Legends of Belariath

Logan

The Snowmaiden's Kiss

Logan One-Eye winced as an arrow whizzed by his head from behind and plunked into a tree in front of him. Frost coated branches snapped with crackling reports from his heavy tread as the Wolven warrior increased his speed, sprinting down the path. Behind him, Logan could hear the excited whoops of the goblin warband as they spotted their prey and gave chase. More arrows and javelins sped past him, some close enough to score red trails of fire across his tawny hide. Ignoring the pain, Logan continued to follow the deer trail, his seven-foot frame ducking under low hanging branches.

The goblins had been dogging Logan and Frostflower’s route ever since the Wolven and the Snowmaiden had left the Lonely Inn. From what the young warrior could tell there were over a dozen of them, a mixture of warriors with a shaman or two. Why they were following the two travelers to the Goldpike mountain range was unknown, though Frostflower had insisted that the greenskins were up to no good, a theory that Logan didn’t disagree with. With his Wolven stamina and the pony Frostflower rode on, they were able to stay ahead of the warband. But now after reaching the Grim Forest, their progress was slowed enough for the goblins to catch up.

Which is why I am in this predicament! One pair of boots isn’t worth this! Logan thought harshly as another arrow zinged by his head, grazing his cheek in its passage. Then he saw the first marker, a green leafed twig dropped casually on the trail, and deliberately slowed his pace. Thinking their prey was getting winded, the hooting goblins increased their war cries and speed, working themselves into a blinding blood lust. Logan’s bestial features smiled grimly as he slowed a bit more, bringing him closer but not quite into reach of the warband.

Still, this tactic was very dangerous as one of the goblin warriors would eventually get lucky and score a crippling wound with a missile. The greatest risk often brings the greatest reward, his teacher Keshin liked to say. True, but Logan was also reminded of the second part, that the greatest risk often brings the greatest disaster. His death would certainly be a disaster right now, especially since it would also mean Frostflower’s demise as well.

That was something Logan definitely did not want to happen, not only because the Snowmaiden had been placed in his charge. Somehow during the week they had traveled together, Frostflower had found a place within his spirit. It was not the initial carnal lust he had first felt during their meeting, though it never left considering the white haired maiden’s radiant beauty. Rather it was growing attraction he felt towards the woman herself, a warm yearning that was very unfamiliar to the young warrior.

Shaking his shaggy head in an attempt to dispel the distracting emotions, Logan One-Eye continued the deadly race, but was unable to prevent recent memories from surfacing in his mind’s eye…

* * * * *

“Mercenary sow!” Logan One-Eye cursed quietly into the night air as he stomped out of an alley between the Lonely Inn and the weapon shop. Fastening the cord that held his leather breeches up, the tawny furred Wolven could hear quiet movements in the darkness behind him as the prostitute left the opposite way. Logan’s one good eye gleamed with anger and frustration, not wanting to be reminded of their recent encounter. It had been bad enough that it was obvious that she just wanted to deprive him of his coin, but to actually spit his seed on the ground afterward was too much.

“I could have gotten more satisfaction by doing it myself!” the young warrior growled as he continued to walk. This wasn’t far from the truth, while the woman had relieved his physical need; inside she just made him feel empty. It was just like the other prostitute he had hired a week earlier as well, making Logan think that he should reconsider his earlier decision not to use the Inn’s slaves. While Elspeth seemed to tolerate him because of his compliments on her excellent cooking, he could still smell the fear in her and the others.

Logan after all was one of the Wolven, and a savage looking one at that. Dressed in tanned hides, his seven-foot tall frame towered over most peoples. The young warrior’s body was a four hundred pound mass of thick bone and muscle, heavily scarred by battle and hardship. One yellow eye glinted angrily at world around him, as the other was an empty socket hidden by a black patch, partly covered by a tuft of tawny hair, giving him an even more sinister appearance. The short muzzle of Logan’s mouth was filled with sharp teeth and the Wolven’s chunky fingers were tipped with claws.

People’s fear of Logan One-Eye was not only because of his bestial appearance but also the reputation the Wolven had for being brutal barbarians and raiders. The warrior’s old tribe the Bloodwind was especially vicious, especially after a never-ending winter had set in a year ago. The Wolven had been driven out their lands by hunger and had set upon raiding nearby villages and towns into a devastating storm of destruction. Logan remembered this time well, the terror that had shined in the eyes of the Humans and Cat Folk as their homes were looted and burned, the pleading fear as they screamed when the men were killed and the women tortured and raped.

Logan shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. It had been during one of those raids that he had his revelation. He realized the incredible waste of it all. The Bloodwind were destroying what they should have been preserving. The Wolven thought that the gods had cursed them, casting the tribes down from their rightful place as rulers of the world. Logan, then known as Swiftpaw, had realized that this wasn’t the case; that it was the tribe’s savage traditions that were at fault. They had cursed themselves by their own stupidity and bestial lusts.

It was after this raid that Swiftpaw had gone before the tribal elders and presented his argument. Instead of destroying the villages they should demand tribute instead, thus the dirt grubbers would be there again next year to again provide the tribe’s needs. He was laughed at for this ridiculous notion and was dismissed, but Swiftpaw refused and challenged their decision. The resulting fight had mortally wounded the young warrior, the tribe leaving him bleeding and dying in the snow.

It was then that Keshin had found him. The elderly scholar healed the Wolven’s wounds and nursed him back to health. He then began teaching Swiftpaw a new way of thinking, a way that involved history, mathematics, and philosophy, instead of death and destruction. It was during this time that Logan formed his dream of forming a new Wolven nation. A nation where the strong ruled and the weak served, but were protected and heard.

But this evolution in Swiftpaw’s beliefs and morals did nothing for the way the world looked at him. Even taking the namesake of Logan Ironshield, a human general that lived a thousand years ago and whose writings were the Wolven’s favorites, was only a token gesture. He wanted others to look upon himself and kin with respect, especially the females.

Those women that he and his pack mates had brutalized were not that much different from the servants at the Lonely Inn. Slaves were meant to be used, this Logan accepted. It was the way of things. However, the young warrior would rather be with a female that wanted his touch. What was it his teacher Keshin had said? That the ultimate bliss was when the woman’s soul was there with yours, striving to be united together?

