The Lone Wolf Saga: The Lone Wolf

by C L Carr

The room was simple enough. Maps lined the walls detailing areas all over the continent. In the middle of the room was a large table with an overview map of the entirety of Norta Massa. To one side another map had been laid out of the area around Deep Hollow. Figures were placed on it at various locations, some dwarven, some others. This was clearly a map used for military stratagey.

  Sitting along the sides were various leaders, some from the cleric order, others from the council of elder dwarves, and some military. In total twelve dwarves sat at the sides. At the head of the table, of course, sat Ceadric. He was over seven hundred years of age but had the vitality of one much younger in years. His hair was brown and rough just as a dwarf would be expected to look. He had deep brown eyes and oddly enough, no wrinkles on his brow. His beard was braided and ended with two pieces sticking out in a fork shape. He did not wear a crown, but did have a band around his head. On the front of the band was the clans crest. He wore his ceremonial garb, though he fit better in armor. His robes, which flowed to the floor, were red and gold the crest centered on his chest. The shoulders had tassels of woven gold. His belt was also made of the precious metal. He was regal and it was obvious. The three had entered the room in the middle of discussions.

  “…and my lord, that is why we must act soon. If not this may blow up to more then we alone can handle. We already know that orcs are moving into the gnolls’ ranks to assist them in their actions against us,” One of the clerics finished his point.

  A council member spoke next, “Yes, yes. We do need to act but rushing off to attack an adversary on their field of play is not very rash. We need to know more before we act or we-” he was cut off by a military officer.

  “Or we what, risk the slaughter of our men? That will continue to happen if we do nothing and that is what you are implying we do.”

  The council member retorted, “If you would stop thinking with your ax and listen to what I said we may benefit. I never said do nothing, we need to learn more about the situation and not risk too much.”

  “So, like I said,” the officer snapped, “we wait and do nothing. Foolish ideas, we need to strike and put these dogs down.”

  The men at the table broke out in squabbling amongst themselves, picking at one another for one reason or another, each believing that only they knew the answer to the conflict.

  Ceadric looked over the dwarves. “Why is it,” he paused as the council silenced itself, “Why is it, that when conflict comes to these tables you do nothing but fight like children? This room is for debate over the best action to be taken for our people. This is not a political game,” at this the soldiers murmured agreement, “and” Ceadric cut them off harshly, “this is not a game of stupidity.” The table sat quietly. “Tressnou, it is not like you, old friend, to stand idle at any table talks. Regardless of what is being discussed.”

  The dwarves assembled at the table were so consumed by their own discussion they had not noticed the newcomers. They looked on with some surprise.

  “When the conversation is so well structured it is very difficult to interrupt.” Tressnou nodded at Ceadric.

  Chuckling he responded, “So you noticed it too then. Well it is good to have you here, elf friend. Your council would add much here.”

  An elder protested, “Sir, if I may…”

  “O, yes you may. That is if you wish to leave your seat. Do not question our guests’ right to be here, because as of this moment I invite him to this table. If you wish to challenge my rights, then please do so.”

  The elder was quiet and reserved.

  “Very good. So Tressnou, I am not sure all that you know, so to save time all around… Daelin please return to your seat here next to me and retell the events of late to our guests. Please Tressnou, Artirius,” he smiled and winked at Artirius, “sit with us.”

  The two sat down next to each other at the end of the table.

  “After you, Daelin,” the king nodded to the general.

  Returning the nod the dwarf began, “Roughly two months ago, small raiding parties began coming down from the mountains from the north east, in an area we have never been able to completely clear of gnolls and the like. Due to the natural defenses and height, tunneling is next to impossible and assault is unwise. The gnolls traditionally move down and raid travelers as the weather begins to turn for supplies. It occurs each season and usually few if any travelers are killed. Livestock, preserved meats and other foods are what they usually take. This year things have been different though. The beasts are killing. They are taking horses, carriages, and entire cargoes. They are attacking in daylight, which is odd for them, as they are stalkers of the night. I would say they have the fever and have lost their minds, save they are organized and these ambushes are military beyond their organizational abilities. Also they are moving into camps that seem to emphasize an attack. Where and when are beyond us. There are several places that would be accessible from their location and all are strategic for us. Mining facilities, trade camps, you name it, they look like they are moving in. That is what continues to puzzle me though…” Daelin stopped in thought for a moment.

