The Iron Hammer

by J. M. Briggs

  The air was sharp around him. Magic was thrumming with every move he made. Pushing his magic through the wooden handle, Thor gasped as Mjǫllnir shook and the lightning surrounded him. The magic was lashing around him, spinning almost out of control as his muscles tightened painfully. Thor heard a roll of thunder exploding around him as he lost his grip on the magic.

  Everything turned white. Uncertainty and outright fear over what he’d done filled Thor, consuming him for the long deafening moment of total silence that followed. Then the world dimmed and he heard people moving. At some point, his eyes had closed. He forced them open.

  There were no Dark Elves. The others were on the ground around him, and there was a slight shimmer of silver in the air, but it vanished in moments. Overhead lightning was flashing, illuminating the face of Sif as she looked up at him in surprise. Thor lowered Mjǫllnir quickly and nervously.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. Thor extended a hand to Sif to help her to her feet. “I was just… I just wanted to get rid of them.

  “And your magic reacted to that wish,” Odin huffed as he leveraged himself up.

  “Thor!” Merlin snapped, shaking his head as he stood. “Don’t… try not to do that again.”

  “Agreed.” Morgana shook her cloak which did nothing to remove the mud. “At least not until you’ve got some more control.”

  Raindrops began to fall from the sky and struck his face. The sudden chill made him shiver, but Thor exhaled slowly. The sword fell from his hand. Giving it up, he shifted Mjǫllnir into his right hand. Sif came up next to him and placed a hand on his arm.

  “Thank you,” Sif told him softly.

  “I didn’t hurt you did I?” Thor asked her in a low voice, searching her for any signs of pain.

  “It was odd,” she offered carefully. “Something hit me, but it… rolled over me like it knew I wasn’t the real target.”

  Sighing in relief, Thor nodded. “I’ll work on controlling that better.”

  “Good idea, but it did work,” Sif reminded him with a soft chuckle.

  “We should return home,” Odin’s voice called out. “We’ve distressed the humans enough tonight.”

  “That’s a wise choice,” Merlin agreed with a nod before a strange look passed over his face. “We will contact you soon.”

  Thor glanced back at the village. The guards were standing in the open gateway and staring at them with fearful eyes. It took Thor a moment to recognize that the fear in them wasn’t directed at the others, but at him. Sif squeezed his arm encouragingly before following her father up the hill. Merlin came up to stand next to him, shifting impatiently as the others vanished into the forest.

  “Come with me,” Merlin ordered in a low voice. Morgana sent a strange look his way. “I heard her calling me.”

  Thor looked at Morgana in confusion. Whatever surprise Morgana may have felt didn’t stop her. She summoned another orb of light that illuminated their path as they headed down towards the shore. Thor was grateful that he didn’t have to return to the village just yet.

  “What is it?” Thor asked Morgana. He glanced between her and Merlin. “Is something wrong?”

  “Hopefully not,” Morgana answered quickly though she didn’t look at him. “Stay close to me. There shouldn’t be any danger, but… just stay close to me.”

  Thor frowned at the order. This had already been a long day and his patience was at an end. Just minutes ago he’d proven what he was capable of in a fight. Grumbling under his breath, Thor followed Morgana closely and noted the excited spring in Merlin’s step. They reached the rocky shoreline quickly. Around them, the sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs and rough coastline echoed beneath the stormy sky. The rain was beginning to ease, but the roll of thunder and occasional flashes of lightning continued.

  Then water began to churn a few feet from the shore as if something large was bubbling up beneath it. Moving back from the water, Thor sent a frantic look towards Merlin and Morgana. They weren’t moving away and didn’t look worried. In fact, Morgana glanced his way with an amused expression.

  Water burst straight up from the surface of the sea with a thunderous splash. It twisted into a column of standing water that after only an instant began to form into a humanoid shape. Waves of water swirled into a white gown covering what looked like a woman. Long black hair with a soft green shine to it hung over her shoulders. Bright sea green eyes looked at him, almost glowing in contrast to her bronze skin. Small droplets of water formed a small ring around her head that illuminated her face. She was utterly strange to him and yet Thor found himself calming down in moments.

  “Thor, may I introduce Cyrridven. She is an old ally and friend of Morgana and myself.” There was a fondness in Merlin’s voice that was confusing and reassuring at the same time.

  “Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Thor managed to force out.

  “The pleasure is mine, Iron Soul,” Cyrridven greeted in a smooth voice that had an echoing quality to it. She turned her eyes from him and looked around. “There are Sídhe nearby.”

  “There is a colony of the survivors of the war living in the area,” Merlin confirmed with a nod. “They’ve… actually, they have been very helpful. They keep to themselves and don’t bother the humans. These Dark Elves are a threat to them as well. We have an alliance of sorts with them.”

