Another Stupid Trilogy

by Bill Ricardi

  I frowned. “My people?”

  Jarotath held up a hand and waggled it, indicating uncertainty. “Coming from that direction to be sure but, and I mean this with all due respect Sorch, orcs don’t tend to be this subtle. There are no war drums, none of the traps had orcish blood in them. Even the assassin tribes are normally incapable of this level of non-detection. What’s more, our wizards started to scry the borderlands between the swamps and trees, and so far have seen nothing. As in if whoever or whatever is doing these things can detect and evade the floating eyes.”

  We were led to the back of a long, tall stable. Ames’ nose twitched. “What in the hells kind of horses are these?” the feline asked Jarotath.

  “Temperamental ones.”

  When we circled around to the front of the wooden structure, I saw the mounts in question. My mind wasn’t really prepared to accept the signal that my eyes had sent it. So I stood there, dumbfounded for a while.

  Around a score of massive wolves occupied the elven stables. They were larger than your average horse, and they snarled a lot more. Fur coloring ranged from gray to brown to white, and everything in between. The yellow eyes of the closest beast regarded me coolly, assessing. It seemed like these lupines were imbued with a level of intelligence beyond that of their smaller, more wild kin.

  Councillor Jarotath explained, “The wolf riders have been a small part of elven culture for millennia. They are warriors, rangers, mages, and druids all working together to form a harmonious relationship with our brothers and sisters in the giant wolf community. Elves and wolves have long maintained a partnership to keep the woodlands safe. Some of our friends have graciously offered to help you with your mission.”

  The gray beast closest to me snarled and snapped those massive jaws in my direction as a warning. “D-did you explain to them that I’m on their side?”

  The elf laughed. “Oh, Teagan here knows that. He’s just messing with you.”

  Jarotath led us down the row of impressive lupines as he spoke. “The promised supplies are in the saddlebags. You will have a two women escort today. The combination of one mage and one druid will allow you to unlock the true speed of the wolves. Haste and Pass Through Roots, in conjunction with one another, will allow you to reach the swamps in no time at all. Ah, Yarith, who is willing to help us today?”

  The last was addressed to an older elf, looking like she could be Hemitath’s sister. Yarith replied, “I’ll be on Teagan since he’s offered to help. Horaneth will ride Aoife of course, with their druidic bond. Faline wishes to lead the pack, as is her right. And Zaira, Uistean, and Laoghaire have all stepped up.”

  “Good. Are we ready?” asked the Councillor.

  Yarith pointed at Toby and Tara, “Our large brother and sister will need to be Reduced.”

  The two minotaurs groaned. Apparently they’ve heard this before.

  Yarith smirked, “You’d break the backs of even our biggest lupine friends. I promise to Enlarge you once again when we get to your destination. Come, help me saddle them up and we’ll take care of you afterwards.”

  Jarotath looked between myself and the were-cat. He said, “Ames, I would suggest Faline. She’s a no-nonsense leader, and you would benefit from each other’s keen instincts. Sorch I would, ah… I’ll have to insist you ride Laoghaire. He’s the tamest of the bunch, if you get my meaning.”

  I snorted, “You mean the one least likely to bite me, yes. And I appreciate it, don’t you worry.”

  After our new allies had been saddled, we watched as Toby and then Tara accepted the Reduce spell. The pair of them shrunk, along with their clothes and possessions, until they were a little shorter than Leeson. “That’s amazing.” I had to admit. As much as I wanted to poke fun at my friends, they were wearing rather neutral masks. I didn’t want to push either of them.

  I was led over to my mount, Laoghaire. The rugged looking white wolf tilted his massive head, curiously. Tentatively, I reached out to lay a gloved hand on the lupine’s shoulder. He leaned into the touch, perhaps to show that it was okay, or to inspire confidence in me. I stroked the back of Laoghaire’s neck, which he accepted stoically.

  I asked, “Do I just hop up now?”

  That big white furred head nodded, once.