  A cleric spoke up, “And there is this.” He pulled out a patch of what must have been a gnoll’s hide, “This symbol is seared into the beasts flesh where ever they go.”

  The symbol looked simple enough. On the hide it was black, as though branded with a hot iron. On a circle rested a straight line and on top of that was another circle. Standing on top of that circle, was what looked very much like any man but with horns on its’ head. He seemed to be holding a small version of what he was standing on, in his own hand.

  “We have yet to identify this sign but,” the cleric began to explain but was cut off by Tressnou.

  “This is very confusing…” he stopped and pondered a moment.

  Ceadric inquired “So you know the sign, friend.”

  Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Tressnou began, “This is impossible. This sign I learned of when I was but a child. This sign comes from the other side. It is not of this world. It represents Galmatros, a demon king. If this sign is here, then either one of two things must have happened.”

  “What might they be, friend?” Ceadric asked.

  “It means that someone, some evil creature, has dug up this symbol and is using it for a driving force. That is very unlikely because gnolls keep no libraries and would hardly know what it was. Though it is an evil sign, it comes from another plane. The dark magic users of their kind have also been all but wiped out. It is possible that an evil human or drow could be behind this, but it would be unlikely, as both those races have trouble relating to the dogs. The second solution is more likely and seems impossible…”

  Artirius divined the meaning behind the elves words before he said them, “He is here then?” Most of the dwarves at the table were surprised to hear any response from the human. Barbarians were not an intelligent group, and though Artirius was well known, his mind was not that which people respected.

  “My human friend, never do you cease to amaze me.” Tressnou smiled. “Yes and no. It is likely that he sent someone in his stead. To come himself would make him vulnerable.”

  “Why not bring more, his whole army perhaps?” An officer asked.

  “That would be impossible for sure. You see our planes are close. There happen to be many more planes of existence but they are irrelevant. The reasoning why, is because of powerful things protecting us. The good deities, for whatever reason, loved this plane. So they closed the door to the rest of existence. The evil deities, though, could never allow such favoritism. Doing so would destroy balance. So they fought amongst each other. To avoid war and the unraveling of the very universe around us, a deal was made. One plane could have entrance to ours. That entrance was limited to an area in between the planes. It is like a town. It is neither a good nor evil place. It simply exists as a passageway between the realms, limiting travel like a funnel to water. Any being that wishes to come to our plane must enter t
hrough it. Occasionally holes are punched between the worlds and some few creatures spill out, but only small ones. It takes an immense amount of energy to open even a small rift between the planes, and they are noticeable. As I have not heard of such a thing, I find it unlikely.”

  “Where is this town you speak of then? If no creature has come through any holes, portals, rifts or whatever else you may call them, it must be the only way something from that realm arrived here,” a concerned councilman commented.

  “I do not know, but,” now glancing to Artirius, “I know one who would.”

  “This man?” A different councilman asked.

  “No, not he. But I do believe I now understand more of this picture. Artirius, you are being called for this great purpose. We must get you to Atriel. He would know the answers we seek, and it seems he wishes to give them to you.”

  “Who is this Atriel?” Ceadric asked. “I would think I would know of him if he were so wise.”

  “No one at this table would know of him, aside from Artirius here. He was my teacher before any one of you was born. He no longer abides at our great tree but far to the north. He lives beyond the barbarian tribes in the mountains.”

  “I always believed that to be the home of the giants,” Ceadric responded.

  “Yes, but remember my kind has a way of being unknown if we wish. They have lived there for some time, that tribe, and my master left over a millennia ago to join them.”

  “And why do you think he could help us then, Tressnou?” an officer seemed skeptical.

  “Because fair dwarf, he was my teacher. My lessons with him ended before he had taught me fully, but I gained more from him than from every great teacher I encountered after. He is the one who taught me the little I know of this new and great threat to our world.”

