Author: A.E. McCullough
Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Wolves
Description: Alternative cover edition for ASIN B0053RCWJC “When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, look to the north for the Chosen One; a being of no race and all races, part black, part white, a creature of the balance, a true son of the Dhyana. He will lead the Nine against the One in the final battle for the fate of Terreth… for only he can unlock the secrets of the past.” Every child on Terreth has heard that prophecy while growing up. When the elven princess Tatianna is raped by a pack of shape-changing barbarians and left for dead on the ruined shrine

The Coming of the Wolf

Tales of the Wolf – Book 1

By A.E. McCullough

This book is dedicated to the two women who ALWAYS believed in me. Unfortunately, one didn’t get to see my work published while the other stood by me during the long hours involved in following my dream.

To Mom: I did it! I love and miss you daily.

To my wife, Felicia: I did it!
Thanks for all your love and support.
I love you now and always.

Copyright © 2011 by Andrew McCullough

This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover Artwork by M.C. Krauss

First Edition: June 2011

Revised Edition: January 2012

Second Edition: January 2013

www.aemccullough.com
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Novels by A.E. McCullough

Available on Amazon in print or eBook format

The Tales of the Wolf Series

The Coming of the Wolf (Book 1)

Enter the Wolf (Book 2)

Darkness Falls (Book 3)
Coming the spring of 2013

The Last Spartan Series

The Last Spartan: Different Paths

The Last Spartan: DJ’s Mission

The Last Spartan: The Great Hunt
Coming in the fall of 2013

Lost Lands: the Game

A different kind of fantasy novel.

Coming mid 2013

Chapter 1

Run!

That was the one thought that drove the heavily cloaked figure through the forest. Barreling through bushes and shrubs, scrambling over roots and rocks, the figure moved with the grace of a deer but with a total lack of abandonment of a charging bull.

Run! It didn’t matter where, just keep moving!

A cold gust of wind blew through the evergreen forest causing the trees to sway with the wind. A large owl hooted its displeasure at the rocking of the tree, while two squirrels and a raccoon bolted from a small clearing as the running figure came into view. The heavy layer of pine needles which covered the forest floor shifted and stirred with the breeze and a few snowflakes floated lazily through the evergreen canopy overhead.

Run!

Leaping over a small bush, she hazarded a quick look over her shoulder into the darkness. She didn’t see any sign of pursuit but she didn’t dare slow down.

Run! Faster!

Suddenly her foot was hung on an unseen root and she was falling. Years of training took over as she tried to tuck into a ball and roll out of the fall. Unfortunately, her muscles were so fatigued from her flight that they wouldn’t respond quickly enough. Instead of making a gentle roll out of the fall, all she managed to do was land flat on her back.

An explosion of pain washed over her as all of the air was forced from her lungs. For several minutes, only the ragged sounds of her breathing betrayed that there was still life left in her. Grunting softly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. A blast of cold wind rushed through the small clearing blowing her long red hair in all directions.

“Damn it Tatianna! You’ve got to be more careful.”

Reaching up with her two delicate hands, she pulled her long mane back and loosely tied it in a knot. Her pointed ears poked through her silky strands as they danced in the breeze, marking her heritage as one of the elven folk. Glancing around at the forest, Tatianna noted that although it was dim with the evergreens blocking most of the sun’s light, it was not gloomy. Closing her eyes, she focused her attention on the sounds of the forest. She could hear the rustle of an owl overhead and the chatter of some squirrels off to her left. Satisfied that she was safe for the moment, Tatianna spoke softly to herself.

Her voice was soft and melodious. “Good! If the creatures of the forest are relaxed, then I can take a moment to rest.”

Tatianna smiled as the last golden rays of sunlight momentarily poked through the dark clouds overhead. Letting the sun’s warmth wash over her, she lifted her arms high above her head. With her eyes closed, she silently prayed to her goddess, Aurora the Morning Lady, the Mistress of the Sun. For a brief moment, she was at peace with herself and the world. She could feel the sun’s warmth spreading through her body, revitalizing her spirit.

The fading sunlight illuminated an intricate tattoo on the underside of her right forearm of a red eagle carrying a slightly curved sword with the words “Ve Et Animo” engraved on the blade; which in the ancient tongue of her people meant, 'By Strength and Courage.'

Opening her eyes, Tatianna watched the setting sun paint the evening sky a beautiful red. Unbidden, an old saying went through her mind and without realizing it she recited it like a magic charm.

“Red sky in morning, warriors take warning; red sky at night, a warrior’s delight.”

Giving a half-hearted snicker at the irony of that old adage, she had no reason to believe that saying would hold true tonight. As the sun passed behind the distant mountains to the west, the surrounding forest took on a more sinister aspect. However, the emerald in her tiara continued to glow dimly, comforting Tatianna with its light.

Sitting down heavily, Tatianna dropped her arms to her lap and lowered her head. A chill ran up her spine as the wind whipped around her and she pulled her cloak tightly around herself. After a moment she withdrew two items from her backpack, a true-silver axe and an ivory scroll tube.

Tatianna took a moment to study the axe. It was a beautiful but deadly work of art. Made entirely of true-silver, it had the burnish of silver but the strength of thrice-forged steel. But the true beauty of the axe didn’t rest there. Its grace lay in the simplicity of its design. It wasn’t flashy or ornate; it was simple, functional and straightforward just like the dwarves. At the base of the shaft was a large ruby set in a fist of true-silver while bold dwarven runes covered the razor sharp blade. The axe was not very large but it was extremely heavy.

Obviously designed for throwing, Tatianna hefted it with one hand and tested its balance. A slight frown crossed her face as she felt its weight settle in her hand. It almost felt as if the axe was filled with water. The weight seemed to flow to the handle, making it easy to hold. Even when she held it upside down, the weight still stayed at the pommel. This would make it a terrible throwing weapon. The weight needed to be at the blade for it to be any good for throwing.

Still puzzled but extremely curious, Tatianna took it through a practice throw. Not releasing the axe but going through the motion, she felt the weight flow from the pommel to the blade in one fluid motion.

“Yes, this is a throwing axe of superb craftsmanship. I bet I could throw this axe fifty yards, easily.”

Carefully setting it aside, Tatianna turned her attention to the ivory scroll tube that was yellowed with age. The two tarnished silver end-caps that sealed the encased scroll from the elements were decorated with ornate runes of ancient elvish. One was engraved with the elvish rune for truth while the other was of a cross with a loop on the top; the Ankh, the ancient symbol of Aurora.

For several moments, she traced the patterns made by the ancient symbols with her fingers.

“I wonder what this scroll really contains. Was it really worth our sacrifice?”

For a moment Tatianna turned her face toward the heavens, while the faint light from her tiara illuminated the surrounding trees. Taking a deep breath, she returned the ancient heirlooms to her backpack.

Lowering her head in her hands, her eyes welled up with tears as she rocked her body back and forth with a gentle motion as the slight sounds of her sobbing filled the night air. Weary to the core, the nighttime music of the forest, the hooting of owls and the steady chirping of the crickets, slowly enveloped her and lulled her to sleep.

Time passed.

A great howling split the night air. Bolting upright, she scolded herself. “Damn it, Tatianna, you shouldn't have fallen asleep. Now the pack is that much closer.”

Gathering her stuff, Tatianna sprinted off to the west as the howling grew louder and closer. Knowing that the pack had gotten her scent by now, she realized there was no way to outrun them. She knew that wolves are amongst the fastest runners in the wild. Another old adage ran through her mind. ‘The wolf is kept fed by its feet.’

Tatianna scanned the surrounding woods for a good defensible position. Nothing looked promising and she was just about to give up hope when the full moon broke through the clouds and illuminated the surrounding forest.

Noticing the pale moonlight glinting off something white on a nearby hilltop, she glanced up at the full moon. “Thank you Luna, for your gift of moonlight.”

Another chorus of howls echoed in the night air.

“Now I just wish you would call off your dogs.”

A few moments later she arrived at the bottom of a hill that seemed completely out of place in the surrounding forest. There were no trees growing on it, nor were there any flowers, weeds or bushes, just a thick layer of grass. The whole area radiated a very peaceful feeling.

Pausing briefly to wonder about the obvious magical properties of the hill, she glanced over her shoulder at the dark forest. A loud howl split the silence, the pack had probably reached the clearing where she had stopped earlier which meant they would catch up to her in minutes.

Tatianna clambered up the hill. Reaching the crest, she was confronted with nine pillars of white stone standing in a great circle about thirty feet across. The stones looked very old and majestic. In the pale moonlight, she couldn’t see if the stones had any carvings or writing on them. Hearing the wolves approach, she hurriedly scanned the ring of stones for the best tactical position.

In the center of the circle lay an altar of white stone that glowed slightly in the moonlight. It was not very big, being only about three feet tall and seven feet long but Tatianna could sense the magical energies that pulsed from the altar. They were the same peaceful feelings she felt at the bottom of the hill; only these were more intense. Tatianna almost felt safe within the ancient stones...almost.

Shrugging off her backpack, Tatianna retrieved the axe and placed her backpack at the base of the altar. Kneeling down, she muttered a quick prayer to her goddess Aurora and quickly added an open prayer to whichever god or goddess this shrine was dedicated.

Pulling off her once fine cloak, she threw it across her backpack. Her clothes, once a beautiful gold and blue silk tunic, were ruined. They were ripped and covered with mud and dried blood but underneath was a finely crafted vest of chainmail. Small scratches and cuts covered her arms, yet none looked serious.

Drawing her long sword in one fluid motion, it glowed with an inner light that illuminated up the surrounding area.

Her blade was slightly curved and ended in a chisel style point designed for punching through armor. It was made entirely of starmetal; a brilliant silver-gray metal harvested from fallen meteorites and very susceptible to enchantments.

Tatianna assumed a fighting stance and waited.

Twelve large black wolves broke through the trees with a howl. They continued to circle the base of the hill until a black wolf of a tremendous size stepped out of the woods, the other wolves stopped their circling and sat down. The pack had the hill surrounded. The large black wolf took several steps up the hillside before stopping. Sitting back on his haunches, he howled long and loud. The other wolves picked up the song and howled one after another.

Tatianna couldn't remember ever hearing such a terrifying sound. Just as suddenly as it started, the howling stopped. Tatianna wasn't sure what that meant. Tensing with expectations, she waited.

Nothing happened.

Feeling her breathing increase and the muscles in her shoulders tighten, she tried to remain calm but the deep silence scared her more than the howling.

A deep, guttural voice, full of contempt, broke the silence. “Come out, Elfie! We won't hurt you....not much anyway!”

There was a chorus of rough laughter.

“You gave us a very good chase, one that we won't forget for many moons but it has ended. And it has ended the only way it could, with your defeat. Your friends have already fed us. You should know that they died quickly.”

Hoarse laughter filled the night air.

The laughter stopped as the voice turned menacing. "Don’t make us come in there for you. You won't like it.”

Tatianna felt her throat tighten and her stomach flip at the mention of the fate of her family. Moments passed. Finding her voice, Tatianna spoke with as much conviction as she could muster.

“By Aurora, the goddess of my ancestors, I swear I'll take as many of you as possible before I fall! So when you’re ready to visit Gaul and his realm of the dead, come on! I’m not afraid to die!”

Only laughter answered her. Tatianna readied herself for what she knew would soon come. However, her sharp and highly sensitive elven ears picked up part of an argument going on near the bottom of the hill. She couldn’t tell who was arguing but she guessed that one must’ve been the leader.

". . . But Blackfang this is the Shrine of Luna, our ancient ceremonial site.”

"So!"

"Maybe we should let her go; we don’t want to offend Luna. I think. . .”

Whack! There was the sound of someone getting hit, hard!

"You’re not allowed to think! I am the warlord!  I decide who, when and where we attack! I will have this elf-bitch! Luna be damned! She’s trapped with the rest of the gods anyway and powerless to help this little snot-nosed, pointy-eared elf!”  His voice grew louder. “No one is to kill her! She’s mine!”

Tatianna glanced around and thought, ‘So, this is a sacred place of Luna, the Moon Goddess. The barbarians are supposed to be the chosen followers of Luna. Well, it doesn’t sound like these werewolves were her followers anymore. I wonder what Blackfang meant about the gods being trapped.’

Shaking her head to clear it of those thoughts, Tatianna deepened her breathing and prepared herself for the imminent attack. She didn’t have to wait long.

Approaching slowly from all sides, Tatianna noted that they were in their hybrid form, half-man/half-wolf. She allowed herself a small smile at the one advantage they had given her. She knew that only the leader was allowed to make the killing attack, which meant that everyone else would be going for a crippling or grappling attack. It was a small advantage but given the situation, she would take what she could get.

She quickly counted her attackers and noted that there were only twelve of them which meant one was either posted as a guard or out of commission from the argument. She hoped it was the latter of the two.

When the werewolves were inside the ring of stones and just out of swords' reach, they began circling her which continued for several minutes. Then one attacked, not from her front or even her sides which she could see, but from behind. The attack came in fast and low. She felt claws rake the back of her legs and her right leg felt afire. Pivoting quickly to counterattack, her right leg buckled, dropping her to one knee. Tatianna lashed out with her sword but the attacker leapt back before she could score a hit. Another flash of pain, this time on her back, as another werewolf attacked. As soon as she twisted to counterattack, she felt more pain, again from her backside. This went on for several minutes. She knew that with the overwhelming odds, she was fighting a losing battle. They had landed at least a dozen blows and she had yet to return a single one.

Ignoring the next attack to her backside, she cried out to the god of battle. “Minos, give me strength!”

Leaping toward the nearest beast, Tatianna landed on him with all of her body weight. Driving her sword deep into his chest, she saw the fire in his eyes dim.

Quickly, rolling backwards toward the altar as another werewolf leapt to attack, Tatianna came out of her roll and landed in a crouch. Drawing and throwing her dagger in one motion, she saw it buried itself all the way to the hilt in the chest of another werewolf.

Twisting to defend herself from another attack, she lashed out with a kick. Scoring a hit on an attacking beast’s leg, there was a loud popping noise as his knee gave way.

Then two hairy arms wrapped themselves around her.

Screaming with rage and frustration, Tatianna struggled and kicked wildly. Feeling her heel land in someone’s gut and a loud resounding grunt, she reached out and bit the closest werewolf.

The arms released her for a split second, which was enough for her to act.

With her right hand, she pulled free the dwarven axe that was tucked into her belt and spun to her right as she dropped to one knee, feeling the weight of the axe shift to the blade. The axe bit into the belly of the werewolf that had been holding her, slicing it wide open. She noted that the weapon was beginning to glow with a red light. Completing her spin, she let the axe fly toward another werewolf that was leaping over the altar toward her. It flew straight and true before burying itself deep into the chest of her airborne enemy.

All of a sudden there were arms all around her trying their best to restrain her. As one set clamped down on her arm, Tatianna pointed toward the attacker’s arm and spoke in a soft, yet distinct voice. “Electra!”

Her attackers leapt back in horror as blue-white sparks jumped from her outstretched hand, shocking anyone that was close. Twisting and scrambling through the grasping paws, she was almost free when suddenly the world went black as a huge hairy fist connected to her temple. Struggling to regain consciousness, she felt herself falling in and out of the blackness.

A black, hairy, half-wolf face leaned down over top of her. “I warned you bitch. I warned you not to make us come in after you. Now, we’ll have to teach you a lesson before you die.”

The last thing Tatianna remembered was feeling her clothes ripped off and the large black beast still in his hybrid form, mount her and steal her virginity. Thankfully, the soothing darkness of unconsciousness carried her away.

One after another, the werewolves took their turn with her. When they were through, Tatianna lay bleeding and battered on the altar. Grabbing a handful of her long blood soaked hair Blackfang lifted her up by it until she hung at his eye level. Slapping her roughly, she groaned but didn’t wake up.

Raking his claws across her right cheek, he left deep scratches and laughed as the pain jolted Tatianna back to consciousness. Grabbing her by the throat with his clawed hand, Blackfang spoke into her ear.

“Give my regards to Luna if you see her. If she is not in the realm of the dead yet, she’ll be there shortly! There is a new goddess on Terreth and she only rewards the strong. You and your kind are part of the past. I am the future.”

Summoning up the last of her strength, Tatianna spit in his face and said, “Go to hell!”

Blackfang began to squeeze. “Probably… but you and your kind will be there first.”

Just as the darkness was beginning to overtake her again, a low growl was heard from behind. Everyone, including Blackfang, froze as a huge snow-white wolf stepped between the pillars of the shrine.

Chapter 2

Run!

That was the one thought that drove the fur covered hunter through the forest. Forcing his way through bushes and shrubs, leaping over rocks and roots, the hunter moved with the long steady strides of a wolf.

Run! The chase was on.

A cold gust of wind blew through the forest causing the trees to sway. A heavy layer of pine needles covered the forest floor while the early autumn snow drifted through the evergreen canopy overhead. A noise to the hunter’s right confirmed that his partner was also on the prey’s trail.

Run!

Without pausing, the hunter noted tuffs of pine needles turned up where his prey had bolted through the clearing and plowed through the bushes. It was tiring. No longer was the chase about skill and wit, now it was about endurance and the beast’s strength was almost gone. The hunter could tell that from its tracks.

Run!

Leaping over a small bush, the hunter caught a glimpse of his prey at the top of the ridge. Moving slowly toward a small opening in some rocks, its bloodied flanks heaving with exhaustion was the boar.

The hunter notched a goose feathered arrow to his horned bow, dropped quickly to one knee and let fly the deadly projectile. Thinking it was safe the wounded boar had slowed its flight before entering its den. Unfortunately, it never had a chance as the arrow punctured its lung and dropped it to the ground.

The bushes parted to the hunter’s right and a dwarf with a long mustache and beard moved into sight. He was completely bald and his facial hair was more silver than black. Dressed in brown leathers and carrying a crossbow, he was breathing heavily. The dwarf glanced up the ridge. “Did ya get ‘em?”

Unstringing his bow with the casual ease of long practice, the hunter looked at his friend. “Do you really need to ask?”

The dwarf spit in the dirt. “Now don’t get cocky ya pup! We all miss sometimes.”

“Miss? A blind gnome could’ve shot better than you!”

Laughing off the insult, the dwarf removed his bolt and decocked the crossbow. “Well, at least we’ll have meat for the next few weeks.”

Moving up the ridge together, the friends were preparing to harvest the reward of their hunt when the sounds of battle reached their ears and all thoughts of roasted boar fled from the two companions. Without a word, the hunter restrung his bow while the dwarf pulled forth his warhammer and readied his shield. Moving cautiously to the edge of the rocks, the companions peered down the other side at the ravine.

A small stream ran through this section of the Highlands and the remnants of a camp could be seen on the far side. The tents were ripped and flapped aimlessly in the ever present wind.

Seven pale green skinned humanoids with protruding tusks rummaged through the camp remains. Goblins, the scavenger race of Terreth. Ugly, cruel and thoroughly evil, a goblin’s only redeeming feature was their total lack of courage.

Several bodies could be seen scattered across the ravine but the hunter’s attention was drawn to the three black wolves, slowly circling a pair of injured warriors that were standing back to back with swords drawn.

The hunter made several hand gestures to his dwarven partner who nodded his head before moving off to the far side of the rocks. Screened by shrubs, the hunter edged forward to a more advantageous position.

Dressed in thick silver and black timberwolf furs with the hollowed out wolf’s head acting as a helmet, the tall man was virtually invisible. He blended into his surroundings as if he was more a creature of the forest than a civilized man.

Lifting his head, the hunter took several deep breaths. The musty odor of blood and sweat mingled with the smoky scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. For the moment, he ignored the goblins and studied the wolves.

They were beautiful creatures; solid black with strong, husky torsos and long graceful legs, capable of carrying them easily, five leagues a day. However, the hunter could tell by their scent that these wolves were not what they appeared to be. They were renegade lycanthrope warriors of the Black Wolf pack in their full wolf form.

These butchers were responsible for the deaths of his family and the complete destruction of his village. He felt the surge of adrenaline as his anger rose. In his mind’s eye he could still picture the smiling faces of the Black Wolf warriors as they destroyed his village, killing his family and friends.

Closing his eyes, the hunter forced himself to calm down but it was hard, bitterly hard. Experience had taught him that angry men make mistakes. A true warrior would never let his anger get the best of him and was more like a good blade; cold, hard and deadly.

Taking a few breaths, he drew forth three more goose feathered arrows and laid them flat on the rocky soil, within easy reach. Once again the hunter lifted his head to check the condition of the wind, smiling as he felt the cold breeze on the front of his face. It was still coming from the north.

‘Good,’ he thought, ‘I’m still downwind.’

Standing slowly, the hunter raised his bow. There was a slight creak from the mighty horn bow as it strained against the pull of the bowstring. The hunter’s arms bulged with the strength needed to draw back the powerful weapon. With a smooth and graceful draw, he placed his right hand to his cheek, breathing slow and regular, eyes slightly closed, nostrils flared, he sighted down the arrow shaft at his prey.

There was a brief whoosh of air as the hunter released his first shot. The release was smooth and flawless. It seemed more like the arrow leapt from the bow, rather than being shot. Before the first missile had reached its target, the hunter grabbed the second arrow, drew and released again in one fluid motion. A third followed in close succession but the fourth the hunter held drawn and ready.

None of the werewolves ever saw the arrows but they did hear them as they raced through the air. Raising their heads and looking around, the first wolf didn’t even get a chance to yelp as an arrow buried itself deep into its neck, flipping the beast and causing it to never move again.

The second fared little better as an arrow lodged itself in its right shoulder, knocking it to the ground. The last wolf tried to bolt northward, away from the unseen assailant. It didn’t work. The third arrow scored a deep hit into its right rear flank, crippling the beast.

All seven goblins glanced at the ridgeline as the arrows buried themselves into the werewolves. Suddenly, a brown and silver monster leapt off the ridge above them with a howl.

Landing among them, the dwarf began bashing left and right with his warhammer and shield, knocking the goblins aside. Within seconds four goblins lay face down in the dirt, their blood staining the frozen ground. The three remaining foes bolted east as fast as their small frames would take them.

The hunter kept his aim on the two crippled werewolves for a count of fifty breaths. Seeing that they weren’t going anywhere, the goblins had fled and his partner was safe for the moment, he relaxed his draw on the horn bow.  Returning his unused arrow to his quiver, the hunter slung his bow over his right shoulder and quickly scanning the rocky hillside. Finding a suitable path that led down the embankment, the hunter cautiously entered the valley as a few snow flurries began to fill the evening sky.

Knowing the crippled werewolves weren’t going anywhere soon, the hunter moved to the injured elves. The hunter studied the first of the two elves and to his surprise the elf’s hair wasn’t black at all, it was actually blue; a deep midnight blue.

Placing his hand on the blue haired elf’s shoulder, the hunter asked softly, “Are you okay?”

The elf’s sky blue eyes seemed slightly unfocused for a brief second before locking onto the grey eyes of the hunter. Nodding, the elf’s voice was weak but carried a melodic tone.

“I am sorely injured but I shall live thanks to your timely rescue.”

A slight growl from behind them drew their attentions back to the injured wolves.

“Pardon me master elf, I have some unfinished business.”

Moving past the body of the dead wolf, the hunter paused long enough to pull free his arrow. Examining it for a moment, a slight grin crossed his face as he replaced the arrow in his quiver. Pulling free his knife, the hunter sliced off the dead wolf’s right ear and placed it in a belt pouch before moving toward the two remaining werewolves.

They responded by growling and lowering their heads menacingly.

Fixing them with a deadly stare the hunter spoke in a cold, flat and emotionless tone. “One is already dead. You can join him or you can live. The choice is yours.”

He drew his tomahawk with his right hand. “Just tell me where I can find Blackfang and I’ll spare you.”

The werewolf with the arrow in the front shoulder snarled and attacked. With a tremendous lunge, the large black wolf covered the ten feet between them in a split second. The hunter calmly sidestepped and brought his tomahawk down hard on the wolf’s skull. Blood and brains flew everywhere as the wolf landed in a lump.

The hunter turned his attention to the remaining wolf. “That’s two down. Do you wish to become number three? You have until I count to ten to change. One...two...three...”

The crippled wolf gave up. Closing his eyes, a slight shiver ran the length of his body and his form began to change. There was a slight popping noise as his bones began to realign while its thick hair retracted all over his body. His nose shrank in on itself as his limbs lengthened. Moments later, where once there was a black wolf laid a naked man with an arrow protruding from his right hip.

Lying in a pool of his own blood the man asked, “Who…who are you? I can tell by your scent that you are of the wolf’s blood?”

Eyes sparkling with amusement, the hunter smiled coldly. “Yes, I am of the wolf’s blood. My name is Kamots Hawkeye. I was once the warlord of the White Wolf Pack and I am the last thanks to your warlord, Blackfang.”

The crippled man’s eyes widened as he heard the hunter’s name. Looking around for help, his eyes came to rest on the two dead forms of his pack mates.

“But, but…that can't be. We killed everyone and left you for dead.”

“Yes, you did kill everyone including my wife and children but by the grace and will of Luna, I survived. Now tell me what I want to know and maybe, just maybe I’ll let you live!”

Rolling onto his belly, the crippled man tried to crawl away. “Please don’t kill me! Please, don’t kill me! I didn’t want to do it! Blackfang made us!”

Hawkeye grabbed the begging man’s hair and placed his knife’s razor sharp edge at the man’s throat. “This is the last time I'll ask you! Where is Blackfang?”

Twenty breaths passed and the begging man said nothing. Hawkeye pressed his blade harder against his throat and saw the first drops of blood begin to fall from his neck. Lowering his face until he was right in his ear, his tone grew colder. “I don’t have all day! Speak now or die!”

The crippled man cracked. “Okay! Don’t kill me! I’ll tell you all I know!”

Pulling his knife away slowly, Hawkeye raked the bloody edge across the man’s cheek. “I’m waiting.”

“Blackfang took some of the men north into the forest to chase some elf bitch. We were to stay here just in case she doubled back.”

Hawkeye pointed around with his knife. “What happened here?”

“These elves invaded our home and we gave chase. We didn’t expect them to put up much of a fight but they had mighty magic and drove us back. Blackfang’s witch countered with sorcery of her own which broke them. We moved in to finish them off and to search for prisoners.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Hawkeye dropped all his weight onto one knee. Unfortunately for the crippled man, it was onto the leg with Hawkeye’s arrow still lodged in it.

The injured barbarian yelped in pain. “I....I swear it’s the truth! That’s all I know!”

Reaching down with his left hand, Hawkeye wrenched free his arrow.

The crippled man screamed in pain.

Taking a moment to examine his arrow, Hawkeye frowned. The shaft was spilt making the arrow useless but he pulled free the silver arrowhead and tossed the rest to the ground. Turning to retrieve his tomahawk from the corpse of the second wolf, he wiped its blade on the dead wolf’s fur.

“I would suggest that you make yourself very scarce. I’m sure Blackfang would be upset if he found out you talked.”

Holding one hand over his wound as he desperately tried to stem the flow of blood, the crippled man rocked back and forth in pain. Through gritted teeth, he cursed. “You son of a bitch! Blackfang will gnaw on your bones when he’s through with you.”

Ignoring the wounded man, Hawkeye turned his attention back to the injured elves and was surprised to see that the elf with the blue hair had watched his inquisition of the bandit without a word. Elves were known across Terreth as having an intense hatred for violence.

The blue haired elf was standing with bandages wrapped around his leg and chest area, they were bloody but not leaking. Leaning on him for support was another elf, so similar in looks that they had to be brothers, twins by the look of it. Judging from the hastily applied bandage, his twin must’ve sustained a nasty head injury along with injuries to his torso and leg.

The blue haired elf placed his right hand over his heart and gave a slight bow. “Well met Kamots Hawkeye, son of Luna. I am Khlekluëllin Amarth.” He gestured to the injured warrior at his side. “And this is my brother Mortharona; we are in your debt.”

Hawkeye noted that even though the elf’s name ‘Klek – clue – ellen’ sounded slightly harsh compared to his brother’s it still flowed off his tongue easily as did most words when spoken with the musical vocalization of the elven dialect.

Khlekluëllin turned to the dwarf. “And yours master dwarf. It has been a long time since a dwarf has aided an elf.”

Rjurik took a bite out of a block of tobacco. “Well, don’t go makin’ much of it.” With a nod over his head at Hawkeye he added, “If it weren’t fer the youngin’ I would’ve passed ye by.”

Hawkeye placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Now Rjurik that isn’t true and you know it.” He turned back to the elves. “You must forgive my friend, Rjurik isn’t much for strangers.”

“Bah,” the dwarf said with a scowl and a spit. “Don’t go puttin’ words in me mouth; I say what I say, no more an’ no less.”

Hawkeye gestured to the injured werewolf behind him. “How much of what this idiot said was true?”

Scratching his chin, Khlekluëllin smiled slightly. “I am sure from his point of view, all of it. But explanations shall have to wait; my sister is missing.”

The evening air was broken by the howls of several wolves as somewhere in the distance a wolf pack had caught the scent of its prey.

Hawkeye looked to the north then back at the two elves. “You have no chance of reaching her in time but I can.” He turned his attention back to his friend. “Take them to the tower. I will go after their sister.”

Poking his stubby fingers into Hawkeye’s gut, Rjurik grumbled. “Now you listen ya big lummox! If ye do this, ye do this. Don’t go seeking your vengeance at her expense. Save her if ye can but don’t go gettin’ yourself kilt over a damn elf.”

“Don’t worry old friend. I’ll be back before dawn. Have a fire going and cook some of that boar. It would be a shame to let that meat go to waste.”

Without another word, Hawkeye sprinted off to the north as the late autumn sun was just fading behind the mountains in the west.

Shadows moved at the edge of the forests while numerous large carrion birds began circling the recent battlefield. Nature was just waiting for its dinner. For in nature and especially in the Highlands, only the strong survive for long.

Chapter 3

The rocky canyon walls echoed with the howling wind as it bit hungrily at the heavily cloaked riders. With heads lowered and faces covered against the swirling leaves and flying dust, they hardly noticed the barren landscape. As they wound their way single file following the banks of a rushing river, the once vibrant forest was blackened with death and decay.  Only the water remained clear and bright, seemingly untouched by the evil that was poisoning the land.

The leader’s horse stopped abruptly as the rider raised her hand to signal those who followed behind.  “We are close,” she rasped, her normally musical voice gritty from the swirling dust. Turning in the saddle, she gazed at her companions. “We shall walk from here.”

The dark warrior riding just behind her quickly slid from his saddle and moved forward to aid her dismount. The rest of the party followed with painful grunts and a few curse words.

A red bearded dwarf in particular began to grumble almost immediately.  “What in the name of the Nine Hells are we doing in this god-forsaken canyon?”

Ignoring the complaints and without waiting to see if any of her companions followed, the black cloaked rider lead the way around a slight bend in the canyon before stopping.

The river ended in a box canyon with the mountains blocking out the horizon and a huge waterfall crashed down with a deafening roar. Although the view of the waterfall was spectacular, it was not what the party had traveled many days to view.

Perched high atop the cliff, straddling the waterfall was a mighty fortress of black rock. It was dark and foreboding and seemed to glisten in the fading light. With the ever-lengthening shadows around them, the dead forest began to appear more threatening while the only sound was that of the howling wind and the crashing water.

Planting his axe and setting his jaw, the red bearded dwarf shook his head. “There is no way this side of the Abyss that I’m going in there!”

Lalith had been expecting this type of response from a member of her party and nodded her head back the way they came. Moving behind an outcropping of rocks which blocked the majority of the noise from the waterfall, Lalith faced her opponent. “What’s the matter Gram?  Are you afraid?”

Shaking his head, Gram gestured with his axe to the land around them. “There be evil in this land. Don’t ya be feelin’ it?”

Calmly unwrapping her face, Lalith let the fading sunlight wash over her features. Her skin was creamy white with the pointed ears that marked her as an elf, the self-appointed protectors of nature. She flashed Gram a dazzling smile and pulled forth an ancient scroll from under her cloak. Unrolling it slowly, she pointed to an area on the map.

“We discussed this back in Asylum when I recruited you. Each of you have certain skills and abilities needed for this quest.”

Gesturing to a large oak tree with limbs reaching out over the rushing river, Lalith frowned at the sight of the decaying tree. “This was once a beautiful place. I used to run along the limbs of that tree in my youth. It saddens my heart to see this land wither and die.”

Gram and the others glanced from the ancient oak, back to the face of their leader.

Lalith absentmindedly fingered an amulet of an eight pointed star that hung on her neck. “I have searched long and hard for the source of the corruption. A few decades back I came upon a prophecy that foretells the coming of an ancient evil.” She gestured to the surrounding landscape. “This corruption is just the beginning of the dark times to come. We are all outcasts from our own people. I know much about each of you.”

Lalith pointed at the dwarf. “Gram, you were cast out of Darkmoor because you disagreed with the king.”

She turned her attention to the huge Minotaur warrior. “Jax was exiled because he refused to kill his best friend when he was wrongly accused of a crime.”

She pointed at the halfling. “And Quglie had to leave his homeland quickly because of a misunderstanding concerning the ownership of some certain jewels.”

Caressing the arm of the dark haired warrior at her side, she frowned. “Darnac and I were cast out of Elfholm because our love was forbidden by the Queen. In short, we are all warriors whose only home is the road but none of us have forgotten where we came from nor would we pass up a chance to return home. Correct?”

Gram glanced at his companions. Jax just nodded and Quglie shrugged his shoulders in resignation. Gaining confidence from his unspoken allies Gram said, “Aye. What you say is true but that don’t explain why we are here.”

Lalith pointed at the black fortress atop the waterfall. “We have to enter that accursed place if we are to rid this forest of corruption. Besides, if the stories of the treasures buried deep inside are true, each of us will become wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.”

Quglie spoke up for the first time in days, his voice was high pitched and childlike. “I like treasure as much as anyone alive but no hoard is ever left unguarded.”

Lalith smiled briefly. “So true; we will have to face traps both magical and mundane. And ancient writings tell of sleepless guardians that block the entrance.”

“Bah! Undead!” Gram spit in the dirt. “I hate the undead!”

Lalith shrugged her shoulders. “No one knows for certain what that passage means only that we should be prepared for anything.”

Lalith continued. “Remember the ancient prophecy, when the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, look to the north for the Chosen One; a being of no race and all races, part black, part white, a creature of the balance, a true son of the Dhyana who will lead the Nine against the One in the final battle for the fate of Terreth for only he can unlock the secrets of the past.”

Gram scratched his red beard. “We all have heard the prophecy Lalith but you’re asking us to risk our lives based solely upon your faith and your interpretation. There is no guarantee that this corruption has anything to do with that prophecy.”

Glancing back at the tower entrance, Lalith rolled her eyes. She was close. She could feel it. It had taken her one hundred and twelve years to get this close. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her companions and once again gently fingered the magical amulet around her neck.  When she next spoke, her words carried with them a slight enchantment making her words seem sweeter, more persuasive and more calming. Each warrior’s mind became filled with visions as she spoke of dark futures.

“I understand your concerns and I agree with them but for the fate of all the land we must proceed. What if the tales are true and the Great Darkness is about to be reborn?  War will soon come to all of Terreth. Brother will fight brother and father against son as the great darkness sweeps out of the north feasting on all that we hold dear. Should we stand idly by and watch as our homelands are burned to the ground as our friends, families and children are made slaves of the Great Enemy? If we turn back now, what would we say to our children if this comes to pass? And yet, we knew in our hearts that we had a chance to stop it but we turned away in fear? What would we say? And even if I am wrong and this isn’t the source of corruption, what of the treasures buried inside? What good could we do with the gold and jewels that are surely in there waiting to be discovered?”

Releasing the amulet, Lalith ended her spell and waited. For several minutes each warrior reeled under the visions of the dark times ahead for their families and friends. Of course, the gleam of untold riches reflected in their eyes. Judging from the looks on their faces and the tears in their eyes, Lalith knew she had them even before they spoke.

Gram was the first to regain his wits.  Hefting his axe onto his shoulder, he cast a quick glance at his companions. Each nodded his head in turn. “Well Lalith since you put it that way, we’re in.  What’s next?”

Lalith pointed to her horse. “There is a wineskin in my left saddlebag. We shall need it.”

Gram raised a bushy eyebrow. “Why? What’s in it?”

A serious look crossing her face, Lalith looked toward the blocked entrance.  “It contains a magical elixir that will bolster your courage and enhance your vision. At one point, if we get deep enough, we will have to enter the tunnel of darkness. We cannot chance a light once we’re inside it.”

Nodding his head, Gram retrieved the wineskin and rejoined the group. Following single file, the party made their way around the lake and across the slippery stones until they were behind the mighty waterfall. The crashing water filled the air with spray and mist until every member was soaked to the bone without ever having set foot in the water. Finding a small pathway chiseled into the rock, the party crept up the rocky slopes to a small cave nestled about a quarter of the way up the cliff but a massive stone door blocked further movement.

Approaching the great slab of rock, Lalith began to chant something in a language that none in the party knew. As the wind continued to howl and blow, the companions stood solid and resolute as they waited for their fearless leader to open the entrance. Lifting her hands high into the air, the wind began to whip around her, building in fury and intensity. Soon, it resembled a small tornado.

When the rest of her party was having trouble standing on the ledge in the face of the rushing wind, Lalith pointed at the stone door. The miniature tornado slammed against it and for a brief moment the door held fast. With a mighty groan the slab flew away to the right, falling the fifty or so feet to the great pool below. Lalith dismissed the rushing wind with a wave of her hand.

Quglie moved to the front of the party and cautiously led the way inside. They hadn’t gone twenty feet when they discovered that they were not the first visitors to explore this ruin. Two dusty skeletons lay buried underneath a solid block of stone that had been a trap of some sort. Considering the amount of rust which covered the armor and weapons, it had been many years since they died. Quglie studied the trap for a moment before leading them further inside. His sharp eyes and skill led the party through winding passageways and past numerous traps. Along the way they discovered the remains of five more adventurers who had fallen to the tombs deadly traps.

Rounding a corner, Quglie pulled up short and signaled for his companions to hold their positions. Creeping up to the edge of a large lighted chamber, the halfling spied numerous statues lining the walls and a dark portal beckoned at the far end. Moving back to his companions, he pointed to the lighted chamber and held up six fingers. “I’m not sure but I think I saw those statues move.”

The dark haired warrior hissed. “Golems.”

Seeing the confused look on the halfling’s face, Darnac continued. “Golems are magically animated statues that act as guardians. They are able to follow very limited instructions but are deadly and extremely tough opponents.”

Gram spit in each hand before taking up a two-handed grip on his notched battle axe. “Well, we didn’t come this far just to turn back at two to one odds.” Jax snorted his agreement and pulled forth his claymore. The dwarf grinned. “Let’s get ‘em ya big ox!”

Without another word the two warriors charged down the passageway. The two elves and the halfling followed but at a more cautious pace.

Entering the chamber Quglie took in the chaotic scene before him. One golem had already been shattered by the charge of the two warriors. Jax was battling two of the golems, knocking them aside with strong swipes of his claymore. Each hit chipping off bits of the stone warriors. Gram was fighting toe-to-toe with a statue of a dwarven warrior, which left two more animated statues for the rest of the party. Darnac stepped in front of the trio and pulled forth his twin sabers, each blade glowed with magical light.

Quglie stepped back, both to give the grim faced elf some room and to lessen the chance of being noticed. As the elf and golem closed, Quglie was amazed at the dazzling swordsmanship on display. The dark warrior had landed so many strikes in the first few seconds of battle that the first golem’s left leg crumbled under the fierce assault.

Quglie could hear Lalith chanting the beginnings of a spell but his attention was focused on the charging stone golem several feet in front of him and knew his time had come. He was backed into a corner with nowhere to run or dodge and no trick or poison he possessed would stop the stone juggernaut before it crushed him. With a scream of rage, Quglie hurled his lucky dagger and leapt to the side.

A blinding flash of light filled the corner and blew apart the stone golem. Lalith walked over to view her handiwork. She had known that her spell would destroy the golem but seeing the still form of Quglie underneath its shattered remains caused her a moment of distress.

As the last opponent fell, Gram wiped the sweat from his brow and looked around. The shattered remains of the golems filled the room but for the first time, he noticed the bodies of other adventurers which had made it this far. “I see we aren’t the first to delve this deep.”

Gliding up to the warriors Lalith said, “Aye, treasure tends to draw thieves like moths to a flame.”

Gram spit onto the stone floor. “I am not a thief. Not now…not ever.” He looked around. “Speaking of thieves, where is that locksmith of ours, Quglie?”

Lalith gestured to the far corner. “He fell in battle. One of the golems crushed him before my spell went off.”

“Damn halfling! Getting’ himself kilt by a walkin’ statue!”

Lalith offered the wineskin to the warriors. “Drink a toast to his honor. He did not flee or beg for mercy but stood his ground against a deadly foe.”

Taking the wineskin, Gram took a long swig. It was warm and slightly bitter as it ran down his throat. He passed it to Jax. The minotaur drank deeply before passing it to Darnac who just slung the wineskin over his shoulder.

Lalith grinned as she moved to the stone archway set in the middle of the back wall. The opening was filled with a swirling darkness that was darker than midnight on a moonless night. It was as if the black void that was the passageway sucked in the fading light never letting any of it escape.

Turning to her companions, Lalith spoke softly. “It is time. From here on in, we cannot chance a light and sound must be kept at a minimum.”

Without waiting to see if anyone would follow, Lalith stepped into the darkness and disappeared from view. Gram looked at Jax who looked at Darnac. The elven warrior just shrugged his shoulders and stepped through the archway. Seconds later, the dwarf and the minotaur followed suit.

Gram wasn’t ten steps in when he began to feel an intense burning in his stomach. Shrugging it off as a side effect of the elixir, he continued down the dark passageway. Minutes later he stumbled out of the dark corridor into a great chamber that stretch over a hundred yards across. He saw that the floor dropped off into shadows while the ceiling rose to the height of several hundred feet. An elaborate spider web with strands the size of a man’s wrist covered the whole chamber. Hanging in the very heart of the web was a large cocoon the size of an elephant. Slight movement could be seen within its silken strands.

Glancing about the chamber, Gram realized that Lalith and Darnac were nowhere to be seen. He was about to call out when the burning in his belly increased. Wincing in pain, Gram noticed that Jax was also grabbing his stomach.

“Poison! The elf bitch poisoned us!”

Lalith and Darnac stepped out of the shadows behind them. With a wave of her hand she dropped the illusion spell which had hidden their true forms. Gone was their pale white skin and dark hair only to replace by their opposites; their skin became as black as a moonless night and their hair was white as snow. Even through the pain, Gram flinched unconsciously as he recognized them as the Svartaflar – more commonly known as Dark Elves.

A slight smile crossed Lalith’s face as she noticed his reaction to their appearance. Moving over to the still form of Gram, Lalith gently caressed his red beard. “Don’t worry. The poison in itself is not fatal. It will merely paralyze you for several days.”

Glancing up, she watched as three large spiders each the size of a small pony began their descent from the dark ceiling. “Unfortunately you’ll be dead by then.”

Stripping off her heavy cloak, Lalith handed it to Darnac. She glanced down at the helpless dwarf, his pleading eyes spoke volumes.

“Why you ask?”

One of the large spiders had moved to Gram’s feet and had begun spinning a web around them, while the other two were working on the fallen Minotaur.

As Lalith continued to strip off her clothes she said, “It won’t hurt to tell you.”

With a wave of her hand, the spider stopped its work and scuttled back a few steps.

“You came here to help fulfill an ancient prophecy and discover a great treasure.  So did I. But unfortunately for you and your friends, I work for the other side. With your sacrifice, I will bring the Great Enemy back to Terreth and together, we will conquer the known world. All will bow before me as I become the Queen of Terreth.”

Glancing down at the halfway-encased dwarf, she chuckled. “You shouldn’t have trusted me. You should’ve listened to your instincts and not come into this cave. But, thanks to you and your foolish friends, Terreth will feel the bite of the Spinner once more. Take to the grave the knowledge that all your friends and family will die due to your failure.”

With a nod of her head, the spiders went back to work encasing the paralyzed dwarf.

‘Lalith, my daughter....’ came a soft, wispy voice through the darkness of the cave.

Hearing her goddess’ voice, Lalith’s blood froze. It was a strange sensation, one that both frightened and excited her at the same time. Turning to face the cocoon, Lalith dropped to one knee. “Yes my goddess, I am yours to command.”

‘You have done well but there is still much to be done before my return. Return to the Highlands, rejoin with my servant Blackfang. Aid him. While you were in the Lowlands we had intruders. They penetrated all the way to the Vault.’

‘The axe and scroll are once more in play. This heralds the coming of the Chosen One. The son of the Dhyana shall be born before the next midsummer’s eve. I know it. I can feel it. Only he can truly disrupt our plans. Search the lands to the north and seek out this Chosen One. He and all his kinsmen must be destroyed to ensure our reign. The gods are still blind to our plans, now is the time to act.’

“As you command my goddess, it will be as if the Chosen One and his people never existed.”

Darnac draped her robes around her shoulders and the two shadow elves wound their way out of the tomb. Casting a spell, Lalith and Darnac began to float up the side of the mountain cliff, off to do the bidding of her goddess.

Clotho the Spinner flexed her mighty legs against the silken strands of her cocoon.

Soon!

Soon, she would be strong enough to climb out of this cocoon and begin her reign of terror on Terreth once more.

This time, the gods would not be able to stand against her, only the Chosen One and his nine followers could do that. But with Lalith’s help, the child of prophecy would die before he would ever have the chance to gather the Legendary Nine.

With his death Clotho’s reign of terror and destruction would be guaranteed, this time.

Unseen by all, Quglie slipped out the passageway and into the night. He paused in the shadows to watch the two dark elves float up the cliff. The ever-practical halfling shrugged his shoulders before hiking back to the waiting horses.

Chapter 4

A low growl issued from the massive white wolf as it paused and took in the scene before it. A bone-chilling breeze was blowing from the north bringing with it a few flakes of snow but it also carried the sweet scent of fear. Outlined by the full moon, the white wolf seemed overly large and unearthly; the pale moonlight glistened off its bared teeth. For a brief moment no one moved or spoke, the only sound was the wind.

One of Blackfang’s men pointed at the huge white wolf and backed up several steps. “Luna, forgive us!”

Lifting its head the white wolf howled once, long and loud. The sound echoing off of the pillars was deafening. That was enough for Blackfang’s men as they fled into dark forest leaving their leader to deal with the ghostly wolf.

With a snarl, the great white wolf launched itself at renegade barbarian. Taken slightly off guard by the sudden attack, Blackfang barely managed to drop Tatianna and get his arm up to protect his throat before the wolf landed on him. Dropping back, he rolled over and quickly kicked up with his legs throwing off the huge canine.

Blackfang quickly shifted into his full wolf form and the battle was joined in earnest. They were like two sides of a coin, similar yet completely different.

The white wolf positioned itself between the battered Tatianna and the wolf form of Blackfang. Holding his head high and his neck arched, the white wolf’s forehead buckled with muscular tension. Slowly opening his mouth, he drew back his lips exposing his impressive canines. A low deep growl broke the silence. Looking ready to explode into action with his legs stiffened, tail trembling and his fur bristling, he waited for Blackfang to make the first move.

Blackfang mirrored the white wolf’s aggressive stance and growled back. The wolves just stared at each other for several seconds. Blackfang tried circling the white wolf, which just pivoted his position, never letting Blackfang get behind him or too close to the injured elf.

Suddenly Blackfang attacked, coming in low with a quick lunge of his snapping teeth. Rising up on his hind legs, the white wolf counterattacked with a swipe from his powerful paws, followed by his own bite. Blackfang countered with his own swipe and bite. The two wolves continued this attack-counterattack routine for several minutes. Both were bleeding from numerous wounds but it seemed that neither could gain the advantage. They seemed completely balanced in power.

Finally the white wolf scored a solid bite to Blackfang’s throat which caused him to flinch in pain. The white wolf held on and began to shake his head back and forth, trying to rip open Blackfang’s throat.

In an act of desperation, Blackfang lashed out with his right front paw and scored a wicked cut on the white wolf’s head just behind the left ear. The flash of pain caused the white wolf to yelp, releasing his hold on his opponent.

Blackfang was injured and tired. He also realized that he had lost any advantage he had earlier in the battle. Seizing the opportunity granted by his sudden release, he bolted off into the night.

The great white wolf pursued him only to the base of the hill but not into the forest. Instead he returned to the shrine and went to the side of the injured elf that was lying on the ground next to the altar in a pool of her own blood. Sniffing her body, the white wolf saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing.

Closing his eyes, the white wolf let the transformation come over him. His form started melting and lengthening as Hawkeye shifted into human form. Bowing his head toward the altar, Hawkeye offered a quick prayer of thanks to his goddess Luna.

Speaking to the unconscious elf, he hoped his voice would bring her some comfort. “First things first, we must bind these wounds and get you to shelter.”

Gathering her gear, Hawkeye lifted her gently and carried her down the hill and into the forest.

Chapter 5

‘I’m alive’ was Tatianna’s first thought.

The wave of pain that flooded her body when she tried to move proved that, death wouldn’t hurt this much, so she must be alive. Pushing herself to sit up, another wave of pain washed over her body. Ignoring the pain, Tatianna studied her surroundings.

Judging from the walls, she was in an old stone building; the wooden beams that formed the ceiling and floor were of aged oak, not polished but well tended. The room was bare of any personal touches, just a basic functional room; a single bed, a small table and a wooden chair. Nothing special but it did have a warm, cozy feeling to it.

Lying on the chair, Tatianna spied her sword and backpack. Ignoring the nausea and pain, she stood up and noticed for the first time that she was naked. All the wounds on her body had been bandaged and she could feel the tightness of the stitching from the wound to her abdomen.

Pulling on the robe that she found at the foot of her bed, Tatianna retrieved her sword. Pulling forth the blade, the starmetal glowed red in the light from the oil lamp on the table. Moving slowly to the window, she studied the surrounding landscape.

Judging from the height of the window, Tatianna figured she was near the top of the tower with the window facing south. The tower was surrounded by the evergreen forest of the Highlands. Most of the trees showed a dusting of snow but no sign of civilization could be seen from her vantage point. No roads or smoke signaling a campfire or village, only the endless tops of green and white.

Shifting her attention to the only door in the room, Tatianna leaned down and placed her pointy ear to the aged wood.  Sounds of movement and muffled voices lay beyond but nothing she could discern. Taking a deep breath, Tatianna shifted the grip on her sword and yanked open the door.

Whatever she was expecting, that which confronted her wasn’t it. Calmly sitting at a wooden table eating a plate of scrambled eggs with roasted pork were her two brothers, bandaged but alive.

“Well…well,” Mortharona said as he set down his fork. “Look who finally decided to wake up!”

Standing slowly, Khlekluëllin winced with the effort. “Greetings sister, I am pleased to see you up and about.”

“Khlekluëllin!”

Overwhelmed with joy, Tatianna lowered her sword and rushed forward to embrace her brothers. Also moving slowly, Mortharona joined his siblings and the three spent a brief moment enjoying the comfort of family.

“Now lass, you shouldn’t be doin’ all that huggin’ ye might rip your stitches!”

Breaking their grip, the three elves turned to look at the speaker. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was their dwarven host.

Tatianna took a moment and studied the old dwarf.

He was nearly four feet tall and broad of shoulder. His bushy eyebrows, beard and mustache were fiery red with streaks of grey. Although both his beard and mustache were long and reached down to his belt, he was bald which was extremely unusual for a dwarf.

“Wha’sa matter lass? Nev’r seen a dwarf before?”

Blushing with the knowledge that she had been staring, Tatianna placed her right hand over her heart and bowed low. “Forgive my rudeness master dwarf.”

“Bah! There won’t bein’ any mast’r dwarf this or that, da name’s Rjurik. Rjurik Silvershield.” Crossing the room with his rolling gait, he pulled out an empty chair and thrust it at Tatianna. “Now’in ye better sit down, da pup will be along shortly.”

Glancing at her brothers, Tatianna raised her right eyebrow. “Pup?”

“Bah!” was Rjurik’s response. Moving over to the fire, he began slicing off strips of pork from the roasting boar flank. “Ye better eat. Ya need ta regain your strength.”

At the mention of food, Tatianna’s stomach growled in response. “My thanks Rjurik for the offer but we elves don’t normally eat meat but it does smell delicious.”

“It is.” Khlekluëllin said, “It is probably the most wonderful meal I have ever had, including every feast and banquet we have ever attended.”

“Bah! I’da like ta say it was me spices but its nuttin’ more than yer first meal after a brush with death.” He jabbed his fork in the direction of the twins. “You two were mere moments from walking da dark path and ye know it.”

Taking another mouthful of food, Mortharona nodded his agreement. “There is truth in your words; death’s cold fingers were gripping my spine when you two arrived. I never thought I would owe my life to a stubby old dwarf and a crazed barbarian.”

“Mortharona!” said Tatianna.

Rjurik seem unfazed by the slight insult. “Well, to tell ye the truth, I nev’r thought I would have ta rescue a pair of elven warriors from a bunch of gobbies.”

He punctuated his statement with a tobacco laden spit into the fire. The twins nearly choked with laughter at the jest.

Realizing the insults were just friendly banter, Tatianna tried to change the subject. “Rjurik, I have some questions.”

“What’cha need lass?”

“Answers, where are we for starters?”

“Logical first question,” Rjurik said. “You’re still in da Highlands, a little over three leagues west from da Shrine of Luna and about twenty leagues from da edge of da Darkmoor Mountains in case dat helps you get your bearings.”

He gestured at the structure around them. “This tower was once a lookout post for me clan but hadn’t been used in many a year. A few summers back, me and da pup moved in and fixed ‘er up.”

“How…how long ago was the attack?”

Khlekluëllin rested a hand on her shoulder. “You have been asleep for nearly a day and a half.”

Rjurik poured himself a mug from a nearby barrel of ale. “Aye, da pup left you in my care at dawn da day before yesterday.”

“Who is this pup you keep referring to?”

Rjurik shook his head. “Introductions and names belong to da bearer, not me. When da pup returns he will answer your questions, until then eat and rest. Regain your strength, I fear we may need it soon enough.”

Setting down his mug, Rjurik turned back to the fire and began slicing the roasted boar and placing the strips into separate bags.

Flustered, Tatianna glared at the dwarf’s back. “But you haven’t answered all my questions.”

“Answers will have to wait,” Hawkeye said as he entered the room. “It is time to leave, they have found us.”

All four turned to look at Hawkeye, Rjurik didn’t say a word. He just began packing some bags while Tatianna and Hawkeye locked eyes for the first time.

Hawkeye was frozen with the intense beauty of her eyes. He noted that they were the crystal blue of a mountain stream. Clear and bright, full of the energy of youth and held the bright sparkle of innocence. However, there was a slight hint of darkness on the edges, which Hawkeye guessed would be from some great tragedy in her life. He felt intoxicated by her eyes and utterly helpless before them.

Similarly, Tatianna felt herself drawn into his deep gray eyes. She thought that they were the color of an overcast day. His eyes held the peacefulness of a morning shower and the rage of a thunderstorm at the same time. They also showed wisdom gained through great loss and sadness. She had never seen their like, not in the elven kingdoms nor in the lands of men. She didn’t feel threatened by them, only welcomed by them. The moment passed without words. She was the first to look away.

Khlekluëllin stepped forward, offering his right hand in friendship. “Well met Hawkeye, I am gladdened to see you again.”

Hawkeye clasped forearms in the traditional greeting of warriors. “Well met Khlekluëllin. I am afraid more pleasantries will have to wait, the enemy is here.”

A loud boom from below at the main gate seemed to echo his statement.

The three elves followed Rjurik to the balcony overlooking the main gate and were shocked to see a band of gnomes banging on the front gate.

At first glance gnomes seem very similar to dwarves, in the fact that they are a diminutive humanoid race but that is where the similarity ends. Typically, gnomes are not as stout as dwarves and are totally hairless with overly large noses. They tend to adorn themselves with garish tattoos and jewelry. They are a clever race and are excellent craftsmen, however their items fall into two major categories, bizarre or wicked. Nearly every mechanical weapon of war from the ballistae to the crossbow has been tinkered and improved slightly by a gnome. Of course, the gnomes and dwarves are legendary enemies due to both races tendency to inhabit the same underground regions.

Rjurik leaned over the rail and yelled, “Bugger off you beardless sons of a boar!”

The gnomes cursed back in their native tongue and began to hack at the gate with their axes. Turning back, Rjurik moved to a small closet set right above the main entrance. Inside the elves saw an array of levers and ropes. Rjurik began to shift and move some of the levers when he noticed their confused looks, he flashed them a wink and said, “Just leaving a few presents for our uninvited houseguests. Come, we must go.”

Tatianna rushed back into the sleeping chamber, dressed quickly and grabbed up her gear. Seconds later she was behind her brothers as they followed the old dwarf through the keep until they reached a partially covered well in the lowest part of the tower. Hawkeye was already there with five backpacks.

Khlekluëllin asked, “What now?”

Rjurik nodded toward the barbarian.

Hawkeye took a moment to study the three elves. Each of them was wounded but bandaged and mobile. Finally he said, “The chase is on. The Highlanders who attacked your party are led by a rogue warlord named Blackfang. He and his pack have been raiding the Highlands for the last few seasons. Now, it seems he has made an alliance with the gnomes and goblins of the region.”

With a nod toward Tatianna he continued, “After he escaped our battle at the Shrine, I tracked him to an ancient fortress south of here that used to be in ruins. It has been rebuilt. Gnomes and goblins walked the battlements. This can only mean one thing, war. Blackfang must be planning to conquer the Highlands. We cannot let that happen.”

“What do you mean, we?” Mortharona asked. “That has nothing to do with us. That is a barbarian problem, not an elf problem.”

Without anger, Hawkeye continued. “No, it is the problem of all free people. Why did he attack your company? Why did he chase Tatianna, yet not kill her? And once the Highlands fall, do you think he will be content with just these lands? Why not the dwarven nation of Darkmoor or your homeland, the Elfholm? Neither kingdom is that far away and within easy striking distance of his fortress.”

The elves were silent as they consider his words. The pounding on the front gate echoed through the old keep.

Finally Khlekluëllin asked, “You said the chase is on, what do you mean by that?”

Hawkeye and Rjurik moved aside the stone cover that blocked off an old well.

“The gate and Rjurik’s traps will only keep the gnomes at bay for a short time. Additionally, there is a patrol of goblins north of here that will arrive shortly as reinforcements. We cannot hold this tower. We face a superior numbered foe with limited options; you three are injured, one old dwarf and I are not enough to hold them off for long. So we must flee.”

Tatianna asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“First rule of survival, always have a way out,” Rjurik said. He pointed at the hole in the ground. “This well is dry. At the bottom is a tunnel that leads north a bit before coming out in an old iron mine. I have some supplies hidden there.”

“What if the goblins have found the mine and your supplies?” asked Tatianna.

Rjurik chuckled. “I don’t think so, Grimclaw makes that mine his lair.”

“Who is Grimclaw?” asks Mortharona.

“The biggest and meanest grizzly bear in the region,” Rjurik said. “Goblins would be smart to avoid him.”

“And we plan on taking a back door into his lair, how smart can we be?” asked Khlekluëllin.

“Ol’ Grimclaw and I have an understanding. Trust me. From there we must follow Hawkeye’s advice. He knows the Highlands better than anyone alive.”

Boom!

The walls of the old tower shook with the crashing of the gate. Dust filled the room, as the sound of heavy boots echo through the tower.

Hawkeye said, “Now…quickly, down the well!”

Without argument, the three elves followed Rjurik down the hidden ladder along the wall of the well with Hawkeye taking up the rear. Reaching the bottom, Rjurik opened an old chest and pulled forth an unlit torch. Lighting it with flint and steel, he passed it back to Hawkeye before pulling two more from the chest which he passed to the twins. Lighting the torches, the small party could hear the echo of boots from above. The fear of discovery began to creep up their spine.

Rjurik pushed the empty chest aside to reveal a small passageway cut into the side of the well. Without waiting, Rjurik crawled through the opening. One by one, the party followed and found themselves in a small smoothly cut passageway that was only about four foot by four foot and disappeared into the darkness. Only the flickering light from the three torches kept the oppressive darkness of the tunnel at bay.

Rjurik was able to walk upright, head bowed a bit but upright. The elves found the traveling difficult. Being taller than dwarves but not as broad, they could only walk bent over. However the large barbarian found the passageway too small for him to traverse without crawling. Passing his torch to Tatianna, Hawkeye flashed her a wink and called on the magical nature of his race and shape-shifted into his wolf form.

Traveling underground was as natural to dwarves as swimming is to fish. The elves on the other hand, felt the imagined weight of the tons of rock overhead pressing down on them; only the fear of discovery by the gnomes drove them on. After several minutes, the passageway opened into a larger rough hewn passageway that was obviously the old mine shaft Rjurik had mentioned.

Climbing down, the three elves immediately felt less claustrophobic in the airy mine shaft. As soon as Hawkeye leapt down from the passageway, he shifted back into human form. All three elves watched in utter fascination at the transformation. One moment, a huge white wolf was standing there, the next a fur wearing barbarian warrior.

“Hawkeye, I have seen you shape shift twice now,” Khlekluëllin said. “Once into your wolf form and now back to human shape; both times you were fully armed. I have to ask, what happens to your gear when you transform?”

Reaching up, Hawkeye pulled out a small leather pouch that was tied around his neck. “This is my medicine bag. Not every Highlander receives the blessing of the totem. It is a rare gift from Luna. Gaining the shapeshifting ability is a long quest but during the process the warrior must craft a medicine bag of their own. It acts as a storage place for our belongings when we shift forms.”

He tucked his pouch back under his tunic. “Those that no longer follow the teachings of Luna, like Blackfang and his followers, find that their medicine bags no longer work. The fallen still have her gift but not her blessing.”

Khlekluëllin shifted the torch to his injured arm, wincing slightly. “Thanks for that explanation. It has bothered me from the first moment I saw you change shape.”

A loud crash echoed from the passageway they had just exited. The elves looked back only to see Rjurik walking up to them with a large grin on his face.

“No one will be followin’ us that way, at least not right away.” Nodding his head, “Come on, we ain’t gettin’ nowhere standin’ round here with our jaws a flappin’.”

Following the old dwarf, the party moved through the mine shafts with ease. Tatianna was helplessly lost and yearned to feel the wind on her face. Glancing over her shoulder at Hawkeye, she felt her pulse quicken with the knowledge that his shadowed form was only a few feet behind her. He radiated a sense of calm that soothed her frazzled nerves.

Turning her attention back to their journey through the mines, Tatianna failed to notice that Hawkeye was watching her every move.

After about an hour, the companions noticed a different scent in the air. Instead of the damp, musty smell of the mines; the air was full of musk.

They had entered the lair of Grimclaw.

Even Rjurik stopped in his tracks as they crossed the imaginary line that separated the mine shaft from the grizzly’s lair. Turning slowly toward his companions, Rjurik placed one finger in front of his lips in the universal sign for silence.

Creeping through the cavern, the companions stepped over the loose rocks and scattered bones that littered the area. A rhythmic heavy breathing filled the air, while the musky scent grew stronger. Rounding a corner, they found themselves at a crossroads with the heavy breathing coming from their right. Rjurik nodded to the left with his head but took several steps down the right passageway.

Khlekluëllin paused to watch the dwarf, while Mortharona and Tatianna moved slowly down the indicated passageway.

Hawkeye drew up alongside the elf, bow strung and an arrow at the ready. Rjurik pulled forth the remnants of the uncooked boar from a large sack he’d been carrying over his shoulder. Moving up to the sleeping form of the grizzly, the dwarf dumped the carcass at Grimclaw’s feet.

Now that Rjurik was next to the bear, Khlekluëllin could make out the immense size of the creature. The brief sensation of fear moved up the blue haired elf’s spine. There was something primordial about this bear, something so unnaturally powerful.

Moving slowly through the cave, the companions gave the bear a wide berth to finally exit the lair. Stepping out into the evening sky, the companions inhaled deeply of the cold mountain air. To the west, the sun was just setting behind the Darkmoor Mountains while to the south Rjurik’s tower was in flames.

Without comment, Hawkeye moved off to the north and away from the cave. Silently, the companions fell in behind the barbarian. Moving slowly over the rough terrain, Hawkeye led them over seldom used trails through the evergreen forest. A light dusting of snow covered the tree tops but the forest floor was thankfully still free from the snow.

Near midnight, Hawkeye called for a break next to a fast running stream. Mortharona and Tatianna collapsed almost immediately while Khlekluëllin moved up next to Hawkeye before slumping to the ground.

“Might I inquire as to where we are heading?”

Scanning the forest with his eyes Hawkeye said, “A couple leagues north and east is a small trading post. Hopefully, we can barter for some horses.”

“Horses,” said Khlekluëllin. “That would be nice. I haven’t done this much walking in decades.”

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. “Decades? You don’t look like you’ve seen more than twenty seasons.”

Khlekluëllin chuckled. “As a matter of fact, Mortharona and I are one hundred and twenty two years old. Elves have a long life span barring death in battle.”

With a nod toward Tatianna, Hawkeye asked, “And your sister?”

“According to the standards of our people, she is young. She just celebrated her fiftieth birthday which makes her an adult but just barely.” Seeing the incredulous look on Hawkeye’s face, Khlekluëllin added, “When the average elf lives over five centuries, years seem like a drop of water in a large pond.”

Hawkeye nodded toward the old dwarf. “I know Rjurik has his two hundred and seventy-fifth birthday coming up. We humans must seem like children to your two races.”

Rolling onto his back, Khlekluëllin stared up at the stars. “There is truth in what you say, yet your race tends to live each day to the fullest while we pass the time. Maybe it was all a big joke by the gods, to bless our races with long life but to give your race the motivation to truly live.”

“Are all you elves so philosophical?”

Khlekluëllin grinned. “Aye. It’s the curse of long life.”

“Let me ask you something.” Hawkeye’s face grew serious. “Why would Blackfang chase your sister? One lone elf on the run through the Highlands isn’t a threat”

Sitting up, the blue haired elf glanced at his sister. “That is a good question my friend, a good question indeed.”

Tatianna couldn’t hear what her brother and the barbarian were talking about but she knew it had something to do with her just by the looks they gave her.

She felt confused by Hawkeye. She felt herself tense up every time he got near, the similarities between him and Blackfang were overwhelming. They each radiated an animal magnetism that was intoxicating. Even their smell was similar.

Closing her eyes, Tatianna let herself remember the events of the last few days. She had tried to repress the memory of her flight through the forest and her rape by Blackfang but they kept resurfacing, especially when she got near Hawkeye. As tired as she was, only the need to place one foot in front of the other during their trek north had chased away the memories. Now that they were resting, her mind kept drifting back to those painful memories.

“How ya doin’ lass?” Rjurik asked as he moved up next to her.

Shaking her head to clear it, she flashed him a weak smile. “I am well master dwarf.”

“Now don’t cha be lying to me lass. I can see ye are in pain.” Rjurik asked, “Is it your wounds?”

“They ache but there are some wounds you cannot bandage.” Looking the old dwarf in the eyes she added, “The wounds to my soul are beyond your skill.”

Rjurik nodded and sat down next to her. “Aye lass, those wounds are beyond all but the gods. But don’t ye be givin’ into dark thoughts. You didn’t cause it to happen, it ain’t your fault.”

He nodded toward Hawkeye. “Just like it ain’t da pups fault for being a lot like Blackfang.”

“How…how did you know I was thinking that?”

“It don’t take a genius to see where your thoughts have been,” Rjurik said.

“But don’t you go judging Hawkeye by the actions of monsters like Blackfang or even other of his kin. There is something different in tha’ one; he is an oddity even to his people. He is highly respected even feared by some but he is more civilized than most, yet can be as ruthless as any. He has chosen to walk a lonely path.”

Tatianna stared at Hawkeye’s back for several minutes before speaking again. “Why?”

Rjurik shook his head. “Tis not my place to tell his story but suffice to say, he has suffered great tragedies in his life.” He placed a reassuring hand on her knee. “Now lass, get ye to sleep. Da dawn will be here soon enough and we still have a long way to travel before we’re safe.”

Hearing the wisdom in his words, Tatianna glanced at her two brothers. Mortharona had fallen asleep the moment they stopped, of course with a head wound that was both dangerous and expected. Khlekluëllin had lasted a short time talking with Hawkeye but even he was asleep. A gentle snore from her left told Tatianna that the old dwarf had taken his own advice.

Moments later, Tatianna followed them into the restless sleep of the weary. Only Hawkeye remained awake and vigilant, watching the night for any signs of the pursuit he knew was coming.

Chapter 6

Blackfang wandered through the lower passageways of the cavern beneath his restored fortress deep in thought. His failure to kill the elven princess and his defeat at the teeth of Hawkeye sat heavily on his shoulders darkening his mood.

To further complicate his day, a runner had come in with reports that his patrols had found Hawkeye and the elves in a small tower several leagues north. Before he could organize a larger force, a second runner arrived saying that he had once again escaped.

“Blackfang!”

A guttural voice boomed in the darkness of the large cavern, interrupting his thoughts. The barbarian warlord saw Thantos the joten chieftain rushing across the cavern floor to join him.

Blackfang studied his ally as he waited for him to catch up. Standing nearly fifteen feet tall, Thantos was the largest and ugliest cyclops he had ever seen. His skin was the grayish-black color of the majority of his race while white scars criss-crossing his chest and back. A large patch of scar tissue covered his left chest, shoulder and neck. It looked slightly melted, like it had been burned from his body.

Rumors had it that Thantos received that scar fighting a dragon. His one extremely large eye, located in the middle of his forehead was blood shot and gleamed red in the dim firelight of the cavern.

Forcing himself to be cheerful, Blackfang grinned. “Thantos my friend, what can I do for you?”

Storming up, Thantos poked his dirty finger into Blackfang’s chest. “When we go to war?!”

