Anastas
The day was ghostly. That was the only way I could think to describe it as I followed my father and Uncle Jencin out of town. Winter was coming to a close, but fresh snow crunched under our boots. That was the only sound to be heard in the valley that morning, and snow was the only thing I could see. We were less than a quarter-mile from home, but a thick fog had settled in and swallowed us whole. I knew that my house was still directly behind us, but when I looked over my shoulder there was nothing to be seen. Just fog and snow. Silent as death.
My observation made me lag behind a bit, and I was struck with a sudden childlike fear of falling behind and getting lost in the fog. I skipped a step and quickened my pace until I was almost shoulder-to-shoulder with my father again.
Uncle Jencin smirked at me from my father’s other side. “Feels good to stretch your legs again, doesn’t it?”
I grinned and nodded. “After all that sitting and waiting, I feel like I’ve got enough energy to take down a whole musk ox.”
Jencin chuckled. My father smiled, too, but it was faint. He rarely smiled with his teeth. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said in his deep, baritone voice. “Chances are it’s too early for any big game.”
“I don’t care if all we find are a coupla squirrels, as long as they’re fresh,” Jencin said, stretching his arms overhead and letting out a yawn. When it passed, he blinked and shook his head. “Ice it’s gloomy out here. If we weren’t nearly outta firewood I wouldn’t have left the house at all.”
“Sure you would,” I said. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t as excited as a reindeer let out to pasture when we invited you to come along.”
Now it was my father’s turn to chuckle, but Jencin acted like he didn’t notice. “Reinder--that’s what I wanna eat tonight.”
“Heading in the wrong direction for that,” said my father, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “The herders will come soon enough. Be patient.”
“Unless you want us to go north,” I said teasingly. “A week or two out in the tundra just to get you a bite of reindeer meat? Sure, we’ll just--.”
“Oh hush,” Jencin groaned. “I said I wanted reindeer, not that I expected it. When did you get so smart-mouthed, Anastas?”
I shrugged, still feeling smart-mouthed now that the morning no longer seemed so bleak. “Five months of winter changes a man, Uncle.”
“Oh, you’re a man now, are ya?” he teased, reaching behind my father to tug on my vest. “Couple more hard winters and maybe you’ll actually grow into that vest.”
I made a face at him, but his comment stung more than he could know. The dark gold vest with the dark brown trim still didn’t fit me quite right, and it seemed like my responsibility would never quite fit me, either.
“Tell Roald that for me, will you?” I said, hoping my voice still sounded sarcastic rather than worried. “He seems to think it’ll take another twenty winters.”
Jencin sobered a bit, but kept the smile on his face when he said, “Aw don’t listen to Roald. The man has no idea what real leadership is anyhow.”
“That’s enough,” said my father. Jencin and I both looked at him, our smiles gone. I looked sheepishly down at my boots. My father might not like Roald, either, but he never tolerated slander. Not even when accompanied by poorly-disguised humor.
The bleakness came back quickly after that. We walked in silence, and the fog continued to press in around us. I shivered a little despite my thick layers of clothing. Really, though, it was nice to be out of the house, even if there were no oxen or reindeer in the area yet. With the blizzards mostly ended, it was just a few short weeks’ wait until spring arrived. Then maybe we would have some color and sound around here again.
For now…. just snow. Crunching under our boots and mixing with the mist. Nothing but silence. It was eerie, but better than being cooped up with my squabbling siblings.
We continued that way for about another quarter-mile, heading steadily uphill towards the opposite side of the valley, where the base of the mountains housed wildlife in its sparse pine forest. The first leafless shrubs appeared slowly out of the mist, and then a few yards later we started to see the towering shadows of the pines up ahead.
Now the fog around us took on a deeper shade, and I knew we were close enough to the mountains that they were shadowing us from what little sunlight there was that morning. Our silence became more purposeful as we kept our eyes peeled for signs of life.
The fresh snow from last night hid any animal tracks there might have been, and still there were no sounds. Regardless, I reached over my shoulder and loosed the short spear on my back. Its weight was comfortable in my mittened hands as I scanned the mist for anything edible.
A muffled groan came from our right, and we whipped around to face the sound, holding our breath. The groan turned into a rushing roar-- the sound of a great weight of snow sliding down the mountainside. My skin crawled. My worst fear was being buried alive by an avalanche, and I hoped that it wouldn’t be my fate today.
But apparently the avalanche hadn’t been as big as it sounded. After a long, terrifying moment, the crash of snow faded away. The rushing sound echoed around the valley for a bit, but then silence fell once again.
