Tatianna nodded. “Or that anyone was so adept at catching them.”
Adding a pinch of salt from a small pouch, Rjurik looked up from his stew. “Conies are easy to catch once ye know how but eating them every day, like we’ve been doing, can sap a man’s strength.”
“Really?” Tatianna raised an eyebrow and asked, “How?”
Taking a sip of the stew, Rjurik grinned. “Now see here, I ain’t no expert. I can tell ye what I know; not why I know it.”
“Rabbit meat is too lean,” said a voice from behind them. Turning, the companions discovered the snow covered form of Hawkeye standing in the cave entrance.
“About time ya showed up,” Rjurik said. “I thought we would have to eat without ye.”
The hunter dusted off the snow. “I’m not late. I arrived at the time I planned, when the stew was ready and not a moment before.”
With a nod of greeting to Khlekluëllin, Hawkeye sat down at the fire and turned slightly to face Tatianna before continuing. “I was saying that rabbits are an extremely lean meat. A diet of only rabbit meat will fill the belly but starve the soul.”
Cocking her head slightly, Tatianna felt herself straighten her back ever so slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“I agree with Rjurik, I am not an expert either. I was taught that a true warrior must maintain a balanced diet, one rich in meats and vegetables.” He pointed at the stew. “Now this isn’t exactly what my uncle had in mind when he said that but it will do.”
“Bah,” was all Rjurik said although he was grinning the whole time.
The elves noticed a change in the dwarf now that Hawkeye had returned. He seemed more relaxed and he no longer glanced at the cave entrance. Obviously, the highlander’s sudden departure had worried him more than he let them believe. Rjurik produced several wooden bowls from his backpack, filled them with stew and passed them out. Filling a fifth bowl, Rjurik moved over to the injured elf. Mortharona seemed to be running a fever.
Rjurik looked up at Hawkeye and said, “He doesn’t look good.”
“I know. That’s just one of the things worrying me at the moment.”
Setting aside his bowl of stew, Khlekluëllin asked, “Is there anything we can do for him?”
“We need to get him to a shaman soon,” Hawkeye said. “He’s only going to get worse.”
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Tatianna.
“My best guess is that he has a cracked skull.” Hawkeye pointed at the bandage. “See how the seepage isn’t only bloody but mixed with a yellowish fluid, I am not sure what it is but its bad. Every person I have seen with a similar wound has died unless treated by a shaman. Even then, many aren’t the same afterwards.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Tatianna.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Hawkeye finished his bowl of stew before answering.
“Nothing in particular, many of those survivors are different. Most have some sort of memory loss but I have known warriors whose mannerisms changed so much that their families disowned them. However, only time will tell. We need to get him to a shaman soon, yet the only healers I know of are in Itasca or Darkmoor.”
Rjurik stirred the fire. “Both of those are a long way off.”
“Aye but our options are limited.” Drawing his knife, Hawkeye began to draw a crude map of the Highlands in the dirt floor of the cave. “We are just south of here,” pointing at the fork in the river. “This is Armok; it’s an ancient dwarven watch post that was used to protect the bridges built over the river. The watchtower itself has fallen into ruin but the bridges that span the river are still passable.”
“So, what’s the problem?” asked Khlekluëllin.
“Well, if I was chasing someone in this region of the Highlands, I would position my hunters at the bridges. Blackfang knows it is the only crossing within a reasonable distance.”
Tatianna asked, “What do you mean by reasonable distance?”
“At our current speed, it would take us almost five days just to reach the closest fjord which would add an additional ten-day before we reached Itasca.”
“Too bad it ain’t midwinter,” Rjurik added.
Khlekluëllin raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
Between mouthfuls of stew Rjurik answered. “About a day’s travel west of here is an area that always freezes over come midwinter.”
Hawkeye nodded. “Yes, my people call the area Talulah, which means leaping water. The creatures of the region use the natural ice bridge to migrate.”