Looking up at the towering hulk, Blackfang wasn’t scared or impressed, he was angry.

‘Who does this brute think he is?’

Feeling the wave of anger flow over him, Blackfang let the shift from man to werewolf happen. In a matter of seconds, Blackfang stood in his hybrid form. Letting a low growl escape his throat, Blackfang raised his hackles as his voice took on a more bestial quality. “What was your question again?”

Undaunted, Thantos pressed his question.

“You promised us blood! When we go to war? Me no like….”

Thantos never finished his sentence as Blackfang’s arm shot out like a bolt of lightning. Grabbing the cyclops’ genitals with one of his clawed hands, he began to squeeze.

The great cyclops fell to his knees, howling in pain. Thantos’ one great eye fixed on the black werewolf who was causing him such pain. Instinctively, Thantos attacked. Reaching out with his massive arms, he tried to wrap Blackfang in a bear hug.

It didn’t work.

Ducking the clumsy attack, Blackfang squeezed harder with one hand and grabbed the larger cyclops by the throat with the other. Digging in his claws on both hands, Blackfang lowered his voice till it was just barely above a whisper.

“Now listen here you smelly brute! I’m in charge of this army, not you! You will address me with respect or I will rip off your balls and shove them down your gutted throat.”

Releasing the cyclops, Blackfang took a step back but remained in his hybrid form just in case the stupid brute wanted to continue the fight.

Rubbing his manhood with one hand and his neck with the other, Thantos shifted into a sitting position. Lowering his head slightly he said, “Me hate to wait. Me want blood but not yours. Me sorry. It not happen again.”

Blackfang let the shift back to his human form come over him. “Good! Then, I will consider this a lesson learned and one not to be repeated.”

He glared at the cyclops for a moment. When they locked eyes, Thantos was the first to look away.

“But to answer your question, we attack on the eve of the Yuletide Festival.”

Snapping his head up, Thantos grinned at the thought of bloodshed. “We attack da hated dwarves?”

Blackfang shook his head. “Not yet!”  Seeing the disappointment in the cyclops face, Blackfang added, “But I believe that there will be a large contingent of dwarves in the village. Our two enemies will make a treaty in a futile attempt to defy our might. It doesn’t matter. We will crush all who oppose us.”

Standing slowly, Thantos towered over Blackfang. “We be ready.”

“Excellent. I expected nothing else from my strongest ally.”

Beaming at the complement, Thantos strode away.

Watching him cut across the cavern floor, Blackfang chuckled to himself as the hundreds of goblins that were scurrying across the cavern quickly got out of the joten’s way. He shook his head. “Buffoon! I am surrounded by idiots.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned back toward the dark passageway ahead of him. “But he and his kind will make great fodder for the upcoming war!”

Letting the matter drop from his mind, Blackfang entered the lowest part of the fortress. Walking quickly, he navigated the twisting tunnels like a moth drawn to a flame. Coming around a bend in the passageway, Blackfang came upon three gnomish guards that were playing a game of chance that involved dice, bones and coins.

So involved with their game, the bald and beardless gnomes didn’t even notice Blackfang until he was standing just outside of their torchlight. Snapping to attention, the guards let fall their winnings. Sneering at them slightly, Blackfang purposefully walked through what remained of their game. Stopping in the center, he let his gaze fall on the scattered game, then slowly to each gnome. None would meet his gaze.

Finally Blackfang broke the silence. “I see you’ve been hard at work. I’m sure our enemies are working just as hard.”

One of the gnomes spoke up. “But Blackfang, nobody is going to attack us down here.”

Blackfang faced the outspoken gnome. “So, you think nobody is going to attack you way down here?”

Nodding his head the young gnome stepped boldly forward. Resting his right hand on the hilt of his short sword, he looked upward to stare Blackfang dead in the eyes.

“And if they did, we would be able to take care of them without any problems.”

Glancing over his shoulder at his companions, the young gnome flashed them a quick wink. In his arrogance, he didn’t notice the worried looks on his companion’s faces. He was certain they would support him in his boast.

He was wrong, dead wrong!

Turning back to face Blackfang, the last thing he saw was the werewolf’s right hand which ended in a black, hairy paw with inch long claws as it shot out quicker than an arrow at his exposed throat. The young gnome didn’t even feel any pain as his body immediately went into shock from the strike.

Standing absolutely still, the dying gnome looked at the jagged pieces of flesh and blood hanging from Blackfang’s clawed hand, as his lifeblood began pouring out of the large gash in his throat. Opening his mouth, the young gnome tried to say something, anything but no sounds came out, only blood, lots of blood. Falling to the floor, the last images that went through his mind were of Blackfang leaning over him with a large evil grin on his face.

“What was that you were saying? You stupid, Digger! You forgot the first rule of survival; always expect the unexpected!”

Turning back to face the two remaining guards, Blackfang pointed at them with his bloody claw.

“Let that be a lesson to the both of you. Take your watch positions seriously or you will not live to regret it.”

Turning his back on them, he spoke over his shoulder as he continued down the passageway.

“Take that carcass to the kitchens. Everyone and everything is useful in some way, just be careful not to join him.”

Moving through the dungeon without pause, Blackfang entered the lower parts of the keep. From here on up, the passageways were expertly carved by dwarven craftsmen several centuries earlier. This fortress had once been a citadel of some renown but as the saying goes, ‘time makes a fool of all men’ and it had fallen into disuse.

Blackfang and his followers had taken up residence here several years ago and with the aid of a band of gnomes had restored the fortress to a shadow of its former glory. During its heyday this citadel was a fortress of good, a bastion of hope for all of Terreth. It was the center of learning and education for nearly a century until the evils of mankind whittled away the last visage of pride in its soul. Now, it was a tower of terror; remade to serve the evil of the Dark Alliance.

Turning the bend that led to his room, Blackfang stopped in mid-stride when he found a grim faced dark elf barring his way. The barbarian warlord was about to yell when a flash of recognition rolled through him. This wasn’t just any dark elf, this was the Blademaster.

The unfamiliar trickle of fear rolled up his spine at the memory of watching the Blademaster’s last round in the Pit. The dark elf had faced five well-armed and skilled Highlanders. As soon as they had shifted into their hybrid forms, the werewolves charged. The Blademaster had calmly drawn his twin sabers and proceeded to cut them to pieces with surprising ease.

Recovering his composure, Blackfang glared at the warrior with a conviction he truly didn’t feel and said, “Greetings Blademaster, I assume your mistress is inside?”

Darnac tilted his head to one side as he studied the barbarian with his violet eyes. “She left instructions not to be disturbed.”

Blackfang made to step past but was stopped by the cold edge of a knife at his throat. Swallowing hard, Blackfang stammered, “I…I’m sure she didn’t mean me!”

Darnac grinned coldly. “The mistress is meditating. She will not be disturbed by you or anyone else as long as the blood flows through my veins.”

The dark elf withdrew the knife and sheathed it slowly.

“If you have a problem with that you have two options, wait until summoned or attack me.” Darnac leaned back on the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I’m hoping you choose the later of the two, it is the more entertaining choice.”

Blackfang swallowed hard once again but kept his voice level when answering. “Since she is meditating, we wouldn’t want to disturb her, so I will wait.”

Moving over to sit on a nearby bench, Blackfang tried to regain a measure of his injured pride. “Besides, she would never forgive me if I killed you. Good servants are so hard to come by.”

Darnac just smiled.

The deadly dark elf just pulled out a whetstone and began to hone an already razor sharp knife. However, the grating of the blade on stone was more entertaining than the silence and he knew it would irritate the Highlander.

Chapter 7

Nestled deep in the ravine with the hills and trees around them, the companions spent a relatively comfortable night. The air was brisk with a gentle breeze coming from the west as the sun cleared the eastern horizon. In the dim light of the morning sun, Hawkeye studied his companions. They were a motley crew at best.

Rjurik was showing his age and no matter what the old dwarf would say, yesterday’s flight had taxed his strength. However, Hawkeye knew that the dwarf wouldn’t quit on him as long as there was a breath left in his body. He was as solid as the stone his kin loved. Hawkeye also knew if it came to a battle, Rjurik’s hammer and shield would make a solid dent in whatever foe they faced.

Mortharona, the dark haired twin, was a mystery. He seemed more aloof than the other two elves and rarely spoke unless it was to offer a snide remark. Of course, he had suffered a major head injury and a broken shoulder which he bore without complaint. In Hawkeye’s eyes that was an admirable trait.

Khlekluëllin, the blue haired twin, was his brother’s opposite. He was friendly, inquisitive and non-judgmental. He seemed to be the rock the other two leaned on and the overriding voice of reason of the siblings.

As Hawkeye’s gaze reached Tatianna, he paused to study her lithe body. Tatianna had rolled over onto her side in her sleep, hiding the bandages on her left cheek. She hadn’t spoken to anyone as far as he knew about what had happened to her at the Shrine.

Although he hadn’t seen it, he could read the signs they had left behind. Besides, he knew what despicable acts Blackfang was capable of committing. Judging from her actions, Hawkeye figured Tatianna felt self conscious about her wounds. Yet he found her more than beautiful, not in spite of her wounds but because of them. She had not let her injuries dampen her fiery spirit or even voiced a single complaint throughout their flight north.

With the coming of the dawn, Hawkeye roused his companions, starting with Rjurik. Tapping the old dwarf’s boot he said, “Time to rise sleepy head.”

“Hurmph,” snorted Rjurik. “Me thinks I found da hardest rock in da area ta sleep on last night.”

Stirring at the dwarf’s complaints, Khlekluëllin rolled over. “Impossible master dwarf. That honor goes to the patch of ground I am currently lying on.”

Without opening his eyes Morthrona added, “I’m not sure how anyone slept with the way that old dwarf snores!”

“I do not snore!”

Tatianna giggled as she sat up. “Yes Rjurik, you do.” Seeing that the old dwarf was about to explode she added, “But it’s not as bad as Mortharona says.”

Turning her head slightly, she noticed that Hawkeye was watching her and she felt the irresistible urge to stretch. Arching her back a bit more than normal, she grinned as Hawkeye quickly turned his gaze away.

‘Dammit Tatianna,’ she thought, ‘You’re a shameless flirt.’

Reaching into his pack, Rjurik pulled out a bundle of dried meat. Taking a large hunk, he passed it to Mortharona. With a distasteful look, he took a much smaller piece before passing it on to his brother. Khlekluëllin didn’t even hesitate before grabbing a large piece and passed it to Tatianna.

She took the offered parcel but looked up at her companions and said “I don’t particularly like meat. Do we have anything else?”

“This is the Highlands,” Hawkeye said. “You eat when you find food, drink when you’re near water and rest only where you feel safe. Anything less and you’re dead.” With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned back to the north. “Your choice, eat or don’t eat. Either way we have many miles to cover before highsun.” Glancing back, Hawkeye softened his tone. “I would prefer you to eat something. You will need your strength in the days to come.”

Understanding the meaning in his words, Tatianna took a piece of the dried meat and handed the parcel back to Rjurik. Biting into the meat, she nearly choked on the harsh spices that assaulted her taste buds.

Rjurik grinned. “I forgot ta warn ye lass. The first bite tends ta ‘ave a mighty kick.”

Fighting back the tears, Tatianna forced herself to swallow as she moved to the stream. Kneeling down, she placed her lips in the fast moving water and drank deeply. Looking up, she could tell that the spicy meat had a similar effect on her brothers. Still coughing slightly Tatianna asked, “What…what did you put on that meat?”

“Hrumph! Just a few spices. It’s an ol’ dwarven recipe. It’ll put hair on your chin!”

Tatianna snorted. “As if I want hair on my chin!”

Before Rjurik could say anything more, Hawkeye stepped up. “Time to go. The enemy is on the move. I can feel it.” Looking around at the forest, Hawkeye’s impatience was noticeable to all. He whispered, “Something isn’t right”

Hefting his shield, Rjurik threw his backpack over his right shoulder. “We’re wasting daylight standin’ here a yappin’!”

The three elves exchanged looks of uncertainty before Khlekluëllin shrugged his shoulders and fell in behind the dwarf. The other two followed quietly.

The companions traveled through the morning hours, mostly sticking to small game trails but always heading north and east. Walking in single file with Rjurik in the lead, followed by Khlekluëllin, Tatianna and Mortharona a few paces to the rear. For most of the day, the companions would only get a fleeting glimpse of Hawkeye at areas where the trail would be difficult to discern or when cresting a ridge; sometimes he was hundreds of paces to their rear, obscuring any sign of their passage or several paces ahead to mark the proper trail. Just before highsun, the companions were crossing a ridge when they spied a small ribbon of smoke.

Khlekluëllin asked, “What’s that smoke up ahead?”

“That would be the trading post,” Rjurik said. “It’s run by some of Hawkeye’s people. Decent enough folk; outcasts from their tribes but very friendly.”

“It doesn’t seem like they would be able to make a living out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“It ain’t da middle of nowhere,” Rjurik said as he pointed to the west. “About fifty leagues dat-a-way is me homeland.”

“That’s not…”

“Quiet,” said Hawkeye as he stepped out of the forest and onto the path in front of the companions. “Listen.”

All four companions froze and strained to hear whatever had Hawkeye upset but nothing could be heard even with the enhanced hearing of the elves.

“I don’t hear anything,” hissed Mortharona.

“Me neither,” Tatianna added.

Dropping to one knee, Hawkeye studied the forest around them. “That’s the point.”

Mortharona tossed his hands up. “What is that? Some sort of barbarian joke?”

Laying a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder, Khlekluëllin gestured at the forest around them. “No. Hawkeye is correct. There’s nothing. No sounds at all; no crickets or birds, hardly any sounds from the trees moving in the wind.” He pointed to the ribbon of smoke. “Considering the nature of the trading post below, don’t you think there would be some sort of noise?”

Rjurik tightened the grip on his warhammer. “Now tha’ ya mention it, I don’t ever remember seein’ smoke from their homestead before.”

Mortharona shrugged his shoulders. “Bah! That could mean anything.”

Hawkeye could see that Rjurik was about to explode onto the dark haired elf. Stepping in between them, he spoke in a low calm voice. “What it means is that we need to be extra careful during our approach.”

Gesturing to Rjurik, Hawkeye commanded. “Take the rear guard position. The rest follow me slowly and as quietly as possible. We may find that our enemy is already ahead of us.”

Tatianna felt compelled to ask. “And if they are?”

It was Khlekluëllin who answered. “Then we make sure that there won’t be anyone left alive to report on our location.”

Hawkeye nodded his agreement before leading the way down the valley. Reaching the outskirts of the clearing, he raised his right hand and quickly closed it into a fist. Knowing this was the universal signal to stop; the elves stepped off the path and melted into the foliage of the forest. Hawkeye raised his head and sniffed the air; calling on the magical nature of his race, he transformed into a white wolf and loped off into the forest.

Khlekluëllin looked over his shoulder at Rjurik. The old dwarf just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against a tree. One of the first things a warrior learns is to rest whenever possible.

Turning his attention back to the trading post, Khlekluëllin watched as Hawkeye moved slowly through the homestead. No other living creature stirred within the clearing.

The thin ribbon of smoke that they saw from the ridgeline wasn’t coming from a chimney but from a large bonfire in the center of the clearing. Seeing Hawkeye transform back into human form as he stepped out of the closest building, the companions moved cautiously into the clearing.

None of the elves were ready for the carnage that confronted them. The doors and shutters had been completely ripped off the buildings. The livestock, horses, chickens and sheep, had been slaughtered in their pens. The traders, the men at least, had been crucified around the bonfire. The women had been gutted and left to rot but it was the fate of the seven children that affected the companions the most. Tatianna froze as she came upon one of the children, a young girl who would’ve been about six or seven. The head had been hacked off the body and then hurled against the closest wall.

Tatianna felt her stomach lurch as she realized someone had also urinated on the headless corpse. Turning away, she could see that the remains of the other children had also been similarly mutilated.

All three elves paused, overwhelmed by the carnage around them. Elves have the oldest surviving empire on Terreth and can trace their heritage back ten generations before the dark times, before the war of the gods. Elves have earned the reputation as fierce warriors for their nation has been under siege nearly its whole existence. But this wanton destruction and callous slaughter of animals and people alike went beyond all reason.

Turning north, Rjurik and Hawkeye moved toward the forest with heads bowed low. Glancing back Hawkeye said, “Come we must go.”

“But… but we must bury them,” Tatianna said. “We must put them to rest.”

Hawkeye shook his head. “Nay. They stay as they lie.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Tatianna’s face became flush with anger. “How can you be so cruel?”

“Do you believe in the spirit?” Hawkeye asked.

“What? What does that have to do with the matter at hand?

“It’s a simple enough question. Do you believe in the spirit? Do you believe in some form of the afterlife?”

“Yes.”

Hawkeye pointed at the corpses. “If you believe in an afterlife, then what is lying here are empty shells, broken vessels that are nothing more than food for scavengers. The force that animated them has fled to a better life. Nothing beneficial can be gained by taking the time to bury them.”

Tatianna’s jaw dropped. “That’s so cruel!”

Turning back to the forest, Hawkeye spoke over his shoulder. “Be that as it may, they stay as they lie, undisturbed and unburied. Now, we must move.”

With one final look at the bodies, the three elves fell in behind Hawkeye and Rjurik.

Chapter 8

The weather began to turn colder as the companions travelled further north. Snow had begun to fall constantly, covering the Highlands in a white blanket which complicated their journey. The elves were still nursing wounds and couldn’t travel far without rest. They had covered less than seven leagues over the past two days due to the numerous raiding parties that were roaming the area. Hawkeye took extra precautions in selecting their paths; ones that would hopefully avoid any trouble.

The raiding units they saw were well organized and usually numbered about ten gnomish soldiers, five goblin scouts and one or two barbarians who acted as commanders. One unit passed within fifty feet of their hiding spot even had a cyclopean enforcer along.

Thankfully, the companions heard the raiders coming long before they could be seen. They had given up hope on finding help in this region of the Highlands. It wasn’t very populated in the best of times but since the raiders were patrolling the area, they had found only empty or burnt out homesteads.

On their third night out from the destroyed trading post, Hawkeye led them off the game trail they had been using, out of the protection of the trees and up the snow covered ridge. Scrambling over the broken rocks that littered the area, the companions were buffeted by the cold north wind. Soon they reached a point on the north-western slope where two large rocks stood like silent sentinels.

Hawkeye stopped and motioned his companions to a small opening behind the rocks. Stepping into the crevice, they discovered a small cave with a campfire already laid out and ready to light, along with a pile of sleeping furs and several boxes stacked against the back wall.

Moving inside, Rjurik immediately set aside his shield and backpack and began to light the fire. Mortharona stumbled in and promptly collapsed on the furs. His head wound had begun to seep again and he had found travelling the last few hours extremely difficult. Khlekluëllin and Tatianna paused at the cave entrance and studied their surroundings.

Khlekluëllin noticed that Hawkeye had not entered with them. Glancing at his sister, “Where did Hawkeye go?”

Tatianna’s eyes widened at the realization that he had left them. “I don’t know.”

A flash of light illuminated the cave as the campfire flickered into life. Putting away his flint and steel, Rjuirk spoke softly. “Now don’t ya be worryin’ about da pup. He’s gone off  scoutin’ the area.” He pointed at the crates. “Now lass, make yourself useful and go through them crates and find us something to eat.” He handed Khlekluëllin an empty bucket. “And you can get us some water.”

“Where is the closest stream?” asked Khlekluëllin.

“Probably the bottom of the ridge,” Rjurik said turning away. “Personally, I would just fill it with snow but you can hike all the way to the bottom and back if you want.”

Khlekluëllin turned and moved toward the cave entrance as Tatianna opened the first crate and asked, “Rjurik, what is this place?”

“This is one of our campsites. Many a time, da pup and I have had to travel this far north, either hunting game or goblins. If you want to live a long life in the Highlands, you tend to scout out defendable campsites long before you may need them.” He gestured at the supplies around them. “Then you outfit them the best you can and try to prepare for any situation.”

With a shrug, Rjurik pulled out an old battered pipe. “You never know when you will get caught in a blizzard or behind enemy lines.” Pointing with his pipe at one of the sacks Tatianna had just removed from a crate. “Would ya mind passing me that bag o’ leaf?”

Hefting the small leather bag, Tatianna raised one eyebrow. “Leaf?”

“Aye lass, leaf from da tobacco plant. That bag came all the way from Southfields.”

“Southfields? Isn’t that a halfling community near Asylum?”

Rjurik nodded and began packing his pipe. “Aye, it’s a small farming community mostly halfling families but a few dwarves have settled there also. My cousin Gram has a farm on the west side; every year he sends me several bags o’ leaf.”

Lighting his pipe from a coal out of the campfire, Rjurik took a deep pull. “Of course, this is the last bag. For some reason, Gram didn’t send a shipment this year. I hope nothing has happened to him.”

Khlekluëllin returned with his bucket of snow and Tatianna discovered some dried beef and beans. Rjurik pulled some potatoes out of his backpack and proceeded to combine everything into a stew. The small cave became filled with the wonderful aroma making Khlekluëllin’s stomach rumble loud enough that everyone awake could hear it.

Giving the stew another stir, Rjurik flicked a glance at the blue haired elf. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re hungry.”

Sitting cross-legged, Khlekluëllin smiled. “Until you began cooking, I’d forgotten how hungry I was.” Scratching his chin, he added, “Which doesn’t make sense. We have eaten rather well these last few days all things considered. I never knew that rabbits were so abundant in the Highlands.”

Tatianna nodded. “Or that anyone was so adept at catching them.”

Adding a pinch of salt from a small pouch, Rjurik looked up from his stew. “Conies are easy to catch once ye know how but eating them every day, like we’ve been doing, can sap a man’s strength.”

“Really?” Tatianna raised an eyebrow and asked, “How?”

Taking a sip of the stew, Rjurik grinned. “Now see here, I ain’t no expert. I can tell ye what I know; not why I know it.”

“Rabbit meat is too lean,” said a voice from behind them. Turning, the companions discovered the snow covered form of Hawkeye standing in the cave entrance.

“About time ya showed up,” Rjurik said. “I thought we would have to eat without ye.”

The hunter dusted off the snow. “I’m not late. I arrived at the time I planned, when the stew was ready and not a moment before.”

With a nod of greeting to Khlekluëllin, Hawkeye sat down at the fire and turned slightly to face Tatianna before continuing. “I was saying that rabbits are an extremely lean meat. A diet of only rabbit meat will fill the belly but starve the soul.”

Cocking her head slightly, Tatianna felt herself straighten her back ever so slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“I agree with Rjurik, I am not an expert either. I was taught that a true warrior must maintain a balanced diet, one rich in meats and vegetables.” He pointed at the stew. “Now this isn’t exactly what my uncle had in mind when he said that but it will do.”

“Bah,” was all Rjurik said although he was grinning the whole time.

The elves noticed a change in the dwarf now that Hawkeye had returned. He seemed more relaxed and he no longer glanced at the cave entrance. Obviously, the highlander’s sudden departure had worried him more than he let them believe. Rjurik produced several wooden bowls from his backpack, filled them with stew and passed them out. Filling a fifth bowl, Rjurik moved over to the injured elf. Mortharona seemed to be running a fever.

Rjurik looked up at Hawkeye and said, “He doesn’t look good.”

“I know. That’s just one of the things worrying me at the moment.”

Setting aside his bowl of stew, Khlekluëllin asked, “Is there anything we can do for him?”

“We need to get him to a shaman soon,” Hawkeye said. “He’s only going to get worse.”

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Tatianna.

“My best guess is that he has a cracked skull.” Hawkeye pointed at the bandage. “See how the seepage isn’t only bloody but mixed with a yellowish fluid, I am not sure what it is but its bad. Every person I have seen with a similar wound has died unless treated by a shaman. Even then, many aren’t the same afterwards.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Tatianna.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Hawkeye finished his bowl of stew before answering.

“Nothing in particular, many of those survivors are different. Most have some sort of memory loss but I have known warriors whose mannerisms changed so much that their families disowned them. However, only time will tell. We need to get him to a shaman soon, yet the only healers I know of are in Itasca or Darkmoor.”

Rjurik stirred the fire. “Both of those are a long way off.”

“Aye but our options are limited.” Drawing his knife, Hawkeye began to draw a crude map of the Highlands in the dirt floor of the cave. “We are just south of here,” pointing at the fork in the river. “This is Armok; it’s an ancient dwarven watch post that was used to protect the bridges built over the river. The watchtower itself has fallen into ruin but the bridges that span the river are still passable.”

“So, what’s the problem?” asked Khlekluëllin.

“Well, if I was chasing someone in this region of the Highlands, I would position my hunters at the bridges. Blackfang knows it is the only crossing within a reasonable distance.”

Tatianna asked, “What do you mean by reasonable distance?”

“At our current speed, it would take us almost five days just to reach the closest fjord which would add an additional ten-day before we reached Itasca.”

“Too bad it ain’t midwinter,” Rjurik added.

Khlekluëllin raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

Between mouthfuls of stew Rjurik answered. “About a day’s travel west of here is an area that always freezes over come midwinter.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes, my people call the area Talulah, which means leaping water. The creatures of the region use the natural ice bridge to migrate.”

Khlekluëllin and Tatianna began speaking very quickly in their native tongue which neither Rjurik nor Hawkeye could understand. Finally Khlekluëllin returned back to the common tongue and said, “We have an idea.”

Tatianna gestured to the two of them. “We can combine our magic and create an ice bridge across that area.”

Khlekluëllin nodded. “If it was the middle of summer, it would be beyond our skill but since it is already cold outside and snowy in the area, we can use the moisture in the air to freeze the river and give us a way to cross where Blackfang wouldn’t suspect.”

“Bah!” Rjurik grumbled. “Magic…t’aint natural.”

“Is it truly possible?” Hawkeye asked.

“It should be,” Tatianna said. “Since it normally happens during the winter in that area, we should be able to accomplish it.”

“Will that help?” asked Khlekluëllin.

“Yes. It will also cut off a few days in our travel north.” Hawkeye nodded his head toward Mortharona. “I have done all I can for him. His fate rests with the gods or our ability to get him to a healer before it’s too late.”

Standing, Hawkeye moved toward the cave entrance. “Everyone should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Rjurik quickly stowed his cooking utensils and banked up the fire for the night. Khlekluëllin moved next to his brother and placed another blanket over top of him before lying down next to him. Tatianna watched Hawkeye exit the cave before settling down for the night.

Chapter 9

Grunk felt uneasy all day long.

He had paced the perimeter of his small valley since daybreak but hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. None of his fences were down nor were any of his sheep missing. He even ventured to the northern bluff overlooking the river to see if goblin raiders were in the area. All seemed quiet, yet Grunk was at a loss to explain his uneasiness.

Grunk was a Joten, more commonly known as cyclops. They were the children of Gaul, the god of the Underworld. Originally created to do his bidding, to watch over the condemned, fetch lost souls, stoke the fires of Hell and other menial tasks. With these tasks in mind, Gaul made them big and strong. On the average, jotens stood eight feet tall and weighed over three hundred stones. They typically had charcoal gray skin and a single large eye, ranging from red to yellow.

Grunk was larger than most of his kind and a veteran of many battles. Several years back, he had left his tribe and the constant warring of his people to wander the realm. Finding this secluded valley, he had laid down his axe, built himself a home and was content to raise sheep. Now something was upsetting the peace he had carved out of this wilderness.

Shuffling to the back part of his cabin, Grunk took down his battleaxe. Although it had been through many battles, the axe’s twin blades were razor sharp and showed no sign of rust or wear. Somehow, just the act of holding the axe calmed Grunk’s spirit. This worried him more than the uneasiness.

He was about to replace his weapon in its customary spot when the faint sounds of battle reached him.

Stepping outside, his sheep milled about nervously while the sounds of battle drew closer. Moving to the bluff, Grunk spied a mixed band of gnomes and goblins chasing a small party of elves.

He found this very unusual. Gnomes and goblins are usually at war with each other, not working together, since both races tend to inhabit the same regions underground they would find themselves in competition for the same resources in a very limited environment, which in turn would lead to conflict.

Glancing around, Grunk could see that his valley was still secure for the time being. Kneeling down, he pulled out a small spyglass he had taken from a minotaur sailor many years back and trained it on battle below.

The raiders were fighting a running battle with the elves. The fleeing companions were led by a tall barbarian warrior dressed in wolf’s furs who would stop periodically to fire his bow. Whenever he fired, a goblin or gnome raider died.

However, the raiders had the advantage of numbers. Although they would pause and scramble for cover when the barbarian fired, if he stood his ground they would overwhelm him. So, when the barbarian turned to catch up with his companions, the raiders would close the distance.

Grunk could tell that at least one of the elves was sorely injured and was being carried by a red bearded dwarf. Judging from their lead, Grunk knew they would reach the jetty before the raiders.

However, this was still early in the winter no matter how cold it felt at the moment. The ice bridge didn’t usually form till mid-winter, so Grunk was at a loss to figure out what the fleeing companions were hoping to attain.

Lowering the spyglass, Grunk was content to watch the events unfold below him without thought of aid or confrontation. This was not his battle, not anymore. He had left all that behind him.

However, movement in the shadows of the bluff caught his attention. Focusing the spyglass on the area Grunk was shocked to see a spider, the size of a rhino, waiting for the party to move underneath and perched atop was a dark elf. Judging from her flowing robes, he knew that she was a spell caster of some sort. This didn’t bode well for the fleeing elves.

Grunk sprinted back to his cabin.

He didn’t want to get involved. It wasn’t his fight but the arrival of the dark elf changed things. Having gnomes and goblins working together was bad enough but involving a spider-riding dark elf could only mean that the Spinner was seeking a way to return to Terreth and being a loyal servant of Gaul, Grunk couldn’t sit by and allow that.

Quickly donning his bronze cuirass, Grunk slipped on his lucky talisman and offered a brief prayer to his god.

Grabbing a coil of rope, he moved along hidden game trails that would take him closer to the dark elf and mentally reviewed the spells available to him. None that he had access to this day seemed appropriate. Of course, he wasn’t planning on battling a dark elf sorceress when he prayed for his spells earlier that day but then, such are the ways of war.

Within minutes, he was positioned almost directly above the spider and dark elf. Peeking over the edge, Grunk judged the distance between them; it couldn’t be more than twenty or thirty feet. Of course, it was the two hundred feet between him and the canyon floor that truly worried him.

Tying one end of the rope around his waist, Grunk contemplated where to anchor the other end. The sound of muttering reached his ears and he knew that the dark elf sorceress was mere seconds from casting some nefarious spell. Not finding anything sturdy enough to hold his weight, Grunk drew his longsword and rammed it into the ground with all his strength. The sword sank deep into the mountain soil but still almost one quarter of the blade remained above ground. Tying the free end of the rope to the sword pommel, Grunk took a deep breath to calm his nerves and tightened the grip on his trusty battleaxe.

Glancing over the ledge once again, he saw that the fleeing companions were trapped on the jetty with the raiders closing in despite the efforts of the barbarian’s deadly bow. One of the elves, a female judging by her flowing scarlet hair, cast a spell that caused the water in the cove to freeze. Turning back to her companions with a triumphant look, Grunk watched in horror as the dark elf’s spell went off. Even from this distance the black bolt that cut down the lady elf felt evil.

Knowing he was out of time, Grunk took a running leap off the cliff face.

*   *  *   *   *

Lalith was pleased with the situation.

Blackfang’s troops had herded the elusive elves north toward the river and without a boat there were only three places they could cross. Blackfang had positioned the bulk of his troops at the bridge with only a token force visible. The rest were in hiding nearby waiting to spring the trap. Lalith knew the bridge was the logical crossing point but she believed in covering all possibilities. She had sent a band of cyclops to guard the fjord to the east while she went to investigate the ice bridge.

The ice bridge was such a long shot that Lalith had ordered her guardian Darnac to accompany Blackfang. Neither was pleased with the assignment but then, they had no choice in the matter. So, here she was sitting astride her favorite shadow-spider on the side of a mountain watching the elves being herded toward her position.

Gently rubbing the head of her spider steed, Lalith spoke softly. “Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly.” Rummaging through her pouches for her spell components, Lalith grinned as she found the right ingredient. “This couldn’t be better if I had planned this myself.”

Lalith began her spell.

She watched as Tatianna cast her spell of freezing, which created an ice bridge across the river and the means to escape the raiders. Her spell went off. The look of triumph turned to horror on Tatianna’s face as her spell cut her down would forever be etched in Lalith’s brain.

She was surprised by the uncanny accuracy of the barbarian as he fired by reflex an arrow toward her position. The projectile had missed her shadow spider by less than a foot. She watched as the barbarian scooped up the injured elf and sprinted across the ice bridge.

Pulling forth a short metal rod, Lalith began her next spell. The other two elves and the dwarf had begun their run across the bridge also. She knew that no matter how fast they ran, they wouldn’t escape her lightning bolt. Their death was mere seconds away. And that would please her goddess.

As Lalith was speaking the last phrase of her spell, a large black object came hurling into her peripheral vision. Startled, her shadow-spider steed jumped trying to avoid the black missile, throwing off her aim. Time seemed to slow down as Lalith tried to take in all that happened over the next few seconds.

Her lightning bolt didn’t strike the companions as intended but it did shatter the ice bridge; hurling the five companions into the frigid river.

The black missile turned out to be some crazy cyclops with a battleaxe, a rope and a death wish. His time would come. Lalith would make sure of that.

Unfortunately, her steed suffered a mortal wound from the foolish one-eye and reacted out of instinct. It shifted back into the shadow realm where it was called from and Lalith was carried along, leaving the final disposition of the companions unknown to her.

*   *  *   *   *

Grunk wasn’t particularly pleased or displeased with the results of his insane stunt. He had survived, which was in itself amazing but a last minute jump by the spider caused him to miss the decapitating strike he was going for on the dark elf. Instead, the spider had proceeded in disemboweling itself.

Grunk knew that the spider had shifted back into the shadow realm dragging the dark elf with it. That was both good and bad. Good in that the dark elf sorceress wasn’t around while he dangled helplessly above the canyon floor.

Bad because since she survived, she would seek to avenge herself on him. Grunk realized that his peaceful time in his hidden valley was at an end. He would have to move and move fast; before the dark elf sorceress returned.

Glancing at the river below, there wasn’t any sign of the fleeing companions. Muttering to himself, Grunk began the difficult climb.

Only one question haunted him, what would become of his sheep?

Chapter 10

Hawkeye pulled the unconscious Tatianna onto a rock several feet short of the shoreline.

The water was frigid and flowing extremely fast. Time seemed to stop while he was in the water, he didn’t know if they had been in the river for minutes or hours. Struggling to keep hold of Tatianna and keep both their heads above water had nearly sapped his entire strength.

He had lost track of the twins and Rjurik shortly after being hurled into the water. Hawkeye feared for his friends, old and new but right now his only concern was Tatianna.

Pulling her the last few feet out of the water, Hawkeye rolled Tatianna onto her back and checked for signs of breathing; they were shallow but they were there. Taking a moment to study her wounds, he made a mental note that her left shoulder seemed melted and from the way her right leg flopped, he could tell it was broken.

Of course, none of the wounds were more deadly at this moment than hypothermia. Tatianna’s lips were already blue and his own hands shook constantly with the cold. He needed to find someplace warm and out of these wet clothes soon or they were both dead. Dragging Tatianna further up the slope, Hawkeye raked fallen pine needles over her body. It wasn’t much but it would add a slight layer of warmth.

Looking up from his handy work, Hawkeye heard the faint howling of a nearby wolf pack. With a grin, he shifted into his full wolf form and ran off into the forest.

*   *  *   *   *

Khlekluëllin felt the cold hand of fear grip his heart when he saw his sister collapsed under some magical attack. Scanning the cliffs around them, Khlekluëllin saw the large spider and rider and knew they were in trouble.

They were in an exposed position, vastly outnumbered and on the run; the odds were heavy against them, more than almost any time in his long life. Fleeing across the ice bridge was their only chance at survival, so he followed Hawkeye but slowed down to help Rjurik carry his brother. This more than anything else probably saved his life.

The barbarian and his sister were a good ten paces ahead of them when the lightning bolt struck the ice bridge hurling them into the frigid water. Khlekluëllin struggled to keep his breath as they were swept downstream. Rjurik and his brother were only several feet away also struggling to resurface. Unfortunately, all three of them were wearing chainmail armor and carrying weapons. Of course, their backpacks and cloaks would also drag them down.

The cold water had seemed to bring Mortharona around a bit and Khlekluëllin could see him stripping his cloak off while straining to resurface.

Oddly enough, Khlekluëllin felt calm at this moment. Whether it was the calm learned before battle or the calm associated with the acceptance of death, he didn’t know nor care. Without knowing why, an old memory from long ago surfaced in Khlekluëllin’s thoughts of when he was a child playing on the banks of the Lunari River; he and his brother had loved to build rafts and sail them down stream. Since they were terrible craftsmen they would cast a ‘charm of cork’ on the makeshift raft to keep it afloat.

Reaching out toward Rjurik, Khlekluëllin mouthed the words to the spell and watched as the heavy dwarf quickly rose to the surface. Repeating the charm twice more on his brother and himself, the three companions bobbed their way down the rapidly flowing river.

*   *  *   *   *

Three figures moved in the dark room.

The only light emanated from the pool of water which they surrounded. Images of the encounter between the dark elf sorceress and the fleeing companions seemed to float on the water. One of the figures moved closer to the pool. The faint light illuminated her long fiery red hair and flowing crimson gown.

“It is good that they survived.”

Another figure moved forward, the faint light revealing her ebony black skin and white hair. She pointed at the image of the dark elf sorceress. “I had so much hope for that one. How could she betray me?”

The third figure stepped up to the pool. She was pale skinned with beautiful long raven hair and was dressed in white furs. “Do not be too hard on yourself sister, we have all been betrayed. Blackfang was one of my greatest prodigies but now he is a pawn of the Spinner.”

“We owe much to that brave follower of Gaul,” said the redhead. “His intervention was timely and well executed.”

The ebony skinned lady touched the water of the pool and its image refocused on Grunk. The joten was stuffing items into a large backpack while his sheep milled about his feet.

“I fear that our chosen will need aid from more like him in the near future.”

“Aye sister, you are correct.”

The dark haired lady also touched the pool. The image shifted to Tatianna and Hawkeye. “We must gather the Dhyana. Only through unity can we overcome the Spinner. The One must be allowed to gather the Nine.”

“And so it begins,” said the redhead.

*   *  *   *   *

Tatianna awakened to the oddest sounds.

It was a combination of yelps, barks, growls and howls but through it all were the mournful sounds of a flute. The medley was slow and unknown to her but occasionally a wolf would pick up the tune and howl, matching the pitch with amazing harmony.

Tatianna had no memory of where she was. Her last thoughts were of being thrown into the icy river. However for the time being, she was warm and the music was soothing. Still with her eyes closed, Tatianna tried to burrow further under the furs; that was until they moved.

Snapping her eyes open, Tatianna stifled a scream when she saw that the furs covering her were three rather large wolves. She was in fact pinned by them; one each across her chest, abdomen and legs.

Forcing herself to remain calm, Tatianna studied her surroundings. Judging from the dirt walls, protruding roots and the presence of the wolves, she guessed that was inside the wolves’ den.

Trying to keep her voice calm Tatianna called out. “Hawkeye?”

The music stopped, only to be followed by two short whistles. The three wolves stood up and made their way out of the burrow. Tatianna glanced down at herself. Her clothes had been removed and a black cloak that was worn and frayed was draped over her body.

As she started to sit up, a sharp stab of pain shot up her leg and her shoulder throbbed.

Hawkeye poked his head in through the den opening, “Take it easy. You have a broken leg and a nasty wound on your back.”

The emotions that ran through her body at seeing Hawkeye both scared and confused Tatianna. At one point his touch thrilled and excited her, stealing her breath and making her blood quicken. And yet, he was a Highlander, cut from the same cloth as those who raped her. Blackfang and Hawkeye seemed like two sides of a coin, similar in so many ways but always opposite.

Swallowing hard, Tatianna broke eye contact and gestured at her surroundings. “Where are we?”

He nodded his head at the burrow. “As you can guess, you are in a wolf’s den. We are a couple miles north of the river. I’m unsure how far west we are. I know the river currents carried us far but I do not know how far.”

“My brothers?”

Hawkeye shook his head.

“Rjurik?”

“I haven’t been able to locate any sign of them. I have searched the river bank for miles but there are no signs that they landed on this side. They may have been washed up on the southern bank.”

“Or they could be dead.”

“That is also possible. If they are alive, Rjurik will guide them to Itasca, the northern village of my people. In the morning, we will begin our journey.”

Trying to change the subject, Tatianna lifted the edge of the black cloak. “And these?”

Hawkeye flashed her a sly grin. “Well, there were a few hobgoblins in the area harassing this pack. I persuaded them to leave the area.”

“Hobgoblins? What are Hobgoblins?”

“They are a breed of goblins that inhabit this region. Hobgoblins are larger, mean spirited and nasty.”

“Grey skinned?”

Hawkeye nodded.

“We call them orcs in the lowlands. Legends say that they were actually humans that served the Spinner in the dark times and were corrupted by her magic.”

“Come.” Hawkeye reached out his hand. “Since you are awake, we can let the pack have their den back. I have a fire going outside and dinner will be ready soon.”

Helping Tatianna navigate the cramped opening, Hawkeye saw that although the pain from her injuries made this difficult, she bore them without complaint. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as they moved outside.

They were in a small hollow in the forest. The river could be heard faintly in the distance and the new moon could be seen just edging its way over the trees. Tatianna counted at least five other burrows in the hollow but what captured her attention were the wolves. They were surrounded by them.

A small trickle of fear ran up her spine at the sight. Something about being surrounded by twenty wolves nudged the ‘fight or flight’ instinct in her. Of course, logically she knew she would have no chance to outrun them but then the urge wasn’t logical; it was instinctive.

“Is…is it safe?” Tatianna asked hesitantly.

“Yes. These are my friends.”

Hawkeye helped her walk to the campfire in the middle of the hollow. Seeing the concern on her face, Hawkeye explained. “Wolves are proud creatures. They have a family structure very similar to elves or humans. Every pack is its own community with its own hierarchy.”

Helping Tatianna sit on a log near the fire, Hawkeye stirred the stew before sitting down next to a large grey and black wolf with numerous scars. His left ear was half gone and several fresh wounds marked his side. Tatianna could see stitches and guessed that Hawkeye had patched him up.

Tatianna asked, “Who’s your friend?”

Gently petting the beast, Hawkeye grinned. “This is Orca. He is the alpha male or pack leader. He was fighting the hobgoblins when I arrived. Judging from the tracks, they had followed the wolves and waited till they had brought down a moose before attacking.”

Hawkeye lowered his head in mourning. “I was too late to save three of the wolves but Orca had already killed two of the hobgoblin hunting party when I arrived. Together we dispatched the rest.”

Hawkeye gestured at a pile of weapons and gear off to her left. “Since we lost most of our gear in the river, I gathered up what I thought we could use.”

They ate the stew in silence for awhile, just enjoying the solitude of the forest. Tatianna felt strangely at peace. In the distance, she heard a wolf howl.

Orca sat up and a few of the surrounding wolves picked up the song. It was a strange sensation sitting in the hollow surrounded by wolves as they began their nightly song.

Orca joined in. As his voice would begin to die off another wolf would pick up the song and join in. Strangely, no two wolves would howl on the same note. Each voice was separate and distinct. Tatianna felt something primordial stir deep in her soul, she couldn’t explain it but she could feel it. The wolfsong only lasted for a few minutes but the memory of it would last the rest of her life. In that brief time, she was truly at peace -- no thoughts, no worries… nothing -- just pure and simple harmony.

Without a word, Hawkeye laid back, drew his cloak around himself and closed his eyes.

Tatianna followed his example but sleep was a long time coming. The memory of the wolfsong was in her mind and her soul. She felt restless until Orca moved up beside her, curled up and went to sleep. The warmth and comfort from his body combined with the night sounds of the forest, quieted her soul and lulled her to sleep.

Chapter 11

The morning sun rose bright, yet shed little warmth as winter’s grip began to tighten on the Highlands. Tatianna rolled over and sat up.

The hollow was nearly empty. Only two wolf cubs playing a few feet from one of the burrows broke the stillness of the forest. The cawing of a nearby crow ended the silence. The night’s rest had done wonders for her constitution but it also worsened her aches and pains, especially her shoulder and right leg. The shoulder wound throbbed constantly and her leg wouldn't support her weight for any longer than a minute or two even with the splint Hawkeye had applied.

Hawkeye entered the hollow dragging several long tree limbs. “Good morning, how’d you sleep?”

“Good. I’m just a little stiff.”

Trying to ignore the pain, Tatianna took a tentative step, transferring all of her weight on the injured leg only to have it give out, dropping her to the ground. Seeing her fall, Hawkeye dropped his bundle and rushed to her side.

Embarrassed, Tatianna rolled over and tried to push him away. “I’ll be okay!”

Hawkeye pointed at the ground. “Sit down and let me check your wounds.”

Through clenched teeth, Tatianna shook her head. “I’ll be alright.”

“I have some skill with herbs which should help with the pain.”

Tatianna’s pride wanted to resist but logic ruled out. Relaxing at his touch, Hawkeye rolled her over onto her stomach.

Whipping out his knife, Hawkeye cut off the bandages and said, “Now hold still.” Checking the wound on her shoulder, Hawkeye noticed that it was beginning to fester and spread slightly. “This wound is great and beyond my skill. Only a shaman can help this wound and the closest shaman I know of is Anasazi, my uncle. He has a hogan in Itasca.”

“A hogan? What’s that?”

“A hogan is a type of semi-permanent lodge built by my people. Traditionally they are built with a combination of logs and mud. Nothing fancy but they are durable and comfortable during the winter months.”

“I am discovering that my knowledge of the Highlands is sorely lacking.” Glancing over her shoulder she asked, “Wait… I thought you said your family is dead?”

He flashed her a mischievous grin. “You’re right I did say that and I meant it. Blackfang and his beasts killed my family and friends but he couldn’t kill my uncle for he was already dead.”

Noticing the puzzled look on her face, Hawkeye chuckled slightly but continued. “You see, when any Highlander shows the ability and skill that is necessary to become a shaman, he leaves his family. In effect, he dies; only to be reborn as a shaman, becoming a member of everyone’s family.  Anasazi raised me for several years after my father disappeared and before I was adopted by the White Wolf pack.”

Applying a poultice of herbs, Hawkeye redressed her wounds. “These herbs will deaden the pain and should make it easier for you to walk but it is only temporary.”

Finished with her shoulder and leg, he let his gaze roam over her body. She was extremely beautiful. The muscles in her legs and thighs were tight and firm. As she rolled over, Hawkeye admired the flatness of her stomach and the roundness of her breasts.

‘By Luna she’s beautiful,’ he thought. ‘Never have I met a woman that looked like her and had such a fiery spirit, not even my late wife.’

Feeling slightly embarrassed and saddened by his thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, her bandages and reached up to check the bandages around her face.

Flinching at his touch, Tatianna brought her hand up defensively. For a brief moment neither of them moved nor spoke. Lowering her hand, she blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m very sensitive about my face.”

Hawkeye apologized. “No, I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. May I check your bandage? I promise to be gentle.”

Nodding her agreement, Tatianna steeled herself for his touch. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing until she felt herself relax.

Reaching up, Hawkeye removed her bandages. His touch was as gentle as a feather. Continuing to check her wounds, he noticed the scars on her face were deep and very red, two very bad signs but he said nothing about them. He softly reapplied the bandages and added a poultice of herbs and berries. “This should help speed the healing process.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Tatianna tried to change the subject. “How long will it take to get to Itasca?”

“It’s only a three day run from the fork in the river,” Hawkeye replied casually as he stowed away his gear.

Tatianna flashed him a crooked grin. “Is that as a wolf or human?”

Now it was Hawkeye’s turn to be embarrassed as he sat back and laughed at himself. “I’m sorry, that’s as a wolf. I forgot you cannot travel that way.”

As Tatianna joined him in their lighthearted laugh, Hawkeye thought her laughter was the most musical thing he had ever heard.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I would have to guess that it will probably take us at least ten days, if not more. I have never traveled that distance on two legs.”

“Well neither have I.” Struggling to stand, she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll try not to slow us down too much.”

He walked back to the branches he had dropped earlier. “You won’t. This morning I made a travois for you.”

Tatianna asked, “A what?”

Hawkeye pointed at his creation. It didn’t look like much. Two saplings about twelve feet in length lying next to each other with leather straps and hides, taken from the dead hobgoblins, holding one end about two feet apart, while the other end was wider and blanketed with furs.

“A travois. It’s a type of sled.”  Hawkeye pointed at the wider end. “You can lie on it here and,” gesturing to the smaller end, “I’ll pull it. We should make decent time and you won’t have to use your injured leg. The only major problem with this type of sled it that we will be easy to track but that can’t be helped at this point.”

With Hawkeye’s help, Tatianna hobbled over to the contraption and laid down where he directed. Looking up at him, she asked, “How are you going to pull this?”

Flashing her smile and a quick wink, Hawkeye let his change come over him. Tatianna once again watched in awe at his transformation from Highland warrior to the beautiful white wolf. Walking over to the makeshift harness, Hawkeye nosed himself into it before glancing back at her.

Tatianna said, “I’m ready.”

And he was off at a trot. Traveling through deep evergreen forests, vast open plains, and rocky ravines and across many crystal clear streams, Tatianna began to see the beauty and attraction of the Highlands.

They saw great herds of bison or what Hawkeye had called buffalo, several packs of wolves, a small herd of elk and three bears. Once, they even came across a rare and extremely large sabre-tooth tiger feeding on a freshly killed moose. This beautiful creature did nothing more than glare at them as they passed within fifteen yards of it. All the animals they ran across, predator or prey seemed to take no notice of them. It was as if they belonged to the Highlands.

Each day passed the same. Hawkeye would pull from sun up to sun down, only stopping for a brief break around midday. Shifting back into human form, he would eat the midday meal with her and recheck her bandages. As soon as they were done eating, they were off again. And each night shortly after dinner Hawkeye would shift back into his wolf form and run off into the forest.

In the dark of the night far in the distance, Tatianna would hear the mournful howls of the wolves. She could feel the sadness and loneliness carried in their song. It stirred her soul. On the eighth night after they had left the clearing, Tatianna stood slowly and hobbled over to the edge of the light given off by the campfire.

Glancing at the dark sky, she knew the new moon hung somewhere overhead, invisible, yet still watching. Studying the stars in the late autumn sky, she felt all alone and slightly sad. Hobbling back to the fire, she crawled under her furs and tried to sleep.

It was well after midnight before Hawkeye returned to the camp. Waking quietly, she found him staring into the heart of the fire. Biting her lip for a moment, she chose to take this opportunity to ask a question that had always bothered her.

Even though she spoke softly, in the still of the night her voice seemed quite loud. “Hawkeye, why do wolves howl at the moon?”

He didn’t move for several minutes. She was beginning to think he was asleep but then his voice, full of regret and grief cut through the night air.

“We sing to Luna each night in remembrance.”

Turning to face her, she could see in the faint light of the fading fire that his eyes were full of tears.

“We remember our loved ones, our children, our friends, our family, all those that have gone before us. We also sing to Luna to let her know we have not forgotten her or her words.”

He poked at the fire with a long stick and it roared back to life.

“There is an ancient legend concerning the birth of my people and the first war of the Gods. It is late so I’ll tell you only the part that concerns our singing to Luna. After the first war, when mankind was on the brink of destruction, the goddess Luna brought my ancestors to this land.”

“During the first Godwar, Luna’s followers suffered greatly. So much, that in the end, there were only nine men and nine women left out of all of her followers.”

“Gathering them around her, she addressed them. ‘You are the last of my chosen people. We have suffered greatly in the war and our numbers are few but we shall overcome.’ She pointed to the surrounding land. ‘This is now your land. It is a harsh land in an unforgiving world. It is my belief that which does not kill you will only make you stronger. If we are to survive the next battle with the Great Enemy, we will need to be stronger. “

“Therefore I give each of you the power of the beasts to call upon at will. There are nine of you and so there shall be nine tribes; the Wolf, Wolverine, Bear, Boar, Owl, Raven, Puma, Fox and Lynx. I charge each of you to train your followers and teach them the Code of the Wild. One day I will again call on you, my chosen people, to do battle once again. Be ready!’  And so saying, Luna turned into a large eagle and flew off into the night never again to be seen by mortals.”

Breaking eye contact, Hawkeye poked at the fire stirring up more embers and sparks.

“So, when we sing to Luna each night, we are honoring her wishes. We do so to honor our ancestors and to praise our goddess.”

“That’s a beautiful story and it explains much about your people. It is good to know you haven’t forgotten the old gods.” As Tatianna replayed the story in her mind, she realized she had another question. Not sure if he was still awake, she asked softly, “Hawkeye?”

“Yes?”

“You mentioned something you called the code of the wild. What is it?”

“This code is simple and only has three parts. Kill only to eat, to keep from being eaten or for righteous vengeance; honor your ancestors and remember the past, for it is the doorway of the future.” He lay down next to the campfire. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon enough and we still have a long way to travel.”

Watching him for several minutes, Tatianna shook her head before following his example.

Hawkeye was up before sunrise the next morning. Tatianna found him staring into the northern sky. It was dark with storm clouds and a cold wind blew from the north.

Hearing her stir, he pointed to the sky. “It will snow before the day is over. We need to make haste. Itasca is still a least three days away at our present speed and it would not be good to be caught in the wilderness during a blizzard.”

“Isn’t it too early in the season for heavy snow?”

“Not in the Highlands. Our seasons change quickly and are deadly to those who don’t pay attention to or respect nature. Come, we must be off. We will stop very little today.”

Shifting to wolf form, Hawkeye hitched himself up to the travois, Tatianna climbed on and they were off. Not his normal easy pace but at a fast trot. Tatianna realized that the possibility and threat of snow must be more dangerous than he let on.

After a couple of hours of traveling, the snow began to fall. It was a cold, wet snow that fell in large flakes and coated the ground in a beautiful white blanket but Tatianna knew it was dangerously slick. They were crossing the open moors. So the wind blew strong and cold, causing Tatianna to shiver beneath the heavy pile of furs. She couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would voluntarily live this far north.

Granted it was beautiful, in a rough sort of way but it was so harsh and deadly, so different from her homeland.

Closing her eyes, Tatianna let her mind drift back to her homeland, the Elfholm. In her mind’s eye she pictured the majestic trees, the simple gardens and the warm sun. She felt the pangs of homesickness and couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see her home again.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the stark landscape.

They were traveling through an open stretch of land between two plateaus. She really couldn’t call it a valley because it was hard to tell where one plateau ended and the other began. They had come out of the forest about an hour ago and looking over her shoulder she could see another forest in the distance. Looking up, she could hardly tell it was daytime except for the weak light that penetrated the heavy clouds.

Bored, Tatianna folded her arms across her chest and laid back to stare at the bleak landscape. With Hawkeye in his wolf form and her brothers lost to the river, she felt all alone. The gentle rocking of the travois and the boring landscape had just about lulled her to sleep when some movement seen out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Turning her head to look in that direction, she didn’t see anything except three large boulders in the distance. They were grouped in a loose semi-circle about twenty feet apart and probably two hundred feet off to her left. She stared at them for a moment. Not seeing any movement, she let her vision shift into the infrared spectrum.

Infra-vision, also known as darksight, was a natural ability of some of the races on Terreth, primarily the elves, shadow elves, gnomes and dwarves. It allows them to see the heat patterns put off by warm-blooded creatures. This natural ability aids the races in nightly duties or living underground where it is eternally dark.

With her infra-vision, Tatianna scanned the boulders. They were as cold as the snow that fell all around. Just for a change of scenery, she scanned the horizon. Her infra-vision showed varying degrees of gray and black with the flickering gray of snow falling from the heavens. She had never used her infra-vision on snowflakes before. It was intriguing. The snowflakes changed color as they fell getting warmer as they got closer to the ground. Tiring quickly with watching the boring gray and blacks of the cold, she let her vision shift back to normal spectrum. Settling herself more comfortably in the travois, she prepared herself to catch a nap. Casting a quick glance at the boulders, she bolted upright.

They had moved!

They were no longer group together in a semi-circle to her left. Now they were in a loose line, spread apart by at least fifty feet and they were directly behind them.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked again. Sure enough, they had moved. They even seemed closer but that couldn’t be. They had not stopped or even slowed down. They were still moving at the same steady pace Hawkeye had set earlier that morning. Looking over her shoulder, she could see they had covered over half of the distance to the forest from her last look; somehow those boulders were following them.

“Hawkeye!” She called, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. She heard his slight bark as a reply. “I don’t know if this important but I think we're being followed by three boulders.”

His response was not what she expected. Hawkeye hesitated in his stride as he looked over his shoulder at the boulders before shooting off toward the forest like an arrow.

Tatianna was almost thrown from the travois by his sudden acceleration. Frantically grabbing the sides of the travois, she held on as she was bounced all over the place as they raced toward the forest.

Now, she was worried. ‘What on Terreth would cause Hawkeye to act so abruptly?’

Looking back at the boulders, she was shocked to see them unfold themselves and sprout huge limbs. She surmised that they must be over fifteen feet and they didn’t look friendly. A name out of legends popped into Tatianna’s mind; Trolls, the followers of Nox the Evil One.

Her mind raced through all the legends, trying to find a weakness she could use to defeat them. She could tell they were gaining on them. Their long legs covered twice the distance with each stride while Hawkeye was tiring quickly from his long run while pulling her additional weight. Glancing over her shoulder at the forest, she could tell the trolls would catch them before they reached the safety of the trees. Hawkeye must have realized this also because he stopped. Shifting to his hybrid form, he let the travois fall to the ground.

His voice was guttural and rough when he spoke. “I’m sorry Tatianna. I had hoped to avoid the trolls during our journey but the Highlands are very unpredictable.”

Using a rough hewed staff to help her stand Tatianna asked, “How can I help? Do they have any weaknesses we can exploit?”

When Hawkeye shook his head, drool slowly dripped from his elongated snout. “I don’t know. Trolls are tough opponents. They are stronger than cyclops but not as intelligent. They usually only hunt at night because of their fear of the sun but with the heavy overcast we have at the moment, I guess they decided to go hunting anyway.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Readying his weapons, Hawkeye took several steps forward and assumed a fighting stance. The trolls slowed their approach when they were about ten yards out.

Getting her first good look at a troll, Tatianna was not impressed. They had a rough, bumpy skin of a grayish-brown color. Their hands and feet only had three digits, while their eyes were coal black and too small for their overly large head. In other words, they were grotesque…worse than ugly.

The three trolls slowly advanced toward Hawkeye, laughing a deep earthly laugh. It seemed they weren’t overly concerned with Tatianna since all of their attention was directed toward the barbarian. She wanted to rush out there and help him but she knew her leg wouldn’t support her weight. She watched in utter amazement as one of the trolls rushed Hawkeye.

Sidestepping the troll, it passed harmlessly by but not before Hawkeye got in the first strike. Slashing the troll on the back of the knee with all of his might, he wasn’t surprised when his orcish sword bounced off harmlessly.

‘This isn’t going to be easy!’ he thought.

Sensing an attack from behind, Hawkeye rolled forward just as a large rocky hand hit his back. A flash of pain racked his body. Ignoring it, Hawkeye came out of his roll and threw his knife in one fluid motion. The hunting knife flew end over end until it scored a direct hit on one of the trolls’ eye, burying itself to the hilt. Brownish blood came pouring out as the injured troll roared in pain.

The other trolls paused in their attack to laugh at their companion.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light and the two trolls roared in pain. Turning toward the source of the light, the two trolls charged at Tatianna.

Hawkeye watched in fascination and horror as Tatianna stood her ground calmly, holding only a white scarf. He didn’t know what she had planned but the only thought going through his mind was that she would be crushed. He started sprinting after the charging trolls. He could feel the ground tremble with the shock of their heavy footfalls but still Tatianna didn’t move.

When the attacking trolls were less than twenty feet away, Tatianna finally moved. Calmly raising the white scarf over her head, she began swinging it in a fast circle. With each pass the scarf traveled faster and with each pass a wall of white light began flowing out of the scarf. The charging trolls tried to stop their forward momentum but to no avail. The blinding white light seemed to draw them in like a moth drawn to flame. As they plowed right into the wall of light, a nightmarish scream leapt from their mouths.

Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, Hawkeye’s ears ached with the horrible screaming coming from the two trolls.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped.

Uncovering his eyes, Hawkeye found that the wall of light had passed him by. Turning, he watched the light move away from them in an ever-widening circle. When it reached the injured troll, he too began screaming. Before the wall of light passed by him, he stopped.

Hawkeye could tell that the troll wasn’t moving any more.

Turning back to Tatianna, he was confronted by a frightful sight. The two trolls loomed over her in menacing positions. But as Tatianna stepped away from the trolls, they didn’t follow her or even move.

Hawkeye stuttered, “How…What…What happened to them?”

She flashed him a crooked smile and a wink. “I remembered a legend about Eldath and his confrontation with Nox the Evil One.”

Walking over to the frozen trolls, Hawkeye rapped on them with his orcish sword; they were stone. “What does an old legend have to do with this?”  He punctuated his question by rapping harder on the stone troll.

“Well the legend is long but at one point, Eldath who was my people’s greatest Bladeweaver, used his magic to create a circle of sunshine that turned Nox’s followers to stone. Her followers were of course trolls.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you did this.”

Hobbling back to the travois she added slyly, “A lady has to have a few secrets.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Hawkeye glanced at the sky. The clouds were heavier and darker now, meaning the snow would get worse before it got better.

Pulling off his furs, he added them to her covers. Shifting back to his full wolf form, Hawkeye hitched himself back up to the travois and as soon as Tatianna was settled in, he started north again at a fast trot.

They traveled the rest of the day without any further encounters. Hawkeye’s fears about the weather proved true as it snowed all day. Since it didn’t let up, neither did Hawkeye and by nightfall the scenery had changed a great deal. Now, the smooth blanket of white on the open moors that they had traveled through most of the day had given way to rocky hills with evergreen trees and mountain brooks littering the pale countryside.

Long after the sun had set, Hawkeye turned east and descended into a deep ravine filled with evergreens. Weaving in and out of the trees, he followed what looked to be an animal path that led them to a small grove of evergreens that grew in a tight circular formation. Circling the grove, they came upon a small opening facing the rock wall of the ravine. Entering, Hawkeye stopped in the center of the grove right next to a ring of stones laid out as a fire pit.

Climbing off the travois, Tatianna got her first look at Hawkeye since their encounter with the trolls earlier that morning. He was filthy. His lower half was covered in mud and snow while briars and sticks matted his beautiful fur. Looking exhausted, he panted heavily as his sides heaved with the day’s exertion. Tatianna quickly unhooked the sled.

Still in his wolf form, Hawkeye turned back to the entrance. Stopping briefly Hawkeye glanced at Tatianna, turning his head he looked at a small pile of firewood that lay next to the entrance. Looking back at her again, he flashed a quick wink. Understanding that he wanted her to start a fire, she nodded and Hawkeye trotted off into the night.

Gathering wood from the small pile, she laid it in the fire pit. Being cold and tired, Tatianna decided to use her magic to start the fire. Narrowing her eyes briefly, she pointed her right index finger at the wood and said, “Anar!”

A bright blue flame about twelve inches long sprang from her index finger and quickly spread to the dry tinder. The roaring blaze gave off a comforting warmth that soon filled the small enclosure. With the light from the campfire, she was able to study her surroundings and noticed that the enclosure must have been man-made. The trees had been placed in such a fashion that their branches interlaced to form walls and a dome, while the only entrance faced the rock wall of the ravine, cutting down on the wind and adding a small degree of protection.

“Judging from the firewood and fire pit this must be a hunting lodge for the Highlanders. I can't imagine anyone else wanting to live here.”

After a while, Hawkeye returned carrying two large rabbits in his mouth. Laying them down next to her, he walked over to the travois and shifted back into his human form. As he quickly dressed, Tatianna couldn't help but stare.

Although numerous scars criss-crossed his back, his physique was magnificently muscular and firm. Feeling herself blush, she turned her attention to the rabbits. Skinning them quickly and efficiently, she turned to find Hawkeye staring at her.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think an elf would know how to do that.”

Flashing him a crooked smile, she replied, “An elf or a female?”

Hawkeye laughed. “Okay, a female elf. I always assumed only hunters would know how to do that. Not that there is anything wrong in a female hunter.”

“My brothers and I used to go hunting all the time back home.” Her smile growing bigger at the memory, she continued. “I was always taught you must eat what you kill. I remember this one time my brother Khlekluëllin killed a wild boar and….”  She froze as tears welled up in her crystal blue eyes.

Rushing to her side, Hawkeye knelt by her side. “Tatianna, are you okay?”

Quickly burying her face in his chest, Tatianna cried. All the pain and frustration of the last several days came out in her tears. Gently drawing her into the circle of his arms, Hawkeye pulled her close. Stroking her beautiful crimson hair he whispered, “Let it go.”

She stopped crying several minutes later but remained buried in his arms and chest. She felt safe there, like nothing bad could happen while she was there. Hearing his stomach grumble, she broke the embrace. Although he didn’t want to release her, he didn’t resist. Feeling slightly embarrassed Tatianna busied herself with the rabbits again. Placing them on spits, she set them on the fire. Noticing her discomfort, Hawkeye rose and said, “I’ll fetch some water.”

Gathering up several flasks, he left the enclosure. When he returned carrying more firewood and water, the rabbits were ready and they ate in silence.

Once they were done, Hawkeye spoke. “We will be at Itasca late tomorrow night. Hopefully the snow won’t get much worse between now and then. Sleep near the fire and take all of the furs. The fire will die long before sunrise and it will get very cold in here.”

“But what will you do for warmth?” asked Tatianna.

With a sly grin, Hawkeye pulled off his mantle and shifted into his wolf form again before lying down near the fire. Gathering up his furs and adding them to her own, Tatianna lay down next to him. It was not long before they both were asleep.

The next morning they set off before dawn and continued throughout the day without a single break. The snow continued to fall until there were snowdrifts taller than a man. Even though Tatianna was covered with several thick layers of furs, she still shivered from the cold.

By midday, her toes were numb and still Hawkeye trudged on as the snow got deeper and deeper. Eventually, Hawkeye had to shift into his hybrid form but still he continued on; driving forward with his powerful legs while using his arms to help push the snow back. Around dusk the snow stopped but the heavy clouds remained. Coming to the crest of a small hill, Hawkeye paused briefly.

Glancing over her left shoulder, Tatianna got her first glimpse of Itasca, the northern village of the Highland Nation. It was not what she expected.

Chapter 12

Blackfang moved through the bowels of the fortress until he reached a wooden door with a huge lock that barred his way. Pulling out a large key from underneath his filthy furs, he unlocked the door and stepped into the immense chamber. The intense smell of blood, urine, rotting flesh and fear assaulted his nose; Blackfang smiled at the horrifying smells. It was heaven to him.

To his immediate left was a large fireplace; although it was not burning at the moment, it was already laid out for the next fire. Nearby was a large table, full of pokers, shackles, thumbscrews, manacles, knives, bottles of salt and many other items Blackfang didn’t recognize. All were cleverly designed devises used for torture. They each had a unique way of causing great pain without letting the prisoner die.

Directly across from the main entrance were two doors of cast iron leading to the prison cells. Some of the filthy cells had inhabitants, soldiers who were delinquent in their duties or captured prisoners. On the walls to the right, hanging at different heights were iron shackles. Most were empty but some still held the remains of their last inhabitants; skeletons and a few corpses that had not completely decomposed. There were also three elves and one dwarf hanging from these shackles.

The elves hung limp in their chains with their heads bowed low and their wrists bloody and raw from the strain of holding up their weight. They were stripped completely bare and bore the many marks of torture. Mostly bruises, burns and cuts that had been left open to fester and rot. The torturer had gone to great lengths during their last session trying to make them beg or scream for mercy. He had failed. Not once during the many sessions of torture had either of the elves even uttered a single sound.

To an elf, the pains of the body can be endured. An elf just places his mind far away from the body and stays there until the session is over. It is what the pain has done to the soul that cannot be undone. The worst punishment Blackfang or anyone could do to an elf, was to place them deep underground, away from the light of the sun, the feel of the wind and the scents of the forest. The pain done to the body is preferable to the chaining of an elf’s soul deep underground.

As bad as the elves looked, the dwarf had it worse. He was suspended by both of his arms and legs while the tension pulled in four different directions; his wrists and ankles bloodied and raw from the strain of holding up all of his considerable weight. He was also stripped bare, showing several long cuts across his midsection and arms. But again, the punishments to his body though considerable were not the worst punishment the dwarf was made to suffer.

They had shaved him.

Every single hair on his body had been shaved off. His fiery red beard and long mustache were gone. Shaved clean by the wicked gnomes as punishment which was the most humiliating punishment one could inflict upon a dwarf.

To the dwarven culture long hair and beard were a symbol of a dwarf’s courage and physical prowess. For when a dwarf enters hand to hand combat, they must get in close because of their small stature. Any opponent could easily reach out and grab the dwarf’s long beard or hair, pulling them off-balance. Only a warrior who was sure of his skills in battle would give his opponent such an advantage. The length of your beard and hair was a great symbol of pride and honor to a dwarf. To be clean shaven or to even have short hair was to be without honor. And to a dwarf, honor is everything. A true dwarf would rather die honorably than to live shamelessly.

Blackfang punched one of the elves on the chin and shouted, “Wake up, Elfie! Your master is here!”

As the elf’s head snapped back from the force of the blow, his eyes popped opened and he glared at the Highlander. Even in the dim light Khlekluëllin’s dark hair still shimmered with blue highlights which gave him a foreboding look. “Good morning, Blackfang.”

Looking over his left shoulder Khlekluëllin called, “Wake up, Mortharona! We have a visitor.”

