Wilmurin: Land of Darkness

by H. J. Cronin

  The last man ran at Palar with a raised sword, not thinking to raise the alarm; he brought his sword down with a power that would slay a wild boar but Palar was much faster. He dashed to one side and parried another attack before sticking the man with two blades in his stomach. Palar quickly pulled the blades out and cut the man's throat. For a moment Palar laughed to himself for even considering any other options – after months of captivity he was glad to able to fight. He quickly found a brown mare, mounted her and road through the town, not stopping for anybody; he even rode down a helpless old fool who didn't move in time. People called out to the guards to stop the horse but Palar had picked a tough one and together they made the gatehouse in good time. To Palar’s amazement the gates were still open. He rode through – he thought he heard the unmistakable thud of arrows behind him, but he didn't stop to find out. Palar rode hard throughout the day and rested during the night. He headed to the north-east of the mountains, towards the Dark Wood.

  The Black Widow and Captain Fern found a quiet spot to talk in the hall. Katrina was still reeling from her conversation with Count Ulmar. There was nothing she could do and that increased her agitation.

  She spoke to her captain quietly, 'Captain Fern, you heard the count, my city has been destroyed and I am forced into slavery. For now though, I am safe and, whilst I am safe, we can act. I wish to adopt you into my family as a daughter – you will be able to shape-shift and you will be the heiress to my clan.'

  Captain Fern was speechless, 'But Mistress, surely I am not worthy of such an honour, especially after failing to capture the rogue.'

  'One failure amongst a wealth of success. You have been the most loyal of my captains and I cannot think of anyone else better to lead this clan should anything happen to me,' replied the Black Widow sincerely.

  'Thank you, mistress, this is such an honour, I will not fail you,' said Captain Fern ecstatically.

  'You will call me Mother now, Fern,' Katrina said lightly.

  'Yes, Mother,' said Fern, bowing. 'What happens now?'

  'I will take on my black widow form and give you a special bite, a bite that will give you my blood and make you my daughter. You will be able to take on a black widow form – not as powerful as me but still powerful, nonetheless.'

  'Whatever it takes, Mother,' said Fern eagerly.

  With that, the Black Widow took on her spider form – one moment a beautiful woman, the next, a menacing arachnid, capable of dealing death and destruction to her enemies. She hissed and approached the ex-captain. Fern trembled at the sight – she had never seen the Black Widow in her spider form. The Black Widow approached her; Fern held out her arm and waited for the bite to come. It came and it was extremely painful; she gasped and gripped her bleeding arm.

  A short time passed before she felt her body tingling all over; she felt feverish and light headed, and she vomited. 'What’s happening?' she gasped as the Black Widow returned to her beautiful slender form.

  ‘I do not know. This is the first time I have witnessed an adoption – my sisters and I were born from our mother.'

  Fern fell to the floor in pain, grasping her stomach. Seconds later she felt a strange sensation, as if there was something within, trying to get out. 'There's something inside me,' she said, fighting for breath.

  Katrina laughed, 'That is your spider form trying to get out – soon you will be able to control it. I can tell from your face that you are doing so – good, control it.'

  Fern gritted her teeth and slowly she felt the urge of the spider die down. 'Does it hurt to change skin for the first time?' she asked her new mother.

  'I can't remember, I was very young when I first changed. You will be fine – welcome to the family,' Katrina said, and embraced Fern.

  Fern was quite taken aback by the change in attitude of the Black Widow. Never had she been so pleasant and understanding. It was apparent that the count had really made an impact on her.

  The hall door opened, interrupting the two women. Count Ulmar, flanked by half a dozen skeletons, walked in and approached the Black Widow. 'I gave you orders to start building the defences. Instead I find you here with your captain – tell her to get to work so I can have words with you.'

  'My daughter will hear everything you have to say, count,' Katrina said; the count looked at her curiously.

  'Daughter?' he said, looking at Fern. 'I didn't know you had a daughter, High Count Darkool told me nothing of it.'

