While all this was going on, Galvorn would shadow-step to the back of the valley to begin his mission.
It was a solid plan but that did not mean he had to like it. Gray hated to be the last one to join them. Granted, if the landslide was triggered to late or didn’t work at all, he would outnumbered nearly a thousand to one.
Gray heard the whistles of his friend and knew they were ready and waiting for him. Once more, he tested the pull of the scavenged longbow. It was crude and weaker than what he was used to but then, it was orcish. He had collected twenty-five decent arrows from the corpses of the dead sentries. Out of these, Gray selected the three best and moved to the edge of the cliff. Glancing east, the sun was just breaking the horizon and he knew it was time.
Sighting down the shaft, he pulled the string as far back as possible and rested his hand on his right cheek. Nostrils flared, Gray felt his perception of the world change to some extent. For a brief moment, he was in complete harmony with his environment. He could almost see the wind as they caromed off the cliffs and rushed upwards from the unseen river far below. Gray knew that these same winds would redirect his arrows while in flight. He instinctively sensed how they would affect them and shifted his aim accordingly. His bow was pointed up and to the right and nowhere near his target but he released the arrow anyway. He didn’t wait to see what happened to his first shot but drew and fired his other two in rapid succession.
As Gray released the third arrow, his consciousness snapped back to normal and he held his breath as the arrows flew off into the distance. At first, it seemed as if they were just going to arch over the cliff and fall into the unseen river below. However, one by one the arrows turned and changed directions.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
All three arrows struck their intended targets, two in the back of the neck and one in the shoulder. The first two fell dead from the blows while the third one raised the alarm, which was the plan after all.
Notching another arrow, Gray stepped into view high atop the cliff and roared his challenge.
The renegade troops reacted predictably and charged forward. A few futility shot arrows at him only to have the strong winds blow them off course. As the troops charged through the crevasse, Gray ran along the edge and fired indiscriminately into the mass below. Every arrow struck a target. Some were killing shots, some were not but either way, it kept the boarish humanoids riled up and charging forward.
When he noted that the majority of troops were in the crevasse he yelled, “Now!”
Chikk and Tamina jumped with all their weight on the poles the orcs had set in place under two large boulders. It was obvious that the orcs had rigged the area with the same plan in mind. The huge rocks began to move. Slowly at first but they quickly gained momentum. Yells of rage and anger became howls of fear as rocks began to fill the ravine. Gray was at the halfway point on the ravine and stared down the fifty-foot drop. If he had to guess, there were two to three hundred orcs trapped below.
Hearing the sound of heavy feet running up behind him, Gray slapped three arrows across the riser, turned and fired his bow from the hip. The missiles tore through the vanguard of the attacking orcs and they fell. However, a score of orcs were only a few steps behind.
Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Gray drew both kukris, backed up to the edge of the crevasse and took a fighting stance. “Okay you ugly whoresons, come on! Who dies next?”
The orcs did not pause. If anything, they sped up, yelling at him in their native tongue, which to Graytael sounded like a bunch of grunts, oinks and squeals.
He waited until they were only a few feet away before he used the Salire-umbra skill to shadow-step to the other side of the ravine.
The foremost orcs had no chance of stopping their charge and plunged into the gorge at full speed only to land on their trapped companions. A few tried to stop but failed. A couple even tried to leap the distance but failed, miserably. All in all, Gray estimated that seventeen plunged to their death. Those that were able to stop, howled insults at him but were otherwise contained.
Gray had four arrows left but decided to hold onto them, just in case. Sprinting to the precipice, he gazed down and saw that the first part of the plan had worked. The renegade army was in chaos.
* * * * *
As soon as Isengrim attacked, Galvorn slipped through the shadow corridor to come out in the back of the valley and behind the remainder of Blackfang’s army. He was hidden from view by the gigantic dragon skeleton but that really didn’t matter. Everyone’s attention was focused on the action at the entrance.
The majority of the warriors near the cave, lycanthrope and orc alike, ran to help. However, two massive trolls stayed at their post on either side of the entrance.
Galvorn knew if Blackfang were anywhere then he would be inside the cave, which meant he had to get past the massive beasts. He’d never fought trolls before but he had studied them. Darnac was a stickler for details like that. Just because the trolls, and orcs for that matter, were their allies that did not mean that he would never have to fight them.
Moving around the skeleton, Galvorn took a deep breath before making his attack. Once started, his path was secured and he must follow it, for good or ill. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to kill his father but that was his mission, and failure was not an option.
For a brief second before he attacked, Galvorn contemplated why the trolls were still on guard duty with the sun beginning to rise in the east. Typically, since trolls were the children of Nox the Night Goddess, they would turn to stone in direct sunlight. The sun had breached the horizon and its light was filling the valley but still the trolls stood their post. Galvorn noted that they both wore heavy robes with hoods lowered but that should not be enough to stop their curse.
Then he saw it.
The robes seemed to keep the trolls in constant shadows even as the light hit them directly. Which meant that Blackfang had some sort of spellcaster in his entourage. That realization changed his priority of targets but not his mission. Moreover, if it was the robes keeping the trolls safe he could exploit that weakness.
