Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf (36 page)

Khlekluëllin laughed. “Don’t worry. No offense taken.”

Finishing off the deer, Hal rolled over onto his back knocking over several small trees in the process. *
By Terra, I’ve missed wild game. The hunt was almost as fun as the dinner.*

Craning his serpentine head around, Hal looked into Khlekluëllin’s blue eyes. *Thank you my friend. I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for me.*

Waving his hand as if to dismiss it lightly, Khlekluëllin pulled a burning brand from the fire and said, “You’re welcome Hal. That’s what friends are for. I’m just glad you didn’t eat me when you had the chance.”

*So am I. So am I.*

Turning back to the injured dwarf, Khlekluëllin’s voice took on a hard edge. “Rjurik, we have to cauterize your arm or you’ll bleed to death.”

Rjurik forced himself to sit up. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!”

“This is going to hurt.”

“I know that, damn ye. Don’t patronize me! I’m not some sniveling, weak kneed gnome. Do it!” 

Rjurik’s last command was so sharp and forceful, that Khlekluëllin had placed the burning brand against the dwarf’s stump before he realized it. For many years to come Khlekluëllin could never remember what was worse; the sizzle and popping of skin as the fire ate at Rjurik’s stump, the dreadful smell of burning flesh or the hideous scream of pain that echoed through the forest.

In Rjurik’s weakened condition, the pain from cauterizing his stump caused him to pass out. Checking on his friend, Khlekluëllin smiled grimly. Rjurik would live but at an extremely high cost. The loss of his right hand would haunt him the rest of his days but it was better than dying. Making his way to the campfire, Khlekluëllin cut himself a slice of the roasted venison and sat down. 

“Where do we go now?”  Mortharona asked.

Khlekluëllin shrugged his shoulders. “To the Kingdom of Darkmoor, I guess. They will be able to take care of Rjurik and we should be able to restock our supplies.” After swallowing a large piece of venison, “Maybe we can even find out what happened to Tatianna and Hawkeye.”

Nodding his head, Mortharona stared into the fire. “The Kingdom of Darkmoor, I wonder if they’ll let us in. As far as I know, the last elf to set foot inside those gates was Eldath. Legends state that no enemy of the dwarves has ever stepped foot inside their gates.”

Khlekluëllin raised an eyebrow. “We’re not enemies of the Dwarves. Are we?”

“Not that I know of but we have been away from our homeland for many months. Maybe, the Queen has decided to invade the Darkmoor Mountains?” 

Neither brother could hold back their laughter at the thought of the elves invading the dwarves. Just the thought was ludicrous. They laughed and laughed. It was like old times.

Watching the two brothers with amusement, Hal was confused. There were times that the twins were so alike Hal could hardly tell them apart, even by their smell. But more often than not, Mortharona’s scent had the flavor of darkness on it. At first he just thought it was the residual effects of being Blackfang’s captives but that thought wouldn’t hold true. Khlekluëllin and Rjurik had spent the same amount of time with Blackfang but neither of them had the scent of darkness on them, only Mortharona. Something was not right with the dark twin. Rolling over to get some sleep, Hal decided he would have to keep an eye on him, for some reason he didn’t trust the dark haired twin.

*   *   *   *   *

Rjurik regained consciousness the following morning but he was extremely weak. So the companions stayed in the clearing for the next week. Hal did the hunting for them, while all three rested and ate to regain their strength.

Finally, on the morning of the tenth day since they escaped, they climbed on Hal’s back and the four companions flew west. As they soared high in the cold winter sky, they watched in horror as Blackfang’s army began pouring out of the gates of the dark fortress. Pointing at the thousands of troops issuing from the underground tunnels, Mortharona yelled over the rushing wind.

“Blackfang wouldn’t send that many soldiers out just to hunt for us. He must be planning on attacking the barbarians.”

Nodding his head, Khlekluëllin agreed. “I feel sorry for them. I wonder if they’ll be ready for his attack. It is most unusual to attack during the winter, especially here in the Highlands.”

Rjurik was sitting behind Khlekluëllin and in front of Mortharona spoke up. “The Highlanders are a tough lot. They’ll be ready. I have travelled to their main village once with Hawkeye. While it is not as formidable as Darkmoor or even the Black Fortress, the inhabitants make it a dangerous place. My king considers them allies even though there has never been a formal treaty.” 