  Mounting Laoghaire was easier than dealing with any horse I had ever been around. The wolf moved to actively help me out, and immediately straightened up to his full height once I had settled my feet into the stirrups. I didn’t see any kind of lead or reins, so I asked, “Laoghaire, where do I put my hands?”

  The white wolf swivelled his gaze off to the right. I saw Ames roughly thumping and ear-rubbing the brown female named Faline. The wolf’s tail was thrashing happily, apparently pleased to have been paired with an aggressive and assertive rider. My love had taken to this like a fish to water. Then I saw Ames’ pawpads curl in and grip Faline’s scruff.

  Tentatively I scratched and massaged Laoghaire’s neck fur: The skin below was tough, the fur itself thick and strong. My white wolf nodded again, indicating that I was in the right area. I grasped his scruff firmly, which set Laoghaire’s tail wagging. Mission accomplished, apparently.

  The other elf, presumably Horaneth astride the red-brown Aoife, said, “Everyone come on out here and close ranks. We need to hit the entire group with these spells. Nice and tight please.”

  The wolves seemed to understand, and without much urging they padded out of their stables. A couple of them growled at Laoghaire and myself, but my mount was amazingly stoic. Even shoulder to shoulder with the other lupines, the white furred giant wolf seemed almost placid.

  Ames leaned over and commented, “I think yours has been munching on cannabis.”

  I looked down at Laoghaire. He seemed like he was about to fall asleep. “I think you might be right.”

  The first spell was arcane, but one that I had never heard before. It apparently used silver and some sort of bean as components. When Yarith finished her spell, I felt a sudden jolt. My heart was beating faster, and my movements were twitchy. I noticed that everyone else in the group was having the same issue. That must have been the Haste spell.

  The druidic prayer was also nothing I had ever heard. Shaman never used it, of that I was sure. When Horaneth had finished, I felt a strange sense of potential, but nothing more. I supposed that the Pass Through Roots prayer was meant more for our mounts than for ourselves.

  “Let’s ride!”

  I wasn’t really sure what came next. Luckily, Laoghaire did. He took off like a bolt fired from a crossbow. I was immediately sorry for thinking that my lupine steed was in any way slow, lazy, or laid back. The surge of speed and churning of muscle caused me to lay forward, face buried in the top of Laoghaire’s head fur.

  When I had gathered enough courage to look up, I immediately wished that I hadn’t. The world was rushing and warping around me chaotically. One moment we were at the back of the pack. Then my white wolf would stomp on a tree root and we would be catapulted into the lead, instantaneously passing through the tree like a surge of electricity. And in between these jumps, our already-fast giant wolves were under the effects of the Haste spell. Fuzzy legs blurred with frantic motion until they reached the next big tree, and then they shot 20 paces into the distance in a heartbeat.

  I screamed against the wind, “Please don’t get us killed!”

  Laoghaire’s only reply was an amused bark.

  Once I had gotten beyond the feelings of terror and self preservation, I started to enjoy myself. It was breathtaking. I allowed myself to sit forward, gaze levelled just above Laoghaire’s ears. He seemed to sense my acceptance, or maybe he just detected my new relaxed and streamlined posture. Either way, my giant wolf started taking some amazing scenic routes. He fearlessly leapt over babbling brooks. He intentionally went for the high ground so that I could see the glory and majesty of the elven woods. As quickly as everything was passing, Laoghaire was still an excellent tour guide.

  Suddenly, the terrain wa
s opening up. Moss became a more common sight than wild grass or tree bark. We slowed a fraction because the ground was getting less firm; more marshy. It was then that I realized: We had gone from Arbitros to the edge of the Southern Clans territory in under an hour. It wasn’t teleportation, but short of that there was no faster way to travel.

  Ames’ mount darted into the lead, then intentionally slowed. When Faline broke pace, the rest of the pack followed suit. We all hopped off of our mounts. I noticed that everyone was moving at normal speeds once more. “Haste is out?” I asked.

  Yarith nodded. “I can re-apply it for the trip back, but the extra speed won’t help us much in the swamps. The Pass Through Roots blessing will actually continue for a while longer, so after the pups rest we can continue. There are plenty of swampy trees to make use of, even over the course of the next half an hour. We can get you closer.”

