The drive home was quieter than the trip there. Gudrik could see the concern in Kahn’s face, but it was not Gudrik’s place to counsel him…..he felt Kahn was a much wiser soul than he. Malaki and Dorian sat in the back together, sharing the odd joke and discussion like the close friends they were, all the while dancing delicately around the topic of Ami, upon which they were eternally divided. As the car rolled into the driveway of the shack Gudrik found himself relieved. He had only ever known one place as a home before. Prior to Elya he had always lived a nomadic existence in both his mortal and immortal lives. He was excited to get home, excited to see his family again. This had been the longest he had been separated from them since the day which they met months ago.
The four men climbed out of the car, Gudrik headed straight for the door while the others went to the shed. It was black, pitch black. They had only just missed sunset. Tabitha should still be awake. “The beach.” He walked through the shack to the verandah; timber boards creaked and groaned in the black as he moved. The moon outside was bright, the wind was gentle, the waves danced and the ocean twinkled like the stars above, but there was no sign of any fire. If they were on the beach this time of night it would certainly have been for a fire. “Maybe they left?” The thought shook him. It would make sense; things were changing, becoming more violent, more dangerous. George had to do what was best for the child.
He turned around and began walking back through the main room of the beach house. Gudrik didn’t concern himself with lighting the gas lamps or candles, he had spent so much time there that he knew the layout by heart. But as he reached the midpoint of the room his foot brushed against something which he hadn’t expected. It was something which wasn’t supposed to be there.
He paused and slid his foot around, exploring a little further. Curiosity got the better of him. Gudrik drew his wand and shed a few small droplets of blood from his hand. “Livitus.” His hand ignited in burning pain as it lit up like a fluorescent bulb, casting warm, white rays across the room and illuminating all the secrets which the black had concealed.
His heart leapt into his throat in reaction to the scene which lay before him and the burn was all but forgotten. The out of place object which had sparked his curiosity was actually the lifeless body of a grey. Alongside it, limbs flung askew, were two more. Lying in close vicinity, propped up against the wall was George. Gudrik ran straight to her. Her body was limp. She was unconscious, but breathing. Gudrik ran his luminous hand all over her body. She appeared to be uninjured, but for a bruise on her cheek. No doubt the blow which had left her unconscious. In George’s right hand was a large, kitchen knife which wore telltale red stains. “That’s my girl.” He trickled a small flow of ghostly, blue blood into her mouth, just to be certain she was fine.
Suddenly panic surged back through him. “Tabitha!?” He stood and began waving his glowing hand around searching the dark corners of the room, all of her favourite hide and seek spots. It was a game Paw had played intentionally with her, to prepare for situations such as this. She was nowhere to be found. “Tabitha! Tabitha!” he called, trying hard to make his harsh voice sweet and calming like Neasa’s.
“They took her,” came a breathless response. “There were so many of them, from the beach.” Gudrik shook his head wildly, as if not accepting the situation would change it. His eyes clouded and he became more agitated. It was all happening again.
“Pup, where is Pup?”
“He tried to protect her, but there were too many of them. I’m not sure where he ended up. I remember he and Paw chased them out to the verandah, but things are fuzzy after that.” George held her cheek, which had since healed thanks to Gudrik’s offering.
The Warlock rushed outside. There, just as George had described, lay the bodies of three severely mauled greys. Many more also lay open from long clean slashes. Wasting no time he continued to the beach. Another grey lay dead under the Casuarina arch. On the beach Gudrik found a mess of clustered boot and paw prints scattered across the sand. On the water’s edge, being lapped by the gentle incoming waves, lay two more dead greys. Surrounding them, a collection of spent bullet casings, which had been pushed into a neat line by the incoming water. Both bodies had a twisted, bloody mess where their throats once were, definitely the work of Tabitha’s Pup Pup.
