Lycantis: Rage of Wolves - Malaena Medford (non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

There was an uprising in the level of noise with some escalating hostility.

With a snotty and sarcastic tone, a member of the crowd piped up, “Few of us are actually ‘pure‑bloods’, why can’t you go alone? You are always treated as the strongest and bravest–”

“They are the strongest and bravest!” Arktus shouted at the man. “You just don’t want to be picked out as the messenger because you are a coward!”

A large number of people started yelling and arguing, and Urdes stood up. “That is enough! You will all calm yourselves!” The entire crowd went silent at his command. “What Phiuri is saying is true, it is all in writing and none of it is hearsay. We will be sending Phiuri with someone who volunteers and is skilled with a weapon. Now, everyone will help clean up and prepare. This journey is necessary and determines the fate of our people…no one will turn a cold shoulder or treat it as if it were a bedtime story. Prepare for tomorrow. Good night, everyone.”

The crowd dispersed, cleaning as they went. Scraps of leftover food were collected up for larders and bones tossed to Koor and Tanix. The night passed with the cleanup and restlessness, many fearful because of Phiuri’s announcement. The town went to sleep, waiting for tomorrow and the preparation for the reunion with their past.

~

The next day came, too soon for many as they heard the cock’s crow. Milavenai sat up as Wiggul, the family boar‑cock, sang his painfully irritating song to wake them. Phiuri knocked at her bedroom door as she slipped her boots on.

“Come in,” she said, exhaustedly.

Phiuri entered and sat next to her, looking at her with admiration.

“Those eyes…never had I expected such a blue. I will be leaving at sunset. It will give me and Arktus a chance to avoid any confrontations,” he said, seemingly reluctant to even leave, “I will miss you terribly, my honey bee. You and your mother are the world to me, just take care of her and the village.”

Milavenai flung herself into his arms, sobbing, “I know it has to be like this, but isn’t there any other way?”

Phiuri hugged her tightly. “No, you know there isn’t. I will open the way to our ancestor’s homeland, and we will be safer there than we are here.” He held her chin up and wiped a tear away. “Do not mention this to anyone, Eh’Atris thinks you will play a part in the prophecy. We are not sure of what but he is certain of it. I am going so that you don’t have to, you will be protected from the men raiding us. They will most surely attack anyone leaving the village at any time, so Arktus and I will be acting as peria traders from Oryncus Dulu.”

Milavenai nodded and put her head on his shoulder. She knew the dream she’d had was part of this whole thing. That it played a vital role in what would happen in the near future.

“I have something for you, it was passed down as a family heirloom – apparently our oldest ancestors forged it,” he said as he retrieved a small sword from under his cloak and pulled it out of the scabbard.

It was beautiful, the whitest metal she had ever seen. The edges seemed to glow and the designs shone brightly. She smiled and took it as he replaced it into its sheath; she didn’t have any words, but thanked him with a tight hug.

They stood; Milavenai went outside and helped to pack the peria cart with dried and fresh fruits. Phiuri’s veresti To’Ourk was attached to the front, looking around with an air of amusement. Milavenai wasn’t worried about the peria; those medium‑sized fruits could last weeks off the plant without shriveling or rotting.

Pip stared as his stable mate was harnessed to the cart. He bobbed his head up and down as if to ask what was happening, making odd guttural sounds and pawing the ground. A bushel of peria and grass was brought to calm him; he munched on them, but still kept raising his head to look toward To’Ourk.

It took most of the morning to prepare everything. Some of the villagers were either so vain or frightened that they stayed in their homes and did not help. The day passed without them, letting the rest of the village work or laze about – relaxing until tomorrow. A meal was prepared for the ones involved to gather and say farewell to Phiuri. It was a sad meal, falling into the stomach like a sour stone and making them feel ill.

At last the sun began to set; the cart was stacked with the last crates filled with goods and the two men climbed on. They waved at sorrowful friends and family, setting off for lands they had never been to. Milavenai went inside and sat on the chair in her room, she was tired for some reason. It was strange how sadness affected the body. She sluggishly made her way to her waiting bed, it was as if she were walking through water, and then she fell into a slumber so deep, it was almost dreamless.

~

“No! Phiuri! Please, no! Arktus, who has done this?!” Milavenai awoke with a start at her mother’s wails.