Lifting his head slowly, Mortharona answered through a yawn, his voice was dry and wispy. “Good morning brother, is breakfast ready yet?”

Spitting out blood, Khlekluëllin aimed for Blackfang but missed. “I don’t believe so but someone let in this smelly mutt. You know it is so hard to find good help these days.”  Twisting his head so he could see the dwarf he asked, “Wouldn’t you agree Rjurik?”

Clearing his throat, Rjurik spoke slowly. “Aye lad. Tis strange hospitality we have had ta endure these last few days. Personally, I think da host should be drawn and quartered.”

Smiling Blackfang walked over to the chained dwarf, reached out and grabbed Rjurik’s genitals. Pulling on them hard, he slammed his knee into his midsection. There was a loud grunt, as all the air in dwarf’s lungs was forced out. Groaning, Rjurik fell silent.

“Listen here, you smelly earthworm,” Blackfang said. “If I had my way, you would’ve been dinner long ago. Dwarves make a great appetizer although their meat is a little chewy. But my allies think you could be useful in the future. They seem to think that you will tell us of a back way into your homeland before you to die.”

Turning away from the groaning dwarf, Blackfang noticed that the fourth prisoner in the room hadn’t stirred yet. Turning toward him, Blackfang studied the pale elf. Corwin, the elven queen’s consort and father of the twins, hung limp in his chains. His naked body was extremely gaunt and bore the numerous marks of torture. Out of the four, he had been in the dungeon the longest and tortured far more than the others had and his body showed it.

Prodding Corwin’s chest with his knife, Blackfang screamed. “Wake up!”

No response. Grabbing the elf by the shoulders, Blackfang brought his knee up into the elf’s groin, hard. Extremely, hard. Still no movement or reaction at all. Blackfang checked for a pulse and couldn’t find any. He threw back his head and laughed.

“It seems that I will eat well tonight after all. Your father has finally given in to death’s reward. You elves are so weak! He didn’t even last a month.”

Khlekluëllin spoke quietly in his native tongue. “Go to Aurora, Corwin Amarth. Pass from this realm to the Halls of the Sun and rejoice in the knowledge that you will be honored forever.”

Blackfang walked over to Khlekluëllin and punched him in the gut. “If you forsake your goddess, I’ll set you free.”

Regaining his breath, Khlekluëllin fixed Blackfang in a deadly stare. “If you set me free, I’ll rip out your heart with my bare hands.”

Blackfang ignored the idle threat and said, “Soon you’ll be begging for a quick death!” Turning his back on the helpless prisoners, he stormed out of the chamber. As he passed the two gnomish guards just outside the door, they snapped to attention. “One of the elves is dead. Take him to the kitchen.”

“By your command!” They both replied in unison and hurried to do the Blackfang’s bidding. Once out of earshot of their master, the gnomes grumbled to each other in their own tongue as they unceremoniously dumped Corwin’s body on the floor, grabbed the corpse roughly and dragged it from the chamber.

As soon as they were alone again, Mortharona said, “It has to be soon. We can easily overpower the guards.”

Khlekluëllin shook his head. “Father didn’t think that would be a smart thing to do and neither do I.  We might be armed but where are we going to run? There has to be at least three thousand troops in these ruins. No, we should wait until they go off to battle. It’ll have to be soon. Even Blackfang isn’t stupid enough to keep an army this size idle for too long.”

Khlekluëllin looked over at the dwarf and asked, “What do you think, Rjurik?”

Rjurik nodded. “I agree with both of you. The chance to escape will have to come soon or not at all. We will have to be ready when it comes. It might be tonight or next week or next month. The important thing is to conserve our strength until then.”

As each thought about their situation and the possibility of escape, an oppressive silence fell over the torture room. It hung heavy in the air, mixing with the ever-present scents of death, decay and the oily smoke from the old lamps which burned slowly in the corners.

Finally, Mortharona broke the silence. “When we do make our escape, I hope we have an opportunity to kill Blackfang. I cannot wait till I get my hands on that filthy shape-shifter. His death won’t come quickly or easily. I’ll show him what torture truly is.”

Pausing to think, he didn’t notice the horrified look on his brother’s face. A wicked grin slowly crept over Mortharona’s face as he imagined his actions.

“I think I’ll start with his toes. I’ll cut them off, one by one and throw them in the fire so he can watch them burn slowly. Then, I’ll do the same to each of his fingers. I’m going to take great pleasure in killing him.”

Khlekluëllin stared at his twin brother in disbelief. “Mortharona, that isn’t a nice thing to say, even about Blackfang. Your thoughts and words go directly against Aurora’s teachings.”

“And the sacred words of Bromois,” Rjurik interjected. “Although I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on Blackfang myself, I would like to face him one on one in battle. There is no honor in torture, only in combat.”

Khlekluëllin nodded. “I agree. I wouldn’t mind facing off with Blackfang myself in combat, blade to blade, skill versus skill.”

Mortharona laughed. “You would condemn me for thinking of lovely ways to kill our enemy. An enemy deserves no mercy. Mercy is for the weak!”

Khlekluëllin shook his head, closed his eyes and silently prayed to his goddess that their chance to escape would come soon. He knew their imprisonment and torture was changing them all but Mortharona’s change was far worse. If he was thinking of torturing Blackfang then he was beginning to slip away from the teachings and beliefs of their goddess. That was not good.

*   *  *   *   *

Elsewhere in the fortress, Lalith was thinking the same thing. Her melodious voice broke the silence as they stared into the depths of the dark pool of water.

“Well, well… I think I now know which elf to curse.”

Staring into the dark pool, they watched the three captives argue. Reaching down, Lalith waved her hands slowly over the floating images which tightened and slowly focused in on Mortharona. His voice, although hollow and distant, could be heard as he continued his tirade.

“Come now brother are you going to hang there and tell me you wouldn’t enjoy killing Blackfang after what he has done to you, our father, our sister and me? I don’t believe you!”

Shaking his head, Khlekluëllin disagreed. “No, I’m not saying that. Yes, I would love to kill Blackfang. And if I ever get the chance, I will. But that’s not the point, it’s the way you would kill him. Torture! That is the way of a coward, not a warrior! There would be no challenge in killing a helpless captive.”

Lalith’s gargoyle familiar, Jinx, glanced up at his mistress and grinned. His fangs gleamed a sickly red in the faint firelight of the small burning brazier as he sat on the granite stones that made up the sides of Lalith’s scrying pool. Jinx rubbed his hands excitedly. “Very true, my mistress.”  He pointed at the image of Mortharona. “That one’s heart is full of hatred.”

“Yes, isn’t it lovely?”  Waving her hands over the pool, the images faded. “We needed to find a weak spot in which to poison the elves with and now we have it. Mortharona’s hatred for Blackfang will be his undoing. Where the fire of hatred burns, the ashes of evil lie. All we have to do is fan those flames a little.”

Reaching to the side of the pool, Lalith picked up a silver pitcher. Slowly, as not to cause many ripples, she emptied the pitcher into the pool. The faint firelight reflected off dark red-black liquid.

Jinx licked his lips hungrily as the smell of blood filled the room. “But mistress, we still have to find a way to let them escape without alerting Blackfang.”

She waved a delicate hand as if to dismiss the trivial thought. “Don’t worry about that, I have a plan. As to Blackfang…” She paused to pick up a small bundle of leaves and tossed them in the nearby brazier. “I’ll take care of him.”

The flames hungrily consumed the dried leaves filling the small chamber with the fragrance of juniper and illuminating Lalith’s spell chamber.

It wasn’t very big, only a third the size of the bedchamber in the next room but it was cozy. On one wall, a small fireplace was laid out and ready to light. Directly in front of the fireplace was a bear skin rug. The rest of the chamber was crammed full of magical paraphernalia. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of herbs, spices and spell components. Most were in clay jars labeled with ornate runes or simple pictures, while some were just stacked in loose piles. Among these were seven skulls, two or three arm bones, a handful of dragon teeth and a small pile of glittering crystals. In the corner was a rack of weapons; there were swords, daggers, axes, knives, maces and flails. Several of these weapons glowed with the unearthly light of magic.

Getting up from her scrying pool that lay in the center of the small chamber, Lalith crossed the few feet between the pool and the shelves. “Come, Jinx. We have much to do before everything is ready.”

Studying the clay jars for several moments, she began selecting certain ones and carrying them over to the pool. Jinx hopped down from the pool and began to lick the blood from the silver pitcher.

*   *  *   *   *

Grunk moved easily through the camp surrounded by the enemy. Of course, they didn’t realize he was the enemy. To them he was just another cyclopean warrior, maybe a bit better outfitted but just another one-eye.

Infiltrating the enemy camp had been easy. The why was harder to explain?

Grunk had followed the river downstream and found the tracks where three of the companions had come ashore. Unfortunately, they had landed in the middle of a goblin camp.

Judging from the tracks, Grunk knew it was the two elves and the dwarf. They had been captured without a fight, bound and marched south to this ancient dwarven fortress. This was extremely unusual behavior for goblins. This had heightened Grunk’s curiosity, which only partially explained why he was wandering around an enemy’s camp.

He had spent the last three days learning the workings of the camp. It’s amazing what soldiers will discuss around a campfire or in a chow line. He didn’t know the exact location of the dungeon but he reasoned it would be deeper into the fortress than he could wander without proper authorization.

Of course, Grunk had to worry not to draw too much attention to himself since he wasn’t a true member of the army. He had overheard enough of the army’s organization to deflect the most common questions. His major concern was being caught up in a situation where more than a cursory examination would take place. Grunk also never stayed in one tent, messhall or section of the camp for long.  Most of the other cyclopean guards generally ignored the gnomes or goblins, taking food or drink from them at will. So his noncommittal grunts and gestures spoke volumes to the smaller races.

Grunk was sitting in a chow hall on the east side of the camp, the same one he had visited on his first day inside the enemy’s camp. Out of all the eating establishments he had visited, this cook seemed to have the most talent or pride in his work. The food wasn’t excellent but considering some of the other slop he had choked down over the last three days, it was wonderful.

Grunk looked up from his meal and spied a well armed and armored dark elf moving through the crowd, the surrounding gnomes and goblins parted at his approach.

He was dressed in solid black leather pants with a vest of black chainmail and moved with the grace of a panther; smooth, confident and deadly. A brace of throwing knives were strapped to his hips and the hilts of his twin sabers could be seen over his shoulders. His stark white hair was shoulder length but pulled back into a ponytail and a silver choker inset with a glowing red ruby encircled his neck. Everything about his movements and manners spoke that this dark elf was a warrior supreme.

Grunk felt the hackles at the back of his neck rise when the dark elf stopped at his table.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Glancing around, Grunk noticed his was the only empty table. Feeling slightly cornered, he nodded his head and grunted.

Taking that as permission, the dark elf set his food down, reversed the chair and seated himself.  Taking a bite of the stew the dark elf looked up at larger cyclopean warrior. “I’m curious, why do you Jotens always grunt? I know you can speak but all of you seem to do is grunt or growl at everyone?”

Grunk couldn’t hold back his grin at the straight question. “Most of the other races think that since we are big and strong we are also dumb. So, we act that way. Why rock the boat?”

Nodding, the dark elf took a swig of his mead. “That makes sense.” He gestured to the surrounding gnomes and goblins with his free hand. “Kind of like these damn digger and gobbies, they think all shadow elves are vicious murdering bastards.”

Looking around, Grunk could see the fear on their faces. Very few even looked their way and those that did averted their eyes immediately when they saw Grunk or his companion glance in their direction.

“I can see what you mean. They were a bit cowed when I sat down to eat but since your arrival they are positively frightened.”

“Aye, it’s so sickening. There isn’t a true warrior among them. They will be nothing more than fodder when the battle starts.” Reaching out his right hand, the dark elf said, “Darnac Penumbra at your service.”

The cyclops clasped forearms with the dark elf, his huge hand swallowing the elf’s slender arm. “Well met. I am Grunk Nightslayer.”

Darnac raised an eyebrow as he turned back to his meal. “Interesting surname you have, family title?”

Grunk shook his head. “Nay, in my youth I was bold and reckless. I once fought a black dragon, hence the name.”

“You make it sound so nonchalant, like killing a dragon is an everyday thing.”

Grunk shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t like to brag, it lessens the deed.”

“I agree but that is very different from many of your brethren. Thantos constantly brags on his prowess as a warrior.”

Grunk stiffened at the mention of his father’s name but tried not to show his discomfort. Instead, he took a long swig of his mead. “I just don’t like to talk of my past.”

“I can understand that my large friend. My past haunts me daily and I too do not like to discuss it.” Darnac gestured to those around him. “Of course, I have very few people to converse with.”

“Why is that?” Grunk asked as he set down his mug. “I have seen several of your kin wandering around here.”

“I don’t associate with them; or should I say, they don’t associate with me.”

Grunk could tell that there was more to that story but didn’t know how to broach the subject. So, he remained silent.

After several minutes of silence, Darnac spoke in a soft whisper. “My honor is my life. I gave my word to serve and so serve I shall. Unfortunately, my services led me to this place.” Shaking his head to clear away the melancholy thoughts, Darnac forced a smile and asked, “You in camp long?”

Finishing his bowl of stew Grunk said, “Only for another day or so, then I must head back out. You?”

“I am here as long as my mistress remains.”

Grunk gestured to the surrounding messhall. “You eat here often?”

“Nay. My mistress is entertaining a guest, so I had a few hours of free time. I miss the underworld, so in my spare time I like to wander the caverns beneath the fortress. They are vast and largely unexplored. I can see why Haldar built his fortress in this location.”

“Haldar?”

“The dwarven hero who built the fortress above almost a millennia ago,” Darnac explained.

“I didn’t realize that these ruins were that old.”

“Yes, they have a long history and are quite extensive.” Finishing his stew, Darnac changed the subject. “Are you going to the games tomorrow night?”

Not really knowing what the dark elf was talking about, Grunk decided to play it off and shrugged. “If my duties allow, why?”

Darnac took a long swig of his ale. “It should be good sport. A couple of elves and a dwarf were captured by some goblins. It seems that Blackfang has declared that they shall fight in the arena to entertain the troops. It’s my guess they will fight nightly until they die in the Pit.”

Grunk felt his heart quicken at this news but he forced himself to stay calm. “Sounds interesting but speaking of duties, I should get back.” Standing, Grunk picked up his large helmet from the table. “Thanks for the company Darnac.”

Also standing, the dark elf offered his hand once more. “The pleasure was mine Grunk. You are a rare individual.”

Returning the handshake, Grunk walked out of the messhall and into the enemy camp but now he was armed with some knowledge that might actually help him achieve his goal.

*   *  *   *   *

Khlekluëllin strained to see through the small window of his cell door. He had heard the gnomes coming long before he saw them and he could smell them long before that. Peeking through the small opening, he watched as three gnomes dragged his unconscious brother down the prison hall.

Judging from the blood dripping down the side of Mortharona’s face, they must’ve beaten him severely during this latest torture session. The lead guard opened the cell door across the hall before stepping aside while the other two gnomes deliberately threw Mortharona against the back wall. The dark haired elf landed in a lump and didn’t move.

Concern for his twin brother overcame his caution and Khlekluëllin called out. “Mortharona!”

He didn’t answer but the lead gnome glanced up at the blue haired elf with a toothless grin. When the jailer spoke, spit and salvia sprayed the immediate area.  “Don’t cha worry! You’ll ‘ave your turn with the Dark Lady. If I was in yous boots, I’da be wishin that I died before dat day arrived.”

Glancing down at the filthy gnome, a sense of loathing filled him. Knowing that he should keep his mouth shut, Khlekluëllin felt he had to make a comment. “Open this door and I’ll grant your wish.”

The old gnome smacked the cell door with his club. “Yous just watch yous mouth! Just cause you ‘aves a date with the Dark Lady, don’t mean you’ll make it. Accidents do happen. Besides, no one ever says yous ‘ave to be able to walk to yous appointment.”

Figuring that discretion is the better part of valor, Khlekluëllin remained quiet until the three guards left. As soon as they were gone, he again called out to his twin brother. “Mortharona! Mortharona!”

There wasn’t any answer.  Numerous thoughts filled his mind, most of them unpleasant. Fearing the worst, Khlekluëllin thought to himself.

‘What did they do to him? I guess I could try to use our link. We haven’t used it in so long, I wonder if it still works?’

Sitting down in the lotus position, with legs crossed and his feet on top of his thighs, Khlekluëllin closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He forced his thoughts to remain calm, as he pictured his brother’s face. With his mind’s eye, he could see the mischievous twinkle in his brother’s eyes and the sly grin he constantly wore. Softly, he mentally called out to his brother.

‘Mortharona! Mortharona!’

Although he didn’t answer, Khlekluëllin slowly felt their minds connect. It was a subtle thing. It was an empathic connection they had shared since birth. Even as babies, one could feel the other’s thoughts and emotions.

The Master Weavers had once explained it to their family as a rare and unpredictable gift. They passed it off as something to do with them being twins which to the elves are extremely rare. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona had never been able to actually send or receive directed thoughts but the Master Weavers predicted that their ability would grow with time. Their link seemed to connect their minds enough that the twins could anticipate each other’s needs and desires almost instinctively. It happened mostly in combat, when conscious thoughts were driven away and instinct took over. It was this bond which had helped them become a formidable and deadly team in battle.

Though the link was weak, Khlekluëllin did receive several flashes of erotic images. In one, he saw Mortharona dancing in the moon light with a beautiful silver haired lady. In another, he saw the same silver haired lady dressed in black chainmail riding a large dragon with Mortharona sitting right behind her. The landscape below them all in flames and they were both laughing. There was another wave of images coming through when a deep voice broke his concentration.

“Khlekluëllin!”

Shaking his head to clear it of the remnants of the empathic bond Khlekluëllin answered quietly. “Yes Rjurik, what is it?”

The old dwarf was incarcerated in the next cell and was too short to see through the window in the door.  Since the cell didn’t contain anything that he could stand on, he had missed the procession of the guards. Even whispering, his deep voice echoed in the silent dungeon. “How’s Mortharona?”

“I’m not sure. He’s alive but unconscious.”

Smack! The sound of someone kicking a cell door resounded loudly through the quiet prison.

“Damn those smelly, flea-bitten, worm-eating, rat-loving gnomes! They’ll be sorry when I get out of here. Cause, once I get my hands on even one of them, especially that no good, excuse of a Highlander, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?!” came a deep voice.

Both Khlekluëllin and Rjurik jumped slightly at the sound of Blackfang’s voice. Moving with the grace of a wolf, smooth and unhurried, Blackfang came into Khlekluëllin’s view. He strolled down the prison hallway as if he was the master of his surroundings, which of course he was.

He flashed the elf a dazzling smile. “I just came by for a brief visit. How do you like your new quarters? I’ve got to admit they weren’t my idea but the Dark Lady thought you might be more receptive to her questioning if you were allowed some limited movement.”

“What did she do to my brother?”

Waving his hands in a gesture of dismissal, he laughed slightly. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be okay. I just found that he has a low tolerance to pain when it concerns his hands. I bet one of his greatest fears would be the loss of one. Pity, I just might have to make that happen.”

Leaping at the door, Khlekluëllin shot his arm through the small window. Blackfang was just out of his reach. “I swear by the goddess Aurora that one day, you and I will meet in battle and one of us will not survive!”

Blackfang grabbed Khlekluëllin’s right wrist and gave it a hard twist. Feeling the bones in his forearm shift to an unnatural position, the elf winced in pain. With a sly smile, Blackfang moved closer to the cell door and lowered his voice until it was just barely a hoarse whisper. “That my friend is nothing more than a hollow threat and they don’t frighten me. Besides, after tomorrow night you will be in the spirit world with your father.”

Releasing his grip, Blackfang turned away and strode down the hall. His voice echoed out of the darkness. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need all your strength for tomorrow’s battle.”

Gingerly pulling his arm back through the window, Khlekluëllin cursed himself out loud. “Damn it!  I know better than that! Never let your anger get the better of you!”

Rjurik’s deep voice broke in. “Are you all right?”

Khlekluëllin flexed his arm, “Yes. My arm will be a little sore but I’ll be alright.’

“Good. We’re going to have to work together if we are to escape. What do you think Blackfang has planned for us?”

“I’m not sure but judging from his words and what I have overheard from the gnomes, he has set up an arena in something they call the Pit. I suspect that he will have us fight night after night until we die.”

“Unless he stacks the odds against us, hmm…five to one or better, he will be disappointed. I haven’t seen anything around here that should give us much of a challenge.”

“That’s today. We’re already tired. Imagine fighting day after day, we will get worn down and injured. I doubt they will give us the time to heal, so eventually we will fall in battle. The odds favor Blackfang.”

“True but at least we will get a chance to take a few of them out before we die.”

“There is truth in that.” Khlekluëllin stretched out on the cell floor. There was just enough room for his lanky frame. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll figure out our escape tomorrow when Mortharona wakes up.”

Stretching out, Rjurik laid down on the dirt floor of his cell. “Agreed, there is always tomorrow. And as long as we have a tomorrow, then there is hope.”  Closing his eyes, he quietly spoke to the rock wall that divided him from his companions. “Good night my friend.”

“Good night, Rjurik.”  Closing his eyes, Khlekluëllin tried to sleep but his mind kept returning to the images he saw in Mortharona’s mind. What do they mean? Who is that silver haired lady? And what is he doing riding a damned dragon over a flaming battlefield?  He pondered these thoughts for several minutes before the veil of sleep washed over him.

*   *  *   *   *

Leaning back from her enchanted pool, Lalith stretched lazily. Her lithe body was taut with the exertion, showing off her firm breasts and tight stomach. The weak firelight reflected off her ebony skin and silver hair giving her an unearthly appearance. Blackfang growled appreciably at her display. Flashing him a dazzling smile, Lalith leaned across the granite stones of the scrying pool to kiss the large barbarian. “Thank you for the complement.”

Glancing down the front of her silk robe, he grinned. “No, thank you for the view.”

Turning back to the pool, she pointed at the images of the three captives. “Do you now see the importance of their escape?”

Blackfang’s smile quickly became a scowl. “Yes I do but I don’t like it!”

Keeping her face away from Blackfang, she grimaced at her next actions. Taking a deep breath, she put on her sweetest face and turned back to the warrior. “But we don’t have to like all our duties given to us by Clotho; we just have to do them.”

Blackfang rubbed his chin. “Agreed. What is it you wish for me to do?”

Clapping her hands together, she leaned quickly over and kissed him again. “What I have in mind is rather simple, be yourself. The angrier they become at you, the more effective the spell becomes. Their anger is the focus for the spell.”

“That’s simple enough. I’ll just torture them again.”

Lalith shook her head. “You cannot.”

Freezing for a moment, Blackfang glared at her. “What do you mean I can’t?”

Walking up behind him, Lalith seductively caressed Blackfang’s chest. “We need for them to escape alive and relatively unharmed.”

Quivering with excitement from her touch, he leaned back as she ran her tongue down his chest. Blackfang struggled to keep his mind on the subject at hand. “What did you have in mind?”

Moving around in front of the large barbarian, Lalith let fall her black silk robe. Kneeling down between his legs, she gently stroked his manhood and rubbed it against her breast.

“Let them escape during the games. It can’t seem too easy though or they will suspect something.”  Reaching down with both hands, she put her lips firmly around his manhood.

Leaning his head back, Blackfang enjoyed the intense feeling of her actions. After a few moments, Blackfang grunted. “If that is what you wish my dear, then that is what you will get.”

Pausing for a moment, Lalith smiled at her easy victory. Going back to the task at hand, she projected her thoughts to her familiar. ‘That was too easy. This barbarian is so easy to manipulate.’

She felt Jinx’s thoughts in the back of her mind. ‘He might be easy to manipulate but I am sure he’s enjoying your actions more than you are?’

Suddenly, she felt Blackfang’s hands on the back of her head, forcing her to go deeper. She braced herself for what she knew was coming. A few scant seconds later, Blackfang climaxed. Forcing herself to relax, she swallowed. It was bitter and took all of her self-control not to gag.

Blackfang lay back with a sigh of relief and groaned. “That was wonderful!”

Taking a deep breath, Lalith nodded. “Yes my love, it was.”  As she watched him close his eyes, she shot a mental retort at Jinx. ‘This barbarian is a terrible lover! By Clotho, why does she need this brute? And why do I have to please him?’

Her familiar’s soothing voice came floating back over their mental link. ‘Clotho knows that she needs him to defeat the Highlanders and so do we. One day soon, we won’t need him anymore and then you can dispose of him. Until then, humor him. Besides, he isn’t the worst lover you’ve ever had; he’s just not the best.’

Lalith couldn’t help but snicker at Jinx’s last remark.

Blackfang opened his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Thinking quickly, Lalith moved so she was lying next to him on the bear skin rug. “I was just thinking of the look on Queen Circe’s face when her twin sons come home with the news of the death of her consort and her daughter. I was just wishing I could be there for that.”

“I might not be able to grant that wish but I can guarantee you the chance to meet the queen, face to face.”

Burying her face in Blackfang’s chest, Lalith hid her amused expression as she fired a mental blast at Jinx. ‘This barbarian thinks he’s going to conquer the Elven Empire! I doubt he can even conquer the Highlands! He’s an uncouth bastard and I hate him!’

Jinx’s soothing voice came back once again over their mental link. ‘Calm yourself Mistress. Let the damn fool dream. He will be useful to us, no matter if he wins or not. Just remain calm and play his feelings to our advantage.’

Lalith could hear the wisdom in her familiar’s voice. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed in Blackfang’s arms; content at the moment that everything was going according to her plan.

Closing her eyes she fell asleep. The last thing she remembered was the look of Mortharona’s firm and naked body lying next to her own naked body.

Chapter 13

Tatianna looked out at Itasca, the northern village of the highlanders, with undisguised awe. She was expecting a small grouping of ramshackle huts and tents; instead she found a mountain fortress.

The entrance to the barbarian city was still several hundreds of feet above her on the side of a lone mountain. Their approach would take them down the side of the ridge and across a small valley before reaching the trail that wound its way up the mountainside. Not much of the city could be seen from her vantage point, other than the massive timber walls and the gate that blocked the entrance into the city. The rest of the mountain was covered in a heavy cloud.

The snow was not as deep on the backside of the ridge but as they reached the valley floor the icy wind once more howled in fury at them, blowing the snow all around them. Hawkeye moved ever more slowly as he struggled to pull her up the mountain. Tatianna could see in the dim moonlight that the trail was actually a road carved out of the mountainside and paved with cobblestones. It contained several switchbacks as they climbed higher and higher. As they rounded one of the switchbacks, a single shrill horn rang out. The massive gates were closed but all along the ramparts she could see the movement of numerous heavily furred warriors, fully armed and ready for combat.

Fires burned like beacons in the twin wooden watchtowers that flanked the massive gate. As they reached the landing in front of the entrance, Hawkeye collapsed. As Tatianna struggled to extricate herself from the travois, the gate opened a crack and several warriors rushed out. They were all grim faced and armed, most carried bows but a few were armed with long spears. The first to reach them was a young warrior dressed in black wolf furs. Taking in the scene before him, the warrior barked a command in a strange language which Tatianna didn’t understand.

Without a single word to her, several warriors began unhooking the travois.

She was about to say something when the black furred warrior held up his hand to silence her. Frustrated, Tatianna held her tongue as the warriors picked up her companion and disappeared into the mists; Tatianna felt alone and somewhat frightened. As soon as Hawkeye was out of sight, the black furred warrior turned to face her. He was handsome and in his early twenties with black hair and dark eyes.

Although his smile was bright and his mannerisms friendly, there was something about this young warrior that Tatianna didn't like or trust. Something familiar, something...she shook her head to clear it.

“Greetings elf maiden, I am Kaoni Bravefoot, kinsman to Hawkeye. Welcome to Itasca.”

His voice was strong and gentle, very reminiscent of Hawkeye’s. It was probably just the lack of sleep playing tricks with her mind but she felt that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Taking his hand gingerly, she stood up slowly. “Thank you, I am Tatianna the Bladeweaver.”

“We’ve not had an elven visitor in many moons.” Noticing her injuries, Bravefoot continued. “Come, I will take you to the medicine lodge where a shaman will treat your wounds. This is obviously what Hawkeye had intended.”

Leaning heavily on her make-shift staff, Tatianna followed Bravefoot through the massive gates. The area before her was crowded with carts and supplies as if the early snowstorm interrupted the final harvest of the season. Glancing back, she watched as the gates closed with a resounding clank as the crossbar fell into place. She also became aware that two warriors had fallen in behind them.

Numerous questions flooded her mind. Was she their prisoner or were they an honor guard? They had made no attempt to disarm her, so she was hoping it was the later of the two but only time would tell.

As they moved deeper into the city, they entered a mist filled tunnel and moved forward slowly. She was confused. She didn’t think that the highlanders lived underground. That was a practice more common with the dwarves and gnomes. But here she was being lead through a slightly downward sloping tunnel which led to the heart of Itasca, the largest city of the highlanders. She noted that the passage wasn’t very long and seemed to be a naturally occurring tunnel; the floor had been worn smooth by years upon years of traffic.

When the tunnel ended, she found herself on a small landing that overlooked a mist covered valley which shrouded the village from detailed scrutiny. Glancing up, she noticed the moon breaking free of the clouds and the realization hit her like a lightning bolt.

Itasca was inside a hollow mountain!

Bravefoot smiled when he noticed her reaction. “Personally, I think this is the best view for any newcomers to Itasca.”

Without waiting for her to follow or say anything he began the descent into the village but gestured with one hand at the opposite side of the mountain. “The view from the main entrance isn’t as breathtaking.”

She glanced where he pointed and noticed that the other entrance was more open, as if part of the mountain had crumbled. She could just barely see the snow fields off in the distance, then she was below the entrance’s level and her attention was drawn to the city below.

Tatianna could tell that one side of the canyon was filled with a glittering pool of blue water. A large peninsula jutted out into the lake, making the lake seem like the crescent moon. Overlooking the clearing and directly above the largest part of the lake was another cave opening. This entrance seemed special to her; it looked perfectly round, like that of the full moon.

Letting her eyes roam over the rest of the village, she could make out numerous tents or huts through the heavy mist. The haze parted as they moved down the mountainside and through the village giving Tatianna her first good look at the village. It seemed to be laid out in three major sections; housing, livestock and the lake. The closer one moved toward the glittering pool the larger the dwellings became.

The hogans, the wooden and mud lodges with roofs of thatch, seemed to be clustered near the center clearing, while the tipis, hides stretched over a frame of long poles, where on the outskirts of the village.

Tatianna realized that Hawkeye must be a highly respected leader. For every warrior greeted her with warm smiles and nods of affection. She had never known any race to be so friendly. They didn't even know who she was, yet everyone greeted her with respect and kindness.

Looking at these people Tatianna thought, ‘They act as one big family. Although everyone, including the women and children are carrying weapons. I wonder what type of reception I would have received if I had not arrived in the company of Hawkeye? It most assuredly would not have been pleasant.’

Tatianna asked, “Will Hawkeye survive?”

A worried look crossed his youthful face but Bravefoot answered. “It’s too early to tell but he’s tough. I believe it will take more than exhaustion or the weather to kill him.”

Bravefoot stopped in front of a small octagonal lodge made of logs, mud and sod. It was a very simple dwelling but completely different than the rest of the buildings in the area. They were all larger and more ornate but standing at the entranceway of this simple dwelling was a large wooden totem pole deeply imbedded in the ground. The top was intricately carved with the symbol of a howling wolf in front of the full moon. Hanging from the pole were numerous eagle feathers, hides and skulls. Tatianna counted at least sixty feathers, twenty animal hides and five skulls. She was surprised when she noticed that one of the skulls was from a minotaur.

Glancing at the other lodges nearby, she could see similar totem poles. Although the other lodges might be larger and more ornate, not one totem pole had nearly as many trophies hanging from them.

Bravefoot spoke with the air of respect and awe. “This is Hawkeye’s hogan. You are to be his guest until a meeting of the Great Council. Make yourself comfortable. A shaman will be here shortly. If you need anything, just call out. I will be nearby.”

The way he said that last statement she knew that he was to be her guard. Whether that was as a guard for her protection or as a prisoner, she didn’t know. Nodding her head slightly, she entered the lodge slowly. Her leg throbbed wickedly with every step.

Pausing just inside the entrance, Tatianna studied her surroundings. It was sparsely furnished, obviously a man's dwelling, yet it had a very comfortable feeling. In the center was a fireplace with several woven mats to sit on. A large pile of animal furs lay off to the side and three low tables held clay pots. The walls were decorated with animal hides, weapons and woodcarvings.

One woodcarving in particular caught Tatianna’s eye. It was of nine animals surrounding a faceless warrior who was kneeling at a pool of still water. Tatianna was amazed at the detail in the carvings. There were also several carvings of the humanoid races. There were intricate carvings of a dwarven warrior with an axe, a human knight on horseback, a slender warrior riding a dragon and beautiful young woman holding two infants. This last one was set apart from the rest and bore the sign of the howling wolf in front of the moon. Tatianna guessed that this must have been Hawkeye’s slain wife and children.

Continuing to study her surroundings, Tatianna's eyes froze on a half-carved figurine of an elf that lay on a small workbench near the back of the lodge. The figurine was no more than a foot tall, with the base still not yet complete but the face and torso were of a female warrior in a shirt of chain mail with waist long wavy hair. The curve of the figurine’s jaw-line and the set of the eyes bore a striking resemblance to her own.

Tatianna was so entranced by the figurine that she didn’t hear the approach of anyone and was startled as a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“It does look a lot like you, does it not?”

Turning quickly, Tatianna’s hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Standing in the entranceway was a white haired old man, his hand still holding open the curtain. The lights of the torches burning outside cast his features in shadows. Quickly regaining her composure, Tatianna spoke in an even tone. “It looks like any female elven warrior would.”

As the old man entered the lodge and moved past her, this gave Tatianna a moment to study the newcomer. He was dressed in white wolf furs with numerous leather bundles and pouches hanging at his waist and leaned heavily on an intricately carved staff.

“You are of course correct but you must realize that Hawkeye has never met an elf before.” Picking up the figurine gingerly, he turned it slowly in his hands as he studied the intricate artwork. “This was a carving out of his dreams. It is by Luna’s will that he arrived in time to aid you in your time of need; which of course, brought you here.”

Gently putting the figurine down, he turned toward her and said, “Ah, but I forget my manners.”  Bowing low, as was the elven custom, he held out his right hand palm up and spoke in fluent elvish. “Greetings, I am Anasazi Whitefoot, Shaman of the Wolf Tribe.”

She returned the bow while copying the gestures “Greetings venerable one, I am Tatianna Amarth of Elfholm, a humble Bladeweaver.”

Switching back to the common tongue, Anasazi pointed at her wounds. “Now that the formalities are over, might I tend your wounds?”

Tatianna nodded and moved over to the pile of furs, propped her leg up and leaned back, still keeping a close eye on the old man. “How is it that you know elvish and the proper greeting of comrades-in-arms?”

Anasazi chuckled slightly. “I am much older than you think, my dear. I have traveled the lands of Terreth for many, many years.” He carefully removed the old bandages and for several minutes studied and gently probed the wounds. “Hawkeye tells me you were being chased by Blackfang and his followers.”

Sitting up quickly, Tatianna knocked over a small wooden bowl Anasazi had just set out. “You’ve seen Hawkeye? How is he? Will he survive?”

Replacing the bowl, the ancient shaman pulled out several pouches. “Yes, I’ve seen him. He’ll be fine. He is suffering from exhaustion and slight dehydration, nothing more. Now lie back and let me finish tending your wounds.”

Complying, Tatianna tried to relax.

“How are the woods of the Elfholm this year? And for that matter, how is your mother the Queen doing? The last I heard she was still having problems with the shadow elves.”

Raising herself up on her elbows, Tatianna eyed him suspiciously. “What do you know of the problems of my homeland and how do you know that my mother is the Queen?”

“It is common knowledge that the elves and the shadow elves are on the brink of war. Besides, the animals bring me news from all over Terreth. As to knowing your mother, let’s just say that we were once comrades-in-arms many, many years ago… long before she assumed the throne.”

Smiling, Anasazi began to talk about trivial things concerning nature and animals. But Tatianna didn’t hear him. She was lost in her thoughts. Her mother was once a comrade in arms with a Highlander? A barbarian? She found it hard to believe, her mother had always seemed so…so proper, so elven. Most elves were very condescending toward the other, so-called ‘lesser races.’ Many elves wouldn't give a hungry dwarf a piece of bread. It was an attitude of her people she had always hated. Her mother had always seemed to posses this same quality. Yet, she had never witnessed her mother being anything but cordial to representatives of the other races. As a matter of fact, her mother had always spoken highly of the highlanders.

She remembered some stories her mother had told her of the life before assuming the throne. She had once been an adventurer, a bladeweaver of some considerable skill. It was her blade, the infamous Moonsword which Tatianna now carried. Her mother had found it and its two sister swords in a dragon hoard when she was adventuring with ‘The Wings of Justice’ an adventuring company of great repute.

Tatianna was jolted back from her reverie when she realized that Anasazi had stopped talking and was waiting for a response from her. Shaking her head slightly she asked, “What was that? I’m sorry my mind was wandering.”

Anasazi rubbed his chin. “I said I have some bad news.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Hawkeye did a fine job splinting your leg. But it’s not only broken in three places, it has been infected with a very potent rotting disease. There is mighty magic at work in this infection. I might be able to cure it, I might not. If we aren’t able to then we will have to remove the lower part of your leg to save your life before it spreads any further.”

Tatianna was stunned and speechless, so he continued. “The wounds to your shoulder and face, although not as bad as your leg, have also been infected by the same disease. Those I should be able to cure, although there will be some permanent scaring.”

Feeling her stomach flip and turn, Tatianna laid back onto the furs. She was stunned at the thought of losing a leg and of the facial scars that she would have to carry around with her for the rest of her life.

Anasazi laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Unfortunately that is not the worst news.”

“What could be worse than the possibility of losing my leg?!”

“You are with child.”

Tatianna couldn't move. She was too stunned. The reality of the facial scars was frightening; the possibility of losing a leg scared her even more but the thought of having a child, especially by the monsters that had raped her was more than she could take.

Flinging herself back onto the pile of furs, she screamed as loud as she could, “NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!”

Rolling over, she buried her face into the furs as tears streamed down her face. She kept repeating, “No! No! No!” over and over.

It was about this time when Hawkeye entered his lodge. Neither Anasazi nor Tatianna had noticed him yet and after what he had just heard, he felt it was best to leave it that way and backed out of the lodge quietly.

Knowing that this must be a great shock to her, Anasazi let her rant and rave for several minutes before reaching into his medicine bag and drew out several herbs and roots. Crushing them, he placed them into a small bowl of water. Reaching down with a gentle hand, he touched her on the shoulder and handed her the drinking bowl.

“Here, drink this. It will help you rest and slow down the infection. Tomorrow night there will be a feast. We will talk more then.”

Standing slowly, Anasazi headed for the door.

Drinking the offered bowl, Tatianna watched as the old man moved through the lodge. Her crystal blue eyes were red from the tears that still streamed down her face. Feeling desperately alone and frightened, she watched his every move.

Just before he passed out of the lodge, he paused. The shadows from the torches hid the features of his face, making him look incredibly old. When he spoke, his voice was soft and full of wisdom.

“Keep this in mind young Tatianna, very few things in life happen for no reason. There must be a reason you escaped when the rest of your family didn’t. There must be a reason Hawkeye found you when he did and,” pointing at her leg and stomach, “there must be a reason for this. Everything and everybody is one part of a great big circle. We are all connected through nature creating the Circle of Life. So remember, no matter where you go, there you are.”

The old shaman walked out of the lodge and into the bright morning sun leaving Tatianna alone with her thoughts.

*   *  *   *   *

A rapping on the pole out front woke Tatianna from her slumber. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked around the small lodge. She could tell from the shadows that the sun was high in the sky, probably sometime around highsun. Had she only slept for a few hours?  Shifting to a sitting position, she rubbed the back of her neck. She felt extremely rested, although her muscles were stiff and sore. The rapping came again, this time a little louder, so she called out. “Come in.”

Tatianna was surprised to see a young girl, not more than ten years old with coal black hair enter carrying a small bundle.

The young girl kept her head lowered as was the highland custom when greeting someone of superior stature. When she spoke, her voice was soft and tender. “Good day mistress. I am Amani, daughter of Kaoni Bravefoot. I am here to assist you.”

“Thank you for your kindness Amani but please call me Tatianna.”

Amani glanced up and returned her smile. Setting down her bundle, Amani moved closer. “The feast will begin at moonrise. I am supposed to help you get ready.”

Tatianna frowned. “The feast? Anasazi told me that it was tomorrow night or am I missing something?”

Amani covered her mouth as she giggled before answering. “But mistress, it is tomorrow. You have slept for a full day and a half. The Wolflord sent me here to assist you.”

Tatianna shook her head and said, “I’m sorry. I really don’t feel like going to a feast.”  Her stomach growled in response.

A worried look crossed over Amani’s face. “The Wolflord has requested your presence. Will you not attend?”

“Who is this Wolflord?”

“Kamots Hawkeye. He is the Wolflord.”  Looking around suspiciously, she motioned for Tatianna to come closer. Cupping her hand around Tatianna’s ear, she whispered conspiratorially. “They say he has been blessed by Luna herself and cannot be killed.”

Tatianna chuckled. It was obvious that Amani was in complete awe of Hawkeye. “You win. I will go to the feast but I need to get cleaned up first.”

Amani grinned. “Come; let me help you to the pool.”

Not completely understanding, Tatianna let herself be lead to a doorway she had not noticed during her initial survey of the lodge. It was toward the back and blocked with a curtain of furs drawn across the opening but Tatianna could see steam coming through the furs. She could also smell the fresh scent of mint. Moving the furs aside, Tatianna was shocked to find a rock pool of steaming hot water. On a bench nearby were several jars of scented oils and leaves. Glancing at Amani with a look of disbelief she asked, “Where did this come from?”

Amani explained, “This is Itasca, which means hot springs in our native language. The whole valley is full of them, which is what causes the mist during the colder months. Many of the hogans were built over some of the smaller pools allowing them to warm the lodges during the winter and also give them a bathing place.”

“This is incredible.”

With Amani’s help, Tatianna stripped down and entered the steaming hot water. Amani added some scented oils while Tatianna just laid back and relaxed. The extreme heat of the water worked its way up her body, slowly releasing the tension in her muscles. After a few minutes, Tatianna went to the task of cleaning herself up. Afterwards she looked around and noticed for the first time that Amani was gone. Climbing slowly out of the pool, she looked for her clothes but they too were gone.

“Amani, where are my clothes?”

A moment later, Amani returned carrying a large robe. “I took them to be cleaned and repaired as the Wolflord requested.”

Leaning heavily on her roughly cut staff, they returned to the main lodge. “What am I supposed to wear to this feast tonight then?”

“Come, let me show you.”

Grabbing her free hand Amani guided her to the sleeping furs where a beautiful outfit made of tanned deerskin lay. The leather was soft and pliable with the tooled designs of the crescent moon and running wolves; grey wolf fur outlined the collar, vest and sleeves. Along with the outfit was a necklace of onyx and ivory. The design was the same she had seen on Hawkeye’s totem pole out front, a howling wolf in front of the full moon. The howling wolf was painstakingly carved of black onyx while the moon was of ivory. Lying next to both of those was the most beautiful walking staff she had ever seen. It was about five feet long and made of red maple. A beautifully preserved eagle’s head was mounted the top of the staff while a red leather strap was attached just below the eagle’s head, along with nine eagle feathers.

“These are beautiful.”

Slowly, almost reverently, she picked up the items one by one to study them. The outfit, necklace and staff were items of such rare beauty and exquisite workmanship she could hardly believe that the ‘barbarians of the far north’ had made them. With Amani’s help Tatianna was soon dressed. They were combing out Tatianna’s long scarlet tresses when there was a slight rapping on the pole out front.

Turning toward the door, Tatianna called out in her musical voice. “Come in.”

As Kamots Hawkeye stepped through the curtain, Tatianna was shocked at the change in him. Gone was the dirty, worn warrior she had traveled with for many days; in his place stood a majestic and strikingly handsome warrior. His shoulder length black hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a silver hair tie. He was wearing black leather pants and dark gray fur trimmed boots. Over his bare chest, he wore a breastplate of carved bones, which also bore the design of the howling wolf in front of the moon, also made of onyx and ivory. His forearms were covered with black leather bracers embossed with his crest in brilliant silver. He was still wearing his wolf’s mantle but it had been cleaned giving it a completely different appearance. Its silver fur glistened and shone in the flickering firelight. Attached to the ears and jawbone of the headpiece were nine eagle feathers, five of them stained red. At his hip was his trusty tomahawk along with a new knife.

Tatianna stared in silence at his stunning transformation; he certainly looked to be the Lord of the Wolves.

Hawkeye bowed low. “Tatianna, you look radiant. I am glad the outfit fits. I hope it is satisfactory.”

Holding her arms out slightly, Tatianna turned slowly, displaying the outfit. “Yes, it’s lovely.”  Reaching up to her throat, she caressed the necklace. “To whom does this belong? It’s beautiful.”

Lowering his head slightly, Hawkeye responded quietly. “It once belonged to my wife.”

Tatianna reached up and began to remove the necklace. “I’m sorry but I cannot accept this.”

“No!”  Hawkeye blurted and grabbed her hand. “I mean, please don’t.” He retracted his hand very slowly. “I would very much like to see you wear it. It would bring great honor to her memory.”

Nodding her acceptance, Tatianna peered into his gray eyes and saw the pain at the memory of his dead wife and son but there was something else. There was. . .

Breaking eye contact, Hawkeye spoke up quickly. “Here, I brought you something.”  Handing her a leather pouch, he added, “Anasazi says to chew on these herbs after you’ve eaten or if the pain in your leg worsens.”

Quietly accepting the pouch, she reached down and picked up the eagle’s head staff. “I suppose this also belonged to your wife?”

Hawkeye shook his head. “Actually, no. According to Anasazi, it was left behind by my mother.”

Raising the staff again to study it Tatianna said, “It’s lovely. I will try to be worthy of its memory.”

“Anasazi says it’s enchanted but no one has been able to determine what the enchantment is or does. It has been a mystery all my life. I thought it could serve you now, whether or not we ever figure out the enchantment.”

“Thank you.”

Tatianna flashed him a crooked grin. “What does a girl have to do to get something to eat around here?”

Hawkeye laughed and the tension between them melted away. “Well, if you aren’t a Highlander, you must be accompanied by a member of the tribe. It just so happens that I fit that general description.”  Holding out his arm, he asked, “Would you care to join the celebration?”

Tatianna gave Amani a quick wink before draping her arm gently on top of his. “Most gracious sir, lead the way.”

Together, they stepped into the chilly autumn night. The snow had stopped for the evening and the majority of the dark clouds had moved off to the south, leaving the sky full of stars. As they strolled slowly through the village, Hawkeye pointed out several of the lodges or special places of the village. By the time they reached the clearing there were already several hundred Highlanders enjoying themselves at the celebration. At the edge of the steaming lake, a great bonfire roared to the heavens; even from the edge of the clearing, Tatianna could feel its warmth. As the couple moved through the gathering each group would stop in their festivities and nod. Finally reaching an area close enough to the bonfire that Tatianna no longer felt the chill of the night air, they sat down on some logs. Immediately, several young highlanders brought them food and drink. The feast was of roasted buffalo with many strange and exotic vegetables that Tatianna had never seen or tasted before.

Handing her a wooden mug filled with a sparkling clear liquid, Hawkeye spoke low. “Be careful with this, it’s rather potent.”

Given him a quizzical look, Tatianna took a sip. At first, her throat was on fire as if the clear liquid was molten lava but then a strange warmth began to flow out from her stomach and into every fiber of her being. She cast a dubious look at the liquid and asked, “What is this?”

“Luna’s Elixir or what the dwarves would call moonshine.”

Taking a second sip, Tatianna didn’t feel the fire of her first taste just the warmth. It was smooth and relaxing. Turning back to her plate of food, they ate in silence and Tatianna watched the villagers celebrate together. Seeing them laughing and joking with each other made her heart lighten. She soon forgot most of her troubles and worries. From the way everyone was pointing at her, Tatianna figured that the tale of her encounter with the Blackfang and his followers had spread throughout the village. Everyone, especially the warriors, treated her with great respect and admiration. Her pointed ears and pale skin entranced the children of the village. Amani, who was again waiting on her, seemed to gain status in the hierarchy of the children. Being used to such attention when among the non-elven people, Tatianna didn’t mind.

After the feast, Hawkeye joined a group of warriors around the bonfire. The old men and women of the tribe began playing drums and flutes while some chanted. The warriors began an intricate dance around the bonfire. Tatianna didn’t understand the dance but enjoyed watching. She could see Hawkeye among the dancers, his silver wolf pelt glistening in the firelight and the great wolf headpiece bobbing with the tempo of the music. Tatianna marveled at how gracefully he moved. Jumping and spinning in great circles, he always landed lightly on his feet and always in perfect time with the music. Soon she realized that watching him dance was making her slightly excited. Her heart was racing, her stomach was in a knot and she found herself holding her breath. Blushing slightly, she tried to watch the other dancers and ignore Hawkeye. It didn’t work.

When the dance was over, Hawkeye crossed the clearing. Heading right to her, the other dancers parted and bowed their heads slightly in respect as he passed. Walking right up to her, steam still pouring off his sweat-covered body, he asked, “Are you enjoying the feast?"

"Yes, tremendously.” Still feeling slightly flushed and embarrassed about her earlier thoughts, she quickly changed the subject. “What was that dance about? I could tell there was a message in it but I couldn’t figure it out.”

“That was the Dance of the Crescent Moon.”  He pointed to the moon overhead. “It is a sacred dance that we perform during the waxing and waning phases of the moon. It is just another one of the ways we honor the Moon Goddess when we are in our humanoid form. Tonight’s dance and feast are also one of celebration for it is the end of the autumn season. Soon, winter will be upon us and the hunting will get scarce. So during the winter season, the nine tribes of the Highlanders act as one. Normally, we are in competition with each other over hunting grounds which sometimes lead to battle. Yet each winter, the nine tribes set aside their differences and gather at the four villages to wait out the winter. It is a time of renewing friendships, making alliances and trading goods. It is one of our happiest times.”

He pointed around at some of the other warriors nearby. “This year three packs from the Wolf tribes, one from the Boar, two from the Fox and every member of the Bear, Raven and Wolverine tribes have gathered here to spend the winter in this village.”

Picking up some furs, he gently wrapped them around her. “As the fire starts to burn down, it will get cold. I must go. A meeting of the Great Council has been called and I must speak of what has happened. Stay here. You are invited. You may also be asked to tell your story.” Turning, he walked back toward the bonfire and disappeared into the crowd.

Watching him go Tatianna suddenly realized how safe she felt with him nearby. Shaking her head to clear it of those thoughts, she felt a slight tug on her arm. Turning, she found Amani standing there her eyes wide with wonder.

“Hello, Amani. What can I do for you?”

“Did you really travel with the Wolflord and fight Blackfang?”

“Yes, did you not believe the stories?”

Lowering her head, Amani swirled her foot in the snow. “No mistress, I didn’t. I thought that the other children just made it up. You seem so frail and gentle, nothing like a warrior.”

Tatianna reached out with her left hand and gently raised Amani’s chin until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Thank you for being honest. But a warrior doesn’t have to be strong and fierce, just skilled and smart. A true warrior doesn’t go looking for fights but when pushed, fights with all her heart and skill.”

Smiling at her words, the young girl quickly reached out and hugged her. Startled, Tatianna returned the brief hug. Breaking the embrace, Amani stated boldly. “One day I will be a great warrior like you!”  Turning, Amani ran off into the heavy mist that blanketed the village.

The crowd diminished slowly as the Council of Elders gathered around the bonfire. It seemed that everyone, except the children, were present. For over an hour the council spoke in their native tongue, which Tatianna didn’t understand. But she could tell that they were worried about something. Their conversation seemed to include just about every warrior present. Judging from their tones, the warriors and the council seemed to be divided pretty evenly on one subject.

One thing that amazed her though was the respect each warrior gave to the speaker. No one spoke out of turn, argued or seemed to lose their temper. Each warrior waited until a small stick with a skull attached to one end was passed to him before speaking his piece. After which he would pass it to the next warrior and so on. When the stick reached Hawkeye, he stood up slowly and looked around for a moment before telling his story. It was in his native tongue but she knew it was the tale of her rescue because everyone kept glancing at her and nodding. When Hawkeye was done with his story, he passed on the talking stick and walked over and sat down beside her.

“That went better than I thought,” he said. “Many of the chieftains already knew of the problems with the Black Wolf Pack.”  He nodded toward a group of old men on the far side of the bonfire who were talking amongst themselves in low tones. “They’re debating the situation. Evidently, several other packs from each tribe have also turned to evil. Blackfang’s minions now control the eastern village and have completely destroyed the southern village. This is not good news.”

Nodding, Tatianna watched and waited. When Hawkeye didn’t continue, she asked a question which had been bothering her all night. “Hawkeye, may I ask you another question?”  Seeing him nod in response, she continued. “Why do Amani and the others refer to you as the Wolflord?”

Hawkeye grinned slightly before explaining. “The title of warlord is given to the strongest warrior of each pack. Any warrior of a particular pack can become the warlord. All he has to do is challenge the present warlord to a duel; it is usually not to the death but to some pre-stated condition. A warlord shares the responsibility for the safety of his people with chieftain and the council of elders. A wise warlord only enforces his dominance in matters of defense of his community and during times of war. He waits and listens to the council of elders. They have been around a long time and many are former warlords.”

Pausing slightly, Hawkeye turned his body to face her more. The light of the fire shadowed his face and made him seem more mysterious.

“I tell you this for you must understand my unique position. I never knew my parents. My father died shortly after I was born and my mother disappeared shortly after my birth. Anasazi raised me for the first couple years of my life until I was adopted by the chieftain of the White Wolf Pack. Although Whitefang was my mentor, the whole pack shared the responsibility of raising me. It was a hard life but very rewarding. During my twentieth summer, I became the warlord after the tragic death of Whitefang at the hands of the cyclopean raiders. I led the White Wolf Pack for many years and only had to defend my title of warlord twice.”

His face grew hard and his voice turned colder. “Then three summers ago my life changed. Blackfang and the Black Wolf Pack with the help of several cyclops raided my pack’s campsite. They killed everyone and left me for dead. I vowed to survive if only to have my just revenge. Odovacar, a young brave of the Silver Boar Pack, found me and brought me to his camp. They nursed me back to health until I was strong enough to address the Great Council.”

The tone of his voice changed becoming softer, yet not the soft gentle voice Tatianna was so used to hearing.

“The Great Council heard my tale and granted me the ‘Right of Vengeance’. This would allow me one of two choices; I could take another wife and rebuild the White Wolf or join another pack. For according to the Laws of Luna, only a member of a tribe may seek rightful vengeance on another Highlander but I refused both choices. I felt that taking another wife or joining another pack would only diminish the memory of my family and friends. So, I was adopted by the other five wolf packs. The Great Council bestowed the title of Wolflord on me when I beat all existing warlords save one, in single combat. So I am like the shamans, I belong to all wolf packs and none. Therefore, I am the Wolflord.”

Tatianna watched Hawkeye’s eyes as he told his story. She could see them sparkle and shine with the good memories, yet flash with anger and pain at the bad ones. Although something told her that she already knew the answer, she felt compelled to ask. “Who was the one warlord you didn’t beat?”

Staring into the heart of the fire, Hawkeye nearly spit out the answer. “Blackfang. He refused to come to the gathering. He and the Black Wolf were the first to forsake the ways of Luna and turn their back on the Great Council.” Looking up into the heavens, his voice was faint as if speaking directly to his goddess. “One day, Blackfang and I will meet in combat and I will have my revenge.”

One of the elderly chieftains stood up and pointed at Tatianna. He was wearing an immense war bonnet of eagle feathers with several of the feathers at the crest of the headdress dyed completely red. All gathered were quiet when he began to speak. His voice was rough yet strong when he asked, “Would the young elf honor us by telling us her story?”

Many of the others nodded their agreement.

Hawkeye whispered. “That is Red Crow, chieftain of the Raven Tribe. Those red feathers indicate that although he had been severely wounded in battle, he was still able to vanquish his enemies.”

Standing slowly, Tatianna leaned heavily on her eagle-head staff and did her best to speak in an even voice. “I am the Princess Tatianna Amarth, Bladeweaver and the daughter of Queen Circe, ruler of the Elven kingdom known as the Elfholm. I will tell you what I know.”

Closing her eyes, Tatianna let her mind drift back to the last few days before her encounter at the Shrine of Luna. When she spoke, her musical voice seemed distant and far away, as if she was reliving the past…which she was.

*   *  *   *   *

I was traveling with a small patrol along the great barrier cliffs known across the lowlands simply as The Wall. The moon was just a few days from being full as we camped in a rocky ravine a few miles west of the Great Falls. The autumn breeze was cool and light, carrying the sweet scent of pine on its wings. As the night fell, the air became full with the mournful cry of wolves. They seemed many miles away, their voices floating on the autumn wind. When one wolf would end his song, another would pick it up. I found their song to be quite enchanting however most in my party didn’t. They seemed slightly frightened at the songs and stayed huddled near the campfires while lightly fingering their weapons.

I remember walking to the edge of our camp; I wasn’t sure why but the song of the wolves didn’t frighten me at all. Something in the song pulled at my inner being, at my very soul, stirring deep emotions that must have lain dormant since the beginning of time. I felt the urge to rip off my clothes, sprint into the darkness to join the pack and howl at the moon.

As a pair of milky white hands gently touched my shoulders, a light musical voice broke my reverie. “Beloved sister, what is it? You seem so sad. Is there anything amiss?”

Turning to face my eldest brother, I couldn’t help but notice that even in the weak firelight his hair still radiated a shimmering blue. The delicate features of his face, normally bright and shiny with happiness, were dark and overcast with concern. Shaking my head, I said, “It is nothing Khlekluëllin. The song of the wolves just sounds so sad. It is like they’re mourning the loss of someone dear to them.”

Reaching out, Khlekluëllin gently pushed a few stray locks of my crimson hair behind my ears. “You might be right but only the wolves and the Moon Goddess know what their song really means.”

A deeper voice broke in.

“You both are crazy. The wolves are just stupid beasts that howl at the moon because it’s there. They know nothing of Luna or any other god.” A handsome elf with jet-black hair stepped into the firelight. Dressed all in black, my brother glided across the clearing with the grace of a panther.

Frowning, I snapped at him.

“Mortharona, you don’t know if that is true or not. There are more things in this world other than the Elven Empire and I seriously doubt that wolves are just stupid beasts, as you call them!”

Folding my arms, I fixed him with an intense stare.

Laughing slightly, Mortharona gave in. “That’s very possible sister! You’re right, I don’t know if they are stupid or not but I still think you give them too much credit for why they sing to the moon.”

I was about to say something more when two figures walked into the radius of our campfire. One was my father; a tall, regal looking elf, dressed in his customarily blue traveling cloak. The other was Stamm Grimaxe; a squat, muscular dwarf with a waist long yellow beard dressed in a shiny chain mail vest. My father seemed the younger of the two, looking to only be in his early thirties but his eyes told a different story. At first glance his crystal blue eyes seemed bright and young but if one stared into them for long, a profound wisdom and sadness could be seen.

My father called out to us. “Come my children, Stamm has a story you should hear.”

We glanced at each other, slightly confused but we joined them at the fire and sat down.

Absentmindedly stroking his thick yellow beard with his left hand, Stamm stared into the heart of the fire. That’s when we noticed for the first time that he was missing two fingers from his left hand. When he spoke, his voice was a great contrast to the musical tones of my family; it was a deep baritone and rough.

“Tomorrow we will reach the Halls of Haldar also known as the Fortress of the Black Falls. It is a very dangerous and foreboding place. I have been there before and I have very bad memories of my last visit.”  He cast a quick glance at my father. “Prince Corwin are you sure you want to enter that accursed place with such a small party?”

My father nodded slowly. “We have no other choice my friend. The fate of Terreth could hang in the balance.”

We were even more confused but didn’t say anything. My brothers and I knew all would be made clear soon, we hoped.

Stamm shook his head as if to free it from bad memories. Reaching into a vest pocket and pulling forth a black leather pouch, he proceeded to fill his cherry wood pipe before lighting it with a small coal from the campfire. Taking several deep drags, Stamm began his story.

“Several decades ago my cousin, King Padric Grimaxe of Darkmoor, sent a small expedition to the Halls of Haldar with one simple quest; we were to search for the lost vault of Haldar.”

Scratching his beard, Stamm looked at my brothers and me. “You see, Haldar Darkmoor was the greatest warrior of my people and originally built this fortress. Legends tell of his mighty exploits at the great battle on the ‘Day of Sorrows’ when he fought alongside of Bromios the God of Thunder the father of the dwarves against the evil Arachne. After the battle Bromios rewarded Haldar’s bravery with a mighty axe that had the magical properties of thunder and lightning. Haldar named this axe Taranis, which means ‘sky fire’ in my ancient tongue. There are many legends of his deeds and battles but there is one legend that concerns our two nations.”

Pausing he took a few puffs from his pipe blowing several smoke rings before continuing.

“When Haldar was getting older and weary of traveling he built a mighty fortress. Haldar wanted to overlook the land he had spent his life saving but he didn’t want just a small keep. He wanted the mightiest fortress in Dwarven history. And that’s what he got, dwarves, men and elves from all across Terreth came to help construct his fortress.”

Stamm’s eyes flashed with excitement as he talked about Haldar and the mighty fortress.

“It is one of the greatest accomplishments of my people. Even before it was finished, it had become the center of trade for my people and stayed that way for nearly a century. Haldar even designed a great vault to store his vast treasure. In it he placed ‘Taranis’, all of his gold, jewels and many books. For Haldar loved to read, it was his passion. He kept a journal of all his exploits and gathered books and scrolls from all across Terreth.”

Corwin interrupted. “This is why we came all this way, my children, the vault of Haldar. Somewhere inside it are stored the legendary scrolls of Eldath.”

Khlekluëllin asked, “Wasn’t he an ancestor of ours?”

Corwin nodded his head. “Yes. He was my great uncle. His ‘Birth Gift’ was the ability of prophecy which he used to aid those in trouble. However, due to his nature of prophesying only gloom, death and destruction the queen gave him the surname of Amarth that we still carry today; which of course, in the ancient tongue of our ancestors translates to ‘Doom’. Although many elves shunned him, Eldath knew it was his destiny to record his visions. So, he created what we now know as the ‘Prophecies of Eldath.’  I have searched all of the libraries in Elfholm but none of them contain the actual scrolls just a few incomplete copies. However, legends point to the vault of Haldar as the final resting-place of these scared scrolls. Eldath and Haldar were companions in the elder days.”

Stamm nodded. “Yes my friends. There are great many records stored in Haldar’s vault but getting to the actual vault will be very difficult. The jotens control the land around the fortress. If we do get past them, we still have to find the vault, get past the traps, both magical and mundane, and then escape.”

Everyone was silent for several minutes. Corwin stared into the fire. Stamm was watching the spiraling path of several smoke rings and I was meditating on what I had just heard while Mortharona poked at the fire with a long stick.

Finally, Khlekluëllin broke the silence. “Stamm, what happened to the dwarven expedition that your King sent in several decades ago?”

Tapping out his pipe on his left boot, Stamm replaced it in his vest and stroked his beard. “That is a very good question my young friend, a very good question indeed.”

Everyone leaned forward, eagerly waiting to hear his story. Leaning back against a log, Stamm looked to the heavens and stared at the nearly full moon. His left hand continued to stroke his beard, as his right hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of his short sword.

“I was still a young lad when my King sent that expedition to explore the fortress. It consisted of fifty well-seasoned warriors and the leader was my eldest brother Edric. He was a brave and cunning warrior. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a beautiful midsummer’s day. The sun was out and a slight breeze was coming over the falls to the south. We were in high spirits as Edric left twenty of us, mostly the young warriors, as a reserve on the hill that overlooks the fortress. We were to guard the base camp and cover their retreat just in case something bad happened. Well, something bad must have happened. Edric and thirty of my kinsman went into the fortress at dawn and never returned.”

He looked each of us square in the eyes before continuing. His dark brown eyes showed the grief and pain of the memories. “There was never a sign of trouble. Not a cry, nor sounds of clashing weapons, nothing. It was like the fortress just swallowed them whole. We waited and kept watch all day and deep into the night. We had planned on entering the fortress ourselves the following dawn but we never got the chance.”

Quickly and smoothly Stamm drew his short sword, my brothers and I jumped back slightly at his sudden move. Stamm ignored us; he was caught up in the memory.

“Just before dawn when the night is the darkest, we were attacked. Large rocks came hurling in from all directions, Jotens. They had us surrounded. Several of my friends were crushed in that first volley. Reacting quickly, we formed a phalanx and held our shields above our heads and charged their lines. The fighting was intense, many died when our two lines crossed. We tried to drive west toward our homeland but there were too many. We were forced back time and time again. Finally, we were forced all the way back to the river and to the edge of the falls. By this time, there were only five of us left, all injured. They closed quickly, laughing and joking. We knew our death was near.”

Tears filled his eyes at the memory but he ignored them and continued with his story. “The five of us looked at the gathered jotens. There must have been thirty or forty of them. Then we looked at the falls. We knew there was no chance of survival against that many one-eyes. With a silent agreement, we jumped.”

I gasped at the thought of jumping from the top of the Black Falls. I had been to the bottom of the falls in my youth. I had never heard of anyone surviving a jump from the top of the falls. Many had died jumping from ledges halfway up the falls. I looked on with disbelief, so did my brothers.

Noticing our looks, Stamm just smiled and chuckled slightly. “I assure you it was not my first choice and it is not something I would like to do again. But I did jump, along with four of my friends. However only two of us survived the actual jump and we would have died right there, if not for the immediate assistance of some humans. Some monks were fishing in the great pool when we landed. They pulled us out and took us to their monastery and tended our wounds.”

Pulling up his pants, Stamm revealed several large scars running up and down his legs. “I broke both of my legs, the bones shattering and splintering on impact with the water, sending shards of bones through my leather pants.” Tapping his right arm and ribs, “I broke my arm and several ribs.” Holding out his left hand, “I also lost two fingers in the battle before I jumped. The other dwarf who survived the jump with me had similar wounds but got an infection which spread into his lungs and he died.”

Sheathing his sword, Stamm continued. “It was almost a year after we had jumped before I was able to return to my homeland to report what had happened. Since then, none of my people have dared venture anywhere near the fortress. I have a burning desire to find out what happened to my brother and avenge his death if possible. So, now you know my story and my desire for this mission.”

We glanced at each other for a moment, before my father spoke again. “Well, now you know our mission and our goal. We also know a little about some of the dangers we might face. I think it is time to turn in for the night and get some rest. Reflect on what you have learned here tonight, it could possibly save your life over the next few days.”  Rising quietly, he walked out of the firelight.

Stamm followed a moment later. But just before he left the edge of the firelight, he turned back and spoke quietly. “There must be more than cyclops in the fortress. Even a hundred one-eyes would be hard pressed against thirty well-armed and well-seasoned dwarven warriors, especially in the close quarters of the fortress. Keep that in mind as you listen to the song of the wolves and think of tomorrow.”

Turning away, he left us alone with our thoughts.

*  *  *   *   *

Tatianna paused. Her eyes were filled with tears at the painful memories. Hawkeye began to walk over to her but a stern glance from Red Crow stopped him in his tracks.

Standing slowly, the old chieftain walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s painful but the best way to honor their memory is to tell their story. That way, they will never truly die. Their memory will live on long past you and me.”

Looking deep into his brown eyes, Tatianna saw pain and concern there, but also great wisdom. She found herself thinking, ‘If the eyes are the windows to the soul then here is a kind and gentle soul that has seen much pain in its life.’

She flashed him a weak smile. “Thank you. I will try.”

“Take your time. We have all night.”  Red Crow moved back to his seat while a young brave brought her a log to sit on and a clay pot of water.

Taking a long drink, she sat down and after a few moments she continued her story.

*  *  *   *   *

“The next morning we crested the rocky ridge and found ourselves overlooking a vast valley with a large river cutting through the barren landscape until it poured over the cliff with a thunderous roar. Our eyes were unwillingly drawn to the imposing and ominous looking fortress that was situated on a rocky island in the middle of the river only several hundred yards from the falls. Built in a diamond shape with five towers and made entirely of smooth black stones, it didn’t reflect any light. Rather, it seemed to absorb the light from the surrounding area making the fortress seem as if it were made of shadows instead of stones. Dark rain clouds hung over the fortress giving it an even more ominous look. No movement other than a few dozen crows could be seen anywhere in the dreary valley.

The largest tower of the fortress was directly opposite of the only gate and was taller than any tree I had ever seen and commanded a great view of the landscape. The two side towers were about half the height of the main tower and situated across from each other. On the top of each tower were two ballistae and a catapult.

From our vantage point, we couldn’t tell if the siege equipment was in working order or not. Two small towers that probably housed the controls for the main drawbridge guarded the only visible entrance into the fortress. The drawbridge, which was down, lead to a smaller rocky island that was within a stone’s throw of the falls. Situated in the center of some very rough rapids, its garrison had two drawbridges that were also down and ran to each side of the river.

Mortharona was the first to break the silence. “My, what a lovely place.”

I snapped at him. “You would like this dismal place. I don’t like the looks of this at all!”

Feigning a wound to the heart, Mortharona snickered silently. Turning my attention back to the fortress a strong gust of wind came off the falls spraying the party with a fine mist.

Barely audible above the wind, I heard Stamm say, “Brother, I have returned as promised those many years ago and by the beard of Bromios, I will not leave until you are avenged.”

