Tales of the Lore Teacher – Tales from the Tomb

Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.

“Please, Lore Teacher, tell us tales of olden days”, the children beg. I smile and spread my arms wide, signalling for them to be seated.

“Young ones,” I said. “Hearken to a tale from before the clans came to the new Dragon Court, the first tale of the wandering druid of our family line; listen now to the Tale of Taliesin and Lunara”

Taliesin had just turned 16 when he first wandered into the fields outside the town. He’d never been allowed further than the orphanage gate before, except on errands for the overseers to either the store or the inn. Now he could travel anywhere he wanted, except back to the orphanage because those doors were now barred to him. Sadly, that was normal practice upon reaching adulthood and, strangely, he didn’t mind.

The town had always felt too enclosed to him. He had always been drawn to any patches of greenery he’d found there, like the graveyard’s rose garden, which he constantly got told off for playing in. Now, he was free to look at the trees, stare at the sky, and play with the animals he knew he’d make friends with.

He’d already found lots of creatures he’d never seen before, beautiful purple butterflies with yellow dots, which swarmed around the strange orange bell-shaped flowers. He’d taken a cutting of such a bloom and stored it in his pack, hoping to later find another traveller who might know its name. He’d heard all sorts of insects buzzing and even found a colony of ants, which he’d watched search for food, learning more about them. He found some useful herbs that they seemed to like, too.

Suddenly, an eerie howl sounded, breaking into his daydreaming. He listened as it came again, then set off in a slow run in the direction he thought it was coming from. He was curious what was making such a call; it didn’t sound frightened, like it was lost or angry, in a battle, or even mournful as if dying. It was more impatient and wanting, although he couldn’t say why it struck him that way.

He soon found he’d run into a clearing in the fields. It was oddly circular with large, pointed stone shapes that rose towards the sky, reminding him of how church pillars looked from the inside. In the centre of the clearing was a huge wolf, much larger than a normal one. She was lying on her side and making the eerie call. He carefully went closer, trying not to frighten her into either attacking or running. As he got to touching distance, he realised her eyes were staring straight into his.

“At last. I thought you’d never get here”, a strong female voice said. Taliesin looked around, careful to keep one eye on the wolf, then looked back at her, puzzled. They were the only two creatures within the clearing; even insects seemed to stay away.

“I’m sure I heard something”, Taliesin muttered to himself.

“You did, although not with your pathetic ears”, the voice laughed at him. Taliesin suddenly realised the voice he heard was somehow inside his head.

Oh no, I’m going mad, he thought.

“Hardly. I wouldn’t pick someone like that to be my cub’s pack brother,” the voice continued. “You need to help me birth my cub. I was attacked earlier by a goblin tribe whilst I slew them all; it was not without damage to myself, and I am now too weak to give birth naturally.”

Taliesin looked closer at the wolf and noticed the cuts and blood on her muzzle, then he spotted the dagger hilt deep in her pelt just below her forelegs.

“Yes, that is the means of my death. It was coated in a paralysing poison. The cub within me is healthy and strong, but I do not have the strength or time left for him to be born naturally.” The wolf’s voice was sad, and he felt the sorrow in her knowledge that she wouldn’t live to see her child as she put the understanding of how to force the birth into his mind.

“But I’m not a wolf,” he suddenly exclaimed out loud. “How will I care for your cub? Or is there somewhere I can take it, like to your pack or something?”

“I have no pack. I was created as a magical companion for a great mage.”

An image of her creator flashed into his mind. “He died battling an evil lich, and I expected to die with him, but somehow his last wish that I would be free was granted, and I have been wandering ever since.”

“But the cub’s father, your mate, shouldn’t I get him?” he asked, hoping to help her and make her happier.

“My mate died delaying the lich, so that I could escape the mage’s tower. He knew I was with cub, and wished it to be born safe and free, the lich wanted to use it to prolong some magic of its own.” Her anger filled Taliesin’s mind, and he gasped in horror at the images he saw.

“You will be the brother for my cub, two-legged one. He will be like me in that you will be able to talk mind-to-mind; you will have to tell him about me and my heritage. Now, help me,” and she bit him to return his attention to forcing her cub’s birth.

He forced the herbs into her mouth, which she’d told him would cause early birth, and washed them down with water from his bottle. Then, he bound her mouth, as she had suggested, so she couldn’t bite him by accident when the pain of forced birth began. All the while, she filled his mind with stories of herself, Luna, as her mage had named her, and Ra, for her mate. She already knew her single cub was male, and she asked Taliesin to call him Lunara in memory of both his parents.

Then her mental images and voice faded from his mind, and he knew she was weakening quickly. Taliesin placed his hands ready for her cub’s birth, and watched her body struggle its last battle, and felt the joy as the cub was born.

He quickly took the tiny wolf cub, washed it carefully, then rubbed it with his spare shirt. He opened its tiny jaws to breathe air into its chest, waiting to see if it would breathe on its own. Suddenly, he felt a new presence in his mind, a sort of fuzzy mind that couldn’t think clearly. He noticed the cub was breathing, and carefully rubbed his spare shirt all over its now-dead mother, hoping he could get as much of her scent over it as possible, then wrapped the cub in it. Next, he took his spare water bottle and milked the she-wolf for as long as milk came from her dead body. The cub would need this until he could try it with cow or goat milk.

Taliesin looked down at the wrapped bundle of cub, thought hard at it, and said: “Your name is Lunara, your pack mother was Luna, your pack father was Ra, and I, Taliesin, am your pack brother. I will protect you for all of our days as I swore to your mother.” The fuzzy feeling in his mind seemed content.

So, placing this most precious bundle carefully into his pack after arranging it so he could carry it across his front like he’d seen mothers do with their babies in the town, he set off again to wander the fields and gain money for himself and his pack brother.

“So that’s why the statue of Taliesin has a wolf curled up at its feet.” One of the bolder children comments.

“Yes. And that’s why all our druids wear a wolf head badge as a symbol of their office,” I inform them. “If you finish all your chores promptly tomorrow, I will tell you their last day together, learning the ways of the wilds.”

The children’s eyes shine with anticipation; then they scramble off to finish their evening games.

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