Holtur Stories

by Cameron Wayne Smith

  “What?” Sonja bellowed. It was as if she wasn’t really there, like she was a mere ghost. The creature had run straight through her. “NO!” Sonja cried, watching in horror as the bargetier ascended the stairs. “No, no, no!”

  The laughter grew louder in her head. She hated this event. It was the moon when Holtur lost most of its women, almost leading to a collapse of the town. The moon she lost her mother. Why was she suddenly reliving it?

  Sonja raced up the stairs, hoping the failure to pierce it had been a one off. She plunged her blade into the creature, stabbing wildly into its back. The claymore found no resistance against the creature’s flesh. No blood was drawn.

  The bargetier did not notice her. It sniffed and searched through her parents’ room. Sonja’s blade entered its body again, failing to wound. It was almost like she wasn’t really there. Sonja knew her attacks were futile, but she couldn’t stop. She had to kill this thing!

  The laughter in her head grew louder. Now it was all she heard. How? She could touch her brother and the drinking glass. Why was contact with this monster impossible? Sonja roared in frustration.

  The bargetier grabbed a corner of the bed, lifting it, and throwing it against the wall. The stone frame shattered on impact. It stared down at the woman that had hid beneath the bed. Foul nostrils flared as it sniffed at Shiarja.

  “NO!” Sonja screamed.

  Shiarja and the bargetier both screamed at each other. Sonja couldn’t hear the noise over the pounding laughter echoing through her mind. However, her mother’s open mouth, and the spit flying from that rodent-like jaw, conveyed the scene clearly.

  Sonja joined in with the screaming, repeatedly striking at the bargetier’s head. It was no use though; it was as if she was detached from the physical world. Shiarja looked up at Sonja, her eyes wide, hopeful. Then the creature struck a fisted paw into the loving mother’s jaw. Shiarja went limp, and the bargetier threw her over its shoulder.

  “Leave her alone!” Sonja’s mouth moved, but she was unable to make out any sound over the laughter. The bargetier didn’t notice her. It hopped down the stairs and raced through the shattered doorway.

  Sonja collapsed to the ground. “Why?” She began punching the stone floor. “Why am I seeing this? Living this again?” A roar escaped her lips. Anger and sorrow merged into a mess of emotions. She beat the ground with mad frustration. Almost like she was atop a foe, trying to beat it unconscious. The floor was winning.

  Blood flicked from her fists each time she raised them for another strike. Eventually, the pain overcame her emotions, and she rolled over onto the ground. Her bloodied hands clutched at her head as she lay on her back. She jolted about, as if in a fit, while the laughter constantly grew louder.

  A shadow formed above her. Glowing, violet eyes gazed down upon her. It was the source of the laughter. Sonja sat up, noticing the horn-like forms atop the shadowy figure, the sharp claws resting at its sides. It was the creature her brother had drawn.

  “What are you?” Sonja asked. She guessed a horror or geist.

  “I am Trauer,” a crackled, echoing voice confessed. “I am the one who returned you to your mother.”

  The mixture of sorrow and anger began to rise within Sonja. “You forced me to see that again?” With each word she spoke, the creatures eyes seemed to grow brighter. “You did this to Kullkur…”

  “I gave him what he wanted,” Trauer rasped. “He gave me what I needed. I can see this saddens you.”

  Sonja grunted. Whatever this creature was, it was manipulating her mind, preparing it for consumption. She thought this whole ordeal seemed too bizarre. Her body would be lying outside the Holtur gate, convulsing just like Kullkur had. Just as he had been, Sonja was trapped in her mind by this Trauer, taunted before it finished her off.

  She had been reliving the saddest moment of her entire life. “You feed off our sorrow?” Sonja asked thoughtfully.

  The light of the creature’s eyes began to flicker, as though fighting to remain bright. “Your pain tastes… exquisite,” Trauer hissed.

  Sonja tried to clear her mind of sorrow. She let the physical pain in her fists take hold of her; thought about the warmth in her mother’s smile and the innocence of her and her brother’s younger selves. The sorrow began to dissipate. The laughter began to fade.

  “Don’t try to fight it.” Trauer’s shadowy claws had now grasped Sonja’s shoulders. “You have already given too much to stop me now.”

  Her body grew suddenly tired. She blinked eyelids that felt heavier than lead. Holding them open had become a challenge. “You made a mistake,” Sonja said, brushing her hands over her face, then tugging on her hair to help keep her awake.

  Trauer just laughed.

  “Trying to take me,” Sonja continued, “especially after making me relive this.” Slowly, she rose to her feet and looked the horror in the eyes. They dimmed. Trauer retracted his claws, backing away from the slayer.

  “No…” Trauer’s voice echoed. “How?”

  “If you made the events unfold a little different, perhaps it may have worked for you, Trauer.” Sonja unsheathed her claymore, offering the horror a dignified smirk. “This entire event—the good and the bad—is what shaped the woman I am. You forced me to relive the most empowering moments of my entire life.” She raised her blade high above her head. “Goodbye, Trauer.”

