The Wolf & Yearning

Chapter Nineteen

  The Mid-Autumn Festival, which marked the admission of the first-year postulants, was almost as big as the Freedom Festival. The opening ceremony was the line of the four Masters and their eight subordinates in a second line behind them, a rainbow of silk robes, more elaborate than their day-to-day robes, with embroidery and paisley patterns woven into the fabric. Headmaster Onye Ndu led the recitation of the vows in Neamhai Teanga, about putting knowledge and students first, forgoing animal meat and hedonism. Though several noticed the vow of chastity was missing from the declaration, no one speculated about its removal.

  WuguLang liked the colored lights and fireworks, didn't even flinch when XiangWang wove his fingers through his. A thousand potential students were crammed into the arena. All held a magic wand, the most impressive able to spit out a few sparks. Some went as far as to handle the wand improperly and got an energy backfire. Nwayni led the North dance to test the group, several better at synchronization than the rest. The East Nation tests were quiet, probing rare plants, several of the specimens WuguLang had produced. Then the test of the swords. The clash, the clang, the sweat. WuguLang stood and applauded the best.

At the party in the meeting hall, open to the Masters, subordinates and their loved ones, WuguLang zeroed in on Mrs. Tadhe. He'd never been near her before. He was preoccupied at the New Year's party and couldn't recall another occasion seeing her. Or their son. He touched her hand.

Screaming. WuguLang was on his knees.

Demons busted through the windows. Glass shattered and all of the candles twirled out. The fire in the fireplace flared up and roared. Mrs. Tadhe was young, her blonde hair curly and bouncy on her shoulders. Her stomach was large and a young girl with red hair clung to her. A demon grabbed the child, bit into her shoulder. Mrs. Tadhe shrieked, reached for the girl, but a demon was chomping into her protruding gut. Another demon was shooting energy at her womb.

Mrs. Tadhe rose an energy shield over her baby, fought against the demons biting into her. Blood gushed from her daughter's throat, her broken body twisted and lying on the floor, one arm missing.

From behind, a middle-aged woman fought her way out of the kitchen, her wand blasting demons, a path to the door.

"Run!" the woman ordered, the mob of demons heaping on her.

Her last sight was her mother's hand swimming above the bodies and her father's headless form flopping on the floor.

WuguLang was surrounded by Masters and subordinates. He rose a blush, came to his feet.

Opposite Mrs. Tadhe, he said, "I am so sorry that happened to you." He bowed his head. The womb was scarred, damaged beyond the aid of a healer, though all other signs of the scars were gone.

"Do you want more children?"

*****

  "WuguLang," B'alam Quitze growled, hands on hips.

WuguLang was mopping the sweat from his chin. Then he took his hair down and pulled back the loose tendrils.

"When you're done fixing your hair, Wugu-meimei."

WuguLang threw his sweaty towel at B'alam Quitze.

"We're going on a demon raid on the last weekday. We're leaving the campus at eight."

That was something B'alam Quitze did at the beginning of every academic year. A graveyard hunt was the easiest to start his students on. While leviathan and manticore were more fierce, hunting down a higher demon was more dangerous and reserved for top students.