Legends of Belariath

Logan

Blood and Silk

Dawn broke on the elven village of Desreniel Falaris; a collection of wooden platforms and dwellings nestled high in the trees of the Forest of Light. The community’s name, when translated to the human tongue, meant “Hail to the Morning’s Light” and was the largest of the Sylvan elf villages, a loose collection of townships that controlled half of the forest. It was also the best defended as it was the center of the elven effort to defend the remnants of their territory that had steadily shrunk over the centuries.

As their land had reduced in size, the Sylvan elves determination to keep what was theirs grew greater. Grim eyed rangers and mages watched the surrounding forest with fierce intensity and diligence. This morning they were especially alert as they were awaiting word of the success or failure of the latest mission into enemy territory. The results would determine whether their hopes of finally being able to push back and regain what was lost would be a reality or a false dream.

Coded bird hoots and animal calls announced the arrival of the returning expedition, sounds that changed suddenly to tones of alert. Healers were quickly summoned, as elven rangers and mages, some wounded, some carried by their comrades were escorted back into the borders of the elven village. The messengers quickly reported news of the expedition’s return to the council, which caused head councilwoman Andara to rush out of her quarters to meet with the mission’s leader.

“What happened Thantos?” she asked, catching her breath as she swept back some errant strands of her long ash blond hair, the amber eyes of her ageless face looking down at his tortured green ones. The mission’s leader was wounded; a crude bloodstained bandage was wrapped around his left thigh. Despite this, the battered ranger bowed to his liege, the pain in his eyes having nothing to do with his wound.

“Milady, we tried to penetrate the enemy lines to pinpoint the location of their hidden staging area, but were unable to get past the enemy patrols. The Drow’s divining magic was able to wipe away our concealing spells, revealing our positions to their goblin servants. We were almost immediately set upon and had to withdraw and only the goddess’s blessing kept us from being completely overwhelmed.

“Were you able to discover anything?” Andara quietly asked, shocked and dismayed at hearing this. It seemed that all of their careful planning and preparations had come to naught.

“Only confirmation of our previous intelligence that the enemy in enlisting mercenary forces to increase their numbers. I personally saw Orcs, Humans, Trolls, Wolven, and Ogres among those who pursued us. There was also something else as well…”

“Yes?” the councilwoman asked, knowing from Thantos’s eyes and his voice that he had even worse news to give her.

“Milady, the goblins, and some of the Ogres and Trolls as well, they were somehow able to take fatal wounds and keep fighting. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural red light even as they got up from blows should have surely killed them. Some foul magic is at work here Milady and I fear for us all. The Goblins numbers are increasing every day and combined with this magic I…”

Thantos broke off his speech and bowed his head, unable to speak anymore. Andara looked down on him sadly. Thantos was the village’s best fighter, perhaps the greatest ranger currently active in the forest. To seem him so broken up was very disturbing. During the times of greatest sorrow and loss, Thantos had been a solid pillar of determination. He and Aalia, they…

Andara thoughts stopped as she suddenly looked up, scanning over the remnants of the expedition.

“How many Thantos?” she asked, dreading the answer he would give her.

“Felos and Korwin Milady, killed in the initial onslaught,” Thantos answered steadily before his voice suddenly faltered. “There…there is also…Aalia, she has been missing since the retreat.”

“Oh Thantos,” Andara breathed, now understanding his depression. Aalia had been the Ranger’s love and comrade in arms for the last twelve years. She was also one the few mages left that Andara could regard as being equal to her in power. Felos and Korwin were stalwart fighters and would be missed, but the loss of Aalia was a severe blow, for both Thantos and to the entire Sylvan elf nation.

“I…I am sorry that I failed you and the council…failed us all...that I failed her.”

“Hush Thantos, you did what you could. Rest now and prepare to make your formal report to the council.”

Damnation, we can’t keep this up, Andara thought as she watched the demoralized patrol leader bow to her once again and limp away. Another season at the most and then it will all be over.

How did this come to be? That was the question Andara and the rest of council had been asking themselves for the past year. The Sylvan nation had been fighting with the Drow and their goblin chattels for hundreds of years. A war of attrition that been whittling away their numbers at a slow but alarming rate. Still, the council had thought they had time, decades at least, before their enemies would begin their final assault. But now, thanks to recent events, that time was here and the Sylvan nation, weakened by the constant warfare, was not ready for it.

If only that thrice damned winter hadn’t occurred! Andara scowled as she tried to think of some way for her people to survive this predicament. Their nominal human allies, the Kingdom of Rylos, were normally able to keep humanoid forces from passing through its borders and reinforcing the dark elves’ army. However a brutal and long lasting winter had pummeled the Northern Reaches, driving the Wolven tribes that dwelt there south in search of food and loot, invading deep into Rylos’s territory. The Kingdom had been forced to withdraw its patrols in order to raise the manpower necessary to put down this threat, promising to reestablish its blockade once it recruited and trained more troops.

By then it would be too late! Andara didn’t blame them for their decision, but it couldn’t have come at a worst time. The Sylvan forces were already hard pressed holding their shrinking territory. Now there was this berserker magic infecting the greenskin forces, potentially increasing their combat ability to unheard of levels. How had the Drow gotten access to such resources and magic?

Something had to be done. Their hopes had been on locating the enemy stronghold, a base that the Drow had established somewhere in the deep wood to gather and organize their humanoid and mercenary troops. If the Sylvan Kingdom could find it, then they could seize the initiative and launch a lightning strike. In this case Rylos at least could help, a force of their mages, combat engineers, and elite fighters were ready to be rapidly deployed to support the Elven forces.

Other weaker nations had promised additional troops and support as well, but all of them, Rylos included, wanted a solid battle plan first and that needed the bases location. The Drow were well aware of this and thus kept their fortress hidden by a layer of protective magics and patrols. Thantos’s expedition had been the third attempt so far and most likely the last; they no longer had the resources for such a venture.

Andara frowned as she mulled over this, her eyes gazing sadly over the wounded and shroud covered corpses. There must be another way of finding it! Yet what could they do? Any elf they sent in would be instantly detected then captured or killed. The mages’ divining magic could only reveal the fortresses’ existence but not where it was. There had to be a way!

Then a glimmer of an idea began to form in the back of her mind and a grim smile appeared on her face as she considered another possibility. Could that work?

“Summon the other council members! We will hold an emergency session in an hour. Be sure to inform the representatives of our allies as well!” Andara commanded, her voice rising up in hope for the first time in what seemed like ages. The other elves including Thantos heard this and looked up in wonder. She nodded confidently to him, her grim smile growing wider and she saw the spark of hope light in eyes as well. Yes, it would work. It had to work.

All they needed was to find the appropriate volunteer…

* * * * *

“Gods’ Teeth! Those people are impossible!” Logan One-Eye swore as he stormed out of the main door of the Lonely Inn. The seven-foot mass of snarling Wolven gave most Inn patrons a good excuse to scuttle out of the way, his baleful one-eyed glare quickly making those who hesitated to regret their decision. The tawny furred warrior continued on, uncaring, until he was alone on the moonlit streets of the village surrounding the Inn. This gave Logan a little time to calm down and reflect on recent events even as he changed direction to head for the community’s general store.

Two weeks had passed since the Wolven’s return to the Lonely Inn from his mission to deliver Frostflower to her home in the Goldpike mountain range. It had been a mixture of quiet days, moments of excitement and fear, and a few passionate interludes. Before his mission, Logan’s acceptance by the wary Inn regulars had been difficult. However, on the night of his return, Sabina, one of the Inn’s slaves, had been stolen and held for ransom. Logan had been one of the three warriors who had gone out into the surrounding woods to find the missing cat girl.

They did so and discovered that she had been taken by a female goblin/cat folk hybrid named Savok. The tricky part had been getting Sabina away from her captor unharmed, even worse she begged the warriors not to harm Savok to whom she showed some affection. This made the reasons behind the event even more nebulous for Logan, but his bloodguilt demanded that he help both of them, honoring Sabina’s wishes by convincing the other two warriors to let Savok go and just return to the Inn with Sabina.

One of the Inn’s co-owners was a Sylvan Elf mage by the name of Ehlanna. She had been impressed by Logan’s bravery and had rewarded him for his efforts. This had allowed him to purchase some new equipment, replacing his ragged and stained hides with black studded leather armor and gauntlets. He also bought a flanged mace, a solid weapon to replace the knife that had broken with his fight with the goblins.

Logan also gained Lady Ehlanna as a patron, the elven woman having apparently taken a liking to the young warrior, cheerfully answering his many questions. This was especially helpful in the matters of love and relationships, which the still ignorant Wolven was still very much in the dark about, though her answers at times left him more confused. In exchange, Logan did small tasks for her and just recently she had given him a mission to pickup a bale of spider silk from her mother who lived in a forest about two weeks travel to the Northwest.

