By Clarissa Ruth
I sidled closer to the battle trophy, my palm itching to finally hold the rune-etched hilt.
The dead warrior’s blade had been there as long as I could remember—stabbed into the center of the cave’s floor. Every day I’d gaze at it, and the warrior’s name would dance in my thoughts to a tune only I seemed to hear. Asena. I was a small child when the great warrior had slain Amarok, our previous leader, with this blade. Maybe if I’d seen the killing, I would fear the sword as the others did. But I hadn’t, and I didn’t.
My toes hugged the dirt as my hand reached for the worn-leather grip.
Something hard slammed into the side of my head, sending me sprawling.
“Pathetic whelp.” Fenrir slowly opened his hand, as if reliving the blow with delight. “You sully that sword with your filth, and I’ll chew your fingers off.” He bent low over me, his silver-gray hair falling to frame a white-toothed grimace. “One. By. One.”
I turned to my back and lay still. “Yes, Fenrir.”
He strode away toward the others who laughed at me. My cheeks heated. I was the weakest of the group. They told me as much every day.
“Vidar?”
Hearing my name from an unfamiliar voice brought me to my feet. A man with a shaggy mane of hair stood outlined in the cave’s entrance.
Fenrir moved to face him. “Garm.” He said the name as if it were a curse. “You dare show your face here?”
“I must speak with my son.” He turned toward me.
My heart sprang into a thundering beat. I have a father?
Fenrir stepped between us. “A traitor like you could put ideas in his head, and he’s a useful slave.”
“My wife wanted him raised in a human village with her.” His voice thickened. “My Asena—”
“You want to die, fool?” Fenrir growled as he advanced toward Garm.
I stood frozen in shock. Asena was a woman? Asena was my mother?
“Go ahead. Kill me.” Garm’s words echoed in the cave. “I can’t live this way anymore. But my son has a choice.”
“Enough!” Fenrir leapt forward, fists readied for action.
Garm grappled with Fenrir and pinned him in moments. Instead of pressing his advantage, he locked gazes with me. “You can choose, son of Asena!”
Five more bodies joined the fray with a yell, then ten, eighteen. My father disappeared in a frenzy of bloodlust. Down to my marrow, I knew I’d be next.
My palm found the hilt. I yanked it, amazed when the blade jumped up as if eager to do my bidding—as if I were strong.
Skirting the chaos at the cave’s entrance, I ran for the forest. Yells and curses followed me. The others would wait until night, then hunt me.
Let them try. I’m no slave. I’m the son of Garm and Asena. I can do anything.
You can choose, son of Asena, my heart whispered to me as I stood trembling beneath the shadow of the trees. I’d replayed the words a thousand times since that day in the cave when my father had died to tell me the truth. The elusive truth.
I’d fled the pack, evading them for a fortnight until they tired of tracking me. Though more dangerous, I preferred night travel. If even a sliver of moon smiled down on me, I made excellent time.
One night I had become too eager, too strong. The human hunter was no match for me. As rumors spread of the killer with a sword on his back, I hid from the moon’s face in shame. “Never again,” I promised myself, finally understanding why my father preferred to die rather than live this way.
But I, half-human that I was, could choose. After two months of searching, I’d found the seer who told me how. Taking my stand just outside the grassy clearing near their cave, I prayed he was right.
They had found me, and now spread out in a crescent facing me. Each had shaggy, silver-gray hair like mine, perfect white teeth, and bare skin exposed to the moon that would soon rise. Fenrir grimaced at me, not bothering to speak as he turned his face upward.
Moonlight touched them. Each one threw back his head with a human cry that turned to a haunting howl. Noses turned to snouts, teeth to fangs, hands to paws.
On all fours, Fenrir the wolf loped toward me, growling to the pack. He’d take me himself.
I held the sword so the tip dragged the ground, hoping I’d appear as weak as they remembered me to be.
Even as a wolf, Fenrir’s overconfident grin showed. My ruse worked. He lunged at me.
I knew little of swordsmanship but figured the sharp end should point toward something the enemy would rather keep. Like his heart.
The tip rose with controlled ease. His snarl morphed into a shocked yelp just before we both tumbled to the ground. I stood and unsheathed my mother’s sword from the scabbard of his chest. I raised it high.
“Let the pack of Gresenge fear the son of Asena!” I cried as blood dripped onto my hand.
As one, the wolves turned and fled. Their fear bought me tonight. The blood would buy much more.
I smeared the sticky liquid over my arms, neck, face—anything exposed. Then, breath held, sword in hand, I strode into the moonlight.
The light burned, and I feared my efforts were futile. The fire felt hotter as it raced through my veins toward my heart—where the change would begin. The blood-laced moonlight drove pain into my chest as never before. Crashing to my knees, I stifled a cry.
When it passed, I sat back, trembling and sweating. I raised my face to the sky. My old enemy had the same pale face as always, but I, with my human eyes, now beheld a friend.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Good development of tension and suspense.
Cool. Thanks!
Intriguing and exciting! Great job, Clarissa!
Thanks, Zack! Glad you enjoyed :)
Where’s the rest?? I need to read more!! I was enraptured and completely enthralled with the plot… and then it ended!!! Loved the story! Intriguing, suspenseful and left the reader wanting more. As always, very well done!
Haha, the dangers of flash fiction! ;) It was a lot of story to cram into 1,000 words, so I had to be sparse on description, etc. But I’m happy the plot worked for ya! :-D
I like that Asena is a woman. The variation on the ‘pointy end goes toward the enemy’ is a nice touch.
Cool world development here—I especially liked the small touches that hinted at things beyond the story’s scope (like the seer or the pack’s name). Made it feel like there’s a much wider world that the story fits into.