Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf)

by A. E. McCullough

Galvorn smiled at the Cobra’s defiant attitude. Gray noted that it was almost the same grin he had seen on the Dark Lady. It was not a comforting sight. Galvorn began to clean his already immaculately clean fingernails with his dagger. “Listen here human,” the half- dark elf added some extra venom on that last word. “You don’t even deserve the effort of our words.”

  At first, Gray was hurt by his friend’s words until he made eye contact with Jardan and noted the hint of sadness in them. But it was more than that. There was fear in them as well. Not fear of Gray or Galvorn but of his Döcent. Jardan was not trying to be mean or hurtful with his words, he was just protecting himself. He realized that Espen was watching and if Jardan showed weakness or surrendered to them, he would be punished by the cruel gnome. Without another word or warning, Gray stabbed his friend in the heart.

  The strike was so lightning fast and so unexpected that Galvorn actually jumped in surprise. “What the? Why did you do that?”

  Gray shrugged. “He wouldn’t submit and even if he did, he’d be too dangerous to leave behind.”

  Galvorn looked at the twitching form of Jardan and back at his partner. Evidently there was a malicious streak in him that he did not know about or suspect. “There is truth in your words.”

  Gray nodded his head toward the dark passageways. “Come, let’s continue our hunt. There are others who need to fall to our blades.”

  Galvorn smiled and slid into the shadows. Gray took one last look at his immobilized friend. Setting a dour expression on his face, he turned back to the task at hand, conquering those he once called friends.

  * * * * *

  In the end, the Dark Lady was correct; Shadow and Stalker were the last two standing.

  Lalith laughed. “Oh how enjoyable. Those two make a formidable pair.” She gazed down on them and spoke her thoughts aloud. “I wonder which one of them is better.”

  She was about to give the order when her gargoyle familiar floated down from the rafters and landed on her shoulders. Jinx leaned in and whispered, “Mistress, you have a very important meeting in less than an hour.”

  “Quite right, another time perhaps,” Lalith said softly. She placed one hand on Espen’s shoulder. “Your extra year of service has been recorded. You know, I think I’ll make that a standing wager. As a matter of fact I will even sweeten the deal. If both Shadow and Stalker fall during a Cërtatüs, I will hold that Döcent’s account paid in full. But,” she paused for added effect, “every time they win, an extra five years will be added to your service.”

  Espen grinned, while Darnac and Chikk turned pale. It was obvious from the Dark Lady’s self-satisfying grin that she realized the moral dilemma she had just placed the two dark elves in. Neither one wanted to be here and would do almost anything to be free of their geas but they both had a strong sense of personal honor.

  Mortharona just looked on impassively. As the saying went, he had no dragon in the fight but he was thoroughly enjoying the drama.

  Lalith turned to leave but paused at the door.

  “By the way, if something unfortunate were to happen to either of them in training that would prevent them from competing, I will be highly upset. You don’t want to see me upset, trust me on this.”

  Without another word, she and her gargoyle familiar left the arena.

  Chapter 22

  Far to the north in a region of Terreth that was constantly covered in ice and snow, a huge bear of a man buried the blade of his axe deep into the trunk of his current adversary. Pulling out his weapon with a simple tug, its yellowish lifeblood began to ebb and flow down its knotty skin.

  Personally, Nilrem would just prefer to keep swinging his axe and fell the damn tree but the sap was liquid gold to his people. They had found numerous uses for it since he led the remnants of the Highland people into exile. He stepped aside as the youngest kids from the village rushed forward with buckets to gather the valuable sap. Lifting his gaze, he watched as the next age group of kids as they stripped the fallen trees nearby of limbs.

  Nilrem’s mind began to wander as he watched the young kids at work. It was so different from his childhood. But then the Highland Nation, or the remnants thereof, had changed much after that fateful day a dozen years ago. The Day of Fire and Death, which was how the Highlanders remembered the loss of their greatest warrior and his bride.

