The Legend of the A-Khela, Part II
It took a fortnight until Annariel was fit to travel. While she was recovering, Astred had returned to Ravndal to report what had happened. Arl Thelm had sent another group of warriors to escort Annariel back to Ravndal. Leading them was a young warrior named Marjoner. He had a tall and sturdy build, with short dark hair and an affable personality. He had served with some distinction in battle, and he had been raised to a seat in the court of the Arl as an advisor. When he entered, Annariel stood from the bed, using her spear to support her weight. The two had met on several occasions, and they were friends, if not terribly close. He led Annariel to her horse, and the party set off for Ravndal. While they traveled, Marjoner told her that other villages had been attacked by these wolves, and that Gellena had revealed that they were products of similar blood magic to that which had created the blood ragers. The Arl had ordered that traps be laid throughout the North, and all wolves should be caught and killed so that they could not be used by their enemies. Marjoner continued, telling of how some of the wolves that were captured alive were taken to the arena in Ravndal, where warriors who were bold enough could prove their bravery and skill by facing a starved wolf in single combat. He said it was inspired by her single combat with the alpha. She shook her head, surprised that the Arl would have taken such a drastic action against nature. He had always respected the gods and nature, regardless of what other chieftains had complained about or said. He had always said that all life should be held sacred, as the gods have blessed all those under the sky. It would have taken extremely strong counsel to shift his mind in this fashion.
When they finally arrived at Ravndal, Annariel was asked to ride at the head of the company. As she entered the city, the streets were lined with people. As they saw her, a great cheer erupted from the crowd. She rode down the streets, stunned into silence by the outpouring of adulation from the crowd. As she reached the steps of the palace, with its towering wood and stone rising above her like a mountain, she looked up to see the Arl standing in his finest armor. At his side was Gellena, Astred, and many other nobles. She dismounted, and the Arl beckoned for her to approach. She advanced timidly at first, unsure of what to expect. However, a smile from Astred gave her a sense of security, and her steps became more confident. When she stood before the Arl, he motioned for her to kneel.
âShieldmaiden Annariel, you have proven your exceptional bravery and strength against unimaginable foesâ, the Arl proclaimed, âYour service is worthy of every glory and honor. Therefore, let you henceforth be known as Annariel Wolfslayer. Furthermore, I bestow on you the title of Valkyrie. Accept these tokens of your new stationâ. An steward came forward and handed the Arl a beautiful cloak. It was made from the hide of the alpha, dyed purple and covered in the runes and symbols of a valkyrie. The fur that lined it was still black, and the alphaâs head had been shrunk so that it could be affixed to the left shoulder of the cape. The Arl draped the cape around her shoulders, fastening it with a silver brooch set with amethyst. The alphaâs head rested on her left shoulder, itâd lifeless eye staring off into the east. The Arl then reached for an ornate spear made of the finest steel. He touched it to each of Annarielâs shoulders, then he bid her rise. He smiled, then handed her the spear and turned her to face the crowd. The newly christened valkyrie thrust her spear into the sky, and the crowd roared their approval.
That evening, a great feast was held to honor Annariel. The food and drink was exceptional, but what Annariel loved most was the dance. From the minstrelâs first note, she grabbed Astred and the two danced with a grace unmatched by any. They inspired others, and soon the hall was filled with dancing. Marjoner cut in to dance with Annariel. Â He was somewhat clumsy in his movement, but his effort was genuine. Annariel smiled, but soon returned to dancing with Astred. Marjoner retreated to a corner of the feasting hall, watching Annariel as she spun and leapt in perfect time. The Arl gave many toasts, and all were satisfied. The palace fires burned late into the night, and the feast seemed to all who were gathered like a feast in Valhalla.
