“Paradise lies in the shadow of swords.”
“Paradise lies in the shadow of swords.”
“Paradise lies in the shadow of swords.”
The words rattled through the Ghiyath’s head as he tried to take in the
scene before him. It was so out of place and so unexpected he wasn’t even
sure it was real. Surely this could not be what the Uktena witch had meant.
Trust the Uktena to be cryptic, but he could not see how paradise had anything
to do with the bloody mess before him.
The snow was drenched with blood, the blood of a mother and her child. The late
afternoon threw the scene into deep shadow, making it seem grimmer still. It
was a metis cub, true, but in this day and age, few tribes were so savage as
to kill their own over such an all too frequent offense. Someone had taken the
poor woman and pinned her to a tree with a sword so that the blade stuck out
the back of the tree. The blow had been so hard that part of the hilt still
stuck out of her ribs. From the looks of it, they’d probably done it while
she was still alive. There wouldn’t be so much blood if she’d been
dead.
The pup looked even worse as it had been pinned beneath its mother. It was so
drenched with blood that he couldn’t tell what color its fur was. No clue
as to what tribe it had been. The Strider hoped Black Spirals had done it, because
if any other tribe was so sick and twisted to do this, Gaia help them all, the
end must truly be near.
The blood was still wet, just starting to freeze, so whoever had done it couldn’t
be too far off. He debated for a moment whether to search for a trail while
it was still fresh or give a proper burial to the two. What good would he do
burying them now when they’d already been so badly abused? He started to
turn away and felt a chill run down his spine, the touch of something unseen.
No, no, he’d seen too many humans left roaming the dark secret parts of
the spirit world because of just such violent deaths. Garou supposedly went
somewhere else when they died, but… he wasn’t really sure where. Better
to give them proper burial just in case that somewhere else was just as bad
as the places he’d gone, places bad enough to stain his fur black with
their touch.
There was no good way to do this. He doubted he could pull the sword back out
so he have to tear the body loose from it instead. He shifted up to Crinos and
for a moment he thought of how comical he must look. Anubis tending to the
dead, how appropriate. He almost laughed. It was better than crying.
“You are beyond pain now, but forgive me for what I must do to your body.
It is but a vessel for the spirit, but none should ever have treated it so poorly.”
The sound of tearing bone and flesh sickened him, but the body was free now,
surprisingly heavy still. Why does a body empty of life always feel heavier
than one that’s full of it?
He lay the body down and folded her hands across the ruins of her chest. He
could almost cover up the hole where the sword had been. Almost. Now that the
body was down, he revised his opinion. It wasn’t really a sword per se,
but a Klaive. A quick glance at the body revealed an empty sheath. She’d
been spitted on her own Klaive and her pup on a silver dagger. He couldn’t
bring himself to mangle the pup so; he’d probably tear it half. He wrapped
his claws around the hilt of the second blade and pulled with all his might,
to be rewarded with a heart-rending wail from the pup.
He stumbled and fell in shock. It couldn’t possibly be alive! He’d
dropped the knife in his shock, letting the pup fall with it. He leaped back
to his feet and pressed his nose to the tiny body. The smell of blood was overwhelming.
He whined and licked it, praying he hadn’t been imagining the whole thing.
It felt so cold and limp…
He shifted down to Lupus and picked it up by the scruff, carrying it away from
the bloody puddle at the base of the tree. He curled himself around the cub,
whining and trying to lick some life back into it. He’d licked it clean
and dry, but…nothing. The wound wasn’t as bad as he’d thought,
but the cold seemed to have done what the sword hadn’t. He let his head
fall in despair. He’d bury the pup with its mother just as soon as he gathered
the strength to do so. He lay there, he didn’t know how long, lost to the
depths of despair, before he felt it, the slight tickle in his ear as the cub
exhaled just enough to stir the hair in his ears.
He bounded to his feet, tail wagging foolishly. He shoved his nose into the
pup, drinking in the scent of it, letting his breath warm it. “Was this
what the Uktena meant, little one? I rejoice to find you alive, but will the
shadow of tragedy always hang over you? Will Paradise always be threatened?”
He lay back down, curling around the pup. “I guess it is. The Wyrm’s
coils grow ever tighter, threatening to crush Gaia. The serpent that threatens
the Garden of Eden, as the humans would put it. But you are too little for all
this. I babble and you don’t hear me, and even if you did, wouldn’t
understand yet.”