At around this same time, Logan had drifted into a circle of Inn patrons led by Wander Kat, a black-haired Cat girl. She apparently liked the Wolven’s story telling, a talent Logan hadn’t realized he possessed. In return she offered the hospitality of her table and the company of friends who orbited her. For the first time since he had arrived at the Lonely Inn, Logan had found a place where he could relax and be comfortable.

However, Wander Kat’s cluster did have one problem, that being their feud with the dark elf Mage knight Sha-Ka. This conflict had been simmering for some time and finally boiled over into violence when the Drow spat on Wander Kat after she provoked him. That had set all of her friends off, inciting them to attack Sha-Ka who was more than happy to use deadly force to defend himself. Logan, who was trying to diffuse the situation, was forced to physically hold them back. He yelled at them to stand down and even took injury himself to prevent Wander Kat from being hurt, knowing that Sha-Ka could easily kill them all if he chose to.

Fortunately no one had died, though Malkus, one of Wander Kat’s servants had been severely wounded. All in all, it had been an extremely frustrating experience, but this wasn’t what truly made him angry. Afterward, Wander Kat had gotten drunk and said something to Malkus that had insulted deeply. Just after she had retired to her room, Malkus had drawn out his dagger and prepared to stab himself with it, saying that since he had failed his mistress and his house, that his life was no longer worth living.

Logan’s anger, which had been barely held in check, erupted violently. After he gone to such lengths to keep them all from dying, the fact that this man would try to commit suicide was baffling to the young Wolven. Revenge he could understand, but this…this insult almost made the Logan go into a berserker rage. He didn’t know what Wander had said to Malkus, nor did he care. He picked the man up and shook him, demanding why his life was so pathetic. Hearing the noise, Wander Kat had come back down and convinced Malkus not to do it, but for Logan it was too much.

He was tired, tired of keeping all of these foolish and ungrateful people from killing themselves. If they wanted to die, then fine. He didn’t care anymore. Lady Ehlanna’s mission was a perfect excuse for him to leave them behind and give him time to himself, so that he could think things through and decide if the path he had chosen was the wrong one. The young warrior just needed to get some supplies first and then he could make his departure. He would also need a map; Logan had never visited the Sylvan nation before. He was slightly worried about his reception, but Lady Ehlanna had assured him that the letter she had given him would ensure the Wolven safe passage.

When he finally reached and entered the general store, Logan noticed that the clerk was Caroline Quickfingers, a halfling/nymph hybrid that he had only briefly met before. Caroline was a beautiful, perfectly proportioned woman with bright blue eyes and raven black hair who liked wearing tight leather clothing to show off her figure. She was also only two and a half feet tall and a notorious flirt making her amusing, yet frustrating to the young warrior.

After making his order, and enduring much teasing by the diminutive clerk, Logan heard the door to the shop open behind him. Turning around, the Wolven saw a silver haired male elf dressed in mage robes walk in, giving Logan a cheerful wave. Recognizing his friend Zan, Logan returned the greeting, smiling despite his current foul mood. Zan had a jolly disposition and good sense of humor that the Wolven found infectious at times.

The elf was also technically insane, possessing four distinct personalities that for a while gave him a lot of trouble because he could never recall what the others had been doing or saying. Logan had been one of the people that had helped Zan come to terms with his problem. Thus the two of them had form a tentative, but potentially solid friendship.

“Logan! How is my favorite fuzzy cyclops?”

“Fine Zan” trying not to finger his belt pouch. Inside was some sleep dust that an acquaintance of his had given him. Shara Kitsune had used it on Zan before during a particularly violent episode. When she learned that Logan was trying to help the elf overcome his problems, Shara gave him some just in case.

“That’s great, because I had a question for you! While I was out in the woods the other day I heard two people having some fun together. While I didn’t recognize the girl, I definitely knew that booming howl of yours. So I was curious as to who your with.”

“Zan, even if I was to admit I was the one you heard, I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t brag about such things.”

“Come on you can tell me! Who is it? Wait wait! I know! Its Aremi isn’t it?” Zan said brightly with a raised finger. “I heard she saved your life when one of those bandits you fought last week almost stuck you in the back! Showing some appreciation to her, eh big guy?”

“What? No!” Logan replied flabbergasted by Zan’s words. Caroline giggled at bit at, still gathering Logan’s requested supplies as she unashamedly listened in.

“So you don’t like her then?” Zan asked with a grin.

“No! I didn’t say that!”

“Oh so you do like her! I can understand why with that cute body of hers, red hair and blue eyes, with those sexy cat features,” Zan said as he wiggled his fingers on his head in a ridiculous parody of cat ears.

Logan shook his head; he did admit that Aremi was a very attractive girl, yet more importantly she was a fast, skilled fighter. Logan remembered well how her acrobatic style totally confused the goblin and human slavers they were fighting, and her flashing daggers taking the life of the goblin that had been come up on his blind side. She was one woman that Logan hoped to fight next to in future battles, at least so he could have the opportunity to pay her back.

“No Zan,” the Wolven repeated firmly with a sigh.

“Well if she wasn’t the one, then maybe…that’s it! Danelle, the one who healed you afterward? That tall statuesque form of hers with that long blond hair. Yummy!” Zan said as he made curvy motions of a woman’s figure with his hands.

The Wolven scowled at Zan’s description. True, Danelle was a very beautiful woman. She also had a light touch and a caring spirit. After the battle she had healed Logan and the Wolven sensed that her only worry was his and other’s well being. Such concern for people’s health was an unfamiliar, yet refreshing contrast to the usual attitudes he had seen in most folk.

“It wasn’t her Zan”

“Wait wait, how about Serena? I saw how you looked at her when she was practicing. That lithe, muscular body rippling when she swings that staff of hers around and those nice breasts!” The elf imitated a few kata motions as he spoke, before cupping his hands up to his chest.

“Zan,” Logan muttered, not believing his friend’s antics, again he inwardly didn’t disagree with mage’s physical description. But Serena was also a courageous fighter, striving to improve herself every day with a determination that the young warrior found commendable. She was another one he wouldn’t mind fighting next to, trusting her to watch his back while he guarded hers.

“Not her then? Then it must be Sabina then! Couldn’t have enough of that sexy little body huh? The way she moves around, those piercings of hers jingling away,” Zan said as shook his hips and pulled back his arms to thrust his chest forward. Logan saw Caroline would look at the array of sexual toys on display when Zan mentioned Sabina, giving the flustered Wolven a mischievous wink.

Logan looked up at the ceiling and gestured, mouthing “why me?” as the elf gyrated in front of him. There was no denying his physical attraction to Sabina; just the slave’s aroused fragrance alone was guaranteed to get his blood boiling. But he also know from his experiences with her that she was a gentle soul who always saw the best in people no matter who they were, including himself. And for that he would always be in her debt.

“Or maybe Elspeth!” Zan said, naming the other Inn slave that Logan had met. “She is pretty sweet and sensual too, with that silky brown hair of hers and slender body, mmmm.”

Caroline licked her lips at the mention of Elspeth, giving Logan another look which made the young warrior growl in exasperation.

“No Zan,” Logan said with a sigh as he though about the attractive human woman the elf just named. But Elspeth was more than just a pretty face. He had found out from his few brief encounters that the girl was one who delights in making people happy. She was also the best cook he had ever met, her smile and roast ox being a few of the things he missed the most whenever he left the Inn.

“Then it must be Wander Kat!” Zan cried out ignoring the strangling motions Logan was starting to make. “Now that’s a real sexy woman, that perfect body of hers with the long curly black hair. And when she takes cat nip and rolling around on the table mewing in the ‘come get me voice’ of hers…”

Logan shuddered as he watched Zan start undulating around on the ground in an absurd parody of the cat woman, prompting sounds of disgust from the store clerk. The young warrior agreed, while Wander did have her faults, he knew in his heart that she was secretly a very brave and caring woman. She wouldn’t hesitate to protect the ones she cared for even if it meant her own death; it was a trait that was very frustrating, yet admirable at the same time.

“No Zan, not her either!” Logan practically shouted as he broke himself out his reverie, grabbing the packaged rations Caroline had brought out for him. After handing her the payment he stuffed the rations in his travel sack and stalked out of the store, leaving the a bemused Zan and a chuckling Caroline alone in the store. Turning to the Northwest, the Wolven warrior shouldered his belonging on to his back and started walking, glad to be away from this madness.

* * * * *

After twelve days of travel, Logan finally reached the outskirts of the Forest of Daylight. Lady Ehlanna’s homeland was a kidney shaped forest of about 75 square miles in size. Inside was her mother’s village of Desreniel Falaris, which was a part of a loose collection of villages that made up the Sylvan Elf nation. Ehlanna had told Logan that its borders were heavily patrolled and that he should encounter the elves almost as soon as he entered the forest itself.

