“And may the Fates guide us,” whispered Rolf. “We go where no man has ever gone before.”
CHAPTER NINE
Nigel left the inn in a mood of exhilaration. The strong brew raced through his veins, making him lightheaded. With a firm handclasp he left Des and rambled slowly back toward the center of the city. The streets were empty; lights in the windows had gone out. He thought fondly upon the tavern and the brave men who were to risk their lives with him. They were all men, all, he knew; and he was proud that for a while he would be one of them. Yes, it was worth all it had cost him — even Gwen, he thought, recalling her face.
Gwenn, Gwenn! How beautiful she had been that first time they had met. And how surprised and delighted he had been to discover that she had clearly desired his company over that of dashing, soldierly Des, who had been his companion at the ball that evening. It had seemed at first that the fates truly smiled on them. Suddenly his sad musings were interrupted.
“Lord Nigel!”
Nigel spun around. A silver-tunicked Council Guard was running toward him, panting. “Lord Nigel, I’ve been looking for you for half the night!”
Nigel looked at him curiously. “Why? What’s the matter?”
The guard shrugged. “The Elder bade me to find you, my Lord. He wants to speak with you right away.”
“Now? So late? What about?”
“He told me to find you and bring you to the Great Hall,” said the guard. “But what he wants, I don’t understand.” He scratched his head. “Something about wolves.”
Nigel stared incredulously. “Wolves?”
The guard nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”
Nigel shrugged, pulled his cloak over his head and hurried down the street.
PART TWO
GAMES OF SKILL AND CUNNING
CHAPTER TEN
Earlier that night, Elon was interrupted during his supper. A messenger from the forest was waiting to deliver what was called “a message of the gravest importance.”
Both Sean and Assan were already there when Elon entered and took his seat. “I hope this won’t take long,” Sean grumbled, “I have urgent matters to discuss with my officers.”
Elon smiled. Sean was an impatient man and never would make a good politician. But as a soldier there was none better. Under his tough command the army maintained efficiency and morale of the highest degree.
“Where is the messenger?” Elon asked.
Assan threw some more logs into the fire. “He waits outside.”
Elon clapped his hands. A guard rushed in. “Bring the bird,” the Elder said. “We will see him now.”
The door opened and in flew a gray-feathered falcon. Elon stared. This was no mere message carrier, he realized. It was Cath, Falcon-Lord of the East!
Elon stood, stretched out his arms. “Welcome, old friend!” he said. “It has been too long since you were here last!”
The falcon bowed its head deeply. “Greetings, Lord Elon! The years have done you well!”
The Elder sat, then smiled. “You must be tired after your long journey. Will you share bread with us?”
The falcon shook his head. “Perhaps later, after we are done with the business at hand.”
“We were told that you bring important news. Has there been trouble among your flocks? Have the dogs threatened you? If so, say the word and I’ll help you in every way I can.”
Cath stood proudly at the center of the table. “I came here tonight not to speak of birds but to bring you the words of others.”
The Lords looked surprised. “Pray continue,” said Elon.
“I have been asked to speak with you on behalf of His Majesty Dinjar, king of the wolves.”
The men looked at each other in disbelief. Never before had wolves showed the slightest desire to communicate with men. They were a cautious breed, holding their own council, never seeking the friendship of others.
“Have the wolves aligned with their cousins?” Sean asked breathlessly.
Cath spoke slowly, deliberately. “King Dinjar seeks a meeting with the representatives of the Haven. He offers terms for an alliance.”
Elon was stunned. If any other, except for Cath, had said it, he would have thought them mad.
“In three days’ time an ambassador will approach the Valley. The Haven is asked to send an ambassador of their own to meet with him. They will meet at dawn beside the riverbank near the open dell. This will be neutral territory — and men are not to harm him nor his escort in any way, lest the wolves repay any treachery by an open declaration of war.”
“We seek no war with the wolves,” said Elon. “Their emissary may come in peace, I give you my word on it.”
