Tales of the Wolf: Book 02 - Enter the Wolf

by A. E. McCullough

  Blackfang turned back to look at his brother. He was either distracted by the child or overconfident in his ability but whichever it was, Hawkeye’s tomahawk slipped past his guard and sliced open a large gash just on the edge of Blackfang’s left eye.

  Even through the pain, Blackfang could tell that Hawkeye was on the move and lashed out.

  Diving under the wild attack, Hawkeye scooped up the baby and smiled as he gazed down at his son. For a brief second, all was right in the world. That was the image he took to his grave as the world disappeared in a flash of pain and light.

  * * * * *

  When Lalith saw Hawkeye move toward the baby, she shifted her attention to the silver-white furred werewolf. Even though she was about to kill him, Lalith couldn’t help but admire the warlord.

  He was lean of body and brawny like his wolf totem, very similar to his brother but there was a warmth to his eyes that was missing from Blackfang. Emotionally, she could see what attracted Tatianna to him but logically it didn’t matter, only serving the needs of her goddess mattered.

  Speaking the trigger phrase of the lightning spell, Lalith watched with grim satisfaction as the huge black bolt consumed the barbarian and his child.

  * * * * *

  Tatianna shrieked in terror as she watched the death of her husband.

  Even though she had known in her heart that it would happen, it was still a great shock. Tatianna was so distracted that she didn’t notice Blackfang’s thrust until the unholy blade entered her body. Her blood felt aflame as the world exploded. Even though the pain rolled through her body, Tatianna focused all her anger onto her husband’s brother who was still in his hybrid form.

  Suddenly, the memory of when Blackfang had raped her superimposed itself over top of the current situation. He had the same smell as then, the same guttural laugh and once again he was violating her flesh; the last time was with his flesh and now with his unholy blade.

  Anger overwhelmed her. Reaching out with a bloody hand, Tatianna just touched his snout and spoke the last phrase of the curse she wove those many months ago when Amani had barged into her tipi. Fueling the spell with her rage and pain, the curse took a visible form as a red light rolled down Blackfang’s body before exploding out to encompass the whole area. Whenever the light touched a Highlander, good or evil, they fell to the ground screaming. Blackfang released the grip on his sword and flopped about in agony.

  “What did you do to him?” screamed Lalith as she rushed to the side of her lover.

  Tatianna struggled to pull free the sword before dropping it. Seeing her life’s blood stain the snowy ground, she forced herself to stumble over to the charred corpse of her husband. Tears mingled with her blood as she knelt down and said softly, “Good-bye my beloved.”

  Lalith looked around.

  Every Highlander was down and the Jotens had been contained into three small units. Although the Dark Alliance had suffered greatly, they still numbered in the thousands. Lalith couldn’t help but gloat.

  “You have lost. Your husband is dead, your child is dead, and your army is dead and soon, so shall your goddess die. Nothing shall stop Clotho from coming forth to rule all of Terreth.”

  Tatianna glanced up at her enemy.

  “Possibly. But you won’t be around to see it.”

  Dipping her fingers into her own blood, she smeared a bit of it on her forehead as she began an ancient chant. Lalith paled as she recognized the spell.

  It was known by many names throughout Terreth but the most common was ‘Blaze of Glory.’ It was a powerful spell that channeled the caster’s life force into one mighty blast of magic, consuming the caster and destroying a good portion of the landscape nearby. Lalith didn’t know of any means of disrupting the spell due to its short casting time and deadly feedback if disrupted. Knowing she only had seconds to act, Lalith wrapped her arms around Blackfang and spoke the command phrase on her escape spell.

  Tatianna’s spell was complete.

  In the split second before she died, she was completely at peace. As her world was consumed in flame, she felt no pain and no heat only the comforting love of her goddess. And then, she was gone.

  Chapter 39

  Khlekluëllin flinched as the landscape exploded. The rolling flames consumed everything in its path as a gigantic fireball rocketed skyward.