  After a short silence Ceadric began, “Well then, it is clear we must move soon.”

  “But my lord,” a concerned council member who protested.

  “Silence. I said act soon, not act foolish. Just because you are afraid that the people will not put you back on your seat when they have the chance to reelect you, does not mean you need to be afraid to do your job. If demons, and it is because our great elf friend says there are demons that I believe it, are involved, then it is important we decide soon what to do. Artirius needs to get to the north. These gnolls are in the way. They also threaten northern trade and potentially our own gates. Direct attack is foolish, we know this. We need to get to them though or Artirius will not be able to head north. What do we do?”

  Silence hung heavily over the table for a moment, but Daelin broke it, “Derril’s Point.”

  “What was that general?” Asked a cleric.

  “I said, Derril’s Point.”

  “The mine sir?” an officer questioned.

  “Yes. We could use a better assessment of the happenings in the north. Why not head past the gnoll lines and into their backside. Derril’s Point lies several miles north of where the gnolls have encamped themselves. It may also be possible to get Artirius on his way to Atriel. We may need the old elf’s knowledge to deal with our own problems here, and it would not be a burden to show Artirius the way to Derril’s Point if we were already heading that way.”

  A councilman responded, a bit peeved, “This is all fine, but you forget that the dogs sit and wait outside the northern gates, what will you do, ask to be let through by barking at them?” Some chuckles came from the clerics and councilman.

  An officer retorted, “They could very well fight right through the beasts if they came, don’t let fear blind you.”

  Ceadric responded, “No the cleric is right, we cannot just head north Daelin, you know this. Not yet.”

  “That is why we would not head out the gate, we would travel the road underground,” responded the general.

  “The road is seldom traveled,” a cleric responded.

  An officer this time, “It is true, we no longer supply the weigh station between Derril’s Point and here, the mine does. All correspondence between the city and mine goes on above ground.”

  “But the road exists.” The general continued. “It would give us a safer route to gain information, safer than going out the main gates, that is. A small group could travel the road and assess the situations of the area from there. Afterwards we can return and give more insight to this council. If we are lucky, we can get Artirius on his way. If a demon is behind this, we may not be able to quell these dogs until they are all dead, or by some luck our human friend succeeds in whatever it is he must do.” The last words of Daelin were heavy and honest.

  A councilman spoke next, “Tressnou is well known across Norta Masa. I must agree with his assessments for his knowledge proceeds him. As for Daelin’s plan, it is the best, the only real plan we have. I say we cast our votes then.”

  “Yes, yes. I agree,” Ceadric nodded. “As is the custom of this great table, and law among the dwarves of Deep Hollow, I call for all now to weigh the things that have been discussed here. Let your mind guide you in your decision. Vote for what is best for our people, and not for yourself. All those favoring General Daelin’s plan, vote aye now.”

  The chorus was unanimous, “Aye.”

  “Very good. As it is the law, I now pass the motion voted on by the council. It is so.”

  In chorus the rest of the council “It is so.”

  “Well then that just leaves us with one final matter. Who will go to Derril’s Point, and lead Artirius and Tressnou on their way?”

  “Lord, I wish to do this myself.”

  “It is fair Daelin, as it was your motion you may handle it. Who will join you?”

  “I will bring my defender unit, the four will be enough for this task. They, Artirius, Tressnou and myself will go.”

  “Very good. As no other matter is to be addressed at this time, I call a close to this meeting. In Maldor’s name, I bid you farewell brothers.”

  “In Maldor’s name.” One last chorus. The group rose and left the room, save Ceadric, Daelin, Tressnou, and Artirius.

  Ceadric addressed the visitors and his general, “Well then friends, it is late. I suggest that you all wait and leave these halls in the morning. Tressnou, Artirius, I will make arrangements for you both here. Daelin, get your dwarves ready. When you leave tomorrow, take the secret passageway. I’d rather not see you going out.”

  “Any reason why, my lord?”

  “Trust your old king. I am sure Tressnou could tell you. If we are dealing with something of great evil, being discreet may be prudent. We do not know the degree of power they yield, or what means they may use against us. Now that I know what we may be dealing with, it is very possible we have spies amongst us.”

