The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (15 page)

Finally Varg came across an enormous chamber of stone where he saw a dark-haired dwarf dressed in  furs fighting off several cultists with an axe in each hand. Several other dwarves fought by his side, but Varg could easily tell that he was the chief. An enormous pool of water formed on either side of a long stone walkway that led to another platform, which was where the battle took place. Varg ran across the walkway and swung Frost Fang madly at the first cultist he saw.

The dwarf chief, Tollack, looked to Varg and shouted, “Friend, or foe?”

“Friend!” Varg assured. “My comrades are aiding your men below while I aid you here.”

“You are a welcome addition to this battle, then. These enemies are relentless,” Tollack said as he dispatched another cultist.

“Aye, but I can help you stop them,” Varg called.

Despite his assurance, Varg could see that he and the dwarves were steadily outnumbered. Even with their tough hides and unyielding endurance, the dwarves could not meet the agility of the cultists. Tollack yelled a battle cry and ran forward with his surviving comrades, but the cultists were far too quick for the slow dwarves to land a hit on. Though he hid it well, Varg could tell the chief was becoming weary and wouldn't last in the battle much longer. Varg himself was losing energy quick and could only hope for a way out of the battle.

Varg knew the only way to defeat such organized enemies was to work closely with the dwarves and come up with a plan. His mind went through everything he knew about the situation and he searched the room for answers. His eyes once again fell on the pools of water in the room, and it was there he found his answer. He swung at the enemy in the path between himself and Tollack and killed him on impact, then ran past his corpse to the chief's side.

Varg blocked an attack on Tollack's flank, then said out of earshot of the cultists, “Help me get them into the water.”

“I hope you have a plan,” the dwarf chief answered.

Despite his apparent doubts, Tollack rallied his comrades as they began to drive the cultists back to the water. The cultists caught on to the plan and tried to resist, but the hardy dwarves kept them at bay. Varg managed to kill another opponent as he ran to their aid. With one last daring move, Varg threw his hand forward and strong, icy gust tossed the remaining cultists into the pool, which then froze solid upon impact.

After it was quiet once more, the splashes and ripples in the water were frozen in place. Looking into the frozen abyss, Varg could see the still bodies of nearly a dozen cultists. Something inside him remained on edge until the dwarf chief spoke.

“Incredible . . .” he muttered. “I never thought I would see the power of a jotun in my lifetime.”

Varg turned to see the Tollack, along with the rest of his allies, stepping forward cautiously.

“I am Tollack, chief of this dwarf clan,” the dark-haired dwarf said. “To whom to I owe the priveledge of calling my battle brother?”

Varg stepped forward. “My name is Varg, and my allies and I have heard a rumor that your clan is in possession of a powerful Elvish artifact.”

Tollack frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“It's quite a long story, but I will tell you that the artifact is exactly why the cultists attacked the mountain,” Varg explained.

Tollack stood in shock, and it took him several moments to answer, “Not many people know about the artifact, and there is nothing else of value save for the toils of our hard work other than that gem.”

“I don't know how they found out about it, but my friends and I were hoping to beat them to it and spare you a periless invasion. Obviously we were too late,” Varg said.

Tollack bellowed with laughter. “My friend, you fought by our side when we needed it most and because of you, we probably saved more lives than we could have hoped to do on our own. If there is anything I can do to repay you, just say the word.”

Varg thought about the chief's words, then said, “We need to see the artifact so that we may find out why the cultists are looking for it.

Tollack sighed, then said, “Normally I cannot just give it away, seeing that my ancestors were commissioned with guarding it. However, I owe you a debt for protecting my mountain from those vile assassins. I suppose I will allow you to investigate it if you must.”

Before Varg could offer his thanks to the dwarf chief, Milea, Tain, Oliva, and Erril came into the chamber followed by several bruised and bloodied dwarves. They appeared weary, but otherwise victorious.

“There you are,” Milea said when she saw Varg. “The dwarf you helped in the entrance chamber told us he sent you in here to aid the chief. We just finished off the last of the enemies.”

“Tollack,” said one of the dwarves, “the remaining cultists have fled thanks to the efforts of these people. Their abilities in battle are unlike any others we've encountered.”

“Indeed, I have seen the abilities of this man first hand,” Tollack said.

