Blue Words

by M. C. Edwards

  “Pfft!!” spat Barrat slapping his cheek. “Had these babies since I was a kid. So no, never had one.”

  “Looks are not as attractive as gold to some,” grunted Gudrik.

  Barrat chuckled, “I mean I’ve had women, but I’ve never had one love me, want to be with me, want to give me kids. You know, the stuff life is all about. I don’t really want to be a soldier all my life, but what else could I ever do?”

  Once again Gudrik found himself in a position he felt grossly underqualified to counsel. “My father used to say, ‘the fates will provide a way’,” he grumbled. Barrat gave him a nod.

  “Hope so, I would love kids. I’ve fought and killed most of my life, I would love to raise and nurture something one day. You know, protect, care for, all that fidix.”

  Gudrik gave him an understanding nod. “Come, we need more wood. The books burn too fast.”

  The two men walked to the room where Gudrik had first seen George. He looked at the long oaken table upon which he had spent so much of his life, too much of his life really. He bled an axe into his hands, not a flaming one, just a regular axe. Gudrik mumbled something which held no meaning to Barrat’s ears, but the way he held his head and the down cast eyes almost suggested an apology to an old friend. He raised the axe and began to splinter the wood.

  Gudrik and Barrat arrived back at the group laden with timber which they piled beside the fire. Half Man eyed Barrat’s scars in the fire light. “Guess I’m not the prettiest girl at the party anymore,” he said raising his glass. Barrat returned his salute.

  “There has to be a way to defeat this thing,” said Brood, stoking at the flames with fresh wood. “I refuse to believe there is nothing we can do.”

  “My darts didn’t even seem to irritate it,” said Dorian.

  “Bullets did nothing to it, even my irradiated ones,” added Half Man.

  “Our guys hit it with projectile explosives and achieved nothing,” said Barrat.

  “Some of the munitions they used on Gudrik might work,” added Teefa. “If we can find some.” There was a nodding consensus.

  “It couldn’t kill me in mist form,” said Kahn, trying to find a positive.

  “Yeah, I survived a touch as stone, but I can’t move like that so it’s not really any help,” mumbled Crave, motioning to Teefa for a cigarette.

  “There is no way to kill it,” repeated Gudrik harshly, “And it is far too powerful to banish. The best we could ever hope for is to bind it again.”

  “We have no vessel powerful enough to contain it,” said Kahn.

  “Where is the amulet it was in?” asked Crave.

  Gudrik and George both looked down at the shimmering waters below. The group took their meaning. “We have dive gear at the warehouse,” suggested Half Man, he looked around his remaining men, “And four capable divers.”

  “It could take days to find it, and that is assuming it wasn’t destroyed when the Valkyrie escaped,” said Kahn

  “It still sounds like our only option though,” Teefa reasoned.

  “Water will offer no protection against it and I fear the Valkyrie will have moved on by the time we find it,” rumbled Gudrik crushing that hope.

  “Can we craft another one? Or is there another one in existence?” asked Neasa. Gudrik shook his head.

  “What about you?” suggested Half Man gulping a swallow of scotch. All of the down trodden faces looked up.

  “He’s right,” said Ami excitedly, gleaming with inspiration. “You contained the creature for eons.”

  “True Ami, but this is very different. This,” he said letting some blood loose with the wand, “Is only a fragment of the spirit, and I am no amulet.”

  “The twelve words could be inscribed on you,” replied Ami. “It may not work, but it’s better than doing nothing.” The group eyed the Warlock hopefully, until the looks were too much for him to bear. Gudrik loosed a loud sighing grunt and nodded his head.

  The Warlock used the wand to produce a collection of long needles. He drank the remaining scotch from his glass and filled it with blood. For hours the Inscribed worked in shifts, two at a time, by the firelight, tattooing the twelve ancient words of Jäger’s clan onto his skin over and over again. The blue words formed long strings which criss crossed his body like an embrace of chains. The soldiers and mercenaries patrolled the roof and corridors, more from a yearning to be useful than for any real purpose. The city below was silent and dark, a void of nothingness. Only the occasional crackle or howl of the Valkyrie was heard, just enough to push nerves to the edge and raise hackles. The night was long, but the faint glimmer of hope was enough to spur everyone on.

