Wolfe and Ashete climb out of the cavern of tomes below the ruined Library of Lorelei and are confronted by the spriole who is excited about heading back to camp with his new friend ,Ashete, that enormous wolf that looked like it could eat him and that grouchy old dwarf, Wolfe, who looked like he just might eat him. “Hiya Ashete! Wolfe said he doesn’t wanna see my arrow. Don’t you think he should take a look at it? Can I see your bow now? I promise I won’t break it or anything like that. It is an awfully big bow. Did you remember to bring my staff out of the hole?” As Aster rapidly talks to Ashete he stumbles and his quiver flies out of his hands. Landing on a mound of rubble a few yards away, the quiver tilts and the lone arrow within falls to the ground. Instantly, another arrow materializes within the quiver. Before this arrow falls to the ground beside the first, Wolfe grabs the quiver and pulls the arrow out. The moment the tip passes the rim of the quiver, another arrow materializes.
“Well, Spriole, it appears ye managed to find a very powerful artifact,” Wolfe murmurs. Inspecting the arrow he holds in his hand, Wolfe continues, “And this arrow absolutely pulses with magic. If I’m not mistaken, those fletchings be phoenix feathers. And that tip and the nock feel like Ventling work to me. Whoever made this quiver was an extremely powerful mage. Keep a tight hold on this at all times. It is a rare and priceless item.” As he hands the quiver back to Aster, Wolfe asks, “Ye seem fascinated by Ashete’s bow. Don’t ye have a bow of yer own?”
“No, sir, I don’t. I really wish I did though. Ashete said she made her bow but I don’t know how. Dwarves are known throughout Nimue as excellent craftsmen. Do you know how to make bows? Can you teach me to make one? I have really nimble fingers. But I don’t have a knife, so I guess I can’t make a bow, can I?”
In an effort to stop the incessant chatter of the little spriole, Wolfe swings his axe through a small sapling and quickly fashions a crude bow. Handing it to Aster, Wolfe says, “If ye don’t say another word for the rest of the night, and if ye go over by that tree there and practice with this one, I will make ye a bow as good as the one Ashete has.” Wolfe prepares the evening meal as Aster scampers off to practice with his new bow and Ashete begins her nightly meditation.
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“I have captured Cadeyrn, High Prince of the Elves. As Chieftain of the Militant Trolls, I invoke my right to assemble the High Council,” writes Kadrok. “My army is two weeks from the Bloody Stone Temple. I will present my prisoner there for interrogation at the turning of the moon. As the captor of a royal hostage, I also put forth my claim to his possessions in lieu of a personal ransom.” Turning to his aide, Kadrok orders, “Make four more copies of this. Have a runner deliver a copy to each of the clan chiefs and to the High Priest and Priestess at Bloody Stone Temple.” After the aide leaves, Kadrok lifts the finely crafted sword that was carried by the elven prince. “Agrona,” the troll reads the runes inscribed upon the blade. “Such a famous blade. Now that I hold you in my hands, I can see why Cadeyrn was able to best so many of my troops in combat. Your balance is excellent, your edges keen. You can slice through flesh as if it were naught but air. Well, Agrona, famed blade of Cadeyrn, you belong to me now.”
Cadeyrn wakes as the prison wagon lurches into motion. From the cramped position in which he slept, and the cold iron encircling his hands and feet, Cadeyrn is unable to pull himself to his feet. He fumbles clumsily around the interior of wagon, knocking barrels and sacks of provisions rolling across the floor. A barrel of ale rolls within the reach of the elven prince. Cadeyrn quickly braces himself against the wall of his moving prison and sends the ale barrel rocketing towards the water barrel in which Cian is imprisoned. Both barrels explode, showering the interior of the wagon with foul smelling troll ale. As the water is which he was imprisoned floods the wagon, Cian the phoenix bursts into flame. “Quickly, Cian,” calls Cadeyrn. “These chains are protected against my magic but I doubt they were made to resist your flame. Melt the links for me old friend.” The phoenix brushes a fiery wing to a link in each of the chains. Each link melts at the merest touch of those eternal flames and Cadeyrn is free at last.
“Hey! Elven scum,” barks a guard in a heavy troll accent. “Kadrok ordered me to check on you. He seems to think you might be injured by those provisions bouncing around in there. Well, you appear to be in one piece. I can tell you that when the Council starts asking you questions you better answer right quick or you won’t be in one piece long.”
With a cocky, devil may care grin, Cadeyrn spits at the guard. “Well then, you slack jawed, underbred pimple on a real trolls a*s, why don’t you come break me up a bit?” The enraged troll guard lunges at Cadeyrn. “Big mistake,” Cadeyrn whispers to the guard as he wraps the remnants of his chains around the trolls throat, choking the life from the hideous body. “No troll will ever break me.”
After quickly donning the guard’s cloak and coaxing Cian into a large iron pot, Cadeyrn glances outside the wagon at the troll encampment. Casually, he steps down and walks towards the cook fires near the west edge of the camp. By lowering his voice and mimicking the harsh accent of the southern trolls, Cadeyrn is able to pass unscathed through the camp by claiming to be going for a meal to feed to the prisoner. As Cadeyrn approaches the forest just past the cooking area, Cadeyrn hears a roar of rage.
