Twilight of the Wolves (18 page)

Faoi’s voice grew weak and she stopped, a whimper underneath her words.

Sao touched her head, Only humans can be so cruel.

We can never forget that but we can forgive and we have. We have forgiven but we will never speak to them again. There is no wolf left in them, only that desire to possess and control, to hurt and to have. Even at the expense of their own brothers and sisters and children, they destroy so that they may take. They burn the forest and it kills us. We weaken and unity breaks apart. The pain like a thousand teeth piercing us through, no, we will never be one with the humans again. This is why you are alone and why Aya hurts so. She feels the pain of the forest and the loneliness of the wolf just as you do, but she sees herself and knows she is not a wolf. She believes she is human and so she is displaced, doubly. Twice by humans. Humans murder the half that makes her wolf and do not accept the half that makes her human because of her wolfheart. She will never be free of this
just as you will not be until you allow your heart to open and howl.

He smelt the stone and his body cooled and his face grew placid, still, I will never kill again, Faoi. Never. I will never raise my hand in violence against anything, human or animal.

Do you really want to see what human life is?

Aya, sitting on a large rock, whittling a branch into a skewer, stopped but did not look at him, I’m sorry about what I said, her voice soft and her gaze at the shadow cast by the boulder onto the grass, I don’t want to go anywhere without you.

His shadow merged into the boulder’s, cast from the opposite direction by a different sun, No, it’s time you see what you are. What humans are.

She smiled and bit her lip to hold it in. Raising her chin, he was a silhouette on a red backdrop, Really?

Ng.

She leapt towards him, her arms around his neck, head on his chest. His arms came around her, hands clasped beneath her shoulderblades, and he kissed the top of her head where her long redhair curled wildly.

You will finally see what you are.

Hreao brought the bear to Sao who skinned it and cut its hide into patterns, fashioning clothes for Aya and himself.

Aya wore the heavy bearskin tunic, itching her neck and shoulders, Why do humans wear the skins of others?

They believe it makes them look nice.

Hreao snorted laughter, Fools.

It seems an evil thing to do, Sao.

It is.

Aya rode Hreao’s back and Faoi walked beside Sao, a strong southern wind whistled through the trees causing the wolves to
grimace. Aya felt the pang and rubbed her palms hard against Hreao’s back, biting her lip.

What is it? Sao scratched Faoi’s neck at the base of her skull.

The world is screaming.

Above them, an airship appeared through the cracks in the canopy, glittering in the suns’ converging light.

The war’s spreading.

The war is everywhere, Hreao snorted, The humans have torn down the boundaries between enemy and friend and so everyone and everything is now anathema to everyone and everything else. They have become other to themselves.

What’s a war? Aya’s forehead furrowed.

Sao’s eyes dropped, It’s when humans kill each other by the hundreds.

Thousands.

More than that now.

Why do they fight?

Sao shook his head and his lips moved but no sound came.

Because they are foolish and young, Hreao’s voice ground against them, abrasive against the skull.

Where do we go now, Faoi’s voice, the waves that wash against Hreao’s fatal cliffs.

To find humans. Civilisation.

Hreao laughed, dark and deep and dangerous.

It is many moons from Garasu.

All we must do is follow the scents. Humans live everywhere now. A village or anything and we’ll know where to go.

But you do not speak the language here.

We’ll learn. Aya’s still young. It’ll come easy.

Faoi smiled, You are excited, wolfboy.

Sao smiled, still watching the ground, It’s been a long time since I’ve seen other humans.

Have you grown tired of us wolves?

Hreao’s thunderous laugh and Aya’s trickling notes echoed
against the trees.

They came upon a raised road and Sao looked north then south then north then to Aya and the wolves, Which way?

Hreao snorted and Faoi inhaled deep and said, South.

Aya came to the edge of the trees and stopped, her heart, a wildfire pounding in her ears and swallowing the sounds of the world.

Sao stood in the road and tapped his foot against it, This, he stomped his foot again, his eyebrows falling heavy. He looked around and saw Aya frozen and rushed to her, It’s okay.

