Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf (32 page)

Still dazed, Hawkeye just watched as Chewda the Wolverine warlord tore into the chest of the cyclops. The unfortunate cyclops struggled futilely trying to keep the snarling wolverine away from his neck. Rolling back and forth for several minutes, its struggling became weaker and weaker. Blood staining the snowy ground until, finally, the wolverine released its grip on the dead cyclops’ throat. Seeing the few remaining gnomes, Chewda still full of bloodlust, attacked. The gnomes fled into the forest.

Hawkeye wished for the world to stop spinning. Feeling a slight chill on the back of his neck, he reached up to rub it. A wave of pain washed over him, making his stomach roll and tighten. Pulling his hand away from his neck, he noticed it covered in blood.

A deep, yet gentle voice broke the silence of the forest. “Well, young Hawkeye, it seems you zigged when you should have zagged.” 

Opening his eyes, Hawkeye glanced up. The first thing he noticed about the mountain of a man that stood before him were his eyes; they were the intense blue of a mountain stream and they held a glint of concern mixed with the sparkle of amusement as they looked down at him.

Finding his own voice, Hawkeye spoke up. “Greetings, great one. It seems that our little challenge has been interrupted by some uninvited guests.”

Throwing back his head, Nilrem laughed loudly. It was a wondrous sound. It was the laughter of someone who is full of the little joys in life. “True…but then it is always more fun to fight an enemy than a friend.” 

Reaching out his hand, he grabbed Hawkeye by the forearm and helped him stand. Once he was standing, the pain in his neck and back returned with a vengeance. Groaning slightly, Hawkeye rolled his head and back around slowly, trying to loosen up the bones and alleviate the pain. It didn’t work.

Noticing Hawkeye’s pained expression, Nilrem forced him to sit again. “Easy young one. You took a good hit on your backside. Let me check your wounds.” 

Gently removing Hawkeye’s wolf mantle, he studied the wounds for several minutes. With a slight pat on the shoulder, Nilrem said, “Don’t worry; you’ll live, although you will be sore for the next several days.”  

Reaching into his pouch, he applied some herbs and peat moss to the wound.

As Nilrem tended his wounds, Hawkeye quietly studied the warlord of the Black Bear pack. He stood close to seven feet tall with a huge barrel chest and tree trunk legs. Numerous scars crossed his arms and chest; some were recent but most were not. He was probably the largest man Hawkeye had ever seen. Yet, he had a gentleness about himself that was surprising.

“Well, at least two got away,” came a strong voice.

Turning to look in the direction of the voice, Hawkeye watched as Chewda returned from his hunt. The Wolverine warlord was very short, probably no taller than five feet with a slightly receding hairline and short cut brown hair. He was not physically an impressive man but there was an intensity in the way he walked and moved which told anyone with any brains not to mess with this warrior. After watching him dispatch the cyclops, Hawkeye was happy that they had not fought.

Standing slowly, Hawkeye extended his right arm. “Thank you for your timely entrance.”

Chewda grasped the offered forearm. “Don’t mention it.” With a smile and a wink he added, “I didn’t want you two to have all the fun.”

Nilrem said, “Well young wolflord after what happened here today and your amazing performance, I have decided to back your challenge as the warlord of the Highland Nation.”  Turning to his companion he asked, “What do you say my friend?”

“Only on one condition,” replied Chewda.

Hawkeye waited a moment but the wolverine warlord didn’t go on, so he prompted. “And what would that be?”

Pointing at the dead bodies around them, Chewda grinned. “That you include me the next time you throw a party for your friends.” 

The three warlords laughed at the joke and any tension between the three men fell away.

Nilrem said, “Come my friends. There is a grand feast waiting for us in the village.”

 Together the three friends headed back to the village, trading stories of their accomplishments. Dûrdae watched for several minutes then flew back to Tatianna to report on the situation.

Another pair of eyes, full of hatred and malice also watched as the three warriors left the clearing. After they were gone, the figure descended from the treetops. Walking through the recent battlefield, he paused at each kill. A moment later, the figure sprinted into the dark forest. After several yards, a change came over him.

