Tales of the Wolf: Book 02 - Enter the Wolf

by A. E. McCullough

  The knight commander was busy talking to the other newcomers that were warming themselves at the bonfire. There were two halflings; one seemed very old, nearly ancient for a halfling. He was sitting on a log with his hairy feet propped up on another log closer to the roaring flames where his bushy toes would be warm. He was smoking an elaborately carved pipe while listening to his younger, more animated companion who was chattering nonstop to the older knight. The centaur stood nearby and every once in a while offered his own opinion on whatever subject the four were discussing.

  Hawkeye had never met a centaur before but knew much of their history. They were known as Cheiron’s children. With the upper torso of a human and lower half of a horse, they had the intelligence of man yet held the grace and beauty of horses. Over the centuries, the centaurs had become outcasts in many communities across the realm. Many considered them to be unclean beasts. Hawkeye knew that centaurs were neither unclean nor beast. They had their own culture and their own customs; just as humans, elves or highlanders did. Theirs was primarily a nomadic culture just like the herds of wild horses that roam the vast grasslands to the far south.

  Hawkeye stepped into the clearing.

  Before the wolflord could say anything, the older halfling spoke. His voice was soft but could be heard over the chattering of his younger companion. “He is here.”

  The younger halfling turned toward the warlord while the young stallion sheathed the knife he was sharpening and reached for his bow but didn’t ready it. Hawkeye noted a large quiver of arrows hanging over his right shoulder within easy reach. Hawkeye didn’t want the young stallion to draw his bow; centaurs have the reputation of being the finest archers on Terreth.

  The older knight absentmindedly stroked his mustache with his right hand while his left hand rested gently on the pommel of the long sword he wore at his waist. Lowering his legs, the older halfling tapped out his pipe and turned toward the warlord. That’s when Hawkeye noticed that the old halfling’s eyes were pale white with no sign of pupils, the old halfling was blind. Hopping up, the younger halfling pulled back his dark brown hair into a ponytail and stepped forward.

  “Well, I was wondering when someone would come out to greet us.” With an exaggerated bow he added, “I am Broun the Wanderer at your service.” He indicated his companions with a sweep of his hand. “My elderly companion is Lodur the Mystic, my four-legged friend here is Matanza the Mighty and this stern looking fellow is Sir Richard of the Legendary Knights of Krantos. We have been sent north, and I must say very far north, from our respected kingdoms to act as emissaries and liaisons. Would you take us to your leader?”

  Offering a disarming smile, Hawkeye returned the halfling’s bow. “Greetings Broun the Wanderer, Lodur the Mystic, Matanza the Mighty and Sir Richard of Krantos, I am Kamots Hawkeye, Warlord of the Highland Nation.” He swept his arm around to include his surroundings. “I want to welcome you to Sikya, the last free village of the Highland Nation. I’m sorry we didn’t meet you at the gates but we didn’t know you were coming and we are at war. By the way, weren’t you challenged at the gates by our lookouts?”

  A look of innocence crossing his face, Broun shook his head. “No, but it was awfully dark and snowy when we arrived. Maybe they didn’t see us.”

  Matanza and Sir Richard shot their diminutive companion a sharp look that Broun just ignored but Hawkeye didn’t. Letting it slide for now, Hawkeye gestured to the village behind him. “Come, let me offer you what humble quarters we can find given our current situation.”

  Broun, Lodur, Matanza and Sir Richard fell in behind Hawkeye as they made their way through the foot deep snow as the village was beginning to come alive. Already they could hear the sounds of children playing in the snow somewhere to the south. While several warriors, seeming to come out of nowhere, fell in behind the procession.

  Sir Richard just nodded at the warriors’ silent approach while Matanza shot Broun another concerned look but the happy-go-lucky halfling just ignored it. Lodur seemed oblivious to the situation, yet moved with the grace of a person with all of his senses.