Something like that…

The Wolven’s musings were interrupted when a piece of torn parchment blew across his path. Curious, he snatched it up and slowly began reading the words written on it. Keshin had taught him his letters so that the Wolven could read his namesake Logan Ironshield’s ‘Art of War’, but that had been only during the last year. Logan’s vocabulary was still limited. The posting though was for the most part simple enough to read.

WANTED

Bodyguard for a dangerous escort duty to the Goldpike Mountains

Must be Professional and Skilled in wilderness survival

Go to the School of Magic for details

Logan scratched one of his tufted ears as he pondered over the message. This looked interesting. Bodyguard work was one of the professions Keshin had told him to try out. It would give the young warrior opportunities to meet and learn from other races and people, while using his battle skills to protect rather than take a person’s life. The Goldpike mountains were located some twenty days journey to the North over some rough terrain. However, Logan had traveled with Keshin through most of it when they had left the Bloodwind territory, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

At last a new scent to follow! The Wolven thought joyfully as he rolled up the parchment and stuck it into his belt. After arriving in the area, Logan had loitered around aimlessly for over a week, unsure how to deal with the temptations civilization offered. A new journey might be just what he needed to get his mind off of his conflicting emotions and lusts. Logan could forget about women for a while and just focus on keeping himself and the ones he was hired to protect alive. It was a perfect opportunity!

A half day’s hike later, across 20 miles of grassland, Logan was standing in front of a one hundred foot tall tower made of a white stone that looked like glowing ivory. A single door at the tower’s base was the only visible entrance. The portal slowly opened at his approach causing the Wolven to eye it cautiously. After pondering this development, Logan shrugged his shaggy shoulders and marched in, determined to take up his new mission.

However, a short while later, the Wolven warrior began to regret his decision. After stepping through the portal he was led through a bewildering maze of rooms and corridors by a floating ball of light. Eventually, Logan was guided into a well-appointed study where he met with the Lady Katarein, an eight-foot tall, red headed elf cat half-breed, dressed in black spider silk and knee high riding boots.

While the Wolven had heard a few rumors about the sorceress, none were able to prepare him for his meeting her. Katarein’s height was bad enough, having to look up at the woman was an uncomfortable experience, but this was nothing compared to the aura of power she radiated. When Logan’s one yellow eye met the sorceress’s gaze he felt such an immense feeling of dread that it took all of his willpower not to dive to the floor and bare his throat to her.

Instead he dropped down to one knee and hung his shaggy head low, unable to meet that terrible visage again. Staring at his reflection off of the Sorceress’s gleaming black leather boots, Logan was shocked to see the terror he had seen in the slaves mirrored in his own good eye. Confused, the Wolven found the words he was about to speak held fast in his throat. A very uncomfortable silence followed, broken only when Logan mustered his courage and grabbed the parchment at his belt. Thrusting it up in front of him, the young warrior could only try to control his rapidly beating heart while he waited for Lady Katarein’s response.

“I had wondered if anyone would answer this,” Katarein spoke for the first time as she took the proffered advertisement. If anything her smooth cultured voice was worse than her stare, its sound sending shivers of terror down Logan’s spine. The warrior knew beyond any doubt that this woman could destroy him utterly with a moment’s thought. Yet he also knew that if Lady Katarein commanded him to do something Logan would do it in an instant, though the Wolven was unsure of how far he would be willing go to please her.

Was this what a slave felt like? Was this the dread he had seen in their eyes?

“Time was beginning to run out,” the Sorceress continued unaware or uncaring of the questions racing through Logan’s mind. “I was afraid I was going to have to take care of the matter personally.

“However, I was hoping someone more…professional would arrive,” Katarein said with a small sigh. Logan could almost feel her slight derisive smile as her stare burned into the top of his head. “But considering the alternative I suppose you will have to do.”

It was then the Wolven sensed someone else in the room, a cool serene presence like a chilly, but refreshing breeze. Looking up, he saw a most exquisite vision of femininity. Standing only six feet away from him was a pale skinned woman with ice blue eyes and long, silky white hair that hung down past her narrow waist. The rest of her figure was just as lovely, long slender legs and a generous bosom that threatened to spill out of the top of her white dress.

Logan felt his mouth watering upon seeing this, his inner lusts rising. Inwardly, the Wolven warrior gritted his teeth as he forced himself to focus on his situation, though he could do nothing about the physical aspects of his arousal.

“This is Frostflower,” Lady Katarein said as she introduced the woman. “She is a Snowmaiden who has been visiting me for a while. She however can no longer stay here and must return home. Snowmaidens are like Dryads in that they cannot stay too far away from their chosen dwelling for too long. If they do so, they will eventually sicken and die. I wish to prevent this.

“Your quest is to escort Frostflower back to the top of a mountain in the Goldpike range. You will do your utmost to keep her from harm, though my only concern is that she is seen safely back to her home. Once your mission is complete, return to me and I shall reward you well. Recently, a pair of sound boots has come into my possession. They change the sound of the wearer’s footfalls to anything they wish, from a giant’s stomp to the soft pad of a kitten’s feet. They will be yours if you succeed, Swiftpaw of the Bloodwind tribe.”

“No,” Logan heard himself say, a part of him surprised at his sudden protest.

“Eh?” Katarein inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Swiftpaw is dead,” the Wolven said determinedly, meeting the Sorceress’ eyes once again. “My name is Logan.”

“Really? That remains to be proven,” she replied in a derisive voice. Her eyes seemed to burn into Logan and he quickly bowed his head again. “If you wish to take the name of such a noble person as Logan Ironshield then you will have to earn it. Just reading the autobiography of one of the greatest human generals in history isn’t enough. For now, you are nothing more than a beast, whether you become something more than that is up to you, Swiftpaw.

“Enough of this, there is no more time for such insignificant matters. Gather your belongings and meet with Rincewind outside. He will have a map detailing the route of your journey. I expect to see the two of you gone by the time the candle’s shadow reaches the eighth mark.”

