Chapter 3
Master Wolverson

 

Darren was following the man through the streets of the sleeping village. His feet were sliding in the mud and he had trouble keeping up with him. After a while, he heard a question spoken in a low voice.

"Where are your shoes?"

Darren glanced down at his feet and shrugged. He never had shoes.

They stepped out of the shaky cluster of clay houses and wooden shacks, and the cool night breeze blew through Darren's hair, brushing his cheeks with a wonderful kiss of freedom. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He glanced at the man walking next to him and asked softly "Sorry... but who are you, sir?"

The Emeralde looked at him in surprise and laughed. His laugh was deep and resonant.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. Armand Wolverson." The man reached out to him, but then he hit his thigh and sighed. "By the darkness of Tenebrae, I forgot again. I am the Master and Guardian of the Scouts Guild at Mortuus. You probably never heard of it, huh?" Darren shook his head. "It's one of the most prestigious universities in the country. It's known for training the best Warriors, Archers, Scouts, and Assassins across the lands of Helion. We're going there."

What?

Darren stopped suddenly.

School? This strange man is taking him to school? To real school? No, that can't be true, there must've been a mistake. Why would he come here and take him, Darren, to some distant school he'd never heard of? Why?

He pursed his lips, afraid to ask. Afraid that it might suddenly turn out to be a mistake and the man would quickly find out and take Darren back and he wouldn't survive this! No, he won't ask about it! Maybe later, far away from here, when it'll be too late to turn back.

"I had it somewhere here..." he heard the quiet mumbling of the man who was searching the saddlebags strapped to his horse. "There it is!"

Darren was watching as the Emeralde pulled leather gloves from his bag and put them on his enormous hands, then dug out some greenish cloth. He unfolded it and shook it off.

Darren saw a long, green cloak, the edges of which were adorned with golden ornaments, and in the center, under the hood, the arms were placed in a red squirrel turned sideways hidden among lush green leaves.

"It's a Scout cloak. An official one, for special occasions, not one of the basic ones. I don't wear it anyway, so you can put it on." The man handed it to Darren with a broad smile.

The boy touched the shiny material. His hand was shaking. He had never worn anything like that.

"You can fasten it at the neck, there's a special buckle there," the man added.

Darren untied the golden leaf clasp and carefully draped the cloak over his shoulders, buttoning it around his neck. The fabric was warm and soft, and it caressed the skin around his neck very pleasantly.

"That's great," the Emeralde muttered, reaching for the hood and pulling it over Darren's head, hiding his face and eyes beneath it. "We can ride now. We'll reach Lavrance on foot in a month at the earliest. You'll have to hold on. Get in."

What? Ride?

Before Darren could react, the man grabbed him and lifted him from the ground as if Darren weighed nothing, then settled him on the horse's back. Suppressing the fear that hit his throat, Darren grabbed something hard in the front of the saddle and watched in horror as the Emeralde climbed onto the horse and took the seat behind him.

"Don't worry, you're tightly covered and I have gloves, you won't hurt me," he heard a soothing voice as the man wrapped his arms around him and reached for the reins. "Hold on tight, I won't let you fall."

Before Darren could think about what was happening, the man spurred his horse up and the animal started walking. His body jumped and he nearly slipped from the saddle, but strong arms on both sides kept him from falling.

"You'll get used to it after a while," he heard a grunt somewhere above his head. His insides were jumping, and Darren felt as if they were moving with every step of this enormous monster. The Emeralde spurred his horse again and the animal started trotting.

Darren squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto the saddle as hard as he was about to break his fingers. His body was jerking tossing up and down completely out of his control.

Oh no! He was not going to get used to something like that. Never.

**********

"Take it easy, don't fight him. You must submit to his movements. When he goes up, so do you. Put your legs in here. That's right."

Darren bit his lip, squeezing the reins desperately as he tried to stay in the saddle.

Master Wolverson was walking alongside, holding the horse by the bridle and instructing Darren. "He imposes the rhythm and you have to adapt to it. You can't resist because if you fight, you'll always end up in the mud. You have the reins in your hands to steer him, and even if he seems so strong and powerful to you, you have the power over him and you must learn to show it to him. He must feel that he cannot do what he likes, but only what you want him to do. Though you still have to remember that he's stronger than you and it's you who will always have to adapt to the pace, even though you are the one to impose it. Do you understand?"

Darren nodded, though he didn't understand at all. The beast beneath him completely refused to listen to him. He was bouncing painfully on its back, trying not to fall off and follow its movements, as the man was instructing him, but somehow, he couldn't submit to them.

