A Story Told

K now they have met the wolf and he is going to tell them why the heck he is there.

Jakube was hastily setting the small table for breakfast, wondering what the werewolf was doing. The beast still hadn’t left the living room, and was now alone, as Zander had stumbled into the kitchen after Jakube.

His friend now sat at the table, slumped over in his chair trying to catch a few more minutes sleep. Jakube had taken up the watch about three hours before dawn, so Zander hadn’t gotten much sleep. Jakube had had almost none, but felt alert and fully awake. Jakube had just set the final tea cup on the table when the werewolf came in, shouldering a large pack. He looked at Zander slumped over in his chair and laughed. Zander started at the sound and looked up, squinting at the werewolf.

“Tired, Zander?” The wolf laughed. “You didn’t stay up watching did you?” Any trace of the werewolf’s anger from the night before was gone.

Zander’s face turned red, as it often did, a cherry red hue that blotched across his cheek. The werewolf laughed again before gently clapping Zander on the back. Even the werewolf’s soft touch shoved Zander forward into the table, scattering the silverware.

“Don’t fret about it, Zander.” The wolf smiled. “I would have done the same thing had I been you. It’s the smart thing to do. Don’t trust anyone too quickly. That was good thinking on your part, and I’m proud of you.”

The speech surprised Jakube. Was the werewolf trying to apologize for the night before? His face looked genuine and completely honest. Zander stared at him to see if he was being sarcastic. It was obvious he wasn’t.

Zander’s blush deepened, but now he smiled. Zander was always eager for praise, as he did not get it often, and had certainly never heard someone say they were proud of him. The small children said they liked him because he told them wonderful stories, and his friends complemented him on his humor, but adults always told him to be silent or to think before he spoke and stop filling their children’s minds with nonsense. Jakube could tell it hurt Zander every time they said it, but he always went quiet after that, which the adults acknowledged only with a stern nod that he was finally doing the right thing. It made Jakube want to strangle them, but if Zander did nothing, then he would do nothing. Zander wouldn’t want him to.

But now, here was the werewolf, the stranger who had almost attacked them the night before, complimenting Zander. Jakube couldn’t understand it, but Zander decided then and there that he liked the wolf. Jakube was more wary.

“So, why are you here?” Jakube said, quickly breaking into a loud conversation between Zander and the wolf about whether Zander could outrun a scared hog with only a few hours sleep. They were both laughing, but Jakube didn’t want Zander to get too friendly with the beast.

The werewolf looked up and smiled. “You don’t waste any time, do you Jakube?” He laughed, a frequent sound now, a deep rumble in his throat. “But please,” he said, serious now. “Let it wait for after breakfast. I ran out of food yesterday and I am famished.”

“Alright,” Jakube agreed. “But, please, just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“What is your name?” Jakube asked, smiling but watching the wolf very carefully.

He sighed. “It is not a name I give often, or easily. But I guess you must know.” He sighed again, and Zander wished he would laugh, for it was a handsome sound and his sighs made Zander sad for some odd reason. But Zander wanted to know his new friend’s name, so he remained quiet, and silently bid the wolf to continue. It took a deep breath, then hesitated.

“My name is Greyorn.” He said finally. “I will tell you no more.”

“You have no title?” Zander burst out. Greyorn turned his keen green eyes to the boy, and Zander was instantly embarrassed.

“There are some things better left unsaid, Zander.” He said quietly. “I will say no more.”

An awkward silence fell. Greyorn was studying Zander, who was looking at the floor thinking that by now he must have memorized every inch of the hard surface. Jakube sat for a moment, unsure of what to do, when he smelled something burning. He leapt up and ran the few feet to the kitchen stove, throwing open the oven door and quickly putting out the fire underneath. His stove was not really a stove. It was a small table made of metal, set over a fire. The oven was a small, metal box attached to the underside of the table. Nothing fancy, but it worked.

At least, it usually did. Now the fire must have been to large, for the biscuits were charred to cinder. Jakube pulled the blackened creations from the oven and set them on the stove with a bang. They were destroyed. Two or three on the very back corner were a rich golden brown, but that would never be enough for him, Zander, and the werewolf.

“Looks delicious.” Greyorn said, standing to peer over Jakube’s shoulder at the burnt biscuits. Jakube glared at him. “No, honestly.” The werewolf said earnestly, holding his hands up in an expression of surrender. “I like human food burnt. It gives it a little flavor.”
            Jakube stared at him, trying to see if he was lying. “Are you serious?”

