Chapter 4
It was only a matter of hours before the group arrived at Gearnius, a place where nature was undoubtedly the ruler of the terrain. The landscape was random and uneven, melding into a handful of mountain ranges like water that had been frozen as it descended down a sinkhole. The terrain made it obvious why Helluvans did not ride horses; such beasts could offer no real aid in a landscape this inhospitable. It would be close to impossible to map this terrain out in fine detail, indicating that the group was relying more on memory than maps.
Imbaka no longer lead the group, but a man in his late twenties with long hair that was as straight as it was black took control. Upon his back, underneath his pack were a pair of twin swords, custom made to fit his grasp as was noted by the finger guards that possessed a row of small spikes, more for decoration than combat use. Strangely though unlike all of the other weapons the group wielded, these swords did not shine silver but rather were a crimson colour eerily resembling the taint of spilled blood.
As the group moved further into the mountains Cada Varl could easily see just how hard of a place it would be for an advancing army to march through. Trails were few and would unexpectedly vanish into cliff faces, there was also no area wide enough for more than 5 or 6 men to march side by side. Cada Varl noticed several walkways, both natural and artificial high up along the few trails. The terrain favored a defender in every way; nature itself would force any enemy army into a lethal bottleneck where they could be eviscerated in a shower of arrows from up above. The walkways were not left unmanned for every 400 or so yards a single solider could be seen carrying an already loaded crossbow as well as a regular bow and a quiver of arrows upon their back.
The group came to a trail that was so thin and deluded that it did not appear to even be one. Even to men and women who knew this landscape ascending it would be very slow. Not to mention just how easily someone would be able to be picked off upon it. The ascent of the slope came to the most open area Cada Varl had seen in all of Gearnius, even so it would be difficult to place more than 40 individuals within it. It was in this area however that they came across a small group of soldiers, 6 in total who stood with their backs turned to an opening into the mountains. The opening was closed off by some kind of leather curtain so heavy it would take several men to lift it.
As the group approached the soldiers the longhaired warrior silently stepped back and allowed Imbaka to lead the group once more. The soldiers had seen them coming since they had ascended the slope but did not move to meet them. Imbaka from a satchel upon the right of her waist produced a sheet of leather that had been folded several times to look as if it was a letter.
“ We need to speak with your captain soldier,” she said firmly but without aggression. The closest of the soldiers glanced down to the leather letter at her hand and saw the seal of Granzool. “At once madam,” he replied before taking the leather letter from her and disappearing behind the leather curtain. There was no talk whether small or large between anyone as they waited for the soldier to reappear. The silence made the time pass seemingly slowly but in reality it was not that long before the soldier reemerged along with a companion.
The man the guard had brought with him was an impressive sight to behold, in height and appearance. He was perhaps in his early 40’s with well-trimmed black hair. Around his neck was a collection of fangs whose sheer length proved they had been taken from the jaws of many a werewolf. Flowing down his back from his shoulders was a werewolf hide altered ever so slightly to serve him as a cape. With one hand holding onto the letter and the other resting on the handle of the sword by his side he approached the group and said, “I am Captain Eres.” His voice was hard yet perfectly easy to understand. Imbaka bowed her head slightly before saying,
“I am Imbaka.”
The captain nodded, “That you are,” he said with a powerful truth in his tone. “So Gorgoza has fallen?” he remarked daring not to take his eyes away from Imbaka’s.
“It is so,” she replied simply,
“That would explain a lot,” the captain said.
“How so?” Imbaka replied with a great sense of urgency in her voice.
The captain tilted his head slighty towards the leather curtain as he said, “Come, there is no reason why my mouth cannot move at the same time my legs do.”
Imbaka nodded and led the group as she followed the captain behind the leather curtain.
The ice-framed light of the sun disappeared as soon as the leather curtain was brought back into place after the group had entered. Torches burning the same red as the ones that were found in the underground dungeon of Yakarzin hung from the wall. Though their lights burned brightly they could not completely cover the vast darkness the mountain had been covered in since its beginning, perhaps a million years ago. From a normal man’s sight the captain would easily disappear into the darkness if he had walked a step quicker, but the group seemed easily able to follow him as they moved down a winding path.
As they did so the captain spoke, “ Border patrols by the werewolves are not common in this area, for it would be a foolish invasion point to choose. But for the last 3 months there hasn’t been a single sighting across the border, and that certainly is not normal. At first I feared that they might have been planning something. Perhaps a surprise attack, but I knew it had to be something else, for there would have been other signs. Do you know how close Metamok is to having complete control of the west?” His words though spoken normally carried with them a slight echo revealing the vastness of the inside of the mountain.