"You'll get used to it after a while. You'll be sore at first, very much sore, but it'll get better with time, you'll see," the man added.

Somehow Darren doubted it. His thighs were chafed and sore from driving all night. They only stopped before dawn, at the edge of the forest. Darren was so tired he just dropped into the bed of leaves and fell asleep like a stone. In the morning the man put him on this monster again and decided to teach him to ride it.

"What do you teach at this school, sir?" Darren asked softly as he sat down in the grass, watching the man fold the blankets and load them into the saddlebags. Darren didn't like talking to people. He was not used to this.

"Horse Riding and Taming."

"Tan-ming?"

The Emeralde gave him a surprised look and laughed. "It's about... how can I explain it to you? Taming animals. Teaching them different things. Some students, mostly Scouts, adopt an animal companion. We call them Familiars."

"Do you have one, sir?" Darren felt an exciting tickle in his stomach at the thought of befriending some animal. It seemed easier than making friends with people anyway.

The man gave him a mysterious smile. "I have a wolf, and I named him Heke. He lives and hunts in the forests surrounding the school."

Darren's eyes widened.

Wolf? A real wolf?

The Emeralde laughed again at his expression and added. "But he's such a companion as I'm a ballerina. Wolves are monstrously stubborn and independent creatures. It's hard to control them."

Darren couldn't imagine it. How can you make friends with a wolf? After all, they were dangerous predators.

"How did you do that? Need to say hello first or something?" he asked.

Master Wolverson blinked, then burst into his sonorous laugh. "No, by the gods... Say hello to a wolf, I'd like to see that..." He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, looking at Darren and shaking his head. "It's a long and complicated process. Maybe we can catch a little creature along the way, so I could show you how to do it."

Darren pursed his lips as he let the corners of his mouth rise a little bit. The Emeralde ceased laughing and looked at him intrigued.

"Well, well, and finally the first smile appeared," he said jovially.

Darren flushed red and stared at the grass. He never smiled. He had no reasons to do so. He'd seen others smile many times, but he rarely felt any joy himself. Though this strange man was so completely different that he made him feel so... warm inside... and it made Darren want to smile back at him.

"Let's go," the Emeralde said.

Darren groaned and tucked his legs up, looking with torment at the snorting steed.

**********

Initially, the road ran through the dense forests surrounding Nigron. These forests were the property of Demitius Lor Dariel, the head of the White Council over the southern lands of Solandia and the enclaves of the Black Mongrels.

The orphanage run by Father Theosius and Mother Octavia was located on the outskirts of one of the many small towns of Nigron - an area designated as slums for a significant part of the Black Mongrels, who were considered the lowest caste of the society. It wasn't because of their black hair, black eyes, or dark complexion. The reason was their origin.

Legends said that the Black Mongrels has descended from the Cursed Ones. They're hybrids - they consist of attributes that remain when all the traits and qualities of the other castes are discarded. They're the worst of the society, the mongrels wandering the streets and looking into garbage cans. They could live only thanks to the great kindness of the White Crows - the rulers of Helion - who decided to make them slaves. The purpose of Black Mongrels is to minister to the rest of the castes and provide all of Helion with all possible goods.

The Black Mongrels - deprived of even the basic education and pushed out of society - turned into the murderers, beggars, thieves, and whores, behaving exactly as the society expected them to. They're servants, grooms, laborers, and shepherds. They've been locked in the slums, fighting among themselves for the smallest piece of food, working in mines and farmlands for all their miserable lives, doing the hardest work for a bowl of food. They have no rights or privileges. Killing a Mongrel is like killing a dog -without a reprimand or a fine. There is no worth attached to the lives of the Mongrels.

However, not everyone agreed with such treatment. There had been many failed Mongrel uprisings in the history of Helion, but the lack of education, the lack of money, and most importantly, the lack of agreement between the leaders of the most powerful gangs every time led to their downfall.

The Mongrels living outside Nigron can't own any property, they can't walk alone in the city streets unless they receive safe-conduct from their master, they can't enjoy any privileges reserved for the other castes. They're considered a stain in the lands of Helion, and some White Crows strive their complete extermination.

Darren didn't know about any of this. He lived in his small world, closed to everyone, away from politics, great lords, the White Palaces, and the clashing forces of Helion. All he knew was that he was a cursed-eyed Mongrel, burdened with a deadly curse from his birth, without parents and a future, and now he was going to some distant school somewhere in the country, and he didn't even know why. He still didn't want to ask about it. He was still too close to this horrible place where he had spent his whole life. Although he asked about other things.