Further along the beach alongside the long drag marks of small boat hulls, Gudrik found another group of corpses. These men were not mauled. They were all peppered with slashes and stab wounds, apart from one. That one was bullet riddled and dressed differently. Beside that corpse lay a blood smeared, silvery long sword with a leather wrapped grip. He rolled the body over. Paw’s tongueless mouth hung open, his empty eyes glared into the starry skies above. Gudrik lifted him from the surf and carried him up the beach, gently laying him in the dry sand. He picked the wet strands of hair from his face. “You gave everything you could. May you be treated like the hero you are wherever you find yourself,” said Gudrik, closing his eyes. Death was something even Warlock blood could not undo.
It was clear that from there that the trail led into the ocean. There was no trace of Tabitha, no sign of Pup. From there they could have gone anywhere.
By that time George, Kahn, Dorian and Malaki had joined Gudrik on the beach. “Is that...?”
“Aye,” replied Gudrik before George could finish. Everyone lowered their head, but not for long enough to do the fallen warrior justice. Unfortunately there were more pressing matters. “The trail ends here,” reported Gudrik.
“Like hell it does!” yelled George, “Use your blood, track her!”
“I can’t!” he yelled frustratedly at her. “Don’t you think I would have already done it if I could?”
“What, so you can conjure a giant frigging wolf from nothing, but you can’t find a little girl?” she screamed, teetering on her tip-toes and trying to get nose to nose with him. He turned away and walked closer to the water.
“Spirits are all knowing beings,” explained Kahn, “Aware of everything at all times, there is no need for words like find or search in their language.” Dorian’s phone began to ring and he moved away from the group to answer it.
“Well we can’t just stand around here scratching our arses all night, they have my daughter,” screamed George. Her outburst was ignored.
“Where would he take her?” It was clear Kyran was up to his old tricks again, George being left alive was proof of that. If they had intended her dead she would be laying on the beach beside Paw. It was clear he wanted Gudrik to follow, or Tabitha would be dead as well. The Warlock was confident nothing would have happened to her yet. Confident may not have been as good as certain, but it was much better than the alternative. He would either take her somewhere Gudrik was aware of, or send some sort of clue to lure him in.
“Gudrik, that was Ami,” called Dorian, interrupting his thought. “She says something weird is going on over there. Not long after dark Kyran’s private helicopter arrived at Raven’s Skull Creek.”
“You can’t be serious Dorian!” cried Malaki dramatically, storming over and yelling in his face. “She obviously used that meet today to distract us. Why do you think she kept us waiting so long? Now you want to go running the second she calls us back. Think with your brain instead of your cock for a second!” he continued frustratedly.
Dorian instantly saw red and swung his right fist hard into Malaki’s jaw, spinning his head sideways. Malaki in turn drove his shoulder into Dorian’s stomach, tackling him hard to the sand. They rolled around landing punch after punch on each other until both were bruised and bloody. Kahn and Gudrik separated them.
“Enough bickering!” grunted the Warlock. “Aye, it is certainly a trap, but that does not necessarily secure her guilt. Our options are few and it is more than likely where they would go. So it is all we have to work with. I will end this once and for all, alone. No more lives will be threatened by my actions.”
He drew his wand and began to bleed himself, but he was sharpl
y interrupted by George grabbing his arm. “She is my daughter; you don’t get to make the decision whether or not I am involved.”
“There is no way I would allow you to come,” he grumbled.
“Women may have shut their mouths and done what they were told in your day Gudrik, but today pulling that crap just gets you kicked in the balls.” Gudrik wretched his arm free and finished slashing his hand.
“You clearly know nothing about the women of my homeland. Kiztarcus.” He drew a long, thin copper needle from the glowing wound on his hand. “Have it your way, but this is going to hurt.”
George followed Gudrik back to the house with a pale, queasy look on her face while the other three hunted for dry driftwood to build a makeshift funeral pyre for Paw. “She is safe. She is well. Don’t rush the trap. Plan it well,” he told himself over and over again.
