His wound began to catch up with him, and he favored putting might into the other arm. But the fury was not as potent as before; his fire began to fizzle out as he began to tire, and the demons could sense it as if they smelled the blood from his wound. They moved to gang up on him, three then four demons pushed on him from different angles, forcing Gavin to recoil into a defensive stance. He cursed his luck as he struggled to keep the demons back, slowly losing the ground he had attained.
The ground beneath Gavin's feet rumbled, and he smiled. Demons flew into the air – not of their own winged accord – but because they had been assailed by a giant spiked club, the size of a battering ram in most men's hands. Snow trolls, arguably more menacing than the Abyssal fiends in their primal rage, tore through the battlefield. The furry white beasts howled with their oversized jaws, the canine teeth protruding on the overbite. Their small blue-white pupils scanned the battlefield as the elite guards of Prince Talannar tore through the Abyssal demons as if they were wading through the sea. This was only the second time that Gavin had bore witness to them, but their fury was impressive!
He pulled himself away, taking several steps to the side, as the snow trolls barreled through the enemies before him. They stopped and stared at him. As if they recognized the colors worn by their master, they snuffed a greeting at Gavin before pursuing the now fleeing enemy; one of them grabbed a gargoyle by the tail and began swinging it back and forth against the ground like some toy.
“Those are some impressive beasts.”
Gavin turned to see Gorram standing beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
“You have my thanks, Gorram. Without your aid, I doubt I would be standing here.”
“You are a mighty warrior, Gavin,” the former Varangur nodded. “I have staked my life on my cause. I just ask that you remember that when the time comes when I need your aid.”
“And you shall have it, Gorram. I assure you. It is the least I can do.”
As the trolls were clearing out the last of the Abyssals, Darriel and Hilde made their way over to Gavin and Gorram.
“It is good to see you both upright,” Hilde nodded, holding her sword low.
“Yes, I have both of these two to thank for that,” Gavin nodded back to Gorram and then pointed to Darriel.
“Ho! What's this?” the elf leaned back with his arms out in mock shock. “The former Varangur has become the unlikely hero? I daresay though, Stalspar, it would do you well to stop putting yourself in harm's way. Two of us saving your life? For shame, for shame.”
Gavin ignored the archer, pushing past him as he looked for his squad. “How many dead this time?”
“Lotharr had his throat ripped out by a gargoyle,” Hilde said gravely. “Shame, Lotharr was a good man and huscarl. A few other casualties here and there. It was good that the prince sent out his ice trolls, or that number would have been much higher.”
Gavin stopped when he came to his men. He sighed deeply when he saw the body of Tomas arranged respectfully by the sullen northmen. Rhynn was kneeling by the man's head and closed the dead man’s eyes. He looked gravely at Gavin and stood when he approached.
“What happened?”
“He... he got skewered every which way,” Rhynn bowed his head. “They ganged up on him, and he, well…”
Gavin placed his hand on Rhynn’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Rhynn. He died doing what he loved. The battlefield was where Tomas lived, and it was where he died. He would have wanted nothing less.”
The elf struggled to meet his superior’s eyes, but he nodded and then turned to help the others prepare the body.
* * * * *
Gavin had become so accustomed to being lost in his own thoughts, that most times he found it better to simply block out all of the questions and scenarios that raced through his brain until they faded into a dull buzz. As he wandered the halls of the prince’s castle, absently through candle-lit corridors that he had no idea of where they led, a few things crept through the shield around his mind.
Tomas’s death was on him. Sure, he could wave a sword around in combat and push creatures like the Abyssal demons around easily enough, but he was not fit to lead men. Not anymore; not since he left knighthood. This had been the second battle in recent days that he had strayed from his unit, unable to give them the commands that they needed. The first had been due to an overzealous urge to scour the Abyssals from the mountainside, but the second had not been his doing; that damn gargoyle had separated him from any friendly units. Had Darriel and Gorram not been there to aid him, he would have met a similar fate to Tomas.
He had taken Gavin’s place on the end of Death’s scythe. And though, like most humans in their nature, he was reluctant to think of welcoming the cold embrace of forever, Gavin had to feel slightly envious. The northman was at peace – or so he’d like to think. There was hopefully no more fighting on the ‘other side’, wherever that was, and there would be none of the politics or greed or suffering that the mortals faced on this side of life. Gavin began to wonder what that would be like, but when he realized where he was, he stopped.
He wasn’t sure what part of the castle he had wandered through, but there was a snow troll standing outside a doorway. For some reason, Gavin found himself drawn toward it. He walked by it, his head swiveling to gaze within, and he froze.
It was an empty chamber.
The troll growled, standing now in front of the frame and blocking Gavin’s sight. The former knight, in a state of shock, put his hands up and found no words with which to utter; none that the troll would understand nor any that could possibly describe the sensations that rushed through him upon seeing the room from his dreams.
He kept on going through the corridor, hoping it would loop back around to the main hall, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Gavin’s mind raced back through his dreams, trying to recall every little detail that might help to explain the bizarre connection, and who and how this related to the Aurora woman.