  Stopping at a wooden lodge nearby, Hawkeye gestured at the small fire which was burning inside. “Make yourselves comfortable. I will convene the Great Council.” Pointing at the two fierce looking men who had stopped at the entrance, Hawkeye’s voice took on a slightly harder edge. It was still pleasant but very direct. “These warriors will see to any needs you might have until the Great Council convenes.”

  Sir Richard and Matanza nodded their heads in grave understanding while Lodur just smiled and Broun began to explore his new surroundings. The warriors were guards and the newcomers were basically under house arrest. If they tried to leave the lodge, their lives would be forfeit.

  With a slight bow, Sir Richard finally spoke. “We look forward to the meeting so we can clear up any misunderstandings and start a friendship between our three,” glancing at Broun who was wandering around the lodge investigating everything, “I mean, four kingdoms.”

  Hawkeye felt that the knight and the centaur at least understood the gravity of the situation, even if Broun didn’t. “If there is anything you require, just ask the warriors. They will be sure to get it for you.”

  Bowing his upper torso slightly, Matanza added. “We will be fine until then.”

  Turning to leave, Hawkeye was just about to step through the doorway when Broun called out. “Would it be too much to ask for some breakfast?”

  Hawkeye paused in midstride and poked his head back in. “Food will be provided shortly.” Then, he was gone.

  Matanza turned to his friend and poked the halfling in the chest. “Why in Cheiron’s name did you lie to him?”

  Placing a hand over his heart in mock injury, Broun’s face became the epitome of innocence. “Lie? Me? Never!”

  Shaking his head, Sir Richard suppressed a laugh. “You’re right, you didn’t lie. But you also didn’t tell him the whole truth.”

  His face brightening, Broun pointed his left finger in the air. “Yes but I didn’t lie, did I? We have traveled far north and it was dark when we arrived. I just left out the fact that we don’t know how we got here, why we are here or exactly where here is?”

  Moving toward the fire, the old halfling’s voice interrupted Broun and Matanza’s argument. “I can tell you where we are, we’re deep in the Highlands in a camp full of Highlanders who are at war against an ancient evil that shall not be named at this time. This isn’t the most peaceful place to be.”

  “So?” Broun asked innocently.

  Lodur continued. “The Highlanders are a proud race and they take their territories very seriously. I’m sure Hawkeye will investigate our arrival before our next meeting.”

  “So?”

  “He will know we did not get past his lookouts in the dark.” Turning his pale eyes toward Broun, the old halfling asked, “Did you notice his title?”

  “Yes, wasn’t it the Warrior or something like that?”

  Sir Richard pulled forth his long sword and began to polish it. “No. He was a warlord not a warrior; but I don’t understand what the difference between the two titles would be.”

  Nodding his head, Matanza walked over to the fire placing his hands out to warm them he spoke in a quiet voice. “I do. Did you notice that he said he was the Warlord of the Highland Nation, not the Warlord of the Wolf Tribe?”

  Sir Richard nodded his head while Broun just shrugged his shoulders. “So? What’s the difference?”

  “You really don’t know much about the Highlanders, do you?”

  Shaking his head, Broun sat down near the fire and propped up his hairy feet. “No. I’ve never met one until today.”

  Sir Richard also shook his head. “Neither have I but I have heard numerous stories about the barbarians of the Highlands. They have a fierce reputation as warriors with the ability to shapeshift into an animal. I never thought I would meet one, except possibly in combat. There are many who believe that one day they would invade the L
ower Kingdoms.”

  Matanza explained. “Although many in our region consider the highlanders to be barbarians, they have a very rich culture and a great deal of honor. The land they inhabit is harsh and cruel, so to survive and even thrive, they have adopted a culture based on strength of character and physical prowess. Their culture is broken down into different tribes and each tribe is broken down into smaller packs. This helps them survive the harsh conditions of the Highlands. Each pack’s greatest warrior is granted the title of warlord. The warlord rules beside the chieftains and elders. To become the Warlord of the Highland Nation, he must have defeated warlords from all the other tribes in single combat. From what I hear, that is very rare. Kamots Hawkeye is not someone to trifle with.”

