All throughout the Dark Alliance camp the Jotens went on the offensive. Fighting in well-disciplined fashion, the massive cyclops killed hundreds of the Dark Alliance warriors in the first few minutes. Those which bore the brunt of the attack and survived tried to flee which only added to the pandemonium as their companions tried to move forward to the attack. Outnumbered ten to one, the Jotens knew that the confusion was their ally and they used it well.
* * * * *
When the Jotens first attacked, Hawkeye paused only long enough to check on the progress of his wounded men which Odovacar was leading across the last bridge. They had reached the colossal doors and were waiting for admittance into the dwarven stronghold.
Turning back to the task at hand, Hawkeye ordered the Seekers of Luna to advance.
The Highlanders shifted into their animal forms and raced across the open bridge. By the time they reached the battle lines the warriors of the Dark Alliance had regained their footing and were starting to counter-attack. The Jotens had locked shields and were holding their ground but due to the small size of the attackers some of the goblins slipped through the legs of the giant defenders to attack at their backsides.
Sir Richard had once quoted an old maxim of Minos which goes, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my ally.’ Since the Jotens were now fighting against the Dark Alliance, the Highlanders considered them allies and immediately moved in to fill in the gaps in the battle lines.
At the foot of the bridge, Hawkeye pulled up short when Blackfang landed right in front of him. Shifting to his own hybrid form, his silver-white fur was a sharp contrast with his brother’s ebony fur as the two warlords began to slowly circle each other, totally ignoring the chaos all around them.
It was Blackfang who spoke first. “So we meet again brother.”
“For the last time,” Hawkeye responded and readied his tomahawk and knife. “One of us will not walk away from this encounter.”
Reaching over his shoulder, Blackfang pulled free his five foot claymore and took a two-handed grip. Speaking a word of magic, the black blade flared to life with an ebony flame.
“I have been waiting for this moment for many years.”
“You truly have forsaken your heritage if you use that monstrosity.” He gestured with the traditional weapons of the Highlanders. “These are tools of our people. Besides, if you use that blade it would just prove that you are afraid to meet me in honorable combat.”
“Only a fool would think that I was afraid of you.”
Hawkeye shrugged. “I’m not so sure about that brother, the last time we met in battle at Luna’s Shrine you fled or don’t you remember that?”
“I did not flee!” shouted Blackfang.
“I’m sorry, I must be getting senile but when you run away from a battle that would be called fleeing or would you rather use the term retreating?”
Seeing the rage wash over Blackfang’s face in response to his insults, Hawkeye was ready when his brother growled and attacked with a vicious overhead attack.
Blackfang’s magical blade had several advantages and disadvantages to its use. Its advantages were obvious, magical and large. Hawkeye didn’t have to get hit with the blade to know that even the slightest wound could or would be deadly. Of course, one major disadvantage was the inflexibility inherent in that type of weapon. Being a large two-handed sword meant that it was designed to punch through heavy armor. However, since Hawkeye was lightly armored and highly trained, he dodged the killing blow with ease and the fight was on.
The two brothers stabbed and blocked, thrust and dodged, slashed and parried their way across the battlefield. Occasionally another warrior would cross their paths only to die a few seconds later; neither Blackfang nor Hawkeye took notice of who they killed. If someone confronted them, they just lashed out with a killing blow while never taking their eyes of their true enemy.
This was the ancient battle of good versus evil, light against the darkness and they both knew it.
A bolt of black lightning exploded at Hawkeye’s feet knocking him backwards. Struggling to regain his feet, he saw Lalith standing next to his brother. His gut twisted when he realized that the Dark Lady was preparing to cast another spell.
Glancing to his left and right, Hawkeye desperately looked for any avenue of escape but didn’t find one. Once he recognized that he wouldn’t be able to avoid her next spell, Hawkeye stood up tall and shifted back into his human form. If he was going to die, he resigned himself to face it as he had lived; as a man but one who stood up defiantly and proudly for what he believed in.