He learned that the school had been founded eight hundred years ago when Helion was ravaged by numerous civil wars. That it was founded by the legendary White Crow Draconian Mortuus, who could summon lightning from the sky.

Darren was listening with his mouth open. He heard that the White Crows had the power Luciss had given them, but he couldn't imagine anything like that.
"What do they look like?" he asked when Master Wolverson was lighting a fire in a small clearing not far from the main road they had pulled off to wait for the night. "The White Crows."

He imagined them as inaccessible mythical creatures with wings as white as doves' wings, breathing fire or spitting lightning.

"Well," the Emeralde tossed a few dry sticks to the fire. "You'll see for yourself soon. One of them is the Headmaster of the school where you will study."

Darren felt a warm excitement in his stomach. Then a chill of anxiety. He wanted to see a White Crow. He didn't want to go back to the asylum. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked Master Wolverson why he had come for him at all, but the lack of acknowledging the reason was drilling an unpleasant tunnel through him which depressing thoughts fell in. He couldn't chase them away.

"Would you like to go hunting with me? I'm so hungry I could eat Fincian," the man said and winked at Darren.

Fincian was the name of his horse, but Darren didn't understand why Master Wolverson would've want to eat him. It was stupid. What would they ride on later?

"I... don't quite like... killing," he muttered.

He would like to go and see the archery, but he wouldn't like to see the arrows pierce a living creature. Once he tried to hunt a rabbit when he was so hungry he couldn't bear it, but he couldn't hurt him. Something deep inside him protested violently as he held the knife he'd carved himself in the hand, and felt the insane beat of a tiny heart under his fingers. It felt as if something inside him was rising and storming and he had to release the rabbit. All he had left was some berries and fruits.

"Then wait for me here and watch the fire."

Darren was left alone, by the soft crackling fire and under the veil of darkness slowly enveloping the forest. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the woods - rhythmic tapping, soft rustling, chirping crickets, bird tricks, and... distant howls.

He jerked his head up, looking around fearfully. He could still see the area, but the dense bushes prevented him from penetrating them with his eyes and seeing what was beyond them. It was not the familiar Oak Forest where he knew every blade of the grass. This forest was dense, impenetrable, and dangerous. Just like the world that awaits him there.

He didn't know how long he was sitting there, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking around searchingly. He tried to hear Master Wolverson's heavy footsteps, but all he could hear was the sounds of forest life interpenetrating one another.

Maybe something happened to the man there? Maybe the howl he'd heard was much closer? But this man could make friends with the wolves. Maybe he could make friends with that one too and ask the wolf not to attack? Maybe...

"Here you are!" Darren jumped up when something suddenly fell on the ground next to him. He looked back and saw the man was standing behind him and smiling under the reddish stubble. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"How did you do that, sir? I didn't hear you at all. Not a single broken branch," he stammered out.

"Well, then I think I'm not out of practice yet," the man crouched, leaning over the dead white rabbit lying in the grass. There was a stain of red on the white fur, reflecting the light of the fire. "Every Scout must learn to move silently, even in the most difficult terrain, and survive in it."

Darren watched dumbfounded as the man took from the scabbard a long, crooked knife that looked like a cross between a sword and a dagger.

The Emeralde put his hand on the rabbit's white fur and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Luciss for this gift to keep me alive. Thank you, Tenebrae, for the quick death you brought upon this poor creature because life and death are one and are contained in your Light and your Darkness." When he'd said that little prayer of thanks, he raised his knife and seeing the terror in Darren's eyes he muttered reassuringly. "Don't look at it if you don't want to."

Darren did so. He turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Though the sound of the blade breaking through the petite body and the sound of the fur tearing off made him feel sick. He didn't open his eyes until the rabbit was roasting over the fire, on the sticks stuck in the ground. The Emeralde was sitting across from the fire, legs wide apart, watching him with interest.

Darren swallowed. He felt unbelievably stupid, but he couldn't help to be so opposed to the killing. He glanced at the rabbit roasting over the fire - without its fur, it no longer looked so terrible, but Darren still felt as if he had completely lost his appetite, even though he hadn't eaten in almost two days. He was used to feeling hungry. Though to this feeling of guilt for a life taken, squirming at the bottom of his soul - he wasn't.

"Do the Scouts must learn to kill?" he asked hesitantly, staring at the fire.

