Holtur Stories

by Cameron Wayne Smith

“Do you know where you are?” Garron seemed to know more than he let on.

  “I… I cannot sense… Thulmgur is… faint…” it spoke with confusion. “I sense her… she is… still present? Failure?”

  Garron pulled the wire, disconnecting the charge. “This thing is old, very old.”

  “False,” the thulmlet responded. “You are young. She is old. She is death.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.” Sonja stood up and readied her claymore. “What does it all mean?”

  “Don’t!” Kallum stood between his sister and the golden man. “It’s sentient, confused, but not worth destroying.”

  “You are pure, Sonja,” the thulmlet informed. It then reached a golden hand towards Kallum. “This one, he is tainted.”

  “Take that back!” Sonja pushed her brother out of the way.

  “She has planted her corruption within…” the thulmlet’s words began to sound distorted. “But there, is, a, chance…”

  “What is this piece of garbage on about?” Sonja roared as the last of the thulmlet’s energy drained, sending it limp.

  “Maybe it knew about my illness?” Kallum suggested. But there was no way it could have known.

  “Possessed by horrors,” Sonja grunted, then lifted her blade above her head.

  “No!” Kallum pushed her back. He was tiny compared to her bulk, but she staggered back all the same. “If Garron is correct—if this thing is indeed very old—it may be when that it can’t comprehend.”

  “What do you mean?” Sonja twirled her blade, allowing it to find its sheath.

  “Legend has it, that an incredibly long time ago, the gods all went to war.” Kallum cleared his throat. “All against one god in particular, Necrominus; the god the thulmlet spoke of. If it is from that time, it may have died… or stopped, only for you to have awoken it now.”

  “I think you’ve read too many stories, Kallum,” Sonja said in a stern voice. She was staring at the oval stone, which was now devoid of colour. “What if it is possessed by a horror and infecting our minds?”

  “I think you have fought one too many monsters, Sonja,” Kallum said back. He was right, probably. “Leave it with the Bristrunstium. Let us study it and see what we can learn.”

  “It may unlock old and ancient secrets,” Garron added. “Or, it may rant in preparation for a war long past. Either way, we will keep a close eye on it. Any sign of possession and we will destroy it.”

  “Hmm…” Sonja kept her arms folded.

  “It is sentient—human-like—I think,” Volk reasoned. “Even if its existence is unnatural, you shouldn’t burden yourself with the choice of whether it lives or dies. Especially since it has not brought us harm.”

  “I agree with Red,” Rigst said with a nod. “It hasn’t done anything to us. You have enough on your shoulders without this, Captain.”

  “Fine.” Sonja unfolded her arms, then glared into Garron’s eyes. “If it shows any sign of possession, do not hesitate to end it. I’ll be sure to inform the commander by next sun.”

  “Thank you Sonja,” Garron said gratefully. These scholar types all love new playthings. That said, she didn’t bend for them, only for her brother. “Oh, and thank you—the three of you—for the wyverns.”

  “Anytime.” She smirked. “I think it’s time I take my leave, it has been a long sun.”

  “Wounded Wyvern?” Rigst began to remove his armour in a hurry.

  Sonja gave a nod and a smile. “Wounded Wyvern.” Those two words formed the name of their watering hole.

  “It’s been a cold one,” Volk said while cracking his neck. “I could really use some fire water!”

  “Coming Kallum?” Sonja asked, heading towards the door. She knew the answer though; he loved spending time with her, but loved playing with a new toy much more.

  “Maybe later,” he called back, “but have one for me sis!”

  Stepping out from the room, she rolled her tongue around her mouth. It was incredibly dry, confirming that she had an insatiable thirst for something wet—and alcoholic. A few more steps and she heard the buzzing whirr resume. “Scholars…” she mumbled under her breath.

  SCRAMBLED GRAEKANS

  Suffering from a terrible case of empty mug syndrome, Sonja stood in line at the bar. All she wanted was another refreshing ale. It was a busy moon at the Wounded Wyvern Tavern, and she caught the eye of the south gate’s captain. Neither had an interest for idle chitchat, yet waiting for their refreshments offered a change in perception. That, or the ale was kicking in. “So, Captain Sudtor, how’s that foreign slayer performing? The one those merchants recently dropped off to join the south gate?”