  Thor’s eyes were drawn to a sword scabbard on Cyrridven’s belt formed of gently flowing water. A golden hilt glimmered in the soft light of Morgana’s orb. Without realizing it, he took a step towards her only for his feet to splash in the water. Cyrridven looked at him with a thoughtfully with a sad smile on her face before she turned her attention back to Merlin.

  “The magic of the Iron Realm feels stretched thin,” Cyrridven informed them softly. “Whatever is happening here is… affecting the greater whole. I was on my way when a great surge not long ago called me here.”

  “The Sídhe’s actions have overcome Arto’s magic in the Iron Gates,” Merlin acknowledged sadly. “Breaking through the magical barrier has corrupted them.”

  There was a look of horror on her face and Thor’s stomach turned. Once again he had the impression that he didn’t understand the full gravity of what was happening. Licking his lips, he considered asking the strange… woman what it all meant.

  “I see,” Cyrridven whispered. “I wanted to be certain that you were aware of the attack on the Iron Realm.”

  “We are,” Morgana said. “Sadly they are proving to be more of a problem than expected. Thankfully their numbers are manageable.”

  “Then they do not have a tunnel?”

  “No,” Merlin answered. “The Sídhe seem to have become aware of the corruption and are no longer sending their kind through.”

  “Possibly because of these Dark Elves, that’s what the locals call them,” Morgana added. “They are as much if not more of a threat to them should they return to Sídhean.”

  “We’re trying to sort out the best way to fight then.” Merlin leaned heavily on his staff. “The effect of magic being… stretched thin is probably connected to their violent entrance into our world. It somehow pulled beings from a world unknown to us here.”

  Thor tried to focus on the conservation, but his eyes kept traveling back to the sword hilt. There was an odd buzzing in his head and an itch in his hand that he couldn’t quite shake. Lowering his hand back to Mjǫllnir, Thor relaxed a little as the strange sensation eased.

  “Then there is another people here?” Cyrridven questioned, looking mildly alarmed. “Indeed this is complicated, more so than the war. Are these Dark Elves very powerful?”

  “They seem to have some form of magic. Although that was only in the tunnel they were building.” Morgana trailed off and Thor watched her features furrow in thought. “But they haven’t used magic in combat. The Sídhe descendants don’t seem to have magic either. They are cut off, but the Dark Elves were…” She straightened up and her eyes widened in realization. “They were somehow pulli
ng magic from Sídhean. That’s what we were seeing!”

  “Morgana-” Merlin began.

  “No, Merlin, think about what we saw. They were touching the stone. Somehow, I’m not sure how they have reconnected to Sídhean.”

  “To what end?” Cyrridven asked, tilting her head slightly. “To gain some magic of their own? Bring more of their kind here or invade Sídhean?”

  “I’m not sure,” Morgana admitted, looking between Cyrridven and Merlin. “But the magical barrier…”

  “Has already been breached once,” Merlin reminded her darkly as a scowl appeared on his face. “We may have to consider creating a new gate.”

  “There is no point to that, Merlin!” Morgana waved a hand angrily in the air. “They’ve broken through once. It had consequences enough that it seems to have scared the Sídhe off, but the Iron Gates don’t protect Earth from something within the Iron Realm already.”

  “She is correct, Merlin,” Cyrridven agreed. “I wish I had news for you. I will try to call a vision and see if I can learn anything.” In the corner of his eye, Thor saw Merlin tense up. “I’ll return to the water. In the meantime, your attention should remain on Thor.”

  “And the sword?” Morgana questioned, her eyes dropping to the hilt.

  “It is Thor’s should you think that best,” Cyrridven answered, her voice echoing around him. “But I see a weapon much like it at his side already.”

  His thumb brushed over the triskelion symbol on Mjǫllnir’s side at the words. He almost smiled and Merlin nodded in understanding. A soft huff escaped Morgana, but she nodded. Thor wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. The sensation was back and made him shift as a dull tingle between his shoulder blades made it hard to stay still.

  “I have faith that the Iron Soul has created what they need for the challenge they face,” Cyrridven said. “I will protect Cathanáil until it is needed once more. Farewell mages of the Iron Realm. I shall return when I have news for you.”

  Cyrridven smiled at him. It was a warm expression and full of fondness that surprised and unnerved him. He had the feeling that she was seeing someone else, just like he sometimes did with Morgana and Merlin. Then the water spun around her as she sank below the waves once more. Thor nearly stepped forward again as the gold hilt vanished from his sight.

  “What… what is she?” Thor gasped out once she was gone.

  “Cyrridven is an Old One,” Merlin explained with a soft chuckle of amusement. “She was exiled to our world a very long time ago. Unlike most of them, Cyrridven has fully accepted the Iron Realm as her home. It may seem strange to you now, but she is loyal to our cause and a great source of information.”

  “She didn’t look like Sif,” Thor pointed out carefully. Sif and her father almost passed as human while Cyrridven had been different. “Her skin was darker.”

