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A WOLF AMONG PORCELAIN CATS
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DAWN HAD NOT YET BROKEN fully, but already rays of sunlight crept over the mountain range, staining everything in the valley an unfriendly shade of vermillion. Even the clouds glowed with the warning colour. A deafening silence echoed within the walls of Idune, taking up residence in the frigid air. Most of the townspeople would not be up for another hour or so. Those few that were—bakers, street sweeps, and lamp extinguishers—kept their noises to a minimum as they readied themselves for the day. For the moment, all was eerily quiet in the Harri capital city. Underground, a different scene was taking place.
Below the vast mountain range, a secret gathering was about to begin. The grand chamber of the High Council of the Harri—almost too grand for the peasant lifestyles they claimed to live—was abuzz with activity. The chamber itself was older than all its occupants combined and reserved for only serious occasions, of which there hadn’t been any in over a decade. The halls echoed with the ghosts of council members past. Many of today’s occupants were obliged to sweep the ancient dust and cobwebs from their seats before taking them. But that didn’t bother them so much as the reason they were there to begin with. This morning’s matters had everyone on edge.
The walls of stone and marble curved in on themselves to form chapel-like ceilings, leaving just enough of a gap in the centre to allow light to flow in from above. Tunnels let in the clean mountain air, and an aquifer somewhere deep below brought their water. Candles flickered in sconces along the walls, sending shadows dancing and reflecting vivid colours off the various precious metals and crystalwork that adorned the room. The five council members—one head for each of the industries: mining, building, military, education, and farming—sat at the front, looking troubled and lacking sleep. The meeting had been convened last minute at the request of Lady Amaia, with no more than a slight indication of war within the city—a ridiculous idea, as Idune was and had always been the unconquerable city—but the gravity of such a situation had to be taken with the utmost seriousness.
Behind them hung a great golden gong, whose echoing metallic sound signalled the beginning, end, and order of the hall. Before them sat the rest of the court, important members of the militia, some governing members of other Harri townships, and finally, their visiting guest. The meeting started just as calmly as the day but quickly escalated into something more.
“Council members, we beseech you. The war is coming,” said Griffin over the murmurings of the hall.
“Why should we trust them?” shouted a man from somewhere in the stands. “Suppose it is they who seek to destroy us?”
More shouts went up until the whole chamber vibrated with the sounds of their voices. All eyes turned on Griffin with a sour hatred. He stood firm, unshaken by their glares; after all, he’d endured much worse than the hatred of a ruling class.
“My people,” said Lady Amaia, “we are not convened to judge the man before us. We are here to judge the severity of the situation.”
“Thank you, my Lady Amaia.” Griffin bowed, but before he could speak again, another voice split the air.
“Even if what this young man says is true, we do not need his help. Our army is stronger than any other in existence!” called a man from the back. “No creature of flesh and blood can come close to our wall.”
“I am inclined to agree,” Griffin replied, keeping his attention on the five leaders before him. “However, these creatures are not of flesh and blood, rather of ash and shadow. They prey on the mind, feed on fear, and are—as we have so far confirmed—indestructible.”
His words echoed through the now silent hall. Eyes had gone wide, cheeks had paled. Some shifted in their seats, unsure how to feel about the news.
Griffin cast a glance over the sea of hollow faces, searching for some sign of defiance, but none appeared. They looked like fine porcelain dolls, decorated with all the airs of “expense” and “class,” and hollow all the same.
How easily broken, he thought, resisting a frown.
“Preposterous,” said a woman near the front. “No creatures of such nature exist.” Though, by the purse of her lips, Griffin could tell she was unsure herself. She waited for one of her many porcelain companions to come to her aid and speak up, but not a soul stirred. Their sceptical eyes simply followed her as she rose, spoke, and sat shamefully once more.
“And why would such creatures be spearheading an attack into our lands?” asked Lady Abeer, the eldest of the council of five.
“My lady,” Griffin said with a respectfully low bow. “We have reason to believe that, not unlike the attack on Osiir, they are responsible.”
At first, his words echoed in the silence of the hall as people processed them. Then, mumbling swept over the room like a dense fog. Some people exchanged grave looks, others were noticeably flabbergasted, and the younger of the present company was lost entirely but copied the expressions of their neighbours.
One thing was clear: the mention of them had everyone in the hall trembling.
“This is nonsense!” shouted Lord Aito, the warrior lord. “This man is an Izar looking to take control over us, as they have always tried to do,” he accused.
More hands went up in protest, and so did the voices. The house became a kennel of barking dogs, and Griffin a cat in the centre. He took a sharp exhale and watched stoically onward as the council exchanged their looks until the gong sounded once more.
