Chapter 4: The Wolf’s Blood

  A heavy winter storm overtook the Icelock Summits. Wind blowing fresh and old snow alike, creating one of the horrid blizzards the World’s End was so well known for. Vision was reduced to mere inches, flecks of ice whipping around in the torrent of wind and stinging the skin of anything caught within. Even the animals dare not step outside of their dens during such an event, as it almost surely spells death. The temperature plummeted to well below -100°, and the valleys were filled with cyclones of snow as the wind was caught inside.

  Despite the treacherous conditions, 3 small sleighs were slowly yet surely making their way up the mountainside. The sleighs were being pulled by 2 Polar Bears each. Hunkered inside the sleighs were 9 individuals, 3 in each sleigh, and all bundled up in furs and blankets to try and stay warm. Tarps were strapped to the top of the sleighs to protect from the vicious winds and ice shards outside. The travelers huddled together, trying anything and everything to stay warm in their travels. While all of them were native to Typhon and were used to the harsh winters, they truly began to realize why the Icelock Summits were called the World’s End. The fact that any life remained on this mountain was nothing short of a miracle. The runestones lining the sleigh were at full release, but did little to dull the biting cold they faced on this particularly dark winter night.

  “How much further to Whiteman, Madam?” One of the travelers asked.

  An older woman responded, “We should arrive by evening tomorrow. However, this weather could delay things substantially. Hopefully, it will pass by soon enough.” This seemed to be enough to abate the curiosity of the other man, who went back to focusing on keeping his hands from freezing off. The old woman whispered, mostly to herself, “I just hope this storm isn’t an omen of something worse.”

  Inside the now ruined village of Whitemane, the snowstorm seemed to be providing the fallen with a shallow grave. The wind howled through the wreckage of homes, as the snow and ice ensured that any warm coals were swiftly extinguished. Yet Sevagoth had yet to move. The young boy, not yet 6 years old, knelt with his beloved mother’s head in his lap. He held his father's blade as it stuck through the heart of his mother, staring into the stormy wind whipping past. How long has it been? A day, maybe 2? The biting winds were mostly blocked, partially by Bailior's towering corpse that had fallen beside him. Yet compared to the warmth the village chief, his grandfather, had always provided, this was just another hollow reminder of what Sev had lost. What that bastard Adanon had taken from him.

  Yet Sevagoth still did not shed any tears. He simply knelt there, muttering those same words over and over to himself. At this point, they were the only things confirming to Sev that he was even still alive. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.” The words had yet to lose their meaning to Sevagoth, as he made sure to put the same amount of hatred and sincerity into each word. This was not a threat or an empty sentiment. This was an oath, a creed. If I die before I kill him, so be it. It means I’m weak. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.”

  As the storm howled and whistled around him, Sevagoth heard something. He averted his gaze for the first time in almost 2 days. And yet as he turned, he saw nothing more than the storm he had been staring at before. “Huh, must have been the wind.” And yet he was certain it had been a voice. A low voice, almost as if it were praying. Yet he could see and hear nothing else. A moment later, a sudden gust of wind and snow blasted the inside of the house with a flurry of ice, completely different from how the storm had been blowing thus far. As Sevagoth blinked the ice and snow out of his eyes, the storm returned to normal. Far above him, he could have sworn he heard a roar, or perhaps it was just thunder. Can thunder happen in a snowstorm? I must just be getting loopy. I’ll wait out the storm for now and figure out what to do next.

  As the sun started to rise over Whiteman bastion, the 3 sleighs looked like nothing more than moving blocks of snow and ice. The runestones in the reins and harness had helped the polar bears keep warm through the long night. They simply continued to shake off the excess snow and ice, almost as if they were happy to be back home. The travelers worked to dump the several inches of snow off their tarps, stretching and reveling in the comparative heat wave they now faced. “Now I know why you insisted on paying extra for the bears, boss.” One of the larger travelers said while rolling his neck and shoulders to get the knots out. The sleighs slowly came to life, the travelers ditching the heaviest of their blankets and furs to continue their trip more practically. 5 of the travelers were rather large men, dressed in plate mail armor with a large crest of a bear paw emblazoned on their pauldrons. One of them also had a sash and cloak, also bearing that same crest. The other 4 travellers were women, 3 younger and one quite a bit older.

  The older woman announced, “Prepare yourselves, we are approaching the village.”

  “Shit, it's about time. I can’t wait to get off this godforsaken mountain.” One of the soldiers said.

  “Language, Bryton. Especially in front of the Madam.” One of the younger girls said back, nudging him sharply. They came around the final bend, with the front gate to the bastion now in view.