  One of his greatest regrets in life was not standing beside Hawkeye that day but it had not been his decision, it had been Hawkeye’s. Somehow the Dark Alliance had figured out a way to track his movements and that would have been detrimental to the Wolflord’s plans. So on his orders, he had switched roles with his friend Odovacar and had stayed behind to guard Hawkeye’s wife and unborn son.

  It should have been a simple and largely uneventful task. But they were betrayed from within; one of their own was working for the Dark Lady and helped summon three of the foulest creatures Nilrem Bluebear had ever seen or fought before. They had battled them to the last man, woman and child. Nearly eighty percent of their people died that night, so no one blamed him for not being able to save Tatianna and her unborn son. Everyone believed that he failed….everyone except Amani Stormrider, his adopted daughter.

  The problem was it was all a lie.

  As a young girl of nine, Amani had stood beside her mentor against overwhelming odds and even saved his life when Nilrem had been knocked senseless by the scorpions of shadow. The two of them had been the only Highland survivors of those who had sought refuge from the shadow creatures in a cave.

  Yes, they had survived but they also became the keepers of a great secret. The child of the prophecy was alive.

  Nevertheless, his survival was only assured by the charade of his death. This had been the true reason for Tatianna’s sacrifice. Wanting to insure that the Dark Alliance believed the deception, she had carried the corpse of an unnamed highland child into her final battle with the Dark Lady. Her final spell had scorched the region so thoroughly that there was hardly anything left of those that stood beside Tatianna in those last seconds.

  Seeing the kids step away from his tree, Nilrem went back to work. But his mind stayed on that day twelve years ago and he chopped at the tree automatically.

  He was remembering the one time he had visited the site of the last battle. It had been nearly a year later but still nothing grew in the area. Of course, that was when he had also discovered the fate of the Highlanders that had been in the region but not within the blast radius. The few survivors had been unable to shapeshift and were stuck in whatever form they were in right before the explosion. For those in their human form, this was only an inconvenience, a way of learning how to do things without the gift of Luna. Then, there were those few that were in their full animal form. By the time Nilrem had learned of their fate, they had truly become whatever animal they were…be it wolf, fox or owl. The saddest were those stuck in their hybrid form. These unfortunate few were plagued with the memories of their human life while trying to control the more feral side of their nature. It was a depressing sight to all Highlanders.

  Hearing a loud crack coming from the tree, Nilrem knew the inner core had ruptured and it was about to fall. Stepping back, he cupped one hand around his mouth and bellowed, “Timber!”

  All the highlanders within earshot stopped what they were doing and looked up to make sure they would not be in the falling tree’s path. Those that were or could possibly be…moved out of the way. The rest went back to work.

  Nilrem allowed himself a small grin. That was his twelfth tree for the day and his last. He leaned his axe against the stump and looked out over Crannóg, the city of the lake and the last refuge of the Highlanders.

  Crannóg was a city built on the shores of the lake with the majority of the dwellings actually built over the water. From his vantage point on the far side of the loch, he could barely see the city since it was hidden by the heavy fog that always hung over the water.

  Anasazi had been right; this hidden vale had been a godsend for
the remnants of the Highland Nation. It was surrounded by nearly impassable mountains yet was large enough for plenty of wildlife and timber. Even after working on this grove for over a decade, the Highlanders had only cleared one small area but that had been enough for them to build a home.

  Nilrem spied a solid black hawk that seemed more shadow than substance winging its way toward him.

  Dûrdae was a shadowhawk. These are birds of smoke and shadow that traditionally live in the mystical realm known as the Shadowlands. Dûrdae had actually been called forth from that magical realm to serve by Tatianna but after her death, he had stayed on as Amani’s familiar.