I held my breath a few moments longer, and then let it out in a shaky sigh and glanced at my father. He was squinting curiously in the direction of the avalanche. Jencin just looked excited. “What’dya think caused it?” he whispered.
My father just shook his head slightly, still staring into the fog intently. Most of his face was covered with a thick, dark beard, and his fur hat sat low on his brow. In that dim morning light, I could just barely make out his eyes. He looked nervous.
Then a sound came behind us--a raven cawed. A raven was hardly an ideal meal, but it made me smile just to hear any other living thing out there. Where there was one, there were bound to be more.
Jencin smiled, too, at the sound, but when he continued walking, my father reached out and stopped him. I saw the look on my father’s face and felt my insides go cold. My father was still scanning the fog, unmoving, but now there was real concern in his eyes. He cocked his head as if to hear something better.
Then I heard it, too--the fa-whump fa-whump of something running through snow. Heading straight toward us.
We didn’t have more warning than that. No sooner had I detected the sound then suddenly a huge dark shape materialized in the mist. All I saw was thick fur and a huge mouth. The creature was as tall as a man and twice as broad. I couldn’t help myself--I screamed. It was unmistakably a predator, and we hunters had just become prey.
The creature nearly barreled into us, but at the last second it pulled up short as if it were just as surprised as we were. It slid to a halt, kicking up a flurry of snow, and it made a sound like the bark of a dog, but deeper. When it regained its footing and backed up a few steps, I saw that it looked very doglike. Sharp ears, long legs, a thick bushy tail. Not doglike--wolflike. It was massive, with great hunched shoulders and dark, intense eyes. My fear wasn’t lessened any by the fact that we miraculously still had our throats intact. For all I knew, we had caught this monster by surprise, but it would quickly recover and slaughter us all.
I’d naturally fallen into a crouch with my spear extended. Jencin and my father had staggered backwards at the creature’s appearance, but they now looked just as ready as I was for a fight.
“What the devil--?” Jencin cursed, and he hurled his spear at the creature. It was an impulsive throw, with more fear than strength behind it, and it sailed harmlessly wide of the beast. But now the creature lowered its head and braced its feet warily. A low growl rumbled from its chest. Its dark eyes watched us through the mist, waiting for us to make another move.
“Don’t waste your spear,” my father said to me. “Wait until you’re sure.” He nodded to his left, then to his right. I slowly moved left, and Jencin drew his dagger and went right, just as if we were cornering a deer.
My hands shook slightly and my heart pounded. The creature took another step back when it saw what we were doing. It raised its head and looked back and forth between Jencin and me. Any second now I expected it to lunge for one of us. Our spears--and especially Jencin’s dagger--seemed feeble compared to the massive animal in front of us. It still hadn’t done anything aggressive, but its ferocity and prowess could almost be sensed more than seen. For the briefest moment I thought how amazing it would be to observe an animal like that in the wild. It was almost a pity to kill it. But it had to be done. We couldn’t let a thing like that anywhere near our village.
So I planted my feet and raised my spear to shoulder height. The creature fixed its eyes on me and I froze. Then Jencin took a step as if to charge in with his dagger, and the beast whipped around.
I seized the moment and hurled my spear right at the creature’s hunched shoulder. My aim was true, but somehow the creature dodged. No, it was still facing Jencin in the same position as before, but somehow my spear had passed right by it.
Then I realized the creature’s shoulders looked smaller, as if it had shrunk in size to dodge my spear. But no--
I saw something moving on the ground. I gaped at it, trying to understand what was happening. It was the same color as the wolflike creature, but then I saw legs--human legs--pushing itself backwards through the snow until it rolled to hands and knees and scurried behind the wolflike creature’s legs.
It was a person. A person had been on that creature’s back. Had they not rolled off at the last second, my spear would have killed them. Now I just stared, peering through the fog and wondering what on earth was going on.
Jencin, too, looked stunned, but my father was undeterred. He had raised his spear to eye level and now I recognized the look on his face that he got whenever about to undertake something very difficult. He was confident, though. I was, too--confident that if anyone could kill this beast, it was my father.
The creature stood protectively in front of the person on the ground, faced my father square on, and gave an almost-challenging whoof.
My father let the spear fly with a murderous yell.
The creature leaped. With a graceful twist that didn’t match its huge build, it jumped out of the spear’s way. But before it fell, it reached back to catch the spear between its teeth midair. Then it landed on its feet with its back to us. It looked over its shoulder with the spear in its jaws and wagged its tail slightly, as if this were all just a game to it.