Taking Rjurik’s word on the strength of the Highlanders the twins turned their thoughts on staying warm and enjoying their newfound freedom.

The four companions flew west all day until around nightfall they spied the main gates of Darkmoor. It was an impressive sight. The gates were located high on the side of the Darkmoor Mountains. Chiseled out of solid granite, the crossed axe and hammer of Bromios were carved in the cornerstones. Two huge iron doors, standing nearly fifty feet tall barred the entrance into the dwarven fortress. The area in front of the gate wasn’t very large or easily accessible. A long winding path up the side of the mountain was the only approach to the main gates, making the idea of trying to lay siege to the dwarven fortress ludicrous.

The sun had already passed behind the mountains when Hal landed in front of the main gates. Climbing down from his back, the three comrades stretched their sore muscles.

Casting a sidelong look at Hal, Mortharona said sarcastically, “Dragon riding might be a quick way to get somewhere but it is defiantly not the most comfortable way to travel.”

Shaking his head, Khlekluëllin began rubbing just behind Hal’s left eye ridge. The young dragon almost purred with contentment.

“I disagree. I think it is the most invigorating trip I’ve ever been on. Thanks Hal. Our escape would not have been possible without your assistance. You are a true friend but now you must go. You are free. Free to fly and roam the wilds of Terreth as you were meant to be.”

Hal’s voice took on a serious tone. *Thank you Khlekluëllin. You are my truest friend. It was your faith in the gods that set us free.* 

Flapping his long wings, Hal raised himself to his full height towering high above the three companions. Lifting his head high into the night air, Hal let loose a tremendous roar followed by a brilliant flash of light and a crack of thunder as a large lightning bolt split the cold night air. Rjurik and Mortharona took several steps back, thinking that Hal had gone crazy or was just too hungry to think. Khlekluëllin just stood his ground and watched his friend. Secure in the trust and knowledge of their friendship.

Continuing to flap his wings, Hal roared a second time and even spit a larger bolt of lightning into the night air. Looking down, Hal fixed his eyes on Khlekluëllin. They glowed a yellowish blue. Rjurik and Mortharona felt their knees grow weak as the first stages of dragon fright crept over them.

Khlekluëllin heard Hal’s voice over their mental link. *Do you, Khlekluëllin Amarth the Ice Blue Doom, pledge your lifelong friendship and loyalty to me, Halhulingrath the Ice Blue Death?*

Nodding his head, Khlekluëllin drew his sword and held it over his head. “I do.” 

*I also pledge my friendship and loyalty to you and your kin for as long as I or my brood shall live.*

Hal let loose the largest and brightest lightning bolt the companions had ever seen. This time it didn’t fly harmlessly into the night sky but came crashing down on Khlekluëllin. The blast knocked Rjurik and Mortharona from their feet and filled the night air with smoke and debris. Khlekluëllin didn’t feel any pain from the lightning blast, only a slight tingling in his wrists. He did feel the weariness of the last month fade from his body and he felt strangely invigorated.

Hal’s voice came floating over their mental link. *By accepting my friendship and my breath, we are now bonded for life. My lightning will never be able to harm you, only heal you. It was you who gave me back my freedom and that is a debt I will never be able to repay. But this I do pledge, you are my friend and I will be there if you ever need me. Just call for me and I’ll hear, no matter where on Terreth I am and with Terra as my witness, I will be there for you.*       

Khlekluëllin watched as Hal turned around gracefully in midair and began to climb into the cold night air. The sight saddened his heart. “Good-bye my friend. Enjoy your freedom, you deserve it. I will miss you.”

When Hal was almost out of sight, his voice came floating back over their link one last time *Beware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Things are not always as they seem. Torture and time can change anybody*

With that he was gone.

As the smoke cleared Rjurik and Mortharona were hesitant to look at the charred remains of their friend but they looked anyway. They were shocked and surprised to find Khlekluëllin unscathed and unharmed looking into the night air. Of Hal, there was no sign.

Rjurik walked up to his tall friend and clapped the elf on his back with his good hand, “Where’s da dragon?”