And that was when he heard the sounds of a fight, high-pitched yelling and the distinct war cries of goblins…

The Wolven snarled as he drew out the mace hanging from his belt and then cast his hunting spell. Shadows gathered and blurred his massive form, partly concealing him as he began to move. Thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity to try out the magic boots he had received from Lady Katarein, Logan changed the sound of his footsteps to that of a field mouse running through the grass. Thus prepared, the Wolven moved quickly but stealthily towards the sounds of battle.

Even as he did this a part of him argued over why he should do this. Why should he risk his life when his mission was just to pick up some silk? The other part of him, the part that had been born in the flames of that Cat Folk village a year ago, said that it didn’t matter. The Blood Debt that he had sworn then had to be repaid. Another part, more animalistic and savage, just wanted to fight, especially against goblins that the Wolven had no love for.

Logan snarled as he mentally stomped down these conflicting feelings. He was committed now. He had to focus on the task before him and give it his all. That was what Keshin taught him and despite his recent doubts the young warrior would follow the old man’s teachings. So Logan continued to move forward, the noise of the fight growing greater, until eventually the forest broke into a clearing where a fierce battle was taking place.

There were four elves, all wounded and gathered protectively around an unmoving form. Surrounding them were a force of goblins and humans numbering about a dozen each. Logan stopped and watched, quickly assessing the situation. The elves were trapped with no way out, though judging by the bodies of the foes scattered around them they intended to make their deaths as costly as possible.

The humans, a mercenary force judging by the similarity of their equipment and uniforms, had realized this. Their leader, a tall dark-haired human in chainmail, was waving his men back, splitting them into two groups and commanding to them to unlimber their crossbows. Apparently his plan was to let the goblins kill themselves against the elven defenses and then pick off the remaining elves in a murderous crossfire. The greenskins didn’t seem to care, yelling and whooping, working themselves up into a blood frenzy before they charged again.

Logan noted the human leader’s location and nodded grimly to himself as he formed his own battle plan. His movements now that of a snake sliding its way through the leaves, the tawny furred Wolven moved behind one of the human positions. Then, just as the goblins attacked, Logan charged in, screaming at the top of his lungs. Howls and snarls joined Logan's, filling the area as massive bodies crashed their way through the undergrowth. Blood curdling screams of dying humans and goblins joined the bedlam of sound, ravaged and killed by a score of rampaging Wolven.

All of this was drawn from Logan’s memories, a rich history of violence that he drew upon to make the sounds as realistic as possible, briefly shocking the human mercenaries into a standstill. Their commander, a seasoned veteran on many campaigns, began shouting orders just as Logan’s mace came screaming down into his skull, knocking his helmet off. The human staggered backward even as the snarling Wolven slammed his massive frame against him, knocking the commander to the ground. Before either he or his men could react, Logan stamped down hard on his chest, shattering the man’s ribcage with a loud sickening popping sound.

That, combined with other “Wolven” ripping their out of view comrades apart, was enough for the mercenaries to break and flee. As they did so, the other group joined them, their fear and confusion so great that neither group realized that they had only lost one of their number. As they retreated into the forest, Logan turned his attention towards the goblins that apparently weren’t aware or didn’t care of their ally’s rout. Despite this, Logan was somewhat satisfied that the elves chance of survival had increased greatly, all he had to do was shift the odds further.

Changing the dying screams from human to goblin, the young warrior turned and attacked the back of the goblin force, swinging his mace into the spine of the rearmost greenskin. Wailing, the goblin fell to the ground, his legs suddenly not responding. Logan stepped over him and swung at the next one, the heavy end of his weapon smashing into the shoulder of the greenskin just as he turned around to face the Wolven. Logan’s opponent shrieked in rage as he too fell and the young warrior grinned savagely even as he spun to attack another target.

Something in the back of Logan’s mind screamed at him to turn back around. He did so and barely brought his mace up in time to block the sword that was aimed at his belly. Logan cursed and stepped back as the first goblin, whose spine he swore had been shattered, attacked him again. The Wolven cursed again as he barely avoided the blow, wishing that he had had enough money to buy a shield. He then counterattacked with a vicious upswing that caught the goblin in the jaw and sent him flying backward.

“Ragnar’s Entrails!” Logan swore as he saw the goblin get up again and charge. Beside him the other goblin he had downed had gotten up as well, both greenskin’s eyes filled with an evil red light. Realizing that he was in serious trouble, Logan desperately thought of a new stratagem. He reached down to a pouch at his belt, tearing it open so he could get to its contents. Finding what he sought just as the goblins reached him; the Wolven’s hand found a small bag and clenched it, spilling contents all over his fingers.

“Take this!” the Wolven warrior shouted as he threw the sleep dust Shara had given him into the face of the second goblin. The greenskin, who was taking in a breath for another savage howl, sucked down almost all of the magic powder. The red light in his suddenly crossed eyes vanished completely as the goblin fell bonelessly to the ground. The other goblin charged over him, only to meet Logan’s mace swinging in at his skull. The Wolven howled in fury as he put all of his massive strength in the blow, crashing into the side of the of the goblin’s head and nearly ripping it off.

That was enough to finally drop the goblin for good, much to the young warrior satisfaction. As he turned to find out where he was needed next he realized that he could no longer hear the shouts of the human mercenaries. Shrugging mentally, Logan looked around and saw that one of the goblins had driven it’s spear into the leg of an elf.. As the elf screamed and fell, the greenskin ripped his weapon free and prepared to impale his helpless opponent.

The goblin’s deathblow was suddenly interrupted as Logan’s four hundred pound mass slammed into him, sending them both tumbling into the ground. In close combat the Wolven warrior usually found his superior mass and strength enough to beat any smaller opponent. This goblin however, his eyes glowing with that same eerie light, proved to be a vicious fighter, clawing and biting at the Wolven with his nails and teeth. Logan swore as the goblin’s berserker strength tore through the thick leather of his armor to rend at the tawny hide underneath.

Twisting his opponent around, Logan somehow managed to grip the frenzied greenskin around its head and pull it back with a savage snap. Yet even with his neck broken, the goblin still continued to fight, causing Logan no end of frustration. A glint of metal in the corner of his eye gave him a new idea. Rolling over to a nearby tree, Logan hurled his opponent into its hard surface; snatched up the hand axe he had spotted, and swung it into the goblin’s neck. The metal edge bit deep, but not enough to kill the greenskin, forcing Logan to hold his screaming opponent in place as he decapitated it with a second blow.

“Gods’ Blood!” the Wolven swore, panting heavily even as he wrenched the axe out of the tree. What the hell was going on here? What was this foul magic that was making the goblins almost impossible to kill? Never had he experienced the like, nor had the Bloodwind shamans or Keshin’s books described anything like it. Then the sound of displaced air on his blind side made him spin around, his weapon rising up to meet the new attack, but knowing it was too late as a goblin’s sword filled his vision.

The greenskin suddenly flew backwards, a long shafted arrow buried to its fletching in one of the goblins eyes. Apparently, a hit to the brain was enough to kill it and Logan watched him finally fall to the ground, its limbs twitching in reflexive spasms. That was a close one.

“Nice…,” the young warrior began to say as he realized that the clearing was now very quiet and that over a dozen bows and swords wielded by grim faced elven rangers were now aimed at his direction.

“…Shot,” Logan concluded as he dropped the axe to the ground. This explained why the human’s shouts had been cut off. The fleeing mercenaries must have run right into the elven reinforcements. Realizing how tentative his situation was, the young warrior very slowly reached down pulled Ehlanna’s note from his belt, holding out in front of him.

“I come in peace?” he asked with a hopeful grin.

* * * * *

“So you’re Ehlanna’s messenger eh?” Ryshiera asked Logan as she eyed him from across the coffee table in the living room of her home, before examining the note that had been given her. Lady Ehlanna’s mother was an elegant elven woman whose long silver hair matched her daughters and possessed a slightly shorter, but fuller figure. “I expected someone a little more…”

“Professional?” Logan responded, his massive form filling the loveseat she had sat him in. In his large hand was a ridiculously small teacup that he tried to delicately sip at. His Wolven muzzle was making it rather difficult not make a mess.

“I was going to say Elven, but I suppose that will do,” Ryshiera said with a slight smile as she examined Ehlanna’s letter. “She says ‘hello mum, please trust this shaggy one’, so I suppose we should take her word as truth. Which means we owe you an apology for your treatment Logan.”

“I was expecting worse considering your situation,” Logan replied with a shrug. After the elven patrol had captured him, its leader had read the note he had offered them. That combined with his earlier actions had kept the suspicious elves from immediately killing him. Instead they stripped Logan of his armor and equipment, secured his arms with stout ropes, and marched him blindfolded to the elven village. Once there, a few truth spells and confirmation that the letter was written in Ehlanna’s handwriting, confirmed Logan’s stated intentions. He was released to Ryshiera’s custody with a strict warning to stay out of trouble.

“Yes, our situation,” Ryshiera said, her voice turning a bitter. “Well young Logan, this ‘situation’, as you call it, will make your journey moot as the section of the forest where I gather the spider silk from is currently in enemy hands. There is no possible way I can fulfill my daughter’s order, not at this time and perhaps not ever.”

