Holtur Stories

by Cameron Wayne Smith

  Eyes adjusted to the minimal light offered by Volk’s fire, they scanned for more of the little yellows. Sonja couldn’t see any more of the wyverns in the nearby vicinity. She nodded, indicating she wanted to continue further. Rigst nodded back. They took a few steps, adjusted their eyes, a few more, another adjustment. They continued this for a while, but didn’t come across any more of the shock wyverns.

  Soon it was too dark for their eyes unaided. It was also growing warmer. Sonja didn’t need to speak either, after too long without taking any steps, Volk ignited the air in front of him. The small fire grew and cackled in the palm of his hand, it wasn’t much, but enough to light up the pitch-black.

  They continued further into the mountain for quite a while. It seemed they were still unable to locate more of the little yellows. Sonja was unsure if she had been within this particular cave, but she knew she hadn’t ever travelled this far into a mountain. Rigst had said he saw plenty migrate to this particular spot before the frozen suns, but she was starting to doubt him. Two was far from a migration.

  A gut feeling told Sonja to turn back. Her gut usually knew what was best. She turned to Volk, nodding back towards the direction they had come from. They proceeded to double back. After twenty metres or so, they stopped.

  “A migration of yellows, hey Rider?” Sonja made sure to retreat a little before questioning. You could never be too safe.

  Rigst leant over to her ear, responding in a hushed whisper, “I saw plenty enter this cave.”

  “Could they be in another cave?” Sonja continued scanning the walls.

  “Perhaps.” Rigst shrugged. “But I doubt it. That other cave is—”

  A screech interrupted his words. “We only need one more,” Sonja called out. She dashed towards the entrance, towards the source of the noise.

  The others chased, scanning for the final wyvern they needed. It wasn’t hard to find, the swirling patterns on the creature’s wings began glowing blue. “It’s awake!” Rigst called out the obvious.

  “Stay back, and watch out, Red!” Sonja drew her claymore from its sheath.

  The wyvern released another screech, then flew down the cave towards them. Blue light spread out from its wings, and it blasted bolts of lightning from its mouth. The electrical discharge didn’t worry Sonja, the awkward armour would keep her safe—that is, after all, why she wore the stupid stuff.

  Once the wyvern flew within proximity of her claymore, Sonja offered the yellow a taste of her blade. The things are fast, though, and she missed it. At least she thought she did, but then the creature proceeded to crash into the wall and fall to the ground. Sparks crackled about the creature, and it appeared as though some of the energy became trapped inside the wall.

  Rigst leapt onto the creature, forcing it into another sack. “Bagged!” he said, then tightened it quickly and threw it over his shoulder.

  “Alright, we should get ou—” Sonja was interrupted by a buzzing whirr. They looked to the wall, a small part of it—no bigger than a fingernail—was glowing, brightly. It was like the wyvern’s energy had lit up a rock that was caught in the soil.

  Dirt began to break away around the speck of glowing rock. It sounded like it was releasing heavy breaths; somewhat human-like, but not human at the same time. Enough dirt had fallen away, revealing an oval shaped stone that swirled with impossible colours.

  “She’s… coming…” spoke an eerie voice that crept from the stone. The three stood around, dumbfounded at what was happening. More dirt begun to crumple, and golden fists burst out from the wall. The hands reached towards the glowing oval, then began to claw at it aggressively, excavating a golden skull. It didn’t look like death though, it was almost elegant. Instead of the sunken black pits of eyes and nose, the brilliant oval stone sat in the middle of the skull.

  “Red?” Sonja turned to the Volk. He was more educated than her, and she had no idea what this thing was.

  Volk swallowed. “I have no clue, Captain.”

  “Who are you?” The oval stone flashed with each syllable. It sounded like a collection of noises that scraped together to form words.

  “Captain Sonja Bluwahlt.” Talking to a skull in the wall was not something she expected would occur during this venture. “And you?”

  “I am a thulmlet, designated Eight-Six,” it confirmed, then its chest—solid, gold, pectoral plates, above an elegant, hollow cage—burst out of the wall. “We must hurry, her forces will arrive shortly!”