Still looking into the night air, Khlekluëllin sighed. “Off to enjoy his freedom.”

With a snort, Mortharona added. “Good riddance. I never trusted him anyway.”

Khlekluëllin just shot him a deathly glance that spoke volumes. Mortharona knew he had crossed a line with his last remark. Lowering his head, he was about to apologize for his remark when the landing area was filled with a blinding light.

“FREEZE!” came a commanding voice. “If anybody moves, then all three of you will be dead before the first one hits the ground.”

Not being able to see anything, the three companions had no choice but to comply with the disembodied voice.

Rjurik puffed up his chest and took one step forward. “Now listen here. I don’t know who you are but I am Rjurik Silvershield, cousin to the king. These two elves are my friends and the twin sons of Queen Circe of Elfholm.”

The telltale sound of a firing crossbow and the loud thud of it hitting somewhere nearby echoed in the blinding light.

“I don’t care who you say you are! I said freeze! If you take another step, the next bolt won’t land between your legs, it will land between your eyes.” 

Rjurik grumbled but stopped moving.

“Good! Now that I have your attention and your cooperation, lay down on your stomach with your hands behind your heads and your legs crossed. You have five seconds to comply. Four seconds. Three…”

All three companions knew it was hopeless to resist, so they lay down as directed. Immediately they felt strong hands binding their hands behind their backs and stripping their weapons from their bodies. Bags were placed over their heads, as they were lifted roughly to their feet.

“Now move.”

The point of a sharp blade was poked into their backs as they began walking. The sound of the large iron gates closing behind them told the companions that they had entered the Great Halls of Darkmoor, the mighty fortress of the Dwarves.

Rjurik had returned home. Yet, it was not the homecoming he expected.

The morning after Red Crow’s death was somber, even the weather seemed to mourn for the old chieftain. The sky was gray, promising more snow but none fell that day. Although the wind continued to blow cold, there was an undeniable warmth between the many tribes of the Highlanders. Something had changed in the way they viewed each other. They began acting and thinking as one people, not nine different tribes. Everyone felt closer, drawn together by three undeniably grand events.

The first was joyous, the coming of the Chosen One, the being of prophecies that foretold the downfall of their greatest enemy. He was also the main character in the ‘Fable of the Chosen,’ a favorite legend told to Highland children at bedtime. It foretold the coming of their people’s greatest warrior, a young brave who was yet to be born but risks all to fulfill his destiny. He challenges gods and demons to right the wrongs done to his people. The ending of the fable changes slightly with each telling. Depending on whatever lesson the speaker was trying to impart to the listeners but every Highland child dreams of being the Chosen One.

The second was the death of Red Crow. He had been one of their greatest chieftains, a legend in his own time. He had earned the respect and admiration from his friends and enemies alike for his honor and wisdom. Red Crow’s accomplishments as a warrior and hunter were legendary. All would mourn his loss.

The third seemed unavoidable, the coming war with the Dark Alliance. This one event, if no other, seemed to draw the nine tribes closer together. It was as if now, after the death of Red Crow and the appointment of Hawkeye as the Warlord of the Highland Nation, they actually realized for the first time the full extent of the coming war with the Dark Alliance.

This war meant the death of the Highland Nations, not just the death of individual warriors or their loved ones but the death of their way of life.

Death was just one of the facts of life they had learned to accept as part of life in the Highlands, for death was a constant companion in this harsh land but this was something different. This was the death of their people, their actual way of life.

They began viewing themselves as a part of the greater whole. They weren’t just small packs, loosely associated with the larger tribes. At first, many of the smaller packs had thought the war would not come until the spring thaw, that when it came they could lose themselves in the uncharted forests of the Highlands. Once there, they would be forgotten by the coming darkness and ignored like ants on a log.  Some truly thought they would somehow be spared from the war but now things were different. Now they saw themselves as one people, the mighty Highland Nation. They were unified as one tribe under one leader and they had one purpose the return of their goddess. And the mother of the child of prophecy, the one foretold that would be instrumental in the downfall of their enemy had been delivered into their mists. Once again, all of Terreth would see them stand as one people in defense of their goddess.