Nightclans

By

Gerard Bond

Angels Blood Series

Nightclans

Wolfe Pack

Angels Blood

Copyright © 2014 Gerard Bond

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-312-10780-9

Wollfen sat in his saddle looking out over the river as his horse quietly drank from the waters edge, it was a serene view. He ran his fingers through his long hair, feeling a cool breeze on his face. Birds were chirping in the trees, a panorama of snow topped mountains in the background. It was where he preferred to be, he had no desire to be in the cities or towns. He looked down at his tunic, a fresh cut through the material partly exposing his chest to the elements. It had been an orc's sword that had almost caught him, luckily he had been falling backwards at the time and managed to dive out of the way.

He looked back maybe a hundred yards to where the bodies of two orcs lay, Wollfen had been meandering along walking his horse lost in his thoughts when he was attacked. If he hadn't fallen? Grievously wounded probably, but deep down, he knew the result would have been the same, two orcs dead. It seemed he always came out on top even when his opponents got the better of him. Luck? Divine intervention? Who knew, it didn't matter, he accepted the good fortune he had in his life.

Now Wollfen pulled on his reins and moved off, too much time wasted wandering around, the Nightclans were still a few days ride to the east and he had much ground to cover. Three weeks ago his old friend Ironside of the Nightclan Horungar had gotten word out of his wish for Wollfen to attend the marriage of his son to his third woman, Ironside was  proud. His third wife already? The son was maybe twenty one by Wollfen's reckoning, even by Nightclan standards that was quick.

The Nightclans were different from regular society to the west. The clans lived and fought in a harsh wild environment that cost the lives of many of the men. The women while just as adept at fighting as the men were kept from the main skirmishes because they bore the children. It was simple practicality that they did so, the clans lived in the mountains and the orcs always took a toll. As for the people living the way they did, they had no choice, the Kingdom in the western flatlands had no time for them. They would not allow the Nightclans to move there. Not that they would want to, he thought.

The Nightclan people were a proud race, proud of their heritage and just as proud of their fighting history, for them to fall in battle was almost a privilege, a right of passage before the gods. Still Wollfen knew it took its toll and now as he trotted along he once again scanned the landscape around him, the mountains were always a pleasure to be in, the air was cooler and the wildlife more concentrated. Such beauty as far as he was concerned and yet it masked such a harsh reality too.

If Wollfen hadn't been in such a reflective mood and more alert even now after such an attack, he may have noticed the solitary dark figure shadowing him as he rode slowly along. It crouched through the bushes moving quickly yet quietly always watching always on the alert, its intense blue eyes hard and focused. Its furtive movements belied its true nature, this thing wanted to jump forward and attack. But something held it back, some urge made it hesitate and so it followed. Hatred filled its heart for that tall human on horseback, two of its compatriots dead on the path not so far back. It so wanted to spring forth and kill, kill and eat.

There were no thoughts in its head, just the desire, that was all that drove this creature on in life, urges pushed it on and nothing else. Kill, eat and fornicate, it was enough. But now, that new thing in its head, urging it to quietly follow, no actual command just a new urge, wait, follow and watch. So the creature did, it did what it felt, nothing more, nothing less. And so it followed quietly and watched, nothing more.

It was two days later as Wollfen was slowly moving down the slope of a well treed valley when he was challenged by a sentry,

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Wollfen pulled on his reins with slow movements and waited, a black haired woman clad in dark leather holding a crossbow aimed at his chest moved out from the brush, her horse moved easily at the nudging of the heels of her boots, she was using both hands to hold the weapon. The horse stopped slightly turned to Wollfen and he spoke up,

“Hello Ravenwing, it's been a long time.” At hearing his voice the woman lowered her weapon and smiled, the scar on her left cheek becoming more pronounced.

