1.1.1 The Den
1.1.2
1.1.3 Wolf dens were not built for humans. This was a fact that Llawela was increasingly reminded of as she 'cub-sat' for Mopani. They were fine for the four footed members of society, but were not intended for long-term human habitation. She was not a terribly tall individual, nor was she excessively wide, but her knees were in her face as she lay, flat on her back, cuddling the three cubs on her stomach. They were asleep and she hesitated to move, or breathe too deeply, for fear of waking them and sending them off into squalls of hunger. 'This is an honour' she reminded herself fiercely 'no one else is allowed in the den, except Mopani, you should be grateful that Glynis is being nice enough to let you play with your niece and nephews' One yawned, his (or her) eyes were still closed, they'd open in few more days, and the cub nuzzled further up onto her chest. Each was a small fuzzy ball of approximately one river stone in weight. Three river stones, balanced precariously on the abdomen, were more than enough for one sensible individual. She waited, expectantly, for Mopani to return. He and Glynis had gone out hunting, looking for more food to feed the growing cubs. They did little more than eat and sleep and poop, the time was yet to come where they'd run and play. By the end of the summer they would be big enough to hunt and fight with the rest of the pack, but for now they were helpless, fuzzy-warm and sleepy, not trained hunting dogs.
1.1.4
1.1.5 Maternal strings tugged at Llawela's heart, this wasn't the first time she regretted not having cubs of her own, but she'd made a decision to compete for the position of Alpha and pursue her mission of cleaning up the magic around the dens. It wasn't fair; Mopani had three litters of cubs, of which four children remained and he still got to be Alpha. He wasn't the one who did all the work, though; all he had to do was get drunk at the party afterwards. She enjoyed a private moment of pride at her old friend's expense; the females of the species always put up with more than the males and they had the care of the cubs too. Another cub shifted up, curling his fluffy tail around her neck They were warm little pups. She brought her hand up to stroke his (or her) fur. Chuckling slightly as
1.1.6 the cub tuned his seeking mouth to suckle at her finger
1.1.7
1.1.8 "Chi edrych mewn yr'cam lle, plentyn. Mam y'dir ni dyma," (You look at thewrong place, child. Mother is not here.) The gently extricated her finger from his mouth, he whined slightly but nuzzled her neck warmly.
1.1.9
1.1.10 She heard scratching at the den opening and a short bark. Mopani was home and he brought Glynis with him. Now came the most delicate manoeuvre, getting Glynis into the den and Llawela out of the den without disturbing the cubs. Llawela scooted over, delicately dumping the cubs [use 'them' here] onto their mothers lap and wiggled out, headfirst. She plopped at the paws of Mopani, who crawled in after her with the night's dinner for Glynis stored in his stomach
1.1.11
1.1.12 She shook the den's wood dust out from her clothing while she waited for Mopani to finish his fatherly mission. She wore nothing special, a leather jerkin, sleeveless and cut short to bare her stomach to the sun, and leather breeches ending at the knee. Her shins were sun browned and scratched; in the winter she wore longer leggings and boots to protect against the cold. She usually went bare-foot, unless she knew she'd be hunting and then wore soft shoes that only came up to the ankles. One of the pack, his name was Llewen, hand-made each pair for also made little booties for the wolves in the winter. The soft leather shoes were spiked at the toe and heel to help her run faster and climb higher, just like a wolf's paws. She had a wide belt, as was customary, with several little pouches hanging from it. The belt also served as a back support if she needed to lift things. Fastened to the belt was a case for her spears, which also fastened at the top of the collar of her jerkin. Llawela fished out some shoes from a pack on her waist and jumped around, first on one foot then on the other while lacing them. Mopani wiggled back out of the den, slightly squished from the squeeze, and joined Llawela as she trotted to the weapon smith. They were not hunting today, that was the responsibility of the younger members of the pack, but having a few weapons while wandering the woods had saved lives countlesstimes. Llawela made it mandatory for anyone leaving the safety of the dens.