  I watched the wolves lap clear water from the little pond that Faline had stopped to take advantage of. “Thank you for this. I’m still not sure what’s happening, but I do know it’s important.”

  The elven magus nodded once again. She said, “Laoghaire normally sullenly tolerates his rider. Not this time. He genuinely likes you. Maybe you were born a child of wolves.”

  I laughed a little bit. “I was scared stiff for most of the journey. Laoghaire’s a good teacher.”

  Yarith’s fine lips quirked crookedly. “No, not really. But he knows a kindred soul.”

  I glanced over at Laoghaire. His packmates would nudge or nip him every once in a while, but he rarely retaliated. Nor did the lupine seem unhappy with the treatment, bushy tail thrashing quite regularly.

  I murmured, “I wonder what it would have been like. To be born an elf.” I turned back to the elven mage standing at my side, ready to offer apology if that was offensive.

  Yarith considered the question somberly. Eventually she said, “You would still be a child. Given your talents, you would probably be learning the ways of wild magic. Progressing quickly I imagine. But ‘quickly’ for our people is a glacial pace for your own. I imagine you would be a rather impatient elven child, Sorch Stonebender. But a promising one.”

  I smiled at that assessment. “Any frustration I might have had would have been worth it. To grow up like this, with wolves and trees and a people who genuinely loved magic. I would be happy as long as, within that version of Panos, I still got to meet Ames and my friends.”

  Just then, my white wolf padded over and butted my chest with his forehead, nearly knocking me over. Yarith took that as a sign.

  “Let’s ride. The hunt has only just started.”

  Chapter 18

  We stopped once more, this time on the edge of the landscape’s dramatic transformation. From our perspective at the top of a small hill, solid land seemed to simply slide away to our west. Just a few paces below us was the familiar sheen of stagnant water, and the smell of nature hosting and recycling beasts of the air, land, and sea all at the same time. Damp soil became silt and clay. Moss became muck. This was the swamp. This was home.

  The reason for the pause wasn’t that these giant wolves couldn’t handle a little shallow water. Rather, we had observed two elven rangers resetting traps that had been triggered. Their faces bore looks of relief when they saw a contingent of wolf riders. That melted into confusion when they saw that one of the riders was an orc. But this pair was polite enough not to comment.

  Our druid, Horaneth, trotted over on Aoife. She spoke in Common for the benefit of Ames and myself. “Hark seekers. What news?”

  The younger looking of the two elves gestured to what looked like a spent vine trap. “This has been happening all day. Something is tripping our traps, but nothing is ever caught. It isn’t leaving real tracks. There are some muddy smudges and moist imprints, but they seem disguised. I doubt it’s any sort of wild game.”

  The older elf said, with some certainty, “It’s the swamp itself.”

  Horaneth peered at the silver haired ranger with gnarled hands. “What do you mean, venerable one?” The measure of respect that the druid gave to the old ranger was unquestionable.

  “We didn’t see anything with our eyes, but the traps being sprung are all right along the edge of our territory. There are never solid tracks or marks, but along the banks there are water marks and silt stains that lay a fraction higher than the rest of the swamp. There are streaks of clay and mud along the ground. Something triggers the trap, and then melts back into the swamp. It’s the only explanation.”

  The younger ranger held up both hands, palms out. He silently deferred to the wisdom of his partner.

  I asked, “Could it have been a water elemental?”

  All eyes were on me now. I hated that.

  Hopping down from Laoghaire’s saddle, I fished my spellbook out of my backpack. Opening to the pages that described Conjure Minor Elemental, I held the book out to the older elf and pointed to the drawing of the water variant.

  The silver haired ranger nodded. “It absolutely could have been something like that. Or at least something related. Smaller perhaps. Something not entirely solid rising from the murky water and melting back into it. The signs are consistent.”

  I frowned grimly, then closed the book. “Thank you kind sir.”

  Horaneth asked me, as I got back in the saddle, “Elementals? Nothing in the swamp can harness that kind of power. What does it mean?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  Yarith chimed in with a helpful suggestion, “Think faster.”

