The Wolf Pack

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Book excerpt

Prologue

The Most High of Kalhera looked at his visitor.

'This is most irregular. What you propose is possible, but forbidden.'

The magister replied, 'I realise that, Your Holiness. That's why I've come to see you. I need your permission to perform the rite and to provide a cleric who can do it.'

'You would deny Kalhera some souls. She doesn't like that, you know. If you deny her these, she will demand some others in recompense. That is the way.'

The magister looked the Most High in the eye. He held the gaze of the other as he told him, 'It will not be for all time.'

He held up his hand as the Most High opened his mouth to speak. 'I cannot say for how long these souls will be denied to Kalhera,' he went on. 'It may be a few years, or it may be millennia. Your Holiness, I have had a dream. Sometime in the future, these souls will be returned. Please, grant me permission to perform the rite.'

The Most High looked at the magister and then he rose. 'I will go and commune with the goddess. If she permits it, I will grant you both your requests, permission to perform the rite, and a cleric to perform it. I believe it requires both a Cleric of Death and a mage?'

With that, the Most High of Kalhera, Goddess of Death and the Underworld left the room through a door obscured by a black curtain.

* * *

They carried the body of their king across the land and over the mountains until they reached the place he had asked to be his final resting-place.

High mountains surrounded a deep, forested valley with a steaming lake in the bottom. Warm water fed the lake from deep within the volcanic mountains. It had been the king's favourite place in the entire world, albeit not in his own lands. Here, he had met his true love. She was not mortal, but his love had been reciprocated and he wished to be near her in death.

They buried their king in a burial mound that they prepared and then they built two others, one on each side. They interred their king with due ceremony even though only fourteen of them came to the funeral. The magister had half-expected a fifteenth, but then she may have been watching from hiding. The king had loved this shy nymph above all others and had decreed he should be buried near her. Then, he looked at the others.

'Are you all ready?' the elven magister asked the assembled young warriors.

'Yes!' they chorused.

He looked round the group of twelve. They were so young. He had asked for volunteers, and they were all more than eager. At least at the beginning. Now, one or two of them seemed more than a little afraid. Not that he could blame them. He had asked a very frightening thing of them.

He noticed trembling in the youngest of them. A lad of only sixteen turns of the sun, and yet he had volunteered readily enough when asked. The old elf sighed. Better give them one last chance to change their minds. He hoped that not too many did or maybe there would not be sufficient for the task. Certainly, the tome in which he had found the ceremony recommended twelve, but maybe fewer would suffice.

'There is no censure to any who wish to change their minds. It is a fearsome thing you are volunteering to do.'

One member of the group looked at the youngest. 'Are you all right, Bry?' he said. 'No one will think you a coward if you withdraw.'

'Maybe not, but I would,' replied the young man. 'I said I'd do it, and do it I will.'

'So be it,' the mage said. 'Form the circle.'

The twelve young men formed a circle around the mage and the cleric of Kalhera, who had also accompanied them on their journey. They drew their weapons and knelt, sword tips on the ground and hands clasped over the hilts. They bowed their heads.

The young man known as Bry closed his eyes. He did not know what to expect, only the outcome. The mage could almost feel his fear. The others felt it too, but they were all warriors and none of them, not even Bry, allowed it to affect their determination to go through with it.

Bry heard the cleric begin his chant in the centre of the circle, and then the mage joined with his own. The two psalms seemed to weave around each other, in and out until the two men seemed to be singing one hymn.

'A bit like a choir singing in harmony,' Bry thought.

He felt a little strange, light-headed almost, and then came a sudden wrenching pain that seemed to be accompanied by a crack.

It went almost as soon as he felt it and he wondered if the spell had failed. He dared to open his eyes. Yes, something had gone wrong for there were his companions still kneeling in place. He glanced down at himself. Yes, there were his hands grasping his sword. But just a moment! What lay in front of him?

With horror, he realised his own body lay on the ground where he was looking. The spell had worked after all. He had truly died but the spell had tied his soul to Vimar. He would remain here to guard the body of his King until the prophesied time came.

The group of twelve warriors looked at their bodies. A little sadly, thought Bry. He himself thought of all the things he had not done in his sixteen years. He would never now marry and have the love and companionship of a woman, never hear his children and grandchildren laughing and playing. Never again eat a good meal or get drunk with his companions. For centuries to come, he would patrol this lake and the hidden tomb in the caves below, protecting them from harm until the eight came. The Wolves.

