A Wolf Story (18 page)

sixteen

Aramus saw the gaping wound in Corbis's .massive neck as he descended and knew he would only have time for a single blow. And even as he landed his fangs lashed out, tearing a deeper wound through the wound already there. Corbis roared, snatching Aramus between massive paws, and hurled him with stunning force into the wall beside Gianavel.

Corbis descended upon them, ignoring the Elders who threw themselves into the fight with suicidal abandon, slashing with exhausted strength. And then Kaleel leaped forward, roaring, to strike yet another blow at the injured neck.

Corbis spun at the slashing blow and returned the attack, lashing out with unbelievable force. The huge paw struck Kaleel's shoulder, shattering flesh and bone together, and the young bear cried out, staggering back wildly from the crushing impact. Turned from Gianavel by the threat of yet another and perhaps fatal blow from the young bear, Corbis leaped upon Kaleel to finish the kill.

Struck with horror, Aramus and Gianavel roared and leaped together upon Corbis. Aramus slashed at the monster's shoulder, tearing away the dark fur, and Gianavel, defying Corbis's deadly jaws, sank fangs deep into the rending wound that had been torn by Kaleel, breaking the Beast from the ravaging attack.

Corbis roared, whirled toward Gianavel and leaped forward, but the old wolf was gone, striking a rear leg and leaping back again, using his superior speed and evasiveness to every advantage. Corbis advanced after him, while Kaleel staggered slowly to his feet, bleeding and stunned.

Upon the dark throne they circled the Beast, and in a flashing, nightmarish conflict waged a devastating battle of attacks thrown and countered, of blows delivered and blows received and fangs returning the same. Then Corbis launched a sweeping rush toward Gianavel. Almost, the old wolf evaded the closing force, but a wide paw caught him in the side. Gianavel roared savagely as the crushing blow hurled him across the throne, where he collapsed.

Corbis rushed forward to throw another killing swipe of the black claws. But even as the Beast moved, Aramus leaped in with suicidal boldness. His long fangs sank deep into the bear's neck and Aramus leaped back again, tearing away the dark flesh. Roaring in agony, Corbis reared, towering above them all, and turned toward Aramus, who backed out upon the throne, snarling and roaring in his own rage.

Fangs smoking with blood, the Beast bent over the silver wolf and roared, scorning the power of its wound. And Aramus looked fully into Corbis's unearthly eyes, beholding the world contained within the blackened depths, a world darkly solid and pure with evil purpose, covered by dancing slivers of demonic life.

"I will destroy you!" Corbis rasped.

Aramus stared into the eyes, shook his head.

"No," he gasped, "you'll only destroy my flesh."

Corbis roared and raised the black claws high, and then Gianavel struck.

The great gray wolf collided against the Beast with devastating force, striking high and true to draw deep blood, and Corbis's killing blow was lost within the impact. Then Kaleel leaped forward, locking teeth deeply into Corbis's huge foreleg, using all his weight to drag the monster down.

Staggering, resisting the roaring attack with primordial strength, Corbis attempted to shake off Kaleel, and struck wildly at the elusive gray shape of Gianavel. And Aramus, with Razul beside him, leaped into the attack.

Blow after blow, they weakened the Beast. Corbis slashed at Kaleel, who howled in agony but grimly refused to release his grip. Frustrated and enraged to madness, Corbis struck again at the wolves. The Beast's black claws descended in a wide arc, and in a terrific instant collided against Razul's side, hurling the lean gray wolf from the throne.

Aramus and Gianavel watched Razul smash against the cavern floor, but even as he landed, the old wolf staggered blindly up, bleeding and coughing, and they knew he would survive. Yet when they turned again to Corbis, Gianavel launched himself into the attack with a fury and rage that made even Aramus shrink back.

With supernatural strength, eternal moment by eternal moment, blow upon blow, Gianavel slashed wildly at the Beast. The cavern floor streamed with blood and Corbis struck with monstrous strength, yet it did not lessen the fury of their combined attack. Lungs burning, legs deadened by the exhausting fury of the conflict, father and son drove themselves forward, refusing to surrender to the fatigue that devoured their strength.

And, finally, when Aramus had begun to fear that nothing would ever weaken Corbis's colossal might, he felt the slightest lessening in its stance. Heart and hope suddenly strengthened, Aramus threw himself into the final moment of the fight with wild abandon, pushing his strength that last step, forced his railing limbs to strike again and again, refusing to rest his burning lungs and legs, doing all that flesh could do. Then Corbis suddenly staggered, and with Kaleel hanging tenaciously from a foreleg, fell across the granite.

Aramus was lost in the blinding flurry of fangs and blows that followed through the next chaotic instant. As long as he lived, he would only remember black claws sweeping over him and the forms of Gianavel and Kaleel as they struck time after time. Aramus fought on, knowing nothing but his wounds and the burning and the blood that clouded his sight.

Yet he would never forget how Corbis, enraged by some final instinct of death and empowered by that dark strength that drained the stars of life, suddenly threw them off together, and against all natural force began to rise from the cavern floor. Shocked and exhausted from the destroying effort of the fight, Aramus fell back, roaring in anger and frustration as the colossal shape rose, its strength gathering even as it staggered up from the bloody stone. And gazing upon that dark majesty of might, Aramus feared that perhaps, indeed, the Beast could not be destroyed.

Then suddenly he was there: Gianavel, old and bloodied, alone before the Beast.

"It's over, Corbis," Gianavel gasped. "God proclaims that you will terrify no more."