  Nilrem, like most Highlanders, was leery of magic. It was unnatural. But after their people’s failure against the shadow scorpions, many had changed their minds. They knew that they would have to adapt or die. Or worse than that, they would fail their goddess. As a nation, the Highlanders held firm to the belief that one day Luna, their goddess, would call on them once more to fight against the darkness. If the remnants of the Highland Nation learned one thing on the Day of Fire and Death, it was this: ferocity and skill in battle do not guarantee a victory. For them to truly make a difference in the final battle, they would need superior weapons. To that end, the Highlanders had dedicated themselves to two things, the survival of their race and training for the next battle.

  The few metalsmiths that had survived travelled to the kingdom of the dwarves in an effort to improve their skills. One or two returned after a year of service to begin the process of setting up a proper forge and the beginning of a mining operation. Last year, the first of the true craftsmen began to return to Crannóg. Almost immediately, the forge was fired up and they went to work. Never in the history of the Highland Nation had their people been this organized.

  All this and more went through Nilrem’s mind as the shadowhawk landed on the stump and chirped at him. He had no idea what the damn bird was saying but suspected that Amani had sent it to find him.

  “Alright, alright, I’m on my way home.”

  That must have been the right answer because the shadowhawk leapt into the air but instead of flying back across the lake, it dove at the nearby shadows and disappeared.

  Nilrem shook his head in amazement and gathered up his things.

  * * * * *

  “I’ve figured it out!”

  That was the first thing Nilrem heard as he stepped into his lodge. The former bear tribe warlord had no need to ask what Amani was talking about since he knew about her obsession. Ever since they had learned that it had been a spell cast by her mentor, which kept the warriors who fought beside the Wolflord and Red Eagle from shapeshifting back to their natural form, Amani had been trying to break the spell. She had not been very successful.

  “I’ve heard that before,” responded Nilrem. He threw off his furs and laid down his weapons although he did keep his forestry axe in hand as he moved into the main area of the octagonal dwelling. Pulling out a file, he sat down across from his adopted daughter and began the process of sharpening his axe. Cutting trees was hard work, trying to do so with a dull axe only made it harder.

  “No, I’m serious this time. I think I’ve figured out how to reverse Red Eagle’s curse.”

  Nilrem paused in his sharpening and studied the young woman sitting across from him.

  She was tall, with long legs and a nice figure. He might be a bit prejudice but he thought that she had a pretty face…whenever she was not scowling, which was all too often. Amani was too focused on rectifying her mentor’s curse and improving the future of the Highlanders that she refused to enjoy herself. Nilrem had encouraged many a young warrior over the years to court her but she just was not interested. When she threatened to turn the last one into a toad and transmuted a nearby rock into a turtle to prove her point, the suitors had left her alone. Which is why they had this whole hut just to the two of them, most dwellings this size still housed three or four families.

  “You’re serious. You believe you can undo her curse?”

  Amani nodded. Her dark hair was a mess and her eyes were bloodshot as if she had not slept in days; which she had not but that did not diminish the excitement on her face or the sincerity in her voice.

  “I’ve isolated a rogue strand in the Weave that is connected to all of them. You see…”

  Nilrem waved his hands to stop her explanation. Whenever she tried to explain the intricacies of magic, it made his head hurt. He also knew that whenever she set her mind on something, she would not give it up…no matter what. Therefore, it would be easier and safer if he just helped.

  “What do you need?”

  Amani’s face brightened at his request. “Odie.”

  Nilrem the Bluebear shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  “But he’s their leader. If I can cure him, the rest will come in.”

  Nilrem nodded. “That might be true but even though I still consider Odovacar as my friend, I don’t trust him. He is driven by the feral side of his natural, so much so that the last time we met he attacked me.”

  Amani nodded. “I know that but…”

  Nilrem held out one hand. “But nothing, I will not allow you to try your spell on Odovacar until you have proven that it works.”

  “But…”

  “Amani! This is not open for discussion. I will send Dancer out to find one of the Hok’ee. If he can locate one that’s within a day’s travel of the tunnel and the orcs aren’t about, we will try your remedy.”

