The Great Wolves of Ealdormere

By Colyne Stewart (MKA Todd Fischer)

AS XXXV (2001)

Long ago, when the northlands were naught but wild expanses of field and snowy forest, when the people were fractured into separate clans and tribes and fought with each other, when the Dragon from the South roamed our woods with impunity, lived the Great Wolves. These Great Wolves were lord of the forest, glade and glen, huge beasts larger than a bear, with thick pelts and paws the size of a man's head. Of all things in the north, only the Great Wolves struck fear in the Dragon from the South, and he took great pains to avoid them.

The greatest of the Great Wolves were a mated pair, called Gar and Weyra. Gar, the male, had a coat of smoke grey, with fierce yellow eyes and a scar across his back. He was the strongest of the males, the alpha, and had won many victories.

The female, Weyra, had fur like newly fallen snow, with eyes the colour of a crisp winter sky. She was gentle and compassionate, but as fierce as her mate when the need arose.

For many years the Great Wolves and the humans of the northlands lived in peace with each other, though the humans kept fighting amongst themselves, a thing that filled the Wolves’ hearts

with sorrow. And all the while the Dragon of the South preyed upon them all.

Among the Great Wolves there had long been a prophecy, that one day two members of their kin, though not of their kin, would lead them alongside the men and women of the north into battle to drive the Dragon from their land.        

And so it came to pass that one Twelfth Night, as Gar and Weyra ran through the woods, they came upon a scene of slaughter.

A family of northmen lay scattered about a smoking fire, their bodies shredded by great claws, their gifts to each other smashed to pieces.

A noise from a toppled tent reached their sensitive ears.  Within the tent, they found two young humans, a male and a female, clinging one to the other and crying in fear.        

Taking pity on them, Gar and Weyra adopted the young humans as their pups. They called the boy Clave, and the girl Bisret, though humans would later call them by other names.

In the years that passed, Clave and Bisret lived as Wolves, learning to hunt, to track, to fight, and to respect life.

Gar and Weyra loved their odd pups but knew, deep in their hearts, that their adopted children yearned to know others of their true heritage. And so they took them, silently, to watch the tribes and clans of the north.

When Clave and Bisret saw other beings like themselves, beasts who walked on two legs, they were filled with joy. But Weyra, with sad eyes, bade them watch on. And soon they saw the clans and tribes wage war amongst themselves.

Then they took Clave and Bisret to see the den of the Dragon of the South, where he encroached on the lands of the north. There they saw him torture and kill northlanders and knew, deep within their beings, why they had been spared by fate so many years ago.

They must drive away the Dragon.

The following Yule, Clave and Bisret called on all the tribes and clans of the north to a moot. And they came. Those who followed the bear, and those who followed the ram, and the hare, and all the others. All came, for all had heard of the two raised of Great Wolves. All had heard of Clave, of his powers of arms, of his justice and righteousness, for Clave was second amongst the Great Wolves to only Gar in power. And all had heard of Bisret, and her strength and love of those born in the north, and knew she was second amongst the Wolves to only Weyra in compassion.

There, in a great circle of pine trees, the people of the northlands talked, and all were swayed by Bisret's heartfelt pleas to set aside hostilities, and to love each other as siblings. And all were swayed by Clave's proud words, and united behind him as a single force to drive the Dragon of the South from their lands. And the Great Wolves came from out of the trees to fight alongside them.

That Twelfth Night, twenty years since Clave and Bisret's family had been murdered most foully, the Great Army of the north marched on the forces of the Dragon of the South. But the Dragon had learned of their plans, and his army was ready to meet them. Worse, he knew that the Great Wolves were on the march, and had called to him famed hunters from a far off country, hunters who had killed kappa in the Marches, and wyverns in Drachenwald. Nothing frightened them, no animal or beast alive, and they set  a trap for Gar and Bisret.

The Dragon called them out for single combat. He would fight with Gar on a snowy plain, called Lythredd, while Weyra stood second. For his own second,  the Dragon chose the strongest of the hunters.

Gar and Weyra met them on the plain, while their armies watched. The Dragon of the South danced about Gar, refusing to engage him, and instead luring him towards the trap. For the hunters had found  a large hole in the earth, and had placed great spikes of banded wood within it, and covered it with reeds, and covered the reeds with snow. When Gar's heavy foot fell on the reeds, he crashed into the pit, and, at that same moment, the hunters rose from hiding, armed with bows. As Weyra ran to the edge of the pit she became impaled with arrows and fell herself into the hole.

And, knowing their leaders had died through treachery, all the Great Wolves howled in sorrow and fell lifeless themselves into the snow.

The Dragon of the South was now sure of his victory, but he did his enemies discredit. Rather than flee the field, the people of the north rallied behind Clave and Bisret. So too did all the animals of the north: the bear and fox, the badger and squirrel, the raven and jay. For they had loved Gar and Weyra and would avenge their death.

In the face of such a determined foe, the Dragon of the South knew his cause was lost, and retreated back to his own lands, losing fully a third of his army as he ran, including his hired hunters, who fell to Clave's own sword.