  Tressnou nodded, “Very likely. Demons have been known to possess others. If only one or few are here, a spy may not even realize what they are doing. Your council would most likely be the first target.”

  Daelin sighed, “It is possible that this whole time our defensive plans have been known by the enemy. It could explain their superior tactics as of late, too.”

  “Well then,” the quiet Artirius spoke, “we must remain quiet, so as not to let the beasts know our moves.”

  “Very wise words Artirius. Now I am hungry, do any of you care to join me at supper with my family?” Ceadric looked over the three sitting at his table.

  “I would lord, but I feel it better I prepare. We will leave early between guard changes to help mask our departure even more.” Looking to Tressnou and Artirius, “I will come for you at fifteen minutes before the sixth hour of the morning. Be ready we will move quickly. Good night and Maldor be with you all.” Bowing, Daelin left the room.

  “I do not see why a warm meal should be avoided. I will join you at supper Ceadric and I thank you for the invitation,” Artirius bowed.

  “I will join you as well. I have not seen your family for some time, Ceadric, friend,” Tressnou smiled and nodded his acceptance to the king.<
br />
  The group left the war room and headed to the royal halls. They met Ceadric’s family, a wife and seven children. His eldest was four hundred, a fine warrior and commander in the army. The next was in her third century. The others were younger than two centuries; one was only forty-one. He was nearly fully grown, but still a child to his people. The meal was excellent: Roasted meats and potatoes, an assortment of cheeses, fine breads, and of course, the most excellent beer around. They finished with a nut pie made with rum. It was warm and rich. This was perhaps the finest meal Artirius had ever eaten.

  Artirius had spent time with the royal family on his last visit. Their warmth, from the start, had made him feel welcome. The king asked him of his exploits in the east, and about his time in the Untamed Isles. The conversation was welcome to Artirius. It reminded him of family, something Artirius never fully knew. The time he spent here in the past was brief, but these people always were welcoming, even to outsiders.

  “Ha ha ha ha,” Ceadric laughed. “and then he tripped and fell on his own sword. Oh, if only every fight were so simple to win.” Everyone at the table laughed as the king reminisced of a battle with an orc from long ago. “Yes, yes. So many great fights. This old king has seen some amazing things,” Ceadric paused smiling. “Well, it is time we say our goodnights. Old friends, thank you for coming to my table this night. Good luck in whatever comes to pass, and know my hand is behind you.”

  “As always Ceadric, the time I spend with you warms me.” Tressnou smiled at the king.

  “Good night, old friend,” Ceadric accepted the elf’s salutation.

  “Thank you Ceadric for having someone as simple as I at your table.” Artirius nodded at the king.

  “Artirius, you are great and humble. If only more were like you.”

  “I am a barbarian. There are many like me.”

  The king laughed. “Good night again, friend.”

  At that Artirius and Tressnou got up and gave one last farewell to the king and his family. They returned to the royal chambers entrance hall. They were given accommodations in each of their own rooms, just outside of the war room. Artirius felt relaxed beyond anything he had felt for some time.

  His room was simple but beautiful, of course. Everything was carved out of stone and built right into its place. It was as if a sculptor had made this place. The difference was that the dresser’s drawers opened right out of the wall. They slid much more smoothly then one would expect, but this was the craftsmanship of the dwarves. The bed looked much like a canopy bed carved out of the stone. Though they were very rugged, not even the dwarves slept on stone. On top of the chiseled frame was a down mattress, which was over a foot thick. It was soft and covered in dressings that resembled the fabric and design of the royal garb. A working fireplace had a home in the wall across from the foot of the bed. And no dwarven room was complete without at least a small keg of beer on hand. The warm rich flavor of these dwarven brews comforted and revived a person. It was as valuable as gold. Looking around, Artirius admired the room.

  He knew that soon his hand would be needed, as it had in the past. His hammer would need to fly and assist in the quelling of evil. It was best that he got as much sleep as his thoughts would allow. He looked at the beer next to him. ‘One more,’ he thought, ‘who knows when I will have another.’

  Chapter 6