Chapter One: The Journey Continues
The twang of an arrow echoed sharply throughout Forest Immul, sending unsuspecting woodlands birds into frightened flight. A pride of fire lions tensed from their positions among the boulders of their lair, swishing their flaming tails alertly as they pricked their ears and sniffed the air, searching for danger. And somewhere in the hundreds of folds of trees in the forest, among the damp, summer underbrush filled with bright wild flowers, a pack of wolves quickened their pace, just in case.
“Nice shot, Keyar,” Toomay said, inspecting the arrow that now quivered in the bark of a tree, “though you missed the center of the knot by about that much.” She held her fingers an inch apart with a teasing grin.
“Fine, your turn.” Keyar replied, shouldering his wooden bow and moving away from the tree.
Toomay laughed as she made her way back to the stump that they had designated as the shooting mark. The Amoray River gurgled a few paces away, swollen with spring run off and filled with silver slips of fish that caught the late afternoon sunlight. On the narrow, muddy river bank stood a palomino stallion, his creamy head lowered to the river and his white mane and tail blowing softly in the breeze. He brought his head up, drops of fresh water dripping from his whiskers, and trotted over to the stump.
“It was a nice shot, hard to beat,” the stallion mused as he watched Toomay raise her bow and knock an arrow.
Toomay turned her head and scowled lightly; “Have a little faith, Duncan? I was the one who taught Keyar how to shoot like that anyway.”
“You just tuned him up,” a blue roan stallion said from a small patch of grass near the river bank, “he could already shoot like that. He just needed a reminder.”
“Yes, Elio, whatever you say,” Toomay murmured as she took aim.
“Don’t miss,” Keyar called.
“Don’t play dirty,” Toomay replied under her breath before she released the arrow. It cut straight through the air and buried itself deep within the tree trunk, its shaft and feathers still vibrating from the force of the bow, though the arrowhead was deeply sunk into the bark. Toomay smiled to herself as she lowered her bow and skipped over to the tree.
“Better than me,” Keyar muttered as she came over, “but you still missed the center.”
Toomay shrugged. “Can’t win them all.”
“Good job.” Keyar said with a small smile as he pulled out both arrows from the trunk, handing her her own arrow before he headed back to where they had dumped Duncan and Elio’s saddles, their saddle bags, sleeping sacks, and swords.
He rested his bow and quiver against Elio’s saddle before he started gathering wood for a fire. Toomay laid out the sleeping sacks around where Keyar had started to light the fire. She then untied some of the deer meat from last night’s kill that they had packed. And as she started to slice the meat and prepare it for the fire, she thought about the past weeks of travel.
The four of them had been following the Amoray river for two and a half weeks now, putting many leagues between them and Amorak, the wolf city and their home. Now they were four days into the forest. The dangerous Forest Immul. So far they had been lucky. No threats had appeared to dampen their spirits, which were surprisingly high, since they had been travelling for many days now and in the opposite direction from their home. They were heading towards the desert country of Unabid where Keyar’s sisters were held somewhere in the many ripples of sand and mounds of dunes. In Lionel’s mines; the mines of the rebel wolf that had devoted his life to destroying Toomay and Kumar’s and had almost done so many times before his granddaughter, Jeera, had finally killed him.
Keyar had planned on making this journey alone but Toomay had managed to convince everyone that she should be allowed to come. Even though they had only known each other for six months, she felt she was responsible and that it was her duty to come. That she owed him. Yet it would always be he who owed her. If she and her brother died, so would the rest of the Trebizondian human race, due to an ancient binding spell set upon the land by Toomay and Kumar’s ancestor. The way Keyar saw it, if she stayed alive, it would be payment enough.
“How long until we’re out of the forest?” Toomay asked as she stabbed the slabs of meat with a roasting spit and put them over the fire.
“A few days, I think,” Keyar said as he rummaged through a saddlebag, taking out two horse brushes. He clucked softly and Elio trotted over obediently from the patch of grass by the river. The stallion snorted a greeting as he pranced over, his gray and blue coat shimmering in the firelight. Keyar patted his neck and started brushing the coat quickly, letting Elio lower his head and crop at the short, forest floor grass.
Toomay shivered slightly. Dusk was falling and the summer air was cooling quickly. “And you still won’t let me teach you how to use your magic?”
“I know how to use my magic.” Keyar muttered, letting his arms move the brushes rhythmically across Elio’s coat.
“Let me rephrase that,” Toomay said as she rotated the meat over the flames, “You won’t let me teach you how to use your magic properly?”