“Strange, is it not?” The voice startled Gavin out of his musings, and he spun on one heel with his hand placed on the pommel of his sword instinctively. Goram stared back at him, snorting in amusement. “Worry not. You have no need to draw your steel on me.”
“Gorram, I… I am sorry. I was lost inside my mind, recalling some strange dreams…”
“Dreams? About that empty room?”
Gavin narrowed his eyes as he let go of his sword, crossing his arms over his chest. “No… Not quite. It is just that that room reminded me of something.”
“And again, I ask, it is strange, is it not?” Gorram started walking past Gavin, the latter walking beside him. “A castle in the middle of the mountains, with talk of the prince holding some strange mystery that calls forth a million rumors and bizarre tales; and here, in the middle of his palace, is a single empty room, guarded by a lone snow troll.”
Gavin nodded. “It doesn’t make any sense. Unless… Perhaps it’s not empty at all.”
Gorram cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the man. “You think that there is magic in that room?”
“Who knows,” Gavin shrugged. “Maybe he is hiding something in there. But if he was, then who’s to say that he’s not hiding all sorts of traps and obstacles guarding whatever secret lay within. Maybe the room is some portal to another realm altogether? Could you imagine if he cast a spell on the room because it secretly led to another tear in the earth, another Abyss altogether? That would be something I would not want to encounter.”
Gavin found himself speaking on the subject much more than he intended, his mind moving faster than his mouth, and the former Varangur had his eyes narrowed, clearly thinking deeply on Gavin’s words.
“Perhaps you are right, Stalspar. But these are things we must not speak of. Such thoughts might be considered treason. You were already questioned by the prince once, I would not like to be the reason why you were summoned a second time.” Through their walkings, they had returned to the entrance hallway and the so
und of music and merriment filled the air once more. “I must take my leave. There is much I must still accomplish, and the night grows ever closer.”
The Varangur turned to leave, but he came closer to Gavin, their eyes locked and his expression cold. “I must ask you again. Do not concern yourself over such things as that room. The way that this war is going, dwelling on such thoughts will only get you killed.” He stepped back and nodded. “Take care, Gavin Stalspar.”
* * * * *
Once more, Gavin found himself spiraling through darkness, only this time, he was not as confused when he awoke standing in the empty room in Chill’s castle. The icy spirit, Aurora, stood before him again; she still wore a warm smile upon her face, but something in her expression worried Gavin.
“I do not have an answer for you yet, Aurora. There is still much I need to think about and much I need to know. I-…”
“I have not summoned you here because I wish for an answer, Gavin Stalspar.” She put a hand up to stop him from speaking. “Of course, I do desire one, but not at this moment. We have less time than I thought – far less time – for me to speak with you and explain. Do you recall how I mentioned that some here in this Northern Alliance harbor dark deeds and desires in their hearts?”
“Yes, vaguely,” Gavin nodded. When she did not immediately continue, Gavin felt his stomach tighten in worry. He looked around the room, but everything seemed fine. The calm that overtook him last time was nowhere to be felt, however. “Aurora, what is going on?”
“I am afraid that some of those men have begun to put their plans in motion. They think they have found what they were searching for, and they will be here soon. Gavin Stalspar, I plead with you,” her icy eyes locked onto his, her face an expression of pity. “You must help me. Even if you do not wish to take up the quest that I can offer you, you must come back to this room and help me. Or else all will be doomed.”
Gavin opened his mouth to speak, but the crippling headache overtook him. As his spirit drifted back to his body, some guttural snarl was let loose, reminding him of a snow troll, and he sat straight up.
He looked around him, and then he remembered Aurora’s words. He thought on it for a few moments, but he sighed and stood to ready his armor.
With one hand on his sword, he strode purposely out of the barracks, looking around as he walked out into Chill. Where were the patrols? If something was going on, surely the guards would have noticed and sounded the alarm…
He heard the drawing of steel and stopped.
“Halt, you there.” Gavin turned around and saw three hooded men with swords and axes readied. They wore the colors of the Alliance, but Gavin thought he could see some type of warpaint underneath the hood. “Stalspar, that you?”
“Yes. What’s going on here?”
“Get out of here while you can,” a second deep voice grumbled. “You’re not one of them true-blood Alliance members trying to protect the prince. You’re an even farther outsider than the rest of them, like us.”
“You can walk away from this in one piece,” a third voice spoke. “Go on and leave, now.”
Gavin slid the greatsword out and held it in both hands, looking between the men. “You’re right, I am an outsider, from a distant land, with distant kingdoms and rulers. But justice and what is right is all the same throughout. Whatever is going on here, I will not let it come to pass.”
The only sounds were the feet of the men running across Chill’s magicked stones, combined with the movement of their light armor, as they came at Gavin. He ducked low under the first one’s axe swing, shouldering him in the gut as he stood. The second one pulled back both arms to ready a swing from his dual wielded short swords, but Gavin saw the chance and planted a boot in his chest that knocked the opponent onto his rear. There was no time to fend off the third; he raised his sword to parry the incoming dual axes. The hook of the axe caught on Gavin’s bigger weapon and he swung to the side with all of his might, ripping the weapons from his opponent’s grasp. Rushing inward, he slammed his helmeted head into the face of his opponent, and he watched as he hit the ground and stopped moving.
