The Search For Magic

Bond

“Damn wolf!”

Karn dragged the leash, threatened with the rod. The wolf bared his teeth, head jerking against the leather rope. Karn wrapped another loop of leash in his palm and dragged the wolf inches closer. The animal barked, snarled, pawed the ground, and pulled back. His teeth were dirty yellow and brown.

Karn sweated, raised the stick, gathered another loop in his palm. The wolf jumped forward, jaws wide, and Karn kicked the wolf. Blood flowed from a shallow gash. The wolf yelped, turning from the attack, saliva spraying from his muzzle as he dragged himself sideways. The wolf thrashed his head, patches of fur missing, showing scars.

The braided leather of the leash dug deep against the calluses of Karn’s hand. Dirt ran free, loosened by sweat into streams of grime. Arms and bare legs shone in the firelight. The wolf stopped thrashing and turned his head toward Karn. Karn bared his canine teeth- sharp and pointed like the wolfs, filed. He cracked the lash against the wolfs scarred flank. The wolf snarled and Karn snarled. Karn propped his elbow against his waist and pulled hard, dragging the wolf a few inches closer.

“Give in, damn you!”

Karn let the leash slacken, sat crosslegged, and beckoned the wolf forward. The wolf lowered himself to the ground, head in Karn’s lap. Karn braced a rod end in the crook of a leg, the crook of an elbow, pressed the rod against the wolfs throat. The wolf growled.

“Shut up.” Karn smoothed the fur between the wolfs ears and scratched the wolfs muzzle. The wolf nuzzled Karn’s hands. Karn pressed the heels of his hands into the pinion of the wolfs jaws, prying them open. His fingers exposed the wolfs yellowed teeth. The wolf pushed with his rear legs. Karn’s rod pressed into the wolfs neck, prevented the wolf from moving. Choked off his howl.

Karn scraped his fingers along the jawline of the wolfs mouth. The wolf tried to bite his fingers, and Karn pressed his palms harder, continued to scrape. The underside of his long nails were caked black. The wolf moaned. Karn pulled a flower from the ground, flicked the yellow head off with his thumb and pressed the moist green stem into the wolfs mouth. The wolf moaned again.

“Shut up,” Karn muttered. “Your own fault.”

Karn pressed harder. Blood flowed around the flower-stem where the wolfs gums had swollen around old food. Karn dragged the animal higher into his lap when the wolf tried to pull away. Karn lifted himself to one knee, leaned against the rod, and wrapped his other leg around the wolfs flanks. Worked hard at a piece of old food. The wolf moaned loudly. Blood flowed, the food finally worked out.

Karn released his hands and the rod, pushed himself back. He sat in front of the wolf and stared into his brown eyes. From a pocket, Karn took out a piece of salted beef, held it between his lips and lowered his head. The wolfs eyes flicked between Karn’s and the food. The wolf lowered his head. Chin touching the ground, Karn pushed his face forward. The wolf shuffled forward. Carefully taking the beef from between Karn’s lips, the wolf raised his head and chewed loudly.

Karn sat up and grabbed the animal around the neck. He ruffled the wolfs fur between the ears. The wolf plodded into Karn’s lap, still chewing loudly. Karn smoothed out the animal’s fur with his hands, laid down the rod next to him.

“Not so bad, eh, Blood? Wъlfbunde?” Karn asked. The wolf finished chewing and swallowed the beef. Karn checked the gash in the wolfs side, blood still flowing from the kick. He wiped his bloodied fingers on the grass.

“Who said a wъlfbunde needs his teeth cleaned?” Brek asked. His wъlfbunde lay on its stomach, eyes on Blood. Brek ran a hand over his wolfs back.

Karn picked another flower, flicked off its head, cleaned his own teeth. “Idiot,” Karn said.

“Idiot I may be, but why have you have beaten the fur from your wъlfbunde?” Brek asked.

“My discipline is harsh,” Karn said. He cleaned the underside of his fingernails.

“Your wiilfbunde can’t take care of himself.”

Karn leaped over Blood, past Brek’s wtilfbunde, a knife in each hand. Brek drew his own knives. Karn knocked the first one aside and the second fell from Brek’s left hand. Karn straddled Brek, knee against the man’s throat, outstretched leg pinning Brek’s left arm. Brek’s wъlfbunde jumped near to Blood, who sat up and watched.