  “Sure,” Sonja agreed, taking a step back. She was ready for the thulmlet to do something unexpected. Her claymore was still tightly in her grasp, and she couldn’t be sure how this thing would behave. Chances are it was some kind of horror messing with them.

  “We must…” its voice cackled, and the torso fell from the wall. It had no legs, there was nothing beneath the stomach, which were unlike any guts Sonja had seen before. They were a collection of tubes and roots, yet completely inorganic.

  “By Aesterus,” Volk swore. He grabbed one of its golden arms and flipped it over. “Someone made this, but the craftsmanship is unlike anything I’ve ever seen!”

  “Something is messing with us,” Sonja warned. She didn’t like horrors; you would never know what they'd do next.

  “I agree.” Rigst nodded, and the bagged wyvern over his shoulder began to cry louder. “But it spoke to us, you both heard that. It didn’t sound like a threat either. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was warning us. We should take it to the Bristrunstium; they’ll know what to do with it.”

  “Hmmm…” Sonja kicked the golden half-man. It didn’t budge. “Alright, since it was your idea, you can carry it. Red, you take the wyvern, and I’ll grab the other two on the way out.”

  “Yes Captain,” they both responded.

  Another screech could be heard from where the final wyvern had previously appeared. “More of them,” Rigst grunted. Then they heard another screech, and then another.

  “Run!” Sonja began to charge, the other two followed without need of any convincing. For a couple of reasons, she didn’t want to fight. Firstly, it was possible their armour could fail if overloaded. Secondly, because the little yellows still had sharp fangs and talons! Being severely outnumbered was never a good battle plan.

  Volk’s brighter flame illuminated something on the ceiling they hadn’t noticed before: a vertical tunnel, most likely leading to another set of smaller caves. The screeches were growing in number, fast. The first yellow to emerge from the ceiling was not all that fortunate; Sonja had perfectly timed her blade to remove its head. She caught the decapitated wyvern as it fell, then continued to run.

  “Keep moving!” Sonja roared with urgency.

  The screeches, beating of wings, and air crackling were added to the wyvern’s chaotic orchestra. At least they were almost out of the darkness now. Sonja sheathed her claymore, then squished the dead wyvern’s feet through her belt. She grabbed for the two sacks. They were bouncing about with the lively—yet safely secured—shock wyverns.

  The cacophony of noises grew louder. Wings fluttered overhead, beside, and behind the fleeing slayers. Yellows were everywhere. Countless wyverns were pouring out of the ceiling, chasing the humans that had invaded their home.

  Streaks of colour arced through the air, seeking out the spiked conduits of the slayers’ armour. Flashes channelled down their bodies as the energy earthed into the cave floor. Sonja swatted at the creatures around her. She knocked a few out of the air, but she didn’t try to retrieve them. Escape was more important than an extra capture.

  Yellows were now in front of them, surrounding them on all sides, biting, clawing, shocking. Nothing had pierced Sonja’s armour, not yet, but she wouldn’t fight back. The three of them kept charging for the exit. Sonja’s vision became a mess of wyverns and iridescent energy. She couldn’t see the white of snow or blue of sky, but she wouldn’t let that distract her from her goal. Sonja Bluwahlt was not going to die here.

  The three slayers were gl
owing from the build up of energy. The shock wyverns were blasting them with electrical discharge faster than the armour could ground it. These levels were dangerous. Too much energy could crack the lines, burst the metal, hell, even burn the purcrassus hide!

  An icy blast washed over them, the wyverns halted their pursuit, and Sonja found herself bursting from the cave. She’d never been so happy to feel that icy chill. Escaping from the mouth of the cave meant they were safe. The frozen suns were too cold for the little yellows, and would freeze their tiny bodies if they left the safety of their cave. And it did, to one particular wyvern at the head of the pack. It fell from the air, collapsed to the ground, and instantly became devoid of life.

  “Three livies, and two dead…” Sonja looked at the gold half man that Rigst was carrying. “And that.”

