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  The pup staggered around sideways, trying to shake the water off his fur and out of his ears. Jara commenced licking the pup's coat while it walked around her whimpering for sympathy. She paused and said to Blackpaws. ‘Oh, I was supposed to tell you that a messenger is at king’s rock waiting for you.’ ‘Thank you Jara’ replied Blackpaws as he stood up, gave the wet pup a humorous glance and leapt across the stream in one bound. This was rather exciting, he thought as he did not get many messengers these days. He followed the twisting worn path through low shrubs to where the ground rose and into the thickest part of the woods where he usually conducted his business. A short time later, he arrived at a more sheltered part of the pack woods where some other wolves greeted him. Here the daylight filtered down through the tree canopy creating an eerie colour on the fallen orange leaves. A great granite rock sat half-buried in the ground on its side and was about three feet high. It had tumbled down the nearest hill an eon ago after breaking off from the peak. Blackpaws leapt on top of the rock and sat on his haunches expectedly listening to the rustle of the trees.

  He felt comfortable here on this rock that had been trodden upon by kings of old and revered by the wolves. Some seed pods from nearby towering Elm and Ash trees drifted around him as they completed their journey upon the mercy of the breeze towards the ground, spinning quickly and slowing they're decent. The low murmurs from nearby wolves fell silent as a whoosh of wings sounded and a Silver Falcon that had been circling above zigzagged gracefully down through the trees to land on the edge of King’s Rock with his wings spread wide in front of Blackpaws. He was a handsome bird with a blue/grey colour atop his head, wings, and tail. A dark curved beak exhibiting old scratches indicated that this bird had seen combat. Bright yellow rings surrounded intelligent black eyes that glanced around at the watching wolves before fixing upon the king. This silver Falcon was a direct descendant of the Peregrine bloodlines, was the fastest bird in the ancient world and still is in this current world. He had two silver tubes fitted to his legs above his great claws. Protruding from the sides of these tubes were long sharp silver combat spikes. These were fashioned by the elfish craftsmen and were gifts to the Falcons, which most wore proudly.

  The Falcon lowered his head between his outstretched wings respectfully towards the king and waited to be addressed. ‘Greetings to Ayah Cloudchaser of the Aledran order. You are always welcome here, friend.’ Blackpaws said graciously and returned a bow. ‘What news do you bring to Silent Ridge?’ Ayah raised his head and looked at the king then spoke in a light whispery voice. ‘My lord, I bring news from the north. The mighty Shah Bragus requests your company, for he fears he is too old to make the journey to the silent steppes’. Blackpaws raised his head and howled with laughter. ‘What an old rogue! It would take a lot more than a walk down the hill to kill him’. Several other wolves sitting nearby snickered in humour as well at the king’s joke. Blackpaws thought to himself, ‘It must be important news if Ayah Cloudchaser himself brings the message.’ Ayah was one of the Falcon leaders from the order of the Falcon and delivering messages was well below his skills.

  Bragus, the Shah of Aledran, was a mighty red bear who stood nearly ten feet tall when upright. He had huge paws with giant claws that could incapacitate a hound in one swipe and a strong jaw with big teeth to match. Bragus was one of Blackpaws confidants and close friends. It was ten years ago now that the wolf packs and the mountain bear fought side by side against the seemingly endless numbers of the upstart Wildpack in the ‘War for the North Marsh. ‘They were assisted at that time by a handful of warrior boars from the clans of the Saddleback and the Grelen Elves who had already encountered huge losses from earlier sorties with the Wildpack’s incursion into the moorlands. These hounds were ferocious, bred rapidly, and were always trespassing across pack boundaries along the Scarbia ranges. They came into the moorlands from the great Trunarth Forest in the far north, moving in large numbers and destroying anything that got in their way. Falcons had recently delivered messages to the wolves that the elves were defending the North Marsh from the Wildpack. Then afterword got back that a pack of hounds had ventured into the Dreyfell wolf province and killed some scouts, Blackpaws took matters into his own hands. Greytail, the alpha of the Dreyfell pack, was furious and led his entire pack of fighting aged wolves to fight beside his king.

