Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf (5 page)

‘I’m alive’
was Tatianna’s first thought.

The wave of pain that flooded her body when she tried to move proved that, death wouldn’t hurt this much, so she must be alive. Pushing herself to sit up, another wave of pain washed over her body. Ignoring the pain, Tatianna studied her surroundings.

Judging from the walls, she was in an old stone building; the wooden beams that formed the ceiling and floor were of aged oak, not polished but well tended. The room was bare of any personal touches, just a basic functional room; a single bed, a small table and a wooden chair. Nothing special but it did have a warm, cozy feeling to it.

Lying on the chair, Tatianna spied her sword and backpack. Ignoring the nausea and pain, she stood up and noticed for the first time that she was naked. All the wounds on her body had been bandaged and she could feel the tightness of the stitching from the wound to her abdomen.

Pulling on the robe that she found at the foot of her bed, Tatianna retrieved her sword. Pulling forth the blade, the starmetal glowed red in the light from the oil lamp on the table. Moving slowly to the window, she studied the surrounding landscape.

Judging from the height of the window, Tatianna figured she was near the top of the tower with the window facing south. The tower was surrounded by the evergreen forest of the Highlands. Most of the trees showed a dusting of snow but no sign of civilization could be seen from her vantage point. No roads or smoke signaling a campfire or village, only the endless tops of green and white. 

Shifting her attention to the only door in the room, Tatianna leaned down and placed her pointy ear to the aged wood.  Sounds of movement and muffled voices lay beyond but nothing she could discern. Taking a deep breath, Tatianna shifted the grip on her sword and yanked open the door.

Whatever she was expecting, that which confronted her wasn’t it. Calmly sitting at a wooden table eating a plate of scrambled eggs with roasted pork were her two brothers, bandaged but alive.

“Well…well,” Mortharona said as he set down his fork. “Look who finally decided to wake up!”

Standing slowly, Khlekluëllin winced with the effort. “Greetings sister, I am pleased to see you up and about.”

“Khlekluëllin!”

Overwhelmed with joy, Tatianna lowered her sword and rushed forward to embrace her brothers. Also moving slowly, Mortharona joined his siblings and the three spent a brief moment enjoying the comfort of family. 

“Now lass, you shouldn’t be doin’ all that huggin’ ye might rip your stitches!”

Breaking their grip, the three elves turned to look at the speaker. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was their dwarven host.

Tatianna took a moment and studied the old dwarf.

He was nearly four feet tall and broad of shoulder. His bushy eyebrows, beard and mustache were fiery red with streaks of grey. Although both his beard and mustache were long and reached down to his belt, he was bald which was extremely unusual for a dwarf.

“Wha’sa matter lass? Nev’r seen a dwarf before?”

Blushing with the knowledge that she had been staring, Tatianna placed her right hand over her heart and bowed low. “Forgive my rudeness master dwarf.”

“Bah! There won’t bein’ any mast’r dwarf this or that, da name’s Rjurik. Rjurik Silvershield.” Crossing the room with his rolling gait, he pulled out an empty chair and thrust it at Tatianna. “Now’in ye better sit down, da pup will be along shortly.”

Glancing at her brothers, Tatianna raised her right eyebrow. “Pup?”

“Bah!” was Rjurik’s response. Moving over to the fire, he began slicing off strips of pork from the roasting boar flank. “Ye better eat. Ya need ta regain your strength.”

At the mention of food, Tatianna’s stomach growled in response. “My thanks Rjurik for the offer but we elves don’t normally eat meat but it does smell delicious.”

“It is.” Khlekluëllin said, “It is probably the most wonderful meal I have ever had, including every feast and banquet we have ever attended.”

“Bah! I’da like ta say it was me spices but its nuttin’ more than yer first meal after a brush with death.” He jabbed his fork in the direction of the twins. “You two were mere moments from walking da dark path and ye know it.”

Taking another mouthful of food, Mortharona nodded his agreement. “There is truth in your words; death’s cold fingers were gripping my spine when you two arrived. I never thought I would owe my life to a stubby old dwarf and a crazed barbarian.”

“Mortharona!” said Tatianna.

Rjurik seem unfazed by the slight insult. “Well, to tell ye the truth, I nev’r thought I would have ta rescue a pair of elven warriors from a bunch of gobbies.”