The next morning, Annariel was invited by the Arl to observe the Challenge of the Wolf that her exploits had inspired. Several wolves had been captured alive, and each had been claimed by a challenger. Wearing her wolfskin cloak and carrying her spear, she was seated next to the Arl in his box. The arena lay below, a simple dirt pit surrounded by a wooden wall. In the past, this had been home to hunts or contests of skill between warriors. Annariel still had her reservations about the Arlâs order, but she didnât dare question it in public. She would have to wait until she could secure a private audience. The master of the arena read off the name of the first challenger, who entered the arena carrying a massive greataxe. A cage was positioned on the other side of the arena, which contained  a wolf with a light brown coat. It looked starved and desperate, pacing inside its cage. A horn sounded, and the cage was opened. The wolf darted out, seeking a way to escape the pit. Finding none, it turned towards the warrior. The man charged at the wolf, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The wolf dodged, then lunged at the manâs heels. He struck the wolf with the haft of his axe, knocking it back. The wolf yelped, but quickly regained its footing. The wolf dodged many blows from the warriorâs axe, but eventually its movements slowed with exhaustion. Finally, the warrior brought his axe down in a crushing blow. The axe head split the wolfâs back in two, and the wolf let out a whimper before its breath stopped. The warrior lifted his bloody axe in victory, and the crowd roared its approval. Annariel had turned her head away before the final blow was struck. She felt sickened by the sight she had witnessed, but she said nothing for fear of contradicting the Arl. Several more wolves met their ends in similar ways, with the warriors that challenged them suffering only minor wounds. Finally, the arena master announced the final challenger.
âOur final challenger, Marjoner, advisor to the Arl. He will face the prize wolf of todayâs contest, captured on the border of Valkensviâ. Marjoner strode into the arena confidently, his sword flashing in the sunlight. The cage with his challenger was also carried in, though unlike those that had come before, it was covered by a thick black cloth.
âI dedicate this challenge to my Arl, and to the mighty Wolfslayer!â, Marjoner shouted. He then motioned for the cage to be opened. The horn sounded. The cloth was torn away. The sight that met Annariel struck her like a hammer.
Within the cage was the same wolf that had defended her against the blood ragers. Itâs black fur had lost none of its luster, and the thin white stripes and paws and face were now free from the stain of blood. Unlike the previous wolves, it seemed calm, and it did not pace in the cage. When the cage door swung open, it walked slowly out into the arena. The wolf fixed its golden eyes on Marjoner, who readied his sword and shield to attack. The wolf stood its ground silently. Annariel was aghast. She could not let her saviorâs fate be the same as that of the others whose blood stained the arena floor. She grabbed her spear and leapt out of the Arlâs box. She raced through the crowd as Marjoner advanced cautiously towards the wolf. By the time she vaulted the wall, the two were within striking distance. As she landed in the arena, Marjoner raised his sword to deliver a blow. The wolf made no indication that it would dodge. She stood and began to run, but she was too late. The blade fell through the air.
It found a sheath in the dirt of the arena floor. The wolf had casually sidestepped the blow at the last minute. It made no move to counterattack. Marjoner pulled his blade free and took a step back, reestablishing his defense. The two circled as Annariel raced towards them, crying for them to stop. They were deaf to her pleas amid the roar of the crowd, and Marjoner attacked a second time. However, this time the wolf did not need to dodge, as Annarielâs spear parried the strike. The crowd let out a series of confused shouts as she forced Marjoner back from the wolf. She pointed her spear at his throat and told him to disarm. Marjoner dropped his weapons and stepped back. The Arl stood and demanded to know what she was thinking. She held her hand up for silence, and the crowd complied. She then turned to face the wolf. Its golden eyes looked to her spear, then her cloak, then met her gaze. Annariel raised her spear, then thrust it into the dirt. She stripped the cloak from her shoulders, letting it fall away as she walked towards the wolf. The wolf did not move or shift its gaze as she approached. She knelt before the wolf and extended her hand. The wolf placed its snow white paw in her hand, and there was a sudden, blinding flash of light.
When the crowd recovered their sight, the wolf was gone. In its place was a man, his hand in Annarielâs. They both stood, and all took him in. He stood naked, revealing a thin, lithe body. His pale skin was covered in tattoos of black intertwining lines that mirrored the white lines of the wolfâs fur. On his left chest was the same rune that had been on the forehead of the wolf. His long black hair bore a streak of pure white. Even Annariel was stunned by what had happened. She blushed at his nakedness, and handed the man her cloak so that he might cover himself. He cocked his head to the side, seeming not to understand what she was doing. Then he spoke. His voice was pleasant and rich, with a slight bark to its cadence. However, his words were not in the common language of the North, nor of any regional dialect or form of speech from the South. They were from the ancient language of the shamans. None present could understand what he said, and he repeated himself, looking around with a perplexed expression. A steward was immediately dispatched to find Gellena and bring her to the arena. Meanwhile guards leapt into the arena and surrounded both the man and Annariel. The man panicked, dropping into a low crouch with his hands touching the ground. His golden eyes continued to scan the guards, as if he expected them to attack. Annariel ordered the men to lower their weapons, but to no avail. The tense standoff lasted several minutes. Finally, Gellena hobbled into the arena, flanked by the Arl and Marjoner. The encircling guards parted to allow the old woman to approach. She spoke to the man in the ancient language, and he responded eagerly. The two went back and forth, and she pointed to the cloak. She must have explained to the man that he was naked, as he nodded and then covered himself appropriately. She then led him from the arena towards the temple, while the crowd stood in stunned silence at what they had just witnessed. The Arl and Marjoner approached Annariel and asked if she was ok, but she ignored them. Instead, she followed Gellena and the man back to the temple.