“Gods,” Logan muttered when he heard this. Aye, their situation was pretty bad, downright untenable now that he thought about it. The Sylvan Elves were going have two choices, withdraw from the Forest of Light completely or die in it. There wasn’t much either they, or Logan for that matter, could do and he could tell from the grim, determined expressions of elves that retreat was not an option.

I should just leave, Logan thought as he pondered this. Yet the weight of his blood debt weighed heavily on the young warrior. He could not, despite his recent doubts, regret the Oath he swore a year ago over the burning corpse of the Cat Folk village his old tribe the Bloodwind had ravaged. He swore that he would somehow make up for the needless pain and death that his kin had caused through the millennia, that Logan would find a new path for his people to follow.

It was a foolish impossible promise, yet he had done it anyway. Logan felt that someone had to take responsibility for the actions of all of the Wolven tribes. If he didn’t find a new way, the young warrior knew in his heart that his people would remain brutal primitive savages. Eventually, the more civilized peoples would wipe them out, killing them off like the animals they were. Somehow Logan had to prevent this. Somehow he had to change the world.

Here is my chance and there is nothing I can do to make a difference, the Wolven thought bitterly to himself. Not just one village but also an entire nation was threatened. These people needed all the help they could get, but what could one lone warrior do?

“Is there any way I can help?” he asked anyway.

“Perhaps,” Ryshiera said softly, her voice suddenly taking on a quiet intensity that wasn’t there before. Looking up, Logan noticed that the elven lady was watching at him over the edge of her teacup with a cool evaluating expression, as if she had known what the young Wolven was thinking. Before he could say anything she got up, setting her coffee cup down. Ryshiera then left the confused Logan to himself, alone in the sitting room.

Bemused, Logan shrugged and helped himself to some sweet cake while he waited for her to return. He didn’t have to wait long; it was only moments later that Ryshiera returned with another Elven lady following her. The Wolven’s one eye widened when he saw her, not just because of her radiant beauty, but rather the aura of power she radiated. It wasn’t as powerful as Lady Katarein’s, but still was very exceptional, making Logan stand up and bow deeply in her direction.

“This is Andara,” Ryshiera said, introducing the blond haired woman to the nervous Wolven. “She is the head of our village council.”

“Hello Logan One-Eye,” Andara said with a smile and a nod as she acknowledged the young warrior’s courtesy. Inwardly, she was doubtful. This one was their only hope? Yet there were no other candidates available and they were running out of time. “Our patrol leaders’ reports of the incident you were involved in were quite interesting. Darion was quite thankful that you saved Altar’s life when you prevented that goblin from skewering him.”

“I did what needed to be done,” Logan replied as he scratched one of his tufted ears sheepishly, before sitting back down. That was true enough despite his earlier doubts.

“Indeed,” Andara replied with an appraising look as she took a seat next to Ryshiera. If that was true then perhaps Ehlanna’s assessment was correct. That Logan was not like other Wolven. “But what really impressed us was your ingenuity and cunning in driving off the human mercenaries. That gives us hope that you would be the perfect candidate for a dangerous, but very important mission.”

Andara went on to explain to the curious Wolven about the Sylvan Elves needing to know the exact location of the Drow fortress and the source of the berserker magic that was enhancing the goblinoid’s fighting capabilities. She said that they had tried to this on their own but each time the mission was detected and killed. No elf could get far beyond enemy lines without being spotted.

“But a Wolven could,” Logan said evenly, guessing at where Andara was leading to.

“Yes, especially since the dark elves are hiring mercenary forces who include Wolven among their number. It would not be implausible for you to join up with them.”

So here is my chance, Gods Teeth! Logan thought to himself with an inward laugh. What was it that Keshin said? Be careful with what you wish for, you just might get it? Well he got it sure enough. Now, the question was whether he had the courage to take.

“We know it’s very dangerous,” Andara continued, but you are the only one who could do it and possibly succeed. We don’t have time to find anyone else and...”

“I will do it.”

“You will?” Andara said, surprised by the ease of his acceptance. Ryshiera looked a little taken back as well. “We have not even discussed what we can pay you.”

“Let me ask this,” Logan said as he leaned forward a bit. There was one more thing he needed to find out before truly committing himself. “How much would you be willing to pay me for this ‘very dangerous but important’ mission?”

“Anything within reason,” Andara answered with an even voice, her eyes narrowing as she stared back at the Wolven critically. So he did have a price, though it was likely to be an outrageous sum.

“Really,” the young warrior replied as he leaned forward some more. His face became a bestial leer as his eyes roamed freely up and down Andara’s fine-looking form. “Anything within reason?”

“Yes, anything…” Andara responded, coloring slightly and leaning back away from him, a bit shocked. He wanted that? Ryshiera looked between the two of them with a slight smile but said nothing. Apparently waiting to see how things turned out. Andara just looked back at Logan with angry eyes. If that is what it would take then so be it.

“Even that,” she finished, trying not to snarl. There was a good possibility that he wouldn’t survive anyway.

“Good!” Logan said just he started to laugh, causing Andara to look confused and Ryshiera to raise a delicate eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it!” He said as he settled back, still chucking as he waved a hand. “I just wanted to see if I was right in how desperate you were for me to do this. I apologize Lady Andara, I mean no insult to you, truly I don’t, but I needed to know that I wouldn’t be possibly wasting my life just on a gambit that didn’t mean much if I failed.”

Besides there is a certain someone I left back in the Inn who would likely not want me sniffing around, Logan thought with an ironic grin.

“I see,” Andara replied with a nod, frowning a bit, her face otherwise unreadable. Inside, she was both relieved and…disappointed? Why should she care what this Wolven thought of her? Yet she did, especially considering her earlier unworthy thoughts about him likely dying. Next to her Ryshiera chuckled before leaning forward, grasping the Logan’s hand in a soft but firm grip.

“Thank you Logan,” she said her voice filled with gratitude, her sincerity causing the bemused Wolven to scratch one of his tufted ears nervously. “My daughter’s trust in you seems well placed indeed. Come, follow me and we will get you ready as best we are able. Councilwoman?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes lets go!” Andara said breaking herself out of the thoughtful reverie she was in. After giving Logan another cool appraising look, she got up and led the two of them back out into the village. Once outside she headed over to another building where Logan found near a score of elves waiting and ready to dress and equip him for his mission.

After some discussion, Logan and his elven outfitters decided that he should present himself as a lone Wolven savage looking for blood and loot. Using his descriptions of the Bloodwind and other Wolven tribes as a model, the elves were able to produce suitable equipment for his disguise. Soon Logan, who would go by his old name Swiftpaw, was dressed in hides and bone fetishes. They had even gone as far as to remove his eye patch and mark his tawny fur with the traditional war paint. The change was startling. Gone was the civilized, profession image that he been trying to cultivate. In its place was his old savage self, making the Wolven think he still had a long way to go in his personal quest to find a new way for his people.

The elves still were not done. They took away Logan’s mace and replaced it with a heavy wooden war club and after much discussion, his boots as well. It was decided that the footgear’s magical nature would attract too much attention. The only magic he would have with him was a generic protective spell mixed in with the war paint. That was common enough and wouldn’t cause suspicion. Logan was also given a fetish that he would use to signal the elves so they could pick him up when his mission was completed.

After his elven outfitters were completed with their preparations, Logan was quietly escorted away from the village and to the edge of the forest. There he would circle around and come back in on the enemy side. However, before he did so, the elven commander drew him aside. His name was Thantos and he wanted the Wolven to do him a personal favor. If Logan had the opportunity, and as long it didn’t jeopardize his mission, Thantos wanted him to see if he could find out what happened to an elven mage named Aalia, who had been captured two days previously.

Logan agreed to do what he could. The young warrior could tell from the man’s unspoken desperation and grief that Aalia’s state of being was very important. Besides, if Aalia was alive and a captive she would most likely be held at the Drow fortress. The Wolven was going to have to enter the base anyway to complete his mission. He also felt sympathetic to the male elf. If Frostflower or the other woman he had come to know had been put in such danger, he would have been very worried as well.

After that he made his leave with the blessing and well intentions of Thantos and the other elves. A day of travel later, the young warrior found himself in Drow held territory. He found it surprisingly easy to hook up with a band of Orcs and Ogres who were heading towards the base, located near the forest’s border with the Darkmoor. This was explained when he overheard the group’s leader talking to a subordinate. Apparently, his duty was to patrol the forest and pick up any stragglers coming in. The final attack would be soon, and their Drow masters wanted all of their forces ready and assembled.

When they arrived at their destination, Logan’s senses were almost overcome by the immensity of it all. There was a huge camp of goblinoids, with a scattering of Ogres, Humans, and Wolven. Thousands, no tens of thousands of warriors and mercenaries, all eating, sleeping, and shitting in the same place, were creating a bedlam of noise and smells that almost drove Logan back into the forest. In his daze a part of him wondered how the Drow were feeding such a number, yet this was explained when he saw the base itself.