And then, with their lands free from tyranny, the tribes and clans and even all the animals swore fealty to Clave and Bisret. As the oath was sworn, the spirits of the Great Wolves joined with them; Gar with Clave, Weyra with Bisret, and other Wolves with all who swore fealty. From that day forward, the Wolves lived within all those born in the northlands, the lands that would one day become Ealdormere. They still reside within us, if we but listen.

And even unto today, the Great Howl, let loose at the moment of the Great Wolves' passing, can still be heard on cold, clear, winter nights, by all those of true Ealdormeran birth.

Dedicated to the rulers of Ealdormere,

Past, Present and Future.

The Cliffs of Ardchreag

Colyne Stewart November A.S. XXXVI (2002)

Once there was a knight named Jean de Boustinette who traveled the lands of Ealdormere, protecting the populace from giants and monsters and performing great deeds.

One night on his travels he came across a castle and decided to ask for lodging under its roof. As he drew nearer to the castle be began to despair that no one dwelt within, for the stone was crumbling, and the yards were overgrown. There were, however, lights burning in the windows, and, as it was beginning to rain, he pressed forward.

His knocks were greeted by a bent, old castellan who gazed at him slackly for a time before waving him inside.

The interior of the castle was no better than the outside, with dust and cobwebs coating everything. The shuffling castellan led him to a library, home to countless worm-riddled books. Seated on an oaken chair by the fire was a tall, thin man wearing a coat of crimson and a golden coronet in his greying hair. His face was drawn and grey, his frowning mouth framed by a black beard.

This, Boustinette was told, was Duke Everton of Lyonelle. At the Duke’s feet slumped a dwarf in torn yellow and blue raiment, a shackle about his ankle. To the side, in the shadows, stood the Duke’s chamberlain.

Jean de Boustinette bowed and introduced himself.

The Duke said that he had heard of this valiant knight, and asked what he could do for so grand a guest.

The knight asked for lodging, which the Duke granted, giving him free reign of the castle. The only conditions being that Boustinette stay for at least a week, and regale the Duke with stories of his deeds. Also, he must never venture up the south tower. To all this Boustinette agreed, though he thought he saw the dwarf shake his head sadly at his acceptance.

The chamberlain stepped out of the shadows then, and led Boustinette up the north tower and helped him settle into his room, promising that his horse would be seen to as well. The knight was glad once the chamberlain was gone, for the man’s hands resembled the spindly legs of spiders, his skin as dry and peeling, and his body gave an offensive odour not unlike old cheese.

Before retiring to bed, Boustinette gazed out his window and looked over the countryside. To the one side he could see the famous high cliffs of Ardchreag. To the other he could see the forbidden south tower. He was about to turn and retire when he saw a light flare up behind the drawn shutters of the room on the south tower. Intrigued, he watched for several minutes, until the light went out again. He waited a few moments longer, then laid upon his bed. Just as he dropped off to sleep he thought he could hear the soft sound of singing coming from his window.

The next day he rose early and went on a hunt with the Duke who had a pack of sleek hunting dogs. Of all the things he had seen of the Duke’s possession, only the dogs seemed to be looked after with any skill. Their fur was brushed, their teeth clean, their claws trimmed, and they were most skilled at the hunt. When the party returned to the castle, they brought with them the bodies of two deer and a score of rabbits. Boustinette and the Duke sat in the library and drank mead while the knight told tales of his travels, the dwarf chained to his master’s chair and the chamberlain standing silently nearby. That night, when Boustinette retired to his room, he again saw a light go on briefly in the south tower, and again he heard singing as he fell asleep.

Upon rising the next morning, Boustinette decided that he had to discover the source of the light and the singing. However, before he could begin his search, the chamberlain came to fetch him and brought him to the Duke. The Duke took Boustinette hunting again, and they stayed out until very late. Upon returning, they barely had time to partake of dinner before it was time for sleep. However, Boustinette had resolved to discover the secret and stayed awake in his room, waiting for the rest of the castle to be silent. Once he was sure everyone else was asleep, he crept down to the main floor and made his way to the door of the south tower. He tried it, and was not surprised to find it locked. Luckily for Boustinette, he had spent time with certain rogues before being squired, and knew the ways around most locks. Within moments he had opened the door wand was creeping up the stairs.

At the top of the tower he was stopped by a grilled gateway, beyond which lay a small apartment. Furs covered the floors, unlit torches lined the walls, and a bed sat against one wall. Upon reaching the gateway, a figure had risen up from the bed, and now it made its way over to him. Boustinette gasped as he saw a most beautiful woman, cloaked in white, step from the shadows into a beam of moonlight that squeezed between the shutters.