“Speak against my wъlfbunde, and I’ll kill you,” Karn said.

“Stand down, scout,” Arana ordered, hand scratching her wъlfbunde’s ear. “Another time to settle. Tonight is for a sacred mission.”

Karn bared his teeth. Brek bared his own canines. Arana said a wordless command. Karn jumped off Brek, returned to Blood’s side. Blood panted. Arana’s wolf stood at her side, watched the other two.

Each of the five scouts straightened their uniforms, faced the fire. The wъlfbunde sat next to their masters-black, brown, mottled fur. Blood’s fur was patched and uneven, revealing old scars and lashes.

“Report,” Arana said.

“We entered the village,” Brek said. “The Dark had been there. We did the killing.”

“And that was where it happened?” Arana asked.

“The Dark took his spirit, yes,” Brek said. “He is Forsaken.”

“How did you know?” Arana asked.

“The Forsaken killed his own wulfbunde,” Karn said. He ran his hand over Blood’s forehead.

“Yes, that is proof,” Arana agreed. “Now the Forsaken runs wild. He must be stopped.”

The scouts bowed their heads to the fire, its burning and cracking the only sound. Arana spoke to the fire, to each of the scouts and to their wulfbunde.

“In the Age of Might, the Dark Queen brought us the word of Canus. Canus is the faithful. Canus is the guard. Canus is the hunter. Canus brought the Bond between wolf and man, wulfbunde and master. We become like the wolf, and the wolf like us.”

The ears of the wolves twitched. A howl echoed in the high, surrounding hills-the howl of a wolf from the throat of a man.

Arana heard the howl, said, “By accepting the Bond, we accept the sacred mission of Canus. Canus is the hunter. Once we hunted the enemies of our Queen. Now that she is gone, our mission is to hunt the Dark. Canus is the guard. We guard life. Canus is the faithful. We give our lives to our service.”

Blood yawned and sat. Karn batted the wolfs ear. Blood stood.

Arana said, “The Dark are threads escaped from the mantle of Father Chaos. The threads drive a man to madness. The Dark causes father to murder child, comrade to kill comrade. In the Knighthood, the Dark destroys discipline. With us, the Dark breaks the Bond. The Dark must end with death.”

Arana stopped, listened to the howl in the high hills. She closed her eyes. “The Bond is dagger and fang against the Dark. The Bond can be proof against its power. Thus, we fight the Dark.”

The wolves around the fire were still, like their masters. Arana drew a crescent-bladed dagger, cut a line into her palm. Drops fell into the dirt at her feet.

“The Dark has taken one of our patrol. The Forsaken is mad. He will try to kill us as he killed his wъlfbunde. He sees comrades as enemies. We know. We know what happens to those who fall victim to the Dark.”

Arana let her blood fall into a line. Each of the scouts drew their daggers, did the same.

Arana said, “As the Bond is proof against the Dark, the broken Bond is the scent of weakness. If the Dark remains alive in him, he will become a force for Chaos. Shall we suffer him to live?”

Each of the scouts dripped another line in the dirt, forming a cross with the original. Jaren first, then Syllany, then Brek, each touching their wulfbunde on the neck, turning them. Karn made another line, turned, touched Blood’s neck. Blood turned.

They all sheathed their daggers.

Arana made a line through her first line, formed the cross. She turned her back to the fire, wъlfbunde following. “We have all agreed to the judgment of Canus. By dagger and fang we have agreed. The decision is death.”

Each scout walked into the darkness. The scouts were silent on bare feet. The four wolves turned toward Blood. Blood turned back to face them. Each wolfs dark eyes fixed in anger and question on Karn, then each turned and followed their masters.

Blood did not move. Karn grabbed Blood by the remaining fur around his neck, urged the wolf toward the forest. Blood growled and bit. Karn slapped the wolf. He slapped the rod against his thigh. Blood crouched back.

“We have turned our backs and accepted the judgment of Canus. By dagger and fang, we have agreed. I know you understand this well, Blood, because you are the best of all wulfbunde.”

Karn pointed the rod into the dark. Blood stood straight, proud, walked into the forest. Karn followed.