Khlekluëllin and Tatianna began speaking very quickly in their native tongue which neither Rjurik nor Hawkeye could understand. Finally Khlekluëllin returned back to the common tongue and said, “We have an idea.”
Tatianna gestured to the two of them. “We can combine our magic and create an ice bridge across that area.”
Khlekluëllin nodded. “If it was the middle of summer, it would be beyond our skill but since it is already cold outside and snowy in the area, we can use the moisture in the air to freeze the river and give us a way to cross where Blackfang wouldn’t suspect.”
“Bah!” Rjurik grumbled. “Magic…t’aint natural.”
“Is it truly possible?” Hawkeye asked.
“It should be,” Tatianna said. “Since it normally happens during the winter in that area, we should be able to accomplish it.”
“Will that help?” asked Khlekluëllin.
“Yes. It will also cut off a few days in our travel north.” Hawkeye nodded his head toward Mortharona. “I have done all I can for him. His fate rests with the gods or our ability to get him to a healer before it’s too late.”
Standing, Hawkeye moved toward the cave entrance. “Everyone should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Rjurik quickly stowed his cooking utensils and banked up the fire for the night. Khlekluëllin moved next to his brother and placed another blanket over top of him before lying down next to him. Tatianna watched Hawkeye exit the cave before settling down for the night.
Chapter 9
Grunk felt uneasy all day long.
He had paced the perimeter of his small valley since daybreak but hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. None of his fences were down nor were any of his sheep missing. He even ventured to the northern bluff overlooking the river to see if goblin raiders were in the area. All seemed quiet, yet Grunk was at a loss to explain his uneasiness.
Grunk was a Joten, more commonly known as cyclops. They were the children of Gaul, the god of the Underworld. Originally created to do his bidding, to watch over the condemned, fetch lost souls, stoke the fires of Hell and other menial tasks. With these tasks in mind, Gaul made them big and strong. On the average, jotens stood eight feet tall and weighed over three hundred stones. They typically had charcoal gray skin and a single large eye, ranging from red to yellow.
Grunk was larger than most of his kind and a veteran of many battles. Several years back, he had left his tribe and the constant warring of his people to wander the realm. Finding this secluded valley, he had laid down his axe, built himself a home and was content to raise sheep. Now something was upsetting the peace he had carved out of this wilderness.
Shuffling to the back part of his cabin, Grunk took down his battleaxe. Although it had been through many battles, the axe’s twin blades were razor sharp and showed no sign of rust or wear. Somehow, just the act of holding the axe calmed Grunk’s spirit. This worried him more than the uneasiness.
He was about to replace his weapon in its customary spot when the faint sounds of battle reached him.
Stepping outside, his sheep milled about nervously while the sounds of battle drew closer. Moving to the bluff, Grunk spied a mixed band of gnomes and goblins chasing a small party of elves.
He found this very unusual. Gnomes and goblins are usually at war with each other, not working together, since both races tend to inhabit the same regions underground they would find themselves in competition for the same resources in
a very limited environment, which in turn would lead to conflict.
Glancing around, Grunk could see that his valley was still secure for the time being. Kneeling down, he pulled out a small spyglass he had taken from a minotaur sailor many years back and trained it on battle below.
The raiders were fighting a running battle with the elves. The fleeing companions were led by a tall barbarian warrior dressed in wolf’s furs who would stop periodically to fire his bow. Whenever he fired, a goblin or gnome raider died.
However, the raiders had the advantage of numbers. Although they would pause and scramble for cover when the barbarian fired, if he stood his ground they would overwhelm him. So, when the barbarian turned to catch up with his companions, the raiders would close the distance.
Grunk could tell that at least one of the elves was sorely injured and was being carried by a red bearded dwarf. Judging from their lead, Grunk knew they would reach the jetty before the raiders.
However, this was still early in the winter no matter how cold it felt at the moment. The ice bridge didn’t usually form till mid-winter, so Grunk was at a loss to figure out what the fleeing companions were hoping to attain.
