“How do you tell the blasted time?” Markham grumbled as he rose from his sleeping mat. The Dark Forest was either overcast or twilight.

“If you can see the sun through the clouds, that means it’s morning,” Gregan answered.

The half-orc wore a worn breastplate, a helm with a nose guard, and metal greaves over his legs. The mail he wore under the breastplate covered his arms. He carried a battered round metal shield and a short spear. Strapped across his back on a harness were three more short spears. Markham noticed with some annoyance that he and Viridal were the last to wake up. The mage was yawning and scratching his head. The elves and the dwarf that worked with Gregan were up and ready. Markham noticed that they wore red tabards over their armor.

“You all served in the Legion?” He asked gruffly.

“Yea, in the 204,” the elves said, nearly in unison. Scouts, Markham thought, he had fought alongside the legion in his past life.

“Auxiliary Heavy Infantry,” grunted the dwarf. Markham nodded in understanding. A dwarf serving in the imperial auxiliaries could only mean one thing. They were exiled from the dwarven kingdom. His honesty meant that it was clear that the red-bearded dwarf was not ashamed.

“You served?” One of the elven sisters asked.

“Nae, I fought alongside General Vasius against the Ice Rock Trolls. I was a carl in King Duncon’s army.”

“That was when the imperial forces had to save yer asses,” the red-bearded dwarf sneered. He was clearly making fun of the Dwarven kingdom. If Markham had any pride, he would have been insulted. Good thing he didn’t care and simply shrugged.

“Aye, the trolls were everyone’s problem,” he said.

“We were deployed under Vasius. I saw what the trolls did to an elven village when they came down the mountains into the forest,” one of the elven sisters said with a shudder.

“The legion sent them running back to the mountains. That’s when Duncan begged us for help,” the red-bearded dwarf said, eyeing Markham. He was looking for a fight.

The dwarven defender nodded and responded, “Aye, I’ll be sure to have the Ole man write you a thank you card next I see him.”

At this, the elves snickered at the joke. The red-haired dwarf fumed, and that was when Markham realized that the dwarf was young. The older warrior felt a little bad about teasing the youngin and decided to change the subject.

“Why are ye wearing the tabards? Ye still with the legion?” he asked.

“Mainly for good luck,” one of the elven sisters replied.

“I’m proud to have served,” the red dwarf said, sticking his chest out.

“Aye, but it’s a red shirt. Ye not worried about drawing attention?” Asked Markham.

They shrugged, and one elf responded, “It was never an issue.”

Impetitus walked over and nodded at the legion soldiers. “Let us depart,” he barked. Markham could have sworn that the red tabard-wearing legionnaires almost saluted. In the Imperial Empire, the templars were high-ranking military leaders.

Gregan came over. Viridal rose up and collected his pack. Verene was waiting at the forest edge as Impetitus looked the half-orc over. The templar noticed the half-orc’s mismatched armor.

“You served?” He asked though the templar knew that Gregan was not a legionnaire. The half-orc’s gear said mercenary.

“Noooo, but I fought the legion on the Plains of Dizerth.”

Impetitus raised one eyebrow and looked over Gregan a second time. He asked, “Are you Oorokai?”

The half-orc nodded, his dark eyes looking intently at the templar.

“Very fine warriors. Took us many months to claim the Dizerth. I was on the field the day your chieftain surrendered. Though we were enemies during the war, I very much respected that man,” Impetitus said. He was looking off in the distance as he recalled the campaign.

“When storytime is over, can we leave?” Verene asked impatiently.

LATER

Impetitus did not like it when plans changed. They were supposed to be traveling the Scorched Plains looking for the Dungeon Entrance. The one that changes because this whole cursed Wasteland shifts and changes, he thought angrily. He wiped back his long blonde hair from his face. He didn’t recall when he had lost his helmet. Or why his ears were ringing. He shook his head. The ringing faded, and it was replaced with the loud screams of a pitched battle. Immediately he sensed a shadow wolf pouncing on him. Its sharp fangs looking for his throat. It was a sense because the cursed wolves were nearly invisible before they attacked. Inches from his face, it appeared in a colacasing of dark tendrils and misty shadows. With lightning reflexes honed from years of training and war, the templar snatched the wolf by the throat as it soared toward his face. He squeezed and slammed the creature to the ground and impaled it with his sword.