The Warlock used his blood to paint a large wheel of runes on the floor. He removed the needle from his pocket, took one of the final two crystal vials of his blood and turned to George. “Take off your shirt.” George looked at him with a perplexed expression. “If you want to help, then you must do this. Otherwise you will be nothing more than a distraction.”
Reluctantly she complied with his instructions. George folded the shirt and hung it over a chair. “Turn your back to me and kneel.” Once again she followed his directions. Gudrik cut her bra strap; it sprung apart, exposing her back. George wrapped her arms around her breasts, holding the bra in place and concealing them. Gudrik dipped the point of the stretched, cone shaped needle into the vial of blood and placed his index finger over the tiny hole at its top, sucking a small amount of blood up. Carefully he pierced the delicate skin of her back, leaving a single dot which ran a small trail of purple down her spine. George tensed up. She clenched her teeth and grated them as Gudrik repeated the action over and over again, quickening his pace as he worked. After almost two agonising hours, the deed was done. Gudrik wiped the smear of mingled bloods away; exposing a spiralling collection of blue runes perched between her shoulder blades. He walked around and knelt in front of her, looking intensely into George’s eyes.
“To give you a collection of blue words would have taken too much time, time we do not have. I have given you one inscription. You shall stay clear of the battle until Tabitha is in sight. Then when the opportunity arises you will grab her and utter these words. Memorise them, but do not,” Gudrik paused for a moment to emphasise his point, his blue eyes shining into hers. “I repeat do not speak them until the moment you require their use. Svanjanus vindiktus.”
George repeated the words over and over in her mind, locking them firmly into memory. “Svanjanus vindiktus. Svanjanus vindiktus. Svanjanus vindiktus.”
The group gathered back on the beach around Paw’s pyre. No words were said. Nothing needed to be said. Everyone knew the man lying before them; no mere words could do his life justice. For seven hundred and thirty seven years he had put the welfare of the group before his own. It was a character trait which had shone right up to his last breath. Kahn simply lit the wood while everyone watched on in silent tribute. The flames engulfed Paw’s body, escorting him from the realm. Gudrik whispered a simple Varth-lokkr chant to guide his spirit from the earth. George hid her eyes. “No you must watch,” said Kahn raising her chin, “Paw needs witnesses to his transition.” The smoke curled gracefully toward the stars.
Once the hero had been farewelled, the group came together at the foot of the still roaring fire.
“Ami will join us at the meeting point in about four hours to help us gain access,” said Kahn, “But I couldn’t reach Teefa and the others.”
“Probably in one of the dead spots along the highway,” added Malaki.
“We’re in too,” said Dorian standing beside Malaki, both already looking worse for wear.
“No we can’t risk you Dorian,” responded Kahn. Dorian’s eyes narrowed with confusion and he swept his hair aside.
“This could be the defining battle of our order, how can you deny me the chance to fight?”
“You will take over from me one day son, I nearly lost you once this week, I won’t let it happen again.”
“Take over when dad? You’ve been telling me that for three hundred years and yet here I am still being treated as a boy. I have proven my ability and loyalty time and time again,” he spat blood from his mouth, “Or is this about keeping me away from Ami? You had your chance; she deserves the right to a happy life too.”
“Watch your tone, you speak of things you don’t understand,” Kahn snarled. “My orders stand. Ami and I will accompany Gudrik, you will not.”
“Fuck your orders; I’m coming to fight side by side with my woman! I will not let her die alone and outnumbered like my mother.” Kahn lunged forward to strike his son, but Malaki caught his arm and drew him into a constricting embrace.
“Kahn, listen to me,” he whispered into his friend’s ear. “There has been enough fighting between our ranks tonight. I get to act like a drunken asshole, not you. He doesn’t mean it. He’s just pumping adrenaline. You know your blood; it flows through him as well. You would be at this fight no matter what. The same is true of him, and me.”
Gudrik thought for a moment. He had intended to fight this battle alone, the Inscribed had done so much already, but with George added to the equation it made sense to have extra troops on the ground. He also thought back to the lab, and how he had regretted not accepting their help then.
