A Wizard's War - 21. The Broken Stone

The two wolves snarled and growled in anger. Their mouths pulled back, exposing rows of sharp teeth, then they were upon each other again trying to gain the advantage. The neck was the spot to grab, a place to assert control and dominance. Finally, Connor succeeded in grappling the other wolf and forcing him to the ground. His father’s wild eyes rolled and looked up at him as he was held down by the neck on the cold stone floor.

In time, Connor released his father and the old wolf slunk away into the corner. Glady opened the chamber door as Connor approached and he slipped out, bounded up the basement stairs and then out into the night. He heard the heavy doors close behind as Gladys shut his father back inside. He’d been at it for a while now, but his father was so far gone. He was struggling to resurrect the human within, and it always resulted in a power struggle between wolves.

Gladys had a stronger bond with her husband and the progress on that front was more evident, but it was easier to be an animal of instinct and survival, especially when you were locked up for so long. Connor roamed the grounds in frustration and let his wolf senses take in the night. The subtle breeze rustled his fur. The darkness of early morning failed to inhibit his keen wolf vision. Shapes darted in the night: a hawk diving, an owl swiveling its head, a rabbit darting into cover. The last became a little snack for Connor, its warm flesh and blood was delicious in his mouth.

His appetite sated, Connor strayed into an open area, and curled up on a flat piece of land at the base of a tree. He licked at his bloody snout and then rested his head upon his front paws to sleep.

Warm sunlight was on his skin when he woke and the grass around him was wet with dew. He struggled to rise and then stretched out his stiff back. Sleeping on the ground was far less appealing as a human. He looked around and realized he had settled in the nearby graveyard. Marker stones and ornate mausoleums seemed to sparkle in the early morning light. Etched on the mausoleum in front of him was the name: Lobesen. Connor stood up, yawned and stretched some more, then he walked naked back to the manor.

“Want some eggs?” Gladys asked as Connor entered the kitchen.

“I’m rather full, it seems,” Connor smiled.

“Raigar’s beard!” Wilhelm exclaimed as he entered from the main hall, “Put some pants on!”

“Heading there now,” Connor laughed as he moved past him and up toward his room. He enjoyed a nice soak in the tub and thanked his new servant, Renn, for preparing it. Renn and Madame Beech were the only servants to return to Wendler Manor after the incident. They were both relieved knowing that their cruel master, Malachi, was no longer a threat. The rest of the town of Graymere Falls had been more difficult to mollify. In time they sold the story that Malachi was responsible for many atrocities, including the death of the popular barman, Siggi. Some people left town for good, and Connor’s new leadership promised not to hunt them down to maintain their silence.

If only he could cure his father. It was frustrating having family so close, a chance to reunite, but yet being so far away.

As Connor pulled clothes from his dresser, his hand stopped upon a book, and he looked down at the Tales of Meridiah. The demon had left it for him and he had read it often, recalling his brief friend, Simon. Simon had awakened so many things for him and set him up for this next great chapter in life. Connor frowned in thought as he recalled the name, Lobesen. It had been familiar, but he hadn’t remembered where until he looked back at the book.

The spine crackled a little as he opened the book and thumbed through to the story for which he was looking. His eyes scanned the pages, and he reviewed the tale in question:

‘The Broken Stone’ from Tales of Meridiah

“Long ago in a kingdom far away, there lived a glorious king. High King Lobesen ruled over many fiefdoms with peace and prosperity, but the magic left from days gone, plagued his lands. Forces wielding dark magics, hailing from the north, threatened his people. The king knew he must do something to protect his people and he turned to the Earth.

The people had built great statues and a sanctuary in honor of their tribute god, and in return Raigar had showered great fortune upon the people. Great veins of gold seemed to spring up from the earth and gems the size of fists littered the walls of natural caves. They blessed and thanked Raigar for his generosity and the gifts of the Earth.

The king approached the sanctuary, kneeling before the great statue of their god and he begged for assistance. He pleaded to lead his people to victory against the magic blight. Raigar took pity upon the king and a mighty quake shook the sanctuary so hard that the right hand of the god statue broke from the idol and clattered upon the floor. In the dusty remains of the fractured hand, the king pulled a perfectly round, smooth stone. It was a dull grey hue, much like the statue, but it was shot through with an amber vein that pulsed with warm magic energy.

‘Your heart is pure,’ Raigar rumbled from all around, ‘May my right hand, the Moon, give your people the strength to defeat your enemies.’

The king knelt and praised Raigar for some time, thanking the mighty god for this gift. In time, Raigar spoke again.

‘Be warned. In the wrong hands, all magic is dangerous. Those without a purity of heart, will lead to ruin. A curse shall follow them to the ends of my Earth.’

The king took the Moon Stone to the battlefield and raised it to the full light of the next moon and his warriors fought with a ferocity unheard of in the age of the Earth. Like animals they dashed across the battlefield and tore their enemies asunder.

