Tales of the Wolf: Book 01 - The Coming of the Wolf (27 page)

Stepping up to the edge of the pit, Blackfang raised his hands and waited for quiet. Soon, the gathered armies noticed him and fell quiet. Glancing around, Blackfang spoke in a loud voice that echoed off the cavern walls.

“My comrades, tonight is a special night; one to be relished and celebrated. By the next full moon we will be at war. Our goddess has located our greatest enemy, the Chosen One.”Blackfang spit as he said the name and the armies gathered grumbled. “He is destined to be born on the spring equinox. We cannot allow that to happen. Clotho has shown us where the Chosen One will be and has charged us with his death. Will you march with me to war?”

The crowd roared in one voice. “YES!”

“Will you bring death to the Chosen One and his sworn protectors?” 

“YES!”

Playing the crowd, Blackfang continued. “What was that? I could not hear you! Will you bring death to the Chosen One and his allies?”

They roared again, this time even louder and the walls echoed with their answer. “YES!”

Someone in the crowd started a chant. With each chorus, it got louder.

“Death to the Chosen One! Death to the Chosen One!” 

This went on for several minutes. Finally, Blackfang pointed to the center of the Pit. A large spider shaped altar slowly rose out of the sand.

“Behold! Our goddess demands a sacrifice. Who here, would lay down their life for our goddess and grant our cause her blessing?”

A skinny svartaflar jumped out of his seat and ran to the edge of the Pit.

Blackfang smiled at the young shadow elf and asked, “What is your name?”

“Osha.”

“Do you give yourself over to our goddess, Clotho?”

Osha nodded his head. “I do.”

“Then mount the altar of our goddess and embrace her power, so that she may bless us.” 

Osha jumped into the Pit and climbed onto the altar. The crowd was strangely silent as black strands oozed out of the altar to bind the shadow elf. Rjurik, Mortharona and Khlekluëllin looked around at the gathering, puzzled. Nothing moved in the cavern, yet a large shadow seemed to pass over the dark elf’s body. Then his mouth flew open and out swarmed hundreds of spiders, crawling all over his body. The spiders slowly devoured the skinny dark elf until there was nothing left but bones.

The crowd went wild! They cheered, yelled and banged their shields and swords against each other or against rocks, anything to make more noise. The spiders crawled into the shadows of the Pit and disappeared into the darkness.

Khlekluëllin and Rjurik looked away from the gruesome sight.

Walking over to the edge of the platform, Blackfang glanced at the elves and laughed. Signaling the guards, the twins were brought to the edge of the Pit. Hopping off the platform, Blackfang drew close to them. They could smell the odor of sour wine and blood on his breath.

“Soon we march on your sister and her rescuer, Hawkeye the Wolflord. Too bad you won’t be around to see it, for tonight you die.”

With a nod of his head, they were pushed into the Pit.

*   *   *   *   *

Grunk had watched the games in complete disgust.

Trained from birth to be a warrior, Grunk was no stranger to gladiatorial games. Shortly after being kicked out of his father’s home, Grunk found employment at the arena in Niflhim, the Joten capital, first as a simple worker, then as a shield bearer and finally as a gladiator. Grunk was talented and by the end of his second season he had risen to the rank of Gladiator Five but he never found glory in the roar of the crowds. He hated the way the crowd cheered at death, smiled at the blood or jeered a fallen competitor. He left the games and his kin behind on the day he was to fight for the title of Gladiator Two. The current holder had fallen from a chariot during a pre-game race and broken his back. The owners and medics rushed out to aid him. Seeing the injury, the owners had ‘retired’ him and announced a fight to fill his spot. Grunk had walked away that same day. His father had been furious and had him banished from Niflhim. Hearing the crowd cheer at the blood games brought back those memories, none of them good. It was appalling how easily his kin had been seduced into evil.

According to legends, during the Dark Times when the Arachne were numerous and controlled nearly half of Terreth, his ancestors were just one small tribe of jotens living in the Southlands. They were no different than any other joten, with two perfectly good eyes.

