Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (40 page)

Chapter 44

For the third time in the last hour, Amani and Dancer had to duck undercover as another rover band of orcs passed through the area. It seemed that the closer they came to the Dragonfang Mountains, the more soldiers of the Dark Alliance they ran across. Shortly after dawn, the two Highlanders had almost stumbled into a band of sleeping trolls. Only the arrival of a white eagle saved them. The sacred bird dove through the massive humanoids with a screech. The trolls awakened with a yell and chased after the elusive raptor. When the trolls had jumped up, the two Highlanders had frozen in surprise and fear only to be overlooked by the beasts in their rush to catch the eagle.

As they waited for the lastest patrol of orcs to passed by, Amani felt uneasy. It wasn’t the fact that there were enemies nearby but it was more the feeling that time was running out. They needed to reach the Dragonfang Mountains and soon. She didn’t know where or why but she knew it to be true. Leaning forward, she whispered in Dancer’s ear, “We need to get moving.”

Dancer gestured to the patrol. “I would love to get going but they are in our way.”

Amani wanted to argue but he was right, there were numerous orcs in their path and no clear way around them. Suddenly, she saw the white eagle. It was calmly sitting on a tree branch a short distance away and it was watching them. Amani elbowed her friend and silently pointed.

Dancer turned and nearly chocked on his own saliva when he saw the sacred bird. He had been originally educated to be a shaman of the tribe and the histories of the Highland people is a major aspect of the training. In every legend if the white eagle showed up, it was as the personal messenger of Luna the patron goddess of the Highland people. Of course, then there was the fact that at no time in his life had he ever seen or even heard of anyone seeing a white eagle. Dancer pointed toward it, “It’s a sign.”

Amani nodded and began crawling in the direction of the eagle. Dancer copied her actions and soon the two Highlanders were in a low ravine that was sheltered from view by the tall sawgrass. As soon as they reached the gully, the white eagle took off and flew in the direction of the Dragonfang Mountains. Amani and Dancer followed. If the eagle ever seemed to get too far ahead of them, it would land and wait. It wasn’t long before they were past the most of the soldiers and getting close to the mountains. Eventually, the eagle landed on the bow of an old canoe that was resting on the bank of a small river.

This time when they approached, it did not fly off. It cocked its head to the side and blinked but remained perched on the edge of the boat.

Amani scratched her head. “I think it wants us to take the river.”

“Do you think it’s safe?”

Amani climbed into the old dugout. It seemed sturdy enough. “Either you believe she’s a messenger from Luna and completely trust in her guidance or you don’t. I know the path I’m going to follow.”

Dancer lowered his head. She was right. Either he believed or he didn’t. Now was the time to make a choice. He climbed in behind her, picked up the paddle and shoved off. “My faith in Luna has never been in doubt.”

Amani looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Just like my faith in you.”

Dancer’s heart was warmed by her comment and smile. He wasn’t sure which one felt better. Seeing the sacred eagle launch itself from the bow, Dancer turned his attention back to navigating the small boat through the shallow but fast running stream. Neither Highlander knew exactly where they were heading but they were at least making good time
and it was easier than being on their feet.

*    *    *   *    *

Mortharona leaned back against the solid flanks of Astaroth.

The traitorous elf couldn’t help but grin at the odd friendship that had developed between the two of them. Yes, the massive Void Dragon had vowed to eat him given the chance but ever since he had not backed down or shied away, the dragon had shown a measure of respect to him.

Then, there was their common dislike for orcs that brought them closer. Mortharona had been forced to kill three orc chieftains in a very public and bloody manner to gain compliance of the troops. Astaroth had gobbled up the corpses and made sure that the orc hordes had been watching. If they were not cowed from his actions, they certainly were after Astaroth was finished.

Mortharona felt the onyx ring on his left hand vibrate. Raising the ring high the dark haired elf commanded,
“Ostende te!”
and black smoke spewed out of the stone.

Astaroth lifted his colossal head up from his paws and craned his tree-length neck around until his snout was next to Mortharona’s head.

The smoke billowed and twisted in on itself for several minutes until it formed into a near perfect replicate of Lalith’s head. When it spoke, it was her voice only hollow. “Ah…my two favorite men, how delightful.”

“Beloved.”

Astaroth lowered his snout. “Mistress.”

The smoky projection of the Dark Lady grinned. “Report.”