Lowering the spyglass, Grunk was content to watch the events unfold below him without thought of aid or confrontation. This was not his battle, not anymore. He had left all that behind him.
However, movement in the shadows of the bluff caught his attention. Focusing the spyglass on the area Grunk was shocked to see a spider, the size of a rhino, waiting for the party to move underneath and perched atop was a dark elf. Judging from her flowing robes, he knew that she was a spell caster of some sort. This didn’t bode well for the fleeing elves.
Grunk sprinted back to his cabin.
He didn’t want to get involved. It wasn’t his fight but the arrival of the dark elf changed things. Having gnomes and goblins working together was bad enough but involving a spider-riding dark elf could only mean that the Spinner was seeking a way to return to Terreth and being a loyal servant of Gaul, Grunk couldn’t sit by and allow that.
Quickly donning his bronze cuirass, Grunk slipped on his lucky talisman and offered a brief prayer to his god.
Grabbing a coil of rope, he moved along hidden game trails that would take him closer to the dark elf and mentally reviewed the spells available to him. None that he had access to this day seemed appropriate. Of course, he wasn’t planning on battling a dark elf sorceress when he prayed for his spells earlier that day but then, such are the ways of war.
Within minutes, he was positioned almost directly above the spider and dark elf. Peeking over the edge, Grunk judged the distance between them; it couldn’t be more than twenty or thirty feet. Of course, it was the two hundred feet between him and the canyon floor that truly worried him.
Tying one end of the rope around his waist, Grunk contemplated where to anchor the other end. The sound of muttering reached his ears and he knew that the dark elf sorceress was mere seconds from casting some nefarious spell. Not finding anything sturdy enough to hold his weight, Grunk drew his longsword and rammed it into the ground with all his strength. The sword sank deep into the mountain soil but still almost one quarter of the blade remained above ground. Tying the free end of the rope to the sword pommel, Grunk took a deep breath to calm his nerves and tightened the grip on his trusty battleaxe.
Glancing over the ledge once again, he saw that the fleeing companions were trapped on the jetty with the raiders closing in despite the efforts of the barbarian’s deadly bow. One of the elves, a female judging by her flowing scarlet hair, cast a spell that caused the water in the cove to freeze. Turning back to her companions with a triumphant look, Grunk watched in horror as the dark elf’s spell went off. Even from this distance the black bolt that cut down the lady elf felt evil.
Knowing he was out of time, Grunk took a running leap off the cliff face.
* * * * *
Lalith was pleased with the situation.
Blackfang’s troops had herded the elusive elves north toward the river and without a boat there were only three places they could cross. Blackfang had positioned the bulk of his troops at the bridge with only a token force visible. The rest were in hiding nearby waiting to spring the trap. Lalith knew the bridge was the logical crossing point but she believed in covering all possibilities. She had sent a band of cyclops to guard the fjord to the east while she went to investigate the ice bridge.
The ice bridge was such a long shot that Lalith had ordered her guardian Darnac to accompany Blackfang. Neither was pleased with the assignment but then, they had no choice in the matter. So, here she was sitting astride her favorite shadow-spider on the side of a mountain watching the elves being herded toward her position.
Gently rubbing the head of her spider steed, Lalith spoke softly. “Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly.” Rummaging through her pouches for her spell components, Lalith grinned as she found the right ingredient. “This couldn’t be better if I had planned this myself.”
Lalith began her spell.
She watched as Tatianna cast her spell of freezing, which created an ice bridge across the river and the means to escape the raiders. Her spell went off. The look of triumph turned to horror on Tatianna’s face as her spell cut her down would forever be etched in Lalith’s brain.
She was surprised by the uncanny accuracy of the barbarian as he fired by reflex an arrow toward her position. The projectile had missed her shadow spider by less than a foot. She watched as the barbarian scooped up the injured elf and sprinted across the ice bridge.