When the Arachne took control of the area, instead of resisting them which was Gaul’s will, their tribe’s chieftain made a pact with the Arachne. The legends differ as to the Jarl’s reasons why he made the pact. Was it fear of subjugation? Greed? A lust for power? No one truly knows but the legends state that the Jarl had a meeting with Clotho the Spinner and offered to serve the Arachne in exchange for the gift of prophecy for himself and his kin. Clotho agreed as long as every member of the tribe made the same pledge. Once the pledge was made, Clotho cast a might spell which ripped out the eyes of every tribesmen, combined them and thrust them into the middle of their forehead.

As painful as the process was every tribesman gained the gift of prophecy which Clotho used to her advantage. The cyclops were placed in charge of the armies of Darkness and aided with their prophetic insights slaughtered every other joten and nearly overthrew the northern kingdoms. When the armies of darkness were finally defeated and the Arachne cast back into the void, Gaul took his vengeance on his wayward children. He could not undo Clotho’s magic, so he cursed them. He twisted the magic of the prophecy, limiting it to the day of their own death. So now, every day a joten is confronted with the knowledge of his or her own death.

Due to Clotho’s Curse, Grunk knew that today was not his day to die but that didn’t remove the fear of being discovered. So far, he had been able to avoid associating with any of his kin while skulking around the caverns. However this gathering was so large that Blackfang had clustered the different races into separate sections with the exception of those working. Grunk found himself within twenty feet of his father. Luckily Thantos was preoccupied with the blood games and he hadn’t noticed him..yet.

Grunk was about to slip out of the crowd when the crowd fell silent. He saw the twins pushed into the pit and his father’s grin. This did not bode well for the elven brothers.

*   *   *   *   *

Even with their hands bound, the twins executed flips to land softly on their feet. They took in the arena with a practiced eye; judging the condition of the ground and positions of the broken bodies and weapons of the last combatants. True warriors try to choose the battleground that would be the most effective for them and hinder their enemy. That advantage had been taken away from them but still knowing where the slick spots of pooling blood or a severed limb was located they could maneuver their opponent into was still an advantage. When their weapons were thrown in, the brothers retrieved their swords and cut their bonds. It was then that they realized that the crowd was strangely quiet.

A loud screech broke the silence and echoed off the cavern walls.

Looking around for its source, the twins spied five huge jotens surrounding the covered cell that Khlekluëllin had noticed earlier. The jotens, each at least nine feet tall, were having trouble dragging a bound and struggling creature in a large net. Whatever the creature was, it was extremely large and didn’t want to go with them. Suddenly the crowd roared and began banging on their shields again. They knew what was in store for the elves.

Khlekluëllin and Mortharona backed towards the far side of the Pit and readied their swords. A magical light radiated from the twin blades, illuminating the bottom of the Pit in a pale yellow glow.

When the jotens reached the edge of the Pit, they pushed their bundle into it with long poles. It landed with a large thump and for a moment nothing happened. When it finally started moving, a large reptilian tail flicked out of the net. It was forked and in the dim light of the pit it looked blue. Next, a large scaled body started backing out of the net, until the net caught on something. Thrashing back and forth violently, the net flew off it to land in a pile nearby.

The twins were shocked when they realized their opponent was to be an Air Dragon. It was truly a magnificent creature. No longer than eighty feet from tip of its tail to the edge of its snout, its wingspan was probably twice that length. Its teeth were the length of daggers and its claws the size of short swords. Its scales glistened blue in the firelight and its eyes glowed yellow with anger. The twins realized it was not a particularly large dragon, probably still an infant but it was still terrifying to behold.

Lifting its head, the dragon roared in anger. The sound echoing off the cavern walls was deafening. The crowd just laughed and screamed louder. Khlekluëllin and Mortharona could see a large chain, like a leash, running from the dragon’s neck to the five jotens which held the other end.

Turning its head, the dragon stared at the leash holders. Its eyes narrowed with an intense look of hatred as the dragon inhaled deeply. One of the jotens spoke a magical word and the chain suddenly turned bright red. Even the brothers, on the far side of the Pit, could feel the extreme heat radiating from the chain. Rearing its head back, the dragon roared in pain and a large bolt of lightning exploded into the night sky. A moment later the chain cooled down and the dragon turned its glare of hatred on the brothers.

Speaking softly, his tone showing his nervousness, Mortharona asked, “Well brother, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into. Any ideas how to get out?”