Lalith’s spell never landed as a brilliant circle of white light filled the area causing everyone nearby to pause and cover their eyes.
“Murderer!” was all they heard as Tatianna stepped out of the light and began casting spells.
Chapter 38
Khlekluëllin couldn’t believe the speed in which they were flying.
When the dragon had launched himself and immediately dove down the ravine, Khlekluëllin had found his stomach in his throat and Mortharona hadn’t stopped screaming. Only when Hal pulled out of the dive mere yards from the rocky floor had his dark twin quieted down.
*I don’t think your brother enjoyed that* Hal said over their mental link.
‘As crazy as it sounds,’ thought Khlekluëllin, ‘that was exhilarating.’
*Yes it was, it was also the easiest way to pick up speed.*
‘Will we make it in time?’
*I don’t know. Your sister’s transport spell was instantaneous. Even at my fastest, it will take time to cover that distance.*
There was a notable pause before Hal added, *The battle still rages and some mighty fireworks are going off currently.*
“How do you know that?” Khlekluëllin asked out loud.
Mortharona lifted his head a bit and glanced at the racing landscape far below before shutting his eyes tight. In a shaky voice he asked, “What…what’s going on?”
Khlekluëllin glanced over his shoulder. “Hal says that the battle is still going on and now there are fireworks.”
“How would he know that?”
*Because I can see it, even from this distance* answered Hal using his group telepathy ability. *You would be amazed how good my eyesight is.*
“What’s happening now?” asked Khlekluëllin.
Hal switched back to his direct-link with Khlekluëllin. *Telling you would be ineffective. Relax your mind and I will show you.*
Not really understanding what was going to happen, Khlekluëllin did as he was told and calmed his thoughts. A few seconds later, small images formed in his mind of a battle as if seen from a distance yet with great clarity. Khlekluëllin tried to concentrate on the images and found them fading from his mind.
*Relax. Let the images flow into your mind. Think of them like running water, you cannot grasp the flow no matter how hard you try. Yet, if you are patient you can guide the rushing water to where you want it to go. The images are mine, don’t struggle against them. Don’t try to control them. Just absorb them and let the images fill your mind.*
Khlekluëllin nodded with understanding. It came down to trust. He had to place his faith and trust completely in his friend. He realized that Halhulingrath was trying to link him to his actual sight across their mental bond and felt his pulse quicken at just the thought but forced himself to relax once more. Almost immediately the images filled his head. What he saw and felt was more than just the distant battle. Khlekluëllin became immersed in joy of dragonflight.
He could see the battle, the Jotens and Highlanders were fighting back to back and side by side in smaller and smaller units completely surrounded by the Dark Alliance which were so numerous that they looked like swarming ants on fresh meat. He could see two figures casting some mighty magic back and forth at each other. When a spell was deflected, warriors died as the spell impacted and exploded.
Khlekluëllin could feel his attention drifting as he became more and more immersed in the dragonfl
ight. He could sense the shifts in the air currents and see the terminals created by the nearby mountains. These minor fluctuations in the currents gave Khlekluëllin the urge to shift his body position. He was about to release his grasp on Hal’s neck when the dragon’s voice came over their link.
*Focus on your sister. Let the rest fall away; only your sister and her fate matters.*
Khlekluëllin tightened his grasp and concentrated on the battle raging far off. He instinctively knew that they would not arrive in time to make a difference. His sister’s fate lay in her own hands and that of Hawkeye’s.
All Khlekluëllin could do was watch...and pray.
* * * * *
Seeing Blackfang escape his initial onslaught, Grunk looked around for a worthy target.
The Dark Lady was still enveloped in the magical globe of darkness and Grunk realized that the spell would expire soon. Crossing the battlefield quickly, the Joten was stopped by the slender form of the Blademaster.
“Hello Grunk,” said Darnac. “It is good to see you again.”
“Aye that it is.” Grunk gestured with his axe. “If you would step aside, I will kill this bitch and we can celebrate our reunion.”
Darnac shook his head. “I am sorry my friend but that I cannot allow. I am charged with protecting her.”
