The Hunt: Wolves of Ice

Castius Bloodeye sat alongside four others around a large, heavy table with a map laid across it. Those sitting at the table with him was his father, Curraldan, to his immediate left. The Fanged Prophet sat opposite to them. The Prophet was garbed in his robes which were dyed a pale blue and with white trim. The only parts of the Fanged Prophet’s body that was visible was his mouth which was a pale, fleshy muzzle which a set of fangs peaked out from behind a veil. On Castius’ right was Harald Stonehammer, the chieftain of the Mountain Reavers, and on the left side of the table was Halaestius Crowfriend - the chieftain of the River Pack. Large crows sat on either shoulder; their heads darted about with great vigor as they took in every detail. Castius had yet to speak with either man, but he was familiar with the Fanged Prophet. The clans bickered over where to focus their raids. Castius swirled the cup of wine in his hand then turned his attention to the table. Castius examined the map of their former lands, Harborden; this new map had been acquired in a recent raid and was labeled in the southern vernacular as ‘Harberden.’ Castius scowled as he read the letters. His thoughts turned to the legendary Sea Wolf clan who terrorized the coasts of their rivals. They took what they wanted from whoever they felt like raiding, and in turn they were eventually annihilated alongside countless other clans. While the rest of us were driven north to die quietly and out of sight. A hairy fist slammed on the table breaking Castius from his thoughts. The fist belonged to Harald Stonehammer of the Mountain Reaver clan. He was clad in chainmail that he had claimed in a raid. A thick grey cloak was draped from his shoulders. In fact, grey was the color of choice for every member of the Mountain Reaver clan. They are a cunning group, despite their brutish nature.

“We have yet to decide our target for the raid. I’m tired of bickering,” Harald Stonehammer eyed those gathered around around the table. He turned to face Curraldan, “You’ve asked for our recommendations for targets, well here’s the one you should pick - Riestein.”

Castius eyed the proposed target on the map. It was one of several major cities in Harborden and had once belonged to the Mountain Reavers. It was also the city that provided the most stone, iron, and coal to the kingdom. “How do you propose we accomplish this raid? We’ve rarely attacked major cities.”

“Young Castius is right,” the Fanged Prophet said.

Curraldan held his gaze on the map. He wet his lips then said, “How would you propose we manage a siege without getting caught between an army from the rest of the kingdom and the city?”

“There are plenty of mountain paths that lead to the city. However, that only plays a small role in our efforts.” Harald’s lips curled into a sly grin. He shifted his finger on the map to a river coming down from the mountains. “The fools have a dam holding back a massive amount of water. It hasn’t frozen yet.”

A small laugh escaped Halaestius. “You intend to flood the lowlands. The damage would cripple the affected towns and villages as their fields and many homes will be flooded. Order would need to be restored; repairs would need to be made.”

Harald slammed his fist down, bringing several loud thuds to shake the room. “And it would give you and the warriors of the River Pack the ability to sail the rivers unhindered, and strike areas where our prey least expect.”

“You expect us to carry our ships over the mountains?”

“The Mountain Reaver clan can show you several hidden passes and routes so that you can pull off such a feat. Consider it an act of goodwill between our clans for the benefit of all our people.”

Castius’ eyes flicked to the Fanged Prophet. He searched for any hint of disapproval. He found the Prophet, however, was aloof in his observation. Castius turned his attention to the plan and considered it’s many parts.

“And what of my warriors? What of the Rimefell clan?” Curraldan had said the words that were on Castius’ mind.

“The High Chieftain and his Rimefell clan will lead the siege on the city. When the dam has been destroyed and the freezing river flows free then my warriors will join with yours.”

“Perhaps it would increase our odds if we were to have Braelen and some others raid just beyond the border,” Castius said. The chieftans turned and looked at the young man. Castius pointed to the map. “There is more to Harborden than the south and west, it has northeastern territories too. If we spread chaos and fear across the entire kingdom they’ll be paralyzed and won’t be able to stop us.”

“That’ll mean fewer warriors for the siege,” Curraldan murmured.

“But you won’t need them if it’s just one little city,” Halaestius said.

“It a good plan. But does the great wolf grant us his blessing?” Harald said, turning to the Fanged Prophet.

The Prophet was silent for a long while. He folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head. Everyone in the room had turned their attention to the robed figure. Even the crows resting on Halaestius’ shoulders seemed to study the Prophet. The lips of the Prophet’s pink, fleshy muzzle pulled back into what Castius believed to be a smile. The Fanged Prophet turned up to the group then said, “This will be a grand feast. The Great Wolf will be fed as he deserves, and he shall drink from a river of blood.”

There was a cheer amongst the three chieftains, Castius allowed himself a reserved smile. If we can pull this plan off, we’ll be in a prime position to retake our lands. Even the Fanged Prophet can’t deny our next step. Then, when father sits upon the throne, the robed bastard can be left up here to freeze to his liking.

As the group departed, Castius left Pine’s Point to find solitude in nature. The cold night air stung his face. It wasn’t long before Castius found his way to a lake just outside the reach of Pine’s Point. He walked the lake’s frozen surface under the watchful gaze of the stars and a waxing moon. There were a dozen or so fishing holes that had been cut into the ice that Castius could see. He searched for one that was big enough for him to slip into. He remembered hearing stories of individuals who exposed themselves to intense cold to commune with The Great Wolf. If it cuts out the middleman, then it’s worth a try.