When they arrived, she sat in the corner as the old woman and the man conversed in the ancient language. Simple clothes of black cloth were brought for the man, and Gellena helped him to dress properly. The man then walked up to Annariel and handed her cloak. She accepted it, continuing to stare as he resumed talking to Gellena. Suddenly, the two fell silent. They walked to the central fire, standing on either side of it. The two began to chant in unison, their voices mixing into a resonant whole. Some of the runes on Gellenaâs staff began to glow, as did the tattoos on the manâs skin. The fire danced to the words that they chanted. Suddenly, the shaman struck her staff against the floor, and the manâs hands clapped together. He slowly turned to Annariel. Their eyes met.
âThank you for your cloakâ, the man said. His speech was flawless, and this sudden change caused Annariel to jump back. Both Gellena and the man laughed. Gellena explained that she had used her magic to allow him to speak and understand the language of the north. She went on to explain that neither she nor the man had any idea how he came to be, if he had always been a wolf, or where he was from. He had no memories of any time that he was not a wolf, and therefore he had no name.
âHowever, I think the whe will call you Khelaâ. The shaman said to the man. She then explained to Annariel that Khela was the rune inscribed on the manâs chest, and that it meant wolf in the ancient language. The old shaman said that she would keep Khela with her for the night, and teach him some of the basic manners he would need. The newly named Khela suddenly rushed forward and hugged Annariel, and licked her face. Annariel was shocked by such a forward display of affection, that she froze. Khela quickly realised he had done something wrong and released her. Gellena laughed and said that everything would be alright. Â She then dismissed Annariel so she could begin tutoring her new student.
Annariel wandered back to where she lived, oblivious to all around her. When she arrived, she was met by Astred, who had just returned from a scouting mission and had heard about the events at the arena. Annariel recounted the true events of how the wolf had saved her when she had witnessed the blood ritual, and how she could not allow her savior to be destroyed. The shield sisters sat for a while in silence, both processing the events. Marjoner arrived later, but Annariel refused to see him. She had too much on her mind to consider. As she slipped into a restless dream, she thought of the prophecy that Gellena had recounted. âYou will know him by his mark.â
In the days that followed, Khela was seen wandering the streets of the Ravndal. While Gellena had convinced him to wear pants out of concern for decency, he wore no shirt. His hair was pulled back, the white streak running the length to where it was secured with a leather thong. He took interest in everything he came across, asking curious questions of anyone who would suffer him. He was often accompanied by Gellena. Khela bounded around the wizened shaman, eventually exhausting her with his seemingly boundless energy. Luckily for Gellena, the pair encountered Annariel and Astred as they made their way towards the training fields. Khela raced forward on all fours and tackled Annariel, violently licking her face. Astred laughed at her shield sisterâs misfortune as annariel pushed Khela off her. The old shaman admonished Khela, then asked the two if they might take him with them to the training fields to let him expend some excess energy. The two agreed, and the three set off.
