by Andy Remic
“I turned, and I left the room. I went back to my house, packed a bag with essential belongings, poured lantern oil across my bed, and set the whole fucking place alight. I believe it took three days until the fire was finally extinguished. It could be seen from all four quadrants of Vagan.”
Sakora looked at him, pale in the moonlight, his hair a shimmering fan. She smiled.
“I understand,” she said.
“You do?”
“It doesn’t always have to end in murder. Sometimes, we can just walk away.”
“Like now?”
“I am uneasy,” confessed Sakora. “I believe this… quest, is foolhardy.”
“And yet we both agreed to come.”
“We did.”
“So, what’s the solution? To return, head back south, before we cross the Ice Bridges of Sakaroth?”
Sakora shrugged, a delicate gesture. “I feel for Jonti. I believe I want to help, no matter how slim the possibility.”
“And it is slim indeed.”
“Beetrax’s quest is based on greed, not saving the woman we all love.”
“And yet it could produce the same outcome.”
“Possibly. Hopefully. Although I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Talon sat next to Sakora, snuggling in close. They held each other for a while, sharing body warmth as the cool, random breezes of the chilled mountain summit drifted around them.
Talon wrapped his arms tight around Sakora, and they hugged.
After a few minutes, he pulled away a little, and stared into her face.
“Are you well?”
“I am very well.”
“You enjoy my hugs?”
“Very much.”
“Good. I enjoy hugging you.”
“Is this where you ask for sex? Because if you do, you might find me compliant.” She smiled, a warm smile under cold stars.
Talon put his head on her shoulder. “Not tonight, my dear. Tonight… well, tonight is a night about mourning.”
And they sat under the stars, and watched the universe slowly spin by.
Sunlight gleamed from the blanket of white snow, as they headed down from the shelter onto a steep slope which led from the mountain summit. No more snow had fallen, and the air was cold and crisp, with a biting wind which blew in from the north, stirring the powdered surface. High above, against a pale blue vista, an eagle dropped into a glide and rode the thermals, circling slowly.
“This way,” said Dake, and as they crossed the plateau, the world opened up into one of the most stunning views any of them had ever seen. The Karamakkos. The Teeth of the World. They stretched away, filling the horizon, a seeming infinity of peaks extending off northwards, glinting with ice and snow, threatening with deep chasms and towering violence. The silence to this vast backdrop was terrifying. It was holy.
They trudged through snow, Dake leading the way.
Jael shuffled alongside Beetrax, who had seemed to acclimatise a little to the strenuous effort of travelling through snow, and was now taking long, loping strides, his axe strapped to his pack on his back, his furry hat, with drooping ear covers, seeming to merge with his beard and turn him into a ginger and brown bear.
“Where are we actually going, Beetrax?”
The axeman glanced down at the youth. “Your face is looking better. The swelling is nearly gone.”
“Yes, but it’s still tender.”
“That will fix, lad. It’ll fix. Well. We’re heading for the Ice Bridges of Sakaroth.”
“And what are those?”
Beetrax gave a nod, ahead, to the vast wilderness of jagged peaks ranged before them, staggering ahead like a thousand massive black and grey teeth. “You see that? That vast playground is known as the Karamakkos. But access is severely limited. There are no roads, no easy pathways. If you are an expert with ropes and climbing up vertical sheets of ice, you can find yourself a path; but for us mere mortals, we need a bridge. Sakaroth is the next peak, but a vast chasm lies between Talkanoth and Sakaroth – impassable. Except for a few months of the year, when a bizarre natural occurrence of various mineral streams from overhead ledges, wind from various caves, and other shit I no doubt would never understand, create these ice bridges that cross the chasm. They are unstable, and more slippery than a bent whore in your wallet, but they will provide us passage.”
“Where do they lead? What is it we seek?”
The words treasure hunt came to Beetrax’s lips, but he pushed them aside, and coughed, and said, “You see Jonti over there? She is ill. We are seeking a cure for her.”
“A noble quest, then!” beamed Jael, innocent face lighting up with brightness and honesty. “This is like many stories we read at school, of heroes and quests and saving the land. It is an honour to be caught up in such a quest, Beetrax!”
