Within the Ice

by LaPolla, C. J.

  A small engagment of four men battled closer to Devyn, two of Bola’s men retreated slowly from four of Rakgar’s advancing men. Their retreat enveloped Devyn who took a wide stance with his knife raised high and the sword low. The retreating men must have assumed Devyn was on their side, their confidence heightened by his graceful stance as they assumed positions beside him. The four men charged without a sound and the fury began again.

  It was a dance of parries and attacks but unlike the other men he had faced these men were better equipped with quality axes and shields. Devyn, possessing only a sword and knife, could not find an easy opening. The men before him created a four man shield wall with the occasional attack springing from a random but coordinated direction. Devyn eyed their strategy while retreating away from them with the two men. Frustration disrupted Devyn’s calm as he knew he was moving away from the town and with every step he worried either himself or one of his “comrades” would tumble over a body and this combat would be at an end. One of the four men lowered their shield for an attack, Devyn immediately yanked the throwing ax from his belt. As the man’s head came into view Devyn launched the throwing ax in one swift brutal action. The ax caught the man square in the forehead and he fell back immediately. Death took him before he knew what had occurred, the break in the small shield wall was what the group needed. Devyn reached down and plucked his knife from the snowy ground, happy he was able to find it, while the two men to his side launched an attack. Devyn assaulted the man to his right into single combat while the soldiers at Devyn’s side pushed the remaining two. Devyn attacked low towards the man’s legs causing him to lower his scarred rawhide shield. He followed this attack by diving forward when the shield lowered and placed his body against it forcing his opponent downward, he twisted his body and embedded the knife deep into the man’s unprotected upper shoulder. The man cried out flailing frantically and caught Devyn in the side of the head with the hilt of his ax. Devyn fell to the ground clutching a gash on his head as the warrior before Devyn dropped his shield and raised his ax high in the air, ready to bring it down to end his life. His eyes were in a wild rage, as was his attack, but unfortunately the man possessed very little skill. Devyn waited for his opponent to cleave downward towards him gripping the handle of his sword tightly, he leapt forward to his feet and met the man in mid strike. Devyn’s blade cut deeply into the man’s midsection who fell in a heap on the ground. The two other men who were with Devyn were embroiled in combat and out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the giant man Hrodny staring at him at a distance.

  He sighed knowing he had been spotted which would make his escape more difficult. He ignored the two men fighting as he continued on his trek across the field. The air was still filled with the unceasing grinding noise and the ground still shook as he inched ever closer to his town and his beloved family. His hand came away with blood when he reached up to check his wound he’d received, the hilt of the weapon left a large gash above his eye causing a steady trickle of blood to burn it intensely. Ignoring the pain Devyn strode on through the turmoil and over bodies ever closer to Northspire.

  He had almost grown accustomed to the constant shaking and the low stone grinding sound that could be heard everywhere. He had finally reached the edge of the buildings of Northspire when the sound and quaking ceased as suddenly as they began. Devyn was not the only one to notice the sudden silence that enveloped Northspire. The fighting had stopped and no one on either side could mistake the unnatural feeling and smell that pervaded everything at that very moment. The cries of battle and the sweet song of steel ringing against each other ceased, it was as if the world was taking a deep breath before a great plunge.

  Only a brief second had passed, but the eerie silence made it feel like an eternity. Devyn looked back at the warriors on the field who surprisingly had all stopped fighting and stood with confused looks on their faces. The feeling was so strong it had eased the rage within them all so they could experience this feeling of mystical air.

  The feeling of magical awe was short lived to be replaced by fear stricken terror in an instant. The silence and peace was replaced by a roar unlike any man present had ever heard. It was not a roar of a beast, but a roar of the world itself. As if the world had come alive, tired of the constant battle, and was set to devour all living beings. The shaking began but this time it was not a low rumble or a subtle quake but a violent tossing of the earth.

  Devyn lost his footing and was thrown feet beyond where he stood. He was not alone as all men were thrown and tumbled. The building Devyn had just reached strained and groaned at the movement and shattered easily as the ground tore it asunder. The roar was deafening and muted everything around him except the scream of earth and rock. It was a strange sight before Devyn, he had long given up trying to regain his footing as the earth betrayed him, and he watched building after building become torn asunder but no sound reached him. The grinding stone, creaking metal, and monster roar was all encompassing. Strangely, Devyn was not afraid, and he merely laid on the ground awaiting this unknown terror to end.

  Devyn rolled to the side as the ground beneath him began to split into a fissure and the constant quaking seemed to pull him towards the gap in the earth. It was as if the ground was famished and the earth was trying to pull every morsel into its gaping maw.

  The quake continued unmercifully tearing open ground with deep demonic sounds rising forth from the fissures. Devyn could hear the groaning and snapping of wood as Northspire strained at the assault upon it. Devyn tried to rise to his feet to move away from the gaps splitting in the earth, but found his feet impossible to keep and he tumbled helplessly. Around him he could see every other man on the field having the same issue. A large gap split the middle of the battlefield, helplessly the injured and dying men reached for safety only to be sucked in by the fissure.