There was a loud bang and Gavin was seeing stars as he realized his next opponent had foolishly tried to pierce the helmet with his poorly crafted axe. Gavin could feel his head exposed to the night air, and he ripped it off his head, smashing his opponent in the jaw with it as he whirled around. His foe struggled to rise, and Gavin brought his sword down hard into his stomach, creating a wound he would not get up from, no matter how hard he struggled through the pain and oozing blood.
He whipped around to look into the shadowy hood of the last assailant, who readied his short swords once more. He came at Gavin in a flurry of anger, now screaming as he ran. Gavin, wielding a bigger weapon, was forced on the defense from the quickness of the shorter, more nimble weapons; but he knew it would only be a matter of time before the man ran out of steam. With each attack, the delay in response time and follow up became more noticeable. Gavin sidestepped a swing from the right and swung down low, hooking the flat of the blade against the ankle of the opponent, and knocking him onto his back.
As the man hit the ground, Gavin stabbed down into his opponent’s chest as he had done to the other, keeping his blade locked until he stopped squirming.
As he withdrew the mighty sword, he noticed the hood had fallen back and the man’s face was exposed. He figured it would be inevitable that he would recognize the man, but the shock hit him hard. He had seen the tattoos and scars before from men from another unit. Hilde had once told him the marks were the easiest way to recognize someone as a Varangur. And this man had served in Gorram’s unit.
He didn’t have time to wipe the blood off the sword. Gavin turned and sprinted to the castle as quickly as he could. He cursed when he realized that there were no guards on duty; there were always guards on duty. The hall was lit by the same torches as it had been several hours ago, except there was not a single note of music being played. The castle was eerily silent.
He had a thought to check on the prince to make sure he was okay, but for some reason, he found himself more worried about Aurora. As he ran through the corridors, trying to find his way back to the empty room, he found it ironic that he was concerned over a spirit he had only met in his dreams twice, more than the ruler who had taken him in to his kingdom and presented him a title of command without knowing a thing about him. Even stranger, he began realizing, is that no one met him in the hallways; no guards, no sentries, no passing warriors hanging around drunk.
He turned another corner, finally beginning to recognize where he was from yesterday, when he nearly tripped. Catching his balance on the wall, he turned around to see that an outstretched leg had caught him; the body slumped against the wall, bloody and dead. There were no Varangur markings on this one.
Gavin hurried his pace, finding four more bodies in his wake. That made eight dead Northern Alliance soldiers, and combined with the casualties they had lost in the day's battle – as minimal as they might have been – it was a major offset for the already limited numbers. While he didn't have a chance to look at the faces of all of the men, he had recognized the first, a man by the name of Kaleb. They were good men, and even if he didn't fully believe in the purpose of the Northern Alliance, he knew men like Kaleb had. They had died defending something they believed in, even if it was defending against a traitor. At that moment, more than ever, Gavin questioned what he was fighting for.
One more corner turned, and he saw the snow troll that had been guarding the inconspicuous doorway, now sprawled out on the floor. Its head was lying nearly a foot away, its club impaled in its back. He slowed as he came to the doorless room. Gavin knew what was waiting for him, but he dreaded it all the same.
Gorram sat in the middle of the empty room from his dreams, the same room they had spoken about in passing. The same room that Gorram told him not to worry about. He sat with his legs crossed, his eyes shut, and his hand around the handle of the pi
ke standing on its head.
“I thought I had told you not to concern yourself with this room,” Gorram spoke without opening his eyes.
Gavin slowly crept into the chamber, his sword held low, but ready. “You did. But what you failed to mention is that you had planned a coup.”
The big Varangur let a smile creep into the corner of his mouth, his eyes slowly opening to look at Gavin.
“Since we met, I thought that we were kindred spirits. Two silent outsiders who spoke with their blades instead of flapping their mouths, like the prissy elf, Darriel, or instead of flaunting our pride, like that cur, Hilde. But I was wrong.” Gorram slowly stood, pushing up with the head of his pike. He hefted the weapon across his chest with both hands. “You lack conviction. You are lost, drowning in thoughts of the unknown. While myself, I have purpose. My brothers of the Varangur heard the whispers of rumors that stir on the winds around Mantica. The prince of this frozen wasteland has some secret that he conceals because he believes he is protecting the world. He claims to bear this burden alone on his shoulders – and we seek to destroy that burden. I know there is magic here, I can feel it, Korgaan has told me of such blasphemy. And you,” Gorrath indicated Gavin with his chin. “You have seen it. You have bore witness to its effects. You empathize with it, or else you would not be here to stop me.”
“Perhaps I have seen what you speak of, but I don't stand in your path for the Northern Alliance. I don't do this for the being that has called to me for nights on end, asking me to trust it on its secret quest.” Gavin brought his sword up to challenge Gorram's aggressive stance. “I do this for myself. Your death gives me no joy, but I will stop you because too many good men, they themselves believing in their own purpose, have been cut down by your blade. And they were fighting to save lives; not offer them in sacrifice to some god.”
Tales of Mantica Page 36