“Er. Sure.” Beetrax turned away.
They travelled through morning, losing height from the summit of Talkanoth. Dake picked a superb route, across fields of steep snow and boulders, and high walls reared around them once more as they came to The Fingers – twin pillars of perfectly smooth stone, each pillar maybe fifty or sixty feet in height and naturally formed.
They stopped here, and had a brief lunch, sitting on their packs. Jael stared between The Fingers, to where a flat, rocky path stretched away between vertical walls of jagged black. At the far end, Jael could see, by squinting, that something glittered.
Snow started to drift down, gentle puffy flakes.
“This place is beautiful,” said Jael, voice soft. “I never realised such a world existed!”
“You’ve never been in the mountains before, Jael?” asked Jonti, moving over to stand beside him.
“I’d… heard stories. And even though you could see the peaks from my village, nobody chose to explore. I suppose day-to-day life was hard enough, just cutting wood for fires, and growing food to survive.”
Jonti nodded. “The Karamakkos, the White Lion Mountains, the Mountains of Skarandos where the Pass of Splintered Bones cuts through; they are all incredibly beautiful, but also, without exception, incredibly deadly. These are not places for the reckless. The Mountain – she does not take prisoners.”
Jael gave a little shiver. “I hear you,” he whispered. Then changed the subject. “Beetrax said you were ill, and our quest is to save you?”
“He did, did he?” Jonti narrowed her eyes, and glanced over to where Beetrax’s booming laughter rolled between The Fingers.
Jael sensed her annoyance. “Was it supposed to be a secret? All I wanted to say was that I was glad to come along; glad to be part of a quest for such a worthwhile cause. I am happy to help, that is all.”
“That’s okay, Jael. And thank you for your sentiments. It’s just… Beetrax is renowned for having a big flapping mouth. I bet that’s something the saga poets don’t sing about when they sit round the fire, begging for their supper?”
Suddenly, their conversation was broken by a distant howl; the same long, wavering sound which had haunted them back at the barracks. The note held, a stuttering whine, and then died to oblivion silence.
Beetrax shivered. They all looked at one another.
“Believe me now?” said Beetrax, quietly.
“I think we should move out,” said Dake, voice hard.
“I reckon that was by the shelter.”
Beetrax shook his head. “Too far. It was closer.”
“Not good.”
They walked between The Fingers, onto the wide rocky path, and increased their pace. Beetrax loosened his axe from his pack, and carried it resting against one shoulder. The walls to either side, maybe two thousand feet in height, were sheer and jagged, unforgiving; they sported long, spear-like icicles and a cold wind oozed mournfully down the narrow crevasse. Jael squinted again at the glittering, and as their boots kicked rocks, crunched ice, and they progressed through the narrow channel, so he realised what he could see was snow glinting from a dazzling array of ice.
“We ne
ed to move faster,” growled Beetrax.
Jael was limping, holding his ribs now, face lined with pain. Beetrax shot Talon a glance, as if to say, there, I told you he’d slow us down. Talon stopped for a moment to string his bow, and his hand shifted behind his head, checking his quiver of steel-headed shafts.
They reached the end of the chasm, and the world opened into a bright, glittering array of sunlight bouncing from ice. Ahead was a towering mountain, with various cave mouths staggered up the vertical wall, containing overhanging promontories of black rock. But what made the company gasp were the Ice Bridges of Sakaroth – there were seven of them, each of varying widths. They curved away in random directions, most with a slight dip towards the centre where huge icicles had formed beneath, dropping away to some bottomless pit far beneath; some terrifying chasm of infinity and death. The narrowest bridge was the width of a man, and spiralled towards the centre, with a rainbow of mineral colours trapped in the glittering ice. The widest, just off centre to the right, was perhaps the width of a narrow, cobbled road in Vagan, down which one cart could comfortably pass.
They gleamed.
The company stood, staring in awe.
“It changes every year,” said Jonti, glancing over at Jael. Then to Dake, “The widest?”