Khlekluëllin and I turned to look at Stamm who seemed not to notice anything except the dark fortress below. Khlekluëllin shot me a concerned look. I started to say something, when my father interrupted my thoughts. “We need to enter as soon as possible. It is still several hours before highsun so we need to go now.”

Turning away from the fortress, Stamm nodded his head in agreement. “The sooner we enter the better chance we have of surviving.” He pointed at the brown grass of the surrounding valley. “When I was last here this valley was green and fertile. I’m afraid that something evil is poisoning the land.”

My father turned to the warriors that had accompanied us. “Five of you find a suitable base camp. Keep your eyes open and remember what Stamm has told you of his last trip here. The rest of you come with us.”

Turning toward the fortress, he moved down the hill at a quick pace with Stamm right at his heels. The other seven warriors fell into place while Khlekluëllin, Mortharona and I lagged behind.

Khlekluëllin advised, “Keep a close eye on Stamm. He’s out for revenge and that will make him careless.”

I didn’t agree with him. “Of course he’s out for revenge. The jotens killed his brother but he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mission.”

Mortharona snickered. “Sis, your naiveté is showing. Not everyone is as honorable as you are. I don’t trust Stamm any more than I would trust a spider.”

I was angry with him for being so rude, so I turned away from him to hide my anger and embarrassment.

Mortharona added, “Don’t worry about me; I plan to keep one eye on the dwarf at all times.” Turning, he headed down the valley after the others.

Khlekluëllin gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “He didn’t mean to hurt you by that remark but he is right. You cannot expect everyone to have the same values and beliefs as we do. Remember that.”

Moments later, we followed the rest of the company down the hill. Noticing that my father and the others had almost reached the first drawbridge, we had to run quickly down the trail to catch up. Reaching the drawbridge, I was last and caught up to them just as they were crossing the final drawbridge that lead into the ominous fortress. The massive oak gates were wide open and the iron portcullis was up.

Mortharona added dryly. “It looks like they’re expecting us. I hope they have dinner ready, I’m hungry.”

My father and Stamm flashed him a dirty look which Mortharona ignored and just continued walking. The seven elven warriors slowly drew their weapons and fell in behind.

Just before I entered the fortress, I took one last glance over my shoulder at the desolate valley. I wasn’t sure but I thought I saw several large wolves standing on the ridge where we had just been watching us. Then, we passed out of sight as we moved deeper into the fortress.”

*  *  *   *   *

With tear filled eyes, Tatianna paused and looked around the bonfire. Every warrior gathered waited and watched patiently.

Wiping her eyes she said, “I’m not sure what happened next. We were in the tunnels and passageways of the fortress for many hours, constantly moving down. Finally, we came out into an immense cavern.”  Gesturing with her arms, “This whole village could easily fit inside with room to spare. Stamm seemed happy to find the cavern. We were halfway across when we encountered trouble.”

Tatianna looked straight into Red Crow’s eyes and said, “Skeletons. We had found the remains of the dwarven expedition. Most of the dwarven skeletons looked as if they had been chewed up and spit back out. Except ten of them which were fully intact and still wearing their armor. As we walked through the battlefield, Stamm was in tears as he recognized most of the skeletons. When we reached the center of the battlefield, the ten intact skeletons stood up, drew their weapons and attacked. It was frightening.”

Suppressing a shudder, Tatianna looked directly at Anasazi and asked, “How does one kill something that is already dead? The skeletons had the element of surprise which they used to good effect. They killed one of our warriors and mortally wounded another before we could organize our defense. Stamm was the first to react, charging the skeletons he began swinging the side of his axe back and forth wildly. The whole time he kept apologizing to the skeletons for not being with them in the time of need. The rest of us followed his example and began hacking at the skeletons with the sides of our blades. Moments later, it was over. As we tended to our dead and wounded, Stamm gathered up the weapons of the last skeleton he had vanquished and put them in his backpack.”

“That’s when we first heard the drums. As the lights of hundreds of torches began entering the cavern from every direction, we ran to the one area without lights and picked a tunnel at random. Running blindly, we turned left then right at every crossroads. The tunnel gradually ascending but the sound of drums still followed. Hodios the Wayfarer must have been traveling with us because the tunnel we had chosen ended at a huge door covered with ornate runes and the personal symbol of Haldar. Through sheer luck, we had found the vault.”

Staring deeply into the fire, Tatianna paused briefly. “My father and Stamm worked quickly to open the vault while my brothers disarmed the traps, magical and mundane. The remaining warriors and myself guarded the passageway. It was very nerve wracking waiting in that small tunnel with nowhere to run and with every passing moment the sounds of drums drawing closer.”

Tatianna’s eyes filled with tears as she relived those last few moments but her voice never cracked or slowed. It was as if the story needed or wanted to come out.

“Finally, the great vault door opened and we ran into the room. It was filled with more gold, jewels and treasures than I could ever imagine but we didn’t have time to look around. Just as we ran into the vault, arrows came thudding into the walls and floors. Our enemies were upon us. Turning quickly, we returned fire. Shooting arrows and hurling magical blasts of lightning and fire, we slew many goblins in our first volley but their arrows kept coming. They weren’t very accurate but even a blind man will get lucky sometimes. Two of our warriors fell to the arrows before they stopped.”

“All was quiet for a moment as we braced ourselves for what we knew would come next as a massive wave of goblins rushed our position. There must have been a hundred of them trying to get through the vault door at the same time. We hacked at arms and feet, blasted them with fire and froze them with ice but still they came. At the first pause in the battle, when they pulled back to regroup, we took stock. There were only five of us left, my father, both of my brothers, Stamm and myself.”

Turning her attention to Hawkeye, she stared deep into his steel gray eyes. Her eyes were full of tears. “My father thrust a scroll tube into my hands and commanded us; ‘Flee my children. You are our last hope. This scroll must not fall into the hands of the enemy.’ Stamm handed me a finely crafted axe and said, ‘Take this also. I don’t want those scum sucking pigs touching this relic.’

Khlekluëllin kissed me on the left cheek and whispered, ‘Fear not sister, it is not our destiny to die tonight.’

“I was selected to cast our escape spell while my brothers moved to flank me as I started my spell. It was then that a terrible smell assaulted me; like a cross between burning flesh and a slaughterhouse during the hottest part of summer. We could see something dark and shadowy moving down the hall toward us as the goblins pulled back to allow it some room. I remember watching Stamm and my father step boldly into the corridor. The old dwarf was singing and my father was chanting. Then my spell took effect and there was a flash of white and we were up on the ridge overlooking the fortress. Turning west, we made for the camp where we had left our horses and our reserve warriors. That’s when we first encountered some of Blackfang’s men. Ten of them were feeding on the remains of the warriors we left behind.”

Looking up, she stared at each of the gathered warriors in turn. Her eyes flashed at the memory of her rage and her voice took on a hard edge. “The rage we felt at abandoning my family was greater than anything I have ever felt before.” She looked straight at Red Crow tears filling her eyes. “My anger got the better part of my judgment. Calling on all the magic we had left, we blasted them over and over and over! We continued until there was nothing left but ashes.”

Looking around again, her voice returned to its normal musical tone as her shoulders slumped slightly. “Now that I look back, that’s how Blackfang and his men must have found us. If we had just left them alone, we might have escaped unnoticed.”

“But they did find us and we were jumped as we were searching for our horses and gathering supplies. I was in the forest when the attack came. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona were quickly surrounded. When I saw those Highlanders shapeshift into their wolf forms, I couldn’t help but flee.”

Tatianna lowered her head in shame. “They finally ran me down at an ancient shrine deep in the forest, where they attacked and raped me. Blackfang would have killed me if not for the intervention of Hawkeye.”

Keeping her head bowed, Tatianna folded her hands in her lap as her tears began flowing like raindrops.

Hawkeye watched in silence as his rage began to build inside him, this was just one more reason for his revenge against Blackfang, just one more reason for his death. Moving over to Tatianna, he wrapped his arms around her. Cradling her head in the nook of his shoulder, he whispered, “It’s over now. Everything will be all right, I promise.”

Tatianna continued crying for several minutes before she noticed the conversation between all of the warriors and the Great Council. Wiping away her tears, she looked up at Hawkeye. “What are they talking about?”

Hawkeye glanced down at her before gently wiping away a few stray tears. “You of course. You have earned the respect and admiration of the whole tribe. Especially, Red Crow and that is quite a feat. He’s the oldest member of the Great Council and does not give praise lightly. When the bid for my becoming the Wolflord came up for a vote, the other members of the council waited until he cast his vote before casting theirs. I’m sure if he had voted against me, then I would have been cast out.”

The conversation between the Council of Elders and the warriors finally ended. Red Crow said something to Hawkeye in their native tongue. Bowing his head, Hawkeye released Tatianna and walked over to stand behind the old chieftain. When Red Crow spoke again, his tone was gentle but still held an edge of command in it. “Tatianna Amarth, please come forward.”

Wiping away her remaining tears, Tatianna stood up. The pain in her leg made her wince slightly but she held her head high and moved forward slowly.

Pointing at the ground in front of him, Red Crow said, “Please, sit.”

Sitting down where she was bidden to, she crossed her legs as was the Highland custom wincing with pain but not making a sound. Anasazi moved forward and sat down next to her.

Red Crow gestured at all those gathered. “We have heard your story of bravery and death. You have won many friends this night with the courage you have shown in your flight from danger and in the retelling of it to us, a group of strangers.”

Picking up a small bundle of furs, he unwrapped it to reveal a beautiful pipe. Looking like a bronze tomahawk, its handle was wrapped with a red cord. In the center of the stem were an eagle’s head and nine feathers hung from the head of the tomahawk. There was a slight murmur from several of the younger braves as Red Crow pulled forth the ancient pipe. However, a stern glare from the elderly chieftain silenced them.

Tatianna could feel the tension in the air and realized that this pipe and ceremony was very special to the Highlanders. Glancing at Hawkeye to try and get a hint of what was coming, she couldn’t read anything in his face or eyes. Returning her attention back to Red Crow, she watched as he began a soft chant. Slowly and with the precision of a ceremony long practiced and very important, he filled the pipe full of tobacco. Lighting it with a small coal from the bonfire, he inhaled deeply. Blowing a puff of smoke skyward, he extended the stem toward the heavens, then the ground and then toward the four winds; east, west, south and lastly, north.

Handing the pipe to Anasazi, the old Shaman picked up the chant and raised the pipe toward the moon. After a moment, he lowered the pipe and painted the stem red with some sort of berry juice.

The old shaman offered the pipe to Tatianna and said, “A warrior’s mind should be straight. Accept this pipe but remember that if you smoke, your story must be as sure as the bowl in this pipe and as straight as the hole through this stem. If so, your life shall be long and you will survive but if you have spoken falsely, your days are numbered.”

Casting a quick glance at Hawkeye, she saw no help there. Accepting the pipe with a slight nod, she spoke in a loud and clear voice. “I have spoken the truth.”

Taking a deep draw on the pipe, she held it for a moment. The warmth of the smoke tickled her throat but she refused to cough. Exhaling deeply, she blew the smoke skyward and pointed the stem toward the heavens. Then the ground before following the same pattern that Red Crow had with the pipe; east, west, south and north before handing it back to Anasazi.

Red Crow looked at those gathered. They all nodded. “By the power granted to me by the Great Council of the Highland Nation, I welcome you into our tribe and I name you Red Eagle; for it was through blood and death that you have brought the clear vision of the eagle to our tribes.”

Standing slowly, Red Crow’s voice became louder until it boomed like thunder. “For Hawkeye is not the only one who has had visions these last several years. I too have received visions of a great darkness gathering in the south.”

Moving slowly through the gathering, Red Crow gestured at the southern horizon. “As the great darkness rolls over our homeland, everything it touches dies, the forests, the animals, our children, even our way of life. I foresee the end of the Highland Nation as we know it.”

A great murmur went through the crowd. Everyone glanced around nervously at the darkness. Some looked as if they expected the shadows to jump out and attack them.

Red Crow raised his voice until he could be heard over the crowd. “My friends listen to me! I have also seen the savior of our race.”

Everyone quieted down and waited for the old chieftain to continue.

“On the autumn equinox, I traveled to the Shrine of Luna. After praying for three days and nights, I was granted another vision. I saw a gray wolf leading a small party, nine in number into the heart of the darkness to combat the ancient evil.”

Stopping behind Tatianna, Red Crow placed his hands on her shoulders. “The darkness is approaching. In the beginning of our history, our Goddess commanded us to be ready when the darkness returns. It has returned, so we must be ready!”

Reaching up into his own war bonnet, Red Crow pulled out two red feathers. Leaning down, he gently tied them into Tatianna’s scarlet hair. They hung down on the left side of her face, slightly obscuring the scars on her cheek. The quiet of the night sky was broken by a loud whooping noise, as all of the warriors yelled in celebration.

Tatianna didn’t understand what had just happened but the pleased look on Hawkeye’s face was enough to tell her it was a good thing.

Anasazi leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Very good, my dear. Your mother would be proud.”

With a worried look, she asked the old shaman, “What does he mean about the darkness and the gray wolf?”

Anasazi just waved his hand slightly. “Don’t worry about it tonight. You have just been made a member of the Highland Nation something that has only happened once before. You are now like the shamans, a member of all tribes but holding no allegiance to any one tribe or pack.  Congratulations, you are the second outsider to ever have that honor. Enjoy this moment for I fear there will not be many celebrations in the near future.”  Standing slowly, he walked out of the firelight and into the cold night.

Still puzzled, Tatianna turned her attention back to the celebration. The young braves had started dancing again while the older warriors went off into the darkness with their mates. Tatianna looked around for Hawkeye planning to get answers to her numerous questions, when two young braves came up from behind her, lifted her and carried her into the circle of dancers. One brave cradled her in his arms as he made his way around the bonfire in an intricate dance before flinging her to the next brave, who caught her gently and repeated the dance. They continued passing her from brave to brave, never letting her touch the ground or jostling her injured leg too much. At first, she was frightened and resisted slightly. As she began to relax and enjoy herself, she began laughing and singing as they spun and danced in circles around the great bonfire.

However, she quickly became tired as her head was spinning and her leg was throbbing intensely. She wanted nothing more than to return to the hogan and to fall asleep but all of the braves wanted to dance with her. Finally, it was Hawkeye who saved her…again.

On one of her spins, as they passed her from brave to brave, Hawkeye stepped in and caught her lightly and whisked her away to the lodge and to sleep.

Chapter 14

In the dark hours of the night, the snows began again. Although the village was naturally warmed by the hot springs and sheltered from the bitter winds by the cliff walls, it was still extremely cold. By morning the village was covered in a thick blanket of white that was knee deep.

Amani arrived at daybreak to awaken Tatianna and entered the lodge without rapping. Noticing that she was still sleeping, Amani made herself busy by cooking the morning meal. When it was ready, she went to wake the elven princess and found her covered in sweat yet shivering under a large pile of furs.

Amani called out while shaking her gently. “Mistress, Tatianna! Mistress, Tatianna!”

Groaning weakly, Tatianna didn’t wake but began to shiver more violently. Placing her hand on Tatianna’s forehead, Amani quickly drew it back at the heat of her brow. She absentmindedly chewed on her lip and studied the feverish elf for a moment. Making her decision, Amani closed her eyes and took several deep breaths and pictured a small silver and black wolf cub in her mind. Letting the natural magic of her heritage come over her, a slight shiver ran up her spine as the shift from human to wolf took place. A moment later, a small silver and black wolf darted out of Hawkeye’s lodge.

Running across the village as fast as her four legs would carry her she arrived at the Medicine Lodge a few minutes later. Barking and yelping loudly, she jumped at the curtain over and over until a young shaman let her in. Once inside, she let the transformation back to human come over her. As soon as it was complete, she latched onto the young shaman’s arm and pulled with all her strength.  “Tatianna is burning up! You must help her!”

Hearing the commotion in the outer chamber, Anasazi came through the curtain. As soon as she saw him Amani released her grip on the younger shaman, only to grab the ancient shaman’s arm and began tugging on it. “Come, you must save her!”

Pulling back his arm sharply, Anasazi barked out. “Silence!”

Quieting down immediately, Amani dropped her hands to her sides and looked at the floor.

Reaching out, Anasazi lifted her chin gently and asked in a softer tone. “Now, what is the trouble little one?”

Looking into his dark brown eyes Amani told him of her discovery.

Anasazi commanded the young shaman, “Wake the others and bring them to the Wolflord’s lodge immediately!” The young shaman sprinted off to do his bidding.

Anasazi quickly gathered his bundles and pouches before following Amani to the lodge. By the time they arrived, Hawkeye was already there, kneeling beside her. Holding her hand, he quietly called out her name without getting any response. Lying a hand on Tatianna’s forehead, Anasazi noted how hot she was, too hot. Drawing back the furs, he quickly examined the area of her leg above the wound. There were streaks of red running up her thigh. The infection was spreading. Anasazi barked out several commands.

“Hawkeye fetch Red Crow! Amani summon the shaman! Tell them to prepare the sweat lodge immediately! Hurry or we may lose her!”

Both sprinted out of the lodge to do as they were commanded. Drawing his knife, Anasazi cut off the bandages on her leg. Calling upon the magical powers at his disposal, he cast a simple spell; one that would allow him to see evil as a black glow. Using his magically enhanced vision, he reexamined the wound more carefully and his worst fears came to life. This was no ordinary wound; it had an evil glow about it. Streaks of black ran up the leg almost reaching her pelvis. Quickly cutting off all remaining bandages and her clothes, Anasazi continued to examine Tatianna from head to toe with the magical sight. The scratches on her face were red but didn’t glow; neither did the cuts on her arm but the sores on her back were darker than her leg. Anasazi just happened to glance at her belly and was surprised as her belly glowed black faintly. He was pondering the implications when the spell expired.

After covering her back up, Anasazi studied Tatianna’s sweat covered face and spoke out loud, hoping that his words would comfort the injured elf. “Well child, it’s obvious that the wounds on your leg and back have some sort of poison in it, one that was generated by a creature of extreme evil.”

He wiped the sweat from her brow as he considered her story and what his magically enhanced vision had shown him.

“I would guess that you were caught by some sort of magical poison which would explain the black glow in your leg and back but why would your belly glow? It couldn’t be from the poison, it hasn’t reached that far.”

Shaking his head, Anasazi stared at Tatianna. “No, it has to be the child. But a child is neither good nor evil at birth. It just is. It is the choices that a person makes in his or her life that determines whether they are good or evil, not the way a child was made. There one was possibility, what if…” His thoughts were interrupted by the return of Hawkeye.

The warrior moved past him, straight to Tatianna’s side. He didn’t say a word, his actions spoke for him. Anasazi lay a comforting hand on the warrior’s shoulder as Hawkeye gently pushed several stray locks of hair out of her face.

A few moments later, Red Crow and Amani followed a large group of shaman into the lodge. Anasazi motioned for Red Crow to come closer and spoke softly. “We must talk, soon.”

The edge in his voice told Red Crow it was important. Turning to the waiting shaman, Anasazi pointed at the feverish elf maiden. “Take her to the sweat lodge. She has a poison in her leg and back that must be purged. We do not rest until this is done.”

The nine shamans went to work quickly. Five of them sprinted out of the lodge while the remaining four prepared to move her. Placing her on a litter, they gently carried her out of the lodge with Hawkeye and Amani following without a word to anyone.

Once they were alone, Red Crow broke the silence. “What is it old friend? You act like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I have.”

Walking over to the fire, Anasazi sat down. Red Crow joined him. Pulling out a small hand carved pipe, the chieftain began to fill it while waiting for his old friend to continue.

Anasazi looked deep into the fire and said, “We have a problem. I think her unborn child might be the Chosen One.”

Red Crow dropped his pipe and stared at his long time friend. “What…What makes you think that?”

Picking up Red Crow’s pipe, Anasazi lit it with a coal from the fire. After blowing the first puff skyward, he handed the pipe back to his old friend. “I used Luna’s sight on her. It showed the presence of an evil poison working its way through her system from the wounds she suffered in battle but it also showed that her unborn child to be slightly evil.”

“But surely this could be from the rape?”

Anasazi shook his head. “No. I have used Luna’s sight on other rape victims in the past. It has never shown a child, unborn or newborn, to be evil. Plus, the wounds she suffered were created by something that must be extremely evil. Normal poisons are not evil; they’re just tools like a bow or sword. Last night Hawkeye mentioned that while they were escaping across the river, their party was hit by some sort of magical bolt with Tatianna taking the brunt of the blast. It could partially explain the taint of darkness spreading through her system but the best explanation I can think of that fits all of this is the return of the Arachne and coming of the Chosen One.”

Falling silent, Red Crow and Anasazi contemplated the implications of that last statement. When they finished smoking their first bowl, they refilled it and continued smoking for many hours.

*  *  *  *  *

A sweat lodge is a temple of sorts. It was built on a small island a few hundred feet out into the lake. It was here that the Highlanders had found one of the hottest vents in the valley and built a lodge over top of it. The shaman would heat rocks in a scared fire and place them inside the sweat lodge. One of the attending shamans would chant prayers to Luna while pouring water from the spring onto the hot rocks causing a great deal of steam to fill the entire lodge. The intense heat would drive up the body temperature, purging the system of all impurities and poisons. Many times this also had the side effect of causing visions. A young brave or warrior would spend a day in the sweat lodge at least once a year hoping for a vision. A vision was seen as a great source of personal power. It could foretell the future, answer a personal question or foreshadow some great danger.

The shamans worked on Tatianna for six days and nights in rotating shifts. There were always at least two of them with her during that time. Hawkeye spent as much time as his body would allow with her. Tatianna drifted in and out of consciousness for the first five days. On the sixth day, she slipped into a coma. That same day, the shamans brought her out of the sweat lodge and pronounced that the poisons were gone from her system. Hawkeye stayed at her side for the next two days, never leaving for more than a minute or sleeping more than an hour or two.

On the eighth day after her fever was discovered Anasazi pulled him aside. Placing his hands on Hawkeye’s shoulders, the ancient shaman guided him to the fire, placed a bowl of buffalo stew in his hands and commanded. “Eat. You need your strength. There is nothing more we can do. If she does not recover soon, we will lose her.”

Hawkeye ate the stew slowly. When he looked up, Anasazi was shocked by his appearance. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, while his face was gaunt and thin from the lack of food.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“It is in the hands of the Gods now. Only through their intervention can we recall her spirit. We have healed her body. It is whole but her spirit remains lost. It is her spirit we must save or she will die.”

Hawkeye’s face turned red with anger. Standing, he threw the bowl of stew across the lodge. It crashed against the wall, spilling its contents across the carving of the dragon and rider. Storming around the room, Hawkeye raged. “I just wish there was something I could do! I feel so helpless! It’s just like before, I’m a failure! With all of my skills and knowledge, I still cannot save the ones that I love!”

With a loud cry of inhuman fury, he slammed his fist down on the nearby workbench. It gave way to the sudden blow, spilling its contents all across the lodge.

Anasazi whispered, “There might be a way.”

Hawkeye rushed to his side. “I’m listening.”

“It is extremely dangerous and might not work. But someone might possibly be able to travel to the Spirit Realms, find her lost spirit and guide it back to her body.”

“I’ll go! I cannot sit around and watch another person that I love die.”

Walking over to Tatianna’s unconscious form, he gazed down at her beautiful face. Even the scars on her left cheek couldn’t diminish her true beauty. Although she was physically beautiful, her true beauty came from within, not from her mortal shell. A slight smile crossed Hawkeye’s face as he remembered her crooked smile and fiery spirit. Reaching out, Hawkeye gently stroked her scarlet hair.

Anasazi placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do my son but there are several things you must know first. The risks will be great.”

“It doesn’t matter what the risks are, I will face them.”

Anasazi continued. “Even if you find her spirit, which will be difficult, you must convince her to come back.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hawkeye.

“I mean, that she must want to return. The Spirit Realm is a very beautiful and peaceful place but it also has many dangers not all of them are enemies. I have known many Spirit Walkers who didn’t return just because they didn’t want too. It is a very dangerous journey you are planning to undertake.”

Gesturing toward the fire again, Anasazi pulled out his pipe and filled it. Lighting it, he performed the pipe ceremony and passed it to Hawkeye.

“Let me tell you more. As I said, a spirit walk is a dangerous journey. Through rare herbs and mystical chants, a walker will enter a deep trance that is just this side of death. His spirit would then be released to travel wherever he wills it. One could travel to the past, present or the future. Time and space doesn’t matter to a spirit. As long as the body remains whole, then it is possible to return.”

Pausing to take a deep drag on the pipe, he blew the smoke skyward and continued. “This leads to the first of many problems with spirit walking, the body. It must remain whole and undisturbed. While a person is on a spirit walk, he has no knowledge of what is going on around his body. If something were to kill the body, then the person would be trapped in the Spirit Realm. The second most common problem is the possibility of getting lost. If, while on the other side, a spirit walker was to forget even for a moment, where and when his body was located then the chances of returning would be slim. The third danger is the most dreadful, the Spirit Hounds. These are creatures of shadows and darkness. Gaul’s minions exist to track lost spirits and return them to the Abyss. They are very deadly. It is said, that once a spirit hound has your scent it will not rest until it has found its prey.

“But uncle I cannot lose her. I. . . I. . . I love her.”

“I understand that but there is something else you should know.” Anasazi hesitated before asking, “There is an ancient prophecy which foretells of the end of the world. Do you remember it?”

“Vaguely but what does that have to do with Tatianna?”

Looking deep into the fire, Anasazi’s eyes glazed over as he spoke in a far away voice. “When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, look to the north for the one chosen by fate. A being of no race and all, part black, part white, a creature of the balance, a true son of the Dhyana. He will lead the Nine against the One in the final battle for the fate of Terreth.”

Shaking his head to break the trance, Anasazi looked deep into Hawkeye’s gray eyes. “I believe her unborn son to be the Chosen One of the prophecy.”

Hawkeye’s jaw dropped open slightly as he returned the ancient one’s stare. Clenching his jaw shut, he walked over to Tatianna as the thought of her unborn son being the Chosen One went through his head over and over. A child fathered by the rape was to be child of prophecy. Hawkeye found it hard to believe that the child who was to be instrumental in the final battle for the fate of all Terreth was Tatianna’s unborn son.

Turning back, he looked deep into Anasazi’s eyes. “If that is true, then all the more reason I must go.”

“I agree. I just wanted you to know the price of failure. Go and get some rest. I will make the necessary preparations. You will leave at moonrise.” Gathering up his bundles, Anasazi walked out of the lodge.

Hawkeye leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll save you.”

*   *   *   *   *

As the sun set behind the mountains, Hawkeye rose from his slumber and, as was the custom, refrained from eating. When he stepped out of the lodge, he was greeted by the whole village; every man, woman and child was present. The ceremony would take place on hallow ground in a cavern on the far side of the lake. There was a path that wound around the crater wall but for today’s journey, Hawkeye would have to swim the distance. As he walked slowly through the crowd of Highlanders, Amani broke away from the crowd and ran up to him. He could see that the young girl had been crying.

Hawkeye knelt down beside her and asked, “What is it little one?”

Amani looked into his eyes with tears welling at the edges of her brown eyes. “Please bring Mistress Tatianna back. She promised to teach me how to be a warrior one day.”

Hawkeye gently wiped away a tear. “Don’t worry lass. We will return soon.”

Leaving the crowd behind, Hawkeye stopped at the lake’s edge and took a moment to absorb the natural beauty of the landscape before him. The sun was setting to the west, painting the early evening sky a brilliant red as the moon was just rising over the horizon. A few geese were just making their way south to warmer climates and the waters of the lake were covered in a mist that swirled with the wind. The canyon rim and shoreline were lined with snow while the air was brisk and the wind was bitterly cold but light. It was a beautiful Highland autumn evening.

Dropping his furs to the ground as he stepped into the warm waters of the lake, Hawkeye dove in and began the long swim to the far side of the lake. His mind drifted back to the time Tatianna and he were thrown into the freezing cold waters of the river; this time the water was much warmer and soothing to his body. Keeping his strokes slow and easy, he made the swim in less than an hour. Reaching the landing, Hawkeye felt the bitter cold of winter as soon as he stepped out of the warm waters. Since he was naked, Hawkeye moved up the ancient path as quickly as possible. However, the path was steep and the going was slow but halfway up the path a pile of furs had been placed for him. Covering himself, Hawkeye continued his journey. The moon had nearly reached its zenith by the time he reached the sacred cave.

The small cavern was simply known as the Cave of Luna. It was a natural formation of the lava that once flowed through this now dormant volcano. Its position on the crest of the rim, and its unique shape allowed moonlight from the full moon to flood the chamber in pure white light, bathing all present in Luna’s glow. It was a very sacred place to the highlanders. Only the Shrine of Luna was more sacred to the northern tribes.

The chamber itself wasn’t very large and the walls were of black jagged crystal. The floor had been worn smooth over centuries of use and a white stone altar had been placed in the center of the room. Tatianna lay on the altar and the Council of Elders sat cross-legged on one side of the altar while Anasazi sat on the other. On the lap of the ancient shaman were his medicine bundle and a small drinking bowl full of a golden liquid. Gesturing to the ground in front of him Anasazi commanded. “Come. Be seated.”

Dropping the furs, Hawkeye obeyed.

“You have chosen a dangerous journey Wolflord, one from which you might not return.” Anasazi gestured to those gathered. “We have asked Luna to give her blessing to you for this journey.”  Reaching his hands skyward, he called out. “May her blessing guide and protect you.”

Hawkeye took a moment and met the gaze of every member of the Council of Elders before speaking in a loud voice. “I undertake this dangerous journey for two important reasons. The first is simple, I love the elf maiden Tatianna whose tribal name is Red Eagle, but I also undertake this dangerous journey for the hope of a better world. If I am successful, than the one foretold in the ancient prophecy might be able to turn the tide of darkness that is approaching.”

In a much quieter voice only loud enough for Anasazi to hear he added, “We will return.”

As the ceremony started, the Council of Elders began to chant and tap out a steady rhythm on several drums. Anasazi handed Hawkeye the bowl and commanded, “Drink and become one with the universe.”

Hawkeye drank the golden liquid from the bowl. It was warm and soothing.

Anasazi began a different chant. Pulling out a fan made from an eagle’s wing, he fanned the flames of the small fire in front of him and tossed a handful of dried leaves into the fire; a pleasant smell filled the cave.

Forcing himself to relax, Hawkeye closed his eyes and concentrated on two things, the rhythmic drumming and Tatianna. Slowly, his mind began to wander and his limbs began to feel lighter. A vague sense of floating came over him. Opening his eyes, he was surprised at the sight. He was floating over his own body. It was a strange and exhilarating feeling. Glancing down at his spirit form, he was shocked to be able to see right through himself. He was dressed in his normal battle array, weapons and all but his body seemed to be made of mist. Reaching down, he drew out his tomahawk. It felt real. Swinging it at the nearby wall, it passed harmlessly through without leaving a mark.

“So, my weapons don’t affect the real world. I wonder if they can affect other spirits?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he put his weapon away and looked around. He was amazed at his sight. Everything seemed clear and vague at the same time. The brightly-lit cave and the shadowy village held the exact same brightness. Yet each had a kind of hazy look, like looking through a heavy mist. It was as if light and darkness didn’t matter to a spirit. From his vantage point high above the cave, he could see the whole village. The warriors of the village had picked up the chant and the rhythmic drumming.

Glancing down at Tatianna lying on the stone altar, he felt a great sense of urgency come over him. Looking closely, he could see a slender silver thread attached to Tatianna’s heart that ran off into the heavens.

Willing himself to follow the thread, his spirit form shot off into the night like an arrow from a bow. He was flying south past the valleys, forest and lakes of the Highlands, over the Wall and past the Great Forest. Soon, the forest gave way to rolling hills and grasslands. Hawkeye could see large herds of animals roaming these vast plains. Small groups of huts dotted the banks of the single river that cut through the region like a knife. And still he flew south, always following the silver thread of Tatianna.

His path seemed to parallel the winding river. Slowly the grasslands disappeared, becoming a large desert that stretched for hundreds of miles. The only areas still grassy were the few miles next to the river. Hawkeye could see hundreds of small boats going up and down the river. Finally the land began to thin out, becoming a large peninsula several leagues wide. At the tip of the peninsula was the largest city he had ever seen. Its many towers and buildings jutted up into the night sky. Lanterns and torches burned in many of the windows and even at this hour, people could be seen moving about the city, Hawkeye thought it looked like an angry ant farm. He knew this must be the legendary city of Asylum.

And still Tatianna’s thread led him south until he was soaring over the blue-green waters of the Crystal Sea. Hawkeye could see ships of all sizes from sloops to caravels sailing about the great sea. Soon, Hawkeye could no longer see land as water stretched to the horizon on every side. Tatianna’s thread led right through a small patch of low flying clouds. Willing himself closer, the clouds parted to reveal the ruins of a beautiful city on a small island. The city was spread out before him in a great circle. The buildings were built in a very exotic style of architecture and seemed to be constructed of crystal and marble. They were beautiful. All of the roads and avenues ran to the center of the city where there was a great courtyard with an archway of crystal that shimmered and glowed in the moonlight.

Halting his flight a few hundred feet away, Hawkeye studied the surrounding area.

The courtyard was constructed of white marble and at each cardinal point the symbol of one of the gods was carved into the marble and overlaid with a black substance. From his vantage point above the courtyard, Hawkeye got the impression of a giant compass while the archway seemed to rotate slowly. At the top of the archway, the circular symbol of the Dhyana blazed with a light of its own.

As Hawkeye studied the courtyard, he heard a mournful wail from somewhere behind him. Acting on instinct, he spun around and drew his weapons in one fluid motion. Low on the horizon, three large black hounds seemed to be running across the sea headed right toward him.

Spirit Hounds!

Anasazi had warned him that nothing forged by mortals could harm them. Additionally, once a Spirit Hound catches the scent of their prey, they never give up the hunt.

Glancing at his weapons, Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders and put them away. Instinctually he knew they would be useless. Speed would be his only salvation.

Concentrating on Tatianna’s thread again, he noticed it ran right through the glowing archway. Casting a quick glance at the Spirit Hounds, he noted that they were closing the distance rapidly. Willing himself forward, he flew at a neck-breaking pace while the spirit hounds changed their angle of attack. They were trying to cut him off before he reached his destination. Hawkeye mentally placed the image of Tatianna’s face before him and knew if the Spirit Hounds caught him, then she would be lost forever.

Willing himself faster, he plunged through the shimmering wall of the archway just as he heard the snap of teeth behind him. There was a flash of light in front of his eyes and the world went black.

Chapter 15

Hawkeye studied his surroundings.

All around him was a blackness so thick it was almost suffocating.  Feeling the slightest twinges of panic rising at the bottom of his stomach, Hawkeye forced himself to take ten deep breaths to calm himself. He had always prided himself on his great sense of direction but without the sun, moon or even the ground to base his judgments on, he felt lost. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked a direction at random and willed himself forward. Soon, the blackness began to give way to a pale white light and a heavy mist that swirled all around.

He found himself standing in some sort of a courtyard in an ancient amphitheater that seemed to be floating on a cloud. One end of the amphitheater was full of white marble statues surrounded by numerous gray pillars. The other end held several tunnels that faded off into the distance and some stone steps leading to a balcony that hung in empty air. Taking a quick glance at the heavens, Hawkeye expected to see stars but found nothing; just the same rolling mist mixed with the surrounding blue and whiteness. The light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Making his way over to the statues, Hawkeye counted twelve of them all in excellent shape and grouped into four different sections. The first section was of three beautiful ladies so similar that they had to be sisters, Hawkeye guessed that these three statues must represent the Moirae, the sisters of Fate: Aurora, Hecate and Luna; the Goddesses of the Morning, Night and the Moon. He also knew these to be the patron goddess of the Elves, Shadow Elves and Highlanders.

The next three statues were of three brothers. The first two statues were of twins, both short and heavily muscled and depicted making weapons of war. One was bearded and wore his hair waist long; obviously this was Bromios the Thunder God, father of the dwarves. The other was bald and clean-shaven with intricate tattoos covering his exposed skin; Steropes the Destroyer, he was also the father of the gnomes. The third statue was of a slender youth, no more than three feet tall with pointed ears holding a gold coin in his right hand and a lyre in his left. Although Hawkeye had never met a halfling before, he knew this statue must be to their patron god, Hodios the Wayfarer, the errant God of Luck, Mischief, Music and Chance.

Moving to the third set of statues, Hawkeye looked up at the first one. It was huge. It was nearly fifteen feet tall and depicted an armored joten carrying a massive double-bladed axe. This was obviously Gaul the Lord of the Underworld and the father of the jotens. Next to him was a ten foot tall, heavily muscular man with the head of a bull with large horns, in his hands was a two-handed sword that was as tall as the statue; Minos, the God of Battle and father of the minotaurs. The last statue was of a large centaur with a bow held ready; Cheiron the Archer, God of Nature and patron god of the centaurs.

Turning to study the last set of statues, a touch of sadness crept over his heart as he gazed on the likenesses of the Lost Gods. They were the original creator gods which were killed during the first war with the Arachne. The first was a tall, extremely handsome human male depicted holding the sun in his right hand, high over his head and carrying a large shield in his left; Hyperion the Sun God, the God of Light, Creation and Guardianship. Next to him was a large statue of a five-headed dragon which Hawkeye recognized her to be Terra the Earth Mother, Goddess of the Elements and mother of all dragons. While the last statue was of a tall, hunched figure in a heavy cloak which hid all signs of gender and facial features so Hawkeye couldn’t tell if it was a male or female, young or old, ugly or beautiful but he knew this must be a statue of Nox the Evil One, Patron of Evil, Hate and Darkness.

As the mists swirled around him, a gentle breeze rose from his right and carried with it faint voices. The voices were light and musical, seeming to float down out of the heavens. Hawkeye walked slowly around the amphitheater trying to get a bearing on their origin. Glancing up, he spied the floating balcony. Through the swirling mist he could faintly see several figures. From his angle, it seemed to be four figures. He wasn’t positive but it looked as if one was kneeling while the three others seemed to be walking about. Shrugging his shoulders and seeing nowhere else to go, he climbed the steps which led up to the balcony.

As he crested the top, he saw that he was correct and that one was indeed kneeling and from his position, Hawkeye couldn’t tell anything about her, other than her long scarlet hair. The other three were standing around the kneeling figure, talking to her. They were each tall, slender and incredibly beautiful. One had long flowing black hair and was dressed in a white gossamer silk gown that was very flattering. Another had shoulder length white-silver hair with skin as black as the night sky. She was dressed only in a very revealing black gown and she moved with feline grace. The third was a redhead with sparkling green eyes and dressed in flowing green robes.

They were perhaps the three most beautiful women Hawkeye had ever seen. He cleared his throat gently. “Excuse me ladies. . .”

The three ladies drew back revealing the kneeling figure to be Tatianna. Hawkeye rushed forward. “Tatianna!”

Turning slowly at the sound of her name, Tatianna’s face was void of any emotion while her eyes didn’t show any signs of recognition. They were still the beautiful crystal blue he loved but they didn’t have that spark of life he held so dear. She blankly stared at him for a brief moment before turning back toward the three beautiful ladies.

Jumping between Tatianna and the three ladies, Hawkeye drew his tomahawk and hunting knife. “Get back!”  His voice echoed slightly in the ruined amphitheater.

Not moving other than to cover their mouths as they giggled. Their eyes lit up with amusement at his behavior. Moments passed before the redhead finally broke the silence.

Her soft voice was reminiscent of a cool morning breeze. “Well…well. What do we have here my sisters? A brave warrior or a foolish champion?” The redhead pointed at Tatianna, “You would fight us for this mere mortal?”

“I would! I would fight Minos himself for this lady! Now who are you and what have you done to her?”

The ebony skinned lady glided forward, circling Hawkeye and Tatianna like prey and spoke softly. “Be careful for what you wish for Kamots Hawkeye, it might come true. Relax brave warrior, we have done nothing to her other than talk. Anything else that has happened to her since her arrival has been her own doing.”

Hawkeye felt a cold chill run down his spine as the ebony skinned lady gently touched his shoulder.

He was about to say something as the lady in white with alabaster skin and raven hair moved forward slowly, her arms open. As she spoke, her voice reminded him of a clear mountain stream. “Your weapons are useless here, Kamots Hawkeye. Don’t you know who we are?”

Hawkeye knew he had heard this last voice somewhere before, he just couldn’t place it at the moment. It was so familiar, it was…

“You have acted bravely in coming here. I knew you wouldn’t fail me in our time of need.”

It hit him! He had heard her voice in his prayers and his dreams. This was his goddess, Luna the Lady of the Moon. Dropping to his knees, his weapons fell to the ground, forgotten as he said, “Forgive me my goddess! I was enraged at the thought of losing my love.”  Lowering his head, “I ask your forgiveness.”

The three ladies laughed again. The redhead walked gracefully around Hawkeye. Reaching out, she gently touched his shoulder. In her touch he felt the warming caress of the morning sun. “Yes my beloved sister, I believe you are right. He should be the one to teach our child the ways of the warrior. He is brave and fearless. He would have taken on all of us without thought or concern for himself just to save this mortal. He has my vote. What do you say Hecate?”

The Mistress of the Night smiled. Hawkeye couldn’t help but get a mental picture of a cat that had cornered its prey, beautiful but deadly. As she spoke, Hawkeye noticed that her voice was cold and void of any emotion. “Yes Aurora. He will do. None of the others in all these years have made it this far. He has my vote.”  Turning toward Luna, her voice laced with sarcasm as she asked the obvious question. “Does he meet with your approval?”

Casting a quick glance and a smile at Hawkeye, she turned back to her sisters. “Yes, he has always been true and brave. He will be a great teacher for our son.”  Luna turned back to Hawkeye. “You and Tatianna have passed our tests. The two of you must prepare the Chosen One for his destiny. A great darkness is gathering in the south. Soon it will spread to all of Terreth. Only the Chosen One has the power to turn the tide of battle.”

Hawkeye stood slowly and replaced his weapons. “What do you mean? What darkness? What can one man do to change the destiny of Terreth?”

Looking at her sisters, they both nodded. Luna spoke in a low voice. “I will be brief, for your time here is limited but you need to know the whole story.”

Luna laid her right hand on his chest. As she spoke, Hawkeye could feel the sorrow in her voice while images of the past slowly formed in his head. He realized he was seeing the downfall of Atalanta, the legendary City of the Gods, as it had appeared those many centuries ago.

“After our first encounter with the Arachne, we thought we had won a great victory by destroying most of them and banishing the rest to another realm of existence, forever freeing the face of Terreth from their evil. But unknown to us, several Arachne had escaped their destruction. These rogue Arachne worked for many hundreds of years in the background, poisoning our followers against us; until the unthinkable happened.”

“What?”  Hawkeye asked boldly.

“While we had our attention elsewhere, these rogues Arachne were able to free their trapped brethren, bringing them back to our realm until there were literally thousands of them. At first, we didn’t notice. We were too caught up in our own troubles, until the first of the Arachne’s attacks came.”

Through the magical sight of Luna’s touch, he saw the Arachne with their hideous spider-like forms begin their assault on Atalanta. They came floating down from the sky on strands of webbing; attacking as they came, spitting acid and casting magical bolts of darkness.

“Their first attack caught us unaware and off guard but we rallied and began our counter-attacks. Initially we were able to hold them off.  However, it soon became apparent that they would not give up and in a pure magical contest, aided by their superior numbers, they were more than a match for our powers.”  Luna gestured at her sisters and said, “So we came up with the Spell of Binding. A great magical spell that would bind them to a piece of the universe but something went wrong.”

Stepping up, Aurora laid her left hand on his forehead and took up the story. “Magic here on Terreth is rather simple. All one has to do to cast magic, is access the weave of the universe and manipulate the weave to gain the desired effect. It’s really very simple.”

Looking into Hawkeye’s eyes, she could tell he really didn’t understand the nature of magic and its relationship to the weave of the universe but she went on anyway.

“You see, magic is just an extension of the universe. Since, everything was created from the fabric of the universe, then everything is just a smaller part of the universe. If you want something created or changed, you can access ‘the Weave’ of the universe to attain your results. Magic is a way of weaving what you want from something you have. Some people are more attuned to ‘the Weave’ than others.”  Pointing at Tatianna, “This accounts for the stronger Spellweavers such as this young elf.”

Casting a quick glance at Tatianna, Hawkeye felt his heart ache at the sight of her but Aurora didn’t stop in her explanation, so he quickly turned his attention back to her.

“When we devised the Spell of Binding, we didn’t take into consideration the true nature of the Arachne. They are spinners while we are weavers.”

Noticing Hawkeye’s blank expression, Aurora elaborated. “In other words, they have the ability to spin or to make from nothing whatever they want. Their style of magic is a bit slower but just as powerful as ours. They had planned long on their revenge. They knew we would try to bind them again or send them to another realm, like we did the first time. In fact, they counted on this.”  Aurora gestured at their surroundings. “They used their magic to create a great netlike web, which caught us and drew us into the same realm that we had prepared for them. So, now we are also trapped here.”

Hecate walked up, placing both of her hands over Hawkeye’s eyes. A slight chill ran up his spine at her touch. “The Arachne have been able to spin a magical portal from this realm. One was able to escape before we noticed. We were able to destroy their portal but given enough time, they will make another and more of the Arachne will be able to escape to Terreth while leaving us trapped in this realm. When there are enough of them, they will attack and conquer all of Terreth.”

Hecate paused for a moment to let the realization of her statement sink in. Through the magical vision induced by their touch, Hawkeye caught a glimpse of what the future would be like if the Arachne conquered Terreth. It was not a pretty sight.

Hecate continued, “The one that has escaped has already stirred up the old hatred between the races. She has been working behind the scenes and has been able to influence many smaller kingdoms to the side of evil. There is a great alliance of darkness forming. As you know, the cyclops, shadow elves, gnomes and several packs of the highlanders are now working together. Soon, the trolls, minotaurs and many legions of dragons will join this Dark Alliance.”

Releasing Hawkeye, the three sisters stepped back. Hawkeye felt the room spin slightly after they released him. Shaking his head to clear it, he focused his attention on Luna who was talking again.

“We have done what we can to slow down the Arachne. We have blocked or destroyed every portal they have made. But eventually we will miss one. Then, they will be released on Terreth with nobody to stop them.”

Pausing for a moment, Luna smiled. “All is not lost. While there is breath, there is still hope.” She pointed at Tatianna. “She has been selected to give birth to the Chosen One, the child of prophecy who will break the Spell of Binding and banish the darkness. You have been selected to protect the Chosen One. He must grow up to be a powerful warrior and a great leader of men. For it is his destiny and our hope that he will save Terreth from destruction.”

Aurora spoke up. “To help him in his time of need, we have inspired our loyal followers. There are not as many as they once were but if the Chosen One can find our true followers, they will help him in his quest.”

Flashing him a chilling smile, Hecate the goddess of the night spoke. “Remember the ancient prophecy: When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, look to the north for the Chosen One; a being of no race and all races; part black, part white, a creature of the balance, a true son of the Dhyana. He will lead the Nine against the One in the final battle for the fate of Terreth. For only the Chosen One can unlock the secrets of the past and lead the Nine to victory.”

Hecate walked up to him and placed her right hand over his heart. There was a slight pain in his chest and a wave of nausea came over him which caused him to drop to his knees. Removing her hand slowly, something flimsy that was grayish-white fluttered in her hand.

Looking down, Hawkeye was shocked to see a small hole in his chest, right over his heart but no blood flowed from the wound and as he watched the hole slowly closed up and the pain subsided.

Lifting the piece of Hawkeye’s soul to her lips, Hecate kissed it briefly before passing it to Luna. The goddess of the moon also kissed it before handing it to Aurora. The lady of the morning also kissed it before rolling the soul-piece up until it looked like a worm. Placing it on Tatianna’s belly, Hawkeye was shocked to watch it burrow into her belly until it was gone.

Reaching out, Luna gently pulled Hawkeye forward. With the tenderness of a spring breeze, Hawkeye felt her warm lips touch his forehead and the world spun slightly. Smiling at him, she whispered, “Now, you must go. Part of your soul is now a part of the Chosen One’s. He is now as much your son as your firstborn. Prepare him for the future. Always remember you have our blessings and hopes.”

Standing slowly, Hawkeye bowed deeply before picking up Tatianna and willing himself home.

*   *   *   *   *

Once Hawkeye and Tatianna were gone five other beings entered the room.

When Minos spoke his voice was like boulders rolling down a mountainside. “You didn’t tell him everything.”

Gaul’s voice was even deeper when he asked, “Yes… why did you not tell him about Hodios the Wayfarer?”

The twins, Bromios and Steropes, came walking up the floating steps flanked by Cheiron. Before reaching the landing Bromios asked, “Yea…why didn’t you tell the mortals about our errant brother?”

It was Hecate who answered them. “One should always keep an ace up their sleeve. If they should fail or be captured, then his existence on the outside will still be a secret.”

The others nodded at this thought.

As Aurora spoke, she gestured with her hands. A small pool of water appeared in the center of the room. “The wheel is set in motion. We can only watch and hope.”

All eight of the gods gathered around the pool to watch as all of their hopes rested on the backs of two mortals.

Chapter 16

After his return from the spirit realm, Hawkeye’s reputation grew. Stories of his encounter with Blackfang at the Shrine and his meeting with the Gods had spread across the Highlands and even to the dwarven kingdom of Darkmoor. Less than a month had passed since his return before the remaining members of the Great Council, representatives from every tribe and emissaries from the dwarves had arrived at Itasca. They were all anxious to meet Hawkeye and Tatianna. Even the heavy snow would not keep them away. Hawkeye knew that if the dwarves of Darkmoor could hear of the coming of the Chosen One and where he was to be born, then Blackfang and his Dark Alliance must also know.

Troubled about the future, Hawkeye went to Red Crow’s lodge early one morning. It was a small lodge built near the eastern shore of the lake and slightly apart from the rest of the village. Approaching the lodge, Hawkeye stopped to study the old warrior’s totem pole. It had at least thirty eagle feathers; many of them dyed red. The top of his totem pole was crowned with the skull and horns of a minotaur, a truly fierce opponent as Hawkeye knew from experience. Numerous broken swords and shields lay at the base of Red Crow’s totem pole. Hawkeye shook his head in amazement; Red Crow was indeed a great warrior.

Before he could signal his approach, the old chieftain came out of the lodge. “Good morning, Wolflord. I was expecting you. Come… walk with me.”  Without waiting for a reply, Red Crow strode toward the eastern arm of the mountain.

Joining him, Hawkeye had to rush to match the old man’s stride. “Good morning honored chieftain. How did you know I would be coming to see you today?”

Red Crow smiled. “You are a great warrior Hawkeye and one of your greatest assets is your unpredictable nature in combat but I have been around a long time. It was only logical that you would come to seek my assistance with your upcoming problem.”

Hawkeye accepted the compliment and explanation with a nod. He waited for the older warrior to continue as they hiked up the steep path of the nearby mountain.

After several minutes Red Crow asked, “You want my help with the Great Council to reorganize the Highlanders into one deadly army. Correct?”

A look of surprise crossed Hawkeye’s face. “Correct. How did you know?”

Red Crow stopped and turned to face him. The morning light shadowed his face in such a way that several of the scars on his face glowed red. “Because young Hawkeye, I was once in your moccasins and tried to do the same thing you are going to try.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawkeye asked thoroughly confused.

Pointing at a nearby rock, he commanded. “Sit and I will tell you a story about the past. It is said that history repeats itself. Well, it does.”  Pulling out his pipe, he began to fill it.

“Anasazi and I are very old; far older than you would believe. At one time we traveled the whole of the land, warring against those who would harm our land. I remember this one time there was an evil mage that went by the name Cigam. He enslaved all of the lands around the southern village and set up residence in the Black Falls Fortress. He was a cruel and malicious man, who tortured and killed any who dared to challenge him. The Great Council didn’t do anything, turning their eyes elsewhere. They figured if they ignored him and left him alone, he would go away.”

Lighting his pipe, he blew the smoke skyward. “Anasazi and I disagreed. We went to the Great Council and asked them to band together under one leader and crush this upstart. They refused. None of them wanted to get involved.”

Turning to the cliff face, he gestured to the landscape below them. From their vantage point near the top of the small mountain, they could see for many miles. The sun was just rising over the eastern horizon, bathing the sky and the land in a beautiful red glow.

“I love the Highlands and I would risk anything to save it. This mage was endangering my home and my friends. I would be damned if I were going to let him do anything to my home without me doing something about it! So, since I was the Warlord of the Red Raven…”

Hawkeye interrupted. “But there isn’t a Red Raven tribe.”

Turning back to look at him, Hawkeye could see that Red Crow’s eyes were full of tears. “There was once. They all died in the assault on the Black Falls Fortress. The Red Ravens attacked from the air while your father led the Black Wolves in the attack from the ground. I was captured and probably would have died if not for Anasazi. After being beaten back, he called on help from some friends of ours; the legendary adventurers known as the Wings of Justice. They stormed in through Cigam’s weakened defenses, cornered him in one of the towers and after a pitched magical battle, killed him.”

Red Crow turned and looked back over the beautiful landscape below. The morning sun was above the horizon now and glinted off the white blanket of snow that covered the surrounding land. Several hawks were drifting effortlessly on the updrafts created by the nearby cliffs.

“I have been convinced all these years, that if the Great Council had backed me and allowed me to command the whole Highland Nation, we would have won and many a brave warrior wouldn’t have had to die in a futile but worthy assault on the fortress.”

Staring at the beautiful landscape below, Hawkeye absorbed what he heard. Then something in the story hit him like a lightning bolt. Reaching out quickly, he grasped the old warrior’s shoulder and asked, “What do you mean, my father lead the Black Wolves into the fortress?”

Looking deep into his eyes, Red Crow shook his head. “I see that Anasazi hasn’t told you.”

“What hasn’t he told me?” Hawkeye demanded.

The scrape of a boot on a rock came from behind them. Whirling around, Hawkeye dropped his hands to his weapons only to find the old shaman standing there.

“What is it that you haven’t told me?”

Ignoring the question, Anasazi walked up to his old friend. They grasped forearms in the traditional greeting of warriors. Red Crow looked at his old friend and said, “I’m sorry. I thought you had told him.”

“I had planned to but there never seemed to be the right time.”

“Well, now is as good as time as any.”

Anasazi nodded.

Red Crow turned back to Hawkeye. “If you still decide to pursue your current action, come to the Great Council tonight and I will back your bid. Forgive your uncle, he only did what he thought was best for you and your family.”

Puzzled by his words, Hawkeye remained silent. Red Crow walked to the cliff face and stepped off. Hawkeye moved to the edge just in time to witness his transformation into a beautiful black raven.

Turning back to his uncle Hawkeye asked, “What was he talking about? And what’s this about my father leading the Black Wolves into battle?”

Sitting down on a large rock, Anasazi studied his nephew. He was so much like his father, his looks with his dark hair and eyes, his stance and his style of fighting. Even his attitude was a lot like his father’s also, his thinking, his curiosity and that damnable stubbornness. Finally Anasazi asked, “What do you remember about your parents?”

This question caught Hawkeye off guard for a moment. Shrugging his shoulders, “Nothing much, only stories. I know that my mother disappeared shortly after I was born and my father died in combat with the cyclops before I was born.”

Anasazi nodded at this. “Red Crow is right. It is time you know the whole truth.”

“What truth? What do my parents have to do with anything?”

“Everything. What you know about your parents is true, for the most part and it does have an impact on the future. There is a saying; ‘The past is the doorway to the future’ and if that is true, then your past will directly affect your future.”

Hawkeye sat down in front of his uncle and waited for him to continue. Anasazi lit his pipe with a magical word and took a deep draw on it before passing it to his nephew, who accepted with a silent nod.

“Long before I became a shaman, I was a wanderer. One day I came upon this land and fell in love with your people. I was adopted by the Chieftain of the Black Wolf and became blood brothers with your father. We were the best of friends, nearly inseparable. At that time, we were the largest and most powerful pack in the whole wolf tribe. Our pack alone was larger than the other five wolf packs combined. Your father was a great warrior, yet one day he disappeared while hunting. He was gone for ten days and nights, leaving no tracks or signs that anyone could discover. On the eleventh day, he came stumbling back into camp and told us a story of being seduced by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had taken him into her bed for nine straight nights. He was never the same after that. He was still the fearless warrior of his youth but his heart was no longer with us, it was with that mysterious woman. Slowly he returned to his normal self until nine months later on the night of the spring equinox, your mother returned.”

Pausing to take another drag on the pipe, Anasazi’s eyes were full of tears and his voice broke slightly with the flood of emotions he was feeling. “You are so much like your father. You have his looks, his walk, his mannerisms, and so…” Pausing, Anasazi swallowed loudly. “So does your brother.”

Hawkeye’s jaw dropped as the world spun. “I have a brother?”

“Yes you do.” Anasazi told him quietly.

Hawkeye jumped up. “This is great! Where is he? Why haven’t I met him before?”

“You have met him. He has tried to kill you before.”

A puzzled look crossed Hawkeye’s face. “You don’t mean….”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Anasazi spoke the words that Hawkeye didn’t want to hear. “Blackfang. Your brother is Blackfang.”

A wave of anger swept over Hawkeye and he jabbed his right index finger into Anasazi’s chest.  “You mean to tell me, that the monster that killed my wife and kids, that left me to die and raped the woman I love is my brother! And you couldn’t have told me this before now!”

“I know this is a great shock to you but let me finish my story.”

Although Hawkeye was extremely angry, he forced himself to sit down and listen to the old man. Anasazi watched and waited as his nephew regained control of his emotions.

“Your mother was indeed beautiful. She had long black hair and pale white skin. I remember her wearing a white silk gown and carrying the eagle-headed staff. She didn’t speak a single word. She just walked right through the gathering, carrying the two of you. The warriors in our pack parted for her. She walked right up to your father, placed both of you in your father’s arms. Flashing him a brilliant smile, turned and walked out into the night.”

Anasazi looked to the heavens as if he was reliving those days. “Your father held the both of you for several minutes. I remember him kissing you on the forehead before he handed the two of you to me. Turning, he raced off into the darkness after your mother and never returned. We found his body several days later among the corpses of seventeen goblins and two jotens. Your mother was never seen or heard from again, the only evidence she had ever existed were the two of you and her eagle-headed staff which we found stuck in the ground next to your father’s corpse.”

Turning back to look at his nephew, his eyes were full of tears. “It was then that I decided to leave the ways of war behind me and become a shaman. I took you both with me to raise as my own. When you were two, the Great Council forced me to relinquish my parental rights to the both of you. According to tribal customs, a shaman is not allowed to have a family. So, I put the both of you up for adoption. Your brother was adopted by an old friend who was the warlord of the Black Wolves while you were adopted by the chieftain of the White Wolves.”

Hawkeye could see the pain this confession was causing his uncle and slowly his anger began to melt and fade away.

Anasazi continued. “I had planned to tell you both of your true heritage on your day of manhood but the Great Council forbade me to do so. They were concerned that the two of you would go off in search of your mother. They didn’t want to lose two valuable warriors. Then, Blackfang and the Black Wolves fell prey to the darkness that is slowly engulfing our land and the rest you know. After what Blackfang did to your family, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the whole truth. Red Crow supported your claim for vengeance only if the Great Council allowed me to tell you the truth. They agreed but made me promise not to tell you for at least a year but you have been traveling the whole of the Highlands for the last three years, so I haven’t had the chance to tell you until now.”

Anasazi lowered his head in shame. “Now you know the whole truth.”

Standing slowly, Hawkeye walked over to the edge of the cliff. Several hundred feet directly below him lay Itasca. It looked so small from this height, yet it was now his home. After the death of his family, he had been on the hunt constantly but this one place had always remained constant. He had always had a place to come back to. His thoughts drifted back to the monster that was responsible for so many deaths of his loved ones and friends. Did it really matter that he was his brother?

Hawkeye shook his head. “No! A man is defined by his actions not his blood!”  Forcing a weak smile, he turned back to his uncle. “I’m not angry at you anymore. You did what you thought was right. It doesn’t matter to me that Blackfang is my brother; his actions have made him a monster. He has chosen his path and I have chosen mine and it seems that our paths are destined to cross. Given the chance I will stop his reign of terror. We have met twice; he won our first encounter while the second was a draw. The third will be our last; only one of us will walk away from our next meeting.”

Anasazi stood slowly and embraced his nephew. “I know that must be a hard decision but I believe it is the right one. I told the Council you were more than you appeared to be.”

Hawkeye’s face grew solemn and his voice grew cold. “The Great Council is another matter. We are about to lock horns. It might not be wise to side with me on this. I’m sure to make many enemies tonight.”

“Do not fear for my safety. I’ll be okay. I am behind you in any decision you make.”  Slapping him on the shoulder, “Besides, if I’m not around, who is going to take care of your bride and your son?”

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive look. “Bride? Do you know something I don’t?”

Anasazi shook his head. “No, but you can’t blame an old man for hoping.”

Heading back down the mountain path together, they laughed and smiled the whole way. By the time they reached the village, Hawkeye was in a good mood. They parted company at the gate, Anasazi went to the medicine lodge to get ready for the meeting of the Great Council and Hawkeye went in search of Tatianna and found her in the Cave of Luna. Hawkeye stopped when he saw her floating in mid air about four feet above the altar with her legs crossed and eyes closed. Her lips moved slowly as if she was chanting or singing to herself. Her arms were lying on her knees while her sword was floating about a foot away unsheathed with the hilt toward her and the point toward the heavens.

Gently clearing his throat, Hawkeye waited and watched. A crooked smile came across her as she slowly floated down to rest on the altar. Turning to look at him, the cave suddenly echoed with her musical laughter as Tatianna got a good look at his face. “What? Don’t tell me that my brave wolfman is scared of a little levitation?”

“No, not really. It’s just a little unnerving. How? Never mind, why do you do that?”

“It’s just a way of meditating. I feel closer to Aurora that way.”  She pointed at the surrounding cave. “This place is a natural crossroads of the Weave. I can access it easily from here. Watch!”

Wiggling her fingers, like she was knitting thread or weaving rope there was a slight popping noise. A split second later a beautiful white rose appeared in her hand.  Walking over to Hawkeye, she tucked it into his headpiece. Suddenly reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down and kissed him.

Slightly shocked, Hawkeye felt the softness and warmth of her lips as they pressed against his. Responding immediately, he gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He let his love and passion for her overwhelm him as he returned the kiss. After several minutes, Tatianna gently broke the kiss.

Reluctantly Hawkeye released her and asked, “Not that I’m complaining but why did you do that?”

Tatianna again flashed him that crooked smile he loved so much and said, “Because I wanted too; and so did you but you are bound by certain customs that prevent you from doing something so bold.”

Hawkeye reached out and gently caressed her cheek. “Tatianna, I love you.”

“I know. I heard you say that on the day you spirit-walked to find me. I love you, too.”  She smacked him playfully on the chest. “How could I not love a fool like you? Every time I get into a little trouble, you run off and risk your life for me, someone you hardly know.”

He grabbed her suddenly and lifted her high into the air. Spinning around quickly, their laughter filled the cave. Dropping her back into his arms, he kissed her again with a gentle passion she had never known before. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Was it the kiss or the spinning?

Finally, Hawkeye broke the kiss. “You are right. I am bound by traditions. One of those traditions states that I must court you for a lunar month before asking for your hand in marriage. Well, that month starts tonight. Why not?  I’m going to make some waves tonight, why not add to it?”

Tatianna lifted her left eyebrow slightly in a look of puzzlement. “I don’t follow you.”

Letting go of her, Hawkeye moved over to the altar. “Don’t let it worry you. I’m planning on a little showdown with the Great Council tonight.” Hawkeye pointed at the sword and asked, “Why is this thing floating?”

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t change the subject! Why are you planning a showdown with the Great Council tonight?”

Waving his hand in a dismissal motion he said, “It’s nothing. I’m just planning on telling them that I intend to assume command of all of the warriors, prepare the village for the coming attack, plan a counter attack, form an alliance with the dwarves,” turning toward her, he sat down on the altar. “And marry a troublesome elf.”

A look of innocence crossing her face, she placed her left hand over her heart. “What do you mean by a troublesome elf?”

With a straight face and arms crossed. “Well, we never had any of these troubles until the elves stirred up trouble in the black fortress. I’m sure Blackfang knows of the coming of the Chosen One and our location. He will attack as soon as he can get his army this far north and that will be the first thaw of spring. So, logically he wouldn’t attack here if it weren’t for you.”

Placing both hands on her well-defined hips, she skewed Hawkeye with a look that could kill. “That wasn’t very nice. As a matter of fact, that was downright mean.”

Trying to keep a straight face, he placed both hands over his heart. “You wound me. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings; I was just informing you of my plans.”  His grin betrayed his true intentions.

Tatianna pointed one finger at him and growled. “Why you low down, dirty, scruffy looking, scoundrel.” She flung herself into his arms. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Their lips met again and for a few brief moments, they forgot all about their problems, traditions, customs, Blackfang, the coming war, everything, except their love for each other.

*   *   *   *   *

By high-sun, the weather had gotten worse. The snow was already several feet deep with snowdrifts getting as tall as a man. It was still two months before Yuletide, yet the snow had fallen almost daily since their arrival in Itasca making travel and hunting dangerous. The few travelers that had come in over the last month told stories of the bad weather all across the Highlands and yet the snow still fell.

Hawkeye spent the first few hours after high-sun talking with many of the older warriors from every tribe. He wanted their opinion concerning the situation with Blackfang and the Dark Alliance. Most hated the ‘wait and see’ policy the Great Council had adopted. Many were in favor of an attack, while the majority had not made up their minds but they knew something must be done. This led him to believe they would follow his lead if he were forced to go against the Great Council. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that but it was best to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

Just before dusk, Hawkeye met with the dwarven emissaries, unofficially of course.

There were three of them, all warriors. Their leader was Midach Bonecrusher. He was a tall for a dwarf, standing nearly five feet and built like the trunk of a tree; thick, squat and strong. He had long black hair and beard that were streaked with gray. His two companions, Balder and Alder, looked so much alike they had to be twins. They were solid and muscular with flaming red hair and waist long beards.

The three dwarves looked to be formidable adversaries or allies. Hawkeye was determined to make them allies. Having spent several years with Rjurik, Hawkeye knew that dwarves recognize and respect strength. He also knew they hated small talk and have a great fondness for strong drink, preferably ale.

As Hawkeye approached the hogan the Great Council had set aside for the dwarves, he could hear them grumbling to each other about having to wait. Letting a brief smile flicker across his face, he entered their lodge without knocking. The three dwarves fell silent the moment he entered the room. Striding over to a small table near the center of the lodge, Hawkeye slammed a small keg of moonshine on the table. Looking each dwarf in the eyes for a brief moment he said, “This keg is for us, provided we can come to agreeable terms.”

Midach stroked his beard for a moment and stared back at Hawkeye. When he didn’t flinch or turn away, the dwarf nodded his head. “Agreed. Let’s get down to business.”

The barrel-chested dwarf gestured to the table and sat down with the other two warriors taking up flanking positions behind him.

Hawkeye sat down across from the older dwarf and without waiting for a request from the dwarven emissary he began. “In the past our two nations have aided each other in times of great need. There was the time Derek Ironhand and his family was attacked by trolls as they traveled in the mountains, the warriors of the Blue Bear came to his rescue without a request or reward.”

Midach nodded his head. “I see you know something of our history. I remember the time Sikya, your western village, was destroyed by fire and we helped rebuild your village. We did that without request or reward also.”

Hawkeye smiled at the memory. “I remember. I was only eight or nine summers old when that happened. My adopted father led my whole pack to Sikya to help but by the time we arrived, you and your clan had already rescued many of my people and had begun to rebuild the village on higher ground.”

A slight look of shock crossed Midach’s face. “You remember? I’m surprised; not many in Sikya remember that summer.”

“My father always taught me to remember the past, for it is the doorway to the future. If we forget where we came from, then how will we know where we are going?”

Nodding his head, a large smile crossed his face and he held out his right arm. “Well met! I am Midach Bonecrusher, youngest brother to the King of Darkmoor.”

“Greetings. I am Kamots Hawkeye, the Wolflord and blood-brother to Rjurik Silvershield.”

The two warriors stared at each other over the grasped forearms. Hawkeye was amazed at the strength of the older dwarf. His grip was like iron and his stare was like ice. Hawkeye liked this dwarf! Nodding his head, he released his grip and Midach did the same. Reaching into his belt pouch, Hawkeye drew forth a canvas map of the Highlands. It was roughly drawn but it served its purpose. Pointing at the different locations on the map, Hawkeye explained his side of the proposition.

“There is trouble brewing in the Fortress of the Black Falls, trouble that concerns both our nations. Over the last two months, our scouts have counted at least five hundred jotens and a thousand goblins joining the large force that already occupies the fortress. By rough estimate, we guess the size of the army to be at least three to four thousand strong. This is a mixed force of cyclops, gnomes, goblins, a handful of shadow elves and some renegade highlanders.”

Nodding his head, Midach didn’t say anything but studied Hawkeye’s face as he continued his explanation.

“Only a fool would gather a force that large unless they’re planning an invasion.”  Hawkeye pointed at the map. “The way I see it, the Dark Alliance has three choices. One, go down the Wall and attack the lower lands, probably the elves. Two, head north and attack us. Or three, head straight west and attack the rich Kingdom of Darkmoor.”

Midach shook his head and pointed at the eastern side of the map. “Or they could head east to attack your east village then move on to the Dragon Graveyard. It is said to hold great riches.”

Hawkeye shook his head. “The east and south villages of the Highland Nation have already been destroyed or annexed by the Dark Alliance which is why I believe they will either attack us here,” pointing at Itasca on the map. “Or head west to attack the Kingdom of Darkmoor. If I had to guess, they will attack us first.”

Midach absentmindedly stroked his beard. “Why would you say that?”