  “Austin?” Captain Clovis Sudtor laughed. “He’s a joke.”

  “A joke?”

  “Those merchants were dribbling kuhvi paddies. They talked him up a little too much; I should have known such impressive words would be covering something! In truth, the man blacks out at the first sign of conflict. When he recovers, he conjures up these crazy stories of what happened.” Clovis picked up three mugs full of frothy, cold ale. “It’s no wonder they couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Those merchants were no more than deceptive mongrels!”

  “Damn!” Sonja eyed a pair of ales a bar wench was preparing.

  “He’ll be nothing but a bleak memory soon enough.” Clovis left, making his way back to his drinking companions.

  He was right, a slayer that couldn’t slay would be racing towards an early grave. To black out, especially in the middle of an attack, was not a way to ensure survivability. Sonja grabbed her frothies and returned to her table.

  She placed a mug down before her brother, Kallum, noticing a man laid out on the ground behind him. She turned her head to the man sitting opposite her brother, Rigst. His lip had been recently split, most likely from a punch to the face.

  “Thanks Rider,” Sonja said appreciatively to Rigst. Her brother was sickly, weak, not suited to brawls. His tongue, however, was sharp. If anyone dared insult him, he wouldn’t think twice to verbally humiliate them. Not many would look out for Kallum, but Rigst was one of them. “Guess I owe you a drink?”

  “Think nothing of it,” Rigst said. He stretched his chiselled jaw as he spoke; the guy on the ground must have got a hit in. “No one talks down to my buddy here, right Kallum?”

  “You should have seen it!” Kallum seemed more excited than shaken. “That imbecile hit Rigst, right in the face. Rigst seemed not to care. Then, SMACK! He threw his forehead into the bastard’s nose and—”

  “That’s enough, brother!” Sonja laughed. She kept a careful eye on the injured man’s friends. One of them—a large and pale redhead named Kaarm—grunted at her as he picked the beaten man up off the tavern’s floor. “I’ve seen Rider knock down a few beings: many were bigger than a man!”

  Kallum frowned for a moment. “Oh, of course.” His grin returned after a slurp of ale. “I’d love to see that one sun!”

  “Enjoy your drink, brother.” Sonja gave him a pat on the back.

  The tavern fell quiet. Everyone diverted their attention to something behind Sonja. She twisted around to see a man standing upon a table. He wore simple furs, like most folk in Holtur, with long blond hair falling down his back. He spun around. Piercing blue eyes met with Sonja’s. His face was thick and strong, displaying a smirk that rippled his cheeks into crevices that wrapped around full lips. It was Austin: blackout slayer.

  “There were graekans all around us. We were surrounded. All seemed lost!” Austin wildly flung his arms about. He didn’t appear drunk, but he looked a fool all the same. “Little did those creatures realise, however, it was they who were in trouble! We unsheathed our weapons, slashed at limbs, cracked shells, and ripped off heads! We massacred their numbers with ease!

  “Suddenly, the queen came at us; tall as a wyvern she was! We didn’t fight. Well, not with our weapons. We fought with our minds! Each of us pulled an egg from our satchels, graekan eggs! We threw them at the queen, and her foc
us was on saving her young. More graekans retrieved the eggs, escorting their queen back to the nest while we fled back to the south gate.

  “She was unaware, the queen, we fooled her! The eggs she returned to her nesting ground were not hers—if she wasn’t such a stupid creature she would have realised we’d never been to her nest! They were a trap! Tovulpas—horrors—disguised as graekan eggs!”

  The men in the tavern were struck with awe, cheering at the defeat of the creature. Sonja knew that graekan attacks had increased on the southern gate, but had never actually gone up against one of the creatures herself.

  “What happened next?” a man from the crowd asked.

  “What do you think happened?” Austin’s hands went out to his sides, and he paused for a while. “The tovulpas ate all the queen’s eggs! She had been defeated! Learning that her nesting ground was no longer safe, the graekans fled, never to return!”

  More cheering erupted from the patrons. She noticed several men at Captain Sudtor’s table didn’t share the cheer. He had, after all, informed Sonja that Austin was a rambling fool.