1.1.13
1.1.14 The weapons smith was a cheerful woman. She'd inherited the job from her mate when he had accidentally exploded the bellows, burning himself terribly in the process. Thankfully Llawela had gotten word before the burns were fatal. He was a little crispy around the edges, but alive. His mate had taken over the job of glass blowing and weapons-melting soon after.
1.1.15
1.1.16 "Prynhawn da. Shwd ych chi?" The smith greeted her with a smile. Llawela smiled back, they'd been friends long before she'd reached alpha. Aderyn was younger, though, not quite five and twenty summers.
1.1.17
1.1.18 "Lawn, diolch. A chi?" Llawela returned the greeting with one of her own. Aderyn shrugged, she was always doing well, and motioned to her latest projects.
1.1.19
1.1.20 "Edrych da" Llawela said approvingly. Her friend really turned out some impressive work. Aderyn blushed a little at the compliment. She sometimes forgot that the most valuable positions were those of the craftspeople and not the hunters.
1.1.21
1.1.22 "Diolch yn fawr" Aderyn thanked her gracefully. Llawela picked up some of the new spearheads and examined them closely. They were glass, seemingly fragile, but incredibly sharp. Aderyn carefully shaped the spearheads, about a finger length long and as wide as her two thumbs together. If they shattered on the way into the prey, well they shattered. The hunters fished out the pieces and Aderyn melted them back into usable shapes. She created drinking cups, plates, and cooking vessels. All manner of useful things. If they broke, then they broke; Aderyn picked up the pieces and melted them back together. It was a very efficient system and only required the glass oven and some sand from the river.
1.1.23
1.1.24 "Sut faint?"
1.1.25
1.1.26 Aderyn considered the question, "Pedwar neu pimp, nid gormod"
1.1.27 Llawela nodded and selected only four of the smaller spearheads. There were other hunters that needed the bigger weapons. "Diolch yn fawr" She thanked Aderyn and rose, Mopani followed. She grabbed her spear sticks out of their case along her back and sat on a rock to haft the spearheads onto the shaft. It didn't take long; all she needed to do was tie the spearhead onto the tip with some sinew. The spear tips were already cut to accept the head. The shafts went back into the short case on her back. Mopani waited patiently, the process fascinated him but as a dog he couldn't use the spears. She picked up a short buckler, a small shield, that was of tough wood and hide. No use in not being prepared. The shield could be used for a variety of different purposes not the least of which was personal protection.
1.1.28
1.1.29 She and Mopani had a mission. They were scouting the far south side of the pack territory. She'd gotten the feeling that someone was trying to reach the far power lines of the territory. They were locked to her personal power, not open to anyone else. She, Mopani, and three of the other wolves and two human partners were going out to investigate.
1.1.30
1.1.31 Llawela reached the clearing. It was the only clearing in the entire forest, the original place where the change-circle appeared. One of the big trees was completely missing, replaced with a circle of gray rock. The others were waiting, ready to investigate along with their alphas. They didn't talk to each other just started running, the tireless tracking lope of a wolf pack on the chase.
1.1.32
1.1.33 On the Trail
1.1.34
1.1.35 Nighthorse was a night scout. It was his responsibility to take the night shifts and protect the camp in the dark. He was also placed in the leadership role of senior for all the scouts in the group. This was a position that was not very conducive to sleep of any kind. Somebody somewhere having some kind of problem constantly awakened him, day and night. It was unpleasant to say the least. They were on the road sixteen to seventeen hours a day, hard rough riding, and on top of all that, he was responsible for night scouting.
1.1.36
1.1.37 Silverice's idea of travel involved waking up at noon, or thereabouts, eating heartily, travelling for approximately five or six hours in the bright daylight, and settling down to make camp at about seven in the evening and sleeping for a good twelve or thirteen hours in an outlandishly ornate tent. She was, therefore, in an incredibly rude state of shock.