  Then in what appeared to be a coordinated attack, goblins armed with crude weapons and clubs attacked individual wolf packs along the foothills in the south, side by side with the hounds. Unusual storms and mists preceded them and concealed their initial attacks. The southern province, ‘Nomad Tundra’ belonging to Blackpaws cousin Greyback had been completely wiped out. It was established that the goblins had used magic aid as the wolves had been superior in strength and ability. Blackpaws had gathered several hundred of his fiercest warriors, aided by wolves from the neighbouring packs Duskfall and Dreyfell, while Bragus then commanded a sleuth of bear fighters. Together they drove the Wildpack away from the foothills to the far north where they retreated into the New Territories of Trunarth. This was where the moors gave way to enormous forests, and neither the wolves nor the bears had ever ventured there. They had killed many hounds, only suffering minor casualties themselves. They then tracked towards the south and killed many goblins, destroying the closest hides and driving the surviving goblins further west and into the cold south. Blackpaws had commented that the red goblins were like ants. Always more of them coming out of their holes in the ground and expanding. Bragus had saved Blackpaws life on several occasions during that campaign and Blackpaws had never forgotten that. Ayah continued to speak interrupting Blackpaws thoughts. ‘Bragus advised that the matter is urgent and concerns us all. ‘Please tell the mighty Bragus that I will be in the Aledran Vale by late tomorrow.’ Blackpaws replied. Ayah and Blackpaws bowed to each other, and then Ayah after two or three quick flaps of his wings rose quickly to the treetops and flew northeast to return to Aledran and the Shah Bragus.

  Blackpaws was accompanied by two young scouts Regus and Jericho as he left the pack that afternoon. Regus was a strong, reliable wolf with a full black coat and white paws. Prince Jericho was the two-year-old son of Blackpaws and rightful heir to the alpha position. He was tall and quick for a wolf having inherited some of his father’s better qualities. He was a light tan all over with a black head, strikingly bright blue eyes, and quite handsome. Furthermore, being the son of the king had its advantages as many a female had indicated strong interests. Blackpaws, however, being impartial to favour, treated Jericho as he would any other scout of the pack, which in turn saved Jericho from humiliating treatment by his comrades. Jericho had yet to prove himself in battle, though he was already known as a great hunter amongst the packs.

  His mother had been continuously indicating that he should already take a mate from the large pool of available females wooing him constantly. His father would always save him, saying, ‘Let the lad be, he has all of Frelith to explore first,’ though secretly Blackpaws was very proud of his son and did long for his son to be a father. Blackpaws mate and Jericho’s mother, Nova, an older female with a sleek white pelt, pleaded with him to stay and set out in the morning instead. However, Blackpaws preferred to travel in darkness. The night was generally still, and all the wolf’s senses are heightened. It was cooler, and he could cover the ground faster without any anticipated distractions. He placed his head against Nova’s warm neck and closed his eyes. ‘I will be back in a few days, have no fear.’ He said unconvincingly to her. Blackpaws then strode away with an adventurous gleam in his eye, reached the edge of the outer pocket of his pack’s wood and trotted off at a steady pace. Nova sighed and bit her lip; she had seen that look in the king’s eye before. Jericho and Regus ranged out wider off the path and in front as scouts are typically trained to do. Thus, began the journey to Aledran, a haven to the beasts, and the lands ruled by the giant mountain bear.

  11.

  THE BATTLE OF ROEMUS

  Some witches
’ like Lady Strala had originated from the mankind species while others were born from Dread-Realm encounters. Several hundred years ago there stood a quaint mankind village at Lands’ End, south of the Great Southern Marsh and not far from the frozen sea. It was completely isolated from other mankind villages as it was founded by exiles running the unexplored icy waters close to the coast in stolen skiffs. They had travelled here in haste, a week’s travel southwest from a mankind conflict on the unknown east side of the continent. After several weeks of braving rough uncharted waters, and with no pursuers they come to an unexplored land they knew not existed. It was situated at the southernmost end of the Boondor Peninsular. The mankind settlers had managed to carve out a crude existence in the great woods that existed there at the time, living off small animals and produce of the sea. One hundred years or so went by, and these settlers managed to live in relative peace with their surroundings, a new generation and a half later, those now born knew nothing else, with most forgetting their origins. They were secluded and had no idea that the village of Saltwood lay just a few hundred miles north on the west coast in a slightly better climate. The small village was given its name after the first settler chief – Roemus.