“Well look who it is, come to eat our food and drink our wine eh Wolfy?” He chuckled before replying,

“Of course, why else would I even bother coming to such a forsaken hole?” Now the woman looked on in mock surprise and moved forward to give him a swat with the back of her gloved hand but Wollfen was already moving away.

“If I get a hold of you I'll give you forsaken hole!” Wollfen grinned and only partly apologized,

“Okay okay, it's not forsaken!” She gave him a grim look before jutting her thumb over her shoulder,

“You better get going, your baby Ironside has been whining the last two days wanting to send out scouts for you, he will have a big kiss waiting I'm sure.” Wollfen moved past her and grunted,

“Big kiss huh? Maybe I'll just ride off again.” Ravenwing looked back over the area Wollfen had just come from, eyes roamed slowly back and forth. Was there movement? Nothing could be seen or smelt, she went back to her post and scanned the surrounds quietly once again. Sentry duty was a 24 hour part of camp life, it was tiring and unexciting mostly but a very necessary part of  existence out here, it never ended.

Ironside was calling out to people all around him in a sort of frantic dance, his highly agitated state was only making things worse and as Wollfen approached he noted how unleader-like the man looked. Almost as tall as Wollfen but with long black hair and broad shoulders, he was an imposing sight nonetheless. Finally Ironside noticed the man on horseback sitting there idly and called out,

“You there! If you have nothing to do get along to the..” As he spoke recognition dawned on him, “Wollfen! You finally made it!” Now he moved quickly across as Wollfen dismounted tying his reins off at a post next to a large ornate tent. Ironside stuck out his hand, “How was the ride my man? Any trouble?” Wollfen shook his head,

“Just a couple of orcs trying to be a pain.” He flicked the cut in his tunic with his thumb as he spoke.

“What? No blood spouting injury? Hardly worth mentioning even!” Ironside grinned cheekily and Wollfen gave a smirk back.

“Yes, it's good to see you too you ratbag.” Ironside chuckled as the two of them turned towards the activity of the camp, “I see preparations are about normal for a fest put on by you though.” Ironside ignored the comment.

“You made it just in time, the ceremony is this evening, maybe another hour or so.” Wollfen looked about, it did explain the slight panic, nothing seemed to be anywhere near ready, “You are one of the last to arrive you know? Though I did expect old Greybear and his entourage to be here, he did send word of his pending arrival.” Wollfen found that curious, Greybear was perhaps Ironside's oldest friend.

“It might be that he is just delayed, maybe you should put it off a couple of days?” Ironside shook his head.

“No, that will not do, the moon is at its fullest and it must be tonight or we wait another month.” Wollfen grunted, the cultural expectations of this society were still a bit curious to him from time to time. “Come along, you need to meet the bride, I think you will be impressed.”

Ironside smiled as he turned and led off not waiting for Wollfen's reply, they walked along the main path between the tents of the clan. The large ones were for the leaders of the other clans and at the end was the largest of them all, Ironside's own tent and guest house for the soon to be wife of Ironside's son Ehvengar. Two guards stood at the entrance and bowed their heads to Ironside and Wollfen as they strode in, inside it was a retreat of tranquility compared to the bustle of outside. A woman sat at a small table cursing over some sort of fine dress and looked up as the two entered the room,

“Look who it is! Wollfen!” Wollfen recognized the owner of the golden locks immediately,

“Hey hello Spiritwing it is good to see you.”

He moved toward her and she stood up taking him in her arms, they embraced for a moment before standing back a little, they had known each other for years and even fought in past battles. Spiritwing was a seasoned fighter and proud mother of two young boys. Wollfen looked her up and down, still lean and powerful as always,

“I see you are trying to help with the preparations.” Wollfen quipped as he pointed to the dress, “Mind you, I never took you for a seamstress.” Spiritwing couldn't help but laugh out loud,

“Oh Wollfen, all brides must prepare their own dresses you know?”

Now he looked shocked and his mouth opened wide, Ironside couldn't help but grin broadly.

