“You could be right, sorcerer.” Iron Eyes chuckled.
“You laughing means what?”
“The magic here is familiar. Old Gods magic, crudely done. The kind the Aelen Kofer have worked for thousands of years. The Bastard would appear to be self-taught and hasn’t had to operate around people who know what he’s doing.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s never dealt with anybody who knows what he’s doing. Was I that opaque?”
The Aelen Kofer began to jabber all at once, in their own language. Heris remarked, “Sounds more like a gang of crows than a gang of crows.”
Aelen Kofer, and Iron Eyes in particular, were conservative where their dignity was concerned. Jarneyn heard Heris. He bellowed. The bickering stopped. Jarneyn barked something else, the essence of which must have been that it was time to get to work.
There was a plan. Despite all the noise. The dwarves jumped to it.
They ignored the gateway. Parties broke through the rail fence fifty yards to either hand, behind potent protective spells. Two parties of ten dwarves each advanced parallel to the remainder of a road. Four dwarves from each breach came along the fence, toward the gateway. Other fours followed the fence going away.
The rest of the company, fifteen Aelen Kofer including Iron Eyes, waited with Heris and Februaren. Jarneyn said, “You two keep your heads down. Pretend you’re not even here. You can be a big, ugly surprise if we need one.”
“That makes sense.”
Heris said, “Sure. Let him think it’s the past catching up when he’s really getting mugged by the future.”
Iron Eyes scowled. He did not understand Heris.
The crows became distressed. They tried swarming the dwarves. The Aelen Kofer did not mind. The birds could not hurt them. Helmets, beards, and armor protected them perfectly. Still, they were covered with gore and feathers when the birds left off.
The parties of four reached the gateway. They talked to Iron Eyes. One dwarf was kind enough to choose a language Cloven Februaren could follow. He delivered an entirely technical report about the architecture of the sorcery protecting the forest island.
In the Aelen Kofer view it was crude peasant fieldstone construction compared to an Aelen Kofer finely crafted formulation.
The craftsmen went to work on the gateway.
Minutes later Iron Eyes said, “The way is open, now.” He trundled through the gateway. “Definitely instinctual work. All self-discovery. But still damned powerful.”
“Must be nice to have a god for your mom,” Heris said. “All that kick-ass power. He must’ve been hell on wheels when he was a baby.”
Iron Eyes launched a tedious exposition about demigods not coming into their powers till puberty.
Cloven Februaren interrupted, “Another benefit: He’s been around and healthy for about a half-dozen centuries.”
Heris gave him a look but did not comment.
Iron Eyes, irked at being cut off, got in no hurry going forward. But, then, haste was a killer when dealing with sorcerous defenses. “Ah. And here come the wolves. We definitely caught this mob napping.”
These wolves were of a breed unknown to Februaren. Those now becoming scarce in Firaldia were gray and mastiff size. These had dark tan and almost black coats on their backs. They were larger. Some might go two hundred pounds. There were a lot of them and they were ferociously upset.
The Aelen Kofer did not mind the wolves, either. Foursomes crouched in a little shielded square and hacked at anything in reach. When one square broke under a torrent of wolves the dwarves just rolled up in balls and let their armor protect them while crossbows elsewhere worked on their attackers.
Februaren asked, “Why would the Bastard think wolves would be effective against people in armor?”
Heris snapped, “He doesn’t get many visitors wearing armor?”
Iron Eyes told her, “He doesn’t get any wearing Aelen Kofer armor. These beasts would shred regular mail like rotted cloth. You two get into the center, here. You aren’t wearing Aelen Kofer armor.”
Iron Eyes’s party formed concentric circles round Heris and Februaren.
The wolves came. All of them. Once. They tried leaping the outer ring. Many suffered from upward thrusts of spear, sword, or ax. But they were amazing jumpers. Several smashed into dwarves of the inner circle, on the fly, and bowled the Aelen Kofer over.
Februaren took Heris’s hand. They turned sideways. They then stood inside the tree line of the woods beyond the fence and observed.
The dwarves of the outer circle did not break discipline. They did not turn to help those behind them. They let Iron Eyes and his companions dispatch the wounded wolves.
The two parties paralleling the road stopped to lend supporting fires.
The wolves recognized failure quickly. The biggest and darkest howled. The survivors raced away, too fast to be targeted. Their tails were down but not so far as to concede defeat.
Heris and Februaren rejoined Iron Eyes. Who said, “That’s a damned useful trick, old-timer. You sure you can’t teach me?”
“Not if you insist on remaining Aelen Kofer.” He did not mention having noted that Aelen Kofer had more pathways to their own world than they admitted. How else to explain their company being more numerous now than when it had left the Realm of the Gods? It expanded only when there were no humans around to see it happen.
Februaren had a feeling the journey would have gone faster and more comfortably had the Aelen Kofer understood middle-world geography. They could have done the overland part in their own world, in a more gracious climate.
Februaren did not raise the subject. Iron Eyes would admit nothing.
Allies need not share every secret.
Iron Eyes said, “It’s too late for me to pick something else to be. This is your world. Have you ever seen so many wolves in one place?”
“No. I can’t imagine a pack numbering sixty or seventy.”
“Definitely not natural.”
There were seventeen dead wolves. Injured animals disappeared into the wood. The rest remained out of range but watchful. Respectfully opportunistic.
Heris said, “That’s not natural, either. And they aren’t interested in us because they’re hungry.”
The wolves all radiated health. They were well fed and well groomed.
Februaren asked, “What next?”
Iron Eyes said, “We go kick the door in and yell, ‘Surprise!’”
“That does sound like fun. Heris and I will be right behind you.”
Iron Eyes awarded the old man a narrow-eyed, sour, almost suspicious scowl. But he got his people moving. The crows raged in protest but kept their distance. Death came suddenly when a bird ranged too near the Aelen Kofer.
Likewise, the wolves. Awaiting their chance.
The bolt from an Aelen Kofer crossbow moved so fast you might only note a flicker before it hit you.
A grim, gray little castle lay at the heart of the wood. It looked deserted. Its drawbridge was down and had been for so long that weeds had crept in over its edges. The moat was turgid but the water did move. Barely. It was not frozen, nor was it more than two feet deep, but it was thick. The bottom was foul, loose mud that went down at least that much farther.
The surface of the drawbridge boasted dried leaves, a few dried weeds that had grown between the timbers, and several dangerous patches of ice. Around it, for thirty feet, lay a scatter of human bones.
Iron Eyes grumbled. “Those bones. I remember. Did you plan to remind me before… What?” The crows had gotten excited.
Two elderly men had appeared on the drawbridge. One carried a rusty old bill, the other a lance that had seen its best days centuries ago. They lacked no confidence. They prepared to hold the bridge.