1.1.38
1.1.39 Unfortunately for Nighthorse, he was the one who bore the brunt of her displeasure.
1.1.40 When she came out of her tent at dawn with the indomitable nose slicing the air between them, he braced himself another lecture on how mage energies sapped strength and quiet rest was the only cure, preferably twelve to fourteen hours of it. Instead she genuinely looked as though something had kept her up all night long. Not only was her hair in an alarming state of disarray, but also she was dressed in the 'common' articles of scout
1.1.41 clothing and not some outlandish mage getup.
1.1.42
1.1.43 "Wingbrother, how close are we to the edge of the new border?" she more or less collapsed on the ground beside him. Her silver hair, braided back into a sensible rope, touched the ground as she sat.
1.1.44
1.1.45 "Two, three days. No more, why?" Even though they didn't get along well he was concerned, such drastic change in behaviour was not a good sign. There were no beads on her tunic, no bells in her hair, and she was not only wearing a wicked-looking knife she seemed prepared to use it.
1.1.46
1.1.47 "I tried to reach into the mage energies that are supposedly dormant in the new territories. They're not dormant, shayna, someone out there has not only tapped them, she's locked the lines to her use only." Silverice looked deeply troubled, "There's no reason for a rogue mage to be here, this is nothing but wild forest, and there are no inhabitants and no resources that kind of mage would want."
1.1.48
1.1.49 "What does that mean? Are you sure it's a 'she'?" Ice trickled down his spine, although not a mage himself he was k'Treva, he knew the dangers of rogue adepts.
1.1.50
1.1.51 "To your second question, yes, I'm sure. The magic is laced with female overtones. The signature is unmistakable. To the first, well, what it means is either that we have a rogue mage over here trying to somehow carve a territory out of the Pelgiris knowing full well that we of Tayledras have claim to this land, or some mage elsewhere has found a way to tap energy and lock it from a distance. I speak of thousands of furlongs, here Wingbrother, not just a day or so's travel. A third possibility is that this is residual, from before the storms, and was never dissipated when the onslaught hit."
1.1.52
1.1.53 "Could that happen? Could a rogue adept tap these lines?" Terror filled him. If it could be done from far away, what was there to stop a rogue adept from tapping a Heartstone or Tayledras node?
1.1.54
1.1.55 "Not according to our knowledge… but from another? I don't know," She shifted uncomfortably. "I would suggest entering that territory with extreme caution. We must travel only at night, in silence. My Mordeyrn says he will fly ahead to scout, along with the other birds. I can use my Mage- sight to see through his eyes. Whoever this rogue is, we will find her."
1.1.56
1.1.57 "You plan on going in there? Are you insane! We're heading back to k'Treva to get some real reinforcements and tell the other clans about this."
1.1.58
1.1.59 He moved to stand up; she caught his arm and jerked him back down with some real force. Surprised he looked at her, almost shocked that this Vale-fed magelet was challenging his decisions.
1.1.60
1.1.61 "Tell them what? We have found a set of ley-lines that have been secured to another. That does not tell us whom has set these lines, what she is doing here, or even if she is here at all. It may well be that this is just a residual trace and I can break the locking once we've reached the main node."
1.1.62
1.1.63 She got that stubborn, mulish look, nose cleaving the like a beak, "We will investigate this Wingsibling, why else would I wear this unflattering getup? Before last night there was no reason to be cautious. There is reason now. I will not return to k'Treva empty-handed."
1.1.64
1.1.65 "That is not your decision to make. I am leader of these scouts and we are going home." There was no way he planned on putting his scouts in dangerfrom a rogue adept in the Pelgiris.
1.1.66
1.1.67 "I am leader of these mages and we are staying. Go home if you wish, wingbrother, just be prepared to explain why we are not with you." She smiled a smug, arrogant smile. She had his butt over a barrel and she knew it.
1.1.68
1.1.69 "You will do that?" he growled.
1.1.70
1.1.71 "Only if I must," she was serious, damn her.
1.1.72
1.1.73 "Bitch," his insult was without heat, more of an acknowledgement of her correctness.
1.1.74
1.1.75 "Occasionally," she said with a smile.
1.1.76
1.1.77 "Fine," he stood up angrily, still frustrated at being out-gunned. "We stay. On your head it be."