  The cloaked soldier stepped up in the sleigh and called out, “Hello there, we are the envoy from the capital. The Oracle has answered the summons to read the talents of a young man. We have the documents all right here!” He held up a roll of papers in one hand, bearing a wax seal of the same insignia as his cloak. Silence was their response, with not a single sign of life to be found. “Hello, I said we are the envoy of the Oracle, we request that you open the gate immediately!” The soldier yelled again, louder this time.

  “Something doesn’t feel right, Commander.” One of the other soldiers said quietly.

  “I agree. Bryton, Guiden, go get that gate open. Elias, Dedry, with me.” The cloaked soldier barked, anchoring the sleighs as he climbed out and began walking towards the gatehouse.

  “Arthur, be careful.” The older woman said. So, that storm truly was an ill omen. What could be going on here?

  Bryton and Guiden quickly walked up to the large gate that blocked the road. As they tried to push the gate, they realized that the latch on the inside hadn’t been placed to bar their entry. “The gate is open, Commander!” Guiden called out as he and Bryton forced the gates open. Arthur merely nodded as he led the other 2 into the guardhouse. This door was unlocked as well, cold iron hinges creaking loudly as he pushed it open. As they entered the guard house, they saw the dried and frozen trail of blood from the front room into the back. As they followed the trail, they stumbled into a horrid sight. Bodies piled together, heads separated in another corner, and arms and legs each in their own corners as well. The blood had been thrown and splattered all over the tables and the walls, almost as if to make some kind of perverse art. The soldiers were immediately on guard, quickly sweeping the rest of the guard post. No other signs of life, and no signs of struggle. There was no way to know what had happened, and with the bitter cold preserving the blood and bodies, it was impossible to tell when it happened as well.

  “Nothing on this side, Commander!” Bryton yelled as he finished sweeping the last area of the guard post. The soldiers gathered together and reported their findings, which were not much of anything.

  Arthur approached the older woman and said, “Madam Oracle, it may be too dangerous to continue. I know we’ve come this far, but we don’t know what did this. It could still be here. We may be walking into an ambush.”

  The Oracle thought for a moment before answering, “No, we press on. We must find out what happened here. There could be survivors. The village could be in danger.”

  *sigh* “As you say, Madam.” Arthur replied, leading the bears and sleighs with him and his men on foot.

  After a short walk, the village came into view. “Hey, it’s the village!” Guiden yelled out.

  “More like what’s left of it…” Bryton responded curtly, taking in the destruction in front of him.

  “On your guard, men. Let nothing happen to the Madam or her handmaidens! Bryton, Guiden, you stay with the Madam. Do NOT leave her side until I give the order!” Arthur barked, stepping into the role of commander.

  “Sir!” they responded while all taking their positions. Elias and Dedry walked with Arthur as they took point, leading the sleds single file with the Oracle in the center, surrounded by Bryton and Guiden. They entered the town square and saw the carnage of the battle.

  “HALT!” Arthur yelled out immediately. “Keep the women from seeing this. Make sure they stay in the sleighs.” He whispered to Elias and Dedry. They simply nodded and ran to move the sleighs out of line of sight. Arthur slowly walked into the square, observing the massacre before him. He saw 200, maybe 250 men dead and ripped apart. Limbs were severed, some of which had chunks missing. Bodies split in half, rib cages cracked and emptied of the organs. Pools of frozen blood turned the square into a red lake in the morning sun. “What the fuck happened here?” Arthur muttered aloud. In his years, he had seen many horrors. After all, monsters are known to be vicious. But this? Nothing touched this in scale and violence. Heads with faces ripped off stared hollowly towards the sky, their last expression one of pain and horror.

  As Arthur approached the center point of the square, he saw them. 4 lycanthropes, dead and decimated like the rest of the corpses. One ripped from maw to stomach, ribs and innards frozen and exposed. Others had their limbs ripped off and shoved into their mouths, or even into their chests. Arthur turned for a moment to keep himself from retching. The only silver lining was the lack of smell due to the storm the night before. Everything was too frozen to rot, which was the only thing that kept Arthur’s rations inside his stomach. Bryton and Elias caught up to the commander, visibly shaken from the horrific scene around them.

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  “What the fuck did this? Was it the lycanthropes?” Bryton asked.

  Arthur merely shook his head, “Not a chance. Humans and dwarves wouldn’t be able to rip a lycanthrope in half longways like that. They must have been fighting together. Whatever did this is, is far more dangerous.”

  “Oh great, something capable of destroying a thrope that has the strength of 5 men, just the news I needed to hear today…” Elias replied, visibly shaken. Suddenly, they heard a small, weak voice not more than 10 yards away.

  “Who are you people? What do you want with my village?”