Rolling his shoulders, Grunk raised his axe to a more threatening position. “The Dark Lady must die. The future of Terreth rests on the outcome of this battle. Surely you can see that?”
Darnac calmly raised his twin sabers into a defensive position. “My debt must be paid, honor demands it. For the next twenty-five years, three months and seven days no blade forged by mortal hands may harm her while I live.”
“Then you and I must cross blades. I’m sorry my friend.”
“Yes Grunk Nightslayer,” Darnac said narrowing his eyes as a grin spread across his face. “Let’s dance.”
Without waiting for the Joten’s response, the blademaster attacked. He was a flurry of motion and Grunk immediately found himself on the defensive. The strange thing was that the two or three strikes that slipped through the Joten’s defenses did no damage other than move him backwards. Counter-attacking with his axe, Grunk called on the magical powers granted to him by his deity and cast the same spell as the late Geiryon. The globe of darkness enveloped the blademaster and Grunk paused in his attacks and stepped back, expecting that to be the end of the confrontation with his friend.
When the blademaster continued his attacks, Grunk was caught off guard. Parrying rapidly, the Joten gave ground to the dark elf as his strikes came in a flurry. Even blind, the blademaster’s strikes came unerringly close to scoring.
“How…how are you doing this?” Grunk managed to ask as he stepped back further and further from the battlefield.
“Vision is only one of the senses. You have taken my eyes but you haven’t taken my ears.” Executing another flurry of attacks, Darnac worked the Joten’s guard up high which gave the dark elf ample room to kick his friend in the stomach.
Grunk was too stout for the kick to hurt but it did move him back a few more steps. “What if I take away your hearing also?”
Darnac’s blades spun through an elaborate pattern as the dark elf leapt into the air and flipped over, only to land gently several feet away from his friend. His soft voice was easily heard since their duel had taken them into the lower valley.
“You are too heavy; I can feel your movements on the earth. A true warrior is open to everything around him, not just sights and sounds.”
“I shall remember that,” Grunk said. “But why haven’t you killed me yet? We both know you are better than me.”
“Why? Why should I?” Darnac shrugged. “I have not been commanded to kill you nor have you actively tried to harm Lalith, so I am not compelled to kill you. It is a win-win situation for both.”
Grunk grinned with understanding. Darnac was under a mighty geas to protect Lalith.
A geas is similar to a curse; both are powerful spells that compel the affected individual to undergo some sort of punishment. However, a geas has limitations. Those under a geas usually enter the spell willingly to pay off some sort of debt. The spell compels the affected individual to complete a certain term of service or to meet some sort of conditions before it will expire. A curse is permanent; lasting until someone more powerful than the caster removes the spell. Of course, curses usually have a way of rebounding on the caster or twisting slightly in function than intention due to the wording of the curse.
Whatever Grunk was about to say vanished in the wind as a huge explosion rocked the area on the plateau where the battle had begun. The two warriors looked at one another before racing back up the slope to see what had happened.
* * * * *
Tatianna stepped out of the white light and into chaos.
She had heard stories of battles such as this but even the most gruesome tale didn’t hold a candle to what confronted her. There were bodies everywhere. The dead and dying littered the ground. The Highlanders were fighting back to back with the Jotens which had seemingly switched sides and were now fighting against the Dark Alliance. Her beloved was standing alone, looking defiantly at Lalith and Blackfang. It was obvious that the Dark Lady was about to cast another spell at her husband and he knew that he was helpless to prevent it.
“Murderer!” she shouted, knowing full and well that she had to sell the charade of her son’s supposed death.
Holding the dead highlander child in her left hand, she launched a series of killing spells at Lalith and Blackfang. Between the fear at losing Hawkeye, the dread of Clotho discovering her son and the rage at seeing her rapist again, Tatianna’s magic was fueled with unbridled fury.
Lalith was not a Master Weaver but then she wasn’t a novice spell caster either. Tatianna’s appearance had caught her slightly off guard but her training and elven reflexes allowed her to deflect the first series of killing spells hurled their way. Whenever the spells fell among the warriors, they died; Jotens, Highlander and Dark Alliance alike.
