A few days ago, Liam had met the interesting female, Ayasha. He'd wandered up further, a good long distance from his own pack lands. His pack lands were boring; the boy craved adventure. He wanted to learn by doing... not by reading and writing and painting and singing. Those were all boring. He wanted to be a warrior, not some lame craftsman. He wanted to fight, not to float along dreaming.
Those butterflies told him how. The black butterflies that whispered to him. They told him how he could become what he wanted to be. Fire and Ice. Some say the world will end in fire; Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire..." His voice trailed off, seeing the wolf skulls mounted on poles. His ears flattened back as he'd realized where he was. Inferni. A place his father spoke of with something akin to fear.
There were stories Tal had told his son, stories of coyotes and their inherent cruelty. Stories of the destruction of Syemv, stories of the first Dahlian war. (Tal hadn't been around for the second one.)
The black butterflies rustled their satin wings, warning the boy in their dry voices to take heed of the warnings. Golden eyes stared up at the skulls. The one in particular he was staring at seemed smaller than the others, as if from a younger wolf instead of a full grown one. For only a moment, he thought he heard a young female speaking, begging for help. And then the dry whispers of the butterflies obscured it.
Liam blinked. Two parts fool, one part brave, he decided he wanted to explore deeper into the mystery of Inferni, and why they two canine species hated each other so much.
The night with Alaine had left him frustrated and drained. Gabriel had returned from that nightmare aching and sore, and desired to make his way back to his bed. That was, at least, the one advantage of living in the human-place. He moved with a wolfish lope along the borders, traveling east. It seemed uneventful, and he supposed nothing would be eventful after dealing with a semi-psychotic woman.
So finding a wolf on the borders was hardly surprising. Gabriel grunted and approached, his limp slight but still pronounced. The tawny boy seemed fascinated by the skulls, and Gabriel found this pleasing. It was the sort of thing he had expected when he had brought the practice north. Scintilla had trained him well. “Boy,” he called out, voice still commanding, posture still that of a wolf in-charge instead of a retired general. “You looking to join them?”
A voice called to him, and his head turned. Golden eyes met those of the older male, and his ears lowered submissively. There was something about this male...Liam swallowed. "No Sir." Perhaps he respected males more than females. Or at least, the masculine males. If it had been a female speaking to him, he probably would have assumed the same cocksure attitude that he had with Ayasha.
Being young, he was unaware of who the male was in front of him. He spoke without thinking, a curious look on his face. "Why would they do something like this? Why do coyotes and wolves hate each other?" He forgot to introduce himself, which was probably just as well. Some coyotes very much hated the Rhiannon family.
Thankfully, the pup hardly had the same attitude as most of the wolves that came to Inferni’s borders. Gabriel had met most of these when he had been ruling Aquila, and it no longer came as a surprise. Finding a respectful wolf was a rare occurrence. The last one he had met had been equally as frustrating. Of course, this boy began to babble at him like any child might. A low growl rose at the word they. For as much of his blood being what it was, Gabriel would never separate himself from the clan.
“We do it to keep outsiders away,” Gabriel explained, settling on the border. His bulk was impressive even if lack of activity had softened some muscles. The fur hid this, though, for it was his father’s pelt he had inherited. “There has always been hate,” he went on, amber eyes sharpening. “Wolves have tried to destroy this clan since it was founded.”
At the soft growl, Liam's ears folded back again. "I meant no disrespect, Sir. But...you don't look like a coyote?" It was both a question, and a statement. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. "I was told that it was the other way, that the coyotes wanted to destroy the wolves..." He was genuinely interested, he actually wanted to learn something. Perhaps this male would be willing to tell him of his side of the stories?
Few of Tal's stories had ever managed to capture Liam's attention. There was something about this male, though, that had Liam wanting to listen.
