Black Wolf, Silver Fox

Chapter One "Aramina"

Chapter One

"Aramina"T

he moon hung full and bright over the thick canopy of the forest. Shafts of moonlight pierced the leaves to fall in dappled shades of grey onto the ground. Occasionally, there was a swish as underbrush was carefully moved aside to allow the passage of some nocturnal beast. Otherwise, the air was deadly quiet as if the entire world were waiting.

The black one ran silently through the trees, dodging the pale moonlight as if it were poison. She paused and sniffed to test the air and get her bearings. The moon called her onward. Through the trees and underbrush, she rushed, across streamlets and pale meadows.

The cries of her brethren followed as she loped along. They sang of family, kinship, and togetherness. They were the things she turned her back on now as other memories moved restlessly in her mind. Her ripped left ear throbbed: a warning from the pack leader. It would probably scar and serve as a permanent reminder.

Suddenly, a clearing burst out of the trees. Not wanting to step out of the forest and be exposed, the black one halted and whined. Indecisively, she paced back and forth in the shadows.

She could hear a familiar, flapping sound in distance. It’s presence nagged at her, although she only acknowledged it with a flick of her good ear. Her pacing slowed then halted altogether as it grew louder. To herself, she growled a low warning before setting paw into the clearing before her.

Something that looked like an old rag appeared suddenly in a nearby patch of moonlight. It circled the black one like trash caught in a whirlwind, dizzying her senses. Finally, it stopped flying to land in the clearing before her. She lowered her ears, crouched in place, and whined again. Her tail hung limply between her tensed legs.

Either a flying bat or an old cloak -- it was difficult to tell – it fluttered once by way of threat. Then it changed, lengthened, and gained mass until a handsome elf stood in its place. His green eyes sparkled above a sharp-toothed grin.

"Aramina," said he, "leaving so soon?" His grin mocked her. He had killed with those teeth; it was a matter of pride for him. Unimpressed, the she made a sound that might have been a snort.

"Come now," he said soothingly. "You and I are above this beastly behavior."

Suddenly at ease, she sat and scratched her ears. Let him carry on the conversation by himself, her attitude seemed to say. Her unwelcome companion ignored the insult. Laughing, he crouched before her to wait. Clouds moved slowly past the moon, marking time.

It was a very long time before the elf got bored enough to try again. "Shall we sit here all night?" Again the black one growled, and then she barked softly. She stood, circled a time or two, then faced her adversary. The elf leaned back, his smile widening as he watched her change. Similar to the one he had just undertaken, her emergence was deliberately slow. The first thing she did when done was to toss her long, black hair and narrow one eye.

Shadowed by the night, her deep brown eyes glittered like obsidian. With a voice like a deep howl, she said, "Speak, and be quick."

"You've been feral too long," the elf said calculatingly. "Where are your manners?"

"I don't have time for manners." She stood naked, for she had long ago dispensed with such trivial things. The chill in the air made her shiver. It would only get colder before dawn, but she preferred not to think about that.

The elf sighed. How like her: business before pleasure. "Where are you going?" he asked unenthusiastically. They both knew the answer.

Aramina looked past him toward the moonlit clearing. "Gredber," she said slowly, as if she found speaking to be painful, "what is it you want?"

Gredber continued to smile, but now the expression looked sad somehow. He shook his head, freeing a brown cowlick into his eyes. Aramina had found that painfully attractive ages ago, but now she could barely remember why or even how they met.

That was the price of immortality. One could forget and never learn from their mistakes or go insane from the burden of memory. Aramina had been happy living with the pack and feeling the bliss of pure wildness. If Gredber’s occasional visits did not remind her that she was more than a mere lupine, she would have forgotten herself forever.

That would be too easy, she thought with narrowing eyes. Gredber was waiting, watching her warily. The choices she made tonight would affect him as much as her. Regardless of that responsibility, she intended to plunge onward. She was not the naive girl of long ago and would no longer sacrifice time for another’s comfort. Of all people, Gredber should know that.

"Let me pass," Aramina snapped.

Chin high, she took a step forward. Their shoulders brushed each other. He gripped her arm suddenly and jerked her back in one violent motion. She gasped in pain, ducking a little to protect her ears. Involuntarily her eyes met his and locked. Then, shamefully, Aramina looked away and toward the ground.

Angrily, Gredber pushed her away. "Go then," he said, his voice choked with pain and anger. "I won't stop you."

Something fluttered, swept upward, and touched her cheek. By the time Aramina dared to look up, Gredber was gone back to the wood. Her pack had fallen silent; everything was quiet again but for the soft crunch of leaves under her feet as she timidly walked forward. Aramina rubbed her cheek where Gredber had kissed her.

When the moonlight hit her naked flesh, it set her aglow as if she were a goddess. Around her, the darkness held back as if it knew how unreachable she truly were. Her eyes remained focused on the clearing’s center, a dark area the moonlight could not touch. There as an ancient altar there. It was made from piled weathered stones and was stained dark with the blood of countless sacrifices.

Three rings of weathered stones, each marked with sigils of forgotten spirits, surrounded it. Aramina could not remember what the sigils were for, or who they named, except one. She paused when she reached the first ring of stones and touched it with a single finger. “Mine,” she whispered.

Her heart hammered in her chest. It was a long time before she could bring herself to step over the first ring and into this unholy, yet somehow sacred, place. The second ring of stones was even harder to cross, as if something pushed her back. Aramina held her breath when she stepped over the third and final ring. With the altar now just feet away, her soul shuddered.

