Blowing out a breath, he leaned his back against the frozen earth. “Why does this always happen?”
Freya dropped her gaze. “I don’t know.”
“This is the most time we’ve spent together since we were children,” he said. “Why is it that even when the dead are coming back to life, we still can’t get along?”
She shrugged and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, Jarl. I suppose some people just aren’t compatible.”
“It didn’t use to be this way,” he said, peering down at the smoldering stones. “When we were young, we were inseparable—best friends, really. We told each other everything and played whenever we weren’t forced to work.”
“That was a long time ago,” she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice. “Things change.”
“Yeah,” Jarl agreed. “Things do change.”
The main turning point in their relationship had been Freya becoming a fireborn. The Aesir whisked her away, and practically overnight she had a place of honor in the clanhold. That left Jarl alone to provide for his mother and grandmother, languishing in the mud like his father, and his father before him. Initially, Jarl had been jealous of his sister. Why should she live in opulence when he was forced to remain the same? That jealousy soon hardened into resolve, however, and Jarl decided that he would fight to pursue his own dreams, even if it meant he had to sacrifice everything. Freya, on the other hand, grew cold and pompous as the years went by, the Temple having changed her into just another fireborn, an icy shadow of her former self.
I wonder if there’s any of my old sister left, he thought, stealing a glance at her. Perhaps she’s still in there, buried deep down.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, cutting their brooding silence short. It was a long, mournful tone, and it hung in the air, even over the sound of the wind.
Both of their heads swiveled in the direction of the howl. Jarl reflexively reached for his axe. “What was that?” he asked in a low voice.
Freya scrunched up her brow. “Dire wolf.”
Jarl looked around, poking his head out of their little divot but unable to see anything past the light of their fire. “Frosts. How far away do you think it is?”
“Not far enough,” she remarked, reaching in her pocket and pulling out a bottle of flame spirits. “Dire wolves travel in packs—large packs—and they typically hunt at night. If they catch our scent, they’ll be coming our way.”
Jarl looked at her in concern and asked, “Have you seen these things before?”
She nodded. “The battleborn sometimes hunt them for their pelts. I’ve never seen a live one, but I’ve seen what they can do to a person.” She shuddered. “They usually avoid large groups of humans, but small ones.... I’d say that we’re a rather tempting meal.”
Another wolf howled in the night, this one sounding much closer.
Cursing, Jarl jumped to his feet and readied his axe, letting his blanket fall to the ground. “Put that fire out,” he said. “We need our eyes to adjust to the darkness.”
“No,” Freya replied, getting to her feet as well. “Fire’s our only ally. In the darkness, we’d never see the wolves coming.” She tilted her head back and took a long drink from her flask. A few seconds later, she began leaking smoke again. Throwing her gloves to the side, she began to draft, filling both her palms with reddish globes of fire. The area around them immediately grew brighter, her fireballs illuminating a twenty-foot circle.
Jarl blinked against the sudden brightness, then grunted and pulled himself out of the divot. If there was any doubt the wolves had sensed them, it was now gone. Freya’s spell made them a beacon for miles in all directions.
Gripping his axe with both hands, Jarl assumed a fighting stance and looked around, turning slowly to not leave his back exposed. Freya did the same thing, searching for signs of danger with her hands burning. More howls answered the ones from before, and soon, the night was alive with the sounds of wolf calls. The bone-chilling cries echoed across the desolate, windswept tundra.
Gods protect me, Jarl thought, feeling his muscles tense with anticipation. And keep my sister from dying, too.
One by one, the wolves emerged from the darkness, padding softly through the snow like ghosts in the night. They moved with a menacing grace, prowling silently with eyes that seemed to glow in the light of Freya’s fires. The beasts were much larger than Hjalmar’s pack hounds, some as tall as a man’s shoulder, with sharp teeth and monstrous paws.
Jarl swept his gaze over the approaching dire wolves, making a quick count. “Six,” he said without looking at his sister. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the approaching predators.
“There may be more in the shadows,” Freya warned. “Keep that in mind. They’re waiting to see if we try to run.”
“I don’t plan on running,” Jarl replied.
The wolves fanned out, breaking into three groups of two. When they drew near, emitting low growls, Jarl could see that their hackles were raised and that their fangs were bared fiercely. The wolves near Freya seemed wary about her fire, but even so they didn’t back down. They congregated, four in total, seeing her as the greater threat.
One of the beasts lunged, snapping its jaws in an attempt to get at Jarl’s neck. He was forced to jump to the side, using his axe like a club to bat the creature away.
Dodge: 15 + Agility Modifier (1).
Successful.
The wolf’s partner came next, bounding toward Jarl’s unprotected side at incredible speed. Jarl cried out and ducked, twisting to avoid being mauled. Sharp claws raked at his shoulder, tearing at his coat but avoiding his skin beneath. His back, however, protested painfully from the sudden movement, and his scabs split open in a dozen different places. Already, he could feel warm blood trickling down his spine.
-2 Health Points.
Matching the wolves with a growl of his own, he swung his axe and managed to strike the nearest wolf in the flank. The blade bit deep, and he could hear the wolf yelp as its side was opened up.