He leapt back to his feet. “I’m talking nonsense and you need food
and shelter and…and a mother…” His eyes fell back on the brutalized
corpse of the pup’s mother. “I’ll kill the bastards for you!
The monsters that took your mother and tried to kill you too! Even if they’re
my own people…” He paused and looked back to the tree and the blade
lying beneath it and then glanced back to the corpse.
He went back to his natural form, and picked up the knife in his hands. He considered
leaving the other one buried in the tree, but they looked like a set. He wrestled
with it for a moment before it came free. He knelt by the corpse and used the
edge to hack of some of the woman’s long bloodstained hair. He fumbled
with her belt, pulling it, putting the shorter blade back in her sheath. The
belt didn’t fit so he slung it over his shoulder like a bandoleer.
“Forgive me, mother, but I cannot bury your body. Your cub still lives,
but I need to take it somewhere to be cared for, quickly, while it still lives.
I take this lock of hair so that I will have something to call your spirit with,
so you might see your cub again, so that she will have something to remember
you by later.” He brandished the Klaive before her face. “I’ll
use this to take vengeance on those who did this to you. And if I cannot have
vengeance, may your daughter wield it some day and use it for a nobler purpose.”
He kissed her on the forehead, pushing aside the sight of her to show this one
last kindness. He scooped up the cub and called upon the spirits to lend him
great speed so that he might make it to a sept with the cub. He ran and didn’t
look back.
Night came and still the Strider ran on, the cub cradled in one arm and sleeping
fitfully, and the Klaive gripped in the chilled fingers of his other hand. A
half moon rode in the sky and the Symphony of the Abyss rode on the wind.
“Do you hear, little one, do you hear the cry of the creatures behind us?
They come to finish their work I think. Shh… I have not come so far to
let them have you now. Soon, soon, we will be close enough to call for help.”
He raced on, the ground blurring beneath his feet, but still the mad whining
howls came echoing through the forest. He glanced up at the moon briefly and
felt fire rise within him. Thank you for your gift, Luna. He gave up
the form he’d been in, bulking up to Crinos. It slowed him a little to
weave through the trees in the larger form, but he would rather not be caught
unawares should his pursuers catch up with him.
Just a bit farther… out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a
few glyphs scratched into the bark of a tree. He was inside the bawn, someone
would surely hear him now if he cried out. And here I break the Litany myself,
for I have brought the Wyrm down upon this caern. He raised his muzzle and
cried out, wailing out a warning of the Wyrm spawn that dogged his steps. He
howled with all his might, desperate for someone to hear him. But it was cut
short as it twisted into a scream of pain. Claw marks appeared across his back
as one of his pursuers, raked its poison coated claws down his spine.
He crouched, blade at the ready, a snarl upon his lips and the cub clutched
tight to his chest.
“Give it up, we are all around you…” the twisted Garou snarled
out, licking the Strider’s blood from his claws. Cackling laughter rose
from the shadows and one by one, glowing baleful eyes materialized out of the
forest.
“Never! I’ll fight you all!” More hideous laughter from the onlookers.
“Make it easy on yourself, give up now. We’ll make it quick.”
The onlookers found this incredibly amusing.
“What are you so afraid of? One wounded Garou with a metis pup and you
are too afraid to fight!? Come, come dance with me, come dance with Ghiyath
and Dhul Fiqar!” The name came to his lips unbidden, and he knew it was
the name of the blade in his hands, or more properly, a name. He feinted at
the Spiral before him, who hastily got out of the way, eyes warily watching
the Klaive
Howls sounded in the forest, he’d been heard, help was on the way! Assuming
he could hold the Spirals off that long. Even now he could see them tensing
to spring. He reached down deep to the fire within and waited, coiled to strike,
ready to unleash his full fury on his attackers.
They sprang and he sprang as well, silver flashing in the moonlight, blood flying
and screams and howls rending the night air. A flash of bright shining fur and
claws driving back one of his attacker, and the snarls of other Garou joined
the fray. He fought in a haze, a red mist slowly creeping over his vision as
his fury took over. There was nothing but blood and death in the air and as
frenzy took him, no way to tell friend from foe anymore…