Howling at the Moon

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 9—Warrior Queen”

 “Here! On the Plain of Eibhlin!”  The mental shout from the scouting wolf almost knocked Asthore off of Ivy as they reviewed the mustered guard on the palace grounds.  The youngster was the first to spot Anwir’s host.  His initial excitement, however, was soon quashed by Llyr’s gentle but sharp command to report more details.  Asthore listened, her head cocked to one side. The Captain of the Guards looked at her with some concern.

“They look ready and able, Captain,” she said as she recovered herself.  With a mental “ear” still listening to the wolf king’s organizing his own band, she used her new information to send a messenger to the generals to meet the challengers. She did not bother to explain how she had come by these details.  Most believed that Kunsgnos had divined it.

The queen sent her own message to the black wolf. “Llyr, remember your promise to me that you and the pack will stay clear of battles.  You are no real match for our weapons or trained war horses, and I do not want any of you hurt or killed!”

“We will do as you ask, my queen, and scout the enemy for you.  If they should come into the mountains, there are some ways we might hinder them, but I will not risk the pack in a foolish confrontation.”  As agreeable as this seemed, she could read his chagrin in the tone of his reply.  The pack had made clear its wish to deal with Bridniclir and Anwir after hearing Asthore’s revelations of the witch’s curse.

“My armies are moving to meet them. They will try to hold them as close to the Plain of Eibhlin as possible.  It is as open as anywhere in Evanheir, and I hope the few who live there have managed to get away.”

“My scouts have seen most of your people fleeing the advancing army,” said Llyr.  “There have been no casualties yet.”

“Thank you.  Please keep me informed.  We seem to be able to channel our thoughts to speak with one or more.  This is a valuable tool for us!”  Asthore complemented the pack as a whole then, and sent them her well wishes.  With that she called to her personal guard and galloped out to join her generals and her army. Despite the objections of the entire Queen’s Council, the fiery young queen had made it clear that she at least would be present and visible to her soldiers.

Beyond the mountains on the brightening plain Bridniclir turned to Anwir and smiled a wicked smile.  “Your former queen is herself foolishly coming to meet us with her paltry army,” she gloated.  “We should be able to deal with all of our problems at once.”

“Do not underestimate the people of Evanheir, my lady, or that redheaded firebrand.  She may still be young and the tenderhearted healer I left for you, but I doubt the steel in her spirit has weakened.”

“I will show you what I can do with steel, you simpering fool,” the sorceress sneered.  “I am growing tired of you and your weaknesses.”  With that she uttered a single word and, with a wave of a wicked hand, Anwir and the horse on which he sat were instantly changed to stone, a granite statue to fools.  “And that is what can happen when you give me your blood and your spirit,” she laughed.

“Rhychdir,” she turned to her general, “send your troops on to the city.  Ignore the farms and villages except as you need food and water for the men and horses. I am going to take a smaller group through the mountains.  Gather outside the city; have the quartermasters make camp as if for a siege, but keep the men at the ready with their horses.  I will send word when I am ready for our planned assault on the palace.”

Aod and three of his packmates watched from the edge of the forest as Bridniclir ordered her army to move.  He felt the remorse from Asthore with his report on the demise of Anwir, but knew even as he heard the dead king’s assessment that Queen Asthore did indeed possess that steely spirit.  The wolf was proud to be of her pack.  They melted farther into the shadows of the mountain as the dark witch rode in with her troop.

The news of Anwir’s death did cause Asthore a moment’s grief, but she grieved for his foolishness, and more for the fact that her children would have to deal with these and other disparaging details of their father’s life.  It had taken her some doing to help them try to understand his absence. She hoped that they were grown and confident enough to deal with his villainy and his death.

Her human and her wolf scouts were reporting on the movements of the enemy, and the army of Evanheir was prepared to meet them in the field and at the palace if necessary.  General Farrell, her most capable commander, was hurrying his troops toward the Plain of Eibhlin, hoping to hold the opposing force there. Asthore, deciding she wanted to be close to the wolves and to have some vantage point, rode into the mountains.

Llyr had gone into Edan’s cave seeking a quiet place where he could monitor the many messages he was receiving and to plan. He felt Bridniclir’s dark malevolence approaching from the south, seemingly heading directly for the cave that had saved his people from her ancient curse.  Asthore, her shining spirit rising up the mountainside like the sun, was ascending toward him, as well.  He growled in his frustration to lead an attack on the sorceress despite the odds against him, but he held to his frustrating promise to the queen. Knowing that this showdown was inevitable, and hoping to do what he could to help, he called most of his pack to him.

Before any could arrive at the sanctuary cave, Llyr seemed to feel another presence with him.  The air shimmered and grew light until standing before him in the middle of the chamber was a tall man of wolfish features.  His head was a mane of black streaked with silver like the coat Llyr wore. Pointed ears twitched back and forth as if listening closely to the sounds of the cave and the world beyond. He turned golden eyes on the black wolf.

“Llyr, King in the Mountains, grandson of my grandson of my grandson for long ages, I am Edan.  The time has come at last, and you must hear me well.”

“Edan!  Grandfather!  How is this possible?” stammered Llyr.

“Magic calls to magic, my son. Time runs on and the spell winds down to its inevitable conclusion.  The day is here that my clan will once again walk among our fellow men or truly become the wolves we appear to be.  It is up to you and the pack, and the queen whose heart has opened the way for you.”

“What does this have to do with Asthore?”

“She knows the prophetic incantation of the spell’s ending and kept it from you in an attempt to spare you in the coming battle. Hear this, Llyr:”

“They will answer the call where their lord once stood.

They will hear the heart that is true and good.

They will acknowledge the power they cannot refuse.