7 Damage.
The second wolf wheeled around and charged, making as if to bite Jarl’s arm off.
He wrenched the axe free and drove the spike hard into the beast’s snout. It was a glancing blow, but it still carved away a large swathe of skin, sending the wolf scampering away with blood dripping from its face.
3 Damage.
A flash of light emanated to Jarl’s side, washing him with an intense wave of heat. He looked and saw that Freya had immolated one of the dire wolves attacking her, igniting its fur like dry kindling.
Gritting his teeth against the agony of his back, Jarl turned and finished off the wolf whose side he’d wounded. A downward chop to the base of its skull killed it instantly and caused its body to crumple beneath the force of his blow.
10 Damage.
More fire flashed, this time spraying in a wide arc in an attempt to drive back the rest of the wolves. Two more had joined the fray from the darkness, the entirety of the pack turning out to kill Freya. The wolf Jarl had wounded was nowhere to be seen, so he turned his attention to helping his sister.
“Can’t you just burn them all and be done with it?” he asked, moving to stand back to back with her.
“It’s not that simple,” she replied, both hands radiating. “There’s only one of me, and five of them!” She threw a fireball at one of the beasts, only to have it dodge out of the way. Her flames sizzled uselessly in the snow. “I could really use some of your warrior skills right about now!”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” he asked, eying the two wolves in front of him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that one of the dire wolves was larger than the rest, its hulking body mottled with black spots. He remembered Hjalmar’s pack hound, Frostfang, and instantly came up with a plan. “Do you see that big one over there?”
“Yes,” Freya responded, spraying another burst of flames to ward away the pack.
“I think that’s the a
lpha,” he explained, his wounded back momentarily forgotten. “If we can kill it, maybe that’ll be enough to scare the rest away.”
“Fine,” she said, “but let’s do it quickly. I’m running out of flame spirits, and I don’t think they’ll give me the time to drink more.”
Jarl nodded. “Keep the others busy. I’ll take care of the alpha.”
The five remaining wolves circled the two of them slowly, their dark eyes glittering intelligently. They seemed warier now, having seen what had happened to their fallen brothers. Jarl kept a keen eye on the alpha, watching the great wolf’s every move. I’ll only get one chance, he thought, rolling his shoulders to relax the muscles. If I don’t strike true, then he’ll eviscerate me on the spot. He didn’t know what level the alpha was, but he was sure it would prove a challenge to a level 2 battleborn.
Freya grunted, and Jarl could feel the heat intensifying behind him. “Get ready,” she called, sounding strained. The light of the flames began to grow brighter, the added illumination telling Jarl that she was preparing an especially powerful spell. “Let me know when the alpha is in front of you!”
Jarl waited a few seconds, then shouted, “Now!”
There was a great whoosh, and fire erupted from his sister in an immense arc. It exploded with such violence that for a second, the wolves were caught off-guard. They leapt backward as a wall of fire rushed toward them, melting snow and turning it into steam. The flames nearly took out four of the dire wolves, all except the one directly in front of Jarl—the alpha.
Seizing his opportunity, Jarl sprinted forward and wound up as if to strike. The heat of Freya’s magic had partially thawed the ground. Before he could bear down on the stunned wolf, his foot caught on an uncovered stone.
Agility Saving Throw: 8 + Ability Modifier (1).
Flogged Back (disadvantaged).
Unsuccessful.
His face grated against the slush as he pitched forward, his back spasming, pain rippling across his wounds. He somehow managed to keep a hand on his axe, though the haft was now pinned under him, rendering the weapon useless.
“Jarl!” Freya screamed as the heat of the flames died down. There was real fear in her voice— fear for herself, and fear for him.
Acting instinctively, he rolled over just as a crushing weight landed on top of him, blasting the air out of his lungs. Letting go of his axe, he brought up both hands to protect his face and neck.
Snapping jaws clamped down on his forearm, tearing through the thick hides of his sleeve with bone-crushing strength. Razor-sharp teeth dug into his flesh, but the pain barely registered in his mind. His heart was pounding too fast, his blood pumping too hard. Everything around him seemed to slow down, and for an instant, there was no sound, only the rumble of the wolf’s growl and the pressure of its bite.
-6 Health Points.
Using every ounce of strength he possessed, Jarl forced his arm forward, driving it deeper into the alpha’s mouth. This pushed the beast off him just enough to allow him to move, to wriggle his body and dislodge the haft of the axe beneath him.
With his free hand, he reached for the only thing he could—the weapon’s sharp blade. Gritting his teeth, he brought the axe head up to where he wrestled with the wolf’s jaws. The edge bit into his palm.
-2 Health Points.
But instead of shifting his grip to the handle, he drove the weapon’s iron spike forward, punching through the alpha’s exposed eye and driving it deep into its brain.
Critical Hit: 22 Damage.
Jarl yanked his mangled arm free just as the jaws snapped shut for the last time. The dead weight of the enormous animal fell on top of him.
Somewhere to the side, there was another flash of heat, but Jarl was too exhausted to look up. This flash was followed by another one, then nothing. The cold night air of the tundra seemed to swallow him.
