The Tale of Ma'lach, Part I
Part I of a two-part story
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The Tale of Ma'lach, Part I
by
Sa'en WyrWulf
In the Beginning, so it is said, the World was void. But it was not void. Void of life, certainly. But the World was there, a swirling ball of blue and green and white moving slowly in the dance of the Cosmos. The World had no life, and thusly no death. It flourished and was green, and did not know the touch of civilization. The Ancient Gods kept it for the sake of the Cosmos, for like a gear in a clockwork every world was a stitch in the cloth of the Universe. The World was lifeless, or at least without sentient life, for many eons and lay forgotten by the Ancients for countless turns.
The Ancient Gods were a great and warlike race, constantly battling against the darker forces of Creation for their right to rule. They were immortal beings and so if one fell in battle, he did not die but instead vanished on the field and reappeared within the Great Hall of the stronghold of the Gods. There were a great many Gods and many are remembered still: An'u'byss, the Gatekeeper; Finryr, the First Wolf whose descendents spread throughout the World; Ko'iutei the Trickster. Of the many Ancients, these are well-known and are the stuff of tale and legend. But there is another Ancient, one who was not born a God but became one through his deed. He is the Al-Khan J'h'Ayii, the High Lord of the Spirits, the Silent Grandmaster, the Wielder of the Sapphire Blade: Death himself. Every story has its beginning, for otherwise there would be no stories. This, my friend, is the beginning of His.
Ma'lach ha'Shaktarr, son of the silversmith Hi'mahl ha'Shaktarr, peered bleary-eyed out of a torn hole in the gray cloth covering the old wagon he had boarded two days before and scanned the misty countryside for any sort of landmark. He was sore and tired, not to mention cold and damp, from the uncomfortable bed he had made for himself atop the dented copper pots that filled the wagon and as he sat up he winced as he felt his back crack and pop all over. Ma'lach yawned with a quiet whine and rubbed sleep from his eyes, quickly drawing his white woolen cloak around him as he shivered from the cold, wet air. Why couldn't I have been born in the Springtime? he thought as he rubbed his paws together. Why did it have to be the middle of winter, when it's so damn cold?
Although the fourteen-year-old wolf already had a thick coat of white fur covering his young, muscular body, he still felt a chill as he crawled out onto the seat of the wagon, a feeling that did not come entirely from the cold. Ma'lach sat down next to an old wolf, brown-furred with tan streaks and a muzzle that had faded over the years from the colour of foam topping a tankard of ale to the colour of worn parchment. The oldster's name was Hryth'l and a leather patch covered his right eye. Hryth'l's shaggy hair, the same colour as his muzzle shot through with patches of white, fluttered in a chilly morning breeze and he grinned, showing missing teeth, when Ma'lach sat down next to him.
"Cold mornin', youngster. Better ye shoulda stayed all snugged up back there."
Ma'lach matched Hryth'l's grin, although of course he still had all his teeth, and watched the roan draught horse slowly plod along with the wagon in tow. "Didn't want to sleep anymore. I've been awake for an hour."
Hryth'l chuckled softly and reached into his leather pouch for his pipe. Filling the bowl and lighting it, the old wolf stuck the stem in his mouth and puffed quietly for a few moments, then stopped the wagon. Ma'lach looked around, confused, for the gates of the Great City or for a tavern or for whatever reason why Hryth'l had stopped.
"Wha--" Seeing a flash of metal, Ma'lach spun and drew the long knife he kept at his belt, then stopped and stared. Hryth'l had disappeared and in his place, a silver-furred wolf sat wearing a chased cuirass and mail shirt of silver. The rest of his clothing, both silk and leather, was a pale ice blue and a chain of silver links was around the stranger's neck -- a chain that matched the intricately woven silver crown, set with a single diamond, that the silver wolf wore upon his brow. Neither sword nor dagger sat at the silver wolf's waist, but a staff of ivory, capped with a diamond crystal in a silver setting, was in his right paw.
Ma'lach had never seen the strange wolf before, yet he instantly recognized him. He dropped his knife, then scrambled from the wagon and knelt, bowing his head. "My Lord Finryr!" He glanced up at the sound of a soft chuckle and stared in amazement at a silver-furred paw reaching down to help him up. He took Finryr's paw and rose to his feet, blushing under his white-furred cheeks at how friendly an Ancient seemed to be.
Finryr smiled at Ma'lach and sat down on a stone seat, gesturing for the youth to do the same. Ma'lach sat, oblivious to the sudden appearance of the seats and to the equally sudden disappearance of the wagon. "My boy, I see you recognize me?"
Ma'lach nodded in silence, too scared to speak.
"Do you know why I am here?" Ma'lach shook his head and lowered his ears, feeling rather sheepish. "I have an offer for you. I am in need of... let us say 'a servant', of sorts. Would you accept my offer?"
Ma'lach gulped and shook his head. "N-no, s-sir. I mean, y-yes. I-I-I mean--" He gulped again and winced, feeling a bit ill at coming face to face with the First Wolf and being offered... whatever it was Finryr was offering. He looked into Finryr's eyes and was relieved to see that the Ancient was smiling.
"A good enough answer, seeing as I have not told you exactly how I wish for you to serve me." Finryr stood and slowly waved his staff. A doorway of white stone appeared from nowhere and opened. Ma'lach looked through it but saw nothing save a vast white nothingness, glowing with its own ethereal light, quite unlike the snowy, grey landscape around him. He looked at Finryr and again to the doorway, then back to Finryr. The Ancient nodded once and extended his hand again. "Come with me, my son. Let me show you what I wish to offer you."
Ma'lach took the Ancient's hand and slowly stepped forward, his heart pounding with terror, and excitement, in his chest, and walked through the doorway with Finryr into the white void. Behind them, the pale stone doorway closed without a sound and vanished...
End of Part I
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