone with the Wind
Chapter 3:
Gone with the Wind
Legends tell of a place where life not only thrived but flourished. A place of bustling greens and untouched streams, of gentle winds and cloudless skies. It is a paradise for those who could find, where one need not shed the blood of another for food for there is plenty to be had, where warriors need not take arms to fight for land for it spanned endlessly. One horizon to another. A new world.
The perfect world. Galatea.
It sounded like a dream. A deadwood of a lie fed to the fire to keep the hope burning. I believed it to be futile...
...until I awoke to find myself under her care.
Astellar gasped. He frantically sat up, his hands shot to his chest to grasp a dagger that wasn''t there. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, the clothes on his back drenched with the worst of it. His heart pounded into oblivion. His mind became a raging storm of thoughts, assessing every possible threat in the near vicinity with a sharp eye. It immediately focused on the familiar wing-like design of the sword''s guard.
Sunstrike!
It was only when the prince felt a pair of slender arms snaked around his shoulders and heard a soft voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear that he finally allowed his mind to a state of calm.
"You had a nightmare," Candana concluded, mostly for her sake. Her chin rested on Astellar''s shoulder, splaying her curled ebony locks down like a midnight waterfall.
Astellar nodded then clasped her hand in his, to reassure himself that he was indeed in a relatively safe place. He was given quarters in one of the many empty rooms of the castle. The hearth at the center did little to stave off the cold. Fortunately, there were other ways of doing so.
The memories of the previous night slowly started to trickle in his mind. He remembered listening to the reports from his commanders with their lieutenants behind them as the rest of the soldiers had their fun in the main hall below. A slightly-disheveled high magus barged in soon after and demanded she is presented with a reasonable explanation about the incident in the throne room. The rest of the people in the room wisely decided to leave.
Somehow, the discussion of the fate of their nation descended into a night of unbridled passion. One of many, and certainly not the last.
Astellar took note that it was still dark outside.
"I''m here if you need me," The magus whispered. "Now until forever, Aste,"
Astellar smiled. It was these moments that he cherished the most: when he need not don the mask and armor of the gallant and noble prince, and Candana Allestesia need not be the high magus and heiress to a dying house, whose shoulders carry the weight of both title and does it with a stoic facade perfected with continued use.
"Until forever, Candy." He replied, earning a light jab on his arm. Astellar chuckled.
"That was a name I haven''t heard in a long time. I''m surprised you haven''t forgotten about it after all these years." She said seriously, but the corners of her lips betrayed what she really felt. "But then again, I''m happy you didn''t."
Astellar turned to face his lover, then gave her a peck on the lips. "Never."
This reminded him of a time long past when everything was still simple. Back then, they were unburdened by the weight of their names and station, and simply lived the life of innocence. They basked in the warmth of the summer sun and enjoyed every moment of it. Then duty drove them both apart, only to reunite them again in the winter wind.
"It is the one and will always be my greatest fear, you know," Candana said, her eyes refused to meet his.
The prince frowned. It was rare to see the magus in a state of emotional vulnerability, a sight showed only to him and him alone. Heavens know Candana had seen her fair share from the prince.
"It won''t happen." Astellar reminded her.
His lips met hers.
The rays of the morning sun came and found the two of them snuggled comfortably into each other''s arms after yet another bout of coupling. They can''t help it, they''re living in a borrowed time after all. Astellar prayed to whoever would hear him that this moment never end. Sadly, it was not to be. So the prince did the next best thing, he buried his head in the warmth of his lover and vowed he''d cherish what little time they had together.
They had their duties, after all.
"You should talk to the boy," Candana said. They were dressed now and fully awake. The magus was seated in front of a mirror as she brushed her long hair. "It was, after all, your decision to take him under your wing."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Their eyes met through the reflection. "You disapprove?"
Candana nodded. "Yes, I do. The way I see it, you''ve literally just invited a wolf to your front door. Who''s to say he won''t be a threat to you? Will you be watching your back every second you''re in the same room together?"
"I''m confident I can handle him."
"Then think about your family, my prince. It''s no secret your wife views the beastmen as inferior beings barely worthy of her time. Think about the children, Aste!"
"You know I think about them all the time."
Guilt flashed momentarily in Candana''s eyes. "I didn''t mean it like that."
