Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Tales of Intempia ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

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Chapter Eight

I can't remember when it first started. Ten years ago. Fifty years ago. One hundred years ago. But it matters little. Time changes. However, the view of an entire race don't. Anger and frustration builds. How long until it overflows?

The forest looked unchanged. The leaves were still green. The sunlight still spiralled down in dusty columns. The trunks still towered above her; aged and strong. But she could feel the violence thrumming through the forest. The very life force echoed the feelings of those who sheltered amongst the ancient boughs. How long was there left? It was almost stifling. How long?
"Zäna?"
She turned to face him, lilac eyes calm. At his expression, however, she sighed, looking troubled.
"Bad news, I take it?"

The initial battles were fierce and bloody. An entire race outraged at the crimes committed against them. They fought for days. For weeks. For months. For years. But nothing changed. The invaders still pushed hard. Their troops were well trained and well equipped, working as a team they fought hard. They did have one downfall, however. The country of Intempia is wild, full of rocky mountains and deep forests. It is home of ice and snow and freezing temperatures. It is death to those who do not know it. And the Algorans had no idea about the secrets our land hid. We, on the other hand, did. Our warriors hid themselves in valleys and hillsides, in ditches and forests and we pushed them back. Unable to counter the attacks, they fled. But unbeknownst to us, a few remained.

Scarred. That's what came to mind. She looked out over the forest and saw the memories of the events that had passed. The song of sorrow wound it's way through the hills and glens, and mixed with the song of victory. They were safe, but for how long? It had cost them so many lives, so many innocent lives. For peace. But how long would the peace last? The sunlight still spiralled down in dusty columns, but the trees were unnaturally still. And they whispered. A frown contorted her brow, purple eyes thoughtful.
"Why whisper?" She asked them, passing through them slowly. "You used to sing so beautifully."
She felt the tremor of warning pass through the trees, then he appeared.

For those were some who had been bitten by the vampires amongst us, and so had been turned. It was a new idea to us. Vampires with Algoran blood. We were wary of them, but some embraced them whole-heartedly.

His golden hair was a sharp contrast to her own silver pelt. Azure eyes were fixed on her, unblinking. She was barely aware of his lips moving.
"Hello, little wolf." His voice rumbled through her.
"You are not from here. Not of our blood."
His armour was long gone, and his tunic torn and bloodied. But the badge was still clearly visible; the tower in the crescent moon. He said nothing in response, for what needed to be said? He turned and moved away, glancing back at her, his eyes smiling. Blocking out the warnings from the guardians around her, she followed.

The news spread like fire. Zäna, our Queen and leader, had married one of the New Bloods. Some were outraged. Others accepted it. But no one questioned her, for she was content. And so our people, for the most part, were content. Barely a year later, the whispers were spreading. Zäna was pregnant. And sure enough, she birthed two boys, twins. One, with the gold colouring of his father, the other with the silver of his mother. Both, however, possessed the lilac eyes that belong to all wolves and half-wolves. Their names were whispered through the land, a symbol of hope. Masye and Estyrn.

The first years of our lives were uneventful. We grew fast, as do all wolves and vampires. We got into trouble and played pranks, as all children do. And our country was peaceful. When we turned six, we began our training. Hunting, riding, fighting, navigating; they were key parts of our daily lives. However, it soon became apparent that I was different to my brother.

We were in the forest surrounding our home. We were hunting with our teacher, our guardian. The tracks we were following were fresh; a deer's I believe. It was our first lesson.
"Think like the deer." He'd told us. "Become the deer."
And I did. Literally. I'd closed my eyes and imagined I was the deer. It was only upon hearing my brother's shocked cry that I realised I felt, different. I was the deer.

My father was impressed; he hadn't started shifting until he was eight. You see, being Algoran, he had been, and still was, a shape-shifter. I, it appeared, had inherited that. Masye hadn't. He has the senses of the wolf and the vampire, while I could have the senses of any creature I wanted. And I used it often. In the hunt or whilst navigating. It was my key to the world.

We may have begun our lives in peace, but it didn't last. The whispers flowed through our people; the Algorans were gathering again. Desperate to halt the new wave of fighting, our father rode to Algora, to the city of the Elders. We never saw him again. The remnant of his guard came home, with reports of an ambush and slaughter. Intempia mourned the loss of their King. We mourned the loss of our father. And then came the fighting.

Our city, our home, lay in the very heart of the country, and there we were safe. But mother wasn't happy. The loss of our father changed her, and so we bade her farewell and watched her ride with the army. We would never see her again either. She fell on the front line, defending her country, her people, and her family.

And so it was, at the age of 12, Masye and myself, Estyrn, became joint rulers of Intempia. We had previously vowed to our parents that we would do everything within our power to protect and defend our country, should the need arise. We swore we would hold ourselves to that vow. We swore we would honour our dead parents, and our country. No matter what the cost. We were, and are, Princes of our immortal land, sons of Intempia and of Algora. We would have peace for our peoples. And we will have peace.