  Sevagoth knelt there, holding his mother's head. He might as well have blacked out, his consciousness swaying. He was fighting back the blackspots in his vision and the trembling in his body from hunger. He may have been mature, but he was still only 5 years old. He had tried to move, but every time something had stopped him. He didn’t want to leave his parents' side. They may be dead, but at least he was still doing something to help them. He couldn’t bury them, but he refused to just leave them there. So, he stayed where he was, holding his mother's head gently in his lap. “I-I’ll kil im. I’l kil im.” He tried to force himself to keep saying those words, the exhaustion making the words jumble and slur together. They were the last thing keeping him grounded in reality. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept since that night. No water, no food, and no rest. He was dying, and he knew it. Somehow, he felt peace in that. He was just a child, and yet he wanted nothing more than for the cold to stop and to be with his parents again. Dying would achieve both of those things. And yet he continued to fight off slumber. He made an oath, a creed. He would live to kill Adanon. No matter what. “I’ll kill him.”

  Suddenly, Sevagoth heard a loud shout from the town square just a few yards away. He was so exhausted that he couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. But he knew he heard a voice. Or is it like that night? Am I just hearing things again? As he finished that thought, 3 men clad in heavy armor walked into view. They were obviously looking around the square, observing the remains of the battle. A final burst of adrenaline surged through Sevagoth, giving him the strength to force out the words, “Who are you people? What do you want with my village?”

  The men almost jumped out of their skin and drew their weapons instantly. They all looked over, only to see a young boy coddling the head of a woman who was obviously dead. The men rushed over, eager to figure out what happened here and to help the obviously distressed child. Sevagoth looked like hell. Cheeks sunken in, skin red and worn from the storm the night before. His eyes were hollow, sunken in, and bags hung heavily around them.

  “Are you alright? What happened here??” Arthur asked urgently, resting his hand on Sevagoth’s head and beginning to look him over.

  “They killed them. They killed all of them.” Sevagoth replied, words weak and labored.

  “Quickly, he’s hypothermic and emaciated. Get him over to the sleighs! Let's get him warm and fed. We can get the details later!” Arthur barked while scooping the limp boy into his arms. At the sleighs, the Oracle was shocked to see Arthur rushing back with a child in his arms. “Quickly, the furs! Get the furs!” Arthur yelled towards Bryton. The next few minutes were frantic, but they eventually got Sevagoth into the warmth of blankets. They gave him some water and traveling rations in hopes of helping him recover. Sevagoth was numb to it all. He didn’t cry, he didn’t gorge himself on the rations. He didn’t even shiver. He was hollow, and it didn’t take long for the Oracle and the handmaids to see that. Sevagoth slowly ate the ration one bite at a time and drank the water in small sips. He was raised by hunters, and he knew the dangers of drinking too fast when dehydrated. He needed to slowly work his stomach back into working condition. The handmaidens were frantic to take care of Sev, trying to wash his face and clean him of the blood and ice that covered his face and hands. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and he had a broken blood vessel in his eye, staining a deep crimson. And yet he simply sat there quietly eating his ration.

  Arthur pulled the Oracle aside before asking, “Is this him? The boy you came here to read the talents of?”

  The Oracle simply nodded, “It would be safe to assume so. Children are quite rare in villages such as this.”

  “What should we do with him? Elias and Dedry have swept the ruins and have only found more dead. We can’t well leave him here!” Arthur said thoughtfully.

  “I think it's best we find out from the boy what happened here. We can decide what to do once we get the full story.” The Oracle answered, looking at Sev from a distance.

  “As you say, Madam!” Arthur replied as he walked towards Sevagoth and the others. “Hey! Give the boy some space!” Arthur yelled as the handmaidens continued to swarm him. They reluctantly obliged, stepping back to give Arthur and Sev some distance. “Are you alright now, boy? Can you tell me your name?” Arthur asked gently.

  “I’m okay. My name is Sev.” Sevagoth replied quietly between bites.

  “Okay, Sev, my name is Arthur. We are here to help you, but we don’t even know where to start. Can you tell us what happened here?” Arthur asked, his voice soft and genuine. Sevagoth finished his last bite and sighed softly. He proceeded to relay the events that led to the state the village was in. He gave as much detail as possible, wanting to leave no room for questions. The soldiers simply stood in a solemn silence. The handmaidens were all horrified as Sevagoth described the monsters and what they did to the villagers. The Oracle merely sat in silence, listening to every detail Sev gave. Sev stopped for a brief second, deciding how much to say about Adanon. If I say too much, they might go after him and kill him before I get the chance.

  As he paused, the Oracle said, “Please, leave nothing out. We need to know everything.” Sev nodded and continued, wrapping up the story with how his parents died and how he stayed there ever since. He left out key details, such as swearing to kill Adanon, but he even included that he was the one to plant the sword into his mother's heart.

