The Ten Guardians: The Mother Tree©

Chapter Eighteen

Sparrow and Lone Wolf stood near the remains of the massive elder tree, its towering husk stretching forward along the ground. The section of the leafy canopy pointing towards the sky stretched higher than most normal trees, casting a wide shadow across the ground with the fading sun. The greenery of the leaves was still vibrant, although they would quickly wilt with the recent severing of their roots. Time would rot away the wood of this massive tree, feeding countless lifeforms over decades of decomposition.

Sparrow was reflecting on the conversation their party had recently held as he absentmindedly stared at a possible decomposing future of the dying tree. He was fully aware of the leadership dynamic that Stein had tried to force upon him. He noticed that Stein had cut in whenever he didn’t know the answer to a mortal’s questions, trying to maintain the superiority of their past station. She had set him up to pretend he knew what to do concerning Lone Wolf’s incredible situation of multiple compounded souls. She wanted him to take the mantle of the Omnipotent Lord over the world, knowing all the answers, even if it was a sham, just to save face. She didn’t understand that he had no intention of pretending, not about any concept.

Lone Wolf stood nearby, his thoughts haunting him in the deafening silence. He sat squatting on his haunches, appearing as calm as the grave, but his mind and emotions were racing. Usually, Lone Wolf would never show the range of his emotions. Emotional reactions lead to mistakes, and mistakes often mean death to his people. Yet he wasn’t reacting to his emotions. He was just allowing himself to experience them in full, probably for the first time in a very long time.

His mind raced with the information that Stein had given him about his souls. He apparently had two separate entities within him and the chained abilities of all his ancestors back to when Ultaris influenced their creation. He wondered what that meant, to have two souls. Is one more dominant than the other? Are they human or kanidian, or a blend of both species? Does species even matter with the souls in the afterlife? As far as he knew, humans and kanidians could not have children with one another, but how about mixing either of their races with that of a jackal?

There was a time when these thoughts would never have been tolerated. Times when thoughts like these were a potential death sentence for Lone Wolf. He still remembered the first time he had walked into that mysterious white room with all the statues. He ignored the statues and the knife on the tables as he walked to the orb and placed his hand on it, as the council had instructed him. Lone Wolf had expected to be overwhelmed by the omnipotent presence of their creator, always spoken of with fear. He had been instructed for days to control his thoughts and not burden the master with his mental ramblings. He expected to barely survive the conversation and crawl out of the room to attend his assignment.

When he placed his hand on the orb, a presence entered his mind for only the briefest moment. Lone Wolf strictly controlled his thoughts to prevent disrespecting his creator, but the same could not be said about his creator. Lone Wolf sensed curiosity at first, quickly replaced by a form of superior revulsion, as if touching Lone Wolf’s mind was making the entity unclean. Then a probe had tunneled into his center as if his creator was reaching deep into the recesses of his being. It lasted for a second, then the sensation vanished.

Lone Wolf remembered his instructions, spoken quickly in his mind. “A false creator has stolen my image and likeness and must be brought to justice.” The image of Ultaris as a mighty dragon skirted along the edge of the words as if Ultaris was trying to block the projected image of himself but couldn’t completely stop the image. Then other images slammed into Lone Wolf’s consciousness with such force it knocked him away from the orb and disconnected their communication.

The images were of a location, a rough time of day, the picture of a human child standing in a portal, and that same human child in chains within the room with the orb. Lone Wolf had run to the meadow in the mental image and scouted for days to find the perfect match to the image that had been burned into his mind. Then he waited. He waited two years for that portal to open, knowing obedience was his only purpose in life. He explored and hunted during the winter months, knowing from the image that the portal would only open sometime in the spring or early summer. Two years is plenty of time to think for yourself, and Lone Wolf had many thoughts while he waited for that portal.

Lone Wolf had always been a free thinker, a horrible trait for a jackal to have. It had been discouraged and weeded out of him from his earliest memory, save for one caretaker, Ceera. She had told the youth of the war with the humans and how Ultaris had ordered their entire people to fight, leaving no one behind to ensure the continuation of their existence. When human magi eventually transformed their magical focus from exploration and politics to warfare, the war quickly turned against the jackals. They barely survived, leaving only a few dozen souls to rebuild their lives. Or, more specifically, to rebuild and retrain Ultaris’ army. To be slaughtered again when the time comes. She had planted the seeds of doubt in the benevolence of their creator.

