Tatianna’s smile fled her face as she looked up at the ancient shaman when he joined the small gathering. “It’s not over is it?”
Anasazi shook his head. “Not as long as you two live, Clotho cannot allow your son to grow up and gather the Nine.” He gestured outside. “If she doesn’t win today, she will try again tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. She will not give up until he is dead or she is destroyed.”
Tatianna nodded as that thought sunk in. Today’s attack was just a prelude to the long battle ahead. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the words of Aquilo once again as he warned that she could only save one in the end. Looking at the innocent face of her son, she knew what must be done.
She kissed her son on the forehead gently. “Lodur foretold your coming therefore his prophecy shall be your name.” Kissing his chest, Tatianna lifted the infant toward the heavens as was the elven tradition. “I name thee Graytael.”
She turned her crystal blue eyes on the dwarf. “Rjurik, I have a great favor to ask of you. Will you help me?”
“Aye lass, whatever you need.”
She placed Graytael in his one good arm. “Watch over my son, keep him safe.”
As she struggled to stand, Matanza reached out to steady her. “Tatianna you should rest. You shouldn’t overexert yourself.”
Tatianna waved off his help. “There is no time to rest. Hawkeye needs me.”
Nilrem spoke up. “That may be but your son needs you more.”
Tatianna nodded her head. “So true, so true.”
Ignoring everyone else, Tatianna searched through the bodies of the dead villagers until she found the bloody body of the newborn. Lifting it up gently, Tatianna kissed its cold head as tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry little one but it is possible that your death won’t be in vain.”
Moving to the cave entrance, she looked back at the small gathering. “Don’t fret. This was foretold. I have known all along that I could only save one, therefore it shall be Graytael. I shall do what I must and leave his existence a secret to only you six. Make sure he grows up strong.”
Stepping out of the cave, she watched the battle for a moment before making eye contact with her brothers. Nodding her greetings, she spoke a word of magic and a portal of white light appeared.
Stepping inside, both her and the baby disappeared.
* * * * *
Khlekluëllin and Mortharona could never remember a worse battle. The gigantic scorpion seemed to grow stronger with every kill. Their magical blades would score deep gashes only to watch them heal over with the next kill the scorpion made. The twins danced and parried with all their skill but they knew it was only a matter of time before one or both fell to the demon scorpion.
Mortharona yelled, “This isn’t good!”
Blocking another attack of the scorpion’s tail, Khlekluëllin yelled back, “You think? Any suggestions?”
Diving out of the way of a pincer the size of a wagon Mortharona shouted, “Nope. Hell, I don’t even think your pet dragon could take this thing.”
Slashing at the pincer, Khlekluëllin said, “I wish Hal was around to find out!”
*You called my friend?*
Khlekluëllin dove to the side. “Hal, are you nearby?”
*I am circling above you at this moment. Do you wish me to intervene?*
“Yes please!”
Few things in life are more rewarding than seeing a blue dragon land on the back of the black scorpion that was about to kill you. It becomes one of those images you can recall at will due to the sheer importance of the incident not to mention the rarity of seeing a dragon fight a giant scorpion. The twins and the dwarves moved back to give the two battling giants room. Over three-quarters of the dwarven warriors were dead or seriously injured. However, those still able to fight readied their weapons and watched the titanic struggle.
Midach and Padric moved alongside the twins. Midach nodded toward the dragon. “A friend of yours?”
“Yes, a great friend,” said Khlekluëllin. “Halhulingrath, or Hal for short, has come to our rescue twice now.”
Midach thumped the elf on the thigh. “You make the strangest friends. If we survive this, I owe you the largest ale in Darkmoor.”
Khlekluëllin said, “If we survive this I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Looking around, Khlekluëllin spied his sister at the entrance to the cave. His heart leapt with the joy of seeing her alive. Tapping his brother’s shoulder, he pointed her out. Mortharona grinned as he waved his greeting. Both brothers were shocked when all she did was give them a slight nod before summoning a portal of white light and disappearing inside it.
