"Elves of the Northern Vale" A Tundrawolf Story

The Fallen

Quickly it was done for the Dark Lord could see the large pack of wolves as they approached the depression where the battle had taken place. He could not see the wolves themselves as they were too far away, but through the gloom of the ending day he could see the golden light burning within each one. He watched as they swarmed over the battlefield and knew it would not be long before they came this way.

Also not too far behind the wolves came the white light almost too bright to look upon. It was the strongest force of the Good Magick he had ever seen and he shuddered every time he looked at it. He knew it to be an Elf and assumed it was a powerful Mage traveling with two others much weaker and a handful of the big wolves. It never occurred to him that although the Elf was strong in the Good Magick it might be young and inexperienced in its use. The small band was still a ways out on the plain but moving fast to catch up with the large pack. The Dark Lord knew even if he sacrificed every slave here he would not be strong enough to face such power. He knew he must take his meager force and leave, he would fight another day.

The Dark Lord looked once more to the gateway into the fell lands. He could see the pillars of Good Magick as they stood against the ancient swirling magick of the Fell Ice. He did not know if they could pass into these lands, but he knew they must try. He hoped the Black Magick within them would meld with the ancient magick beyond. He was almost certain a creature of Good Magick could not pass through the gateway. They would be crushed and consumed by the forces of the ancient evil.

*****

Katyr, Halamar and Orist along with Shadowback and his pack met the large group of Saddlebacks they were following just before the site of the battlefield. Feelings of joy and relief could be felt from Shadowback as he joined up with his two daughters on the plain. Introductions with the rest of the Saddlebacks were put off for now as the Elves dismounted to begin a slow walk around the depression looking for survivors in the bloody snow. Rock Ravens could be heard screaming as they flew away with wolves chasing them. The scavenging birds were not happy at having their feast interrupted. Wolves not chasing the birds began lining up around the edge of the bowl. They softly started to howl to the darkening sky for their lost kin. The three young Elves grieved with them as they walked amongst the dead. Many of the Elves they had known and some had even been friends.

The three Elves could see the valiant Valen Guard and the soldiers of the Northern Boulders-edge Outpost made a mighty accounting of themselves with their golden steeds and the powerful Tundra Wolves of the Osprey Clan. The little blood soaked bowl was filled with many more times dead barbarian bodies and black wolf carcasses than those of the Elves and the Saddlebacks. Horrific wounds confronted them when they looked upon the dead barbarians. They could not understand why such terrible mutilation happened here. Also amongst the dead were women and children, all dying the same abhorrent way as the men. These bodies bore the same wounds as those littering the trail out on the plain, except for those torn limb from limb by the savage jaws of the Saddlebacks they followed here. Most were missing their heads as well as an arm or a leg, or both. The three Elves wondered what dark magic must have drove these people and why it was that so many were beheaded.

After walking throughout the bottom of the bowl where most of the dead lay the three young Elves moved to walk the snowy edge at the top. They were almost all the way around when Katyr noticed a faint spark of the White Magic deep within the snow. He could see it under the dead body of a mighty golden stallion. The three pulled the horse away and underneath they found the small body of the Battle Mage Glynfiel. Halamar and Orist laid blankets out while Katyr gently picked her up and placed her upon them.

Katyr sat beside the Mage and held her hands while looking deep into himself at the White Magic within. His two friends were amazed as they watched the feeble spark of White Magic within the small Mage build to a flame. In minutes the little Battle Mage was sitting up shaking her head and looking about. She looked down on the depression in the snow and sadly began to weep. It was too dark to see the carnage amongst the shadows below but she knew her friends lay there.