  As Sev finished relaying what happened, no one really knew how to respond. They all sat in silence for a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, it was Sevagoth who broke the silence. “I’m sorry to ask more of you, after you’ve already done so much for me. But can you please help me bury them?” The question hung in the air for a while. A mere child, having to live with a weight like this? And somehow staying so calm?

  Arthur nodded solemnly. “The ground might be too frozen, especially after that storm. We could cremate them, if you’d like.”

  “What’s that?” Sev asked quietly.

  Ah, so he really is just a child. Arthur simply answered honestly. “Well, kid, we would gather all the bodies together and start a massive fire, called a pyre. The bodies will burn and be reduced to ashes.” Arthur answered.

  Sev sat for a moment and then answered, “That makes sense. That’ll have to do, I guess.”

  Arthur nodded, almost in tears at the story he heard and how it was about to end. “Would you like to take anything before we get started? Say your last goodbyes?” Sevagoth quietly nodded and started to get up. Arthur lifted him and carried him back to his family home. Sevagoth took the small dragon head amulet that hung around his mother's neck, as well as the wooden wedding ring, off her finger. He could not recover the ring from his father, as it had been burnt off in the lava flow. He settled on just “Wolf’s Blood”.

  Sevagoth whispered, “Mom, Dad, Grandpa. I love you all. Thank you for giving me the best life I could have wished for. I know you all loved me more than anything. I love you too. Please never forget that. And don’t worry momma, I haven’t forgotten my promise. I will kill him, even if it kills me in return. I love you guys. Be safe, and wait for me.” Sevagoth leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead one last time. “I’m ready.”

  The soldiers worked for a few hours to break the ice and move the frozen remains of the villagers into one central area. They gathered bundles of wood and placed them under the piles of bodies to help ensure they would burn. Arthur took care to keep Ana, Murak, and Bailior separate from the other piles. He placed them separately on the foundation of the house they were found in and prepared them personally. By midafternoon, the preparations were complete. Arthur leaned down to Sevagoth and asked one last time, “Are you sure you are ready? There is no going back.”

  Sevagoth nodded, fighting off sleep. “I’m ready. I want them to rest well.” At that, the Oracle began channeling. Rather than the broad-ranged and chaotic fire that Ana had been using in her final moments, the Oracle called out several controlled orbs of flame and placed them on the pyre. The wood was cold and frozen, so it took a while for the fires to start. Finally, the fire took hold, and the pyres began to burn fiercely. Sevagoth watched his village burn, still without a single tear shed. He watched them burn as their ashes get whisked away by the wind. He watched as the Oracle started the smaller fires for his parents, his family. As he watched their bodies burn, a strange feeling washed over him. Peace. He no longer needed to stand watch over them. They had been put to rest, and nothing could separate his parents anymore. He had fulfilled the wish of his mother. One down, one to go. As he watched the ashes gather on the stone, he felt his body give out. Sevagoth blacked out, crumbling to the ground. Arthur simply picked him up and carefully took him over to the handmaidens’ sleigh.

  “Take good care of him, please.” He asked solemnly.

  The young women nodded, tears in their eyes. “Of course.”

  Arthur returned to the pyres to ensure the corpses were burned thoroughly. “I don’t want these poor people to suffer anymore than they already have. Hopefully, this is their final rest.” He said quietly, almost as if he were saying his final prayer for the departed. He walked over to Ana and Murak, who were left in each other's arms at Sevagoth’s request. He watched as the flames finally sputtered out, the ashes piled on the stone floor of their home. He took out 3 small bottles, placing some of Ana’s ashes in one, Murak’s ashes in another, and putting some of Bailior’s ashes in the final bottle.

  “I didn’t realize you were so sentimental, Arthur.” The Oracle said as she walked up next to him.

  “What that kid went through, the things he has seen. No one deserves that, especially a 5-year-old. I know it isn’t much, but maybe these will give him some comfort. If this is any indication of how his life will be, he’ll need all the comfort he can get.” Arthur said as he stood, heart and words broken by the tears welling in his eyes. “Who would do something like this? What kind of monster do you have to be?” He asked as tears trailed down his cheeks.

  The Oracle brought him into a hug, letting him cry on her shoulder. “Pray that you never find out, Arthur. If we are lucky, we might never meet him.”

  As the pyres softened from blazes to simmering coals, the village’s ashes were picked up and carried away by the arctic winds. A soft, gentle snow started to fall as the 3 sleighs moved away from the village. The twinkling pyres were slowly replaced once again by the deep silence of the empty, lifeless forest. As Sevagoth lay sleeping in the sleigh, the Oracle wiped away the single tear that ran now down Sev’s cheek. “It’s okay, little one. You are safe now.”