Mortharona cast a sideways glance at his dragon companion and received a nod, so he began. “Your troops are ready and anxious for the invasion to begin. Jotenhiem is contained with three legions of troops and one cohort of trolls. They are dug in and understand their orders.”

Astaroth’s long forked tongue flicked in and out as he spoke. “Two of my brood are also on site to assist in the containment. Although I am not sure why you won’t just let us raze the city to the ground and feed on the damned Cyclops? It would be so much fun.”

Lalith’s smoky projection turned to face the elder dragon. “Because that is the will of Clotho. Remember, ours is not to reason why…”

Mortharona finished the ancient adage. “But to fight and die.”

“Yes. It is her will that we take Asylum. All other targets are now secondary. I want the entire force to surround and crush that damn city. I want the walls razed and its buildings put to the torch. I want death and destruction on a scale that this world has never seen before!”

Mortharona grinned at the promised carnage. “Aye my love, just give the word and it will be done.”

“The word is given. Let the darkness fall on the heathens!”

*    *    *   *    *

Ronin followed Rjurik as they walked through the ancient bastion that dominated the Old Hill in the center of Asylum. It was the original fortress built by the founders of the city in ages past.

The old dwarf ran his hands across the rock foundation. “There is solid stonework here. Its old but sturdy.”

Ronin placed his hands on his hips and slowly turned around. “This would be perfect for the monastery. Are you sure the city council will part with it?”

Rjurik laughed. “They’ll be pleased as pigs playing in the mud to have someone take care of it.”

The young monk turned his gaze on his friend. “Why is that?”

“Well, they say it’s haunted. From what I have heard, no tenant in the last century has stayed more than a month here. The City Council has threatened to tear it down many times but since it is the original building of the founders, they can’t or won’t actually destroy it.”

“Interesting. Well, haunted or not, we will take it.”

“Outstanding. I will get with the clerks and finish up the paperwork for you but I am certain you can take possession immediately.”

Ronin nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Now, about your strays…”

As the two friends walked away, shadows stirred in the corners and a gentle breeze blew through the open windows. If anyone had been around to hear, a mournful voice seemed to whisper,
‘…soon…’

Chapter 45

For the record, Gray hated the plan but it was the best they could come up with given their limited
resources and timetable. It had taken the rest of the night to prepare the battlefield and the sky was just beginning to lighten as dawn approached. The plan was actually very simple. He was supposed to rile up Blackfang’s troops and draw them away from their fortifications and from the volatile werewolf with a scavenged longbow. He’d been elected by default since he was the best shot of the group. Once he had stirred up the proverbial hornet’s nest, Gray was to lead them through the twisting and turning crevasse to a particularly narrow point that acted as a natural chokepoint. The girls would dislodge several boulders and start an avalanche that would either trap or kill the majority of the enemy force below. Of course, if they set off the rock slide too early it could just as easily crush him.

While all this was going on, Galvorn would shadow-step to the back of the valley to begin his mission.

It was a solid plan but that did not mean he had to like it. Gray hated to be the last one to join them. Granted, if the landslide was triggered to late or didn’t work at all, he would outnumbered nearly a thousand to one.

Gray heard the whistles of his friend and knew they were ready and waiting for him. Once more, he tested the pull of the scavenged longbow. It was crude and weaker than what he was used to but then, it was orcish.  He had collected twenty-five decent arrows from the corpses of the dead sentries. Out of these, Gray selected the three best and moved to the edge of the cliff. Glancing east, the sun was just breaking the horizon and he knew it was time.

Sighting down the shaft, he pulled the string as far back as possible and rested his hand on his right cheek. Nostrils flared, Gray felt his perception of the world change to some extent. For a brief moment, he was in complete harmony with his environment. He could almost see the wind as they caromed off the cliffs and rushed upwards from the unseen river far below. Gray knew that these same winds would redirect his arrows while in flight. He instinctively sensed how they would affect them and shifted his aim accordingly. His bow was pointed up and to the right and nowhere near his target but he released the arrow anyway. He didn’t wait to see what happened to his first shot but drew and fired his other two in rapid succession.

As Gray released the third arrow, his consciousness snapped back to normal and he held his breath as the arrows flew off into the distance. At first, it seemed as if they were just going to arch over the cliff and fall into the unseen river below. However, one by one the arrows turned and changed directions.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

All three arrows struck their intended targets, two in the back of the neck and one in the shoulder. The first two fell dead from the blows while the third one raised the alarm, which was the plan
after all.