Where two legs sped him southward earlier, now there were four legs speeding him even quicker toward Blackfang and the Dark Alliance.

A cold breeze was blowing off the open plains to the northwest. The strong breeze was creating snowdrifts nearly the size of a cyclops on the northern face of the fortress. It was also cutting through Kang’s furs like a knife. On his first campaign away from his home, the young gnome was pacing back and forth in the cramped lookout tower trying to keep warm. Glancing at his surroundings, Kang cursed aloud.

“What in Steropes’ name am I doing freezing my buns off in this godforsaken place? I should be at home with my family in the warm underground. That is where a true gnomish warrior belongs, not up here in this rat infested dwarven nest!”

As if to emphasize his statement, the morning sun broke past the Dragonfist Mountains in the distant east. The sunlight brilliantly illuminated the snowy plains all around making the dark and foreboding fortress stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. Its harsh blackness seemed completely out of place in the serene white of the surrounding plains.

Kang muttered under his breath. “Morning! It’s about damn time! My relief better not be late! The sooner I get back underground the better!”

Taking a final glance at the northern plains, he noticed a dark figure running across the deep snow. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands to clear them of any sleep, he looked across the snowy plains once again. He was right, there was a black wolf approaching the fortress from the north. The bright morning sun was reflecting off the brilliant white snow hurting his light sensitive eyes making it difficult to identify the approaching werewolf as friend or foe.  Of course, it was not his job to identify friend or foe but to keep watch and alert his superiors about any approaching figures. Several questions ran through his mind in those first few seconds. Was it one of Blackfang’s many spies? Or was it an emissary from Hawkeye and his army of raiders?

Kang thought of all the terrible things he had heard about the ruthless leader of the renegade Highlanders. About how Hawkeye had sacrificed his own family to gain favor with the dark gods. Or how he raided and destroyed a gnomish settlement in the far north just because they hunted the same herd of buffalo. A wave of anger washed over him. Now he remembered why he was in this godforsaken place, to avenge the murder of his cousins.

Lifting the signal horn to his lips, Kang sounded one high-pitched shrill blast. A few seconds later the lookout on the southern tower gate responded in kind. Several moments later Kang heard the approaching footsteps of his superior and members of the day watch.

Draks the Battlechief of Kang’s platoon was still tucking in his shirt when he arrived. “What is it now Kang? This had better not be another false alarm or as Steropes as my witness you will spend the rest of your enlistment in the sewage hole!”

Shaking his head, Kang pointed to the north. The approaching wolf was still about a mile away but was making steady progress toward the fortress. “A shifter is approaching from the north.”

Lifting one hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the morning sun reflecting off the snow, Draks studied the approaching figure. He could tell by the size and steady progress over the deep snow that it was indeed a shapeshifter, probably one of Blackfang’s spies. By the speed of his gait, Draks figured it must be important.

Slapping the young warrior on the shoulder, he flashed him a rare smile. “Good work, Kang. I’ll go and alert Blackfang. I’m sure he will want to handle this personally. Now, get down below and get yourself some breakfast.” 

Turning to the two other gnomes that were on the day watch, Draks pointed toward the approaching wolf. “Keep a close eye on him but don’t let him enter.”

“Yes sir,” the two gnomes answered in unison.

Draks headed down the long flight of stairs that lead to the tower. For several minutes, he continued to descend into the dark depths of the fortress until he reached the main floor of the keep. This corridor was well lit with torches burning in wall sconces every ten feet or so. Shuffling as quick as his three-foot frame would carry him down the corridor Draks soon came to his destination, a massive door made of solid black granite that filled the entire end of the corridor. The border of the door was covered in a fretwork of gold that resembled three interlocking circles. Located in the direct center of the door was a huge doorknocker made of solid gold. Shaped like a large wolf’s head, it had a large ring stuck in its mouth.

Taking a quick glance at himself, Draks wanted to look his best before he woke the Battlelord. Sniffing his armpits, he shrugged. He was relatively clean, having taken a bath only last month. His tattoos, a heavy black against his pale white skin, seemed to sparkle in the flickering torchlight. When he felt he was ready, Draks reached up to grab the handle of the doorknocker. Before he touched the ring, the golden wolf’s head sprang to life. The visage of the wolf drew back its golden lips and growled low. Drawing back his hand quickly, Draks watched in amazement as the gold wolf spoke.