They will honor the promise they dare not lose.

They will again be men as they are called by blood.

They will again be men as they are called by love.”

“You promised her that you would stay out of the fight, but it is she you must protect!”

“But Edan, my lord, how can we fight against Bridniclir’s magic and the army she brings with her?  We have no weapons but stealth and tooth and claw! We are outnumbered almost ten to one even with the small force she brings up the mountain. I know each one of us would give his or her life for Asthore.  We have loved her since she walked these forests as a young girl, and now that she knows us, too, we feel that we belong with her.”

“Think, Llyr.  You know these woods and rocks better than any other creature. Wolf you may be, but you have a wolf’s cunning and the reason of a man.  The men and horses the witch brings have their own fear of you. Even Bridniclir is unsure of what you have become.  As for her magic, yes, she is powerful, but she is coming to a more powerful place as she learned so very long ago.  Still, you must do what you can to protect Asthore.  She has opened her mind and heart to you.  She is the key to all that is possible.  It may be that there is even more.  Trust her. Trust your own heart, too.”

“We will do as you say, Grandfather. Let us hope it is enough.”

“Peace is my hope for you, King Llyr of the Mountains. Good fortune to you.”

With that the insubstantial presence of the ancient wolf-man dimmed and faded into the emptiness of his cave once more. Llyr felt his wolves approaching, quick behind them the cold darkness of the witch’s soulless spirit, and the warm light of Asthore’s flaming heart.

*   *   *   *   *   *

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 10—Wolf King”

On the plain below the mountain the two armies threw themselves at one another in thunderous charges and the lightning clash of steel on steel.  The air was filled with clouds of arrows.  Screams of agony from wounded soldiers and horses pierced the rising fog of dust. Blood ran into the clear streams soon turned red on their course to the sea.  Asthore was aware of the noise of the battle and grew even more resolved as she thought of her countrymen and women fighting and dying for their land and their homes.  Somehow they would prevail against Anwir’s forces, especially the sorceress who had been the bane of her existence all these years.

After so many joyful adventures in her snowy mountains, this ride with her guards on the well-known paths made her heart ache. Glimpses of her escort of wolves now and then gave her some sense of security, but she did not like to think of what might happen with these new friends and their mountain home, either. As large as these great beasts were—half again the size of their more common brothers and sisters—Llyr’s pack was even more stealthy, and she was sure no one of her guard realized they were being shadowed by the pack.  Now and then one of the horses shied from a cross breeze scented with wolf, but the riders were paying attention to their track and looking for more human intruders.

The queen intended to make the area of Edan’s cave her temporary headquarters yet still keep the cave itself secret from her men, but she needed to be close to Llyr, to take comfort in his strength and the ready information from the scouting pack.  The vantage point of the high rocks also gave her a clear view of the distant plain even if it was many miles away.  It would be like watching a chess match from high in a stadium.

Up the other side of the mountain came the growing shadow that was Bridniclir’s malevolent darkness.  She felt the presence of the young queen, and something else she knew but could not name.  Confident in her power, the witch pressed her troop hard through the drifts and over the icy trail.  Now and again she heard a horse whinny in fear and a rider curse and assumed it was the unfamiliar mountain path, but these incidents were also often accompanied by the smell of blood and death that was too close to be the battle raging below. Still, she gave her mortal allies no real thought.  Ahead was the battle for which she had prepared for centuries.

Before either cavalcade reached their inevitable rendezvous, outriders from both sides began to clash.  Asthore did not have a large force with her because she thought hers was merely a guarding detail.  It soon became apparent to her, however, that they were encountering a larger force, and she hurried her band of soldiers to reach the vantage point of the high rocks. She was beginning to see individual skirmishes and realized that her wolves were doing more now than merely flanking her movements and reporting the enemy’s position. If not for Ivy’s surefooted progress, at one point she would have lost her seat when a charging rider wearing Anwir’s colors raced to intercept her and was met first by a brindled wolf that seemed to appear from the base of a massive pine.

The wolf leapt at the rider to tear him from his saddle, but the warhorse scented the wolf and reared before the beast could reach the knight.  Armor-plated greaves offered no purchase for the wolf’s massive jaws, and it slid ineffectually to the side.  The trained horse danced on its hind legs, pirouetted its great bulk, and two steel-shod hooves came fatally down on the wolf’s head.  Asthore cried out in anguish at the scene, but knew that her four-footed soldier had saved her life.  She vowed that it had not died in vain, as she pledged in her heart to all who fought for Evanheir that day.

Putting her heels to her laboring mare, Asthore broke into the clearing of the great amphitheatre, and her guard formed a protective shield wall before her.  On the rocks above, the wolf pack assembled and howled its defiance to the approaching enemy.  Horses shied, riders cursed and looked with wonder over their shoulders at the enormous wolves behind them, but all held their ground.  On came Bridniclir and the soldiers of the dead king.

Asthore’s guard couched lances, fronted shields, and met what was a relatively feeble charge as the enemy riders tried to attack from the snow-packed trail below them.  Uphill, and without the speed of a full charge, they were easily stymied or completely repelled, but still men and horses fell in agony as the horror-stricken queen looked on.  The wolves, too, had raced from their high perch and, leaping from rocks, unseated riders or hamstrung horses, but they also suffered in their combat.

Bridniclir had hung back as her soldiers attacked. She had dismounted and in a small clearing now turning black with a sorcerous fog, chanted an incantation of power. This was the moment for which she had waited.  All she had to do was unleash her spell and it would level this rock-strewn wolf’s lair and destroy everyone before her.  She had no care that those who fought for her would suffer the same fate as her enemies. Raising her voice and her hands, she flung the invisible force at Asthore, the focal point of the battle.

