The Wolves of Gryning: Chapter 2
Chapter 2: The Order of the Flame
There were some, in the days that followed, that would see Besegrare punished. "Let him hang," they said. "A life for a life, for our true King!" It was only a few who dared openly oppose him -- a select few who had enjoyed the taste of power Molokhn had afforded them. They feared they'd lose their own positions under Besegrare's rule, and made a show of decrying him, slandering his name. They wanted the throne for their own.
But Besegrare had invoked the Right of Duel -- none could contest him that -- and the throne belonged thus to him.
Some of these dissenters were quietly dismissed. Other more reasonably minded beasts were persuaded to swear their fealty. One of these was Jethel, first champion of the new guard, who fathered Valdigt, the hero of legend. It took time for Gryning to adjust to the shift in power, but soon enough the denizens breathed a sigh of relief. Molokhn had driven his own people to fear and ruin. Now it seemed that, for a time, some semblance of hope could be restored to the fortress. Besegrare performed dutifully, and with his reign came something more; with his reign came glory.
And this is how.
His first decree as King was that followers of the Order would no longer be persecuted. During the reign of Molokhn, violence against priest and pilgrim both was common. The Order of the Flame had retreated to the Chosen Isle, for even in the Southern Kingdoms they went unpoliced, unprotected.
"Let these halls be remembered for what they are," Besegrare announced. "They are a consecrated ground. Valenthi himself watches over us, guided us to this place. These were his halls in the days he walked among us. This was his resting place before battle. Let us not forget the protection of the Flame upon this place."
In those days, the wolves believed that the Flame had not yet departed from us. Still and silent over all, they believed the Flame bound their world and their gods together. And Valenthi was the greatest of those gods. For he was the Flame's messenger, the first wolf, and had emerged from the fires of the sun fully formed. He struck the stones with his sword, and a fortress sprang forth from the earth. This fortress he called Gryning, and his was the first reign. Siljna, their other god and the lifelong mate of Valenthi, was oft-forgotten. Her death and passing into the afterlife was something of a problem to the wolves. They preferred their gods immortal, and did not understand the duality of Flame.
Besegrare's reminder of the holy origin of their fortress, of their very existence, made them resolute. They would hear the old traditions and honor them. They would remember and honor the Flame. And they would rebuild Gryning, this the greatest of temples.
From here on I will speak often of the Order, for their workings are indelibly tied to those of the wolves. To other beasts who grew up outside the realm of their teachings, the Order's rankings are often confusing. I will do my best to explain them now. Take note, that you understand their place amongst each other.
Commonly, members of the Order wore colored robes to denote rank; the practice had begun many hundreds of years earlier, and continues to this day. The colors are thus: Acolytes in black, symbolizing their immolated souls. Scribes in brown, the color of earth and of the scriptures they study. The Shaid, considered unclean, wear red robes stained with the juice of berries. Their great god Valenthi was said to have fire in his veins, rather than blood. Thus blood is considered most impure to the Order, and the Shaid wear its color.
These three ranks are lowest in the order. Above them are the valents, those wandering pilgrims, who wear sashes of white. Above them are the high priests, who wear sashes of grey, and who command the head of their respective chapels. Above even them are the valdani, greatest of priests and garbed in bright orange, who manage all ranks beneath them, and who counsel the al-Valenth. This highest of ranks, al-Valenth, wears a pale yellow, representing the true heart of the Flame.
Most pilgrims you meet will be acolytes. They are the common follower, and are lowly priests. It is these beasts who will take care of their chapels and cathedrals, sweeping, cleaning, building, cooking... They are also common healers, though their skills in this field are minimal without a valent's training.
Scribes are no better but no worse in rank than an acolyte. They learn the scriptures by heart, and they are responsible for tending the libraries, maintaining the books, and recording any new sermons or messages. The training takes many years, and they are taught extensively in the Ancient Tongue, whereas the acolytes learn only a little. And though they rank low, the holy nature of their work earns them an extra measure of respect.
Shaid, or those of the blood, have the same duties as acolytes. They are the members who are not wolves, but are other beasts entire. The word Shaid means "Different One," and can be applied outside the context of religion. Anybeast who is not a wolf is considered Shaid. I am Shaid, and so are you -- but the word is used infrequently outside of the religion's context. Their impurities mean they can never ascend the ranks of their religion.