Lalith pulled forth an intricately carved wand of bone. “So, the mother of the Chosen One. We finally meet.”
Preparing to cast another series of spells Tatianna replied, “Yes. It is fitting that we meet. It must’ve been you that summoned the shadow scorpions which killed my son. And for that, you must die.”
As the two sorceresses squared off and began casting spells at each other, the two brothers rejoined their fight. Now instead of brother on brother or dark elf on light elf, it became a team battle; Lalith would occasionally cast a spell aimed at Hawkeye or Blackfang would launch a series of attacks on Tatianna.
Hawkeye would parry the attacks while Tatianna would deflect or neutralize the spells. However, it was soon obvious that Lalith and Blackfang had trained for combat together. They were in sync with their attacks and counter-attacks, both magical and mundane.
Hawkeye and Tatianna had never considered the possibility of this sort of combat and hadn’t even discussed possible tactics. Only their love for each other and natural skills kept them alive for the first few minutes of the battle. Eventually, the lovers began to tire and their defenses suffered.
Hawkeye was the first to slip.
He was tired, plain and simple. It had been a long trek from when he had last seen his wife. Then, the long night of battle on the bridge and now, his wife was holding their dead son while battling the two responsible for all the trouble. At first, the excitement of seeing his wife alive gave him strength but witnessing the lifeless form of his son and knowing that he had failed his goddess had drained him of all hope. All he had left was vengeance but even that wasn’t enough to stop his brother’s blade from slipping through his defenses.
Blackfang had slashed at Tatianna’s mid-section which Hawkeye reacted to, committing his defenses off to his far left. But the slash was just a feint and Hawkeye was caught off guard and out of position when Blackfang’s return thrust entered his side.
&
nbsp; Hawkeye was a veteran of many battles and had been injured so many times that he had lost count. But the pain he felt when his brother’s enchanted blade entered his side was unlike anything he had ever felt before. As Blackfang’s magical blade entered his body, the unholy black fire seemed to eat at the wound. With his guts ablaze, Hawkeye screamed and fell to his knees.
His scream distracted Tatianna ever so slightly, which allowed one of Lalith’s spells to slip past her defenses. Luckily, it was nothing more than the magic missile spell she had taught Amani a few months ago instead of something more deadly. However, three of the five magical missiles struck Tatianna on her left side, spinning her to the ground. Landing hard on her back, the fall jarred free the body of the baby highlander. His limp form landed with a thud midway between the two elves.
Tatianna watched Lalith stare at the lifeless body. Knowing that she needed to keep the Dark Lady’s attention focused on her, Tatianna spoke through clenched teeth. “Look all you like bitch but you will never know the bond between a mother and child.”
Lalith looked up. “I don’t care. I have no desire to ever be a mother. Who would want a whiny little leech running around?”
Tatianna struggled to her knees and winced in pain as she felt a couple of her broken ribs shift. “When two people are in love, a family is the only natural course.”
“Love? Love is an illusion.” Lalith laughed and pointed at the lifeless baby. “That thing wasn’t the result of love. It was the byproduct of rape which is hatred in action.”
“Rape?” Blackfang turned his snout toward Lalith. “You mean to say that whelp was mine? That I was its father?”
Hawkeye said, “You have no right to call my son anything.”
Blackfang pulled his massive blade from Hawkeye’s gut and took a step toward the baby. “I want to see this child of mine before I behead it for all the trouble it has caused me.”
As Blackfang’s cursed blade left his body, Hawkeye felt the pain lessen slightly but he knew at that moment he was dying. The unholy blade had done something to him, something unnatural. However, seeing his brother move toward the body of his son drove him from his knees. Even if he couldn’t save his son, Hawkeye knew he must protect the dignity of his child’s body. Forcing his crippled body to move, he threw his tomahawk and yelled, “No!”
Tales of the Wolf: Book 02 - Enter the Wolf Page 31
