The Lone Wolf Saga: The Lone Wolf

by C L Carr

They traveled an hour more before they made camp for the night. The western portion of the land was smoother, less rugged than the east. The forest was more lush here. It did not take long for them to run into big trees and heavy brush. They were forced away from the mountains quickly as it became steeper and steeper at the base. They found a small clear area and made camp there, under a few oak and pine trees. The night was cool. A breeze came down on them from above. If it were not for the impending doom all around them, it could have been a great night in the woods, but doom has a way of making things somewhat more serious. So as they had done since the night Pyr attacked them, Tressnou scryed the area and put up his defensive shields. Another night safely hidden. Another night of Balic's snoring.

  Aside from the snoring, Tressnou and Artirius slept well. After the usual small breakfast, they packed up and were on their way. Finding a clear path was not easy in the dense forest, but they made good time. Artirius lead the way for the most part now. He was able to clear a definable path as he went, which was easy for the others to follow. The animals here were either not afraid of people in general or were fond of them because they scurried about as if the group were nothing more than part of their everyday life. In fact, there was one time Artirius had to push a deer out of his way. It looked at him confused and went back to nibbling on a berry bush. The journey through these woods could have been peaceful, enjoyable even. If they were not pressed by the happenings of the world it would have been a tranquil place to simply sit and do nothing.

  But of course, they could not stop or really slow down for that matter. Instead they just kept moving forward. They kept heading north with the mountains as close as they could keep them to the east. On occasion they would have to wind deeper into the woods to avoid heavy undergrowth, mostly thorns and brambles, which would not be enjoyable to walk through. They kept at this for around two days very steadily. They camped as normal and began travel when the sun came up the next day. The forest was thick for the most part, and the chill breeze kept coming down from the mountains. The animals played and frolicked and all was the same as it had been.

  There had been nothing new until around midday, then something different happened. The forest began to thin. At first it seemed natural, but soon a discernible path formed heading in essentially a northern direction. It did seem odd at first, but up until that point nothing should have seemed odd. They had seen no one, aside from the animals of course. They knew that humans lived in the area but, as of this point, had seen none. For that matter, there were no signs of them for that matter, either. It was possible that they had villages deeper in the woods. They were rather uncertain, as few had ventured into the wood and no one had ever really mapped it. They were actually running, blind here. All in all the path was better travel and faster to walk upon than the brush.

  As they traveled the path, things thinned out somewhat more about them. It looked very natural, but still it seemed as though it was done by an unnatural force, men. It was Balic who noticed first, “What has happened to the animals that had been all about?”

  Artirius turned around to answer, but stopped instead. The path behind them was gone. They had not taken the time to look to their rear, but indeed the path was gone. He pointed it out to the others and they were as caught off guard as he.

  Tressnou understood the workings though, “Druid magic it seems.”

  “The casters of the natural magic, as I understand?” Artirius asked of Tressnou.

  “More or less. Elves have an affinity for the arts and it is a mingling of both arcane and druidic magics that guards our forests. Humans have been known to take up the practices as well, though to have power of this degree is impressive. One way or the other it seems we are being lead to a point of the magic's choosing. It is possible we were not even heading north. I should have sensed this.”

  “One way or the other, we will not be following the path any longer. We should push off it toward the mountains...” Artirius looked about himself, “If we can find them I guess.”

  “I fear we may be at the mercy of the magic. I have little power of the natural arts, and to untangle this would take more time then I fear we have. I just pray that nature is in a merciful mood.”

  “For your sake elf, I would pray for much mercy,” the cold callous voice came from the direction they had been heading. The three turned to find its owner as well as several bows and staves pointed in their direction. The man front and center had a long composite bow strung across him with a quiver of arrows on his back. At his right side a long sword was strapped at his waist, which glistened light blue on the steel blade. On his left side, a short sword adorned his belt glowing similarly. He wore chain mail with light leather lining underneath. His boots were heavy, capped in metal on the toes and three spikes studded to the metal. In his left boot was a knife of elegant craftsmanship, evident by observing the guard and hilt carved into the likeness of a tree with a small emerald on the pommel. He wore no helmet and his dark brown hair flowed midway down his back. It was wavy but not wild. His eyes were pale green, and his face was narrow with a rather pointed chin and nose though the chin was more so. His lips were thin and pink. His stare was intense as he looked over them all.