“I’ll give you three good reasons. One, only a fool would attack the well defended dwarven kingdom with an unchecked army still loose behind you. Two, the mother of the unborn child of the prophecy is in this village and three, I’m here.”

“Why would your being here have anything to do with who they attack first?”

Looking the older warrior in the eyes, Hawkeye’s voice lost all hint of emotion. “Because their leader is my brother and he hates me almost as much as a dwarf hates a cyclops.”

Midach stared at the highlander for several minutes. Seeing such conviction and resolution in this man, he decided he liked this brash young warrior. “I agree. It would not be logical given the circumstances that the Dark Alliance would bypass you to attack us. How can we help each other?”

“Simple. When we are attacked, send help and when you’re attacked, we’ll send help.”

Midach’s voice took on a steely edge. “How can we be assured that you won’t send just twenty warriors?”

Hawkeye’s voice became just as hard. “How can we be assured you won’t send only twenty warriors?”

Midach threw his head back and roared with laughter. Hawkeye and the other dwarves joined in the laughter. Finally, Midach’s laughter subsided.

Slamming his fist on the table he said, “I like you boy! Your blood is thick!”  He drew his dagger. “You have a deal!”

Hawkeye also drew his knife. With a quick nod, they both cut the wrist of their right hand. As the blood began to flow, they spit in it. Grunting loudly, they clasped forearms together roughly. As their blood and spit mingled, Hawkeye used his free hand to open the keg of moonshine. After a moment, Hawkeye released his grip. Picking up the small keg, he offered it to Midach. With a quick wink, the older dwarf turned the keg halfway up. The clear liquid ran out the sides of his mouth and down his long black beard. After the tall dwarf drank his fill, he handed it to Hawkeye. Without hesitation, Hawkeye followed suit. He felt his throat burst into flames as he drank the clear liquid. When he was finished, he passed the keg to the other two dwarves who emptied the small keg.

Midach wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “Now that the formalities are over, I have a question for ye.” Hawkeye just nodded as Midach continued, “You mentioned Rjurik Silvershield. How is that old coot?”

Hawkeye’s grin fled his face. “I am sorry to say that Rjurik and two brave elven warriors were lost in our flight to Itasca.”

“By Bromios’ beard! What happened?”

“While traveling north, we were attacked while crossing the Tigris and thrown into its icy waters. I was barely able to drag Tatianna to the shore. I never found any sign of the other three.”

All three dwarves lowered their heads for a brief moment. “Rjurik never did like water but I am sure he has found a seat at the feast table of Bromios.” Standing, Midach signaled to his companions. “Well met Hawkeye the Wolflord. Is there anything else?”

“Actually, yes there is.”

Midach’s bushy eyebrows rose in an inquisitive look. “And what would that be?”

Trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, Hawkeye added. “That you come back for my wedding.”

Midach smiled broadly. “It would be my honor. When is it?”

“On the last day of Yuletide.”

Midach looked at his companions, they nodded. “Then it is agreed. We will be back for the festival to share your special day.”

Hawkeye walked with them to the door. “We would be honored by your presence at our wedding.”

“No, it will be our honor.” Stepping outside, Midach glanced at the cloudy sky. “We must be off. We have a long way to go and Terra still has more snow to dump on us.”

Hawkeye shook hands which each of the dwarven warriors. “Have a safe journey and we will see you soon.”

The three dwarves waved briefly, then turned toward the west and walked out of village. Hawkeye watched them go before returning toward his own lodge to get ready for tonight’s meeting.

*   *   *   *   *

At moonrise the Great Council gathered in the Lodge of the Moon which was built of long poles and covered in buffalo hides. Being a temporary structure, it was erected in the great courtyard where the great bonfire usually burned. A smaller fire would burn this night to warm the large tent. The Great Council would sit near the bonfire and make policies that would decide the future of the Highland Nation. The council was composed of three representatives of each tribe; one chieftain, one shaman and one warlord. All warriors were invited to attend but could not speak unless called on by a council member. The Great Council decided all things.

Dressed in his finest battle array, Hawkeye strode through the village. He carried his warstaff which was six feet tall and covered in eagle feathers; each representing a coup that Hawkeye had accomplished.

To a highlander, a coup is a test of manhood. A warrior reaches out and touches his opponent with a bare hand or small stick during combat. This attack doesn’t cause any damage to the opponent but usually leaves the attacker open to a counter-attack. This shows a warrior’s bravery and skill in combat. Additionally, a coup must be witnessed by at least two other warriors to be awarded.

Approaching Tatianna’s tipi, Hawkeye noticed she had erected a totem pole. It was a simple thing being mostly unadorned with the exception of two red feathers and the remains of her shredded chainmail. Rapping his warstaff on the totem pole, he waited for a response. A moment later, he heard her musical voice call out. “Come in.”

Ducking to enter the tipi, he let the flap close behind him, looked up and was stunned at the sight before him.

Tatianna was dressed in a long midnight blue silk dress with a long slit on one side that let her shapely legs be seen. A blood red sash was tied across her waist with the knot tied on her right hip and her magical blade on her left hip in a beautiful matching red scabbard. Her waist long scarlet hair normally worn down was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her pointed ears and accenting her milky white skin. On her brow was her silver tiara and a beautiful white rose was tucked behind her left ear. She turned around slowly with her arms held out and asked innocently, “How do I look?”

After staring for a moment with his mouth slightly open, Hawkeye finally managed to speak. “Like a goddess.”

“Good. That’s just the impression I want the Great Council to get.”  Walking up to him, she stood on her tip toes and gave him a warm kiss. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Shaking his head, he gestured at her outfit. “Where did you get this clothing?”

Waving her hands, “It was nothing, just a simple spell that lets me manipulate fabrics.”  Noticing the lost look on his face, she laughed. “Magic, pure and simple magic, I figured if you were going to make a statement and shake up the Great Council, then why should I not do my part to shake them up?”

Shaking his head, his laughter filled the tipi. “Well, you certainly are going to make a statement.”  Hawkeye held out his arm. “Shall we? I’m sure the Council has already started their debate.”

Placing her arm on his, they stepped out into the snowy village. The few highlanders that were present as they walked through the village stopped and stared at the couple.  Slowly, they made their way to the Lodge of the Moon. The snow was falling gently and the air was bitterly cold but the wind had stopped blowing. The moon was a few days from being full and the mournful cries of several wolves could be heard in the distance. Just before they reached the lodge, Hawkeye looked down at his soon to be bride and whispered, “I love you.”

Tatianna flashed him a crooked smile before whispering, “And I you.”

The Great Council was already involved in a debate when they arrived. Even so, everyone fell silent as they entered the lodge. Tatianna saw many faces she recognized in the crowd but there were many more that she didn’t recognize. The members of the Great Council paused briefly in their debate just long enough to stare at Hawkeye and Tatianna.

Returning their gaze, Hawkeye nodded his head in greeting toward Anasazi, Red Crow and Bravefoot, who were all members of the council. A smile crossed his face when he recognized Odovacar; the young warrior who had saved his life three years ago was sitting in the spot reserved for the Warlord of the Silver Boar. The Great Council intended to ignore the couple and tried to return to their debate. Hawkeye wouldn’t have any of it. With Tatianna at his side, Hawkeye strode confidently to the center of the lodge. Stopping directly in front of the Great Council, he thrust his warstaff into the ground and fixed the Great Council with a steely glare.

The lodge fell silent.

Speaking in a loud voice, so everyone gathered could hear, he followed the ancient ritual for addressing the Great Council. “I am Kamots Hawkeye, the Wolflord and the appointed protector of the unborn child of the prophecy. I would speak to the Great Council on a matter of great concern.” Pausing for a moment, he waited for their reply.

He was not surprised when Red Crow answered him. “Greetings, Kamots Hawkeye.”  Gesturing to all gathered, “All here know you and your deeds. What would you have of the Great Council?”

“A great enemy is gathering even now in the shadows of the Fortress of the Black Falls. Its sole purpose is to enslave all of Terreth. To do this, it must destroy the unborn child of prophecy which Luna has charged me to protect, raise and train. I ask that the Great Council, in their infinite wisdom, forget their petty differences and join together to combat this great evil.”

A small man with bright red, nearly orange hair and pale skin stood up. He was wearing the robes of a Red Fox Chieftain. Hawkeye didn’t recognize him. As the wiry chieftain spoke, he voice was squeaky and had a nasal quality that immediately grated on his nerves.

“We know all about Blackfang and his Dark Alliance. He is no concern of the Fox Tribe. We have done nothing to him. This is a Wolf problem; it has nothing to do with my tribe.”

Hawkeye turned his glare on the Fox Chieftain. “Let me tell you something about Blackfang. He doesn’t care which tribe you are in or if you want nothing to do with him. He and his Dark Alliance attacked and destroyed my pack, killing everyone including women and children.”

Hawkeye ripped off his onyx and ivory breastplate to reveal numerous crisscrossing scars on his chest. “Blackfang did this to me. He strapped me to a pole, raped my wife right in front of me before ripping her throat out with his bare claws.”  Moving right up in front of the wiry Chieftain, he roared louder. “Then, he had my two sons torn from limb to limb while I watched. When everyone else was dead, he cut up my chest and left me to die.”

Tears were rolling down his cheek at the memory but he ignored them. Pointing at Odovacar, Hawkeye continued, “If it was not for this young warrior, I would have died. He alone of his tribe came to investigate the smoke from the fires. He found me and took me back to his village where they nursed me back to health.”

Odovacar stood up. He was nearly seven feet tall and broad of shoulders. “What he says is true. My pack, the Silver Boar, were neighbors to the White Wolves. We shared the same hunting grounds. The carnage that Blackfang left in his wake was unlike anything I have ever seen or hope to see again. What he did to them,” gesturing at Hawkeye, “he could do to all of us. I don’t think he will care if we are against him or just innocent bystanders.”

The wiry Fox chieftain sat down and remained silent but the look he gave Hawkeye was one of pure hatred.

Tatianna laid a gentle hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m here with you.”

Reaching up, Hawkeye gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Her steadiness helped him remain calm. Hawkeye replaced his breastplate before turning back to the Great Council. “I don’t have time to mix words with you on this subject.”  He pointed at the Fox Chieftain. “If this one has doubts about Blackfang and his Dark Alliance, then several others may also. Therefore I demand, as is my right as Wolflord, to be placed in charge of all warriors of the Highland Nation. I demand the Tsanahwit.”

A low murmur went through the lodge.

Tatianna looked around, puzzled. Before she had left her tipi, she had woven a spell that would allow her to understand the Highland language and even translate their words. She knew that Tsanahwit meant ‘equal justice’ but that really didn’t tell her much.

Red Crow never took his eyes off Hawkeye, yet a slight smile crept onto his face. The warriors in the lodge fell silent. “Kamots Hawkeye, you have made the challenge of Tsanahwit. It cannot be refused. Do you understand the depth of your challenge?”

Hawkeye answered with a firm voice. “Yes great one, I do.”

Red Crow raised both hands and looked at all gathered. “Then on the night of the full moon, three days hence, the Tsanahwit will commence. May Luna smile upon the victor.”

He glanced at the other members of the Great Council and said, “If there is nothing else…”

“Yes, great one. I have one more thing.”

Sitting down, Red Crow nodded.

“I would also like to ask for the Great Council’s blessing on my betrothal to the elf maiden, Tatianna whose tribal name is Red Eagle.”

Another low murmur went through the lodge. The wiry Fox Chieftain bolted up. Pointing at Tatianna, his voice held the edge of a command. “You cannot marry her! She’s an outsider!”

Turning his attention back to the Fox Chieftain, Hawkeye fixed him with a steely glare. In a calm and cold voice that everyone in the lodge could hear, yet it was not loud.

“I can and I will marry her. In the first place, it is not your right to tell me whom I can or cannot marry. And in the second place, she has been made a member of our tribe by the Council of Elders.” Hawkeye’s voice grew colder and stronger. “Now, sit down and be quiet!”

The lodge was completely quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the gentle whistling of the breeze. Holding his ground for a moment, the Fox Chieftain returned Hawkeye’s stare before lowering his eyes and returning to his seat.

Red Crow glanced at the rest of the Great Council each slowly nodded their heads. “Then it is decided. Hawkeye, Red Eagle, please come forward.”

They did as they were asked.

Anasazi placed a hand on each of their foreheads and said, “The Great Council blesses your upcoming nuptials. May Luna’s light always shine on you and your children.”

A loud whooping filled the lodge as every warrior, except the wiry Fox Chieftain, celebrated the betrothal.

Anasazi stepped up to his nephew and grasped his forearm. “Well done. Your father would be proud.”  Giving Tatianna a gentle hug, he whispered in her ear. “If you ever need to talk, come see me.”

Returning the hug, she smiled warmly at the old man and nodded her head briefly. Her eyes didn’t leave Hawkeye, though. When she finally caught his eye again, the look she gave him was obvious. She was not happy. Slowly the meeting broke up. By tradition the members of the Great Council were the first to leave. On their way out, the members of the Great Council stopped by Hawkeye and Tatianna to congratulate them. All except the Fox Chieftain who just stormed by without a word. The last council member to stop by was Odovacar.

The large warlord towered over Hawkeye. Offering his arm in greeting Odovacar said, “Congratulations Wolflord.”  Nodding his head toward the departing Fox Chieftain he added, “I see you have not lost your touch over the last few years.”

Smiling broadly, Hawkeye grasped the offered arm firmly. “Odovacar! It’s great to see you! When did you become warlord?”

“This past spring, my mentor died in a confrontation with the Dark Alliance.”

Hawkeye’s tone turned serious. “Really? What happened?”

Odovacar shrugged his shoulders. “The same that has happened too many over the past year; when he was out hunting, he was ambushed by goblins.”

“Has it has happened to many others?”

A quick jerk of his head betrayed Odovacar’s surprise at Hawkeye’s question. “You have not heard? No, of course not; you have been traveling the wilderness for the last two summers.”

Odovacar tilted his head toward the departing council. “At least half of the warlords or chieftains who now sit on the Great Council didn’t sit there when you last appeared before them. Each new member bears the same tale; their predecessor was ambushed while hunting or died in an accident. Honestly, it has me worried.”

“I agree my friend and now it has me worried too. What I would like to do is . . .”

Hawkeye was interrupted by a gentle jab of an elbow in his ribs. His face slightly flushed, he turned to introduce his fiancé. “I’m sorry. Odovacar this is Tatianna, the Red Eagle.”

Bowing his head slightly, Odovacar smiled. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard of your exploits against the Dark Alliance. They are very commendable.”

“Thank you for your kind words. I’m pleased to meet you. Hawkeye has told me a great deal about you.”

Seeing the look that Tatianna was giving Hawkeye, Odovacar decided it was time for him to leave and said. “Well, I must be off. We can continue our conversation later.”

Hawkeye nodded. “It is good to see you again.”

“Nice to meet you Red Eagle.” With that Odovacar turned and walked out of the lodge leaving the two lovers alone.

*   *   *   *   *

As they walked to Hawkeye’s lodge in silence, he could tell that something was bothering Tatianna.  As soon as they entered his lodge, she spun on her heels, jabbed him in the chest with a finger and asked, “What in Aurora’s name is the Tsanahwit? Judging from everyone’s reaction, it isn’t anything good.”

Hawkeye gently grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Come, sit by the fire and let me explain.”

Resisting slightly, she let herself be lead over to the fire. Sitting down, she crossed her arms across her chest and waited as Hawkeye explained.

“The Tsanahwit is an ancient ritual passed down for many centuries. It is a challenge of sorts. I’ve already told you how any warrior can become warlord of a pack by challenging and defeating the current warlord in single combat. The Tsanahwit takes that challenge one step further.”

He poured her a bowl of moonshine and offered it to her. She drank from it slowly as he continued.

“The Great Council and the Tsanahwit were derived to keep any one warrior from becoming too powerful. The Great Council rules until a skilled warlord issues the challenge of Tsanahwit to the Great Council and the challenge can never be refused. The challenger must fight one warlord from each tribe in a duel. Each fight is held one after another until the challenger defeats all opponents or dies. The challenger has the option of killing his opponents or not while the challenger forfeits his life if he loses.”

Dropping the bowl, Tatianna gasped. “You mean to tell me, you just challenged the nine meanest warlords to a duel! On the same night you announce our betrothal? Who do you expect me to marry… a corpse?”

“Only eight warlords,” he said. “I am the Wolflord. No warlord of the wolf tribes may challenge me in the Tsanahwit.”

Throwing both hands high into the air, she stood up and stormed around the lodge. “Oh great! That makes a big difference! You just have to defeat eight of them without getting killed in the process. That’s comforting!”

Striding over to her, Hawkeye pulled her close. Tatianna struggled slightly before giving in. He could feel the warmth of her body and the cold drops of her tears on his shoulder. Rubbing her back gently, “Don’t you trust me?”

Through her tears, her musical voice was barely more than a whisper. “Yes, but…”

Lifting her head gently, he cut off her reply with a kiss, “Trust me. It is not my destiny to die at the hands of my fellow warlords. Everything will be all right. Just believe in me.”

“I do. It’s just I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“Don’t worry, you can’t lose me.”

Burying her head in his chest, she mumbled. “But I have lost everyone else I love. I don’t even know if I will ever see you again.”

Hawkeye felt her shiver as she cried. He had not intended to bring tears to her beautiful blue eyes by making light of her fears. He was just trying to alleviate them by informing her of the situation.

Pulling her closer to him, he whispered softly. “Tatianna, of course you will see me again. The gods have plans for us and so do I. I love you. It upsets me to see you cry like this.”

Looking up at him, the tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. “I love you so much! I’ve never felt like this before and the thought of losing you frightens me.”

Leaning down, Hawkeye gently brushed his lips over her eyes kissing away the tears. Slowly, he moved around the side of her neck to nibble on the lobe of her left ear. Tatianna pushed herself closer as her hands slowly caressed his back. Hawkeye felt his passion for her burning inside him. It was a passion he had never felt before, not even with his deceased wife. He wanted her. He longed to make love to her as he had since the first time he laid eyes on this beautiful elf. His gray eyes were aflame with his desire for her as she pulled away slightly.

Flashing him a crooked smile, she reached around his waist and slowly unhooked his weapon belt. Hawkeye’s tomahawk and knife made a slight clatter as they hit the lodge’s floor. Hawkeye started to say something but Tatianna placed her hand over his mouth.

Shaking her head slightly, she whispered. “No words my love. Let our bodies do the talking for us. Just be gentle.”  Her hands, shaking slightly, found the clasp that held on his breastplate and that too fell to the floor.

Instinctively, Hawkeye’s hands moved to her waist to undo her weapon. Bending down, his lips met her half-parted lips as his tongue stroked her soft under lip. He could feel her response to his kiss as she slightly bit his tongue. A great warmth spread across his body as her scent flowed over him. He could feel his manliness harden and long for the warmth of her body. She pulled him down to the sleeping furs behind them. He did not and could not resist and found himself half lying on top of her. Her hands ran up and down his back, moving slowly to his buttocks. There, they lingered for a moment before moving around to his manliness. A slight moan escaped her lips as she felt his hardness.

Hawkeye felt the jutting tips of her firm, round breast pressing against his bare chest and a wave of passion swept over him like a wave of fire. His lips sought the hollow of her throat as his long slender fingers flipped aside the straps of her gown. He continued to explore her body with his lips until they found her nipples. As he gently suckled them, he felt her surge against him and her gasp. Stopping briefly, he lifted himself off of her. Studying her, he took in her rare unearthly beauty. Her scarlet hair was fanned out underneath her on the soft pile of furs. Her blue gown was half off of her, showing much of her beauty but still obscuring some of it. Hawkeye longed to see all of her. Feeling a slight tug on his pants, he glanced down, finding her hands fighting with the straps that held them in place.

Standing up slowly, he undid the straps and let his leather pants fall to the floor. Suddenly, he noticed that her blue eyes were appraising him. Flashing him a crooked smile, she pulled off the rest of her gown. Hawkeye felt his breath being taken from him by the sight of her naked body. The flickering firelight both revealed and hid the beauty of her firm body.  They stared at each other for a moment before she grabbed his manliness and gently pulled him into her. As he mounted her, she whispered, “Please, be gentle.”

Kissing her briefly, he whispered back. “I will my love, I will.”

He could tell she was frightened but her desire for him overcame that fear. His mind raced with the memory of her rape. She had confided in him once that she had never been with a man before her rape. He wanted her badly but he told himself to be patient. Slowly and ever so gently, he entered her. Arching her back, she moaned loudly as her hands raked across his back. With a gentle and unhurried rhythm, he moved back and forth inside her. Her little purrs told him not to stop.  He murmured her name softly as he told her how wonderful it was to feel her velvet-soft flesh against him.

Tatianna was aching with the pleasure he was giving her. Slowly, their passion began to build until it overwhelmed the two of them. What had started out slow like a spark soon became a roaring fire. The intensity of their lovemaking continued to grow until neither of them could control it any longer. With a loud grunt from Hawkeye and a soft moan from Tatianna, they reached their climax together.

Their passion spent, they lay panting and sweating. Tatianna was the first to break the silence. “That was incredible. It was nothing like I thought. Thank you.”

Rolling over so he could look into her eyes he said, “It was indeed great. I love you more than I have loved anyone in the whole world.”

Tears filled her eyes again, as she looked at the man lying next to her. “Oh Hawkeye, you are the sweetest man I have ever met. I love you with all my heart and soul. I am yours, now and forever.”

Pulling her close, she laid her head on his chest as she returned his embrace. With his free arm, Hawkeye pulled some of the furs over them as they watched the firelight dance off the wooden beams of his lodge until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter 17

The captives heard the steady footsteps of the gnomish guards long before they could see the light of their torches and heard the tell-tale tinkling of the chains they carried as it echoed through the darkness heralding their approach.

Mortharona grinned in the darkness. His friends couldn’t see it but they could hear the excitement in his voice as he said, “Well my friends…it’s show time.”

Snorting at the elf’s tone, Rjurik moved to the back of his cell and grumbled. “You sound awful happy to be going to the Pit.”

“I am! It sure beats the hell out of sitting around this smelly cell.”

Mortharona and Khlekluëllin also moved to the back wall as the gnomish guards reached their cells. Without a word to the captives the nine guards broke up into three groups. Two of each group took up flanking positions on both sides of each door while the third gnome opened the cell doors. Once the door was open, two of the gnomes entered the cell carrying gnomish pain sticks and the other shackles.

Pain sticks were cruel weapons capable of inflicting intense pain with just a touch. Each stick was about three feet long and made of some unknown black metal. The ends were capped in silver and set with large gemstones; one was a brilliant ruby, the other a shining diamond. The three captives had learned firsthand how effective a weapon the pain sticks were the first time they had been taken to the Pit when they had resisted. Rjurik had even managed to make a break for his freedom. That was until they felt the magic of the Pain Sticks. The twins had been touched with the ruby side of the sticks and immediately it felt as if their blood was on fire. Heat raced through their veins causing intense pain that still lingered in their memories. Rjurik had not been so lucky. During his break for freedom, he was hit with the full force of the diamond side of the pain sticks. A whitish-blue glow had surrounded his body, slowing him. Immediately his body became numb and his extremities turned blue. His body felt as if he was stuck in a raging blizzard; his cheeks became covered in icicles and a layer of frost encased his body. The intense cold was bad enough to give him a severe case of frostbite, causing the loss of two toes.

The gnomish guards waited patiently but alertly while their companion placed the chains on the three captives. Roughly leading them from their cells, they started the long trip to the arena.

Rjurik grunted loudly. “Mortharona I see you’re still pleased about going to the Pit?”

The dark haired twin winked at the old dwarf. “Yes I am. Sitting in this dark cave is depressing. Besides, I get a chance to kill these little buggers and that defiantly makes me happy.”

Listening to his brother’s eagerness to kill their enemies, Khlekluëllin’s heart felt sad. His thoughts kept returning to the strange images his saw in his twin’s mind through their shared link and thought, ‘Something is wrong with my twin, I know it! But what? Mortharona had always been headstrong and unforgiving in battle but never malicious or sadistic. Now it seems that he was slowly becoming as evil as Blackfang. Maybe Mortharona’s hatred for Blackfang was poisoning him? Yes, that was probably it. If I am going to save my brother then we need to escape soon!’

After about a hundred feet or so down the passageway, the captives met up with another group of gnomes which were carrying their clothes and weapons. This was something the three captives hadn’t yet figure out. Every time the twins fought, they were outfitted in their own clothes and given their own weapons but not Rjurik. He was always left to fend for himself in gaining a weapon. Why Blackfang did this was a mystery to them? They just figured that it proved a greater challenge or thrill to the crowd. That was something Blackfang was very aware of, the crowd. He played to them, giving them just what they wanted but at the same time making sure it was the same thing he wanted.

After traveling for about thirty minutes through the winding tunnels, they felt a cool breeze on their face and knew they were approaching their destination, the Pit. Coming out of the dark tunnel they were once again faced with an awesome sight. They were high on one of the walls which overlooked an immense cavern that was located somewhere to the east of the fortress. Below them was the arena for the night’s games. It was roughly fifty feet deep and probably two hundred feet across. Crude bleachers had been erected around the edges of the Pit for the spectators. These were filled to capacity and even overflowing with warriors. The three captives could see gnomes, cyclops, highlanders, shadow elves and several hundred trolls. Glancing up, they could see the night sky overhead. The stars blinked and twinkled in the cold winter sky. Just seeing them and feeling the cool breeze on their faces refreshed and invigorated them.

Winding their way down the side of the cavern, the captives noticed that tonight’s games had already begun.

The games consisted of throwing combatants into the Pit and letting them fight to the death, all the while the armies of the Dark Alliance cheered or booed their pleasure or displeasure. When a combatant won, he would seek the crowd approval for a kill or a pardon. In the three weeks the captives had been forced to fight in the games, no one had ever been pardoned. Every fight was to the death.

After they reached the holding pens, one by one their chains were taken off and they were given their clothes but not their weapons… not yet.

Dressing in silence, Khlekluëllin studied the crowd seemed larger and more bloodthirsty than normal. The pens were full of combatants. Most were gnome, goblin or highland warriors who had somehow received this as punishment. Khlekluëllin had found in the past that most were here because of a dereliction of duty; sleeping on guard duty, disobeying a superior or something like that. Victory would absolve them of their crimes while failure meant death.

The holding pens also housed several animals. There was a large grizzly bear, two sabre-tooth tigers, a dozen wolves and something extremely large in the furthest most pen. Khlekluëllin couldn’t make out what it was due to a large tarp covering most of the pen but when it moved the whole pen shook. The blue-haired elf had a bad feeling about tonight’s games.

Glancing at his friends, he noticed that Rjurik was studying his brother with an intense look. Mortharona was staring off into the distance at something or someone on one of the balconies. Casting a quick glance that way, Khlekluëllin could not see what his brother was looking at.

Letting it go for the moment, he broke the silence. “I think tonight is the night for our escape.”

Rjurik’s head snapped over to look at him. “I agree! We will be armed, let’s cut our way to the surface!”

Mortharona snickered. “You foolish old dwarf! We wouldn’t get a hundred yards down one of those tunnels before they overwhelmed us.”

Rjurik bowed up to his full height of four feet. “Now listen here, you snot-nosed, pansy loving, bark eating elf! I, for one, don’t plan on just waiting around until Blackfang gets tired of us and has us taken to the kitchens like your father. If I’m gonna die, then I’m gonna take a few with me!”

Mortharona’s face turned red with anger and he was about to fire back another insult, when Khlekluëllin’s voice broke in. “Calm yourselves my friends. We have enough enemies surrounding us right now! We don’t need to argue amongst ourselves.”

Mortharona glanced at his brother with a pained look plastered on his face. “But he said…”

Khlekluëllin held up his hands. “I don’t care! You started it by insulting him first. Of course he’s going to insult you. It was only fair but you are both even right now and that’s the way it’s going to stay! Besides, something feels different about tonight’s games. The crowd seems more bloodthirsty.”

Rjurik scratched the week old growth of whiskers on his chin. “You know, I think you’re right. Something does feel different about tonight. Besides, where’s Blackfang? He should be down here any minute to gloat over us.”

No sooner had the words left Rjurik’s mouth, than Blackfang came striding through the pens. All of the captives, except the animals and the three friends bowed as he passed. Reaching their cells, Blackfang stopped and studied them.

“Well my friends. It seems we’ve been here before.”

Mortharona flashed him a wicked smile. “Are you going to fight tonight coward?”

“No Mortharona I’m not. My goddess has decreed that you will not die at my hands but at the hands or teeth of a combatant in the Pit.”  He shrugged. “I’m sorry my friend, I wish it could be different. I would love to teach you a lesson about combat.”

Shooting his arm through the pens bars, he tried to reach Blackfang’s throat but he was just out of reach. Mortharona retracted his arm quickly and said, “One day, you and I will meet in combat.”

Blackfang turned his back on the elf and walked away, laughing. Passing some guards, he barked out an order. “Bring the dwarf! He’s next!”

Sprinting to do his bidding, they grabbed Rjurik out of the cell and dragged him to the side of the Pit. At a signal from Blackfang, he was pushed in and the crowd went wild. They loved when the dwarf or the elves fought. Once the roar of the crowd died down a bit, a large club was thrown in for Rjurik to use.

This was normal. Blackfang always gave the dwarf an inferior weapon. Rjurik casually picked it up and went through a few practice swings to judge its balance and waited calmly. He didn’t have to wait long before three gnomes out of the crowd jumped into the Pit. Gnomes and dwarves are racial enemies. This hatred runs so deep and long that no one living can remember why or when the enmity between the two races started.

The three gnomes were well armed and outfitted. Each wore leather armor and carried short swords in each hand. The gnomes, laughing and jeering, tried to taunt Rjurik who just stood there. The gnomes rushed him with a loud yell. Rjurik launched himself into a dive and rolled right under the trio’s clumsy swings. Coming up behind one of the gnomes, he broke his club over its skull with a vicious two-handed swing. The unfortunate gnome dropped like a stone and the crowd went wild!

Before Rjurik could pick up one of the fallen swords, one of the remaining gnomes ran at him with his sword held out like a lance. Rjurik stepped to the side and let him run by. Of course, he did put out his foot to trip the charging gnome, which fell face first onto the sandy floor. Not waiting for the fallen gnome to get up, Rjurik pounced on his back and grabbed the gnome’s head. He pulled it as hard as he could straight back. The gnome’s neck snapped with a loud pop!

The crowd roared their approval.

Blackfang watched as the crowd began to cheer on the dwarf. They didn’t care who was winning they just wanted blood. And as long as they got it, Blackfang didn’t care who won either. For no matter who won or lost, Blackfang was the true winner and that made him happy. Turning back to the action, Blackfang watched as Rjurik picked up one of the fallen swords.

Rjurik studied it for a moment. The sword was not very pretty. He took it through a few passes and shook his head in disgust at the crude weapon. Slowly turning towards the last of the gnomes, he advanced. The gnome held his two swords in front of him in a guard position. Striding right in confidently, Rjurik parried the gnome’s first swing easily. The second parry was even easier. Then, with a thrust that came as an afterthought, Rjurik ran the gnome straight through the heart.

Throwing down the sword, he looked at the gathered crowd with undisguised disgust. Folding his arms across his body, he waited for the rope to be let down. The crowd roared with delight.

When Rjurik arrived at the top of the pit, Mortharona was grinning. “What took you so long?”

“I ran into some old friends and had to send them to the Abyss.”

The three friends watched as the evening progressed. Most of the fights were quick and brutal, lasting only several minutes. There was a long drawn out fight between the grizzly bear and a small cyclops. In the end, the bear won but was put to death by the jotens' friends. Finally, it came to the last fight of the night. Mortharona and Khlekluëllin knew it was to be their turn.

Stepping up to the edge of the pit, Blackfang raised his hands and waited for quiet. Soon, the gathered armies noticed him and fell quiet. Glancing around, Blackfang spoke in a loud voice that echoed off the cavern walls.

“My comrades, tonight is a special night; one to be relished and celebrated. By the next full moon we will be at war. Our goddess has located our greatest enemy, the Chosen One.”Blackfang spit as he said the name and the armies gathered grumbled. “He is destined to be born on the spring equinox. We cannot allow that to happen. Clotho has shown us where the Chosen One will be and has charged us with his death. Will you march with me to war?”

The crowd roared in one voice. “YES!”

“Will you bring death to the Chosen One and his sworn protectors?”

“YES!”

Playing the crowd, Blackfang continued. “What was that? I could not hear you! Will you bring death to the Chosen One and his allies?”

They roared again, this time even louder and the walls echoed with their answer. “YES!”

Someone in the crowd started a chant. With each chorus, it got louder.

“Death to the Chosen One! Death to the Chosen One!”

This went on for several minutes. Finally, Blackfang pointed to the center of the Pit. A large spider shaped altar slowly rose out of the sand.

“Behold! Our goddess demands a sacrifice. Who here, would lay down their life for our goddess and grant our cause her blessing?”

A skinny svartaflar jumped out of his seat and ran to the edge of the Pit.

Blackfang smiled at the young shadow elf and asked, “What is your name?”

“Osha.”

“Do you give yourself over to our goddess, Clotho?”

Osha nodded his head. “I do.”

“Then mount the altar of our goddess and embrace her power, so that she may bless us.”

Osha jumped into the Pit and climbed onto the altar. The crowd was strangely silent as black strands oozed out of the altar to bind the shadow elf. Rjurik, Mortharona and Khlekluëllin looked around at the gathering, puzzled. Nothing moved in the cavern, yet a large shadow seemed to pass over the dark elf’s body. Then his mouth flew open and out swarmed hundreds of spiders, crawling all over his body. The spiders slowly devoured the skinny dark elf until there was nothing left but bones.

The crowd went wild! They cheered, yelled and banged their shields and swords against each other or against rocks, anything to make more noise. The spiders crawled into the shadows of the Pit and disappeared into the darkness.

Khlekluëllin and Rjurik looked away from the gruesome sight.

Walking over to the edge of the platform, Blackfang glanced at the elves and laughed. Signaling the guards, the twins were brought to the edge of the Pit. Hopping off the platform, Blackfang drew close to them. They could smell the odor of sour wine and blood on his breath.

“Soon we march on your sister and her rescuer, Hawkeye the Wolflord. Too bad you won’t be around to see it, for tonight you die.”

With a nod of his head, they were pushed into the Pit.

*   *   *   *   *

Grunk had watched the games in complete disgust.

Trained from birth to be a warrior, Grunk was no stranger to gladiatorial games. Shortly after being kicked out of his father’s home, Grunk found employment at the arena in Niflhim, the Joten capital, first as a simple worker, then as a shield bearer and finally as a gladiator. Grunk was talented and by the end of his second season he had risen to the rank of Gladiator Five but he never found glory in the roar of the crowds. He hated the way the crowd cheered at death, smiled at the blood or jeered a fallen competitor. He left the games and his kin behind on the day he was to fight for the title of Gladiator Two. The current holder had fallen from a chariot during a pre-game race and broken his back. The owners and medics rushed out to aid him. Seeing the injury, the owners had ‘retired’ him and announced a fight to fill his spot. Grunk had walked away that same day. His father had been furious and had him banished from Niflhim. Hearing the crowd cheer at the blood games brought back those memories, none of them good. It was appalling how easily his kin had been seduced into evil.

According to legends, during the Dark Times when the Arachne were numerous and controlled nearly half of Terreth, his ancestors were just one small tribe of jotens living in the Southlands. They were no different than any other joten, with two perfectly good eyes.

When the Arachne took control of the area, instead of resisting them which was Gaul’s will, their tribe’s chieftain made a pact with the Arachne. The legends differ as to the Jarl’s reasons why he made the pact. Was it fear of subjugation? Greed? A lust for power? No one truly knows but the legends state that the Jarl had a meeting with Clotho the Spinner and offered to serve the Arachne in exchange for the gift of prophecy for himself and his kin. Clotho agreed as long as every member of the tribe made the same pledge. Once the pledge was made, Clotho cast a might spell which ripped out the eyes of every tribesmen, combined them and thrust them into the middle of their forehead.

As painful as the process was every tribesman gained the gift of prophecy which Clotho used to her advantage. The cyclops were placed in charge of the armies of Darkness and aided with their prophetic insights slaughtered every other joten and nearly overthrew the northern kingdoms. When the armies of darkness were finally defeated and the Arachne cast back into the void, Gaul took his vengeance on his wayward children. He could not undo Clotho’s magic, so he cursed them. He twisted the magic of the prophecy, limiting it to the day of their own death. So now, every day a joten is confronted with the knowledge of his or her own death.

Due to Clotho’s Curse, Grunk knew that today was not his day to die but that didn’t remove the fear of being discovered. So far, he had been able to avoid associating with any of his kin while skulking around the caverns. However this gathering was so large that Blackfang had clustered the different races into separate sections with the exception of those working. Grunk found himself within twenty feet of his father. Luckily Thantos was preoccupied with the blood games and he hadn’t noticed him..yet.

Grunk was about to slip out of the crowd when the crowd fell silent. He saw the twins pushed into the pit and his father’s grin. This did not bode well for the elven brothers.

*   *   *   *   *

Even with their hands bound, the twins executed flips to land softly on their feet. They took in the arena with a practiced eye; judging the condition of the ground and positions of the broken bodies and weapons of the last combatants. True warriors try to choose the battleground that would be the most effective for them and hinder their enemy. That advantage had been taken away from them but still knowing where the slick spots of pooling blood or a severed limb was located they could maneuver their opponent into was still an advantage. When their weapons were thrown in, the brothers retrieved their swords and cut their bonds. It was then that they realized that the crowd was strangely quiet.

A loud screech broke the silence and echoed off the cavern walls.

Looking around for its source, the twins spied five huge jotens surrounding the covered cell that Khlekluëllin had noticed earlier. The jotens, each at least nine feet tall, were having trouble dragging a bound and struggling creature in a large net. Whatever the creature was, it was extremely large and didn’t want to go with them. Suddenly the crowd roared and began banging on their shields again. They knew what was in store for the elves.

Khlekluëllin and Mortharona backed towards the far side of the Pit and readied their swords. A magical light radiated from the twin blades, illuminating the bottom of the Pit in a pale yellow glow.

When the jotens reached the edge of the Pit, they pushed their bundle into it with long poles. It landed with a large thump and for a moment nothing happened. When it finally started moving, a large reptilian tail flicked out of the net. It was forked and in the dim light of the pit it looked blue. Next, a large scaled body started backing out of the net, until the net caught on something. Thrashing back and forth violently, the net flew off it to land in a pile nearby.

The twins were shocked when they realized their opponent was to be an Air Dragon. It was truly a magnificent creature. No longer than eighty feet from tip of its tail to the edge of its snout, its wingspan was probably twice that length. Its teeth were the length of daggers and its claws the size of short swords. Its scales glistened blue in the firelight and its eyes glowed yellow with anger. The twins realized it was not a particularly large dragon, probably still an infant but it was still terrifying to behold.

Lifting its head, the dragon roared in anger. The sound echoing off the cavern walls was deafening. The crowd just laughed and screamed louder. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona could see a large chain, like a leash, running from the dragon’s neck to the five jotens which held the other end.

Turning its head, the dragon stared at the leash holders. Its eyes narrowed with an intense look of hatred as the dragon inhaled deeply. One of the jotens spoke a magical word and the chain suddenly turned bright red. Even the brothers, on the far side of the Pit, could feel the extreme heat radiating from the chain. Rearing its head back, the dragon roared in pain and a large bolt of lightning exploded into the night sky. A moment later the chain cooled down and the dragon turned its glare of hatred on the brothers.

Speaking softly, his tone showing his nervousness, Mortharona asked, “Well brother, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into. Any ideas how to get out?”

Khlekluëllin replied in an even tone. “Not really but it seems that the dragon doesn’t want to be here anymore than we do. I wonder if we can use that to our advantage?”

Unfolding its wings, the dragon flapped them once and launched himself across the Pit. The cyclops gave the leashed serpent a lot of slack in the chain. Landing gracefully in the center of the Pit, the dragon roared and lifted itself onto its hind legs and started flapping its mighty wings. The sand in the bottom of the Pit suddenly became airborne and the twins found themselves in the center of an intense sandstorm. Sand tore at their exposed flesh and entered their eyes. The last thing they saw before being blinded by the sand was the sight of a very angry dragon moving towards them quickly. Knowing they were at a great disadvantage at this very moment, they both reacted quickly.

Mortharona dove towards the far wall, where he knew the net lay empty and forgotten. Reaching it, he crawled inside and lay absolutely still.

Khlekluëllin wasn’t so lucky. The dragon was closer to him. So, he did the last thing expected of him, he dove towards the dragon. Figuring only a fool would attack or go towards the dragon; he didn’t think that it would anticipate this move. A second later, his suspicion was confirmed as the crack of lighting struck the area he had just vacated.

Khlekluëllin thought to himself. ‘That was close! How can I turn this to my advantage?’  He could feel the dragon-made sandstorm still raging but it seemed to be not as intense. ‘I’m sure that I’m close to the dragon, but how close? And where is he? I’ll just take a quick peek to try and get my bearings.’

Khlekluëllin immediately regretted opening his eyes.

Right before him, less than a foot away, was the most beautiful and terrifying sight he had ever seen. Khlekluëllin found himself nose to snout to the angry dragon. As terrifying as that was, he was overwhelmed with the intensity and beauty of the dragon’s eyes. They were the color of the sun during spring but there was also intelligence in the eyes that sparkled like the stars at night. Khlekluëllin knew that his death was before him but didn’t close his eyes again and stared back with his own blue and gold flecked eyes.

Suddenly, Khlekluëllin heard a slight voice in his head. It was just a whisper but it was there. *I am sorry about this young elf but I have no choice. I must kill you and your brother or they will torture me again. Please forgive me.*

Khlekluëllin replied Elvish. “I understand and I forgive you.”

Pulling his head back quickly, in what Khlekluëllin guessed was surprise. He heard the whisper again, this time it was a little stronger. *You heard me! No one has been able to hear me in all these years! This is great!* Lifting his head straight up, the mighty dragon roared loudly. As his wings kept up the sandstorm, he lowered his head again. *Who are you young elf?*

“I am Khlekluëllin Amarth, a Bladeweaver in the service of the Goddess Aurora, the Mistress of the Morning.”

Each time the dragon spoke, his voice got a little stronger. *I am Halhulingrath, which translated into your tongue, would roughly mean ‘the Ice Blue Death.’  I am a loyal servant of Terra the Earthmother.*

Taking comfort in the conversation, Khlekluëllin slowly sat up. “That is very interesting, my name when translated to the Elder Tongue, means ‘the Ice Blue Doom’. It seems that we were destined to meet some day. I am proud to have met you and would be honored to call you friend. Can I call you Hal, for short?”

Halhulingrath cocked his head to the side in a puzzled expression.  *I would like that and I would like to be your friend but I am supposed to eat you. That would tend to put a damper on our friendship.*

Khlekluëllin nodded. “Agreed but what if we work together to escape? My brother and I can use our blades to cut you free as long as you keep up this sandstorm.”

Hal shook his mighty head. *No blade forged by mortal hands will cut these chains. My claws and teeth are as strong as any blade and I have not been able to break them in all these years.*

Khlekluëllin smiled. “My brother’s blade and mine are two of the legendary Swords of the Moirae; the Swords of Fate. They were forged in the dawn of time by Bromois himself and enchanted by the Sisters of Fate. They will be able to cut the chain.”

*Do you think it will work?*

“Do you have anything to lose?”

*Not really. Go to work. I will keep up the ruse of our fight and find your brother.*

Climbing onto the back of Hal, Khlekluëllin called upon the magic of his blade. “Aurora, the Grand Mistress of the Morning, please grant me the strength to sever this foul chain.”

A moment later his blade, known as the Dawnsword, flared to life and radiated a brilliant yellow light. He immediately began hacking away at the chain. The noise of the crowd, the banging of their shields and their constant yelling, all blended together to make a terrific noise. Hal did his part too. Walking and stomping around the Pit, he continued to scream and roar or spit bolts of lightning and crack the floor of the Pit with his tail. In other words, Hal made a terrible racket.

A few moments later, Mortharona came crawling up the back of the dragon. His face was as white as a ghost but he flashed his brother a weak smile. “You make the strangest friends.”

Since his blade was known as the Darksword and dedicated to Hecate the Goddess of the Night, his whispered a quick prayer to her. His ancient blade began to radiate a soft black light and hum with magical power. He immediately joined his brother at hacking away at the chain. With the two of them striking the chain, the twins severed the first side of the huge chain quickly.

Shifting to new positions on the back of the mighty dragon, the attacked the second side of the chain. They had just hit the new side of the chain a few times when it turned a bright red. Hal and Mortharona screamed in pain as the searing heat penetrated through Hal’s thick scales and the red-hot chain grazed Mortharona’s thigh. The intense heat caused Hal to drop to the ground quickly, throwing off the twins. Mortharona landed on his back hard but Khlekluëllin went into a quick roll and came up standing.

Khlekluëllin glanced around. No one moved or spoke for a moment, even though they were visible to everyone in the cavern since Hal was no longer beating his wings and the cover of the sandstorm had faded.

Standing slowly, Mortharona made a very rude and crude gesture toward Blackfang. The echo of Rjurik’s laughter filled the immense chamber.

Blackfang pointed at them and yelled at the top of his lungs. “GET THEM!”

Rushing toward the fallen dragon, Khlekluëllin hacked down on the chain one last time with all his might and the huge chain fell free. Leaping onto Hal’s back, he screamed. “Fly Hal, we’re free!”

Feeling the immediate cooling of the chain, Hal didn’t need a second urging. Mortharona scrambled onto Hal’s neck and nearly lost his grip as the mighty dragon shot straight up into the night air. Suddenly, the air was full of arrows.

One large object hit Hal’s tail and seemed to get lodged there. Ignoring it, Hal flew upwards while hundreds of arrows and rocks rained in all around them. None of them scored any type of a wound. As they flew off into the cold night air, one thought ran through each of their minds. They had escaped. They were free!

*   *   *   *   *

Clenching his fists in a barely controlled rage, Blackfang scowled as he watched them fly off into the cold night air. Blackfang almost jumped as two ebony hands gently caressed his left arm and back.

“Are they away?”  Lalith asked in her sweetest voice.

Blackfang nodded. “Yes. All three escaped with the dragon, just as you planned.”  Turning to look at the dark elf, “How did you know that they would be able to communicate with the dragon?”

Lalith flashed him a timid smile. “I didn’t. Clotho did. She told me what to do; I only did as I was commanded.”

Nodding his head, Blackfang glanced up at the empty sky. “I don’t know why I had to lose my dragon though?”

Digging her fingernail into his back playfully, she shook her head. “What Clotho wants, she gets. Remember, ours is not to reason why but to do and die.”

“True but I will miss that dragon. He was a challenge. I swore that one day I was going to break him and make him my mount.”  He shrugged his shoulders. “But I guess not.”

Leaning up, Lalith bit him on the nape of the neck. “Come on lover. Let’s go and enjoy the rest of the night, for tomorrow you march to war.”

Glancing down, Blackfang noticed for the first time what Lalith was wearing or what she wasn’t wearing. Dressed in a white gossamer silk gown, her ebony skin contrasted seductively with the flimsy material. Her shapely legs, firm breasts and tight body were both revealed and covered at the same time. Blackfang felt his manliness begin to rise as he quickly reached out to grab her. With a smooth sidestep, Lalith was gone. Laughing, Blackfang gave pursuit. Forgotten for the moment were his escaped prisoners. There was only the chase, his prey and the promise of a sweet reward at the end of the hunt.

*   *   *   *   *

Grunk watched the escaping dragon with mixed emotions. He was thrilled that they had been able to escape but saddened in the fact that it would only be a brief respite. Everything he had seen or heard since entering the enemy camp foretold the beginnings of war. And in this war, no one would truly be safe.

Moving out of crowd, Grunk found a place to rest for the night, knowing that tomorrow would bring only death and destruction.

Chapter 18

On the morning of Hawkeye’s challenge, the snow had stopped falling while the wind had ceased its constant blowing. It was as if nature was waiting and watching in intense anticipation of the upcoming combat. The Tsanahwit was to take place in the wilderness surrounding the village. It was not the type of combat where you walk up and swing weapons at each other until one combatant falls. No, this was a combat of wits, skill and a sense of survival in the wild. The challenger is not allowed to leave the village until after moonrise, while the defending warlords have all day to prepare their combat sites.

There were only three rules to the Tsanahwit; one, if the challenger falls, he must be killed. Two, the defenders must act alone and three, there are no rules.

Hawkeye had spent the three days prior to the Tsanahwit in prayer, meditation or in the sweat lodge. Tatianna didn’t like what he had planned but she had learned to accept it, sort of.

Late in the afternoon on the day of the challenge, she went to see Anasazi. Knocking on the totem pole in front of the medicine lodge, she waited until a young shaman led her in. The ancient shaman was seated cross-legged before a roaring fire. Staring deep into the heart of the fire, he seemed to be in a trance and didn’t show any signs that he knew she was there. Waiting patiently for several minutes, she gently cleared her throat.

Blinking his eyes, Anasazi came out of his trance. “Greetings Red Eagle to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Bowing her head slightly, “Ancient one, I have come to beg you to talk your nephew out of this crazy action of his. I am afraid he will get himself killed.”

Looking at her, Anasazi could tell that Tatianna was about to break down into tears. Rising, he walked over to a small wooden shelf on the far wall. Pushing aside bowls, scrolls and braziers, he pulled forth a small dust covered crystal decanter. Humming to himself, he picked up two small wooden cups and returned to the fire.

Raising one eyebrow slightly, Tatianna fixed the old man with an inquisitive look.

Anasazi kept humming to himself as he placed one hand-carved cup in front of her and the other in front of himself. Placing the bottle in between them, he placed both hands on the base of the decanter and looked at her. Signaling with a nod from his head he waited while still humming.

Puzzled, she placed both hands on the neck of the decanter. She could feel a slight vibration in the crystal decanter that matched the tune he was humming. Not knowing why, she picked up the tune and hummed along side of him.

As their two voices merged and became one, the crystal decanter began to glow. The dust disappeared to reveal a golden liquid, slowly spinning inside the crystal decanter. The vibration and glowing seemed to increase in intensity with the increase in their humming. For several minutes, they continued their humming and the golden liquid continued to spin. The vibration and glow from the decanter flowed up their arms to fill their bodies with a warmth that was strangely invigorating. Soon the vibration had grown so much that Tatianna was afraid the decanter would shatter. Finally, there was a flash of brilliant white light that filled the whole room and threw them back onto the furs. Ceasing its vibration, the glow slowly faded from the decanter.

Gasping for breath, Tatianna asked, “What was that?”

Leaning down, Anasazi opened the decanter and poured some of the golden liquid into each cup.  The fragrant smell of daisies on a spring meadow filled the room. Lifting his cup to his lips, he took a small sip. “That my dear was an ancient ceremony of friendship passed down through thousands of years known only as the Ritual of Elven Mead.”

A confused look crossed her face. “The Ritual of Elven Mead? Why haven’t I ever heard of it?”

Anasazi shrugged. “Because very few elves care for the ancient ways. The only ones that know it are usually scholars and mages and they don’t perform it very often.”  He pointed at the bottle. “These decanters are very rare and quite expensive. The secret of making them have been lost for thousands of years.”

Tatianna took a small sip. A smile spread across her face, as she tasted mead, elven mead for the first time since leaving her homeland. It was delicious. A comfortable warmth ran down her throat and spread throughout her body. It was relaxing. Leaning back into the furs, she let the mead do its job.

Settling back into his own furs, Anasazi sipped on his cup as he talked. “This decanter was a gift from your mother a long time ago. She gave it to me shortly after an encounter we had with a particularly nasty earth dragon. Let me tell you the story, it might help you in your own predicament.”

Refilling his cup, he gazed into the fire as he began his story. “Many years ago, long before you were born, there was a rogue earth dragon that was terrorizing a small village of halflings in the mountains south of your homeland. This earth dragon had kidnapped every child of the village and killed most of the men folk. The children were used as leverage to make the remaining halflings mine some precious gems out of a local cave.”

Anasazi refilled Tatianna’s cup and continued his story. “We, the Wings of Justice, came to the village to help. It was obvious we could not just attack the earth dragon, as the battle was sure to kill the captive halflings. So, your mother came up with a bold plan. It was simple, yet extremely dangerous. She would challenge the dragon to a duel of wits, a riddle contest. If she won, the dragon would free the villagers and leave the area. If the dragon won, he could eat your mother and we would have to leave the area.”

Leaning forward eagerly, Tatianna’s eyes and mouth were open in excitement. She had never heard stories about her mother’s past. Anasazi, engrossed in his story didn’t notice the look on her face as he continued.

“I was the only one of the group to support her plan. Obviously, we argued. None of the others wanted her to do that, it seemed too risky. But no one could come up with a better plan. In the end it came down to one thing.”  Turning to her, he leaned forward. “Do you know what that was?”

Tatianna shook her head. “No. What?”

“Trust! Pure and simple trust. We had to have faith in that she knew what she was doing. Her argument was simple and straightforward. If we trusted her to guard our backs during combat, then why would we not trust her now? The others could not argue with her logic. So, we trusted her.”

Settling back into the furs, he pulled forth his pipe and began to fill it.

Her anxiety getting the better part of her patience, she asked, “Well, what happened?”

The old man smirked. “Why, she won of course. It wasn’t easy. The riddle contest lasted the better part of the day but in the end your mother stumped the dragon with a simple riddle.”

Tatianna smiled at the thought of her mother, small and frail, face to face with a huge man-eating dragon and winning a riddle contest. “What was the riddle?”

Pausing long enough to take a drag off his pipe and to complete the pipe ceremony he said, “Let me see, how did it go? I am the constant companion of all, from warrior to thief, from king to pauper, and dragon to otter. I steal the spring out of the elves’ steps and the gleam from the dwarves’ eyes. I am the thief of hearts that wipes the innocence from children’s mind. With my coming, mountains crumble and rivers dry up. All may run, yet none may hide. I am the greatest thief of all, who am I?”

Tatianna sitting back took another sip of the elven mead. The golden liquid traveled slowly down her throat, warming her. Thinking on the riddle for several moments, she shook her head. “If I had to guess, I would say death!”

Anasazi chuckled. “If that was the proper answer, you would have never had been born. For that was the dragon’s answer and it is wrong.”  Shaking his head slightly, “No, the answer is time. Only time can do all of those things.”

Refilling her wooden cup, he leaned back into the furs and took a sip from his own cup.

Sitting back, Tatianna let her mind dwell on the subject of her mother, the riddle and time. As she drank more of the elven mead it began to work its subtle magic on her. Her mind began drifting across the many miles to the Elfholm, her homeland. In her mind’s eye, she could see the majestic redwood trees, the towering oaks, the beautiful rock gardens of the palace and the seas of flowers that bloomed all year round. She immediately felt at peace. Her mind began to wander through all the places she knew and loved in her youth. Slowly, her thoughts returned to the present. From her vantage point of being completely relaxed and slightly separated from reality, she could see her situation in a new light. The stresses that were bothering her were all trivial when compared to the problems of the world. She realized only three things truly mattered in her life; her dedication to her goddess Aurora; the man she loved, Hawkeye; and her unborn son, the Chosen One. Everything else in her life was trivial when compared to these three things.

Sitting up, she fixed her blue eyes on Anasazi. “You are trying to tell me to trust Hawkeye. That he knows what he’s doing and only time will tell if he was right.”  Rising, she picked up her eagle-headed staff and took a step toward the door. Pausing, she turned back. “Thank you, Anasazi. Your wisdom has helped me see truth in this situation. I love Hawkeye. I don’t like what he is doing but I will have to trust him. The gods trust him, so must I. Thank you again.”

Standing slowly, the old shaman smiled. “You are very much like your mother, beautiful and emotional, yet surprisingly logical.”

Picking up the decanter, he handed it to her. “Here, take this. It was once your mother’s and now it is yours. She placed an enchantment on it that keeps it from ever running dry. So, when the little stresses of life become too great or you wish to remember your homeland, perform the ritual as you have now learned it. It will help you forget the bad and remember the good.”

Holding the decanter gingerly, she gazed at the old shaman. Her smile was warm and her eyes were bright, yet full of tears. “Thank you, I will treasure it always.”

Leaning forward quickly, she kissed him lightly on his left cheek and left him alone with his thoughts.

*   *   *   *   *

Hawkeye spent the afternoon in preparation for the combat. He had cleaned and polished his war club. It was made of ironwood, a rare tree found only in the most southern parts of the Highlands. It was red in appearance and when properly cured had the strength of iron. His war club was carved in the shape of an eagle’s talon holding a large ball. The shaft was wrapped in red leather with three eagle feathers hanging from the base. This was one of his most cherished weapons. It had belonged to his father and was one of the few items he had left behind on the night of his disappearance.

Since he had no intention of killing anyone, this was the weapon he planned to use throughout the Tsanahwit. However a true warrior is always ready to battle to the death. So, he also spent time preparing his other weapons. He sharpened his tomahawk until its razor like edge could split a hair.

He also cleaned, polished and wrapped new grips on the fire scarred knife and sword he had picked up on his journey. Both weapons were still extremely sharp. After taking them through a few practice strokes, he decided that they were also extremely well balanced.

As he worked on his weapons, his mind drifted off to the upcoming combat. He knew that the warlords of the Boar, Raven, Puma and Owl tribes would submit if he proved he could defeat them in single combat but he wasn’t sure of the rest, especially the Wolverine and Bear Tribe Warlords. These two were normally the most aggressive and warlike of all the tribes. They typically liked to fight to the death but if defeated, they would have no choice but to follow him.

A smile crept over his face as he thought about the Fox Tribe. Now, that was one warlord he was looking forward to defeating. He had been a little too arrogant on the night of his challenge. He had asked around to some of the other warriors about the Fox chieftain, known as Red Ferret. All he could find out was that he was young, only about twenty or so and very aggressive. He had assumed the dual position of warlord and chieftain on the same night early in the summer after a landslide had killed both the former chieftain and warlord. Rumor was that it was not an accident but no one could prove otherwise.

A rap on his totem pole brought him out of his reverie. “Enter.”

His kinsman, Bravefoot entered. Dusting off the snow that had collected on his black fur cloak, his face was full of concern and worry.

Hawkeye greeted the young warrior at the door. “Greetings my friend, what is it that brings you to my lodge?”

Grasping Hawkeye’s forearm in the traditional greeting of warriors, Bravefoot smiled. “Greetings Wolflord, I bring bad news. Several of our scouts have returned from the western hunting grounds. It seems that Blackfang and his Dark Alliance have razed all the camps in the area. Our scouts reported seeing a large number of cyclops and goblins roaming the area searching for survivors.”

Furrowing his brow, Hawkeye stroked his chin with his right hand. “Do we have an estimate of the how large the attacking force was?”

“From the few survivors we have rescued, they attacked in the dead of the night, swarming over the defenses and defenders. By all accounts the attacking force was roughly fifteen hundred goblins, at least three dozen cyclops and several hundred gnomes.” Bravefoot hesitated for a moment before asking, “What does this mean? What is Blackfang up to?”

Forcing a smile, Hawkeye clasped the younger warrior on the shoulder. “What it means my friend is that the price of failure just went up. If I fail tonight, then the highlanders not associated with Blackfang will not live to see the summer. Blackfang intends to attack during the Yuletide Festival.”

A look of shock and disbelief crossed Bravefoot’s face. “So soon? You’ve got to be joking. No highlander would launch an attack before the spring equinox! That is one of Luna’s sacred laws. Even Blackfang wouldn’t break that tradition.”

Hawkeye chuckled. “Why? He has broken other traditions. Why not that one? You are assuming he thinks like you. If there is one thing I have learned over the last several years, thou shalt never assume! I’m not taking anything for granted. We will be ready for the Dark Alliance whenever they attack.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, two things. First, send a small war party to check the southern ridgeway.”

“Why?”

Hawkeye walked over to a small bench. “I’m sure Blackfang has sent some of his troops north to spy on us. I think it would be a good idea if we had a welcoming committee waiting for them.”

Nodding his head, Bravefoot waited for Hawkeye to continue. After a brief moment he added, “And the second?”

Picking up several bowls of war paint and a small bundle of herbs from the bench, Hawkeye returned to the fire.

“Pray. If I am not successful tonight then the Highland Nation is doomed. I can feel it. Our only hope is to act as one nation, not nine tribes.”

Seeing Hawkeye returning to his ritual, Bravefoot turned to go but added, “Good luck Wolflord. May Luna’s light shine on you in tonight’s quest.”

“Thank you my friend. May Luna’s light shine on us all.”

Sitting down with his legs crossed, Hawkeye placed the bowls to the right of the fire but within easy reach. Throwing the bundle of herbs on the fire, he closed his eyes and began to chant. Gray smoke and a strong aroma immediately filled the lodge as the fire quickly consumed the dry herbs. Breathing deeply, Hawkeye continued to chant for several minutes. Then, placing two fingers in one of the bowls, he began to spread the war paint on his body.

At moonrise the whole village was gathered in or around the Lodge of the Moon, only the Great Council was seated in their traditional spot near the large bonfire that blazed in the center. The lodge was noisy as everyone gossiped to the person next to him or her. Only the Great Council sat quietly, waiting. As Hawkeye approached, all who were in his way drew back and fell silent. Gone was the easy going, silent warrior they had come to know and love. Here stood the fierce Wolflord, dressed in his battle array of his wolf mantle and gray furs while his face, chest and arms were striped with black, red and white war paint. Each stripe represented a wound or scar he had received in combat; the black marks represented injuries caused by animals, the red by warriors and the white by ranged weapons; arrows or spears. Hawkeye had more red than black stripes and very few white marks.

Stepping into the lodge, Hawkeye briefly scanned the room. He knew most of the warriors gathered but nowhere did he see Tatianna. Reaching the Great Council, he dropped to one knee as a sign of respect. The first thing he noticed were the two empty seats at the council. Red Ferret and Odovacar were missing. Hawkeye realized they were both a part of tonight’s challenge.

Bowing his head, he said, “My greetings to the Great Council, I humbly ask for your blessing in this ancient ritual.”

Red Crow picked up an ancient wing of an eagle, dipped it into a bowl of water and brushed them across Hawkeye’s forehead. “Go Kamots Hawkeye the Wolflord. You have the blessing of the Great Council and the hopes of the Highland Nation.”

Hawkeye locked eyes with Red Crow for a moment. He could see a mixture of hope, sadness and pride. Glancing over to his uncle, he saw the same in his eyes.

Flashing them a wink, Hawkeye added, “I shall return victorious or not at all.”

As Hawkeye left the lodge, everyone gathered followed him to the village’s perimeter, except the Great Council. They sat alone in the Lodge of the Moon and began to chant their prayers to their goddess.

The full moon was just rising over the trees in the east as Hawkeye reached the gates of the village. The warriors on guard duty bowed their heads briefly in a silent salute. The cheering crowd stopped at the gate and fell silent.

Hawkeye continued a few yards before stopping to follow customs of the ancient ritual. Raising his war club above his head, he let out a loud war cry that echoed off the valley walls.

“Kamots Hawkeye the Wolflord is on the hunt! Let all those who would stand against me beware!”

Breaking into a slow run, Hawkeye followed the road to the bottom of the mountain before turning toward the forest. The gathered highlanders watched him run off into the forest before returning to the warmth of the village.

All save one. While the guards and the crowds watched Hawkeye run off into the forest, a solitary figure cloaked all in black, slipped over the wall and slithered into the darkness to the south completely unobserved.

*   *   *   *   *

Hawkeye slowed his pace when he reached the forest. Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of jasmine mixed with a familiar odor. Tatianna! She was nearby!

Movement to his left caught his eye, as she stepped out from behind a large pine tree. She was wearing her midnight blue dress and blood red sash. She looked radiant.

Her voice was soft and delicate as she spoke. “Hello my beloved.”

Rushing together, they held each other in a strong embrace, neither of them speaking a word for several minutes. Finally, Hawkeye stepped back. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

She flashed him a crooked smile. “You should know I wouldn’t let my wolfman go off without giving him something to remember me by.”  Reaching into her sash, she pulled forth a golden scarf. “Take this as a token of my love.”

Gently reaching out, Hawkeye took the scarf. It was warm to the touch and seemed to glow slightly. “Thank you my love. I will treasure it always.”

“It has been blessed by Aurora and enchanted with the morning sun. When the need is great and the darkness surrounds you, close your eyes and throw it in the air. Aurora will do the rest.”

Gingerly, he tucked it in his belt pouch and pulled her into his arms. “I love you.”

“And I you. Just be careful and come back to us.”

Kneeling down, Hawkeye kissed her belly. In a soft whisper that Tatianna only heard because of her sharp elven ears. “Take care of your mother, son. She’s very important to both of us.”

Standing up, he noticed the tears running down her cheeks. Reaching up, he wiped them dry. “Don’t cry my love. I will be back tomorrow night in plenty of time for dinner.”

“I know. Just be careful. I have a bad feeling.”

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I do trust you. I just wish I could be with you.”

“Get some rest. I will see both of you tomorrow night.” Giving her a farewell kiss, Hawkeye moved off into the forest.

As Tatianna watched him disappear into the darkness, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. She trusted and believed in him, yet a feeling of dread clutched at her heart. Shaking her head to clear it of such negative thoughts, she turned toward the village and made her way slowly through the knee-deep snow.

Chapter 19

Moving slowly through the dark forest, Hawkeye covered only a few feet at a time. Hunched slightly over, he studied the ground. It was dark under the trees of the forest, yet enough moonlight shown through the branches to slightly illuminate the ground. It was enough to show Hawkeye that someone had passed this way recently. Their tracks in the snow, although they tried to smooth them out, were still visible to a skilled woodsman. Studying the surrounding forest with all of his senses, he followed the tracks slowly.

For the better part of an hour, he moved through the forest with care. Soon his whole body was in pain. His back ached from being crouched over, his eyes hurt from straining to see, his ears throbbed from listening so hard, and his toes were numb from the cold. Smiling at the pain, Hawkeye stopped briefly and stretched. He could hear the bones in his back pop as they realigned themselves. Although he hurt, Hawkeye was glad for the pain. It told him he was doing everything right. As a veteran of many battles, he knew that many times pain was your only friend and it would keep him honest as long as he embraced pain instead of trying to avoid pain.

Sniffing the air for clues, Hawkeye found none other than the wind coming from the north. Turning his attention back to the faint trail, he continued his pursuit. After another hour, he froze. Some sixth sense warned him of danger. It wasn’t anything he smelled, heard or saw; yet all of his senses working together warned him of danger. Not moving a muscle, Hawkeye carefully studied his surroundings. A moment later, a few inches from his right foot, he spied a small vine that looked slightly out of place; a trip wire.

Glancing to his right and left, he noticed a small pile of wood chips at the base of a large pine. Frowning as he recognized the trap. The trip wire would release the severed tree to fall, right where he would be standing. It was a good trap but it was sloppy. The trip wire was too high off the ground to be invisible and the wood chips were a dead giveaway.

Wondering who set it, Hawkeye readied his war club and eased himself into the shadow of a nearby tree. Then, he waited. A slight smile crossed his lips, as he heard his adopted father’s voice come back to him out of the past, ‘A patient hunter is a smart hunter. Remember; there are old hunters and bold hunters. But there are very few old, bold hunters.’

Hawkeye didn’t have to wait long, no more than a quarter of an hour, before Red Ferret poked his head out of a nearby bush. He was only about twenty feet away from Hawkeye’s current position at the edge of a large clearing. Red Ferret quickly scanned the nearby underbrush. Not seeing Hawkeye, he moved slowly out of his hiding place. Taking great care not to step into the center, he moved slowly around the clearing pausing several times at different places. Hawkeye guessed he was checking his traps.

As Red Ferret approached the log trap nearby, Hawkeye forced himself to relax and to not look directly at the Fox chieftain. He knew that staring at someone many times gives the person an uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Out of the corner of his eyes, Hawkeye watched in grim fascination as Red Ferret checked his trap. It was not a simple log trap. No, the fox warlord had fixed the log with numerous pointed spikes. He was playing for keeps. A cold smile worked its way onto Hawkeye’s face. If that is the way he wants it, then that is the way we will play.

Hawkeye waited until Red Ferret settled back in to his hide before creeping out of his concealment.

The full moon was just reaching its zenith as Hawkeye crawled forward. Stepping over the clumsy trip wire, he moved toward the bush without making the slightest noise. The faint noise of regular breathing and a few muffled snores came from the bush. Hawkeye couldn’t believe his ears! Red Ferret was asleep! A wave of anger washed over him.

‘How could he sleep? Did he feel that safe behind his traps? What would he do during the coming war?’

Putting away his war club, Hawkeye drew out his knife. The mirror finish reflected the glow of the moon as he debated the situation. He could easily reach in and cut Red Ferret’s throat before he could wake up and although death was frowned on by the challenger of the Tsanahwit, it was not unheard of either. Hawkeye would be in the right by killing one so derelict in his duties. As that thought crossed his mind, an even meaner and more malicious thought came to him.

Reaching in slowly, Hawkeye carefully cut off one of Red Ferret’s long braids. Tucking the braid into his belt pouch, he slowly made his way out of the clearing. A broad smile crept over his face. Red Ferret was defeated and didn’t even know it. His humiliation would be more satisfying than actually defeating him in combat. Hawkeye couldn’t help but smile as he moved further away from the sleeping Fox Chieftain and deeper into the forest.

Traveling west for about an hour, Hawkeye stopped at the base of a large hill that was nestled deep in the forest. There were numerous tracks leading to the top. No attempt had been made to hide these tracks. It was as if whoever made them didn’t care who found them.

Dropping to his knees, Hawkeye studied the tracks better. There were at least five separate and distinct tracks, all humanoid, all wearing moccasins. Furrowing his brow at this, Hawkeye gazed at the top of the hill.