Drawing two knives, Galvorn didn’t want to chance the possibility of his tulwars getting stuck in the trolls’ bodies when or if they turned to stone. Here’s where using the Salire-umbra skill would come in handy.
Stepping through, he came out directly behind one of the trolls and made a long downward slice on his back. It felt to Galvorn like he was running his blade down the side of a boulder and idly wondered how badly the edge of his knife would be after this attack. Even though the blade did not break the troll’s rocky skin, he obviously felt the attack and roared in anger.
Twisting far quicker that Galvorn would have guessed possible, the troll turned and grabbed at him. Nevertheless, Galvorn was gone. He’d stepped back into the shadows and reappeared behind the other troll guard. Since his new target was also moving, the Shadow had to change his attack plan and sliced across the side and back of the troll’s neck with both blades. In his excitement, he felt the blades bite into the rock-hard skin, not deep but enough to really do any damage.
This troll whirled on the half dark-elf with a scream but Galvorn leapt back and landed in a fighting stance. Both trolls rushed forward. In their haste, they did not notice that their robes were split open. The first troll’s robe was ripped down the back completely while the second’s hood was only hanging on by a few threads. As they swung their clubs at the elusive Sicárii, he dove backward and dodged under the clumsy attack. It was only a matter of time before either or both robes fell off and exposed the trolls to the deadly sunlight.
As Galvorn rolled under one of their attacks, something odd caught his eye and nearly cost him his life. As he came out of his roll, he spied his Kënnári. He was only a few yards away with his head slumped forward in sleep or death. Galvorn had paused to determine the manner in which he was trapped and the two trolls moved to take advantage of his distraction.
Both Hyperion the S
un God and Hodios the God of Luck must’ve been smiling on him at that moment, for the robes finally fell off enough to expose their skin to the morning sunlight. Their screams filled the air but were quickly silenced as their bodies turned to stone.
Galvorn barely gave them a second glance as he rushed to his teacher’s side. The only parts he could see of the deadly Blademaster was both hands and his head. The rest was encased inside a huge boulder. He checked for a pulse and found one. Either Darnac was unconscious or asleep but either way, he didn’t wake up to his touch. Galvorn quickly searched for some sort of latch or seam but could not find one.
Somehow, Darnac was inside the boulder.
Deep guttural laughter echoed from the cave and Galvorn whirled toward it.
“Ah…I see that Lalith has decided not to accept my invitation but to send my only son to do her bidding. How predictable.” Blackfang stepped out of the cave and into the morning light.
Gone was the dirty werewolf he had been the last time Galvorn had seen him. Now the black furred werewolf stood tall and proud. He was wearing brown leather pants, a belt and bracers on each forearm. Most of all, Galvorn noted that his father carried Iran et dolorem, the Swords of Destiny.
Galvorn stood up and drew his silver tulwars. “Hello father.”
“You really think you can take me? I am stronger and faster than you and I have Rage and Sorrow. You cannot hope to defeat me.”
“So you say.” Galvorn grinned and stepped to the side to give himself more room for the impending duel. “Of course, Zivën thought the same thing and I now carry his blades.”
“Impressive but then, I thought him to a blowhard. All talk no action.”
Galvorn shrugged. “I see. So the title of Blademaster means nothing to you?”
Blackfang shook his snout side to side. “Not one bit.”
Galvorn gestured with his curved blade at the trapped dark-elf. “So it’s only a coincidence that you decided to use magic to trap Darnac instead of face him like a man?”
Blackfang growled. “I am a Highlander! I fear no man.”
Galvorn grinned. He could see that one thing had not changed in his father, he still felt threatened by his Kënnári. “Then you will meet me in honorable combat. You and I, blade to blade.”
Blackfang confidently moved forward and two more lycanthropes stepped into the light, a wereboar and a werebear. The werewolf glanced over his shoulder. “Do not interfere on pain of death. It’s past time I taught this pup a lesson in respect.” They both nodded.
Blackfang leapt forward with a snarl. Galvorn blocked and countered.
The battle between father and son commenced in earnest.
* * * * *
Gray scanned the distant battlefield. Even though the heavy fog still covered the entire valley, it shifted just enough that he could tell two very distinct thing.
One, his half-brother had engaged his uncle and for the moment, they seemed evenly matched. However, it was the overly large dragon skeleton that captured his attention and held it hostage. Somehow, Gray had seen this very view before. He knew that he had never been in this valley in his entire life but he was certain that he had seen that skeleton somewhere before. He was not sure when or how but he knew it to be true.
Wrenching his eyes away, he scanned the rest of the valley and saw that a large group of soldiers rushing to Blackfang’s aid. Gray longed to join Galvorn in battle but his mission was containment. First and foremost, he knew that he could not let them reach his uncle. If that meant leaving his half-brother to fight his own battle, than that was what he had to do. That was the plan and he would stick to it whether he like it or not.