Chapter 1  - The Duke

The Duke of Hambara looked at the four people that his butler, Daramissillo, had shown into his study. They were an odd-looking bunch—an apprentice mage, a novice cleric of Sylissa, the goddess of healing, a fierce-looking dwarf, and a tall man who, judging from his appearance, came from a land far to the south.

'Now, tell me who you are and why you are here,' he told them, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on the desk. He looked from one to the other.

The young elven novice spoke.

'My name is Aspholessaria, Your Grace,' she said, looking into his blue eyes with her clear, grey ones, 'but people in the human lands call me Asphodel. The others are Carthinal,' she indicated the apprentice mage, 'Basalt and Fero.' She pointed to the dwarf and the tall, dark foreigner.

The man she had introduced as Carthinal handed the duke a letter.

'This is from Duke Danu of Bluehaven for you, Your Grace.'

The duke looked at the address and seal before he turned over the letter. It was Danu's seal all right and addressed to Duke Rollo of Hambara with the little flourish that Danu always put on his addresses. He smiled to himself at his friend's little eccentricities. Danu still dabbled in magic too, although he had to give it up before taking his tests due to the death of his elder brother in an epidemic. Unfortunately for him, he had to begin training to be a duke, not a mage.

Rollo looked up from the letter before picking up a knife and slitting the seal. He read it, looked up at the four companions, and then read it again. After the second reading, he put it down on his desk and turned to them.

'This letter tells me that a man called Mabryl would be bringing it to me and that he would have a token to prove it's from Duke Danu. You need to tell me where Mabryl is and why he hasn't brought it himself. Also, where is the token?'

The Duke looked severely at the four. This seemed highly suspicious to him. A letter from Danu saying some very odd things about a prophecy and that a mage, one man not four people, would deliver the letter.

'Mabryl was my master, Your Grace,' Carthinal said, 'and my adoptive father. We were on our way here for me to perform my tests. Just as we crossed the Brundella River, a flash flood swept down on us.'

Carthinal's voice broke as he said this and Rollo thought there may be some truth in what they were saying. The young half-elf was clearly upset. He decided to hear them out and ask a few more questions before having the guards throw them out.

'I heard nothing about a flood,' snapped the duke. 'Tell me about it.'

Asphodel began to speak, as it seemed that emotion overcame Carthinal for a moment.

'We were crossing the Brundella when a wall of water swept down on the caravan. It swept away everything and everyone.' Here she swallowed before carrying on.

'Men, women and children—it spared no one except three of us, no four because at that time Mabryl was still alive.' She dropped her voice to almost a whisper.

'I still hear the screams of the children in my sleep. The horses, too. Blood filled the water from where shafts had penetrated the poor beasts' sides.' Her eyes filled with tears and the dwarf, Basalt, patted her arm to comfort her.

Basalt then took up the story.

'Your Grace, the flood swept me downstream, but thanks to the goodness of Roth,' he mentioned the god of mining and metalworking, 'It washed me ashore a little downstream. I caught up with Asphodel, Carthinal and Mabryl. Carthinal had built what he calls a travois to pull Mabryl on. We continued together after that. Fero met us later when Mabryl had died.'

The duke rang the bell on his desk. The door opened and Daramissillo entered.

'Have you heard anything about the caravan from Hambara?' Duke Rollo asked him.

'No, Your Grace. Nothing really, except that it seems to be very late. That sometimes happens, of course, so no one is worried, yet.'

'Thank you, Daramissillo. You may go,' The duke turned from his butler back to the four standing before him. 'Well, so far there is nothing to say your story isn't true. I'll ask around about the caravan. Now, tell me why you haven't got the token from Duke Danu.'

Carthinal swallowed. They'd lost it due to his carelessness. He looked into the duke's eyes with his deep blue ones.

'After Mabryl died, Your Grace, I took his pack. I knew he had a letter for you with a figurine. He told me that it would reassure you that he was a genuine messenger.'

Carthinal did not tell him that Mabryl had also said that Duke Danu thought that Duke Rollo tended towards suspicion and would want confirmation as to the genuineness of the letter.

He continued. 'I had it in my pouch when we were on our way here, but a pickpocket managed to cut my pouch and with it went the figurine.'

'Hmm. Can you tell me what the figurine is?'

'Yes, Your Grace. A trotting horse about three inches long and two high and made of gold.'

