The Forgotten
Chapter 16

Celer arrived at the woodland that was her and Rendall’s new home. Nothing had changed so far as she could tell, the growth of the woodland had now calmed and all she could hear was the stream running, birds chirping, small wildlife scurrying and the slight breeze of the wind hitting leaves. Peaceful yet no sign of Rendall, she could not even get his scent off the wind but another smell. Dry sweat mixed with hay. Two newcomers to the woodland. She got low and went into the longer grassland around the trees that were left untouched. Her new companions followed but let her take the lead, only reacting on her command.

Lynden rode into the woods atop his warhorse, should things go wrong he was easily able to ride away. A split second later the stallion ducked its head while letting out a deep breath, the warm air mixing with the cold creating a thin layer of sweat in front of the horse’s face making his unease even clearer

Still in the animal’s saddle, Lynden looked around to see glimpses of several black figures running in and out of the trees, bushes and grass, too quickly for him to spot any features. Turning back to look straight ahead he saw a large white wolf standing six feet tall, its ears pointed, its razor-sharp teeth on display.

Realising there was no escape, he dismounted the warhorse and held his breath for the moments to come. He stood trying not to show fear but no doubt they could smell the sweat from his forehead. Lynden made himself very aware to not put his hands on his swords.

Celer looked at him, donning armour and a large sword on his back with another on his waist. This was the new smell, his long brown hair had started to clump together from the days since he last washed. He had grown out a beard covering most of his face, though he was still able to see the black lines under his eyes from the many restless night’s sleep.

Not threatened by the man, however, she turned to the warhorse. It stood just taller than her and certainly looked like it could hurt her. Behind its armoured head, the beast let out heavy breaths and would stomp its front hoofs, letting dust surround the ground.

Seeing the unease Lynden slowly unwrapped his buckle holding the weapon on his back, letting it fall to the ground. Taking a few steps back to his noble companion, placing his rough yet calming hand on the animal’s neck slowly stroking him.

Whispering into the horse’s ear, he said, “Easy my friend, they are friendly.”

It took the horse several more moments before it ceased the feet stomping and after half a minute, the dust cloud that had started to rise began to fade.

Celer was intrigued, it was clear the man wanted something. However, she was confused at the slight scent of Rendall could be picked up from this new person, though her friend wasn’t with them.

The man led the way, his horse remaining behind, she followed although her companions stayed with the horse though now out of sight to prevent any further discomfort. They walked to an area of the river she would often replace Rendall, but in its place was some dried meat and fish.

Keeping his distance, Lynden walked a few paces past the rock to watch the wolf sniff at the meat that was left here the last time they looked for her. He saw her take a piece of the fish, eating it in one leaving the rest, assuming it would be for the others.

He thought for a moment while she was looking around the area, focusing his eyes on the small black wolves that scattered the area. Rendall never said anything about the others. Had something happened in the time they had not been together, he wondered.

Celer smelt around the area near the river, tracking had always been instinctual for her. Never really bothered killing her prey only at times they needed the food, it was more the chase that she enjoyed. She saw a few prints littering the area. One a large man, this man she guessed, and the others Rendall’s. The signs of bare feet delicately placed between the plants and holes in the ground were the only signs that she needed to see it was him. She saw there were no signs of any struggle and they had even appeared to have left together, with the prints leaving in the same direction.

Still not trusting the man, though Celer was somewhat more at ease with his presence.

Lynden witnessed the wolf staring at him expectantly. Still wary of him, the creature kept at his flank and the way she stood, she appeared ready to strike.

He ambled back to his horse, the wolf following on his right side no more than ten paces behind him. Walking up to his horse, he began to mount when he heard a low growl. The white wolf held her stance, the threat of attack clear.

Speaking in a calm tone, not sure how else to portray what needs to be said, “It’ll take too long if I walk. You have my word I’ll do nothing.”

Celer cocked his head at him hearing his words. She saw danger in that horse but on hearing his words, she became confident he was not a man who would do her ill.

She looked down at the sword he dropped to the ground then back to him.

Seeing the white horse in front of him and her gesture to the sword on the floor he answered, “Keep it, it is a weapon that has done too much killing in its time, not all of it for good. I would rather leave that all behind.”

Intrigued, Celer pulled up alongside the horse while sharing a look back to her companions to say behind and protect the forest yet to her annoyance they ignored and continued to follow.

Lynden kicked his horse to start moving in a canter. The beast riding as it was going into battle seemingly still uncomfortable with the company they found. It hoofs crushed old logs beneath, scattering them on the ground, a difference to the wolves who would leap over or weave in and out of the trees and uneven ground.

They rode for little more than an hour before they arrived atop a small hill that was covered in densely packed trees, but still allowed for a view of the town that Rendall had visited not too long ago.

Pointing at the city to a tower just next to the castle, the man said, “Rendall, I failed him.”

A grave expression overshadowed his face as he continued, “He is in there.”

Celer looked at him, then at the town. Not yet sure what the man is trying to say but carried on listening.

He pulled a horn from the satchel on the horse, “I need your help. When I blow this horn, will you come to my aid? We will free the boy.”

