The Cloak Of Moonlight

Ch.10: Ariams' Past

        Last night in the stable was beautiful Ariam thought, splashing cold water on his face, he stopped to gaze out the window of the Warriors lodge towards Mazes’ cabin. Then why did you stop it, she wanted you too. I could smell it. Because Fenrir, She’s not like the other wolves here, she’s innocent, she’s a virgin. If she isn’t our mate then I cannot hurt her like that. Ariam sighed rubbing his brow. That hasn’t stopped you before, we’ve claimed many wolves innocence. Yet since she’s joined BronzeClaw you haven’t even looked at another wolf. Ella has been drooling at our feet for months. Yes I know I have been quite distracted by Mazicane. That’s an understatement Fenrir smirked in his mind. He knew his wolf was right. Ariam dressed quickly in a thin white shirt and jeans. He took a last look out the window eyes cast towards Mazicanes’ home and attached his sword and sheath to his waist.  

        He left his room in the manor and made his way to the barracks and started making rounds around taking the hilt of his sword and banging it on the doors. Even the Alphas’ guard and established warriors were required to train five days a week at BronzeClaw. Ariam made it clear that just because you secured your position in the pack doesn’t mean that you stop training. There was always the possibility of losing your position. Warriors had to be ready at a moments notice.

        Luckily BronzeClaw was well respected throughout the packs. Not even it’s enemies had the nerve to attack. The cliff behind them gave them a distinct advantage, through the years they have carved steps and flats to allow for archers to control ballista's and guard the village from virtually every angle. The cliff was nearly impossible to climb over because of the sheer steepness and crumbling rocks. Had someone actually been able to succeed it would be impossible to climb down. There was a small set of stairs leading to the top if you knew where to look. This was in case of the off chance that someone was foolish enough to try that option.

        For the most part BronzeClaw had no enemies. Ranulf was a renowned leader. Yes, occasionally he stepped on some toes but mostly he was praised for his tactics and ability to use both wolf and steal in unison. Other packs would send their lead guardian to train with them annually. Sometimes they would send a group of their warriors as well. Although small in size they were composed of mainly warriors, every cub was required to train with the guild once they reached maturity for three years. They were never forced into battle, unless the pack was attacked. Most chose to stay and continue learning after the mandatory draft was up. Five years of training were required to earn consideration to join the guild.

        Out of eighty mature pack members, fifty of them were warriors and hunters. Six of them were on the Alphas guard. Ten of them were currently training for a spot in the guild or striving to achieve spot in the Guard. That left nineteen mature members left to tend crops and livestock or raise pups.

        All around BronzeClaw was a warriors paradise. Almost all packs would never allow a female in battle, let alone encourage it. An ambitious Omega could become an esteemed member of the pack. They could move from a tiny hut to a modest cabin, eventually making their way to the barracks. If they were strong enough to earn a spot in the Alphas Guard they could even have a room in the manor. Making BronzeClaw a perspective sanctuary to Omegas from other packs seeking a new lease on life. Unfortunately most packs refuse to allow a member to just leave. Although an Omega is viewed as worthless, they are the cooks, the butchers, the farmers, and the merchants of the pack. They are actually needed more then appreciated.

        Omegas are usually slaves to a pack. Born with that title they die with that title. Unless they mate with a ranked member, but they are usually rejected because of the shame they bear. They are a packs punching bag, living in squalor and shunned. Ariam knew this all to well.

        Ranulf was clear that without explicit permission from their packs’ Alpha he could not accept them. Ariam knew this was a tough burden for him to bear. To turn away wolves starving, hurt and in need in order to avoid an unnecessary war or a rebellion from the council. He did on occasion after times of political conventions bargain for their lives and buy a stray or an orphan to bring among his ranks. That’s what happened with Ariam.

        His mother had been sick and dying, and he was born out of bond. His mother was the Alphas’ mistress, his true mate. His chosen Luna had already bore him a son. There was no reason for the Alpha to accept or claim him. He was the age of six when his mom passed. The Alpha attended the funeral but could never make eye contact with the boy. Ariam was a black mark on his record. A walking talking disgrace. He lived in an orphanage beneath an estate in the catacombs of London. Always hungry, always wet from the humidity and always sick from the lack of fresh air. The alpha was cold and distant, he saw him maybe twice since his mother died. He rejected him and despised his existence. Ariam was beaten daily by the Keepers and treated harshly by the pack. An orphaned bastard Omega. The lowest of the low, not even a mother to love him. A true victim of the RabidCrown Pride

        Ranulf was becoming well established at the time. His pack almost two decades old. He had a strong foothold growing and his reputation as a fearsome warlord was blossoming. He was meeting with RabidCrown trying to set up a new ally. After business was concluded he would visit packs and brows through their members carefully choosing one or two Omegas to bargain for.

