Chapter 7
Frozen Foes
The world becomes darker, colder, and eerie as they enter Frozen Forest. Khan knows of this place because it’s the only passage between the Wēoh Mountains toward the Great Lake. The path is treacherous not only because of the extreme cold but because this route passes the village of the kingdom’s last remaining rival tribe - The Glosbe Ulfednar.
The Frozen Forest is a land of the starkest white ice; coating everything as far as they can see, the glare almost impossible to tolerate. The forest’s namesake originating from the constant state of linger the wooded area seems to be in. Forever winter, forever cold, forever wet. Trees just out of the ice like glass towers, leave’s glittering in the fading light. He considers for a moment to lick at the ice, his throat searing from thirst. But it is known the ice is poisonous and has killed many a thirsty traveler.
It should be called the forever frozen wet forest, Khan muses to himself, his paws dragging through the mud. Between his claws, he clutches his clothes with belt, boots, and tunic; using his tail as a strap to keep his furs wrapped around his upper body. Seems he too is frozen in his beastly self after his last transformation.
As the rain comes down harder, the drops increasing in size and decreasing in temperature, Khan prays to the gods to turn him back into his human form. Because at this point he wonders what the use of an animal’s pelt is. His coat seems to soak up all the rain, making him feel heftier; frozen to the bone. Beside him, Frigg keeps on trotting, muzzle down against the pelting rain, his hooves kicking up mud, splashing Khan. The prince is grateful for the company, as unfriendly as it is, and seems not to mind the mud-splash as much as he should; despite his increasing sour mood. When the trees start to thin out; a clearing can be seen up ahead. The pale barks of the trees catching colour as frost melts away in the slight temperature rise. Trotting on, Khan looks back at the Frozen Forest wondering how they had even survived the extreme wet cold? From this distance, the white blight stretches out as if something divine or cursed had touched down on the lands and blanched everything in its path with frozen wrath.
Heading up a steep hill Khan raises his heads to the heavens in thanks that Frigg and he survived the Frozen Forest on foot. Looking to Frigg now, he seems to echo the same thought as he snorts out a misted breath of relief. The fog starts to lift, and before them, a hill rises up eclipsing the dawning sky.
By the time they make it up the hill, twilight has fallen; the stars veiled beneath a blanket of fog, and smoke billowing up from village fireplaces. Over the hill lies Glosbe Ulfednar village, he swallows against the pang coiling in his gut.
Frigg now lags behind, his hooves sinking into the thick mug as he slows down. Frigg snorts in disgust at the hill, but Khan keeps tugging at his reigns until they crest the bluff. Both lift their faces to the slow drops welcoming the cool after the challenging climb. Sticking out his tongue Khan catches a few drops, seeking moisturize for his dehydrated mouth. He looks to Frigg studying his saddle, and all the satchels hanging from the side. As Khan comes closer wanting to inspect what may be stuffed in those pockets, Frigg neighs and kicks up mud; the beads from Frigg’s plaited mane whipping Khan on the paw.
“I’m thirsty Frigg. Do you know if they packed water in any of those satchels of yours?” He thinks to use his elongated ‘nails’ to cut the straps from the saddle, but the idea of Khan needing an ally changes his mind.
With the snort of white vapor, Frigg’s gaze remains forward, refusing to let Khan come near him. Khan inhales and exhales deeply, willing the calm. ‘I will not kill my companion, I shall not kill my companion.’ He thinks to himself. For the briefest of moments, horse and griffin overlook the skyline, last of the remaining rays of the sun stroke across the earth in a display of blues and oranges. Through the thick of mud, they descend the hill overlooking the spiked border of the village when Khan takes note of the wagon trail they have been tracking. Seems the funeral party has taken into the wild thorny jungle around the village. Khan focuses his new ability, the glow of his eyes light up the area around them, and further into the bushy surrounds. The rain has lifted and this they are thankful for that, but it’s not a moment too soon, when snowflakes begin to fall, coating their eyelashes. Seems winter has arrived in this Glosbe Ulfednar village a season too early.