  Finally, in the glowing dark of pre-dawn, the inscription was completed. Gudrik stood, covered in a twisting blue web of chains from neck to foot. The flows even thinned and entwined his fingers and toes. They crept up his neck and wriggled ever so slightly onto his cheeks and chin. He was now as prepared as he was ever going to be. As the sun began to rise his massive wings ushered him to down into the lifeless city below.

  The streets were silent and still. The previous day had been hot and humid; smells of decay had started to drift, thick enough to taste. Gudrik walked cautiously around the buildings, searching for any clues as to where the Valkyrie hid. An hour of trolling the streets passed with no luck. The plan had always been a slim chance of success, but if they couldn’t find the spirit that chance would be reduced to none at all. An occasional bang, crash or scrape would taunt Gudrik and spring him to attention. It was these sounds which eventually led him to realise that the city wasn’t as deserted as he had originally thought. Animals and birds roamed freely, feeding on decomposing bodies and seemingly unaware or unafraid of the predatory spirt which stalked the city. But it wasn’t only the creatures. From time to time Gudrik would catch a glimpse of faces or shadows in windows above. Most likely folk who had locked themselves in their apartments or offices when the catastrophe had struck. Something which had undoubtedly saved their lives. Anything a couple of stories from the ground would have been quite safe from the Valkyrie’s touch.

  “Baiser tout! It’s not working,” complained Brood. “The Valkyrie knows it can’t hurt him, why the hell would it come out of to face him?”

  “What else do you suggest brother?” asked Crave.

  “We need someone else down there as bait.”

  “You volunteering?” snapped Teefa.

  “Yeah I’ll go,” he mumbled. His response took everyone by surprise. “I can scale my arm in night stone. We know night stone trapped this thing and stone skin saved Crave, it might be able to protect me.”

  “That’s a pretty big might Brood,” counselled Kahn.

  “Best might we’ve got.”

  “I’ll go with him,” volunteered Ami. “I can keep to the shadows, watch Brood’s back and provide another distraction. We’ve seen it likes to jump from target to target.”

  “It’s a stupid idea,” Dorian butted in, “Just unnecessary risk.”

  “No, they’re right,” said Kahn, provoking a string of expletives from his son. “If this goes on much longer, the Valkyrie will simply leave and only the gods know what will happen then. We have it here now and we have a chance to do something about it. It is an opportunity which must be seized. I would be useless, all I can do is avoid being touched, your shifts will be too slow as you weaken and we all know Ami can use her words for far longer than the rest of us. Brood and Ami have the two most suited skill sets for the task.”

  Dorian saw reason in his father’s words, but still acceptance did not come. His lover put her hand on his cheek and kissed him. “The fates have already written my death, hiding will never prevent it. I don’t think it will come today, you know how fast I am. Help us down please,” she asked in her softest voice. Crave handed Brood his Warlock blood to add to his own. The others did the same and it was shared between the two. The military and mercenaries came to see what was happening, George explained. Dorian grabbed the two Ins
cribed, barked some more expletives about how stupid the entire idea was and turned to his father, fire in his eyes.

  “You could have stopped this with a single word. Anything happens to her and it’s on your head,” he snapped before muttering the blue words. They burst from mist a split second later, far below on the streets.

  Crave murmured and focused on a point in the distance. Light wove and twisted into a sculpture before Gudrik’s eyes, gesturing and signing the plan which was in progress as best he could. He grunted and turned, urgently running back to where the Inscribed pair stood back to back, Brood fighting to restrain trembling nerves, Ami a statue of ice cool calm. “This is not wise,” rumbled Gudrik, though in honesty he was glad to have company.

  “Definitely not wise,” added Brood.

  “It is necessary,” smiled Ami.

  Gudrik looked at Ami, “I must apologise, I thought you the traitor.”

  “Mind on task big boy, we can deal with that later.” She flashed a forgiving smile at him.