  However, the Roemus inhabitants were unaware that they were being watched by jealous eyes. For in those days’ mankind was not the only species that lived in the cold southern side of the continent. An ancient witches’ coven, Bloodwood, and a few goblin hides were two days march away into the moors on the northern side of the Great Southern Marsh. The inhabitants of Roemus seldom ventured into the moors as it was an expanse of tundra and wetlands with little to offer. If any of mankind had travelled, they would not have seen the massive stone in the circle of giant frozen Bloodwood trees. This marked the entry to the coven, and it was concealed from view by the witches cloaking enchantments. For years now, Ravens and Bloodwood skyriders had been reporting to the lady of this coven, Cedonia about the progress of the mankind village.

  Lady Cedonia was a young witch by their ageing standard. At 147 years old, she had taken leadership of the Bloodwood Coven through her birthright. The previous lady, her mother Enos the Crone, had given an unnatural birth to her after a chance night of frivolity with a Dread-Realm Daemon. Some say the Daemon was more like an imp as Cedonia never grew past the height of a goblin and was squat with olive skin and long Raven-coloured hair. She had unusual milky green eyes and did however inherit decent magic qualities from her mother’s black craft and her father’s knowledge of the Dread-Realm. Cedonia’s mother had then, unfortunately, died in an incident involving the incantation and summonsing of a hungry ‘Rust-Serpent’ instead of a wind sprite. This placed Cedonia unexpectedly in the position of Lady of the coven. She chose to watch from afar for many years, studying the habits of these mankind animals. She waited patiently with her goblins allies for an opportunity to strike, and seize as many prisoners as possible to perform a soul reaping. Immortality and the black craft came with a hefty price, and the blood and souls of mankind were a much more powerful resource than other life essence found in the moors.

  However, Cedonia’s plans were cut short. An unruly pack of several hundred hounds had been travelling south through the marshes under the leadership of an upstart hound Lieutenant Canalis. Canalis from the house of the Rottweils had been defeated in the north after a mutinous uprising within the Wildpack and the challenging of the Warlord. He fled into exile, heading to the cold, deep in the southern moorlands with the remainder of his defeated army. After many months of travel, he reached Lands’ End below the Great Southern Marsh. Here, he and his army sought refuge in the edge of a mighty forest near the sea. The goblins and the Bloodwood Coven knew of the politics within the Wildpack. However, they did not interfere as the hounds were their allies through ancient blood pacts.

  Lady Cedonia merely watched with amusement as a larger Wildpack army pursued Lieutenant Canalis towards Lands’ End. When the pursuing army reached the tundra below the Great Southern Marsh, the weather became bitter and drove the hunting Wildpack home, leaving Canalis in the south to rot. Several months passed, and then a time came when outrider scouts reported to Canalis of a mankind village further east along the coast. Canalis had never seen mankind animals before. However, he was pleased to hear from his scouts that they did not appear to have many warriors, but many females and young. The following morning, Canalis leading several hundred starving hounds attacked and wiped out the entire village. For two days, bloated hounds lay about mankind’s wood huts in a slumber with full bellies. Lady Cedonia was outraged and with the consent of the Wildpack Warlord at the time, joined her skyriders in the air over the rooftops of Roemus village. The goblin army below crept into the edge of the village from the concealment of the neighbouring forest. Goblins clubbed many a hound to death, while Cedonia’s ravens clawed faces and put out eyes.

  It was not without cost, though. Canalis’s brawlers were not cowards. Backed into a corner, they fought savagely and killed many goblins and Ravens. A few hours into this battle and Cedonia grew impatient. She decided to invoke the enchantment Animus-Eisque. She glared at the action below then faced upwards to the grey sky shouting a strange string of words not meant for the mankind tongue. This was the speech of the necromancer, a craft only known to the few who had studied and shown an adequate magic quality. The jewel in her sweep increased in brightness until one had to look away. A dull green and yellow glow seemed to cover the entire village, and it’s fighting occupants, as black clouds swirled and concentrated above Cedonia. Now Cedonia’s enchantment would have been relatively easy to thwart with the pertinent counter curse. However, neither Canalis nor his hounds possessed any magic ability to do so. Cedonia’s green eyes burned a bright white as she looked on with glee. She had always wanted to cast this enchantment.