  His men were similarly adorned, with the exception of the glowing weaponry and fancy dagger. The staff wielders, obviously druids, were adorned more simply in orange robes, embroidered with vines in both brown and green. It was clear that they were not welcoming of Artirius and his friends.

  As the stare down continued it became clear that the silence must be broken. It was Artirius who began, “I am not always the most graceful of men when it comes to the right things to say, but let me say thus. My friends and I mean no harm to you or your forest. The trade roads of the north have been closed off by a rock slide and we have grave need to head north. We apologize for any trespass. We do not wish any trouble.”

  The man before them nodded in thought. He sighed, “It is rather clear to me o’ great barbarian, Artirius was it?”

  “Yes, but I have not given you my name.”

  “There is little need,” he smiled somewhat coyly, “you see my men have followed you from your entrance into my home. They have overheard everything about you, a few talks and the like. The shrouding by the one with the misshapen ears,” he pointed to Tressnou, “was good at hiding you from sight, but not from hearing, I fear. I have heard of you anyway, barbarian. Your people do not live too terribly far away and, though secluded from most, we hear from the world about us. But now we really must discuss why two fine gentleman and their freakish pet,” he scowled at Tressnou, “are wandering my woods again.”

  Tressnou began though a bit taken aback, “Well, needless to say,” but he was cut off by the human.

  “Yes it is needless for you to say, because you are a pet. Let your better speak.”

  Tressnou nearly fumed from his ears but remained calm and maintained his composure. Though angered, the years had taught him how to mask most of his emotions. Artirius spoke as was requested, “Well, may I ask your name? That is, if we plan to understand one another, a name would help to go with the face.”

  “My name means little. Though if we must, for now call me the King, of the Wood, as that is my role in these parts. East of the river that is. On the other side this one’s savage cousins live,” again he motioned in Tressnou's direction, “though there is little difference between the wood elves and the high elves of Alastrial.”

  “Aside from being shorter, stockier, and in general lightly tanned in complexion, as opposed to our essentially opposite appearance. They are also not nearly as gifted or intelligent,” Tressnou corrected the King.

  He ignored Tressnou altogether, saying, “Artirius, you really must keep that one more in line. A pet should not be so forth coming.”

  “I will show you forth coming,” Tressnou stepped in the direction of the King.

  “Pray you do step another foot in our direction. For watching you be riddled with poisonous a
rrows shot by my men would amuse me greatly, elf. Your kind is scorned here, and to be honest, only this human saved you from instant death. Now, if you please silence your tongue as any further talk from you will be considered a threat. It would be a shame if harm befell you after all.”

  Heat radiated off of the elf. He was not accustomed to this kind of treatment, and was not in the least pleased. Artirius was not interested in confrontation. In this situation it would most likely end poorly for the travelers. It was time for him to calm things down a bit, “All fun aside, we indeed mean no harm. We have not threatened, at least not intentionally. We need to get to the north. If we must pay homage to you then simply tell us the debt we owe you.”

  The man looked over them, obviously skeptical of outsiders. “Few pass this way in times of peace, and fewer still in times of war. It is odd that only one day ago the elves attacked and killed a patrol along the river. Now I find one wandering with a human and a dwarf. I believe that for now it would be advisable for you to simply join us. Consider it a mandatory invitation to my village.”

  Artirius motioned silently to the others to keep quiet, “As you wish, King, though I still wish to inquire as to your name, the real one. If I am to be a prisoner I would like that courtesy.”