He punctuated his statement with a tobacco laden spit into the fire. The twins nearly choked with laughter at the jest.

Realizing the insults were just friendly banter, Tatianna tried to change the subject. “Rjurik, I have some questions.”

“What’cha need lass?”

“Answers, where are we for starters?”

“Logical first question,” Rjurik said. “You’re still in da Highlands, a little over three leagues west from da Shrine of Luna and about twenty leagues from da edge of da Darkmoor Mountains in case dat helps you get your bearings.”

He gestured at the structure around them. “This tower was once a lookout post for me clan but hadn’t been used in many a year. A few summers back, me and da pup moved in and fixed ‘er up.”

“How…how long ago was the attack?”

Khlekluëllin rested a hand on her shoulder. “You have been asleep for nearly a day and a half.”

Rjurik poured himself a mug from a nearby barrel of ale. “Aye, da pup left you in my care at dawn da day before yesterday.”

“Who is this pup you keep referring to?”

Rjurik shook his head. “Introductions and names belong to da bearer, not me. When da pup returns he will answer your questions, until then eat and rest. Regain your strength, I fear we may need it soon enough.”

Setting down his mug, Rjurik turned back to the fire and began slicing the roasted boar and placing the strips into separate bags.

Flustered, Tatianna glared at the dwarf’s back. “But you haven’t answered all my questions.”

“Answers will have to wait,” Hawkeye said as he entered the room. “It is time to leave, they have found us.”

All four turned to look at Hawkeye, Rjurik didn’t say a word. He just began packing some bags while Tatianna and Hawkeye locked eyes for the first time.

Hawkeye was frozen with the intense beauty of her eyes. He noted that they were the crystal blue of a mountain stream. Clear and bright, full of the energy of youth and held the bright sparkle of innocence. However, there was a slight hint of darkness on the edges, which Hawkeye guessed would be from some great tragedy in her life. He felt intoxicated by her eyes and utterly helpless before them.

Similarly, Tatianna felt herself drawn into his deep gray eyes. She thought that they were the color of an overcast day. His eyes held the peacefulness of a morning shower and the rage of a thunderstorm at the same time. They also showed wisdom gained through great loss and sadness. She had never seen their like, not in the elven kingdoms nor in the lands of men. She didn’t feel threatened by them, only welcomed by them. The moment passed without words. She was the first to look away.

Khlekluëllin stepped forward, offering his right hand in friendship. “Well met Hawkeye, I am gladdened to see you again.”

Hawkeye clasped forearms in the traditional greeting of warriors. “Well met Khlekluëllin. I am afraid more pleasantries will have to wait, the enemy is here.”

A loud boom from below at the main gate seemed to echo his statement.

The three elves followed Rjurik to the balcony overlooking the main gate and were shocked to see a band of gnomes banging on the front gate. 

At first glance gnomes seem very similar to dwarves, in the fact that they are a diminutive humanoid race but that is where the similarity ends. Typically, gnomes are not as stout as dwarves and are totally hairless with overly large noses. They tend to adorn themselves with garish tattoos and jewelry. They are a clever race and are excellent craftsmen, however their items fall into two major categories, bizarre or wicked. Nearly every mechanical weapon of war from the ballistae to the crossbow has been tinkered and improved slightly by a gnome. Of course, the gnomes and dwarves are legendary enemies due to both races tendency to inhabit the same underground regions.

Rjurik leaned over the rail and yelled, “Bugger off you beardless sons of a boar!”

The gnomes cursed back in their native tongue and began to hack at the gate with their axes. Turning back, Rjurik moved to a small closet set right above the main entrance. Inside the elves saw an array of levers and ropes. Rjurik began to shift and move some of the levers when he noticed their confused looks, he flashed them a wink and said, “Just leaving a few presents for our uninvited houseguests. Come, we must go.”

Tatianna rushed back into the sleeping chamber, dressed quickly and grabbed up her gear. Seconds later she was behind her brothers as they followed the old dwarf through the keep until they reached a partially covered well in the lowest part of the tower. Hawkeye was already there with five backpacks.

Khlekluëllin asked, “What now?”

Rjurik nodded toward the barbarian.