Notching another arrow, Gray stepped into view high atop the cliff and roared his challenge.

The renegade troops reacted predictably and charged forward. A few futility shot arrows at him only to have the strong winds blow them off course. As the troops charged through the crevasse, Gray ran along the edge and fired indiscriminately into the mass below. Every arrow struck a target. Some were killing shots, some were not but either way, it kept the boarish humanoids riled up and charging forward.

When he noted that the majority of troops were in the crevasse he yelled, “Now!”

Chikk and Tamina jumped with all their weight on the poles the orcs had set in place under two large boulders. It was obvious that the orcs had rigged the area with the same plan in mind. The huge rocks began to move. Slowly at first but they quickly gained momentum. Yells of rage and anger became howls of fear as rocks began to fill the ravine. Gray was at the halfway point on the ravine and stared down the fifty-foot drop. If he had to guess, there were two to three hundred orcs trapped below.

Hearing the sound of heavy feet running up behind him, Gray slapped three arrows across the riser, turned and fired his bow from the hip. The missiles tore through the vanguard of the attacking orcs and they fell. However, a score of orcs were only a few steps behind.

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Gray drew both kukris, backed up to the edge of the crevasse and took a fighting stance. “Okay you ugly whoresons, come on! Who dies next?”

The orcs did not pause. If anything, they sped up, yelling at him in their native tongue, which to Graytael sounded like a bunch of grunts, oinks and squeals.

He waited until they were only a few feet away before he used the
Salire-umbra
skill to shadow-step to the other side of the ravine.

The foremost orcs had no chance of stopping their charge and plunged into the gorge at full speed only to land on their trapped companions. A few tried to stop but failed. A couple even tried to leap the distance but failed, miserably. All in all, Gray estimated that seventeen plunged to their death. Those that were able to stop, howled insults at him but were otherwise contained.

Gray had four arrows left but decided to hold onto them, just in case. Sprinting to the precipice, he gazed down and saw that the first part of the plan had worked. The renegade army was in chaos.

*    *    *   *    *

As soon as Isengrim attacked, Galvorn slipped through the shadow corridor to come out in the back of the valley and behind the remainder of Blackfang’s army. He was hidden from view by the gigantic dragon skeleton but that really didn’t matter. Everyone’s attention was focused on the action at the entrance.

The majority of the warriors near the cave, lycanthrope and orc alike, ran to help. However, two massive trolls stayed at their post on either side of the entrance.

Galvorn knew if Blackfang were anywhere then he would be inside the cave, which meant he had to get past the massive beasts. He’d never fought trolls before but he had studied them. Darnac was a stickler for details like that. Just because the trolls, and orcs for that matter, were their allies that did not mean that he would never have to fight them.

Moving around the skeleton, Galvorn took a deep breath before making his attack. Once started, his path was secured and he must follow it, for good or ill. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to kill his father but that was his mission, and failure was not an option.

For a brief second before he attacked, Galvorn contemplated why the trolls were still on guard duty with the sun beginning to rise in the east. Typically, since trolls were the children of Nox the Night Goddess, they would turn to stone in direct sunlight. The sun had breached the horizon and its light was filling the valley but still the trolls stood their post. Galvorn noted that they both wore heavy robes with hoods lowered but that should not be enough to stop their curse.

Then he saw it.

The robes seemed to keep the trolls in constant shadows even as the light hit them directly. Which meant that Blackfang had some sort of spellcaster in his entourage. That realization changed his priority of targets but not his mission. Moreover, if it was the robes keeping the trolls safe he could exploit that weakness.

Drawing two knives, Galvorn didn’t want to chance the possibility of his tulwars getting stuck in the trolls’ bodies when or if they turned to stone. Here’s where using the
Salire-umbra
skill would come in handy.

Stepping through, he came out directly behind one of the trolls and made a long downward slice on his back. It felt to Galvorn like he was running his blade down the side of a boulder and idly wondered how badly the edge of his knife would be after this attack. Even though the blade did not break the troll’s rocky skin, he obviously felt the attack and roared in anger.

Twisting far quicker that Galvorn would have guessed possible, the troll turned and grabbed at him. Nevertheless, Galvorn was gone. He’d stepped back into the shadows and reappeared behind the other troll guard. Since his new target was also moving, the Shadow had to change his attack plan and sliced across the side and back of the troll’s neck with both blades. In his excitement, he felt the blades bite into the rock-hard skin, not deep but enough to really do any damage.