The firelight caught the pattern of leaves, branches, threw them large and dark against the ground. The howl of the Forsaken filled the forest. Karn slipped the rod into its loop on his belt. He drew his twin daggers, cutting edges away from his body, curved blades down. Their metal was old, nicked, sharpened with new whetstones.

The hills and mountains of Neraka penetrated the night sky, walled off the stars and Krynn’s new moon. Karn found prints within a hundred paces. The Forsaken had passed several times, circling the campfire, the scouts, and their wulfbunde. The prints were hidden with corps technique. Karn pointed at the prints. Blood bobbed his head, sniffed, stared into the forest.

“What do you see?” Karn asked.

Blood coughed.

“Take me.”

The two wove through the trees and underbrush. The air was clear and warm. The forest floor was covered with leaves fallen from recent storms, tracks from smaller animals. There was an occasional low rumbling the two felt in their feet-the distant power of the volcanic Lords of Doom. Karn listened, but he did not hear the voice of the Forsaken. Blood kept his nose close to the ground, walking easily.

Karn and Blood found a small clearing, similar to the area around the scouts’ campfire. In the center of the clearing was a cairn made of rocks, covered with dried blood. A pair of corps knives formed a crescent, handles stuck in the ground, tips touching. Drawn into the dirt between the handles of the blades was the glyph of the Forsaken’s wulfbunde. His grave.

Karn touched his upper canines to his lower lip. Blood sniffed around the stones, poked his muzzle toward the glyph, jerked away when Karn slapped him with the rod.

“You know not to touch the sacred mark,” Karn said. Blood growled low. Karn raised the rod, let the lash dangle. Blood sidestepped away. The two glared at each other. Karn replaced the rod at his side.

Karn bowed to the small monument. “Masters and wulfbunde have turned our backs and accepted the judgment of Canus,” he said.

Karn studied the clearing and the empty forest, sloped his shoulders, walked into the brush.

Blood bobbed his head as Karn walked past, brown eyes on the scout. Karn stopped, slapped his side for Blood to follow. The wolf stood, did as commanded, sniffing the trail. He quickly found the trail leading away from the blooded monument.

The covered tracks, in wider circles, continued to lead around the patrol’s campsite. Karn again heard the howl of the Forsaken. The night was half gone. Karn slapped his hand against his thigh, walked faster, then loped, like Blood, through the forest along the trail. The howl was closer, with the rustling of leaves and branches the only other sound. Karn increased the pace, right hand knuckles down on Blood’s back, knife still in his grip. The uniform of the corps stuck to his sweaty body. Karn kept his eyes wide, his body loose. He tightened the grip on his knives.

Blood followed the trail. Karn followed Blood. The ground was more firm. The Forsaken was better able to hide his circling tracks. Blood stopped, sniffed the air, peered into the darkness. Karn stopped a pace ahead of his wulfbunde, searching the night forest. Blood turned around, sniffing the air, turned back. He coughed.

“What do you-?”

The Forsaken howled in Karn’s ears, bare hands clawing his chest, canines tearing at Karn’s throat. Karn fell to the ground, brought his knees up, pushed the Forsaken away, howling in return. The Forsaken fell on his back, growl cut short. Karn sprung to a crouch as the Forsaken turned on his belly and launched himself forward. The Forsaken drove Karn stumbling backward into a tree.

The black wolf was the first to arrive, standing at the edge of the clearing. The brown wolf was second, then the mottle-furred. The last was Arana’s wulfbunde.

Blood moved toward his master, was cut off by the sudden circle of other wolves. Blood dodged, but was blocked again.

Arana’s wulfbunde licked at the fresh wounds from Karn’s lashes. Blood shied away, tried to dodge around the circle again, finally sat, watched the fight.

Karn tried to drive his daggers into the Forsaken’s back. The Forsaken opened his arms wide, preventing the curved blades from reaching his flesh, and bit Karn with his filed canines. Karn dropped to his knees, bodyweight forcing the Forsaken’s arms down. The Forsaken spat and snarled, drove a knee into Karn’s face, knocking the scout’s head back against the tree. Karn dropped his knives.