Corbis laughed through a bloody froth.

"Your God is weak, Gianavel!
You
are weak!"

Dark blood masked Gianavel's fangs as he spoke.

"No, Beast," the old wolf shook his head. "The Lightmaker has destroyed you ... at last."

Corbis began to rise, snarling, laughing.

"Not by your God, Gianavel!" Corbis roared. "Not by your God!"

Gianavel struck again. Fully into the face of the Beast he leaped, tearing again at the ravaged wound. Yet in order to deliver the blow, the old wolf was forced to
receive the same. Corbis closed a crushing embrace around Gianavel, and roaring in some abysmal agony of death, staggered up from the granite.

Aramus screamed as Corbis's great fangs separated and descended vengefully into the great wolf. And the two shapes swayed in the Abyss, crowned by roars and cries of the cavernous battle that lent an unearthly aspect to the scene, as if their spirits, more enduring and stronger than flesh, were continuing the conflict. Then suddenly, as if thunderously struck from above by some devastating power beyond them all, Corbis screamed, stumbling. Instantly Gianavel fell from the crushing embrace, rolling away as he hit the stone to leap clear.

Corbis swayed in the Abyss, grasping futilely at the blackness that cascaded down his colossal form. And he leaned against the darkness, reaching toward the vaulted ceiling as if beckoning to some otherworldly power that had finally forsaken him, at last. Then, with a slow, mountainous descent, the Beast crashed across his earthly throne.

* * *

seventeen

Grievously wounded, Gianavel watched with Aramus beside him as the dark wolves were beaten back and routed. Unleashing the full measure of their wrath, the vengeful Elders struck down demonic shapes even as they fled, driving them deeper into the corridors of the glacial mountain.

Windgate was standing beside him before Aramus heard the hare's quiet footsteps. Aramus looked down to see Windgate carefully studying Corbis, peering at the gaping fangs and glaring eyes, now fixed forever in a ghastly stare. The hare nodded softly to himself, as if measuring the Tightness of the end. Then Windgate raised his face toward Aramus, smiling. And despite the pain of his own great wounds, Aramus felt himself smiling back in return.

Kaleel and Razul lay down beside them, moving slowly and painfully. Kaleel's shoulder was torn and broken, but he could move with a halting gait, and Aramus knew the bear's stout courage would overcome his wound. Razul bore a terrible injury, and moved even more slowly, but his old eyes smoldered fiercely in the faint light, undying and defiant, and Aramus knew that he, too, would survive the conflict.

Finally, when the remaining Elders had finished the fight, they moved also to the throne, surrounding the dead form of Corbis. Each gray shape was torn and slashed, yet Gianavel's wounds were the greatest, and he bore them the lightest, seeming to neither notice nor care about his wounded flesh, the fatigue of his gray eyes pierced from within by an enduring light, keen and commanding.

Solemnly, he gazed about the room.

"The price was great," the old wolf said softly. "Those who have fallen will be honored. And in the world to come, they will be glorified."

Gianavel looked into each weary face.

"Never forget this hour. It was the hour when you stood your ground, enduring the great test of suffering. Despite your pain, despite your weakness, you did what you knew was right. And I know that the battle was fierce. But you were brave, and you stood to the last. And now we must not grow weary. For an end to our suffering is in sight, and the Lightmaker's grace will sustain us."

Gianavel nodded to Aramus, delegating his authority.

"Let us leave this place of death," the old wolf said.

With Windgate beside him, Aramus led the pack up the subterranean hall that led to the icy ridge. Aramus remained intently alert for an ambush, but the caverns and the halls and the Abyss were void of danger, shrouded in utter defeat. Gianavel and Razul followed slowly, surrounded and protected by fearsome Elders.

In force they emerged into the early dawn, full into a cold north wind that howled across the blackened ridge. The mountain seemed angry at their victory, and slashed them cruelly with sleet and ice, but they ignored its wrath.

Leading the way, Aramus guided them skillfully through the darkness, down the dangerous trail. As he moved, he perceived that everything appeared different, somehow. The trail was not so difficult, nor so cruel. And he negotiated the descent with easy grace, careful to keep the pace measured and slow.

In time they reached the base of the mountain, moving from beneath the dark clouds, emerging into the morning sun. Defensive to the last, they crossed the landscape, prepared, always prepared, for some unseen danger, some hidden threat. But there was nothing. The power of darkness had been broken, unable to withstand the ancient strength that had descended upon it. And Aramus noticed that the land was strangely brighter, warmer, than before.

At a ridge crest Aramus and Windgate suddenly turned, touched in their spirits, to look back at the darkened mountain. All the others, unaware of the sensation, continued past them, until the silver wolf and the hare stood side by side atop the barren hill.

In the distance they saw that a high, vengeful wind had come against the storming darkness of the mountain. And the wind, fiercer and stronger in the higher reaches of the sky, tore at the storm clouds until the darkness was slashed with light from the ascending sun.

Yet as he watched the darkness fall before the glowing dawn, Aramus' mind turned away from the mountain, and he thought solemnly of Saul. He looked down at Windgate, and the big hare gazed up, dark eyes softening, and Aramus knew that Windgate, too, was remembering their fallen friend, even as they heard the quiet words that whispered with the wind...

"
Always strength comes
…"

With shining sil
ver eyes Aramus watched as conquering white clouds rushed across the sky, driven by the relentless wind, sweeping over the mountain until the ice and the storm and the darkness together were overcome by the Light.

* * *