  “O’, prisoner is harsh. No, no, you are my guests remember. My name is Willam Elred, King of the Northern Wood. Willam will suffice of course. Now,” Willam motioned and his men parted forming a path, “If you will, this way. It will be nearing night when we reach our village.”

  Artirius, Tressnou and Balic began following a small group of soldiers, and were followed closely behind by Willam and the remaining guard. Behind them the path closed up and the trees and brush ahead of them continued to open. It was like they were walking in a bubble that pushed nature away from them as they moved. It was indeed a marvel to behold.

  There was no talking as they walked, just the steady sound of feet treading on clear ground. Nature still stirred about them. They glimpsed wild game regularly. It was clear that the humans and nature lived in harmony here. It was somewhat contradictory. Most places man had treaded, nature had been the first thing he destroyed. The barbarians of the north were somewhat in tune with it but, they did not live with it in such a way. This had a sense of equality or companionship. It was not a parallel path like the barbarians had made, where they walked alongside nature. Here, they instead walked hand in hand. Artirius marveled at it a bit. To think that humans had found a way to interact with nature that rivaled the elves in the south. He wondered how the northern elves lived. These humans were very similar to southern elves though not as artistic or manipulative of the surroundings. Was it likely the northern elves were as affluent with nature as their cousins and their neighbors, or were they not? Ultimately as intriguing as it was to think about culture, the real question still remained, why were the elves and humans fighting over this patch of land? What would they do to each other?

  It was nearing nightfall and Artirius wondered if they were getting close to a settlement or some sort of camp, or if they planned on marching through the night. As if answering his very thought, ahead of them through the forest fire light became visible. They were heading in its general direction, so it seemed likely that was where they would be spending their night.

  They drew closer and the light grew brighter. Then the forest suddenly ended all together and before them was the city of the men of the north. The first area was several rows of cottage homes. This portion of the city had no wall. Just neat rows of homes with well trodden dirt roads about them. There were ditches cut nicely to collect water and it seemed to flow into a central waterway to the west. Here and there pubs and other shops nestled themselves between homes. Men and woman were about their evening business, paying little attention as the soldiers, king, and his “guests” proceeded through town. It looked just like many human towns. After walking for a couple minutes, making a few turns here and there, they came to the city’s inner wall. It was a tall and sturdy stone wall. Guards walked along its parapets. In front of them was what appeared to be the main gate to the city. Two towers lined each side. From them protruded two large ballistae. Above the gate were slots for archers to stand. They were designed, it seemed, to curve out at the top, away from the main face of the wall itself. Most likely to make scaling the structure more difficult. The gate house, which held the mechanisms to raise and lower the outer iron trellis gate, had slots cut out for archers as well, though they were little larger then a fist. They were designed to prevent attacks from penetrating but still allow for some degree of defense.

  As they approached, they were acknowledged by what appeared to be the gate captain, for he ordered the opening of the gate. At his order, gears were heard turning and counter weights falling as the trellis was pulled upward. They walked under the wall, which must have been ten feet or more in thickness. Before them a large wooden gate yielded, and they were in the heart of the city. Large buildings wrought of timber and stone formed the structures here. It was not as large as the outer area, but was still sizable. They walked straight through a marketplace. Some commerce was going on here and there, but it seemed as though an event was being planned as a pile of logs was set in the center of the town. Seats were set about it in a circle. There was also a large table that men and woman were busy piling with food. 'A feast?' Artirius thought to himself.

  As they passed the market they took a turn down a side street. At the end they came to a stone building, with barred windows and a heavy wooden door. The roof was flat and made of solid wooden timbers. A jail, it would seem, by the solidness of its construction. As they approached, the entrance opened.

  The man that came forth was a sight to see. He was tall with greasy slicked back hair. His face was pocked with a large nose centered between his small black eyes. A bushy mustache covered most of his mouth, which had two full lips curled up in a smile. He had a portly belly wrapped in his shirt and vest, tied off by a belt with a dagger in a scabbard on his side. His skinny legs appeared beneath him clothed in tight black trousers, ending in heavy leather boots. The man seemed in very poor shape, but rather well fed. It was rather obvious who he was. The sheriff.