Khan shakes off the flakes, blinking against his snowy lashes. “Let’s go, he turns toward the bush in pursuit of the trail but seems Frigg disagrees as he starts to trot back onto the path.
Khan huffs in question, starting to get annoyed with his companion’s challenging behavior, “Frigg?”
A thought comes to Khan, but it’s more in the form of an answer than an idea coming to him. ‘We should head past the village.’
Considering this, he wonders if the answer came from his human mind, or can he understand animals now? The prince looks down at his griffin form. His clothes are bundled up beneath the furs, his transformed upper body hidden, but his eyes and the horns cannot be so easily hidden should any villager catch sight of them. Once again, a thought or answer makes its self known in his mind.
‘We could make up for lost time, perhaps even arrive at the great lake before the funeral party.’
Khan does want to say his goodbyes to his guardian and chevalier Audun. He does feel responsible for both deaths, regardless of the circumstances in which they died.
Death is not an answer, nor should it be a punishment to any human or creature. Everyone deserves a second chance, his chest pangs at the desperate thought. If he could take it all back…
Clearing his parched throat Khan says, “Okay, Frigg we shall head past the village, seek free passage to the great lake, to pay our respects.”
Taking a deep breath, Khan thinks back to the last time his beastly side withdrew. The recollection of Ashlan’s betrayal stings deep inside him, and with that painful memory, he feels the shiver of claws, horns, and eyes shift back to his human self. But once again, that is the extent of the transformation.
His upper-body appears that of a man, his bottom half remains coated in a silver fur with tail, paws and blackened claws. Throwing his furs onto Frigg for safekeeping, Khan slips on his tunic; it bundles up around his midriff where his human body bleeds to beast. He asks, “Frigg will you hide my boots in those many pockets of yours, please? I am exhausted, carrying these heavy mudded boots and trousers around.”
Frigg gives an easy neigh and the tilt of his head. Standing still, the horse allows Khan to pocket his boots, belt, and trousers in a satchel of the saddle. Khan crosses his human arms over his chest and grunts, then pulls his furs from Frigg’s back. Wrapping it around himself, he sneers at the horse, “Frigg you had water on your person,” he corrects himself, “on your back all this time!”
Frigg snorts, then trots the rest of the path to the edge of the hill toward the gleam of the moon reflected in puddles. With a sigh, Khan shivers against the cold. He moves closer to Frigg and stretches out to the pocket holding the water-bag. Undoing the buckle he takes the water, but first he pours some in his palm and offers it to Frigg. Then takes a few sips before replacing it. The rain seems to lighten, but the chill remains in the air. Perhaps Khan was wrong, his pelt wet or not did keep him warmer than human skin. Frigg moves along and Khan catching up to Frigg exhales with relief; in the distance, clouds cover the mountains that mark the border of the Great Lake. These are the neutral lands for all surrounding villages and colonies. The Great Lake is sacred earth, and fighting is strictly forbidden there.
Khan stares down at his reflection in the pool of water, his human face of a young man, dark-haired, and blue-eyed stares back at him. If he can find a way to conceal his bottom half, he should be granted safe passage toward The Great Lake.
Descending the hill; the soft glow of the moon fades behind a plume of smoke from the chimneys of the Ulfednar Village. The path forward only lit by the fires near the guard gates. There in the pit of Khan’s gut, the pull comes. But the prince is sure t
his time the pull is because of something other than impending doom. He is concerned. They would kill him on the spot should they discover his secret. Erik had told him Ulfednar are warriors who practice sorcery. Could he protect himself against such a strong unexplained evil? Or would they see him as a demon, perhaps they might be afraid of him and grant him passage anyway? But then again, what did his father say; they would hunt and kill a monster like him. Again the pull in his gut threatens.
The mud becomes thicker at the foot of the hill, the trek for both griffin paws and horse hooves becoming more strenuous. Both feeling their energy levels drop. Feeling almost completely spent at this point. When Khan’s limbs give way, surprisingly Frigg leans up against him, impeding his fall. Frigg bows his head, crouching his front legs to allow Khan to get into the saddle.
“Thank you, Frigg.” Khan blows out.