No, he did not look like a coyote. Gabriel did not look much like that small bit of blood that kept him in this clan, and he had not resembled that since he was a boy. Age had added weight and bulk that all but destroyed a lanky body, turning him into a beast that was made of compact muscle and thick, heavy fur. Still, his face remained taunt and cruel as he stared at the boy, thankful that he at least had the sense not to look him in the eye. “I may not look like a coyote but I have led this clan longer than you’ve been alive,” he declared sourly.
“Inferni has only ever wanted to live. When wolves encroach on us and attack our members, we fight. That is how things work.” Short, simple; Gabriel was hardly obtuse when it came to his stance on these things. “People telling their pups we’re out for blood is the reason wolves come here, looking for trouble. Then they end up on these pikes.” A low rumble accompanied his statement, suggesting that perhaps he imagined this was why the pup had come to the dreaded Inferni. “Did your parents tell you about us? Is that why you came to see the monsters?”
“People telling their pups we’re out for blood is the reason wolves come here, looking for trouble. Then they end up on these pikes. Did your parents tell you about us? Is that why you came to see the monsters?” Liam looked at him, surprised. "No, Sir. I mean, my father told me stories... but my mother... well, Father says she's dead." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't really mean to come up this way, Sir. I mean, I did, but I didn't know you were here." He paused, studying the coyote hybrid. His gaze was curious and respectful.
"I'm Liam Rhiannon, Sir. Did you fight in the Syemv war? Or the Dahlian war? My father told me stories that his mother told him." The butterflies were whispering again, warning him to tread carefully. He obeyed their whispers and fell silent. There was no sense in making this leader angry. The young male was rather in awe of this formidable male so opposite of his own father. He hesitated for a moment, then added softly, as if the male had chastised him, "If you want me to go away I will, Sir."
At least this boy had the common sense to remain careful of his tone. While Gabriel certainly was not the fighter he had been in the past, he could hold his own yet. Those fresh marks from Alaine proved it, even though she was no warrior—but a Secui, and a woman driven mad by grief, these were very dangerous things. He dismissed whatever sob-story the boy was presenting him with; after all, very few families remained whole with the world as it was. His father had been dead for well over three years, though he had been gone long before that.
Oh so he knew about the wars; vaguely, Gabriel tried to recall the name he mentioned. He knew it somewhere, but there had been so many wolves that it did not matter. Had he recalled breaking the woman’s leg while she came to find her dead son, he might have mentioned this. Names were not very important, these days. “I have fought in every war that Inferni has seen,” he said plainly, and this was the truth. Gabriel had been a boy during the first, but an active soldier and finally commander in the others. He knew the face and the truth of these battles. “What did they tell you, about these wars?” He asked flatly, knowing what to expect.
((That's right, Gabe broke her leg, Ahren gave her scars and broke her ribs. It's a wonder there isn't a family feud. LOL))
Liam sat, watching the male with rapt fascination. He'd been in the wars. He was a leader, and a warrior. He was a figure to be admired, respected and feared. "The stories his mother told him were that the coyotes had no reason to raid Syemv and take the lands. That the pack was unfairly ousted from their manor, and that the killings were unjustified." He paused, and looked at the male carefully. "But if that were the case, you would have killed me for just standing here, and you haven't. So there must be more to it than she knew." His voice was thoughtful.
He wracked his mind, trying to think of what he'd heard about the Dhalian war. "Dad said that Inferni and Dhalia were killing and leaving bodies in the other lands. He didn't remember hearing much about it because he was with his mother in Phoenix Valley. She was a leader there." He shrugged. "Dad doesn't like talking about those times much. He says its best left alone. I wanna know more. I think you can learn things from these stories."
A cruel smile washed over Gabriel’s dark, scarred muzzle. He had know these things long ago, when wolves had still come to his door. There had been less since the last war. Some part of him truly believed that doing what he had done—the unprovoked skirmishes, the warning skulls, the great fires—had been the cause for this. It was better this way. Gabriel had no love within him for wolves, even though he was one masquerading as something else.
