The Steele Wolf

“Quickly, I can do nothing for her unless she is inside.” Hemi stared into the darkness through the open door and I felt his muscles tense. It was either fear or wariness, but the stoic warrior wasn’t about to bring his leader’s daughter into a trap.



“Oh, you big baby, it’s fine, honestly.” The little woman quickly grabbed a candle from a pocket in her belt and lit it.  She went into the room first where she knelt on the wooden floor and pulled a solid ring handle to open up another hidden door in the floor. A quick glance downward revealed a flight of stone steps leading into more pitch-black nothingness. When Hemi didn’t budge, the petite copper-haired woman who barely came up to his elbow turned on him angrily. “Are you coming or not?  I thought you were looking for a healer. If you are, then I have to get her properly shielded from the mists so I can use my power. If you don’t care a lick about her welfare, then you are just wasting my time and can leave.” Her brown eyes sparked with anger and I could see that she had spirit.



By this time, I was becoming more lightheaded and dizzy and I unconsciously clutched at Hemi’s vest. Looking down at me, his eyes widened in concern and he practically jumped into the small room after the woman. She stepped down the stone stairs first with the candle and led the way. Hemi followed close behind.



“Wait. I have to shut the door.” She pressed against the wall and walked back up the stairs and closed the copper door with a thud, encasing us in darkness except for the glow of her small candle. Sliding back in front, she led the way down another flight of stairs. The light caused our shadows to stretch and dance across the walls, mimicking our movement.



My eyes were getting heavy and I watched as the walls of the stairwell turned from dirt into the blackest stone similar to obsidian. The whole passageway was chiseled out of the rock. This must be the mineral that kept the city floating in the air and we were traveling down, deep into the heart of it, I thought.



“Quickly.” The woman opened another door.  This time Hemi didn’t hesitate but plunged himself deep into the darkness. The woman followed behind and lit a few more candles. “Put her on the table,” she ordered. Hemi obliged and I froze in terror as I felt my body lowered onto a familiar cold steel table.



“NO!” I cried out. Feeling faint and weak, I reached for Hemi’s arm and saw him covered with my blood.



More lights were lit to reveal a small workroom with shelves, beakers, tubes and various odors. Metal instruments and measuring devices lined the table.



“Hold her down,” The woman commanded and stepped into my line of vision. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were lined in determination. She leaned forward to grasp the piece of the stake that was miraculously still embedded in my stomach and was the only thing keeping me from bleeding out. But when she leaned forward, the light revealed an ominous instrument on the wall that her body had previously shielded from me. I screamed in terror at the exact same time she pulled stake from my stomach.  My screams were swallowed by pain as she pressed her hands into my wound to staunch the flow of blood. Desperately I tried to move my arms, but Hemi was pinning me down onto the table watching the woman and not paying attention to me.  My mouth gaped open from the pain and I stuttered and shook, unable to speak as I gazed in horror at the wall. At the metal apparatus that glinted ominously in the candle light. At the familiar form of the iron butterfly.



“That’s better. Keep holding her down.  For some reason she is trying get off of the table and I can’t for the life of me fathom why.” The small women wiped her forehead with the back of her hand in exhaustion. She looked me over with concern and then smiled in triumph as she examined my now nonexistent wound. “You know many laughed at Ol’ Fanny when I told them about my idea of trying to heal people deep underground within an earthen shield. They thought I was crazy. But I showed them.” She chuckled softly and slapped her thigh. She let out a long tired sigh, before sitting down on the nearest stool.



By this time, my terror had abated as soon as I realized that the woman wasn’t trying to murder me but was in fact helping me. But I still wasn’t comfortable lying on the table and was trying to wriggle out from under Hemi’s firm grasp. Hemi wasn’t budging so I turned my head and bit his hand. He yelped and pulled back from me and I rolled over and off of the table landing in a heap on the floor. Scooting backwards on my hands and feet like a crab. I put as much distance as I could between the device and myself.



“Why do you have that?” I asked her angrily, pointing at the iron butterfly. “Why is that here?”



Fanny looked up in the direction I was pointing and studied the iron contraption before answering me in disbelief. “You mean the lightning catcher?”



“The machine that looks like a butterfly. Yes.” I replied snidely. “And what do you mean a lightning catcher? Why do you have it here?”



Fanny furrowed her eyes in confusion and looked at me. “I don’t understand why you would be interested in it. It was created to harvest lightning during storms as another way of creating an energy source for those that live in the thunder regions. But why do you even care?”



“Because I’ve seen it before, but it wasn’t used in the way you described. It was used for experiments on children.” I watched Fanny closely to see her reaction looking for telltale signs that she was lying. She was shocked.



“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.” Fanny looked visibly shaken and upset.



“I’m not mistaken.” My voice shook with anger. “I know the thing that tortured me night after night and that is it.” I pointed again at the machine, my voice rising in volume. “You are wrong!” I challenged her ruthlessly as I found the courage to stand up.  Reaching out blindly, I found that Hemi had come to stand by me.  He was even now pulling me behind him so he could guard me from this new threat, a threat that a moment ago had saved my life.



Fanny turned deathly white and her hands trembled as she grasped the fabric of her shirt over her heart. “That can’t be. What you’re saying is impossible.”



“Why?” I asked. Even standing behind Hemi, the sight of the iron butterfly still made me tremble in fear, but I had to know the answer. “Why would it be impossible?”



“Because the inventor of this machine only built the one and it was never created with the intention to harm others,” she answered. Her eyes dropped to the floor in quiet submission.



“How do you know?” My heart was beating so hard in my chest I felt as if it were going to explode. This could be the answer to everything. “Who was the one who built it? Do you have their name?”



“Yes.” Fanny looked up from the floor and her brown eyes were filled with quiet unshed tears. “I invented it.”



“I don’t understand. How can that be?” My knees became weak and I clutched onto Hemi’s arm, digging my fingernails into his muscular bicep. Hemi, bless him, didn’t even flinch at the pain I was undeniably causing him in my distress.



Fanny answered me but made sure she kept distance between us as Hemi still loomed over her menacingly. “I’m an inventor. It’s what I do. What I live for. I try and better the world through my inventions.”



My anger was rising to an almost equal level as my fear, which was intense. “THAT THING- you created in no way betters the world. Why would you invent it to begin with?”

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