Michael Mathias - The Wizard and the Warlord

The lieutenant froze in shock. He’d never seen such a huge creature. Its wide, round head was as big as a horse’s rump, and its tiny black eyes were full of something akin to rage. Nevertheless, without hesitation, he drew his blade and stepped protectively over Oarly, who was struggling in the deep snow.

“No!” Hyden tried to change his course away from them. He knew, though, that it was too late. The lieutenant was committed to protect the dwarf. A sadness came over Hyden that nearly caused him to falter. The last thing he wanted to happen was for the bear to get hurt. He didn’t understand why Oarly hadn’t fled with the others like he had told him to. Now, disaster was impending as Hyden streaked past and the bear turned its attention to the other two.

It was hard to say who screamed louder: Oarly, the lieutenant, or Hyden.

“Dien,” a huge, bellowing voice thundered through the valley, overpowering all of them. “Sepan Leif! Dien! Dien!” the voice continued. Then in the unmistakable common tongue, the same voice said, “Stay your sword, man!”

To everyone’s amazement, the bear, which was right upon them, lurched and veered past. The lieutenant’s immaculately kept steel passed only inches from the creature’s skin. In fact, a tuft of fur came floating lazily down toward the wide-eyed, shock-frozen dwarf at his feet.

Hyden dodged and twisted. He had expected to hear the grunting collision of flesh on flesh, or the lieutenant’s armor crunching beneath the impact of the animal’s great weight, but he didn’t. Instead, he heard Borg. Not sure if the creature was still on his heels, he dove to the side and tumbled to a stop.

“Bahhh,” Oarly growled as he got to his feet.

Hyden shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs brought on by his tumble. His face was hot and stinging from where branches had raked and slapped it on his flight through the trees. His body was glazed in sweat, and now he was freezing, especially from his knees down where he was soaked from running through the stream.

Suddenly, Telgra’s shrill scream cut through the air. Phen called her name twice from inside the wooded area at the valley bottom and then let out a yell himself.

Just as Hyden was finally able to turn and look in that direction, a big, hot-breathed muzzle engulfed his face. There were teeth and wild eyes. For a moment he thought it was the bear, but it wasn’t. A huge, slobbering tongue sloshed across his cheek. The sensation, even the smell of the creature’s breath, was familiar. Huffa didn’t wait for his recollection. She pounced on him and began licking him as if he were a piece of salt rock.

The low, insistent growling of another pair of great wolves held Oarly’s attention. The terrified dwarf was on his feet now, his dagger in one hand, and a small hatchet in the other. The wolves weren’t growling at him, though. They were growling at the huge bear they were trying to herd away from the group.

“Urge her home, Oof,” Borg called from the top of a rocky precipice at the head of the valley.

Standing there, with his staff in hand, silhouetted by the clear blue sky, he looked thirty feet tall, like some dark-robed arctic god. He was only half that height, but to those who had never seen a full-blooded giant he was as imposing as could be. Even the white-furred great wolves looked huge.

Borg started striding down the slope in that long, loping gait that only giants can manage.

Telgra’s shrill shriek split the valley again, only this time it was tinged with delight, instead of terror. A moment later, she and Phen came out of the trees. She was riding one of King Aldar’s great wolves, while Phen was jogging along beside them. Both were grinning broadly.

“Well met, Hyden Hawk,” said Borg, with a smile. Unlike the primitive-looking breed giants, Borg looked like a thrice overgrown man. While Oarly found this frightening, Phen and Lady Telgra were intrigued by his size. The soldiers had seen Borg when he was in Dreen, so to them, he was familiar. To all of them, his presence was both encouraging and a relief at the same time.

“I hope you're being sarcastic, my old friend,” Hyden said. He stood and ruffled the scruff of Huffa’s neck, then began brushing the icy debris off of his soaking wet britches.

“In those furred cloaks, I thought you were a pack of gremlets,” Borg laughed. “I almost let nature take its course. Only your bowman's horse bolting through the trees gave you away.”

“Thank you for intervening,” Lieutenant Welch said. “Come on down, lads. Hobble the horses and build us a fire. Sir Hyden Hawk will be needing some heat.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Hyden.

“They are beautiful.” Telgra looked up at Borg from the back of a young male great wolf.

“His name is Yip,” Borg replied, taking in her elven features. Her amber gaze made her look wild. “I think he likes you.” Borg’s eyes scanned the others but then stopped on Phen. After a moment, he burst into a deep, rumbling laugh.

Phen scowled up at him and then glared at Hyden.

“Ah, young Phen,” Borg sighed through his glee. “Hyden Hawk has told me much about you and your predicament.”

“It’s not funny,” Phen said.

“No, I suppose it’s not funny to you,” Borg agreed. The giant looked at the soldiers leading the hesitant horses back into the valley. Then he glanced around the area until he saw Oarly. The dwarf was staring up at him and shivering.

“Master Dwarf,” Borg said, bending at the waist to extend a hand down toward him.

Oarly looked unsure as to what to do with a hand that could cover his whole head as if it were an apple. Slowly he reached up, grabbed two of Borg’s fingers, and shook them in greeting.

“Let’s make camp here,” Hyden ordered from his place by the pile of deadfall that Jicks was trying to light. “I would like to visit my friend’s resting place, and I need to speak to the Southern Guardian alone.”

Just then, Spike leapt out of the saddle pack in which he had been riding. The poor lyna was trembling with terror from the scent of the wolves. It leapt to the ground toward Phen, but the little spiked cat could do no more than hop a few inches at a time through the deep, fluffy snow.

“No!” Phen yelled sharply when Yip darted his nose in to sniff the creature.

The wolf jumped back, yelping loudly. One of Spike’s needle-sharp quills was sticking out of its nose and Telgra was thrown from it’s back. Being elven, Telgra’s reflexes and grace allowed her to land well. Rising from her cat-like crouch, she fought away a flush of embarrassment and went to pick up the frightened lyna cat.

“Get yourself dry, then go, Hyden,” Lieutenant Welch said after a moment. “If you two leave a few of those wolves behind to keep the bear away, we will be all right until you return.”

Huffa left Hyden Hawk’s side, and after growling and nudging at Yip, she took up a position a little above the camp where she could see the bulk of the valley. Yip wagged his way over to Borg, who checked the wolf’s nose and gave him a loving pat on the head. After only a few minutes by the fire, Hyden, Borg, and two of the great wolves started into the trees to cross the valley.

Hyden saw the miraculous sight long before they were upon it. A ring that was twenty paces across formed of bright blue flowers encircled the rock pile grave where Loudin was buried. Despite the fact that it was mid-autumn, the flowers were in full bloom.

The man had died saving Ironspike from Pael’s evil minions. Hyden remembered watching the sword tumble through the air only to bury itself in the center, where they later buried their friend. The blade’s powerful magic no doubt fueled the magical growth. It was like a droplet of spring in an otherwise snow-covered opening in the forest.