Logan got up and hastened out of the room, glad to be gone from the place. His mind seethed from the Sorceress’ commentary and made him want to hit something, which if he did would prove her point. Shaking his head, he noticed that Frostflower had quietly followed him out and was now looking at him curiously. Disconcerted by her cool gaze, Logan turned away and walked down the corridor.

“Lets go,” he said over his shoulder.

Outside they met up with Rincewind, a scrawny fellow clad in a dark red robe with a few mystic symbols embroidered in tarnished sequins. He was also wearing a pointy hat with a star on top and WIZZARD inscribed in crooked letters. Logan scratched one of his ears when he saw this, swearing to himself that the spelling looked wrong, but then again this Rincewind was Lady Katarein’s assistant, so it must be right.

Afterwards, Logan took Frostflower to the Inn to buy supplies. Though the Snowmaiden had tried to keep up, the Wolven’s long strides were too much for her and she was constantly falling behind. Taking this into account, Logan decided that they needed to get a mount for her to ride. After several unsuccessful inquiries around town, they finally managed to acquire a small pony from a local farmer. Thus prepared, they set off on their journey to the north.

It was three days later that Logan first detected signs of the goblins following them…

* * * * *

The sight of the second marker, a rotted tree trunk lying across the path, broke Logan out of his reverie. With a powerful leap he cleared the obstacle easily and continued to run on. Judging by the sounds behind him, most of the goblins managed as well. A few didn’t, tripping and uttering vile curses as they recovered from their stumble. Logan’s bestial face broke out into a savage grin, when he heard their efforts to catch back up with their more dexterous comrades. His plan was working.

Another tree, this one slightly bigger than the first, appeared after another a few minutes. Again the Wolven warrior jumped up to avoid it, though Logan almost slipped when he landed on the opposite side. There, a patch of wet leaves of had been gathered and spread out by Frostflower. She then used her talent to create ice making them particularly slick. Logan could see no sign of her so far. That was good, for he had told her to move on ahead after they had set up the trail.

As before, the majority of the warband were able to pass the obstruction, but more were delayed when their feet lost traction, causing them to fall or slide into trees or each other. Either case was satisfactory to Logan. While he wouldn’t mind at all if one or more of the foolish greenskins broke his neck, his primary purpose was to string out the warband's numbers, changing their formation from a packed cluster to a long line.

'Defeat in detail', that was what this strategy was called. According to Ironshield’s ‘Art of War’, when one was outnumbered, use deception to confuse the enemy and break up his force. Then each smaller piece could be dealt with separately. When Logan realized that the goblins were going to catch up to them, the Wolven decided that he needed to take the initiative and with Frostflower’s assistance, prepared a trail for the goblins to chase him down.

Could a beast do this Sorceress? Logan thought with inner laugh as he approached the third and final log. It wouldn’t be long before the goblins would figure out what he was doing, so this last obstruction had a more deadly purpose. Gathering his remaining strength, Logan jumped forward sailing over the rotted trunk and landing with a thud on the other side. Almost immediately the young warrior got up but then stumbled forward limping, as if he had hurt himself.

The goblin’s howls and war cries rose to fever pitch upon seeing this. The run had been a long one and the Wolven were known for their incredible stamina. The goblins were tired, but their prey was alone and wounded, and an easy fight. The lead greenskins, the warband’s leader and two of his strongest and most skilled warriors, would finally be able kill Logan and claim the prize they sought.

Their howls of victory suddenly turned into cries of alarm and pain as the goblin warriors leapt over the log and onto the array of sharpened wooden stakes that had been set up behind it. The sound of their landing was sickening, as the spikes tore into the flesh of their feet and legs. The impact was sufficient for two of the goblins to lose their balance and fall, furthering injuring one and killing another as a stake cut through his throat. One greenskin didn’t fall, though he took a nasty rent up his right calf. Armed with a gleaming hand axe and buckler, the goblin war leader raised his weapon high and charged Logan.

The Wolven warrior was not caught unawares. After the goblins had fallen, quite literally, into his trap, he spun around no longer faking a leg injury. Drawing his hunting knife, a foot long obsidian blade connected to a bone handle, Logan rushed back to meet his axe-wielding foe. Whipping his free hand across the space between them, the Wolven grabbed the rim of the goblin’s shield. At the same time his opponent’s weapon came streaking down at his shoulder. Logan snarled in pain as the sharp edge of the fine steel weapon bit through his hide armor. Enraged, he jerked the buckler towards him pulling the now off balanced goblin with it. Stumbling past the Wolven, the goblin warrior was unable to dodge Logan’s thrust as the razor sharp blade plunged into his back.

Howling savagely, Logan tried to press his attack by ripping the knife’s edge through the Goblin’s vital organs. The greenskin’s frantic movements foiled this maneuver, tearing the weapon free from Logan’s now blood slick grip. Spinning around, the goblin warrior prepared to chop again with his axe, trying to kill the now unarmed Wolven. His eyes then suddenly widened in shock as Logan’s opened jaws streaked in to latch onto his throat.

For a moment Logan was lost in a red haze as the sweet blood of his opponent ran down his throat. Instincts took over and he shook his opponent savagely, his fangs ripping into the goblin’s soft flesh. His opponent squealed in pain and tried to push the berserk Wolven off of him. The goblin warrior’s frantic movement only seemed to drive Logan into a frenzy, blood splattering across his face. It was only when the greenskin stopped moving that the young warrior realized what he was doing.

You are nothing more than a beast. Katarein’s scathing remark burned through Logan’s mind as he stood there panting heavily. Gods, was she right?

Logan’s inattention almost killed him as he heard the distinct twang of a bowstring behind him. Reflexively he jerked to the side, as something slammed into his shoulder. His desperate twist managed to keep the arrow fired by the one remaining goblin from hitting anything vital. However, force of the blow knocked him to the ground, his face gouging a groove into the dirt. Snarling, Logan got back up on one knee as he turned towards his attacker, only to see the goblin had already nocked another arrow.