Below in the palace, high in his tower, Kunsgnos had watched in a magical eye both the battle on the plain and the forays up the mountainside.  He had, many years before, denounced the use of his power as any kind of offensive weapon, but many times he had used his knowledge and skills to defend against others who sought to do harm to Evanheir and any creature that dwelled in the kingdom. As Bridniclir had grown in her evil strength, so had Kunsgnos become stronger and held the land under his aegis.

When the witch unleashed her blast of destruction, Kunsgnos sent his guarding strength to form a barrier before his queen and her soldiers and Edan’s cave.  No sooner had he projected that shield but he also felt a similar force come from the cave itself and recognized the imprimatur of the wolf kings, both Edan and Llyr.  Those two, spirit and beast, had felt Asthore’s need.  The ancient spirit knew that this was the long awaited time of release or eternal imprisonment.  The living beast felt his love for Asthore become a power that joined with his ancestor’s desire for vengeance and the mage’s desire for peace.  Their combined powers met the destroying wave of evil.

The earth of that mountain stronghold and the air around it seemed to explode as these magics met.  Boulders three times the size of horse and rider were heaved skyward.  Towering pines were felled like matchsticks.  The concussive noise itself shook loose an avalanche of snow that roared down the mountainside. Within the cave Llyr was thrown violently to the floor of the chamber and pierced with shards of granite. In the amphitheatre and around it, all were hammered to the ground and then tossed like leaves into the air, crushed beneath the falling rocks and trees, impaled by branches, lances, swords, and arrows.

Some of Asthore’s men and nearby wolves had thrown themselves toward her as best they could to try and protect her from Bridniclir’s blast and the upheaval of the mountain. Most suffered for their bravery. The queen was not spared.

Asthore had been flung from her horse and slammed against the protective wall of the arena.  She bled from a head wound and from the projected rocks and splinters of wood. When those near her could stand, they discovered the queen unconscious and suffering most from a gaping wound in her side.  The wolves howled their anger and frustration.

Their raised voices drew Asthore from her stupor and she gasped in pain.  Despite this, her first words were to ask about her troop and the wolves.

“How have we fared?” she thought to Aod when she saw the blood striped white wolf standing before her.  “What of Bridniclir?”

“Lady, you must be still,” countered Aod. “I will see about the state of the battles, but we must find you aid!”

“If Bridniclir is able to continue, we must prepare again to fight her!”  Asthore yelled and gasped with the effort speak and to rise.  Even her concern could not put color back in her cheeks, however. The captain of her guard, his helmet gone, his left arm missing at the elbow, knelt beside her and, through gritted teeth admonished her to lie still.

“Be calm.  Help is coming.  The black witch is gone,” he said.  “Whatever power she threw at us, despite the damage it did, recoiled back on her as if it had hit an invisible wall and she simply disappeared like she had been erased from the world. She is no more. Those of her soldiers who survived here have seemingly come out of an enchantment, as well, and have laid down their arms and begged for clemency.  My lady, the captain tells me that Anwir was killed by the witch before the battle began.”

A spasm of pain wracked her body, and in her agony Asthore called, “Llyr!  Llyr, my king! Where are you?” Feebly at first, but soon more clearly she heard him answer.

“Lady, I am coming,” and he limped toward her from around a boulder.

The soldiers, suddenly aware of the wolves in their midst, gasped at the realization, but remembering what they had witnessed during the battle, accepted their presence then as allies.  A few who had managed to stand still started to object as the black wolf drew toward their queen, but she raised a bloody hand to forestall them.

“You promised me that you would stay out of this, Llyr, you and the pack!”

“We could not, my queen.  We were commanded by Edan himself to help you defeat Bridniclir, and to protect you.  Although she is gone, it seems, you have not escaped harm.  I can tell it is grave with you.”

The wolf king struggled to stay upright, but he came to stand beside Asthore.  She saw that he, too, was bleeding badly from scores wounds, and reached up to caress his muzzle and pull on an ear.

“If Evanheir is safe, and you and those of the pack who survived, I have achieved my purpose.”

Her eyes flickered as she fought to remain conscious. Llyr moved closer. Although his own wounds were already beginning to close with the wolves’ miraculous healing power, as he bent to examine Asthore’s horrific injury, some of his blood dripped into the purpling gash.  He drew back in mortification when he saw this.  Then he and the assembled company were astonished to see her wound begin to close on its own accord!  In moments, too, the color returned to her cheeks and her breathing became stronger.

“Oh, Llyr, so many have died, my people and our pack mates.  My heart aches for them all! You should not have risked so much for us.”

“We did it for ourselves as well as for you, our queen.”

Asthore raised herself, but gingerly, and draped an arm around him.  “Oh, Llyr, my king.  You have my heart, King in the Mountains. How I have come to love you! You have saved the kingdom and me.”

This confession and recognition opened Llyr’s eyes and his heart.  “Yes, Asthore. You have my love, as well, and the love of all the pack.  You truly are our queen; my queen.”

Once again the ravaged mountainside swam in glimmering magic.  Bridniclir was dead, and now her ancient spell was releasing, as well.  The wolves cried out as they realized their bodies were changing. The soldiers around them gasped in witness to the transformations.  Where once were the ferocious wolves that had fought beside them, now there were appearing men and women.  The varied coats of deep fur were receding, ears and noses shortening, claws and paws becoming fingers and hands.  As the transformations became more complete, some of the soldiers had wits enough to find capes and tattered saddle blankets to offer as covering for the now unclothed wolf pack.

