FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE (52 page)

     Master Calnen was shocked at the brutality of this symbolic act. Master Waycress jumped in her seat at the sound of the ‘explosion’. Master Shay just shook his head.

     “Out _ you three are cast of this, and henceforth are no longer members of the Grand Order of Elementhars,” pronounced Master Shay.

     Clover approached Master Waycress and handed her a book wrapped in a piece of cloth.

     “Vanguard Manuscript _ whose copy of this is it
?
” asked Master Waycress.

     “Vanguard Manuscript _ of this, it was Wave’s copy. Supplemented _ this copy has been of this with the spells that were missing from our copies. Consolidate _ you can now do of this of the missing water element spells with this copy,” answered Clover.

     “Supplement _ how did you do of this, Clover
?
” asked Master Waycress.

     Clover did not answer. She turned to look at Ray. Ray nodded his head.

     “Supplemented _ I did of this of the book with the Original Vanguard Manuscript,” she said.

     All three High Council members stood up in surprise. The entire hall broke into a buzz.

     “Original Vanguard Manuscript _ of it, it was with you all these years, Ray
?
Manuscript _ of it, we had thought that it had been destroyed when your monune was burnt down
!
Manuscript _ of it, it belongs to the Grand Order, so you must return it to us, Ray
!
” said Master Calnen.

     “No
!
Prime Guardian _ I am of him, and was selected by both you and Master Shay 15 years ago, remember
?
Fit _ I see it not of this that the Grand Order be the keeper of this book, nor deserving of its wisdom,” said Ray.

     Master Calnen was speechless. He knew that Ray was angry, but it seemed to him that Ray’s anger had turned into hatred. He was at a lost, and so were Masters Shay and Waycress. They did not know what to do. Ray was appointed the Prime Guardian by the High Council. There was no rule to state that the Prime Guardian must be an Ordered Elementhar, because no one had ever expected the Prime Guardian to denounce the Grand Order. But as Prime Guardian, Ray was the legitimate keeper and protector of the Original Vanguard Manuscript and no one, not even Grand Elementhar Shay, had the right to take it away from him.

     The High Council sat back down in defeat. Ray, Clover, Lance and Spirit turned around and walked toward the exit. As they did, they were jeered by the crowd. But amongst the jeering, there were some who clapped in support, particularly amongst the Earth Elementhars and the Water Elementhars.

     As they leave Monune Grand, Ray feels both sad yet satisfied. He has finally delivered the message that he had wanted to deliver to the High Council for the past 15 years. He has finally punished them for ‘abandoning’ his order. And now the High Council know that as Ray leaves, the Original Vanguard Manuscript leaves with him. The true spirit of Pioneer Elementhar Nova Vanguard is with him, and not with them. Ray hopes that the High Council will finally understand that they have lost their way.

     Clover, too, feels satisfied that the High Council has received this rude slap across the face. Of course, now she has become an outcast yet again. But being an outcast is preferable to being wrong, or being on the wrong side.

     Lance feels disappointed with the hypocrisy of the High Council. This is the first time he had any dealings with them, and the experience was not positive at all. He now realises that Elementhars have such complicated relationships. It seems that there is more to their interest than just killing demons.

     Spirit, meanwhile, is just not bothered about the fuss, for as far as he is concerned, it is close to lunch time and his stomach rumbles with hunger. He understands not what is going on, only that this crowd of people were Ray’s pack once but are not anymore. Too bad for them, he reasons, for it is their loss and his gain. Ray is the best pack-mate he ever had, is having, and will probably ever have. As he walks away from the strange white building with Ray, Lance and Clover, he thinks back to his past, to the time when he had first met Ray. He thinks back about his own story,
the story of Spirit
.

THE STORY OF SPIRIT

     He feels wet. He feels cold. Air fills his lungs. Slowly, he opens his eyes, this little white wolf cub. He looks around and sees three other little white wolf pups, wet and cold like him. So born into the world of Farhayven is he, Spirit the White Wolf, one of the four heirs of the tradition of the polar wolf.

     The landscape was white, filled with a solid wetness that drained the heat off Spirit’s body. Then there was a rumbling emptiness inside him. He took a deep breath and smelt the air. The air was fresh but cold. He moved his weak head around, smelling the air again. There was a strange, and yet familiar, smell. He followed this smell. It led his head to a piece of protruding flesh. He put his mouth to it and began to suck. Warm white liquid filled his empty belly, the life-giving milk of his mother. He looked around, and saw the other little wolf pups doing the same. So there they were, all cold, wet and weak, sucking milk from their mother.

     Strength found its way to Spirit’s legs and body. He tried to stand up, but collapsed to the ground. It was a hard fall, and he yelped in pain. But he tried again and again, and yet again. Then he was on his feet. He took his first step. His legs trembled. He walked the few steps to his other siblings and sniffed behind their tails. Two were males and one was female. So he had two brothers and a sister. His legs felt tired and the cold had weakened him further. He struggled the few steps required to get to the underbelly of his mother and lowered his body to the ground. His eyes were heavy and he closed them gently, snuggling comfortably to the warmth of his mother’s body. There he slept in innocent peace.

