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 br
oke 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 en
d 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.
Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf Page 25