Encounter Summary
2 Enemies Defeated.
-10 Health Points.
-5 Stamina Points.
+150 Experience Points.
A familiar golden nimbus surrounded Jarl, and the sound of wind filled his ears. He didn’t check his stats, but he knew that he’d reached level 3. Even so, he still felt pain and exhaustion. Levelling up wasn’t enough to overcome his wounds.
Footfalls crunched on the snow behind him, and a second later, he could feel the weight of the dead alpha shifting.
“Jarl! Jarl! Are you okay?”
The corpse rolled off of him and he was able to suck in a ragged breath. “Yes,” he wheezed, eyelids fluttering open. “How are you?”
Freya laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. “You had me worried. I thought that you’d been killed.”
He forced a smile and replied, “My ‘warrior skills’ saved me.” Then, more somberly he asked, “The wolves?”
“Gone,” she answered, sitting tiredly on the ground. “After you killed this monster, they lost their nerve. I chased them away with the last of my magic.”
“Let’s hope they don’t come back,” Jarl said. He attempted to sit up, then cried out as the pain on his back flared up. His arm hurt too, but it was nothing compared to his other wounds, which blazed like one of Freya’s spells. “I think I’ll just lay here for a while,” he said at length, resting his head back against the ground. “You’ll watch over me, won’t you?”
Freya was silent for a long moment before responding. “Yes,” she answered in a soft voice. “Yes, of course I will.”
Chapter 22
To Stop a Warband
“Thus, flame spirits were considered more valuable than iron or gold.”
—Memoir, Rune Plate 5
The sun rose the next day in a cloudless sky, revealing the charred and bloody remains of a half-dozen dire wolves.
Jarl stiffly got to his feet, grimacing as his coat stuck to the dried blood on his back. The pain had lessened considerably from the night before, but it still hurt every time he moved. He had to force himself to check his stats.
Jarl Beckström
Class: Battleborn — Level 3
Strength: 15
Agility: 12
Fortitude: 14
Intellect: 8
Perception: 10
Charisma: 13
Health Points: 15 out of 35
Stamina Points: 17 out of 25
Defense: 13
Rage Points: 2 out of 2
Feats: None
Special Abilities: Determined, Adrenaline Surge
Resistances: Cold (racial bonus)
Afflictions: Flogged Back. Disadvantage to Strength and Agility rolls.
Health Points capped until fully healed. Too much movement can result in Bleeding.
Wounded Forearm. Unable to fight with two hands.
Experience Points: 900 out of 2,700
Resting had given him some extra Health Points, but his wounds were still severe. Additionally, he’d received a new Special Ability when he levelled up, Adrenaline Surge. From what he could tell, it was a skill he could use while fighting, and would give him a burst of energy and speed.
Could be useful, he mused, blinking away the numbers from his vision. Assuming I don’t die before I can use it.
He squinted against the sunlight and brought his good hand up to cover his eyes as he surveyed the scene around them. It looked like a battleground, the earth scored with jagged black marks where his sister had used her magic. He snorted to clear his nostrils and spat on the frozen ground, doing his best to ignore the agony of his injuries.
Freya groaned and pulled off the blanket that was covering her head. Her hair was askew, red locks sticking out haphazardly from her braid. “I feel like I spent the night drinking too much mjöl,” she moaned, rubbing at her temples. “I haven’t drafted that much in some time.”
“I wish I had some mjöl,” Jarl croaked. “It might help take the edge off.”
She glanced over at him, her eyebrows pinching together in concern. “How’s your arm?”
He
held it up and gave her a half-shrug. “It hurts.”
During the night, he’d hastily wrapped the wound with a strip of cloth before bedding down. The bandage had staunched the bleeding, but only after it had soaked all the way through. The cloth and a good portion of his sleeve was stained a dark red. Though no bones were broken, Jarl knew that the skin beneath was torn and ravaged. He would certainly carry the scars the rest of his life.
Freya’s frown deepened as she regarded the bloody appendage. “We’ll need to take care of that before rot sets in. It would be freezing difficult to wield an axe with only one arm.”
Jarl just nodded.
Wiping her nose with the back of her glove, Freya got to her feet and approached, her cracked lips parting in a yawn. When she examined his hurt forearm more closely, her expression grew even more concerned. “Oh, Jarl, this looks awful! How were you able to sleep with such a wound?”
“Not very well,” he muttered, grunting in pain as she began to unravel the bandage.
With the arm exposed to the sunlight, they were able to see the extent of the damage the dire wolf had caused. The flesh was rent in several places, with long gashes thick with clotted blood. Other patches of skin had small puncture wounds, no doubt from where the animal’s teeth had clamped down. Jarl could see no signs of tendon damage, and although it hurt to do so, he was still able to bend his elbow and wiggle all his fingers.
“It’s a wonder you're not more hurt,” Freya observed, her tone growing thoughtful. “That beast was large enough to have ripped your entire arm off.”
“Yeah,” Jarl agreed, though not with much enthusiasm. “Lucky.”
Frostworld: Ice & Blood: A LitRPG/GameLit Viking Adventure Page 25