Speaking softly to himself, “As far as I know, only highlanders wear moccasins. Are these tracks of friends or foes? I better be extra careful. Five to one are not the greatest odds.” A wicked smile crept over his harsh features, “Of course, they aren’t the worst either.”

That’s when the wind shifted slightly; no longer coming from the north bringing tidings of snow but from the northwest the wind flowed over the hill carrying the scents of smoke and roasting meat. Even more puzzled, Hawkeye slowly crept up the southeast side of the hill. His progress was slow and cold. By the time he reached the crest, he was covered from head to toe in snow and took in the strange scene before him.

Gathered around a small campfire were five highlanders. Studying them carefully, Hawkeye recognized them as the warlords from the Boar, Raven, Owl, Puma and Lynx tribes. They were seated around the campfire roasting a deer. Seeming relaxed, their weapons were still within easy reach. Odovacar was the only warrior Hawkeye actually knew by name but he knew the rest by their reputation, each were fierce warriors in their own right.

Odovacar held up his hand “Quiet!”  Hawkeye could hear his deep voice even at this distance. Looking around at the surrounding darkness, Odovacar spoke again. “He comes.”

The others casually glanced at the darkness.

Seeing nothing gained by staying in the snow, Hawkeye stood up. Brushing off the snow, he walked slowly into the firelight. Odovacar met him halfway, holding out his right arm, palm open and empty.

Grasping it firmly Hawkeye asked, “Well met my friend. What’s going on?”

Gesturing toward an empty log near the fire Odovacar said, “Have a seat. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Taking the offered seat, Hawkeye studied the other warlords. Each nodded their heads in a form of greeting. Returning their nods, he looked back at Odovacar and waited for the coming explanation.

Odovacar held out a piece of roasted deer on his knife. “Would you like some venison?” Gesturing at the Puma warlord he added, “Golden Wind is a wonderful cook.”

Hawkeye shook his head. “Thank you but no. It will only slow me down tonight. What I would like is an explanation.”

“It’s really very simple. You win.”

“What do you mean, I win?”

“Just what I said, you win. We,” gesturing at the other four warlords, “agree with what you are trying to do. Therefore, we submit. There is no reason for us to come to blows. We believe you are the only one that has a chance of saving the Highland Nation. Besides, Luna chose you to raise the child of prophecy. So, who are we to challenge her will?”

When Golden Wind spoke his voice was soft and subtle, yet held the hint of authority. “The other three Warlords didn’t agree with us, especially Red Ferret. He does not like you for some reason.”

Pulling out Red Ferret’s braid with two red feathers still attached to one end. Hawkeye twirled it around so everyone could see. “I have a feeling he will like me even less now.”

The Lynx warlord shouted, “You killed him!”

“No, but the thought did cross my mind. He is unharmed. I left him the same way I found him, asleep in the bushes.”

The shocked looks on everyone’s face, confirmed what he already suspected, that Red Ferret had crossed the last line. A warrior might be rude, mean and spiteful and still everyone would look the other way. But to be derelict in their duties was another thing. Red Ferret would not be chieftain or warlord of the Red Fox tribe for much longer. Hawkeye noticed Odovacar clenching his fists, time and time again.

When Odovacar finally spoke again, his deep voice was edged with nearly uncontrolled rage. “Don’t worry about Red Ferret. I will take care of him personally. My pack shares hunting grounds with the Red Fox tribe. If he would fall asleep during this ritual, what would he do in the upcoming war or if my pack was attacked? No, I will take care of Red Ferret. I will see to it that he is no longer a member of the Great Council or holds a position of power in his tribe or any other.”

Placing a gentle hand on Odovacar’s shoulder, Golden Wind spoke softly. “Relax my brother. Your rage is understandable but a waste of energy. Red Ferret has disgraced himself and he will pay for his crimes. Don’t let anger cloud your thinking or you will do something you regret.”  Odovacar nodded at the wise words.  Golden Wind turned to face Hawkeye. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“No my friends, you have done enough. I will see all of you at the celebration tomorrow night.”  Moving back down the hill, Hawkeye disappeared into the darkness.

Several huge, unblinking eyes watched as Hawkeye left the campfire and moved into the forest. Turning, they slowly backed down the other side of the hill and headed off in the same general direction as Hawkeye.

*   *   *   *   *

Returning to the village, Tatianna paused in the doorway of her small tipi.  She was exhausted from the stress of the last few days and the hike through the deep snow had not helped. Glancing down at herself, she noticed remnants of the heavy snow still clinging to her soft leather boots. Sitting down on her sleeping furs, she pulled off one boot and tossed it across the tipi. Landing with a soft thump near the small fire, some of the snow flew off to land in the fire. With a quick sizzle, it was gone. A moment later the second boot followed, along with all of her clothes. They all landed a few feet away from the fire.

Climbing under the thick pile of furs for warmth, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Tossing and turning, Tatianna tried to get comfortable but nothing seemed to help. Her mind kept replaying all of the events of the last several months. She thought of the loss of her twin brothers and the surly dwarf Rjurik.  Her mind froze on the events at the Shrine of Luna. She could see in her mind’s eye all that transpired that night. Although she knew it had happened to her, she felt detached from the events and for the first time since her rape she let her mind dwell on the reality of being pregnant. Even after her trip to the realm of the Gods, she had not let herself think about being a mother. She had thrown herself into the mission given to her by Aurora, to raise and train the child of the prophecy.

Throwing back the furs, she stood up quickly. Walking over to her backpack, she pulled out a small silver mirror. It was no more than three or four inches in diameter but she set it on the ground near the fire. Closing her eyes for a moment, she called upon the magic at her disposal. Pointing at the small mirror, she spoke in a commanding tone. “Thera Engarage!”

The mirror slowly expanded until it was about four feet in diameter. Propping it up, Tatianna studied her reflected image.

Although not extremely tall, her long legs were shapely and well defined. They were not too muscular to be unattractive but they were very athletic and strong. Turning slightly, she studied her profile. Her breasts were shapely and firm, not as large as some of the woman in the highland village but not as small as some either. She thought them to be the perfect size, large enough to accent her figure nicely but not too big to be a hindrance in battle. Glancing at her stomach, it remained flat and muscular. A slight grimace crept over her face; there were no visible signs of her pregnancy, yet. She knew that sometime over the next year and half all that would change as the child grew inside her. It also meant her life would have to change. She would no longer be free and alone. There would be a child dependent on her for his life. This one thought scared her more than facing Blackfang and his army.

Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror and was about to return to her bed when she spied the necklace given to her by Hawkeye and she felt the hair at the back of her neck rise. The feeling of dread that had plagued her all day was back.

“That does it! I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Opening a small wooden chest that sat at the foot of her sleeping furs, she pulled out several talismans, three wooden bowls and five crystal vials and brought them to the edge of the fire. Sitting cross-legged, she placed her possessions within easy reach. Opening three of the vials, she poured the powder contents into the bowls. Closing her eyes, she took ten deep breaths. Holding each for several seconds before releasing them, she felt her mind calm and she began to feel one with the Weave. Opening her eyes slightly, she called upon the ability known as ‘the magesight’ which allowed a mage to actually view the Weave. Glancing around her tipi, she could see a rainbow of colored lines flowing around her. They ran in all directions. To the untrained eye, they looked tangled and chaotic but to someone trained in the ways of magic, there was a pattern. It was very subtle but it was there.

Furrowing her brow slightly, she studied the Weave intensely for several moments. Finding the particular strand she was searching for, she reached out carefully to grab it. When she touched the strand, a slight tingle ran up her arm and through her body. It was warm and made the hair on the back of her arms stand out. Pulling the strand slowly to the fire, she picked up the bowl of white powder and poured it into the fire which began to smoke and seemed to burn brighter. Grabbing a pinch of black powder from another bowl, she threw it onto the fire, it flashed brilliantly. Touching the strand to the billowing smoke, she spoke a single word. “Athas!”

Releasing the strand, the fire flashed once more then faded to a small blue flame. The dark gray smoke that billowed out of the small fire remained right above the fire, rolling and turning in on itself in constant motion. Taking several deep breaths she said, “By the grace of Aurora, show me Kamots Hawkeye.”

The gray smoke turned darker until it was pitch black. It continued to roll and twist but slowly the smoke began to take shapes. Soon Tatianna could see the distinctive form of Hawkeye as he was walking through the dark woods with his head lowered, studying the ground before him. Pausing every once in a while he would sniff the air and gaze at every shadow. Not finding anything, he would continue on his trek. Watching him for several minutes, she noticed how edgy he was becoming. He began to jump at every sound and be suspect of every shadow. Finally, he placed his back to a large rock and crouched down, weapons ready. He glanced to the right and left constantly as sweat beaded on his forehead.

Puzzled, Tatianna spoke to herself. “What could be wrong? Maybe someone is following him.”

Using her magic, she let the smoke images shift from him to the surrounding forest. She spent several minutes searching the forest around him but found nothing out of the ordinary. Willing the images to focus back on Hawkeye, she saw him relaxing in the same spot. He had pulled forth a small bundle of dried meat and was drinking from a deer skin flask. As soon as the images focused in on him, Hawkeye dropped his flask and grabbed his weapons.

“What in Aurora’s name is going on? There is nothing around him. What is he sensing? Unless…” A look of shock crossed her face. “Unless, he’s sensing me somehow. I bet he can sense the magic. Well as much as I want to watch you, your life and privacy is more important. Good luck my love.”

Reaching up Tatianna pulled Hawkeye’s strand from the smoke and the images faded away. She sat back and pondered the situation for several moments.

“If I cannot watch him through direct magical scrutiny, how can I know if he needs my help?”

Her eyes fell on the eagle head staff that Hawkeye had given her and a thought came to her. “If I cannot watch him directly, then why not watch him indirectly?”

Picking up her staff, she returned to the fire. Taking several more deep breaths, she fell back into a slight trance and scanned the surrounding Weave. After several minutes, she found the group of strands she was searching for. Pulling off a feather from her staff, she poked it into the group of strands. Most of the strands fell away but one strand seemed to get caught on the feather.

It was a dark strand, black as midnight. Using the feather, she pulled it to the fire. Throwing in another handful of black powder, she thrust the feather and strand into the flashing fire. Her voice was loud and strong as she commanded. “Come! Come forth messenger of Aurora! Come and help me in my time of need!”

The fire grew to such a great height that Tatianna was worried it would catch the tipi’s skin afire but still she didn’t move. She stared deep into the heart of the fire as the black smoke seemed to fold in on itself. There was a great flash of light and heat that knocked her back onto her furs.

Opening her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that it was pitch black inside her tipi. The fire had gone out; there wasn’t even a glow from the coals. The second thing she noticed was that she was no longer alone. She could hear the slight rustle of feathers and the telltale flap of a bird’s wings.

Calling upon her magic, she spoke a single word, “Anar!”

The fire came back to life with a soft warm glow. Her eyes fell upon the magnificent bird that sat across from her. It was coal black and looked like a large eagle. She had heard stories of such birds. They were known as shadowhawks. Birds made of smoke and shadow that live in the mystical realm known as the Shadowlands.

Shadowhawks were in all respect a normal living hawk with two exceptions. First, they were extremely intelligent. One legend tells that Eldath had one that learned to speak elvish, Tatianna didn’t know if that was true but it was a nice story. The second were their magical abilities granted to them through their summoning. Shadowhawks had the ability to pass through any two shadows, covering a great distance in a short time and to blend into the shadows; a shadowhawk that was sitting in a dark tree would be nearly undetectable.

Reaching out gingerly, Tatianna stroked its head.

“Hello, there. Thank you for answering my summons. I don’t know your name, so I will call you Dûrdae, which means ‘deepest shadow’ in my ancient tongue.”

It chirped at her attention.

“I have a small mission for you. I would like for you to find Hawkeye and keep watch over him. Would you do that for me?”

Giving several quick chirps Dûrdae seemed to wink at her before launching himself toward the tipi wall. Tatianna watched in fascination as he dove into the shadow at the base of the mirror and disappeared into the darkness. Smiling, Tatianna crawled back under her sleeping furs and fell fast asleep.

Chapter 20

Kneeling against the large rock, Hawkeye felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up again. Someone was watching him. Scanning the surrounding forest, he couldn’t see any movement nor did he smell anything out of the ordinary. Yet, all of his senses screamed at him that someone or something was watching him. Minutes passed and nothing stirred in the surrounding forest. The creatures of the forest also sensed something was wrong and went into hiding. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

Tightening his grip on his tomahawk and knife, Hawkeye whispered to the darkness. “All right whoever you are, if you want to wait and see… then we will wait. I’m a patient man. We can sit here all night if need be.”

Minutes passed and still nothing happened. Then, just as quickly as it had come over him, the feeling left him. Hawkeye still didn’t see, smell or hear anything out of the ordinary. “What are you up to?”

As the forest creatures came out of hiding and the normal sounds of the winter night returned, Hawkeye relaxed the grip on his weapons.

The wind had died down to a gentle breeze that came from the west, which was a good thing. Wind from the west always carried the faint scent of salt from the Great Sea that lay many leagues past the home of the dwarves. This breeze was also slightly warmer than any that would come from the north, which foretold of a break in the snow soon. A break in the snow was a mixed blessing, it was good in the sense that the knee-deep snow wouldn’t get any worse over the next couple of days giving his people’s hunters plenty of time to bring in more stores for the coming winter. Bad in the sense it gave Blackfang and his men ample time to do the same thing or even send a raiding party north.

That thought lingered in his head for several minutes. The voice of his adopted father ran through his head, ‘To know your enemy, is to know yourself. The strength of your enemy defines your strength as a warrior.’

He thought about what he knew of his brother, Blackfang. The phrase ‘his brother’ still bothered him. How could he be a brother to such a bloodthirsty beast? But he didn’t doubt Anasazi. If his uncle said that Blackfang was his brother, then they were brothers. A slight twinge of regret swept through his body. It would have been great to grow up with a brother. Someone to share his adventures with instead of the lonely path he had taken. Although, it wouldn’t have been lonely if Blackfang had not killed his family; he could have explored the Highlands with his twin sons.

No! Blackfang being his brother won’t change what he had to do the next time they met. Shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts of revenge, Hawkeye didn’t want it to cloud his judgment. Turning back to the task at hand, what did he know about Blackfang? First, he was a powerful warrior that relied on fear, intimidation and strength to lead. He seemed to crave power and control. He also didn’t care about his men or allies, just himself. That could be a weakness he might be able to exploit given the right opportunity. Blackfang’s men and allies wouldn’t be very loyal to him if they were following him out of fear. Meaning their morale could be low or reduced given the right circumstances. On the other hand, if Blackfang has the backing of one of the Arachne, then his men might be following him out of religious fervor and Hawkeye knew that religious zealots were dangerous. Zealots have no care for their own well being and will fight to the death.

A faint sound from the south brought him out of his reverie. It sounded like a twig snapping. Someone was nearby. Sniffing the air, he couldn’t smell anything out of the ordinary but the wind was still coming from the west carrying any scents away from him. Could it be one of the last two warlords he had yet to face?  That question raced through his mind but Hawkeye doubted it. From what he knew about the last two warlords neither would be that foolish. Besides, any highlander capable of becoming and retaining the title of warlord would not be so careless as to step on a twig, even in this snow. No, it had to be strangers, probably servants of Blackfang. Quickly putting away his flask of water and bundle of dried meat, Hawkeye moved off in search of new prey.

Sitting on the crest of the large rock overhead, Dûrdae watched. He too had heard the twig snap. Spreading his magnificent wings, he launched himself off the rock. His night black wings caught the westerly wind and lifted him into the night sky.

Passing the base of another large boulder, Hawkeye froze as a great roar split the night air. A series of yells, curses and several cries of pain echoed off the trees. Recognizing the screams as gnomish, Hawkeye knew that minions of Blackfang were indeed in the forest. Abandoning stealth, he sped through the underbrush and over the deep snow as quickly as possible. Breaking into a clearing, Hawkeye took in the sight before him with a glance.

On the far side of the clearing, surrounded by ten gnomes was the second largest grizzly bear Hawkeye had ever seen. Standing on his hind legs, he was close to twelve feet tall. His tree-sized arms ended in huge paws with finger length claws. They were busy ripping the guts out of an already dead cyclops. The bodies of several gnomes lay at his feet, shredded and bleeding.

Having long spears, the ten gnomes stood out of the bear’s reach and began stabbing at the grizzly from all sides. Three cyclops stood on this side of the clearing with their backs to Hawkeye throwing large rocks at the bear.

Cyclops are not known for being the greatest marksmen on Terreth; their one eye hindering their depth perception but even a blind man will hit a wall once in a while. While Hawkeye took in the scene before him, the three cyclops only hit the grizzly one out of three throws but the one-eyed titans are extremely strong and the great bear would roar in pain whenever they did score a hit.

Studying the layout of the battle, Hawkeye recognized the great bear as Nilrem, the warlord of the Bear tribe. Nilrem’s name meant ‘one of great strength’ in their ancient tongue but even his great strength would not overcome the grim odds he was facing. Nilrem could hold his own against the ten gnomes or the three cyclops but probably not both.

Hawkeye’s mind flashed back to the only time he had met the formidable Bear Warlord. It was shortly after the death of his family; Nilrem had come by for a visit and to offer his condolences. Hawkeye had been immediately impressed with the Bear Warlord. Several years his senior, Nilrem was a great warrior whose true strength lay, not in his physical prowess but in his beliefs. He radiated a calm and inner peace that seemed to affect all he came in contact with. He was well respected and liked by all Highlanders.

Not even pausing to consider his actions, Hawkeye entered the fray. Charging up behind the closest cyclops, Hawkeye lashed out with his left hand, his razor sharp knife scored a wicked cut on the back of the cyclops’ leg, severing the titan’s tendon. The large beast caught in mid-throw crashed to the ground face first with a tremendous thud as several teeth flew in all directions. The large rock he was throwing went wide, crashing into the body of a luckless gnome. Two large, blood-shot eyes turned to view their newest threat.

Recognizing Hawkeye, one of them smiled showing off broken and crooked teeth. Grunting loudly to his companion, the cyclops dropped his rock and reached for the tree-sized club strapped to his back. Moving quickly from the fallen cyclops, Hawkeye never gave him the chance to free his weapon. In one motion, Hawkeye threw his tomahawk with all his strength as he raced to cover the ten or so feet between them.  The tomahawk seemed to move in slow motion as it turned end over end, heading toward its target. The last thing the unfortunate cyclops ever saw was Hawkeye’s tomahawk as it buried itself deep into its eye. Blood and brains flew everywhere and the cyclops fell backwards dead, his hand still clutching his strapped weapon.

Hawkeye pulled free his warclub as the last cyclops swung his tree-sized club downward at Hawkeye’s head with a vicious two-handed swing. Diving left, Hawkeye felt the wind from the club as it passed just inches away from his body. Tucking into a roll, Hawkeye regained his feet just as the cyclops swung again. This time the swing came at him horizontally. Hawkeye jumped backwards; the cyclops’ clumsy swing passing harmlessly several feet from him.

Landing directly behind the gnomes, Hawkeye laughed loudly and called out, “Come on you one-eyed smelly beast. Is that the best you can do? You swing that club like a blind halfling!”

Snarling and grunting, the cyclops charged. Holding his club over his right shoulder, the enraged titan covered the short distance between them with two strides of its long legs. When the cyclops was only five feet away, he swung his club with all of his might. Again the swing was coming parallel to the ground; the club was traveling fast enough to make the wind whistle. Waiting until the last moment, Hawkeye sprang straight up. Flipping over in mid-air, Hawkeye reached out with his bare hand and touched the cyclops lightly on the head. Landing gently on his feet, several feet behind the charging cyclops, Hawkeye allowed himself a half smile at the coup he just managed.

A highland warrior is measured only by his bravery in combat. The most common way of measuring a warrior’s bravery is by counting coups. A coup is a non-damaging attack, usually made with the bare hand. A coup must happen while in combat and there must be the threat of danger while doing it. A warrior is awarded an eagle feather for every coup he attains in his life. To a highland warrior this accounts to status, the more coups, the more status and thus, the more respect one commands.

The cyclops was startled by Hawkeye’s sudden move and could not stop his charge or swing. A loud thump echoed off the trees as his club connected with one of the gnomes. The unfortunate gnome went flying through the air, crashing into another gnome. They both landed with a resounding thud and didn’t move again. The cyclops was still moving at great speed but looking backwards at Hawkeye causing him to slip on some snow. Falling flat on his face, the cyclops slid for several feet, landing right at the foot of Nilrem. The Bear warlord didn’t waste the opportunity given to him. Ignoring the few remaining gnomes, he pounced on the cyclops’ back and began tearing into him.

Hawkeye noted that there were only four gnomes left standing; the other six lay bleeding and dying in the snow. Suddenly, his back exploded with pain as all of his wind was forced from his body. Struggling to stay conscious, he felt himself flying through the air. Landing in a lump at the base of a large tree at the south end of the clearing, Hawkeye shook his head in a valiant effort to clear away the clouds that filled his brain. He felt the world spinning. Forcing his thoughts to obey him, Hawkeye fixed his eyes on the cyclops he had crippled earlier. Through the daze, the cyclops kept shifting around in his view. Sometimes there was only one cyclops and sometimes there were three of them, all sporting a toothless grin, a large club and a bad limp.

The crippled cyclops covered the short distance between them slowly. His laughter, guttural and feral, filled the night air. Fumbling weakly with his warclub, Hawkeye tried to stand but his legs would not work. When he reached Hawkeye, the cyclops took a firm grip on his club and raised it high overhead. With an evil laugh that sounded very final, he began his downward swing. Hawkeye raised his warclub in a valiant but futile attempt to ward off the impending death blow.

It never landed.

A loud growl from behind Hawkeye preceded a huge, brown and black ball of fur flying out of the forest to land on the chest of the cyclops. The one-eyed titan tumbled backwards with the force of the wolverine’s attack.

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.

Chapter 21

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.”

*   *   *   *   *

Blackfang stared at the black wolf for a moment, waiting for him to change. When he didn’t shape shift, Blackfang barked. “Well, I’m waiting!”

The black wolf looked at Lalith, then back at Blackfang. The question was obvious, ‘What about her?’

Walking over to the bed, Blackfang sat down next to Lalith. His hand absentmindedly stroking her ebony shoulders, “Don’t worry about her. She knows all; there are no secrets between us.”

Nodding his head the black wolf closed his eyes and let the change come over him. A shiver ran up and down his spine, as his fur began to shrink and his bones began to elongate. A moment later, a tall dark haired highlander knelt before Blackfang and Lalith.

Shooting to his feet, Blackfang roared. “You! What are you doing here?! You are supposed to pass on information to the messengers! That’s all! You aren’t supposed to risk your position by coming here!”

Keeping his head bowed and his face in the shadows the spy replied, “I’m sorry my Warlord but all the messengers and scouts you have sent north are dead and the news I bear could not wait until you send more.”

Grinding his teeth, Blackfang forced himself to calm down. He knew that emotions, especially anger, have a time and place but this was not one of them. Lalith placed her hand on Blackfang’s thigh trying to calm him. A moment passed. Then without any emotions, Blackfang motioned for the messenger to continue.

Keeping his head bowed and his eyes averted, the dark haired messenger gave his report. “Hawkeye has challenged the Great Council with the Tsanahwit.”

A quick intake of breath betrayed Blackfang’s ice hard demeanor but it was enough to tell Lalith that the Tsanahwit was something very special and not something that he had counted on. The messenger was about to say something more when she interrupted him. “What is the Tsanahwit?”

Blackfang’s voice was flat and void of all emotions as he answered. “The Trial of Death. It is a challenge to become the warlord of all Highlanders. Once attained, it is a lifetime position. It has only happened twice in recorded history of the Highland Nation.”

“Three times,” the messenger interjected. “Hawkeye was successful. Your ambush party tried to take advantage of the ritual but they were decimated. I watched as you commanded but could not intervene without giving away my position. He is now in complete charge of the Highland Nation. Also, Hawkeye and Tatianna plan on exchanging vows during the Yuletide festival.”  Bowing his head, “I’m sorry my Warlord. I have failed you.”

Blackfang thought, ‘Good! As long as he thinks that he has failed me then he will be more careful in the future.’

He paced back and forth for several minutes before stopping directly in front of the kneeling messenger. Looking down at his servant, he suddenly lashed out with his foot. The strike was so quick that the messenger never had a chance to dodge, block or even scream. Blackfang’s heel connected on the messenger’s nose, breaking it with a resounding pop and catapulting him backwards. Blood poured out of his broken nose, as he struggled to retain consciousness.

Turning away, Blackfang walked over to the desk where Lalith now sat, starring into a crystal ball. “What do you see my dear?”

She was silent for a few minutes, before her melodious voice broke the silence. It wasn’t her normal voice; it seemed detached and far away. “I still cannot spy on Tatianna or Hawkeye directly but the village is preparing for a celebration. The old chieftain called Red Crow is carrying some sort of mantle and headdress. It seems to be made of silver furs and decorated with red eagle feathers. All of the warriors are bowing as it passes. Behind the old chieftain walks another old man, he is dressed in white wolf furs and leans heavily on an ornate staff.”

The messenger interjected. “That would be Anasazi.”

Blackfang shot him a quick glance that was as sharp as an arrow and the messenger fell silent. Quietly, Blackfang prodded. “Yes, go on. What are they doing?”

“They are heading toward a large cave on the ravine wall. Wait! Anasazi has stopped. He is sniffing the air and looking around, like he’s searching for something. The whole gathering is glancing around now. Warriors are drawing their weapons and searching the sky as if they are under attack.”

Grabbing the desk with both hands, Blackfang leaned forward eagerly. “Do you see any enemies? Are they under attack?”

Suddenly, Lalith screamed. “Wait! It’s me that Anasazi senses. He’s looking directly at me!” Grabbing the sides of her head with both hands, she leaped back.

“He’s…He’s coming through!”

The room was suddenly full of a breeze that swirled around, extinguishing all the torches and braziers in the room. The messenger dove for cover behind the pillared bed while Lalith fell limp. Blackfang just stood his ground and waited.

A moment later, the only light in the room came from three sources, the fireplace, the crystal ball and the ghost-like figure of Anasazi.

Blackfang studied the figure for a moment. Anasazi looked older than the last time they had seen each other.

‘When was that?’ Blackfang wondered. ‘Two, no three years ago. These last few years have not been good to him.’

Looking past the old shaman, Blackfang noticed Red Crow and several other warriors looking over Anasazi’s shoulder at him. Blackfang smiled and nodded his head slightly, “Greetings uncle, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Taking the room in with a glance, Anasazi focused his attention on Blackfang. When Anasazi spoke his voice sounded hollow and distant. “Greetings my nephew, I see you know the truth.”

“I know that my father was your brother but that is the end of our relationship. You lost all rights to me when you let someone else raise me. Now, what is it that you want?”

Anasazi’s face paled at Blackfang’s rebuttal. “No, the better question is what do you want?”

“Why the death of the child of the prophecy and its mother, of course; give them to me and I’ll spare your village and the rest of the Highland Nation.”

Anasazi shook his head. “I’m sorry nephew, I cannot do that. It is against the will of Luna.”

“Ha! The great and powerful Luna! You mean the goddess who was so stupid that she allowed herself to be trapped? She is not my goddess. She is helpless. I serve the new goddess of Terreth and she demands the death of the child and the elf bitch Tatianna.”

“The god you follow just wants the destruction of Terreth,” Anasazi said. “There is no honor in death but it’s not too late to come back to us. We could use your strength in the coming war. Come; join us in our darkest hour.”

“Come back to you? Ha! Never!”

Spitting at the figure of Anasazi, Blackfang was shocked to see the old shaman flinch as the spit seemed to hit his white furs. His tone turned bitter. “I will never again serve Luna or any of the other false gods! I only serve Clotho the Spinner and through her strength we will be victorious!”

“Then I will do all that is in my power to stop you. I regret this. I had always hoped that you would come back to us.”

“Goodbye ancient one. The next time we meet, we will be enemies.”

Beginning to turn his back on the old shaman, Blackfang quickly turned back. “By the way, I have a message for my brother.” Slowly as not to draw attention to his actions, Blackfang drew out his hunting knife. “Let him know that the next time we meet, it will be our last time. One of us will not walk away from that battle.”

Anasazi nodded his head slowly in the sad realization that Blackfang was indeed lost to them. “Goodbye, Dakota Blackfang. I will pray for your soul. Tell that witch of yours that she should be more careful on who she tries to spy. The next time she tries to spy on me will be her last.”

“Uncle!” Blackfang yelled. He could see the old shaman pause for a split second, as the ghost-like figure started to regain strength. “Give this to my brother!”

Hurling the knife with all his strength, Blackfang watched as it turned end over end, flying straight and true at Anasazi’s breast. Once more there was a quick rushing of wind, Anasazi and the knife faded from view. Smiling, Blackfang moved over to Lalith who was just beginning to move slowly.

Looking around with a confused look on her face, she stuttered. “What…what happened?”

Blackfang shrugged his shoulders. “My uncle wanted to have a word with me.”

“Your uncle?” came the messenger’s voice from across the room. “That . . .that would mean you and Hawkeye are brothers.”

“That is right. We were raised by different packs after Anasazi chose the shamanic order over us.”  Turning back to Lalith he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, just drained. That isn’t the easiest spell at the best of times but for him to turn it back on me was draining.” Taking a deep breath, Lalith rubbed at her temples. “I didn’t expect his magic to be so strong.”

Yes, Anasazi is the most gifted shaman of my people.”  Blackfang turned back to the messenger. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything at all?”

“Only two things stand out. First, the chieftain and warlord of the Red Fox pack, a wiry little man named Red Ferret will be exiled from the Highland Nation for dereliction of duties. He is overbearing, cocky and rude but he is also one of the sneakiest men I have ever met and he hates Hawkeye with a passion.”

Blackfang smiled. “Good. Send him to me. Guarantee him a chance to get back at Hawkeye, if his hatred is truly that great, then he could be useful. And the second…”

“Hawkeye suspects you to strike during the Yuletide festival.”

Throwing back his head, Blackfang roared with laughter. “He does now, does he? Damn! My brother is getting smart in his old age!”

“So, you’re going to attack during Yuletide?”

“Yes that is exactly what I was planning to do. Especially now. I don’t want to disappoint my brother.”

Walking over to the messenger, Blackfang placed his hand gently on the messenger’s shoulder. “Now, you need to get back to Itasca as quickly as possible. Take several gnomes with you. Kill them when you are close to the village. Tell Hawkeye you were out scouting when you were attacked and knocked unconscious. He’s gullible, he’ll believe you.”

The messenger bowed his head. “Yes, my Warlord. All will be ready when you attack.”

He was heading for the door when Lalith’s voice stopped him. “Messenger!”

Pausing in mid-stride, he turned back. “Yes Dark Queen, how can I be of service?”

“Have you seen an ancient scroll tube or a true-silver axe? Tatianna was carrying them when she escaped. Has she said anything about them?”

Shaking his head, “No my queen, she hasn’t. Are they important?”

“No, not really. They are just a few trinkets that we would like returned. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

Walking up to him, Lalith handed him a silver and black ring. “If you find out anything about them or anything else we should know, rub this ring and tell the messenger what you have found. He will do the rest.”

Placing the ring on his left hand, the messenger bowed low. “Thank you. It will be as you ordered.”

As soon as he left, Lalith crawled back into bed and flashed Blackfang an inviting smile. “It’s awfully cold in this bed, why don’t you come over here and keep me warm? There is nothing more you can do at least not for a few more hours.”

Smiling, Blackfang threw off his furs and crawled back into bed.

Chapter 22

When the cry of alarm went up most of the Great Council, Hawkeye and Tatianna were already in Luna’s Cave waiting for Anasazi and Red Crow for the ceremony. Looking across the lake, they could see confusion in the gathered highlanders. Warriors were running in all different directions, while children were diving for cover under anything they could find.

To Hawkeye, it was his worst nightmare come to life; his people were panicking at the first sign of trouble. There was only a small group of warriors that looked at all organized and they were the ones rushing Red Crow to the safety of the cave.

Turning to his love, Hawkeye said. “Wait here. Talk to Red Crow and find out what’s going on. I’m going to find my uncle.”

Tatianna started to object but seeing the determined look on her lover’s face, she nodded. “Please, be careful. I don’t want to become a widow before I’m married.”

With a wink, Hawkeye bolted out of the cave with Odovacar, Nilrem and Chewda right behind him. As soon as they reached the valley floor, Hawkeye began giving orders.

“Nilrem, check the eastern perimeter! Chewda, the west!”

Hawkeye pointed at the warriors milling about. “Odovacar get them organized and re-enforce the main gate! If we are under attack, we need to function as one people!”

All three warlords grunted their acknowledgments and sprinted off to do their assigned tasks. Hawkeye rushed toward the great bonfire where the greatest concentration of women, children and shamans were gathered. Pushing his way through the crowd, Hawkeye was shocked to find his uncle sitting on a log looking pale, extremely pale.

Kneeling down, Hawkeye gently touched his shoulder. “Anasazi are you okay?”

Anasazi flashed him a weary smile. “Yes, just extremely tired.”

“What happened? All I know is that the alarm was sounded. We are checking the perimeter but as of yet, there is no sign of enemies.”

Leaning back against the pile of firewood, Anasazi took a small sip of water from a flask he carried. “Your brother’s witch was spying on us. I caught her off guard and reversed her spell but it was very draining.”

Hawkeye probed. “What did you find out?”

“I spoke with Blackfang. He also knows the truth about your heritage but he has let that knowledge poison him and turn him to evil. I tried to convince him of giving up his dreams of power and returning home but to no avail. His soul has embraced evil and he has vowed to destroy Tatianna and her unborn son.”

Anasazi paused to study Hawkeye’s reactions. He could tell from his nephew’s eyes that his feelings were mixed. His gray eyes were dark and clouded with emotions, while his brow was slightly furrowed with concern. Dark rings lined his eyes from the lack of sleep and endless stress of the last several days.

Hawkeye returned his uncle’s stare. He felt compelled to study the ancient shaman’s eyes, looking for answers to questions he really didn’t know, yet must find out. After a moment, Hawkeye broke the uneasy silence. “Did my brother say anything else?”

“Nothing of any consequence, he did say he follows Clotho the Spinner.” Anasazi scratched his chin. “You know, that could be useful.”

A puzzled look crossing Hawkeye’s face. “What could?”

“The name of our true enemy. Knowing one’s enemy is half of the battle. I thought I taught you that?”

“You did but I don’t know how knowing its name is going to help us in the coming war?”

“Neither do I, but it can’t hurt either.” Leaning heavily on his staff, Anasazi struggled to rise as Hawkeye gently helped him to his feet. The gathered women, children and younger shaman smiled. Some even started clapping and laughing. Anasazi just nodded his head to them and started walking toward the cave slowly.

“I do believe that for a brief moment Blackfang was tempted by my offer. Not that he would even admit it to himself but I believe there is still a small part of him that believes in Luna and her ways.”

Hawkeye absorbed that information. “Let me ask you a question. Did you really expect him to give up his dreams of conquest?”

“Not really but I had to try. After all, he is still my nephew. I could do nothing less, you must understand.”

Hawkeye turned his head away and bit his tongue at the curse he felt like uttering. He saw Tatianna come running through the crowd.

“Hawkeye! Come quickly! It’s Red Crow! He’s injured. We don’t have much time!”

Looking up, he locked eyes with his love. Deep lines of concern creased her pale brow, casting a slight shadow on her lovely face. Yet, nothing could hide or diminish the beauty of her eyes. They still sparkled with life, like the sky after a spring shower, blue, clear and radiant. Even now, amidst all this chaos, she glowed with such inner beauty that Hawkeye was amazed that no one else could see her light. It was true that she was physically beautiful but her true beauty came from her soul, not from her looks. Hawkeye knew why the gods had chosen her to be the mother of the child of prophesy; her intense inner strength. Nothing could diminish that, not Blackfang, his army, the coming war, time, nothing; and it was that same quality that had drawn him to her, like an arrow to its target.

Turning quickly, he pointed at two young braves standing nearby. “You two, help Anasazi to Luna’s Cave. Make sure he is guarded at all times.”  He pointed at the closest shaman. “You!”

The young shaman glanced at the others nearby as they slowly backed away. The dark haired youth meekly placed a hand on his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you! What’s your name?”

“Sun Dancer, originally of the Owl tribe.”

Hawkeye’s tone held the edge of command. “Come with us.” Turning back to his uncle he said, “I must go.”

Anasazi waved his free hand slightly. “I know. I will be along shortly. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

Nodding his head, Hawkeye sprinted to the cave with Tatianna and Sun Dancer right behind him. Reaching the sacred cave, Hawkeye took the scene in quickly.

Red Crow leaned heavily against the altar, as pale as a ghost, while a bone handled knife protruded from his stomach and bright red blood flowed freely down his side. All of the members of the Great Council with the exception of Nilrem, Chewda and Odovacar were present and were seated crossed legged in a wide semi-circle around the altar and the dying Chieftain.

Tatianna gracefully walked through the gathering and knelt at the old chieftain’s side. Touching him gently on the shoulder, she whispered in his ear. “Red Crow, Hawkeye is here as you requested.”

The old chieftain opened his eyes slowly, very slowly. His eyelids seemed heavy as they opened on glassy eyes. Slowly studying his surroundings, Red Crow’s eyes roamed around the cave. His eyes brightened slightly as they came across Hawkeye. Weakly, he motioned the Wolflord to come forward. Hawkeye did as he was bid, taking a seat next to the old chieftain. His voice weak and faint, Red Crow spoke slowly as if the words were hard for him to form. “I’m dying. Luna is calling.”

Shaking his head, Hawkeye felt the brief warmth of his tears as they began running down his face. “No, you cannot die. We still need you.”

He smiled weakly, “That might be true but Luna is calling and I must go soon. I am old, far older than you would believe. I knew this day would come, as did you. When Luna calls, we must answer. That is the way of life but before I go there are still a couple of things I must take care of.”

Pausing, he gestured weakly with his left hand. Tatianna raised a small bowl of herbs and water to his lips. Drinking carefully, he seemed to draw strength from the potion and his voice reflected it taking on his more familiar tone.

“Take this mantle,” pointing at the silver pelt that lay at his side. “It has been blessed by Luna and will be a symbol of your title. You are now the one true Warlord of the Highlanders. Wear it with pride and lead our people to safety.”

Pausing to catch his breath all gathered waited patiently. Fumbling weakly under his furs with only his right hand, he brought out an ornate tomahawk. The head was silver and glowed with an inner light. Etched on the blade was the symbol of Luna, the crescent moon surrounded by the nine animal totems. The handle was of red ironwood while three red feathers dangled from the shaft. It was the most beautiful tomahawk Hawkeye had ever seen.

“This was a gift from the dwarven king for services rendered a long time ago. I want you to have it. May it serve you in the future as well as it has served me in the past.”

Gingerly, Hawkeye took the beautiful tomahawk from the old chieftain as tears ran unchecked down his face. “Thank you Red Crow. I will cherish it always.”

Turning his head slowly, Red Crow locked eyes with Tatianna. Her blue eyes were rimmed with tears as she tried to hold them back.

Feebly reaching out, Red Crow stroked her scarlet hair. “As for you Red Eagle, I have two gifts. The first is simple. All that I have is now yours.”

Shifting his gaze to look at his old friend Anasazi who had just entered the cave he added, “My friend, I proclaim Red Eagle to be my daughter and my only heir. Please see that she is taken care of and is treated as one of our people.”

Anasazi nodded. “It shall be done old friend.”

Turning back to Tatianna, he gently caressed her cheek. “I hope you don’t mind. I was planning on asking you but the time never seemed right. I hope you can forgive an old fool?”

Tatianna couldn’t hold the tears back any longer as they poured out in a flood of grief and despair. Burying her head in Red Crow’s chest, Tatianna sobbed uncontrollable for several minutes. Red Crow just patiently stroked her hair and waited.

Finally, she stopped crying long enough to look deep into the old chieftain’s eyes. “I would be proud to call you father.”

Pausing, she leaned forward and gently kissed the old chieftain on the forehead and whispered, “Thank you father. I will try to live up to the trust you have placed in me.”

Smiling, Red Crow leaned his head back with his eyes closed. The old chieftain’s breathing became shallower and slower. Tatianna and Hawkeye were just beginning to fear that he had passed away when his eyes fluttered open. His lips moved slightly as the two lovers leaned in closer.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and strained, just barely a whisper. “The second gift seems less than the first, yet it is the greater of the two. It will benefit both of you. It is a simple piece of advice but remember it always.”

Pausing for a moment, he gathered his strength. “Beware of your temper. Anger and hatred are the two greatest tools of our true enemy. Your temper could very well be your downfall.”

Closing his eyes, Red Crow’s breathing became regular and even. Hawkeye and Tatianna backed away slowly as Sun Dancer and Anasazi stepped in. The young shaman began pulling out small bundles of herbs and medicines from a satchel he wore at his waist. Just then, the voice of a lone wolf in the far distance broke through the early morning air and Red Crow’s eyes popped open.

“Luna calls. I must go.” Locking eyes with Anasazi, a small smile crept over his face. “Well old friend, I beat you. I will join Luna before you do.”

Nodding his head, Anasazi agreed. “Yes old friend, you win. I’m sure you will find a place of honor at the great council fire of our ancestors. I envy your journey but it is not yet my time. Save me a place at the council fire, I will join you when my work here is done.”

Nodding his head, Red Crow cast a final glance at the gathered warriors. “Don’t grieve for me. I’ve had a long and wonderful life. Full of the simple joys of life that are given to a true follower of Luna. Now that service is done and I go to my promised reward. I will hunt in the forests of the Happy Hunting Grounds for the rest of eternity. Farewell my friends, Luna calls and I must go.”

With that last phrase, Red Crow Chieftain of the Raven tribe died.

*   *   *   *   *

Red Crow knew at that moment, he was dead.

There wasn’t any pain. He felt completely relaxed. All the little aches and pains of life; the slight twitch of a back muscle, the pop of a knee, the ache of the neck, they all just ceased to exist. There was just the intense feeling of lightness, as he felt his soul separate from his body. Pulling free from the constraints of his mortal shell, Red Crow drifted upwards. Glancing down, he took one last look at his gathering of friends. He would miss them. But the intense pulling upwards to the heavens felt too strong to resist. Somewhere in the night, he heard the lonesome cry of a wolf. Turning his eyes toward the crescent moon overhead, Red Crow flew toward the Spirit Realms.

Red Crow had experienced the thrill of flight every time he took his raven form. Flying was one of the most liberating experiences in his life but it couldn’t compare to the flight of his soul. A smile crept over his face as he heard Anasazi’s voice from out of the past, ‘Spirit Walking is a dangerous thing to do, but it is also the most exhilarating time of your life. Nothing can compare to the feeling of being a spirit. One can almost imagine death as wonderful experience.’

Red Crow’s smile widened as he remembered the brief argument that issued between them, concerning the difference of flying in bird form and walking as a spirit. He had always enjoyed their disagreements and this was one of their favorite discussions. Since Anasazi could not assume a bird’s form and experience the thrill of flying as a bird, Red Crow had never completed the ritual that would allow him to Spirit Walk. Now he knew that Anasazi had been right, Spirit Walking was more exhilarating than flying. Red Crow frowned at the thought. He knew he would never get the chance to tell his old friend that he had been right. It was just one more thing he knew he would miss about life.

Flying quickly toward the realm of Luna, Red Crow’s soul soon entered the Elysium and he knew immediately that something was wrong.

Elysium, also known as the Blessed Island, was the single calm port located deep in the turbulent seas of the Spirit Realms. It was a vast island of rolling hills and beautiful fields where the gates to the realms of Gods were located. It was also the final resting-place for the unfaithful, those few mortals who broke faith with their gods or betrayed their loved ones. The unfaithful would be sentence to this beautiful island. Just outside their promised land, yet unable to enter and forbidden to leave. It was a terrible punishment, just like chaining a starving man to a wall and placing a platter of roasted meat just out of reach.

The Elysium should’ve been nearly empty of souls, just the relatively few that had been sent there by the gods. But to Red Crow’s shock it was almost overflowing. Thousands, nay, hundreds of thousands of souls wandered the island. Most of the souls were gathered in separate groups, each wailing and praying to their god for forgiveness of whatever sins they had committed. As Red Crow’s soul joined the throng of souls that were wandering the island, he watched these groups for several minutes. He noticed that most were human souls. There was the occasional halfling or gnome among them but nowhere did he see any elves, dwarves or highlanders. Shrugging his shoulders, Red Crow picked a direction at random began to explore the island.

How long had he walked? Even Red Crow didn’t know. Time didn’t seem to have any relevance here. There wasn’t any sun or moon to judge time with, nor did he get tired or hungry. He just walked and walked, exploring the island one step at a time.

Sometime later, he crested a small hill and saw a large silver gateway. Beyond the gateway, lay a land of forest green and sunshine. Sitting at the base of the gate were thousands of elven souls. They all sat patiently, legs crossed, arms resting on their knees, just watching the gate. Having nowhere else to go, Red Crow strode down the hill to the gate. Most of the elves didn’t register his approach but a few did.

One tall elf with fiery red hair and similar facial structure to Tatianna approached him. Dressed in chainmail of an ancient design, he had a very regal quality about him. Placing his left hand over his heart, he held out his right hand palm outward. The empty hand was to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon was an ancient greeting of warriors.

“Greetings follower of Luna. How can the faithful of Aurora help you?”

Mimicking the elf’s hand gestures, Red Crow bowed slowly. “Greetings faithful of Aurora. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for a new soul?”

Nodding his head, the elf gestured toward a spot of ground directly in front of the gate.

“I will do what I can to help you.”

Sitting crossed legged, Red Crow looked deep into the eyes of the friendly elf. The only thing he saw was wisdom and peace. The elf waited patiently for Red Crow to ask his questions.

“Why is it that the Elysium is full of souls and the gate we sit at is closed?”

A brief smile flashed across the elf’s face. “I knew that would be your question. The answer is both simple and complicated.”

Gesturing with his hands at the assembled elves, “We wait for the return of Aurora. The same goes for your people and all followers of the true gods. Since the gods are trapped in another dimension, the gateways to their realms are closed. None can enter their promised lands. We are stuck at the gateway; only able to get a brief glimpse of the fabulous lands we were promised. We are unable to go forward and forbidden to go back.”

Red Crow waited, he knew there was more.

Looking deep into Red Crow’s eye, the regal elf continued. “Our options are few, we can wait patiently or we can break faith with our goddess.”  Again he gestured at the elves that sat at the gate. “We will not break faith with Aurora, so we wait. And according to legends only the being known as the Chosen One can free the gods. So, we wait patiently for his coming.”

Red Crow looked at the throng of elves that sat at Aurora’s gate. He knew the same would be at Luna’s gate. “Is it the same at all of the gates?”

The regal elf shook his head. “Not really. The followers of Luna and Hecate also wait patiently. While the followers of Steropes, Gaul and Minos battle among themselves, fighting to be first when the gates open. The followers of Bromios spend their time building monuments to their gods. There is only one gate that is open.”

Red Crow raised an eyebrow and asked, “Whose gate?”

“Hodios the Wayfarer. Somehow he escaped the trap the Arachne set and is still free to travel the lands of Terreth. Since he is free, his followers are able to enter their final resting-place. Unfortunately, Hodios’ true followers are few; for he is a fickle god and few people choose to follow the errant God of Luck, Chance and Wandering. Most of his followers are either humans or halflings. And in life, they were nothing more than gamblers, thieves or beggars.”

Turning his head slightly, Red Crow stared through the gate at the beautiful land beyond. Taking several minutes to absorb everything the friendly elf had told him, he thought of all of his friends that would be waiting at the gate for Luna’s return. He knew his wife and son would be there, along with Hawkeye’s family. It would be good to see them but something still nagged at his consciousness. It was something the elf had said. Something about having two options, waiting or breaking faith. That was it, breaking faith! What did he mean by that?

“You have been a great help but I have another question. What did you mean by breaking faith with the gods?”

A slight frown washed over the elf’s face. “Those that decide not to wait for the return of their god or goddess can choose to break faith. This gives them three options, no one option is better than the other. The first is that they can choose to wander the Spirit Realms for the rest of eternity. This has its own dangers. The Spirit Realms are extremely large and mostly unexplored. No one knows what really lies out there but the greatest danger is the Spirit Hounds. They hunt the vastness of the Spirit Realms searching for lost souls. Once a hound catches the scent of a wandering spirit, it will track it through the rest of eternity and drag it to the Abyss.”

“The second is to return to Terreth as a ghost. This has its own problems. It is boring and eternal. A spirit can only cross the veil that separates the land of the living from the land of the dead, one time.  Once a spirit crosses back, it must choose an anchor.”

Raising an eyebrow, Red Crow asked in an inquisitive tone. “An anchor?”

“That place where the spirit is doomed to haunt for the rest of eternity. Once anchored, the spirit cannot roam more than a few hundred yards without great pain and a ghost is completely powerless. They cannot affect the world of the living. Its only real power is fear and if a priest of enough power casts an exorcism spell, then the spirit is banished to the Abyss.”

“And the third choice?”  Red Crow asked.

“It’s not much better. One can break faith with their current god or goddess and choose a new one to follow.  The main problem with this choice is the new god or goddess must accept the spirit as a follower. Being that you’ve broken faith with one god, what guarantees you would not break faith with your new god. So, you see that doesn’t happen very often. Many have tried to convert to a follower of Hodios but to my knowledge he has never accepted anyone.”

Standing, the ancient elf looked at Red Crow and shook his head. “No my friend, it is better to wait until the Chosen One can free the gods and they return victorious.”

Red Crow also stood and held out his hand. The elf grasped his forearm in the universal greetings between warriors. “Thank you. I am in your debt. If you ever need me, I am Red Crow, Chieftain of the Raven tribe and member of the Great Council of Elders of the Highland Nation.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you Red Crow. I was known as Eldath Amarth, a humble Bladeweaver of Aurora. I have enjoyed your company, come by and visit from time to time.”

Red Crow shook his head. “I wish I could but I won’t be able too. I’m going back.”

A look of shock crossed Eldath’s face. “What do you mean going back?”

“I’m returning to Terreth. I cannot help anyone sitting here waiting and hoping. I am a warrior. Therefore, I must act. The Chosen One is to be born in the spring and the enemy knows it. I must do what I can to help his mother and father.”

Reaching out quickly, Eldath grabbed Red Crow’s shoulders. The excitement was evident in his voice. “The Chosen One! Finally, the prophecy begins to unfold.”

Then a dark and sinister look crossed his pale face. “What do you mean the enemy knows of the Chosen One?”

“It is a long story but suffice to say, my adopted daughter Red Eagle is to be the Chosen One’s mother. The enemy knows who and where she is. They will probably attack before the end of winter. I must return and do what I can.”

Eldath held onto his arm for a moment. “What can you hope to do? You will be nothing more than a ghost, anchored to one spot on Terreth for eternity.”

“I’m not sure but I have to try. I have wisdom and insight that might be able to help the Chosen One.”

Eldath took a long look at the land beyond the gate. The sun was playing on the leaves of the forests. Several deer could be seen grazing in the shadows of the trees.

When Eldath spoke, his voice was soft and full of sadness. “I have waited patiently for many centuries. Now, I find out my waiting is near an end. Yet, the enemy knows of our only salvation and will do everything in its power to prevent it. How can I sit by and let it happen?”

Turning back, Eldath’s voice took on a stronger tone. “I have made my decision. I have waited long enough. I too am a warrior. I would love a chance to attack my enemies again. If there is something I can do in my afterlife to help the Chosen One and I don’t do it, then how can I face Aurora? If you would have me, I would like to join you.”

Smiling, Red Crow slapped his new friend on the shoulder. “I would love the company and I’m sure I could use the help.”

The two new friends turned away from the gate, the ancient elven warrior and the old highland chieftain walked off into the hills of the Elysium; their quest, to find a way back to the land of the living, to help save the Chosen One and to ultimately free their gods.

Chapter 23

Flying high into the night sky, Halhulingrath trumpeted his freedom with a loud screech and a dazzling bolt of lightning. Freedom had only been a dream for so long that the young air dragon had never truly thought it possible. So caught up in his newly won freedom, the young dragon had completely forgotten his passengers. That was until Khlekluëllin whacked him on the side of his neck several times with the flat of his blade.

“Hal! We must land,” he pointed toward Hal’s tail. “We have another passenger.”

Looking down, the young dragon spied Rjurik holding on for dear life. The hard edge in Hal’s mental voice warned Khlekluëllin of his intent to kill the dwarf.  *Is he a friend of yours?*

Nodding his head, Khlekluëllin yelled to be heard over the wind. “Yes, he is a good friend, one that I don’t care to lose right now. Can we land before he falls to his death?”

Hal answered with a lighter tone. *Right away!*

No sooner had those thoughts echoed in Khlekluëllin’s mind before Hal began a rapid descent. As they approached a small clearing several leagues northwest of the fortress, Rjurik screamed. His hold on Hal’s tail failed.

Hal and the twins landed gently several yards away. As soon as Hal came to a stop, Khlekluëllin leapt from his back and ran to his fallen friend.

Climbing down slowly, Mortharona eyed the blue dragon warily. By the time Khlekluëllin reached the dwarf, Rjurik was climbing out of the holly bush that had broken his rough landing. Grumbling and cursing his whole way out, Khlekluëllin’s ears burned at his tone. But since no one other than Rjurik understood dwarvish, the insults and curses were lost on his three companions.

Grinning at the sight of the proud dwarf struggling his way out of the holly bush with leaves and berries stuck in his clothes and hair, Khlekluëllin was about to say something witty when he noticed the blood and the smile fled from his face. Rjurik was covered with blood from head to toe and he was holding his right arm close to his body. Khlekluëllin’s first thought was that he might have broken his arm in the fall.

“Rjurik, are you alright?”

Nodding his head, his voice was weaker than normal. “I’ve seen better days but I’m alive and free. That’s what’s important.”

That’s when Khlekluëllin noticed the chain dangling from Rjurik’s left hand. It was one of the manacles they had each worn prior to their fights in the Pit. One end of the chain was still attached to Rjurik’s left wrist, while the other end hung loose. A bloody piece of flesh was still locked inside the shackle. Khlekluëllin was shocked to realize that it was the dwarf’s right hand.

“Rjurik, what happened?!”

With a little laugh and a slight shrug of his left shoulder, Rjurik sat down. “When da sandstorm started, most of da guards were too occupied with what was going on in da Pit ta pay attention ta me. So, I used me chains ta strangle the gnomish guard but he didn’t have da keys to these shackles. I was about to sneak down one of da tunnels when one of those ugly one-eyed brutes noticed me. As he came at me with an axe, I knew I couldn’t out run him, so I had ta fight. Not having any weapons to speak of, I used me manacles to parry his attacks.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he held up his right arm. Blood still oozed through the makeshift bandage. “I missed one of da parries. It was a clean cut, hardly any pain.”

Noticing how pale the dwarf was becoming, Khlekluëllin’s tone took on the edge of command. “Lie down Rjurik, you need to rest.”

Rjurik protested. “But Blackfang will be after us.”

“Correct and that is why you need your rest. We have at least several hours before he catches up to us. Right now, we must stop that bleeding or you’ll die.”

Khlekluëllin turned to his brother. “Mortharona, start a small fire. Hal, could you find us something to eat?”

*What would you like?*

“A deer or a boar, anything meaty.”

As the mighty dragon launched himself into the cold night air, his mental voice floated down over their link. *I shall return shortly.*

Mortharona stepped up to his brother and whispered conspiratorially, “Might I have a word with you?”

Looking down at his friend, Khlekluëllin placed a reassuring hand on Rjurik’s chest. “I’ll be right back.”

The twins walked several yards away before Mortharona spoke in a low whisper and jabbed his brother in the chest with his finger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to save the life of a friend. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Wasting time. He’s done for. Let’s leave him and find our sister.”

Looking at his brother in disgust, Khlekluëllin crossed his arms. “I will not leave him, just like I wouldn’t leave you. He is our friend and he needs our help.”

“I think you’re making a big mistake. The old dwarf is food for wolves. Do you think Blackfang will let us escape that easy? Nay, he’ll be on to us soon enough and he’ll catch us if we try to carry Rjurik with us.”

Raising his voice, Khlekluëllin looked deep into his brother’s dark eyes. “I don’t know what’s happened to you Mortharona but you’ve changed. I can’t believe you would leave Rjurik behind. What if that was Tatianna and she was injured?  Would you leave her behind? What if that was me?”

Seeing the blank look on his brother’s face, Khlekluëllin continued. “I will not leave behind any comrade even if the whole Dark Alliance were on our heels. It would be against the teaching of Eldath, our parents and definitely against the Order of the Dragon. Is leaving behind an injured comrade-in-arms a part of the Way of the Panther?”

Khlekluëllin’s last statement drew an evil look from his brother. For a brief moment, Khlekluëllin thought he just might attack him. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment as the tension increased but then Mortharona’s expression softened.

Rubbing his head, Mortharona’s tone changed becoming almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Khlekluëllin. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll get some firewood.”

With that, Mortharona walked off into the surrounding forest. Watching him go Khlekluëllin worried about his brother. ‘That attitude is so out of character for him. I wonder what they did to him during his torture sessions.’

Making a mental note to research this more when they had time, Khlekluëllin walked back to his injured friend. By the time Hal returned with two deer in his talons, Mortharona had a small cooking fire going. Without a single word of thanks to the young dragon, Mortharona got to work skinning and cooking one of the deer.

Hal made short work of the other. Khlekluëllin, still at Rjurik’s side, mentally heard Hal’s laughter as he consumed the deer. Glancing up, Khlekluëllin looked on with grim fascination. “Are you enjoying your dinner?”

*Immensely! It has been a long time since I tasted anything other than goblin, gnome or cyclops’ flesh. Don’t take this the wrong way but I was looking forward to eating you and your brother. I’m sure elf flesh tastes better than my normal fare.*

Khlekluëllin laughed. “Don’t worry. No offense taken.”

Finishing off the deer, Hal rolled over onto his back knocking over several small trees in the process. *By Terra, I’ve missed wild game. The hunt was almost as fun as the dinner.*

Craning his serpentine head around, Hal looked into Khlekluëllin’s blue eyes. *Thank you my friend. I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for me.*

Waving his hand as if to dismiss it lightly, Khlekluëllin pulled a burning brand from the fire and said, “You’re welcome Hal. That’s what friends are for. I’m just glad you didn’t eat me when you had the chance.”

*So am I. So am I.*

Turning back to the injured dwarf, Khlekluëllin’s voice took on a hard edge. “Rjurik, we have to cauterize your arm or you’ll bleed to death.”

Rjurik forced himself to sit up. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!”

“This is going to hurt.”

“I know that, damn ye. Don’t patronize me! I’m not some sniveling, weak kneed gnome. Do it!”

Rjurik’s last command was so sharp and forceful, that Khlekluëllin had placed the burning brand against the dwarf’s stump before he realized it. For many years to come Khlekluëllin could never remember what was worse; the sizzle and popping of skin as the fire ate at Rjurik’s stump, the dreadful smell of burning flesh or the hideous scream of pain that echoed through the forest.

In Rjurik’s weakened condition, the pain from cauterizing his stump caused him to pass out. Checking on his friend, Khlekluëllin smiled grimly. Rjurik would live but at an extremely high cost. The loss of his right hand would haunt him the rest of his days but it was better than dying. Making his way to the campfire, Khlekluëllin cut himself a slice of the roasted venison and sat down.

“Where do we go now?”  Mortharona asked.

Khlekluëllin shrugged his shoulders. “To the Kingdom of Darkmoor, I guess. They will be able to take care of Rjurik and we should be able to restock our supplies.” After swallowing a large piece of venison, “Maybe we can even find out what happened to Tatianna and Hawkeye.”

Nodding his head, Mortharona stared into the fire. “The Kingdom of Darkmoor, I wonder if they’ll let us in. As far as I know, the last elf to set foot inside those gates was Eldath. Legends state that no enemy of the dwarves has ever stepped foot inside their gates.”

Khlekluëllin raised an eyebrow. “We’re not enemies of the Dwarves. Are we?”

“Not that I know of but we have been away from our homeland for many months. Maybe, the Queen has decided to invade the Darkmoor Mountains?”

Neither brother could hold back their laughter at the thought of the elves invading the dwarves. Just the thought was ludicrous. They laughed and laughed. It was like old times.

Watching the two brothers with amusement, Hal was confused. There were times that the twins were so alike Hal could hardly tell them apart, even by their smell. But more often than not, Mortharona’s scent had the flavor of darkness on it. At first he just thought it was the residual effects of being Blackfang’s captives but that thought wouldn’t hold true. Khlekluëllin and Rjurik had spent the same amount of time with Blackfang but neither of them had the scent of darkness on them, only Mortharona. Something was not right with the dark twin. Rolling over to get some sleep, Hal decided he would have to keep an eye on him, for some reason he didn’t trust the dark haired twin.

*   *   *   *   *

Rjurik regained consciousness the following morning but he was extremely weak. So the companions stayed in the clearing for the next week. Hal did the hunting for them, while all three rested and ate to regain their strength.

Finally, on the morning of the tenth day since they escaped, they climbed on Hal’s back and the four companions flew west. As they soared high in the cold winter sky, they watched in horror as Blackfang’s army began pouring out of the gates of the dark fortress. Pointing at the thousands of troops issuing from the underground tunnels, Mortharona yelled over the rushing wind.

“Blackfang wouldn’t send that many soldiers out just to hunt for us. He must be planning on attacking the barbarians.”

Nodding his head, Khlekluëllin agreed. “I feel sorry for them. I wonder if they’ll be ready for his attack. It is most unusual to attack during the winter, especially here in the Highlands.”

Rjurik was sitting behind Khlekluëllin and in front of Mortharona spoke up. “The Highlanders are a tough lot. They’ll be ready. I have travelled to their main village once with Hawkeye. While it is not as formidable as Darkmoor or even the Black Fortress, the inhabitants make it a dangerous place. My king considers them allies even though there has never been a formal treaty.”

Taking Rjurik’s word on the strength of the Highlanders the twins turned their thoughts on staying warm and enjoying their newfound freedom.

The four companions flew west all day until around nightfall they spied the main gates of Darkmoor. It was an impressive sight. The gates were located high on the side of the Darkmoor Mountains. Chiseled out of solid granite, the crossed axe and hammer of Bromios were carved in the cornerstones. Two huge iron doors, standing nearly fifty feet tall barred the entrance into the dwarven fortress. The area in front of the gate wasn’t very large or easily accessible. A long winding path up the side of the mountain was the only approach to the main gates, making the idea of trying to lay siege to the dwarven fortress ludicrous.

The sun had already passed behind the mountains when Hal landed in front of the main gates. Climbing down from his back, the three comrades stretched their sore muscles.

Casting a sidelong look at Hal, Mortharona said sarcastically, “Dragon riding might be a quick way to get somewhere but it is defiantly not the most comfortable way to travel.”

Shaking his head, Khlekluëllin began rubbing just behind Hal’s left eye ridge. The young dragon almost purred with contentment.

“I disagree. I think it is the most invigorating trip I’ve ever been on. Thanks Hal. Our escape would not have been possible without your assistance. You are a true friend but now you must go. You are free. Free to fly and roam the wilds of Terreth as you were meant to be.”

Hal’s voice took on a serious tone. *Thank you Khlekluëllin. You are my truest friend. It was your faith in the gods that set us free.*

Flapping his long wings, Hal raised himself to his full height towering high above the three companions. Lifting his head high into the night air, Hal let loose a tremendous roar followed by a brilliant flash of light and a crack of thunder as a large lightning bolt split the cold night air. Rjurik and Mortharona took several steps back, thinking that Hal had gone crazy or was just too hungry to think. Khlekluëllin just stood his ground and watched his friend. Secure in the trust and knowledge of their friendship.

Continuing to flap his wings, Hal roared a second time and even spit a larger bolt of lightning into the night air. Looking down, Hal fixed his eyes on Khlekluëllin. They glowed a yellowish blue. Rjurik and Mortharona felt their knees grow weak as the first stages of dragon fright crept over them.

Khlekluëllin heard Hal’s voice over their mental link. *Do you, Khlekluëllin Amarth the Ice Blue Doom, pledge your lifelong friendship and loyalty to me, Halhulingrath the Ice Blue Death?*

Nodding his head, Khlekluëllin drew his sword and held it over his head. “I do.”

*I also pledge my friendship and loyalty to you and your kin for as long as I or my brood shall live.*

Hal let loose the largest and brightest lightning bolt the companions had ever seen. This time it didn’t fly harmlessly into the night sky but came crashing down on Khlekluëllin. The blast knocked Rjurik and Mortharona from their feet and filled the night air with smoke and debris. Khlekluëllin didn’t feel any pain from the lightning blast, only a slight tingling in his wrists. He did feel the weariness of the last month fade from his body and he felt strangely invigorated.

Hal’s voice came floating over their mental link. *By accepting my friendship and my breath, we are now bonded for life. My lightning will never be able to harm you, only heal you. It was you who gave me back my freedom and that is a debt I will never be able to repay. But this I do pledge, you are my friend and I will be there if you ever need me. Just call for me and I’ll hear, no matter where on Terreth I am and with Terra as my witness, I will be there for you.*

Khlekluëllin watched as Hal turned around gracefully in midair and began to climb into the cold night air. The sight saddened his heart. “Good-bye my friend. Enjoy your freedom, you deserve it. I will miss you.”

When Hal was almost out of sight, his voice came floating back over their link one last time *Beware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Things are not always as they seem. Torture and time can change anybody*

With that he was gone.

As the smoke cleared Rjurik and Mortharona were hesitant to look at the charred remains of their friend but they looked anyway. They were shocked and surprised to find Khlekluëllin unscathed and unharmed looking into the night air. Of Hal, there was no sign.

Rjurik walked up to his tall friend and clapped the elf on his back with his good hand, “Where’s da dragon?”

Still looking into the night air, Khlekluëllin sighed. “Off to enjoy his freedom.”

With a snort, Mortharona added. “Good riddance. I never trusted him anyway.”

Khlekluëllin just shot him a deathly glance that spoke volumes. Mortharona knew he had crossed a line with his last remark. Lowering his head, he was about to apologize for his remark when the landing area was filled with a blinding light.

“FREEZE!” came a commanding voice. “If anybody moves, then all three of you will be dead before the first one hits the ground.”

Not being able to see anything, the three companions had no choice but to comply with the disembodied voice.

Rjurik puffed up his chest and took one step forward. “Now listen here. I don’t know who you are but I am Rjurik Silvershield, cousin to the king. These two elves are my friends and the twin sons of Queen Circe of Elfholm.”

The telltale sound of a firing crossbow and the loud thud of it hitting somewhere nearby echoed in the blinding light.

“I don’t care who you say you are! I said freeze! If you take another step, the next bolt won’t land between your legs, it will land between your eyes.”

Rjurik grumbled but stopped moving.

“Good! Now that I have your attention and your cooperation, lay down on your stomach with your hands behind your heads and your legs crossed. You have five seconds to comply. Four seconds. Three…”

All three companions knew it was hopeless to resist, so they lay down as directed. Immediately they felt strong hands binding their hands behind their backs and stripping their weapons from their bodies. Bags were placed over their heads, as they were lifted roughly to their feet.

“Now move.”

The point of a sharp blade was poked into their backs as they began walking. The sound of the large iron gates closing behind them told the companions that they had entered the Great Halls of Darkmoor, the mighty fortress of the Dwarves.

Rjurik had returned home. Yet, it was not the homecoming he expected.

Chapter 24

The morning after Red Crow’s death was somber, even the weather seemed to mourn for the old chieftain. The sky was gray, promising more snow but none fell that day. Although the wind continued to blow cold, there was an undeniable warmth between the many tribes of the Highlanders. Something had changed in the way they viewed each other. They began acting and thinking as one people, not nine different tribes. Everyone felt closer, drawn together by three undeniably grand events.

The first was joyous, the coming of the Chosen One, the being of prophecies that foretold the downfall of their greatest enemy. He was also the main character in the ‘Fable of the Chosen,’ a favorite legend told to Highland children at bedtime. It foretold the coming of their people’s greatest warrior, a young brave who was yet to be born but risks all to fulfill his destiny. He challenges gods and demons to right the wrongs done to his people. The ending of the fable changes slightly with each telling. Depending on whatever lesson the speaker was trying to impart to the listeners but every Highland child dreams of being the Chosen One.

The second was the death of Red Crow. He had been one of their greatest chieftains, a legend in his own time. He had earned the respect and admiration from his friends and enemies alike for his honor and wisdom. Red Crow’s accomplishments as a warrior and hunter were legendary. All would mourn his loss.

The third seemed unavoidable, the coming war with the Dark Alliance. This one event, if no other, seemed to draw the nine tribes closer together. It was as if now, after the death of Red Crow and the appointment of Hawkeye as the Warlord of the Highland Nation, they actually realized for the first time the full extent of the coming war with the Dark Alliance.

This war meant the death of the Highland Nations, not just the death of individual warriors or their loved ones but the death of their way of life.

Death was just one of the facts of life they had learned to accept as part of life in the Highlands, for death was a constant companion in this harsh land but this was something different. This was the death of their people, their actual way of life.

They began viewing themselves as a part of the greater whole. They weren’t just small packs, loosely associated with the larger tribes. At first, many of the smaller packs had thought the war would not come until the spring thaw, that when it came they could lose themselves in the uncharted forests of the Highlands. Once there, they would be forgotten by the coming darkness and ignored like ants on a log.  Some truly thought they would somehow be spared from the war but now things were different. Now they saw themselves as one people, the mighty Highland Nation. They were unified as one tribe under one leader and they had one purpose the return of their goddess. And the mother of the child of prophecy, the one foretold that would be instrumental in the downfall of their enemy had been delivered into their mists. Once again, all of Terreth would see them stand as one people in defense of their goddess.