This might just work he thinks to himself, as Khan takes in the massive fires and wooden spiked border marking enemy territory. Dropping the furs from his upper body in such a way it covers his creaturesque bottom half, and with it covering some of Frigg too. Khan feels the delight in Frigg as if it were his own.
“Well Frigg you could have avoided this cold struggle if you’d allowed me to ride you from the …” his words cut short when the path takes a sharp bend around a cluster of trees to reveal the magnitude of the Ulfednar Village. The spiked fence he observes is made up of Giant Sequoia tree stumps. The tops sharpened to deadly stakes; animal, bird and human bones used as mortar.
With an apprehensive trot, Frigg slows down into a slow walk; his gait heavy as the mud threatens to drag him down. The guard-huts massive structures built between two clusters of Sequoia trees covering both sides of the gate at the end of the path. Nearing, both of them glimpse the tiny narrowing path that leads past the village toward The Great Lake. As the thought of making a run for it passes both prince and horse, something dark and gangly abseils down from the treehouse. The prince frowns, realizing it’s a human - an Ulfednar human. He is tinted black from head to toe. Bare feet, and chest. The dark figure with stark white eyes and pink gums wearing a wolf-head as a hat, its furs covering his shoulders and back. From his neck dangles a necklace of fangs he presumes belongs to the wolf he wears as a hat.
“Come forth and show yourselves.” He says in a strange accent, but Khan understands him perfectly somehow.
The guard beckons them even closer with the curl of a slender Ulfednar finger. His arm muscles bulging and defined, where Kahn can see each muscle weaving around tendons into more muscle all the way up to his bicep. The black paint like a shimmering oil as the glow of the fires gleam off exposed parts of his body.
Apprehensively they come closer until the Ulfednar guard tells them, “That’s far enough.”
The guard studies man on horse for a while then says, “You seek passage to The Great Lake, young prince?”
Khan swallows, how could he possibly know?
“I speak the language of spirits.” the guard answers.
He bows his head, and with the slow arc of his arms says,
“I grant you free and safe passage past our village. Go now and pray for the good send-off of your friends.”
“Thank you,” Khan says gratefully.
Slowly Frigg turns around, letting Khan pull at his reins to guide him toward the path. The heat of the fire warms them as they pass the second guardhouse. About to turn the corner, a gust of wind lifts the furs exposing Khan’s beastly paws. Khan pinches his eyes shut, the pull in his gut violently warning him against the danger. Opening his eyes, he turns his head in hopes the guard missed it. But he didn’t. The Ulfednar guard raises his hands, palms out and starts to chant. Within a blink; the Ulfednar comes at Khan. Flying through the air, an arrow on its path to nail its target.
Chapter 8
Musing in Madness
Taken aback by a magic he doesn’t understand, Khan is knocked right out of his saddle as the Ulfednar guard comes flying at him. Spinning like a dart, with speed, accuracy, and murderous intent. Khan falls backward, tumbling over like a leaf caught in the wind. Landing on his head into the mud with a great thud. Air expels from his lungs as he lands with the splash of black, wet, soil covering and crawling into every orifice. Getting hold of his senses, Khan’s vision returns slowly after wiping the sting of mud from his human eyes, catching sight of Frigg on his hind legs ready to kick the guard.
With one magic word and the circle of the Ulfednar’s palm, the guard drives Frigg back through the air to land a few feet away from them.
Khan barely gets to his haunches when the Ulfednar’s hands slip into the skin of the wolf’s paws, turning the guard’s fist into a deadly wolf claw. Khan kicks up with his paws, both impeding each other’s blows. Not able to get to a good fighting position, ‘the pull’ in Khan’s gut tears inside him, chasing vengeance as he lay in the freezing mud. The guard chants in his magic tongue again. They Ulfednar swipes down at Khan one more time. Acting quickly, Khan’s eyes flash so bright it blinds his opponent, and the slash of the wolf paw narrowingly misses his human face. Khan rolls onto his stomach, the balance awkward in his still half transformed body. Screaming, Khan presses into the ground with all the weight coming from his shoulders, springing to his legs. The moment before he comes to a low crouch, Khan’s tail whips his opponent. Spinning around to face his enemy, the Ulfednar stands clutching his injured shoulder.
