Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (41 page)

Chapter 46

Odovacar was torn. He hated Blackfang with every fiber of his soul but the werewolf was also the key to his own sanity. He had reluctantly pledged his loyalty to the renegade Highlander but it only went so far. He knew that even if it cost him his
sanity, he would not raid and pillage the cities of the Southlands. He had been hoping and praying for someone to stop the fanatical warrior. At first he thought that it would have been Darnac but that had been a trap.

Now, Blackfang was battling a younger dark-elf that the Wolflord claimed as his own son.

Did the warrior have no soul? How could anyone even consider killing his or her own child?

Odovacar glanced to over his shoulder toward his werebear companion. Even though they had been ordered not to interfere, the shaman was mumbling the beginnings of a spell. He knew that this was one of those moments in life that defined a person’s destiny. Should he stand back and let the events play out or should he take a more active role?

*    *    *   *    *

Amani was frightened. There was no other way to put it. She was in a canoe floating down a swift moving stream in an unknown region of the Highlands. Partially it was the fact that she wasn’t too overly fond of boats but mostly it was that the stream they were on had taken them under the Dragonfang Mountains. The only calming element was the fact that the white eagle was still sitting on the bow of their canoe.

“Uh…Amani?”

She turned to look at Dancer but couldn’t see him in the darkness of the cavern. Whispering the words to a simple spell, Amani held up her hand and three flickering lights came into being. They danced around her hand like moths draw to a flame while giving off the light of a small lantern.

“Thanks.”

Amani cocked her head to the side. “Huh?”

“The lights. It’s creepy enough in this cavern without not being able to see where we are going.” Dancer paused as he looked around. “Not that we have any choice at this point but to go on.”

Amani grinned and waved her hand in a throwing motion. The three dancing lights fluttered forward and spread out until they illuminated the underground stream, not all of it, but enough that the two Highlanders could see several dozen yards ahead.

“There. That’ll help.”

Dancer shook his head. “I will never get used to seeing you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Magic. I know I was once a shaman apprentice but our magic is so different from what Red Eagle taught you.”

Amani smiled at the off-hand compliment and memory that it brought to the surface. Tatianna had been a godsend. She was accepting and non-judgmental. Even though she had only been in her life for about a year, she had been the mother figure she had never had.

Lost in her memories, Amani turned back to watch the dancing lights as they flittered over the dark water as the two Highlanders continued their trek down the underground stream.

*    *    *   *    *

Khlekluëllin listened to the recommendation of the Elven Council and as much as he hated to admit it, they were right. Given the size of the gathered horde in the Highlands, the Queen’s
Regent had no choice but to close the borders of the Elfholm. This meant no more aid to Asylum or Ozymandias.

For the first time in his life, Khlekluëllin knew what made his mother so sad. When she had learned of her daughter’s death, she hadn’t sent the army north in vengeance and he never understood why, until now. The fate and well-being of the entire elven race rested in his hands and he had to err on the side of caution.

“Close the borders. Let no one enter or exit the forest without my expressed permission.” Khlekluëllin pulled off his circlet of royalty and tossed it on the table. For some reason it seemed heavier than normal. “Send the army to north and east, leave only scouts on the west and south.”

The royal
messengers rushed out to carry his orders. Khlekluëllin looked around. Numerous guards and advisors surrounded him but he felt alone.
‘This must be what my mother feels like.’

*Possibly but she is never truly alone and neither are you.*

Khlekluëllin grinned.
‘I thank the gods for the day you entered my life.’

He could almost hear the dragon chuckle over their mental link.
*I just thank Terra that I did not eat you when I had the chance.*

‘Yes, that would’ve put a real damper on our relationship.’
Khlekluëllin picked up his circlet and put it back on. For some reason, it felt lighter now. The throne might be lonely but now he knew he was not alone. He was never alone.

*    *    *   *    *

Darnac was alone. That was the thought the rolled through his mind. Although he’d walked a lonely path as a Blademaster, he never truly felt alone. At least not until now.

He fought the demon of despair and struggled to regain consciousness. As he opened his eyes, he realized that he must be delirious and seeing things. To his addled mind, Blackfang was under attack. His army had been neutralized and now the beast was fighting Galvorn.

That was impossible, the werewolf’s army was too powerful for his favorite pupil and for that matter, his Onus never used tulwars.

Darnac lowered his head in defeat. By the time his pupils figured out where he was, he’d be dead. The little bit of water and food that Odovacar had been able to smuggle to him was barely enough to keep him alive. Once Blackfang headed south, he would be left behind trapped in this damned boulder.