  “I told you there were plenty in there!” Rigst puffed, taking a moment to glance back. The wyverns were gathering at the cave’s mouth. They screeched and threatened the slayers, but did not dare to venture into the freezing cold.

  “That hole in the roof,” Sonja said while shaking her head, “be sure to record that somewhere. We probably shouldn’t hunt them here again.”

  “Agreed!” Rigst gave a nod.

  “Well, at least the Bristrunstium will be happy!” Volk laughed.

  “They do love new toys,” Sonja said with a smirk. “Let’s head back to Holtur. I don’t want to spend any longer than I must in this fucking purcrassus armour!”

  ***

  The return trip was uneventful. From the mountain to the gates of Holtur, all they saw was snow. No other human was stupid enough to travel—and no creature wild enough to hunt—during the frozen suns. Nothing wrong with a little predictability. The walk through Holtur was similar to that over the plains, bar the grey, stone buildings that shot out of the snowy ground.

  After walking through the large, arched doorways of the Bristrunstium, they entered the huge vestibule. Despite the time of the year, people were hastily marching back and forth, others spoke about monsters and experimental technology. Sonja ignored the clerk desk and made for a corridor at the back of the room.

  The tunnels through the Bristrunstium were a giant maze that twisted and spiralled, climbed and descended, to various offices, labs, and other bizarre rooms. Sonja wasn’t the fondest of venturing these halls, but, this time, she knew exactly where to go. She ignored countless doors until finding Professor Garron Zimmerman’s door. Inside, she could hear her brother talking with the professor. Sonja knocked twice, then pushed the door open.

  “All went well then Sonja?” Garron questioned the group before they had even stepped through. He was a rather feeble looking man, a classic professor: chunky glasses over a pale face, long, black hair, with an appreciation for white lab coats. Sonja couldn’t really judge fashion though, not with the purcrassus armour she wore.

  “Of course it did!” Kallum cheered. He always got excited when she returned from an expedition. Ever since he was born the kid had an unhealthy obsession with monsters. It was a shame too, he inherited none of their father’s brawn.

  Sonja threw the two bags down at his feet. “Two intact, one wounded, two more dead,” she informed, pulling the deceased wyverns from her belt.

  “Awesome!” Kallum grabbed for the freeze-killed one. He began studying it, moving it into positions, like a child playing with a rag-doll.

  Volk dropped the bag holding the wounded wyvern, then pointed to golden half-man Rigst carried. “And we brought that!”

  “What is it?” Garron appeared immediately intrigued with the golden armour.

  “A thulmlet…” Rigst propped the torso upright on a wooden chair. “Well, that’s what it said it was, anyway. Thulmlet designated Eight-Six.”

  “It spoke?” Garron raised an eyebrow.

  “It clawed itself out of the fucking wall!” Sonja laughed. “Decided to have a chat, then it went back to sleep.”

  “Impossible!” Garron laughed.

  “Improbable,” Kallum corrected. He ditched the yellow’s corpse and moved closer to the golden torso.

  “It definitely spoke,” Volk confessed. “We all heard it.”

  “That we did!” Sonja had already started to remove her purcrassus armour. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to wear it again for the year. “It said something about a woman coming. Do either of you know any woman this thulmlet might be scared of?”

  “Probably you, sis!” Kallum remarked.

  “I don’t think that it was me it was worried about!” Sonja laughed. “The thulmlet seemed distraught about something though.”

  “By Thulmgur,” Garron swore, “could it be? No… A creation from the god of storms and energy himself?”

  “You think this is a creation of Thulmgur?” Volk was also freeing himself from the awkward armour.

  “I don’t know.” Garron scratched at the stubby, grey beard on his chin. “You’re calling it a ‘thulmlet’ and you found it within a shock wyvern lair. Coincidence?”

  “You think the wyverns may be religious?” Sonja tilted her head.

  “No, of course not!” Garron laughed. “But, it would make sense for the yellows to be attracted to such a location. A place with influence from the god of energy.”

  “It was just a mountain,” Rigst disagreed. “There’s no church or anything in there.”

  “Indeed, but we don’t know what the gods did before our time,” Garron said. It always confused Sonja when a man of science spoke of gods.