The wolf laughed. “Of course! I’ll eat the whole pan if you don’t mind. I’m hungry.”

Jakube laughed. “Werewolves are strange creatures! Ok, then you can have all you want.”

Greyorn scooped one up and, true to his word, popped it into his enormous mouth. He was close enough that he could see the wolf’s enormous teeth. They were large enough to easily snap through bone, and Jakube shuddered at the thought. The werewolf gave a purr of pleasure. “That’s better.” He grinned. “I was famished.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” Zander said from behind them. Apparently he had decided to speak again. He looked at Greyorn. “The hills have plenty of hares, and deer too if you’re a good enough hunter. Why didn’t you catch one?”

“When hurrying, hunting is forbidden.” He smiled. “It slows you down too much for anyone’s liking.”

“So I suppose you’ll be on your way after breakfast?” Jakube asked.

Greyorn looked at him strangely. He cleared his throat. “No, I expect I’ll be staying here for a little while.”

“What?” Jakube stammered. “But I thought…your message!”

“Oh, so you have guessed I am a messenger.” Greyorn said, smiling. “Very good Jakube. But-” The werewolf was now watching him closely. “My message is here. It is for you.”

Jakube started in shock. A message? For him? No one received a message in Moreodun! And certainly he wouldn’t! Then why…

Jakube was unconsciously backing up, away from the werewolf. Suddenly everything seemed as if someone had hit a mute button. Jakube saw Zander yell something, but he heard nothing. Greyorn leapt forward, but it seemed he was  moving in slow motion. Then, Jakube suddenly felt a very sharp pain biting into his foot, and he slowly looked down. He had stumbled into the still-red coals of the fire and it was charring his bare feet. Jakube yelped, trying to leap from the fire, but the more he moved, the more agonizing the pain became. Suddenly Greyorn was there, picking him up in one motion and throwing him from the fire. Jakube hit the ground hard and his head cracked back against the floorboards. Greyorn was saying something, but his image was fuzzy. Then it faded to black.

***

Jakube woke seconds or minutes later, he wasn’t sure which one. Greyorn leaning over his asking him something. A dull pain throbbed in his foot, but it was nothing like the searing hurt from before. The wolf was shaking him gently. What was he saying?

“Eat this.” Greyorn said again, pushing a cluster of herbs towards him. Jakube took them reluctantly, eyeing the bright green leaves. He gently placed them on his tongue, testing the taste. They were neither good nor bad, but in that odd place right in between, as if his taste buds couldn’t make up their minds. He chewed and swallowed them, and the pain lessened, but did not disappear.

Now as his senses came back to him, he realized his feet were wet. He sat up quickly. Zander had his feet in a small pot of cold, soapy water and was scrubbing them vigorously. Jakube felt guilty watching him. Zander’s face was pale and his eyes wide, but he concentrated on his task.

Jakube tried to say something, but his voice came out as a strangled gurgle. Why was he acting so strangely? He had merely stumbled into the fire. That shouldn’t have affected his voice! He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Zander,” He said, his voice strained. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Zander said, smiling a little, but his face was near to white.

“No, please stop.” When he didn’t, Jakube leaned forward and gripped his slightly trembling hands firmly in his own. Zander looked up at him and Jakube held his eyes. “Stop.” Jakube said. “I can manage.”

Zander finally nodded and sat back on his heels, watching as Jakube rubbed his feet in the water and soap. Greyorn smiled at Zander over his head, and tossed the boy a biscut. Unfortunately it was a burnt one and crumbled as Zander caught it, the ashes falling onto the wet floor and his clothes. 

“So, I guess that surprised you.” Greyorn said quietly after a moment of silence.

Jakube gave a short laugh. “Yes, I guess it did. I had completely forgotten about what you said last night, though now I think of it, I know I was a fool not to have guessed the message was for me.”

“What did I say?” The wolf asked, suddenly serious and urgent.

“I see you forgot too.” Jakube laughed, tossing aside the werewolf’s grimness. “You said something about Veradagon. So…he’s alive then?”

“I forgot my foolish blunder.” The wolf said gravely. “Yes, I am a fool!” He seemed to be scolding himself more than talking to Jakube.