  Ravens delivered messages to the surviving goblins to retreat, which did so. They abandoned the fight and leaving their wounded behind, ran into the nearby woods. The surviving pack hounds did not pursue, and on barking orders rallied around Canalis near the village centre to gather their strength. Canalis, panting heavily was concerned, for he knew that the witches’ were capable of the black craft. A significant number of his brawlers lay dead around him. With his grey coat covered in the gore and blood of goblins and Ravens, he glared up at Cedonia and her skyriders in defiance. Death surrounded the village. The air became eerily still as a heavy white mist appeared and blanketed the entire village. In a matter of seconds numerous corpses that were casualties of the battle, most being mangled and torn, began to twitch unnaturally. Several of Cedonia’s skyriders called out obscenities down to the panting hounds and laughed loudly. They knew what was about to happen.

  The reanimation of the dead was a powerful enchantment. The dead could only be controlled for a short while before returning to the earth. However, their primary drive was to kill and steal living essence to take back with them to the Dread-Realm. Several of Canalis’s brawlers began whimpering in fear, their tails between their legs. Canalis looking about him saw many corpses suddenly set upon his hounds. They fought bravely, albeit terrified of this supernatural occurrence. Cedonia’s corpse army of hounds, goblins, and Ravens fought without fear and converged to the centre of the village. Canalis’s surviving brawlers ripped some of the animates to pieces, but still, they came forward sensing no fear or pain, dragging themselves along the ground with limbs missing, dull eyes and teeth gnashing. Upon seeing this, several terrified hounds broke through the animate beings and tried to escape into the woods. The goblins waiting there clubbed them down.

  Soon there were no hounds left. Canalis lay still and lifeless, his throat torn out by one of his former brawlers now a reanimated corpse. Lady Cedonia muttered in approval, and the jewel in her sweep faded to its usual jade glow. With the enchantment ended, all the animate beings fell to the earth and were still. The goblins then left the woods and returned cautiously into the Village of Roemus to loot. But one mankind animal did survive. A terrified f
emale mancub of five years was found hiding in the rafters of a large wooden hut. She was the only survivor of Canalis’s initial attack on the village. The mancub’s name was Strala.

  12.

  LADY STRALA

  Lady Cedonia knew that to be the leader of a coven was not easy. Minor witches, high maintenance Daemons and rival leaders in other covens were plotting and scheming all the time, just like the goblins. The wolves and elves were always a problem, and the Wildpack had to be constantly pressured to keep them in line as they could be such an unruly mob. To be practitioners of the magic arts required blood and souls, and mankind specimens were running short these days. Without an active druid to keep them in check, the covens did what they like and occasionally united for a cause if it was beneficial to all the witch caste. Druids were another magic species that once dwelt in this realm with their agendas. They were revered by the witches’, mainly because they were a more powerful being. The goal of the witch was to learn the craft of the arcane. It was one thing to possess the primary powers of command over the elements and animals as did the goblins and elves. But real power came with the more powerful black crafts and ability to summon a Daemon. The more enchantments and power a witch could wield gave her a higher status.

  They lived in the company of many but trusted none. The honour of earning the title of ‘Lady of the coven’ could only be achieved by committing a tremendous magical deed and then being selected by the leaders of the other three known Covens in the land. The coven’s leaders would usually congregate once a year at a meeting they called the Occurrens Locus. This was held on the night of the Blood Moon or whenever a coven lost a leader and a new leader had to be selected. The Blood Moon was the singular lunar event where the moon was full blood red, believed by the witches’ to grant them the increased ability in the black crafts. Whether it did or not, the witches ‘thought it so and so did all the other species, and that’s all that mattered. Strala was found several days before a Blood Moon, and perhaps this was one of the reasons why Lady Cedonia chose to keep her as a pet of sorts. Strala spent the next ten years running around the Bloodwood Coven like a wild thing. Strala forgot who she was and where she came from. She grew up believing her life had started in the coven, and she knew nothing else. She saw many things and began to learn the basics of the elemental commune. She was taught to read the ancient runes and glyphs to aid in certain aspects of enchantment making. She was allowed to do most things in the coven as long as she did not go too close to the wailing woods above ground or interfere with any complex enchantments. The forbidden rites were conducted in the magic tombs underground and deep below the coven, only accessible to a select few. On her 15th birthday, she was given several old yellow books to read. ‘So, you want to be a witch?’ and ‘Enchanting Tales for beginners.’ Strala then began her training under Lady Cedonia.