Frozen Odyssey

Chapter X

The King of the North

There are several terrifying monsters that live in the cold, frozen forests of the North. Bears that stand twelve feet high, Elk with antlers long enough to stick a man from end to end and trolls who can crush a man with their bare hands. Among all the creatures only one reigns supreme, the dire wolf. Wolves that stand six feet tall, they’re faster than anything on land, fiercer than any bear and have instincts greater than any creature that walks this world.

One dire wolf in particular is especially dangerous. Unlike the rest of his kind, his fur is a pristine white and his eyes were red as blood. He was larger than his kin by a full head and his teeth were sharper than blades of grass. No one knows where he came from, but all knew his name, Sanctus. He’d wandered the North for dozens, possibly hundreds of years and in that time he learned a great many things; he could see in the dark as if it were day, he could track anything across land, water or air and when he howled he could call the winter storm to his side.

All knew of Sanctus and his pack of wolves and had named him The King of the North. Many hunted and challenged him for his title, but all failed when they faced the white king. He ruled over his domain with fairness for all, but his second and brother, Sable, a wolf with fur black as night and eyes like gold grew jealous of the love his lord had gathered while he was the one enforcing his law. So he hatched a scheme to kill the king, for all knew whoever killed the king and ate his heart, would gain his strength.

Sable led Sanctus to the highest cliff, one night that over looked every expanse of land he ruled over. “Tell me brother, why did you call me out here at this time?” He asked as he looked at the trees below. While he was distracted, Sable leapt at him and a fierce battle ensued. They fought with tooth and nail and magic. Sable called the shadows and they started chipping away at the surrounding cliff. With one final howl, the cliff broke and Sanctus fell into the abyss.

He did not know how long he fell or how far, but when he awoke he felt a blanket on his bloodied back, the smell of burning flesh and a man sitting across a fire in front of him. Sanctus had heard of his kind, violent, selfish and proud. His kind had hunted the king’s servants for their pelt and meat. However, this one had not made any action to cause him harm. Sanctus had lived long enough to learn the way humans speak so he asked the man. “Who are you human?”

“I am but a hunter my lord.” The man said before he coughed. “I was with a party of men, but they felt it better to leave me here when I was injured and became ill.” The hunter pulled back his cloak to show a wound deep knife on his chest that had frozen over. “I know of you my lord. My kind has killed your and yours has killed mine.”

“Why did you not take my fur whilst I was unconscious?” Sanctus narrowed his red eyes and glared at the man. The hunter shrugged.

“It would not be right. I did not earn it.” The old hunter only took the pelts and meat of the animals he’d killed himself. The hunter reached into the fire and picked out a long stick that held a cooked hare on it. The hunter tossed the meat in front of Sanctus who looked at him in surprise. “It is too late for me, my wound has gone rotten and I’ll soon be one with the snow.” He coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Sanctus ate the meat even though it pained him to swallow. Once he was done he looked back at his injured side and then back to the man. He knew what needed to be done.

“You have given me three things human; warmth from your fire, your food and your story.” Sanctus said as he strained to rise to his paws. “I am not one who does not repay his debts.” He pointed his head to his bloodied back that had stained his bright white coat a dark red. “So I shall give you three things in return; food, warmth and my power.”

The hunter looked at him in confusion. “Like you, I was betrayed by one I called friend and brother. When I die, he will gain my power over the North and he will run the white snow we hold so dear red with the blood of both your kind and mine.” The wolf lord gestured to the hunter’s knife that laid beside him. The hunter understood and he picked up the knife in his half frozen hands. The wolf looked up at the moon one last time.

“May your hunt be bountiful and your fire never go out.” With those words, the hunter plunged his knife into the wolf. Sanctus did not cry out in pain or protest. He turned his head towards the man and saw tears rolling down his face. The hunter quickly gutted the large beast until he found the king’s heart.

He picked it up with both hands and bit into it raw. The taste was foul, but he ate it anyway. When he was done, he crawled inside the corpse of the great wolf and slept for three days and three nights. On the third night, he emerged from the wolf. He looked up at the dark cloudy sky and let out a loud howl that parted the clouds and the full moon shined bright on him.

His wounds had been healed and any exhaustion he’d felt had left him, but the man was changed. His once midnight black hair shimmered white as the snow in the moonlight and the whites of his eyes were stained a blood red. He walked back over to the wolf and took his pelt of white fur that would keep him warm in he harshest of winters. He built a pyre out of wood and set the corpse a blaze.