“Why?” Zander asked, forgotten for a moment by the wolf and Jakube. They turned to look at him and for some reason he found himself blushing again. But he didn’t lower his head. He stared, almost defiantly, at the two.

Greyorn sighed. “You were not yet to know it was Veradagon who sent me.”

“Why?” Jakube echoed Zander.

“He did not wish it.”  The wolf gave a half-shrug. “He did not tell me why.”

Jakube frowned. “Okay then, what’s this message?”

Greyorn sighed again, frowning. “Jakube, what I am about to tell you, you can’t repeat to any other being. Listen to me Jakube.” His voice was suddenly urgent. “You mustn’t tell anyone. It could mean your death.”

“What?” Jakube gasped. The wolf was looking at him with urgency bordering panic in his eyes.

“Swear it, Jakube!”

“I-I swear.” He managed to choke out, still reeling from shock. His  death? Who would kill him? He couldn’t think of anyone that hated him bad enough that they wanted to kill him. He had made some enemies in their little town of Haariba, but none of them were…murderers.

Greyorn nodded, satisfied.
“But what-” Jakube began, and his eyes strayed over to Zander.

 Greyorn followed his gaze. “Zander.” He addressed the boy, whose eyes were boring back into the wolf, steady, alert. “You may choose now. To stay and listen would mean you would always stay with Jakube. You would travel far and experience many dangers. I cannot guarantee your safety.” If this startled the boy at all, he didn’t show it. “ Or,” The wolf continued. “You could leave now, perhaps never to see Jakube again, but to live a safe live here in Haariba, never doing much of importance, but hopefully living for a long while.”

Zander stared at the wolf. Greyorn looked intensely back. He was serious, through and through. Zander’s mind was reeling, his head ablaze with thoughts and questions. What was his life here in the Hills of Moreodun? A lot of mess-ups, a lot of friends, parents, and family. But no meaning. And how could he leave Jakube? Jakube stuck with him to the end in everything. He was almost his brother, and everything Zander did for his sisters and younger brother, Jakube did for him and more. Zander defended his family, but who defended Zander from the cruel boys, the stinging comments, the angry adults shouting at him? Jakube. How could he leave him? How? If there were dangers where he was going, he would need Zander’s help! Sure, the boy was small and not very skilled with a sword, but he could hit a target dead on with a sling from fifty paces, and his dagger-throwing skills were considered supreme. Jakube could need him. Someday, Zander being there might be the difference between his friend’s life and death. He made up his mind!

“I’m going.” He said firmly.

“Consider carefully.” Greyorn said slowly. “Take your time and think. You might never return to these hills.”

Zander shook his head. “I've already thought. I’m going with Jakube.”

Jakube smiled and laughed, pulling his friend into a bear hug. Zander was surprised. Jakube almost never touched him, let alone hug him. It occurred to Zander that Jakube might just have been thinking as hard as Zander in those few moments and wondering just how he could live without Zander. Greyorn smiled almost as if he was sorry.
            “I knew you would.” He said.

“So,” Zander said, sitting down next to Jakube. “Tell us what this is all about.”

Greyorn looked at him, amused at the change in character. Before confused and embarrassed, now the boy knew where he stood, and he held that position proudly. Gone was his embarrassment. He was happy, and brave. He was ready.

The wolf delayed no further. Taking a deep breath he began.

“Have you heard of the Forbidden One?” He asked.

Jakube was surprised at the question. “Heard of, yes, but know of, no. No one says anything but hurried whispers, and no one knows what’s going on. No messenger has come for months.”

Greyorn nodded. “Well, now you shall know all there is to know.” He took another deep breath, as if telling it pained him. “He came two years ago from over the sea, on what vessel no one knows. He has many disguises, and he dwelt in the surrounding cities, biding his time, waiting.”

“For what?” Zander asked, completely absorbed in the tale.

Greyorn leaned forward slightly. “An army.”

“They came slowly from over the sea, thousands of them. Some went about as if they were everyday people, but some went into hiding, making it impossible to know how many there were. They dwelled in forests and cities, some even coming here. There were creatures like us, men and goblins, even a few elves and dwarves. They had few werewolves and werecats, but had a stunning number of creatures they call warryats. Warryats are some kind of a mixture of a werewolf and a werecat, tall and strong, with the werewolves’ speed and the werecats’ endurance. They are a hideous creature, with short snouts and small, beady eyes. They have two fangs that protrude from their mouths, some so long they touch their chins. Their teeth and claws are filthy as they hate water, so they are never washed. They are covered in old blood and they reek so badly you can smell them from a half a mile away. They have thin fur and short thick tails that can cause as much pain as a bite if they hit you. They run hunched over, sometimes using their arms to balance. Their skin has been torn from so many wounds that they seem almost deformed, and it is not smooth, but lumpy from scars. They look like the terrible creature they are. Warryats have no mercy in battle. They are cruel, vicious cannibals.”