  The massive quake ceased as abruptly as it began and the relief spread across Devyn’s face. He laid on the ground sucking in the frigid air trying to get his bearings. He shifted his gaze around to his left and right taking in the sights absorbing the destruction around him. On the battlefield the impossible seemed to happen and the fight appeared to be drawn out of the men. They were slowly rising and separating, pulling their injured comrades from the land that once possessed the fray. When his gaze shifted to his right, pure dread was palpable on his face. Northspire lay in ruins. The houses of Northspire were nothing more than shacks and could not withstand the massive quake that just shook the very ground beneath them. They were torn asunder, while a few still stood, most were nothing but planks and shattered wood. Devyn had just began to rise when a new sound gripped his ears. As if enough new experiences had not already invaded Devyn’s day, a crashing and rushing sound of water approached. The realization hit him at the same time as the rushing frigid water crushed the remains of the building that was once their general store. Devyn turned away in vain as the icy tendrils of the Isindril waters grasped him. The waters engulfed him and the battlefield and washed over numerous men who lay prone, either dead or dying, on the snowy ground. Their final vision would be the cold dark waters covering them pulling them to their icy graves. Devyn felt as if he were hit by a bull, being sent back into the encampment he had just escaped from. As he tumbled and rolled through the churning, icy waters he could see the tents and men of the encampment alike being bowled over like rag dolls. The cold that encased him was absolutely paralyzing and he lost all feeling in his appendages. His fear rose as he thought about the wave pulling him into one of the many fissures he watched open in the earth but he knew that fate was out of his hands.

  The wave continued to push unyieldingly beyond the encampment and out into the icy fields. After what felt like an eternity, the wave released him from its clutches and he tumbled to the ground gasping for air. He shivered violently on the ground, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling his knees up to his chest. The snow of the field had given way to the waters that invaded the land when he raised his he
ad to take in the view around him he was in a field of mud and bodies. The darkness of night was just beginning to give way to morning and the soft light made the horrific scene come into full view. Devyn’s joints were frozen and his body felt heavy. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go to sleep in the field. The lull of sleep was overpowering, it was only the break in the silence that roused him. It started out as a whimpering sound far away that just barely tickled his foggy mind. That whimper quickly became louder where the injured began to cry out and the screams of loss rose into the air. What started out as a whimper became a torrent of sound.

  Clarity slowly found its way back into his frozen head and Devyn was able to access the situation for the first time. As he looked out onto the destroyed encampment and Northspire he wondered how any could survive such an event. He wondered how they had faired through the wave and he knew he had to get to them. Although his bones and muscles were frozen he forced himself to rise and begin his march back towards Northspire the world had apparently conspired to prevent him from getting to. His frustrated, slow steps plodded through the muddy earth as the cold seeped deep into him. The cold was sapping his strength with every step, the bitter cold wind blew into his bones with the water that stuck his clothing to his body felt as if it were freezing to him. He looked back to where he had started and realized after what felt like an hour of walking he had almost taken thirty or so steps. He knew he was freezing to death and could feel death’s clammy hands grasping at him, wanting to lull him into the peace and warmth of sleep. Fighting back the urge to close his eyes, he fought on pushing each step. It wasn’t long before Devyn fell to his knees in the muddy cold earth. His knees plopped into the sticky mud that was just starting to refreeze from the soaking water that crashed over it. He could not will himself to rise or push himself any further. Devyn knew he was going to die far from his family out in this frigid muddy field among many other men who were going to suffer the same fate.

  As Devyn felt his mind slowly going blank his eyes finally fell upon it. The skyline did not look the same, something was different. At first he thought it might be his own mind making him see things as he slowly entered the realm of the dead that the icy cold fingers of the north were pulling him towards. Above the now decimated skyline of Northspire stood something that Devyn could not explain. A coating of white ethereal mist hung thick in the air above the town, and beyond the opaque mist shined a huge mass. Devyn wavered slowly on his knees and he slipped in and out of consciousness. Beyond the mist stood a massive white sheet of ice, like the very walls of the great glacier had reached out and touched the land. Even from here it was very clear that it has crashed into the town and most likely crushed the docks that Devyn had called his work for so long. He struggled to stand, to get a better look and to find his family, but he couldn’t and he fell to his hands and knees as he tried to stand. With his last remaining strength he lifted his head. In the distance he could see a group of men approaching him and with his foggy vision just barely made out they all had naked steel in their hands. With no strength left Devyn fell to his side and only blackness remained.