  'Well, he doesn't tell you everything then, does he?' the Black Widow said mockingly.

  'Darkool said that whilst I am here I can help myself to any pleasure I please. I will bed you first and then your daughter, and after that, both of you,' Count Ulmar said in a sinister tone.

  'If you come near me or any of my clan I will destroy you where you stand – if it means the end of me it matters not, you will not longer have a head. You will not have anyone from my clan,' Katrina said, full of rage and ready to carry through her threat.

  The count swallowed nervously, betraying coward beneath the tough act he had played for so long. He then composed himself and spoke harshly to the Black Widow, 'I will go and have my pick of any woman in this forsaken town. One day, Black Widow, High Count Darkool will decide your fate. When he does, I will be there.' With that, he stalked off, leaving the two women alone.

  Katrina and Fern smiled. Katrina then looked at Fern and spoke again quietly, 'Fern, you will be in charge of defences. Make them impenetrable to this invisible enemy Darkool fears. The fact that he has doubts and insecurities gives us hope, such a burden on a leader could lead him even deeper into madness than he is at the moment, making him vulnerable. For now his plans will lead him across the sea, so his attention will be away from us.'

  Fern swallowed anxiously, 'I hope you’re right. However, an even more psychotic Darkool could ultimately lead to our doom.'

  'Yes, you are right, for now we keep him happy and tame. Our clan relies on it. Even in defeat we can still have the last bite.'

  'What does that mean?' Fern asked, wondering at the rhetoric behind her new mother’s words.

  'Let's hope we live long enough to find out, daughter,' was all her mother said.

  The Black Widow’s silence following this indicated to Fern that the conversation was over, so she left her mother to her thoughts and carried on with the task of fortifying Selarmus. From what Fern knew of the world, any likely attacks would come from the south, for that was where other civilisations were; to the north was only ice and death.

  Palar had ridden hard for three weeks; he was devastated to find the green glow from the sky and the darkness covering all of the north and, most likely, all of Wilmurin. The grass that was once luscious and green was now just masses of black, scorched remnants of its former glory. The journey to the mountains had taken him a quarter of the time it would have taken him to walk. Now, upon a small hill, he looked over a land that had once belonged to the Clan of the Bear; straight ahead he saw the charred remnants of the Dark Wood. He travelled in that direction, hoping to find some food. He had lived off birds he found every now and then but hunger gripped his stomach like an unwanted burden.

  For now, though, Palar was safe, he hadn't seen any more patrols or any signs of the enemy. He knew that the old city of the bears, Bemon, was beyond the Dark Wood, so he intended to be cautious – enemies could possibly be patrolling the Dark Wood. After all he had endured these months, Palar didn't fear much; he gripped the reins of his mare and rode towards the Dark Wood.

  16

  A Dance with a Demon

  The companions’ time with Kris in his homely, warm house with delicious cooked food seemed a distant memory as they were once again trudging through the snow. The air became colder as they walked further, the mountains could now be seen in the distance, slowly getting bigger and bigger as they came closer. They marched day and night, only resting when they deemed it safe. They wanted to get to the mountains as quickly as possible; they all feared the Cold Wood – at le
ast giants could be defeated but natural elements were undefeatable.

  The cold felt like ten thousand needles piercing each part of their skin; every step added another needle. When the snowfall came it only added to the discomfort. Even the thick animal hides the party wore did little good to protect against the elements.

  A week into their trip, Johan spotted something peculiar and as he looked closer, the peculiar thing became even more peculiar. First he saw a tree, different from all of the others – it had the face of a bearded man carved into the bark and mysterious writing underneath. As Johan looked around, he saw that other trees had similar markings – different faces and writing but apparently all in the same language. These trees seemed to form a perfect circle amongst the other trees of the Cold Wood.

  'What are these markings?' he asked Finnvid.

  Finnvid inspected the first tree more closely – he hadn’t noticed it at first. 'Oh,' he finally said, 'these are the carvings of the Old People, the first humans to have set foot on Jotun and possibly the world, our ancestors spoke of them.'