Dake nodded, and to everybody, said, “Look at the camber; there is a slope. We’ll have to take it slowly. If you have a dagger, keep it to hand – they make an impromptu ice axe. If you go over, dig the knife into the ice until somebody can help.”
“And if we all go over?” rumbled Beetrax.
Dake scowled at him, and chose not to reply.
The howl came again; the howl of the splice, long, and wavering, followed by a crunch of ice and rocks, scattering across the rocky floor with hollow clacks like loaded knuckle dice across a corrupt gaming table.
Beetrax’s head whipped round, and he growled a curse. The huge, twisted, deformed horse creature stood between The Fingers, reared up on hind legs, front legs dangling before it with great, twisted iron hooves, scarred and bent from battle. The equine head, with lips pulled right back displaying layers of fangs, quivered. The creature’s uneven head and lop-sided eyes, one yellow, the larger one blood red, stared at the company of adventurers.
“Shit,” muttered Beetrax, getting a good hold on his axe.
The creature’s front hooves hit the rocks, and it lumbered into a charge.
“Get across the bridge!” screamed Dake, suddenly, as every member of the company drew weapons with hisses and clatters of steel. Jonti passed Jael a long blade, slightly curved and wickedly sharp.
“You might need this,” she said, sombrely.
Jael swallowed, eyes wide with fear.
Talon leapt alongside Beetrax, withdrew a shaft, and notched it.
The beast was bellowing as it galloped down the rocky valley, shoulder-charging huge boulders out of the way with snorts of steam and blood, its head weaving from left to right, twisted side-horn glistening with some kind of mucus.
The closer it got, the uglier it got.
“Fucking shoot it!” snapped Beetrax.
“I don’t want to waste arrows.”
“So speaks the best fucking shot in Vagandrak? Fucking KILL IT!”
There was a snap and a whine, and an arrow sped across the space. It deflected from the beast’s shoulder, clattering off amongst the rocks.
“Great fucking shot!” snapped Beetrax. “You missed!”
“I didn’t miss, it’s got a hide like plate armour!”
Behind, the others had stepped out onto the widest of the seven ice bridges. They slipped and slid, regaining balances. Jonti looked over at Lillith and Sakora. “It’ll be a miracle if we get across!”
“We have to try. We have no option!” said Sakora, eyes on fire. “Link arms!”
They linked arms, and with each member steadying one another, began a slow crossing of the ice-slippery bridge, moving inch by inch, boots sliding out every second step, faces contorting in pain at stretched tendons and muscles.
Another whine, and an arrow embedded in the splice’s side. It made not one iota of difference to its charge. It was nearly halfway down the valley now, and it was looking more furious with every passing second.
Beetrax turned full on, and grasped his axe in both hands, and readied himself.
“I hate to say this, old horse, but I think we’re going to need more blades.” Another arrow slashed at the beast, disappearing in the thick mane. Again, it had no effect.
“Fucking SHOOT IT!” screamed Beetrax, beginning to realise just how big the creature was. He swallowed, hard, mouth dry with sudden fear. It wasn’t just big. It was BIG, ugly, and appeared fucking annoyed about something.
Talon held out his bow, fixing his cool gaze on Beetrax. “I swear on my life, Axeman, one more bloody word and you can kill it yourself.”
“Just do something!”
The space between them was rapidly closing. They felt the very rocks beneath their feet shaking.
“Gods, it’s nearly the height of two stallions!”
Talon started firing shaft after shaft, aiming for eyes and throat, but the beast was weaving, odd disjointed legs smashing rocks as it carried itself forward in an almost random trajectory; certainly one hard to anticipate. Arrows struck from its head and shoulders now, and it reared suddenly, staggering on hind legs, and let out an almighty roar that reverberated around the mountains, the canyons, the valleys, the crevasses, booming and grinding, screaming a created sound of animal hate rarely experienced in the realm of Vagandrak.
Dake, helping Lillith and Jael, glanced up as a shower of small rocks and ice pattered onto the ice bridge. They were half way across, but looking back, he knew they wouldn’t make it. And what was Beetrax going to do?