  After the applause died down, Austin leapt from the table. Women rushed to him. Men offered to buy him drinks. Sonja wasn’t all that surprised; with his long, blond hair, chiselled jaw, and dashing, blue eyes, he did seem quite appealing. If it wasn’t for what Clovis had previously said, she’d probably be impressed by the man’s prowess as well.

  “There’s a man!” Rigst nodded in admiration.

  “Clever strategy,” Kallum agreed. “I hadn’t assumed tovulpas would be so efficient at eradicating egg-laying species. I suppose it would work on graekans. They certainly aren’t the smartest of creatures, and it’s been theorised they have no sense of smell.”

  “A blathering idiot!” Sonja smirked. More men at her table looked at her in shock. “Apparently he is a complete fool, blacks out at the sight of combat.”

  “Really?” Rigst asked. “Sounds like you might be jealous.”

  Sonja shrugged and offered a laugh. “Simply what I’ve heard. If the southern gate remains free of the graekan attacks, I’ll happily buy the man an ale.”

  “Hey!” Rigst pulled a mocking face. “You owe me a drink first!”

  Sonja brought her mug to her mouth, guzzled the last of the ale, then slammed the mug to the table. A loud belch, followed by a smile, exuded her satisfaction. “An ale?” she asked.

  Rigst nodded. “Please, I’m worried I may die of dehydration if you take too much longer.”

  Sonja placed a heavy hand on her brother’s shoulder. “And you, you little scoundrel, keep your mouth shut!” The three of them laughed, and she turned back to the bar. Sonja always enjoyed a relaxing moon at the Wounded Wyvern Tavern.

  ***

  The following sun had been a quiet and uneventful one. A bore really. The weather had been warming up, but the frozen suns weren’t quite over. It was still too cold for most creatures to venture out of hibernation. Still too cold for a good sun of slaying.

  Sonja was casually patrolling the northern wall walk when a young messenger, barely a teen, dashed up the stairs. It was the first action she had seen all day. He rushed past her, racing towards the command bartisan. Curious, she followed to see what was all the fuss.

  “Woah!” Commander Fin Maver had been startled by the intrusion. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “The southern gate has been hit by graekans, hard!” the messenger announced. “Four slayers dead, six wounded, one still missing!”

  Fin glared at Sonja. “Graekans.”

  She responded with a sighed. “Is the south gate alright?”

  The messenger glanced between the two of them, then fixed his gaze on the commander. “The graekans have retreated, but Captain Clovis Sudtor has requested assistance from the north wall.”

  “I’ll send reinforcements by first moon,” Fin reluctantly said. “Thank you for delivering this message.” He sighed, brows furrowing as he entered deep thought. “Off with you now,” he said to the messenger

  “Wait!” Sonja grabbed the kid’s shoulder. “Austin Schwartz, did he survive?”

  “I am not sure,” the messenger responded. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Go,” Sonja said.

  The boy raced off, just as fast as he had come.

  “Commander, allow Rigst and I to deal with the situation. We still should have quite a few suns before the creatures to the north thaw out. And with my brother’s help, I may be able to force these graekans to move on.”

  “I’m sure I can spare you two.” Fin narrowed his eyes. “After all, one sun you may have to assume the role of commander. Best you get out and about while you still have the chance.”

  “I doubt it!” Sonja laughed. “I’d be pretty worried if anything got between you and your duty!”

  “That, Captain Bluwahlt, is why I am commander!” He laughed back. “And your commitment to Holtur is the reason you are my top captain!”

  “Don’t make a girl blush.” Sonja left the bartisan, ditching the commander before he asked for help with the paper work. Sonja hated clerical shit.

  Rigst wasn’t far from the bartisan. He was leaning up against the battlements, looking over the expanse of snow to the north. He looked bored enough to fall asleep. She knew the scout disliked the confinement of the frozen suns. This little mission would be exactly what he needed.

  “Rider!” Sonja called out to him.

  He stumbled, then stood upright. “Yes, Captain Bluwahlt!” The sun’s excitement actually did put him to sleep.