  'Old People?' asked Johan.

  Ardag was stroking his moustache when his eyes suddenly lit up, 'Yes! The Old People. I have heard of them, my father told me of them – he knew little, though.'

  'It is said by our ancestors,' added Jess,'that the Old People came from the north, escaping an unspeakable horror from their own land. They left these tree shrines everywhere on Jotun – there is one very near our village. We don’t really know where they came from though, these are the stories of our ancestors.'

  'That's true, the Old People are a mystery,' her brother said.

  'What do your ancestors say happened to them?' asked Bry, as keen as the others to know.

  'We do not know, our ancestors say they left Jotun in fear of this unspeakable horror. I imagine some stayed and are indeed the very ancestors we speak of. Only the gods know,' answered Finnvid.

  Johan and Ardag looked at each other, their interested piqued; Ardag said what they were both thinking, 'You don't think these Old People settled on Wilmurin, do you?'

  'Making the Mjorn our kin,' added Bry.

  Finnvid looked puzzled for a moment and stroked his scruffy beard, 'It is possible. If the ancestors were right, the Old People left Jotun, and without a doubt they would have landed on Wilmurin.'

  'Well isn't that odd?' Jess said in an upbeat tone.

  'Then that means they were the ones who were destined to be enslaved by them,' Bry said harshly, pointing at Larko.

  Larko looked around, puzzled. Finnvid spoke directly to him, 'Do you remember any of this, elf?'

  Larko shook his head, 'The humans came by boat and asked us for guidance.'

  'You lie,' snapped Bry. 'You know exactly what happened, don't you?'

  'Come, this isn't the time to cause a rift,' Ardag said, trying to ease the building tension.

  'He's right, Bry, let Larko be, the past is the past. Larko is with us now and helps us – drop this feud,' Johan said to Bry, placing an arm on her shoulder to calm her.

  'If you must know, bear,' Larko said furiously, for the first time revealing a different personality. 'The humans came by boat and were too weak and pathetic to last on their own. We gave them refuge in exchange for work. I have had enough of your bad mouth, Bry.'

  'Slaves,' Bry reiterated, glaring at Larko. Ardag and Johan said nothing, shocked by Larko’s sudden change of attitude.

  'Slaves who had no other chance of life. Do you know why humans make good slaves? Because you are so quick to hurt and kill each other that a whip is needed to put you straight. If the humans had succumbed to our rule, none of this would have happened. Our golden city in the heart of Wilmurin would still be standing. The humans or druids or whatever you call yourselves are better off as slaves, you have no order to rule in peace. If I had any say in it then you would still be slaves now, whipped and beaten when you break rules, sacrificed if you commit crime, and worked until you can work no longer—'

  Johan punching him in the face and sending him down into the cold snow interrupted Larko’s outburst. 'I’d rather die a free man than live like a slave,' he snarled, and Larko looked up at him dumbfounded.

  'I told you they don't change,' said Bry. 'Let's end his life now and rid the world of one more elf.'

  Larko's expression returned to his usual, timid demeanour. He looked up at his companions, who all looked down at him, disgusted. 'I am sorry, friends. I do not know what came over me. I suddenly felt uncontrollable anger, forgive me,' he pleaded.

  'You have revealed your true nature,' snarled Bry.

  'A part of me that will never go away, Bry. I am truly sorry everyone,' he said, looking at his companions.

  It was Ardag who extended an arm, which Larko was more than happy to accept. Ardag helped him up and kept a strong grip, he looked into the Larko’s eyes and spoke firmly to him, 'Once we have retrieved this filven, you will return to your mother in Alantuas. The elves will leave Wilmurin and never return.'

  Larko knew the sincerity of what Ardag said and nodded. Bry protested, 'We cannot trust him, Ardag, he has shown his true colours. Send him back now.'

  'For now, Bry, we can use his skills. He comes with us, end of discussion,' said Ardag, and resumed walking towards the mountains.