1.1.2
1.1.3 Wolf dens were not built for humans. This was a fact that Llawela was increasingly reminded of as she 'cub-sat' for Mopani. They were fine for the four footed members of society, but were not intended for long-term human habitation. She was not a terribly tall individual, nor was she excessively wide, but her knees were in her face as she lay, flat on her back, cuddling the three cubs on her stomach. They were asleep and she hesitated to move, or breathe too deeply, for fear of waking them and sending them off into squalls of hunger. 'This is an honour' she reminded herself fiercely 'no one else is allowed in the den, except Mopani, you should be grateful that Glynis is being nice enough to let you play with your niece and nephews' One yawned, his (or her) eyes were still closed, they'd open in few more days, and the cub nuzzled further up onto her chest. Each was a small fuzzy ball of approximately one river stone in weight. Three river stones, balanced precariously on the abdomen, were more than enough for one sensible individual. She waited, expectantly, for Mopani to return. He and Glynis had gone out hunting, looking for more food to feed the growing cubs. They did little more than eat and sleep and poop, the time was yet to come where they'd run and play. By the end of the summer they would be big enough to hunt and fight with the rest of the pack, but for now they were helpless, fuzzy-warm and sleepy, not trained hunting dogs.
1.1.4
1.1.5 Maternal strings tugged at Llawela's heart, this wasn't the first time she regretted not having cubs of her own, but she'd made a decision to compete for the position of Alpha and pursue her mission of cleaning up the magic around the dens. It wasn't fair; Mopani had three litters of cubs, of which four children remained and he still got to be Alpha. He wasn't the one who did all the work, though; all he had to do was get drunk at the party afterwards. She enjoyed a private moment of pride at her old friend's expense; the females of the species always put up with more than the males and they had the care of the cubs too. Another cub shifted up, curling his fluffy tail around her neck They were warm little pups. She brought her hand up to stroke his (or her) fur. Chuckling slightly as
1.1.6 the cub tuned his seeking mouth to suckle at her finger
1.1.7
1.1.8 "Chi edrych mewn yr'cam lle, plentyn. Mam y'dir ni dyma," (You look at thewrong place, child. Mother is not here.) The gently extricated her finger from his mouth, he whined slightly but nuzzled her neck warmly.
1.1.9
1.1.10 She heard scratching at the den opening and a short bark. Mopani was home and he brought Glynis with him. Now came the most delicate manoeuvre, getting Glynis into the den and Llawela out of the den without disturbing the cubs. Llawela scooted over, delicately dumping the cubs [use 'them' here] onto their mothers lap and wiggled out, headfirst. She plopped at the paws of Mopani, who crawled in after her with the night's dinner for Glynis stored in his stomach
1.1.11
1.1.12 She shook the den's wood dust out from her clothing while she waited for Mopani to finish his fatherly mission. She wore nothing special, a leather jerkin, sleeveless and cut short to bare her stomach to the sun, and leather breeches ending at the knee. Her shins were sun browned and scratched; in the winter she wore longer leggings and boots to protect against the cold. She usually went bare-foot, unless she knew she'd be hunting and then wore soft shoes that only came up to the ankles. One of the pack, his name was Llewen, hand-made each pair for also made little booties for the wolves in the winter. The soft leather shoes were spiked at the toe and heel to help her run faster and climb higher, just like a wolf's paws. She had a wide belt, as was customary, with several little pouches hanging from it. The belt also served as a back support if she needed to lift things. Fastened to the belt was a case for her spears, which also fastened at the top of the collar of her jerkin. Llawela fished out some shoes from a pack on her waist and jumped around, first on one foot then on the other while lacing them. Mopani wiggled back out of the den, slightly squished from the squeeze, and joined Llawela as she trotted to the weapon smith. They were not hunting today, that was the responsibility of the younger members of the pack, but having a few weapons while wandering the woods had saved lives countlesstimes. Llawela made it mandatory for anyone leaving the safety of the dens.