Asthore watched in fascination as Llyr’s heavy mane of silver-streaked sable became the hair on a noble head with golden eyes that flashed at her in love and with humor at her sudden embarrassment. Her captain, his mangled arm in tourniquet and sling now, handed Llyr his own cape of office and the king draped it around himself.  All the wolf’s wounds had healed, and for the first time, he rose on two unsteady legs. Drawing to his full height, he stood a head above the tallest of Asthore’s soldiers, the conditioning of years living and hunting the mountain obvious in his physique.  The others of the pack also presented imposing figures even in their slapdash clothing.  Asthore looked on them all, the former wolves and her brave soldiers, with a full heart.

She stood, her strength returned with the wolf’s blood cure, and put her arm through Llyr’s.  With a smile she addressed them.

“You and those on the plain below have saved our kingdom.  We need to go and do what we can for those who have suffered most, including those who were slaves to Bridniclir.  The kingdom must be put to right, and all Twelve Kingdoms of Tabrimon must hear of The Wolves of Evanheir!”

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 7—Lineage”

The Queen’s Council met immediately after Anwir and his retinue cleared the palace gates.  Her twelve advisors, peers of the realm representing every geographic region of Evanheir, were usually a sanguine group Asthore could rely on to chew thoroughly every problem.  They liked to debate issues, see all sides, and try to come to consensus when they made a decision, hopefully one that was beneficial to everyone in the kingdom. They were also seasoned by years of experience.  Some were soldiers, some businesspersons, some managers of large farming estates, some plied the rivers.  Six were men; six were women.  This discussion was a ticklish one.

Some of the counselors had fond recollections of Anwir—before he became enthralled to the sorceress—and thought he might be “salvaged” with the right influences.  They also were more inclined to have a king for a ruler than a queen despite Asthore’s successful rule.  Others distrusted him entirely because of that same relationship they had before and their own run-ins with him before he vanished twenty years ago.  All feared a bloody contest and what it could do to Evanheir and her people.  For the most part, they were a peaceful lot, but those who had sought conquest had learned that the people of Evanheir could be pushed only so far.

When the discussion went to the supper hour, a meal was ordered to the council chambers, and Asthore called a recess in the debate while they made their repast.  She told them to proceed without her if she did not return when it was time to begin, and left them with some puzzled looks, but no one questioned her. Asthore wanted to seek out the one person she thought might shed more light on this topic, and she wanted to ask about the wolves, as well.

In a high tower of the palace lived a mage who had been chief teacher and historian and seer for at least three kings before Anwir ascended to the throne.  Kunsgnos had foresworn any magic that might be used as a weapon, but he was a better historical record than any book in the royal library. Asthore trusted him explicitly because she knew he only had the welfare of the kingdom as his purpose. She always enjoyed speaking with him, and she looked forward to their conversations for the pleasure of his company as well as for his guidance.

“Come, Asthore.  Welcome!” came the call from the other side of the closed door before she could raise her hand to the knocker.

“Kunsgnos, it is always good to see you, my old friend!” She stepped inside a warm and cluttered room and greeted him with an embrace reminiscent of childhood and a kiss on the cheek above his snowy beard.

“Ah, you flatterer.  Sit down, my queen.  Your tea is waiting there on the table by the fire.”

“I wish I knew how you did that,” she grinned as she took her seat.  “I know I am not that predictable.  If you knew I was coming, do you know why I am here?”

“I saw Anwir and his troop come and go…rather quickly after so long an absence, too…and assumed you would make your way here eventually, but I sense, too, that he is not the only purpose for this visit?”

“What?  You mean I’ve stumped the Great Kunsgnos?  It’s unheard of!”

“Oh, stop.  You can flatter me, but do not flatter yourself, Your Uppityness.” He chuckled and Asthore stuck her tongue out at him.  “I heard the wolves, also, and know that you have been into the mountains.  It is time, I think.”

“Time for what, Kunsgnos?  What do you think I want of you?”

“Answers, as always.  History.  Truth. I can tell the passage of time by the questions you pose.  When you need to know something truly important, you come to me because it is time you knew.  This time is one of the hardest, Asthore, but it is also the time with the most promise…but also a time whose coming I have feared the most.”

“Tell, me, Kunsgnos.  What do you know of my wolves, and of Anwir?”

“Oh, your wolves? Yes, I suppose they are, my child. First, what do you already know?”

Asthore related the sketchy tale Aod had given her of the ancient transformation.  Kunsgnos raised his eyebrows but did not say anything when she first mentioned that she had actually conversed with the wolves.  It was obvious that she accepted it already as a Given because it did not even occur to her that he might find it miraculous!

“That fits with the old stories,” he said when she had finished her brief recitation.  “You have, of course, guessed that there is more to it.”

“I had hoped as much, anyway. What can you tell me, Kunsgnos?”

“There is a great deal more to that seemingly overnight transformation of ‘your wolves,’ as you call them, than Aod could tell you.  It did happen long, long ago, before the Twelve Kingdoms had been carved out of the melting ice and snow which drove that wolfish clan of men into their sacred cave. Here is where their story and Anwir’s—and yours, actually—first begins.  The sorceress, Bridniclir, is an ancient incarnation of malevolence in our land.  Her powers were checked somewhat by a synod of all the most powerful wizards and sorceresses in the land when I was only becoming aware of my own abilities.  In that early, coldest time, however, when she herself was relatively new to her power, she was challenged by the leader of those men of the cave.  He knew she was evil, and he defied her when she tried to enslave his clan.  A brave man, but not a man of magic, only his cunning and his truth of spirit saved him and his people.”

“Bridniclir heard his challenge and attempted to kill them all, but Edan, he who could be named the first king of all Tabrimon, knew the cave he had discovered was a place sacred to the planet itself, to all of Nature.  He hurried his clan inside, hoping either to hide from the witch or thwart her power altogether.”

