themselves from the teat, but she died soon after that when a harsh, late winter storm hung over them for a few long days.
“When the weather finally relented, Pratchert found that one of the pups had disappeared. Knowing that he did all he could for the wolves, he started south again with the last of the pups right on his heels.”
Vaegon shifted on his rocky seat, leaned forward, and prodded the dying fire back to life with a stick.
“Somehow, he and the wolf ended up cutting east through the forest your people call the Reyhall.”
“Not my people,” Hyden corrected. He couldn’t help but stare at Vaegon’s wild yellow eyes. They were like cat’s eyes, or an owl’s. “My people aren’t kingdom folk.”
“Yes, yes,” the elf nodded. “I forget that all of you humans are not sworn to a king. Anyway, Pratchert took his time. He and the wolf wandered the forest for a few years. No one really knows why.”
Hyden almost stopped Vaegon to tell him that though he wasn’t sworn to a human king, his people did reside in the Giant Mountains, and were more or less sworn to obey the laws of King Aldar. He let it go though, because he had never actually seen the giant king, or the fabled city of Afdeon, where he ruled from; much less had he ever sworn any sort of oath of fealty.
“…finally crossed the Leif Greyn River, and made it to the Spire.” Vaegon was saying. “There, our lore says that Pratchert was visited by a great, blue dragon. The two of them supposedly spoke for many days.
“After the dragon flew away, Pratchert and his wolf came through the Evermore Forest. He was traveling toward his childhood home, but before they could get that far south, they encountered a problem. His wolf familiar’s thick, white fur was making the animal sick in the warmer climate. Even after it had shed its winter coat, the wolf was suffering in the warm southern air. After much deliberation, Pratchert and his wolf decided to stay together. He used his dagger to trim the fur from the wolf’s hide so that it could stand the heat. It was for the best they both learned. When they came into Pratchert’s village, the people were afraid of the wolf, even though he looked more like a mangy dog now, than the ferocious creature he could be. If he hadn’t been half shaved, he would’ve terrified the simple folk to drastic measures.
“Pratchert learned that his father had died of a lung sickness the year after he had returned with the king’s prize bear skin. His mother had died the year after that. Naturally, he was saddened by the news, and he returned with his wolf and his grief to the Evermore Forest. He planned on going north so that he and the wolf could range and explore in comfort, but before they could get away, they were stopped by a pair of frightened squirrels.
“The squirrels communicated with him through the link he had formed with his wolf. They told him that men were destroying the forest in the east, and they practically begged him to help them make it stop.
“He took them seriously. It was no small matter that would cause a pair of squirrels to grow brave enough to approach a wolf and a man. Other animals heard the squirrels’ pleadings, and since the wolf hadn’t tried to eat them, they cautiously approached as well. Soon, a crowd of birds, deer, a fox, a rabbit, even a bright green tree snake and a wild hog had gathered around them. They convinced Pratchert to at least go and see what might be done about the matter.”
Vaegon sipped from the water skin and then continued.
“Pratchert and the wolf were sickened by what they found there. An entire valley had been cleared of foliage. It looked as if an angry god had hacked away the trees with a giant scythe like they were so much wheat.
“Pratchert rounded up all of the strongest forest creatures, the ones with teeth and claws, and the ones with venom and size. One day, while the men were starting to chop and saw at the trees, Pratchert led his army of animals out of the forest. They took a position and held firm, directly in the men’s way. The terrified men sent for their foreman, who in turn, sent for the Captain of the King’s Guard. Days passed, and eventually King Horst had to come to see this spectacle for himself.
“For days, hissed and growled insults, and the foul worded threats of men were hurled back and forth. Luckily, King Horst saw that they were getting nowhere. His need of these timbers was as great as that of the animals, so he agreed to talk to Pratchert.
“The king explained that an army of demons and devils, led by the Abbadon himself, was marching towards them as they spoke. They were coming for the Wardstone. He told him of the need for catapults, spears, ships and all the other devices the men of the world might need to fight such an enemy. He spoke of how this foe had burned everything in its path: homes, crops, and even the forest. King Horst ended his speech by suggesting that it would be better to take a few of the trees, than to let all of the forest be burned to ash by this evil foe.
“Pratchert went back to the animals and explained the situation. They agreed that losing some of the forest was better than losing all of it. Reluctantly, the animal army disbanded, and the creatures began to migrate from that part of the Evermore so that the men could continue.
“King Horst was so astonished and impressed with the man who could speak to animals, that he asked him to come and be his wizard. Pratchert felt bound to help fight the Abbadon and the terrible legions it commanded. When he found out that King Horst’s castle was located in the city of Xwarda, up in the Wander Mountains where the weather was cool and crisp, he had to accept the offer. You know the rest, I think,” Vaegon finished.
“Aye,” Hyden nodded. “When the soulless one came, Dahg Mahn called forth the animals from the forest. The animals brought the giants, elves, and dwarves with them. In Berda’s tale – she’s a giant, a goat herder’s wife who comes to my clan’s village and tells us stories every so often. In her tales of Dahg Mahn, the animals turn the tide of the battle and save the races of men from the Abbadon.”
Hyden yawned and scratched his head curiously.
“If his name is really Pratchert, why is he always remembered as Dahg Mahn?”
Vaegon laughed deeply.
“I should make you wait and ask your giant friend Berda, but I’m starting to like you, so I’ll tell you, Hyden Hawk. It’s really simple, and I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet. The wolf looked like a mangy dog,” Vaegon said, as he moved to lay down by the fire. “And Dahg Mahn means “dog man” in the old tongue.”
“Ah,” Hyden nodded, as he too found a place to lie down for the night.
Chapter 20
The coronation of young King Glendar went smoothly enough. The sadness of the past week was replaced by the hope for a greater future. The good people of Westland, for a few days at least, were led to believe that the days to come still held promise. The ladies and wives of the noble born and common folk alike were busy with their gossip. It appeared that Lady Zasha had caught the young King’s eye, and they all had a comment to make about the development.
“She’s such a beautiful girl.”
“What a wonderful queen she will make.”
“With fat Lord Ellrich as her father, what will the heir look like?”
“The daughter of the marsh lord has done well to draw his eye.”
Then there was Glendar himself. The whole of the nobility watched him, as he grimaced and clutched at his face and then finally broke into tears when his father’s crown was placed upon his head. The outcome pleased Pael immensely. The stupid boy had grinned as the crown was presented. Pael had had to act quickly. He sent an invisible, but sizzling hot particle of dust, into Glendar’s eye, which wiped the smile from his face, and caused all the flinching, and the grimacing, and then the tears. Yes, Pael mused, it had all gone extremely well. So well, in fact, that no one noticed that Ironspike was missing.
Even better, was the news Pael had received from Shaella. Summer’s Day had turned into a battlefield. The sacred Leif Greyn Valley had been thoroughly bloodied. He had intended to put the kingdoms against each other with his covert and indirect aggression, but a full scale battle was even better. In fact, it was perfect. And who would’ve thought that Lord Gregory would’ve been so inadvertently helpful, before he crawled off and died from Inkling’s poison dart.
Pael’s plans had gone so well that King Glendar’s present foolishness didn’t bother him at all. It didn’t matter how many heads the boy piked in the court yard, or whose heads they were. As a matter of fact, Pael welcomed any distraction that kept the new King’s mind off of his father’s sword.
Now that the news of the massacre at Summer’s Day was finally getting back to the Westland people, Lord