Valents are the next step up. These pilgrims travel the kingdoms providing aid where aid is needed, and they are well learned in the healing arts. Valents often learn a multitude of languages as well, as their travels sometimes take them far, and not every beast speaks in the Common tongue. The nomadic nature of their work means that most valents are comfortable living and traveling alone, though they occasionally travel in groups.
High priests are the appointed heads of chapels. When assigned to a chapel, they relocate their life to the new area, and deliver weekly sermons. Because they are expected to read and write their scriptures, most high priests started as scribes before ascending.
The valdani live in the Grand Cathedral at Himmel, where they counsel the al-Valenth and appoint devotees to their various ranks and positions. No high priest is instated without the approval of the valdani, and in the event of the al-Valenth's death they are responsible for choosing the next, often from within their own circle.
And of course, the al-Valenth is the head of the Order. The al-Valenth rarely leaves Himmel, and is responsible for interpreting scripture from the heart of the Flame itself. The al-Valenth is said to be in direct communication with the Flame, and understands its will and purpose.
These then are the ranks in the order. Remember them well, outlander! Their names will appear often in my tale, and you must keep them in mind always, and remember them as if you were one of the wolves yourself.
The holy seat was, as you know, in Himmel. It had been for generations. The Grand Cathedral there housed the remaining members of the Order, who had been driven out of the Northern Kingdoms, and who were afraid to leave their island. There on the Fractured Isle, sometimes called the Chosen Isle, it resided in close proximity to their Great Library. It was Valenthi who, in the time before times, broke the Isle off the mainland, marking the hallowed ground.
It took some time for the news of Besegrare's decree to reach Himmel and the al-Valenth. But when he heard, he was moved. The al-Valenth personally lead a caravan of faithful students. Hanging around the edges of his group there were even a few of the Shaid, careful in their courage, and never standing too close to the rest. Their final destination was Gryning, but first they must reach the Bay of Tears. And that meant finding passage.
They were carried by a ship, The Conqueror, captained by a young beast named Thess. Thess and her crew had sailed in from Himmska, carrying supplies from the mainland. They'd originally hailed from Brand and had planned to go back, until they heard the al-Valenth's plea.
"We have money," he said. "Not as much as we used to, but it will be enough to pay you. We only want to go as far as the Bay of Tears."
Thess was not one to change her mind easily, and her mind had been set on a return to Brand. But something came upon her. She was a foreigner, hailing from the West across the Wide Sea, and she was nobeast like they knew. There were few otters here on the mainland. Her ways were not their own, and she did not believe in the gods and the Flame that binds them and binds all things. But she swore that she had seen a beam of light fall from the sky and land directly upon him, upon the al-Valenth, and this was enough to convince her.
"Very well," Thess said. "Let us prepare our ship. We depart the day after morrow."
The first leg of their journey took them through the Winter Sea, sometimes called the Sea of Fire, to the Middle Isle. They made anchor at Midport and replenished their supplies. News from Gryning was still scarce. The open sea North was the Hatskav, and it was perilous to journey through that wide expanse. It was Thess who, later, began the first route across those dangerous seas. But she hadn't charted it yet, and it was still common to sail the old route, which was around the Middle Isle, keeping close to shore. From Midport they would sail Northeast to Inthil, thus avoiding the Hatskav entirely, while also keeping clear of the Strait of Eyes, a Southern route that was more direct, but far more dangerous.
That safe route was their aim, until the storm appeared. A massive cloud, black and merciless, appeared on the horizon. In its wind and fury they were stopped, and pushed away from the Bay, South towards the Strait of Eyes. They bore against it as skillfully as possible, every last bit of sea knowledge tested by that fearful storm. And so it was that they were driven into the Strait.
When they saw themselves heading into its jaws, the two coasts rising up and out of the water like walls, they all began to quietly hold their breath. The moment stilled and they had all entered a sort of quiet tension. Pirates and vicious, lawless beasts patrolled these waters, crawled upon these shores. It was a dark and deadly place, a shunned pocket of land, the coasts running Southwest towards greater civilization. The sea here was preternaturally calm, save for the storms that sometimes formed in the low areas between the landmasses. Thess believed it was one of these storms that had drifted up and out to the main seas, amassing a much larger stormfront upon the open ocean. When these storms struck in the middle of the Strait they struck hard, and with a quick ferocity. They never lasted long but they never needed to; their ability to sink ships was legendary.