*    *    *   *    *

Chikk grinned with pride at her former students. Not only had Isengrim believed her plea for help, he had enlisted Tamina’s aid and joined forces with Galvorn. When confronted with overwhelming odds, they had come up with a daring and bold plan. As a pirate, Chikk was used to long shots but she felt that this one had a better than average chance to succeed.

As soon as the rocks began to move, she stepped into the shadows and entered the valley. Drawing her silver cutlass, she hid behind the remnants of a tent and surveyed the scene. Her mission was simple, she was to find Darnac and do whatever was necessary to rescue him.

She watched as Galvorn calmly and effortlessly dispatched the two troll sentries. She didn’t expect him to figure out a way to turn them to stone but it worked and that’s what mattered. She had no idea why he rushed over to a boulder and knelt down. At least, not until she shifted positions. Seeing her lover encased in stone was almost more than she could bear. Her first instinct was to rush forward but when Blackfang stepped out with his two cronies, she crouched down and stayed out of sight.

She was close enough to hear their exchange but honestly, her attention was on the two lycanthropes. The moment she made her move toward Darnac, one or the other would attack her. She was open to possibilities and searched the area for anything that she could use to her advantage. Seeing the arrival of Tamina, she spied her opportunity, crouched down, and waited. Soon she would have her opening and she wanted to be ready.

*    *    *   *    *

Tamina had picked the very top of the dragon skeleton skull for her spot to come out of the shadow corridor.

Her thinking was to be more in line with her nickname. Mice are rarely in plain sight, they tend to travel in the really high or low places of any building, moving along rafters and baseboards to get to their destination. By landing on top of the dragon skeleton skull, she was in the perfect location to assist Galvorn when or if he needed it.

She watched as her friend squared off with the black furred werewolf. The Shadow looked so small standing in front of Blackfang. Of course, Galvorn was a Sicárii and probably the third best swordsman she’d ever seen. She was confident that he would be able to hold his own against the brutish werewolf.

That was if no one interfered.

Scanning the battlefield, she spied the two lycanthropes directly below her. One was a huge wereboar and the other was a massive werebear, she made the mental note that he seemed more bear than man and that meant dangerous.

Tamina had never actually fought a Highlander before. According to everything she had gleaned about Grim’s past, it seemed he had some Northman blood in his veins. He never talked about it and she was not one to pry but there were time that Grim acted more feral than anyone else she knew. Usually it only happened to him in combat, he would growl and a savage look would come over his face. His eyes became unfocused, he moved with such speed and ferocity it was hard to imagine that it was even possible. Of course, it was at those times when he became an uncontrollable killing beast.

Tamina shuddered. It was scary to think that the man she loved and the father to her unborn child had such a bloodthirsty nature inside of him. Yes, Isengrim seemed dour and gloomy most of the time but she had always found him to be caring and gentle.

Her mind snapped back to the task at hand when one of the lycanthropes below her began to chant. She shifted positions to get a better view and discovered that the werebear had pulled out a small metal rod and was pointing it at Galvorn.

Every Sicárii trained in spellcraft, the ability to identify spells as they were being cast. Because of this skill, Tamina realized that the werebear was preparing to cast a spell of lightning at her friend.

Drawing her sicáe, Tamina the Mouse dove off the skeleton to attack the massive werebear.

Chapter 47

Gray stepped out of the shadow corridor and immediately attacked.

Considering their numbers and close proximity to each other, he had elected to use his claws. Their razor sharp tips tore through the defenses of the orcs and they fell screaming. Once again, Gray unconsciously called on the spirit of the wolverine and was filled with the animal’s ferocity and speed. Coupled with the claws, knowledge of anatomy and skill, he decimated the troops. He dove and slashed, rolled and thrust, blocked and dodged, all without conscious thought. He was the Spirit of the Wolverine and he was having fun.

One part of his mind was paying attention to the numbers. The band of orcs he had attacked numbered twenty-four when he started, this he knew from his vantage point on top of the precipice. When he ran out of enemies to kill, the corpses and body parts of thirty-three combatants surrounded him. Where the extra nine came from, he had no idea nor did he remember them joining the fray.

Gray scanned his immediate surroundings. It was clear. Or more accurately, it was clear of enemies. The fog was heavy and he could only see the shadow of the dragon skeleton a short ways off. He could still hear the sounds of battle ahead of him and the cries of the trapped troops behind him.

Stepping over the bloody mess, Gray boldly walked through the fog. One of the two people responsible for killing his parents was just ahead and he would be damned if he let that bastard escape.