     Many weeks had passed. Spirit had become an active wolf pup. He ran and ran, and then he leapt with all his might, and pounced onto one of his brothers. The two of them tumbled onto the snow-covered ground, engaged in puppy-wrestling. Pretty soon, all four pups were engaged in it. They bit and pawed one another harmlessly, and they body-slammed one another and chased one another’s tail. These were the games that the siblings played with each other on the cold, wet, snow-covered ground.

     Then the smell of food caught their attention. Their mother had returned with a large portion of a dead antelope in her jaw. Next to her was an even larger wolf, their father, and he too had in his jaw a large portion of the dead antelope. Pretty soon, all four pups were tearing away chunks of antelope meat and chewing away like there was no tomorrow. Then all four pups lay on the snow-covered ground, their belly filled to their limits, making it uncomfortable for them to move. There was nothing left to do but to close their eyes and take their lazy afternoon nap enjoying the mild rays of the sun.

     A year goes by, and Spirit the White Wolf is a pup no longer. He grows up to be almost as large as his father. Along with one of his brothers, Spirit hides behind some bushes and eyes his prey, an adult male antelope who has strayed away from the rest of his herd. Spirit’s father, along with his mother, charges at the antelope, barking ferociously and baring their fangs. The sudden sight of two ferocious wolves scares the antelope into a sudden panic, and he starts running away. So does the rest of the herd. Unfortunately, the herd runs in one direction but the stray antelope runs in another. The antelope becomes isolated from his herd, with two ferocious white wolves just barely a pace or two behind him.

     The stray antelope runs and runs. His chest feels tight and his heartbeat is rapid. Then to his utmost horror, he sees another pair of white wolves joining in the chase, approaching him from both flanks. Spirit’s brother and sister take over the chase from their parents, who slow down to rest. The antelope grows tired. His legs feel numb and heavy. He feels like giving up. He wants to die. He wants to be put out of his misery. His lungs feel like exploding and the world spins around him.

     Then suddenly, Spirit and his other brother both leap into the air from behind the bushes and sink their fangs into the antelope. They drive their fangs in deep. Spirit’s two other siblings catch up with them and jump onto the back of the poor creature and sink their fangs in deep as well. The combined weight of the four wolves bring the antelope collapsing to the ground. It is all over for him, the stray antelope. He has not the will to survive, and now he lies lifeless on the ground as six hungry wolves rip chunks of flesh from his motionless and lifeless body. Spirit smiles as best as a wolf can. It is a good hunt. This is a tasty meal. His belly is not complaining. And now his eyes are heavy and he closes them as he lay on the cold, wet snow-covered ground. To him, life is such a wonderful thing.

     Another six months had passed, and things had changed. Gone were the antelopes, rabbits, squirrels and forest mice. The blizzards came down hard. The river and water-holes were all frozen solid. Spirit’s parents looked around in a worried manner. With a firm stare from the father, the rest of the family understood what they had to do. They got on their feet and set out to warmer grounds. They had nothing to guide them but the smell of antelopes, rabbits and other creatures that were carried by the gusting wind and dampened by the moisture of falling snow.

     The six white wolves made slow pace in the thick blizzard, and in time, they were all trembling. Spirit was scared, but even more than that, he was angry. Everything was fine until then. They had a small stream from which to drink. They had antelopes, rabbits and forest mice for food. Why did things have to change
?
  Why were there no warnings
?
Or were there warnings which they did not know how to interpret
?

     Spirit lost his footing and slipped. He struggled to regain it. He looked down. This ground was different than the ones he was used to. It was smooth, slightly wet and very slippery. Unlike the brown or black ground beneath the white soft snow which he was used to, this ground was semi-transparent and hard. The rest of his family were having trouble staying on their feet as well. His father pushed forward, and the rest of the family followed. One of his brothers looked at him, giving him a mischievous stare. Under normal circumstances, Spirit would have pounced on him and the both of them would have been locked in some sort of wolf wrestling. But Spirit was not in the mood
!
He was cold. He was tired. But most of all, he was hungry. So, step after step, the family of six white wolves walked across the frozen river in solemn silence.

    
Crack!
  Then a yelping sound is heard. Spirit turns his head around to see his sister falling through the broken ice and into the freezing water. He stares in total disbelief. As he turns around, he sees a blur of white mass flash past him. Before he can even decide what to do, his father is already in the freezing water, trying his best to keep Spirit’s sister afloat. His father pushes his sister towards the edge and tries to get her out of the water. Spirit runs forward and bites his sister at the back of her neck and with all his weakened might, tries to pull her up. His brothers arrive and join the effort.