When word of her stories had reached the council, she had been quickly replaced, sent to some other menial tasks as far from the youth as possible. However, the damage had been done. Although they had never spoken of it for fear of punishment, the facade of perfect obedience had been taken down from a generation of jackals, and the seeds had spread. Lone Wolf did not know if he could convince his tribe to fight Ultaris when the time came, but he felt his best chance was finding Ceera again and reconnecting with the other members of his generation that had shared her stories of doubt.

After the events of the portal, where he had seen Sparrow as a young human, Lone Wolf had returned to the mysterious room. He placed his hand on the orb, expecting his life to end, knowing he had failed in his task. Instead, the same revulsed presence entered his mind and gave him new orders, not even mentioning the failed mission. This time the names and faces of every person in their current party, except for Sparrow’s, was seared into his mind, and one word was spoken to him like a human barking an order to a dog.

“kill.”

Luckily for Lone Wolf, the entity again disconnected him like removing a plagued piece of his mind, or he would have sensed the anger building in Lone Wolf’s heart. He would have sensed the resistance building within him.

“Lone Wolf,” Sparrow said, still staring at the fallen tree as he interrupted the silence, “I have seen you use basic warding runes in the past, but you say a member of your tribe created the complex runes on your weapon. You could control the portal that I created, even close it with a thought as you waved your hand. What other magical training have you had?”

Lone Wolf was silent for a time, calming his racing emotions and thoughts that had dominated the silence and trying to decide how to respond. He knew he could answer the basics of the question satisfactorily. However, Lone Wolf had changed. The change started with Colson’s friendship, which reinforced the doubts in Lone Wolf’s heart about his people’s master. That, in turn, lit the embers of curiosity in his young mind. Lone Wolf had been learning throughout their journey, asking endless questions of Jaya in an effort to understand his new friends and their differing cultures.

Apart from learning, Lone Wolf also developed a sense of bitterness towards his people. Basic freedoms the humans and kanidians enjoyed, such as if or when to have children and with whom to have them, whether to fight, farm, or simply have a hobby, were all sacrificed for the survival of their species. The way Sparrow asked made him feel defensive because he hadn’t been given a choice on whether or not to study magic. He had been too uncomfortable to ask questions of Sparrow in the past since he was the mirror of Ultaris, the jackal’s creator. Lone Wolf decided to change that and spoke.

“Among humans, magic is a talent that will eventually be discovered, usually by accident. Is this correct?” Lone Wolf asked.

Sparrow was seeing year thirty-four of the dead tree’s decomposing future, and without turning his head to break his vision, he answered the question. “I am not human, but I did live in their arcane school, so I learned a little about it. From what I gathered, humans will eventually use their magical powers by accident, usually as they hit early puberty. Typically, a heightened emotional catalyst is blamed. Like being bullied at school, attacked by a wild animal, or the death of a loved one. It can often be dangerous and even kill the gifted child.”

“And if there is no … catalyst?” Lone wolf asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar common speech word.

“Eventually, there will always be a catalyst. There are plenty of embarrassing stories of magi discovering their abilities at inconvenient times. The only other method I know of is simply to be around someone else who is trained in magic. The untrained are rarely able to hide their talents. There are even magi who are tasked to travel the world to simply be around people in remote towns to see if they can sense the ability.”

Lone Wolf pondered this information before he responded. He spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words, but his voice betrayed the slightest sense of anger as he spoke. Sparrow was surprised, enough so to abandon year forty-two of the tree’s decaying future and give Lone Wolf his undivided attention.

“I have asked Colson and Jaya …” Sparrow noticed the lack of titles that he always used for people in their party, but said nothing “… in detail about their childhood experiences. Their journey, so to speak, from youth to adult. From normal people to magi, seeker, mother seeker, and guarding of the world. It differs so much from my own life, and I have not decided if I was robbed or lucky to have experienced such a different version of existence.”

Sparrow suddenly realized that Lone Wolf was speaking much more sophisticated than ever before. At first, Sparrow thought the jackal had been hiding his linguistic skills, but after a moment, he realized this was not the case. Lone Wolf was speaking in his native tongue, a language unknown outside of the jackal population, as no one had been around a living jackal long enough to study it. Only Sparrow’s magical abilities allowed him to understand what he was saying as if he had spoken the language all his life.