  Pulling at his bushy mustache with his left hand Sir Richard inquired, “How do you know so much about the Highlanders?”

  “My grandsire adventured with one. He has told me many stories of them.”

  Waving his hands to dismiss the subject, Broun turned back to the fire. “Don’t worry about it. Hodios will smile on us. I don’t think these barbarians will kill us just for entering their camp unannounced.”

  Matanza’s front hoof pawed the ground nervously. “I’m not too sure of that.”

  “I am. We’ll just explain the situation and go from there.”

  Matanza threw his hands up. “Broun, you’re hopeless. But, I hope you’re right. Just remember, do not lie to them and we might have a chance.”

  “Matanza, you worry too much.” Stretching lazily, Broun flashed his friend an impish grin. “It’ll work out. Trust me!”

  Rubbing his chin, the young stallion muttered under his breath. “Do I have a choice?”

  “That Matanza is the age old question,” Lodur remarked while pulling out his pipe. “The gods have guided us to this meeting but is our course set? Do we have a choice on the path we will walk or have the gods already decided our fate?”

  Taking a puff of his pipe, the old halfling sat back, propped up his feet and smiled as if he already knew the answer. His companions were left pondering his questions and the dire situation that confronted them.

  * * * * *

  Broun, Matanza and Sir Richard spent the morning in idle conversation, while Lodur seemed to stare off into the fire that his milky white eyes could not see. No one came to visit them and the only highlanders that spoke to them were the two warriors Hawkeye had left posted outside. They had brought them food and water shortly after Hawkeye had left. Both had been polite, even pleasant, but neither would elaborate on any of Broun’s numerous questions. They did however caution them about leaving the lodge.

  After about an hour, Broun decided to ignore their warning and tried to leave. Not once, but twice. Neither attempt was very successful. Broun’s first try had been through the main entrance, where he was kindly told that “for his own safety” he needed to remain in the lodge. Broun expected as much, so he tried to slip out the back. He didn’t get four steps before two fierce looking warriors snagged him. Firmly and not too gently, they carried him back to the main entrance before dropping him roughly in the lodge. The two warriors at the entrance smiled grimly and politely reiterated “that for his own safety” he must remain inside the lodge.

  Broun was furious.

  “I can’t believe this! We travel hundreds of miles to help these people and here we are locked up like common criminals! Why it reminds me of the time…”

  In a quiet voice, Lodur interrupted the ranting halfling. “Highlanders don’t have common criminals.”

  Broun furrowed his eyebrows. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  Turning from the fire, the older halfling fixed Broun in a blank stare with his pale white eyes. “Highlanders don’t have common criminals or any criminals as far as I know.”

  “What do you mean no criminals? Every culture has a criminal element! Even the daisy loving elves!”

  Lodur shook his head. “Not the Highlanders. Every man, woman or child works for the betterment of the whole tribe. Anyone who does not carry his or her weight is cast out of the tribe. One of their maxims goes something like this: ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  “Or the one,” added a deep voice.

  Turning quickly, the companions quickly reached for their weapons. Outlined in sunlight, Hawkeye stood in the doorway. The newcomers could tell he wasn’t alone but due to the bright light behind him they couldn’t see who was with him.

  Matanza lowered his bow. “Excuse me? What was that?”

  Hawkeye moved gracefully into the lodge.

  “You left out part of the saying. The correct saying goes, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.’ It teaches our children to think of the tribe first, the pack second and the individual last. That way the tribe survives even if the individual doesn’t.” Gesturing to the old man with him, Hawkeye stepped to the side. “This is Anasazi the Ancient One, my uncle and a member of the Great Council. He wishes to ask you several questions concerning your arrival to our camp.”

  Lodur, Matanza and Sir Richard nodded their heads in silent greeting but Broun sensed the truth in Hawkeye’s words. He folded his arms over his chest and sat down heavily on some furs. “Sounds like an interrogation to me.”