The structure’s entrance was a huge dead tree, its insides hollowed out and its exterior reinforced by magic. Even with his inexperienced eye, Logan could tell the fortress was well defended even without the horde camped at its base. He could see arrow slits and murder holes, positions in the branches for siege engines and more archers. The young warrior also saw what he thought were huge black spiders, scuttling along the tree’s upper reaches.

Between its roots a set of double doors had been set and here was where Logan’s earlier question about food was answered. There was a continuous stream of porters carrying boxes in and out, distributing them throughout the collective forces. The Wolven later discovered that they contained rations made up of mushrooms, roots, and an unknown mixture of meats. While bland, they were good enough to fill his and the other new recruits empty bellies.

Afterwards, he settled down to play dice with some mercenaries who were only too happy to part the poor, ignorant Wolven from his coin in exchange for him to ask stupid new person questions. He wasn’t able to find out much, but there were two things everyone was in agreement on. First, that the magic the Drow were using on the goblins could and would be used on all of the greenskin forces during the final attack. And second, that the attack was going to be soon, in days probably, which didn’t leave Logan much time. He had to get in there and find out how the Drow were casting the berserker magic or the Sylvan preemptive strike wouldn’t stand a chance against the forces their enemies had gathered.

So after night had passed and the sun was just appearing on the horizon, Logan One-Eye made his move…

* * * * *

“His trace has disappeared,” the elven seer said as he focused on the crystal in front of him. Next to him Andara the other council members waited along with representatives of the allied forces. They had been keeping vigil ever since it was reported that Logan had stopped moving long enough to assume that he was near the Drow fortress.

“Dead?” Andara asked, her voice controlled and even. While she had been angry with the Wolven for his earlier ‘test’, the elven mage was worried about his condition.

“No, blocked off,” the seer responded as he cast a spell. An image of the forest appeared before the group, with one bright light blinking then vanishing near its western border. The seer stretched out a finger and pointed at it, “Here.”

“That’s it then,” Andara said with a grim nod as she turned to face the assemble commanders and ambassadors. “That is where the Drow base is at.”

“Are you sure?” General Olson of the Kingdom of Rylos asked from his chair. The grizzled veteran twirled one of his mustaches thoughtfully as he examined the map. The man was one of the Kingdom’s greatest military commanders. General Olson was Queen Catherine’s personal champion and the bearer of the Holy Sword “Truth”. His presence assuring the elves and their other allies, that his country was taking this situation very seriously.

“Yes, as sure as we are ever going to be.”

“Good enough then,” the general said as he nodded to Andara who smiled thankfully to him for his trust before speaking to the rest of the assemblage.

“All of you know of the danger. If the Forest of Light falls into the hands of the Drow and the Goblins, then they will use it to spread out like a disease to the surrounding lands, your lands. They must be stopped here.”

“No one here disagrees with you Lady Andara, especially her Majesty.” Olson said as he stood up, his face determined. “With the recent change of weather in the Northern regions, the rampaging Wolven now have a home to return to and are withdrawing. Queen Catherine has authorized me to employ more troops in the attack, they will be arriving shortly.”

“This is joyous news indeed!” One of the other commanders responded with the smiles and nods of the others. “Will they be ready in time?”

“They are the Queen’s Guards. They will be ready.”

“Please convey our thanks to your Queen for her friendship and trust.” Andara said as she bowed her head to the general. For the leader of Rylos to commit her personal troops and reserves was as good an indication as any of how close the two nations had become. Turning around she swept her hand across the map. “Gather your forces and assemble them at the pre-assigned locations. We attack in twelve hours!”

Acknowledgements and bows answered her command as the allies’ representatives left the room to summon messengers to convey the orders to the assembled forces of light. General Olson however lingered, his eyes looking questioning at the place where Logan’s life trace had disappeared.

“What about your agent?” he asked Andara as he looked at her appraisingly.

“He…he knew the risks,” the elven mage swallowed, shoving down the tide of guilt that question brought up. “We will get him out if we can.”

“A brave man, especially for a Wolven,” Olson said as he turned to leave, apparently satisfied with Andara’s answer. “I will salute his gravestone then when all of this is over.”

Andara watched the human leave, his aides gathered around him as he issued his orders, before turning back to the map as well. She stared at it and shook her head sadly, her voice whispering in the empty room.

“Logan, stay alive…”

* * * * *

Logan One-Eye set down the two crates he had been carrying on his shoulders and looked around, scratching his head. His plan had been rather simple; he just picked some empty boxes and joined the line of porters moving into the Drow fortress. With the sun coming up, the mostly nocturnal dark elves and Goblins were a little fuzzy headed and his insertion had gone unnoticed. Once inside, he discovered that the tree was riddled with rooms and passages, some of which extended deep underground.

Now he was lost. The young warrior looked around puzzled as he tried to figure out what to do. Logan was just now realizing just how much out of his element he was. How was he supposed to find out where the source of the berserker magic was? Asking seemed pretty stupid, but he couldn’t wander around here forever. What should he do?

“You there! What are you doing?” a sneering voice demanded, interrupting the Wolven’s pondering. He turned around to see a male Drow warrior come marching up to him, his black chain gleaming dully in the dim faery light that was base interior’s sole illumination. The dark elf was armed with a dagger and sword, one hand resting on the pommel of the long blade as the other pointed at his chest.

“Er…I…was…I…was told…to…take the boxes…to…to the prison,” Logan slowly said in most stupid voice he could manage. It didn’t seem likely that he would be able to find the magic source but maybe he could discover if Aalia was alive or not before he left to signal the elves.

“What? Who told you to do this?” the man asked with a sneer.

“Er…Dark…Elf…eh…long hair…standing this high,” Logan said as he gestured a height with his hand to the flabbergasted dark elf.

“Idiot! Idiots! Why does the matron even bother?” the Drow asked the ceiling as he waved his hands theatrically. He then turned back to Logan shaking his head. “Come then idiot, since it is obvious that you don’t know the way. I am heading there myself, so you can follow me.”

Logan nodded his thanks, grinning stupidly as he picked the crates. Luck was apparently with him this day. He followed the dark elf warrior through more twisting passages until they came to a more secure area guarded by more Drow with a mixture of human and goblin soldiers. The guards apparently recognized his Dark Elf guide and waved them through, glancing curiously at the savage looking Wolven, but not saying anything. After a short time, the two entered the main guardroom of the prison, a long corridor stretching out from it and lined with small doors. There was also another door that exited the room, beyond which Logan could hear the agonizing screams of a man who apparently being tortured.

“Greetings miserable human cur!” the Drow warrior said to a mercenary who was leaning backwards in a chair, his bandaged leg propped up on the table in front of him. There were also three goblins also in the room, apparently too absorbed in their dice game to take much notice of the newcomers. Logan’s one eye narrowed as he examined the human; there was something vaguely familiar about him.

“Hey there dark elf scum!” the human responded with cheer as he waved the Drow warrior over gesturing down the line of cells with his other hand. “Here for some fun T’Vin or you just showed up to keep me company?”

“Bah! What company do you need Glent?” T’Vin responded, as he pointed to the door from where the screams had died down to a faint whimpering. “That should be sweet music to ease the pain of your wound. But now that you mention it, I heard the elf bitch was available for more ‘questioning’”

“Heh heh,” Glent chuckled evilly as a leer appeared on his face as he reached over to grab a key ring from the wall before passing it to the Drow. “Yeah, she’s available all right, nice little piece of tail too. Don’t get to carried away though, the Chief Questioner wants her in good condition for something she has planned later.”

As both men laughed at this, Logan struggled with himself not to immediately attack and bash both their heads in. Unless there had been another elf female captured, the two men could only be talking about Aalia. He wanted to get her out of this place now, but didn’t see anyway out without getting the two of them killed. Better that he…

“Hey! Who are you?” Glent demanded just as Logan set the boxes down before leaving. He looked up to see the human mercenary bring up a crossbow that he had hidden behind the table. Both men looked at each other and a light of recognition appeared in both their expressions as each remembered the other from the fight a day ago.

“Ragnar’s Entrails!” Logan swore as he hurled one of the boxes at the human just as the mercenary’s crossbow went off. The crate spun in the air when the quarrel hit it, bouncing off the table and hitting Glent in the face, causing him to fall backwards cursing. Logan then drew out his war club and moved towards the door, thinking to himself that his luck hadn’t been so good after all.

“What?” T’Vil asked he drew his weapons, the Dark Elf getting ready to intercept Logan. Behind him, the goblins were recovering from their shock and were drawing their weapons as well.

“That’s the dog that ambushed my patrol the other day! He was the one who killed the commander!”

“Light take him!” T’Vil swore as glided across the room towards the wide eyed Wolven, both silvery blades out and dancing in the air in front of him. Logan had never seen weapon use like this before, having only fought with mostly unskilled opponents, and it unnerved him. Behind him, he could hear the door opening and the Wolven warrior knew he was trapped in a death ground.

