by King, DB
Another spear point jabbed at Logan, but he juked out of the way of it. The momentum from the gnoll’s thrust carried the beast forward, and when he was past, Logan cleaved across with his axe, slicing the gnoll’s thigh again. The next swipe was across the beast’s neck, killing him in an instant.
Runa and her soldiers fought with discipline, staying in close formation and jabbing their spears forward in quick, precise movements. The attacks were relentless, any gnoll reaching them to strike being punctured by the jutting speartips. The stabs of the soldiers were sharp and fast, each man watching the soldier at his side. Logan couldn’t help but admire the tactics. He’d heard of elven discipline before, but it was another thing altogether to watch it first-hand.
Logan’s battle lust grew, the rune on his left forearm glowing brighter and brighter, the throbbing of its power becoming deeper and deeper. The energy that flowed through him was unlike anything else, a power that made him feel as strong as ten men. Something was changing within him. Even in the midst of battle, he knew that whatever it was, it would take all of his ability to keep in check.
He yanked his axe out of the back of the gnoll’s neck, a spray of dark, sticky blood covering his forearm. The rest of the troops reached him, all shouting battle cries as they wielded their longswords.
“That was… interesting,” Raymond said, who was now at Logan’s side.
“It’s only the beginning,” replied the fledgling War Wizard.
Logan watched as Raymond charged toward one of the gnolls, plunging his blade into the chest of the beast, the tip of his weapon piercing through the gnoll’s neck. He swooped out of the way of the gnoll as it fell, slipping a knife from a hilt at his ankle and tossing it into the eye of another gnoll, blood streaming down the length of the weapon.
The man can fight, Logan thought as he watched in admiration. Not a man to be trifled with.
Runa did the same, leading her soldiers into the fray from the rear, keeping back far enough to have a sense of the battle as it played out. Through the chaos of fighting, Logan noticed Runa’s armor, gleaming plate mail adorned with what appeared to be diamonds, Elvish script carved into the metal, the front decorated with the intricate design of a tree.
Logan turned his attention back to more pressing matters. The power he felt grew by the second. He ran toward the nearest gnoll, grabbing the creature by the bicep. He dropped his axe, and dug the fingers of his then-free hand into the shoulder of the gnoll. With a roar, he ripped the arm from its socket, the skin and muscle stretching and snapping, the creature howling in pain. He tossed the arm aside, watching as the gnoll dropped and bled out.
He knelt, the power so intense that he couldn’t even keep himself upright. His rune pulsed and burned, something taking hold of him that he didn’t understand.
And he began to change.
“What… What the hells is happening to the ranger?” one of the elven soldiers said, looking around frantically.
Logan couldn’t have answered even if he’d been able to. His muscles grew, his shoulders broadened, and his limbs stretched longer. His armor strained against the expansion of his body until it could hold no more, splitting apart in a twang of broken metal. Fur sprouted from his forearms and legs. Pain and agony pierced his skull as it shifted and changed, his mouth elongating into a snout.
“He’s a bloody beast!” shouted one of the soldiers.
The pain abated. And when it did, Logan was something else entirely.
He rose, glancing down at his changed body. He lifted his axe and gazed into the reflection at his face. He wore the head of a wolf, while his body was some incredible combination of man and beast.
A sneer formed on Logan’s face as he realized what had happened. He’d acquired power far beyond that of a Rank One ranger. Fenrir, be praised! Logan had turned into a wulver.
Logan turned his gaze to the gnolls. The beasts were known for their stupidity, but even they could see that something had gone terribly against their favor.
However ready for battle and carnage Logan might have been before, he was now at another level.
He dropped to all fours and tore toward the gnolls, fear in the beasts’ beady eyes. He leaped through the air, slamming into one of the gnolls with such force that he could feel the monster’s sturdy bones snap and crack underneath its furry skin. Once he was atop the beast, he dropped his head and sunk his teeth into the gnoll’s neck, ripping and tearing the skin.
Warm blood trickled down his mouth as Logan found his next target. Three nearby gnolls raised their spears, the weapons shaking in their hands. He paid their weapons no mind, running on all fours toward the gnoll on the right, moving too quickly for the beast to react. He ripped into the creature’s throat, springing off its body toward the middle gnoll. A swipe of a paw through its neck brought it down, the animal bleeding out like a stuck pig.
But when he turned his attention to the final gnoll, something jutted into his vision. A blade jammed into the gnoll’s side, the creature wincing in pain.
“Save some for the rest of us, ranger.” Raymond yanked his blade from the creature’s side, followed by another jab to its neck.
Logan whipped his head around to see that the battle was over. The cracked earth around him was littered with the bodies of gnolls, and the few that remained had dropped their weapons and fled, disappearing over the horizon.
Every pair of eyes was on Logan. The soldiers regarded him with fear, as if at any moment he might turn his rage to them. But he felt the power flow from his body, as though someone had pulled a plug from his side and the power was leaking from him. He felt his body retract, the fur sinking into his flesh and his shape returning to human proportions. It was not an agonizing process—merely uncomfortable. The rune on his left forearm ceased glowing. Whatever power had seized his body, it was gone. It’d come without his bidding, and left without it just as suddenly.