She nodded swallowing hard. Quick breaths in and out, she swayed, clenching and opening her hands, closing her eyes and inhaling deep, exhaling slow, rolling her shoulders with the process.

I’m here, Aya. Everything will be fine.

She nodded, vigorously.

The wolves watched, sitting erect behind her.

The suns fell from the sky and the clouds stretched over the moons.

Sao put a hand on her shoulder then wrapped his arms round her and she cried, rooted to the treeline. He shushed her with soft syllables, swaying, It’s okay, Aya. We will stay in the forest.

No, her voice flat, No. I’m ready.

An hour of heavy and shallow breaths, she opened her eyes, the blackness blinding her, and stepped forward into the warm grass. The weight of the world descended and she staggered but Sao’s hand was there, holding her up as she retched into the grass, tears in her eyes, snot strung from her nose, the music of the forest far away, muffled, as if underwater.

On slurring legs, she reached the road and stepped onto its hot surface and hopped off, Why!?

Sao and the wolves laughed.

Turning to them scowling, her face unseen, I was surprised!

Faoi was beside her pawing the raised blackstone, Dragonstone. This is an ancient land.

Drache? Sao’s voice hung in the air.

Hreao snorted, I would not walk this road.

He is right, children. It is not safe to walk the path of dragons.

Why? Aya’s voice a whisper.

Come back to the trees and I will tell you a story—they followed her back but Aya remained beyond the trees, in the land of humans—I have told you both many stories and always about wolves. There is something you must understand, however. We are old. We are as old as the fracture in the moon and it is true that we were born from its descent and though we remember not all our memories remain true. A memory is only a recreation of the past. It is not the past. It is fundamentally and undeniably different from facts. To tell a story is to tell the other about oneself and to tell another about one’s history is to reinvent it in the telling. Every telling is different as every listener is different, subject to time and place and disposition. The memory of wolves stretches for thousands of years but we live thousands upon thousands. I remember when humans first stood and I remember drinking my mother’s milk but the stories I tell are only memories. They are not true. They only resemble truth and in this way they approach a different kind of truth. Humans obsess with accuracy while wolves share only the impressions and sensations of the past. For me to tell you of the ancient world is for me to recreate it, emotionally, sensationally, but not in acute detail. It is true that humans came from wolves but not all. Many humans arose from dragons and many more arose from neither wolf nor dragon. The ancient men, who lived before the dragons and wolves imitated them, were small and proud but lived in futility. They were animals, no more than dogs. It was our descendants and the dragons who built civilisation and law. This land comes from the dragons. Dragons are creatures of the sky and the mountains. Fire and rock, born from the suns, the forest
is not theirs as the sky is not ours. The dragons do not dislike wolves but there is no love between us but we depend on one another in different ways. They are our balance in the skies and we are their mirrors in the trees as Ariel and Calibanians reflect each other and so we exist beyond glass. Understood but never touched. Dangerous, the land of dragons, created from fire and rock. They are the first invaders, the first conquerors of this world. Before all else, the dragons reigned here and even before this planet formed, the dragons flew through spacetime. They are not our sisters but our mirrors. We will watch over you, but be careful. The land and the sky no longer are safe.

Sao?

Ng.

You awake?

Ng.

I’m afraid.

Of what?

I feel stupid.

What is it, child?

Please, don’t call me child. I hate it when you do.

What is it?

I’m afraid. Afraid of humans. I think. I don’t know. I’ve never.

It’s normal to be afraid.

Can I lie with you?

Ng.

I need someone to be close and Faoi’s in the forest and I’m afraid to go back in because I know I’ll never be able to leave again if I do.

Faoi and Hreao need time to themselves. They’ve been too generous with us.

They really love you, Sao.

I love them and we love you.

Sao.

Ng.

What if the humans hate me?

We’re human. Even if they all hate you, I will not. I will always be here.

Will it always only be us?

Faoi and Hreao, too. They will live long past we’re dead and gone, even past our next Life cycle. They will spend eternity running through the forest.