  “Show yourself!” Gudrik roared in the spirit’s own tongue. The Valkyrie had already demonstrated its capability to see his mind, and though it obviously didn’t see everything, he still seemed powerless to stop the intrusions. It certainly had some idea what he was planning to do, maybe that was why it would not show, though the plan stood upon the edge of a knife anyway. It was built entirely on guesswork that even Gudrik believed would fail. He hoped that doubt would be enough for it to risk a confrontation. Eternal beings are not ones to fear battle of any kind usually, they are eternal after all.

  “Eyes west,” ordered Brood. The group followed his lead. Blue crackles of light seeped from a nearby building moving through glass, metal and stone as if they were nothing. The flurry hissed and boomed at them, eventually settling into its unstable female form. Prey was all it had been waiting for.

  “Your friends will die today,” resonated sweetly within Gudrik.

  It spurred forth, toward Brood. Gudrik leapt in front of him. The Valkyrie poured right through the Warlock unhindered crashing onto Brood’s night stone shield arm. It bounced off harmlessly.

  “Ormstunga,” thought Gudrik. “I knew it would not be that easy.”

  Shaken, it halted its attack. The Valkyrie raged and set after Ami. She dropped into the shadow of the tower and out of its way. Her armour glowed blue through her white singlet as she seeped from another shadow across the street. Three more Amis sprung out beside her. She gave a swift look and glanced a smile towards Crave atop of the tower as they shot off in different directions. Back and forth from side to side the team of Amis disappeared and reappeared, avoiding the Valkyrie’s reach.

  Brood’s shield arm had given Gudrik an idea, he bled himself. “Brood!” he called, reaching for him with his bleeding hand. As the blood leaked from his palm, it flowed to the ground in a queer, unnatural way. The blue droplets did not simply fall straight to the ground as gravity would demand. They were drawn slightly eastward as they fell, as though pulled by an invisible tether.

  “I felt you bleed,” The Valkyrie had said to him. A crooked smile crept across the Warlock’s face.

  “Take a mouthful of blood, this will hurt.” Brood’s eyes flashed wide and he slurped greedily at the open wound on Gudrik’s outstretched hand. The Warlock then placed his bloody hand on Brood and issued the command, “Blarvictis tromors.”

  A change swept across Brood’s body, along with a blinding pain which dropped him to his knees and squeezed a tormented cry from his lips. “Baiser Tout!” Smooth, sleek night stone scales burst from his skin overlapping and encasing him. Not simply his shield arm, but a full night stone coating.

  As the pain passed, he climbed to his feet, running his eyes over his black armour. “This is more like it!” he shouted, rattling and clacking as he moved.

  “Ami! This way!” Gudrik roared. She glanced at the black scale clad Brood stomping slow and heavy toward her.

  “No it will slow me down,” she said refusing Gudrik’s offer.

  Her burst of speech gave her away as the flesh Ami. The Valkyrie now paid no notice to Crave’s creations. It darted at her, its bloodlust boiling and bubbling out of control. She dropped safely into a nearby shadow, the spirit surging past. Again and again they did their dance, with Ami constantly sipping at the blood to keep her body from breaking down. Brood was always clattering along after the surging blue shape, too slow to help. The random travel had worked well for Ami so far. The sun was still low and the shadows were long and numerous, but inevitably, luck abandoned her.

  Ami seeped from a shadow to find herself only slightly to the east of the creature. Despite its lack of eyes, the spirit seemed to stare straight at her. Dropping back into the shadow she had just emerged from was not an option, the link was still established, she would simply appear back under the Valkyrie. The only other shadow in reach was hers, the only shadow which was resistant to her ability. She glanced over her shoulder, still calm and serene, even in the face of certain death. The next shadow was in sight, she just had to get there. The Valkyrie launched. Ami darted. The race was on.

  “I will make it.” Ami’s face was iron wrought focus as the looming death surged after her. Her eyes saw nothing but the shadow ahead. “Ten steps and I’m.....” Her foot snagged a large jagged pothole in the road. Ami went down, her head bounced off the kerb with a sickening thud and her bottle of blood scuttled across the road. She rolled and tumbled limp and lifeless, stopping with her face to the road.