Now it was Astellar''s turn to feel guilty. With a sigh, he said, "I know you don''t. I love my children with all my heart, you know I do, and will do everything that I can to keep them safe from any harm that may befall them."
The magus swiveled her body to face her prince. "Then explain to me why--"
"Because the beastmen are not our enemies," Astellar interrupted.
"They. Attacked. First." Candana countered. "Can you reassure me they won''t do the same again?"
"They were desperate," The prince said, ignoring the groan of protest from the magus. He walked to the far end of the room away from Candana and poured himself a glass of southern strong wine. Then he said, "All they ever wanted was a way out, a chance to live, a hope for a better future. And I gave it to them."
Candana at this point could only sigh. "It was times like these that I do not understand what you are trying to say, Aste."
"What is it you don''t understand, my love? I have the means to save a desperate tribe from extinction, and I exercised those means. And if it meant that the kingdom of my father will gain an ally then I say I did right."
"An ally?" Candana questioned. Her voice returning to its usual calm indifference. "You don''t know that. They might as well side with our enemies when we are most vulnerable."
"No, they won''t," Astellar answered. "The northern beastmen value loyalty, second only to their will to survive. You read the books, they were once a fractured group of tribes in a constant battle with one another until a tribe prevailed."
"The Wolven tribe."
The prince nodded. "The Wolven tribe united the rest of the beastmen through conquest. A hierarchy was formed, with the Wolven at the top of it, always."
"Not always." The black-haired magus stated. "They were usurped once by the Ursain tribe who had always contested them in power."
"True, and now the Ursain tribe is no more. The Wolven controls the north, and we have the Wolven''s heir."
Candana shook her head. "You killed his father, remember? Did you think the child would simply forget that after the last surviving member of his family knelt in surrender? He''d strike against you -against your family- the moment he can. My prince, allow me to cast a spell to discourage him from hurting you in any way."
"He won''t." He said, flashing the magus with an enigmatic smile. "He can''t."
A resounding slap echoed throughout the stone hallways of the castle.
The Wolven King stood over the small frame of his grandson, The pup brought a hand to his now-reddened cheek, fighting a losing battle against the tears that threatened to burst out from his shock-stricken eyes.
"You will do as I command and that is final." The Wolven king glared down to the fallen figure in front of him. The servants, after seeing the intensity of that look, wisely scurried away as fast as their feet can take them. Which is for a Wildekin, very fast indeed.
The pup matched the elder with one of his own. "He killed father." The dam holding back the child''s tears finally broke.
The King sighed and allowed his anger to dissipate into the wind. "No, child. The southern prince defeated your father in combat. There is a difference."
"There is none!" The boy snapped. "He had died for nothing!"
The Wolven pup suddenly felt a hand tighten around his neck. He was lifted effortlessly into the air by the King until they are both at eye level with each other. His feet dangled helplessly above ground, fingers clutched tightly around the wrist of the hand that held him aloft. The Wolven king leaned closer and whispered the child''s name. The pup''s eyes widened after being addressed in such a way that there was no other choice but to be silent.
"I never want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again. Do you understand me?" The king''s voice hinted a sense of malice. "Do not taint your father''s sacrifice with your ignorance, pup. He fought so that you, and many others, may have a chance to live." His tone then became calmer, melancholic even. "Your father and I may not agree with each other more than I preferred but we can always agree on one thing: our bloodline is cursed."
"C-cursed?" He choked.
"Yes, cursed. Even the land is tainted with death. That is why we agreed that salvation is not to be found here in these frozen waste, but lay elsewhere."
"South." The pup concluded. "Th-that is why you attacked, isn''t it?"
The Wolven King nodded. "I always thought first about the future of our kind."
"Now my father is dead."
"And dead he will forever be." The King countered. "Neither your tears or your cries will be able to bring him back to life."
The pup had always reminded him of his son when he was the same age. They both had fires in their eyes that shone brightly despite the coldness they wish to portray. A similar conversation had happened a long time ago between the Wolven King and his son. It was difficult not to draw from the similarities between the then and now.
"I am not asking you to forget. All I ask is that you do not let his sacrifice fall in vain."
The King released his grip from his grandson''s neck. He waited for the child to regain his footing before he turned around and walked, beckoning for the pup to follow.
"Now, come. It is time we say our farewells to everyone who gave their lives."