“Please, I don’t want to hurt you.” The young Prince pleads, his voice is half-human, half-beast.
The contortion of the Ulfednar’s face leads Khan to believe his strange voice is not aiding his situation one bit.
The guard lifts his face to the sky, an enchantment leaving his mouth in a whisper. Snowflakes float down, melting on the exhale of Khan’s deep sigh as he says, “I asked nicely, but you won’t listen, will you? You are no spirit reader,” Khan’s eyes search the sky as it transforms from night to a stormy day, “if you were,” he continues, his eyes now on his opponent with the build-up of annoyance pinching at his gut. “You’d know I am not this thing you see before you…”
But his plea is drowned out by the roil of the sky, the sound of thunder shaking at the very ground they stand upon. Khan sees Frigg looking uneasy at the unnatural events, but he senses Frigg has no intention of cowering away. In fact, Frigg slowly steps toward them, his hooves seeking out the grass to be silent in his approach.
Unsure what his next move should be, Khan toys with the idea that it would best to wait until both of them can strike as one - horse and beast working together to secure their safety.
Khan knows the Ulfednar is gearing up for another magical wind-attack; gathering up the air around him as a palpable weapon. The Prince fights against ‘the pull’ of the beast inside him, refusing to let it free. He has no control over it, and because of the creature having no motivation other than survival and acting on vengeance, it has caused him to kill his best friend. He really didn’t want to kill again. He wanted to prove he is capable of human things, like kindness and seeking that same quality in another.
A tunnel of wind circles around the rotating black painted arms of the guard. Khan is anchored to the spot in search for any kind of weapon in reach. In his hesitation, his human mind, and his half-human body reacts slowly to the next attack, barely missing the full force of the wind tunnel as it comes at him. In the wake of the gust, the gravitational pull gathers up pebbles, twigs, thorns, and embers of the nearby fire sending it all crashing against his human form. Turning his back, Khan takes every single knock and slice to the human flesh of his upper-body. The wind so strong Khan uses his claws to dig into the ground, acting as an anchor. From over his shoulder, Khan shouts at the guard, a growl escaping with a sneer.
“Coward, going for my weaker half.” Then he whirls around as his beastly senses kick in, catching a long stick before it flies past, throwing it back at the Ulfednar. The guard is caught unaware, and the stick strikes him hard; perfectly aimed at his head to leav
e his Ulfednar brain scrambled. “What use is that wolf hat, if it can’t protect you for a stick, guard?” Khan states with glee as he gets to stable feet, running for Frigg in hopes of making a clean escape, but he just isn’t quick enough.
The words for the next spell rings out in the air like a siren, and just as his human arms grab hold of Frigg to hoist him into the saddle, the wind hits with chunks of mud and the hot coals from the blazing fires of the guard towers. Khan roars out in pain; Frigg trembling at the monstrous sound, the force of the wind rendering Frigg unstable.
Frigg’s legs crossing over each other, seeking balance. Unsuccessfully so, as he goes down muzzle first into the mud and unintentionally flings Khan over him. Khan is a quick study of his abilities this time, he vaults over Frigg in a somersault using the stream of the wind to land poised; paws in the mud furious, frustrated and ready to attack.
He cries out. “Please let us pass; I am not here to harm you, Ulfednar.”
The guard stands, hands at his sides, fingers curled up as if about to grip the air as if it were a tangible weapon that mends to his intent.
The Ulfednar guard’s stark white teeth jutting out against midnight tinted skin, nostrils flaring, and for a moment the man hesitates as Khan drops his shoulders, palms raised.
“I am not a demon.” Khan lets out a pent up breath of frustration. “I am cursed by magic.”
The Prince wasn’t sure if it was true, but somehow the words move something inside of him.
Their gazes study each other for a brief moment.
“But you already knew that.” Khan straightens out, seeing the realization in his magical enemy’s eyes. Wanting to ask the Ulfednar what he knows of his cursed existence, the guard answers first; pity plastered across his face for only a moment.
Playing With Fire Page 16