  Halhulingrath veered away sharply. *What in the name of Terra was that?*

  “Holy Aurora! It couldn’t be…”

  Mortharona opened his eye for the first time since they had taken flight, saw the expanding fireball and asked, “What is that?”

  Khlekluëllin glanced over his shoulder. “I saw Tatianna get stabbed by a werewolf. After which she cast a spell on him, I would guess it was a curse of some sort. A minute later I saw her begin casting a spell and then, boom! The whole area was consumed.”

  Mortharona asked, “You don’t think?”

  Khlekluëllin shrugged. “I don’t know but what other spell could’ve done such mass destruction?”

  Hal chimed in. *It sounds as if you two know what you are talking about but I don’t. And considering I almost flew into that fireball, I would like to know what happened.*

  Reaching down, Khlekluëllin scratched the scales on the dragon’s neck and said, “This is only speculation but there is only one spell I have ever heard of that could wreak such devastation, Eldath’s Explosion. It is taught to all Masterweavers as a last ditch spell, one that kills the caster and destroys the area around him or her.”

  “But Tatianna wasn’t a Masterweaver. She was a just a Bladeweaver like us.”

  Khlekluëllin shook his head. “You and I both know she was always the strongest spellweaver of our generation. Mother must’ve arranged for her to get some private instructions from the Masters.”

  Seeing the fireball dissipate Hal interrupted. *Is it safe to fly back in?*

  Khlekluëllin nodded. “Yes. Although I am sure there won’t be much to see, I need to be sure. It’s the least we could do for our sister.”

  Hal immediately banked back toward the area of destruction as the twins stared and wondered.

  * * * * *

  Anasazi lowered his head as he slowly turned to the five companions standing in the cave and spoke in a quiet voice.

  “It is done.”

  “Tatianna?” asked Amani.

  The ancient shaman shook his head.

  Rjurik asked, “Hawkeye?”

  “They are both gone.” Anasazi nodded toward the baby still in his arms. “You are now his guardian.” The ancient shaman gestured to the centaur and the halfling nearby and added, “Of course Matanza and Broun that job now includes the both of you.”

  As tears filled his eyes, Rjurik looked down at the small baby in his arms and thought about the future. He had spent his entire life alone. Even during his time in Darkmoor, he had been a rebel by never taking a wife or settling down to a comfortable trade. Feeling the need to travel, Rjurik had left his homeland and wandered the world for many years. Always coming back but never staying for long. It had been on one of his walkabouts when he had met Hawkeye and the two had become great friends. Now his friend was gone and his only living heir was the child of prophecy. He would be hunted for the rest of his life and left in his care. The future looked bleak to the old dwarf.

  Anasazi pulled forth a small hide pouch and placed it around the baby’s neck. Speaking a few words of magic, the medicine pouch faded from view.

  Looking into Rjurik’s eyes he said, “Never, never, never allow Graytael to remove this pouch; it will hide him from all means of magical scrying.”

  Rjurik nodded his understanding. “Where will we go? Where is safe from the followers of Clotho?”

  Broun spoke up. “Home.”

  Matanza nodded. “He’s right. Homestead is a simple village but all races are welcome there. His heritage shouldn’t draw too much attention.”

  Rjurik said, “That sounds like as good a plan as any.”

 
Anasazi turned his attention to Nilrem and Amani.

  “You two have a choice, go with them or stay. If you go with them know that you must leave your homeland behind forever, lest those loyal to Blackfang follow you back to Graytael. Or stay in the Highlands and work to rebuild the Highland Nation. Either way, his existence must remain a secret.”

  Nilrem glanced over at the young girl. “I cannot speak for Amani but my duty is first and foremost to my people. Hawkeye would not want me to forsake our people.”

  Looking down at the enchanted katana still in her hands, Amani spoke softly. “I have lost everything I love to the Dark Alliance; my mother, my father and lastly, Red Eagle.” She paused for a moment before looking up at the ancient shaman. “As much as I would love to flee and hide from the Dark Alliance, I’m a Highlander. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. I will stay and help Bluebear, if he will have me.”

  Nilrem reached out and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “Amani I would be honored to have you as my daughter.”