“I can’t leave them,” he muttered, and drew his sword.
“You mustn’t!” hissed Jonti, grabbing his arm, face fearful.
“But – just look at the beast!”
Jonti stared, stared in horror, and drew her lips in a tight line. “Go back to them,” she said. “Go back, now!”
Slipping and sliding, Dake reversed his progress, and started heading back for Beetrax and Talon.
Talon glanced left at Beetrax. The beast was nearly upon them.
“Well?” snarled Beetrax.
“Better use that bastard axe. I’m out of shafts.”
It loomed close, eyes insane, mouth drooling blood and saliva, great head turning on Beetrax, for whom it made a direct charge. As it came close, Beetrax felt his arse clench in fear as it reared over him. There was a slither of steel as Talon’s sword sprang free of its scabbard, and he rolled left under a crushing swing from an iron-shod hoof. Beetrax took a step back, the glittering heads of his great axe slashing through the air. The beast made no attempt to avoid the blow, but twisted, taking the blades on one leg as it heaved its bulk forward, almost sending Beetrax slipping backwards from the ledge into the chasm beneath the bridges. Off balance, he ducked a whirring hoof and jabbed his axe forward, opening a wound in the creature’s chest. It bellowed, and Beetrax rolled right but the beast moved fast, rearing, hooves coming down to crush a section of rock a few inches beside Beetrax’s head. He stumbled to his knees and feet, and circled around the beast. Talon circled the other way as it whirled about, fixing an evil gaze on Beetrax.
“You… die first, Axeman,” it managed through squirming lips and quivering fangs, as pus and blood drooled from a mouth filled with strips of human flesh.
“Beast, you are one ugly son of a cunt,” spat Beetrax, anger rising within him to overwhelm the fear. “I’d hate to meet your mother or your sister; although that’s probably the same fucking nightmare beast, ain’t it?”
The splice roared and charged, and Talon leapt from the side, sword slamming at its head. The blade cut a line but bounced free of armour and it whirled on Talon, turning faster than anything so large had a right to – and charged.
Talon skipped back,
sword jabbing, and with a roar Beetrax charged in behind, axe coming down on the creature’s back, cutting a huge, ragged hole. A leg punched out, iron hoof hitting Talon in the face and sending him spinning across the snow, dazed, sword clattering away. Then Dake was there, between Talon and the creature, his sword up, his eyes bright, his mouth a grim line.
“Come and taste some Vagan steel,” he said.
Beetrax came in from the other side. He could see splatters of blood across the snow, and gestured to Dake, who nodded, circling away from Talon.
Suddenly, the splice roared, rearing up, and both Beetrax and Dake rushed in. A hoof caught Beetrax in the chest, picking him up and accelerating him across the ice, where he slid to a stop, wheezing, groaning, and a single foot from where the chasm fell away.
Dake’s sword cut a long groove down the beast’s hide, but it spun on him and advanced, huge maw opening wide and ready to bite off his head. His sword came up but was batted aside. Nothing could stand in the way of the splice…
On the snow, head pounding, Talon grabbed a stray arrow which had been dislodged during the fight. He brought round his bow, notched the arrow, and in one smooth movement, fired.
The arrow whined, and embedded in the splice’s big, red eye, popping the orb in a splatter of pus and fluid, and driving deep into the elongated horse skull.
The effect was incredible.
The splice went insane, rearing up, spinning round, screaming and roaring, tusk slashing randomly at the air, hooves slashing at invisible foes.
On the bridge, Jonti, Lillith, Sakora and Jael had reached the safe path across the ice. The ground, however, seemed unstable; there was a deep rumbling, a shaking, and looking up, Jonti realised the mountain itself had started to complain.
“Dake!” she screamed. “Dake! I think there might be an avalanche!”
“Shit,” he muttered. “Talon! Trax! We need to get across that fucking bridge, NOW!”
Weapons in hand, and ignoring the spinning, gouging, roaring splice, they ran for the ice walkway, hitting the edge and each going over, sliding along on bellies and arses. More rocks and splinters of ice fell from above. The ground trembled, a tremor of terrifying proportions.