Karn growled, swayed. The Forsaken pulled Karn to his feet, bit deep into the man’s shoulder. Karn howled, shook his body, but could not free himself from the Forsaken’s teeth. He beat the Forsaken with his fists. Blood ran from his wound into the Forsaken’s mouth.

“Wъlfbunde!” Kara called, desperate.

Kara brought his fists against the Forsaken’s ears, struck again, and again. The Forsaken’s bite loosened. Karn kicked and pushed the Forsaken back. Karn tried to raise his hands in defense, but his left arm wouldn’t work. He kept his right hand up, left dangling, helpless. The Forsaken shook his head, fixed his eyes on Karn, charged, and knocked Karn to the ground.

“Wulfbunde!”

Blood looked to each of the other wiilfbunde, toward Karn. Arana’s wulfbunde bit his paw, dragged a line of blood in the dirt. The black wolf bit her paw, did the same, then the brown, then the mottle-furred. They each crossed the lines with another, forming crosses of blood.

“Wъlfbunde!” Kara cried. He held the Forsaken off with his right arm, slowly losing strength against the other man’s weight and insane rage.

The Forsaken’s jaws opened wide over Karn’s throat. Karn’s own blood dripped from the Forsaken’s canines. The Forsaken’s jaws closed, canines puncturing Karn’s neck. Kara raked stiff fingers and sharp nails across the Forsaken’s eyes.

The Forsaken yelped, threw himself backward, twisted to his feet, and ran into the forest.

Blood moved toward his master, but was blocked by the other wolves. He growled at the other wiilfbunde. They bowed their heads, backing away from the crosses. Blood watched them lope off into the cover of the forest.

Karn’s eyes opened, hand lowered to his throat. His life seeped around his fingers. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, pressed it to the wound. He rolled on his side.

“Get help.” Blood licked his muzzle. Karn patted his hip, where the rod dangled from its loop. “Go.”

Blood stood and stepped toward Kara. He coughed, yelped. Turned to go, turned back. Karn raised himself up, holding the bandage with his right, left arm dangling. One-handed, he wrapped the loose ends of the bandage around his neck, brought them around, binding.

“Go,” he said. Blood yelped, sat, did not move, eyes on Karn’s wound. “Fine, wъlfbunde. Help me up.”

Blood forced his muzzle under Karn’s arm. The scout pushed himself up, braced by Blood’s strength. Karn stood. He turned his head. The bandage held, the outer roll still white. He touched his left arm, pinched his bicep, the back of his hand. He moved his left shoulder. The wound there had stopped bleeding. With his right, he tucked his left arm into his shirt.

Blood turned away, picked up Karn’s dropped daggers. The wolf sat in front of his master, dropped the daggers at the scout’s feet. Karn retrieved the daggers, sheathed them at his belt. Blood licked his muzzle, groaned. Karn removed the rod from the loop at his side, let the lash fall, raised it, struck Blood.

The wъlfbunde yelped, shied. Karn struck again with the lash, grabbed the leather, struck the wolf with the rod. Blood crouched, pressed himself down, away. Karn followed, lashing, striking with the rod.

Blood leaped up, catching Karn between strikes, paws on the scout’s shoulders, teeth bared. Karn kept his balance with a step backward. He forced the rod up into Blood’s lower jaw, knocking the wolfs jaws shut. He turned and pushed his right shoulder into Blood’s throat and forced the wolf onto his hack.

Karn pointed the rod. “You let me he attacked!” he said. “Is this the sacred hond of Canus? Why?”

Blood howled, was cut off by a kick reopening the recent wound in his side. Karn used the lash again, stripped fur from Blood’s flank. The wolf moaned, crawled away on his belly. Karn lashed Blood’s flank.

“Remember the oath as I do, wiilfbunde. My life for yours, yours for mine.”

The Forsaken howled. Karn bared his fangs at Blood. He raised the rod. The Forsaken howled. Karn growled and kicked at Blood, missed. He snarled, pointed into the forest. Blood crawled toward the howl of the Forsaken, raised himself, eyes on Karn. Karn swept the rod toward the dark. Blood loped into the undergrowth. The Forsaken howled. Karn followed Blood.

The Forsaken had run in a straight line from the fight. The forest floor was black with leaves where the trail stopped. Karn lost the trail. Blood put his nose to the ground, sniffed, walked past Karn, sniffed the leaves. He looked left, right, sniffed again. Sat and moaned.