Snarling, he smashed his free elbow backwards, slamming the door into whoever was entering the room. Diving to the side, he managed to avoid T’Vil’s curtain of death, even as he heard a thud and a yelp of pain from behind the portal. Scrambling on all fours, Logan scuttled over to where Glent was desperately trying to reload his weapon. He did so just as the Wolven slammed the club into his head, blood and teeth flying as the human mercenary fell to the floor. Dropping the club, Logan snatched up the crossbow, turning and firing just as T’Vil had moved in.

To both his and the watching greenskin’s amazement, T’Vil somehow brought one of his blades up, deflecting the bolt away. What then followed was a short and rather one-sided battle, as the nimble Drow easily managed to avoid Logan’s blows and rather quickly and quite painfully sliced the young warrior up. After scoring dozens of wounds that left the left Logan staggering, his tawny hide covered with his lifeblood, the evil elf stepped back to allow the screaming goblins to finish the job, their battering clubs sending the severely wounded Wolven into blissful darkness…

* * * * *

“Wake up dog! We are not done questioning you yet!”

Logan woke up in a painful daze as his mauled frame was splashed with water. Looking up he could see the now familiar torture room, a gruesome bloodstained chamber filled with various implements of inflicting pain, some of which he was quite familiar with. The Wolven was stripped naked and hanging from the center of the chamber, his body covered with black burns where the drow had stopped his bleeding by searing the wounds closed.

How long had it been since he had been captured, hours perhaps days? Logan wasn’t sure: there was nothing for him to measure the time with, nor did he want to. The Wolven was no stranger to pain, but the dark elves had thousands of years of practice inflicting the most exquisite agonies while still keeping their subject alive. Not only that, they were somehow able to get into his head as well, using what they found there to taunt and demoralize him into a state of utter depression and despair.

There were four Dark Elves in the room with him, Logan’s two primary questioners, a male and female Drow whom the Wolven thought were part of the fortresses leadership and two male guards, one of whom was T’Vil, who doubled as assistants. Logan thought the woman, whose name was Moraine D’Vin, was the worst of the lot; she seemed to get off on every wince, grunt, or scream she could get from him. To make matters worse, the beautiful Drow woman liked teasing the Wolven’s member, adding unwanted pleasure, and making the painful torture even more agonizing.

The man was just methodical, asking the same questions over and over again even as he flayed the skin off the young warrior’s flesh.

It was obvious to all of them early on, that Logan knew very little. This was the only thing that gave Logan some satisfaction. He doubted anyone could last long under this punishment. Still he held up as best he could, his Wolven stamina and toughness actually working against him, allowing the cruel elves to inflict even more horrible tortures that would have killed an elf or human. Now after giving him only a short time to rest, they had awakened Logan again to begin the process anew.

And that was when the first explosions occurred…

“What in the Dark Mother’s name is that?” Moraine demanded the as the whole room shook slightly from the vibrations. As they all looked around confused the tremors continued one after another as loud booms echoed throughout the fortress. Moments later a Drow messenger entered chamber, bowing before the two leaders.

“Milady, Lord, the Sylvan Elves and their Human allies are attacking!” he reported in an excited voice.

“Light take them all!” the male shouted, before turning to face the woman. “How did the scum know where to find us?”

“This one,” the female said, venom dripping from her words as she turned to regard Logan who was staring back at her with a smile appearing on his shattered face. “There must be a trace spell on him that we didn’t detect.”

“Hmmph,” the male responded, nodding in agreement. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We fight them here or we fight them at there villages, the Sylvan Elves will still die. Even with their allies, there is no way they can defeat the army we had assembled.

“Now what are those explosions?” the male demanded, even as another detonation rocked the room, scattering dust down from the overhead beams. There was also a faint cracking sound from just over Logan’s head and the Wolven felt the chains that held shift a bit. No one but him seemed to notice though, their attention focused on the messenger.

“No one knows yet Lord,” the dark elf answered his head still bowed. “They started occurring just after word came of the enemy’s attack.”

“Another agent then, we have been careless. Come we must head for inner chamber and assist our brethren in directing the battle.”

“What about him?” T’Vil asked, gesturing at Logan.

“He is no longer of any importance,” the female said. “Kill him, slowly if you like.”

“With pleasure.”

As the two leaders left the room, the remaining Drow guards turned towards Logan with evil grins. Drawing out their blades, they advanced on the helpless Wolven who glared at them balefully. Behind them the messenger smiled as well, drawing out his dagger, apparently ready to join in the fun…

* * * * *

“Well?” Andara demanded to the seer as they stood about a half-mile away from the immense dead tree that was the Drow Fortress. Around the battle was going in earnest as the elves, humans, and fairy smashed their into the enemy forces. But their element of surprise was quickly fading and the goblins superior numbers and berserker rage would soon be taking their toll. As it was, the only thing preventing this from being a total disaster was the stalwart efficiency of the Queen’s Guard and the power of the Sylvan Elves’ battle magic.

“He is in there, Milady,” the seer reported, face screwed up in concentration as he focused on his scrying crystal in front of him. “But even this close I can’t pinpoint his location close enough to risk our assault team porting in.”

“Mother bless us,” Andara muttered worriedly. That had been the critical part of their plan, even if Logan was dead, the trace spell hidden in the sigils of his war paint should had been enough for the seer to form a solid enough anchor for him to find a safe area, enabling a group of their best fighters and mages to teleport into the base. The Dark Elves’ wards were too strong though that even with Logan inside it wasn’t doing any good.

“Keep trying,” the elven councilwoman said even as she turned towards General Olson and Thantos who were waiting her word. “Gentlemen, the seer needs to get closer to the base for us to pinpoint the teleport point. Can you oblige him?”

The two men nodded to her and turned to their troops, forming the reserves they had held back into a spear point to drive into the heart of the enemy force. The Elven mage smiled grimly as she watched this deciding it was time to make her presence known as well. Summoning the magic within her, Andara flew high above the battlefield and sent devastating fires and lightning into the Dark Elf forces. They were committed now, if this didn’t work she was afraid that all was going to be lost and that Logan’s unknowing sacrifice would be in vain.

* * * * *

“Gods’ Blood!” Logan swore under his breath as he watched the drow messenger, whom he thought was going to help kill him, plunge his dagger up into the armpit of one of the guards instead. The dark elf staggered to the side screaming, dropping his sword to clutch at the spurting wound. T’Vil heard this and spun around eyes widening just as the messenger threw something into the air between them.

There was a loud explosion and flash of light, causing Logan to wince painfully. For the dark elf, the bright light was especially debilitating, T’Vil shouting out a vile oath even as he stepped backwards towards the hanging Wolven. Both of his blades were still out and spinning in the air in front of him, causing the messenger to hesitate before closing the distance with his shorter dagger.

For Logan there was no hesitation, he saw what needed to be done. Using the last of his strength, he wrenched the chains holding him up in a violent downward motion. There was a sharp crack as the weakened overhead beam snapped allowing the Wolven to lunge his head forward. T’Vil, his eyes still dazzled by the flare spell, didn’t see Logan’s attack as the young warrior latched his jaws onto the back of his neck.

“Arrgh! Let go curse you!” the dark elf screamed, trying to get loose from the Wolven’s bone crushing bite. With a feat of manual dexterity, T’Vil reversed the hold on his two blades and plunged them backward, intending on skewering Logan before he broke his neck. Before he did so, the messenger dashed forward and stabbed upward into T’Vil’s neck, the sharp edge of his dagger slicing through his soft flesh and bone, as it pierced deep into the dark elf’s brain.

His enemy dead, Logan let his teeth’s grip go allowing the lifeless body to drop to the ground. Looking around he saw that the first guard slumped against the wall, already unconscious from the loss of blood. As he took this in, Logan felt something that he thought dead waken in him, for the first time since he had been captured the Wolven felt hope and with it his fierce will to live.

“Who?” he gasped even as the messenger bent down to retrieve the keys to free the Wolven from his chains. Even free he could barely stand, but his rescuer offered a potion to him. Not even bothering to ask what it was, Logan swallowed the contents down and felt the familiar healing warmth run through him, healing the worst of his injuries.

“A friend Logan,” the man answered, his face suddenly shifting to become that of a grinning human with black hair and eyes, before changing back into that of a dark elf. “You can call me Hawk of her Majesty’s Secret Service.”

“Rylos,” Logan muttered as comprehension dawned on him, his one eye widening. “You are from Rylos!”

“That I am,” Hawk agreed with a nod as he moved to the door, checking it before motioning Logan to follow him. “You weren’t the only spy that was sent in. Queen Catherine knew that if the Sylvan Kingdom fell that our country would be next. And since the elves previous attempts to find this base had met in failure, she sent me in to find it.”

“And did you get a report out?” Logan asked as another explosion rocked the keep. “Is that why the Elves are attacking now?”

