The World of Myth Magazine

After three days of hard traveling, Ironclaw found himself sitting quietly in the corner of a wayside Inn where he waited patiently for the furious nighttime storm that raged outside to pass on by. When he first entered the Inn, he was greeted with suspicion and curious stares from the few patrons that mingled around. He was Ellisar, a race of half-human, half-animal beings that were not often seen outside their homeland territories beyond the Blackwood forest at the edge of the Dread Sea.

Being what he was, Ironclaw knew that he would be met with suspicion or contempt anywhere he went, which rarely bothered him. What they saw was a man covered in slick black fur, like that of a black panther. His face also portrayed many cat-like features, such as whiskers, pointed ears, and yellow eyes with black pupils. Most, however, were taken aback when he smiled or otherwise opened his mouth to reveal the pointy canine teeth that gave him a menacing appearance.

Ironclaw had been sitting at his corner table for several hours, nursing drinks slowly and picking at the Inns offered meal of meat and potatoes, pondering his next course of action. It had been three days since he was shoved through that magic portal that she-witch conjured up, which landed him in some random place way north of the Shade. It was a surprisingly good tactic, he had to admit, and was genuinely thankful the other side of that portal had not dropped him in the sea or in the middle of an Orc camp; Instead, he popped out in a field of cabbage and carrots, to the surprise of the farmer and his family, who were then attending the crops.

The trip through the magic portal was disorientating, and it took Ironclaw several moments to get a handle on what happened. When he sat up and looked around, he noticed the stunned and confused faces of the farmer, his wife, and two boys. After a few long moments of confused silence, the farmer's wife finally stepped up to take action. Showing only concern where fear would have been warranted, she knelt next to him and began asking questions. She pointed out several apparent wounds that needed to be attended to and was curious about how he got them.

Ironclaw said little for the first few hours after their meeting but was genuinely thankful as the woman cleaned and dressed his wounds, but his silence clearly made the husband nervous. The two young boys, however, were nothing short of awe-struck. They clearly had never seen an Ellisar before and were jumping out of their skin with excited questions. Thankfully their mother, who had introduced herself as Margo, ushered the young lads out the door to continue their chores. Griff, who was the man of the house, finally stopped asking for answers and began demanding them.

Having only just met this family, Ironclaw could tell they were good people. He could only try to imagine what went through their minds when a creature that was half panther, half-man blink into existence right in front of them. Had he been in their shoes, he would have more than likely prepared for a fight then offer to tend to the wounds. He knew he had to provide answers, but he wouldn't dare offer the truth. If they knew he was an assassin for hire, things would undoubtedly turn for the worse.

With a quick mind, he told them a story of how he was part of a traveling band of merchants that got ambushed by a group of rogue wizards who called themselves the Red Hoods. He claimed the fight was furious and deadly. Many of the merchants were killed by spells or other conventional weapons like swords or axes. He half lied when he pointed out he was struck by two magic arrows, which explained the puncture wounds in his left thigh and right shoulder before one of the wizards conjured up a magic gate that landed him in their field. To his relief, they bought into the story because the actual story was one much more complicated and ultimately more sinister.

Feeling the way he did, Ironclaw was more than gracious when he accepted Margo's invitation to dinner and was even more surprised to hear Griff offer a place to rest for the night, in the barn, of course. Thinking back to that moment, he had to admit he enjoyed the family's hospitality. The food was excellent and plentiful, and the conversation was relaxed. Hed had even found himself telling the excited farm boy's stories of his childhood and what it was like to grow up near Ebonhall, the largest city on the Ebony Isle deep in Ellisar territory.

The following morning had come quick. Ironclaw had made up a decent bed out of straw and fell into a much-needed deep sleep. When he awoke the next day, he laid there trying to decide what he should do but decided the best course was to get back to the forest region they call the Shade and figure out the rest from there. And when he got up and left the barn, he found Griff and Margo already out working chores, so he quickly stepped up and helped where he could.

As they worked, Ironclaw was able to get answers to a couple of essential questions. First, to his dismay, he found he was farther from the Shade than he hoped. Griff estimated it to be a good three to four-day journey on horseback and longer still on foot. Ironclaw also asked if there were any friendly magic users anywhere along the path to the forest. The couple, unfortunately, did not know. What happened next changed the assassin's outlook on the human race and gave him hope that someday his people and the other races could become more than just tolerated strangers and perhaps forge an alliance and a lasting peace. To his complete surprise, the family offered him one of their horses and an ample amount of supplies for his journey.

When he asked why they were so generous, Margo simply said there was not enough good in the world and that she hoped that the gifts they offered would encourage him to do the same for another in need someday. If only the couple could feel his shame in knowing everything, they knew about him was a lie. He was nothing more than a hired killer, who was actually in the middle of tracking down a target as they spoke. But after reminding himself of the circumstances behind his mission, he accepted the gifts with the true promise of paying their kindness back.

His journey from the farm to his present location, the Boars Tusk Inn, was unremarkable, giving him plenty of time to contemplate his current situation and ponder questions he has yet to have answered. But he was genuinely thankful to have found the wayside Inn when he did because the storm, he saw looming in the distance looked like a nasty one indeed.