Hawkeye was extremely busy the two days following Red Crow’s death reorganizing the nine tribes into one effective army. Hawkeye didn’t know the full extent and size of their enemy but he did remember the images given to him by the goddesses Aurora, Hecate and Luna. He knew the price of failure and he could feel the burden bestowed on him by the goddesses and it weighed heavily on his mind.

Hawkeye also realized the true extent of his title. Just because his title as Warlord of the Highland Nation gave him complete authority over all Highlanders, he still had to earn the respect of all of the warriors. Highlanders are, on the whole, a very proud race and they would resent him just ordering them to do this and that. Hawkeye didn’t want slaves or peons, warriors who only fought because he ordered them too. No, he wanted warriors who would do whatever it took to win. If it meant fighting five to one odds or greater to win, they would do it. If it meant abandoning their homeland in order to survive, they would do it.

In order to accomplish that, Hawkeye created his War Council which consisted of the members of the Great Council and every warrior who had ever gained the title of Warlord in any tribe or pack. This brought his War Council up to about fifty warriors and chieftains. Anasazi was the only shaman who attended and he said very little, being there more for moral support for his nephew than to help make the tough decisions.

The hardest thing confronting Hawkeye and his War Council was the problem of reorganizing the nine tribes and numerous packs into one army. It was not going to be easy. Every warlord had his own idea as how to proceed. As Hawkeye vaguely listened to one of the older chieftains rant and rave about some small point that only he knew his mind began to wander. Glancing around at the warriors gathered, Hawkeye wondered how he could gain their respect, trust and admiration in the next month. Hawkeye became aware that the older chieftain had stopped talking and was waiting for a reply from him.

Not having the faintest idea what the older chieftain was talking about, Hawkeye shook his head. “That doesn’t concern us right now.”

The older chieftain began to protest. “But Warlord, if we are to. . .”

“I said that is not our major concern right now! Our only concern is survival!”  Seeing he had everybody’s attention, he continued. “Blackfang and his Dark Alliance will attack us during the Yuletide Festival and that is less than a month away. We must be ready.”

A young warlord spoke up, judging from his furs he was from the Lynx Tribes. “How do you know that they will attack then?”

There were numerous murmurs of agreement.

“Because, that is what I would do in his place.”

Again the gathered warriors murmured, this time with disapproval.

“Let me explain, first Blackfang knows all our customs, correct?”

The gathering nodded.

“And normally, there is a great celebration during the Yuletide. It is one of the few days that the Highland Nation, as a whole, does nothing. No hunting, no work, nothing but celebrate, correct?”

Again, those gathered nodded and grunted their agreement.

“And, it is usually the only break in the weather until spring that is large enough to move an army of his size north. Plus, he would have the Moirae Lights to help his attacks during the night would he not?”

Again, they all agreed.

“So, if I was in his position and I wanted to destroy my enemies before spring then I would attack during the Yuletide.”

The young Lynx warlord spoke up again. “But that is in direct offense of Luna’s wishes. No, Highlander would do that. The Yuletide is one of our most sacred festivals.”

Shaking his head, Hawkeye stood up and slowly walked around the lodge. “First, Blackfang no longer cares about or follows Luna. He proved this when he attacked and raped Red Eagle at her Shrine. Second, he now follows our true enemy, one of the Arachne and Clotho has ordered the death of Red Eagle and her unborn son.”

By the nodding of their heads, he knew he was winning them over to his plan. After a brief pause, he added. “Besides does anyone want to take the chance that I’m wrong?”

The gathering went silent. Hawkeye looked each member of the War Council right in the eyes. In his eyes, they could see his determination and resolution on this point.

After a few minutes, he continued. “Here’s my plan, before the end of the week, all women and children are to be evacuated to Sikya with one third of our warriors. Once they arrive, they are to fortify the village as much as possible and send word to the Kingdom of Darkmoor that we need their help.”

Suddenly, a young warlord of the Puma tribe jumped up and blurted out. “We don’t need help from those smelly dwarves! We are the mighty Highland Nation! Nothing can stand before us!”

No one even saw Hawkeye’s hand move, so fast was his draw and throw. The only thing the gathering saw was Hawkeye’s ornate tomahawk flying through the air. With a resound thud, it embedded itself in a pole about two inches from the young warlord’s head. Before the startled gathering could move, Hawkeye had crossed the lodge in one fluid motion and placed his knife at the throat of the disrespectful warlord and growled.

The young warlord relaxed his grip on his own tomahawk and went completely limp.

“First, never interrupt your elders. It is very disrespectful. Secondly, those dwarves are our allies. And if we are to survive the coming war, we need all the help we can get. Third,” he punctuated this point by digging his blade in just a little. A small spot of blood formed on the tip of Hawkeye’s blade. “I am the Warlord of the Highland Nation, not you! If you don’t like what I’m doing, that’s too bad! You have three choices; follow my orders, leave and become an outcast, or challenge me.”

Releasing the young warlord roughly, he pulled his tomahawk from the lodge pole. “If I were you, I’d choose the first or second. You wouldn’t live to regret the third choice.”

Turning his back on the young warlord, Hawkeye addressed the rest of the War Council, his tone was slightly menacing. “Does anyone else have a problem with my leadership? If you do, then speak up now! I don’t have time for this petty bickering! The more we fight amongst ourselves, the better chance we have of dying.”

Walking back to his seat in front of the fire, Hawkeye could feel the eyes of all gathered watching his every move. Sitting down crossed legged, Hawkeye laid his two weapons on the dirt in front of him.

Taking several deep breaths, he spoke calmly. “I need your help. I cannot save the Highland Nation by myself. You that are gathered here,” gesturing with his hands, “have earned a place of honor among your respected tribes and packs. I ask now for your help in saving those same tribes and packs.”

Pausing for a minute, he looked each member in the eyes for a brief second or two.

“I want your input, your opinions, your concerns and your worries. But never forget one thing; I am the Warlord, not you or the person next to you. The Great Council bestowed me with that title and our goddess Luna entrusted me with the safety of the Chosen One.”

Looking around, he saw a difference in their eyes. It was subtle but it was there. If he had to put a name on it, he would call it respect. It seems that the way he handled the first challenge to his authority went a long way.

He thought, ‘Good, now maybe they’ll work together.’

Hawkeye stood. “Since I am only one man, I need help. All of you gathered here are to be members of my War Council but I need a second in command, a Warchief, someone who will speak in my stead if I am unavailable. I appoint Odovacar as my Warchief.”  There was a slight murmur from the gathering. His voice took on a hard edge once again. “Does anyone have any problems with this?”

No one spoke up but all gathered nodded their agreement.

“Odovacar, please come forward.”

The young Warlord of the Boar tribe did as he was bid.  Reaching down, Hawkeye picked up his knife with his left hand. Odovacar also drew his knife with his left hand. Glancing at Anasazi, Hawkeye could see the slight smile on his uncle’s face. The ancient shaman stood and approached the two warriors.

Turning back to Odovacar, Hawkeye fixed the younger Warlord in a steely gaze. With a slight nod, Hawkeye and Odovacar slit their right wrists at the same time. Following the ancient ritual, they clasped their right forearms together, while Hawkeye spoke loudly.

“Odovacar, Warlord of the Boar Tribe, I pronounce you to be my second in command and bestow you with the title of Warchief of the Highland Nation. Let no one doubt your position or ability.”

Odovacar lowered his head slightly. “I do not believe I am worthy of this position but I am honored by your faith in me and I will do my best to live up to the position.”

“That’s all we can ask of anyone and ourselves.”

As Anasazi stepped up, Odovacar knelt down on one knee. Placing one hand on Odovacar’s forehead, the old shaman began to chant. Reaching into a large satchel that hung on his belt, he pulled out a headband with three red eagle feathers with blackened tips. Placing the headband on Odovacar’s forehead, Anasazi asked. “Do you, Odovacar of the Boar Tribe, swear loyalty to Luna and in turn to her appointed Warlord?”

“I do.”

“Then, by the powers granted to me by Luna the Moon Goddess, I bless your appointment as Warchief of the Highland Nation.”

The gathered warriors and chieftain cheered. Some cried out like an owl, or roared like a puma, or howled like a wolf, it didn’t matter, everyone cheered in joy at the appointment. Hawkeye let them celebrate for a few minutes before placing his fingers in his mouth and let loose a loud whistle. The gathering slowly fell silent.

“I know we are happy with Odovacar’s appointment but I do have two other appointments I would like to make. Would Nilrem and Chewda step forward?”

The two Warlords moved through the gathering to stand before Hawkeye, Odovacar and Anasazi. The five of them must have made a funny picture; the towering Nilrem, the diminutive Chewda, the scarred Odovacar, the ancient Anasazi and the proud Hawkeye. Glancing at the two Warlords, Hawkeye and Odovacar drew their knives. Nilrem and Chewda did the same. The four of them slit their right wrists and clasped them together, until all four of them had shared blood with each other.

“Nilrem, Warlord of the Bear Tribe and Chewda, Warlord of the Wolverine Tribe, I pronounce you both as my third in command and bestow you with the titles of Battlelords of the Highland Nation. Let no one doubt your position or abilities.”

They both recited the ancient ritual words together. “I don’t believe I am worthy of this position but I am honored by your faith in me and I will do my best to live up to the position.”

Hawkeye completed the ritual. “That’s all we can ask of anyone and ourselves.”

Anasazi stepped up and the two Warlords dropped to one knee. Placing one hand on each head, the old shaman began to chant. At the end of the chant, he reached back into his satchel. Pulling out two headbands, each with two red eagle feathers with blackened tips, he placed them one at a time on their foreheads, first Nilrem then Chewda.

“Do you, Nilrem the Warlord of the Bear Tribe and Chewda the Warlord of the Wolverine Tribe, swear loyalty to Luna and in turn to her appointed Warlord?”

“I do,” they replied in unison.

“Then by the powers granted to me by Luna the Moon Goddess, I bless your appointment as Battlelords of the Highland Nation.”

The gathering went crazy, again!

Hawkeye didn’t even try to calm them down this time. He let them whoop and holler. He even felt his spirits lift slightly at the smiles on everyone’s faces. Placing his fingers in his mouth, he was about to whistle again when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found his uncle shaking his head.

“You have done well. I am proud of you.”

Pausing briefly, the inflection in his tone became gentler. “And so would Red Crow. Now, you face the difficult decisions of who must stay and who must go. But those decisions can wait for tomorrow. Finish your appointments and celebrate this night with your War Council and the whole tribe. Everyone needs hope and you are the only one who can give it to them. So, enjoy this time. There will be time enough to worry tomorrow.”

Nodding his head, Hawkeye saw the wisdom in his uncle’s words. Turning back, the assembled warriors were beginning to calm down on their own.

Raising his hands, Hawkeye yelled. “My friends, you are all very special to me and I would like to officially appoint each of you as members of my War Council. Please, come forward and receive a small token of my trust that will act as a symbol of your position.”

The gathered warriors formed a line and slowly, each in turn pledged their loyalty to Luna and Hawkeye. Anasazi placed a headband of one red feather with blackened tips on each of their foreheads. Hawkeye was just about to dismiss the War Council when there was a commotion at the entrance to the lodge.

There was a yelp of pain and the scent of burning hair wafted through the curtain that blocked the entrance.

The War Council’s spirits quickly changed from smiles to grim looks of determination as each warrior readied a weapon, took a defensive position and waited.

Chapter 25

Tatianna spent the two days following Red Crow’s death mourning his loss and accepting the fact that she was now his heir. Being his heir gave Tatianna the rights to his lodge, his belongings and theoretically, his place on the Great Council.

Since the reality of his death was still too painful for her to face, she retreated into her magic. With eyes closed and legs crossed, Tatianna sat in front of her fire meditating. With her mind’s eye she searched through the uncounted multitudes of strands that were the Weave.

Each strand radiated a slightly different color; some were a brilliant gold, while others were as black as midnight, some even had a rainbow effect and all were different and unique. Each strand represented a different component or implication of magic that could be woven into any given spell. The more skillful the weaver, the more advanced the spell.

While Tatianna’s elven heritage implied and imparted a certain degree of dexterity into her weaving, it didn’t tell the true extent of her ability. Tatianna had chosen the path of a Bladeweaver, an honorable and highly respected profession in the elven lands but to an elf the most honored position one could attain was that of a true Weaver. Very few individuals had the necessary gifts, aptitudes and drive to give their lives over to the pursuit of weaving magic. The few who passed the rigid tests were admired and revered by all.

Tatianna’s mother had wanted that path for her. Though Tatianna had the natural gifts and aptitude, she lacked the desire. She was always out tromping through the forests with her older brothers instead of studying. When it came time for the ‘Tests of Passage’ her brothers had done well, passing the entire test with flying colors; all but the last section, the area that tested their ability with magic and their natural aptitude toward magic. To be honest, the twins came close but not close enough for the Master Weavers who oversaw the training of the true Weavers. So, they chose the path of the Bladeweavers. Her oldest brother, Khlekluëllin chose the Way of the Dragon, an ancient style of bladeweaving; while Mortharona chose the Way of the Panther, a more subtle and surreptitious style.

When it came time for Tatianna’s test, she blew right through them. She scored higher on every test than any elf on record, including those of the Master Weavers. The whole court was busy whispering the praises of her skill and aptitude. When the day of her choosing came, the murmurs of joy became the sly whispers of scandal as she followed her mother and brothers onto the path of the Bladeweaver. She chose the oldest style of Bladeweaving that only a few elves had the skill and patience to learn, the Way of the Eagle. Elven legends state this was the first ‘Way of the Blade’ taught to her followers by Aurora herself and named for her favorite messenger, the eagle.

The whole Elven community was stunned at Tatianna’s choice. Some even thought her choice to be disloyal and disrespectful. They couldn’t believe she would ignore the queen’s wishes and waste Aurora’s gifts. A brief smile flickered across Tatianna’s face as she remembered her mother’s words on that day so many years ago.

‘It is true that Aurora gave us these gifts to serve her but didn’t she also give us a heart and a mind? What good are these gifts, if the heart does not lead us? What good are these gifts, if the mind does not inspire us? None, I say. If my daughter wishes to follow the Way of the Eagle on the Path of the Blade, then I willingly give her my blessing and in turn grant her Aurora’s blessings.’

She remembered feeling pride in her mother’s words. She knew it then and still felt it now, that her choice was the right one for her. Pausing in her weaving, she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. A slight chirp came from above her doorway. Turning her head, Tatianna looked at her new friend and companion. “What was that Dûrdae?”

The shadowhawk seemed to understand her as it chirped again, tilting its head to one side.

“Am I done?” She shook her head slowly. “No, but I am getting close. This is a very complicated spell I’m working on. If I do it right, it will only affect the followers of Blackfang. If I don’t get it right, it could affect every Highlander.”

Reaching into a small bowl that sat at her side, she tossed a small piece of raw meat into the air. It never hit the ground. It didn’t even reach the apex of its upward motion, so quick was Dûrdae in his snatch and gulp. He chirped his thanks as he began to clean his claws.

Laughing slightly, Tatianna scolded her friend. “Now, behave yourself. I’m getting to a very delicate part of the spell and I don’t need any interruptions.”

Dûrdae gave her one last squawk, before turning back to the task of cleaning his claws. Closing her eyes, Tatianna reentered her trance. Surrounding her was the immense spell she was weaving. Taking a moment to study it, she grinned at her accomplishment.

Her spell had three major sections just as she had been taught in the Academia, the Elven Halls of Magic. The three sections were known as the alpha, the sigma and the omega. She had completed the first two sections and was just beginning the third section before her brief break. Now, she was getting to the most delicate part, the omega section.

The alpha section is the one of the first things a fledgling spell weaver learns. It consists of the basics of the spell; how it would be cast, duration, range, etc. This section is the closest thing to being a standard part of each spell woven. While each school or style of spellweaving had its own distinct style of building a spell, the basics are all the same. No one way of weaving is superior over another; it’s just a matter of preference and limitations.

The sigma section defines the actual spell’s effects and side effects. This is where the parameters of the spell are defined. Will it be an offensive or defensive spell? Will it be a lightning bolt or a ball of fire? For most spells this is the largest section, as it contains the ‘meat’ of the spell.

The last section woven would be the omega section. Here’s where the personality of the weaver comes out in the spell. What is the color of the effects, red or blue? Will the effects smell like roses or lilacs? It could be anything. Most simple spells really didn’t need the omega section, all of the actual components of the spell being in the first two sections but the goddess of magic required an omega section on all spells for them to work. Therefore, most spell weavers created their own generic omega signature which caused all spells cast by them to have the same general special effects, their own personal signature.

But the omega section could also be the most difficult section of a spell. It could be woven in such a way that the spell only affects a single individual or a group of people or it could cause the spell not to take effect for hundreds of years. It could be anything, for good or bad.

Tatianna had spent the better part of the last two days weaving the sigma section and she was pleased with her efforts. She had always had an uncanny knack for weaving that section. But since her meeting with the gods, her skill at weaving was even more fluid and natural.

She wondered about that for a moment. ‘Would I have tried something like this before that meeting?’

Shaking her head, she looked down at her stomach. She could just barely see the briefest hint of her pregnancy.

‘Probably not but I have met with the Moraie and they have given me their blessings, therefore I’ve got to do what I must to safeguard my son’s life for his safety and the whole of Terreth.’

Once again she studied the weave she had already completed. It was as fine a weave as she had every made. It was a carefully woven curse that would punish her opponents and their offspring. It was designed to prevent any and all highlanders from shape shifting, causing them to be stuck in whatever form they were in when the spell takes effect. Now came the tricky part, tailoring the spell just to affect the followers of Blackfang.

‘That shouldn’t be too hard,’ she thought. ‘I know a lot about you Blackfang. I will have my revenge on you yet, one way or the other.’

Reaching into one of the bowls laid out on the ground around her, she picked up the tattered remains of her blue silk scarf. It was stained with dark patches of dried blood. Holding the scarf over the fire, she threw in a handful of white powder. The fire roared to life. As the flames reached the top of her tipi, the animal skins that created the roof and sides of her tipi smoldered slightly.

In the back of her mind, she heard a small voice saying, ‘If you moved into Red Crow’s lodge like he wanted you too, you wouldn’t have to worry about catching the tipi on fire.’

Turning her mind back to the task at hand, she returned to the intricate weaving of the omega section. She was using the blood on the scarf to help focus the spell. The stained scarf held remnants of Hawkeye’s, Blackfang’s and her blood. The trick was to tie the spell to the correct blood and not the incorrect ones. The only way Tatianna knew how to be sure it was the correct blood stain was to trace the hundreds of strands that would stick to each patch of blood as she passed it through the Weave. She knew that somewhere in that mess of strands would be the one that would lead her to Blackfang. Once she knew his strand, she would be able to tailor the spell to him and his followers.

She didn’t move for several hours being deeply involved in her spell weaving. Dûrdae having finished cleaning his claws hours earlier was asleep on his perch. He bolted awake with a loud squawk as the young girl Amani rushed in without knocking.

“Mistress Tatianna! Mistress Tatianna!” the young girl yelled as she flung herself at Tatianna.

Startled out of her trance by the sudden intrusion, Tatianna dropped the silken scarf into the fire. The flames hungrily ate the delicate scarf. Tatianna lunged for the scarf but she was too late. The flames roared to life as they quickly consumed it. Turning to face the young girl, Tatianna’s sharp retort died on her lips when she saw the young girl’s face. It was filled with worry and concern. It looked as if the young girl had not slept for days.

Enveloping the young girl in her arms Tatianna asked, “What is it Amani? What’s wrong?”

Amani said, “It’s my father…he hasn’t returned from his patrol.”

Holding the young girl at arm’s length, she studied her face. Amani had been crying. Judging by the rings under her eyes and at how red they were Tatianna guessed that she had been crying off and on for almost two days. With everyone mourning over Red Crow, they had missed the grief of one small child.

“Whoa! Back up. Let’s start from the top. When did he leave and when was he due back?”

Taking several deep breaths, Amani wiped a stray tear away. “My father left on the night of the Tsanahwit. At the Wolflord’s request, he was leading a patrol south to check on the lookouts near the Fortress. He was due back two days ago.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Tatianna forced a small smile. “Maybe the weather has delayed him?”

Tears beginning to flow again, Amani shook her head. “No. He promised he would be back by the night of the first moon. That was last night and he hasn’t returned. He would never be late unless something bad had happened to him.”

Pulling Amani close, Tatianna embraced her in a deep hug. She felt the side of her neck become wet with Amani’s tears but she didn’t mind nor did she let go. This was the best thing she could do for the young girl right now. After several minutes, Amani broke the embrace and wiped the remaining tears from her face.

Tatianna said, “I tell you what. Let’s go see Hawkeye and you can tell him what you’ve told me. I’m sure he can locate your father.”

Amani shook her head. “I’ve already tried to see him but he is in a meeting with his War Council. He is not to be disturbed.”

Tatianna’s crooked smile flashed across her face as she stood quickly. “I’ll bet he’ll see me!”

Walking out of her tipi, she made a beeline to the Lodge of the Moon. The snow was only about a foot deep but the wind was bitterly cold. Amani hurried after her, catching up to Tatianna just as she reached the Lodge. Before the ladies could enter, two braves stepped out of the shadows.

Barring their entrance with crossed spears, one of the braves spoke to them in a tone that was less than friendly. “Entrance to the Lodge of the Moon is restricted to only members of the War Council. Be gone!”

Taken slightly aback at the rudeness of the brave, Tatianna paused in mid-stride. Thinking they might not recognize her, she flashed them a dazzling smile and threw back her cloak. “I am Red Eagle, daughter of Red Crow and the betrothed of the Wolflord. I need to speak to him immediately.”

The braves glanced at each other briefly. One of them shook his head, before the speaker turned back to the two ladies. “I am sorry Red Eagle, you cannot pass. Only members of the War Council are allowed inside and you are not a member of it. Now, be off with you!”

Tatianna felt her cheeks grow flush with anger as several spells came to mind, any one of them could’ve forced the braves to let them enter. Her right hand clenched tightly into a fist, while her left rested causally on the hilt of her magical blade, the Moonsword. The guards must’ve recognized her anger and realized they had gone too far as they abruptly took a couple of steps back.

Stepping up to the brave who had been talking to her, she poked him in the chest with her finger. “Now you listen to me, you scurrilous son of a troll! I don’t know who you think you are but I am Tatianna Amarth, Bladeweaver of Aurora and the mother of the Chosen One. I was entrusted with his life by the gods themselves and I will be damned if I let a bastard like you keep me from his father!”

Pausing for a brief moment, she flipped her long hair over her left shoulder. “Besides, Red Crow made me his heir which gives me the right to his seat on the Great Council if I choose to take it and due to your rudeness, I think I will take his seat on the Great Council; if for no other reason than to see that the both of you are punished for your behavior!”

It was obvious her words shocked the two guards. Their faces had turned ashen white and their spears dipped all the way to the ground. As Tatianna stepped toward the lodge’s entrance, the extremely rude guard made a slight move to bar her way once more. Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed her shoulder roughly and regretted it the moment he touched her.

Tatianna touched the warrior lightly on his chest and said, “Electra!”

White sparks of lightning coursed through her body and into the young brave. She was immune to the spell’s effects but he wasn’t. The electrical shock made his body jerk and flail about, dropping his weapons and causing him to urinate on himself. Releasing him from the spell, the unfortunate guard fell to the ground unconscious. The brief odor of burning hair assaulted her nose. Ignoring it and the fallen guard, she turned to the other guard who was frozen in place with undisguised horror.

Flashing him her sweetest smile Tatianna asked, “Now, will you announce me or should I walk in by myself?”

The guard quickly pulled back the curtain that blocked the entrance and with a sweeping motion of his hand he said, “After you Red Eagle.”

Tatianna shook her head. “No, after you.”

The guard hesitated for just a moment, unsure of what to do. Tatianna shifted her stance slightly, allowing the guard a quick glance at his companion who was lying face down in the snow behind her. That made his mind up for him. Turning, he entered the lodge with the ladies right behind him but froze in mid-step as he was confronted with the armed and readied War Council. Tatianna almost bumped into him as he stopped so abruptly.

Pushing him aside roughly, Tatianna stepped boldly into the room. “Greetings honored members of the War Council. I am Red Eagle, daughter of Red Crow, betrothed of Hawkeye the Wolflord and mother to the Chosen One. Red Crow appointed me as his heir to his position and property. I come to claim his position on the Great Council and in turn, the War Council.”

The War Council visibly relaxed their positions and looked around at each other in amazement. No one really knew what to think. Here was this outsider, a female and an elf, laying claim to one of the most honored positions a Highlander could attain. Never in the history of the Highland Nation had an outsider or a woman been allowed a seat on the Great Council.

Hawkeye spoke up. His voice was less than friendly, holding a slight tone of disapproval. “Greetings Red Eagle, you are late. This council meeting started hours ago.”

A slight crooked smile crossed her face as she bowed her head low. “My apologies Wolflord, I was deeply involved with my magic creating a spell to attack our enemies with. It will not happen again.”

Hawkeye kept his tone flat and emotionless. “See to it! It is disrespectful to me and the rest of the War Council. Step forward!”

All gathered moved back a step, clearing a path for her. Keeping her head high, she slowly made her way to her beloved. Forgotten and unnoticed, Amani slipped into the shadows of the lodge to watch the events unfold.

Reaching Hawkeye and his battlelords, she knelt down. Hawkeye was about to say something, when the same Warlord of the Puma tribe that had challenged Hawkeye earlier, spoke up. “Since when is an outsider allowed a seat on the Great Council?”

A small murmur ran through the gathering.

Another Warlord interrupted this one from the Raven Tribe. “I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, especially of Red Crow. He was like a father to me but this I must protest. I’m sure Red Crow didn’t intend on giving her his seat on the Council or his title as Chieftain.”

The gathered warriors began to bicker and complain among themselves. A flash of anger washed over Hawkeye. He was about to yell at the two young Warlords when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was Anasazi. His hand had an unexpected calming effect on Hawkeye, causing him to bite back his retort.

Stepping forward, Anasazi held out his hands. Speaking in a loud, yet undeniably soft voice. “Friends, listen to me.”

The gathering fell silent. All eyes turned to look at the ancient shaman.

“My friends, you are right. There has never been an outsider to sit on the Great Council, nor has there ever been a woman.”

The gathering murmured their approval at his words.

“But there has never been a situation like this before either. Never has an outsider been claimed as heir by one of our greatest warriors. Never has an applicant to a seat on the Council met with the Gods. Never has one been the expectant mother of the Chosen One, the child of prophecy. All these and more make her claim to a seat on the Great Council legitimate. I for one support her claim to the seat.”

Odovacar stepped forward. “I too support her claim.”

Nilrem and Chewda stepped forward. “We also support her claim.”

Slowly several other warlords stepped up to stand behind Tatianna, showing their support without words. Soon, all but five warlords were standing behind Tatianna.

Tatianna looked at the five that remained and said, “I will not be the cause of a division of the War Council, if the whole council cannot agree on my appointment, then I will step aside.”

The five that remained smiled at the thought of their victory.

“But,” she added. “You must first tell me why you disapprove of my claim and allow me the chance to prove my worth.”

The Puma Warlord snickered. “It’s simple. You are an outsider and a female. You have not earned the right to sit on the Council.”

Shifting her stance, she casually rested her left hand on the pommel of her sword. “And how does one earn that right?”

“Through combat of course! If you were truly a Highlander you would know that! You are just an outsider, who thinks just because you have our appointed leader wrapped around your little finger; we will all jump and dance at your beck and call. Well, you’re wrong. We are the mighty Highland Nation! We answer to no one but ourselves!”

Tatianna could feel the tension in the room grow. She heard a slight bestial growl behind her. Without turning around, she knew Hawkeye was livid with anger.

However, numerous thoughts raced through her mind. ‘If he feels this way, then I wonder how the others feel? Maybe deep down, even those who are supporting my claim have the same sentiment deep down.’

Turning to look at the other four warlords who stood against her Tatianna asked, “Are your feelings the same?”

All four nodded their heads. The Warlord of the Raven tribe spoke up. “I also dispute your claim to the title of Chieftain of the Raven tribe.”

Letting her crooked smile come across her face, Tatianna asked, “Are the two of you challenging me?”

The two outspoken Warlords glanced at each other. With a quick nod of their heads they agreed. The Puma Warlord spoke first. “Red Eagle, I challenge your claim to the seat on the Great Council.”

The Raven Warlord said, “Red Eagle, heir of Red Crow, I challenge your claim to the title of Chieftain of the Raven Tribe.”

Looking at the other three, she asked, “And do any of you also challenge me?”

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Then, if I defeat their challenges, all five of you will support my claim and in turn support the one true leader of the Highland Nation, Kamots Hawkeye the Wolflord?”

All five nodded their heads.

Clapping her hands together, she turned to her challengers. “Okay, you’re on! Let’s go!”

The two warlords were taken aback slightly. “We must prepare for the challenge.”

Tatianna shook her head. “I don’t think so. You challenged me. It is my right to state the conditions of the battle and I say right here! Right now! To first blood!”

The Puma warlord laughed loudly. “Then this will be the shortest challenge in history.”

A slight shudder ran up the Puma warlord’s spine as he quickly shifted into his animal form. A moment later, he was a large sleek puma. Weighing close to three hundred pounds of all muscle, the mountain lion was beautiful. His coat was a yellowish brown with streaks of black running from the mouth to the eyes. Lowering his upper body close to the ground, he wiggled his haunches back and forth slightly to dig in his massive claws as he prepared to spring.

All those gathered around Tatianna, including Hawkeye and Anasazi, backed away. Tatianna did nothing more than shift her stance slightly and rest her right hand on the pommel of her sword which hung on her left hip.

The two combatants locked eyes for a moment. She could see the Raven Warlord take a few steps back, waiting for his turn. A smile flickered across her face as she waited for the Puma Warlord to make his move. She didn’t have to wait long.

With a loud roar, the puma launched himself across the room. Tatianna didn’t move a muscle as the large cat came flying at her in a golden blur. There are few things in life that would be scarier than an enraged puma charging at you but Tatianna didn’t flinch.

Several shouts of “Move!” or “Lookout!” or “Duck!” echoed in the lodge but Tatianna did none of those until the very last second. Just before the puma reached her, she took one step to right. She didn’t rush, she just moved out of his way. At the same time, she made a fluid draw and slice of her sword.

The Puma Warlord landed a few feet passed her present position with a loud growl. Turning quickly, he prepared to pounce again when he noticed her position. She was standing absolutely still with her sword drawn and her blade pointing to the floor. Drops of red blood stained the mirrored finish of her blade while something small, brown and slightly triangular lay on the dirt floor.

The Puma Warlord studied the object on the floor. It was furry and slick with blood. That’s when he noticed the intense pain in his left ear and the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. She had cut off the top of his ear! Growling deep in his throat, his anger began to overwhelm him. He was about to pounce at her again, when two huge and hairy arms wrapped themselves around him.

Nilrem, in his hybrid bear form, had grabbed the enraged warlord in an immense bear hug. The Puma Warlord struggled briefly, clawing and biting at his arms. With a quick squeeze, Nilrem spoke softly. “You have lost. It was to first blood and you are bleeding. If you don’t shift back to your normal form before I count to ten, I will squeeze the life out of you. Do I make myself clear?”  He punctuated the sentence with another tight squeeze.

The Puma Warlord relaxed and let the change come over him. “I admit defeat, Red Eagle wins!”

There was a loud cheer as those gathered celebrated her victory. Tatianna allowed herself a small smile before turning to fix her eyes on her next opponent.

Corax, the Raven warlord just smiled. Nodding his head in a form of greeting, he shape-shifted into a large raven. Glancing at her, he launched himself out the lodge.

Hawkeye asked, “Now where is he off too?”

Tatianna leaned up and kissed him briefly. “Don’t worry my love, I was prepared for this.”

Tatianna sheathed her sword and walked out of the lodge. Hawkeye and the rest of the War Council followed her. Looking up, they could see Corax circling the Lodge of the Moon at a height of a hundred feet or so.

Closing her eyes, Tatianna spoke the word of her spell. “Buto Jamaicensis!”

A shiver ran up her spine as Tatianna’s body began sprouting feathers. Her arms shortened, becoming large wings; while her face elongated, becoming the curved beak of a raptor. A moment later, a beautiful red-tailed hawk flapped her wings and Tatianna the Red Eagle squawked loudly. With a brief wink at Hawkeye, she launched herself skyward to do battle with the Raven warlord circling above.

For a moment, Tatianna lost herself in flying. The rushing of the wind through her feathers, the lightness of her body, these were almost overwhelming. It was one of the most exhilarating feelings she had ever experienced. Shape-shifting was not something new to her. She had done it many times before and strangely enough, the red-tailed hawk had always been her favorite form. She could remember at least a dozen times over the last ten years that she had assumed the form of a hawk for one reason or another but she had never had to fight as a hawk before.

Sure, she had watched the great birds of prey fight. They would climb to great heights before they would dive. Swooping in, attacking with their razor sharp beaks or slashing with their talons. Trying their best to rip or break their opponent’s wings in the process. Sometimes the two great birds would grapple each other, holding on with their talons, causing both to plummet to the earth at incredible speeds. All the while, they would be striking at each other with their beaks or talons. Then at the last moment, they would release each other and try to regain enough control not to crash into the ground. Sometimes they were successful and sometimes they weren’t but that is the way of nature; only the strong survive.

As these thoughts rushed through her mind, she heard a loud screech from above her. Instinctively, she dipped her left wing and dove toward the ground. A flash of black and the rush of air next to her right wing told of the Raven warlord’s slashing attack.

Looking over her right shoulder, she could see him flapping his wings hard as he flew off toward the south. He was trying to regain his superior altitude. Tatianna inwardly smiled at herself. She was headed north, toward the walls of the crater that encased Itasca. She knew there would be updrafts nearby. That coupled with her longer wingspan should give her a slight advantage in speed. Turning her attention to her surroundings, she flapped her mighty wings and began searching for the updrafts. As she approached the imposing cliff face, she felt a slight lightening of her body. She had found one!

Flying in a tight circle, she continued to flap her wings but not as often. Instead she concentrated on shifting her weight from side to side, helping her gain altitude quickly. She couldn’t see Corax at the present but knew where he was headed, up.

Allowing herself another smile. ‘This is just like any other battle. It’s just like Khlekluëllin always told me. Take in the position and attitude of your enemy. Position yourself in a superior location. Understand your enemy’s timing. And when he is unprepared, strike hard and fast!’

Passing the crest of the mountain, Tatianna turned out over the village. Using the enhanced vision granted to her by her hawk’s form, she located the Raven Warlord. He was circling the village about three hundred feet below her. Judging from the way Corax was scanning the skies below him, Tatianna guessed he didn’t know she was above him.

‘Let’s get this over with!’ she thought.

Folding in her wings, she dove. Picking up speed, she was moving fast and the distance between them began to close rapidly while Corax was still searching the lower skies.

‘The fool. He has underestimated me and that will be his undoing.’

When she was less than fifty feet above him, she unfurled her wings. The rushing wind pulled on them as she regained control of her speed and direction. Altering her course slightly, she positioned herself slightly above and behind the Raven Warlord. She was planning to rake his back with her razor sharp talons, drawing first blood and ending the contest. Just as she was about to make her attack, the sun broke through the heavy clouds which hung overhead, bathing the village and its surroundings in bright sunlight.

Scanning the lower skies, Corax saw his shadow flicker in and out over the lake. That’s when he saw a second shadow trailing behind him by a few yards. Panic swept through his body for a brief second before he dove.

The moment the sun came out, Tatianna knew she was in trouble. By the way Corax dove; she knew he had spotted her shadow. Nothing could be done about it, so she also dove.

A grand game of follow the leader issued forth.

Corax had the lead and a slight edge in experience with aerial combat but Tatianna had the edge in size and wingspan. Her knowledge of battle strategy could not be overlooked. It was only by the fickle hand of Hodios the God of Mischief that the sun came out, giving away her position.

Corax flew out of sight of the village and into the forest as he realized she had the advantage in the open skies. Her wingspan and keen eyesight would allow her to out fly him but they would not be as useful in the confined areas of the forest. He zigged behind a tree, zagged around some bushes, dove under a fallen tree and climbed to the tops of the great pines that grew this far north. Glancing back, he saw her match each of his aerial maneuvers perfectly.

Smiling inwardly, Corax’s respect for Red Eagle was growing. Not many Highlanders could match his flying. Red Crow himself had given him his name of manhood, Black Arrow. The old warlord had once described his flying as ‘a black arrow shot from the bow of Luna.’

Keeping up his aerial acrobatics for at least a half-hour, he used every trick, fair and unfair, to shake her loose but to no avail. She stayed with him, matching every turn, twist, dive or climb he made. She was even gaining on him as he began to tire. The advantage of her wingspan and sleek body were adding up but he was not ready to give up. He still had a trick or two left.

Diving through a large fir tree, Corax startled several crows that lived there. Three crows bolted out of the tree and flew off in different directions. Doubling back quickly, Corax cut out of the tree in a wholly different angle.

Tatianna was not surprised when Corax dove into the large fir tree. He had made several such maneuvers over the last hour. However, following him into the tree she was startled by the four crows which flew out. Each of the crows was rather large, nearly the same size as Corax and by the way each moved, it was hard to tell which one was the Raven Warlord. Picking one at random, she sped after the fleeing crow.

Suddenly, Tatianna felt something heavy land on top of her. A flash of pain raced through her body as razor sharp teeth dug into the back of her neck. All she could see was red fur and the ground approaching rapidly. There wasn’t time to do anything except tuck in her wings and pray to Aurora that she didn’t break her neck when they landed.

Landing with a loud thump, a wave of pain swept through her body. She smiled weakly and thought, ‘Well, I must still be alive. I hurt too much not to be!’

Looking around the snowy clearing they had just landed in, she saw her assailant. It was a large red fox with bloodshot eyes. Its coat was matted with bristles, mud and snow. Saliva dripped from its half-opened mouth as it began to circle the injured hawk that was Tatianna.

Hopping to her feet, Tatianna tried to flap her wings for balance. Intense pain raced up her left wing and left side of her body. It even hurt to breathe deeply. Without looking, Tatianna knew her left arm and a few ribs were broken.

Hearing a slight hiss behind her, Tatianna turned to face her attacker and a wave of pain washed over her. She realized that in her present form, she was no match for a hungry fox. Closing her eyes she dismissed the spell that held her to her hawk form. Normally there wasn’t any pain when she shifted forms, just a tingling of her skin and a weird sensation of the world getting larger but this time it was different.

Her broken wing didn’t want to elongate properly, so her bones couldn’t shift into their proper place which caused her to cry out in pain. The ribs on her left side were tender to the touch and any twisting of her torso caused a wave of dizziness to sweep over her. Instinctively, she knew if she passed out, then she would be the fox’s dinner for sure. When her head cleared enough so she could see straight, she was shocked to find that the fox had not run away. It was still standing there studying her.

Waving her good hand, Tatianna said, “Go away. Go find your dinner elsewhere.”

Tatianna watched in shocked fascination as a shiver ran up the fox’s body and it began to grow. The thick red fur thinned as it became red hair all over his body. The nose and ears shortened, until they became a blend of the best features of a fox and a man. The ears were still furry and long but they now sat on the sides of the head like that of a man’s. The nose and jaw were long and pointy, like that of a fox. Sharp teeth lined his mouth and a long pink tongue flicked in and out as he spoke with a soft and sinister voice.  “But I don’t want to go elsewhere for my dinner. I have already caught my dinner.”

“Who…who are you?”

He raised one hand to his chest in mock dismay. “You don’t recognize me? Have I been forgotten that quickly?”

Something about the way he spoke made Tatianna think that she knew this ragged Highlander. Was it his condescending tone or his air of superiority? That’s when his name popped into her head. “Red Ferret!”

Standing to his full height, he rubbed his clawed hands together. “I have dreamed about this day since you first stepped inside our village. The day when you used your witch powers on Hawkeye and the rest, turning them against me. Only I saw through your spell. Only I recognized your true form.”

Tatianna quickly took stock of her situation. It was not very good. She was at a severe disadvantage. She was tired, bleeding and suffering from a broken arm and several broken ribs. Jolts of pain raced up her body every time she moved. She had to buy some time until she could figure a way out.

Seeing Red Ferret begin to advance on her, she asked, “What do you mean my true form?”

Stopping in mid-stride at her question, a look of confusion crossing his half-human face; it was almost as if he could not believe that she didn’t know what he meant. Red Ferret spoke slowly. “You are the emissary of evil, the one foretold in the legend of the Chosen One.”

Raising her left eyebrow, Tatianna racked her brain for the legend he was referring to. She had never heard of an emissary of evil; not in any of the legends she had ever read or heard. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion she asked, “What do you mean? What emissary of evil?”

“You mock me! You know the legend!” Taking a step toward, Red Ferret raised his hands threateningly.

Shaking her head from side to side, she unconsciously scooted backwards. Wincing in pain with the movement of her body, Tatianna blurted out through clenched teeth. “I assure you, I don’t know of any legend that talks of an emissary of evil.”

Red Ferret stopped moving but he was only about three feet away, well within his striking range. Squatting down, a slight shiver ran up his body as he returned to his human form. “You really don’t know of any legends referring to the emissary of evil?”

Seeing him change into human form, Tatianna thought to herself, ‘That’s a good sign. But I must keep him talking until I can figure something out.’

Looking into his dark eyes, she shook her head. Using her sweetest and most submissive voice, “No, I don’t. Would you tell me about it?”

Rubbing his chin for a moment, Red Ferret grinned. It was not a comforting grin; it was the smile of a predator taking his time before killing his prey.

‘It’s not the warm smile of Hawkeye or the friendly smile of Bravefoot or even the fatherly smile of Anasazi but it’s a smile and that’s better than nothing.’

Sitting down cross-legged on the snow-covered ground, Red Ferret looked to the heavens as if searching for the right words. A moment later, he began his story. “After Luna brought my ancestors to this land, she left us. Some say there was another battle with the Arachne in which both the gods and the Arachne were imprisoned. I don’t know if I believe that but I do know something took Luna away from us for we have been unable to directly contact her for many years.”

Tatianna knew this was true but chose not to interrupt Red Ferret. She just nodded her head slightly and listened intently.

“Many years passed and the prophecy of the Chosen One grew. All members of the Highland Nation hoped and prayed that their pack or tribe would be the one chosen by Luna to have her son. For he would be the one that would right the wrongs done to this world and would bring Luna back. This would bring great honor to his tribe.”

Picking up a stick, Red Ferret began to draw a circle in the snow.

“But Terreth was not created by Luna or her sisters. Hyperion, Nox and Terra created it; they knew the true secret of the universe.” Pausing, Red Ferret glanced around at the silent snow covered forest. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “And so do I. Would you like to know the true secret of the universe?”

Again he paused, this time he studied Tatianna. She was cradling her left arm close to her body, while her breathing was shallow and ragged from her broken ribs. Pain was written all over her beautiful face. Unmoved by sympathy, Red Ferret moved closer, his voice taking on a harder edge. “Would you like to know the secret?”

The odor of fresh blood and unwashed fur wafted through the small space between them. Forcing herself not to gag at the smell, Tatianna nodded her head. Anything to keep him talking. Just then, a slight sound reached her sharp elven ears. It sounded like a twig snapping.

Red Ferret, seeming not to hear it, rubbed his hands together in excitement as he leaned backwards slightly. “The true secret of the universe is actually very simple. In all things, there must be a balance.”

Proudly and with an air of arrogance, he pointed at the circle he had drawn in the snow.

Glancing down, Tatianna noticed it resembled the ancient symbol of the Dhyana; three teardrops chasing each other inside a circle. It was known throughout Terreth as the sign of the balance.

Red Ferret continued. “You cannot have light without darkness, or good without evil, or right without wrong. Everything must have a balance. So, if we are to have a great warrior known as the Chosen One to fight on the side of good, don’t we have to have one that will fight on the side of evil?”

Tatianna thought about that for a moment. There was a crazy logic to Red Ferret’s story but something was not right in his reasoning. Trying her best to keep him talking, she looked deep into his brown eyes. “Red Ferret, I’m curious. What makes you think I’m the Emissary of Evil?”

As Red Ferret stared back into her blue eyes, he felt something stir in his soul. His mind began to race with doubt. A little voice deep inside his head spoke to him. ‘What if you are wrong? What if she’s not the Emissary? Or better yet, how can she be the Emissary if she is to be the mother of the Chosen One?’

Red Ferret stood up quickly. His eyes were wide and his movement’s jerky as he quickly glanced around the surrounding forest. Seeing nothing but trees and the white snow he calmed slightly. Turning back to his fallen prey, he studied the beautiful elf. Something the voice had said seemed to make sense. Scratching his chin, he shook his head to clear it of such doubts, he was sure she was the Emissary.

The voice came again. ‘Are you sure she is the Emissary? What if you’re wrong?’

Raising his hands high overhead, he yelled into the forest. “No, she is the Emissary and that means she must die!”

Tatianna’s voice soft and calm cut through the cold evening air. “But how do you know I’m the Emissary?”

Calming quickly, Red Ferret glanced down at her. Furrowing his brow, he answered her question. “You fit the description. The prophecy of the Emissary goes like this: When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, beware of the South. For an Emissary of Evil will come in the guise of a friend, stealing itself into the heart of the Chosen One and his people. Part warrior, part wizard and all rogue, the Emissary will be the true offspring of Darkness; fair of sight and foul of soul. The Emissary will betray the Nine and play a pivotal role in the final battle that will seal the fate of Terreth for all eternity.”

Rubbing his hands together, Red Ferret shifted back into his hybrid form. “Well, my dear, it’s been lovely but I’m afraid that for the betterment of the Highland Nation, I have to kill you.”

Tatianna tried to concentrate. She wanted to call on the magic at her disposal but she just couldn’t concentrate. The pain in her arm and ribs were just too much.

Reaching down with both hands, Red Ferret grabbed her around the neck. His grip felt like a vise as he lifted her off the ground. Tatianna couldn’t breathe, she felt the blackness of eternity hovering on the edge of consciousness but each passing second allowed it to come closer and closer. With her good arm, she repeatedly hit Red Ferret. But in her weakened condition, they could not stop his hands as they squeezed tighter and tighter.

She was just about to black out when she was thrown violently to the side. Landing hard, pain race through her body but the pain jolted her back to consciousness. Looking up, she saw the hybrid form of Red Ferret engaged with a large black raven, Corax the Black Arrow had arrived!

The initial jolt of pain to her body had caused her to regain consciousness but now the pain in her arm and ribs were almost overwhelming. Her mind was beginning to slow down. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and forget about the pain. She was just about to give in to the coolness of unconsciousness when she heard a soothing voice in her head.

‘If you pass out now, you will be helpless. You will become a prize for the victor. Is that what you truly want?’

The thought of being someone’s prize angered her and drove the blackness from her mind. The only thought that she had at all was getting to safety. Gritting her teeth at the pain, she crawled further from the fight and cursed herself the whole way. “Damn it, Tatianna! Move your ass! You didn’t survive being chased by Blackfang by giving up! Now, crawl!”

She crawled and scooted for what seemed like hours, which were actually only a few minutes. The distance, which seemed so great to Tatianna, was in reality only about twenty yards. Positioning her back to the truck of an extremely large fir tree, she turned back to watch the fight between the two warlords.

Corax the Black Arrow had shifted into his hybrid form. This gave him the size advantage but Red Ferret had the advantage of speed. Corax’s head was somewhere between that of a man’s and that of a raven’s, with human eyes and a beak of a raven. His beak was large and sharp, which he used to snap and peck at Red Ferret’s head. At first, it seemed as if neither could gain the advantage on the other. For every attack Red Ferret made, Corax was able to block or counter with his own attack. And the same could be said for Red Ferret. Neither warlord could gain a true advantage.

Then it happened, Corax used his large wings to flick some snow in Red Ferret’s eyes. As the Fox warlord paused briefly to clear his eyes, Black Arrow attacked with his large beak and razor sharp talons. Latching onto Red Ferret’s shoulder with his beak, he raked Red Ferret’s stomach with his talons causing large gashes to open up. Blood began to pour onto the already stained snow covered ground. Howling in pain and fury, Red Ferret did the one thing Corax didn’t expect. He shifted fully into his fox form. Red Ferret’s shift caught Corax off guard, causing him to loosen his hold on the slippery warlord. Red Ferret didn’t miss his chance and he sprinted off into the nearby brush.

With a loud squawk, Corax gave chase. To Tatianna, who watched from a slight distance, it was almost comical. A six-foot half-man half-bird chasing a small red fox around a snow covered clearing. That’s when the tide of the battle shifted.

Black Arrow was so intent in his rage to catch the slippery fox that he had not shifted to either of his two more mobile forms. His large talons, while great for rending flesh, weren’t the best for traction. As he chased Red Ferret toward a large pine tree, flapping his wings and squawking the whole way, Corax tripped. The disgraced fox chieftain had led him right toward a large root that stuck out of the ground. In his rage, Corax had failed to see it and stumbled over it. Falling face first into the snow, he slid until he ran into the base of the tree. Red Ferret didn’t pass up this opportunity. Leaping from the trunk of the tree, about fifteen feet up, he shifted into his full human form about halfway down. Landing on Corax’s back with all of his weight, a resounding snap echoed through the quiet forest. Corax screamed once and then fell silent forever.

Calmly stepping off of the dead warlord, Red Ferret looked around the quiet battleground. Blood still flowing from his wounds, yet he didn’t seem to notice. He was searching for something. When his eyes spied Tatianna, they froze. A slight grin crossing his face, he began to move toward her.

Drawing out her dagger, she knew it was her only hope. She was too weak to use her sword and in too much pain for the concentration needed for the use of magic.

Mustering as strong a voice as possible, Tatianna shouted, “Stay away! I don’t want to kill you but I will if you force me too!”

Red Ferret just laughed as he slowly closed the ten yards between them. His hands slowly came up into a threatening position. “Give it up witch. You cannot win. I’ll make it as quick and painless as possible. It is my destiny to kill you. I will become a hero for killing the Emissary of Evil. The one foretold those many years ago.”

Five yards away.

Three yards.

One yard.

Tatianna attacked. Throwing her dagger with all of the force she could muster, it flew end over end, racing towards its target with deadly accuracy. Right before it reached Red Ferret’s throat, a mere inch away, he reacted. Moving his head to the side, he batted the deadly projectile to the side with his hand.

Red Ferret laughed. “Very good. I wasn’t expecting that from you. Good, but futile. Now you will die!” Reaching down, he grabbed her once more by the throat and began to squeeze.

Tatianna felt the blackness coming back once again. This time there would be no one to save her. She was about to pass out when that soothing voice came back.

‘It seems that I will have to interfere after all. You are too important for the future of Terreth to let you perish now.’

Tatianna didn’t understand what the voice meant or who it was, all she knew was the crushing grip, the strain of trying to breathe without the use of her throat, the intense pain in her arm, neck and ribs and the fast closing in darkness.

Suddenly she could breathe as the crushing grip relaxed and the strong hands fell away. Looking up, she noticed something odd about Red Ferret. There was a two-foot horn sticking out of the front of his chest. She didn’t remember him having a horn. Shaking her head to clear it, she looked back. Sure enough, there was a large ivory horn sticking out of his chest.

The spiral horn was covered in blood, yet even that couldn’t mar its beauty. Red Ferret’s hands weakly pulled at the protrusion and his mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Trembling, Tatianna watched in fascination as Red Ferret went flying through the air to land in a heap several yards away. But she never saw where he landed; her eyes were transfixed on the beautiful creature standing in front of her.

Tatianna had heard legends of these creatures, everyone had but no one she had ever known or heard of had ever seen one. Her savior was a beautiful snow white unicorn!

Tatianna stared in awe at the majestic creature. Letting her eyes roam across his body, she absorbed the raw power and grace of this creature out of legends. He was larger than any horse Tatianna had ever seen. His heavily muscular frame was covered in a brilliant snow white coat with not a single blemish or scar marring its smooth surface. His mane and tail were silvery white and hung long, almost to the ground. Tatianna couldn’t see a single briar or knot in either mane or tail. His eyes were dark, like that of a typical horse but they held the glint of wisdom. On his chin was a silver-white beard that looked neatly combed. Of course, his most striking feature was his horn. Centered in the middle of his forehead, the two-foot long ivory horn was shaped in a perfect spiral ending in a sharp point. Midway down the spiral, it was stained red with the blood of Red Ferret.

Tatianna’s attention was drawn back to its eyes as his soothing voice echoed once more in her mind. *Greetings Tatianna Amarth, I am glad you survived.*

Reminding herself to breathe, she quickly nodded her head and said, “Thank you for your assistance great one. I don’t think I would’ve survived without your timely intervention.”

Backing up a few paces, the mighty Unicorn nodded his head. *I agree.* Pointing with his horn at the corpse of Red Ferret. *I just regret having to kill that one. He was not truly evil, just misguided.*

Tatianna could feel the remorse in his tone. Nodding her head in agreement, she moved slightly to the left to get a better view of the magnificent Unicorn. Wincing in pain at the moment of her body, she groaned slightly.

*You are injured. Let me help you. Just relax, it’ll be okay.*

Taking a step closer, the mighty Unicorn leaned his head down until he touched his long horn to the center of Tatianna’s chest. A brilliant white light slowly flowed out of his horn to encompass her whole body. Tatianna felt a strange warmth flow over her body. There wasn’t any pain but she could feel the broken bones in her arm and ribs realigning themselves. While the cuts, bruises and scrapes she had suffered also began to heal. Even the scar on her face, began to fade. The unicorn held his horn over Tatianna’s chest for several minutes, while the warm glow roamed freely over her body, searching out any injury or disease that she might have suffered. When she was fully healed, the unicorn leaned away and the white light faded, leaving the small clearing to the rapidly darkening skies.

Standing, Tatianna flexed her arm, no pain. She rotated her torso, no pain; she didn’t even feel the fatigue she expected to have after her long flight and fight. Looking incredulously at the beautiful unicorn she said, “Thank you. I don’t know what you did, but thank you!”

The Unicorn bowed his massive head. *You are welcome*

Walking quickly up to the unicorn, she knelt down in front of him. “Oh great horned one, how can I ever repay my debt to you? First, you save me and then heal me. What can one, such as I, do for you?”

She could hear his laughter in her head. *Your thanks is enough. But if you insist, there is something you can do for me.*

Lifting her head up, she stared into his dark eyes. “Anything, name your price.”

Nickering at her remark, the mighty Unicorn turned his head so she was looking into his left eye.  *Anything?*

Raising one eyebrow, Tatianna’s tone turned cold. “Anything, within reason.”

She began the early process of casting a spell, reciting the incantation in her mind and readying the spell component in her right hand. She really didn’t want to fight the beautiful unicorn, by all accounts it was a creature on the side of good but if he wanted her son, then he would be in for the fight of his life.

The mighty Unicorn pranced around slightly at her tone.

*I see the gods have chosen well. You would die before letting anyone take your child. I can see that in your eyes.* Moving back a few steps, he shook his head. *Nay, it’s nothing like that. I would just like for you to spend the night with me. There is much we can learn from each other.*

Tatianna visibly relaxed at the unicorn’s request. “I would be honored to accompany you tonight but first, I must take care of the fallen.”

*I understand and agree but you better hurry. These woods are no longer safe. Trolls and worse prowl them at night. The sun will be behind the mountains within the hour and we need to be long gone from here by then. The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air. Every predator within five miles will be here soon.*

Nodding in understanding, Tatianna set to work. First, she laid out Corax the Black Arrow. Examining his body, she removed a small leather pouch that hung around his neck. She knew this to be his medicine bag which held trinkets and icons that were very personal to him. This she would pass on to his kin.

Placing her hand over his heart, she spoke in a soft voice. “Go to Luna with pride, knowing that your selfless sacrifice has saved another.”

She performed the same ceremony for Red Ferret. His medicine bag, she placed in a pouch she wore at her waist, while she placed Corax’s around her own neck. Turning back toward the great Unicorn, she found him studying her. Placing her hands on her hips, she returned his stare.

His dark eyes sparkling with amusement, he pointed his horn at the laid out bodies. *You treat your enemies the same as your friends. Why?*

Flipping aside a stray strand of red hair that the cold winter wind had just blown into her face, she said, “You said it yourself. Red Ferret wasn’t really evil, just misguided. I just want his passage to the other side to go peaceful. Whatever he did in this life, his soul doesn’t deserve to suffer the anguish caused by an improper burial.”

Nodding his head, the Unicorn seemed to like her explanation. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. *Come, we must go now. Trolls are approaching from the south.*

“I’m ready.”

*Climb on.*

Hesitating for a brief second, Tatianna vaulted up to land lightly on the mighty unicorn’s back. Grabbing a handful of his mane, she whispered softly in his ear. “I’m ready.”

*Hold on tight.*

With that, the mighty unicorn bolted north. The clearing and the bodies of the dead were left behind. Soon the landscape and trees became a blur as they traveled as fast as the wind, always heading north.

Tatianna couldn’t help but wonder where this magnificent creature out of legends was taking her. At first, Tatianna held on tightly as they bolted out of the forest and headed north. The dizzying speed was frightening but after several minutes, she began to relax. The unicorn’s gait was different than any horse she had ever ridden. It was more like riding in a boat which was floating down a gentle river than on a horse. As they ran for the rest of the night, she tucked her head down and fell asleep. At dawn, the mighty unicorn slowed his pace.

Waking up, Tatianna raised her head to survey the surrounding landscape. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at their obvious destination. It was a castle made entirely of ice with many spiraling towers. It was situated on a lonely, snow-covered hill where it had a commanding view of the plains of ice that lay all around them. The towers and walls of ice captured the morning sun and reflected it in a thousand different directions, giving the castle the appearance of sparkling diamonds. A blue banner with a white unicorn’s head flew from each of the towers.

Finding her voice, Tatianna asked. “What…What is that?”

Chuckling, *Why that is my home. Do you like it?*

“Like it? It is beautiful beyond description.”

*Thank you. It was built it many, many years ago. I have had very few visitors over the years.* He paused. *As a matter of fact, I think you are the first mortal to visit here since the fall of the gods.*

“But that was close to five thousand years ago. Who are you?”

Tatianna heard his laughter in her head.

*Don’t recognize me?* The Unicorn shook his head. *Of course you wouldn’t. There are none alive in the Elven community that knows me. They all moved south to warmer climates.* His tone became softer, almost apologetic. *There was a time when this castle was filled with the song and laughter of elves, halflings and centaurs. Such a long time ago but as you walk the halls of my castle listen closely.*

“Why?”

*You may still hear the echoes of their songs and laughter.*

As they entered the fabulous castle, the mighty unicorn lowered his head. Sliding off, Tatianna landed lightly. Turning to face her savior Tatianna asked once again, “Who are you?”

Kneeling on one knee and lowering his head as if bowing, he said, *Aquilo, Master of the North Wind at your service.*

Tatianna slapped herself on the forehead. “Of course, Aquilo the eldest son of Hyperion and father of all horses. The Master Weavers spoke of you several times during my training.”

*You mean there are still elves who remember me?* The shock was evident in his tone.

“Not many but when the Master Weavers want to make a point, they always delve into legends and lore; which means the tale of Eldath and the five-hundred trolls always comes up. Is it true that you came to his aid as he stood alone, facing five-hundred trolls?”

Nickering, Aquilo’s voice held the tone of amusement as he listened to her excitement. *Actually, it was more like fifty trolls but yes I did come to his aid.*

“What was he like? Everything I’ve ever read about him concerns his work but not who he really was.”

Aquilo started walking down one of the corridors. Tatianna followed.

*Eldath was different from any elf I have ever met. To most elves, he was an outcast, a renegade. The royalty especially didn’t like him. His politics and his methods made them nervous. Eldath was a man of extremes. He was quick to smile or laugh but just as quick to attack. He was gracious in friendship and merciless in combat. He was known to consort with dwarves and halflings, he was a friend to the highlanders and centaurs, but he was highly respected by his friends and enemies alike.*

Aquilo stopped in mid-stride as his voice took on a far away quality, as if he was reliving the past. Tatianna just waited and watched.

*Eldath was a good friend, I miss him dearly. He was one of the few elves who truly understood the secret of the universe.*

“Red Ferret mentioned the secret of the universe earlier. But something didn’t seem right in his explanation, like he was missing something vital or important.”

Aquilo turned his head to stare at her; she could see a sparkle in his eyes. Was it amusement, astonishment, or just a trick of the light? Tatianna couldn’t tell.

*You are right. Red Ferret was limited in his understanding of the universe. Therefore it clouded his understanding of its secrets. Would you like to know the true secret?*

Tatianna nodded. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

Aquilo pointed with his horn to a dark portal at the end of the hall. *The answers you seek lie in there. If you would know the truth, enter and seek it. For truth has seen you but you have not seen it. But remember, what you seek and what you find are not always the same. Enter and seek the truth.*

Looking at the dark portal, it seemed so out of place in Aquilo’s castle of ice. Everything was graceful and filled with light but this portal was dark and foreboding. Although the walls of the castle were made of ice and were cold to the touch, the castle itself made her feel warm. However, not this portal; it radiated a bone numbing cold that sent chills down her spine.

“What is beyond the portal?”

*Knowledge or oblivion. Which do you wish to find?*

“Knowledge.”

*Then step through and seek that what you must know.*

Biting her lower lip, Tatianna stepped forward. Just before she plunged into the dark portal, she glanced back at the majestic unicorn. It might’ve been her imagination but she could swear that she saw concern filling Aquilo’s dark eyes. Steeling herself for the unknown, she stepped through the dark portal.

Tatianna felt a cold tingling sensation as the world around her went black. It was almost as if her skin was being caressed by thousands of butterflies with wings of ice. A scant few seconds later, the tingling stopped and Tatianna found herself in the center of a large round room. The walls were covered with shelves upon shelves of books. Looking up, the shelves and the ceiling were lost into the darkness. Glancing down, she noticed she was standing in the center of a large mosaic of the Dhyana, where the three teardrops intersect. In the middle of the larger part of each teardrop was an immense obelisk, each being carved from a different stone that blended with the color of the Dhyana.

Moving to the white obelisk, she studied its simplistic design. Although simple, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Running her hand over its smooth surface, it was warm to the touch and she felt a wave of emotions rush over her as she touched it. The feelings of sadness and loss nearly overwhelmed her. Removing her hand quickly, only the memories of the feelings stayed with her. Touching it again, the feelings washed over her a second time. This time she didn’t remove her hand but closed her eyes and let the empathic feelings flow through her. Along with the strong feelings of loss and sadness, she felt love and hope buried deep inside the obelisk. Removing her hand and opening her eyes, Tatianna slowly wiped a stray tear away from her eye.

Speaking out loud to the darkness, “Alright Aquilo, what is it that you want me do? What is it that I’m supposed to discover?”

Wandering around the room, she glanced at the books. Most were covered in a thick layer of dust. Some of them seemed to be written in elvish but most weren’t. They were written in a language she didn’t recognize. Pulling down a book at random, she flipped though its pages. The letters were written in a strong bold script, while several drawings of griffins, dragons and gargoyles decorated the pages.

Placing the book back on the shelf, Tatianna moved to the gray obelisk. When she touched it, the same feelings of sadness and loss came over her. Studying the gray stone, she noticed the carving of a four-headed dragon, the symbol of Terra the Earth Mother.

Beneath the dragon in a flowing script was written: ‘When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and our children are helpless to act, look to the south for help. My Emissary will come to the aid of the Chosen One and his friends. A warrior by trade, a poet by nature and a rogue reputation, my Emissary will be a true follower of the Dhyana, one who always seeks to balance the many different factors within and around himself. My Emissary will aid the Nine and play a pivotal role in the final battle that will seal the fate of Terreth for all eternity.’

Looking up, Tatianna’s eyes fell on the black obelisk. She almost ran to the black pillar. Walking around it quickly, she spied a carving of a gargoyle. Looking below it, she wasn’t surprised to see another inscription carved into the hard rock.

The script was slightly different: ‘When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished, and our children are helpless to act, beware of the South. For an Emissary of Evil will come in the guise of a friend, stealing itself into the heart of the Chosen One and his people. Part warrior, part wizard and all rogue, the Emissary will be the true offspring of Darkness; fair of sight and foul of soul. My Emissary will betray the Nine and play a pivotal role in the final battle that will seal the fate of Terreth for all eternity.’

Looking up, she pushed several stray strands of her scarlet hair behind her pointy ears. “This is close to what Red Ferret told me shortly before his death. Except, here it’s written as if Nox was saying it.”  Her eyes fell back on the white obelisk. “I wonder what Hyperion’s obelisk has to say.”

Walking over to the white obelisk, she found the carving of a griffon and the same bold script underneath: ‘When the Darkness falls over the land and our children are helpless to act, look deep inside for help. For buried deep inside all creatures, great or small, lies the true warrior of good. The final battle will not be decided by gods or demons but by one creature’s selfless act. For that one act will seal the fate of Terreth for all eternity.’

Dropping to her knees, Tatianna stared at the obelisk for several minutes. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her stomach. Most people could see the slightest of bulges but to Tatianna who could feel the life inside her growing larger every day, the bulge was enormous.

She rubbed her belly. “My son, I’m almost sorry to bring you into this world. I hope you will at least know peace for your childhood, for it seems that you will have a hard life.”

Looking around, her voice took on a hard tone. “Gods and demons alike may have plans for you but you will be your own master, not a puppet. You will be a great warrior like your father, brave, proud, strong and honorable. You will do what is right. I know it! I can feel it.”

Standing up, she walked back to the center of the room. Not knowing why, she spoke into the darkness. “Aquilo, I’m ready now.”

A blinding flash of light washed over her and she vanished.

After she was gone, a large creature floated down from the darkness above. Landing lightly on her two padded back legs, she folded her wings behind her back. Walking quietly over to the white obelisk, she placed her right front talon on the same area where Tatianna had touched the obelisk.

Lowering her beaked head, the mighty griffin closed her eyes. “Yes father, I understand. The child must live at all costs but what of the elf?”

The griffin shook her head. “Yes, I understand. It shall be done.”

Launching itself upward with a mighty push from its lion legs, the griffin didn’t begin to flap her wings until she cleared the top of the twenty-foot obelisks. Flying off into the darkness, she left the room to the silence and solitude that were its companions.

*   *   *   *   *

As Hawkeye watched his beloved fly off to the south in fast pursuit of Corax the Black Arrow, his heart ached at the thought of Tatianna in battle without him at her side, even if it was only a ritual battle.

Moving up behind him, Anasazi clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry my nephew. She’ll be all right. The gods have a certain destiny planned for her,” after a brief pause, “and for you. You must do what you can to save our people. Only you have the skills to organize the nine tribes into one effective army.”

Hawkeye looked his uncle in the eyes and could see his own fears for Tatianna mirrored there but there was more. Those same eyes told the story of his failure should he not take command and lead his people to victory.

Anasazi continued. “You have all of the skills you need to complete your destiny, so does Tatianna. Trust in the Gods. They have laid out a path for you to follow but you must make that choice. Will you lead, follow or move out of the way? The choice is yours. For only you can make that decision.”  Turning, he walked out of the village.

Watching him go, Hawkeye felt alone. The truth of the burden placed on him by Luna was beginning to weigh heavy on his heart. Just then, he felt a slight tug on his belt. Looking down, he saw the teary face of Amani. Kneeling down in the snow, he placed one hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “What’s wrong my dear? Why are you crying?”

Amani spoke in a small voice. “My father is still missing. Red Eagle said she would find him for me but now she is fighting the raven warlord.” With that, she broke down and the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

Seeing the young girl’s pain, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder. Gently stroking her dark hair he said, “Don’t worry Amani, we will find your father. Besides, I will need his help in the coming days.”

Pushing herself out from the shelter of his arms, she stared into his gray eyes. Her brown eyes were still full of tears but she ignored them. “You promise?”

“I promise. We will find him. Everything will be okay.”

Wiping away the tears, she flashed him a smile. Suddenly, she lunged forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. “Thank you Wolflord. Red Eagle said you would help. I thought you would be too busy to help someone as small as me.”

“I’m never too busy to help those in need, especially such a pretty young girl. Now run back to your duties and I will assign someone to find your father.”

Amani ran off to do his bidding. Smiling, Hawkeye stood up and was suddenly aware that his whole War Council had been watching them. Standing tall, he looked at their faces. Every last one of them returned his smile.

Hawkeye clapped his hands together. “All right! We need to start preparing the village for a siege. There is still a lot to be done. Somehow, in my heart of hearts, I know Blackfang will attack during the Yuletide Festival. That is only a week away and we are nowhere near ready for a full-scale attack.”

The gathered council nodded their agreement.

Hawkeye faced Nilrem. “Would you take a group of men into the forest and cut down hundreds of saplings? I want a palisade of spikes surrounding both entrances into the village.”

“It will be done Wolflord.”  He didn’t even wait for Hawkeye to finish dividing up the jobs before he turned toward the village to organize his group.

Hawkeye continued to select and direct. Chewda was charged with setting as many traps in the nearby forest as possible. They were to be as deadly or as delaying as possible. Odovacar was charged with readying the village interior for a proper defense. That meant rigging many of the lodges to collapse, digging pitfalls and anything else he could think of to delay or harass any invaders once they entered the village.

Owl and Raven Warlords with a constant air patrol of the surrounding area. Hawkeye was not going to be caught by surprise, no matter what. The Puma and Lynx warlords were charged with land patrols and finding Kaoni Bravefoot, his missing kinsman. The new fox warlord was charged with crafting as many arrows as possible in the next week.

Hawkeye spent the rest of the day organizing a retreat. He knew there was going to be a great battle in Itasca and he wanted to send all non-combatants to Sikya. It would be there that they would make their final stand. He knew that when it came to that, they would have the backing of the mountains to hide in, the hundreds of warriors in the west village and hopefully, the support of the dwarves of Darkmoor.