Varg turned to his allies said, “Tollack here is the chief of the dwarves, and he's going to show us where the artifact is.”

“Oh good,” Milea said with relief, “for a moment I thought we were too late.”

“Thanks to the lot of you, the cultists never stood a chance,” Tollack said proudly.

“You dwarves are formidable foes,” Milea said. Then she added, “And allies.”

Tollack beamed and answered, “Aye, that we do. As soon as I show you the artifact, we will forever know you and your kinsmen as our battle siblings.”

As the dwarf chief led the way to the sanctum where the artifact lie, Varg explained who the Shadow Hand was and all that they knew about them. Tollack seemed intrigued by the mysterious cult despite his constant stating that they were nothing by rogues and should be punished accordingly. Nevertheless, the dwarf chief eagerly listened to everything Varg and his comrades told him.

“If what you say is true, then this 'Shadow Hand' is a force to be reckoned with,” the chief said.

“Aye, and now you have first hand experience with them as we do,” Varg stated.

Tollack gave another hearty laugh and said, “And we know how to prepare for their attack again. Still, I can't thank you enough, Varg. It's nice to know that a small trace of the jotun race survives.”

Varg's footsteps slowed, then he said, “You've heard of the jotuns?”

The chief stopped, causing everyone else to stop, then turned to Varg and answered, “Sadly they all died before my time, but I have heard plenty of stories. Our races were actually kin, born under the same ancestors. Over time we all became two races, but our similarities remain. I only heard rumors and tall tales of the legendary War of the Tundra that wiped them all out, but I wouldn't force a fellow warrior to recount such horrors.”

“I couldn't if I wanted to. I was born after the fact,” Varg said. When Tollack gave him a puzzled look, Varg added, “My father was a jotun who had an affair with my human mother during the war. It wasn't until after he fell in battle alongside his kin that my mother discovered she was with child.”

Tollack bowed his head in regret, then said, “I see. It's a terrible shame you never knew your people, Varg.”

“I can't miss what I never had,” Varg admitted.

The chief said no more and continued walking down the tunnel. The group walked a bit further until Tollack came to a large stone door decorated with ancient Dwarvish symbols. He whispered something, then the symbols disappeared and the doors opened without assistance. The only light came from a windowed ceiling just above a strange pedestal near the back of the room. Nested on the pedestal was a large, shimmering blue gem that was bigger than Varg's fist.

Tollack tread forward and stopped just a few feet before the pedestal. “Here it is, the Elvish artifact my ancestor vowed to protect from the wrong hands. For centuries it has made its home here, untouched by mortal hands.”

Milea cautioustly approached the pedestal and said, “May I?”

The chief nodded and stepped aside for Milea to examine the artifact. The half-elf looked curiously around the crystal tree as the rest of her comrades observed in silence. A few minutes later, Milea shook her head in disbelief.

“This artifact is not the one the Shadow Hand seeks. It's a fake,” she suddenly said.

“Fake?” Tollack spat. “I'll have you know that a priestess of Laelith herself exchanged quite a bit of gold for the protection of this crystal. I guarantee that it's at least worth something.”

“I mean no disrespect, Tollack, but the elves apparently went to great lengths to hide the item the Shadow Hand seeks. Forgeries like this probably lie all over the continent, the entire world even, just to serve as decoys for one incredibly powerful item,” Milea explained.

“Aren't you an elf? Surely you would have a clue about this,” Tollack said.

Milea ignored his question and instead answered, “I promise this has no magic property whatsoever.”

Tollack sighed. “Very well, I know you elves have a way with sensing magic, so I trust your judgement.”

“What now, though?” Varg asked. “We know that this is also a fake, so we've hit yet another dead end.”

“Not to mention that the Shadow Hand will more than likely prepare another attack if they haven't yet discovered the artifact's true nature,” Tain offered.

“Don't worry about that,” Tollack assured. “We were caught off guard by these cultists, but now we know what to expect and we can better prepare ourselves against another attack. Besides, I'm sure the ones who escaped will tell their master that you were here, so he can assume that you either found the artifact and discovered it wasn't the real one, or that you have the real one on your person. In the meantime, should you ever need a few able-bodied dwarves to fight by your side, you know where to find them. Call on us any time and we will come to your side with axes drawn.”

“We will keep that in mind,” Varg said. “Take care.”