  “Roland,” King Willam acknowledged the man, “how go things with the prisoner that was brought to you earlier?”

  In a rough and heavy voice Roland responded, “The vermin is keeping quiet for now. I am sure he will break soon enough though...” motioning with a nod of the head in Tressnou's direction, “That another for me to play with?”

  Tressnou was taken aback, while Willam chuckled a bit. He responded, “No, no. He is apparently from the south. We found these three traveling together and are verifying a few points before we let them go. In the mean time,” he looked to his 'guests', “Roland will look after your belongings. If you would.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, they handed over their weapons and gear.

  “Good. You will not need these things in my town. As my guests you will find yourselves quite safe. Now, I have made arrangements with an inn in the marketplace, a nice one I may add, for you to spend your nights while you are here.”

  Tressnou interrupted, “And how many nights may that be?”

  Shuttering a bit Willam responded, “I was growing found of not hearing you speak. Well, I should hope to know within three days or so. As we have been following you since you entered our woods, I have had people investigating your origins for a few days now. Hopefully they come back verifying your claims. That is, hopefully for you, of course. I could not care less myself. Oh,” Willam looked at Tressnou's staff, “that too, please.”

  Tressnou began to protest but Roland grabbed the staff, “We know well enough about your people's magics. The elves up here don't play that way, but you do. Who knows what spells or tricks you have in this thing,” looking to Willam, “Sir, will that be all?”

  “For now, yes. I hope to see you at the festival, leave a couple guards with the prisoner though. We do not want him to escape
.” He nodded and smiled at the sheriff.

  “Thank, you sir,” and with a smile and a nod Roland returned to the jail, slamming the door behind him.

  “Now, if you wish, I can show you to your accommodations so that you may refresh yourselves before the festivities tonight?”

  Smiling and nodding to Willam, Artirius asked, “Do we really have much choice in the matter?”

  “Well no, I suppose you do not.”

  Artirius nodded again, “So who is in that cell? I will assume it is one of the Northern Elves, but is he of consequence?”

  Willam stared off to the west. It was as if he were miles away. He looked to Artirius, “For now let us not dwell on the matter,” he turned to his men, “You are dismissed men. I will see those of you who do not have prior engagements at the festival,” they dispersed. He turned back to Artirius and his companions, “Now, if you will follow me...” and with that he turned back the way they came.

  Artirius, Tressnou and Balic in tow, followed the King of the Northern Wood. They walked slowly, there was no hurry. The town was very peaceful. Night now held the town in its grips. Lights were being lit in homes and shops. The stone streets beneath their feet clicked under the boots of Willam, who was at the head of the pack. It was a steady metronome, keeping beat in the night. Aside from that they heard nothing as they walked. The air was crisp and clean. Winter approached, though autumn still kept a small hold on the land. A light breeze was felt that rustled through leaves that were beginning to turn to colors of reds and browns, oranges and yellows. It was a moment, rare in times of conflict, that seemed to be spurting about the world of peace.

  Tressnou held his head heavily down, deep in thought and contemplation. He stopped moving altogether. He looked up at the back of Willam and asked, “Is he the boy, Willam?”

  Willam stopped in a clink, “I thought I had asked the dog to be quiet,” turning to face Tressnou with a look of anger and detestation, “perhaps I was not clear in the matter?”

  “You can be blinded by hatred all you want,” the elf looked him squarely in the eyes, “but if your prisoner is who I believe, then you will be at war until the end. You must know this.”

  “Mind your business elf, and pray I wait for the reports of your validity before passing judgment on you,” Willam turned and walked on, the click of his boots the only sound in the night. He did not turn to see if the others followed, which they did.

