They appeared to have been startled. Farouk scanned the forest around them, straining to see in the dim light. Dark shapes began to emerge from the shadows, closing in on the men as they stood terrified.
"Vargar..." one of the men whispered. Farouk recognized the word as the totem animal of Wrothgaar's tribe.
Wolves.
The men drew their spears, moving back to back in a circle, prepared for the inevitable charge of the wild hunters. Farouk was torn between remaining in the shadows, and helping the men. He did not want to risk being seen just yet, but did not want to ignore the plight of men he could easily help.
Perhaps his magic could be of use.
Farouk closed his eyes and concentrated on the wolves. In his mind he told them the men were not worth their trouble. Their meat was spoiled, and their blood diluted with wine. He projected this thought into the minds of the animals, hoping they would back away and let the men be. But it seemed that the wolves were determined to have their meal. They hunted mostly at night, Farouk knew, and since the night was turning into day, they must be desperate.
Before he could act, the wolves charged. A dozen of them poured over the rocks and through the trees toward the three men. They tightened their circle, pointing their spears out in an attempt to defend themselves. The wolves surrounded them, outnumbering them four to one. Farouk had to act, or the men were doomed.
He burst forth from his hiding place, and stood tall at the top of the hill. Dismissing his magical cloak, he raised his staff in the air and willed it into life. A bright burst of light issued forth, its brilliance flooding the path and startling the hungry wolves. The men were startled as well, but maintained their defensive position. Farouk circled his staff in the air as he walked toward the attacking beasts. They backed away, fearful of the blinding light that swirled mysteriously through the air.
With a thrust of his staff, Farouk sent a small ball of energy at the feet of the pack's leader. It exploded in front of him, causing him to yelp and jump back. Another ball of energy followed, breaking the morale of the entire pack. They turned and ran back into the woods, disappearing into the shadows again.
The men stood in place, their spears still gripped tightly. Farouk lowered his staff, and allowed the light to dim. The men stared at him in fear, unsure as to whether or not he was an enemy. In their eyes, Farouk guessed, he was an intruder; dark-skinned and out of place. He would appear as a Jindala.
"Go in peace, my friends," he said in the common tongue of the mainland. "I mean you no harm."
"Who are you?" one of them asked. "And what is your business here?"
"I am a Druid," Farouk replied. "And my business here is such. Continue to your destination in peace."
Farouk then turned and walked away, continuing his trek around the outcropping and up the path. He sensed that the men did not follow him, which was a relief. He had revealed himself too soon, but had he not, the three men might have been dinner for the wolves. Taking that into account, his first encounter with the Northmen had been a positive one.
One that the three men would probably not soon forget, nor ignore.
The sun was high in the sky when Farouk reached the peak of the trail. It ended atop a wide ridge that overlooked a valley below. In the distance, snow covered mountains loomed in the sky, breaking up the horizon, and adding an air of beauty that the desert born Farouk had never known. Sure, he had seen mountains, but never mountains such as these. Their snow covers continued down their slopes and onto the highlands below, creating a smooth, soft landscape that contrasted sharply with the milder climate below. Jotunheim seemed to be a land of perpetual winter and spring at the same time.
He gazed out over the beauty he saw, eager to explore more of this strange land. Whatever dangers lie before him were minor compared to the splendor of