Turret of Faith: Chapter 1 conclusion.

Finally Chapter 1 comes to a close.......

    Getting to his feet, the dwarf beckons for the grinning elf and the enormous titanium dragon to follow him into camp. Moving to a pack stuffed with supplies, the dwarf extracts a small flask and drains it in one long gulp. Coughing explosively, the dwarf finds his voice.
    “I be Wolfe, o’ the clan Greytome. The girl be Ashete and the spriole be Aster. Cadeyrn, you’ll find plenty of rat over by the fire. Titan, alas, though Ashete’s skill at rat hunting provides plenty for us to share with your friend, we ain’t got enough to even make up a mouthful for one so large as yerself.”
    “It matters not, Wolfe of the clan Greytome,” Titan rumbles. “I fed well on deer just two nights ago. I shant need to eat for a few days yet. I will be most honored, however, to share this fine fire with you and your companions.”
    “Very well then, Titan, make yourself comfortable. Ye said ye were waylaid by trolls, Cadeyrn? Could ye be making a guess as to how many o’ them there be?” Wolfe queries.
    “There were about four or five whole legions. The were moving away from here towards Blodeuwedd Canyon. My best guess would be that they will head toward the Bloody Stone temple on the edge of the Muirgen Mountains as it is the closest stronghold to their present location. They are commanded by a troll named Kadrok,” Cadeyrn states unemotionally.
    “Kadrok! Well spoken? Massive stature and long dark hair? Did he have a scar across his left shoulder?” Wolfe asks quickly.
    “That sounds like an apt description of him,” agrees Cadeyrn. “Do you know him?”
    “Aye, I know him. He be the Chieftain o’ all the militant trolls. He has the power to make life very difficult for ye, Cadeyrn. He can call for the assistance of the High Council to track ye down. And rest assured he will try to track ye down. Kadrok don’t forgive embarrassment easily. He’ll have people looking for ye until one of ye lies dead at the feet o’ the other. Ye said ye was headed to Fionn for weapons and supplies, right?” At Cadeyrn’s nod in the affirmative, Wolfe continues, “ Well, ye ain’t gonna get nothing at Fionn. The craftsmen there are the finest the dwarves have to offer and they don’t believe in charity. If ye ain’t got titanium, or at least gold, they won’t have nothing to do with ye. I’ll tell ye what, Cadeyrn. I have a sword, the last one I ever worked on. It be a sorta odd blade, but if ye’d like to travel with us a ways, ye’d be welcome ter try it out.”
    “Well, Wolfe, I can’t very well agree to travel with you if I don’t know where it is you are headed. But if you happen to be traveling in the direction I need to go, then I’d be happy to at least handle your sword before I made a decision.”
    “Fair enough, fair enough. The lass and I be seeking the Turret o’ Faith. I don’t know why, but something tells me ye was headed in that general direction yerself. And that same something be telling me it be a wise decision asking ye to accompany us, Prince Cadeyrn.” As the shocked elven prince stares dumbfounded at the aged dwarf, Wolfe removes the bindings from an oblong parcel lying to the side of the packs. Gently he unwraps first the supple leather sheath and then the hilt of a beautifully crafted sword.
    A two handed broadsword, a good six feet in length, it shines in the firelight. Cadeyrn slowly reaches forth his hand and, at a nod of encouragement from Wolfe, wraps his fingers around the hilt. The warmth of forge fires and the icy coldness of death both seem to flow from the leather wrapped titanium into Cadeyrn’s hand. With a smooth motion of his arm, Cadeyrn draws forth that gleaming blade. It’s balance is exquisite. Cadeyrn sings the sword experimentally, then instantly begins to flow from one offensive maneuver to another in a blurred flurry of parries and thrusts.
    “Ye ain’t half bad with that blade, Cadeyrn,” Wolfe growls in a low voice. “If ye be wanting to try yerself against a living opponent why don’t ye give me and me axes a whirl? I promise I’ll not be hurting ye lad.”
    “You recognized me, Wolfe. Do you really think I didn’t recognize you as well? In Aillill the prowess of Wolfe of the clan Greytome is exceeded only by that of his great grandfather, Lupinus Sharpsteel. With an axe I am willing to concede that you may be my equal. If she would consent, however, I would like to cross blades with young Ashete.”
    “Even on the Barbaric Plains, from whence I hail, we have heard of Cadeyrn of the Elves,” Ashete murmurs in a tone that gives away nothing of her thoughts. “It would be an interesting battle were we to cross blades.” Standing in a single graceful movement and drawing her sword with a fluid like motion she states, “I accept.”
    Grabbing the spriole and stepping to one side of the campsite, Wolfe settles down to watch. As Titan lumbers over to join them, Wolfe asks, “Be yer friend as good as his reputation makes him out ter be, dragon?”
    “My name is Titan, please use it and judge his skill for yourself,” the mighty dragon replies.
    AS the non-combative trio looks on, Cadeyrn and Ashete slowly circle each other. Ashete’s blade leaps toward the unprotected side of Cadeyrn. As if it materialized at the elf’s whim, the great broadsword’s blade appears in the path of Ashete’s sword, easily blocking the side cut. Without warning, Cadeyrn disengages the block and sidesteps the human female, his massive blade lashing out, only to be parried by the young woman’s smaller blade. The campsite erupts into the screech of blade on blade as the two skilled fencers test each other’s limits in a contest of skill nearly to quick for the eye to follow. Some time later, weariness weighing down their limbs and sweat dragging at their bodies, Cadeyrn sways out of the way of Ashete’s thrust, while bring the massive broadsword’s blade around to lightly rest on Ashete’s collarbone.
    “Ashete,” Cadeyrn says breathing heavily, “you are an amazing swordswoman. Not even the trainers in my father’s palace ever tested my limits to that extent.”
    “But I lost,” Ashete whispers. “I never lose.”
    “I told ye when first we met Ashete, me lass,” Wolfe chuckles from his seat on the sidelines. “Ye may be exceptional amongst the humans, but the humans be the weakest o’ the races.  Te be honest with ye, lass, I be surprised you fought as well as ye did.”
    “Perhaps,” Ashete says, head hanging in shame at what she views as utter failure.
    “Ah, Ashete, me lass. When are ye gonna learn to take defeat in stride?” murmers the aged dwarf. “The night wears on and dawn comes nearer. I am off to seek the realm of dreams and I suggest you all do the same.”

Author's Note

A long time coming, I know, but give me your thoughts please......