The White Wolf and the Wizard

Prologue

Michael Scot was sat by the large fire burning in his inner sanctum beneath his old, crumbling castle. It was a cold night and he had a thick fur throw draped over him as well as he dozed lightly in his chair.

Nearby, he could hear the ever faithful and patient McTaggart was dusting around the vast number of vials and test tubes that littered his masters' room. Though he had no training in magic he'd learnt the odd spell or two, but it was thanks to Michael's power that he was still alive. The old wizard was keeping his four students alive too, although they could use their power to aid his spells. Occasionally, the strain on his power caught up with him and tonight was one of those nights. It made him feel every one of his years and more besides.

The sounds of clinking glass ceased suddenly as McTaggart took out a phone from his trouser pocket.

"I told you not to bring that infernal contraption down here," Micheal grumbled.

"If ye wanna keep in touch with the real world, this is a much easier way than using your infernal contraption," the servant replied, glaring for a second at his masters' all seeing, magical helmet. "Word from Ailsa, sir, a young boy this time in the Caribbean...the wolf got to him first," the servant said, reading the text with a sigh.

Michael breathed deeply and stared into the flames, "Why do we even bother any more?" the man mumbled, closing his eyes again.

"Because it's the right thing, sir," McTaggart replied, "You could use a holiday, sir, somewhere nice and warm."

"Hmm," Michael scoffed.

"Might do ye some good," the servant frowned, putting his phone away again.

It was left to McTaggart to keep his master in constant communication with his own students without relying on magic which would tire him out unnecessarily, and he did this by using mobile phones. Michael had never shown any interest in mobile phones or television or the Internet, in fact, on occasion, and depending on his mood he'd fought the arrival of certain technologies with every fibre of his being, much to the amusement of his students.

For almost nine centuries, McTaggart had been Michael's only companion, the man's students having left for the far reaches of the globe, on their master's orders, to search for people with magical ability in the hope they'd find them before the White Wolf. Along with his four students and his ever faithful friend McTaggart, he'd been the sole surviving fighter against the Wolf through the long centuries that had passed. All their allies long since dead.

Even after one thousand years the great wizard didn't know nearly enough about his enemy as he'd like. He knew that the White Wolf was a remnant of a long forgotten Druidic clan that had been butchered by the Romans long before he, himself had been born. He knew that it coveted power, it roamed the earth searching for ordinary people who didn't know that they had any power and it stole it from them easily because they couldn't defend themselves.

What he wasn't sure of was whether it was human, or a culmination of several human souls bound by hatred. He wasn't sure why it was still stealing people's magical power even after so many centuries or even how it did so. And this had troubled him for many centuries.

The last person they had rescued from the clutches of the Wolf had died several years ago from a human disease, a disease so strong that even Michael hadn't been able to save her. It was another great regret of his.

Lost in his thoughts, Michael began to fall asleep for the first time in days, when the face of a young child formed in his mind. He saw a young girl running from the White Wolf through the remnants of his castle above. He saw this girl use magic to defend herself and he heard a clock strike the eleventh hour, just as the wolf pounced at the girl and then the vision vanished.

"They're coming," Michael said suddenly, his eyes snapping open and his breathing heavy.

"Who is?" McTaggart frowned.

"A girl, a child with strong magic," the old wizard answered, his breathing calming slowly.

"A child? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," the man nodded, "...She's the one."

"The one, what...oh no, no you can't mean...not a wee lassie..." McTaggart exclaimed.

"She was fighting the Wolf...fighting and losing..."

"...Then...what...what does it mean?"

"It means I have to find her first," the wizard said, suddenly awake and alert. He threw off the blanket and stood up from his chair, walking towards the magical helmet resting on its engraved stones.

"No, master!" McTaggart jumped, running towards the wizard, "Don't use that thing...let...let us try and find this lassie..."

"That'll take time, time we can't afford to waste," Michael replied, taking up the helmet, "Give me the eyes," he ordered the magic, "Show me the girl..."

McTaggart could only watch with a heavy heart as his master invoked the magic of the helmet, seeing and hearing things that he couldn't.

Michael could hear the howling of the wolf as his eyes scanned the coastlines, searching for this girl whose name he didn't even know.

Eventually, he came across a home where the same girl he'd seen in his vision, was staring down with an almost mournful expression at a birthday cake with eleven candles. A man, most likely the girl's father, gave her a smile and she weakly returned the sentiment before blowing out the candles.

She had long blonde hair and the same face he'd seen in his vision, this was definitely the girl that the great wizard had seen. He was sure of it. And though she didn't look like much, he was sure that his vision hadn't been for nothing.

Michael was proved correct when, just outside the house, standing in the dark street, was the White Wolf. "You shall not have her," he growled at the animal and it snarled low and menacingly in reply.

The old wizard removed the helmet with a frantic expression, "It knows..." Michael said, his voice quiet and haggard, "The child is in danger."

McTaggart, who had of course heard what his master had said to the Wolf, watched as Michael retrieved his dark cloak and staff before vanishing into thin air. The man was used to watching his master disappear and even after a thousand years, he still didn't appreciate being left behind like a forgotten child.

At the same time as McTaggart was grumbling to himself, Michael Scot appeared in the shadows of Marnie McBride's house. Like a wraith he moved across the cobbled street looking for the White Wolf, and he didn't have to look for long. He heard a deep growling on the other side of the street so he turned slowly to face it.

The cruel, golden eyes of the Wolf met his own and the two great powers stared at each other with looks fuelled by a deep hatred.

"Begone," Michael hissed as the animal continued to growl at him. He raised his staff and send a bolt of golden lightning towards his enemy which the Wolf countered with an almost black shock of power.

The two collided with a great burst of energy and they circled each other as small sparks escaped in all directions from their centre.

Michael could feel the struggle his own power was having just to hold off the dark magic bombarding him and with a cry of determination, he let loose a bright light which threw the Wolf across the street. It yelped as it landed on the cobbles and shook its head as it got back on its feet.

With one final snarl, it disappeared into dark smoke and Michael was alone in the darkness again. He looked up at the window to the girls' bedroom and saw that the light was being turned off for the night, "Sleep well, child," he murmured quietly, walking away.