Assan shot a skeptical glance at him. “This sounds very mysterious,” he said. “How can we be sure it’s not a plot conceived by the dogs?”
Elon sat deep in thought for a moment. Wolves had never been a friend of man. That was obvious — yet they had never really been an enemy, either. And he must consider such a meeting, whatever the reasons behind it.
Elon broke the silence. “Tell me, Cath, dare we trust this wolf-king?”
Cath fluttered his feathers; he spoke sincerely, from the heart. “When I was summoned to their lair, I, too, suspected trickery. But after I met with Dinjar I changed my mind. I believe he spoke honestly.”
Elon, Assan and Sean whispered among themselves. If Cath was right, this meeting could prove a milestone in their relations with the Forest-Dwellers. If the mighty wolves sought negotiations, perhaps other kingdoms would do likewise.
Yet they must not be hasty; indeed they must move slowly, cautiously, like a spider spinning her web. Elon leaned forward, clasping his hands. “What of Dinjar’s eyes? Did you look deeply into them as he spoke?”
Cath understood the meaning of the question. Eyes could tell much, much more than a voice, which could easily be disguised. Eyes could not lie. They would hold the truth for all to see.
Cath vividly recalled his meeting. “In the eyes of the King, I saw — fear.”
This was an unexpected answer. “Who do the wolves fear?” asked Sean. “Certainly not the dogs. At least they never have, before.”
“What lay behind the fear, I cannot say. But it was there, I am sure of it.”
“Perhaps they fear us!” said Sean.
The falcon spoke dryly: “No, my Lord. Not men, never men.”
This was blunt but honest talk — and Cath was respected for it.
“What do you think is the motive behind their offer of alliance?” asked Elon.
“I don’t know,” said Cath truthfully. “But whatever their motive, I feel there is no choice but to meet with this ambassador — Hector.”
Elon agreed that there was nothing to lose, but there was the chance to gain something.
“Who is this Hector?” asked Assam “Is he their general?”
“In the wood Hector is known as Counsel, and advisor to his Lord. He is neither hunter nor warrior, and his word is beyond reproach. He speaks with full authority from his King. Whatever terms he offers can be accepted as coming from the mouth of Dinjar.”
Elon looked at the others. “Cath’s word is good enough for me,” he said flatly. “The meeting will be arranged.”
But Sean still harbored suspicions. “Let me send Tagg to meet with this wolf. Or Desmond perhaps. Someone who will know how to deal with him if there is trickery behind his words.” The Tagg he spoke of was Gwenn’s brother.
“I agree,” said Assam “Let either Desmond or Tagg go.”
Cath looked at them with surprise. “You would send a soldier to greet an ambassador of peace?”
“A soldier must not be the one to go,” Elon said. “It would show bad intent. It has to be someone who will try to befriend the wolves, show them that they can trust us.”
“Then who?” asked Sean.
Elon rubbed his brow in thought. He clapped his hands to call for the guards. “Send for Counsel Bela,” he said. Then as an afterthought he added, “and Lo
rd Nigel.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was well before dawn when Nigel, after spending a sleepless night, arose and dressed. He put on his ceremonial tunic and red sash, and forced down the light breakfast that sleepy-eyed Dalia had brought in and placed on the table.
What a week this had been, he thought, recalling that his expedition into the forest was only scant days away. Here he was, asked by the Elder to enter into secret negotiations with wolves! But he was glad he would not be alone; the idea of sitting face to face with one of the most fearsome species of Dweller was most disconcerting. Counsel Bela, Elon’s most trusted advisor and one of the best minds in the Empire, would be with him.
A thin streak of gray began to spread across the eastern horizon as Nigel hurried for his appointment. He strapped on the silver dagger, fastening it firmly onto his sash as he made ready to leave. His horse was already saddled and waiting in the courtyard.
From his perch near the fireplace Antonius opened one eye and gazed down at the anxious lord. “Listen well, Nigel,” he advised, “and speak with carefully chosen words.”