The field was full of warriors. Some sparred with blunted weapons, while others wrestled or engaged in other training exercises. The three walked amid the men and women until they found an open space. Khelaâs eyes were wide as he took in all the sights of the field. The women decided to test his strength and combat skills now that he was no longer a wolf. After explaining the rules of wrestling, Annariel attacked Khela. He easily sidestepped her, and she tumbled to the ground. Astred laughed, then joined in the fray. The two women launched repeated attacks, but Khelaâs canine agility had carried over into his human form. He easily evaded them, and often would trip them up and pin them. He would playfully nip at their ears or nose before letting them up again. After a while, they retrieved blunted swords and shields from the quartermaster. The two women tried to get Khela to use the shield properly, but he kept abandoning it in order to attack with both hands. Finally, Annariel gave up on the shield and decided to try giving him two swords. Khela adapted to this fighting style quickly, using the swords in the same way he had used his claws as a wolf. Even with her spear, Annariel found it difficult to repel his swift slashes and agile footwork. He had natural skill as a warrior, and soon their sparring attracted a crowd. The men and women that gathered placed bets on who would emerge successful, the wolf man or the shield sisters. Amid the crowd was Marjoner, and though he did not bet, he hoped that Khela would lose. The melee was fierce, with Khela using all his wolf-like agility to parry attacks from Annarielâs spear and Astredâs sword. Finally, Khela found his opening. Annariel had retreated to prepare for another strike, so he boldly tackled Astred. He placed his teeth on her throat, and she was called dead. He then rolled to his feet to face Annariel. The valkyrie lunged with her spear. Khela barely ducked under the spear, pushing the point skyward with one of his swords while he slid into her ankles. She staggered but did not fall. Annariel swung her shield down at Khela, but he rolled between her legs and placed his blade at the back of her neck. The few who had bet on Khela gave out loud cheers, while the rest groaned at having to pay out. Khela reacted to the cheers, giving a vibrant howl. The winners of their bets echoed his howl, as did others who were impressed by the wolf man. Both Annariel and Astred wondered privately whether Khela might be the one chosen by the prophecy. He certainly had great skill, and even on his second day he was drawing others to follow him in little ways. With the mark on his chest, he seemed like he could be the champion. However, Gellena had said he would also be heralded by omens, and none of great significance had been seen. The two women could only look on as the smiling man before them led another round of howls.
Weeks passed, and Khela became a facet of life around Ravndal. He lived in the temple with Gellena, and it was common to see the two of them conversing in the ancient language at any hour. He had adjusted fairly well to life in society, but he still possessed a number of quirks that reminded everyone of his canine past. He refused to sleep in a bed, preferring to curl up in front of the templeâs central fire or on one of the balconies in the open air. He would often cock his head to the side when conversing with others. When he would see Annariel or Astred, he would often break from whatever he was doing and race over to greet them. His loyalty to them was akin to that of a hound raised from birth. In melees on the training fields, he would guard the two zealously, even getting hurt once or twice in the process. At feasts or other gatherings, he could be found sitting on the floor in front of them or seated awkwardly on a bench next to them. Once, he even curled up in Annarielâs lap when they were gathered around a campfire telling stories. Many thought that something would begin between Khela and Annariel, and the two were often seen walking together or playing games by the firelight. Khela showed similar affection to Astred, but anyone who followed his golden eyes knew that his deepest feeling were for Annariel. Whispers among some of the arlâs advisors who had been told of the prophecy said that the union of a Valkyrie with the wolf man would be a clear omen that would name him the chosen champion.
However, other forces were at work while Khela adapted to human life. Attacks continued to plague the borders of the North. Blood ragers and Drakul wolves struck without mercy, but the Arlâs patrols kept them from the heartland of his land. Much of this success was attributed to strategies of Marjoner, the young captain who had risen to be one of the Arlâs most important advisor in the current crisis. His rise had garnered some whispers that he could be the chosen one for his skill and the crest of new lordship being his mark. However, any attention he might have gained was overshadowed by the arrival of Khela. He also had begun seeking to court Annariel, but her time with Khela was making that seem less viable. Â He had not been informed of the prophecy due to his junior rank, but he knew that the Arl was looking to elevate Khela, possible above him. This did not sit well with Marjoner, and he began to brood on the dimming of his newborn star.
One day while he was riding home alone from a village that had been attacked, Marjoner was approached by a hooded woman. He could see nothing of her face except her sharp chin, blood red lips, and pale skin. She whispered in his ear all his desires, and claimed to be able to bring them about. She did not reveal her identity, but the detail with which she spoke of Marjonerâs life made him feel assured that she had some place in Ravndal. She provided him with several maps and a small charm bag. The maps bore the Blaghvold clan seal and supposedly detailed routes that their blood ragers and wolves would take to try and make inroads into the Arlâs lands. The woman claimed to have found them abandoned by a freshly extinguished campfire near the tundra. The charm bag, she claimed, would reveal when her promises would come to fruition, and when Marjonerâs ambition would be realized. She would at that time appear, and make a single request of him that he must grant. Â He thanked the woman, then sped home in order to take action on his newly gathered intelligence.