“Ranger!” Runa shouted.
Logan looked up. There was anger in the elf’s voice, and anger on her face. He rose to his feet. His clothes and armor were torn, his body visible through the rends in the fabric and metal.
“A hells of a thing, no?” Logan said.
“You’re coming with me,” she said “Now.”
He could sense from her anger that Runa wasn’t in a mood for frivolities. And more than that, she likely wanted to know what the hells had just happened back there.
“Raymond,” she said as she turned. “Retrieve what weapons we can and return to the caravan. After I speak with Logan, we’ll be on our way.”
“Aye, Mistress.” Raymond’s expression was a perfect blend of admiration and curiosity, as if he wanted nothing more than to learn about what he’d witnessed.
The elves backed away from Logan as he strode through them. He was pleased to see that, while there were injuries, not a man had died in the battle. It was a far cry from the outcome of the last real battle he had fought in. What would have happened had he been able to shift into the wulver from all those years ago? The thought made his insides writhe, so he dismissed it. Such things did not bear thinking about. What mattered was the now, and his course of revenge.
Runa said nothing as she and Logan approached the command caravan. The elf ascended the rope ladder that led to the second floor, and Logan did the same. Moments later, they were in a large meeting room, the space empty of people. A large table was in the center of the room, its surface covered in maps and documents.
Runa approached the table and leaned onto it, spreading her hands, her back facing Logan. He could sense she was figuring out where to begin.
“I’ve been chewed out before,” he said. “So you might as well get to it.”
Runa whipped around, anger in her eyes. “What the hells was that back there? You change into some sort of beast and disobey my orders?”
“I felt like an animal,” he said. “I could barely control myself, let alone obey orders.”
“That transformation? What the hells
was that?”
“Something that I’m not supposed to be able to do,” he said as he stepped over to the table. “The wolf is the symbol of Fenrir.” He placed his hand on his tattoo. “He is the Archspirit who is the source of my power.”
“Then you can tap into it?” she asked. “Change into… whatever that was at will?”
Now she seemed more curious than angered.
“Yes. But that’s only meant to happen when a ranger has reached a sufficient rank. Neophytes like myself aren’t capable of such changes. And no rangers from my time were capable of it. It was a lost art. The power of the wolf Archspirit had waned. No one has been seen in wulver form for centuries… I suppose many, many centuries now.”
She shook her head and dropped into one of the high-backed chairs around the table.
“Excellent. I’ve got a ranger who changes into a wolf-beast without wanting to do it.” Runa shook her head as she thought it over.
Silence hung in the air. Logan’s gaze tracked over the maps on the table. While the general shape of the region on the maps was familiar, the elvish writing, flowy yet compact, was beyond his understanding.
“You’re plotting out our route?” Logan asked, hoping the shift in topic could help the elf put aside her worries.
Runa grunted before she sighed and leaned over the table and the maps that sat on it. “This symbol,” she said as she pointed at a section of the map, “it corresponds to an Archspirit, does it not?”
Logan looked at where she was pointing. There was no denying it. The symbol was an Elderwood rune.
“This is the place of power you mentioned earlier?” he asked.
“It is,” Runa said. “We’ll make preparations to go there tomorrow.”
“No. We go there now.”
“It’ll take time to ready everyone. And a little more time for them to make peace with exactly happened out there”
Logan grunted. “I’ll be in my quarters.”
He turned to leave. But before he could take a step, Runa’s hand shot out to his upper arm.
“Yes?” he asked as he peered down his nose at the elf woman.
“Go to your quarters and stay there. The soldiers are already ill at ease after what they’ve seen, and I don’t want you making matters worse.”
“Are you forgetting that I’m not one of your subjects?”
“Consider it a personal favor. I scratch your back, and you scratch mine.”
“I wouldn’t mind more than that.” Logan flashed her a sly grin, as if there were any doubt as to the subtext. Runa smiled slightly and rolled her eyes.
“Stop pissing me off or you’ll find the only ‘back-scratching’ you’ll be receiving will be courtesy of a cat-o’-nine-tails.”
“You didn’t strike me as the sort who was into that kind of thing, Runa,” he retorted.
“That’ll be all, ranger.”
One more grin and he left.
But Logan knew she was right about staying away from the troops—such a display of power likely had upset the peace of the caravan, such as it was. He made his way around the outdoor walkways of the caravan, avoiding going inside until he reached his quarters.
Once there, he stripped off his tattered clothes and put on new ones. He paced back and forth, impatient beyond measure at seeking out this place of power and learning more about being a War Wizard.
He wanted answers. And he had a feeling he would be getting them soon.
Chapter 7: Logan
The sun dipped low in the sky, the caravan having been still since the battle. The sky was purple above, black at the very top, thousands of stars glittering like diamonds above.
Logan was eager, restlessly pacing around his quarters. He wanted to know when they would be leaving. All he could think about was the place of power, that spot on the map where he’d seen the Elderwood rune, and what secrets that location could hold.