The procession was silent. A sizeable crowd gathered outside in the courtyard to bid farewell to the fallen. The bodies were laid side by side with their brothers-in-arms on a stack of oiled wood, weapons in their hands and a prayer to start them on their way. The southerners watched from afar, inside where it is warm and away from the freezing cold.
The Wolven King walked resolutely with a lit torch in hand.
"Go with the wind." the crowd muttered under their breaths.
The torch was lowered and the pyre quickly burst into flames. Perhaps fittingly, it burned like a beacon of hope that lead to a new future.
..
Chapter 4: From North
Chapter 4:
From North
The ride back home was uneventful at best and outright boring at worst.
Candana made sure her feelings did not reflect on how she portrayed herself to the people around her. She was, after all, a high magus and was expected to look and act as someone worthy of her station. But still, maintaining a calm and collected facade can only get tiring after a long day on the road. The stark landscape of nothing but ice and snow certainly didn''t help and the tense atmosphere she could do without.
Perhaps it was a good thing. On the bright side, she finally had the time and opportunity to admire the tranquility of the northern landscape. No longer must she look at a well-sculpted valley or a lush forest and expect an ambush. It did not stop her from sending a familiar to double check though. Better to be cautious than dead.
Strangely enough, there was a beauty to be found in a desolate land such as the north. It was almost akin to walking through the graveyard of a fallen nation. There is a sanctity everpresent in the land itself.
Could it be the ''Wind''?
Candana remembered poring over every book she could find in the beastmen''s archives for any reference to the enigmatic entity known as the ''Wind''. She found none, instead, she found shelves and shelves worth of books as old and worthless as the castle it belonged in. The evidence showed in the decrepit state of the books and how much the magus could make sense of its contents. She had also found a handful of notes which appeared to be translated from a book written in a very ancient and very much dead language of Primordial. Which was strange on its own and rare. Even the historians could barely make sense of the ancient language which appeared like a cross of illegible scribbles and nonsensical imagery.
"Excuse me," Candana said to a passing beastman. A servant, judging by her plain clothing. A pair of white rabbit ears stuck out from her hairline: a northern rabbus, the magus concluded. "May I ask who translated these books?" The magus hoped the beastman could understand Asharian. She did not, judging from the confused and fearful expression she wore on her face
So Candana tried again, this time spoken in Southern Beastongue. The rabbus understood.
She nodded and explained (in a heavily accented southern) that it was the King''s son who translated the texts to Northern Beastongue.
The magus knew little about the language the Northerners use, except how vast the difference is between South and North. A few phrases perhaps, but that was it. Still, Candana was confident she did not make a fool of herself during that time.
Candana thanked the rabbus, who scurried away as fast as is proper. From what she understood in her line of questioning is that the tome is a children''s storybook of some sort. A very ancient children''s storybook indeed, the magus thought wryly. It was the title, however, that caught Candana''s attention. The rabbus read: Galatea.
The book and notes were safely tucked away among Candana''s baggage.
Candana''s thoughts were interrupted, having caught a glimpse of Prince Astellar riding at the forefront of the formation, like any good leader should. The wolven child rode not far behind. She gave the boy a wary glance over. A quick estimation suggested that a simple lightning spell would be sufficient to incapacitate the boy from her location in a span of two seconds. Incantations and all.
Or so, at least she thought on the first day. She genuinely believed the boy would try something --anything!-- to escape or harm the prince. She even cast a silent protection spell for Astellar to mitigate most of the damage. The weird glance the prince threw her way made it clear he knew of her intentions.
It had been five days since then and the wolven has yet to try something... or say anything.
Ever since they left Winter''s End castle, the boy had not uttered a single word to anyone. Even during the nights at camp when the soldiers thought themselves clever for jeering and shouting curses at the boy behind their prince''s back. It proved ineffective.
The boy did not speak, at all. If Candana was absent during that confrontation in the throne room, she would not believe the boy capable of words. No, she would have readily believed him as mute. So it was not that the wolven child was incapable of speech, it was that he refused to do so. Although, his inability to understand Asharian could have played a part in his silence.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Although, his glare alone has dissuaded the soldiers from doing him harm. Something about those amber eyes that seemed to glow in the right light. Not to mention that he looked like a miniature version of his father, silver hair and all, who caused enough problems to warrant a war. Prince Astellar was seething with rage when he found out that his own men had tried attempted to hurt the child. He had the instigator executed and the rest whipped for insubordination. After that, the jeering stopped.