Shadow Wolves were all around them. They shifted and teleported between the trees like terrifying nightmares. There were rapid hisses and twangs as the two elven sisters, masters of their craft, rained arrows with deadly precision from above in the trees. They stood perfectly balanced on narrow branches as if they were standing on solid ground. On the ground, Gregan and Markham stood on either side of Viridal. The mage had used his wind magic on them. The currents flitted around their bodies and through their armor, making their movements easier, faster, and harder to hit. The two warriors blocked with their shields and countered with their weapons in fluid motions. They were elite fighters that maximized the use of their hips where no movement was wasted. Impetitus remembered what happened to his helmet. Nezarit was here. The massive wolf appeared again but had to fade and retreat as Viridal unleashed a lightning spell. The bolt blasted through a tree and vaporized several of the smaller shadow wolves.

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The red-haired dwarf was in front of the three in the middle of the small clearing. He was in a battle frenzy, swinging his two-handed axe in a whirlwind of blood and gore.

“Get back!” Gregan ordered, but the fire-haired dwarf paid him no heed.

Impetitus was a few meters away from his colleagues. The templar made to get closer but found himself surrounded by snarling wolves. They closed in. He sliced left, reversed his swing, and sliced right, cutting two down. The other two slammed into him, causing him to stumble. He grabbed one by the back of the neck and smashed it into a tree. Twisting his shoulders to knock the second wolf off. Impetitus gripped his blade like it was a spear and impaled it. He saw another snarling wolf flying at him. Their fangs aimed at his unprotected head. His sword was still stuck in his recent kill, and his arms were too low to defend himself in time. He braced for the worse, but the wolf fell short with a yelp and landed dead at his feet.

“Glad you decided to wake up from your nap,” Verene said with a grin on her face. The mage thief was a master of shadow magic and would fade and reappear like the wolves they were fighting. Except she was faster and better at it. When she reappeared, it was to stab her blade into a wolf, then she would fade out of sight as they attempted to pounce on her.

The fiery-haired dwarf stumbled as a wolf slammed into his side. When it tried to bite him, he swung his axe and sliced the creature in half. He caught a second wolf on his backswing as he rose to his feet. As fast as a fired crossbow bolt, Nezarit pounced on the dwarven warrior. The Wolf Lord’s jaws snapped shut on the dwarf’s head in a shower of blood, steel, and bone. Their axe fell to the floor as their body faded away. Two arrows thudded into the giant wolf as it flew like a dark mist away into the trees. Then it was silent.

“Rest well, friend,” Gregan said to the pile of remains of the red-haired dwarf’s armor and weapon.

“We must hurry,” one of the elven sisters remarked. The two had climbed down from the trees, and the other sister was already searching for tracks.

“How can ye track it when it floats like a ghost?” Markham asked.

“Shadow magic distorts your vision and warps reality in a very minor way,” explained Verene.

“Huh?”

“The wolf still leaves marks when it goes blurry,” Gregan said simply. At this, the dwarf nodded in understanding.

The hunters ran rapidly through the forest, following the tracks left by the Wolf Lord. The forest was quiet, and the group went deeper. They were alert, but over the course of an hour, their attention dwindled. They became too focused on what was in front of them and started to neglect their surroundings.

“Wait, something is not right,” said Verene. Her connection to shadow magic allowed her to notice the faint visual distortions surrounding them. She recognized the setup for a surprise attack.

“It’s an ambush!” She cried out, but it was too late.

The elf sisters were in front, focused on the tracks as they jogged. Gregan, Markham, and the Templar were just behind the two scouts. Verene and Viridal were in the rear. Verene noticed that the tracks were illusions, and Nezarit was not running from them. The massive wolf pounced from the shadows like a savage storm cloud onto the two elven sisters. His enormous bulk knocked the three warriors onto their backs. Verene tapped into her powers to fade out of sight. Viridal cast wind magic buffs on the warriors to enhance their speed and defenses.