When the wars subsided and peace was restored, the king’s beautiful wife bore him twin sons, Lyall and Lowell. The king raised his sons in a peaceful and prosperous world where everything was handed to them. The Moon Stone rested always on a raised dais in the king’s audience chamber and as children the boys sought to play with it. They gazed into its sparkling amber and tried to wrestle it from the other’s grasp. When the king found them, he was furious.

‘The right hand of Raigar is no toy!’ the king had bellowed as he placed it on the dais. Then he told the story of the stone’s origin to his two mystified sons. They stared in wonder as their father spoke the warning handed down by Raigar.

‘Be warned. In the wrong hands, all magic is dangerous. Those without a purity of heart, will lead to ruin. A curse shall follow them to the ends of my Earth.’

Lyall heard only of the power the stone commanded. Lowell heard only of the warning.

As he aged, Lowell pledged himself to the faith and followed Raigar’s teachings. He dedicated his time to the sanctuary and the commonwealth of his people. As Lyall aged, he enjoyed the benefits of being a prince. He took what he wanted and enjoyed life to the fullest.

As the king grew old, he knew the time had come to name an heir, but his sons were so different. Two sides of the same coin; and he knew they must rule together, or not at all.

‘Only together, may you lead.’

Lowell began to object that Lyall was too irresponsible and was not as dedicated to Raigar’s teachings. Lyall objected that Lowell was too cowardly and stuck to the old ways to be a fierce commander. They both agreed it was unfair.

After the king finally died, there was a week of mourning and processions of somber remembrance. Then the time came for a new king to be crowned. In the light of a full moon, Lyall crept into the audience chamber to steal the Moon Stone. It was the greatest power in the land and with it, he could prevent his brother from sharing his birthright. He found Lowell waiting there for him with several guards.

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,’ Lowell spoke with disgust.

‘I should be king!’ Lyall proceeded to grab the Moon Stone and pull it from the dais. Then they were fighting, grappling for control of the stone like they had as children. The guards watched with awkward uncertainty, unwilling to harm either of their young rulers. In their childish fighting, the stone slipped from their grasp and broke in two upon the floor of the chamber.

Lowell watched in horror as the guards and his brother shifted and changed into scaly beasts. Serpent people with a taste for flesh and blood. Lowell grabbed half of the stone, but before he could grab the other half Lyall hissed and shielded it with his shifting serpent body. Lowell looked into his brother’s eyes glowing in the moon light and was terrified. They were the eyes of a beast.

Lowell fled and raced as far away as he dared. When he was alone and he thought he was safe, Lowell spoke to the stone and pleaded with Raigar. He thanked the god for seeing his purity. He thanked the god for sparing him of his people’s fate. And deep down he was happy his brother had been cursed.

By the light of the next full moon, Lowell became a hungry wolf, and he roamed the land for blood. His impure heart had cursed him and his people forever.”

Connor read it again and again. It seemed impossible! This was just a collection of children’s stories. At least, that was how Simon had described it. But there at the beginning, High King Lobesen. Lowell became a wolf and cursed his people to the ends of the earth.

Connor left the manor in the afternoon and found his way back to the graveyard and stood before the mausoleum marked: Lobesen. Calling upon his beast’s strength he growled and grunted as he pushed aside the heavy stone door and exposed the stale, dead air within. He descended into the mausoleum’s depths and found the underground crypt with various niches and bodies entombed within. In the center of the stone chamber was a large sarcophagus that depicted an ornate sigil of a wolf head and a moon beyond. Below the sigil was carved the name: Lowell. Simon held his breath and shook his head in wonder. It had been under everyone’s nose the whole time.

Likely the old stories were well known, but then the Wendler’s had hunted and killed the wolves of Graymere. Perhaps these stories became myth and legend. Those that told them were gone and a new group of impure souls had taken over the curse. Connor pushed aside the lid of the sarcophagus, his wolf muscles tensing with the strain and his hands momentarily becoming claws. Then he was fully human again as he peered within.

A skeleton lay dressed in decayed fabrics, its arms crossed before it. There in the skeletal hands lay a smooth gray rock. Connor reached out and picked up the object; it was lighter than he imagined. When he turned it over and exposed the fractured surface, he saw the interior was an amber geode that glittered even in the dim light. The wolf inside yearned for freedom as it stared at the stone. His claws returned and his eyes turned reflective as he gazed upon the impossible. The Moon Stone was real.

“Praise, Raigar,” Connor whispered into the dark chamber, and he was not sure he had ever truly felt the presence of the divine until that moment. Suddenly, the world was a different place, and their blessing or curse was that much more tangible.

At Connor’s urging, Gladys read the story again and then she looked at the rock. She had to confess, there was something monumental and heavy about the stone’s presence. It glittered with its own internal light, and the animal inside her responded to it without reservations. She shook her head and then sort of laughed as she looked up at Connor in wonder.

“Do you know what this means?” Connor asked, “Maybe we can use this to reverse their transformation.”

“But it’s broken,” Gladys replied, “It’s a curse. I highly doubt it will respond the way you want it to. The will of the gods is fickle and fleeting.”

“Should we not try?” Connor pressed, “At least pray to Raigar over it and beg for them to be restored.”