When he arrived, he immediately briefed the Arl on his newly discovered intelligence. The Arl gave him full leave to direct forces as he saw fit to counter the threat. As he deployed his men and women, He took care to assign Annariel to serve with him, while sending Khela to one of the most isolated targets. Within a fortnight, Marjoner stood before the Arl to report a complete success of his attacks. The Arl promoted him to the rank of Jarl, which granted him both a title of nobility and a permanent position in the court. His dimming star had brightened again, and he became the focus of the rumors concerning who the champion would be. However, the charm bag never glowed. Marjoner thought nothing of it. He was enjoying the adoring gaze of the people, and the attention of Annariel in particular. The two began spending more time alone, leaving Khela to walk the streets alone.
It was almost a year until the charm bag finally began to glow. Its deep red light lit Marjonerâs bedchambers like a darkened, bloodstained slaughterhouse. He jumped when he saw the woman at the foot of his bed.
âThe time has come to grant my requestâ, she whispered. Marjenor listened with increasing horror and interest as she related the prophecy to him. She went on to claim to know that he would be the one to reveal the betrayer, and that he would come to find out soon after her visit. The woman handed him another map. This one showed Ravndal. Sections of the wall were marked as if to indicate points of attack. He spent the remainder of the night studying the map, and by morning he was before the Arl, presenting him with his plans to fortify Ravndal. The Arl gave his consent with few questions, allowing Marjoner to build defences against incursions at the points shown in the map. He kept the map secret in his quarters, not wanting to reveal the source of his information.
It was nearing the end of the month when the attack finally came. The cold winds of winter were still a ways off, but the air bore a chilling sense of foreboding that night as guards patrolled the ramparts. The first to fall did so silently, as blood ragers that had scalede the walls cut them down from behind. This section of the cityâs defences were lighter than normal, as it had not been marked on the map. Majoner had diverted their resources to reinforce other areas. No one in Ravndal knew anything was wrong until the entire city was awoken by the sound of stones being crushed and mortar giving way as some great force pounded into the wall. Guards ran from their heavily fortified positions to see what was happening. When the arrived, they didnât notice the bodies of their fallen comrades or the obvious traces of the blood ragers. Instead, they looked down at the base of the wall. Preparing to ram the wall was a massive boar. It stood the size of a longship, with six stout legs supporting its massive girth. Its tusks had been capped in massive steel prongs to help it batter down the wall. It launched itself forward. The guards on the ramparts held on for dear life as the wall shook. One tumbled over the crenelations and fell screaming to his death. There was no way the wall could hold back the attack for long.The guards struggled to maintain their balance as they raced along the rampart to warn their comrades.
The sound of the the assault roused Marjoner. He quickly donned his armor and grabbed his weapon. He raced out into the street and looked up to the section of wall where the noise was coming from. He cursed the woman and her map. There was not supposed to be ay assault in that area. He raced to the barracks to rally the rest of the cityâs defenders. When he arrived, Annariel and Astred were already directing warriors to arm themselves. Marjoner took the men who were ready towards the wall, while the two women remained to organize the rest of the cityâs forces. Marjoner was only halfway to the wall before it collapsed. Majoner pushed his men forward, praying that the guards on the wall would hold the breach until reinforcements could reach them.
Nothing could have prepared either Marjoner or his men for what they saw trying to push their way through the gap in the wall. It seemed as though the gates of the underworld had been opened on the other side of the wall. Horned demons covered with armored scales and claws like swords clambered over the rubble. Creeping along the upper sections of the walls were humanoid creatures with masses of sucker coated tentacles in the place of her arms. Drakul wolves being ridden by blood ragers dashed amid the more otherworldly attackers. It would seem impossible for anyone to stand against such a damned army.
However, there were a small number of warriors engaged in a desperate struggle to hold back the enemy. These were not guards from the walls. None of them carried a shield. Instead, each of them carried a second sword or axe. Each of the warriors had a helmet shaped into the form of a wolfâs head. Â Their fur lined armor added to their lupine appearance. These men were Khelaâs devoted followers. They lived with him in the temple complex, training alongside him and following him in every aspect of their lives. He was their alpha, and they were his pack. They showed no fear, moving in unspoken coordination to take down one threat after another. In the center of the breach was Khela himself. He single handedly faced off against one of the horned demons. The claws of the beast raked through the air, but Khelaâs wolflike agility allowed him to slip past the beasts defences and plunged his swords into the beastâs unarmored belly. Khela mercilessly eviscerated the beast, then leapt to bring down one of the tentacled aberrations on the wall. He and his pack, despite their small size, were actually holding the breach.