Khlekluëllin replied in an even tone. “Not really but it seems that the dragon doesn’t want to be here anymore than we do. I wonder if we can use that to our advantage?” 

Unfolding its wings, the dragon flapped them once and launched himself across the Pit. The cyclops gave the leashed serpent a lot of slack in the chain. Landing gracefully in the center of the Pit, the dragon roared and lifted itself onto its hind legs and started flapping its mighty wings. The sand in the bottom of the Pit suddenly became airborne and the twins found themselves in the center of an intense sandstorm. Sand tore at their exposed flesh and entered their eyes. The last thing they saw before being blinded by the sand was the sight of a very angry dragon moving towards them quickly. Knowing they were at a great disadvantage at this very moment, they both reacted quickly.

Mortharona dove towards the far wall, where he knew the net lay empty and forgotten. Reaching it, he crawled inside and lay absolutely still.

Khlekluëllin wasn’t so lucky. The dragon was closer to him. So, he did the last thing expected of him, he dove towards the dragon. Figuring only a fool would attack or go towards the dragon; he didn’t think that it would anticipate this move. A second later, his suspicion was confirmed as the crack of lighting struck the area he had just vacated.

Khlekluëllin thought to himself. ‘That was close! How can I turn this to my advantage?’  He could feel the dragon-made sandstorm still raging but it seemed to be not as intense. ‘I’m sure that I’m close to the dragon, but how close? And where is he? I’ll just take a quick peek to try and get my bearings.’

Khlekluëllin immediately regretted opening his eyes.

Right before him, less than a foot away, was the most beautiful and terrifying sight he had ever seen. Khlekluëllin found himself nose to snout to the angry dragon. As terrifying as that was, he was overwhelmed with the intensity and beauty of the dragon’s eyes. They were the color of the sun during spring but there was also intelligence in the eyes that sparkled like the stars at night. Khlekluëllin knew that his death was before him but didn’t close his eyes again and stared back with his own blue and gold flecked eyes.

Suddenly, Khlekluëllin heard a slight voice in his head. It was just a whisper but it was there. *I am sorry about this young elf but I have no choice. I must kill you and your brother or they will torture me again. Please forgive me.*

Khlekluëllin replied Elvish. “I understand and I forgive you.”

Pulling his head back quickly, in what Khlekluëllin guessed was surprise. He heard the whisper again, this time it was a little stronger.
*You heard me! No one has been able to hear me in all these years! This is great!*
Lifting his head straight up, the mighty dragon roared loudly. As his wings kept up the sandstorm, he lowered his head again.
*Who are you young elf?*

“I am Khlekluëllin Amarth, a Bladeweaver in the service of the Goddess Aurora, the Mistress of the Morning.”

Each time the dragon spoke, his voice got a little stronger. *I am Halhulingrath, which translated into your tongue, would roughly mean ‘the Ice Blue Death.’  I am a loyal servant of Terra the Earthmother.*

Taking comfort in the conversation, Khlekluëllin slowly sat up. “That is very interesting, my name when translated to the Elder Tongue, means ‘the Ice Blue Doom’. It seems that we were destined to meet some day. I am proud to have met you and would be honored to call you friend. Can I call you Hal, for short?”

Halhulingrath cocked his head to the side in a puzzled expression.  *I would like that and I would like to be your friend but I am supposed to eat you. That would tend to put a damper on our friendship.*

Khlekluëllin nodded. “Agreed but what if we work together to escape? My brother and I can use our blades to cut you free as long as you keep up this sandstorm.”

Hal shook his mighty head. *No blade forged by mortal hands will cut these chains. My claws and teeth are as strong as any blade and I have not been able to break them in all these years.*

Khlekluëllin smiled. “My brother’s blade and mine are two of the legendary Swords of the Moirae; the Swords of Fate. They were forged in the dawn of time by Bromois himself and enchanted by the Sisters of Fate. They will be able to cut the chain.”

*Do you think it will work?*

“Do you have anything to lose?”

*Not really. Go to work. I will keep up the ruse of our fight and find your brother.*

Climbing onto the back of Hal, Khlekluëllin called upon the magic of his blade. “Aurora, the Grand Mistress of the Morning, please grant me the strength to sever this foul chain.”