“What…what was that?” asked Mortharona.
Khlekluëllin looked over at his brother with a frown. “Did you see what she was carrying?”
Mortharona shook his head. “No, what was it?”
A cry of triumph from Halhulingrath drew everyone’s attention as the gigantic scorpion disintegrated under the dragon’s attack. The surviving dwarves cheered for a moment before moving to look after their wounded.
With a flap of his mighty wings, Hal landed beside the twins. Both King Padric and Midach took an involuntary step back. They had never been this close to a dragon before and the sight frightened them. The huge dragon lowered his head till it was next to Khlekluëllin’s thigh and nudged him slightly. Absentmindedly, Khlekluëllin began scratching the ridges behind the dragon’s eyes. Hal nearly purred with pleasure at the attention.
Khlekluëllin said, “Thanks Hal.”
*My pleasure my friend. I told you that if you were ever in need, I was only a call away.*
“I’ll have to remember that.”
King Padric took a tentative step forward and dropped to one knee. “Great dragon, you have saved many of my people this day. How may I repay this debt?”
Hal looked up at Khlekluëllin before broadcasting his thoughts to everyone gathered. *There is no debt King Padric Grimaxe. I did not fight the shadow beast to save you but to save my friend. If you and your people were saved by it, count that as a blessing.*
Khlekluëllin rapped the dragon on the snout with the flat of his sword blade. “Hal, mind your manners. These dwarves are my friends and our allies against Blackfang.”
Hal lowered his head slightly. *So true. My apologies King Padric, old hatreds die hard.*
The king stood up. “No need to apologize great dragon, I know our races have warred in the past but no longer; not as long as I am king or my kin.”
*Then that is enough of a reward.*
Mortharona stepped forward but still gave the dragon a wide berth. “Khlekluëllin, this is all well and good between your pet and the king but this doesn’t answer where Tatianna went.”
Khlekluëllin turned to look back at the cave. “You’re right…”
Still broadcasting to everyone nearby Hal said, *She went to join someone named Hawkeye.*
“Hawkeye!” said Khlekluëllin. “Then he is still alive somewhere.”
Mortharona asked suspiciously. “How would you know that?”
*You would be surprised what I can see and hear.*
Khlekluëllin asked, “Hal, would you happen to know where she was heading or why?”
The great dragon lifted his head until he was at eye level with Khlekluëllin. *The child she carried was dead. I would guess she went to join Hawkeye in death.”
Mortharona said, “We must stop her!”
*It is her choice. Why would you want to stop her?*
“It’s an elf thing Hal. Suicide is frowned upon in our society,” explained Khlekluëllin. “But to stop her, we would have to know where she was and with that spell, she could be anywhere.”
*No. She is with Hawkeye and he is just a little south of us fighting a losing battle.*
Now it was Khlekluëllin’s turn to ask, “How would you know that?”
*I know much of what is going on in this region. While you were underground, I h
ave spent my time flying and watching. The barbarians are fighting a much larger army on a series of bridges to the far south.*
“The Daggers,” said Midach. “Hawkeye must be fighting them on the bridges that span the lava pits which lead to our Southern Gate.”
“Hal, can you take us there in time?” asked Khlekluëllin.
*Are you sure you want this? She obviously didn’t want you there.*
Khlekluëllin nodded. “Yes. It is my duty to try and save her, even if the Chosen One is dead.”
Halhulingrath cocked his head slightly sideways before answering. *Very well, climb on. If we are to reach her in time I will have to fly a bit faster than the last time you rode.*
Leaping onto the back of his friend Khlekluëllin said, “Let’s fly Hal.”
Mortharona scrambled on without asking and wedged himself behind his brother. “Just to let you know dragon flying scares the willies out of me.”
Khlekluëllin and Hal both laughed as the blue dragon launched himself into the early morning sky.