“My prisoner has escaped,” roars Kadrok. “Get out there and find him. Every one of you will get eighty lashes if he is not found by dawn.”
Such commotion could not have been more helpful to the fugitive elf. Slipping into the forest amid the other searchers, Cadeyrn escapes the troll camp. Shedding his stolen cloak and releasing Cian from his pot, Cadeyrn heads deeper into the forest. Shouts and exclamations alert Cadeyrn to the imminent arrival of pursuit. Without a weapon, Cadeyrn’s only hope of escape is to blast his pursuers with fireballs, but his prolonged captivity has left him weakened. Able only to call forth sparks, and resigned to recapture, Cadeyrn orders Cian to return to Ailill to inform the elves of the troll armies march. The deafening boom of leathery wings beating the air causes Cadeyrn to turn away from his pursuers. The trolls stare in horror as a great dragon crashes through the trees to land behind the escaped elf. With a mighty roar, the dragon spews forth a stream of fire and the terrified trolls watch in awe as the elven prince walks defiantly into that flaming maw. With a snap of its jaws, the dragon turns towards the fear stricken trolls. Puffs of smoke curl slowly from its nostrils. The great titanium dragon advances a step, then a second step. At the dragon’s third step, the trolls break and dash back to the relative safety of the encamped army of their brethren. The dragon watches them go and with a massive sweep of his wings, launches himself into the air, angling towards the ruins of Lorelei. After flying for several leagues, Titan lands at the edge of the Antediluvian Forest. Opening his mouth, Titan releases an unharmed Cadeyrn and a deep chuckle, “When was the last time you bathed, Cadeyrn? You taste terrible even for an elf.”
“Thanks for the rescue you overgrown lizard. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I was a goner. What took you so long though? Surely a beast of your magnitude couldn’t possibly be fended off by a few measly troll legions,” Cadeyrn cajoles his enormous friend.
“When you manage to fly through a storm of troll arrows and still succeed in snatching a prison wagon from their midst, then you can question my methods of rescue,” Titan replies in his most dignified manner. “Until then shut up you impertinent hatchling. So now that you have your freedom again, where do we go?”
“I need to get some weapons, so we head south. The dwarf nations are closer than anywhere else and the weapon smiths there are the best in the world. We can stop at Lorelei for the night and be in the dwarf city of Fionn by tomorrow night. I should be able to trade work for a decent sword if nothing else. Do me a favor and fly ahead. Scout out the trail for me?”
“Done,” Titan says as he takes flight. Cadeyrn faces to the south and begins the long trek towards Lorelei. Throughout the long day he runs, taking cover as Titan signals him of trouble headed his way. Troll raiders pass by less frequently as Cadeyrn makes his way slowly closer to the ruins by the cliffs. League after league is consumed beneath the flashing legs of Cadeyrn as he tirelessly runs through the endless forest in the shadow of the great dragon flying above.
As night approaches, and the ruins come within sight, a faint orange glow reflecting off the ruins and the sound of voices mixed with the twang of a bow and the thump of an arrow striking wood alerts Cadeyrn of the presence of possible enemies. Creeping silently to the edge of the camp, Cadeyrn sees a strikingly beautiful human talking to a chatterbox of a spriole. It is the spriole who is firing an arrow repeatedly into the trunk of a large tree. The warrior in Cadeyrn immediately notices that the arrow never comes anywhere close to the knot the spriole aims for, as well as the fine dagger and sword carried by the human. Cadeyrn’s eyes sweep the rest of the campsite his eyes fall on not two, but three bedrolls. As Cadeyrn searches for the third member of the party, a cold titanium axe blade is slipped against his neck. “Turn around, elf,” the icy voice comes from the night. Turning Cadeyrn finds himself the prisoner of a gnarled old dwarf. “Who be ye and why ye be spying on me camp?” the old dwarf asks.
“I am Cadeyrn, a messenger of the elves. I was waylaid by trolls near Blodeuwedd Canyon. I am on my way to Fionn in hopes of trading work for weapons and supplies.”
“If ye be unarmed as ye claim, ye can step into me camp and share our meal. Its naught but roasted rat, but it will fill yer belly.”
“I will gratefully accept your kind offer, noble dwarf. I must warn you however that I do not travel alone.”
“Well, let yer companion show himself then. He be more than welcome to share our fire as well.”
“I must warn you that he isn’t another elf,” Cadeyrn warns the generous dwarf.
“Elf, human, dwarf - even spriole - it don’t matter none to us. As long as ye both are peaceable, we welcome ye to share our fire and our fine rat feast,” the dwarf states. “Call yer companion in already so we can get ye folks acquainted with me friends and get us all some grub.”
“So be it, dwarf. I’ll call him, but prepare yourself, he is extremely large,” Cadeyrn tells the dwarf. With a piercing whistle, Cadeyrn summons his unseen companion. The booming of huge wings flapping nearly deafens the dwarf as Titan flies lower and lower over the forest. With a slight grin, Cadeyrn watches as the stocky old dwarf is knocked to the ground by the wind thrust out by the dragon’s back-sweeping wings. “Most kind and gracious host for the evening, please allow me to introduce my friend and companion, Titan.”
Snaking his massive head towards the awestruck dwarf, Titan asks, “Why do you sit here in the dirt, little one? Your camp is no more than a few feet away.”
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