“It is believed he shall have control of the west in a matter of months, but that cannot be claimed as fact nor said with any certainty,” Imbaka replied.
“I see…” the captain replied more out of simple acknowledgement of her words than anything else.
The group remained silent until they reached their destination. A place within the mountains that was so thin, a single person could barely move through it. At the other end in the light of the red fire could be seen a heavy door of silver quite literally constructed inside the mountain. The Immortal knew it was only because of Eres that they had been able to reach this door. He had felt air flows around him numerous times as he walked through the passage, meaning that the border guards probably used many other passage ways in the mountains for various reasons. The captain using both hands grasped onto a thick bar that stuck out of the door, he turned it in his hands one way or the other in some kind of combination. There was no apparent sound to explain that the door was unlocked yet the captain knew it was.
Using all of his strength he pressed his body against the door pushing it open. The light of the sun seemed to burn even brighter for the group had not seen it in sometime. After their eyes adjusted to the sun the Immortal could see before him, upwards of at least 70 feet, a stone walkway that had been carved into the mountainside. Upon the walkway he saw the most number of people he had seen in Gearnius and with good reason. The Immortal was looking upon the very edge of the border between Helluv and the west, he could see massive crossbow weapons far too large to be carried, loaded with bolts that made even the largest of spears look small. He could see deposits filled to the brim with silver arrows as soldiers stood no more than ten feet from one another, each carrying a crossbow and bow of their own. There were also racks upon racks of various bladed weapons kept from freezing by nearby fires, alongside various other useful items.
The captain walked down a slight slope, which lead into the largest trail Gearnius seemingly had to offer. The trail lead upwards and towards a pair of gigantic doors that had been forged from the same melding as the armor Helluvans wore. Chains thicker than a man were connected to the door each running down to massive gears, half swallowed in the ground that each resembled the wheel of a ship. Lengths of the same mixed steel were placed horizontally upon the door at three places, top, bottom and center. A total of 30 soldiers lined either side of the massive door standing at attenti
on in line.
“Open the gate!” the captain declared in a thunderous tone.
Without question the 30 soldiers moved upon the large gears in the ground, working in unison they began to turn the gears, which in turn shifted the heavy chains. Each gear performed a different task and each had to be turned a precise way and at a precise moment to successfully open the doors. First the three large bars that barricaded the door were lifted upwards away from it, their weight evident by how tight the chains that held them became. Once the bars were ascended out of the way the doors themselves began to open as frost and ice that had accumulated upon them broke under the weight of such movement. Once the doors were opened the captain and the group stood if only for a moment to look upon the opening before in silence the captain led them towards it.
When they were standing in the doorway the captain stopped walking but continued to look outwards for a long moment. He then turned to look upon Imbaka who met his gaze. It was hard to tell exactly what the captain was thinking but it was clear whatever it was weighed heavily upon his mind.
“Until we meet again….” Imbaka said in her recognizable voice.
“May you remain immortal in memory,” The captain said as he offered his hand and forearm to Imbaka. The words the two had spoken to one another sounded casual enough but in truth were gravely serious. In Helluv such a thing was a way of saying that if the group did not survive their journey their sacrifice would always be remembered.
Imbaka placed her hand on the inner forearm of the captain and firmly squeezed as he did the same to her. She studied his cold bitten face for a moment before walking in the direction beyond the massive doors. The captain shook the hand of the other warriors in the same way saying to each of them, “Immortal in memory.” When it came to Cada Varl the captain paused for a moment, but did offer his forearm. Like the others before him Cada Varl did the same and received the same farewell. The captain watched the group of warriors as they began to move down the slope of the other side before he bellowed, “Close the gate,” and turned to walk back to his post.
None of the Helluvan warriors looked back to watch the two massive doors close, sound was a big enough indication for each of them. Now they were officially in the west outside the safety that their homeland offered. They moved down the slope, which lead into a snow covered valley. In the short distance the group could see the beginning of a forest that stretched further than the eye could reach in both length and width. Cada Varl looked over his shoulder and saw the outside of the Helluvan border and the soldiers who stood upon the border guarding their homeland. He knew in a matter of moments the border would be nothing more than a speck in the distance. The trees of this forest were of a tough breed for they were plentiful and grew close together, not allowing the outside world to easily see what secrets the forest held.