Zander shuddered at the description, but if Jakube was bothered, he did not show it. Greyorn continued.

“One day he called them all to him, sending out riders to summon them. They met at the edge of Garaduin Forest, a great host of ten thousand, with still more coming from across the sea. They marched on Duarga, our great capital, and the Surrounding Cities. They were unprepared for such an attack. They sent for aid, but the riders were all killed. The four cities mustered their armies and attacked, with a host more numerous then the Forbidden One’s. But they were unprepared, while the host had been planning for months. They fought ferociously, both armies losing over half their men before King Ryker called a retreat. They fled to their cities, but the Forbidden One’s armies were relentless. They marched on Duarga, cutting down all who opposed them. They entered the city where Ryker met them with his army. They were defeated, and King Ryker was killed.”

“No!” Zander gasped. Jakube felt as if someone had just hit him. Their king, dead. Legends told that Ryker had saved all of Malestria from an evil force in his younger days and was appointed king because of it. He was greatly loved throughout all the land, rivaling Veradagon for his fame and popularity with the people, who adored him. Greyorn nodded.

“Yes,” He said solemnly. “Even now, the Forbidden One has taken the city and is marching his armies all through Malestria, taking cities. Only a few places remain unscarred by him, on of which are the Hills of Moreodun. The Forbidden One doesn’t dare march his armies past the dwarf city of Reda, for he knows his armies would be cut down by their great warriors. He is no fool. But, it is only a matter of time. Soon his host will be enough to destroy even Reda.”

Jakube looked at him. The idea was almost unthinkable. Reda was a city that had been created by dwarves almost five hundred years earlier. It was set directly into the mountainside of the largest peak of the Delthers, the mountains that bordered the Valley of Pelgun, only a day’s ride from Moreodun. Reda’s people were legendary in their skills as warriors. They were known to fight like lions, cutting down their enemies like a farmer cuts wheat in his field. With one sword stroke, five were killed. The Forbidden One would be a fool to try and attack the city. But what of Moreodun? They had no army, no defenses. No one had ever attacked the Hills. The Hill People were the only ones who knew how to survive there, with its little game and hard ground. No one wanted Moreodun but the people in it. And now the Forbidden One. If he marched on them, they would surely be destroyed. All his friends…

“What are we going to do?” Exclaimed Zander. “And why is Jakube even involved in this?”

Greyorn looked at him, his face hard. “Everyone is involved in this, Zander. Jakube is just more than others. As for what we are to do, I am not sure. It is Veradagon who knows. I have come to you to ask you, Jakube, and beg you to accompany me back to my Master’s, so he may tell you what he wishes of you.”

Reviews

[Shawn]

I agree wholeheartedly that you should get this piece published! The grammar is just about perfect except for some minor quotation problems (usually one of my biggest review points, but you stumped me!). The plot is solid, and the names you came up with are both original and interesting! I look forward to more chapters, and recommend that you approach a publisher after its completion!

[Aarea]

Thanks a bunch! I was reaching a writer's block in this story, but reviews like yours help me to get past them! I am almost finished with the original story and hopefully am going to a publisher within a year. Thank you so much for your reviews I will for sure return the favor!

[Mark Emerson]

hi just finished reading all the chapters for this book and i am impressed this is a great peace i've enjoyed it it works out for you...

if you wouldn't mind i would like a review on one of my new books just hot off the press so to say. http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/mosto/1234466/

[Aarea]

K I would love to check it out!

[Aarea]

Sorry, it won't let me as it is mature writing.

[Kathryn Jenkins]

Love it...I want to read more. Has the book been published I would like to get it :)

[Aarea]

No I am writing a rough draft on paper which is at about page 180 but this is all I have done for this new draft. :( Sorry.

[Kathryn Jenkins]

That's okay when you get it published notify me so I can get it :)

[Aarea]

Ok will do. :) It won't be for a while though. :(