“Nope, that was all you friend,” Hawk responded he moved down the corridor. “That trace spell the elves put on you is a nice bit of work. If Rylos had access to that we would have located this place a long time ago, of course we wouldn’t have been able to do much about it. Now lets not worry about that and get out of here. Those explosions I set up won’t keep the roaming patrols busy for too long.”

“Wait!” Logan hissed before Hawk could move down the corridor further. “What about the source of the goblin berserker magic? We should find it and destroy it. The elves and their allies aren’t going to be able to defeat the goblins otherwise.”

“Can’t,” Hawk his head sadly as he looked back to the Wolven. “I know where it is, it’s at the Drow council chamber’s in the middle of this fortress. Problem is that it will be sealed up with some pretty hefty wards. I’m good at opening things, but not that good. Even if we defeated the guards we wouldn’t be able to get through without some powerful magic.”

“Powerful magic?” Logan asked himself out loud when suddenly he remembered something important, or rather someone…

“Hawk,” the Wolven said with a grim smile as he saw of the pieces fall into place, “I know exactly where we can find that powerful magic we need. Her name is Aalia.”

* * * * *

A short time afterward, Logan and Hawk were standing before the cell that a much beaten Glent told them contained the elven mage. So far Logan’s escape was still undetected but eventually that would change. They needed to get Aalia out and hope that the mage was strong enough to get them through the sealed doors. Otherwise, they were going to have to try and escape the fortress knowing that the attacking forces were likely going to lose their battle.

With this in mind the two men opened the door and entered the small chamber. In the dim light they could see the lithe form of a naked elf huddled in the corner, her dank unwashed silver hair and slave collar the only cover she had. As the door opened she whimpered, trying to draw herself further into the corner. Both Logan and Hawk looked each other and nodded sadly, this didn’t look good.

“Lady?” Hawk asked, changing his disguise back to that of a human, before leaning down next to her. Only to find her squirming violently when he touched her.

“Please…please…no more,” Aalia whimpered softly. Logan looked at her with great sympathy, he had experienced Drow hospitality for only a half day, while she had been here for a least three days. Gods’ Teeth! He owed those dark elves a true reckoning for this!

“Damnation, she is bad shape,” Hawk muttered as he tried to get Aalia to drink one of his healing droughts.

“No!” Aalia shouted turning her face away from, giving Logan a brief glance at her pale features. His breath suddenly drew in making Hawk to look up at him curiously.

“She looks like Lady Ehlanna,” Logan explained, still startled by the similarity between the two women.

“Ehlanna,” Aalia whispered her quivering suddenly stopping as turned back towards them, a light of something new appearing in her eyes. “You know Ehlanna?”

“Aye,” Logan answered as sincerely as he could as he bent down near. This close he knew that Aalia could see the abuse that his body had been put through, some of which the elf mage was probably familiar with. “She is the one who sent me here.”

“Ehlanna is my cousin,” Aalia said with a little wonder.

Nodding, Logan quickly explained his history, why he was here, and what his mission was. As he did so, the young warrior could see the light in Aalia’s eyes growing brighter and recognized it as the hope he now felt as well. He grinned at her and felt her respond in kind, their mutual trials forming a bond of kinship between them.

“And you are from Rylos,” Aalia asked Hawk as she sat up, her voice taking on a quality of determination and steel. Taking the curative potion that had been previously offered to her, the elven mage drank it down, restoring color and health to her features.

“Yes,” the human replied with a smile as he began working on the collar around her neck. “Now hold still while I get this off of you. With it gone you should be able to use your magic again.”

With a click and a thud the heavily ensorcelled collar opened up and dropped away. Both men suddenly stepped back as they felt the aura of power surround and spread out from Aalia’s naked body. Logan’s one eye widened as he saw the elf woman stand up and raise one hand above her head, summoning swirling streamers of light that wrapped around her lithe form. Blinking, Logan saw the light fading and Aalia standing there fully clothed and armored in silvery chain mail. At her belt was dagger and grasped in her right hand was an ornate staff.

“I always keep a spare set,” Aalia answered with a grim smile as she noticed the shocked stares of the males. ”Now where is this door that needs to be opened?”

* * * * *

“General Olson!” Andara shouted as she swept down to hover next to the human commander. Around them, the battle raged, a bedlam of crashing metal and flesh mixed with screams of rage and pain. While the allied were still holding up, the push towards the fortress had slowed. “Can we get closer?”

“Aye we can Milady,” the knight replied as he looked up at her, gesturing towards the tree. “I expected more support fire from the Drow base, but it has mostly been silent. However, if we do push in any further our forces will be trapped, there will be no retreat if the plan fails!”

“We have no choice!” Andara shouted back, shaking her head. “If we withdraw from this battle we will still lose the war! We must press forward! I am sure our seer will find the anchor. He just needs to get closer!”

“Very well Milady, if that is what needs to be done then so be it!” General Olson said as he stood on the stirrups of his warhorse, holding Truth high in the air over his head.

“Knights and soldiers of Rylos!” he shouted, the magic of his sword amplifying his voice so that everyone on the battlefield could hear him. “Now is the time we must stand firm! We are the light that shines forth against the tide of darkness! Once we have reached the Fortress gates our victory is assured!

“Forward men!” Olson commanded as Truth flared brightly in his armored hand, bathing the area around him in a divine light. “Forward for Queen Catherine and Rylos! For the Light!”

“FOR THE LIGHT!” The humans roared in response, Andara and the other elves joining in, as the combined armies surged forward with renewed determination, pushing the enemy back. The elven mage nodded grimly to herself as she flew back up to renew her magical assault. They would get closer, Andara was sure of that, but she dreaded the possibility that the seer would not be able to break through the ward in time.

* * * * *

The three companions, cloaked in their separate concealing spells, moved deep in the fortress. The chaos and confusion caused by the attack and Hawk’s spell bombs making it easy for them to find their way to the heart of the fortress. Around them they could hear the faint sounds of the battle outside, the muffled cries giving urgency to the trio’s mission. All three of them knew they would have to hurry or the allied army would be defeated.

Once Logan, Aalia, and Hawk arrived at their destination, they found the way guarded by a squad of Ogres and Trolls. That was a formidable opposition, but not against the likes of Hawk and Aalia. The elven mage opened up with a sleep spell that caused over a third of the hulking guards to collapse into oblivion. As she did this, Hawk’s flashing dagger finished off two more before blinding the rest with his flare spell.

Logan found himself regulated to rear guard as his two companions drove their way through the guards with blade and magic. Though a little humbling, he didn’t mind too much, smashing in the heads of the enemy who tried to get back up. Aalia was after all one of the most powerful mages of the Sylvan Kingdom and Hawk was likely one of Rylos’ most skilled spies. Within the space of a dozen heartbeats, all of the Trolls and Ogres were dead or unconscious with the three barely winded heroes standing outside the immense seal doors of the Drow inner chambers.

“Stand back!” Aalia warned the two men as she raised her staff high above her head, gathering her magical might into a swirling ball of light at the staves tip as she chanted a long string of arcane words and phrases. Then with a shout she completed the incantation and brought her weapon down, smashing the staff’s tip into the middle of the double doors.

There was a bright flare as the glyphs and wards covering portals flared bright purple and green and then exploding, their colors spreading over the entrances’ surface, meeting in their center. A loud detonation of snapping wood and metal occurred as the doors blasted inward, scattering debris into the room beyond. There they saw an immense chamber filled with over a dozen dark elves and even more goblin guards. In the room’s center was a large boulder of black basalt, pieced by a glowing spear that looked somewhat familiar to Logan. Around it four dark elves in robes were kneeling, their faces screwed up in concentration as they chanted and moved their hands in arcane gestures.

There was no hesitation in the part of Hawk and Aalia. The Rylos darted forward, scattering the last of his spell bombs into the room, their bright explosions scattering the enemy, sending greenskin and dark elves flying away from the force of the blasts. Aalia followed with her own magics, lightning and fire spells blasting their way into the enemy’s ranks. Their combined attack was devastating in its force.

But the Drow were not so easily overcome, the ones who didn’t die in the initial attack quickly reacted, erecting magical defenses around themselves even as they moved to protect their four brethren who were still focused in their magic. The remaining guards screamed and surged forward, their eyes glowing baleful red even as Logan answered with his own howl and charged past Aalia to meet them.

The was a sickening crunch as the seven foot tall four hundred pound Wolven barreled his way into the greenskin horde, causing the bunch of them to be knocked down. His only goal here was to try to keep the guards distracted long enough for Aalia or Hawk to do something about the berserker magic. Knowing that it was going to be impossible for him to kill any of the goblins in their current state, the Wolven warrior grappled as many opponents as he could.

Even as he battled, part of his mind was thinking about the spear stuck in the rock. He knew he had seen it before or perhaps a picture of it, maybe in one of Keshin’s books. But before he could think any further about this, an immense troll took exception to the Wolven’s efforts and smashed the warrior in the side with its two-handed maul, sending Logan skidding across the chamber’s surface to slam painfully against a wall.