Pulling forth a short metal rod, Lalith began her next spell. The other two elves and the dwarf had begun their run across the bridge also. She knew that no matter how fast they ran, they wouldn’t escape her lightning bolt. Their death was mere seconds away. And that would please her goddess.
As Lalith was speaking the last phrase of her spell, a large black object came hurling into her peripheral vision. Startled, her shadow-spider steed jumped trying to avoid the black missile, throwing off her aim. Time seemed to slow down as Lalith tried to take in all that happened over the next few seconds.
Her lightning bolt didn’t strike the companions as intended but it did shatter the ice bridge; hurling the five companions into the frigid river.
The black missile turned out to be some crazy cyclops with a battleaxe, a rope and a death wish. His time would come. Lalith would make sure of that.
Unfortunately, her steed suffered a mortal wound from the foolish one-eye and reacted out of instinct. It shifted back into the shadow realm where it was called from and Lalith was carried along, leaving the final disposition of the companions unknown to her.
* * * * *
Grunk wasn’t particularly pleased or displeased with the results of his insane stunt. He had survived, which was in itself amazing but a last minute jump by the spider caused him to miss the decapitating strike he was going for on the dark elf. Instead, the spider had proceeded in disemboweling itself.
Grunk knew that the spider had shifted back into the shadow realm dragging the dark elf with it. That was both good and bad. Good in that the dark elf sorceress wasn’t around while he dangled helplessly above the canyon floor.
Bad because since she survived, she would seek to avenge herself on him. Grunk realized that his peaceful time in his hidden valley was at an end. He would have to move and move fast; before the dark elf sorceress returned.
Glancing at the river below, there wasn’t any sign of the fleeing companions. Muttering to himself, Grunk began the difficult climb.
Only one question haunted him, what would become of his sheep?
Chapter 10
Hawkeye pulled the unconscious Tatianna onto a rock several feet short of the shoreline.
The water was frigid and flowing extremely fast. Time seemed to stop while he was in the water, he didn’t know if they had been in the river for minutes or hours. Struggling to keep hold of Tatianna and keep both their heads above w
ater had nearly sapped his entire strength.
He had lost track of the twins and Rjurik shortly after being hurled into the water. Hawkeye feared for his friends, old and new but right now his only concern was Tatianna.
Pulling her the last few feet out of the water, Hawkeye rolled Tatianna onto her back and checked for signs of breathing; they were shallow but they were there. Taking a moment to study her wounds, he made a mental note that her left shoulder seemed melted and from the way her right leg flopped, he could tell it was broken.
Of course, none of the wounds were more deadly at this moment than hypothermia. Tatianna’s lips were already blue and his own hands shook constantly with the cold. He needed to find someplace warm and out of these wet clothes soon or they were both dead. Dragging Tatianna further up the slope, Hawkeye raked fallen pine needles over her body. It wasn’t much but it would add a slight layer of warmth.
Looking up from his handy work, Hawkeye heard the faint howling of a nearby wolf pack. With a grin, he shifted into his full wolf form and ran off into the forest.
* * * * *
Khlekluëllin felt the cold hand of fear grip his heart when he saw his sister collapsed under some magical attack. Scanning the cliffs around them, Khlekluëllin saw the large spider and rider and knew they were in trouble.
They were in an exposed position, vastly outnumbered and on the run; the odds were heavy against them, more than almost any time in his long life. Fleeing across the ice bridge was their only chance at survival, so he followed Hawkeye but slowed down to help Rjurik carry his brother. This more than anything else probably saved his life.
The barbarian and his sister were a good ten paces ahead of them when the lightning bolt struck the ice bridge hurling them into the frigid water. Khlekluëllin struggled to keep his breath as they were swept downstream. Rjurik and his brother were only several feet away also struggling to resurface. Unfortunately, all three of them were wearing chainmail armor and carrying weapons. Of course, their backpacks and cloaks would also drag them down.
Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf Page 7