  Eldgrim lazed with the back of his chair leaning against the wall and his feet resting comfortably on another chair a foot away. The residence he had acquired was very comfortable. Much more comfortable than the camp site he had not far from here. The smell of the home had not improved much with the ever ripening corpses that laid against one of the walls. It mattered not to Eldgrim though, with the ever increasing feeling rising from the Isindril, he knew he would not be here long. A fire roared in the small fire pit in the house where he had used different items to create the blaze. The warmth of the room was overpowering, but it did not effect Eldgrim. While he did not truly feel the heat or the cold he enjoyed the sensation on his skin for what it was worth. He remembered fondly the days when he was not an Aelaar, when he was but a boy in the southern lands awaiting whatever fate he was destined for. He was such a pitiful creature and were it not for his master he would have died many centuries ago never to become the great being he was today.

  “Ahhh. I do enjoy your home.” He spoke to the three corpses he had propped against the wall. “Alas, I cannot stay. Something calls me and my master awaits his prize.”

  He spoke as if he would get a response and he also spoke as if he knew what prize his master was awaiting. Eldgrim had no clue what was about to occur and he had no idea what he was looking for. He would never admit such, but he also wondered if his master even knew what he was expecting to find. Regardless, it would be found and with the feeling coming off of the sea it appears it would be quite obvious.

  He sat comfortably dozing on his chairs when the first shaking began. It caught him by surprise and the chair that held his feet fell suddenly, breaking his peaceful rest and starting him awake.

  “Interesting.” He said to no one in particular. “This respite appears to be at an end.”

  Eldgrim stood up and kicked the chair he was sitting on into the fire which was slowly creeping out of the fire pit. It would eventually engulf the house and that is exactly what Eldgrim wanted. No evidence must remain of what had befallen this family and it was unlikely that this nothing town would investigate very far especially with the events unfolding.

  Eldgrim had spread out quite a bit in the small house he had taken from the family who lived here. He gathered his things as the quake grew stronger and the cooking fire in the center of the house grew brighter. The flames began to lick the small table in the front parlor. Eldgrim approached the corpses that sat against the wall.

  “Thank you for your hospitality.” With his equipment slung over his back he placed a finger to his forehead in salute to the fallen and exited the building.

  No regret or shame in killing the innocent ever crossed Eldgrim’s mind. He was an Aelaar, an elite being that men like those within should call god. If the humans did not show proper respect, then they deserved the only fate that their short, sad lives allowed. Death. And death at the hands of one of the great Aelaar was a true honor that many of these pathetic beings did not get to experience.

  The waters of the Isindril rolled roughly as a mist grew far in the distance. He stood there, still as a shadow, watching it all unfold. The mist growing ever closer, the intensity of the quake growing and the battle roaring beyond. It was not long before the quake ceased and the mist and giant sheet of ice slammed into the shore causing a quake that knocked even Eldgrim off of his feet. The buildings of this pathetic little town did not stand a chance against the strength of the rolling earth and almost every building in front of him became a pile of wood and nails. Those who had not been injured could be seen exiting their homes and standing in the streets. The cries began to rise up immediately but the respite from the terror was short lived as a wave rose from the Isindril to finish the job that the earth quake had started. The wave rose twenty feet in the air and swallowed the land and everyone in its wake. Eldgrim was higher than the town near the house that acted as the outlook point for marauding invaders and the wave never reached him, but he could see the people like ants being swallowed one by one and the buildings that managed to withstand the quake being bowled over like toys.

  He ignored the wave, seeing it only as an obstacle from allowing him to enter the land mass that now stood in front of him. Beyond the mist the ice stood gleaming in the dim light that had just begun to touch the land. Hues of blues and greens could be seen streaked through the transparent ice which shined beautifully. The ancient air filled his lungs and he felt as if he were breathing in the air of home and it made him happy to witness this.

  My trip into eternity begins now. Eldgrim thought to himself. He tightened his sword to his side, secured his back pack to him more firmly, he began a slow trudge towards his destiny.

  Chapter VI

  Warmth. Welcome and wonderful warmth filled him. The tiredness was gone and the pain had subsided. Maybe he was dead, forever to rest in the warmth of the afterlife and if he
had proven himself worthy to walk in the halls of the ancients as a warrior. After a moment of reflection on this thought Devyn realized he was not dead, or the world of the dead reminded him too much of the real world. A nightmare then, last evening must have been a terrible nightmare. Devyn was warm and comfortable in bed with Rana, and if only he were to reach over he would feel her smooth skin under their fur bed. Only when he reached over, he did not feel Rana. When he reached further he only felt the cold, muddy earth. Flinching, he pulled his hand back quickly under the furs that provided so much warmth. His eyes were still foggy and he could hear men speaking in the distance. A low murmur that he could just barely make out.

  “… the legends are true. The ancient lands beyond have come forth to touch our home. This is an omen from the great Aelaar that we are right.” Said a smooth voiced man, much different from the gruff warrior voices Devyn had grown accustomed to hearing.

  The murmur continued with Devyn only able to pick up a few words. “…gold… riches… powerful items from the days of legend…”

  Devyn took in his surroundings and noticed he was among a huge sea of furs in a tent which appeared to be crudely thrown up. His eyes were slowly regaining their focus and he knew then he had survived and the evening was not a nightmare. It was the truth.