  'He's right, Bry,' reasoned Johan, he said in a whisper, 'We need all the help we can get, we will keep an eye and ear on Larko.' Bry sighed and the party followed Ardag towards the mountains. Little life came this way, apart from giants, and there were no paths to the mountains, so the party had to wade through snow, which became deeper and deeper

  The remainder of the journey to the mountains continued in silence; a strange atmosphere hung over the party since Larko’s outburst. The few remaining Mjorn warriors spoke amongst themselves, as did Finnvid and his sister Jess. After wading through deep snow and battling the freezing climate for days, the companions reached a small rocky outcrop, free from any snow.

  Half a mile lay between them and a large opening in the mountain face. The rock they stood on was as black as night, a beautiful contrast to the surrounding blanket of white. No snow seemed to melt on it. Johan touched the rock and it felt warm, an extremely strange phenomenon in this cold landscape.

  'Do we go to the opening?' asked Bry, breaking a long lasting silence.

  'It's too easy,' muttered Ardag.

  'What do you mean?' Bry said, trying to think of a reason not to go.

  'Though none of the Mjorn have ever seen it,' Finnvid started, 'this is the fortress of the frost giants, they made their home from ancient halls in the mountains. If gaining entrance to their stronghold is so easy, there has to be a catch – is that what you mean, Ardag?' Everybody looked at Ardag questioningly.

  He nodded.

  'What do we do then?' Bry and Jess asked in unison.

  'Well, we go around it, do we not?' Finnvid said, and they all looked to Ardag for the answer.

  'I hear something,' Ardag suddenly said, his face full of alarm. 'Something big is coming.'

  'Or some things,' added Johan, pointing behind them.

  Unbeknown to them, the giants and giantlings had sneaked around them, forming a semi-circle, trapping them between ambushers and mountains. Now the frost giants came into full view, thundering towards the small party.

  'Looks like we have just met our fate,' Bry said sternly, preparing to change skin.

  Ardag reacted first, he quickly pointed his staff towards the coming force. He merely thought about destroying one of the giants and a large fire bolt flew from his staff and towards the giants. The companions were shocked and amazed. The fireball raced towards the giants furiously and hit one directly, and it exploded into thousands of crystal-like ice.

  Ardag then directed his thought to killing more, and an even larger burst of fire erupted from his staff. The fireball engulfed three giants and a dozen giantlings; their screams of pain could be heard above the roar of the flame.

  'You kept that quiet,'
said a dumbfounded Johan, speechless at the sight.

  The giants stopped their advance and Ardag stopped his merciless flaming barrage. A tense standoff followed as at least twenty frost giants and three times as many giantlings faced off with the companions.

  One of the frost giants stepped forward and spoke to the companions in an unknown tongue. His voice was extremely deep and almost mellow.

  Fortunately Finnvid knew the giants’ tongue and translated. 'He says that we should go home and leave their land, they do not want to lose any more kin to the mage.' Ardag realised the giants must have been in fear of him; they usually killed first and asked questions later.

  ‘Tell him to allow us entry into the mountain to avoid further destruction,’ Ardag said defiantly. Finnvid did so and the giant laughed harshly; he pointed to the companions and them himself as he spoke.

  Finnvid translated, 'He said that it is an insult for trespassers to make demands, it is the giants who rule this land.'

  Ardag spoke again, 'This is their last warning. Tell him we would speak to their king. If they do not comply, then upon this stone they will perish.' He pointed his staff towards them, hoping his bluff would work. Although he knew he could destroy the majority of them, the party would be overwhelmed and defeated. He hoped the giant’s seemingly simple mind could be manipulated. He watched the giant’s expression change to anger and thought his plan hadn't worked. The giant then looked around at his companions, then back at Finnvid, and nodded.

  He spoke softly to Finnvid and then Finnvid relayed, 'He says he wishes he could crush you and feed you to the giantlings, but he has decided he will leave you to the mercy of the Frost King.' Finnvid smiled and whispered to Ardag, 'We are lucky they fell for it.'