Now the crew was faced with a new decision. They could no longer sail North, for the stormfront still brewed angrily on that horizon. But where would they go if not North?
"The way I see it," said Thess, "We ought to sail in to Grey Port and refresh our supplies. We can still make it back home if we continue along the coast of the Middle Isle."
It was one of the young acolytes who spoke up next, a small brown wolf named Irda. He was the youngest of the Order on board, not yet full grown, and always he clung tight to the sides of his bunk or the rigging for fear of being tossed by the seas. His biggest fear was being cast over the side, and left to sink beneath the waves -- for who knew what things lived below the deep? But Irda was, perhaps, bravest of them all, for this is what he said:
"Are we not close to Ilkja?" he said. "I've read of the town, in Siljna's Hills, down the coasts past Inthil. Might we not continue on our way, and begin our pilgrimage anew?"
His suggestion was taken up immediately by many, for Grey Port was by no means a safe place to make anchor. It was the biggest port in the Strait, which meant more than a few crooked characters had taken up their residence among its walls. You couldn't always tell which ships were just merchants, traders, militia, and which ships were the thieves and pirates. And you'd best be sure you walk with company. Alone, if you weren't murdered in the cold and unwelcoming streets, you might find your end at the hands of those bandits who capture and sell the lives of other beasts. More likely than not you'd be sold off to the wardens and carted to the Molokhn Prison, where the Molokhiin guards would barter with your life and torture you for sport. The presence of the al-Valenth would provide no safe passage here, for these beasts had no love for the Order, and had forgotten the Flame. These beasts answered to no one on the mainland; no one save, perhaps, the very king who'd built their precious prison. In their little ship the Order debated fiercely. Would they side with Thess, so set on reaching Grey Port? Or Irda, who wanted to carry forth through dangerous seas?
"At least in Grey Port we won't have to worry about sinking," Thess said. "If we encounter anything as strong as the last storm, I'm afraid my ship won't make it."
"We've already sailed past the last big storm," Irda said. "It will take some time for another one to build up. Let us carry on while the seas are calm."
There was a divide between the beasts on board. Each side of the argument had a fair share of supporters. Many younger acolytes clutched their knees and bent their heads forward and tried to ignore the commotion. They said nothing aloud, but their faces said Not I, not I, not I. I can't be asked to choose. Finally the silence was broken when the al-Valenth got to his feet. He was very old, and his fur all grey and wispy. He looked haggard in his long white robes. Calmly he raised his hands, and the commotion began to slow as every beast turned and fixed their attention on he who would speak.
"A test," said the al-Valenth, "It is all a test being administered by the gods. They would ask us the strength of our faith." He turned his back on the crowd and put his head in his hands, massaging old and tired muscles. He took his time in moving, while the rest of the world waited on a breath, all eyes on him. All eyes towards he who spoke for the gods.
"We have sailed safely this distance. Let us hold the course, and keep our faith in the Flame, which binds all things. Even ourselves."
The young crewbeasts, hailing mostly from Himmska and Brand, were wary of the al-Valenth's proclamation. There were many who would rather see land, test their fate on the shores. Their faith they put in Thess, who had sailed longer and further than any of them, and they would not act without her order.
Thess looked around at them. It was this mission which would put her own bravery first to the test, and gave her the courage to explore in her final years. She could not let these beasts down -- not the Order, not her crew. No one. And so she spoke:
"I am not like you," she said. "And your ways are not my ways. Your gods are not my gods. But that we did not perish in the storm speaks to fate, and there is something of destiny in how far we have safely travelled through the Strait."
She studied the faces before her intently. Saw the many colored robes of the Order, denoting rank and position. She saw the dirt streaked faces and matted fur of a hundred lonely beasts, and there was not a one of them who wouldn't rather be at home. Herself included. Their eyes glowed dully under the shine of a solitary swinging lamp.
"We carry onward," said Thess. "To Ilkja."
