Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf (31 page)

It was a dark strand, black as midnight. Using the feather, she pulled it to the fire. Throwing in another handful of black powder, she thrust the feather and strand into the flashing fire. Her voice was loud and strong as she commanded. “Come! Come forth messenger of Aurora! Come and help me in my time of need!”

The fire grew to such a great height that Tatianna was worried it would catch the tipi’s skin afire but still she didn’t move. She stared deep into the heart of the fire as the black smoke seemed to fold in on itself. There was a great flash of light and heat that knocked her back onto her furs.

Opening her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that it was pitch black inside her tipi. The fire had gone out; there wasn’t even a glow from the coals. The second thing she noticed was that she was no longer alone. She could hear the slight rustle of feathers and the telltale flap of a bird’s wings.

Calling upon her magic, she spoke a single word, “
Anar
!” 

The fire came back to life with a soft warm glow. Her eyes fell upon the magnificent bird that sat across from her. It was coal black and looked like a large eagle. She had heard stories of such birds. They were known as shadowhawks. Birds made of smoke and shadow that live in the mystical realm known as the Shadowlands.

Shadowhawks were in all respect a normal living hawk with two exceptions. First, they were extremely intelligent. One legend tells that Eldath had one that learned to speak elvish, Tatianna didn’t know if that was true but it was a nice story. The second were their magical abilities granted to them through their summoning. Shadowhawks had the ability to pass through any two shadows, covering a great distance in a short time and to blend into the shadows; a shadowhawk that was sitting in a dark tree would be nearly undetectable.

Reaching out gingerly, Tatianna stroked its head.

“Hello, there. Thank you for answering my summons. I don’t know your name, so I will call you Dûrdae, which means ‘deepest shadow’ in my ancient tongue.” 

It chirped at her attention.

“I have a small mission for you. I would like for you to find Hawkeye and keep watch over him. Would you do that for me?”

Giving several quick chirps Dûrdae seemed to wink at her before launching himself toward the tipi wall. Tatianna watched in fascination as he dove into the shadow at the base of the mirror and disappeared into the darkness. Smiling, Tatianna crawled back under her sleeping furs and fell fast asleep.

Kneeling against the large rock, Hawkeye felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up again. Someone was watching him. Scanning the surrounding forest, he couldn’t see any movement nor did he smell anything out of the ordinary. Yet, all of his senses screamed at him that someone or something was watching him. Minutes passed and nothing stirred in the surrounding forest. The creatures of the forest also sensed something was wrong and went into hiding. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

Tightening his grip on his tomahawk and knife, Hawkeye whispered to the darkness. “All right whoever you are, if you want to wait and see… then we will wait. I’m a patient man. We can sit here all night if need be.”

Minutes passed and still nothing happened. Then, just as quickly as it had come over him, the feeling left him. Hawkeye still didn’t see, smell or hear anything out of the ordinary. “What are you up to?”

As the forest creatures came out of hiding and the normal sounds of the winter night returned, Hawkeye relaxed the grip on his weapons.

The wind had died down to a gentle breeze that came from the west, which was a good thing. Wind from the west always carried the faint scent of salt from the Great Sea that lay many leagues past the home of the dwarves. This breeze was also slightly warmer than any that would come from the north, which foretold of a break in the snow soon. A break in the snow was a mixed blessing, it was good in the sense that the knee-deep snow wouldn’t get any worse over the next couple of days giving his people’s hunters plenty of time to bring in more stores for the coming winter. Bad in the sense it gave Blackfang and his men ample time to do the same thing or even send a raiding party north.

That thought lingered in his head for several minutes. The voice of his adopted father ran through his head,
‘To know your enemy, is to know yourself. The strength of your enemy defines your strength as a warrior.’

He thought about what he knew of his brother, Blackfang. The phrase ‘his brother’ still bothered him. How could he be a brother to such a bloodthirsty beast? But he didn’t doubt Anasazi. If his uncle said that Blackfang was his brother, then they were brothers. A slight twinge of regret swept through his body. It would have been great to grow up with a brother. Someone to share his adventures with instead of the lonely path he had taken. Although, it wouldn’t have been lonely if Blackfang had not killed his family; he could have explored the Highlands with his twin sons.