Gregan was the first to leap to his feet and rush to the aid of the two elves as the Shadow Wolf Lord tore into them with vicious fangs. The half-orc stabbed at the beast’s flanks as he heard the sounds of bone, armor, and flesh being torn. Gregan raised his shield just in time as the wolf’s massive head slammed into it, knocking the warrior back into a tree. By this time, Markham and Impetitus charged in and forced the wolf lord to retreat. Gregan was able to see the gory remains of the elves fade out of sight, leaving their remains behind.

The Wolf Lord looked at them with maliciously intelligent red eyes and howled into the night sky. It was a bone-chilling sound, deep and soul-shaking. Dozens of red eyes appeared all around them, and like a crashing tidal wave, the shadow wolves poured in from all sides. Enhanced by Viridal’s magic, the three warriors rushed to each other’s backs, forming a triangle of sharp steel. They fought off the howling masses with deadly fluidity.

Verene was nowhere to be seen, and Viridal was left alone, a short distance from the others, but in the heat of battle, it seemed like miles. Numerous dark shapes lept at him, but the mage was not afraid. His eyes were closed as he held up his hands, fingers outstretched. Just when the sharp teeth of the shadow wolves were about to rend Viridal’s delicate robes and flesh, the air around the mage cackled with electrical energy. An arc of lightning snapped forth from the mage’s fingertips, and in a flash, it connected with all the wolves surrounding him. With a series of shocking yelps, the wolves fell to the floor in charred heaps around the mage.

Nezarit made ready to attack just as Verene materialized at his side. The mage thief stabbed her blade at the wolf lord’s giant head. The beast howled in pain and lashed out at her, and she backward somersaulted out of danger. Many decoys of her split outwards in different directions causing the Shadow Wolf Lord to pause.

“Shadow Magic! I’m the Lord of Shadows!” Nezarit growled deeply. The creature sniffed the air and then rushed forward, snapping its jaws at one of Verene’s images.

Verene screamed in pain, and her clones vanished. The giant wolf violently shook its head and tossed the mage thief’s broken form a few meters to the side. Verene landed in a painful heap, and she struggled to rise but was too badly injured. The wolf lord rushed in to finish her, but their sharp fangs were blocked by Markham’s shield.

The dwarf had been here before. He reflected many times upon a moment similar to what had happened a year ago. Instead of Verene, it was Viridal he was protecting. The Shadow Wolf Lord had locked their massive jaws onto his shield. And like a year ago, the wolf violently shook their head. The single mistake Markham had made previously was that he held onto his shield, and his arm snapped. He was slammed to the ground, and the rest of his body broke as Nezerit finished him. This time, it was the shield that soared through the air as the dwarf released his grip. While the Wolf Lord was shaking their head, Markham stabbed it with his blade.

“Die ye, bastard!” The dwarf roared as he slashed and stabbed. The dwarf was knocked onto their back by the massive head of the beast. Dagger-like fangs were ready to tear into him like they did a year ago. Markham growled as he held up his blade in two hands before him. Behind him lay the still form of Verene.

“By the Blue Flame!” Roared Impetitus and a nova blast of blue fire shot out from the templar burning the remaining wolves.

The energy rocked Nezarit to the side. A short spear also thudded into the creature’s flank as it yelped. A high-pitched sound that was unnatural came from such a massive demonic-looking creature. In a panic, it lunged at the templar knocking him to the ground. Their jaws locked onto his two-handed sword. Dagger-sized fangs seeking to end him. Lightning struck the beast as Markham and Gregan stabbed with their weapons. Nezarit was forced to stumble back, snarling, eyes red with rage and hatred. Impetitus rose purposely to their feet and hefted his two-handed sword.

“By the Blue Flame, I banish you!” The templar roared and chopped downwards, his sword engulfed with crackling blue energy.