Using the Salire-umbra skill, Gray stepped into the Shadow Realm and left behind the majority of Blackfang’s troops, trapped and useless. However, he would soon confront those soldiers that could still tip the scales against them.
Chapter 46
Odovacar was torn. He hated Blackfang with every fiber of his soul but the werewolf was also the key to his own sanity. He had reluctantly pledged his loyalty to the renegade Highlander but it only went so far. He knew that even if it cost him his sanity, he would not raid and pillage the cities of the Southlands. He had been hoping and praying for someone to stop the fanatical warrior. At first he thought that it would have been Darnac but that had been a trap.
Now, Blackfang was battling a younger dark-elf that the Wolflord claimed as his own son.
Did the warrior have no soul? How could anyone even consider killing his or her own child?
Odovacar glanced to over his shoulder toward his werebear companion. Even though they had been ordered not to interfere, the shaman was mumbling the beginnings of a spell. He knew that this was one of those moments in life that defined a person’s destiny. Should he stand back and let the events play out or should he take a more active role?
* * * * *
Amani was frightened. There was no other way to put it. She was in a canoe floating down a swift moving stream in an unknown region of the Highlands. Partially it was the fact that she wasn’t too overly fond of boats but mostly it was that the stream they were on had taken them under the Dragonfang Mountains. The only calming element was the fact that the white eagle was still sitting on the bow of their canoe.
“Uh…Amani?”
She turned to look at Dancer but couldn’t see him in the darkness of the cavern. Whispering the words to a simple spell, Amani held up her hand and three flickering lights came into being. They danced around her hand like moths draw to a flame while giving off the light of a small lantern.
“Thanks.”
Amani cocked her head to the side. “Huh?”
“The lights. It’s creepy enough in this cavern without not being able to see where we are going.” Dancer paused as he looked around. “Not that we have any choice at this point but to go on.”
Amani grinned and waved her hand in a throwing motion. The three dancing lights fluttered forward and spread out until they illuminated the underground stream, not all of it, but enough that the two Highlanders could see several dozen yards ahead.
“There. That’ll help.”
Dancer shook his head. “I will never get used to seeing you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Magic. I know I was once a shaman apprentice but our magic is so different from what Red Eagle taught you.”
Amani smiled at the off-hand compliment and memory that it brought to the surface. Tatianna had been a godsend. She was accepting and non-judgmental. Even though she had only been in her life for about a year, she had been the mother figure she had never had.
Lost in her memories, Amani turned back to watch the dancing lights as they flittered over the dark water as the two Highlanders continued their trek down the underground stream.
* * * * *
Khlekluëllin listened to the recommendation of the Elven Council and as much as he hated to admit it, they were right. Given the size of the gathered horde in the Highlands, the Queen’s Regent had no choice but to close the borders of the Elfholm. This meant no more aid to Asylum or Ozymandias.
For the first time in his life, Khlekluëllin knew what made his mother so sad. When she had learned of her daughter’s death, she hadn’t sent the army north in vengeance and he never understood why, until now. The fate and well-being of the entire elven race rested in his hands and he had to err on the side of caution.
“Close the borders. Let no one enter or exit the forest without my expressed permission.” Khlekluëllin pulled off his circlet of royalty and tossed it on the table. For some reason it seemed heavier than normal. “Send the army to north and east, leave only scouts on the west and south.”
The royal messengers rushed out to carry his orders. Khlekluëllin looked around. Numerous guards and advisors surrounded him but he felt alone. ‘This must be what my mother feels like.’
*Possibly but she is never truly alone and neither are you.*
Khlekluëllin grinned. ‘I thank
the gods for the day you entered my life.’
He could almost hear the dragon chuckle over their mental link. *I just thank Terra that I did not eat you when I had the chance.*
‘Yes, that would’ve put a real damper on our relationship.’ Khlekluëllin picked up his circlet and put it back on. For some reason, it felt lighter now. The throne might be lonely but now he knew he was not alone. He was never alone.
* * * * *
Darnac was alone. That was the thought the rolled through his mind. Although he’d walked a lonely path as a Blademaster, he never truly felt alone. At least not until now.
He fought the demon of despair and struggled to regain consciousness. As he opened his eyes, he realized that he must be delirious and seeing things. To his addled mind, Blackfang was under attack. His army had been neutralized and now the beast was fighting Galvorn.
That was impossible, the werewolf’s army was too powerful for his favorite pupil and for that matter, his Onus never used tulwars.
Darnac lowered his head in defeat. By the time his pupils figured out where he was, he’d be dead. The little bit of water and food that Odovacar had been able to smuggle to him was barely enough to keep him alive. Once Blackfang headed south, he would be left behind trapped in this damned boulder.
* * * * *
Chikk grinned with pride at her former students. Not only had Isengrim believed her plea for help, he had enlisted Tamina’s aid and joined forces with Galvorn. When confronted with overwhelming odds, they had come up with a daring and bold plan. As a pirate, Chikk was used to long shots but she felt that this one had a better than average chance to succeed.
Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) Page 39