  Anasazi watched the two Highlanders for a moment before speaking. “Amani, you have suffered greatly in this war but you haven’t let it dampen your spirits nor poison your beliefs. Therefore, I christen you Stormrider from this day forward.”

  Anasazi turned back to Nilrem. “I don’t have the gift of prophecy but with Red Eagle and Hawkeye dead and the existence of the Chosen One a secret, I would think you should be able to return to Itasca but I would caution against it. It was once Blackfang’s home and if he survives, he may yet return to it. I would still suggest Crannogg. It would be a new start for everyone.”

  Nilrem cocked his head to the side. “It doesn’t sound like you will be returning with us.”

  “No. I will be with you for a short time. There is much to be done among the Highlanders but my place is to guide the Chosen One to his destiny. That cannot be done in the Highlands, so eventually I must leave but first I must train someone to take over for me.”

  Anasazi winked at Amani when he said that. Looking up at the cave entrance he said, “The dwarves are coming. You three must depart.”

  Broun scooped up his pack and hopped onto Mantaza’s back. Looking around the cave, the halfling asked the obvious question. “How? That’s the only way in or out of here.”

  With a smirk, Anasazi waved his hands and spoke several words of magic. A portal of white light opened in the air before them.

  “The same way Red Eagle traveled. This will take you to the forest below the Wall. It is already spring in the lowlands so you shouldn’t have any difficulties reaching Homestead.”

  Rjurik shifted the baby into the crook of his injured arm and looked up at the large barbarian. Holding out his good hand the old dwarf said, “Hawkeye always spoke highly of you...do his memory honor.”

  Nilrem returned the handshake. “It was an honor to know Hawkeye. I can do nothing but live in his shadow and strive to make him proud.”

  Rjurik wiped away a tear. “That will be enough.”

  Amani Stormrider leaned in to kiss the baby on the forehead and spoke quietly. “One day when you need me, I will be there for you Graytael. That is my promise to you and to your mother may her soul rest in peace.” Turning away, she buried her face in Nilrem’s chest as sobs wracked her body.

  Without another word, the companions stepped into the white light and disappeared from the Highlands. Moments later, the dwarves entered the cave only to find the three Highlanders alive among the scattered body parts of the rest of the villagers.

  Chapter 40

  Halhulingrath landed at the foot of the bridge and nothing moved.

  They were surrounded by charred remains, most were still smoldering and some were still burning. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona climbed off slowly and gazed at the destruction. Judging from the remains, the combined number of the armies must have been in the mid-thousands. The stench was awful. Khlekluëllin began studying the pattern of the destruction while his brother just looked around dumbfounded.

  Without saying a word, Khlekluëllin moved slowly forward until he stood over two charred corpses. “Here’s where they died.”

  Mortharona moved up beside his brother and gazed down at the remains. “Are you sure it was her?”

  Bending down, Khlekluëllin gently probed the bodies until he pulled free a small circlet of metal. Even with the stone cracked and metal tarnished from the intense heat; the twins recognized it to be their sister’s tiara. It had been a family heirloom for generations always passed down to the oldest daughter.

  Khlekluëllin said, “Yes. It was her.” Gesturing to the remains of the baby he added, “And this must’ve been her son, the Chosen One, the child of prophecy.”

  Mortharona looked around the battlefield and spied the blackened remains of a claymore laying several feet away. Moving over to it, he bent down to retrieve the blade. “I wonder if Blackfang and Lalith perished in the blast? I don’t see any bodies just his blade.”

  “They survived,” came a voice from their left.

  Khlekluëllin stood slowly and turned to face the voice, while Mortharona dropped the ruined claymore, drew his swords and assumed a fighting stance. Halhulingrath just paused in his cleaning to watch. Whatever they were expecting, seeing a dark elf and a joten walking side by side wasn’t it. Khlekluëllin didn’t feel threatened by the two newcomers but placed his hand on the hilt of his blade anyway.

  “How is it that you know this?”

  Stopping several paces away, Darnac and Grunk studied the twins.