Once Varg and every one of his comrades shook the hand of the dwarf chief, they backtracked through the tunnels until they came to the entrace of the mountain. They were saluted and thanked by every dwarf they ran into, who assured they would come to help if they were needed. Once they finally made it outside, the late afternoon had settled and they set off down the mountain trail to find their horses when a cloud of smoke caught their attention.

Something seemed to be hurdling towards them at great speed, prompting everyone to draw their weapons and prepare for a counter attack from the cultists. When the figure emerging from the dust came into view, Milea squinted her eyes and said, “Is that Conley?”

The half-elf was proven right when Varg realized that none other than Conley was hurdling towards them on horseback as if he'd just run into a ghost.

“Uncle! What in the world are you doing here?” Oliva exclaimed.

Conley stopped only a few feet in front of his niece and the others and jumped off his horse before it even settled down. The Count was weary, and his fatigued horse barely compared, and his heavy breath wouldn't allow him to speak.

“Conley, calm down. What's going on?” Milea said.

Milea led Conley to a nearby boulder where she made the noble sit for a few minutes to catch his breath. Conley kept his head low and tried in vain to explain himself.

“Catri . . . Shadow Hand . . .” he mumbled.

“Take a deep breath, Conley,” Varg said.

The Count obeyed, and managed to slow his breathing after a few minutes. He finally composed himself and stood.

“It's Catrina,” Conley gasped.

“What about her?” Varg asked.

Conley shook his head and fought back tears, then said, “She's been kidnapped by the Shadow Hand.”

CHAPTER 14

“KIDNAPPED?” Varg asked in disbelief.

“Oh poor Aunt!” Catrina cried.

“How did this happen?” Milea pressed.

Conley tried in vain to calm himself, but explained, “Shortly after I sent you off on your mission, I received a message from the watchtower northeast of town that there had been some sightings of Shadow Hand activity. I rushed over to see about it myself only to discover all my men at the tower were dead. I knew immediately that it was a trap and returned home to find Catrina missing and several guards killed. One of the surviving guards told me that the Shadow Hand infiltrated the castle and made off with Catrina, albiet not without a fight. He then informed me where the cultists brought Catrina and how to get there.”

“Why would the Shadow Hand tell you where they brought your abducted wife?” Tain asked.

“For ransom, of course. They want me to escort my armed forces there for the Serpent to use in his conquests. That's the entire reason they've been after me. That and so that I could give them free reigns to conduct their business in the county,” Conley explained.

“We must save Aunt Catrina,” Oliva boldly stated.

“How do you propose we do that? Jin's strongholds are impenetrable,” Tain remarked.

Conley finally caught his breath and straightened up. Then he composed himself and answered, “I have a plan. My men are marching towards the stronghold with the white flag raised. While they await my orders, my scouts will search for a way into the stronghold. If they can find it, you will sneak in, escort Catrina out, and then my men can lay waste to every cultist that breathes within that structure.”

“Where do we need to go?” Varg asked.

“The Shadow Hand claimed to have taken Catrina to a stronghold just west of here. We should be able to find it within a few hours,” Conley explained.

“Let's not waste a moment,” Varg answered. “Lead the way, Conley.”

Conley led his horse west, while the others followed on their own steeds, and found the Shadow Hand hideout well before sunrise. This stronghold was bigger than the one in Wild Valley, so Varg presumed that this was the main location for the Shadow Hand. The walls seemed to be made of solid stone and the entire fortress was built into the mountain. A waterfall poured from underneath one of the top floors into a wide river below. The river traveled along the front of the fortress and only a drawbridge connected the two sides allowing entry to be granted. Though the fortress seemed impenetrable, Varg was determined to bring waste to the cult that was repsonsible for countless deaths. Though he wished to emerge from the stronghold with the Jin's severed head perched on top of Frost Fang, he knew that saving Catrina was his top priority and wouldn't dare jeopardize her safety.

Conley's troops had their white flag raised and the stronghold in turn raised their own in a temporary peace. Varg and the others left their horses in the care of the stable hand while Conley took his leave to consult with his returning scouts. The Count returned shortly after to tell them what he'd learned. “My scouts have informed me of a small barred entrance hidden by the river. It opens to a small stream that merges into the river. The bars are old and rusted, so they may be broken fairly easy.”