Staring death in the face, Logan knew he wouldn’t be able to move away in time. But just as the goblin released his bowstring, a female voice cried out, chanting in an arcane tongue. The greenskin screamed shrilly as a half dozen shards of ice cut him down. As the goblin collapsed, his lifeblood seeping into the earth, Logan saw Frostflower step out of concealment.

“You were supposed to have moved on ahead,” the Wolven admonished the Snowmaiden as he painfully got to his feet.

“If you had died, who would take me home?” Frostflower answered, leaning wearily against a tree she had been hiding behind. Running a hand through her silky white hair, her ice blue eyes gazed at Logan with concern, causing his breath to catch in his throat. The young Wolven found the words that he was about to say forgotten, as conflicting emotions raged inside him. He was angry that Frostflower had endangered herself, casting a spell in her weakened state, and yet very grateful that she had saved his life.

Logan also found her at that moment to be the most beautiful female that he had yet to encounter. The combination of his lust for her body and desire to remain a close protective presence threatened to overwhelm his reason. He wanted her now!

The blood from the goblin he had killed, dripped from his fangs to the ground with a soft plopping sound…

The distant hoots of the trailing goblins broke the spell over him. Shaking his head at how close he had come from ravishing Frostflower right there, Logan decided that it was best to leave. The Snowmaiden readily agreed to this and so the two travelers slipped back into the forest leaving the cries of the demoralized greenskins behind them.

* * * * *

Sometime later, Logan and Frostflower rested in a concealed bough the Wolven warrior had spotted earlier before the ambush. As far as he could tell, the goblin warband had not followed them. The loss of over a quarter of their number, including their chief, and the number of other injuries that they had sustained would delay them a bit. It would take time for the demoralized greenskins to select a new leader and their shamans to perform the needed rituals.

One fact that was bothering him though was the quality of the goblins weapons. While there wasn’t time to examine them in detail, he had noted that they appeared to be made out of fine steel. Usually goblins weren’t so well equipped, but for all of them to be? It was very strange, either they stole their weapons from somewhere or a third party provided them. Maybe the goblins had been hired to chase after him and Frostflower. If so, who was it?

A sharp pain in his back, where the arrow had penetrated, interrupted Logan’s musings. The Wolven warrior was laying on his belly, Frostflower kneeling next to him, having now just cut out the arrow in his shoulder. Besides being able to create ice, the Snowmaiden had some skill in healing magic as well. Her gentle touch was like cool ice that extinguished the burning fires in Logan’s back and shoulder.

“Thank you,” Logan said with a sigh, her smooth motions relaxing him.

“My pleasure Sir Logan,” Frostflower replied, her voice cool and even.

“And for earlier as well,” the Wolven spoke again reluctantly, “thank you for saving my life.”

“Heh,” the white haired woman chuckled, apparently pleased, a musical sound that sent little tingles through Logan’s brain. Frostflower’s closeness, her touch, her scent, was beginning to arouse him once again and he shifted uncomfortably. Trying to hide his reaction was futile though, as the Snowmaiden tugged him on his shoulders, telling Logan to turn over so she could tend his other hurts. Though compared to his other two injuries, they were nothing more than scratches, and were easily tended to.

“Wait,” Frostflower said as she gently pushed Logan back down when she had finished healing him. “Let me clean the blood off.”

“Errrr,” Logan’s breath caught in his throat as she leaned over him with a wet cloth. His one eye traveled from her delicate face with its small nose and pink lips, down the milky curve of her neck, and then stopped at the swells of her breasts. The Wolven’s breath grew harsher as the Snowmaiden moved even nearer, the smooth silk of her dress brushing against his chest as she began to wipe the dried blood off of his cheeks. This close to him her scent, a sweet fragrance redolent of fields of blue lilies, flooded his mind and clouded his reasoning.

The young warrior struggled inside to maintain his calm. The feelings he had before, when Frostflower had saved him from the goblin arrows returned full force. He could now feel the Snowmaiden’s breasts press against him, the twin nubs of her nipples burning through the thin silk into his flesh. In response, Logan’s organ hardened into its full length, straining against the fabric of his leather breeches. Unable to contain his lust and now not wanting to, Logan released the hold he had kept to himself and allowed his raging passions to surface.

With a growl coming deep within his throat, the tawny furred Wolven reached up to grab Frostflower’s wrist. The Snowmaiden gasped in surprise even as Logan encircled her lithe body with his other arm, his hand grasping onto one of the taunt globes of her buttocks. Logan looked into Frostflower’s eye and knew that she now saw his need, his desire for her. Shifting his grip, the young warrior pressed the soft flesh of her thigh against his groin, his growling becoming more intense, as he felt her struggle…

…And Logan saw the fear appear in Frostflower’s eyes.

“Aaarggh! NO!” the Wolven shouted as he pushed the startled Snowmaiden away. Breathing heavily, Logan wrenched himself up to his feet. Lying nearby, Frostflower looked up at him, her expression confused and frightened.

He had…he had almost…

“Logan?” Frostflower ask warily, looking like she was deciding whether to run or not.

“I’m going to go patrol around,” Logan replied harshly as he turned and stalked off into the forest. “Get some rest.”

Behind him, Logan thought he heard a sob, and tried not to care, failing miserably.

“Do beasts cry?” he asked the darkness, but of course only his inner turmoil answered.

* * * * *

For the three days that followed an uncomfortable silence had settled between the two travelers. Every time Logan glanced back at Frostflower, he found her ice blue eyes regarding him intently. The young Wolven refused to meet her gaze, always turning away and focusing on the trail ahead. Even then he could feel her stare burning holes into his back. He didn’t know what to say, so he said little, only what was necessary for the two’s survival. Frostflower obeyed his commands, but she did so without speaking.

Logan wished more than anything that his teacher Keshin was here so he could ask for the old man’s advice. Even though Keshin didn’t always answer Logan’s questions, preferring his student to find them on his own, he was always ready to listen and guide. Right now Logan really needed someone to talk to, but unfortunately he was on his own.