Dropping to one knee he introduced himself and asked the lady for her name. She was, she said, Isobel of Lyonelle, the Duke’s only daughter. When Boustinette demanded to know why she was locked away within the tower she told him of her father’s great jealousy. Once he had been a king and had ruled a great country. He had been married to a lovely woman of a great family, and his lands were beautiful and bountiful. However, through poor political dealing, he lost his kingship and was forced to leave his country, finally settling in this castle. His temper began to rule him, and eventually his lady wife, Isobel’s mother, had fled from him. Eventually, most of his servants had departed as well; only those whom he had some hold over stayed. Fearful that she too would leave him, Duke Everton had locked Isobel into the tower, sending the chamberlain up once a day to feed her and take away her waste.

Hearing these words, Jean de Boustinette was filled with a great anger, and said that he would free her and take her father to the local magistrate for judging. Isobel warned him that he was not the first knight to find her locked away, and all of them had never returned after setting off to face her father. Nonetheless, Boustinette knew he must try, and set to work on the lock. After an hour he was forced to admit defeat. He pledged to Isobel that he would find the key to the lock, and free her, and they would leave her father and this horrid castle behind them forever. At these brave words Isobel smiled and the knight took her hand between the bars, placing a kiss on her white skin.

Early the next morning, the Duke took Boustinette hunting, once again keeping him out of the castle for as long as possible. Biting back his anger, Boustinette smiled and continued to tell the Duke the stories he longed to hear. That night he waited until the hour of midnight, then crept from his room to begin searching for the key to Isobel’s prison.

Upon searching the library he found the dwarf sleeping at the foot of the oak chair, his foot still chained to its thick leg. The dwarf sat up as he entered and gestured for him to come closer. Boustinette settled on his haunches at the dwarf’s side, and the little man told him that he had to flee. The Duke was a covetous man, he said, and once he took a liking to a thing he never let it go. If he continued to tell such entertaining stories, the Duke would try to keep him as a slave, just as he was a slave.

Deciding to press the dwarf, Bostinette asked if there were others being kept against their will in the castle. Nodding, the dwarf told him that most of the servants only stayed because the Duke had some hold over them, some of them fearing for their very lives. He even, said the dwarf, had his daughter locked away in a hidden room.

Boustineete looked at the dwarf’s face, at his large fleshy nose and tired, sad eyes and told him that he had already discovered Isobel’s whereabouts, but that he couldn’t open the lock. The dwarf nodded, saying that the Duke had hired a wizard to enchant many of the locks of his castle. He had hidden the key that would open them all somewhere on the grounds, and, if the knight promised to release him upon its retrieval, he would tell the knight where to find it. To this Boustinette readily agreed. The dwarf told him that the key was kept in a pot in the garden, a large one with a bull carved on it. But he had to beware, for the key was guarded by a basilisk.

Boustinette knew how to handle basilisks, and pulled a mirror off the wall and ventured out into the garden. The place was overgrown with weeds and bushes. Nocturnal animals moved all about him, rustling leaves and making it difficult for him to watch for the coming of the basilisk. Finally, he reached the pot, and as he went to reach inside, a serpent’s head twined out of its depths. Quickly, Boustinette pulled the mirror in front of his face and heard the basilisk shriek. Lashing out with his sword, Boustinette cut the creature in half, silencing its cry. He hastily grabbed the key and ran back into the castle, stopping to free the dwarf before rushing up the stairs to unlock the tower’s door.

Boustinette and Isobel raced to the stable, hearing sounds of life coming from inside. They could hear the chamberlain screaming for the Duke. He had heard the cry of the basilisk, and had seen them escape the tower. Throwing his saddle on his horse, Boustinette paused as he saw that his steed’s feet had been hobbled. He gave it one sad pat on the head, then he and Isobel ran into the woods.

Behind them they could hear sounds of pursuit, and chief among them the baying of the Duke’s hunting hounds. As they reached the edge of the cliffs, the hounds caught them. Boustinette fought the ferocious beasts, and managed to kill them all, but not before the Duke, chamberlain and three other servants had surrounded him. The Duke’s men fell on him then, and he managed to kill two of them, but not before the chamberlain had stabbed him in the back with a slender blade. The old man cackled until Isobel hit him on the side of the head with a tree branch, causing him to topple screaming over the edge of the cliff. The last servant fell to the wounded Boustinette’s sword, and the Duke found himself facing the mighty knight alone. However, the attacks of the dogs and the servants, especially the chamberlain’s cowardly strike, had greatly wounded Boustinette. Grinning broadly, the Duke pressed his attack, finally knocking Boustinette to the ground, his sword falling from his hand. Standing gleefully over the dying knight, the Duke prepared for the final thrust. He pulled back his arm and stabbed forward just as Isobel threw herself across Boustinette’s body. The sword pierced her under the shoulder, cutting through her and knight beneath her until the point was buried in the ground.

Shuddering in horror, the Duke pulled back, freeing the sword. A great crimson fountain flowed from his daughter’s back and chest as Boustinette took her in his arms. Falling to his knees, the Duke watched as the knight and his daughter somehow managed to gain their feet. Putting their hands behind each others heads, they kissed. Then they were gone over the edge of the cliffs.

An hour later, when the dwarf and the local magistrate’s men came upon the scene all they found were the bodies of slain hounds, servants, and the Duke, hanging from the tree with his belt about his neck.