He made sure that no one tribe or pack felt the brunt of any one job, with the exception of the aerial patrols. Even then, they were always a mixed patrol. Hawkeye had made it clear to the members of his War Council that operating as separate tribes would not be tolerated. They were to divide the jobs equally and fairly. So for the first time in Highlander history, the wolf worked alongside the fox and the bear beside the boar and so on and so on. Soon, the warriors stopped thinking of themselves as members of the Blue Boar Pack or the Red Fox Pack. They began thinking of themselves as members of the Highland Nation, the chosen warriors of Luna the Moon Goddess.

By nightfall, without the return of Tatianna or Black Arrow, Hawkeye was worried. Anasazi counseled him not to worry but that was as useless as asking a rooster not to crow at sunrise. However Hawkeye agreed to wait and watch. He knew that sometimes these challenges took days. He once had a challenge that took seven days to win. Forcing himself to relax, he tried to turn his attention back to his duties. He knew that if he failed now, then many of his people would die. For his mentor had taught him an old saying that he knew was true, ‘Tomorrow’s battle is won in today’s practice.’

Tomorrow would be here soon enough and that would put them one day closer to the battle that they weren’t ready for and he knew that the nine days left before Yuletide would pass far too quickly for them to be truly ready.

Walking around the village, Hawkeye was amazed at the buzz of activity still going on, it was almost midnight and probably half of the village was still hard at work. Even though the reason everyone was working hard was grim, his people weren’t. Everywhere he went, he saw smiles on their faces as they worked, some were even singing. They knew that this might be there last week on Terreth and instead of moping about, they were embracing life. Celebrating what short time they had left. It was then that Hawkeye realized how much he truly loved his people and it seemed they loved him. Whenever they saw him, they would stop working long enough to wave or nod their heads in his direction. Returning their wave or nod, Hawkeye continued his inspection of the village.

Popping his head into the Lodge of the Moon, he was surprised to see half of the women and children of the village inside working on arrows. Moving up the ramp to the main entrance of Itasca, he discovered that that landing just past the main gate had gained a new wall. Nilrem’s crew had used a combination of snow, dirt and timbers to erect a wall ten feet high which was lined with sharpened spikes every few feet. No army could easily swarm that wall, especially with Highlander warriors defending its height.

Hawkeye paused to watch Nilrem and about fifty warriors hard at work building another section. The warlord and his crew were extremely busy, so Hawkeye moved on. Aimlessly wandering around the village, he found himself in front of Tatianna’s tipi. Pausing briefly outside, he studied her totem pole. It didn’t hold many trophies but the ones that were there were priceless. The remnants of her tattered blue tunic flapped in the cold wind, bearing a grim testimony to her narrow escape from the clutches of the Black Wolf Pack. Two red feathers topped the totem pole, a gift from Red Crow before his tragic death.

Not knowing why, Hawkeye entered Tatianna’s tent. It was dark since the fire was nothing but coals. Kneeling down, he threw a small handful of kindling on the fire and blew softly on the coals. After a moment, the fire roared to life as the flames began to consume the dry wood. That’s when he noticed the remnants of a blue scarf in the fire pit. Most of it had been consumed by the fire but not all of it. Fishing it out with his knife, Hawkeye glanced around. The tipi looked the same as the last time he was here but several things seemed to be out of place. First, there were several bowls with strange powders in them lying next to the fire and her eagle-head staff was lying on the sleeping furs. This was strange knowing how meticulous Tatianna was about her lodging.

What really grabbed his attention was the black hawk sitting above the doorway, watching him. The hawk was as black as midnight and seemed not afraid or threatened by him. Dropping the burnt scarf on the sleeping furs, Hawkeye approached the hawk and spoke in an even tone. “Hello there. Are you a friend of Tatianna’s?”

Nodding his head, Dûrdae the Shadowhawk chirped.

Hawkeye didn’t understand the shadowhawk’s answer but was still encouraged by his response.

“Do you know where she is?”

Dûrdae turned his head to watch Hawkeye with one eye. Another chirp.

Rubbing his chin, Hawkeye thought for a moment. He had heard stories about spell-weavers keeping a pet to watch over them. He knew that they were called familiars and they were extremely intelligent. They had some sort of bond with their master. He wondered if this strange hawk could be Tatianna’s familiar? He didn’t know but he was out of options. Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders and spoke to himself. “Besides what do I have to lose?”

Looking the Shadowhawk in his eyes, Hawkeye kept his voice low. “I’m not sure if you can understand me but I fear that Tatianna is in danger. She should’ve returned hours ago but there has been no word. I am forbidden by customs to go look for her. It is her destiny and I am not allowed to interfere but you aren’t. If Tatianna means anything to you, then we must do what we can to aid her.”

Dûrdae excitedly flapped his wings several times.

Hawkeye took this as a good sign and continued talking. “Can you find her? If she’s in trouble, let me know and customs be damned, I’ll be there to aid her. Can you do that?”

Squawking loudly, Dûrdae nodded his head and launched himself from his perch. Diving toward a large shadow at the foot of Tatianna’s sleeping furs; he disappeared without a sound.

Hawkeye stared at the shadow for several minutes before shaking his head in amazement and stepped out into the cold night air.

*   *   *   *   *

Sitting astride Aquilo, Tatianna gazed down on the village from the heights of a nearby mountain. They had traveled in relative silence since her return from the strange room. Aquilo would not say where the room was or much about it, other than she would know in time. Realizing Aquilo could not or would not talk about it she let the subject drop.

Almost immediately after her return, they set out for Itasca. Aquilo seemed to be in a hurry, he didn’t say why and she didn’t press him.

Looking down on the barbarian village, she knew why…Blackfang.

From all the activity and it was nearly midnight, she could only guess that reports had come in about the Dark Alliance marching on them. From her vantage point, she could pick out the hulking figure of Nilrem walking back and forth behind the barricade of the front gate.

*Your beloved waits for you below. Never doubt that Hawkeye truly loves you!*

With a crooked smile, Tatianna dismounted and said, “I know. It’s amazing. We’ve only known each other for several months but I feel like I’ve known him for an eternity.”

*You have.* Aquilo turned his head to look her in the eyes.

Shaking her head, “I don’t understand?”

*It’s simple. You and Kamots Hawkeye are soulmates. Your souls have known each other since the beginning of time. They are in effect one soul, which has been split into two halves. Each is an independent and separate entity but neither is whole without the other half. That is why you two connected so easily, especially since both of you are stubborn, guarded and fiercely independent.*

At first Tatianna didn’t know what to make of Aquilo’s opinion. It’s hard to think straight when the obvious has been right in front of you and you never realized the truth. Besides, she didn’t know how to take being called stubborn, guarded and fiercely independent in the same sentence.

When she didn’t respond immediately, Aquilo went on.

*I want you to know something else, yours and Hawkeye’s destiny lie down different paths. You two will travel together for a good portion of it but in the end, each of you must choose your own course. I do not envy you. You have a difficult road ahead, full of choices. Some will lead to joy, some to sorrow. There will be many surprises and a few betrayals. But never forget three things.*

Pausing, the great white Unicorn looked back at Itasca. Waiting for a moment, Tatianna followed his gaze. Right then, Hawkeye came into view. He was dressed in his normal battle array, weapons at the ready and his wolf’s mantle worn proudly on his brow. Tatianna’s heart skipped several beats as he strode through the chaos, placing a calming hand or offering an encouraging word to the men and women who labored below.

*First, your child must survive at all costs. He is the only one who can break the curse and rid the land of the Arachne. Second, be careful whom you trust. Not everyone is who you think they are.*

Looking back up, she met his gaze. “And the third?”

*In the end, you can only save one*

With that he turned back toward the north. *Goodbye Tatianna Amarth, Bladeweaver of Aurora, Red Eagle of the Highland Nation and mother of the Chosen One. We will not meet again… in this life.*

Puzzled by his words and saddened by his departure, Tatianna felt cold tears running down her cheek. “Goodbye Aquilo, Master of the North Wind. Thank you for all your help and advice. I will remember what you have told me.”

As the great white Unicorn raced off into the darkness, his voice came floating back once more on the north wind.

*Trust your instincts, for they are guided by your heart not your head.*

With those last words, Aquilo was gone and Tatianna was left alone on the mountainside. Just as she was about to begin her decent from the mountain, a large black hawk appeared out of the darkness with a loud screech.

“Well, hello yourself Dûrdae. Have you missed me?”

The large Shadowhawk began chirping and squawking.

“What, Hawkeye sent you to find me? He was worried? Well, what has been going on since I’ve been away?”

Dûrdae continued to chirp and squawk as the two made their way down the mountainside to the village.

Chapter 26

Once Anasazi left his nephew and walked out of the village, he made his way up the nearby mountain. The memory of the last time he had climbed this mountain came back to him. It was when he had found Hawkeye and Red Crow deep in conversation. His old friend was telling his nephew of their escapades when they were younger.

A smile crept over his face, as he thought of his past. He was old. Older than most people would guess. Unbidden, the memories of him and his two best friends, Red Crow and Lakota, Hawkeye’s father, as they rampaged their way through the Highlands and the lands below them fighting for whatever cause they cared about at the time, came to mind. Righting the wrongs afflicted on the helpless, plowing their way through enemies, burying their fallen friends and celebrating the life of their children. All these thoughts and more raced through his mind as he reached the crest of the small mountain.

Glancing around Lookout Point, as it was called, he spied Red Crow’s favorite perch. It was a large rock that sat near the edge of the cliff. From that vantage point, one could look out over the village and the vast landscape below. Sitting on Red Crow’s perch, he gazed at the sky above him. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was setting behind the Darkmoor Mountains in the distant west. Its fading light painted the sky a fiery red. Only a few gray clouds cluttering the evening sky, showing that tonight would be free of new snow. Yet, the air was cold and crisp. A slight breeze came from the northeast, bringing with it a promise of more snow.

Anasazi couldn’t help but smile as two red tail hawks glided gracefully on the updrafts created by the mountainside. He silently watched the hawks dance and whirl in the breeze. After a few moments, Anasazi spoke to them as if one of them was Red Crow.

“Well old friend, what do I do now? Your death has shaken all of us. Blackfang is sure to attack soon and although Hawkeye and Tatianna are doing a wonderful job, I don’t know if we will be ready. And even worse, I’ve lost my best friend. What do we do now?”

He fell silent as the hawks flew lazily toward him. Anasazi watched in fascination and awe at the majestic beauty of the hawks in flight. The way a hawk shifts its slight weight in the currents, the way its pinfeathers twist in the wind, the way its tail feathers feel the air and move accordingly to steer it in flight. It was all this and more that fascinated Anasazi. He had always envied that part of Red Crow’s shape shifting ability. His own natural ability to shape shift into a wolf had its own advantages but to fly must be extremely exhilarating. They had always argued about the differences and similarities between spirit walking and flying. The things a person experiences when spirit walking is beyond description but to fly as a bird must also be beyond description. Anasazi knew there were some things you just cannot describe, you must experience them. Flying and spirit walking were two of those.

Anasazi was brought out of his reverie by the sudden and unexpected landing of one of the hawks. It landed about two feet in front of him and seemed to be studying him. Tilting its head back and forth quickly, it chirped at him.

“What is my little friend? Are you hungry?”

Reaching into a small pouch, Anasazi tossed a piece of dried buffalo meat to the hawk. He watched in utter fascination as it pecked at it once. Then looking back at him and squawked loudly.

“What is it? I don’t understand.”

The hawk moved its head from side to side. Suddenly, the second red tailed hawk joined the first. However, it didn’t land as graceful as the first. Its legs buckling slightly with the impact of landing, causing it to slip and crash belly up on the snow covered rock. Standing up slowly, it shook its head slightly and then walked up behind the first hawk. The two birds began studying Anasazi.

Gesturing slowly with his hands, Anasazi spoke softly. “Just a moment, I know a spell that will allow us to communicate.”

He knew that the hawk didn’t understand his exact words but he hoped his tone, actions and emotions would convey his message. Reaching into his satchel, Anasazi slowly pulled forth a small bundle. Laying it down in front of him, he was slightly surprised to see that neither hawk backed away. Opening his medicine bundle, he found the magical charm he was looking for, an eagle’s wing. It was ancient, yet beautifully preserved. It had been his mentor’s and had been passed down to him when he joined the shamanic order along with the satchel that he always carried. Picking up the eagle’s wing, he passed it over his face and ears while chanting an ancient charm. When he was finished, he was able to speak and understand the language of the birds. The charm would only last for a few minutes but it should be long enough for him to find out what these two unusual hawks wanted.

Looking down at them, he spoke to them again. This time his voice came out in a series of chirps, squawks and whistles. “Now my little friends, how can I be of service to you?”

The color drained from Anasazi’s face as the first hawk answered him.

“It’s about time you cast that spell. I was beginning to believe you had forgotten how.”  It was the voice of Red Crow, his oldest friend and companion.

“What… How?” Anasazi stammered.

The first hawk, the one speaking with Red Crow’s voice continued. “There is not enough time to explain. Suffice to say these two hawks were friends of mine when I was alive. They were kind enough to lend us their bodies for a short time where we could contact you but we don’t have much time.”

Anasazi asked, “Don’t have much time for what?”

“For finding a suitable place to haunt. We are spirits now or what mortals call ghosts. We need to find a place to haunt for the rest of eternity.”

“But why aren’t you in the realm of Luna?”

The red tail hawk that was Red Crow became agitated. It wings flapped angrily and it hopped around on one foot. “Trust me, old friend. There will be time to explain all of this later. Right now we need a place to haunt that will help the Chosen One in his struggle against the enemy. Any suggestions?”

Anasazi rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. “What are the requirements?”

Red Crow looked at the other hawk for a moment.

When the other hawk replied, his voice was soft and had the undeniable accent of an elf. “As far as I know, there isn’t any. Red Crow insisted that we visit you first for any suggestions. But we only have an hour to choose our location before that choice is taken from us and we are sentenced to whatever location we are in when the time runs out.”

The hawk that was Eldath looked at the sun. “That time is almost up. Judging from the sun, I would guess we have less than a quarter hour remaining.”

“Any suggestions?” Red Crow asked. “We need someplace that we can assist the Chosen One in his coming battle.”

Anasazi thought for a moment and then an idea hit him. “As far as you know, there are no restrictions?”

Eldath shook his head. “With the exception of another living creature, no.”

Reaching down, Anasazi pulled out his blood-brother’s satchel. “Then use this. It is a magical pouch given to me by Lakota, Hawkeye’s father, many years ago. As far as I know, it doesn’t have a limit in size. I can store an unknown amount of stuff in it and it never changes shape, size or weight. I believe it actually opens onto another dimension but I am not sure.”

Red Crow cocked his head sideways. “How can that help the Chosen One?”

Anasazi smiled. “Simple. When he is born I will give it to him and he will be able to take you with him no matter where he travels. It would be better than being anchored to one place on Terreth and him having to travel to see you.”

The two possessed hawks looked at each other for a brief moment and then with a quick nod of their head they left their mortal host. A swirling gray mist flowed out of their beaks and into the satchel. The two hawks looked around for a brief moment before launching themselves into the sky.

The ancient shaman watched as the majestic birds flew into the morning sky.

For some reason, the fiery sky seemed less daunting and so did the future of the Highland Nation. Now, he knew what must be done to help the two lovers. Gathering his medicine bundle, he walked back down the mountainside with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

He had climbed the mountain looking for inspiration. Instead, he had found two things that were more important. Allies against the coming darkness in the form of two spirits but more importantly he had found hope. And that was the one thing they all needed the most, hope for the future. For without hope, all would be lost.

Chapter 27

On the eve of the Yuletide Festival, all was peaceful.

A gentle breeze was blowing from the north, but the snow had stopped, for now. The heavy clouds that had blanketed the sky for the last several days had parted to reveal the crescent moon. With the exception of those on guard duty, the whole village had turned out for the wedding.

A small group of Dwarves led by Midach Bonecrusher had arrived earlier that day. Balder, Alder and twenty other dwarves had accompanied him to the union of the Highland Nation’s greatest heroes, Kamots Hawkeye the Wolflord and Tatianna Amarth the Red Eagle.

The ceremony was held in the mouth of the Cave of Luna. Standing in the opening, bathed in the light of the crescent moon, Anasazi almost looked godlike. His long silver hair hung loose and seemed to blend with the white robes he wore.

As was the custom, Hawkeye was seated at his side cross-legged and dressed in his finest battle array with his weapons laid to the side but within easy reach. The Wolflord looked very regal. He alternated between singing a love ballad in his native tongue or playing a lilting melody on an intricately carved flute. Hawkeye’s voice was deep and strong, while the flute’s sounds were soft and gentle, with a slight lilting or whistling tone. Both imparted the love Hawkeye felt for Tatianna. It had taken Hawkeye over a month to carve the traditional love flute out of ash wood. It was over a foot long and had intricate carvings of a running wolf chasing an eagle in front of the crescent moon along the body of the flute. Attached to one end were three tail feathers from a red-tailed hawk and some white wolf hair.

Just as the sun’s last light crested the peaks of the mountains surrounding Itasca, everyone heard a loud voice answering Hawkeye’s song. It was Tatianna’s. Her voice cut through the cold evening air like a warm breeze carrying the hint of spring on its tones. She sang in her native tongue of Elvish, which no one understood except Anasazi. Even though those gathered couldn’t understand the words she sang, they could understand the love that her song held.

The gathering of Highlanders parted way as she approached the path to the Cave of Luna and the man she loved. Since neither her own father, nor Red Crow her adopted father, were here to escort her she had asked Midach Bonecrusher to accompany her ascent to the cave. Towering over the massive dwarf, they made an interesting pair as they made their way through the crowd.

Reaching the top, he placed her hand on Hawkeye’s waiting arm. Smiling at the young couple, Midach whispered. “May Bromios also bless your union.”  With that simple blessing, he turned and joined his companions.

Kneeling, the lovers lowered their heads. Lifting his face to the heavens, Anasazi raised his voice. “Luna! Goddess of the Moon and Protector of the Highland Nation please hear my words!”

Pausing, Anasazi cried out again. “Aurora! The gracious Lady of the Morning and Mistress of the Elves, please hear my words! We humble mortals stand before you and ask for your blessing on this holiest of unions between Kamots Hawkeye of the Highland Nation and Tatianna Amarth of the Elves. They have declared their love for each other to me and now they will declare it to you and the world.”  Placing his hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder, Anasazi nodded.

Hawkeye lifted his face toward the heavens. “Luna, Aurora, and even Hecate, the Lady of Darkness, we have met once before and on that occasion I declared my love for Tatianna to the three of you. Nothing has changed except one thing.”  Pausing, he looked into Tatianna’s beautiful sky blue eyes. “I love her more today than yesterday. And so it will be greater still tomorrow.” He looked back to the heavens. “I ask for your blessing on our marriage.”

As he finished, Hawkeye glanced back at Tatianna. She was crying. He was about to say something, when Anasazi interrupted. “Tatianna, it is your turn.”

Flashing a quick smile and a wink at Hawkeye, she turned her face to the heavens. “Aurora my goddess, please hear my call. I have served you since birth. It gives me great pride in knowing you and your sisters chose me to bear your son, the one foretold in the ancient prophecies. I humbly ask for your blessing on my wedding to the man you chose to be his protector. For I love Kamots Hawkeye without reservation. He is the most honorable, most caring, the most loving man I have ever known. Please, grant us your blessing.”

Taking out a small ceremonial dagger, Anasazi held it out towards the couple. One at a time, the two lovers slit their right thumbs on the dagger’s sharp edge. Placing their thumbs together, Anasazi bound their thumbs together with a leather cord. Speaking loudly, Anasazi’s voice was full of pride and happiness. “Just as your blood is now one, so shall you two be as one. Live now and forever, as one flesh.”

Hawkeye leaned over and gently kissed Tatianna. A great cheer went up from the gathered Highlanders. Turning toward the gathering, Tatianna and Hawkeye raised their bound hands high in the air. The crowd howled and screamed in happiness.

Suddenly, a shrill note echoed loudly over the cheering crowd and everyone fell silent. They knew what that simple note meant. They had dreaded hearing it but at the same time, they were slightly relieved to hear it. It meant their wait was over, Blackfang and his army had arrived.

The Highland Nation was going to war.

Everyone reacted quickly to the alarm, running to his or her assigned tasks. Within moments the newlyweds were alone with Anasazi.

Hawkeye and Tatianna knelt down as the old shaman placed his hands on each of their foreheads. Lifting his face skyward, he spoke in a clear voice. “May Luna’s blessed light always shine on you two. The Gods have blessed your union. Go and confront your destiny as one.”

Lowering his hands, Anasazi turned his back on the lovers and walked deeper into the cave.

Hawkeye unwrapped the cord which bound their thumbs together and spoke first. “I love you.”

Tatianna flashed him a crooked smile. “I love you too.”  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. “Just be careful, I don’t want to become a wife and a widow on the same day.”

“Don’t worry my love. It is not my destiny to die today.”

Tatianna raised her left eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I know how I’m going to die!”

She threw her arms up in frustration. “What a calming reassurance that is! You know how you’re going to die? And how do you know that?”

Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders. “Luna has shown me.”

“Would you mind letting your wife in on the secret?”

“Maybe, at another time and another place.”  Kissing her quickly Hawkeye said, “I must go. My brother is waiting.”

“Okay! Go! Just come back to me in one piece.”

“I will.”

Hawkeye gathered his weapons and sprinted to the Lodge of the Moon where his war council would be gathered. Striding in, everyone fell silent. Odovacar, Nilrem, Chewda and Midach were studying a rough map of the area, Hawkeye noticed a young brave of the Raven tribe standing nearby.

Realizing Hawkeye’s unspoken question, Odovacar pointing at the young brave. “This is Dark Arrow, Corax’s son. It was he who first spotted the army coming from the south.”

Turning to study the young man, Hawkeye noticed the family resemblance to his father in his face and confident stance. “I’m sorry about the loss of your father. He was a great warrior and he will be sorely missed.”

Dark Arrow nodded his head. “Thank you Wolflord.”

Turning back to the business at hand, Hawkeye pointed at the deerskin map. “Now, what did you see?”

Pointing at the hills about twenty miles south of the village, Dark Arrow explained. “A large army consisting mostly of gnomes and cyclops are moving north slowly. I would estimate the total attacking force to be three thousand strong.”

The red bearded dwarf Midach interrupted. “How many of those are one-eyes?”

“Probably five hundred; I would guess about fifteen hundred goblins, the rest a combination of gnomes, dark elves and highlanders.”

Nodding his head, Hawkeye rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Any trolls?”

Dark Arrow shook his head. “Not that I saw.”

“Have they sent out any flanking troops?”

“None that I could see, however we have more scouts out right now but none have returned.”

“At their present speed, how long before they reach the village?”

“I would guess midnight or maybe a few hours past.”

Hawkeye slapped the young brave on his shoulder.  “Thank you Dark Arrow. You’ve done a great job. Now get some rest. We will need your strength all too soon.”

“Thank you Wolflord.”

Nilrem spoke up. “What do you think?”

Hawkeye began to pace. Rubbing his chin slightly, he muttered to himself. “What would Blackfang do? That is the question. He knew we would have flyers in the air. He knew we would spot him, giving us ample time to prepare. What is he up to?’

Nilrem interrupted his thoughts. “Wolflord? Excuse me, Hawkeye what do you think Blackfang will do?”

Hawkeye looked up. “That’s a very good question, my friend.”

Moving over to the deerskin map, he pointed at the forest just south of the village. “My guess is that Blackfang knew we would discover him and see any complicated plans he might try with his troops. My best guess is that he plans just to plow right through the forest and right over us, a straight frontal attack.”

Midach Bonecrusher spoke up. “He wouldn’t do that! It would be too costly to his troops!”

Hawkeye flashed the diminutive, yet deadly dwarf a grim smile. “That’s exactly what he’s planning to do. Don’t forget, he doesn’t care about the lives of his troops. They are like badly constructed arrows to him, something to be used and then discarded.”

Nodding his head, Hawkeye continued. “Yes, he’ll go for a frontal attack; probably tonight, when it’s dark. That way his gnome and shadow elf troops can get the best use of their night vision.”

Odovacar asked, “How do you want us deployed? At last count, there were only about a thousand warriors in Itasca.”

Looking at his friend, Hawkeye could tell that the young Boar Warlord was scared. They all were.

Hawkeye slapped Odovacar on the shoulder. “Three to one odds. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

He could see that the other warlords were thinking along the same lines by the tightness around their eyes and their grim expressions. “Do you think we ought to give them a chance to surrender?”

This got a laugh from everyone and he could feel the tension in the lodge lessen slightly at his joke. Looking around at those gathered he saw the combined looks of hope, fear, excitement and dread on each of the faces around him. He knew very few of them had ever been in a war before; most had only fought in small battles, those with twenty or fifty combatants. The sheer size of the army confronting them is what scared them the most.

Raising his voice, Hawkeye said in a loud and clear voice. “Everyone, listen up! I know we stand against an army at least three times our size. I also know that sheer numbers can play a big part in battle but we are the mighty Highland Nation; chosen by Luna herself, to guard and raise the child foretold. He must live to grow strong enough to combat the ancient evil that once more roams across our land.”

Pausing in his speech, Hawkeye began to walk amongst those gathered placing a hand on a shoulder here or a pat on the back there.

“We cannot fail. For if we do, then all of Terreth will fall under the cloak of darkness and never again will our children be allowed to run through the wild forests or fly through their unbroken skies. They will become slaves to the great darkness that lurks in the remote corners of the world.”

The gathered warlords were beginning to feel the optimism that Hawkeye was projecting. Warriors were grinning at the thought of destroying the evil that was threatening their land.

Moving back to the center of the room, Hawkeye raised his voice until he was almost screaming. “We will not fail! We cannot fail! We are fighting for our lives, our children, our freedom, our land and our goddess! Fight with all of your heart and all of your skill! And if you do that, then I promise…”

Hawkeye paused and glanced around the room once more making eye contact with as many warriors as possible.

“I promise, we will be victorious!”

The Lodge of the Moon erupted in a roar that was deafening. As the cheering continued, Nilrem leaned down and whispered into Hawkeye’s ear. “Good speech. Now, how do you plan on handling Blackfang?”

Nodding his head, Hawkeye pointed at the map. The cheering quickly stopped so they could hear their leader talk. He pointed at the forest. “Chewda, take all of the wolverine and fox tribes into the forest and ambush them as they come through. Make them pay for every foot they travel but don’t over expose yourselves. Your job is to delay and to harass, nothing more.”

Nodding his head, the diminutive warlord rubbed his hands together as a broad smile broke across his face. “It will be done, Wolflord.”

Hawkeye continued. Pointing at the ridge above the village, he looked at the warlord of the puma tribe. “Golden Wind, you will take the puma and lynx tribes and move them here. Your job will be to attack the enemy’s flanks as they chase the wolverine and fox tribes back to the village. Make sure you don’t overextend your own flanks.”

Golden Wind silently nodded his head in agreement.  “Those of the owl and raven tribes who are not acting as scouts will also join you on the heights. They should be able to guard your flanks.”

With a brief nod, Golden Wind spoke quietly, “Very good.”

He looked into the eyes of his friend Odovacar. “You and the boar tribe are to guard the back gate and act as our reserve. It is imperative that the back gate remains open, if it isn’t then we’re doomed.”

Odovacar said, “Don’t worry Wolflord, it will remain open and free.”

Turning to the large bear warlord Nilrem, Hawkeye clapped his friend on the back. “Well, my friend it seems that you and I are to be the bait in the trap that will hopefully catch a black wolf.”

Nilrem clapped his hands together and grinned. “It’s about damn time! I’m tired of all this waiting and talking. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of those little Dark Alliance cowards. I’ll teach them a lesson!”

“I know you will.”

Midach Bonecrusher spoke up. “It would be an honor if you let my kinsman and myself stand by your side.”

Bowing his head, Hawkeye smiled. “It will be our honor to have you and your kinsman to join us in battle. I would consider it a great personal honor for you to stand at the vanguard with us.”

Midach nodded his head before moving over to stand next to Nilrem.

Hawkeye raised his voice one last time. “All of you remember, Luna has blessed our venture and she is watching. Let’s not disappoint her.”

The lodge erupted in another cheer as the War Council broke up, each going to their assigned tasks. Hawkeye couldn’t help but wonder at how many were not going to live to see the next moonrise?

Chapter 28

As Hawkeye gazed at their makeshift fortifications and the warriors that manned them, he wondered if he had judged his brother right. He knew that Blackfang with his superior numbers would probably go for a frontal assault. Blackfang didn’t care if his troops lived or died. To him they were disposable. He would herd his troops towards his enemy, hoping to crush the defenders with sheer numbers, while at the same time not exposing himself or the members of his pack to the actual fighting.

Hawkeye on the other hand, cared for his troops and they had come to care for him. And with the overwhelming odds facing them, Hawkeye couldn’t spare a single warrior’s life on foolish or reckless tactics. He knew he must rely on trickery, stealth and cunning if the Highland Nation was to survive.

To that end, Hawkeye knew that this would be a long war and he planned on using Itasca as the site of their first battle. The Highlanders had spent the last month working hard to make the village one large deathtrap. Some of the lodges had been filled with dry tinder and vats of tar. And he realized that when Blackfang attacked Itasca, it would be at the main entrance. The back entrance, the one he and Tatianna had arrived at the many months ago, was too easily defended.

The main entrance to Itasca had traditionally been the weakest point of any planned defense of the crater city. One section of the southwest wall had crumbled during an earthquake a century ago, leaving a large gap in the defense.

However, the Highlanders had built a new wall across the gap. Then, a large trench had been dug right in front of the wall giving the defenders much of the dirt needed for the fortifications. Afterwards, they had filled the bottom of the trench with tar and had lit torches placed all over the village for two reasons. Anyone could grab a nearby torch and light the trench or the lodges, turning the village into one large bonfire. Secondly, it also had the effect of making the village brightly lit, which in turn would hinder the gnomes’ and shadow elves’ night vision; hopefully stealing one of Blackfang’s advantages. Hawkeye figured that Blackfang would use the hulking cyclops to tear down the walls of the village, while the goblins would try to overrun it with their overwhelming numbers, followed by the hardy gnomes, which would leave the shadow elves and highlanders as his reserves.

Hawkeye had planned on this and in fact was counting on it. They had arranged many traps in the surrounding forest and numerous hidey-holes for the ambushing parties. They were as prepared as they could be, given the circumstances.

Tatianna and Anasazi had even sent magical requests for assistance to the leaders of the elves of Elfholm, the centaurs of the Great Forest and the dwarves of Darkmoor. They didn’t expect any help but it never hurt to ask.

Shortly before midnight, the aerial scouts began returning with reports from the front which told him that Blackfang was behaving just as Hawkeye had predicted, coming in straight and hard. It was obvious that he planned on crushing them with his superior numbers. He couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s arrogance. Looking around the busy lodge, he spied a messenger.

“You there,” pointing at Dark Arrow, “find my wife and ask her to join me.” The brave nodded quickly and left the lodge.

Hawkeye was pleased with the reports from the front. Most were good. The ambushes and traps in the forest were taking its toll on Blackfang's army. They had already killed about two hundred goblins and gnomes and had lost only about twenty of their own. Although this was great news, Hawkeye knew that even the loss of a thousand warriors wouldn’t stop Blackfang. But the ambushes were doing their job though, slowing their approach. The Dark Alliance would not reach the village until after dawn.

Seeing that the ambushes had done their work, Hawkeye ordered the withdrawal of the ambushing parties to their second staging area. This was off to the north of the village, where they could be well rested for covering their retreat. Hawkeye had chosen the wolf and bear tribes to be the bait, which meant they would take the brunt of the main assault. The puma and lynx were set to attack from the flanks and then retreat as the enemy started to attack back. This way, the bulk of the army would penetrate the village walls and hopefully get caught in the fire. It was a risky plan but the only one that offered any hope of victory.

Moments later, Dark Arrow returned. “Pardon me, Wolflord. But your wife bids you to come to the Cave of Luna as soon as possible.”

Hawkeye nodded his thanks and left the lodge without a further word. He found her in the Cave sitting cross-legged on the altar, talking to the empty air. Walking up to her, he placed his hand on her shoulders. She seemed not to notice, so caught up in her conversation.

“But great Aurora, how can we dare hope to achieve victory against such overwhelming odds?”

Hawkeye couldn’t hear any answer but knew that Tatianna did, for she nodded at the silent words. Slowly bowing her head, she closed her eyes for a few moments. Hawkeye waited patiently for his wife to speak.

A moment later, she looked up. Staring into his pale gray eyes, she flashed him that crooked smile he loved so much. Looking into her bright blue eyes, Hawkeye felt overwhelmed by the love he felt for his new bride. And for a brief moment, he forgot all his worries and troubles. Leaning down, he kissed her gently and passionately. There was a slight spark of magic between them. Somewhere deep inside both of them, they both knew this could be one of their last moments together. Hawkeye feared that one of them would not survive the upcoming battles.

Tatianna also feared this. At last she spoke, “You look tired, my love. How goes the war?”

Sitting down next to her, he took a deep breath before answering. “We have slowed them down but the true battle will happen just after dawn. And that outcome is still undecided. Other than that, we are as ready as we can be.”

Nodding her head, she pointed to the heavens. “I have been able to communicate with the Gods. Minos, the God of War, has blessed your plan. He is proud of you and wonders if you might have minotaur blood in your veins.”

Hawkeye smiled at the compliment. To be compared to a minotaur, his chosen followers, by the God of War was the greatest compliment he could receive from the Horned God.

Noticing that Hawkeye seemed to sit up a little straighter with Minos’ compliment, she continued. “The Sisters also bless your plan but they counsel you to not be rash.”

With that she noticed how Hawkeye’s shoulders slumped with despair.

“The enemy is three times as strong as we are and nothing we have done so far has done anything more than slow them down by a couple of hours. They have lost nearly ten warriors to everyone that we lose but they have many more to lose than we do. Every death we sustain weakens us, while every death they sustain just feeds their army.”

Letting his shoulders slump all the way forward, Hawkeye felt the full weight of the burden placed on him. Placing his head in his hands, he shook his head back and forth and began to cry. “I don’t know if I can lead all these brave warriors to their deaths.”

Tatianna knew at that moment what it was about this barbarian that had stolen her heart. It was his gentle nature. He was already grieving for the loss of the warriors that would die over the next few days, weeks or months. Sure, Hawkeye would kill the enemy but that didn’t mean he would enjoy it. And he never enjoyed losing a friend. Reaching down, she pulled his hands away from his face.

Holding them tight, she looked deep into his eyes. “I want to tell you a secret. Although we have only been together for a short time, our souls have been together for eternity. If one or both of us don’t live through the next few days, weeks, months or years, it doesn’t matter. We have shared something few in this world will ever know, the love and joy of soulmates. We are no longer two people. We are one, in mind, body and soul.”

Hawkeye’s eyes brightened at her words but Tatianna could still tell his heart was still defeated inside.

Reaching up, she gently stroked his brow and pushed aside his raven black hair. “Twice you have found me when I was lost and rescued me. Now you are lost, for you have lost your hope for the future. And it is only that hope which will bring the Highland Nation through to victory. So, I will tell you two secrets. One which I was forbidden to tell but you are my soulmate and that means you are entitled to know.”

There was a slight echo of thunder, but Tatianna ignored it. “On the night you rescued me from the Spirit Realm, the Blessed Sisters took a small portion of your soul and gave it to my son. He is now a part of you, part of me and a part of your brother. It is the blending of these three souls that will allow our son to break the Spell of Binding and free the Gods. So you see a part of us will always be together as long as our son lives and he can only live if you lead these people to victory.”

Looking up Hawkeye’s eyes brightened with the news but his eyes widened as she lifted her robe to reveal her swollen belly. Reaching down, she guided his hands to her belly. It was not extremely large but it was getting larger by the day. Hawkeye felt a little flutter of movement under his hand. His face lit up at the magical moment. Looking at his wife, his tears began to roll down his face. They were tears of joy.

“That’s…that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt!”  Gently hugging her, Hawkeye slowly knelt and placed his ear on her belly. For a few moments he listened to the heartbeat of his unborn son. Then he spoke softly, so softly Tatianna could barely make out the words. “You will grow up to be a great warrior one day, my son. I am sorry that I may not be there to guide you on your path to greatness. Know now that I love you and I am proud of you, now and forever. Just remember never forget your past, for it is the doorway to your future. I will always be there for you, my son.”

Standing up slowly, Hawkeye gently kissed his wife one last time and said, “You’re right my love, the life of our son and the safety of Terreth is more important than our happiness. Know this; you have made me happier these last few months than I have been in all my years.”

Tatianna smiled at his words and gently caressed his face. “Now, go my love. Always remember that you have my love and my hopes. I will be with you always. If I survive and you don’t know this, I will never love anyone else the rest of my life. For you are truly my one and only soulmate.”

Turning quickly, Hawkeye exited the cave. His heart aching at the act of leaving her, it felt as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. It was the worst pain he had ever felt. To keep from running back to her, he whispered a quick prayer to Luna asking for strength.

Just then, a young brave came running toward him through the foot deep snow. Recognizing the brave as Dark Arrow, Hawkeye paused. “Wolflord! Wolflord!”

“What is it?”

“We have found Bravefoot. The War Council requests your presence.”

Glancing once more at the Cave of Luna where his wife sat in meditation, Hawkeye turned and followed the messenger back to the lodge and his duties

Chapter 29

As the long night of waiting came to an end and the faintest glow of dawn brightened the eastern sky all was ready in the village. After inflicting as much damage on the approaching army as possible, the surviving warriors of the wolverine and fox tribes returned to the village with the coming of the dawn. They were tired, wounded and hungry, yet they were also extremely proud of their accomplishment. They had killed seven Dark Alliance warriors for every Highlander they lost but eventually they had to flee into the forest before doubling back to reach Itasca.

Warriors from the wolverine tribe had immediately joined the bear and wolf tribes at the front gate, while the fox warriors used their shape-changing ability to slink into the surrounding wilderness to join up with the puma and lynx tribes somewhere on the sides of the valley walls, in hiding, just waiting for their chance to attack the flanks of the Dark Alliance. The boar tribe had been positioned at the back gate, both as a reserve unit and to guard their only exit from the crater city.

The night had been long and tedious but not without merit. The advancing army had scared most of the animals from their winter nest. Most had headed further north away from the battleground but many had answered the call of their highland brothers. Hawkeye had not counted on this aid when he estimated the size of his army. There were at least two hundred animals gathered to help in the fight, at least half were wolves and fifty were bears; the rest were mixed between pumas, foxes, ravens, owls and a few wolverines. They had joined their brethren in the center of the village, which would be the final battleground. Hawkeye knew that the addition of these animals would help even the odds but not that much.

Kaoni Bravefoot’s return was considered a blessing of the gods by many of the younger warriors. Although he was young, he had gained their respect through his courage and friendly demeanor. Hawkeye was also relieved to have his return, not only for the sake of Bravefoot’s young daughter Amani but to have a fellow wolf-brother to lean on in the coming battle. Bravefoot’s story was the same as many of the Highland warriors; Jotens had massacred his family when he was still a boy. Being adopted by another tribe he had risen to a position of power through his skill at arms and rare wisdom. Many believed him to be destined for a seat on the Great Council one day.

When he went missing on the day of Red Eagle’s challenge, the whole village had joined in the search. Not finding any sign of him until the day before the Dark Alliance’s arrival, the whole village considered his return a good omen. He was found among the dead bodies of fifteen gnomes a few leagues south of the village. Glancing at the young warlord, Hawkeye studied the bandaged and bruised warrior. He had tried to convince the stubborn warlord to leave with the women, children, elderly and wounded but Bravefoot would have nothing to do with it. Hawkeye remembered him swearing ‘If your bride can fight in this war considering her condition, then there is no way this side of the Nine Hells I’m not going to; besides, I have my own vengeance to take.’  That had pretty much settled the argument. And now, they looked over the makeshift palisade together as the Dark Alliance came into view.

The enemy had reached the foothills of Itasca a few hours after dawn. Instead of immediately attacking as the Highlanders feared; the goblins began a slow steady beat on their drums while the rest of the army formed up in battle formations and waited. In the background, cooking fires and tents were set up. It seemed the Dark Alliance was going to wait till dusk to attack. Hawkeye knew the drums and the troop formations were designed to play on the Highlanders’ fears and wear down the defenders.

Making a show of stretching, Hawkeye yawned and said loudly to no one in particular. “Well, I think it’s time for breakfast. Our guests seem not to be in a hurry, so we might as well get something to eat.”

Hopping off the palisade, Hawkeye moved casually through the defenders. Those near enough to hear and see him seemed to relax. Without abandoning their posts, the defenders began to relax. Runners began moving through the defenders passing food and water.

The day was long for the defenders. They knew that death was sitting at their doorstep and soon, very soon, it would come knocking. The elder warriors took the downtime in stride, sleeping or visiting old friends; while the younger warriors joked and gambled but couldn’t resist looking down at the ominous formations of the Dark Alliance.

Hawkeye had scouts out constantly watching for any attempt to flank or surround Itasca but it was obvious that Blackfang intended a brutal frontal assault. As the sun began to set, the whole Highland Nation waited patiently for what they knew was coming. As soon as the sun was fully behind the mountains, they readied their weapons. They didn’t have to wait long. They heard them coming long before they saw them and smelled them even before that. The immense wall of goblin, gnome, cyclops and highlander bodies illuminated by the burning watch fires was frightening. They filled the whole floor of the valley. Stopping just out of longbow range, the warriors of the Dark Alliance stood still as the silence deepened and time dragged on.

Watching from the walls, Hawkeye tried to guess what Blackfang’s next move would be. After a few moments, a young brave of the Black Wolf Pack stepped forward. Holding up his right hand, palm open in the traditional sign of peace, he began to approach. Before he entered bow range, the twang of several bows rang out in the still night air. Five arrows struck the ground ten yards in front of the brave. Halting, the brave spoke in a loud voice.

“His greatness, Blackfang the one true Wolflord, Commander of the Dark Alliance and Wielder of the Black Flame asks for your surrender. You cannot hope to win against such overwhelming odds. We have counted your numbers and we would let you know that you are outnumbered six to one. My lord Blackfang will allow all those who surrender now to go free with the exception of the upstart Wolflord Hawkeye and his bitch elf.”

There was silence for a moment, as the defenders looked at each other. They knew that the mouth of Blackfang was probably lying about the numbers but he was right; they were vastly outnumbered and the odds were definitely in Blackfang’s favor but not a single defender stirred nor thought of surrendering.  Glancing over the lines of his troops, he saw the resolution in their eyes. Hawkeye knew that his kinsman would rather die fighting for their freedom then to bow down to an upstart demoness.

Drawing an arrow, Hawkeye drew back his great horned bow. Pointing the shaft upwards, he held the arrow in the drawn position for a brief moment. Feeling a breeze on his right cheek, he made a slight adjustment to his aim. Breathing out, he released the string. The arrow shot from his bow with a loud twang that broke the silence of the valley.

For several breaths nothing happened.

As his name proclaimed, his aim was perfect. The young brave fell to the ground with an arrow lodged in his throat.

The Dark Alliance grumbled in anger.

The Highland Nation roared in defiance.

The Dark Alliance attacked and all hell broke loose.

First came a rain of boulders thrown by the cyclops. The boulders came hurling through the night sky at the defenders. Most fell short, landing just in front of the wall. Some were overthrown, landing in the village but many were right on target. These plowed into the wall, creating holes and breeches in the great wooden and snow barricade. Some landed on the defenders, crushing those unfortunate warriors like a bug. Twenty warriors fell in the first few seconds of the volley. The whole barrage lasted only a couple of minutes. When it was over, the wall had been breached in five places and at least fifty highland warriors lay dead or dying. The wave of goblins came next. The green-skinned goblins ran towards the palisade screaming and cursing in their foul language while waving their crude spears.

Climbing back to their post, the defenders watched as the goblins came pouring across the wide-open field. The gnomes were sitting ducks for the skilled bowmen of the highlanders but still they held their shots. About a hundred feet from the walls the goblins ran into the first trap…holes.

Hundreds of holes covered approach to the main gate. Most were just large enough for a leg to fit inside. Some were much larger. All were filled with spikes. These traps broke the charge of the first wave of attackers. Once the attackers were trapped in the holes, the defenders began firing their arrows. The majority of the first wave died in the first few minutes of battle; those that didn’t pulled back to regroup and curse the defenders.

A loud cheer went up from the defenders. Hawkeye allowed himself a small grin. They had stopped the first wave but he knew that the Dark Alliance was far from being defeated. He guessed that Blackfang would send the one-eyed giants next. He didn’t have to wait long to see that he was right.

About one hundred cyclops carrying clubs the size of small trees lumbered forward with a wave of goblins right behind them. The defenders started firing arrows at the cyclops the moment they came into range, aiming for the most vulnerable parts, their eyes and throats. Four cyclops fell before they went ten steps towards Itasca but eight more took their place almost immediately. Most of the cyclops ignored the rain of arrows as they marched steadily towards the village. A few more fell but there was always one or two more to take his place.

Hawkeye knew the moment of truth was at hand. This would be where his plan would work or fail. He had realized early on that he could not stop or kill all of the cyclops but he did need to slow them down. He signaled the waiting messengers. Quickly shape-shifting into their bird forms, they flew off to signal the waiting troops. Hawkeye turned back to see the wave of cyclops only about thirty feet away grinning at the thought of an easy kill. Hundreds of gnomes paced restlessly behind them. Many were firing arrows over the cyclops heads but most fell harmlessly to the ground; a few stray arrows hit their mark but overall this attack was quite ineffective.

Hawkeye let a smug smile cross his lips as he ordered the retreat. The defenders quickly leapt off the wall and ran to the center of the courtyard to join with their animal brothers. The sight of the fleeing defender caused the cyclops to charge blindly into Hawkeye’s second trap. The last ten feet of ground before the wall had been dug up, filled with tar and covered with wooden poles, branches and snow. In the dim light of the night, the cyclops didn’t see the trap, until it was sprung.

As the foremost of the cyclops fell into the trench with a groan and a splash, several hidden warriors tossed in lit torches. The trench roared into flames. At least fifty of the cyclops were caught in the fiery trench. They screamed in pain and rage. As they struggled to get out, they knocked some of the nearby gnomes into the trench while the rest were smart enough to pull back. Unfortunately, the gnomes were still within bow range of the walls and the highlanders took advantage of the situation.

A few of the burning cyclops threw themselves to the ground to try and put out the flames. Unfortunately, some fell on the smaller gnomes crushing them with their great weight. The remaining cyclops and gnomes attacked their burning companions, killing them before they could do any more harm.

As the fire in the trench died down quickly to a small blaze, the fumes and smoke filled the night air obscuring the village from the invaders view. The wind shifted slightly, coming from the northeast bringing with it the threat of more snow and carrying the smoke and fumes into the faces of the Dark Alliance. With a loud cry, the remaining attackers rushed the barricade. Without the Highlanders defending the wall, they breached the small barricade easily. The Dark Alliance entered Itasca but it had cost them dearly. They had lost at least one quarter of their army in the initial assault, while the highlanders had only lost about one tenth. Now, came the close quarter fighting.

*   *   *   *   *

From a distance, Grunk watched the Dark Alliance’s attack on Itasca with mixed feelings.

Part of him yearned to join in the glory of battle. There is no greater thrill like rushing a fortified encampment, never knowing if an arrow will strike you with enough accuracy to stop you in your tracks or you will win through to the ramparts. Yet any excitement he would’ve felt to be a part of the attack was tempered with the knowledge that every death, Highlander or Dark Alliance served the purpose of Clotho, the true enemy of Terreth.

Grunk had already gained a healthy respect for the Highlander commander as the defenders failed to give into the stress and tension of a long day looking at the enemy camped at your gates. However, his respect grew even more as the first two waves fell to the traps. However, Grunk knew that barring intervention from the Gods, the Dark Alliance would take the barbarian village. There were just too many attackers and not enough defenders. It would come down to a battle of attrition and the Dark Alliance had the numbers, the Highlanders didn’t. As the last of the Dark Alliance swarmed through the fallen gates of Itasca, Grunk moved onto the battlefield and up the body covered slope.

*   *   *   *   *

As the warriors of the Dark Alliance breached the wall, a handful of volunteers put up a token resistance before fleeing. Drawing the attackers into the ambushes Hawkeye had set up throughout the village. As the attackers would pass by a lodge, a group of warriors would leap out to attack. They would only attack for a short time before fading back into the darkness to regroup. They would continue to fade back until they reached the battleground chosen by Hawkeye, the clearing in front of the sacred pool and cave of Luna.

Soon the Dark Alliance had penetrated all the way to the clearing. Now, it was time for the down and dirty fighting. The Dark Alliance charged as soon as they saw the gathered Highlanders and their animal friends. No quarter was asked and none was given between the two armies. They clashed like two titans of old, loud and bloody.

The fighting was intense and furious. All around him, man and beasts were dying. Hawkeye would barely have enough time to finish off one opponent before being attacked by two more. Soon he gave up trying to kill his enemies, there were just too many of them. Instead, he began going for crippling attacks; a slice across a tendon here, a cut across the carotid artery there, a good front kick to the groin, anything that would take his opponent out quickly and give him time to move to the next opponent.

After several furious minutes of fighting, Hawkeye found himself standing alone in a group of dead or dying gnomes and cyclops. During the pause, he gazed out over the battlefield. The dead and dying were everywhere. The line of defenders had broken until there were only several pockets of Highlanders still resisting the onrushing Dark Alliance. Hawkeye knew that these few survivors were doomed if something didn’t happen quickly. Studying his enemies, he realized they had only faced a quarter of the enemy. They had only fought goblins, gnomes and jotens. They had yet to face any shadow elves or the highlanders under Blackfang’s command.

Out of the darkness came a loud bellow. “Hawkeye the Wolflord!”

The fighting all around stopped, as the challenger stepped through the crowd. It was the largest and ugliest cyclops Hawkeye had ever seen. Standing over ten feet tall, the joten was decked out in black leather armor which covered his chest and torso. His shoulders, knees and elbows were also covered in black leather but they had long protruding spikes sticking out. On top of his head was a cap of black leather that was also spiked.

Hawkeye moved slowly toward the center of the clearing and let Luna’s gift come over him. The transformation to his werewolf form took only a few seconds. “You called?” he asked. His white fur seemed to glow in the moonlight.

“Me Thantos the Terrible! Jarl of the Jotens! Me challenge yous to battle!”

Reaching behind his back, Thantos pulled out a tree-trunk-sized club with numerous spikes jutting out one end. It bore the symbol of Gaul the Lord of the Dead and radiated an unholy glow.

Drawing his tomahawk and knife, Hawkeye took several deep breaths. “And is this challenge to first blood or to the death?”

Thantos said, “It be to yous death.”

Hawkeye felt the bloodlust building inside of himself. Raising his hackles, he lifted his head high in the air and howled. Every highlander warrior loyal to Luna followed suit. The sound was quite deafening. Many of the gnomes actually backed up a few paces. A moment later, Hawkeye fixed his eyes on Thantos and slowly licked his lips with his long canine tongue.

The cyclopean chieftain bellowed his war cry and charged.

Hawkeye didn’t wait for him. Howling his own war cry, he also charged. They started twenty yards away from each other, yet the gap was closing fast.

*   *   *   *   *

Standing in the entrance of the Cave of Luna, Anasazi and Tatianna watched the challenge unfold below them. They each watched the fight from different viewpoints, Anasazi with pride and Tatianna with dread.

Tatianna turned to the old shaman and asked, “What can we do to help him?”

Anasazi spoke in a soft voice. “Nothing. Hawkeye must face his destiny alone. We all have our paths to travel. Even those going to the same destination; don’t always agree on the path.”  Pausing, he looked her in the eyes. His concern and worry for his nephew were evident. “We can do nothing. Only watch and pray.”

*   *   *   *   *

Thantos and Hawkeye charged each other like two rampaging beasts.

As the joten reached his striking distance, which was far greater than Hawkeye’s, he swung his spiked club in a viscous overhead attack. Seeing the club coming fast toward his head, Hawkeye dove to the right. The club landed in the snow-covered dirt with a resounding thud. One of the long spikes had grazed Hawkeye’s shoulder, drawing first blood.

The army of the Dark Alliance cheered gleefully. The gnomes and cyclops forgot their opponents and moved forward making a large semi-circle around Hawkeye and Thantos. The highlanders didn’t miss the opportunity given to them by their leader as they slowly and quietly faded into the darkness.

Hawkeye noted this out of the corner of his eyes, smiled and thought to himself, ‘Now I must buy them more time to escape.’

His mind snapped back to the battle as he had to roll to the left to avoid another downward attack. The cyclops’ attacks were powerful but they were slow and clumsy. Hawkeye knew he could probably end the combat at any time but he needed to give his people more time.

Racing forward as Thantos raised his club for another strike, Hawkeye slashed the joten’s left armpit with his tomahawk. A large gash opened just under the area covered by the armor. Moving away quickly, Hawkeye went into another roll to get away from Thantos’ clumsy counter swing. To buy his army more time and to have more fun, Hawkeye decided to taunt the ugly brute.

Coming out of his roll, where he was just out of the reach of the large club, he stood straight up. Hawkeye pointed at the slash he just gave Thantos. “Now, we’re even. You can back out of this now if you like. I will even accept your surrender.”

Thantos and all those gathered laughed. “Yous a puny flea bitten mutt! Me gonna squash you like a bug. Den me gonna eat yous heart.”

Tucking his weapons back into his belt, Hawkeye motioned for Thantos to come forward. “Come on you smelly brute. I’d like to see you squash me like a bug.”  Raising his voice, Hawkeye played the crowd. “Who wants to see this big fearsome hulk squash me like a bug?”

Almost as one, the gathered gnomes and cyclops answered with, “Me!” or “I would!” or “Come on Thantos, squash him!”

Hawkeye even heard someone start taking bets. He couldn’t help but smile; they were making it too easy.

*   *   *   *   *

Watching from overhead, Tatianna grabbed Anasazi’s arm. “What’s he doing?”

The old man pointed to the darkness near the back of the village. “He’s doing what any good leader would do; buying his men time to escape.”

Looking where he was pointing, she could see the last of their army fleeing from the back gate and into the wilderness beyond. “But how will Hawkeye escape?”

Anasazi pointed to the fight below and said, “That’s where we come in.”

In silence, the ancient shaman and elven mage turned back to watch the fight.

*   *   *   *   *

As the two combatants began circling each other, first one way then the other, a new element entered the battle, Blackfang. He walked through the gathering like a king. The goblins, gnomes and cyclops gave way to his entourage of highlanders and dark elf warriors. As he reached the circle of combat, Blackfang paused.

Nodding his head toward his ally, Blackfang looked at his brother and said. “Well, well brother, what do we have here?”

Hawkeye let the transformation back to his human form come over him. “Why don’t you step into the circle and find out. There is always room for one more playmate.”

Blackfang shook his head. “No thank you. I promised my ally Thantos a chance at killing you.”

Fighting the urge to attack Blackfang here and now, Hawkeye clenched his hands tightly into fists. “Why? Are you afraid to fight me, man to man?”

“Not in the least. We will have our chance, unless you let my ally here kill you. He assures me that he can kill you.”

Thantos thumped his chest and bellowed. “Me da strongest! Me gonna smush him!”

Blackfang nodded his head at the huge Cyclops. “I’m sure you can.”

Turning his head, Blackfang saw a fat gnome taking bets at the side of the circle. “You there, what are the odds?”

The fat gnome was startled to be spoken to by the commander but regained his composure quickly. “Fifty to one on Thantos.”

Pulling forth a small pouch, he stared right into Thantos’ one red eye. He could see the grotesque cyclops beaming with pride at the thought of his ally wagering on him. “Here’s a hundred golden eagles.”  Grinning evilly Blackfang added, “Place it all on Hawkeye.”

The whole crowd groaned with displeasure as Thantos roared in anger.

Hawkeye said, “That was a good bet.”

“I knew you would think so.”  Blackfang looked at his ally who was fuming with anger and said, “I told you in the beginning that Hawkeye was mine but you wouldn’t listen. Now you will learn the hard way.”

Seeing that his words were just making the cyclops even madder Blackfang added, “But Thantos, I’ll tell you what. If you win, I’ll pay you ten times my wager in gold and become your personal slave.”

Brightening at that remark, Thantos began to circle once again. Whether it was the thought of the gold or of Blackfang being his slave, Hawkeye didn’t know or care, for the fight was back on. Thantos charged again as Hawkeye rolled out of danger’s way. This happened again and again. After about the third or fourth unsuccessful charge Thantos changed tactics. With a slight twist and a loud pop, he pulled a large chain from the bottom of his club. Grabbing the chain, he began to swing it over his head, around and around. The spiked club whistled through the cold night air with every pass. And with each pass, it got closer and closer to the Wolflord.

Finally, Thantos attacked.

Taking a step forward and extending his arms with a slight snap, the swing club whistled several inches off the ground. Hawkeye instinctively knew he couldn’t roll out of harm’s way this time. Nor could he jump backwards, he was already at the edge of the circle. He could smell the sweat from the gnomes and cyclops right behind him. So, he did the last thing Thantos expected, he charged.

Leaping forward, Hawkeye cleared the chain and ran right past Thantos. As he passed by, he reached out and lightly tapped the enraged cyclops on the rump. Hawkeye couldn’t help but smile at the coup he had just managed. Turning back, Hawkeye watched as the giant cyclops pulled his spiked club free from the bodies of the three gnomes that he had hit instead of Hawkeye.

“Hey, Thantos! I’m over here.”

The hulking brute turned with a roar. Raising his club, the body of a gnome still stuck on the spikes, he yelled.  “Me gonna smush yous!”

Throwing his club at Hawkeye, it flew harmlessly off to the left. Well not exactly harmlessly, it did impact another cluster of gnomes, felling them. With a roar of frustration, Thantos lowered his head and charged like a bull. With a brief smile, Hawkeye shifted back into his werewolf form and waited. He could feel the pounding of the cyclops’ feet on mother earth but still he held his ground. The nearby gnomes and cyclops scrambled for safety, having learned a valuable lesson by watching.

Hawkeye drew both of his weapons. A low guttural growl came from deep within his throat. A moment before Thantos reached his position; Hawkeye sidestepped and lashed out with both weapons. One scored a hit on the chin, severing the chinstrap that held on Thantos’ helmet, the other across the side of the neck, tearing a large gash.

Turning quickly, Thantos roared in anger and pain. Stupidly, he rushed Hawkeye again, planning on burying him in a bear hug. Hawkeye tucked into another roll, this time forward between Thantos’ legs. As he passed between them, Hawkeye thrust upward with both his weapons. Feeling them land on the cyclops’ genitals, he completed his roll and turned to watch as the giant one-eyed brute quickly dropped to the ground without a sound.

Stepping up behind him, Hawkeye grabbed a handful of Thantos’ nasty hair. With a quick slice of his knife, he pulled free the cyclops’ scalp. Holding it as a trophy, Hawkeye slowly turned showing it to the watching warriors. The entire village was silent. The only sound was Hawkeye’s heavy breathing and the few moans coming from Thantos. A moment passed and nobody moved or spoke.

Hawkeye pointed at his brother. “You’re next!”

Blackfang stepped into the circle of warriors. “You didn’t disappoint me, although you did take longer than I expected.”  Hearing the moaning and whimpering of Thantos, Blackfang pointed at the fallen cyclops and asked, “Aren’t you going to finish him off?”

Hawkeye shook his head. “Why? He’s not my enemy, you are.”  He swept his hand around at the destroyed village. “None of this had to happen. Only your lies and those of your new goddess have done this. I hold no anger toward Thantos. He fought with skill and courage. In another time and another place, I might have even called him friend.”

None of the warriors gathered knew what to say or do, so they remained silent. The hollow sound of Blackfang’s laughter echoed in the small valley.

“Oh, you do have a way with words. I wonder if you get that from our father or our mother? Do me a favor, remember to ask them that when you join them in hell.”

Turning to his entourage of shadow elves and highlanders, he spoke in a soft voice. “Kill him!”

Blackfang’s entourage didn’t hesitate. With a loud yell they charged the Wolflord but they didn’t get three steps before the ground in front of them erupted in a large wall of flames. One of the highlanders was unfortunate enough to get caught in the center of the spell. Jumping back, his fur quickly ignited from the intense heat of the flames. Waving his arms around, he managed to knock one of the shadow elves into the middle of the flaming wall. The night air was quickly filled with the dying screams and the scent of burning flesh. About this same time, the air was full of birds; ravens, owls, hawks, eagles and any other bird that would answer the call of their barbarian friends. The great flight of birds quickly dove in and tore at the faces of the Dark Alliance, throwing them into utter chaos.

Hawkeye didn’t waste his chance. Turning, he tucked Thantos’ scalp and his weapons into his belt and headed for the sacred pool of Luna. Without hesitation, he dove into the steaming water and swam to the deepest end. By now the Dark Alliance warriors were beginning to react. Most were preoccupied with the attacking birds but some did concentrate their attacks at Hawkeye. Several spears and arrows began to hit the water all around him. Not paying them any attention, Hawkeye continued to swim toward the bottom of the pool.

Blackfang yelled at his guards. “Get him! Bring me his head on a spear or I’m going to put yours in its place!”

A large raven dove at his face. Almost as an afterthought, Blackfang lashed out with his sword, cutting the raven in two.

“Stop him!”

Ignoring the attacking birds, the warriors of the Dark Alliance fanned out around the pool and waited. And waited.

Hawkeye never surfaced.

*   *   *   *   *

From the safety of the cave, Anasazi and Tatianna watched in silence. After several minutes, the old shaman motioned for her to come deeper into the cave. “It is time for us to leave.”

“But what about Hawkeye? He cannot hold his breath that long. Blackfang and his warriors will be waiting for him when he comes up.”

Anasazi shook his head. “Then they will be waiting a long time. Hawkeye won’t be coming up, at least not there.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Tatianna cocked her head slightly to the right. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Hawkeye will not surface in the Pool of Luna. By now he is either dead or in the lava tunnels.”

“What? Explain yourself.”

“We don’t have time. Come.”

Tatianna stopped moving. Crossing her arms, she fixed the old shaman in a steely glare. “I’m not moving until you explain.”

Anasazi studied the beautiful elf. She was standing still with enemy’s right around the corner, yet she wouldn’t budge until she got her way. A brief image out of the past flashed through his mind. “Has anyone told you how stubborn you are? You are very much like you mother.”

Tatianna was about to say something when Anasazi raised his hand.

“Forget it. Hawkeye is fine. There is an opening at the bottom of the pool which leads to the lava tunnels of this extinct volcano. Not many know about it and even fewer have made the passage. I’m sure that is why he chose the clearing as his battleground.”

“Can he make the passage?”

Turning, the old shaman walked toward the back of the cave where a beam of pure moonlight rested on the altar of Luna. “Well, he’s done it before. Of course he was only fifteen at the time but we must trust his judgment. Besides, he is beyond our aid at this time anyway.”

Taking once last glance at the valley floor, she could see that several warriors were still searching the pool for Hawkeye while the rest of the Dark Alliance fanned out across the cavern searching for survivors. She noted a small contingent of goblins were heading this way. With a deep sigh, Tatianna joined the old shaman at the back of the cave. “Now, how are we going to join them?”

Anasazi tapped the wall with his staff and spoke several words in the language of magic. A portal of shimmering white light appeared. His glanced at her over his shoulder. “One thing that experience has taught me, always have a way out.”

“What is this?”

“I am sure this spell has many names but it is most commonly referred to as a dimension door. It creates a magical portal that connects any two locations.” Pointing at the white light, Anasazi continued. “This one will take us to the outskirts of Sikya where we can prepare for those which survive the long trek in the snow. I fear many of the villagers and warriors that fled Itasca will not reach the safety of the walled city.”

“We are not joining with the villagers?”

Anasazi shook his head. “No. Our responsibility is to prepare for their arrival and to safeguard the Chosen One.”

Tatianna cocked her head to the side and frowned. “So, I’m to run away because I’m pregnant?”

“No. You are to be spared the hardship of walking nearly one hundred leagues in the snow. There is no telling what that journey would do to you and your child. This is safer for all concerned.”

Seeing the logic in his argument, Tatianna nodded her agreement. “Only on one condition.”

The sounds of footsteps moving up the rocky slopes echoed in the cave.

Anasazi leaned heavily on his staff. “And what would that be?”

Tatianna flashed him a crooked grin. “That you teach me this spell while we wait in safety.”

Anasazi gestured at the waiting portal. “I will do that and more once we are safe. Do not think the next few months will be easy. We have much work ahead of us.”

When the goblins entered the once sacred room a moment later, all they found was a fading ball of light and an empty cave.

*   *   *   *   *

Grunk watched the battle for Itasca from the rim of the valley. The screams of the dead and dying mixed with the clash of weapons as they echoed on the canyon walls; for the ‘warrior-born’ it was a bitter-sweet sound. Hearing his father’s challenge echo off the canyon walls, Grunk tried to peer through the heavy mists that covered the valley but he could only make out shadows.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Grunk moved down the valley, stepping over numerous bodies before stopping at the back of the crowd to watch the single combat between the barbarian leader and his father. Having never crossed blades with a Highlander before, Grunk watched the barbarian intensely and was impressed by the level of skill he displayed. The fluid movements and lightning fast strikes were a sharp contrast to his father’s lumbering attacks. Thantos relied on his overwhelming strength while his opponent relied on skill.

Even though Grunk hated what his father had become, he still found his betrayal by Blackfang bitter and felt his blood boil with hatred. Seeing the effect Blackfang’s words had on his father, Grunk knew what the outcome would be long before the final blow and winced in sympathetic pain at the twin strikes delivered by the barbarian to his father’s groin. When the Dark Alliance moved off in pursuit of the barbarian leader, Grunk watched as his kinsmen lifted his father’s limp form and carried him off into the darkness.

After a moment’s hesitation Grunk followed them. He was unsure where his actions would lead him but he felt positive that it was the right thing to do.

*   *   *   *   *

Hawkeye pulled himself out of the water and sucked in a deep breath. Even though the air in the lava tunnels was scented with ash, at this very moment it was the sweetest thing he’d ever inhaled. The distance to the underwater entrance had been further than his memory told him. There were a few moments that he almost turned back in fear of not reaching this passageway. But sitting in the dark tunnel he knew he was alive and that meant there was hope for the future.

Looking around the cavern, it was almost exactly like he remembered, maybe a bit smaller. But then, he was only a kid the last time he was here. The cavern wasn’t really dark. There was some sort of moss which covered the walls giving off a faint greenish glow. It wasn’t brightly illuminated but it was enough to travel by and kept his mind off the fact that he was stuck deep below ground with no true idea how to get out.

He had been lost in these tunnels for nearly a week before he was rescued by Rjurik. He never asked how the old dwarf had found him in these tunnels. He never thought he would be in them again.

Hawkeye was pondering his situation when the sounds of padded footfalls reached his ears. Instantly alert, he drew his weapons and put his back to the cavern wall. He felt his heart drop into his stomach when the voices of a gnome patrol echoed down the tunnel.

Hawkeye was trapped.

Epilogue

Six of the gods stepped back from the scrying pool in silent contemplation. Only Luna continued to gaze down at her champion. It was Bromios who finally broke the silence. “Well, they survived but that’s about it.”

Hecate nodded. “Yes. I fear that this was just the first sortie of a long battle.”

Steropes asked, “But can they survive long enough for the Chosen One to be born? That is the true question.” He pointed at the scrying pool. “That one is cornered underground with my followers nearby. He’s a goner.”

Luna’s voice was soft as she replied. “Do not count Hawkeye out. He is a crafty warrior. He will win through, I have faith in him.”

Hecate laughed. “You have faith in a mere mortal? Why?”

Luna turned to regard her dark haired sister before answering. “He has earned my respect by his actions. Besides, we have no other choice but to continue on our current path.”

Aurora stepped forward, waved her hand over the pool and the image shifted to that of Tatianna and Anasazi. “At least the mother of the Chosen One is safe for the moment. That old shaman is a great asset.”

Luna nodded as she hid a small smile behind her hand. “Yes, he is.”

Before the gods could say anything else, the sound of Minos’ horn echoed in the pavilion. Bromios and Steropes scrambled to gather their weapons while Hecate and Aurora calmly stood up.

When Luna failed to move Aurora asked, “Are you not coming? It sounds as if our brother has found another breech by the Arachne?”

Luna shook her head. “No. You go without me. I will try to reach my faithful once again.”

Hecate shook her head in disgust. “As long as the Spinner is out there and we are stuck in here, we can’t get through to them. Don’t you understand?”

Luna nodded. “Probably. But I must keep trying, just in case.”

Seeing Hecate about to explode, Aurora laid a calming hand on her dark skinned sister. “You keep trying sister, we shall assist our brothers.”

Turning away, the two goddesses followed their more warlike brothers off to battle.

Luna glanced around the pavilion one last time before closing her eyes and reaching out with one hand to the pool. When her fingers dipped into the watery image of Anasazi she spoke. “It is nearly time. I fear the truth must come out soon.”

In the rippling surface of the pool, Anasazi’s image gazed up and she could hear his voice as it echoed through the magic portal. “Only as a last resort….my goddess.”

To be continued in Enter the Wolf (Tales of the Wolf - Book 2)

Drew, short for Andrew, was born in Munich, Germany while his father was stationed overseas with the US Army. Growing up a military brat, Drew became an avid reader with Fantasy, Science Fiction and Detective Thrillers being his favorite genres.

Drew served in the U.S. Coast Guard from 1982-88 and began training in TaeKwonDo in 1985. In 1994 he moved to Louisville Kentucky to open his own TaeKwonDo studio and taught for 11 wonderful years. He met and married his wife, Felicia, and gained a great step-son, John Michael. In November of 2005, he closed his studio and switched careers.

He currently works as a Corrections Officer with Louisville Metro and writes in his spare time. Unable to live on the beach, he resides on a farm with his wife and animals: 6 cats, 3 dogs and 2 horses.

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Epilogue