This troll whirled on the half dark-elf with a scream but Galvorn leapt back and landed in a fighting stance. Both trolls rushed forward. In their haste, they did not notice that their robes were split open. The first troll’s robe was ripped down the back completely while the second’s hood was only hanging on by a few threads. As they swung their clubs at the elusive Sicárii, he dove backward and dodged under the clumsy attack. It was only a matter of time before either or both robes fell off and exposed the trolls to the deadly sunlight.

As Galvorn rolled under one of their attacks, something odd caught his eye and nearly cost him his life. As he came out of his roll, he spied his Kënnári. He was only a few yards away with his head slumped forward in sleep or death. Galvorn had paused to determine the manner in which he was trapped and the two trolls moved to take advantage of his distraction.

Both Hyperion the Sun God and Hodios the God of Luck must’ve been smiling on him at that moment, for the robes finally fell off enough to expose their skin to the morning sunlight. Their screams filled the air but were quickly silenced as their bodies turned to stone.

Galvorn barely gave them a second glance as he rushed to his teacher’s side. The only parts he could see of the deadly Blademaster was both hands and his head. The rest was encased inside a huge boulder. He checked for a pulse and found one. Either Darnac was unconscious or asleep but either way, he didn’t wake up to his touch. Galvorn quickly searched for some sort of latch or seam but could not find one.

Somehow, Darnac was inside the boulder.

Deep guttural laughter echoed from the cave and Galvorn whirled toward it.

“Ah…I see that Lalith has decided not to accept my invitation but to send my only son to do her bidding. How predictable.” Blackfang stepped out of the cave and into the morning light.

Gone was the dirty werewolf he had been the last time Galvorn had seen him. Now the black furred werewolf stood tall and proud. He was wearing brown leather pants, a belt and bracers on each forearm. Most of all, Galvorn noted that his father carried
Iran et dolorem
, the Swords of Destiny.

Galvorn stood up and drew his silver tulwars. “Hello father.”

“You really think you can take me? I am stronger and faster than you and I have Rage and Sorrow. You cannot hope to defeat me.”

“So you say.” Galvorn grinned and stepped to the side to give himself more room for the impending duel. “Of course, Zivën thought the same thing and I now carry his blades.”

“Impressive but then, I thought him to a blowhard. All talk no action.”

Galvorn shrugged. “I see. So the title of Blademaster means nothing to you?”

Blackfang shook his snout side to side. “Not one bit.”

Galvorn gestured with his curved blade at the trapped dark-elf. “So it’s only a coincidence that you decided to use magic to trap Darnac instead of face him like a man?”

Blackfang growled. “I am a Highlander! I fear no man.”

Galvorn grinned. He could see that one thing had not changed in his father, he still felt threatened by his Kënnári. “Then you will meet me in honorable combat. You and I, blade to blade.”

Blackfang confidently moved forward and two more lycanthropes stepped into the light, a wereboar and a werebear. The werewolf glanced over his shoulder. “Do not interfere on pain of death. It’s past time I taught this pup a lesson in respect.” They both nodded.

Blackfang leapt forward with a snarl. Galvorn blocked and countered.

The battle between father and son commenced in earnest.

*    *    *   *    *

Gray scanned the distant battlefield. Even though the heavy fog still covered the entire valley, it shifted just enough that he could tell two very distinct thing.

One, his half-brother had engaged his uncle and for the moment, they seemed evenly matched. However, it was the overly large dragon skeleton that captured his attention and held it hostage. Somehow, Gray had seen this very view before. He knew that he had never been in this valley in his entire life but he was certain that he had seen that skeleton somewhere before. He was not sure when or how but he knew it to be true.

Wrenching his eyes away, he scanned the rest of the valley and saw that a large group of soldiers rushing to Blackfang’s aid. Gray longed to join Galvorn in battle but his mission was containment. First and foremost, he knew that he could not let them reach his uncle. If that meant leaving his half-brother to fight his own battle, than that was what he had to do. That was the plan and he would stick to it whether he like it or not.

Using the
Salire-umbra
skill, Gray stepped into the Shadow Realm and left behind the majority of Blackfang’s troops, trapped and useless. However, he would soon confront those soldiers that could still tip the scales against them.