Lone Wolf Continued, “On top of that, my people’s existence is a marriage of those two cultures, and the result of that marriage is altogether nothing like the originals. Yes, physically, I would claim we look much more like kanidians. Our tribal mannerisms and traditions also lean in that direction, yet our industry, fighting style, and emotions feel more human.”

Sparrow raised an eyebrow at the comment that the typically stoic Lone Wolf was being described as humanistic. Lone Wolf noticed his reaction to his word choice and used that reaction to help make his point.

“Exactly! Me stating that surprises you, and it should because Ultaris have trained my people to be something other than what we are. From the beginning, our emotions have been squashed, our independence discouraged, and our relationships with one another limited to necessity. Everything that makes us living people have been reduced to serve his goals. We only invent to find new ways to survive or kill. We treat emotion as the gateway to destruction.”

Sparrow realized that as unexpected as it was, Lone Wolf was unloading. He was finally facing his thoughts that had been building since the moment he decided to betray his master and creator and started learning about other cultures. Sparrow was silent as he let the jackal speak, his native words flowing faster as he allowed himself to feel emotions he usually repressed.

“Sacrifice for the whole is the only goal. We draw sticks for what our assigned role is. Some are warriors, some are magi, and others help maintain the town. What you are interested in is irrelevant! Within those roles are additional assignments. A warrior can be trained on defensive weapons, offensive weapons, and siege works.”

Lone Wolf’s hands moved to emphasize his words, ticking off lists with his fingers and practically punching the air to make his point as he passionately spoke of his people.

“Magi are trained to serve in either position. As a battle-mage within the warrior cast, or an element-runner as a maintainer. Battle-magi are rune-smiths, arcane warriors, and healers. Element runners control the weather, help with construction, and teach future generations to suppress their magical abilities. Take note of that. We are not like humans or kanidians, where magical ability is a rare gift a fraction of the population can learn to control. All jackals have magical abilities. Every child born must be taught to repress their natural gifts because their talents might not align with what is written on the stick you draw at your graduation ceremony!”

Sparrow noticed Lone Wolf’s bitter sarcasm with that last information, but the jackal spoke again before he could comment.

“Then there are the maintainers. They rotate from repairing or building houses and streets, farming or hunting for food and water, and childbearing and rearing. The decision to have a child, or who to have the child with before it is ripped from your arms … isn’t our own. It is all for the betterment of the tribe, decided by the council.”

“The council?” Sparrow asked.

“Yes. Three from each caste represent the council. They are the oldest surviving members of each caste, and jackals have long lives. So, you can imagine that very little has changed since Ultaris created us.”

Sparrow was silent for a while as he processed all the information their usually silent companion had just shared. He didn’t know how to respond, lacking the same human emotions Lone Wolf had previously complained about. However, he was curious about a few things, so he brought them up to limit the awkward silence.

“What about your name? Was this something assigned to you by your counsel?”

“Our names are usually given to us by our caretakers, often chosen randomly, but without duplicates among the caste. Lone Wolf is my title until I am killed, then a new Lone Wolf is selected. So, it isn’t my first name, although it is my name now. There is only one Lone Wolf, and I drew the shortest stick and won the honor of serving Ultaris as his personal … assassin.”

“You say there is only one, but is it possible your people know of your betrayal and a new Lone Wolf has been selected?” Sparrow said casually.

“I am unsure how they would know. I did not speak to Ultaris for two years as I waited for your portal, and he did not doubt my servitude. It has been only weeks since I decided to fight him,” Lone Wolf replied firmly.

Sparrow looked back towards the tree, although it was difficult to see any details in the spreading darkness. He spoke as he stared into the blackness, adjusting his hidden dragon eyes to see in the dark.

“I think Ultaris knows. At the very least, there is probably a new Lone Wolf selected, and if I know anything about my other half … his first assignment would be to find and kill you for betraying him. I expect we are being hunted, but that is nothing new for our party. I bring it up now because you would know how to fight one of your own better than anyone else.”

Lone Wolf did not reply. He knew he would eventually have to face his people, hoping that he could sway them to his point of view or leave them to make their own choices. It did not occur to him that he would become hunted by his people. There were too few of them to start killing one another … or so he had thought. Ultaris had never ordered them to kill their own, but perhaps there was a first for everything.