“Toomay, we’ve been over this,” Keyar said as he moved to the other side of Elio, brushing quickly. “You use magic; I use a sword.”
“I just don’t get it-“ She stopped when Keyar dropped his hands away from Elio’s sides and gave her a look. His kind of look. The kind of look that made her feel like a silly child. She glanced down before she raised her intense blue gaze back to his, “I know we were brought up differently, but now you have the chance to learn how to use your magic. You saw how useful it was first hand when you saved Jeera-“
“And it worked for me then. Why shouldn’t it work for me now without training?”
Toomay stared at him for a moment before she scowled and took the roasting spit off the fire, resting the stick on her knees while the meat dripped onto the grass. “Fine Keyar. Try it. Try reaching your magic now. Use it to take the steaks off the spit.”
Keyar finished brushing and gave Elio a pat before he sat down on a sleeping sack beside her. He ran a hand through his short red hair before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Toomay waited patiently, testing the meat every so often to see if it was cool enough to eat. She kept quiet, watching as Keyar clenched his jaw in frustration and furrowed his brow. All they could hear was the hungry crackle of the fire and the two stallions softly chewing the grass. Finally Keyar opened his eyes, their green depths icy with disappointment.
“See?” Toomay said gently, passing him a slab of meat.
Keyar took it.
Toomay sighed and put the spit away before she sat down on her sleeping sack, using Duncan’s saddle to lean against. They ate in silence.
“If you taught me, would I be able to understand horses like you?” Keyar asked, though he guessed the answer.
Toomay shook her head; “You were born to understand wolves. I was born to understand almost everything. It’s not a matter of teaching. Its just chance.”
He nodded, “Could I do other things?”
“Like you did to Jeera?”
He nodded again, remembering the white she wolf, laying bloodied and broken in the creek, dead. And how he’d brought her back to life. Grasped her heart with his magic and squeezed life into it.
“Yes. But it will take awhile. And a lot of hard work.”
Keyar smiled grimly; “Have I ever been known to shy away from hard work?”
“No,” Toomay agreed, “you haven’t. Does that mean you’ll let me teach you?”
“After we practice sword play,” Keyar said firmly. He could go without the use of his magic, but he wouldn’t risk discontinuing the refinement of Toomay’s rusty sword skills.
Toomay nodded enthusiastically as she shoved the last bit of meat into her mouth. Her eyes shimmered with excitement as she began to unroll her sleeping sack.
“We’ll start tomorrow.” Toomay said as she started to slip under the blankets.
“That doesn’t mean that we won’t practice dueling right now.” Keyar leaned over and pulled two wooden, double handed swords from the folds of his own coarse sleeping sack.
“Oh, have a heart, Keyar!” Toomay moaned as she snuggled deeper beneath the cloth. She winced as she flexed her arm muscles. Even her trained magic couldn’t completely banish the dull ache that had settled within her sore arms from the nightly practice fights. She ran her fingers along her left arm; her fingertips softly prodding the faint purple bruises that Keyar’s wooden blade had inflicted on her. She shoved her sack away and snatched her sword from his grasp. She stomped a few feet away from the fire and began running through the warm up pattern he had taught her. Keyar chuckled as he began his own pattern.
Keyar smothered the protests that his arms moaned with. Toomay had begun to pull her own weight in their fights, dishing out excellent blocks and swift side cuts that left him almost breathless. He had had to push his arms faster, blocking her attacks that sometimes came crashing down on his limbs, shoulders and side. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Toomay as she whirled around in a complex series of back and side sweeps. Instantly, she reminded him of her brother, Kumar, the boy who had taught Keyar how to handle a sword.
I guess I have to call him a young man now. After all, he is married. Keyar smirked as his arms swung and his feet danced. Poor Lydia .I hope Kumar’s not as difficult with her as he is with the rest of us.
Keyar was jarred from his thoughts as Toomay’s sword unexpectedly crashed against his, violently shaking the wooden hilt in his grip. Toomay flashed a grin as she threw herself into a flurry of attacks. Keyar blocked the attacks, his momentum beginning to return. He smiled as he parried her blows and began to deliver his own. He started to push her back into the trees, using his height and weight to his advantage. Toomay scowled as Keyar bore down on her. He’d grown like a bad weed in the past few months, now he stood almost as tall as her brother did, at an intimidating six foot three. Toomay’s own five foot nine, lean and wiry body sped up and dodged Keyar’s attacks. The two locked swords again and again, neither one gaining the advantage as they tired at the same rate. After an hour of hard exercise, Keyar dropped from his offensive stance and held up his hands.