  “Old Ones are not physical beings, they are energy and what we see is a form that they have created to survive in our world. Sif and her family seem to have favored the coloration of people from this area. Cyrridven probably resembles people from wherever she first entered our world. Though her use of water to form her body also sets her apart.” Merlin paused and a slight frown appeared on his face. “To be honest I’ve never discussed it with her.”

  “There are usually more pressing matters when we see her,” Morgana said. She looked a touch amused at Merlin sudden discomfort. “Cyrridven spends much of her time sleeping in the waters of our world.”

  “Sleeping in water? Why?” Thor asked with a frown.

  Merlin and Morgana exchanged worried glances and said nothing out loud, but a great deal at once. It was Merlin who began to explain, “Thor, the Old Ones are not beings of our world. Sif has explained the reality of their forms to you, but something you need to understand is that the magic of our world knows they shouldn’t be here. Dwelling in our world causes… instability.”

  “They go insane if they don’t cleanse themselves,” Morgana said, giving Merlin an impatient look. “Water helps them, I’m not sure why, but it keeps the madness at bay. Someday, hopefully soon, Odin and his family will need to rest in the waters to avoid losing their minds.”

  “But Sif was born in the Iron Realm,” Thor heard himself argue, the words springing to his lips. “Surely that changes things.”

  “I’m not sure,” Merlin said a moment later. “You are correct that their birth here may impact things, but in the end, Thor, their physical nature is in conflict with the power of our world.”

  “I don’t understand,” Thor admitted, frowning at the older mage. “Here they’re thought of as gods and have powers that ordinary humans don’t have. Why would being sent here be a punishment?”

  “Because the conflict that generates their powers hurts them,” Morgana told him with a cold expression. “Think of it as a dull, but constant pain. They live with it. Live with a dull ache every day. Those like Sif are born with it. I doubt she even fully understands that that ache isn’t normal.”

  His breath caught at the words and there was an ache in his chest at the very idea. Sealing his lips together, Thor struggled to gather his thoughts and keep control of his features. Merlin and Morgana were watching him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it and even a few months ago he would have shouted angrily about it. Now he knew it would do no good.

  “What about Frea and her people?” Thor finally asked.

  “Frea and hers don’t seem to have magic. Some of the other creatures from their branch of the Tree of Reality have magical powers, but only very slight abilities. It seems the further the world they originate from the more disconnect their descendants have. This… severing from the power of their home world seems to let them live a bit more peacefully in our world. Of course, they don’t really look human and can’t alter their appearances like the Old Ones can.” Merlin nodded towards the water which was crashing on the shore. “There is a price it seems for living in a world that is not yours. Some pay it with more dignity and empathy than others, but they all pay it.”

  Keeping his hand on Mjǫllnir, Thor tried to process the words. Merlin and Morgana walked a little ways up the shore speaking in low tones and staying where they could see him. The irritation once again flared up in his chest alongside a sense of unease at the reminder from Cyrridven that he was just one more warrior in a line of them. Underneath it, all was a nagging question and certainty that he hadn’t understood something. Why if living in another world was so difficult would the Sídhe even want to invade?

  16

  Confrontation of Half Breeds

  Water blasted forth from the small lake, rising in a pillar off of the surface and beginning to spin in the air. Merlin kept his hand stretched out and watched in silence as the green sparks of his magic blended with the water. The swirling became stronger and stronger as the water spun into what appeared to be a vertical whirlpool. At the sight of the spinning water, Merlin felt a dull ache in his chest that confused him for a moment.

  Cyrridven. The name echoed in his head and Merlin suddenly found it hard to breathe. Clenching and unclenching his fists he struggled to inhale and held the breath for a long moment before he slowly released it. There were tears gathering in his eyes and Merlin almost laughed at himself. Really, this was going to happen now? He was going to accept the idea that Cyrridven was gone now? A harsh laugh did escape him now and the water tunnel shuddered in response to his loss of focus.

  “I’m sorry, Cyrridven,” Merlin said, watching the churning waves. “I’m sorry.”

  She’d always been there, distantly, but he’d known for millennia that in times of trouble she would help the Iron Realm. Her loyalty to the Iron Realm had been absolute to the point of confusing him and he knew that for years Morgana had waited for a betrayal that never came. Now he’d recovered the remains of the potion she’d prepared to help train him and Merlin realized that he’d never properly thanked her.

  Cyrridven had given him the name Merlin. She’d teased of
course that it was the name he’d be known by in the future, but Myrddin had become a distant memory and if someone were to shout it he doubted he’d respond. She’d trained him, named him, supported him and now died due to his own mistake. Another long sigh escaped him and Merlin shook his head. There was nothing he could do now and the water tunnel needed his attention.

  The churning magic had weakened due to his lack of focus and was sloshing around wildly. Raising his hand once more, Merlin pushed his magic into the pool and focused on a mental image of Ravens Lake. It was difficult, but he was able to push the memory of Cyrridven rising out of the water from his mind. In a rush of green and soft blue, the water shifted and the tunnel reappeared, beckoning him forward.