The Lone Wolf Saga: The Lone Wolf

by C L Carr

The Leaf was a very nice tavern located in the heart of the city, not too far from Tressnou’s home. It was well known from around the world for its unique design. As the name implied, the tavern was actually made from four giant leaves. They were reinforced, by some form of magic, to hold their cocoon like shape. One leaf made up each of the sides, one leaf acted as a foundation, and the last formed the roof. It was built, or as many say grown, in-between three great white oaks. The tips of the leaves joined together forming the front of the building, while the broad ends overlapped to form the back wall of the structure. If one wished to enter they simply approached the tips and the leaves folded themselves outwards and backwards while the bottom leaf folded down to form a gentle ramp for the patron to enter. The same applied when a guest wished to leave.

  Inside, a beautifully engraved bar sat to the left, housing bar stools with backs and seats shaped like leaves. Tables were found here and there throughout the bar in the shape of leaves; they seemed to grow out of the floor. These chairs also had leaves for backs and leaves for seats. Whatever wood it was carved out of was simply gorgeous, and the craftsmanship was flawless, as was expected here. The room seemed to glow just as the forest did but warmer and golden, yet not too bright. It was, as usual, a sight to see. The bar keep, a tall slender female elf, also had private quarters on the main floor and had rooms that she rented out above. They were not cheap, but seeing as he was not paying, Artirius had no problem with a room for the night. It had been weeks since he had slept on a bed. Artirius entered the busy tavern and moved through the crowd towards the bar.

  As he maneuvered carefully around a portly human, he bumped into a dwarf. “Oh pardon me my human friend,” the dwarf responded, looking up at Artirius. Dwarves were slightly shorter than the average human, and stocky. They often had full beards and heads of hair, even a little in the ears. He seemed quite average for a dwarf, though polite for their kind, for he had spilled his pint when he bumped into Artirius. That was usually as bad as insulting their clan.

  “I’m sorry fair dwarf, share a pint with me?”

  “Oh no, no, I will be buying the pint, thank you, and I insist you join me.”

  “It would be rude of me to deny you,” Artirius smiled as he responded.

  The two found themselves a place at the bar and the dwarf called to the bar keep, “Dear lass please a pint for me and the small man.”

  Artirius chuckled, “Not oft I’m called small.”

  “Not oft I buy another a drink, either.” The two hardly knew each other but they both laughed. They shared a few more rounds before the dwarf said he must be on his way and wished Artirius well on his travels. He tipped the barmaid on the way out so Artirius really had nothing to pay.

  He decided it was time to go to bed. While it was not too late he was tired. He retrieved the key to his room from the owner and thanked her again for the spirits and the room.

  As he got up and took one last look around, one elf stood out. Most of the patrons were busy with merrymaking and the like. This one was in a corner, with simply water, or what seemed like water in front of him. He looked handsome for an elf, which meant he was more attractive than any man alive. He was slender but obviously had definition under his loose robes. He was tall, not as tall as Artirius, but tall. What made him stand out the most was his demeanor. It was solemn, and he was buried deeply in parchments. A student? It was not likely in a place like this. The elf was just an oddity to behold. Artirius was a little warm from the drink, and did not bother with the subject long.

  Deciding it was time to find his room, Artirius climbed the stairs. It was the first door on the right. Even here the décor maintained the theme of the tavern: leaves. The bed, the small table in front of the fireplace, the arm chair next to it, even the toilet in the room, toilets of course a rarity to barbarians, had a seat shaped as a leaf. Artirius looked around admiring the place. He sat in the chair next to the fireplace. This fireplace was enchanted. One merely had to think of how intense they wanted the fire to be and it would match their need. It could even be turned off at will.

  As he sat, he thought about the events that had recently passed. What was coming to him? What did all of these visions mean? Would he finally find what he was looking for in this world? Too many questions plagued his mind. He decided it best to let sleep sort everything out, so he went to his bed, closed his eyes, and slumbered deeply.

  Artirius woke past midmorning, feeling more refreshed than he had in months. The dream, for some reason, did not come to him last night. Why was beyond him, but it seemed unimportant. He cleaned up a bit, even shaved, for he had not for some time. Looking in the mirror, his long light brown hair fell over his shoulders, and his blue eyes told the story of a man older in experiences then his years. For a man that had lived his life he still looked pretty good. Some would have called him rugged, even handsome. He shook his head, smiling. With a heavy burden on his shoulders this is what he thought of. He finished up and put together his belongings. Looking around his room one more time, he decided that he may as well head down to see if he had been called on.

  As he moved down the stairs towards the bar, the female elf glanced up smiling. “Well my big guest, did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, I really must thank you, it is not often I have ever slept that soundly. May I ask, has anyone called upon me yet this morning?”

  “Actually, yes. Tressnou has asked that you meet with him when you wake. Also the local authorities thought you may like this back.” She held his purse of coins.

  It baffled him. He checked where the coins would have hung from his bag and they were most certainly gone. “Thank you ma’am, I cannot believe it was recovered, and that it was recognized as mine.”