The glares remained.
It was safe to say that the prince and the magus made good use of what little time they had together. Oftentimes, they snuck into the other''s tent and simply basked into each other''s warmth. The area silence spell in Candana''s spell tome had finally found a practical application. Then, before morning comes, they separate and their secret was safe.
Or so she thought.
A pair of amber eyes watched silently as his father''s killer depart from the snobbish woman''s temporary lodging. Strange, he thought. For what reason must they sneak like hunters in the night? The wolven child wondered if it is some sort of a game between the Southern humans. Perhaps it was a challenge if one could surprise the other during their sleep. If so, then these humans are more dangerous than he thought, for they train themselves to be ever-vigilant from the dangers that skulk in the shadows.
Then why employ incompetent sentries? Do they not see the skulduggery inside their own ranks? The wolven vowed to double his awareness from now on.
Seeing as though there is nothing more of interest to note, he returned to the realm of dreams. Like every other night, he dreamt of green fields, blue skies, and a white apparition.
...
Morning came and found the same routine the wolven had grown accustomed to. He was awake by the time the sentry outside had entered his temporary lodging. The first time he was roused by a human was not an event he would like to repeat. So the wolven child rose, his amber eyes met the sentry''s hazel in a silent challenge.
The sentry spoke and the child did not understand. It became a morning routine of some kind for the sentry to speak and the child to listen, but not understand. The young man in the fur coat could have been badmouthing the wolven for all he cared and still, he would meet his gaze with one of his own. Another sentry''s head peeked from outside the lodging, he addressed the other with an admonishing tone and gestured for the Wildekin to move. The wolven child thought it wise to follow.
The wolven exited his lodging, the pair of sentries always a few steps behind. He noted how he''s always in the range of their swords. If they choose to attack, he''s at a serious disadvantage. Not unless they use the spear, which if he got close enough, spell doom for the wielder.
He tried his best to dispel such thoughts. I am at their mercy now.
The Wildekin child flinched as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder. It was one of the sentries, the first one if his memory was correct. The sentry gestured to the larger tent in the center of the camp.
With both his jailers in tow, the Wolven went to meet with his father''s killer.
Prince Astellar allowed a soft smile to grace his features, even for a brief moment. The cause of his joy lay before him in papers arranged in a clean stack. Letters, lots of them. Most of them fell irrelevant in comparison to those written by his very own children from what seemed like half a world away. Even the King''s words must wait in favor of a boy''s recollection of his day, no matter how trivial.
The prince felt giddy. Like a child opening up a present on his birthday. He grabbed one of the letters from his daughter.
"Your Highness, sir?"
Astellar sighed. He supposed it could wait for a little longer. He did make an appointment with someone else, after all.
Prince Astellar looked up from his desk to address the voice calling outside his tent. He lowered the quill on the table and crossed his fingers together, elbows propped on the wooden surface. He closed his eyes and adopted a more authoritative look. "Enter," he commanded.
The flap of the tent opened, revealing the wolven child standing in between the two tasked to guard him.
He beckoned the child inside.
The wolven child entered. First, a wary step, then another. The prince raised an eyebrow. It was as if the boy expected someone to appear from the corners of the tent and stab him in the back. Nevertheless, Astellar expected this reaction... no, he expected worse, despite the wolven King''s insistence and assurance. So far, the boy has yet to act in an unsatisfactory manner towards anyone. The glares don''t count.
If the boy could speak their language, what would he say? Would he curse the prince out and condemn him? Hard to say. In time, he''ll learn the Asharian tongue whether he likes it or not.
Candana had said some disturbing things about Veren''Mythos. According to her, the man he had slain during the battle outside Winter''s End could understand the Primordial tongue. When she did some further inquiry about the matter, none of the other beastmen could understand what the words said. He did leave some notes, though.
Prince Astellar waved the guards out. They looked at each other for a moment before leaving.
"Galatea." Astellar simply said.
The wolven child''s eyes widened for a fraction, then narrowed into tiny slits. A tense second passed, then another, and another. All semblance of a civilized conversation devolved into nothing more but a staring contest. Astellar got a small sense of satisfaction seeing that it was the Wolven to break eye contact first.
He showed the wolven the book Candana had stashed away.
For the first time ever since their journey began, none of them could get even a rise or a word from the beastman. Not until now.
In the form of a claw to the face.