“Her killing spell proved ineffectual. Edan’s sanctuary saved their lives. If she could not kill them, however, she could curse them.  So Bridniclir enchanted them, changed them into wolves, the ancestors of the pack that rules our mountains.  They are beasts, but they are also cursed in that they are aware of their human natures. This spell, though, as with all spells, has a catch, a possible end.”

“A catch? What do you mean? Can it be reversed? If so, why hasn’t it?” Asthore was intrigued by this history, and, her sympathetic nature easily tapped, hoped that she might help if she knew how.

“The first part of the release from the spell seems to have happened,” admitted the sage.  He looked at her closely then, and with a new appreciation of her. “The wolves are…or were…doomed to their speechless existence until they met a heart that would speak to them. You, my dear, seem to be blessed to have been their helper.”

Asthore gasped and felt as if her heart leapt into her throat; her hand covered her mouth.  Then excitedly the young woman exclaimed,  “It seemed so natural!  Llyr simply looked up at me and spoke, and I heard him in my mind!”

“And who is Llyr?”

“He is the King in the Mountains, the leader of the pack.  I went because I heard their cries the first night, and only his the next; when I couldn’t stand the sound of his pain, I went looking for him and found him lying beside his mate. They had both been shot. Cuini, his queen, was gone and I couldn’t help her, but I was able to remove the arrow from Llyr’s side.”

“You said this ability to speak to the wolves was the first part of their release.  What is left to do, and what will happen to them if the spell is broken?”

Kunsgnos looked long at the young queen, then stood and walked to his window.  There he remained for some time, silently staring into the moonlit mountain. Asthore knew he needed time to think, and she did not interrupt his deliberations.  Eventually he turned and once more looked into her eyes as if trying to fathom the depths of her spirit.

“What is it, Kunsgnos?  Tell me!”

The mage sat beside her and took her hands. With a sigh he recited,

“They will answer the call where their lord once stood.

They will hear the heart that is true and good.

They will acknowledge the power they cannot refuse.

They will honor the promise they dare not lose.

They will again be men as they are called by blood.

They will again be men as they are called by love.”

“But what does it mean?” cried Asthore.

“I think it means war, dear heart.”

*   *   *   *   *   *

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 8—Sorcery”

The council was still meeting, still debating how to react to Anwir’s reappearance and probable attempt to oust Asthore from the throne, when she returned from her conversation with Kunsgnos. Although she did not share with them what she had learned concerning the wolves, she did use the mage’s insights to convince them the kingdom needed to ready itself for battle. Generals were charged with seeing to their troops. The Palace Guard was put on high alert.  Proclamations for the citizens concerning the events of the former king’s return and the possibility for war were prepared and disseminated across Evanheir.  Couriers were sent to the other kingdoms to inform them, also, of the situation, petition these allies for promises of aid and to refuse sanctuary to Anwir.

By the time they sought their beds, it was well after midnight.  Asthore stood on her balcony again and thought of all she had learned that day. It had been an amazing, confusing, and revelatory few days.  Although she should be exhausted, she found that her mind was sharp and clear and her body tensed as if for immediate action.

“Llyr, King in the Mountains, can you hear me?” She softly spoke aloud and sent her thoughts toward the place where she had left the pack so recently.

“You call; I am here, Queen Asthore,” came his surprisingly strong reply.

“I need to meet with you soon. I have much to tell you, and I think I need your help.”

“Come when you can; we will be watching for you.”

As if he had made the decision for her, Asthore turned from the balcony and found her trunk and her hunting clothes. She would get no sleep this night.

On the other side of the palace mountain, in a darkness made of shadow and sorcery, Anwir fumed at his reception at his former court and rejection by Asthore.  Beside him a woman as dark as the night calmly laughed at his tirade.

“Peace, Anwir,” advised Bridniclir, for this was indeed the ancient sorceress whose enchanted youthfulness belied her great age. “They have no hope of resisting our army or my magics.  Tomorrow we will return and simply take what is yours.  Then we will set in motion the conquest of all of Tabrimon.”

“I am sorry, my lady, but I do not yet have your confidence.  My army is not large, and I do not fully understand your powers.  Cloaks of darkness and some farseeing are not going to be enough against the warriors of my former kingdom, especially if they receive aid from Gallaghern and Haldis.  Those two kingdoms bordering Tabrimon can send aid overnight.”

“The messengers sent to the other kingdoms will never leave Tabrimon tonight.  I have already seen to that.  You still doubt my powers, do you?  In these two decades you have not gained confidence as you have watched me throw off the spells that were cast to bind me?”

“I have seen you become more beautiful, Bridniclir, as well as more demanding of me.  But, yes, I have witnessed you bend time and space, cloud men’s minds, and even more recently wield a power greater than a company of men and dispatch our foes with terrible slaughter.  It was a gruesome thing to watch, I must admit.”

“Ha, ha!”  Bridniclir laughed with humorless mirth.  “I am afraid you grow weak, Anwir, and I will not have a weak king. Trust me, obey me, love me, my pet, or I can most assuredly find someone who will!”

Each word she spoke seemed to become harder, to change the very air around them.  Anwir felt it press against him, crushing him as if he were under a great rock. “Enough!” he strained to plead. “You are my queen, Bridniclir! I could not have another!”

“Good.”  Her disgust was barely concealed from him.  “Now listen to how we will deal with the upstart Queen of Evanheir and her pitiful armies.”

At the edge of the forest Aod again met Asthore and Ivy.  With the wolfish grin that seemed to be his face to the world, he rose from the concealing snow and startled both horse and rider.