Lynden blew the horn, pointing at the city as he did then at himself. Waiting several moments before he repeats, hoping his meaning is understood. When he calls she will come, she will help.

Celer looks at him as he repeated the process with the horn while gesturing to the town and himself. Understanding dawns on her that this man knowns Rendall, and he is in some sort of trouble. Looking at the town in the distance she howled on top of the hill, a sound not heard in years and certainly never in broad daylight.

Shivers ran down Lynden’s back, in not what could be excitement but fear. What might he unleash on the town with or without the horn?

As the final echoes of her call faded she turned to him, the brave man who would face off against creatures that would tear him apart without a second thought. Bowing her head slightly towards him in a sign of acceptance and acknowledgement.

Before they parted, a black wolf walked up behind Celer carrying a long sword between its maul. Lynden’s death dealing two-handed blade. The wolf dropped it a few paces away from the horse before running back.

Not seeming to be able to get rid of the reminders of his past, he went over to the sword on the ground and slowly bent to pick it up.

“I guess I’m not yet done with this weapon.”

The pack of wolves looked back at Lynden and their eyes locking on to one another’s. The knight, with his sword sheath in one hand, turned and looked upon the town in front of him one last time before chaos ensures.

-

Celer’s howl pierces the sky going through the town, making its way to the dungeon where it echoes off the walls inside. Each man, woman and child spared a moment to look up and around though nothing gave it a source. Shivers crawl up peoples’ backs with whispers of demons and bad omens racing across conversations.

“What on earth is that?” Arthur exclaimed while looking around him, only to see the dim light from one side and total darkness on the other.

Expecting an answer but receiving none he calls to the boy in the opposite cell, “Rendall, do you hear that?”

Rendall had finally given in to sleep, his eyes and finally given up on him and despite the vast number of bites he had obtained from the spiders that were thankfully not poisonous, he could no longer starve it off. Hearing his name from Arthur in the other cell and the shouts of a woman further down he sits up while taking a moment to gather himself, his eyes still blurry, so he rubbed them to free the dust from within.

“Rise and shine lad. Now tell me. what do you hear?”

Confused by the question initially, he soon changed his focus to the noises around him to hear a high pitched howl. The same howl she would do every night with him as they sat outside their cave and looked down on their playground.

Rendall stood. Starting with a whisper and growing in intensity each time, “ Celer, Celer, Celer!”

A beating on the door from the prison entrance came on that third call, “Keep it down, or I’ll come down and beat any more words from you with my fists.”

Ignoring the man, Rendall continued, “She’s coming and she’ll kill you all!”

In a fit of laughter, the boy finished. His eyes were glowing, making those who could see him feel uneasy as his eyes pierced the darkness. After a few minutes, Rendall finally stopped his celling as the wolf’s call to him faded.

“Rendall?” Arthur said with his eyes squinted at him with his head cocked to one side.

Coming back to himself, Rendall replied with joy in his voice as if he had forgotten where he was. “She’s coming from me Arthur, she’ll get you out too, get everyone out.”

Arthur grimaced at the boy, the trauma from the imprisonment had been too much for Rendall and had fractured his mind. He was frantic, showing signs of two different personalities. One of excitement and energy, the other of depression and paranoia. Arthur would hear the boy mutter words of betrayal, saying that he should have never come here while also throwing the little food and water they got at Arthur saying they were trying to poison him.

He looked after Rendall best he could, saving the food and water, giving it to him when he was in better spirits.

“Exactly who is Celer, Rendall? And why would she make a noise like that?”

“A wolf Arthur, Celer is a great white wolf. They are in danger.” He said while gesturing at the door to where the guards stood on the other side.

Before Arthur could say more the door to the cells opened.

The clinks of armour echoed as a figure slowly walked into view from the darkness. Wearing black greaves and boots the guard wore only the tattered remains of an old tunic on top. Not able to make out his facial features, the guard put his back to Arthur. He held a key in his hand to the door of Rendall’s cell.

Calling from the other side, Arthur shouted, “No please, leave him alone!”

Turning his head, the guard looked back at the old man, his face gleeful, “Oh don’t worry, I’ll come in there for you too.”

Arthur frantically threw small stones at the man, doing no damage, his only goal to protect the boy.

“Throw one more and I’ll kill him then let his decomposing head rot in your cell.”

As the old warrior dropped the remaining stones in his hands, he fell to his knees as the brute stepped into Rendall’s cell.

“Now you’ll learn that making noise and threats in here is forbidden you disgusting rat.”

For the next ten minutes, boots hit Rendall’s flesh. With no fight in him, Rendall curled into a ball on the floor just trying to protect his head.

Luckily no bone broke, but blood scattered across the cell as the guard left. Arthur reached out through the bars as if he were on the front line again. The old man grabbed the guard’s tunic and pulled him with a force that dazed the guard when his head smashed against the iron rods.

In another quick move, he pulled the knife from the guard’s belt and drove it into his side three times. Before he could deliver the final strike, the guard was able to break free and stumble back to the staircase.

On all fours and with blood marking his trail, the brute pulled himself towards the door.

In a stone-cold voice, Arthur said, “I’ll finish the job in hell.”