        Ariam was lucky, at age nine he met Ranulf. The Alpha was all to willing to let him go. At this point the whispers of his own resemblance with the boy and his history of adultery were circulating. He was struggling to find a way to get rid of the boy. Contemplating Murder, Poison, Banishment. His Father sold him to Ranulf for 50pounds, under the agreement the boy was never to return.

       Ariam Repaid Ranulf with years of sweat and work. For the first time in his life he had a home, that he could help grow. He had a purpose, training as the Alphas’ Guardian. He was given respect and power. He was given a new life. This is something that he was willing to repay in blood.

        Breakfast was cooked and devoured at this time. The warriors and trainees had gathered in the yard of barracks awaiting Ariam.

        “What are we standing around for? That’s fifteen extra minutes on the track you’ve earned boys and girls.” Ariam yelled, groans and mumbles followed and the group took off jogging.

        “Come on, Lets go lets go!” Ariam called after them, jogging in the rear of the group. They ran around alternating between five minutes of pushing themselves and five minutes of jogging. Usually they ran for thirty minutes but today they will run for forty-five.

        “Eldwick, Why are you always ten to twenty paces behind the group?”

        “I’m trying sir.”

        “TRY HARDER! We are only as strong as you are Eldwick.”

        “Y…Yes sir.”

        “Eldwick you need to start pushing yourself, evaluation is coming up and you don’t want to lose your spot in the Warriors Guild, do you?” Mazicane appeared beside him.

        “No ma’am, I do not.” Eldwick said furrowing his brows and picking up pace.

        “Mazicane! What are you doing here?” Ariam said stopping in his tracks.

        “The elfs’ magic worked pretty well, I’ve got a clean Bill of health.” Mazicane said holding up a letter signed and  sealed by Lovetta.

        “Hmm… Light duty? I would hardly call that clean.”

        “Well then I ‘almost’ have a clean bill of health.” She said with a smirk.

        “Then Let’s go.” Ariam said jogging in place and then circling behind her.

        “Catch up! Let’s go, Let’s go, Let’s go!” Ariam yelled from behind her. She took off and easily cleared the distance between them and the group. She was always so good at motivating Eldwick, but lately he has been slipping more and more. She was right, if he didn’t step up his game he would lose his spot in the guild and either be required to take additional training or retire.

        They finished their rounds almost in unison. And he began pairing partners to spar, and archers to take their places either pulling a catapult device to launch clay pots or shooting. Mazicane got paired with Eldwick. She grumbled and complained because Eldwick couldn’t match her ability but Ariam wanted to keep her from overworking herself. He started walking around the barracks stopping at individual groups

        “Hey you, watch your footing.” He said kicking a foot into proper position.

        “You need to pull that line harder, send those pots soaring.” Ariam stated, pulling the slack out of the bow.

        “Maintain eye contact with your opponent.”

        “You need to pace yourself.”

        “And You need to try harder. You forget I know what you’re capable of.”

        Daily training was between three and four hours long. There were other courses he attended to throughout the day with less wolves in each one. Classes averaged between ten and fifteen. He could grade their skill and progress more efficiently this way while still making sure the guild as a whole was still trained. He took his work very seriously and refused to have favorites. Although he scolded wolves more then he praised them, he was respected and admired. He expected them to teach each other as much as he was expected to instruct them.

        He couldn’t help but to watch Mazicane from a distance. Although he taught the pack to use brute force and strength to accomplish their goals. She moved with grace and elegance. She calculated moves and was able to dodge as efficiently as she was able to block. She couldn’t beat him yet but it wouldn’t be long until she would be able. That girl was a sponge.

        He noticed a black cat with bright green eyes sitting on the gate looking out over the yard intently. What’s a cat doing around a yard of wolves? Ariam thought walking curiously towards it. It flicked an ear in his direction but didn’t change its gaze. That’s no ordinary cat. Fenrir, what do you mean? I’m not sure exactly what it is, but the smell is off, and I can sense a strange power radiating from it. As Ariam approached the cat hissed and ran off. How strange he thought.