“Aod!” Asthore shouted as she fought to keep her seat when Ivy shied away from the sudden specter of the white wolf. “Your tricks are not funny!”

She could have sworn his quick bark was laughter at her expense, but Aod quickly apologized.  “Forgive me, lady!  I did not mean to startle you or your horse.  I am eager to take you to Llyr and hear your news.”

Ivy had finally recognized her wolfish companion and calmed with that knowledge and Asthore’s handling.  “Let us be off then, but I do not entirely believe you, King’s Jester!  But it is good to see you again.  Tell me how my patient is doing. He sounds hale after even so short a time.”

Still seeming to grin at her, Aod turned to climb the mountain path, and quickly leading them on, reported on his king’s health.

“Our healing is faster than most,” he said. “Some of the magic of our clan’s transformation, we have always thought, benefitted us in this way. Llyr is almost fully recovered with your medications and his own abilities.”

“That is truly miraculous!  He was gravely wounded barely two days ago! The wound was terrible. I was not sure he would survive my surgery.”

“Some of this power is simply his will,” Aod explained. “If he had decided to join Cuini, you could not have saved him.  I believe that your desire that he should live did as much as your ministrations.”

“Whatever the cause, I am happy that he is healthy. We are going to need all of you to help us.”

She did not explain further, despite Aod’s prodding. “I would rather go through this only once and with the king alone or with him and whoever he decides should listen. It is unusual and complicated.” Aod seemed satisfied and simply trotted faster up the mountainside.

Llyr met them at the gathering place. The rest of the pack was in attendance, as well.  When Asthore saw him, she fairly flung herself from her saddle and, kneeling beside him, threw her arms impetuously around his neck.  “Oh, Llyr!  It is so wonderful to see you safe and well!” She exclaimed.

“My queen!” said the startled wolf, “How unladylike!” She could hear his pleased smile in his mocking address and simply gave him another hug.

“You will just have to get used to it, my lord king,” she said with feigned haughtiness, “for this is who I am in the mountains and always have been!”

“Yes, Asthore, we know.  We have watched you grow into your crown after seeing you nearly break your crown numerous times tripping on branches and stumbling over rocks. I seem to remember a rather spectacular tumble into a very cold creek some years back!” Now he was outright laughing, and the pack joined him in a barking, howling chorus.

Asthore blushed.  “It isn’t very polite to spy on a lady, you know!”

“I’m not sure ‘lady’ is the word I would use to describe the wild young woman we were watching!”

With that Asthore stood and drew herself into a regal, nose-high pose and turned on the gathered pack.  “That will be enough from you!” She ordered in her most commanding voice.  The assembly hushed immediately and lowered their heads. Some even rolled over in submissive poses until she laughed at them.  “So there!”

“Now,” Asthore continued, we have serious matters to discuss.  “I think you heard me on my way here as I explained the situation at court.  Another, darker aspect of that has arisen, however.”

“What do you mean by ‘darker’?” questioned Llyr.

“Magical,” she informed him with a shudder.

“Then perhaps we need to go to a safer, more private place.  Follow me. It isn’t far.”

Leaving Ivy safely stabled in the arena’s shelter, Asthore and the pack moved quickly around the great rocks. Not one hundred yards from there, even as closely as she was following, Llyr turned to his right and seemed to disappear into the mountainside.  Another couple of paces and Asthore realized that he had slipped through a narrow split in the massive granite face of the mountain that was hidden from view by a switchback and the shrubs and trees that grew around it.

The wolves could see well enough in the immediate darkness, but Asthore was blind.  She stopped briefly to dig in her satchel for a candle and sulfur matches. Its feeble light showed her the path and then was almost swallowed up by the chamber they entered.  Llyr climbed onto a rock shelf that formed a ledge around half the chamber.  Asthore followed, and the pack filed in and sat below them to listen.

“My friends, I have heard more of your history from Kunsgnos, the Mage at court.”

“We know him as a very old friend, Asthore,” replied Llyr.  “Although we could not speak to him, he seemed to know us and did not fear our presence when we followed him on his treks through the mountains.  I know he is very old.  Even my grandsire spoke of Kunsgnos as an old man!  I am glad to know he is well.  We have not seen him in some time.”

“Yes, he is definitely ancient, but he does not look any older to me now than he did when I was a toddler applauding his entertainments.  What he told me earlier today, however, was more curious knowledge than anything he has ever imparted to me.”

As she related the history of Edan and Bridniclir and the resulting transforming curse, she could feel the anger and tension and exasperation the gathered pack emanated.  Llyr explained that some of this was part of what they knew, but when she further explained that there was a possibility of ending the curse—and that Asthore was, perhaps, the key—created a cacophony of questions in her mind and a howling, barking din in the cave.

“Quiet, please!” commanded the king, and soon Asthore had peace again.  Sensing her anxiety and knowing the daylight was soon upon them, Llyr moved to another problem. “And now, my queen, how is this of a part of Anwir’s visit and your need of us?”

“We believe Anwir is plotting to take the crown by force since we did not just hand it back to him.  And that Bridniclir is with him.”

This revelation did not result in the uproar of her earlier news.  Instead it produced from each throat a spontaneous growl, and the hair rose on the back of the queen’s slim neck.

“Although I did not growl,” she said when it was again quiet, “I admit that I felt the same way.  We are preparing for war, but no one seems to know where Anwir and his troops are or how large a force it might be.  Whether or not the sorceress is able to provide deadly aid in battle is a serious question, as well.”

“I think we can find them, wherever they are in the mountains, and we can let you know of their movements. We will also harry and hinder them as much as possible.”