Hawkeye took a moment to study the three elves. Each of them was wounded but bandaged and mobile. Finally he said, “The chase is on. The Highlanders who attacked your party are led by a rogue warlord named Blackfang. He and his pack have been raiding the Highlands for the last few seasons. Now, it seems he has made an alliance with the gnomes and goblins of the region.”

With a nod toward Tatianna he continued, “After he escaped our battle at the Shrine, I tracked him to an ancient fortress south of here that used to be in ruins. It has been rebuilt. Gnomes and goblins walked the battlements. This can only mean one thing, war. Blackfang must be planning to conquer the Highlands. We cannot let that happen.”

“What do you mean, we?” Mortharona asked. “That has nothing to do with us. That is a barbarian problem, not an elf problem.”

Without anger, Hawkeye continued. “No, it is the problem of all free people. Why did he attack your company? Why did he chase Tatianna, yet not kill her? And once the Highlands fall, do you think he will be content with just these lands? Why not the dwarven nation of Darkmoor or your homeland, the Elfholm? Neither kingdom is that far away and within easy striking distance of his fortress.”

The elves were silent as they consider his words. The pounding on the front gate echoed through the old keep.

Finally Khlekluëllin asked, “You said the chase is on, what do you mean by that?”

Hawkeye and Rjurik moved aside the stone cover that blocked off an old well.

“The gate and Rjurik’s traps will only keep the gnomes at bay for a short time. Additionally, there is a patrol of goblins north of here that will arrive shortly as reinforcements. We cannot hold this tower. We face a superior numbered foe with limited options; you three are injured, one old dwarf and I are not enough to hold them off for long. So we must flee.”

Tatianna asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“First rule of survival, always have a way out,” Rjurik said. He pointed at the hole in the ground. “This well is dry. At the bottom is a tunnel that leads north a bit before coming out in an old iron mine. I have some supplies hidden there.”

“What if the goblins have found the mine and your supplies?” asked Tatianna.

Rjurik chuckled. “I don’t think so, Grimclaw makes that mine his lair.”

“Who is Grimclaw?” asks Mortharona.

“The biggest and meanest grizzly bear in the region,” Rjurik said. “Goblins would be smart to avoid him.”

“And we plan on taking a back door into his lair, how smart can we be?” asked Khlekluëllin.

“Ol’ Grimclaw and I have an understanding. Trust me. From there we must follow Hawkeye’s advice. He knows the Highlands better than anyone alive.”

Boom!

The walls of the old tower shook with the crashing of the gate. Dust filled the room, as the sound of heavy boots echo through the tower.

Hawkeye said, “Now…quickly, down the well!”

Without argument, the three elves followed Rjurik down the hidden ladder along the wall of the well with Hawkeye taking up the rear. Reaching the bottom, Rjurik opened an old chest and pulled forth an unlit torch. Lighting it with flint and steel, he passed it back to Hawkeye before pulling two more from the chest which he passed to the twins. Lighting the torches, the small party could hear the echo of boots from above. The fear of discovery began to creep up their spine.

Rjurik pushed the empty chest aside to reveal a small passageway cut into the side of the well. Without waiting, Rjurik crawled through the opening. One by one, the party followed and found themselves in a small smoothly cut passageway that was only about four foot by four foot and disappeared into the darkness. Only the flickering light from the three torches kept the oppressive darkness of the tunnel at bay.

Rjurik was able to walk upright, head bowed a bit but upright. The elves found the traveling difficult. Being taller than dwarves but not as broad, they could only walk bent over. However the large barbarian found the passageway too small for him to traverse without crawling. Passing his torch to Tatianna, Hawkeye flashed her a wink and called on the magical nature of his race and shape-shifted into his wolf form.  

Traveling underground was as natural to dwarves as swimming is to fish. The elves on the other hand, felt the imagined weight of the tons of rock overhead pressing down on them; only the fear of discovery by the gnomes drove them on. After several minutes, the passageway opened into a larger rough hewn passageway that was obviously the old mine shaft Rjurik had mentioned.

Climbing down, the three elves immediately felt less claustrophobic in the airy mine shaft. As soon as Hawkeye leapt down from the passageway, he shifted back into human form. All three elves watched in utter fascination at the transformation. One moment, a huge white wolf was standing there, the next a fur wearing barbarian warrior.