Nigel nodded gratefully, forced a nervous smile and left.
Down in the courtyard he leaned against the fountain, hands stretched out, and gently stroked the mare’s flowing mane. Moments later he heard the clatter of another horse. He turned and saw Bela leading his own mare beside the gate. Bela peered at Nigel and smiled, rubbing his hands together to warm them in the chilly air. “Am I late?”
Nigel laughed. “Not at all. I was early. Couldn’t sleep all night.”
“I know what you mean,” said the Counsel with a grin. His usual long and somber face looked round and childlike; his hazel eyes were bright and piercing, as if studying something. He winked at Nigel. “Shall we go?”
Moments later they were well down the street.
Only a chosen few had been told of Cath’s message. It was better that way. There was no purpose in giving false hope or encouragement. The sentries on duty at the Great Gate stared dumbly as the two riders rode out slowly toward the Plain. Something important must be happening, they reasoned, but it would have been the shock of their lives had they known what it was.
Once on the soft lands of the Plain they picked up speed, galloping east, toward the Dell. Nigel knew the way like the back of his hand. The Dell was close to Northwood, his father’s country home. Once this area had rung with life, but like other regions close to the forest, farmers had left by the hundreds. The dangers of recent years left the still-rich soil not worth the effort of cultivation. They did pass a number of small, still-occupied thatched cottages and farmhouses. But these belonged to old established families, who had lived there for centuries and would not leave no matter what. In many ways they were reminiscent of the hearty Westland folk, settlers who would face any risk rather than flee their homes.
The path wound between small meadows, then along the banks of the shallow tributary of the Valley River. Nigel led them off the path for a while, taking a shortcut he had learned years before — a shortcut to the edge of the wood — and to the assigned place where Hector would be waiting. A small pond nestled beside a cluster of pines. Here they dismounted and let the horses graze in the dew-filled fresh grass.
At length the sun rose higher. Most of the morning haze had dissipated. Nigel became tense; he had expected to meet the wolf at first light. Now it was long past. Had the wolves changed their minds? Or could this all have been part of some elaborate plot after all, as Sean had feared?
Bela, calm and relaxed, stretched out beside a tree and closed his eyes. Nigel stared at him, bewildered. His own stomach was tied in knots, his nerves jumpy at the slightest sound, and Bela was taking a nap!
Suddenly there was a rustle among the trees to the east. Nigel turned to wake the Counsel but found that Bela had already snapped out of his doze. Both men stood breathless, shading their eyes from the sun.
Two wolves were slinking along the thicket’s edge, toward the pond. The larger of the two, clearly a Hunter by his muscular build and gait, busily darted his eyes, sniffed the air and looked for signs of entrapment. The other wolf, the gray one, snarled something. The Hunter shook his head, but was growled at again. Submissively, against his better judgment, he bowed his head and stepped back into the thicket.
The gray wolf waited until his companion was gone, then lapped some water from the pond and trotted ahead.
Nigel felt his heart pounding like a drum. The wolf was a handsome devil, though, with a sleek coat that appeared almost silver as it glistened in the sun. He had a long snout, much longer than that of any dog; his eyes were larger than a dog’s and slanted sharply at the corners. Nigel felt they stared at him with sharp intelligence. The wolf, his head held high, showed large fangs and a powerful jaw. Unconsciously, Nigel began to reach for his dagger, but checked himself just in time. Such a hostile move might send the wolf dashing back to the forest, or worse, it might attack them.
Hector had seen this move by the man but had disregarded it. He knew that they had never been so close to a wolf before, much less a Lord of Wolves, so he viewed Nigel’s response with understanding. The men were frightened. He approached closer, moving slowly, showing that his intent was peaceful. A few paces away he stooped, lowering his head in a wolf-fashion bow. “I am Hector,” he said matter-of-factly, “the ambassador from his Majesty, Dinjar, King of Wolves.”