     Spirit’s sister is now up on the stable ice, but not his father. The three siblings try to grab their father’s neck, but it is too late. The freezing cold of the river overcomes the older wolf, his eyes become white and his body floats gently away from them. His mother tries to wake Spirit’s sister up, and just barely manages to do so. The severely weakened female wolf clumsily regains her footing, and her heart skips a beat when all four of the other white wolves howl in mournful tones, the long deep howls to send off the dead. She turns around to see the large mass of white fur that was her father floating away with the current of the now partially flowing river and howls in mourning too. Tears flow down the side of their furry cheeks. Their father is gone forever.

     The smell of antelopes still guided them. But Spirit was not hungry anymore. His stomach was still empty but somehow the thought of filling it was the furthest from his mind. Why
?
  Why did nature play these cruel games with them
?
  What has he done, what have they done to deserve such a fate
?
Why all these cruel taunts
?
Why did nature not kill them speedily with minimum suffering
?
And all around him, Spirit saw white. White sky. White ground.  White fur. And he hated it. He hated the whiteness of snow, of his fur and of his father’s lifeless eyes. He hated them all
!

     Spirit walked ahead of his family. He had become the new dominant male, the leader of the pack, the head of the family. He walked and walked and walked. Then there was a loud thump. He turned around, and saw his sister lying on the white frozen ground. Her body was stiff. Her chest was motionless. She was dead. The coldness of the river had drained the life out of her. Spirit and the rest of his family could do nothing but mourn. Howl after howl filled the air for their dearly departed sister. Nature had betrayed him, tortured him and played cruel games with him. Yet Spirit the White Wolf knew of one sure fact. Nature was all around him, it was him, he was part of it and that there was no escape from it. Nature engulfed all, controlled all; was anything and everything and yet at the same time, nothing; and from it, there was no escape.

     Shedding the last of his tears, he closed his eyes in mournful silence. Then Spirit turned his body back to the direction of the scent of the antelopes, and walked forward. His two brothers joined him and so did his mother. And so the four sad, mournful souls treaded endlessly in the infinite whiteness of the snow-covered terrain.

     For two long weeks the family of four white wolves treaded along. Occasionally, they were lucky and managed a meagre meal of rabbit meat, and on other days they walked on with empty stomachs. The blizzards became less frequent and less intense. The sun began to shine longer. Spirit lowered his mouth to the ground and crunched on a mouthful of snow. It quenched his thirst for a short while. But it did not quench his sorrow, anger or hatred. Nature was making a fool of him, and he had no choice but to accept the cruel fate dealt to him.

     Then he saw a twitch in the corner of his eyes. He stopped and focused his sight. His brothers did the same. About 20 paces away, a pair of furry ears and a tail protruded out of the whiteness of the snow. It was small, and it was unaware of the approaching wolves. Spirit looked at his brothers. It seemed that nature and fate had decided to smile on them a little. The hunt was on
!

     Spirit edges forward, keeping his body low and making sure that he stayed downwind. This is important as being upwind will carry his scent to his prey, thereby giving it ample warning to escape. His brothers take up flanking positions beside him. Together in perfect silent rhythm, the three male wolves creep towards their prey. The furry pair of ears twitches once again and suddenly, a forest mouse’s head appears, looks around and takes in the sight of the three approaching wolves. In the blink of an eye, the chase commences. The tiny forest mouse paddles her feet as fast as she can. The three hungry wolves cut across the snow like lightning. Fear totally consumes the mouse, but she tells herself that she will not give up. She has got to return to her den. Eight tiny hungry mouths await the nutrients in her milk, and without her, they cannot possibly survive. Her husband has been missing for days and now she is all they have got left. She tells herself that she
must
survive
!

     Spirit tells himself that he must get this meal, or one of his family members is going to die of starvation and hypothermia. Spirit is close enough now to pounce and gathering all his strength, he leaps forward, front paws extended and jaws wide open. She sees him soaring through the air towards her. She steps hard with her right front leg and pushes her body to the left. In the split of a moment, she is running perpendicularly from her original track. Spirit lands onto the snow and tumbles on the ground. What an embarrassing miss
!
  To be outmanoeuvred by a forest mouse, what an indignation
!
  Spirit gets on his feet almost immediately and hastily resumes the chase. To Spirit’s perverse satisfaction, both his brothers are unsuccessful as well. This forest mouse is one cunning creature
!
Spirit sprints forward but comes to a sudden stop. He has just lost her trail. He looks around. Nothing
!
He sniffs the air. Nothing
!
He sniffs the ground. Nothing
!
So it seems that nature and fate did not smile on him after all, or perhaps, it smiles on him a little but much more on the forest mouse.

     Spirit walked forward with his head down. So did his brothers. His mother paced slowly behind. They were all very hungry and very cold. Spirit’s world turned and spun. Then came a loud thump. His eyes were heavy and he could open them no longer. He felt the cold wetness of the snow on his fur and flesh. He could hear the barking of his brothers and mother. He felt like his skull was being crushed. Soon, even the barking faded away. There was a cold silence. Such a peaceful silence.