Then it bit down hard. The spear snapped clean in half and fell to the ground.
We stood there, stunned, as the creature shook a splinter from its tongue and turned to face us again. Then I hurriedly backed away to stand by my father again. Jencin followed, nearly tripping over his own feet. What was this thing?
I had almost forgotten about the creature’s rider. Seeing us frozen in shock, the figure suddenly staggered to his feet and came around to the dog’s side. “Hold your fire, you savages!” the person said. “We haven’t done anything to you!”
Now that I could get a good look at him, I saw that they (he) was very short; more than a foot smaller than me. He was so wrapped in furs that it was impossible to tell much more until he threw back his hood and pulled down the scarf from around his face. Then I saw I’d been mistaken.
“A woman?” I said aloud.
She was almost as wolflike as the creature standing at her side. Her eyes were narrow and curved upward slightly. They were a startling, icy blue like no eyes I’d ever seen before. Her hair was pale gold, and it was wrapped around her head in a dishevelled braid.
“An Aglayan,” Jencin growled.
I stiffened again and reached for the dagger at my belt . Now it all made sense. She was one of those wolf riders from the south. Now that I looked, I saw that it was just her cloak that was the same color as her mount’s fur--a kind of mottled brownish-grey . Under the cloak she wore a grey uniform trimmed with thick white fur, the Aglayan Sun stitched on the front. There was a curved blade in her hand, but she held it slightly behind her as if reluctant to use it.
“Too right I’m Aglayan,” she said in a thick accent. She casually sheathed her knife, and then brushed the snow from her sleeves irritably. As she did so, I saw that there was a wide tear in her cloak that allowed the white fog to show from the other side. My spear must have caught the cloak as she dodged it.
The Aglayan caught sight of the hole, too, and she froze. Then she looked up and glared pointedly at me. “My trainer slaved over that cloak,” she said.
A chill crept down my spine. This woman didn’t look like much of a threat, but her dog certainly was. And where there was one Aglayan wearing their royal crest, there might be others. I glanced around warily and felt for the dagger at my hip, almost expecting an ambush of Aglayan warriors to appear any moment.
My father, though, seemed unfazed. He took a step forward, his back stiff and his presence commanding. “Who are you?” he said. “What are you doing here? Tell us, or we attack again.”
The Aglayan woman let out an annoyed huff and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
My father said nothing. He just met her gaze with a steady, stern expression. The woman stood straighter and lifted her chin. There was a heavy pause as they waited for the other to blink. I marveled at my father’s bravery, staring down an Aglayan warrior with a giant wolf dog at her side.
Surprisingly, the Aglayan’s resolve didn’t last long. She sucked on her lip and folded her arms, then looked down at the ground and tapped her fingers as if thinking something over.
“Fine,” she said at last, shaking a stray hair out of her eyes. “I’m not looking for any trouble. My name is Nara. I’m just passing through.”
That wasn’t a satisfactory response. My father scoffed and folded his arms. “What does New Aglaya want with us?”
“She’s probably a spy,” Jencin mumbled. I glanced at him and raised my eyebrows in agreement.
“No. I’m not,” said the Aglayan, Nara. She drummed her fingers on her arm even more impatiently. “I’m just leaving New Aglaya. On my own terms. Looking for a new place of residence, you could say.” The more she spoke, the more annoyed she sounded, her voice laced with false politeness, as if this whole conversation was beneath her.
“Your people own the oceans,” Jencin said, waving a hand in the direction of the sea. “Why wouldn’t you come by ship unless you wanted to come unnoticed?”
“The way I came isn’t important,” the Aglayan said. But her annoyance had turned to defensiveness. “Don’t question what the Sun directed me to do.”
I snorted loudly at that. I couldn’t help myself. The Aglayan glared at me again. No doubt she was hoping that mention of the Sun--the creator of the world, the source of all light and warmth and goodness--would quell any suspicions we had. But I wasn’t going to let her exploit the one thing that we Ragnarans had in common with the Aglayans.
“You came all this way,” I said, “over the mountains, in the middle of winter, because the Sun told you to?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” said the Aglayan testily. She stared us down again, but I did my best not to flinch, and my father and Jencin did likewise.
The Aglayan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m no scout. I’m not here under orders from the king. I’m alone. I have no intention of staying here permanently. Just let me through.”
“You expect us to just believe you?” said Jencin. “We’re not just gonna let you take that thing” he thrust a finger at the Aglayan dog, “into our village.”