And so it went, the weather itself getting colder and colder as they traveled north, as if a reflection of the chilly silence between them…

Finally, after the fourth day since the fight with the warband, Logan and Frostflower exited the Grimwood and entered the rugged foothills that bordered the Goldpike Mountains. Ahead of them, just over the horizon the two companions could see the snow capped peaks of the still distant range, their final destination. It would take them another three days to cross the rugged landscape and reach the base of the mountain whose top was Frostflower’s home.

Now things got difficult. Since the pony could no longer carry Frostflower, Logan let him go free. The Snowmaiden’s health was deteriorating rapidly, it was obvious to both Logan and Frostflower that there was no way she would be able to get up to the top by herself. So they improvised as best they could, using strips of silk cloth from her dress and the pony’s saddle. The resulting arrangement allowed Logan to carry Frostflower on his back while keeping his arms free. All she had to do was keep a grip on the Wolven’s shoulders and neck to keep from slipping off.

After Frostflower was positioned, Logan began the climb up. At first it was easy, his powerful muscles and claws serving him well in getting and maintaining his grip. However the climb was a long one, taking him nearly a full day to get two-thirds of the way up. By this time the mountain’s surface was almost sheer in some areas, some with protrusions and overhangs that Logan was forced to go around. Handholds were also getting more difficult to find and the air was getting colder and thinner.

At least his exertions were dampening his ardor somewhat. Frostflower’s soft warmth pressing against him would have been very distracting otherwise and the wind blew away her scent. But Logan would have been lying if he denied that he wasn’t affected by close presence. He could feel the twin mounds of the Snowmaiden’s breasts through the thin material of her dress burning into his shoulders. Not only that, but the way he could feel the muscles in her supple legs, made him wish that they were in a very different position.

“Logan?” Frostflower asked, shaking him out of his little dream. This was the first time she had addressed him in days. It was so unexpected that the Wolven had to pause his climbing to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

“Aye?” he asked cautiously, wondering why the Snowmaiden had broken her silence.

“Logan…I,” She said in a quiet halting voice, as if at first unsure of her words, but then firming in determination. “I just want to apologize…for the other day.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan demanded perplexed, not expecting this. He thought he was the one who should be apologizing, but he had been afraid of facing the truth. That he was nothing more than a beast. “I was the one who almost raped you!”

“But you didn’t! And…and I don’t think it would have been that bad.”

“Huh?”

“Logan, you have been an excellent protector,” Frostflower said as he felt her face snuggle against his neck. “I know that you would have never hurt me. It took me a while to figure that out and now I realize how much you, yourself, are hurting inside. That night I was afraid, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry.”

“You…you are not afraid?” Logan asked incredulous, no one had ever told him something like this before.

“No, I am not anymore,” Frostflower answered, her voice growing much softer. “Thank you Logan, I think in different circumstances I…”

The Snowmaiden’s words suddenly faded completely and Logan was surprised as he felt her grip loosen from around his neck.

“What? Hold on tighter girl! You are going to slip off!” the Wolven shouted alarmed. Frostflower didn’t seem to hear as he felt her muscles go slack and her upper body falling backwards. Desperate to keep her from sliding off, Logan whipped his right arm behind him to try to catch her. To his horror, the sudden movement ripped his grip free of the rock surface, causing both of them to plunge down the mountain.

“Oh shit!” Logan cursed as he fell. With no time to think the young warrior acted on instinct. As his body bounced and scrapped downward, the Wolven clawed at the rock with his left hand, snarling in pain as he felt one his claws rip out of its joint. With his other hand, Logan grabbed at Frostflower, just barely catching her ankle. This success though was meaningless, as his efforts to stop their fall were useless.

An outthrust root saved them, a short stub of vegetation growing outward over a ledge. Logan somehow managed to snag it in time, the sharp tug of his and Frostflower’s body weight causing the root to partly tear free. The rest of it held and Logan found himself hanging by one arm over an abyss with Frostflower dangling upside-down below him.

“Frostflower?” the young Wolven asked the unconscious Snowmaiden as he tried to calm his hammering heart. The white-haired woman didn’t respond, hanging limply, her long hair and dress fluttering in the wind. “Frostflower!”

“Damn it!” Logan cursed as he realized how bad a predicament they were in. Hanging like he was, the Wolven couldn’t find a foothold to set his feet on. Eventually, either his grip would loosen or the root would break. This made Logan’s breath come even faster as panic began to set in. He could feel something within him begin to howl in unreasoning terror as he become desperate to preserve his life.

“Calm down!” the warrior told himself harshly. If he let his emotions take control Frostflower would certainly die. Focusing inward, Logan concentrated on controlling his breathing, using an exercise Keshin had taught him. After a few minutes doing this, the young Wolven was able to calm himself down enough to think clearly.

Looking around, Logan could see no easy way out of this situation. While he did see some good holds above the root, they would do him no good as long as Frostflower was unconscious. To get to them he would have to drop the Snowmaiden, which was not an option. The tawny furred Wolven then considered trying to hold to her with his legs, but dismissed the notion. It was too likely she would slip off.

Only one way then, Logan thought grimly as he examined the root that was holding them up. I have to get both of my hands free!

The muscles in his left arm rippled and bunched when with a mighty heave, the Wolven warrior lifted himself and Frostflower upwards until his head was next to the plant’s base. He then opened his mouth wide and bit deeply into the thickest part of the root. A bitter acrid taste filled Logan’s mouth as his powerful jaws, strengthened by nearly two decades of chewing on raw meat, clamped down with bone breaking force. Once this new hold was established, he carefully let go of his hand’s grip on the root.

Logan’s jaws and neck strained painfully in his effort to hold up both his and Frostflower’s combined weight, but he persevered. Working as quickly as he could, the young warrior pulled the Snowmaiden up and set her over his massive shoulders. Then, using more pieces of her dress and the makeshift saddle, he secured her as best as he could. Just as he thought his teeth would be ripped out of their roots, Logan finished his work and got his grip back onto the overhang. Slowly, painfully, he hauled himself up until he finally got into a secure position.

“Ragnar’s hairballs!” the Wolven swore as he worked his aching mouth as he rested. They were safe for now, but Logan was concerned about Frostflower’s condition. During all of his earlier exertions the Snowmaiden had not stirred from unconsciousness. He could barely feel her heartbeat and breathing. Had Frostflower been away from her home for too long? They were so close!