*    *    *   *    *

Galvorn blocked with one sword and slashed at his father across the midsection with the other.

The black werewolf jerked back, not enough to completely avoid the strike but enough that it only scratched him through his thick fur. “Not bad whelp. You might not be the runt I have always considered you to be.”

Galvorn shifted his blades into a defensive position while he sidestepped slowly. With luck his father wouldn’t move his feet as he tried to keep him in front or even better move them but in such a way that he would be off balance.

His Kënnári always said, ‘
If your opponent wants to talk, let him. Feed into his ego or stoke up his anger, both tend to distract your opponent and shift the odds into your favor.’

Galvorn grinned at the memory. “I’ve always wondered what kind of man you were before the curse. Were you at least handsome or were you always an ugly brute?”

Blackfang roared and leapt forward. As a werewolf, he was nearly twice as strong as the average man and three times as fast. He had been stuck in his hybrid form for nearly twenty years and had learned how to use his increased strength and agility to his advantage. He battered at his son’s defenses with the Swords of Destiny as if they were nothing more than clubs. Gone was any fancy swordplay as Blackfang swung every blow with all his might and never relented.

Galvorn was in peril. He blocked and dodged with all his skill and for the moment, he was still alive. However, he had to give ground to avoid the powerful blows. Inch by inch, foot by foot, he was getting closer to the cliff. His first instinct was to shadow-step away but for some reason, it did not work and he almost missed a high parry when he failed to
Salire-umbra.

In the very back of his mind, he remembered Darnac explaining one of the properties of Furor and Miseria. They had to ability to cancel magic within a certain sphere of influence. Which meant that he wouldn’t be able to shadow-step away or even use some of the other tricks the Sicárii typically used.

Even as he contemplated this action, the ground exploded at his feet and he was flying backwards toward the cliff. Having no other choice, Galvorn released his hold on his swords, threw his head and shoulder backwards, hard. This extra momentum forced his body to flip in midair and Galvorn reached out with both hands.

Galvorn clawed the rocky ground. He felt his skin rip and scrape until finally he was able to snag an old root with his left hand. The force his body hit the precipice was considerable and almost dislodged him. However, he was able to maintain his grip as he dangled over the drop. Glancing downward, he knew that somewhere below there was a river. He could hear it but it was covered in mists and he had no idea how far a fall it was.

Looking up, he locked eyes with his father. The scarred werewolf stared down at him and his red eyes seemed to glow in the early morning light. “You do not have to die cub. Swear your loyalty to me and I will pull you up.”

“Never!” Galvorn tried once more to
Salire-umbra
but the portal was shut by the magic of the Swords of Destiny.

“Very well, die.” Blackfang lifted his right leg.

Galvorn could see the claws as they stood out on his paws and knew the moment he touched his hand he would fall. Fumbling in his belt, Galvorn grabbed his sicáe and threw it at his father.

*    *    *   *    *

Tamina landed on the massive werebear and thrust both weapons deep into the side of its neck.

Unfortunately, she didn’t take into account the thick fur which covered his body nor the extra layer of fat and muscle, so neither strike was a killing blow. However, they were enough to deflect the shaman’s aim and the lightning bolt slammed into Shadow’s feet instead of killing him outright.

She didn’t see what happened after that because the werebear jerked himself forward and threw her off. Landing gracefully, she pulled out two more daggers.

The werebear snarled in pain and grabbed his spear that was leaning on a post nearby. “You malkin! How dare you attack me! Do you not know who I am?”

Tamina shifted her position somewhat and quipped, “A furry blowhard?”

“I am Berengar the Warbear and I will rip you limb from limb!”

Tamina smirked. “Come on fuzzball, try it.”

Berengar spoke a couple words that she didn’t know and the head of his spear burst into flames. The shaman stabbed at her but she rebounded backward with amazing agility. But on came the werebear, thrusting and slashing with the deadly spear. Every time she moved forward, the shaman was able to back her up with his longer weapon. She even tried throwing her daggers and jumping in but the wily werebear was able to knock them aside and keep her at bay. They were at a stalemate and Tamina instinctively knew that time was not their ally.

Suddenly, three more lycanthropes burst out of the cave and rushed toward her. It would have been the end of her if not for unseen and unasked for help.

*    *    *   *    *

Odovacar watched as his companion Berengar attacked the pretty young girl. He had to admire the spirit of their enemies. Outnumbered, they had still attacked and through superior tactics had tied up over ninety percent of the traitor’s army. Now, this little lass had jumped on the back of the shaman in order to save her friend.