“Quiet!” screeched the frail voice of Lady Abeer. “We have a question from twelfth chair.”
“Thank you, my Lady Abeer,” the woman said, clearing her throat of both nerves and phlegm. “Yes. How can you, boy, stand here and claim their existence, and that of the army, when it is your people who, for years, have attested to their extinction?” she asked, throwing as much spite into the word your as she possibly could, trying to mask the hesitation innately placed on the word their.
“I was unaware of their continued existence until recently. It seems there was never an extinction, only imprisonment. My late father uncovered the truth before he died.” His father, as he remembered, had played a crucial part in the success of the unification of the Harri provinces, and he hoped that invoking his memory would help his case.
“My Lady Abeer,” called a middle-aged general from one of the foremost rows. “As you already know, in our great nation’s history, there has never been such a war to cross into our city. Even if there were to be an attack on Idune, they would never break past my guards. What these people suggest is simply ludicrous.”
Griffin didn’t need to turn around to know who this attack came from. The familiar piercing glare of fox-like eyes prickled on the back of his neck. He turned, as a matter of courtesy alone, to meet the same malicious grin from the previous night plastered once again across the face of General Dhoot.
“You would say that, you arrogant fool,” came a voice from the other side of the room. This too was a voice Griffin recognised, though it had been years since he last heard it. “Is it your position or your lust for power that has made you dismiss any possibility of failure?”
A man not much older than himself, with dazzling lime green eyes and a thick head of neat, black curls descended into the pit of wolves. Griffin didn’t bother to hide the surprise in his eyes but accompanied it with a smile that extended from ear to ear as he reached out to shake the young man’s hand.
“Sergeant Isaac. What a pleasant surprise,” he said, clasping his hand over an equally firm and steady one. “How are you, my friend?”
“Actually, it’s General now,” the young man replied. “It is good to see you again, Griffin.”
“My apologies, General. And congratulations,” Griffin said, adding a pat on the back.
General Isaac nodded politely. “We shall have more time for pleasantries later. Are these dogs giving you trouble?” he added in a whisper.
Griffin frowned. “We’ve come to warn the council of an attack, but by the look of things I’m afraid my word is not worth as much as it used to be.”
“I see.” General Isaac cleared his throat as he turned to address the court. “My ladies and lords, members of parliament, this man has helped our nation on many an occasion. During the great battles of San Bartoleme and Guienne against the invading Ur forces from the east, and the battle of Madera against invaders from the west. He knows of our strengths, and more importantly, our weaknesses. If he comes here to warn us of an attack, having risked his own safety, I can assure you it is not to stir up trouble, as some of my comrades so callously put it. I will vouch for this man, and on my head be whatever punishment lay ahead.”
Once again, the hall erupted in complaints and criticisms. Masked by the general confusion and uproar, the two friends spoke in confidence.
“There was no need—” began Griffin, but General Isaac held up a hand to stop him.
“I will explain everything once we are away from prying eyes and ears.” He clapped Griffin lovingly on the back. “It truly is good to see you, my friend.”
“On another note, you wouldn’t happen to know what ORI stands for, do you?”
“You have gotten yourself into real trouble this time, my friend...”
“Nothing I can’t get myself out of, I hope.”
General Isaac pursed his lips. “It’s not a what, it’s a who,” he said as he directed his chin towards the councilmember sat squarely in the middle of the rest, and from which a single booming voice cut through the air, causing the room to vibrate.
“Silence!” shouted this middle councilman as he stroked a salt and pepper beard that reached neatly down to his chest. His eyes—one moss-green and the other a vibrant jade—rested heavily on Griffin. He sensed the weight of the councilman’s gaze could crumble mountains. “Approach the bench, young Izar.”
Griffin obliged and Lord Ori slammed his fist against the desk. Around the six of them, the floor rose to become a wall of thick stone that prevented even the most astute listeners from overhearing.
“Speak, young Izar, in confidence,” said Lord Ori.
“My lord,” Griffin bowed, “I bring news of the reasons behind the massacre of Osiir, something of which I believe you all are already aware.”
“Was it not an insurgency then?” said Lady Amaia.
“I am afraid, my lady, it is much greater than the simple overthrowing of governments and dispersion of chaos... They are after the stones.”
For a long time, no one spoke. The news affected each member differently, and as such, each took their own time to formulate a response.
“The stones are a topic of myth and legend,” said Lady Abeer sweetly.
“You cannot be serious, boy,” stammered Lord Aito, sending angry spittle from his lips with each sharp word. “How dare you come here and make such claims!”
“Never has such a serious accusation come to the ears of this court,” added Lord Andor soberly. Though his voice fell calmly and smoothly from the lips behind his beard, his fingers tapped relentlessly on the desk.