Currently, Runa and Raymond were preparing the caravan to leave. Logan, however, was itching to leave this caravan and set off by himself. Still, he had no idea of the landscape, and even with his new wulver form, he didn’t want to risk going alone. Hells, he didn’t even know whether he could become the wulver on command, or whether it was something that might occur by chance.
From the balcony, he heard the door to his room open and shut. He turned to see Runa and Raymond approaching.
“Well?” he asked as the two joined him on the balcony overlooking the badlands.
“A stray gnoll managed to sneak away from the battle and damage the axle underneath the provision wagon,” Raymond replied. “We’ll need some time to repair it.”
“Not a chance in hells we can wait for that,” Logan growled, his tone one of annoyance. “I’ll leave on foot if I must.”
“And that’s what we agreed,” Runa said, a small smile playing on her lips. “Only Raymond and I will be coming with you.”
“Along with a handful of chosen guards,” Raymond added. “The rest of the caravan will stay in an encircled position to defend against any further attacks.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Logan said. “As long as we leave now.”
“We leave on my command,” Runa said, a hard edge to her voice. “And not a second sooner.”
Logan, Runa, and Raymond traveled down to the base of the caravan. A handful of soldiers, steely-eyed and straight-backed, awaited them. Raymond nodded as they approached, the soldiers going at ease.
A wagon, one sized more in line with what Logan was used to seeing from trade convoys that traveled through the Elderwoods, was there with them. Two beasts of burden, those strange animals that were like some mix of an elephant and a camel, were at the fore. Troops marched alongside the caravan, and outriders in the distance kept a perimeter.
“We’re packed up and ready,” said one of the troops.
The eyes of the soldiers flicked to Logan, their steely gazes wavering for a moment.
Runa placed her hands on her hips as she looked over the wagon. After a few moments, she nodded in satisfaction.
“Not bad for soldiers still wet behind the ears,” she said.
Despite the slightly barbed nature of the comment, the soldiers appeared pleased to have been praised. Logan grinned, their reactions reminding him of his neophyte days all those years ago.
The crew loaded up into the wagon. Logan found the interior more spacious than he imagined from the outside, reminding him how impressed he’d been with the caravan when he first saw it.
Runa gave the word to go, and the driver took them off back toward the dunes, the great caravan receding into the distance. Minutes passed, and Logan noticed that the troops regarded him with sidelong glances in between conversation.
“I’m not going to bite, young ones,” Logan said with a wry tone.
“You’ll have to forgive them for thinking you might,” Captain Raymond said with a slight grin.
Logan understood they had reason to be concerned, but he wasn’t sure he could have shifted into his wulver form again if he wanted to. And if he did, he was also unsure if he’d know how to shift back.
All the unanswered questions made Logan uneasy. He wanted to learn how to control his power as quickly as he could. And he hoped seeing this place of power in person would help.
The wagon continued for hours, the desert air turning to cold, bitter winds that coursed through the wagon. Raymond and the soldiers slept, Runa occupying herself with various documents.
The driver broke the calm, sticking his head through the curtain that separated the front from the back. “We’ve arrived,” he said.
Runa rolled her documents and slipped them into her satchel. Then her eyes went to Logan. “You’re going to want to see this. Come.”
“What is it?” he asked. “I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
Without another word, Runa weaved around the sleeping soldiers and out of the back of the carriage. He followed, stepping out into the pitch of the ev
ening. The moon was a thick, curved blade in the sky, its light enough to cast the dunes in a silver sheen.
Logan turned in the direction Runa traveled and was shocked at what he saw. The wagon had stopped just a few hundred paces from a sheer cliffside. He watched as Runa approached the edge of the bluff, her long, lean outline impressive before the vista. Troops were positioned nearby, maintaining lookout.
Logan stepped to her side, the moonlit dunes endless. The drop down was at least a hundred feet. He gazed into it before turning his attention forward. But whatever it was she wanted him to see, he couldn’t spot it.
“There,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and pointing ahead and to the north. “There it is.”
He narrowed his eyes and gazed. And soon he was able to see something in the distance. Among a smattering of green, he saw a strange formation of straight lines.
“This will help,” Runa said, opening his hand and placing something cool and metal inside. He glanced down to see that it was a telescopic lens.
Logan raised it to his eye, and, after a few moments of scanning the dunes, found it.
It was an oasis, deep green vegetation clustered around a glistening, blue pond. And above the oasis was a rune made of what appeared to be tree trunks. The shape was of a diamond, eight legs branching off in an intricate, fractal pattern.
“Hells,” he said, his gaze lingering on the rune, his heart racing faster and faster with excitement. “That’s an Elderwood rune!”
He pulled the telescope from his eye and handed it over to Runa.
“What’s the shape?” Runa asked. “It’s beautiful, in a strange way.”
“A spider. I didn’t know any rangers marked with such a rune, but I have seen its kind depicted in the house of my father. But that rune… it’s different.”
“Different how?”
Logan pulled up his sleeve, revealing his rune. “This rune is for the wolf. You see how it’s… simple. Unadorned. That’s because I was a low-rank ranger. The higher in the ranks you rise, the more elaborate your tattoo becomes. That…” Logan pointed toward the rune, “…is the tattoo of a master ranger. How is it possible this rune still exists after so much time?”