“Please,” begged Asthore, “do not put yourselves in harm’s way!  We can deal with this threat, I’m sure.  I do not want any of you hurt or killed because of this usurper and his witch.”  What she had not given in her account of the curse was the verses Kunsgnos had recited.  She could not bring herself to allow them to come to harm as prophesied in the rhyme. The second half of the spell would have to be broken some other way!

“We will see what comes,” said the great black wolf, and he looked squarely in her eyes and wondered at that closed place in her mind.

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 5—Return of the King”

Queen Asthore returned to find the palace in an uproar. Everyone from her chambermaids to her most trusted advisors seemed ready to lock her in her rooms!

“What is all the fuss, Enid?” she asked of her former nursemaid as she changed out of her hunting clothes.  “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been into the mountains by myself!”

“My lady,” exclaimed the flustered old woman, “you gave us a fright when you weren’t here this morning!  It took that oaf of a stableman until well after breakfast to realize no one but he knew what had happened to you!  I thought the Lord Chamberlain Gervase was going to have his head on a pike for keeping a secret that the poor man didn’t even know he knew!”

“Now that can’t be all of it,” demanded Asthore. “What has happened that they’re not telling me yet?”

“It’s not my place, Lady!” stammered the good woman. “Gervase told us to keep mum until he could see you.”

“Come now, Enid, give me the straight truth that will be tortured in politics when I hear it from him.”

In a fearful voice just above a whisper, never looking Asthore in the eyes, Enid confided in the queen she had raised as her own daughter.  “Dear girl, they say the king has returned and demands his throne and his queen!”

Asthore felt her knees go weak, and for some reason the walls seemed to swirl.  She heard the old woman gasp, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on the cold marble floor with her head in Enid’s lap.  “The king?  Anwir is here? Why?  How?”

“I’m sorry, my lady.  You will have to see the Lord Chamberlain. I do not know.”

“Now, up with you.  We need to make a queen of you again.”

“Oh, Enid.  This is not a day for such news.  I need to rest, not deal with insurrection!”

“Calm yourself!  You must keep your wits.  You are not the same woman he left with two small children and a kingdom to govern! Remember, you are Queen Asthore and your people depend upon you!” After years of caring for her young charge and watching her grow from a strong-headed child with skinned knees to an iron-willed but soft-hearted monarch, Enid lapsed briefly into her role of governess, but caught herself with an embarrassed smile. “Forgive me.  I am out of line!”

“No, thank you, my old friend. It is the best reminder. I depend on your forthrightness. All right.  Please have the girls draw a bath for me and let’s find something fit for the me to wear.”

“Now that’s my queen!  What do you think of the emerald velvet?  It goes so well with that flaming head of hair and matches your eyes.”

“That will do, yes.  And I want the wolf’s head necklace today, I think. I am going to need every talisman of strength I can find.”  Asthore’s thoughts went then to Llyr and hoped her new friend was healing and safe. A smile came to her lips when she felt Aod’s wry humor and caught his response to her involuntary query.

“Miss us so soon, my queen?” came the wolf’s thoughts. “All is well here, thanks to you. Father sleeps and grows stronger by the hour.  We have heard the arriving troop and felt your concern.  Are you well?”

The queen glanced at Enid, giving orders to the serving girls, and turning to the window, murmured, “It may be a challenging afternoon, but I am most concerned with Llyr and the pack.  I don’t know when I will be able to return to the mountain. Be safe.”

Enid interrupted the “conversation” and Asthore barely caught Aod’s farewell, “And you, my queen.”

With that the ladies prepared to meet the challenges of the day, for Anwir had come from out of the east with a large, rather menacing retinue, appearing as if by magic at the end of the valley and marching to the palace with flags flying at about the same time Asthore was drawing the arrow from Llyr’s chest.  She knew visitors had arrived when she stabled Ivy, but had no idea of the importance of this sudden chaos.

She had dressed and was finishing an early afternoon meal, her first of the day, when she received word that her Lord Chamberlain was insisting on seeing her.  Asthore knew the wait had been a torture for Gervase, and she felt sorry for her trusted advisor.

“Gervase, I am sorry for keeping you so long. Thank you for giving me time to gather myself and prepare for the afternoon. I have heard the news, or some of it. What else can you tell me?”

“Ah, that Enid.  The woman could never keep a secret from you.”

“Now, now.  It’s not as if I couldn’t tell someone important had suddenly arrived at the gates. But Anwir!  Gervase, what is going on?”

“I am not sure I know it all yet, my lady, but your husband has returned, and not from the dead, it would seem. On the bald face of it, he demands his queen and his kingdom!  Fortunately the Captain of the Guards was awake when the king’s retinue came cantering up the pike and was able to call the entire force of the palace guards to arms and station.  Although outwardly this has been handled with diplomacy, I fear that the king would resort to force if he were not obviously outnumbered.”

“We shall see about that!” exclaimed Asthore, her color rising.  She had suspected trouble, of course, the moment she knew the identity of this visiting “prince.”

“Gervase, speak with the council privately. Determine their individual opinions, although I think I know them all well enough to know they will be my friends in this, and convey to them my strong resolve to remain the ruling queen of Evanheir.  Anwir gave up his throne of his own volition when he left on his fool’s errand twenty years ago.  Nothing here is his except children he neglected.”

“I have already spoken with most of your counselors,” admitted the Lord Chamberlain.  “They are as you say, and hoped this would be your response. I am, however, fearful that Anwir has the intention of seizing power by force if necessary. The Guard is in the palace and outnumbers the party Anwir has with him, but we have no way of knowing what other for forces might be gathering.  The army is on maneuvers in the southern mountains and it will take four days, at least, to get word to the generals and get our forces back to defend the city if necessary.”