“I mean no disrespect, my lords and ladies,” Griffin assured them. “Nor do I make such claims without reason. After the attack, I visited the palace in Osiir. Having known of the existence and the location of the Argia stone, I went to see for myself if it was still there. Regretfully, it is gone. Taken. For what purpose, I know not, but anything concerning such powerful artefacts should not be taken lightly.”
“And how do we know that you did not take it for yourself?” Lord Aito replied. “How do you even know of the existence of the stones in the first place?”
“How dare you accuse him,” chided Lady Amaia. “He has come here of his own volition looking to help us, the penalty of death hanging over his head, and you will not even consider the possibility that he is telling the truth?”
“No. I will not,” he retorted. “This all sounds like a great work of fiction invented by a child still clinging to the death of his hysterical father.”
“And your denial makes you sound like a pompous fool afraid of a fight,” Lady Amaia scoffed. “When, sir, did you lose your spine?” Lord Aito’s face went livid, the building rage turned his cheeks a plum purple, but Lady Amaia’s challenging glare silenced whatever qualms he had.
Griffin understood that Lord Aito said what he had out of fear. He might have been right, to an extent, but he appreciated Lady Amaia’s unwavering support. “I know of the stones because my father was entrusted with protecting them. Or at least, one of them. A task that was passed down to me after his untimely demise.”
The council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, awaiting Lord Ori’s verdict, though he himself seemed to still be processing the news. When he finally spoke, his voice was less than reassuring. “You are certain it is them?” asked Lord Ori softly.
Griffin nodded. “Yes, my lord. My companions and I were attacked in the forests outside Osiir by creatures our lands have never seen, shadows brought to life.”
“How is it you found out about this supposed attack on Idune?” Lord Ori prodded.
“One of my companions overheard their plans to burn through the city using kanala Argia captured from the previous attack on Osiir,” Griffin replied. “My lords and ladies, I have seen these creatures with my own eyes. They alone are enough to sound the alarm bells.”
After a heavy sigh, Lord Ori turned to the council. “We have no choice. If this young man is right, and they are after the stones, we may already be too late.”
––––––––
THE HOLLOW SONG OF the wind filtering into the chamber echoed above them all. By the time the walls came down, the council was ready for war. Instructions were given with conviction and taken without question by all sitting members of the hall. Even General Dhoot agreed to prepare his soldiers. The once brave and boisterous crowd shuffled out of the hall in silence. Their hollow airs were no good in a time of crisis, and they knew it.
Griffin sought out General Isaac to thank him for his help in convincing the council but found him already involved in a heated conversation with General Dhoot.
“When all this is over and done with, do you truly think these people will judge you well, General Isaac, for working with an Izar?” said General Dhoot arrogantly, glowering at his young comrade as he fixed his glossy black hair into place.
“I will be judged for aiding in the defence of my proud homeland. How will you be judged, General?” General Isaac scoffed in response.
At this, the older general merely smirked. He fiddled intentionally with a medal of leadership pinned to his breast pocket, nestled between two others, as he stared down at his companion’s comparatively bare chest. “I will be remembered exactly as I plan to be—as I should be. As a hero.” He brushed an invisible layer of dust from his uniform, and with it, the remnants of their not-so-cordial conversation. He raised his pointed nose and walked away, disappearing down the hall with his hands clasped casually behind his back and the lackadaisical arrogance of a cat finished with its most recent toy.
“Is it just me or is there something wrong with him?” mocked Griffin, who had been listening in on the entire conversation.
General Isaac frowned. “Whatever he may be, he is nothing if not loved by the people.”
“So I noticed.”
General Isaac turned to his friend with a sobering caution in his eyes. “Be careful with him, Griffin. I say this as a friend, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that he has his dirty little hands in all of this.” For a split second his eyes widened like glowing green disks before he dipped into a ceremoniously low bow. “My lord.”
Griffin turned to find Lord Ori standing expectantly behind him. He too dropped into a bow.
How did he manage to sneak up on me? Am I losing my touch? Griffin wondered.
Lord Ori inclined his head and cleared his throat. “General Isaac.” The young general, understanding his presence was not wanted, got to his feet, and bid the two of them a good day. He flashed a final warning glare at his old friend before disappearing down the hall. “Young Conroy, a word if you will.”
Griffin bobbed his head courteously. His actions betrayed no hesitation, knowing all too well that when a legend wished to speak, you’d better be prepared to listen.
Lord Ori began walking towards the deeper parts of the mountain without so much as a glance in his direction. Each step took them further and further from whatever comfort public spaces could provide. Griffin followed him through the many cavernous halls in silence, until they reached a place where not even the echoes of their footsteps could escape.