Marjoner recovered his bearing and lead his forces to help relieve Khelaâs forces. The two fought together against the onslaught, until suddenly Khela snapped his head towards another section of the wall. He gave a howl, and the other lupine warriors echoed the call. They all then raced away from the breach. Marjoner cried out for them to return, calling them all manner of names. Khelaâs force ignored him, continuing to disappear through the streets. Marjoner returned his focus to the invading enemies. While his men did not fight with as much coordination as Khelaâs pack, they continued to hold the line. He cursed the wolf man as his sword cleaved through a blood ragerâs neck.
Across the city, Annariel led her forces towards another section of the wall where there were reports of enemy attacks. When she arrived on the wall, she was greeted by a gruesome sight. Several of the tentacled aberrations had killed the guards on that section. From their mouths extended a twisting tongue that ended in a sharp barb. They stabbed their tongues into the corpses, and began to suck the fluids from the bodies. Annariel and her focres overcame their disgust and horror through their anger and desire to avenge their comrades. She charged, leading her forces against the distorted beings before her. The aberrations withdrew their tongues, then lashed out with their tentacles at the warriors. The tentacles wrapped themselves around the bodies of the warriors, then thorns burst from the suckers to pierce the menâs armor. As the tentacles released the bodies, they were torn apart, spewing blood and entrails across the battlements. Annariel used her spear and shield to keep the tentacles at bay. Her forces were unprepared to deal with this threat, and, they were quickly pushed back. Soon, she stood alone before three of the abominations. As their tentacles reached out to tear her apart, she braced to enter Valhalla as a true Valkyrie. She threw her spear through the bulbous head of the nearest creature, then drew her sword. The remaining two closed in, their suckers pulsating as they attacked. Annariel began to back up, but she suddenly slipped on the gore. The tentacles reached out to end her life.
Blades sliced through the tentacles. The creatures cried out in pain and surprise as Khelaâs pack attacked from behind. They tore the aberrations to shreds. Khela raced over to Annariel. He looked her over, then helped her to her feet. He hugged her tightly, glad to see her alive. However, their reunion was cut short by the arrival of Marjoner. He stormed his way onto the battlements, demanding to know why Khela and his warriors had abandoned the breach. Annariel tried to defend Khela, but Marjoner would hear none of it. Khela seemed to ignore Marjoner, looking out from the wall and sniffing the air. Marjoner tried to get in his face, but Khela maintained his focus. Suddenly, Khela let loose a short burst of barks. His pack responded silently, lining up on the walls. Both Marjoner and Annariel were puzzled by their actions. However, their reason soon became apparent. The great boar the had broke through the wall the wall had returned to create another breach. It charged the wall, slamming its iron clad tusks into the wall. Everyone held on for dear life. Then, Khela and his pack let loose a fearsome howl. Then they leapt from the wall. Annariel tried to grab Khelaâs cape as he jumped to hold him back, but she was left with just a handful of fur. The pack plummeted down the wall. Suddenly, a chant rose up in the ancient tongue. The warriors did not slow in their descent, but their armor glowed faintly as they fell. The pack hit the giant beast with the force of their fall, staggering it. The boar roared, turning to face its new attackers. The pack attacked the legs, darting in and out while avoiding being crushed underfoot or gored by the boarâs tusks. Marjoner and Annariel could do nothing but watch as Khela and his pack danced around their prey. Finally, the beast fled from the wall. The pack chased the boar for a distance before returning to the wall. They raced to the breach on the ground, while Annariel and Marjoner raced along the top of the wall. When the pack arrived at the breach, they quickly cut a path back into Ravdal. They then joined the forces gathered in pushing back the enemy. When the enemy lines broke and they retreated, Khela and his pack let loose a howl of victory, which was echoed by cries and shouts from the other warriors. Victory had been achieved.