  “Remember that story we heard last moon at the Wounded Wyvern?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Turns out Austin was indeed dribbling. Eleven men from the south gate are out of action.”

  Rigst stared at her, then shook his head. “Damn.”

  “Damn indeed. That said, Kallum did think the actual idea was plausible. Could be a big help if some competent slayers were to pull off Austin’s story.”

  Rigst furrowed his brow, mulling over the idea in his mind, then grinned. “Fuck, Captain, you really think this could work?”

  “If my brother says it can, then yes.”

  “Alright, what’s the plan?”

  “Let’s head to the Bristrunstium. No point attempting any of this shit without Kallum’s input first!”

  ***

  It never took all that long to travel from the north wall to the Bristrunstium. The Bristrunstium itself, however, was an absolute pain for Sonja to navigate. It took her longer than she’d have liked to hunt down her brother. Upon finding him, he was more than excited to try out this plan. The plan that toyed with Austin’s outrageous lies.

  “I’ve been going over it in my mind,” Kallum said. “Austin’s an… interesting story teller. However, his theories are sound.”

  “Perhaps he should be a scholar?” Rigst suggested.

  Sonja laughed. “Would suit him better than slaying. So, Kallum, how do we set this plan into action?”

  “We’ll need tovulpas, and I know just the right person to help us out!” Kallum said with a grin. “Come on, follow me!”

  He grabbed his sister’s hand and dragged her along. Great, more wandering through this endless labyrinth. Kallum led Sonja and Rigst through twisting corridors, up and down sets of stairs, and past numerous doors that all looked identical.

  “I’ll never understand why they built this place so damn confusing.” Rigst stole the words straight from Sonja’s mouth.

  “Me neither,” she agreed.

  “The Bristrunstium was professionally designed to allow enough room for all forms of study to advance,” Kallum said.

  “It’s a piece of architectural ingenuity!” Sonja said the words at the same time as Kallum. She had predicted them due to how many times he had said them in the past. It didn’t mean she agreed, or understood why.

  “Here we are,” Kallum finally announced before a door, one that looked identical to the hundreds they had already
passed. He pushed the door open, excited.

  “Hello there, Kallum,” said an elderly man sitting at a grey, stone desk.

  Old men were common throughout the Bristrunstium; scholars generally lived longer than slayers. What was not so common, was this man’s attire. Most scholars wore the obligatory white coat. Not the one before them. He wore a green jacket, with orange stripes, over the top of a purple shirt. Each hand was covered by a glove. One black with a golden swirl pattern, the other plain white. Definitely a unique individual.

  “Nice jacket,” Rigst complimented.

  The professor fixed his eyes on Rigst for a moment, as if studying him, then turned his attention to Kallum. He huffed, annoyed to be interrupted from his ink scribbling. “What can I do for you this sun?”

  “We need a tovulpa!” Kallum bluntly requested.

  This got the man’s attention. He put down his quill and narrowed his eyes. “Why? And what makes you think I’d have one?”

  Sonja’s turn to be blunt. “We need it to quell the rising number of graekan.”

  The man appeared to reflect over the words. He nodded, gave a hum, yet said nothing.

  Kallum cleared his throat. “Professor Wilbart Formidor, you have written more on the topic of horrors than anyone else I know. And, with all due respect, the progression you’ve made on tovulpa knowledge is far too much—given how little time you’ve been studying them—to be merely a coincidence. Even in the warmer suns, it would take considerably longer—even in the field—to record what you have discovered. It's obvious that you have one. I don’t want to stall your work, but my sister requires the tovulpa. Holtur requires the tovulpa.”

  Formidor scratched the wispy grey hairs on his chin. “Even if I had one, slayers have other means of dispatching a few graekans.”

  “That is true,” Sonja said sternly, “but this sun we have suffered eleven casualties, we may suffer more the next. If we’re down too many slayers before the frozen suns even finish… well, it wouldn’t be good for anyone in Holtur.”

  “Very well,” Formidor said with reluctance. “However, Kallum, you were incorrect with your accusations.” For the first time since they had entered the room, the professor revealed a non-sour facial expression. “I have two tovulpas!” His grin created fresh wrinkles across his aged face.