“Just tell us when to go,” Varg assured.

“First I must enter through the front with my troops soon so they won't get suspicious, and as soon as we depart you may proceed,” Conley said.

“We won't let you down, Uncle,” Oliva assured.

“Actually, Oliva, I need you to stay here at the camp,” Conley said.

“What? Why?” Oliva objected.

“This is an incredibly dangerous mission, and these cultists already kidnapped you and put you in harms way once. I won't allow that to happen again,” Conley said.

Oliva's expression fell as she tried to protest. “But I can help . . .”

“Out of the question. Your aunt would never forgive me if I allowed you to walk into that fortress even for her sake,” Conley said. “You will stay here and await their return.”

Oliva wanted to object further, but she finally conceded and hung her head in disappointment as her uncle walked away without another word.

“Don't worry, Oliva,” Milea said. “We'll make sure your aunt is safe.”

Oliva nodded, but she never looked up. That changed when Tain stepped forward and said, “I suppose it's only fitting that I stay behind with my employer.”

Oliva's face shot up and she shook her head. “Tain, it's all right. I hired you to help fight the Shadow Hand, not to act as my bodyguard.”

“That's true, but a big group sneaking into a fortress isn't the best way to fight them. I think the others can handle this without me,” Tain said.

“Good idea,” Milea admitted.

“It's just the three of us, then?” Varg asked Milea and Erril. The two nodded in reply, and Varg then added, “Then as soon as Conley's ready, we march.”

Once Conley had finished his preparations and began the march with his troops, Varg gathered his own comrades and they began the march to the location of the hidden entrance. While hiding behind the troops, Varg led his comrades down the slope of land beside the drawbridge until they came to the river's edge. Varg stopped at the edge of the water and lightly tapped the surface. The water rippled and froze in place. An icy path formed from there to the other side of the river.

Varg turned to his comrades and said, “Careful how you step.” He then took a step onto the ice, which was fortunately solid enough to hold his weight, and slowly made his way across the river. Despite his careful treading, Varg could feel his boot sliding against the icy floor. He held his breath as he looked straight ahead until his feet finally felt the dirt of the opposite shore.

Varg turned to Milea and Erril, who despite the icy conditions were managing the walk. Milea wasn't far behind him, though only because she proceeded with more caution. Erril trailed behind nervously, taking each step as if it were her last, so Milea lagged behind to assist the girl. The half-elf bravely escorted her across the rest of the ice and each heaved a sigh of relief when they felt the dirt crunch under their feet.

“Everyone all right?” Varg asked.

“If I wanted to walk on ice I'd go live in the Tundra,” Erril remarked.

“We shouldn't have much further left, so keep your chin up,” Varg said.

They walked alongside the river edge until they found a small archway where the water escaped from lie at the foot of the fortress and was luckily encased in the shadow of the drawbridge.

Erril approached the bars and examined them closely. Then she said, “These are covered in rust and crumbling to bits. It won't take much force to break them.”

The orphan girl grabbed one of the bars and rattled it. Bits of rust crumbled off and she was able to pry the bar from its resting place. She squeezed through the new space effortlessly and began to pry off another bar. Varg crept forward and assisted her and before long, the two had removed all but one bar.

Varg stopped and tossed the other iron bars aside, then said, “This should be plenty big for us all to fit through. Let's go.”

Varg waited by the entrance until everyone else had entered. He crept through the archway behind Milea and they all got a look at their new surroundings. A stone platform was next to the stream and led into a tunnel. They climbed onto the platform and followed the tunnel in hopes of finding their way to the dungeon. Instead the tunnel opened into a large round chamber where the waterway continued to the opposite side. The waterway continued out of the room from there through another barred archway. The ceiling stretched to the sky and several higher floors with walkways lining the room could be seen from the ground. The floors were connected by a stair case that spiraled from the ground all the way to the top. Along the walls there were Shadow Hand Banners, which were black with silver trim and bore the familiar crimson, serpent-like symbol, on opposite corners of the room.

Varg scanned the chamber and saw nothing, but his familiar gut instinct told him something was wrong. In a hushed tone, he faced Milea and Erril and said, “This place is far too quiet.”