Chapter 37
With the arrival of the Joten army, the Dark Alliance pulled back giving the Highlanders a much needed break. They had been fighting in shifts throughout the long night; those not on the front lines tried their best to rest but found themselves returning to the battle time and time again as holes were forced in their lines. Hawkeye did a quick headcount. Of the fifteen hundred warriors who left Sikya over two-thirds were dead or crippled. Judging from the look of the cyclopean army, Hawkeye knew they wouldn’t be able to stand against the Jotens when they attacked. There just were enough of them.
Hawkeye was bandaging a gash on his thigh as he saw Odovacar crossing the battleground. The boar warlord had a large cut on the left side of his face. Hawkeye grinned at his friend. “It seems we are both hard to kill.” Nodding toward the camp of the Dark Alliance he asked, “You still think we will make till tonight?”
Odovacar didn’t hesitate when he answered. “No…not a chance.”
“Me either. I think it is time to move back to the security of the dwarven homeland.”
Odovacar looked at all the wounded. “It will take time to move everyone across the bridge. Once Blackfang realizes we are fleeing, he’ll pursue and overtake us.”
“True but he will have to go through the Seekers to reach you.”
The boar warlord understood what the Wolflord meant. Those warriors that had drawn the red arrow would be staying behind to act as a rear guard and sacrifice themselves for their brethren.
“Get everyone ready. When we attack, move to the gates and convince the dwarves to let you in. Gaining safety inside of Darkmoor is the only hope for the men.”
Odovacar cocked his head to the side. “You plan on attacking?”
“It doesn’t look as if my brother is coming to me, so I must go to him. Besides, I promised the Seekers a chance to kill Blackfang and I would hate to disappoint them.”
Shaking hands, the two warlords headed off to different parts of the battleground, each yelling orders. Both knew the end was near…one way or the other.
* * * * *
Blackfang and Lalith watched as the Joten army neatly broke up into three sections.
One well formed unit positioned themselves at the base of the closest bridge and motioned for the goblins and gnomes to leave the battleground. Not wanting to be in the way of the massive cyclops, the diminutive warriors gave up the bridge until only distance and a few dead bodies stood between them and the barbarians.
The other two units were in disproportioned size, one was a small entourage of ten colossal warriors that accompanied the Joten commander as he made his way to meet with Blackfang. The other section seemingly dispersed into small groups, each moving toward a campfire but none that were on the far side of the camp.
Only Darnac seemed to think this behavior odd. Calmly drawing his twin sabers, he casually rested them on his forearms and moved up to stand just behind and to the right of his mistress.
In near perfect precision, the Joten detachment halted several feet from Blackfang giving the Dark Alliance commanders their first real view of the reformed Joten army.
Each warrior was outfitted in similar armor with their shins and right shoulders covered in bronze metal plates. Their bronze shields, easily as large as the tallest barbarian, were carried in their left hands with ease. The warrior to the left of the Joten commander spoke a word in their native language and the cyclopean formation opened up into a line before promptly dropping down to kneel on one knee.
The Joten sub-commander moved in front of Lalith and dropped to one knee. With head bowed, Geiryon spoke. “M’lord Blackfang might I present our new Jarl, Grunk Nightslayer, the eldest son of Thantos Terrorfist.”
The Joten commander with the red horsetail plume stepped forward until he was standing in front of Blackfang. Looking down on the barbarian from his height of nearly nine feet, Grunk looked very intimidating in his gleaming bronze armor. As the two commanders’ eyes met, immediately the air filled with tension as they sized each other up.
It is a natural phenomenon between warriors; everyone you meet is a potential ally or enemy. While true warriors study and evaluate everyone they meet on an unconscious level; occasionally when two warriors meet on the battlefield, it becomes an almost tangible thing.
Oblivious to the rising tension Lalith said, “Welcome to the camp of the Dark Alliance Grunk Nightslayer, Clotho will be pleased that you have honored your ancient pact.”
Her words distracted Grunk enough to make him shift his gaze from Blackfang over to the sorceress. The young Jarl nodded his head. “The pleasure is ours dark lady. We wouldn’t miss this gathering for the world.”