  Hawkeye clenched his jaw at the halfling’s tone while Anasazi just smiled and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The ancient shaman spoke in a soft whisper. “Let me handle this.”

  Nodding his head, Hawkeye moved back a few steps.

  Approaching the young halfling, Anasazi sat down slowly until he was eye level with the shorter newcomer. “What my nephew was trying to say is that we are at war with a very resourceful and cunning foe. We cannot afford to take anything at face value. Given another time and another place, we would have welcomed you as friends with a large feast and a celebration.”

  With a deep sigh he continued. “But alas, that is not to be. We are forced to be suspicions over everyone, especially strangers. Blackfang and the Dark Alliance know too much as it is.”

  Broun seemed to calm down a little. Looking deep into the pale blue eyes of the old shaman, he saw great wisdom and kindness. “I understand.”

  “It is good that you understand where we are coming from; now we must know where you are coming from. You told my nephew that you arrived during the night, yet no tracks coming into the camp have been found. Is this the truth?”

  Broun cast a glance at his companion and could read Matanza’s thoughts, ‘Tell them the truth or I will.’ Swallowing hard, Broun scratched his chin. “Well, technically yes it is true.”

  Due to the spell Anasazi had cast before entering the lodge, he knew what Broun was saying was the truth but common sense told him that he was leaving something out. “Is that the whole truth?”

  Broun hesitated before continuing. “Well, not exactly.”

  Looking at the grim face of Hawkeye, Broun noticed the hard edges of his face, the little lines of stress on his brow, the slant of his nose and the clear grey of his eyes. He decided Hawkeye was not a man he wanted to make his enemy. Taking a deep breath, the halfling began his story.

  “Well the three of us, Lodur, Matanza and I were traveling south to Asylum to do some negotiating about some trade disagreements between our nations.” He nodded his head toward the centaur. “Manny’s people live in the surrounding grasslands while my people have built a small, yet thriving village at the edge of the Draken River. Our two nations have a great relationship. We raise crops for them and they hunt game for us, it’s really a great way of life.”

  Pulling out his pipe, Broun began to fill it as he warmed up to his tale.

  “We’ve had a terrible winter. Almost all of our stores are gone and the wild game in the nearby forest has been extremely scarce. Our respected leaders sent us to Asylum to negotiate with their merchants with the hope of gaining food and stores for the rest of the winter.”

  Lighting his pipe, he looked at his friend. “Well
, at first everything was going great. The weather wasn’t too bad just a little cold, which is normal for this time of the year so we made great time. By the end of the first day, we were almost to the edge of the Great Forest. That’s when we met our first bit of trouble.”

  Pausing, Broun looked up at his friend. “Do you remember those five bandits who attacked us just as we came out of the forest?”

  Turning back to his audience, Broun continued. “You see Lodur and I were riding Manny when these five idiots jumped out of a nearby tree. Leaping off Manny, I…”

  With a nudge of his foreleg Matanza said, “Broun, they don’t need to hear about the bandits.”

  “But I was just getting to the good part. Remember when I did a summersault, landing…”

  “Broun! Get to the point.”

  Hawkeye, Anasazi, Sir Richard and the other knights couldn’t help but smile at the excited halfling. Hawkeye could tell that Broun was sometimes annoying but he was a very likable fellow; the other two were thinking the same thing.

  A little deflated, Broun continued. “Well, after I dispatched three of the bandits we continued on our way. Crossing the open plains and rolling hills that are north of Asylum, we were making great time when we ran into something really weird.” Pausing, Broun took a long drag on his pipe.

  When he didn’t continue immediately, Anasazi prodded him. “What do you mean by weird?”

  The halfling scratched his chin. “Weird. Unnatural. Magical.”

  “Well, what was it?”

  “A fog bank. Now, I know there is nothing really weird about a fog bank but this one seemed to move against the wind and it was out of place. The day was cold but clear. There shouldn’t have been any fog. As we tried to go around it, it turned to follow us.”