  Then we set off into the swamp.

  There was nothing subtle about six giant wolves stomping through the shallow, silty water at the edge of the swampland. Pass Through Roots was still quite effective, allowing us to skip through vast areas where cottonwood and white oak trees jutted out of the water. But as we dove farther into the swamps of the Southern Clans, vegetation thinned. Vast barren stretches greeted us, and the tromping of wolves into the clay-heavy water soon had all of us caked in gray.

  I did my best to keep us out of deep waters, though there were more deep patches than I had remembered. The water level had risen compared to seasons past. The infrequent hills that used to jut from the center of the swamplands were smaller and more barren. Petrified logs that had lain exposed for a generation were now completely submerged. I had the distinct feeling that this was not the home I once knew. Not entirely.

  We had reached one of the short bumps of earth that briefly provided solid footing, when Ames and Faline leapt to the front of the pack before skidding to a halt. All of the other wolves followed the alpha female’s lead, slowing to a trot before crouching. The brown wolf seemed to be silently communing with her brethren. We slid from our saddles to have a rider conference as well.

  Yarith murmured, “I believe they’re talking about how rough the going is. They weren’t built for this. If we were to turn back, how much farther would you need to go?”

  I considered. “Half a day to three quarters, depending on when we could get some rest. You’ve cut a full day from our journey, no matter which direction we could have come in from. We’re grateful.”

  Horaneth started laughing. “Aoife says that Faline just asked them if they wanted to turn back.” The elf gestured over to the pack of wolves.

  I was both amused and inspired at the sight of 5 massive wolves shaking their head ‘no’.

  “We’ll get you closer.” assured the druid.

  “Quiet.”

  The word was spoken by Ames and by Yarith at the same time. They glanced at each other, and then took action. The elf gestured for everyone to get down and stay low. Humanoids and wolves all hunkered down on their bellies. Ames crept to the top of the short hill on all fours. The were-cat peered to the north.

  In our self imposed silence, we all heard what came next. The distant crack and rumble of something large being rent into pieces and reshaped. The faint cackle of a madman.

  Ames crawled back down fro
m their vantage point, looking quite shaken. Bipeds and lupines huddled together to hear the whispered news.

  The feline growled, “Sorch, Toby. That thing you heard. That was Salt.”

  Tara looked like she was trying to remember something. The elves and wolves looked confused. Only Toby and I shared the were-cat’s horror.

  Our paladin murmured, “Salt is dead, his body was burned and buried in the mines. The ground was consecrated. It’s impossible.”

  Ames snarled, “Saw him with my own eyes, Toby! Unless you know another ancient elven madman with salt elementals…”

  Yarith smoothly cut the were-cat off. “Please explain. Who is Salt?”

  Toby recalled our trip to the salt mines last year. Tara started to nod, recalling hearing this tale: Our encountering and subsequent vanquishing of Salt and the Necromancer before one or both of them could break free and destroy the countryside. Which of course was in direct contradiction to what Ames had just seen in the distance.

  The feline insisted, “It was him. Four hundred, five hundred paces north, surrounded by his elementals and other things. He was raising something out of the swamp, possibly another one of his guardians. Surely you heard him shrieking?”

  Tara sounded confused. She said, “Shouldn’t salt elementals be decomposing in the water?” None of us had an answer.

  I murmured, “I can find out what’s going on. But I’ll need a half hour.”

  Horaneth asked, curiously, “You have scrying magic?”

  I shook my head. “I can conjure a small water elemental.”

  The elven druid looked suitably impressed. “You are well prepared.”

  I admitted, “This is the first time it’s ever been useful.”

  The wolves had no objection to a brief rest. Tara stole my cooking pot before I got started, so that she could warm up meals and then brew tea for everyone. Horaneth used her druidic skills to lure some fish over and net them. The wolves would have snacks as well, it seemed.

  I simply had some jerky and a drink of water so that I could start quickly. The circle was drawn on the damp hillside, and the sigils carved. Then, I sat, cross legged, and started to gather power. There was certainly plenty of water around from which to draw elemental energy.