Blackfang liked the discipline of his new troops but felt uneasy with their new commander. Thantos had been easy to manipulate but this new Jarl seemed to be cut from a different cloth than his father and that worried him. Grunk seemed to be a charismatic leader with well-disciplined troops. That made him a threat and to Blackfang, threats needed to be eliminated.
Blackfang asked, “Grunk Nightslayer, why don’t you remove your helmet and enjoy our hospitality before we destroy the remnants of the renegades?”
It might’ve been a question but everyone nearby knew it was more of a command than question.
Grunk said, “Of course m’lord.”
Jamming his spear into the dirt, Grunk leaned his tower shield on it. Reaching up with both hands, he slowly removed his helmet and gazed upon his rivals.
* * * * *
Hawkeye didn’t waste the opportunity given to them with the arrival of the Jotens. Seeing the gnomes and goblins pull back, he immediately ordered the evacuation of the wounded. Only the Seekers of Luna would remain to face the coming Joten onslaught.
Odovacar led the remaining defenders and wounded across the final bridge. Pausing at the colossal doors, the boar warlord couldn’t help but wonder why would a race with an average height of four feet build doors that were over fifty feet tall?
Shrugging his shoulders, Odovacar slammed the door knocker three times extremely hard. The echoing booms and murmuring behind the doors let the Highlanders know that someone was on the other side. Cries of alarm echoing in the camp of the Dark Alliance diverted everyone’s attention as the colossal doors began to open. Odovacar couldn’t tell what was going on in the camp but whatever it was, it wasn’t his concern. His duty was to get the wounded and the rest of the warriors safely into the dwarven stronghold.
When the doors were open less than a foot, a flood of goblins came pouring out and the Highlanders found themselves in the fight of their lives.
Those that survived the initial onslaught shifted into their much deadlier hybrid forms and attacked. The one advantage the Highlanders had was that no matter where they swung their weapons, they would surely strike an enemy. However, there seemed no end of goblins and the Highlanders were quickly overwhelmed.
* * * * *
Lalith’s eyes went wide w
hen she saw the face of the new Jarl. A flash of memory raced through her mind as she recognized him as the crazy cyclops on the rope which spoiled her spell against Tatianna and killed her favorite phase spider. She pointed and screamed, “You!”
The next few minutes were total chaos.
Realizing their charade was up, the Jotens attacked. Grunk threw his helmet at Blackfang to distract him before pulling free his massive battle-axe. Unfortunately, Blackfang was quicker than Grunk had realized and leapt backwards out of range of his first swing. However Grunk was an expert with an axe and whirled the huge blade with ease; slashing and thrusting continuously which kept Blackfang on the defensive as they moved across the battleground. The barbarian had shifted into his hybrid form which seemed to give him supernatural reflexes and inhuman strength as he leapt backwards clearing the line of warriors and taking him far out of Grunk’s reach.
Geiryon had knelt in front of the Dark Lady for a reason and was just waiting for the signal from his Jarl to attack. Her recognition of him hadn’t been the planned signal but it worked. Geiryon executed a near perfect thrust with his spear while simultaneously speaking a word of magic which would surround the sorceress in a globe of darkness just in case she survived. Even as skilled as Geiryon’s thrust was, it didn’t land.
Darnac had taken a vow to protect Lalith and knew that his life was linked to hers. Being suspicion of anything and everything was the price of staying alive and when the massive cyclops knelt in front of her, the Blademaster had edged forward. With the first hint of attack, Darnac was already on the move. Using his twin sabers, he blocked the spear thrust with one and counter-attacked with the other; passing his blade through the cyclops’ throat. Glancing over at his mistress, Darnac grinned as she stumbled around the area cursing in their native tongue. As the other cyclopean warriors attacked, the blademaster became a blur of motion; blocking and countering the numerous attacks but at no time did he execute a counter-attack or even try to kill them; Darnac had no animosity to the Jotens and wasn’t, at the moment, under orders to kill them.
Tales of the Wolf: Book 02 - Enter the Wolf Page 30