Mortal eyes could not see the energy that flicked over the darkest part of the center. She smelled the energy in the same way she saw it. For an instant, she could not think of how to react. Then, she remembered as if instinct needed only the excuse to come alive. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground. Pressing her face to the earth, she touched the altar base with sweaty fingertips. A shock run up her arms and sent spasms to her toes. Atop the altar, a bright flame burst mysteriously to life, chasing away the shadows.

Inwardly Aramina groaned as her every nerve was set on fire. To acknowledge this torture was to forfeit her life, and she could not do that yet. She bit her lip, tasted blood, and stayed perfectly still, even when a spark jumped from the fire and burned a hole in her wrist.

Rise, a deep voice commanded. It came from everywhere; the ground, the trees, even her mind. She obeyed, resisting the urge to brush off her soiled knees. The flame flickered before her, capturing her gaze and holding it. Something invaded her soul, read it, then withdrew. Although she had expected and almost welcomed it, she still felt r***d. Revulsion tightened her stomach.

Speak, said the voice.

"Lord," the fey said before choking. She swallowed, but a moment passed before she found her voice again. "I would ask a boon for your loyal servant."

Ask.

"I want to go home,” she said as quickly as she dared. "At least for two seasons–“

Silence! The air crackled with the command. Despite herself, Aramina flinched and awaited her punishment. The air was pregnant with expectancy.

You may go, the rumbling voice said after a while. It pleases me that you do.

"Lord?" Hope filled Aramina's eyes and moistened them with unshed tears.

I have an errand for you. Your companions will await...

Aramina nodded her head dutifully and bowed again. Within her mind, the voice methodically explained. Memories, left slumbering for ages, rose screaming to the top of her mind. Helpless, Aramina could only watch history replay behind her eyes...

The city gates were shattered by the siege engines, and fire rampaged through most of the area. The few survivors fled but were efficiently hunted down and exterminated. Their heads were severed and placed on pikes outside the walls.

One young woman - a fey creature of alluring dimensions - did not flee. The temple which had been her home for most of her life was now burning to a cinder right before her eyes. She stood fascinated while it crumbled inward, devouring itself in its death throes. There would be nothing left except fine ash when it was over.

Winds whipped at her torn, sooty acolyte's robes, pulling it around her legs. Shaking a triumphant fist toward the blaze, she laughed a high, crazy note before turning away. That was when she saw the ancient priest, who watched with sad eyes as he leaned on his staff. Apparently, he had been there a while.

"Join the fun, Old Man," she said playfully. She traced her hips with her hands, stretched, and pulled her hair up. "You could use the excitement."

The priest shook his head slowly. "It is enough," said he, "to watch the damage you have done."

She laughed again, but this time her mirth had a lower note to it. "Yes, I thought so, too." Coyly, she approached him. He did not back away nor show any sign of malice toward her, not even when she kissed his breast. Disappointed, she pulled away from him.

"You aren't mad at me?" she pouted, childishly putting her hands behind her back.

The old elf responded, "You were so full of promise," as if he spoke to an errant child and there were no fires around them.

"Promise?" she shrieked suddenly, spreading her legs apart and bringing up two fists. "What do you know of promise? You dined while I starved, scrubbing the floors with my bare hands! The only promise you filled was that of humiliation!"

"I am sorry for what the others did to you. It was out of my hands and beyond my knowledge."

"You saw me every day!" Her face was a mask of fury framed by the fire. "Every day you walked by, too intent on your own inner peace to see the suffering it caused!" She crouched.

“We saved your life,” the old priest said.

“You used me,” the woman hissed.

"I wish," said the old elf as he stood a little taller and leaned a bit less on his staff, "that it had not come to this."

With a shout and a flick of his wrist, he reached towards her. He was quicker than she expected, but she jumped out of reach just as his hands, glowing with white-hot flame, groped for her face. She cracked his chin with her fist, and he staggered back, flailing wildly. His pinky grazed her cheek, burning it. She howled in pain, backing away while he regained his senses.

They feinted: a slow dance in which she circled and he shifted only to watch. With a new howl, she changed form and rushed him. His form matched hers and two wolves, white on black, clashed in a rage of snapping teeth. Rolling over each other, tearing any flesh within reach, they hit the temple steps. Kicking legs scattered glowing embers.

The black wolf somehow managed to clamp her teeth on the white wolf’s inner thigh. Yelping, the white wolf broke free with a twist and scampered to get away. The black one latched to his ankle and held tightly. She tried to get a better grip, but slipped. The white one twisted loose, snarled, and ripped into her front leg.

She bit his nose, tasted blood, and limped back when her leg was released. The two faced each other, snarling, for the briefest of moments. Then the black one leapt.

The white wolf dodged but slipped on some cooling embers and missed his footing. The black one was on him instantly. They rolled until the white wolf lay on his back. The impact knocked the breath from the aging werewolf. While he was stunned, the black one tore his throat. Hot blood sprayed into her eyes, and she knew that she had won. The black one’s warbling howl sang victoriously across the burning wreckage.

Warily, three elves and a dwarf approached from up a nearby street. The black one barked at them, content to scratch one ear while she waited. When she was within reach, the leader scratched her ear. He was a charming elf with tousled brown hair. His sparkling green eyes studied the body of the white wolf as it slowly lost its transformation to again become the high priest.

"Well done, Aramina," he said. The black one harruphed, wagging her tail. "If a little dishonorably accomplished."

The black one's eyes were full of mischief. However it was done, the job was complete. And what was honor between her and her enemies but a lie?