Why don’t they unite?

I think they’re afraid. You hear it, too, don’t you?

The voices in the trees.

The song of the forest. They’re afraid of that pain. Bodies soften the pain and even that’s unbearable to them. They fear the pain and the end. Humans are lucky in that. We know the end comes and it comes always too soon. No matter how long we live, our lives last not even the length of a single flicker of a star.

Will they remember us?

I hope so but I don’t know. We may one day become a story or a song and be known amongst all the wolves as a great myth from the age of humanity. Something humorous and tragic, like Life.

Why is your skin so hot?

Go to sleep, Aya. We’ve returned to the land of humanity and the road stretches long before us.

She walked in the grass and he on the road and the wolves hidden behind the wall of trees but their scent lingered in Sao’s lungs and Aya saw through Faoi’s eyes when she closed her own.

The trees ended at the western side of the dragonroad and a great plain stretched to the east until it met the forest once more, green and far away, wavering in the heatstretched distance.

The hot dragonroad never cooled, whether night or day, like walking on fire and Sao burned out from the inside, neither taking nor rejecting the dragonheat of the stone but existing with
it. It rose in him to the nebula at his center and filled him with fire and rock.

A cart appeared in the distance and slowly made its way to them. Aya’s heart erupted within her, beating against her ribs. The sinewy black driver ignored Sao’s words in every language he spoke and disappeared far behind them, taking his wares north.

This won’t be easy, Sao muttered and Aya took his hand raised above her head, their fingertips clasped with Sao crouching to keep hold.

Sao waved his hand and the driver at the head of the caravan, whose blond hair and white skin made him shine like a pale flame against the blackness of the dragonstone, stopped. He wore a small metal helm pushed back on his head and pulled on the reins with a metal arm ratcheting from his chest and beneath his chainlink tunic. Speaking in accented Garasun, he said, Hello, brothers. Where do you go from here? Seven men stared, emitting puffs of steam from vents and valves, all tall and bright as the driver with metal limbs and glass eyes, their armor manufactured directly into their fused bones and torn skin.

Sao stepped forward and the horses reared back, snorting, whining.

Whoa, the driver laughed, then barked words in a harsh and guttural language.

Where do you go, brother? said Sao.

Well, we came from Ormr and we go north towards the Kingdom of Glass by way of Seollal to trade. We are merchants and strangers in this land, and, would you believe! there’s a war going on! But we came from across the ocean far to the west and so we did not know and trade cannot stop because a few proud fools decide to burn their countryside, can it? Of course not, but, you, is it only the two of you? The driver’s eyes darted back and forth between Sao and Aya.

We, too, are strangers here, brother. We look for civilisation and hope you could tell us in which direction to head.

Hm, well, the driver scratched his head, As you can see, there aren’t even traintracks out here so you may never find civilisation if you look for it. You might as well just come with us. You look a long way from Glass and we could take you back there, and Glass at least has proper amenities. You look as if you could use a bath and some grooming, especially the girl, his eyes ran over Aya’s body.

I am not from there and do not wish to go, thank you.

The driver laughed, Yes, no problem there. Ormr should only be a few days south of here. He then turned to the men in the cart and spoke in his barking language and they all laughed, eyeing Sao and Aya walking past.

Filled with darkskinned aged and children chained to the floorboards, the second cart began to move, the driver yawning and staring with icy eyes. Beyond the third cart the long lines of men and women chained together stumbled after the three carts with the big white and yellow men walking beside them, driving them forward.

Sao took Aya’s hand and quickened his pace. A heavy hand fell upon Aya’s shoulder and several more grabbed Sao, their words harsh and incomprehensible. His heat burned them but they held on with steel fingers and he did not struggle while Aya kicked and scratched and bit until a large hand struck her into silence.

The rage swelled in Sao but he whispered, Be still, Aya. Be strong. No harm will come to us, I promise.

Her tears answered him, her body slumped in the metal hands of the white men who dragged her to the line with Sao, who breathed slow, eyes closed, allowing himself to be led.