Bela bowed sweepingly as Nigel stood almost frozen. “And I am Counsel Bela, advisor to Lord Elon, Elder of the Council. And this,” his hand moved to Nigel, “is Lord Nigel, member of the Council. We have come to greet you in honorable peace, and speak in behalf of the Haven and the Empire of Men.”
Hector eyed them warily. They’re so young, he thought. Does the Haven send mere cubs to represent them? Was this some sort of man-insult? He made himself comfortable, sitting on his hind legs, front paws outstretched. The men clumsily sat opposite, cross-legged. They were scrawny, too, he mused. But this was probably due to an imbalance in their diet, perhaps from cooked meat.
“Lord Cath of the falcons has told us of your desire to reach an — alliance with us,” Bela began. “You may be assured that we would favor such an agreement between us.”
Were men always so blunt? thought the wolf. He had expected to spend a good deal of time exchanging remarks on the weather and other meaningless things, the way Dwellers would. Still though, blunt talk was not necessarily a shortcoming, and he would follow suit and overlook the casual banter, also. “Wolves are eager to find common cause with any creature that considers itself civilized,” he said at last. “And within that frame, to answer your question, we — could — be interested in an alliance.”
Nigel rubbed his chin. It was plain that the wolf was reluctant to speak freely: he knew he would have to be tactful. “You spoke of finding ‘common cause.’ We’re not sure what you mean by that. Are you speaking about the threat of the dogs?”
Hector nodded. “In part, yes.”
“We know they gather in the Southern Forest under the leadership of some new ‘king,’ ” said Bela. “But we did not expect to find they posed a threat to your species, also.”
The wolf snarled; his eyes darkened. “Wolves do not fear wild dogs,” he snapped. “We are their superiors in every respect.”
“Yet you desire an alliance with us,” retorted Nigel. “Is it then the Prophesy, the coming of the Master, that upsets you?”
Hector observed the two men carefully before answering. “What do you know of the Master?” he asked, leaving their question unanswered for the moment.
“We know he tries to raise an army that badly upsets the balance of power.”
Ah, men were shrewd devils, Hector thought. Balance of power, indeed! Sheltered behind these carefully chosen words was the fear that they could not contend with the forces that already be.
“Men would welcome such a noble ally as you,” said Nigel, pressing the point.
“Of course you would,” snapped He
ctor. “In this war you’ll need all the help you can get. We know all about your plans. We’ve seen the birds mustering their numbers and flying here to join your banner.”
“And what of it?” said Bela, holding his temper. “The dogs are a scourge on the face of the earth. You know that, don’t you? Are wolves so mighty, so bold, that they can scoff at an offer of friendship? Remember, Lord Hector, it was you who asked for this meeting, not us!”
Indeed, they were quick to anger, too, noted Hector.
“We wolves must be sure that this ‘friendship’ you offer us is just that, and not lies sweetly spoken to gain our support today, and that you will not then slaughter us like dogs when the war is won.”
Nigel pretended to laugh. “And how can the Haven be sure that your own support is genuine, my wolf-friend? How do we know that you don’t secretly plot with this ‘Master’ and his generals?”
Hector was prepared for this, had expected it. But it was clear that men, at least these two, were more thoughtful than he had given them credit for. “Well spoken, young cub,” he answered softly. “It seems that we may have no option except to trust each other.”
Nigel leaned back and smiled. It was a sincere smile. The wolf, it seemed, was just as anxious as they to make a pact after all.
It was Bela who interrupted this relaxed moment. “You say you seek alliance,” he said, “yet you also tell us you do not fear the dogs. This I find contradictory. It needs explanation.”
Hector sighed. He would have to get down to the terrible truths that Dinjar had confided to him. “What you have surmised is correct,” he said, after a long pause. “They have found a new leader to unite them into a single army. And this ‘king,’ this ‘Master,’ is savage as well as insane. Even as we speak he plots to conquer all the world, subjugate all its Dwellers. But first he must destroy men. They are his biggest threat. Then he will turn on us, for only the wolves would dare to stand against him.”
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