“Send word to the generals.  I think I can discover if we are facing a larger foe. No, don’t ask. Now, let’s go meet this fool that has returned to plague us.”

“He is cooling his heels in the audience chambers, waiting on your pleasure, my queen,” Gervase said with a grin. “I will send word to the south and meet you there.”  With that he bowed and hurried out.

Asthore frowned, her green eyes flashing with anger at this intrusion and concern for her people.  Then with a look of fierce determination, she turned back to the windows, opened them to her balcony, and stepping out, whispered to the wind, “Aod, hear me!  I need my pack!”

Immediately she sensed the white wolf’s presence, but her plea had been so forceful, that she felt, too, the minds of several others, including Llyr, who spoke to her.

“We are here, Asthore.  There is trouble in Evanheir, we can feel it in your mind and in the air itself.  How may we help you?”

“Llyr!  Forgive me for disturbing your healing!  I don’t know how to control this new method of speaking.  How are you faring?”

“Thanks to you, I am already stronger. We tend to heal more quickly than others, but my children and friends are also keeping me from getting too active.” She knew he was chafing at the confinement, and his vigor so soon after being so grievously wounded astounded her.

“I would like to see how you are. The energy I feel already from you is astonishing, but you have to take your time.  The wound was severe and too close to your brave heart, my friend!”

“I am well, Asthore.  What of your situation?”

She filled him in briefly on Anwir’s return; then said, “We have no way of knowing if a greater force is gathering at the borders or even in the hidden valleys of Evanheir.  Although we have had no trouble with any of the other Twelve Kingdoms, Anwir has gained a following somewhere.  I need eyes, scouts to look for trouble so that I can be prepared for it.”

“I will send my pack to all the wolves of Evanheir, and we will see what we can find.  We should be able to scour the kingdom before the next day breaks. Call to me if you have any other need.”

“Thank you, Llyr, King in the Mountains. I will let you know what my former husband has to say and look forward to hearing what you discover.  Take care of yourself.”

“We are yours, Queen Asthore.”

With that assurance, she went to meet the man who had left her so long ago.

*   *   *   *   *   *

“The Wolves of Evanheir: Pt 6—Liar King”

The throne upon which Queen Asthore sat was the only chair in the room.  More significantly, perhaps, it was the only throne in the room.  Drawn up in regal majesty, the crown of Evanheir sparkling in her blazing hair, the Queen coolly regarded the man she had not seen in two decades as he seemed all but to slither toward her. She could tell that he was not happy, and she could not have cared less.

Anwir had courted the young Asthore, flattering her by his interest—a king, though only twenty-four, who could not seem to spend enough time with the coltish maid almost ten years his junior. Her parents, too, were wooed, she thought now.  Although they were in the royal lineage, they were far removed and had been simply part of the court, her father holding minor office, her mother once a confidante of the old queen. Anwir had become king when his parents had both perished at sea when their ship had gone down in a storm with all hands.  He had become king at only ten, and had bristled under the guidance of the Council of Regents until his majority.  Then he had been an indifferent if not simply bad ruler who did nothing but indulge his fancies.  The one piece of advice he seemed to heed from his council was that he needed to marry. Why he chose Asthore was a question no one could answer.

Their courtship had been relatively brief, their marriage a progressive disaster.  Anwir grew tired quickly of any hint of domesticity, and monogamy seemed to be beyond his abilities.  Asthore tried, first for Meghan’s sake, then for her and Regan, and when her husband eventually succumbed to the witch who seduced him away from Evanheir, she dedicated herself to the people as she did to her children. Under her steady hand the kingdom had flourished.  She was not about to relinquish to this stranger all that she had sacrificed so much to accomplish.

“Hello, Asthore,” Anwir greeted her without a trace of deference, but a slight sneer of condescension.

Gervase and the rest of the council members visibly blanched at the man’s lack of decorum, but they held their peace. Asthore silently regarded him, holding him in a glittering stare for so long that everyone became uncomfortable, and Anwir looked to Gervase as if wondering if the queen had heard him.

“I wasn’t sure you were still alive, Anwir,” she said when tensions were highest.  “I am more surprised by that, I think, than to see you here.” Queen Asthore was ready to play the game.  “The question, however, is why are you here?”

“Why? My lady, I am King of Evanheir!”

“Twice wrong, Anwir.  You haven’t been king legally for more than ten years, since the council and an assemblage of Peers declared you abdicated.  And we both know that I have not been your lady since shortly after our marriage.  That, too, has been annulled.”

This brought a low murmur to the assembled court, but Asthore and Anwir understood it was more in agreement with her than surprise. He did not seem surprised, however, and with a disdainful grin announced, “I did not come to argue the point with you, Asthore, or anyone else.  The throne is rightfully mine by birth, and I don’t need a wife.”

This caused more than a murmur, and protestations erupted from the crowd.  Here and there the words “Traitor” and “Usurper” could be heard.  Anwir simply smiled at them again.

“Be gone, Anwir.  There is nothing for you here any more.  You are granted by law safe passage to the border, but you are never to return.”

“Yes.  Now is not the time.  I did not expect a warm welcome.  You should do well, however, to expect to see me again.”  With that warning, he turned on his heel and strode toward the doorway.

Asthore had the last word: “Please, do come again, Anwir.  Believe me, we will be expecting you.”

Her confident tone stopped him briefly, but he did not turn around.  In the courtyard his groom gave him the reins to his horse.  Anwir mounted, turned to his Captain of Guards, and commanded, “Back to the company, Captain.  Take note as we pass. We will meet with my generals tonight to plan our return.”  Amid the clattering of hooves as his troops wheeled to follow, Anwir did not notice the howling of the wolves.