It was only a handful of steps into the forest when the Immortal took notice of something upon the ground. Against the tone of white earth and bark of the trees, a clay sphere, now shattered easily captured his attention. The clay sphere had once held roughly two dozen scrolls, each the same size. Though Cada Varl did not break his stride to get a closer look he could see that they were not blank but each possessed a list of instructions. These scrolls were recipes on how best to cook werewolf meat. The clay sphere was one of many propaganda tools Granzool used against the werewolves. What better way to make monsters afraid of your people if they knew you ate werewolf flesh? But these recipes were more than just propaganda they were actual recipes. Helluvans were known to not only eat werewolf meat, but enjoy it immensely. It was an ingenious way to help stem the fear of any Helluvan, to make them look upon a werewolf, not as something that should be feared, but something that could make a fine meal. Such a sentiment explained the words engraved upon Helluvan helmets ‘Aneck bet untoom’ (You look delicious). The clay sphere must have been launched from the border defenses of Helluv, using some kind of powerful projection war machine.
Cada Varl looked back as if to see just how far the clay sphere had to have traveled. But he soon saw just how quickly the world he once knew had been closed off to him. A feeling of isolation was thick in the air, like the humidity before a great and powerful storm. Even with the knowledge Eres had given them, that werewolves were not somewhere close, this did not change the fact the group had entered another world, a place where no one would give them aid or comfort, they were completely on their own.
The male warrior with long black hair led the group through the forest. Few trails could be found and of the few none seemed useful, forcing the group to move slower than one might have liked. But the warrior who led them seemed to have at least some idea of where he was heading.
For the following hours nothing changed in the landscape, the snow remained thick, the trees remained close together. The only exception was the direction of the sun’s light as it aged across the sky growing weaker in intensity with every hour that passed. As dusk began to creep upon the world the group came to a small clearing, where the tree tops were so close together little snow had fallen onto the ground, leaving it a dull dark brown.
“We’ll make camp here,” the male warrior said in a tone that was well suited to a man who was brash, but not cocky. As he said this, the man dropped his pack onto the ground where it fell like a large stone striking the earth. The sound revealed just how heavy the pack was and as the other Helluvans followed suit, none of their packs were lighter. They had been marching all day without rest and yet none amongst them stretched their limbs or showed any other sign that the trek had tired them. They all seemed like if they needed to, they could march all night without breaking a sweat, and making camp was more a desire than a necessity.
Before Cada Varl could place his pack onto the ground, one of the women approached him, placing her hand in his pack, searching for something. Out of the three women she was the tallest and broadest. Under her armor she would have possessed an impressive physique without losing a feminine figure. She was perhaps 6 feet tall possibly a little taller and had long apple red hair with eyes the colour of young autumn. She granted Cada Varl eye contact as she rummaged through the pack on his back but did not say anything, eventually taking in hand a small jar of some kind, sealed with a simple black lid. When the red haired lady walked away from him Cada Varl placed the pack onto the ground and watched as Imbaka, the third woman and the last man took from their packs foot long blades of some kind. These were not weapons of war but rather tools of labor, for the three Helluvans began cutting down branches and stripping bark from certain places on the surrounding trees.
The other three Helluvans were crouched upon the ground, with the man dressed completely in black rummaging through his own pack and taking out a bucket sized pot of dark metal. While the longhaired warrior was rummaging through his own pack, the lady sat crouched next to him with the jar in hand, waiting for something. Cada Varl wanted to offer help, but he could not see where he would have been needed. The group was obviously preparing to make a fire and then cook food of some kind. Either the 6 Helluvans had traveled together enough times to know what each other were going to do, or perhaps this was just how Helluvans were. So Cada Varl merely watched as kindling was gathered to form the foundation of what would be an impressive fire.
With their task complete the three that had gathered the bark and wood now sat upon the ground next to their respective packs. Of the other three the man dressed in black had taken from his pack, several slabs of heavily salted meat unwrapping them from some kind of butcher’s paper. Using a thin slab of wood he had taken from the pack and a long knife he had taken from his boot, the man in black began slicing the meat into much smaller pieces, never having to perform the same cut twice. The man with long black hair held two identical stones of white clicking them against one another, which formed, sparks over the fuel. When he had gathered a great enough spark he used his breath to enhance the flames forging a tall fire, whose warmth was most welcome in such a cold
place.
As all of this was happening the red haired woman was turning the jar, twisting its top in both directions. She kept her eyes upon the jar as if she was either looking for something or paying close attention to the number of times she turned it. The warrior dressed in black placed the pot right in the center of the fire, seemingly taking no consideration to the risk he might have gotten burned. He then returned to his own pack and took in hand several wrappings of various sizes. They were revealed to be various spices and herbs that he placed inside of the pot, followed by the man dressed in black using his knife to make the meat follow the herbs into the pot.