  “Well, it was actually the dwarf friend of yours last night. He very likely paid for your drinks with your coins. It seems that the local law enforcement was onto him before he even stole from you. They trailed him all night and set a rather simple trap.”

  “What kind of trap?”

  “Thieves pray on opportunity, human, regardless of race. So one of the local security forces pretended to be grossly intoxicated in an alley near a shady tavern, an opportune moment for any thief, and the rest is, as you say, history. A few of the force sprung from hiding and, well, the dwarf was not nimble enough to get away, though he did manage to injure one of the officers. Not too badly, he’ll live, but hopefully he learns his lesson.”

  “How did they know this was mine?”

  “The leather. It clearly comes from the north and as you are the only northern barbarian roaming around this town, in fact the only one from anywhere north of Deep Hollow, it just made sense. And Artirius, a person of your stature is better known, than you may like. As soon as you were seen entering the forest every elf in the woods knew you were here. I knew you the moment you entered this room, even though this was your first visit to my tavern.”

  “All of this for me, just a simple barbarian. I have done little to deserve the renown.”

  “Humility, that is something little known among your kind, Artirius. The tales of your journeys and accomplishments are known by most of my kind. You are far better known than you would like to admit.”

  “Bigger than I want, but I continue to fear that I may have no choice in the issue. I just keep doing things that others simply can’t.”

  A knowledgeable smile crossed the elf’s face, “Here than. I have packed this for you, take it. Save it for the times food is scarce.”

  Curiously Artirius inquired, “What is it?”

  “It is some of our spirits to keep you warm, as well as a food we prepare. It resembles what you would call a fruit cookie, but will last for years, and is very filling and nutritious. Good luck in whatever is to come, for it seems that you everywhere you go, some great thing happens, rather you intend for it or not.”

  “After this many years it still comes as a surprise to me, though it most likely should not. Thank you, and goodbye
.”

  “The same to you, Artirius,” the slender elf nodded goodbye.

  At that he turned and walked to the entrance. The leaves, as expected, rolled out of his way and gave him passage to the street. He made his way through the busy streets, winding here and there around obstacles presented before him. He arrived at the door to the house of Tressnou as an elf hurriedly departed. He only briefly saw the elf, but was sure it was the same one which stood out the night before at The Leaf. Not really knowing what to make of it, he knocked and entered the dwelling. He could hear talking from the study though it was muffled. He moved toward the door. It seemed that three or four people were discussing something of importance. Artirius vaguely heard the word “mongrel”.

  It seemed that all was not peaceful in the north either, because Deep Hollow was mentioned. Not wanting to hear half-truths in muffled voices he tapped on the door to the study.

  Tressnou called “Come in, Artirius.” The answer was short and efficient.

  Artirius entered and instinctively turned to face the table where so many had taken the advice of the wise wizard over the years. At Tressnou’s side were two elves. Artirius recognized them both. Laebon was a commander in the FILO a Special Forces operation of the elves, if such a thing were necessary. They were, as the name stood for, the “First In, Last Out.” He was an exceptional elf, exceeding most even in the elven world. He was of average height for their kind, but slightly bulkier. This, which deceived some, did not make him slower. He was fast and strong, deadly to all that opposed him.

  The elf next to him was Haelor. He represented the entire military. The only forces not in his command were that of the royal guard, which followed order from the king and Regala, the head of the Guard. Haelor was only a few hundred years younger than Tressnou, but looked far older than him. Years of stress and battle had their affect even on the elves, though they were immortal they still could wear a bit with time.

  At first Artirius had not noticed the figure sitting opposite the standing elves. The dwarf was slender, very odd for a dwarf, but average in height. He was not familiar with this one.

  “Artirius, hello,” Tressnou acknowledged the barbarian with a nod. “I am sure introductions with Haelor and Laebon are not needed, but perhaps with our third friend here, they are. This is an agent of mine who acts as my emissary to the dwarves. You see, something was on my mind yesterday aside from you my friend. It seems that the gnolls have been at work up north. I normally receive monthly reports from Deep Hollow and the dwarves of the region from Balic, here,” Tressnou motioned toward the dwarf. “What had bothered me was that I had not heard from him for nearly three months until yesterday.

  “He scurried in just after you left and reported that he had trouble on his way to Deep Hollow from the northern paths. Gnolls were doing a little rampaging and pillaging around the trade roads. He found it a challenge returning to Deep Hollow. Normally this could be considered a brief raiding party or something of that nature, as gnolls are often scavengers. Some of the tribes are nomadic, some settle in mountainous regions. In many ways they resemble the barbarians, just not civil.”

  “I am glad my people are at least ‘civil’, Tressnou, but I must ask what all do you know beyond this? Something clearly interests you. Is there a secret hand that moves them in such a manner?”