  It was not long before they were back in the square. The festivities were near at hand and people were busy finishing their assigned tasks. The inn they were housed in was located on the square and had a view that overlooked the marketplace's center. The bonfire could be seen well, its flames licking the night, well from the room they were housed in. It was easily over a story high.

  As they sat looking out over the marketplace, Artirius wondered to himself. He sat on a wooden backed chair near the fire. It was obvious as he drew the attention of Tressnou, “Well, my friend, what seems to be troubling you?”

  He looked up; his deep blue eyes seemed to pierce the air in the room. It was obvious that something had his attention. “Earlier you spoke of the prisoner. I am under the assumption you know who is in the cell.”

  “Astute as ever my friend, well it begins before we even left Alastrial. It is actually the reason a young elf was running out the door when we talked to one day. There were rumors of escalated violence in the North. So he was sent as an advisor for our estranged cousins. My hopes were to avoid further and more devastating fighting, but it seems he was unable to do so or he was too late. It seems that the rumors were all too true.” Tressnou paused and blinked. He turned and looked to the window, at the fire down below. Clearing his throat he continued, “From sources I have in the human kingdom to the West, located on the great peninsula, I heard tell of an encounter between the forest men and elves. The prince of the elves went missing at a battle near the river. It was presumed the humans may have known his location. My guess is he is in that jail.”

  The three sat together pondering. They were not able to ponder long, though. A knock came from the door, “You have been requested by the King.” They looked from one another for a moment before standing and going to the door. Outside they found an armed guard ready to escort them. They were taken down the hall and the stairs to the entry hall of the inn. Willam was there waiting for them.

  “Well,” said Willam smugly, “I hope that the accommodations were to your liking. Now I think it is time for you to join us at the festivities. For guests on such a noble quest, I feel it would be rude otherwise. Justin, that will be all.” He nodded to the guard, who bowed low and walked away out the door and into the marketplace. “This way please,” he requested of the three as cordially as he could. They obliged.

  From the look of things in the marketplace it would seem that nearly the entire town was present. All the seats around the fire were full, and many found themselves standing about. The food tables were packed with people picking through the delectable food. Willam lead them around the fire to the far side where seats had been reserved for the four. A smaller table had been laid out for them here. They sat and began to dine. As the meal went on, subjects acknowledged the king, though none talked of business or other affairs. It was simply a time of relaxation and pleasure and a time of temporary peace during times of war.

  Roland was seen moseying about, just like any good lawman given an order by his king. He seemed as out of place in public as a wild animal would, but he did his best. When one spends their time in a jail, little more than a slightly drier cave, you tend to be a little out of touch with society. He seemed jovial, as if he were dancing on a cloud. Or it simply could have been the several mugs of mead he had consumed. Noticing the king’s table, Roland briskly made his way to Willam. He stumbled over a stool, spilling some of his drink, but with reflexes oddly graceful for someone like him, he managed to stay on his feet, stopping promptly in front of the head table.

  “Fine festival sir, it is truly a testament to our greatness,” Roland slurred.

  “Yes, it is good to see you outside of the jail, Roland. I am glad you were able to attend. I trust everything goes well in my jail.”

  “Aye Sir, the elf prince brat as well in hand, and…” before he was able to finish Willam silenced him.

  “Remember yourself! Away with you to your jail do not come back until I have called for you.” Roland, beside himself, stumbled off again in the direction of his jail this time. He looked like a dog scolded by his master.

  Willam had a grievous look upon his face. It was clear that Roland's actions were the cause. The group was silent. The three adventurers looked at Willam. It was clear that they were waiting on him. Willam took a bite of his pheasant and sipped his beverage. Then he cleared his throat saying, “So it seems you now know my secret.”

  Tressnou nodded, “We had assumed as much before he came down to join you in the festivities. Now it is simply an assurance that what I had heard rumor of is most definitely true.”

  Willam looked as though he contemplated his next move, as though he was strategizing against a foe, though none was present. At least Artirius and his friends were not truly enemies, but to Willam they were not allies. He looked from one side to the other. “So the real question now, is what I do with you?”