When that was done the warrior in black cleaned his knife upon the ground and placed it back in his boot, before he took the board of wood and placed that in his pack, taking a simple but long wooden spoon, in its place. The man dressed in black began to stir the ingredients of the pot in a steady way. The red haired woman then stopped turning the jar. She removed the lid and took a whiff of whatever was inside, seemingly satisfied, she held it over the pot and tapped her finger upon it, causing the red spice to fall out in slow groups into the pot. Whatever turning the jar had done to the spice it had worked well for as soon as it was placed inside the pot, a rich aroma as pleasant as even the most impressive flower filled the air. It seemed the smell was so grand that even the winds stopped as if they liked it so much they ignored their duty of travelling across the landscape.
With the fall of night the warmth of the fire was even more welcomed, for without the warmth of the sun the air grew ever colder. The light of the fire was also welcomed but it was not alone on this night. The stars were out in full as was the moon, it seemed Elfanya (the moon) was eager to look down upon these strangers in her realm. Not a single word was spoken by any of them as they waited for their evening meal. Cada Varl took a seat next to Imbaka who showed no sign that she acknowledged his presence. Sometime after the warrior dressed in black stopped stirring the pot and watched it for a moment before he cleaned, if such a word could be used, the spoon on the ground before placing it back into his pack. As he did so the red haired woman took from her own pack a stack of simple bowls, probably made from some kind of tough clay.
“Do you eat Cada Varl?” The man in black asked with a voice that made sandpaper seem smooth. The man did not look up from the pot as he asked this but Cada Varl made nothing of it, he replied, “I am capable of eating, but it does not deliver to me any nourishment and though it may smell ever so delicious, it is not necessary for me to have some.”
As he said these words he could feel the eyes of someone upon him, he glanced over towards the third woman, the one he hadn’t had any interaction with. She stared at him deeply and made no effort to look away when the Immortal looked at her. Cada Varl matched her gaze for a moment but did not say anything.
The man dressed in black nodded at the reply and said casually, “More for the rest of us.”
With those words the red haired woman took a single bowl and passed it to the black haired man, who in turn gave it to the man in black. Using only the bowl and his hand he scooped the bowl into the stew and when it was filled he passed it to the third man who passed it down to where it stopped at Imbaka. The group continued passing bowls of stew around until all six had one and it was only then that they began to eat. They had no utensils to do so but this was no hinder to any of them, they simply pressed the bowl to their lips and lifted it, as if they were drinking liquid. Steam rose greatly from each bowl and yet none waited for their meal to cool, showing no sign that the hotness of the stew was overwhelming. Cada Varl observed as they did this and noticed that not a single drop of the stew fell anywhere outside of their mouths, clearly they had eaten this way enough times to master it. As they eat their meals, only the most necessary of words were spoken, none amongst them were the beginning of a conversation. When the group had finished eating, it was the reverse of what had happened when the meals were served, the empty bowls which had been licked clean were handed down to the red haired woman who placed them in her pack.
With the evening meal over, silence once again reigned. They had not seen a single other living creature, not so much as an insect scurrying upon the ground. The sheer coldness and hostility of the terrain were to be blamed for this, but that did not stop an uneasy feeling to remain in the air. With the exception of the occasional drink from a leather water skin, the group remained almost motionless as they watched the fire burn less brightly with each hour that passed. They did not even attempt to admire the stars in the sky in spite of the how plentiful they were. When one of them finally did speak, the man dressed in black his already strange voice seemed alien against the silence. “We will need to come up with a guard rotation,” he said.
“I’ll will keep guard,” Cada Varl said before anyone else could speak. With all eyes upon him he explained further, “Sleep is not a necessity for me, it would be selfish to take hours of slumber from any of you.” With those words said 4 of the 6 warriors looked back to the fire, with the man dressed in black and the 3rd woman being the exception.
“You are proving useful Cada Varl,” the man in black proclaimed. The man in black looked upon the fire and again the Immortal could feel the eyes of the third woman upon him. Again he looked to her and again she did not look away. There was no tension or aggression in her eyes so The Immortal did not push the matter, he simply looked back to the fire.
The long haired man stood up and using a stick that had not been placed in the fire he began taking pieces of the fuel away from their brethren, carefully breaking them into smaller pieces and spreading them across the ground. As he was doing this the fire was already in the first stages of dying out, making his task easier. He continued moving the pieces from the fire and soon it was revealed he was making a very large rectangle out of them upon the ground. By the time he was finished the flames of the original fire had lessened considerably and they would burn out on their own soon enough. The rectangle of small flames was just large enough for its purpose. The warrior lay down inside the rectangle right at its very edge resting upon his side. The other Helluvans followed one by one lying very closely next to one another so that their bodies were touching. They followed no pattern and laid next to whoever was before them, there was no modesty or romance taking place in such a grouping. The Helluvans were simply exploiting both the warmth of their bodies and the flames to ensure they survived the cold night.