“Hold on girl!” Logan commanded the limp form hanging from his shoulders. “I WILL get you home!”

* * * * *

Hours later, night had settled across the land as a very tired and battered Logan One-Eye pulled himself up to the mountains peak, which had leveled off into small plateau. Finally able to rest, Logan laid on his stomach and panted, his exhausted limbs feeling like wet noodles. He smiled as he felt Frostflower stir, her condition having gradually improved as the Wolven had ascended the last mile. She wasn’t conscious yet, but Logan was sure now that he made it in time.

Looking over to the side, he could see the dark lands to the north the beyond the mountain range. A bitter chuckle formed in him as he recognized the shapes of some familiar landmarks that marked the boundaries of the Bloodwind’s old territory. Now that land was empty, except for a few struggling pockets of life that refused to die. The Bloodwind though, would not return, having grown fat raping the civilized lands.

Logan’s morbid thoughts were interrupted when his gift alerted him, a tingling sense that something unseen was lurking nearby. Betraying nothing of his suspicions, the young warrior slowly sat up and began untying Frostflower from his shoulders. At the same time, he stretched outward with his other senses, trying to get a hint of what was hidden and why.

His sharp nose detected the scents of leather and oil, the odor of unwashed bodies and piss, and the hint of…brimstone? There was a faint sound of metal scraping against rock and the moon’s soft light casting shadows across the rocky landscape with five shapes that should not be there. Logan suppressed a growl as he realized that he was ringed by five goblins, concealed by a hunting spell similar to the one he used. That explained how they got here ahead of him, some type of magic, but why didn’t they use it before?

It didn’t matter now. Surrounded, exhausted, with no avenue of escape, Logan felt his world crashing around him. He and Frostflower had come so far, had tried so hard, that to fail now would be the ultimate joke. Only the words, first uttered over a thousand years ago, surfaced in his mind, bringing it to clarity and focus.

“When possible, never fight the enemy on the ground of their choosing”, Logan Ironshield had said, “But when surrounded, with no possible retreat and death is certain, there is only one option…”

“In a death ground fight!”

With nothing to lose, Logan One-Eye, formerly known as Swiftpaw of the Bloodwind tribe, let the howling beast within him loose. Screaming his rage at the enemy, the Wolven warrior sprang from his crouch and charged up the slope. Drawing his obsidian blade from his belt, Logan slashed at the shadow that reared up in front of him. There was a sudden scream and a bright splash of blood, as the goblin, his face split open, staggered backwards.

Their ambush broken, the remaining goblins reacted, dropped their concealment and rushing the lone Wolven. One of them, his face and ears pieced by bone fetishes, hung back and began chanting in a harsh voice. Upon hearing this, Logan responded with a chant of his own and felt the protective presence of the spirit shield settle around him. The shaman finished his spell and threw a glowing bolt of green energy. The magic streaked across the battlefield, singeing Logan but mostly skidding off his mystic defenses.

Grinning savagely, the young warrior spun to the side and slammed his shoulder into the closest greenskin. His superior mass toppled his opponent and sent them both crashing to the ground. It was a mistake, for the surrounding goblins, not caring for their comrade’s safety, stabbed and chopped into the whirling mass of tawny fur and green flesh. Logan sprang away, bleeding from several wounds, his left arm hanging limply from his shoulder, but leaving the goblin lying motionless on the ground.

It was his last victory. Had Logan been at full fighting trim, he might have been able to take on the remaining greenskins and win. As it was his four-mile climb had exhausted him, his breath coming in great gasps as he tried to catch his breath in the thin air. The Wolven’s last reserves had been spent in that final charge and now that he was severely wounded had barely the strength to keep standing. The remaining two goblin warriors knew this as well and grinned evilly as got ready to attack him from two sides. At the same time, their shaman began preparing another spell and the Wolven knew that he didn’t have much time left.

Logan’s one regret was that he didn’t know what Frostflower said just as she went unconscious. Thinking about the Snowmaiden made the young warrior look towards her one last time. He wanted to burn her image into his memory to take with him when he entered Ragnar’s realm. It was then that Logan realized that Frostflower was no longer lying on the ground where he had left her.

Before Logan could ponder this sudden development the goblins attacked. The Wolven warrior managed to deflect a steel mace with his knife, but the blow’s force shattered his primitive weapon. He wasn’t fast enough to defend against the second goblin, who’s sword thrust came in on his blindside. Red sparks flashed across the Wolven’s vision as the blade bit deeply into his torso, penetrating a lung. Hacking up blood, Logan turned and swung a fist, still clutching his knife’s bone handle, smashing into the greenskin’s cheek with a devastating right hook. The Shaman’s chant finished and the Wolven screamed as a chunk of his right leg was blown off, causing him to fall. The mace-wielding goblin yipped in delight and raised his weapon high, preparing to cave in Logan’s skull.

“Spirits of the North Wind hear my cry! I Frostflower, your mistress, command thee! Grant me your power!”

The Snowmaiden’s clear voice brought joy to Logan’s heart and cries of terror from the goblins as an explosion of wind ripped through their ranks. Shards of ice tore into flesh and bone, turning the air red as the greenskins were flayed alive by Frostflower’s fury. In seconds it was over causing Logan to wonder in awe at the Snowmaiden’s power.

“Logan!” Frostflower as she ran over to him and bent down, her soft hands running over his bleeding and broken body. “Gods! You’re a mess!”

“Arghaaghsss…aaak,” Logan replied, unable to reply coherently as he coughed up more blood. He could feel the Snowflower’s healing touch begin to run through his torn body and he felt comforted by her presence, yet something at the back of his head was bothering him. There was still that lingering scent in the air, the odor that smell like…like…

Brimstone! Logan thought wildly as he suddenly pushed the startled Frostflower away just a bolt of fire exploded in the place between them.

“I had hoped my intervention would not be required, but it seems that my presence is needed,” a soft, almost effeminate voice said from the shadows. Logan and Frostflower both looked towards the speaker, a tall thin figure completed covered by a hooded purple robe.