1.1.13
1.1.14 The weapons smith was a cheerful woman. She'd inherited the job from her mate when he had accidentally exploded the bellows, burning himself terribly in the process. Thankfully Llawela had gotten word before the burns were fatal. He was a little crispy around the edges, but alive. His mate had taken over the job of glass blowing and weapons-melting soon after.
1.1.15
1.1.16 "Prynhawn da. Shwd ych chi?" The smith greeted her with a smile. Llawela smiled back, they'd been friends long before she'd reached alpha. Aderyn was younger, though, not quite five and twenty summers.
1.1.17
1.1.18 "Lawn, diolch. A chi?" Llawela returned the greeting with one of her own. Aderyn shrugged, she was always doing well, and motioned to her latest projects.
1.1.19
1.1.20 "Edrych da" Llawela said approvingly. Her friend really turned out some impressive work. Aderyn blushed a little at the compliment. She sometimes forgot that the most valuable positions were those of the craftspeople and not the hunters.
1.1.21
1.1.22 "Diolch yn fawr" Aderyn thanked her gracefully. Llawela picked up some of the new spearheads and examined them closely. They were glass, seemingly fragile, but incredibly sharp. Aderyn carefully shaped the spearheads, about a finger length long and as wide as her two thumbs together. If they shattered on the way into the prey, well they shattered. The hunters fished out the pieces and Aderyn melted them back into usable shapes. She created drinking cups, plates, and cooking vessels. All manner of useful things. If they broke, then they broke; Aderyn picked up the pieces and melted them back together. It was a very efficient system and only required the glass oven and some sand from the river.
1.1.23
1.1.24 "Sut faint?"
1.1.25
1.1.26 Aderyn considered the question, "Pedwar neu pimp, nid gormod"
1.1.27 Llawela nodded and selected only four of the smaller spearheads. There were other hunters that needed the bigger weapons. "Diolch yn fawr" She thanked Aderyn and rose, Mopani followed. She grabbed her spear sticks out of their case along her back and sat on a rock to haft the spearheads onto the shaft. It didn't take long; all she needed to do was tie the spearhead onto the tip with some sinew. The spear tips were already cut to accept the head. The shafts went back into the short case on her back. Mopani waited patiently, the process fascinated him but as a dog he couldn't use the spears. She picked up a short buckler, a small shield, that was of tough wood and hide. No use in not being prepared. The shield could be used for a variety of different purposes not the least of which was personal protection.
1.1.28
1.1.29 She and Mopani had a mission. They were scouting the far south side of the pack territory. She'd gotten the feeling that someone was trying to reach the far power lines of the territory. They were locked to her personal power, not open to anyone else. She, Mopani, and three of the other wolves and two human partners were going out to investigate.
1.1.30
1.1.31 Llawela reached the clearing. It was the only clearing in the entire forest, the original place where the change-circle appeared. One of the big trees was completely missing, replaced with a circle of gray rock. The others were waiting, ready to investigate along with their alphas. They didn't talk to each other just started running, the tireless tracking lope of a wolf pack on the chase.
1.1.32
1.1.33 On the Trail
1.1.34
1.1.35 Nighthorse was a night scout. It was his responsibility to take the night shifts and protect the camp in the dark. He was also placed in the leadership role of senior for all the scouts in the group. This was a position that was not very conducive to sleep of any kind. Somebody somewhere having some kind of problem constantly awakened him, day and night. It was unpleasant to say the least. They were on the road sixteen to seventeen hours a day, hard rough riding, and on top of all that, he was responsible for night scouting.
1.1.36
1.1.37 Silverice's idea of travel involved waking up at noon, or thereabouts, eating heartily, travelling for approximately five or six hours in the bright daylight, and settling down to make camp at about seven in the evening and sleeping for a good twelve or thirteen hours in an outlandishly ornate tent. She was, therefore, in an incredibly rude state of shock.