“Good night,” Cada Varl said not expecting any reply.
Imbaka however did answer with a, “Good night, Cada Varl.”
While the others simply waved their hand in the air as a way of acknowledgement. The Immortal watched them for a moment as they laid with closed eyes and perfect stillness, even the way they slept seemed sub-ordinary compared to other men and women.
Cada Varl stood up staying as quiet as possible, he turned away from the sleeping Helluvans and looked out in the dark of the forest beyond the reach of the fire. The close treetops that had worked well in keeping out the light of the sun did even better in keeping the light of the moon at bay. But Cada Varl was not worried, through his red eyes he could see what men simply could not. Though it was true he could see better in the day, he could see well enough into the darkness, making him an ideal guard to watch over the Helluvans.
Alone with his thoughts he allowed his mind to stir, conjuring up images of his past and illusions of what his future might hold. He stood there staring in the darkness not moving for a time that did not change enough to be truly counted.
Sometime during the night when the fires of the rectangle had become embers the third woman awoke from her slumber carefully moving herself as to not disturb the others as she stood and stepped out of the rectangle. She was very good at being quiet for Cada Varl only noticed her moving when he heard the sound of her chest plate armor being unhinged. He looked over his shoulder and watched as she placed the armor onto the ground revealing that she wore the same simple clothing as
the Helluvans of the capital, bearing the colours of her realm. As she had done several times during the night she stared into the red eyes of the Immortal. Her eyes were large and very round, the dominant feature of her face. But there was nothing cutesy about them, like the eyes of an infant deer. But rather they resembled the eyes of a lioness that had widened because she had found a delicious prey. Much like Imbaka and the red haired woman her eyes were a strong autumn brown. Her hair was long, not quite straight but not quite wild, like an animal that had only been recently captured and was slowly adapting to captivity. Like most Helluvan women she was tall standing just less than 6 feet.
When she began to approach him Cada Varl turned to face her but waited for her to speak. From full lips she said, “You are immortal?”
It was hard to get a clear description of her voice because her words were whispered.
“That I am,” Cada Varl whispered back knowing neither he nor her wanted to wake the others. “What do you feel?” the woman asked still whispering.
“Feel?” Cada Varl replied, hesitant because he was not expecting such a question.
“Pleasure? Pain?”
“Pain,” Cada Varl answered before the woman could provide anymore examples.
“Everything else, everything that is human about me is now little more than a memory….”
The woman kept her eyes fixated upon his and even to an immortal it was not obvious what she was thinking.
“Tonight, for example,” Cada Varl said “I could smell the stew, but it was only from memory that I knew it smelt so rich….”
“Living a life, only through memory….” The woman said obviously more to herself than to Cada Varl.
“There’s no future in the past sadly,” Cada Varl said flatly indicating that perhaps one of the few emotions he still felt was pity.
It was then that the woman moved her hands down gently upon the hand and forearm of the Immortal. He did not resist her in the slightest as she placed his hand on her left breast, which was far more than a handful worth of flesh. She kept her eyes upon his as she pressed his hand against her breast, making him fondle it. She was searching for something in the eyes of the Immortal but he did not know what.
“ Do you feel this?” she asked flatly with a slight sternness in her tone.
“I can feel your flesh and recognize it as so to touch, but I do not feel the pleasure a man should when he touches such flesh, only a memory of what that sensation should feel like.”
At first the woman said nothing in response but continued to study his eyes for a few moments more as she continued fondling her breast with his hand. She then stopped such movement and moved his hand away but kept it gently within her grasp.
“You speak the truth,” she said in a matter of fact way.
“That I do,” The Immortal whispered back.
The woman slowly and gently allowed the Immortal’s arm to fall back at his side before she whispered, “How interesting.”
With those words she turned and walked back to where her armor lay, with remarkable quiet she placed the armor back upon her frame and took her place once more within the rectangle of embers.
Cada Varl watched her for a moment unsure of what to make of what had just happened. He knew it went beyond the obvious thought one might have in such a situation. Helluvans were not the promiscuous type and they certainly were not a romantic people. The woman was interested in Cada Varl but not in a ‘needing warmth’ way but something else entirely. Cada Varl turned and looked back into the darkness, allowing his thoughts to return unabated. Amongst these thoughts one soon became dominant, that the Helluvans were a strange breed.
How Gods Bleed Page 6