  Grunk had last seen them fighting for their lives in the Pit many months ago. Knowing that his people didn’t have a very trustworthy relationship with the light elves, Grunk remained silent.

  Darnac held his hands open and away from his body as he replied. “Two reasons. One, like Mortharona has already discovered there are no bodies. Two,” tapping the silver torc around his neck, he continued, “this is still attached and active.”

  Mortharona straightened up slightly but still held his blades at the ready. “How do you know my name dark elf?”

  “I know much about both of you but how does not matter at this time. I am not your enemy and,” he gestured to the daunting figure beside him, “neither is he; but since we haven’t been introduced properly, I am Darnac Penumbra, Blademaster of Avaris and a loyal follower of Hecate. And this is Grunk Nightslayer, Jarl of the Jotens.”

  Khlekluëllin shot a mental question to Hal, ‘Are they trustworthy?’

  Halhuligrath seemed to ignore the newcomers and returned to his preening, *That is for you to decide, however caution is always advisable but distrust is always disastrous to a friendship.*

  Khlekluëllin nodded to himself and made a slight gesture with his hand which told his brother to stand down. He had decided to take the two strangers at face value and turned back to the remains of his sister and his friend.

  “What happened here?”

  Darnac understood the action of Khlekluëllin turning his back; it was an informal sign of trust. Keeping his movements slow, Darnac replied. “I am not sure. What I can tell you is this, the battle was chaos. The Jotens and Highlanders had been surrounded and almost overrun when your sister arrived. Grunk and I were fighting near the ravine when I chased him over the edge.

  Mortharona asked, “Chased him? You two were fighting each other? Why?”

  Darnac shrugged. “It was the only way I could think of to save his life.”

  “You might want to explain that statement,” Khlekluëllin added.

  “Simple, my life is bound in service to Lalith for another quarter century. My skills are at her disposal and if she had ordered me to kill Grunk or either of you, then death would’ve followed.”

  Khlekluëllin had heard that their dark cousins still had slavery but had never contemplated how it was a natural part of their society. Nothing about slavery made sense to him but he tried to keep an open mind.

  “So you are bound to Lalith which is how you know she
is still alive.”

  Darnac nodded. “Yes. And if Blackfang’s sword is here and no corpse, then I would surmise that she teleported him away also.”

  “Then Tatianna’s death was for nothing,” Mortharona said as he spit on the charred soil.

  Grunk shook his head as he gestured to the surrounding area. In the lower areas movement could now be seen, some of the Jotens and Highlanders had survived. “I wouldn’t say that. She did not waste her life; she gave it to save Terreth.”

  “Greater love hath no man than that who gives his life for another,” quoted Khlekluëllin. “I too know the tenets of the Ancients but the Chosen One is dead. The prophecy cannot be fulfilled without him.”

  Grunk fingered the medallion of his god. “The gods will find a way, we have to have faith.”

  Khlekluëllin nodded at the slight rebuke from another believer. “So true, Aurora would not be pleased in my doubt.”

  Darnac added, “If nothing else Tatianna’s blast shattered the Dark Alliance. This was the bulk of their numbers and it will take time for them to rebuild.”

  “And the Joten army stands against the Dark Alliance for as long as I am Jarl,” said Grunk.

  Mortharona was about to say something when a black shimmering portal opened nearby and stopped him cold. Something about the portal tugged at his soul, he couldn’t describe it but it called to him. He yearned to step inside. Feeling his pulse quicken, Mortharona forced himself to turn away and ignore the call.

  Completely unaware of the dark twin’s struggle, Darnac took a deep breath and turned to face his cyclopean companion. “I must depart my friend, the Dark Lady calls.”

  “It was good to see you again.”

  Darnac nodded. “Aye that it was.”

  Turning his attention to Khlekluëllin, the Blademaster said, “I will report what I saw and what I know. Our meeting will not be known to the Dark Lady unless she asks directly.” Darnac nodded his head toward the darker twin. “She has not forgotten you two, pray that she does; her attention is like kissing a black widow.”