“If you are right, Sparrow, I should leave and fight this threat alone because it would be a disaster if they struck first.”

“What do you mean?” Sparrow asked.

“Assuming my former master knows of my betrayal and that I have joined with multiple guardians, I doubt he would send a new Lone Wolf. A single assassin wouldn’t stand a chance against so many foes, which isn’t including the magi among us that could deal with one of my people. If they saw them coming, that is. He would send a pack of at least three to attack. They would attack at night without warning, cut down as many magi as possible, and retreat regardless of their success. They would allow the mental anguish of burying party members and the stress of another sneak attack to wear down their prey. Then attack again when the sun was beginning to set before defenses could be established.”

 “Whether or not you are correct…” Sparrow sighed, “… I still believe separating over speculation isn’t the answer. We spent days trying to regroup while correcting a paradox and have already lost someone. We should stay together and focus on returning to Dule Van without losing Jareth. I still believe your unique situation with your souls, and your hidden abilities is the answer to the problem.”

Lone Wolf was silent for a time, his thoughts impossible to read as his eyes glazed over in thought. After a moment, Sparrow turned back to the tree in the distance, picking up where he left off. He watched the remaining remnants of the tree as it turned into dirt, with hundreds of smaller trees and bushes growing from the fertile mound it had created. Even knowing it wasn’t a perfect depiction, watching the potential time stream was therapeutic for Sparrow. On some level, it helped him focus on their unique problem while also helping distract him from the other problems he was avoiding.

“Guardian, tell me of the dagger you carry at your waist,” Lone Wolf said as he pointed to the wooden handle sticking out of Sparrow’s belt. “I never see you use it, yet you always have it with you. It looks like the handle of a dagger I have seen before but with a different symbol.”

In truth, Sparrow had almost forgotten about the dagger at his side. He pulled it from his belt and unwound the cloth he had wrapped it in when he first received the dagger. He had repaired his torn shirt the next morning without really thinking about it, but the sleeve remnants were still wrapped around the blade. He decided to create a fitting sheath for the dagger when he had the time, something worthy of its uniqueness.

Sparrow held the dagger out to Lone Wolf, hilt first, inviting him to take the blade as he explained its origins. “Before Grey became a guardian, she had been cursed by Regnan and Donner simply out of cruel spite. Maybe it was because of her connection to Ultaris, or simply because she chose to leave them. Either way, I received this dagger after experiencing the curse that Grey used to have on her, where any male that saw her face would have a vision. The male experiencing the vision would either kill themselves or go mad and attack the source of the vision.

“In my vision, a projection of Ultaris was using my friends’ death to convince me that I was going to turn into a monster and kill those closest to me. He eventually handed me this blade with the expectation that I would end my life with it. I was able to overcome the vision, and when it ended, this knife was still in my hand. The curse was lifted when Regnan and Donner died, but this blade remained.”

Lone Wolf looked contemplative for a moment, “I believe the curse was removed earlier than that by Grey’s rune weapons when she interrupted Biggs’ control over Grey. Otherwise, Jareth and Colson wouldn’t have been able to continue fighting when Grey arrived near the end of the battle. They would have had to overcome the curse first.”

Sparrow realized that Lone Wolf was right, at least concerning the fact that the males had indeed ignored Grey and her curse when she arrived. He wasn’t entirely convinced, though. “Possibly, or they just didn’t pay enough attention to look at her face in the heat of the battle. Or perhaps their own rune weapons blocked the curse somehow. Either way, you do bring up a good point.”

“Guardian, I remember where I have seen a weapon like this dagger before. Its opposite was on a table in the room where Ultaris was imprisoned.”

“It’s opposite?” Sparrow asked, confusion plain on his face.

“Yes, the colors are reversed, and the symbol has an opposite meaning. Death instead of freedom.

Sparrow remembered that the dagger had looked like that in his vision before overcoming the temptation to end his life. Then the weapon’s exterior changed.

“Lone Wolf, with your permission, I would like to see this room through your memories. It won’t hurt, but it might take some time as I want to analyze everything I can about this room. Is that alright?”

Lone Wolf remembered the feeling of being asked permission to see his memories rather than being treated like an animal without a choice. He was again satisfied with his decision to follow Sparrow instead of Ultaris. He nodded to show that he gave his permission, then made himself comfortable as Sparrow entered his mind.

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