Odovacar could not help but admire such conviction and loyalty. Her actions reminded him of Hawkeye and Bluebear. Either one would not have hesitated to jump on the back of a rampaging dragon if it meant saving a friend. He didn’t have any friends like that anymore. They were all dead or fearful of the curse which held him in his hybrid shape. Not that he blamed them, before coming under the calming effects of Blackfang’s bracers, he would’ve attacked his own mother had she still been alive.

In that one moment, Odovacar knew what had to be done even if it meant he was condemned to a life of savagery. Grabbing his claymore, Odovacar raised it high and leapt to the attack.

His first swipe beheaded one of the two newcomers but he didn’t stop there. Charging forward, he rammed his shoulder into Berengar’s back knocking him off balance.

“Go! Go, help your friends!”

Berengar the Warbear whirled on him. With a growl, he leveled his spear at his chest and charged as more lycanthropes spilled out of the cave.

*    *    *   *    *

Amani blinked heavily as they broke back into daylight.

The underground stream now ran between two sheer cliffs and further downstream she could see it disappeared once more back under the mountains. But for now, they were in sunlight.

The white eagle screeched and leapt into flight. At first, she expected it to fly off into the morning sky. Instead, it landed on a large piece of driftwood off to their left.

Dancer called up from the rear of the canoe. “Continue on or pull over?”

Amani gazed at the eagle. “Pull over. Beach it here.”

Dancer nodded and guided the small boat out of the fast moving water and to the side of the river. Amani hopped out as soon as the keel touched the bank and between the two highlanders, they had the canoe out of the water in no time. Dancer looked around. It was a desolate spot. Surrounded on two sides by impassable cliffs, the only direction they could travel was further downstream. “Now what?”

Amani knelt down in front of the eagle. “We wait.”

“For what?”

Two large splashes echoed in the water nearby.

Both Highlanders scanned the cliffs but it was Amani who pointed. “There!”

Dancer shielded his eyes from the sun and could just make out several figures fighting on the very edge of the cliff. “It looks as if one of them is hanging off the edge.”

“I’m not sure.” Amani held her breath in anticipation and fear. She had no idea who it was fighting up there but the white eagle had led them here for a reason. Her faith in Luna held her fast and she muttered a prayer of aid to whomever it was hanging on for dear life.

*    *    *   *    *

Gray heard the battle before he saw it. Rushing forward, he could not help but pause when it came into view. It was the strangest battle he had ever seen. A huge wereboar was wielding a flaming claymore and fighting against seven other lycanthropes. Chikk Forlorn seemed to be helping the wereboar. Yet, there was no sign of Galvorn but Blackfang was standing near the edge of the cliff while something small clawed at his back.

When Gray spied an ebony hand grasping a small root on the very edge of the cliff, he knew where his half-brother was. Sprinting forward with the speed of the wolf, he dove and snagged Galvorn’s hand just as the root gave way. “Gotcha!”

Galvorn flashed him a little grin. “Thanks.”

Gray pushed himself up to his knees and started to pull him up when suddenly, all of the air was forced from his lungs as Blackfang kicked him in the gut. Dropping face first on the rocky ground, Gray nearly dropped his half-brother from the shock and pain. Rolling to one side, he looked over his shoulder at the werewolf and suddenly realized that it was Tamina clinging to his back.

Mouse seemed to be holding on to a pair of daggers that she had rammed into the center of his back. Every time he tried to grab her, she twisted one dagger or the other. It was not the greatest plan but for now it was working but eventually, Blackfang would get a hold of her. He knew it, she knew it and Gray knew it.

Blackfang raised one sword high and prepared to bring it down onto Gray. The problem was, given his position, too much of his body was exposed and there was no way to dodge without dropping Galvorn. He realized this and it seemed so did Blackfang.

“No!” screamed Tamina. She twisted and jammed her left dagger as hard as possible.

Blackfang had been expecting her reaction. Even as he screamed with pain, Blackfang whirled around quickly. Tamina’s legs were flung off her precarious perch and within easy reach of the scarred black-furred werewolf. The foul beast snagged one of them and pulled her off his back.

Lifting her up, she hung upside down before him. The knife in his back continued to ooze blood. “Now my pretty, you will die a slow and painful death.”

Tamina spit at him. “I would rather die here and now than to stand by and let you kill my love.”

Blackfang held his killing blow. Lifting her higher in the air, the werewolf sniffed her belly several times before turning his scared face towards Graytael and grinned. “She has your scent inside her.”