The duke made no reply to this, preferring to keep his own counsel until he knew a bit more about these people. The letter worried him, if true, but the messengers were not the same as the letter led him to expect. This worried him more than the contents. He had to be certain of the veracity of this message if he were to act on it.

'There was something else in this letter. Something about a prophecy that was in a book that Mabryl had found. One that he thought dated back to before the Forbidding. Danu thinks he might be right and that it is truly a lost spellbook. What do you know about that?'

Asphodel, Basalt and Fero looked blankly at the duke, but Carthinal spoke up.

'Your Grace,' he said, 'I found a piece of paper in the book. It claimed to be a prophecy from The Oracle but wasn't dated. I can tell you what it said if you wish.'

'Do so.'

'When Kalhera descends from the mountains and orcs once more walk the land,'

'When impossible beasts occur and the Never-Dying Man is once more at hand'

'Then the sword that was lost must once more be found'

'Only it can destroy the threat'

And kill the immortal mortal to balance out his debt.'

The Duke said nothing to this but once more picked up the letter, then ringing his bell again, he called Daramissillo. back into the room.

'Escort these people to the door, please, and send one of the guards to escort them off the premises. When you've done that, come back here.'

A few minutes later, Daramissillo entered Duke Rollo's study.

'Those young people,' Rollo began, 'I want you to find out as much as you can about them. Where they go, what they do, whom they see. Make sure they don't leave the city just yet. The mage will be going to the mage Tower for his tests I expect, and the novice to the Temple of Syllissa. Ask Magister Robiam and the Great Father to come to see me as soon as they are able.'

Daramissillo bowed and quietly left as Duke Rollo leaned back in his chair to reread the letter and think.

* * *

Once they left the gates of the Ducal Palace in Hambara, the four stopped in the square. Many market stalls graced the open area in the very centre of the city. Carthinal ran his hands through his shoulder-length, auburn hair.

'That didn't go very well,' he exclaimed. 'I don't think the Duke believed us. Oh, what a pity I let my guard down and lost that figurine.'

'He might still not have believed us,' pointed out Basalt. 'We could easily have killed Mabryl and stolen the thing.'

Asphodel looked pensive. 'But, why would we do that and then come to give him the note? Surely thieves would just have sold the valuables and thrown the note away.'

Carthinal looked down at her. She seemed innocent. He supposed that a cleric, even a novice, would not have met much in the way of the real world. He smiled.

'There is a thing called “casing the joint,” ' he told her. 'Thieves look at ways to get into a place and what they can steal once in there. The Duke of Hambara is a rich man and it would be worth a heist.'

Asphodel looked sceptical. 'Are you suggesting the Duke thought we were thieves? I'm a cleric of Sylissa. Why would he think I'm a thief?'

'Thieves can disguise themselves as many things, Asphodel,' Carthinal told her. 'Even clerics.'

She looked disgusted at the thought and looking at all three of them she said, 'I must be off to the temple. You aren't the only one to have a letter, Carthinal. I have one for the Great Father, although I don't suppose he knows about it yet.'

Carthinal watched her go through the crowds towards the area of the city where the temples were built. He sighed. He thought her very beautiful with her long, black hair and her grey eyes that held a steely determination. He remembered her anger at him when he tried to give her orders on their journey. His temper did not faze her at all. He would probably never see her again; a thought that made him sad.

He roused himself from his reverie and turned to his two companions, noticing that Basalt had been watching him closely.

'I must go, too,' he told them. 'I need to report to the tower. I'll come back to the inn later. The tests don't start for a couple more days.' He held out his hand and shook the hands of Fero and Basalt and set off for his destination.

He soon arrived at the Tower, situated at the edge of the Temple District. A high wall surrounded it. Inside the wall, he saw a green area with shady paths and pavilions. At the gate, a young apprentice met him.

'Hello, I'm Dabbock. You must be Carthinal,' he said. 'You're the last one for the tests. Follow me and I'll show you where to go.'

Dabbock led Carthinal through the grounds to the Tower. They entered through highly-carved double-doors.

As soon as they got inside, Carthinal stopped and looked about him.

The Tower seemed too small for the large, round room. Stairs wound up the wall on the opposite side and stairs went down too. The room had chairs and low tables scattered around, some of which were occupied.

Dabbock laughed at Carthinal's disorientation. 'Yes, it gets everyone like that at first. This room really is bigger than the outside.'

Carthinal's eyes widened as he turned to Dabbock.

'How is that possible?' he asked.