“Who are you?” Frostflower demanded as she got to her feet.

“Heh heh,” the cowled figure chuckled as she pulled her hands out from the sleeves of her robe. “You do not remember. That is good. A remnant of the spell is working. That will make it easy to put you back to sleep and for winter’s grip to continue in this area.”

What did she say? Logan thought groggily, the pain from his injured body was making it hard to for him to understand what was going on. Winter’s grip?

“But because those incompetent vermin couldn’t take care of Katarein’s servant,” the woman continued as Logan caught the red flash of a jeweled ring on her right middle finger as she moved her pale hand up to her face. “I now have to risk revealing myself to that meddling goddess. However, killing him should solve that problem.”

“No! I will not permit it!” Frostflower cried back, raising her hands above her head as she summoned the wind again.

“Foolish girl! Its time for you to go back to sleep!” the robed figure answered as she kissed the ring and flung a bolt of fire. The sorceress’s attack flashed across the space between her and Frostflower, but splattered off the Snowmaiden’s hastily erected shield. The white-haired woman replied with her own power as a blast of stinging wind battered against the cowled figure’s mystic defenses.

“Eat…out…her…entrails…Frostflower!” Logan encouraged, still barely able to speak. Frostflower only smiled grimly in response, her brow furrowed in concentration as she continued her assault. To both of their surprise, the Sorceress recovered from her initial setback, dispelling the flesh-rending winds with a ring of flame that exploded outward. The fire swept across the battleground, engulfing the two companions. Logan snarled as the flames licked through the spirit shield to burn his tawny hide even as he tried to roll to protect his face. His heart screamed in anger and fear as he heard Frostflower cry out as she too was singed and swept off of her feet.

The Wolven’s concern for her was only slightly alleviated when the winds shifted to pick the Snowmaiden up and set her back upright. Unfortunately, Frostflower didn’t have time to renew her own attack as the Mage struck again, pressing her advantage as she sent bolt after fiery bolt hurling at the white-haired girl.

It was then that Logan realized what their opponent’s strategy was. The cowled woman was trying to wear out the Snowmaiden, initially goading her into attacking the Sorceress full force, and riposting, keeping Frostflower off balance and on the defensive. Once her prey was exhausted, the woman would cast her final spell and the battle would be over. He was obviously dismissed as not being a threat, his mauled condition making it obvious that he couldn’t intervene. Even if he could move, Logan knew he would be killed for the attempt.

What should I do? The Wolven asked himself as he searched his pain filled brain for answer. There were no words of wisdom from the past or present to tell him what to do. He could only watch helplessly as the battle continued, the two combatants having gradually shifted their positions, so that Logan was observing the battle from the side. It was clear that Frostflower wasn’t going to last much longer, her counter spells weakening with each attack. Logan ground his teeth in frustration as he watched the Mage kiss her ring again as she prepared to fling out another devastating assault.

Time seem to freeze as Logan suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. With an agonized growl, his crippled body began to move. Wounds tore open, burnt flesh cracked, and broken bones ground against each as the Wolven found the beast within him and embraced the raging spirit. With a savage howl Logan lurched to his feet and hurled himself at his enemy. The Sorceress’s head turned towards him, her eyes growing wide in shock.

“What? You dare!” the cowled woman cried out as she finished her casting, and blasted the exhausted Frostflower to the ground. The Mage’s cry of surprise turn into a painful wail as Logan grabbed her outstretched wrist with his and bit down on the fingers of her right hand.

“Arghh! Filthy beast! I will send you to hell!” the woman screamed as two of her fingers, including the one with ring, were torn off by the Wolven’s fangs. Sputtering in pain and fury, the mage quickly summoned her power again and slashed out at Logan with a crimson blade of fire. The magical attacked sheered through the young warrior’s defenses, sending him flying backward to land with a bone-crunching thud.

Logan, his body convulsing in agony, was only dimly aware of Frostflower screaming his name. Blinking open his one eye, the dying Wolven saw the Snowmaiden hurl the full might of the North Wind at their foe. The Sorceress, already weakened by the loss of her power focus, had left herself open in her need to revenge herself on Logan. Thus, she could do nothing more than curse their names as the ice magic stripped cloth and flesh from her body, picking it up, and sending her screaming over the side of the mountain.

And then everything went black, with Logan’s last memory of Frostflower calling his name again…

* * * * *

Consciousness came slowly, a gradual feeling of alertness that lifted Logan’s unaware mind into a more wakeful state. Smells came to him again, smells of soft leather, flowers, and white silken hair. Frostflower’s fragrance brought a smile to the Wolven’s face as he blinked opened one eye, his groggy mind whirling as it took in images of walls of reflective ice, a waterfall splashing into a pool filled with blue flowers, and the fur lined bead he laid on.

“I’m alive?” he said out loud and then laughed inwardly. Those were the first words he had spoken when Keshin had found and healed him after his tribe had cast him out a year ago.

“Yes,” Frostflower said from the side as the Wolven’s tufted ears twitched at the musical sound of her voice. Turning his head to the side, his yellow eye widened as he took in the Snowmaiden’s form. Her long white hair had been washed and comb, its ivory waves glinting with blue highlights cascading across her shoulders and down her back. Her blue eyes regarded him warmly as brushed she her hand against the fabric of her new dress.

The Snowmaiden was wearing a garment made of a delicate material that clung to her lithe form in lavender waves of silk. Thicker bits of a darker shade of cloth, shaped like flower petals, radiated outward from her bosom and over her shoulders. The dress was slit up both sides, revealing the flawless, smooth skin of the Frostflower’s legs and a translucent material covered her slender arms and neck. She was simply beautiful.

“I take it from that wide open mouth and dumbfounded expression that you like it?” Frostflower asked with a grin as she twirled around. Logan couldn’t answer but managed to at least close his jaws with a snap, causing the Snowmaiden to giggle merrily and waggle her finger at him in mock warning.

“I’m happy you like it, so I will I will take it as a thank you for hauling you down here. But if I have to ever drag your hairy butt around again I swear I will kill you myself!”