As he waited for the body to burn away, several of Sanctus’s kin gathered around the fire. They saw him and they knew what their leader had done for the hunter and that they had been tricked by Sable. Once only ash remained, the hunter left in search of those who had left him to die.

He tracked them all over the North until he came to their home town. The townsfolk were shocked as they looked at the man they had thought died with the massive wolves at his side. The hunter commanded the wolves to drag them from their homes and bring the three to him. They did. The three traitors knelt in front of him.

One confessed his crime and wept, not to save his own life but because he’d betrayed a friend. The second stated that it was a matter of life and death. The third said nothing and shed no tear. It was not anger or malice that filled the hunter’s eyes, it was pity and regret. He raised his large axe and with one blow, the men’s heads fell from their bodies.

When the deed was done, the hunter fell to his knees and wept. Word of his return and deed had spread through the North and Sable fled into the night for fear of the power of the human. A celebration was held in the hunter’s honor as the new King of the North, yet he did not stay. Before the festivities were over, he left his home for one last hunt. So should you ever hear wolves howling at the moon, they are calling out to their king, hoping he would hear them and find his way home.

~~~

Cerulean sat back and stretched his arms over his head. He looked at the listeners, proud as a cat. Their eyes were fixed on the man and were waiting with baited breath. “So what happened? Did he find the black wolf?” Cerulean shrugged at Sunset’s question.

“Who knows? Some say he did, some say he settled down and raised a family while other say he died in battle.” Cerulean leaned forwards. “I think he’s still out there looking for the black wolf, but will never find it, forced to wander the North and beyond. Helping where he can.”

“That’s not much of an ending,” Nix stated.

“It’s left open for different interpretations.” Cerulean then turned to the merchant. “So, was it worth that cloak?”

“It was worth that and these three cloaks.” Bast handed him the dark blue coat and Cerulean smiled. “It suits you.” Amber took the dark brown one that was a bit longer than the rest. Sunset’s was a deep dark red and had a large cowl to cover her hair. Nix’s was a deep purple that also had many small pockets in it, but the sleeves were cut short above her elbows. Bast apologized for not having another for Gale but the draconian said it was not her style.

Cerulean removed his bloodied shirt and tossed it into the fire before grabbing set of new clothes and walking behind the wagon to get changed. When he came back out he felt as fresh as a daisy and Amber let out a low playful growl. Gale adjusted herself in her seat.

“You said your story had a lesson, what is it?” Cerulean looked at the group and saw they each bore the same curious expression.

“Never throw your friends to the wolves, or else they might come back leading the pack.” He said as he sat back down on the ground. “The Warden made sure every ranger under her command knows that story and any who make the same mistake await the same punishment as the three in the tale.” Sunset gulped.

“Who ever they are, they sound really scary.” Amber nodded in agreement.

“She can be, but she’s very fair and kind when she wants to be.”

“Sounds like you know her quite well.” Bast said

“Well I should,” Cerulean said with a chuckle. “she’s my mother after all.” The group paused and they slowly turned to face the blue haired man.

“So if what they say about Wardens are true, what would that make you?” Cerulean thought for a moment before answering.

“It’s complicated.” He said as he rubbed his chin. “I know I have some standing in nobility because of my mother’s title, but at the same time I have trouper’s blood, which is considered by many nobles to be lower than dirt. It depends. I think most nobles would treat me with respect solely due to my mother’s reputation.”

“Which is?” Gale asked.

“You never heard?” Bast interjected. “They say the Warden of the North has a heart of stone and ice. Just one look from her eyes will chill you to the bone.” Bast said nervously. “Some say she killed three mountain trolls with just her mighty axe that stands seven feet tall. There are all manner of stories like that around her.”

“Stories like that are a good deterrent for nobles who think they can push her around.” Cerulean stated.

“Speaking of stories,” Amber stated. “you told that one with such detail. It almost sounds like it really happened.” Cerulean threw his head back and laughed a loud, amused laugh.

“Why Amber I’m surprised at you. I thought someone as well traveled as you would have known.” Amber looked at him with a small pout on her face.

“Known what?” Gale asked.

“Every story ever told really happened.” He said as he stared longingly into the fire. “Stories are where memories go when they’re forgotten.” He let out a yawn before he cracked his neck. “Well, I’m turning in.” As Cerulean stood up and walked over to a soft patch of earth on the side of the road, Sunset swore his hair looked like a lighter shade of blue in the moonlight, almost white.