No! Blackfang being his brother won’t change what he had to do the next time they met. Shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts of revenge, Hawkeye didn’t want it to cloud his judgment. Turning back to the task at hand, what did he know about Blackfang? First, he was a powerful warrior that relied on fear, intimidation and strength to lead. He seemed to crave power and control. He also didn’t care about his men or allies, just himself. That could be a weakness he might be able to exploit given the right opportunity. Blackfang’s men and allies wouldn’t be very loyal to him if they were following him out of fear. Meaning their morale could be low or reduced given the right circumstances. On the other hand, if Blackfang has the backing of one of the Arachne, then his men might be following him out of religious fervor and Hawkeye knew that religious zealots were dangerous. Zealots have no care for their own well being and will fight to the death. 

A faint sound from the south brought him out of his reverie. It sounded like a twig snapping. Someone was nearby. Sniffing the air, he couldn’t smell anything out of the ordinary but the wind was still coming from the west carrying any scents away from him. Could it be one of the last two warlords he had yet to face?  That question raced through his mind but Hawkeye doubted it. From what he knew about the last two warlords neither would be that foolish. Besides, any highlander capable of becoming and retaining the title of warlord would not be so careless as to step on a twig, even in this snow. No, it had to be strangers, probably servants of Blackfang. Quickly putting away his flask of water and bundle of dried meat, Hawkeye moved off in search of new prey. 

Sitting on the crest of the large rock overhead, Dûrdae watched. He too had heard the twig snap. Spreading his magnificent wings, he launched himself off the rock. His night black wings caught the westerly wind and lifted him into the night sky.

Passing the base of another large boulder, Hawkeye froze as a great roar split the night air. A series of yells, curses and several cries of pain echoed off the trees. Recognizing the screams as gnomish, Hawkeye knew that minions of Blackfang were indeed in the forest. Abandoning stealth, he sped through the underbrush and over the deep snow as quickly as possible. Breaking into a clearing, Hawkeye took in the sight before him with a glance.

On the far side of the clearing, surrounded by ten gnomes was the second largest grizzly bear Hawkeye had ever seen. Standing on his hind legs, he was close to twelve feet tall. His tree-sized arms ended in huge paws with finger length claws. They were busy ripping the guts out of an already dead cyclops. The bodies of several gnomes lay at his feet, shredded and bleeding.

Having long spears, the ten gnomes stood out of the bear’s reach and began stabbing at the grizzly from all sides. Three cyclops stood on this side of the clearing with their backs to Hawkeye throwing large rocks at the bear.

Cyclops are not known for being the greatest marksmen on Terreth; their one eye hindering their depth perception but even a blind man will hit a wall once in a while. While Hawkeye took in the scene before him, the three cyclops only hit the grizzly one out of three throws but the one-eyed titans are extremely strong and the great bear would roar in pain whenever they did score a hit.

Studying the layout of the battle, Hawkeye recognized the great bear as Nilrem, the warlord of the Bear tribe. Nilrem’s name meant ‘one of great strength’ in their ancient tongue but even his great strength would not overcome the grim odds he was facing. Nilrem could hold his own against the ten gnomes or the three cyclops but probably not both.

Hawkeye’s mind flashed back to the only time he had met the formidable Bear Warlord. It was shortly after the death of his family; Nilrem had come by for a visit and to offer his condolences. Hawkeye had been immediately impressed with the Bear Warlord. Several years his senior, Nilrem was a great warrior whose true strength lay, not in his physical prowess but in his beliefs. He radiated a calm and inner peace that seemed to affect all he came in contact with. He was well respected and liked by all Highlanders.

Not even pausing to consider his actions, Hawkeye entered the fray. Charging up behind the closest cyclops, Hawkeye lashed out with his left hand, his razor sharp knife scored a wicked cut on the back of the cyclops’ leg, severing the titan’s tendon. The large beast caught in mid-throw crashed to the ground face first with a tremendous thud as several teeth flew in all directions. The large rock he was throwing went wide, crashing into the body of a luckless gnome. Two large, blood-shot eyes turned to view their newest threat.