He stiffened at the mention of the woman, but the boy’s name was Rhiannon and not Sadria. Iskata’s body had been left to the ocean. As far as he could tell, it had never been found. This too, pleased him. Some people were meant to fade away. “If someone took land from your home, would you not want it back? That’s why we chased the wolves from Hell’s Coast.” Simple. Everything was so simple with him. A short nod of approval was given. “You’re smarter than your father. It’s better to talk of them, or you forget. Some wars are unavoidable. We could no more ignore them than we could their aftermath.” As he said this, he nodded westward. Across the river the charred remains of the field still lingered. By next spring, new growth would cover them. The land would heal, but they would remember. How could they not?
“Haku Soul, the man who began these wars, was a demon. He and those like him should be ripped from the earth,” Gabriel growled, his belief in this matter unbending. Had he been alive to know his grandmother, they would have been no different. “He killed and raped many simply because he believed it his right. Others followed him, either out of fear or admiration. The wicked always seem to find weak souls to join them,” the prophet-king went on in disdain.
“If someone took land from your home, would you not want it back? That’s why we chased the wolves from Hell’s Coast.” The boy nodded. There was more to the story, as he had always suspected. But just because Deuce had a prejudice against coyotes, so did Tal. That was probably the entire reason the boy wanted to learn more. And then the leader nodded, and Liam's heart leapt with joy, though his face remained still. The scarred male's praise meant thousands of times more than his own fathers. His tail wagged slightly, then stilled as the hybrid gestured to the mountains, to the burnt lands Liam knew laid beyond. "Sir, what caused the great fire?" His dad had been a pup, only a week or so old, when the lands had been burned. The butterflies whispered of purification, and Liam's eyes darkened slightly.
And then he spoke of Haku Soul and his deeds. The boy listened. A question came to him, and he asked it without thinking. "And those who follow you? Why do they do it?" Not to imply that the man was a wicked one, but to ask in a round about way what traits a true leader should possess. His golden eyes studied the male again. The name Soul kept bouncing around in the boy's mind, and after a moment he realized why. His father had a half sister named Willow Soul. Perhaps she and this Haku were related. He kept this idea and question to himself. He'd ask his own father at a later point. "Was Haku Soul one of the shadow wolves?" The question flew out before he could stop it. He looked at the male, waiting for an answer to his question.
There had been so many fires in Gabriel’s lifetime, but only two since he had crossed the mountain. He had caused one, burning Dahlia with reckless abandon. The other, as he had pointed out to Liam, was Haku’s doing. That was why the borders had been moved, abandoning the charred lands beyond the river. A shadow crossed Gabriel’s face at the mention of the fire across the mountain—Gabriel knew the truth. Only one other living soul did as well, and he had passed into shadow and memory. Arkham was dead; the thing he had become, Karma, was not Gabriel’s brother. He suspected that the boy preferred things that way.
“God did,” was all he said. It had been God that spoke to Gabriel and told him what needed done. It was God who moved his hand and showed him the path.
It was God, and not Gabriel, who had started the fire.
An ear turned, considering the question of being a leader. While he no longer led, Gabriel imagined if he showed himself still capable (and he was, like it or not) that the clan would follow. “I suspect because I am older,” he admitted, amber eyes sharpening. “And I have seen things they have not. I think, also, because I have always done what is best for them. Even if some people die fighting for a cause, it is one that they believed in.” Feverish thoughts that echoed in all walks of life. Was he that much different from Haku?
No, not when they had been brothers. His face tingled where the demon had scarred him. The boy’s sudden question drew Gabriel out of a trance, his face twisting into a frown. A shadow wolf? “He was a demon, if that is what you mean. A demon of greed filled his soul and made him into what he was. Weak blood makes easy gateways for demons.” Which was why the Soul line would either destroy itself or become eradicated. How desperately Gabriel wished to see Haku’s lineage end.
