Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

His father’s brow rose and lowered with the telling until his eyes became slits when Ancel mentioned the two beasts. His mother’s face remained impassive until he mentioned the kinai. A slight hiss escaped her lips then.

“Have you told this to anyone?” Stefan’s stern expression took in both Mirza and Ancel.

“No, Da.”

“No, Master Dorn.”

“Good. Keep it that way until I say otherwise.” A thoughtful look crossed his father’s face.

“I know that look, Stefan Dorn,” Mother said. “Don’t think of running off and doing anything foolish.”

“I’m not, Thania, dear, but this needs to be investigated.”

“Tell the Council. Let them have this task for once.”

His father sighed. “I wish it were that simple.”

“It’s always simple,” Mother said dryly. “Some clans have come down from the mountains with wild mountain wolves to use in one of their feuds. As usual you decide it’s your matter to settle.” She shook her head and huffed.

Stefan appeared taken aback, and his eyebrows climbed his forehead as he turned his head up to gaze at her. “You know better,” he said, his voice somewhere between scolding and a quiet reminder. “If it were only ruined kinai I would pass this over, but the smell he described and the green eyes…” His voice trailed off as Mother rolled her eyes. Stefan glanced around at Mirza and Ancel.

“As if they could cross the Vallum of Light,” his mother retorted under her breath. In a more even-tempered voice she said, “Take some extra men with you if you must be the one, but only a soldier or two. There’s no need to scare the boys any more than they already are. We wouldn’t want their imagination to get the better of them.” She eyed them as if waiting for either of them to say something different, but they both remained quiet.

“You’re right as usual.” Stefan bowed apologetically. “I let the old days come creeping through when I heard their story.” He gave a strained chuckle. “I’ll see which mountain clans are fighting and inform the Council. You boys…”

The rest of his father’s words washed over Ancel in a disquieting wave. He answered Mirza’s raised brow with a bewildered expression of his own. Ancel mulled over the descriptions in his head; wolf-like beasts with green, glowing eyes, a smell like old, unwashed fur mixed with death. Coupled with his mother’s mention of the Vallum of Light it clicked like a key in a lock.

Wraithwolves? No it couldn’t be. They couldn’t cross the Vallum of Light and its Bastions. Besides, in the books, shadelings often walked like men. What he and Mirza saw did not. So what were they? He turned to Mirza to see the same realization dawn on his friend’s face.

“Da,” Ancel broke in on whatever his father was saying. “Do you really think those were wraith-”

“I never said such a thing,” his father snapped, his voice hardening into steel. “And don’t you repeat that in front of anyone. Rumors are the last thing we need. Do.You.Understand?” He punctuated his words by pointing his finger from Ancel to Mirza.

Ancel recognized this as a time that he wouldn’t get around his father, and that the instructions weren’t negotiable. He nodded, seeing Mirza’s head bob slowly beside him.

“Answer me. Both of you. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Da.”

“Yes, Master Dorn.”

“Good. Now-”

A knock sounded on the door. Mother glided over and opened it.

Mensa, an elderly servant with a bent back, bowed to her before she ushered him into the room. He carried an iron skillet in one hand, liquid sloshing around its insides. In the other hand, he held a leather satchel.

Mother pointed to Ancel and Mirza. “Start with their boots and Charra’s paws. Then clean the floor.”

Mensa nodded and shuffled over to Ancel and Mirza as they bent to take off their boots. When they finished, Mensa reached into the satchel and removed two identical pairs of boots. He put one next to each of them and took theirs in return.

Ancel frowned but said nothing. He and Mirza slipped into their new footwear.

Charra growled when Mensa bent to take one of his paws.

“Stop it, boy,” Ancel murmured.

Charra quieted, but he stared at Mensa as the old man soaked a cloth with the clear liquid in the bucket and took his time cleaning each paw. When Mensa finished, Charra cooed. Mensa took the same cloth, got down on his knees, and wiped the trail they had left on the rugs and carpet. When he finished, he bowed and left.

Stefan looked over to Ancel and Mirza. “Now, off with you two. We have things to discuss. Mirza, I’ll be out soon to escort you home.”

“Thank you, Master Dorn,” Mirza said.

“I’ll go with him to the front,” Ancel said.

His mother nodded and they turned and left. With Charra padding behind them, they headed out into the foyer, leaving his parents to their talk.

“Do you think those animals could’ve been…I mean, with the cleaning…” Mirza peered around, anxiety radiating from him.

“I don’t know, but I’ll do as my father says, at least until he takes some men out to the glen.” Ancel did his best to hide his own doubts. “Da’s right. We shouldn’t talk about this.”

“And if it’s true?” Mirza whispered. “I mean, you know what they say about those things in the books, about who and what they hunt. We live in a town full of Matii. If they’re, you know…”

“All the shadelings in our world were destroyed during the War of Remnants. The only place shadelings can be created is in Hydae,” Ancel quoted with great conviction. “And Hydae is sealed away.” The statement brought him some semblance of calm. All the books and reports couldn’t be wrong, could they? “Whatever they were, the Council will handle it. None of it has anything to do with us, be it a feud or something else.” Ancel nodded to one of the servants as they walked through the foyer and out onto the porch.

From where they stood, Eldanhill’s lights shone a few miles below them in hazy waves of blue. Charra trotted across the porch and onto the stairs.

“Tomorrow at school, we’re going to act like none of this happened,” Ancel said. “Hopefully, it’s like my mother said. Just the mountain clans infighting again.”

“Hopefully,” Mirza repeated, his tone distant.

Ancel watched as servants and workers bustled about the estate. Those returning from last minute efforts to finish harvesting kinai trudged along, while others whipped at mules or bulls pulling drays laden with the crop toward the brick buildings that housed the fermenting equipment and the wine press. He wished everything would remain as calm and serene as it appeared, but for some reason his mind told him otherwise. The thought of wraithwolves marauding through the woods and hunting down anyone who used Mater brought a chill to his bones. He drew his ripped cloak around him.

Ryne took one more look out to Mariel’s campfire before he decided to head home. He’d spent the last couple hours waiting outside Hagan’s Inn while the elders met. They still had not come to a decision. When Sakari joined him, Ryne said a quick goodnight to the guards. Together, they made their way past row upon row of mostly dark homes toward Carnas’ western outskirts.

The reek from clogged drains made Ryne eye the cloudless skies. Two weeks between thunderstorms was a rare event. If the weather continued, they would be forced to remove the levies from the tributary of the Fretian River that flowed close by. The still air felt as if a great creature inhaled and now held its breath. His skin prickled with the thought of that breath’s release.