“You are the one marrying Ehvengar?”

She nodded quietly while looking to Ironside, smiling then looking back again. Wollfen was caught a little flat footed, should he ask about Bohrengar? She deduced he was probably a little unsure what to say but knew what he wanted to ask,

“Bohrengar fell six months ago and Ehvengar was there for me a lot, we got close and it's time I moved on.”

Wollfen nodded at the news, he hadn't been around in a long time which wasn't unusual really and he hugged her again,

“I'm glad for you.”

She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek before returning to her work. Wollfen and Ironside walked back outside with the leader looking intently at Wollfen, he was expecting something. Finally Wollfen turned to Ironside and spoke,

“She would have to be a good five years older than your son, she won't take any crap from him you know?” Ironside grinned broadly, he was proud but didn't say a thing. Wollfen could tell Ironside was more than happy, “They must be made for each other huh?”

Now Ironside seemed to be grinning even broader than before and Wollfen couldn't help but ask,

“What is it?” Finally the man spoke up,

“Obviously my son has inherited the endowments of his father and is capable of satisfying the needs of any woman!” Wollfen rolled his eyes.

“You are just weird.”

Ironside laughed out loud and patted Wollfen's shoulder,

“One day when you have a son of your own you will understand my friend.” Wollfen shook his head as they walked away.

“Sure sure.”

The festivities started about an hour later with salutations from other clan leaders there, friends and family put their bit in too and Wollfen watched on for the most part. He only knew a few of them here and wasn't a big drinker, Ironside though was more than happy to make up for his share. He was putting away enough ale to keep a battalion of soldiers happy. Wollfen wondered if the man would be standing soon? It was going to be a long night after all. Music was playing and most of the men were trying to sing along. The women were in on it too, sloshing ale about in their mugs and crying out bawdy jokes to each other.

Oh yes, Wollfen could see there would be a lot of sore heads tomorrow, that was if the festivities stopped before then which was highly unlikely. Ehvengar was trotting around going from table to table being a good host of his own marriage. He was the spitting image of his father in his youth, tall with long black hair and solidly built too, a lot less scars though. Quite a number of women would have liked to be part of his considerations and Wollfen was sure within a few years a couple probably would be. It was to be expected.

Wollfen looked around and did a count of the numbers of men to women, what was it? Four to one? Maybe more? In such a community where the women far outnumbered the men Wollfen wondered how there wasn't more conflict between them? In most places of the Kingdom if a woman even suspected another of taking liberties with their man, there was usually blood spilled but here it was so different. Wollfen always wondered about that.

The Nightclans were such a contrast to the folk of the west. In fact they usually only dealt with each other when it came to border disputes or such. There was a little trade but usually only for weapons and steel. There was no love lost between the Kingdom and the Nightclans.

Ravenwing at that moment broke Wollfen from his reverie with a slap on the shoulder as she sat down beside him, mug in hand,

“I owed you that hit for earlier you bastard.” She commented with a grin.

Wollfen wasn't to be outdone and gave her a playful squeeze of her chin as she tried drinking, spilling some of it and causing her to splutter.

“Hey! That's a waste of good ale!”

Wollfen did his best to look remorseful but wasn't doing a good job of it and copped another playful hit for his efforts.

“So Raven, much to report from the fringes?” She shook her head,

“Nothing to report, no. Though if you  really want to get into it you should go have a talk with Ironside about it.”

Wollfen looked around and spied him laying back, tankard in hand looking decidedly worse for wear with two women sitting on his thighs.

“Something tells me I'm not going to get anything intelligible out of him for days.”

Raven laughed at the comment, they both knew the leader well. Wollfen looked closer at his friend sitting beside him, Ravenwing was an older woman in her mid to late forties and her children had grown up. She counted another older woman as her partner these days which was nothing unusual, what else was there? Not many men in the clans lived past thirty, companionship and love was hard to find for many of the older women. It was a fact of life.