As if Varg gave the signal himself, hundreds of cultists emerged from the floors above and began to pour onto the ground level around them. With weapons thirsty for blood, the cultists charged forward and surrounded Varg and his comrades before they could even draw their weapons. Despte the overwhelming odds, the allies drew their weapons and prepared to defend themselves.

Once the cultists grew still, a voice Varg wish he hadn't heard said, “I honestly didn't think you would fall for such an obvious trap, but perhaps I overestimated all of you.”

The shadows at the opposite end of the room materialized and took Jin's form. The Serpent soon became whole and approached his bewildered captives with a welcoming smile. “Now that you're here, though,” he said, “I suppose there's nothing left for you to do except surrender to the Shadow Hand.”

Varg gritted his teeth as a wolf facing a snake and spat, “You kidnapped Catrina just to lead us into a trap?”

“Oh no, that was purely a bonus end of the deal,” Jin countered. “My original intent was to get Lord Rowan to finally cooperate with the Shadow Hand by handing over control of his troops in exchange for the Lady's life. Handing you over to me was just to ensure his wife would be left . . . unharmed. Thus I get full armed forces to ensure that my men could move more freely throughout the county of Ironbarrow and I can finally be rid of you.”

Varg's blood boiled. “Conley is no traitor!” Varg wanted to believe that was true, but despite his words the reality sunk in harder than he realized.

It was only confirmed when the Count of Ironbarrow himself stepped down the stairs with an escort of cultists. His head hang low and with a grudging voice, he answered, “I'm sorry, my friend.”

Varg felt his skin heating from the fire under his skin. He charged forward, ignoring the blades pointed at him, and yelled, “You son of a bitch! How could you sell us out?”

“Varg, I had no choice,” Conley muttered.

“We could have helped you,” Varg spat. “We could have organized a real plan to save Catrina!”

“I couldn't take the chance. I'm sorry,” Conley cried.

“Enough,” Jin hissed. “Now that we have custody of these wretches, it's time to lead them to their fate.”

“You're going to kill us?” Milea asked.

“Oh no,” Jin replied, “at least not yet. I still have use for the lot of you, despite the fact that you have openly defied me since the day we met. For now, you will wait in the dungeons until I decide what to do with you.”

“Not if I can stand and fight,” Varg shouted.

“Of course, but will you stand and fight if your friends are in the direct line of battle?” Jin asked.

Before Varg could question what Jin meant, the cultists swarmed around them and disarmed Milea and Erril. With blades against their throats two cultists grabbed ahold of each and turned to face Varg, daring him to make a move. Despite their struggling, Milea and Erril couldn't move a muscle.

Varg stared in horror, afraid a single breath would agitate the cultists' blades, then shook his head and said, “You bloody coward.”

To his surprise, Jin simply laughed. “I tried to reason with you, Varg, but you make polite conversation increasingly difficult. Perhaps now you will calm down and lend me your ears when the time comes?” Jin turned to the cultists and said, “Take them away.”

Two more cultists grabbed ahold of Varg and disarmed him of Frost Fang. The jotun at least got the satisfaction that it took half a dozen men to even lift the blade. Varg looked anxiously to Milea and Erril, who were being escorted themselves. When he made eye contact with Milea, she offered a nervous, but brave smile.

“Now then, Conley, if you'll follow my men to the main hall we can soon begin our negotiations,” Jin suddenly said.

“Not until my wife is free,” Conley spat.

“All in due time,” Jin assured. “Just await my arrival in the main hall with your men and I will bring Catrina to you.”

“This isn't over, Jin!” Varg yelled.

“You're right, Varg. This is far from over. Consider this the first day of the end of your life,” Jin replied. With that, the Serpent disappeared into the shadows once again.

With the screeching sound of metal against metal, Varg's cell door slammed shut. Alone and unarmed, he watched helplessly as Milea and Erril were tossed into the cell across from his. They too were stripped of their weapons and equipment beforehand. Milea had put on quite a display of her unarmed fighting prowess when one of her escorts patted her down for hidden weapons a bit too intimately. Varg managed a laugh when the cultist fell to the hard floor holding his groin after Milea's foot made generous contact.

“Now the lot of you better behave while you wait,” one of the cultists said, who sent a glare to Milea.

The half-elf proudly nodded in reply as the cultists marched out of the room and slammed the dungeon door shut.

“Now what?” Erril said.

“We escape this cell and find Catrina,” Milea answered.