“What of the serpent people?” Gladys asked, “Maybe they know more.”

“Are the serpent people real?” Connor asked.

“Yes,” Gladys mused, “Across the desert, there is a race of serpent people that guard the kingdom known as Votu N’Saga. They joined the Alliance after the last Wizard War.”

“You think they are the kingdom from the story?”

“It must be! The largest sanctuary ever built to honor Raigar is in Votu N’Saga and people make pilgrimages there all the time.”

“If the story is real,” Connor pondered, “the other half of the Moon Stone may still be there.”

“If the stone is restored…”

“Maybe Raigar’s curse will be ended?”

“It seems like a lot to assume,” Gladys sat back in her chair and the age lines on her face creased, “and our pack needs our alpha. The desert is a dangerous place.”

“I have too many questions,” Connor pointed at the stone, “How can we not pursue them?”

“I should never have told you about Votu N’Saga,” Gladys worried, “Let’s just try your original plan. Let us pray to Raigar and the stone will be his receptacle.”

“And what if Raigar guided me to this stone?” Connor replied, “What compelled me to go there, to find it? What if we can right the wrongs of countless centuries?”

“Rather grandiose,” Gladys scoffed.

“Before today,” Connor smiled, “I would have agreed. But now, I feel filled with purpose. This stone has not simply crossed my path, it is my path. I felt this certainty with Simon, and now I feel it even stronger. This is where I’m supposed to be.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Gladys asked, “What if you can’t save your father with the stone? What if the town finally turns against us in the absence of our alpha? I still see their looks when they consider the death of Siggi. They blame us and some of them despise us.”

“Your husband, John, is making progress,” Connor smiled, “Let’s pray to Raigar and see if we can’t restore him. I promise not to leave until you have protection. I think it is time Wilhelm reconnected with his father as well.”

“I appreciate you taking our safety into account,” Gladys nodded.

“I respect your wise counsel.”

After dinner, Connor went down to see his father, he watched the anxious wolf pace behind the bars of his cell. It pained him to keep him locked up, but it was for the safety of the town that they had to continue the imprisonment. Connor sighed and started to leave, but then a quiet voice drifted out from the neighboring cell.

“Please,” Damaris Finfgeld pleaded, “I need to get out of here. The wolf is restless.”

“No one can trust you either,” Connor scowled in at the older woman in the back of the cell.

“Please, I’m weakened,” Damaris neared him, her eyes desperate and beseeching, “I could never stand against you. If you are the packs new alpha, I will respect that. We must stick together.”

“Your lover and your sons are dead, and you blame me for much of what transpired,” Connor shook his head, “I could never trust you.”

“Vale take you,” Damaris suddenly growled and then she spat between the bars at Connor.

“As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

Connor left the dark basement and made his way over to the Corbett household where he wanted to witness the reunion of John Corbett with his family. They placed the Moon Stone in a place of honor upon a table and they made offerings to the right hand of Raigar. Connor poured a glass of mead for the god. Gladys presented a lock of her gray wolf fur and Wilhelm placed a cat’s heart upon the altar. Madame Beech had insisted on joining and she presented a silver chain that she pulled from around her neck.

In solemn meditation, Connor recited the story again from the Tales of Meridiah and then they all began to pray to Raigar for guidance and to help John return to his family. Then they all began to disrobe, Connor was surprised to see Madame Beech joining them.

“I am a wolf too,” she spoke when she noticed Connor eyeing her.

“I had no idea,” Connor was dumbfounded, he looked to Gladys who only smiled and nodded.

“I was forbidden by Malachi,” Madame Beech explained, “Forced to wear silver and serve the house. It was my punishment for speaking out against Marcus’ incarceration.”

“Welcome,” Connor smiled, still a little surprised, “You need not be a servant any longer if you want.”

“I am happy to serve now,” Madame Beech considered, “I think we are headed in a better direction. I feel like an essential part of the pack, an integral part of the day-to-day operation. I also have much to atone, for the death of your friend. They forced me, but I made the tea that took his life.”

Connor couldn’t speak for a moment, his mouth felt dry. He missed Simon in that moment, and he knew the young man would accompany him across the desert into the dangers ahead if they were still together. In the end, he said nothing more. They all shifted into wolves and as the alpha, Connor approached Madame Beech and she lowered her head. Connor placed his head against hers and with respect for her determination and survival, he forgave her.

Connor could sense the women, even in their age, willing to give themselves to him. The alpha commanded their respect and submission. Perhaps even Wilhelm would have let him take him from behind if it was his desire. Connor suppressed the arousal of the beast and continued to approach each wolf and offer them the respect they deserved. Then he shifted back into a semi-human form long enough to retrieve John Corbett from the next room. He unclasped the silver collar and let the wolf roam free with the others.

Soon, John was wrestling playfully with Wilhelm and Wilhelm even made little barks and yips like that of a much younger pup. Connor watched the proceedings with joy, but deep down he felt another surge of loneliness. He prayed to Raigar again and promised to restore the Moon Stone.