'Well, as I understand it, it's something to do with a node of mana. This node here can be used to manipulate space. The old mages, before The Forbidding, used it so they could have much more room than they were allocated to build the Tower. I don't really understand it. I don't think anyone now does either.'

'Well, I certainly don't. It's weird. Look, Dabbock, I have something here for Archmage Yssilithisandra. Where would I find her?'

'She's probably in the library. She's researching lost spells so spends a lot of time in there. Go up the stairs to the second floor. That's the library.'

'I've never met the archmage, Dabbock. How will I know who she is?'

Dabbock laughed. 'That's easy. Just look for a beautiful, golden-haired elf poring over books like there's no one else in the world. That'll be her.'

Carthinal mounted the stairs to the second floor. He looked around the bookshelves and quickly saw the archmage. Dabbock had spoken truly. She had a lovely face. Her work obviously engrossed her. She had her head bent over a large book and seemed to see little else. He crossed between the shelves until he found himself standing in front of her.

'Archmage?' he began.

She looked up, frowning. 'What is it? I'm rather busy.'

'I have something for you. My master, Mabryl, bought it in Bluehaven and thought it may interest you.'

'Really?' She looked up. 'Where is Mabryl? Why hasn't he brought it to me himself? And who are you?'

Carthinal looked down at his feet. 'I'm Carthinal, ma'am, Mabryl's apprentice and adopted son. I'm afraid he couldn't bring it himself, Archmage. He died on the way here. A flash flood swept down on the Brundella, and although I managed to pull him out, he'd hit his head rather hard. That and being so long in the water…'

The Archmage looked at the book that Carthinal handed to her.

'This is most important, Carthinal,' she said, hardly able to contain herself. 'I do believe it's a spell book from before The Forbidding.'

Many centuries before, there had been a war between rival groups of mages. The populace suffered the most and when it ended, the king of the time banned the use of magic on pain of death. He also ordered all books of magic to be burned, although a few were hidden and occasionally came to light.

In spite of the fact that a later king had lifted the ban on the use of magic, mages were still often held in suspicion. Since many spells had been lost during this time, mages like Yssalithisandra had decided to devote their time to researching them.

Carthinal smiled at the elf's enthusiasm. She seemed like a little kid with a new toy. She clutched the book to her chest as if she thought Carthinal would take it back. As if I would know what to do with it if I did, he thought.

Then, she became serious. 'I must study this in depth, Carthinal, so if you'll excuse me…' She sat down once more at the desk and opened the book very carefully.

Carthinal left her to her studies and descended the stairs to the ground floor for a briefing about the tests.

Once more in the impossibly large room, Carthinal met the other five apprentices due to take their tests this time. Six apprentices at a time took the tests as people considered six a lucky number.

Carthinal particularly liked a young man called Grimmaldo. Grimmaldo had a wicked twinkle in his eyes and he came out with amusing comments. He had blue eyes and brown hair and his face, while not particularly good looking, showed his personality quite plainly.

One of his companions he could not like. Hammevaro had long, blonde hair that he kept on tossing to draw attention to it. He knew just how attractive others found his face, but not how unattractive they found his personality. He let it be known that he would certainly pass the tests and to do better than all the others.

The others were a rather plain girl called Olepeca, a tall, lanky, young man called Laurre, and a black-haired elf that reminded Carthinal superficially of Asphodel, but she had muddy-brown eyes instead of clear, grey ones, and she also had the attitude that humans were beneath her. As for half-elves like Carthinal, well…

After the briefing by an archmage called Tharron, Grimmaldo suggested they all go out to explore the town. This they readily agreed to, except for Ebressaria, the elf. She said she would stay in and study.

After visiting a few inns and taverns, Grimmaldo suddenly said, 'Hey, isn't this The Warren? The place where the thieves hang out?'

Sure enough, the little group had wandered into that area. They did not call it The Warren for nothing. A maze of little streets wound around, crossing and re-crossing. The smells made the apprentices wrinkle their noses and hurry to get out of the place.

As they wandered round trying to find the way out, Carthinal suddenly began to chant. Grimmaldo recognised the spell. Why would Carthinal want to put someone to sleep? Then, the young mage released the spell and a red-haired boy at the end of the street yawned and lay down in the road, fast asleep.

'What the…' spluttered Grimmaldo.

Carthinal turned as he sped away towards where the boy lay.

'He stole something of mine this morning,' he explained, 'I'm going to get it back.'