“Who dares disturb the Blackfang, Lord of the Wolves?”  Its voice was deep and guttural.

“Its…It’s just me, Draks Battlechief of the third platoon.”

“What do you wish of the Wolflord?”

“I…I have important news for Blackfang.”

The guardian was quiet for a moment before it said, “Proceed.” 

Swallowing hard, Draks watched in amazement as the door swung open silently. Taking the whole room in with a wide-eyed stare, Draks was awed at the sight before him.

The chamber was easily a hundred feet across and probably half that width wide. It was lavishly decorated with a blood red carpet which covered the entire stone floor. A huge fireplace burned on one wall, warming the entire room. Above it hung a huge axe of true-silver that was probably five feet long and sparkled in the firelight. On one wall was a huge desk of red ironwood that was covered in papers, scrolls, a crystal ball and a small silver brazier that still burned, filling the chamber with the pleasant aroma of myrrh. Directly across from the desk was a huge pillared bed. Made of the same light-absorbing black stone that the fortress was made from it had four pillars, each depicting dwarves battling some ancient evil. Draks could see two other doors exiting the chamber, where they lead to he didn’t know or care.

Slowly entering the chamber, movement in the bed caught his attention. Turning that way, Draks saw Blackfang climb out. The Wolflord was a huge man, standing over six feet tall with a broad chest and a nasty reputation. Although completely naked, Blackfang still looked the imposing figure Draks had always taken him to be. Dropping to one knee, Draks lowered his head and waited.

Pausing for a moment to stretch, Blackfang commanded. “Speak! And it better be important!”

Raising his head slightly, Draks struggled to deliver his message. “Excuse the intrusion Wolflord but there is a black wolf approaching from the north. Judging by his speed and ragged appearance, I would guess it is extremely important.”

“Bring him to me without any delays. Dismissed!”

Bowing quickly, Draks sprinted from the room to fetch the werewolf. As soon as he was gone, a melodious voice came from one of the other rooms. “Who was that?”

Turning toward the beautiful and naked woman who was just entering the room, Blackfang was again stunned by her beauty. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, with a shapely and athletic figure. Her skin was coal black with waist long silver hair. As she glided across the room with the grace of a cat, her firm breasts jiggled slightly. “Just one of the gnomes.” 

Walking up to her, Blackfang reached out and pulled her close. Leaning down, he gently bit one of her nipples.

Lalith, known to the warriors of the Dark Alliance as the Dark Queen, briefly closed her eyes as she enjoyed the sensation of his teeth on her nipple. Shaking her head, she playfully slapped him on the side of the head to get his attention. “What did the little digger want?”

Releasing his hold on her he replied. “One of my spies has returned from the north with news.”

The smile fled from her face, even her voice changed slightly, taking on a more deadly edge. “Do you think Hawkeye and Tatianna are dead? You realize only their death will assure our victory.”

Turning serious, Blackfang moved toward the bed. “I don’t think either is dead. Hawkeye is too skillful of a warrior to be killed by a few cyclops or gnomes. My guess is that he and his friends have killed or captured the whole ambush team.” 

A knock sounded on the door ended any further discussion.

Blackfang’s voice became cold. “That would be them. Enter!” 

Pulling on his black wolf furs, he turned to face the door. Crawling back into bed, Lalith fixed the entering pair with a deadly glare.

Draks entered with a ragged looking solid black wolf in tow. Dropping to one knee as soon as he crossed the threshold, Draks said, “It is as you commanded Wolflord.”

Fixing the Battlechief with the same deadly glare Lalith was using, Blackfang barked at the kneeling gnome. “It took you long enough. Now leave us and remember never make me wait!”

Bowing his head over and over, Draks backed out of the room. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

The door slammed shut in his face as soon as he was clear of the door. Draks wiped his bald pate which was covered in sweat and muttered himself and not for the first time, “You should’ve stayed in your burrow. You should’ve stayed in your burrow.”