  The edges of her vision clouded as Ami looked up; the world was slow and distant. She tried to push herself up onto all fours. Her movements were viscous and heavy. Blood streamed from a gash above her right ear, gushing down her cheek and curling into her mouth. The rest of the group began to scream from the rooftop, watching in horror as the Valkyrie drifted toward its stricken prey. Dorian looked to his father, he was absent.

  Half Man opened fire on the creature, the others joined in…..useless. The Valkyrie surged onto the disorientated Ami. She tried to drop into the shadow without success, it was just out of reach. Brood stormed to her aid. Dorian roared his command to shift. Gudrik bled himself. The spirit was on her. Ami rolled onto her back and found herself looking at the approaching torrent of blue death, screeching as it approached. It formed two taloned claws which stretched ahead of the mass at her. Ami made her peace and blew a kiss blindly at the top of the building where she had left her love. As she did, he appeared with a puff of mist on the ground beside her. He scooped at her body, but too late.

  There was no time to react. No time to speak the blue words. No time to focus his mind on a destination. Not even time to have one last precious word with his soul mate. They simply stared into each others’ eyes as the talons reached them. At least they would die together. The air seemed to take on a blue shade as it washed over them, a fine mist swirled on the twisting puffs of wind which surrounded the spirit. A large, dark shape shadowed them. The mist gathered into the shape of a man. The shape of a loving father. The shape of Kahn.

  He smiled at his son as the talons drove into his back. His brow furrowed with fever and sweat instantly beaded on his skin. “Y-you have my blessing,” he forced out with his final gasps. The life drained from his eyes and they stared past his son.

  “Sclivitan!” roared Dorian, putting a hand on his father’s searing chest. The trio appeared in a puff back on the roof top, Ami bleeding, Dorian weeping, Kahn dead and still.

  The Valkyrie shuddered with pleasure. It felt the loss within Gudrik. It settled its cluster into the vague female shape. It couldn’t smile, but it glowed and pulsed in a way that showed its joy just as clearly. Death was what sustained it. To all who dealt with it, the Valkyrie was evil and cruel, but that is not truly so. It craved death and sorrow, true, but simply because that is what it was, that was what it was bred for. It was in truth no more evil than a hungry man gnawing at a roasted joint of pork is to pigs.

  Brood stormed at the spirit. He may have
been well armoured in the night stone, but he was not a big man and the weight made him frustratingly slow. The Valkyrie thought very little of him, it knew that this imp was protected and it knew he was of no real danger. It ignored him and circled around as though looking for another target.

  Gudrik closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He pushed the grief and anger aside. The Valkyrie had read things from his mind, but it didn’t seem to see everything he thought, that was clear from its reactions. “It likely sees only segmented flashes as I saw in the dreams.” He took a chance.

  The Warlock summoned every beautiful memory he could muster of George, everything about her which made him happy, everything which made him.......he conceded, love her. Gudrik focussed, blocked everything from the outside world out and maintained a picture of her walking around the corner towards him. The Valkyrie halted mid step and turned in the direction of his thought, as if waiting. Brood seized on the distraction and caught up to it, wrapping his night stone arms around the mass of light. He locked his hands together and grasped it tight. The obsidian scales seemed to trap it. Though there was nothing but light in his arms, as he squeezed them together something forced them back. Brood held the Valkyrie as if it were physical.

  The light formed once again into long, demonic fingers which rolled into fists and began bashing and pounding upon his head and shoulders. The force crushed him to one knee, and then dropped him onto the other. Still he held tight and took the beating. Brood rolled his head forward and it beat his back, struggling like a rabid beast to break free. Gudrik charged in, slashing the wand across his left palm, then his right, blood dripped from its hilt. He thrust his bleeding hands into the scurrying light. The blue which seeped from his wounds seemed to take life and started twisting and entwining with the swirling splinters of light. They merged and weaved together.

  However, things were not as the Warlock had hoped. The light began to slowly pull away from him, drawing a trail of blood with it. The trail grew longer and longer. The Valkyrie was leeching the blood from his body; the streams extended and swirled deeper into the mass. He felt strength, life and purpose ripping from him. He dropped to the ground beside Brood. “No!” he roared, “Noooooooo!”