((I failed, I'm sorry. ILU...sorry I took so long to reply. WC:3+))
Liam's eyes watched the leader carefully as he spoke, drinking in his wisdom. "I have seen things they have not. I think, also, because I have always done what is best for them. Even if some people die fighting for a cause, it is one that they believed in." The male was very charismatic, and Liam found himself wishing he could follow him along with the others he led. When the male's face twisted into a frown, Liam stiffened nervously, but an attack didn't come.
"He was a demon, if that is what you mean. A demon of greed filled his soul and made him into what he was. Weak blood makes easy gateways for demons" The young boy nodded thoughtfully, his mind whirling. The male spoke of God, Liam heard the butterflies. They were one and the same, Liam decided. Therefore he too heard the voice of God, and the leader heard the butterflies. Following that line of thinking, shadow wolves and demons were one and the same. But if the shadow wolves had weak blood they passed on, then that meant he himself held tainted blood in his veins. "The butterflies must know this, and thats why they chose me," he decided. He had to prove himself stronger than the tainted blood in his veins.
He turned a troubled gaze on the leader now, needing to voice this thought of his, to work it around aloud. "We are the same, I think. Except God speaks to me through the black butterflies... it's my calling to destroy the shadow wolves. But if weak blood invites the taint... and it passes through the blood, then I am tainted. My father's father, Lucifer, is a shadow wolf. A demon." He stood, needing to move while he spoke, to work off some of the nervous energy that was filling him. "So is that why I was chosen to be their destroyer, to.." he sought the word he had heard earlier from the butterflies, "purify them?"
Others had followed Gabriel, though he had forgotten the need for words since that time. Eli had always spoken for him, Eli who had been gifted in ways that other men could not grasp. He had been captivated by the coyote and admired him long before they became allies, companions, and brothers. True power was in Eli’s words. If he had not heard the Voice long before, Gabriel might have convinced himself that Eli spoke as the Lord. Others had. Eli never once claimed this…but he had never denied it, either.
The boy claimed they were alike. Gabriel watched him with quiet intensity. He had seen others who had expected such things; one had died while under Inferni’s protection. Butterflies sought to make the boy a crusader. No expression crossed the dark face of the wolf, though his eyes burnt with the holy fire he carried within. “God does not speak to many,” he said flatly, knowing it was true. “There are others who are given the right to his voice; angels, like the one whose name I carry.” Had Ahren known that, when they were born? Sometimes Gabriel believed he did. “Lucifer, too, once was an angel. But he denied God, and so was damned. If your father carried his name, and his weakness, then I would imagine it lives within you too.” As he believed with all of the Soul line. Were he younger, and oh how he wished, they would all die.
“So you must be careful. Not all voices come from God, or His angels. Demons speak too; and they often come in shapes to trick men.” A pause. Was this boy truly meant to kill demons, or at least those he believed were such? Perhaps. It was not Gabriel’s place to say so.
God does not speak to many, the male said, and Liam knew it to be true. That was why only he heard the butterflies. His ears swiveled back, then forward again all the better to listen intently to the male's words. Lucifer -his grandfather- was named after a fallen angel. Was that what had damned him to be a shadow wolf, a demon? His ears fell back, wordlessly expressing his dismay at the idea of carrying the taint of demon blood. He swallowed, his pacing ceasing.
His studied the scarred leader, then spoke softly, his voice awed. "Sir... you have given me much to think on, and I am grateful for it." He cocked his head, then spoke again. "May I come back another time and learn more from you? I mean, if I'm not a bother to you?" He shuffled his feet, hoping the male would allow him to come back. He honestly respected the leader, more so than any other male he knew. This male understood him, understood the burden of having the butterflies speak to him, even if he called the butterflies God.
After a moment, he realized the male had never even given him a name. He hesitated, then asked even softer, "Sir... what is your name?"