  Amani Stormrider nodded. The Chieftain had spoken and she could not argue with him, at least not until she had proven that she was right.

  Chapter 23

  The next month was extremely strange for Gray and Galvorn. They were treated as both heroes and villains by the other children, even within their own coterie. As the victors, they were granted extra privileges such as no chores. Many thought that gave them more liberty than the rest of the kids when in actuality it consumed much of their supposedly downtime.

  They were expected to spend an extra hour with each Döcent every day. They spent the three hours before their normal training with the other Döcents, mostly doing menial chores but they also received extra instruction on whatever lesson they were working on during the regular training.

  At first, Gray and Galvorn figured that they would be the only ones doing this special training. They were wrong. The top three students from every coterie attended the lessons. This meant for the Shadow Wolves that Nergüi joined them but for Gray, it meant that he also got to spend extra time with Tamina and Jardan. It was almost like old times between the three of them, at least whenever they were away from the disapproving eyes of the Döcents. Galvorn and Nergüi were easily accepted into their little clique but the other seven kept to themselves.

  The Primus, as the twelve elite students were called, spent their extra hour with the Blademaster at the end of their training day but it was rarely only an hour long. He would drive them mercilessly until they were fighting exhaustion and then he would drive them some more. Galvorn and Gray always seemed to lead this group. Partially because they did not want to disappoint their Kënnári but mostly because somewhere deep inside themselves they knew that their long-term survival was tied to this training.

  That first extra session with the Blademaster was the worst. When they had arrived, he had made them take off their boots before walking onto the sand. This was unusual but not as strange as they noticed that the sand was hot, not warm to the touch but hot. So hot in fact, that they were immediately concerned that it would scorch their feet. Of course, none of the Primus would complain since the Blademaster had also taken off his boots. Darnac paced back and forth as he addressed them.

  “Congratulations. You twelve are the best of the best, the epitome of all the students, but you cannot rest now. Those ranked below you will strive to take you down and to be honest; we’re going to teach them how to complete that task. It will be up to you to remain part of the Primus.”

  He notice
d that they were unconsciously squirming due to the hot sands but they were struggling to remain still as they’d been taught. Darnac grinned.

  “Move. Always move. From this moment forward, whenever you are on the sand you should be moving. The Lüdüs is a training hall for warriors. The moment you step onto the sand, you should be ready for battle. Combat is fluid, like the sea, always in motion. You need to be like the sea, always moving…never static. To stand still in combat is to invite defeat.”

  He gestured to the small group. “You might’ve noticed that we only have the best students here. That’s because you twelve show the greatest promise but you might’ve noticed that in each Cöterie there are some students missing. These were the weakest students. They have been transferred to other units within the Dark Alliance and will not become Sicárii.”

  The twelve looked around at one another and then back at their teacher.

  “This is the same fate that awaits any of you if you fail. Of course, I don’t expect that from anyone in this group. To that end each month, we concentrate on a new weapon. This month we begin with one of my favorite weapons, the kukris.”

  The Blademaster directed them to a rack that held a multitude of the knives. Picking up two of the blades, he began with a brief history of the blade and the inherit advantage of its unique swept forward design. Then, he began their instruction in earnest.

  On top of all this, they spent their time with the rest of the students studying and training.

  However, not all of their lessons were physical. They spent long hours in the Dark Alliance library, learning to read and write. The Dôminus once explained that the Dark Lady wanted operatives that were flexible, knowledgeable and lethal. Once again Gray, Galvorn and Jardan shined in this area. All due to their past lessons from before they were slaves.

  Slaves. Only rarely did that thought even enter their minds. The Primus laughed and cried. They trained and played. In so many ways, they were just like any other children across Terreth. All the while, Kralm was there filling in the role of father and the Döcent became like favorite uncles and aunts. But more than that, the dens became home and the other students became family.