The storm had been raging for several hours already, constantly shaking the building's foundation with epic thunderous cracks and kept the wall creaking under the strong gusty winds. None of that mattered, though, because storm or not, he was at the point in his journey where he had no ideas of how to proceed.

His problem was no longer finding his way back to the Shade, which was about a half day's walk from here. The problem was, once he made it into the forest, he had no idea where to go. He was no woodsman or Ranger who had experiences living and moving through the woods. And even if he did, the Shade covered such a vast area of land; it would take more than a fortnight to explore even half of it.

Knowing that he had been so close to completing his mission frustrated him endlessly. He had found and hired himself an experienced tracker familiar with the Shade and had quickly helped him find his targets. However, trying to keep track of the paths they took was impossible since they moved only at night to stay hidden from the dangers that lived in the forest. Even with his exceptional night vision, Ironclaw knew he couldn't retrace their steps. He knew he had to find a way; this was the most crucial mission of his life, and he could not fail.

With a suddenness that made him jump, the door to the Inn swung open, allowing four rain-soaked and miserable-looking men to enter the building. For a moment, the sounds of heavy rain, wind, and thunder echoed loudly throughout the establishment before the last man to enter slammed the door closed.

All but one of the groups, an older-looking man with wet graying hair, took a seat at a large table. The other went straight to the counter and demanded four mugs of strong ale. Ironclaw could tell by the sound of the man's voice and the look on his three companions' faces, they were not in a pleasant mood. He knew from experience that more often than not, men that drink out of anger tend to become combative the more they imbue, and when they finally notice he was an Ellisar, they could, and would, take their foul mood out on him. He wasn't going to worry about it, but he was going to be ready if it happened.

"By all the gods Decen, what are you doing out on a night like this?" The bartender asked as he filled up the ordered mugs.

"Them gods, you mention," Decen said as he gathered the four mugs and walked to join his companions, "seemed to have forsaken us today."

"Last I knew, you boys were going on a hunt," the man behind the bar said, "I take it there was no prey to be found?"

"Oh, we flushed out a good prize, alright. We found a lone Horned Saber Cat, but it caught wind of us and ran before we could get it. Damn thing ran into the Shade." Decen grumbled.

"We chased it through that forest almost half the morning!" One of the younger men complained.

"Did'ya catch it?" The bartender asked.

"No!" another of the younger men answered, his voice dripping with irritation.

"Thing was already dead by the time we found it," Decen explained.

The bartender looked curiously towards the men, "Let me guess, it fell victim to a forest troll?"

"Nope," Decen answered succinctly, "somehow a boy and his pet wolf killed it. Stabbed the beast through the eye with a stick."

"You're joking," The bartended accused.

"Afraid not," Decen responded as the other men at the table grumbled irritably.

"Did you at least collect the valuables from its corpse?"

Decen grunted, "Couldn't. The boy and the wolf of his stood in our way. The crazy lad was willing to fight simply because we were trophy hunters. I would have figured him for one of those Ranger types that pretend they defend nature and all that, but this kid had nothing but a stick for a weapon and a dire wolf as a friend."

"Something tells me there is more to it than that?" The tender asked.

"Yeah," Decen started, "I figured our luck was for the better when we found the cat already dead and a large adult dire wolf in front of us. I could smell the payday with two trophies like that." Decen paused for a moment, then chuckled, "But that boy was determined. I couldn't tell if the lad was head sick or just overly confident."

"He had the wolf at his side, Boss, that would give anyone confidence." One of the other men offered, "But unless he was head sick like you said, he had to know there was no way he could stop us all!"

"Plus, didn't you see how badly beat up he was?" Another of Decen's companions offered, "The cat clawed him good, and all those bruises, I doubt he had any fight left in him."

"No," Decen shook his head, "Most of those wounds were days old, and the claw marks on his chest were made by something smaller than the Sabercat."

Ironclaws ears perked, and he found himself suddenly very interested in their story.

"Ok, so don't keep me in suspense; what happened?" The bar owner asked.

"Well, we were going to do what needed to be done, whether the boy fought or not, but I didn't realize the lad had been stalling for time."

"What do you mean?"

"That kid didn't just have a dire wolf for a friend; he had himself a whole pack!" Four of them snuck up behind us!"

"Alright, now I know this is just a wild story, even you four couldn't fight off a pack of dire wolves. Just admit your hunt failed and swallow your wounded pride with mugs of ale." The bartender joked.

"You're right, we would have lost that fight, but somehow that kid was able to command the wolves to actually escort us out of the forest," Decen explained.

"Not before he stole our weapons," Muttered one of the others.

Ironclaw had heard enough and hoped his luck had just changed. "What did this boy look like?" he asked. All four of the men turned to the sound of his voice, and each of them wore a surprised expression as if just realizing he was there.

Decen hesitated in thought as he studied the Ellisar, then shrugged, "Brownish, maybe blond hair, average size; I don't know, he looked like a beggar lost in the forest."

Ironclaw tilted his head curiously, "He had ice-like, almost white eyes, and that claw wound ran down his left breast, didn't it?"

Decen's face hardened, and his three companions stiffened in surprise, "Now how did you know that."

"Because," Ironclaw answered smoothly, "I'm the one that put it there."

-