“Found it?” Karn asked. Blood coughed. “Do it.”

Blood lowered himself to the ground, crawled, put his nose into the leaves. He sat up, sneezed, shook his head, sneezed again. He tried again, walking onto the leaves, poking his muzzle toward the forest floor. He sneezed and moaned.

Karn bent down, rubbed dirt between his fingers. He sniffed, sneezed, stood and wiped the dirt onto his shirt. “Bdnscent. He’s trying to throw us off the scent. Don’t put your nose in it.”

Blood paced back into the undergrowth, kept his nose higher, sniffed, moaned, sniffed again. Picked a direction, waited for Karn to follow. Karn readjusted his useless left arm, drew a knife.

The new moon set behind the mountains. Stars and the distant red halo from the Lords of Doom lit the forest. Karn and Blood walked carefully, quickly across the floor. Blood stopped, sniffed the ground, almost sneezed, tried again. Headed east, continued until he reached a small pond.

Karn knelt, brushed his knuckles over the grass at the water’s edge. He sheathed the knife, put his hand into the water, rubbed it over his face and into his nose to clear the banscent. He did the same for Blood. Scratched the wolf between the ears. Blood lowered his head, lapped from the pond. The Forsaken howled nearby. The two dashed away from the pond. Karn drew his knife.

The forest grew lush where the Lords of Doom lightly spread their ash. Blood followed the howl of the Forsaken, the howl sounding again around the far side of the pond. Karn ran behind, checked his strides to avoid fallen tree limbs, short brush. His left arm jogged loose. He tucked it back.

Blood ran straight. The wolves of the patrol appeared to Blood’s right, hidden from Karn by trees, matched Blood’s pace, Arana’s wiilfbunde in front. Karn watched his feet and Blood’s trail. The Forsaken howled. Blood increased his pace. Arana’s wiilfbunde coughed. Blood leaped right.

Following, Karn slipped, fell, undergrowth cracking with his weight. He slid down the hillside, struck the knife into the dirt, lost his grip, clawed. His right leg struck an outgrowth of roots, buckled. He tumbled to the bottom, landing hard on his back. Blood stopped, wheeled, returned to where he had leaped. Looked down at his master.

Karn did not move.

The wolves of the patrol walked to the hillside edge, peered down the hill at Karn, then at Blood. Arana’s wiilfbunde bit his paw, reopened the wound, and dragged a red line in the dirt. Blood shied away, paced near the edge, finally sat. He looked down at Karn, moaned.

Arana’s wiilfbunde licked at the newest wounds of Karn’s lashes, where the gash had been reopened, fur had been stripped. Arana’s wiilfbunde bared teeth, growled at Karn. The black wolf drew a line in the dirt, then the brown, then the mottle-furred. Arana’s wъlfbunde put a paw near the line in the dirt, started to drag another line to form a cross.

Blood snarled, clenched his jaws over the wolfs paw before the cross could be finished, pushed the other wolf away. Blood barked at the other wolves, then carefully edged over the edge of the hillside, inched his way to the bottom. Blood poked his muzzle under Karn’s chin, took hold of the scout’s uniform shirt in his teeth, and shook.

Karn lifted his head. He breathed deeply, tried to raise himself. Blood forced his body behind the man’s back and lifted. Karn raised himself to a sitting position. Waited, then stood. His right leg was weak but supported his weight.

“The Dark is not in me, Blood. The others don’t understand. You do. You know. The Bond between us is strong.”

Blood circled his master, yelped. Karn put his left arm back into his shirt, fastened his shirt over his arm to ensure it would not slip out. He checked himself for new abrasions, found the wound in his shoulder was bleeding again. The bandage around his throat was damp on the outside. Blood sat, panting. Karn touched his canines to his lip, stared at his wiilfbunde, removed the rod from his belt.

“Never have you failed me twice,” Karn said. “You are the best of all wulfbunde. By dagger and fang, you are the best. With you, I have long been blessed by Canus. I will remind you.”

Karn raised the rod and struck Blood once. Blood howled, the other wulfbunde howled. The Forsaken heard and howled in return. Blood stumbled away, ran in a circle, bit, and licked his flank where the rod had struck. The wolf spat, barked fury at his master, moaned, crawled and leaped up, barked again. Karn replaced the rod at his side, checked the bandage at his throat, securing the end.