It wasn’t long before Castius found a hole big enough at the center of the lake. Satisfied, he stripped the many layers of clothes from his body until he stood naked on the ice, exposed to the vicious elements of Luparrov. He was already beginning to regret his decision. Castius took several deep, controlled breaths then stepped in. The icy shock that wracked Castius’ body threatened to overwhelm him. His head spun from every nerve in Castius’ body sending the same warning to his brain. Castius’ heart skipped several beats then began to pump faster and faster as adrenaline began to take over. A strange numbness began to take over his body. Castius looked up, he was just below the water’s surface, he could pull himself out at any time. But he persisted. He felt a sharp pain in his bloodshot eye that blinded him. Castius clawed at the ice, fighting to stay under.

His sight changed from white nothingness to a vast forest. Castius saw that he was low to the ground. He turned his gaze downward and saw his reflection in a stream. What stared back at him was a wolf of ice. It had one dark eye and one that was blood red. With an icy paw he reached out to his reflection. The stream froze at his touch. Castius looked up, there were others like him. He recognized what they were, what he was. The Ice Pack. Warriors who’ve drank from the Chalice of Ice. They’ve become true children of The Great Wolf, able to take a form of ice, fang, and claw. However, they lose the ability to have children. I imagine that’s part of the reason why they number less than five hundred. If I’m having a vision of them, then will they be joining our attack?

There were at least two dozen of them. As Castius examined his surroundings the loud snap of a branch breaking echoed from deeper in the forest. The Ice Pack turned in the direction of the sound, then to Castius. They whined and yapped at him, urging Castius to lead them to their quarry.

He felt his instincts take over. Castius bounded over the snow-covered ground. The rest of the pack followed him. As he traversed the forest, a realization came over him. This is not Luparrov. The mountains are behind us, so we must be far to the south. Does this mean the Ice Packs will come south with us?

The pack closed in on a large clearing. Even from within the forest, Castius could see their prey - a large, fat pig. Castius salivated at the sight of the bloated swine. He glanced behind him and saw others from the pack breaking off to surround the clearing. Castius leapt out in front of the pig, startling the plump creature. He snarled and snapped at it. The pig waddled backwards only for one of the pack members to sink their fangs into the pig’s flank. The pig squealed. Castius rushed forward and bit into the swine’s throat, as the warm blood splashed into Castius’ mouth he was torn from his vision. Castius was ripped from the lake. The water covering his body began to chill as it met the frigid air.

“Get him dry, and be quick about it,” his father commanded.

Castius blinked, he looked up to find his father, several warriors of the Rimefell clan, the Fanged Prophet, and Aera standing over him.

Aera wrapped a thick blanket around Castius. She looked into his eyes and said, “What were you thinking?”

“The Great Wolf granted me a vision.”

“A vision?” the Fanged Prophet said, stroking his muzzle. The Prophet turned to Curraldan, “It would be wise to get your son out of the elements. I am eager to hear word of this vision.”

Castius slid his pants and boots on and wrapped the thick blanket tighter around himself. Much of the color had left his body and he had begun to shiver.

“You’ll be lucky if you only lose a few fingers and toes,” Curraldan said.

The Fanged Prophet grunted then shook his head. “He won’t lose anything. I’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean?”

A smile appeared on the Fanged Prophet. “Observe.” The Prophet removed one of his gloves to reveal a gaunt, pale hand. The tips of his fingers were a pale, icy blue as if they were on the verge of frostbite. He reached out towards Castius, then halted. “If you would allow me to, I can take the chill from your body.”

Castius hesitated as he felt an uneasiness settle in his stomach. He looked to his own hands; his fingers were as blue as the Prophet’s. He looked up to where the Fanged Prophet’s eyes would be if they were uncovered and said, “You may.”

The Prophet nodded and pressed his hand into Castius’ chest.

The hand was far colder than Castius had anticipated, colder than the air on his soaked skin. Castius took a sharp breath and within seconds he felt the cold leaving his body. The sensation was confusing. His body was not warmed by the Prophet’s efforts only the cold and its affect were removed. It seems my body will have to warm itself.

As the last of the chill had been removed the Fanged Prophet removed his hand. Castius could see that his fingers were a deeper shade of blue now.

The Prophet put his glove back on. “You should put the rest of your clothes back on before the cold returns to your body. Then we can return to your father’s hall, and you can tell me about this vision you received.”

Castius moved quickly to dress himself with Aera’s help. The group departed from the frozen lake and returned to the mead hall at Pine’s Point.

Before the door had shut, Curraldan had begun to berate his son, “Do you understand how foolish you are. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“How did you know I was at the lake?”

Aera spoke up, “I watched you leave in the lake’s direction from Pine’s Point. Since you went alone into the night, I went to find your father.”

“You’ve found yourself a good woman, Castius. You shouldn’t be worrying her with the actions of a fool.”

“It was a foolish mistake to go alone,” the Fanged Prophet said, “but it may have been a prudent move to make. What happened in this vision?”

Castius sat down on a nearby table, then cleared his throat. “I saw pack of wolves. The Ice Pack.”

Eyes shifted between everyone in the room, the Fanged Prophet held his gaze on Castius and cocked his head.

“They were hunting in the forests of Harborden. I was with them. Leading them.”

“What were you hunting?”

“A pig. A great, fat pig. It was larger than any pig I’d ever seen. I tore out its throat.”

A small chuckle escaped the Fanged Prophet.

“What are you laughing about?” Curraldan said.

The Fanged Prophet grinned and turned to Curraldan. “Rejoice, high chieftain. It is evident to me that your son is not only going to join the Ice Pack, but he will serve as it’s alpha and will lead them south. What a bounty he will bring.”