“Your company would be appreciated,” Gudrik replied. “Numbers should only improve our odds.”
“Fine we all go. No heroics. Follow orders and keep George safe,” Kahn ordered. He shared a lingering look with his son, a look which said much. It was a twenty minute discussion of apologies and forgiveness all spoken in an instant.
“Tell Ami to get there now,” grunted Gudrik. Everyone looked at him queerly, but Dorian did as he was told.
Gudrik stood and faced the group. Their small cache of weaponry had been taken by the attackers. The corpses too had been stripped of any weapons, assumably by their comrades. So the Inscribed would enter this war armed only with their armour. “Make your peace with whatever gods you please, we leave soon.”
The others prepared themselves before joining Gudrik at the water’s edge. He painted war masks on them from a gash on his palm. It was warm and wet at first, but soon dried crisp on the skin.
“This will not be pleasant,” he warned. The Warlock took George’s hand; his palm still bled. He motioned for the Inscribed to join. They locked to form a circle. “Svanjanus cirqes!”
The ground crumbled away below them and the group collapsed through it. There was a brief sensation of free fall before George felt a sharp change of direction. There was an intense radiant heat. George could feel herself moving at such speeds that her very being felt as though it was being distorted and separated, molecule by molecule. Her eyes were not able to focus enough to see anything other than a fiery, orange glow below. The journey lasted no more than few seconds and just when George felt like she would burn alive, her body was snapped violently upward, flinging her arms and legs down. She found herself lying face down on dry, red earth and rock, smoke rising off her back.
Intense nausea took her, and her last meal erupted before her. “How embarrassing.” It wasn’t really the impression she had wished to make on her first campaign of battle, especially after her earlier empowerment speech. However, her wounded pride was soon mended as she looked up to see the men experiencing the same complications. Only the Warlock stood stoic, staring down from their vantage point towards the ambient glow of the brightly lit Raven’s Skull Creek mining facility.
“What the hell was that?” spluttered George as she spat the foul taste from her mouth.
“The void, what we dubbed the low road. A passage of nothingness which separates the realms. We were between Midgard and what my father believed to be Muspellheim. I left an exit mark here earlier,” he answered.
; “That’s impossible Gudrik,” lectured George as she climbed to her feet. Gudrik looked about in a sarcastic, animated fashion.
“Yes…..impossible,” he grumbled.
“Surprise, surprise, no sign of the bitch,” sneered Malaki, spitting the taste from his mouth and dusting himself off.
“I wanted to wait till you had finished purging princess. Didn’t want to get your dinner on my shoes,” came Ami’s voice as she emerged from the dark. “What’s the plan?”
“From here we walk up to the fence and make our way inside,” replied Gudrik.
“A full frontal assault hey, brave but a bit suicidal for us ageless don’t you think Gudrik?” asked Ami. “I promise you he has a comprehensive force in there.”
“It would be a glorious battle no doubt Ami, but having George with us I have an alternative plan. An open attack or breach of any kind would only give him time and warning,” said Gudrik as he cut his palm with the wand. Ami cringed awkwardly as he smeared his blood across her face. She now matched the rest of the team.
“Vitctziscus-noh!” Gudrik yelled. George felt the blood on her face react to his words. A sharp, burning chill spread out from it and swept across her, crawling along her flesh with tiny unseen talons all the way to her fingers and toes, before fading to nothing more than a slight pins and needles sensation which lingered. She looked around the hilltop, and was startled to realise that she was suddenly on her own.
“Gudrik!” she called frantically, “Gudrik!”
“Calm yourself, look at your hands,” came the ghostly rumble of a familiar voice. She held her hands out in front and looked down at them. George saw only moonlit red earth. Glancing further down her body she noticed that it was no longer there.
“How long will this last?” asked George. She was enjoying the idea of being invisible, but was cautious of the long term ramifications.
“Don’t know,” was Gudrik’s response. “I have done it for hours in the past, but never on more than just myself. So I suggest we hurry.”
Blue Words - Part I Page 14