“Enough,” he breathed, trying to still his racing heart. “Time for sleep.”
Toomay nodded, breathless, as she handed him her practice sword and collapsed onto her sleeping sack.
“Whose turn is it for first watch?” She yawned as she unlaced her boots.
“Yours,” Keyar replied as he sat upon his own bed.
Toomay’s eyes hardened, “No, it’s yours, it’s been mine for the past three-Wait! I’ve had first shift since we entered the forest…” She glared at Keyar, “You’ve been taking the later shift on purpose.”
Keyar shrugged, refusing to argue. He knew what he had been doing. He’d been taking the later, longer, and more dangerous shift every night.
Toomay glared at him some more as he settled into his sleeping sack, mumbling, “Wake me up when the moon is overhead.”
“Late shift, early shift, my shift, his shift…” Toomay grumbled as she strung her bow and placed it, along with her steel sword and quiver, beside her. She threw a few muttered curses Keyar’s way before leaning back on Duncan’s upturned saddle and settling in for a long night.

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Jeera sprawled across the cool, marble floor lazily, watching with pleasure and amusement as Kumar sat uneasily upon his new throne. The Council of the Wolves’ hall had been transformed into an ornate throne hall. The seven pearl coloured pedestals had been removed completely. Now, placed at the back wall of the immense, rectangular assembly room, stood a throne carved from polished marble and decorated with mother of pearl and gold inlay. Floral patterns twisted and grew along the armrests, while perfect, miniature wolves loped about the sides and back of the throne. A light blue, feathery and exquisite cushion sat upon it, bulging ever so slightly as Kumar sat down.
The prince himself was dressed in clothes that harshly contradicted the intricate and delicate decorations of the throne hall. He wore a light summer tunic that hung to his mid thigh and a coarse leather belt cinched in the baggy fabric at his waist. Loose fitting breeches could barely be seen between the gap from the hemline of his tunic to the tops of his knee high, deer skin boots. His dark blue eyes flitted about, examining the sapphire banners that hung from the marble ceiling, then the carvings upon each column that stood symmetrically along each wall. Kumar scratched his head briefly, tousling his wind swept, dark blonde hair as he surveyed his new surroundings.
Humans and wolves alike crowded into the room, watching with excited faces as their future king evaluated their workmanship. An exuberant chatter filled the hall as the heavy entrance doors shut.
“Well,” Kumar cleared his throat. Immediate silence fell like a blanket upon the crowd. “I simply love it…” He trailed off, a sly grin hidden behind his formal address. “But…We forgot one important element.”
A moan rippled through the crowd.
Kumar grinned, “Once my wife returns from her hunting trip, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to find no throne for her beside me.”
A few of the women and she wolves laughed, nudging the men and wolves with knowing looks. The men and wolves groaned.
“Other than that, it’s beautiful…Really, I can’t express my amazement and gratitude…”
“He can be king,” Airies whispered to Jeera as he strode up to where she now sat just across the room from the throne, just behind the crowd.
Jeera nodded as her human continued with his long awaited praise before she said, “If King Eeran found out about this throne, tomorrow he could be waiting outside our gates with ten thousand soldiers.”
“But the people here need this. We wolves know he is the future king, we can sense it in his very presence. But the humans need some sort of symbol, like this.”
“Have you noticed the new faces among the two leggers of Amorak?” Jeera asked as her electric blue eyes scanned the crowd. Since last Winter Solstice, humans had traveled to Amorak, requesting permission to live within the city’s boundaries and to build human buildings along the landscape.
“Word has spread, Jeera. People are beginning to remember the old times, before the rule of Eeran’s family. They remember the prophecy, and it lures them here. They want to see for themselves if the true king really sits here, in the wolf city of all places; just waiting to take back the throne and reunite wolves and humans.”
“Not to mention all of Trebizond,” Jeera muttered. “ If this false king doesn’t start treading more carefully, he could ignite a civil war, along with a few others against our neighbors.”
Airies gazed at Jeera for a moment; smiling as her eyes darkened and she began to mutter furiously to herself. Her stunning white coat shuddered as she tensed her muscles in mild frustration. After a moment she pushed King Eeran to the back of her mind. Her eyes returned to their true blue shade before she met Airies’ gaze. She smiled back, her heart warming as his handsome, brown textured face came closer to hers.
“I love you,” he whispered as he nuzzled her.
“It’s not love,” Jeera objected for the hundredth time, “it’s primitive survival instincts.”
Airies laughed, “Either way, I’m still your life mate.”
Despite her exasperated expression, Jeera said, “Forever and ever.”