  “Clever as always. Yes Artirius, we do believe so. We are simply unsure as to what yet. It may be little of nothing guiding them but coincidence. I, of course, do not believe it is coincidence. The gnolls do not have the tactical ability to coordinate attacks, as precise as these have been. Deep Hollow is a key point in trade, as well as a chief mining location. It also holds untold riches and the hottest forges in the entire land. Some of the greatest items ever created in all of Norta Masa, from armor to jewelry, and everything in between, have been made there. It also represents the greatest seat of dwarven power on the continent. This is something of importance that needs addressed.”

  “Tressnou as great a mind as you possess, I am not yet convinced of this.” Haelor began. “It is nearing winter and many of their kind are preparing by ‘foraging,’ so to speak. They are collecting food on a rather active game trail”

  Tressnou looked at Haelor with the ferocious gaze of one far wiser than others. The look of one frustrated that the simplest things are being over looked. “Of course, Haelor. How simple of me. It never occurred to me the season.” His sarcasm was not missed by any in the room. “And I am sure that you can help explain the rest of the details.”

  “Go on then, if you must trouble me more,” Haelor showed his frustration.

  “O’, I will. Explain to me, then, the points you forget to mention. The gnolls are attacking strategically advantageous points along the path. Points that are hard to defend. They are using tactics of an organized military, far beyond their normal means. They are outfitted in gear superior to what they would normally have. And, if these points were not enough, then the last piece of the puzzle, they are taking gold. Not just gold, horses, and carriages. These gnolls are taking the travelers they have killed as well as those they have not. For what reason do they take them? What purpose will these things serve them?”

  “More to eat and burn. I do not know, Tressnou, but it seems that this is still a dwarven matter. No emissary has come requesting our help, and no immediate threat seems to be upon our people. As such, I see no need to go to Deep Hollow at this time. If we had more to go on, then perhaps, but we do not. So for now my armies stay where they are. I am sorry, old friend.”

  “Indeed. I believe we are done here, please see yourselves out. I am sure you know the way.”

  The two soldiers nodded and exited the room. “Artirius, come friend, sit here with us.” Tressnou motioned to his table. Artirius complied and took a seat near the elf. “Balic, please come join us at this end, lest we lose sight of you over there.”

  Chuckling Balic retorted, “Just because you were shot down out of the sky like a wubler, does not mean you need bear your insults on me. I will appease you, though.”

  “I pay you, I don’t think you have much choice in the matter.” Tressnou smiled. “This is where we stand, then. Artirius you need to meet with Atriel. Something of importance is coming and he needs you for some reason or another. In order to do that, you must venture back to your homeland and beyond, to the mountains of the far north. I attempted to contact Atriel last night through arcane means, but was unable to.”

  “This may mean nothing,” Artirius added, “but last night, I did not have the dream.”

  Interest was in Tressnou’s eyes, “It is possible that my failure to communicate and your lack of a dream are connected. The means by which he would communicate with you in the dream would be similar to the method which I attempted to contact him, though mine would have not been as vivid as the dream.” Tressnou seemed to be lost in thought.

  Balic filled the silence, “It is grave up north. When I finally made it back to Deep Hollow they were beginning to close the northern gates. Only a few small routes would be available then from the north. This fighting is stirring my dwarven brethren. These attacks are normal for the season, but as Tressnou said, what is happening now is not gnoll-like at all. They have an ember under their tails forcing them on. What is hard to say is who is behind this. Aside from the gnolls in the hills, few other things live there. There are small groups of goblins, orcs, and trolls. Of course, their worg cousins live there as well, but they are less intelligent then any of the others. They are only big wolves you know. Some other player that is unknown to us has to be involved. I just have no idea where they came from or why.”

  “Artirius,” Tressnou looked to the man, “I believe this matter is of some importance. These disturbances may even have some relation to our inability to correspond with Atriel. I believe that the two of us should travel the road to Deep Hollow together, to see what more we can divine. Balic, I would like you to head first to the east. Seek out the dwarves i
n the hills. I believe that Norrak will be interested in these happenings. From there head north to Eastern Mound. Find out what you can at each location and make them aware of what you know. When you are done with this task, meet with us in Deep Hollow.”

  “Very well, sir. I will be off then, no reason to wait. Besides the best ale comes from the hill dwarves and it has been ages. Good luck to you. Tressnou, Artirius.” The dwarf bowed, his beard touching the floor with each dip. Balic left the room hastily.

  “The dwarves are the sturdiest race I have ever met. Most are far too stubborn for my taste, but Balic does his job well. Artirius, this journey may be more difficult when we get to Deep Hollow. I am sure you are aware of that, though. I hope that the hand guiding these attacks is little more than my imagination. Otherwise, we may be nearing war in the north.”

  “Well old friend,” Artirius spoke, “It will not be the first, nor the last fight, for either of us. Something in me stirs. I believe you are right, about things in Deep Hollow. I hope that what we face there is not as foreboding as you believe, but I feel war in my heart and in my blood.”

  “If anyone is suited to war it is you Artirius. I feel that whatever challenges we may face, that you may be our greatest chance for success.”

  I believe you are right, Artirius thought.

  Chapter 4