In the meantime, Hawk and Aalia were hard pressed with their own battles. The elven mage suddenly on the defensive as the remaining Drow sorcerers counter attacked with streams of acid and poisons. The attacks splashed off the Sylvan mage's shields, but she was forced to shift more of her power to maintain them. Twenty feet away from her, Hawk was caught between two drow sword masters, their whirling blades clanging and flashing as the spy flipped away from their attacks.

Logan was barely aware of this as he watched his troll attacker begin to lumber towards him, intent on finishing the job. The Wolven tried to move but could only breath in painful gasps as he realized that something deep inside him had broken when the troll clobbered him. As he watched death approach, the young warrior started thinking about the spear again, his pain filled mind drearily recalling the memory.

The spear, where have I seen it before? Logan thought as an image of a page from a book filled his mind. On it was a picture of Ragnar the god of death, father of not only Wolven but the Goblinoid races as well. In his hand was a spear just like the one buried in the rock. The spear’s name was “Soul Killer” and the god had given it to the greatest of the goblin warrior’s in ages past. The weapon’s power would take the courage and fighting spirit from the warrior and grant it to all of his followers, increasing their strength to that of his own.

The power of this weapon could not be denied and the forces of light had secured it for safekeeping, taking it from the corpse of Ragnar’s champion before the Goblinoid shamans could secure it for their next hero. Supposedly it had been sealed away somewhere, the book didn’t mention where, but Logan could guess it hadn’t been hidden well enough. The Drow must have discovered and warped its magic, using it as a focal point to cast spells that could effect the entire goblin horde.

Spells…spell…Logan thought as the troll warrior reached him, raising his club up for the killing blow. There had been something else, something hanging on the edge of his memory, a spell or magic he had seen or used on the goblins before, a bag of dust…

“Aalia!” Logan screamed, his lungs on fire as his broken ribs pieced them even as the troll’s club came screaming down. “Cast your sleep spell on the spear!”

The elven mage gasped as more of the Drow magic smashed into her shields, but complied with the Wolven’s wishes, changing her counter attack. As her magic flew across the room, Logan knew Aalia was going to be too late to save him, but he hoped that his guess was right even as he watched the club block of all of his vision…

Only to see it suddenly whipped away, as the howling troll blasted in the side by a lightning spell causing its flaming form to stumble away from the Wolven before collapsing to the floor. Logan painfully turned his head towards the direction of the spell, even as the remaining goblins and trolls in the room collapsed into an enchanted slumber. What he then saw amazed and made his heart leap in joy.

“Just in time Sir Logan!” Lady Andara said, the tips of her outstretched fingers smoking. Around her elven rangers and mages, along with human knights and wizards, appeared with sudden pops around the room. Almost instantly they moved to engage the Drow leadership in a fierce but short battle, the remaining dark elves unable to beat back the sudden reinforcements, forcing the survivors to retreat down passages leading from the room.

“Ragnar’s Entrails!” Logan muttered as he coughed up blood, around him the elven forces were quickly spreading throughout the passages, pursuing the fleeing drow even as more reinforcements gated in. The Wolven got the satisfaction of seeing Thantos and Aalia reunited, the joy of their reunion making the elves and humans around them cheer. He saw Hawk move over and bow to an older armored human, talking to him in earnest. And he saw Andara moving over to him, her face filled with concern even as the world started to turn black.

“Oh no you don’t!” Andara said as she reached him, bending down she ran her hands over his injuries as her healing spell began to take effect, wrenching him back from the darkness’ cold grip. “I still owe you an unspecified payment remember?”

“Aye,” Logan replied looking up at her before looking around. Through the walls of the chamber he heard what sounded like a continuous roar. He then realized it was thousands of voices outside of the keep cheering in victory. “We won?”

“Yes, thanks to you” Andara replied with a smile. “I’m sorry we didn’t show up earlier, our seer had to be practically at the base’s front gate before he could get a lock in on you.“

Logan shook his head and laughed, not really caring, just happy to be alive.

* * * * *

The next few hours fled past in a flurry as Logan witnessed the destruction of the Drow fortress and the goblin horde. With most of the army put to sleep by Aalia, the remaining Human and Wolven mercenaries retreated or surrendered. After the passages leading underground were found and sealed, the base was burned down in a controlled fire, the ashes of the dead tree scattered across the soil. It would take some time, but eventually the ruined section of the forest would recover.

Afterwards, the majority of the “Armies of Light”, what the alliance forces had come to call themselves, returned to Desreniel Falaris where they held a two day long celebration. There, Logan was hailed as one of the guests of Honor. He drank, accepted the gratitude laid upon him, drank some more, talked tactics with the Elven and Human commanders, received a very puzzling remark from General Olson about him being a fine looking gravestone, drank even more, cheered with others when Thantos and Aalia announced their marriage, drank a lot more, ogled the ladies dressed in their revealing gowns, drank himself stupid with Hawk, and generally enjoyed himself immensely. The last thing he remembered was bouncing his skull off a table and being hauled away by laughing elves.

Later, much later, Logan woke up. To his surprise he found himself laying on an immense bed, its sheets and covers light brown in color, the rest of the room decorated in similar autumn hues. What was disturbing was that it had a distinct feminine feel to it, this sensation enhanced by pleasant smell of incense and flowers.

What was more disturbing was that Logan wasn’t wearing anything beneath the sheets.

“Good morning!” Andara said as she walked into the room wearing a flattering white dress that left her shoulders bare and her long ash blond hair tied up in a loose braid. Logan blanched a bit when he saw her. Did she…did they…

“Errrr,” he muttered, unable to think of anything intelligent.

Andara laughed merrily at his expression, shaking her head as she waved a mocking finger.

“Now now,” Andara said with a grin, “don’t even think that! Besides you were in no condition to do anything!”

“Aye, I guess so,” Logan replied scratching a tufted ear nervously as he sat up. He looked over at the elven mage who looked back with a questioning look. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her, he knew he could make his wishes known and she would accept, yet what that truly what both of them wanted? And what of the woman he left behind at the Lonely Inn?

Andara nodded as if reading his thoughts, her grin becoming a sad smile as she spoke again, “I…we owe you an apology Logan.”

“I know, but its not needed,” Logan replied with a sigh. It wasn’t hard what to figure out what his true mission was, yet he couldn’t blame the elves for their deception. They knew he would likely be captured, so they had to plan for it. He still had to go into the base in any case.

“Logan…”

“You did what you had to do, just I did what I needed to do. Look at the results, I’m alive and we won. I can’t complain too much.”

“Well then, how about your reward?” Andara asked, leaning forward a little so Logan could get a good look before pulling back laughing.

“Sorry…sorry!” the elven mage said, practically giggling, causing Logan to look at her with a forlorn expression. “Ehlanna said you were easy to tease and I couldn’t resist!”

“Bah!” the Wolven sat back with a huff, secretly laughing to himself as well.

“Heh,” Andara chuckled as she turned away to walk out. Before she did so she glanced back at the Wolven Warrior. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me for breakfast? Ryshiera has got a big bundle of spider silk waiting for you plus some other gifts you might find useful. And perhaps later we could talk about my personal thank you to you.”

Logan One-Eye watched Andara leave, his lone yellow orb watching her appraisingly, before leaning back thinking about her proposal, which he did so for a long time…

* * * * *

“So this is the one?” the voice asked in the darkness as the image of Logan faded out from the crystal.

“Yes, Lord,” came the response from the purple hooded figure, a red gem glinting on his finger as he held up the scrying device to his master. “He is the same one who restored the Snowmaiden to her home, thus ending the winter in the Northern Reaches.”

“Two times he has crossed me then,” the voice said with a hint of anger. “Once is chance. A second a mere coincidence. A third, there had better not be a third. If he interferes again, remove him, but do so quietly. We must not reveal ourselves to world yet.”

“As you will Lord,” the robed figure bowed before taking his leave of the master’s chambers. Once outside the figure held up the crystal again, summoning the Wolven’s image once more. He stared at the image, his ice blue eyes filling with hatred and anger, as his trembling hand cracked and crushed the crystal, shattering it his grip. The man seemed unconcerned by this, his eyes following the drops of crimson as they splattered on the stone floor.

“As my Lord wills,” he repeated as watched the drip of his lifeblood. “Logan One-Eye, I truly hope you interfere with the master’s plans again. Then I shall truly enjoy watching you die!”

FINIS

Author’s Notes:

First a big thank you to Ehlanna, my editor and proofreader, whose valiant efforts in this latest chapter in Logan’s saga should be recognized and applauded. A second thank you goes out to my pre-readers Lewis and Dorothy whose encouragement and requests to “write more!” were much appreciated. And finally I wanted to thank all of the readers who complimented my previous story “The Snow Maiden’s Kiss”. I hope that this story meets up with your expectations.

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