Confused as to what was going on. She got out of bed and noticed the night sky through the window, the sobs of her mother sending her heart into an attack of anxiety. As she entered the family room her heart stopped a short moment. There lay her father, covered in blood and lacerations, mortally wounded.

“Father!!” she cried out as she ran to his side.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, smiling weakly.

Eh’Atris seemed to choke, “He is awake! How– It is not possible!”

The healer continued to rinse the bloody cloths in the basin he was kneeling at.

Phiuri spoke weakly, blood interfering with his breathing and voice, “Mila, my precious honey bee–” He went into a coughing fit, the others holding him down as he convulsed in pain before continuing. “I was never meant to go, it is you…you need to go with Arktus to Lunas Cainus, it is the only way the prophecy will come to pass–” He coughed, a cloth held up to his mouth as a stream of blood flowed down his face from his lips. “A spirit appeared to me…in near death, he told me you are the chosen, this task is set for you alone–” He coughed again, his body twisting in pain. “You must meet with a lycan named Rolvus Nys in the town of Ereduin, he‑he will know what to do…” His voice trailed off; he started heaving with struggled breaths, reaching up as if to grasp for some unseen thing, then his arms fell limply as he exhaled for the last time.

Elsys threw herself upon his lifeless form. “Phiuri! Nooooo!!” she screamed into the furs covering part of his chest, weeping convulsively, unable to catch her breath.

Everyone stood around the room; it just seemed like a nightmare more than reality. The strongest of the village was dead, they had killed him as easily as a mere rabbit.

Eh’Atris shook his head slowly, almost defiantly, then sputtered, “No… This is terrible.” He looked at Arktus, who was still in shock, hunched in a chair. “How could they have overtaken you? You two are the strongest we have and no mere rabble of men could ever have been able to take you down!”

Arktus became furious, glaring at Eh’Atris and bellowing, “It was not a small rabble, we were swarmed from all sides by a large mob with crossbows and scythes. We were able to hold them off until their archers caught Phiuri from behind.” He looked down at Phiuri, then back at Eh’Atris. “You try and defeat over thirty men at once! They gave no warning, no sounds, we rode straight into an ambush and Phiuri is dead for that!”

Eh’Atris sighed. “I guess you are right, I am sorry for snapping. We cannot let grief overcome us, Milavenai…” he said, looking over at her with a pause. She looked at him through tears as he said with sincerity, “I know this will be hard, but you must finish what he started, you must do this if our village is to survive. Those men who killed your father want us all dead and you are the only one among us who can ensure the safety of the village.”

She nodded amidst sharp sobs, but didn’t speak.

Arktus nodded as well. “We might as well go now, we killed all of them.”

Everyone in the room looked at him, shocked.

“We didn’t let one live, after the archers shot and mortally wounded him I slew them all. Their corpses cannot ambush us if we go now,” he said, standing and walking toward Milavenai.

She didn’t budge.

“I want him to have a proper funeral first,” she said.

Everyone seemed to agree, she did deserve to see him sent to the spirit world with dignity.

It didn’t take long for them to prepare his body, the entire village wept as they prepared the table for him to be placed upon. The mourner sang her song of death, filling the air with sorrow and grief for the loss of a respected and loved member of the Blood Wolves and the village. His body was set atop the table, his clothes doused with oil and surrounded by bundles of sticks.

Wearing black robes, Milavenai bore the torch, her face silhouetted under the large hood. She walked a circle around her father, lighting the branches, then stopping and setting the torch in a stand along with a pattern of other torches. She stood at the head of the burning table, watching as the last remnants of Phiuri became ashes.

The funeral took hours; it was still dark enough to leave and not fall prey to another attack.

Phiuri’s ashes were strewn in the river. A rod bearing engravings about him and his life placed in a slot with others who had died before him. The river glowed with the ashes and a mixture the chemist had prepared, sending beautiful lights around the river and the watching villagers.

Arktus and Milavenai prepared. It was now more personal than it had ever been. The cart was still ready, but this time To’Ourk seemed depressed, hanging his head lower than usual. They got in the cart after cleaning it up a bit and getting dressed in the classic Oryncus Dulu trader outfits, setting off for the dangerous outside world and the path to the lycans.

*          *          *

 The Eythra - Trees and Fortunes

Tears - Two Keys for One Lock

Bestial Wrath - The Rage of Wolves

Pip - The Path of Lycantis

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