  Artirius looked at the man. He was a man of stature, as the saying might go. He would have seemed imposing on lesser men than Artirius, but when none were your equal few could seem impressive to you. Nevertheless, something about this man did indeed impress Artirius. He did not understand what it was, but it was most definitely there. Perhaps it was that he, too, was a man with burden resting on his shoulders. Artirius could understand, to some degree, his position. He had not taken the mantle of king, but greatness had a habit of following him around. He was a savior to those who needed one. He may very well be a savior again in the times ahead. So he looked at the man that was king, and said to him, “As great as your burden is, if you ha
d truly thought that we were your enemies, then I must ask you, would we be sitting here now?”

  Willam looked at the barbarian, and smiled with a nod. “It is true, my fellow human. These people to me are like children, my children. If an elf,” he looked aside at Tressnou, not in a manner of hate and anger, but in sorrow and grief, “or for that matter any living thing must suffer to ensure their safety, I would commit the act an hundred times over for their sake. It is not what I truly wish. It is the burden I must bear. For a people of peace, there must be among them a doer of evil things.”

  Tressnou sighed heavily, and looked at Willam sympathetically, “Do you really think that what you say is true?”

  “What know you?! You are an elf, and not one of these. At least your people don’t talk peace by littering unarmed men with their arrows. They don’t poison the smaller settlements water supplies killing children, men, women, the sick and the elderly all in one swoop. To me, that thing in my jail is little more than a monster, which deserves to have its life snuffed out. I keep him only to gain, and when I can no longer gain, I will dispose of him.”

  Tressnou now looked cross, “Such wisdom for the king of a people. For one who talks of peace you sound the hypocrite, Willam.”

  “You may call me King, and nothing more.”

  Artirius smirked and chuckled lightly. It surprised them all a great deal and drew the tables’ attention. “I envy you, Willam.”

  “You jest with me?”

  “No, no. I do envy you. I wish it were as easy for me to lie to myself about who I really was on the inside. I wish I could do what everyone expected of me without thinking if it were right or wrong, without thinking in general. It would be much easier, I do think so indeed. For then I would not have to grieve if I told myself I had no choice in the matter and that things were simply meant for me to be the way they were. I am a hero because I choose to be. I do not need to raise this hammer but I do. That is our burden King. We have for whatever reasons, been given our roles, and it is we who choose how to act them out.”

  Willam was put off balance by the remark.

  Tressnou winked at him, “This barbarian has surprised me more times than you would ever imagine, King. He is right, though. He speaks much truth.”

  Willam looked deep into the fire, “I have tried in vain to stop the fighting. I just don’t know how. They will not hear my pleas for peace. What do we do, if we do not fight? Do we let ourselves die?”

  As the king finished a scream went up through the crowd. Looking up they saw him. He was only twenty feet away. The prince was bruised and welted where he had been whipped. His eyes bore hate in them so deep it felt as if it swallowed one whole. He was wild in look. Tan and chiseled in complexion under the pain he had been dealt. In his right hand was Roland’s dagger. It was bloody.

  The elf let out a deafening howl like roar and whipped his arm forward releasing the dagger with unnatural speed. Its aim was sure and true. Its purpose was deadly. Willam’s eyes were wide and shock had crossed his face. He could not dodge the attack. He could not defend against it. It was coming closer and closer now only a few inches in front of his face.

  With uncanny reflexes Tressnou moved faster than the others were able to tell. His hand flashed in front of Willam’s face and his finger snapped. In that instant his staff appeared, and the dagger found a place to rest, just an inch short of its target. Tressnou leaned in close, “Did you think you could hold anything of mine?”

  The prince did not wait to act but had already sprinted forward leaping high into the air. He meant to pounce upon the king. Tressnou was there again. As the elf prince came down from the arc of his jump, Tressnou trust his staff forward. The instance the staff touched the prince’s flesh a flash brightened the night, and the prince was gone.

  Chapter 14