Recognizing Hawkeye, one of them smiled showing off broken and crooked teeth. Grunting loudly to his companion, the cyclops dropped his rock and reached for the tree-sized club strapped to his back. Moving quickly from the fallen cyclops, Hawkeye never gave him the chance to free his weapon. In one motion, Hawkeye threw his tomahawk with all his strength as he raced to cover the ten or so feet between them.  The tomahawk seemed to move in slow motion as it turned end over end, heading toward its target. The last thing the unfortunate cyclops ever saw was Hawkeye’s tomahawk as it buried itself deep into its eye. Blood and brains flew everywhere and the cyclops fell backwards dead, his hand still clutching his strapped weapon.

Hawkeye pulled free his warclub as the last cyclops swung his tree-sized club downward at Hawkeye’s head with a vicious two-handed swing. Diving left, Hawkeye felt the wind from the club as it passed just inches away from his body. Tucking into a roll, Hawkeye regained his feet just as the cyclops swung again. This time the swing came at him horizontally. Hawkeye jumped backwards; the cyclops’ clumsy swing passing harmlessly several feet from him.

Landing directly behind the gnomes, Hawkeye laughed loudly and called out, “Come on you one-eyed smelly beast. Is that the best you can do? You swing that club like a blind halfling!”   

Snarling and grunting, the cyclops charged. Holding his club over his right shoulder, the enraged titan covered the short distance between them with two strides of its long legs. When the cyclops was only five feet away, he swung his club with all of his might. Again the swing was coming parallel to the ground; the club was traveling fast enough to make the wind whistle. Waiting until the last moment, Hawkeye sprang straight up. Flipping over in mid-air, Hawkeye reached out with his bare hand and touched the cyclops lightly on the head. Landing gently on his feet, several feet behind the charging cyclops, Hawkeye allowed himself a half smile at the coup he just managed.

A highland warrior is measured only by his bravery in combat. The most common way of measuring a warrior’s bravery is by counting coups. A coup is a non-damaging attack, usually made with the bare hand. A coup must happen while in combat and there must be the threat of danger while doing it. A warrior is awarded an eagle feather for every coup he attains in his life. To a highland warrior this accounts to status, the more coups, the more status and thus, the more respect one commands.

The cyclops was startled by Hawkeye’s sudden move and could not stop his charge or swing. A loud thump echoed off the trees as his club connected with one of the gnomes. The unfortunate gnome went flying through the air, crashing into another gnome. They both landed with a resounding thud and didn’t move again. The cyclops was still moving at great speed but looking backwards at Hawkeye causing him to slip on some snow. Falling flat on his face, the cyclops slid for several feet, landing right at the foot of Nilrem. The Bear warlord didn’t waste the opportunity given to him. Ignoring the few remaining gnomes, he pounced on the cyclops’ back and began tearing into him.

Hawkeye noted that there were only four gnomes left standing; the other six lay bleeding and dying in the snow. Suddenly, his back exploded with pain as all of his wind was forced from his body. Struggling to stay conscious, he felt himself flying through the air. Landing in a lump at the base of a large tree at the south end of the clearing, Hawkeye shook his head in a valiant effort to clear away the clouds that filled his brain. He felt the world spinning. Forcing his thoughts to obey him, Hawkeye fixed his eyes on the cyclops he had crippled earlier. Through the daze, the cyclops kept shifting around in his view. Sometimes there was only one cyclops and sometimes there were three of them, all sporting a toothless grin, a large club and a bad limp.

The crippled cyclops covered the short distance between them slowly. His laughter, guttural and feral, filled the night air. Fumbling weakly with his warclub, Hawkeye tried to stand but his legs would not work. When he reached Hawkeye, the cyclops took a firm grip on his club and raised it high overhead. With an evil laugh that sounded very final, he began his downward swing. Hawkeye raised his warclub in a valiant but futile attempt to ward off the impending death blow.

It never landed.

A loud growl from behind Hawkeye preceded a huge, brown and black ball of fur flying out of the forest to land on the chest of the cyclops. The one-eyed titan tumbled backwards with the force of the wolverine’s attack.