“Haha!” Logan laughed back, her bright mood contagious. The Wolven then grinned at her, his one eye glinting, as he spoke again more seriously. “I told you I would get you back safely.”

“I remember,” Frostflower said as she sat on the edge of the bed Logan was lying on. “I fell into a healing sleep when we finally reached the borders of my home. I was vaguely aware of a terrible danger that we were in and then you promising me over and over that you would take me home.”

“Heh, well I did manage that,” Logan replied as his face took on a puzzled expression. “What did that woman mean, releasing winter’s grip?”

“I am one of the Guardian’s of the North Wind Logan,” the Snowmaiden said sagely, her head turning away to stare at the ice waterfall. “My duties are to maintain natures balance in this area, including the flow of the seasons. Now that I have returned I return the weather back to normal.”

“Which means you have to stay here,” the Wolven said quietly as the implications of this dawned on him.

“Yes,” Frostflower nodded, her voice sad as she turned back to regard him, her azure eyes shimmering with emotion. “And it also means you can’t remain here either.”

“Frostflower…”

“Logan, your destiny lies elsewhere,” the Snowmaiden said as she stood and gestured around her, “not here on some forlorn mountain top. Though you and any you bring will always be welcome here.”

Logan remained silent when he heard this, knowing her words true. His dream, the bringing of the Wolven tribes out their brutal savagery and restoring their place in the world, would be impossible to achieve if he remained with Frostflower. As much as he wanted to stay, Logan knew he needed a purpose in his life and that he wouldn’t find it here.

“However,” Frostflower said in a low voice that suddenly grabbed attention. “It doesn’t mean I can’t say goodbye in a fashion we both would enjoy.”

With these words, the Snowmaiden undid her dress’s fastening at her shoulders, causing the garment to drop and pool around her feet. Logan looked on in shock as he took in her naked glory, watching as Frostflower bent over him to kiss him on the forehead. That soft touch broke the spell over him and he reached around the Snowmaiden’s slender form to pull her against his massive frame. Logan then discovered that Frostflower had done a good job in healing his wounds his body had sustained…

…And his heart as well.

* * * * *

“So what happened next?” Lady Katarein asked Logan as she back in her chair in her study, her black riding boots casually resting on the oak desk in front of her, next to a steel short sword. In front of the goddess, the dead Mage’s jeweled ring hung in midair, spinning slowly, as Katarein idly examined it while sipping some red wine.

“Frostflower used her regained power to return me to the mountain’s base,” Logan replied, once more bowed on one leg. This time Katarein’s form wasn’t nearly as imposing. Her height had shrunk to a more comfortable six foot eight inches and her features had taken on a more girlish, yet sensuous appearance. Logan wondered if the goddess was trying to make him feel at ease.

The Wolven didn’t take any chances though. He stayed down.

“After that,” Logan continued with his report, “I sold some of the goblin’s weapons to a merchant to compensate for the loss of the pony and returned here, keeping the ring and that sword for you to look at.”

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Lady Katarein comment as she picked up the blade in front of her and turned it over in her slender hands. “Dwarven work, but its maker’s marking have been gouged out, interesting. You are sure that mage didn’t mention a name or anything else?”

“No Lady,” Logan thinking hard, then shaking his head.

“Too bad, I will just have to chalk it up as another unknown meddler trying to make trouble.”

Logan remained silent, not saying that the ‘meddler’ had said the same thing about Katarein.

“Well you should be happy to hear that with Frostflower’s return to her home the weather patterns in that region should stabilize. In a year, when the Bloodwind are finally pushed out of the civilized areas, they will be able to return to their traditional tribal lands without fear of starvation.”

Logan nodded, that was good at least, though his heart still missed the Snowmaiden’s presence.

Katarein chuckled, as if reading his mind, as she poured herself another glass.

“Still, all in all, I am pleased by your performance Logan One-Eye,” the goddess said making the young warrior suddenly look up at her in surprise.

“I thought I was just a beast to you,” Logan said carefully, which caused Katarein to chuckle even more as she swished her wineglass.

“We are all beasts inside Logan,” Katarein answered as she watched the ruby liquid swirl around, her green eyes narrowed in contemplation. “The question is, does the beast control you or you it?”

Turning back towards him, the goddess regarded Logan coolly over the rim of her glass as she spoke again.

“If it hadn’t been for your Wolven heritage, you wouldn’t have had the fighting spirit needed to overcome all of the trials you and Frostflower encountered. And, if it weren’t for that clever mind of yours, you wouldn’t have succeeded in your mission either. Only by using the two together were you able to complete your quest.”

Logan nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth of her words, but then another question surfaced in his mind.

“My name?” he asked the Sorceress.

“Well, lots of parents name their sons Logan, it isn’t that uncommon of a name! So I decided to indulge your little dream,” Katarein said with a grin. “Consider it an additional award for your good work, which reminds me.

“Your new boots, use them well” Katarein said as she reached underneath her desk and brought out a pair of fine leather boots, well oiled, and studded with silver rivets. After tossing them to Wolven who easily caught them she waved her hand dismissal. “Now get out of here, go enjoy Elspeth’s cooking and relax. You’ve earned it.”

Logan nodded, bowing his head again before getting back up and heading out. Just as he opened door to exit the study, he heard Lady Katarein speak one last time.

“Stay alive Logan One-Eye,” she said as the Wolven warrior turned his head back to her, the goddess examining the floating ring again. Something in Katarein’s expression chilled him as he once again felt the fringes of her power touch him. “I might have use of you in the future.”

“Aye, I’ll do that,” Logan answered as he closed the door behind him glad to leave the goddess to her work. It was good advice. After all, if he were dead he wouldn’t be able to see Frostflower again.

Laughing out loud at his private joke, Logan One-Eye strode out of the Ivory tower and back into the sunlight, a little bit more ready to face the life ahead of him.

FINIS

Author’s notes:

First a big thank you to Ehlanna whose proofreading saved me from horrible embarrassment, to the other prereaders Shadow Wolf, Shara, and Lew for their feedback and encouragement, and to Meiri who just knawed on my head.

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