However, the costs of the battle were higher than many had first thought. Many had died. A few enemies that had broken through into the city, and they had killed several women and children. There were funerals for the dead over the following days, and healers worked around the clock to save those who were wounded. Meanwhile, a new battle had begun in the throne room of the Arl. Thelm was furious over how flawed Ravndalâs defences had been. Marjoner bore the brunt of the Arlâs anger, as he had been responsible for planning the cityâs protection. Marjoner defended himself, claiming that his defences were based on reliable information. Therefore, Marjoner argued, someone must have informed the enemy of their plans. However, he was not able to offer any proof of this, and so the Arlâs trust in him faded. Marjoner was stripped of his command. Anger surged in him at this disgrace. However, he took solace in his growing relationship with Annariel. Their growing closeness caused a slight rift between him and Khela. The wolf man was never outright hostile, but Marjonerâs actions were always watched closely by his golden eyes.
Khela and his pack were honored by the Arl for their courageous actions during the battle, and the pack grew in size. The Arl tasked Khela and his warriors with patrolling the border, which meant that he was often absent from Ravndal for long periods of time. They served the Arl well, and there was a period of relative peace on the frontier. The pack even struck out into the Valkensvi, trying to find the headquarters of their enemies. They failed to find any sign or indication of a stronghold, but the did find evidence of who was leading the renegade clans against the Arl. The information gathered by the pack showed that the elder shaman of the Blaghvold clan. She held knowledge of ancient blood magic which she had used to create the terrifying forces that had attacked the Arlâs lands. Rumors suggested that she also could use her powers to change her form or bend the will of others to hers. One scrap of information indicated that she might already have someone under her sway. Khela took this information personally to Ravndal to inform the Arl.
However, in Khelaâs absence, many things had come to pass. Marjoner and Annariel had announced their betrothal, with the blessing of the Arl. This union brought Marjoner back into the favor of the Arl, and he was restored to the court as an advisor, though he held very little sway. Marjoner still harbored some resentment in his heart over his lost honor, but he knew what he was promised, and his betrothal seemed evidence that all would come to pass as the woman had promised. Even as Marjoner awaited his good fortune, life in Ravndal was stuck by a second assault. It did not come from any army, but from within the walls. Those who had been wounded in the battle had seemed to recover without any serious complications. However, they eventually came down with an inexplicable fever. They could not keep any food down, and they began to develop long, thin welts the color of clotted blood on their skin. Eventually, these welts would grow and burst, violently spewing blood and puss. After this event, the patient would die by the end of the day, the whole time suffering excruciating pain. The disease spread rapidly, and none had yet survived its ravages. The healers and shamans did their best to ease the pain of the afflicted, while Gellena used her knowledge to chant a spell to protect them from contracting the disease. However, even she was powerless to stop the spread of the disease beyond the temple. Each day more infected were brought into the temple to be quarantined. Marjoner was asked by the Arl to be his liaison to Gellena, and he was often seen in the temple with his face covered, searching for any pattern to the illness that might explain its origin. He found one striking commonality, a mark born by each of the dead in some form. He raced to the Arlâs throne room to deliver his report.
Marjoner and Khela entered the throne room at the same time. Khela immediately tensed on seeing Marjoner, though he could not explain why. The Arl called Khela forward first. Khela told Thelm of his packâs many victories, and that he had uncovered the leader of the forces against the Arl. The wolf man went on to say that he had reason to believe that there was a traitor in the city. Those advisors who knew of the prophecy gasped at this pronouncement, each privately fearing that the champion might already have been thwarted without them even knowing it.
âYou know it because you are the traitor!â, Marjoner shouted at Khela. He strode forward and revealed that the only common factor in the infected was that the welts formed the same rune on Khelaâs chest right before they burst. Â Marjoner went on to say how Khela had known about Ravndalâs defences, and he had been on many missions where he had disappeared for extended periods while claiming to be scouting. He had seemed to be able to predict the enemyâs actions during the attack on Ravndal. Combined with his unexplained origins, Marjoner concluded that there was no other explanation. Khela must be the betrayer. The Arl immediately called for his guards to arrest Khela, but the wolf man was far too quick. He had sensed the danger from the moment Marjoner had opened his mouth. He raced from the room, knocking over the two guards who tried to block his path. As Khela raced out of the palace, he passed Annariel and Astred. The two women had heard that he had returned, and they were excited to see their friend again. As he ran past them, his golden eyes met Annarielâs crystal blue gaze. The pain of regret was obvious in his eyes, and he knew this might be the last time they would see each other. He only paused a moment before racing on, quickly followed by Marjoner and the Arlâs guards. He and the few members of the pack remaining escaped through the breach, which had not yet been fully repaired. The warriors disappeared among the trees, and none had the courage to pursue them.