“I am off to find the Forsaken,” Karn said. He left Blood standing.

The wolves of the patrol made their way down the hillside wall after Karn was gone. Blood limped. Arana’s wъlfbunde drew a red line in the dirt. Blood bit his own paw, crossed the line, judgment on his master made.

Karn followed the howl of the Forsaken. He put weight on his left leg, dragged and hopped on his right. His left arm was still secure in his shirt. He held his last dagger in his right hand. The Lords of Doom shook the leaves. Their light faded with the dawn.

The undergrowth was constant and not high. The path Karn found was clear-crushed leaves, snapped branches, curving around north, west. The hillside’s base sloped back up toward Neraka. Karn was forced to work harder.

His uniform shirt was dark with his sweat and blood. The bandage around his neck was wet near the wound, dry where the cloth had once been soaked. The end of the bandage was loose. Karn kept his pace steady. He used the trees to support himself. He didn’t stop moving. He bared his canines and breathed quickly. The forest was quiet.

The Forsaken’s path led back to the original encampment. The fire was still lit. The cross in the dirt made by Arana had not been blown away by the wind. Karn did not enter the encampment. He hunched by a tree, scouted. He held his dagger to his chest, waited, stood.

From behind, the Forsaken leaped on Karn, forcing him into the encampment.

Karn twisted, brought the dagger around as he fell on his back. The edge of the blade caught the Forsaken on the bridge of the nose, bone cracking, skin shorn. The Forsaken howled, dropped on top of Karn with a knee, breaking ribs.

The Forsaken pinned Karn’s arm with a knee, bared bloody canines, and struggled to reach Karn’s throat. Karn struck with his left leg, tumbled the Forsaken up and over. The Forsaken rolled, twisted, jumped to his feet.

The wolves of the patrol stood behind the Forsaken. Blood stood behind the cross in the dirt, Karn’s lashings still fresh on the wolfs body.

Karn turned, got to his feet, dagger ready. He looked past the Forsaken into Blood’s eyes, at the cross in the dirt. Karn understood.

“I, too, have been judged,” he said. “By dagger and fang.”

Blood bared his canines and growled.

The Forsaken snarled, charged forward, broke Karn’s wrist, dagger falling. Karn spat and howled, drove his left heel into the ground for support. The Forsaken forced Karn backward into a tree. Karn snarled, struggled, dodged as the Forsaken tore and missed, gouging bark from the tree. The Forsaken pinned Karn by the throat.

Blood leaped, breaking the Forsaken’s hold on Karn. The wolfs jaws ripped, tore at the Forsaken’s throat, finding arteries, finding veins and tearing them loose. The Forsaken staggered, holding the wolf upright, the two stepping sideways, backward. Blood’s muzzle was covered, dripping, from the Forsaken’s wounds. The Forsaken raged, slowed, stumbled, toppled backward.

Blood breathed heat into the Forsaken’s face. The Forsaken growled at the wolf, did not move. Blood’s chest heaved with breath. Waited.

The Forsaken wept. Growled, snarled and clawed the air.

Karn sank to the ground. “Why, wulfbunde?” he asked Blood. “Your judgment was made.”

Karn heard the Forsaken laugh, choke around the blood flooding his throat. “In the Age of Might, the Dark Queen brought us the word of Canus. Canus brought us the Bond between wъlfbunde and master.”

Blood backed away from the Forsaken, turning to Karn. The wolf walked slowly to Karn, shuffled, put his head in Karn’s lap, forced his head beneath Karn’s hand. Karn tried to brush his fingers against Blood’s fur, but could not make his fingers move. Blood moaned, brown eyes meeting Karn’s.

Blood’s ears twitched. He lifted his head, coughed, lowered his head again. Karn listened. The patrol was nearby. He could hear the other wulfbunde leading their masters to where he lay.

The Forsaken tried to move, lay still. He said, “The Bond is the bond of love. The Dark cannot break the Bond. Above all things, a man loves his wolf.”

Karn looked into Blood’s eyes and understood. “The Dark cannot break the Bond,” Karn said. “Above all things, a wolf loves his man.”