"No." the Emeralde said softly. "In fact, it's the only guild that can completely avoid killing. The Assassins are masters of cutting throats and poisoning, the Warriors must learn to use a sword and any other weapon perfectly, the Archers learn shooting techniques, and the Scouts... hmm, basically they just have to hide very well and gather all the information about the enemy."

"Then I want to be a Scout! Just like you, sir!" Darren blurted out before he could think what he was saying. He hadn't even gotten to that school yet, and he had already indulged in something as unimaginable as making any plans. He shouldn't be doing this. He should be prepared for the fact that these plans could be buried very quickly under the devastating blow of the reality when it turns out that there has been a mistake and that Darren should not be there at all and he must go back and...

He bit his lip, staring at his bare, dirty feet.

He was a Mongrel. He had no right to make any plans for the future. He had no right to anything. On different occasions, Father Theosius had punched these words into his head with his screams and his fists.

No one needs you. Nobody cares about you. You are nothing!

He slowly turned his gaze back to the big man sitting on the other side of the fire, who had been talking to him for a while, but Darren seemed to be unaware.

"...you need to pass the test that will allow you to choose your guild. Unfortunately, you can't decide where you want to go. Do you understand?"

Darren nodded. Whatever. It didn't matter to him anymore.

**********

Beyond the forests of Nigron, there were great fields full of sun and chirping crickets. The golden seas of wheat and the bright yellow oceans of rapeseed.

Darren could see the Hyacinthes' mansions in the distance, surrounded by the trees, but they were too far away for him to get a good look. Though they probably looked similar to the one from his memory... the one with the walls made of fire and the roof made of the clouds of smoke.

His hazy vision sharpened when he saw a wagon looming on the highway a short distance away. He pulled the hood tighter over his eyes, hiding his face in it.

"Let the Luciss' brightness light your way, my lord," an elder Brunnite who was sitting in the wagon said, as he passed them. Darren didn't want to look at him. He turned his head, trying to hide in the hood and in the broad shoulders of the Emeralde who was sitting behind him.

"As yours, old man," Master Wolverson replied amiably.

"I don't know where you're going, my lord, but the Histonia track has been taken over by these wild Mongrels. They attack anyone who seems a little wealthier to them. My advice is to follow the Grendalia track. It's much safer. Lord Hiondin has already dispatched his troops to deal with them, but I don't know when they'll arrive."

"Thank you for the warning" the Emeralde replied.

"Good way"

"Same to you"

When the sound of rattled wheels on the uneven road had faded Darren cautiously peeked out from under his hood and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You don't have to hide from every traveler we meet on the way," the Emeralde said suddenly. "We still have a long way to go. We're going to meet many more people."

Darren bit his lip. "I don't want you to have problems because of me, sir."

The man snorted. "Do you think someone would try to cause me any problems?"

Darren knew the man was right. His massive build, the swords strapped to his saddle and red-chestnut hair would probably scare away any too curious people and thugs.

"No, but it's not that... never mind," the boy replied softly, staring at the dust puffed up by the hoofs.

"Are you afraid that someone will recognize you and remember this story from almost a decade ago?" the man asked.

Darren felt a cold cord of uneasiness twisting around his heart.

You'll never get out of here until I let you! Everyone will be looking for you! Everyone will be chasing you after what you've done, you ungrateful Tenebrae brood!

"I think," the man said carefully when Darren didn't answer, "that not many people could link you up to this. It was a long time ago."

"But Father Theosius said..."

"That pathetic drunkard was able to do and say anything to keep you from escaping because then he wouldn't get a penny for your euphemistically describing it... education."

Darren flinched when the things he didn't want to think of cut into his mind like a dagger, letting in all the emotions and doubts he tried to hold back. He had to ask about it. He had to find out, understand... anything. He swallowed with a dry throat and asked. "Why were you going to pay him money... for me?"

"Not for you Darren, by the gods, you're not a horse to be bought. You were placed at his orphanage to be raised among... people like you. Your curse doesn't activate upon contact with other Mongrels, does it?" Darren nodded, looking down at his faded black cloth gloves. "So, you couldn't hurt any of them, even if you wanted to. Anyway, all of this will be explained to you in detail by the Headmaster once we get there."

Darren felt relieved and a feeling of intense melancholy stung his stomach at the same time. It was a relief to him that it probably wasn't a mistake after all. Though it was also a grief... as his ears were filled again with that distant scream of suffering that'd emerged from the mists of his memory.

Why couldn't he hurt those who deserved it, but someone who...?

He squeezed his eyes shut as he emerged from the mist and let out a soft, trembling sigh.