The Aglayan glanced over at her dog. It stood beside her like a stone guardian, unmoving all this while except to slowly look around at us. Its fur was slightly bristling, and it stood so still, I expected it to spring at us any moment.
As if gaining strength from her mount, the Aglayan gripped the dagger at her belt and said, “I’m not really asking you to believe me.” We stiffened, and she drew the dagger from her belt again, looking determined despite her small size. “Move aside before my dog attacks.”
I licked my lips and met the dog’s gaze. Its ears swivelled backwards, and I flinched. But then I realized that it was just responding to the Aglayan, who had let out a short hiss. The Aglayan hissed twice, as if issuing a command, and I braced myself for an attack.
But the dog just looked briefly at the Aglayan, then shook out its fur and looked at us again, dismissing her. I squinted at the pair and found myself relaxing a bit, amusement almost forcing a smile onto my face.
The Aglayan swallowed, glancing at us nervously, and then she tried hissing at the dog again.
Again, it ignored her.
The Aglayan turned back to us as if nothing had happened, but we had all noticed. The dog hadn’t listened to her, whatever she had wanted it to do. While it was still an impressively intimidating creature, I found myself less worried about it attacking us.
But not so unworried that I was ready to let this Aglayan go free.
I leaned close to my father and said under my breath, “I don’t like this. She’s one of those Whisperers.”
“You’re the one who’s whispering,” said the Aglayan. I jumped, surprised that she had heard me. “Trust me, I don’t like this, either.” She continued to glare at us with those cold eyes of hers, but after a moment she lowered her weapon to her side. “I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just passing through. Now let me go.”
We weren’t going to back down, and Jencin was getting especially bold. He slowly walked towards the Aglayan, his dagger raised. “You’re our enemy,” he said. “You have no power here to tell us what to do. You’re half our size. Back down, or we’ll take you down by force.”
The tension was thick in the foggy air, and again I got ready for a fight. But with Jencin approaching so menacingly, suddenly the dog reacted. A horrible growl bubbled out of its throat, making Jencin stop in his tracks. We gaped at the monster before us. Its black lips were pulled back to expose gleaming white fangs the length of our fingers. Its fur stood on end, making it look twice as big. Its brown eyes glared at us, and I felt my knees go weak with fear. Jencin looked ready to go running back the way he’d come, but he was frozen with fright. Even my father’s eyes were wide. The animal had started to look more and more like a dog to me as we confronted the Aglayan, but now it was pure wolf--pure predator--and we were easy prey.
The Aglayan looked at her mount and smiled. She rested a hand on its bristling shoulders, unafraid. Then she looked up at us and smirked. “I’m not here to fight,” she said confidently, “but my dog is three times your size and if you try to harm me, he will stop you. You back down.”
Nobody moved for a long minute. The dog’s growl had faded away, but I shuddered as its gaze swept around our group.
My father shifted his weight uncomfortably, looking down at the ground in thought. Then, to my surprise, he sheathed his dagger and slowly stepped to the side to let the Aglayan pass. I stared at him, then at the Aglayan, and back, uncomprehending.
“We can’t--” I said. But my father gave me a sharp look, and I fell silent. Setting my jaw, I stepped back as well. Jencin reluctantly followed our lead, and we made a path between us to allow the Aglayan to pass.
Satisfied, the Aglayan sheathed her knife and took a step forward. I stiffened, anticipating a trick, and she waited before taking the next step, raising her hands slightly as if to show us that she wasn’t going to try anything stupid. I never relaxed, but I didn’t move either as she slowly made her way past us. Neither did Jencin or my father.
The Aglayan passed so close to me that I could have reached out and touched her. I was tempted to--I could have easily lunged and stabbed her through the heart. But her dog padded after her, its head directly beside her shoulder, and I quickly stumbled backwards to give it plenty of room. Only then did I notice that the dog had a saddle and packs on its back.
My mind burned with questions as the Aglayan and her dog passed us and headed directly for the village. The Aglayan never glanced back, but broke into a purposeful stride as if she had forgotten us already. I itched to run after her, to stop her--to do anything to keep her away from my family and friends. I didn’t know what she intended, and that scared me.
Jencin and my father closed the gap between us, and we all glared after the Aglayan.
“Father,” I said, panic rising in my voice, “We can’t let her go to the village. We can’t. She could set that dog on anybody.”
“I know,” said my father, his eyes stormy. “She might have the Aglayan crown behind her, or she might not. Either way, forget the hunting trip. We don’t have any grounds to stop her, but we’re not letting her out of our sight.”