  “Shut up!” Kallum didn’t yell, but he spoke loud enough to command attention. He was touching the thulmlet, poking it, hitting it, trying to wake it back up. “Please, just stop, and make it talk again.”

  They all turned their attention to the gold armoured man. He was lifeless, resting on the chair, limp. The oval stone in its face was dull, devoid of the colourful swirls it had displayed within the cave.

  “It awoke when the wounded shock wyvern crashed into the wall…” Sonja thought out aloud. “Perhaps, if we throw a shock wyvern at it again, it will wake up?”

  “Ha, I love you sis!” Kallum began to laugh. “Or, we could just utilise a berzelle?”

  “Just what I was thinking!” Garron had already begun to search through an adjacent room.

  “A what now?” Rigst shrugged.

  “A berzelle,” Kallum informed, “the instrument we use to control shock wyvern energy.”

  “Of course.” Rigst nodded with pursed lips.

  “You do realise that is the reason you were sent to fetch the shock wyverns?” Kallum laughed once more, then looked back to his sister. “Not so we had more darts!”

  “You take all the fun out of things, brother,” Sonja said with a smirk.

  “Here we go!” Garron brought out a berzelle. It was a glass dome with a metal spike sticking out the top, and a base made from grey purcrassus hide. He gently placed it on its side, then detached the base. “If we put one of the live wyverns in here, we can then utilise its power.”

  “Gloves back on Rider,” Sonja commanded.

  “Ugh,” Rigst grunted, he had only just started removing his armour. “Yes Captain.”

  Bright flashes and weak screeches burst from the wounded wyvern as Sonja placed its sack next to the dome. Rigst released the drawstring with one hand, reached his other into the bag, then grasped hold of the creature. The wyvern didn’t put up much of a fight, but it screeched in pain, probably from the grab rubbing at a wound. Rigst placed the wyvern inside the berzelle dome, then sealed up the base.

  “Awww…” Kallum put his hand on the glass. “Poor little guy! Don’t worry, we’ll feed you up and heal that little wing of yours.”

  “If it behaves…” Garron smirked.

  “The other two may be a breeding pair,” Rigst said with a cheeky grin. “I bet you could have some fun with them Kallum!”

  Sonja smacked Rigst upside the head. She wasn’t sure where he was going with his comment, but only one person was allowed to make fu
n of her little brother: Sonja.

  Garron began attaching a wire to the thulmlet’s chest. “Breeding them could actually be quite beneficial—”

  “The stone,” Sonja interrupted, placing her hand on Garron’s. “That’s what was struck when it awoke.”

  “Right.” Garron nodded. He disconnected the wire from the chest, then attached it to the stone. “Having access to extra shock wyverns could prove incredibly helpful during the warmer months.”

  “And I definitely will not be sparing any slayers during slaying season!” Sonja laughed. “Not to go on wild wyvern hunts. You want more then, you’ll have to breed them!”

  The shock wyvern inside the berzelle was arcing electrical energy all around the dome. The sparks bounced around, back and forth, finally meeting with the metal spike at the top. It was screeching too, but the insulation kept the sound at bay. Mostly. Garron sunk his hands into a pair of grey gloves, then attached the wire to the metal spike.

  That buzzing whirr they heard when the thulmlet first activated began to sound once more. The oval stone set in its face began to swirl with colours. “She is coming!”

  “Who is coming?” Kallum asked the golden torso.

  “Necrominus!” The thulmlet’s voice was monotone, but Sonja could sense the fear. “We must prepare the entire thulmlet force for combat.”

  “Necrominus?” Sonja asked.

  “A dark god,” Kallum informed, “no one worships her anymore.”

  “False,” the thulmlet bluntly argued. “Her force is many. That is why the gods have joined.”

  “Who created you?” Garron asked.

  “Thulmgur,” it responded.

  “And, what is your purpose?” Garron followed up.

  “To stop the darkness consuming the world,” the thulmlet confessed. “Every thulmlet was born for this service. To stop the dark god. To stop Necrominus.”