1.1.38
1.1.39 Unfortunately for Nighthorse, he was the one who bore the brunt of her displeasure.
1.1.40 When she came out of her tent at dawn with the indomitable nose slicing the air between them, he braced himself another lecture on how mage energies sapped strength and quiet rest was the only cure, preferably twelve to fourteen hours of it. Instead she genuinely looked as though something had kept her up all night long. Not only was her hair in an alarming state of disarray, but also she was dressed in the 'common' articles of scout
1.1.41 clothing and not some outlandish mage getup.
1.1.42
1.1.43 "Wingbrother, how close are we to the edge of the new border?" she more or less collapsed on the ground beside him. Her silver hair, braided back into a sensible rope, touched the ground as she sat.
1.1.44
1.1.45 "Two, three days. No more, why?" Even though they didn't get along well he was concerned, such drastic change in behaviour was not a good sign. There were no beads on her tunic, no bells in her hair, and she was not only wearing a wicked-looking knife she seemed prepared to use it.
1.1.46
1.1.47 "I tried to reach into the mage energies that are supposedly dormant in the new territories. They're not dormant, shayna, someone out there has not only tapped them, she's locked the lines to her use only." Silverice looked deeply troubled, "There's no reason for a rogue mage to be here, this is nothing but wild forest, and there are no inhabitants and no resources that kind of mage would want."
1.1.48
1.1.49 "What does that mean? Are you sure it's a 'she'?" Ice trickled down his spine, although not a mage himself he was k'Treva, he knew the dangers of rogue adepts.
1.1.50
1.1.51 "To your second question, yes, I'm sure. The magic is laced with female overtones. The signature is unmistakable. To the first, well, what it means is either that we have a rogue mage over here trying to somehow carve a territory out of the Pelgiris knowing full well that we of Tayledras have claim to this land, or some mage elsewhere has found a way to tap energy and lock it from a distance. I speak of thousands of furlongs, here Wingbrother, not just a day or so's travel. A third possibility is that this is residual, from before the storms, and was never dissipated when the onslaught hit."
1.1.52
1.1.53 "Could that happen? Could a rogue adept tap these lines?" Terror filled him. If it could be done from far away, what was there to stop a rogue adept from tapping a Heartstone or Tayledras node?
1.1.54
1.1.55 "Not according to our knowledge… but from another? I don't know," She shifted uncomfortably. "I would suggest entering that territory with extreme caution. We must travel only at night, in silence. My Mordeyrn says he will fly ahead to scout, along with the other birds. I can use my Mage- sight to see through his eyes. Whoever this rogue is, we will find her."
1.1.56
1.1.57 "You plan on going in there? Are you insane! We're heading back to k'Treva to get some real reinforcements and tell the other clans about this."
1.1.58
1.1.59 He moved to stand up; she caught his arm and jerked him back down with some real force. Surprised he looked at her, almost shocked that this Vale-fed magelet was challenging his decisions.
1.1.60
1.1.61 "Tell them what? We have found a set of ley-lines that have been secured to another. That does not tell us whom has set these lines, what she is doing here, or even if she is here at all. It may well be that this is just a residual trace and I can break the locking once we've reached the main node."
1.1.62
1.1.63 She got that stubborn, mulish look, nose cleaving the like a beak, "We will investigate this Wingsibling, why else would I wear this unflattering getup? Before last night there was no reason to be cautious. There is reason now. I will not return to k'Treva empty-handed."
1.1.64
1.1.65 "That is not your decision to make. I am leader of these scouts and we are going home." There was no way he planned on putting his scouts in dangerfrom a rogue adept in the Pelgiris.
1.1.66
1.1.67 "I am leader of these mages and we are staying. Go home if you wish, wingbrother, just be prepared to explain why we are not with you." She smiled a smug, arrogant smile. She had his butt over a barrel and she knew it.
1.1.68
1.1.69 "You will do that?" he growled.
1.1.70
1.1.71 "Only if I must," she was serious, damn her.
1.1.72
1.1.73 "Bitch," his insult was without heat, more of an acknowledgement of her correctness.
1.1.74
1.1.75 "Occasionally," she said with a smile.
1.1.76
1.1.77 "Fine," he stood up angrily, still frustrated at being out-gunned. "We stay. On your head it be."