Now they waited, scarcely breathing as they made the journey through the Strait of Eyes. But a peculiar thing happened. As they sailed, a ribbon of light appeared amidst the waves, like a trail running beneath the waves. It shone fiercely orange and penetrated even the darkest of the waves, becoming brighter as they sailed towards the coast. None could deny that something or someone was guiding them. The acolytes gave thanks to Valenthi, burning tiny prayers. The heathen crewbeasts offered their own silent prayers to forgotten gods, and perhaps these prayers did them well. Thess wasn't sure about either group's gods, but she knew something of Untish wisdom, which had come from the Western lands of her home, across the Wide Sea, before finding fame and followers in the Ternish desert. She understood the Gleaming Path and what it meant, that they were following a trace of the many webs of destiny. They might meet their deaths where this Path ended, but they would be safe until then. And some traces of that web lead to happiness, did they not? Happiness, wealth, sadness, sorrow, death -- it was impossible to tell. But Thess had been right about one thing. They made it safely across the sea to Ilkja, without encountering storms or pirates.
Here they parted.
Thess and her crew maintained their course Southwest towards Himmska, a direct path through the Strait, hoping their luck would hold firm. They bid a farewell to the Order, and the al-Valenth burned a prayer of protection aboard The Conqueror before departing. Thess wished them safe travels on their journey.
From Ilkja they were bound North, through Siljna's Hills and the Foxwoods. It would be a long trek, and the path they walked became hallowed ground beneath them. Even today, members of the Order regularly make pilgrimage along its length, from Ilkja to Gryning on foot. Few ever dare the passage from Himmel around the top of the Middle Isle, like that first voyage, until many years later when the Wolves of Gryning began policing the Strait.
That first pilgrimage was known as the Path of the al-Valenth, or al-Valar, sometimes translated as Valenthi's Way or the Way of Flame. In the years afterwards al-Valar became a common phrase amongst the Order, meaning to act and walk in accordance with the Flame. And this first pilgrimage they knew was sacred, for when they struck out amidst the hills they all watched amazed as a bright fire burned far in the distance. Always in the center of their vision it remained, and towards it they walked. It seemed to shift slowly along the edge of the horizon as the days passed, never growing closer but never winking out. And all the while that they walked towards it they walked safely, even through the darkest stretches of the Foxwoods. It took many days of travelling but finally they were near, and they watched as the fire on the horizon began taking shape as a great fortress.
Its walls shone under the light of the sun, big sandstone slabs holding up enormous parapets and a huge dome. A massive steel inlay of a tree, detailed into the Southern wall, caught the light and reflected it out towards the Hatskav, that mighty black sea. It raged with white capped peaks of foam in the distance. Before them Gryning manifested, and it was a wondrous sight. They held their voices solemnly to themselves as they approached, and let those huge fearsome doors shut behind them.
Besgegrare welcomed them in with open arms. Good relations with the Order would strengthen his weakened people, bringing honor to their kingdom and their home. They remained in Gryning a whole winter. The al-Valenth taught his pupils and delivered sermons, and many beasts in Gryning came to partake of his wisdom. The King set his people to work helping the priests rebuild their chapel.
And the al-Valenth took Besegrare aside, that they might convene privately. They spoke of their pilgrimage, of the al-Valar, and of how the fortress appeared on the horizon to guide them, in the shape of a bright fire.
"Our faith had been tested, and our eyes clouded by the dark one, the one who blinds. But as we carried on we were guided by the Flame, which binds all things, and our path was made clear. We walked in safety the whole time. And now I see that this truly is a holy place."
"Oh yes," said Besegrare. He had a friendly way of talking, if cautious. As though he were always on edge, and ready to reveal that edge. But his eyes were soft and his smile warm and he put his visitors at ease. He spoke just the same with the al-Valenth, as though he were a long-time friend. "They say that Valenthi built these halls."
"From the ground," said the al-Valenth, quoting from scripture. "Sprang a mighty fortress, and in its halls walked the messenger of Flame."
Besegrare laughed.
"I should expect you know all the stories," he said. "And so do I. Never again will your people be unwelcome here."
"An invisible fire burns fiercely inside these walls, providing protection and guidance," said the al-Valenth. "The gods smile upon this place."
Besegrare thanked him.
"No," said the al-Valenth. "Do not thank me. Thank Valenthi, and the Flame, that binds us all."
When the Order left, a number of their group stayed behind. They set up their chapter in the new Chapel of Flame, though yet unfinished, and remained to provide guidance, counsel, and prayer to the young king. They set up a makeshift altar and in it placed a written prayer of protection, that hard times may never fall upon Gryning again.