Small Packages

    "What's wrong?" asked Garalt, looking over the two men. They both seemed to be rather agitated.
    "It's Swift-Strike," Drakon said, his eyebrows furled.
    "What about him?"
    "I've been talking with Garn and Demonclaw, and we don't think Tundrock's death was an accident," Drakon growled.
    "I don't want to be hearing this Drakon," Garalt said, a well of anger began to build inside of him, "we've come too far to have a traitor now."
    "But think about it Garalt," Demonclaw said slowly, "Swift-Strike is a rogue elf, right?"
    "Yeah..."
    "Well, rogue elves aren't exactly wimps." Demonclaw said uneasily.
    "What does that have to do with this?" Garalt said, raising an eyebrow.
    "You said you had first met Swift-Strike while in Corincia, right?"
    "Right."
    "Corincia is right on the edge of the Venorian forest," Drakon explained, "Elf territory. Elves hate rogue elves with a passion. If Swift-Strike were to have stepped one foot outside of the city, the elves would have probably jumped him right there."
    "I refuse to believe a hard life is what..." Garalt said slowly.
    "Listen," Drakon interrupted, "Swift-Strike could not have survived this long if he missed throwing his axe like that. They train themselves to be killers. They practice the deadly arts every hour of every day. There's no way he could have missed hitting that creature at that range. He missed that creature on purpose. He murdered Tundrock, we're unanimous on it."
    "Have you confronted him on it?" Garalt asked.
    "No way," Demonclaw said quickly, "Like I said, rogue elves aren't wimps. I don't think all of us could take him together."
    Garalt looked over at Drakon who shook his head slowly.
    "This is very troubling news. If we can't stop him now, then we'll have to wait till he makes his next move, IF he's even guilty, and try to stop him then," Garalt sighed.
    "But another one of us could be killed, Garalt!" Demonclaw said in a hushed shout.
    "I know... But I don't want to believe Swift-Strike could be capable of this."
    "Nor do I, but we have to face facts," Drakon said.
    "So what do we do?" Garalt looked at the ground and then at the two men before him, "You two don't think we could take him, and he'd most likely deny it guilty or not. All I can think of is we can't do anything right now."

    "I guess you're right..." Demonclaw sighed.
    "Please tell me some good news. I need some good news." Garalt pleaded.
    "Oh! Yes, Garalt, come this way," Demonclaw said, a much happier expression.
    "I hope this puts a smile on my face," Garalt said, walking briskly after his friend, with Drakon right behind him. Demonclaw lead the other two men down the hallway and around the room where Garalt had spent the night. Opening up the doorway to the outer walkway, Demonclaw lead the two to an overlook of the castle's courtyard.

    The courtyard was empty of people, except a very gruff looking dwarf standing guard behind the main gate. The ashes from the night before had been all swept away, and there was nothing left but the two statues that were there the night before and the trees growing at the sides. The two statues were rather interesting, Garalt thought, now that he could see them from above and in the daylight. One was of a man in a cloak, it was almost as if he was being blown by a huge gust of wind. The other statue was of a wingless dragon with what looked to be four arms. Both statues faced the other and were sitting atop natural rock pedestals.
    "Those two statues pretty interesting, aren't they?" Demonclaw pointed with a smile.
    "I take it there's something more to them, with that smile on your face," Garalt smirked.
    "Yeah, we've been talking to the dwarves about them," Drakon added.
    "You two have had a busy morning," Garalt looked at one and then the other.
    "Well, those two statues apparently represent a great battle that happened on this very spot. The dwarves have held this spot sacred ever since, which is why they're in a castle in the middle of a meadow." Demonclaw explained. "The man there is a wizard, an evil wizard who for one reason or another had decided to attack and kill all the dwarves in the near by mountain. The dragon, on the other hand, is someone rather surprising."
    "Our elder dragon we're looking for?" Garalt asked excitedly.
    "Yes sir, Mr. Vildegraas the Earth Demon himself!" Drakon smiled.
    "Wonderful!" Garalt shouted.
    "Yup, that statue represents the dwarves' salvation. According to the legends, Vildegraas discovered the wizard attacking the dwarves and had decided to put a stop to it. During their battle, which lasted many many weeks it seems, the wizard cast a great spell to destroy the dragon. However, something went wrong. Some of the dwarves say the wizard lost control over his own powers, the others say that Vildegraas was powerful enough to reflect back half the spell. Whatever the reason, they were both put to sleep."
    "If they were, then where are their bodies?" Garalt asked impatiently.
    "The dwarves don't know I'm afraid," Drakon answered, "All they know is that the surviving dwarves came to the spot where they both fell and built this castle in memory of that battle."
    "How odd..." Garalt thought to himself.
    "Sir Garalt!" a voice from below called up to them.

    Below them, standing in the entrance to the castle's keep was Roedin Stonehammer, the dwarf that had greeted them outside the castle the night before.
    "Hail Roedin," Garalt answered, "what might I do for you Sir?"
    "The king be wishin to speak with ye," Roedin called back, "come on down to the main hall and I'll introduce ye to him."
    Garalt waved and the three men walked back into the door from which them came.