  Sonja slammed the blade into the horror. It fell to the ground, and the blade dug into its shadowy flesh. Once struck down, the world before her flashed bright white, forcing her to close her eyes. When she reopened them, she was outside Holtur, surrounded by a bunch of wide-eyed slayers. The dead horror was split in two before her.

  “Are you alright, Captain?” Rahlman asked. He was the nearest slayer to her, but seemed slightly afraid to approach any closer. She must have put up quite a struggle while she fought Trauer inside her head.

  Sonja released a deep breath of relief. “Never better,” she said with a smile. She nodded towards the dead horror. Its eyes had gone as black as the rest of its corpse. No blood seeped from the thing, but it was clearly dead. Not many things survived after being split in two. “And I found our mysterious seizure-killer. It shouldn’t be a problem any more.”

  DOGS OF THE LEVIATHAN

  “I bet you’ve never seen anything like this!”

  A bet? Kallum was a scholar, not some gambler. He ignored the slayer’s offer. His attention was fixed on the dissected body of a shock wyvern. Not a physical corpse, but a sketch of the creature’s insides he had drawn. It had been sketched a while ago, Professor Zimmerman requested the corpse be incinerated due to the stench and rot. A shame too, Kallum could learn so much more from a physical corpse—even if it was somewhat revolting. That corpse had been the first one Kallum had been given to study himself. The other professors had, evidently, grown tired of trying to discover the source of their energy. Not Kallum. He’d never grow weary of searching for that secret!

  “You haven’t even looked at it, have you?” the slayer said, annoyance edging into his voice. “Well, when you finally do, come see what we’ve brought in downstairs!”

  Still ignoring the slayer, Kallum flicked to the next drawing. Before he could focus on the image, the smell of damp dog fur crept up his nostril. A dog? A wolf? He put down the drawings and turned to see what wonder the slayer had brought in for him.

  Kallum’s eyes sprung wide open. Good thing he didn’t agree to the slayer’s bet! Gazing upon the unusual beast, Kallum scratched at his black hair. What was this thing? It had the body of a man, a very hairy one at that. Brown fur covered every centimetre of the creature. It had a head like that of a wolf. He pulled the lips back to reveal a set of canine teeth. Folding back the eyelids revealed vacant blue irises. Very dead. If anything, the wound through its chest—where its heart should have been—confirmed the absence of any vitality.

  The creature also wore clothes. Not leathers or furs like that of man. Would a beast covered in fur wear fur itself? The
clothing was made from smooth plant material. Exotic stuff, nothing like the flora around Holtur. Very interesting. Best see what this slayer had brought in downstairs.

  Kallum secured the drawings into a folder on the shelf. He’d get back to them soon. Brimming with curiosity, Kallum set off through the Bristrunstium with an eagerness to learn more about this canine issue.

  The Bristrunstium was a grand building. Professionally designed to allow enough room for all forms of study to advance. A piece of architectural ingenuity. Kallum loved the place. He knew its corridors—and many of its rooms—like the back of his hand. He never understood why some people of Holtur—his sister included—had such difficulty finding their way through. It’s not the building structure ever changed or anything.

  Kallum made his way towards the entrance, discovering quite a fuss in the vestibule. Slayers, scholars, professors, and townsfolk alike had surrounded the thing. Why couldn’t they just get out of the way and allow Kallum study it alone?

  Kallum pushed and jostled through the group. The smell of wet dog assaulted his nostrils once more. Why were wet dog-men coming to Holtur? Bursting through the group, he found himself at the head of the creature. At first he thought it a wyvern; it sure was big enough to be one! Like the being he had looked over earlier, this also had dog-like features. Not as hairy though. Instead, small blue-grey scales, like a cross between that of a reptile and a fish, covered its body. Its nose was black and moist. Sprouting from atop its muzzle, all the way down to its back, it had a row of silver hair that appeared similar to the mane of a horse. One of the eyes was sealed shut, the other was a bloody mess. A blade or bolt had penetrated through and had since been retrieved.

  Kallum carefully moved across the slippery ground, forcing his way around the gathered gawkers and to the creature’s side. Slits around its neck were oozing with blood that slowly dripped to the floor. Sword wounds? Its limbs were dog-like, but the clawed toes spread out wide, like a frog’s. Webbing clung between the digits. He then looked to the long, slender tail. Rudder like fins sprouted from the tip. Amphibious dog-things. He’d never seen anything like these two new creatures. Why were they here now?

  He pushed back through the crowd. Kallum wasn’t fond of people, and he’d have a more thorough examination of the creature when the others finally left. Alone. Without the hindering cacophony of muttering idiots. There certainly were a lot of people inspecting this beast.

  Through the tall gates of the Bristrunstium’s main entrance, he saw the captain of the south gate standing in the sun. Kallum made his way over, then stood between him and the man he conversed with.

  “Tell me everything, Clovis!” Kallum demanded.

  The captain took a single step backwards, widening his eyes. “And you are?”

  “Professor Kallum,” Kallum said. Technically he wasn’t a professor, but he knew more than most titled men.

  “I’ll talk to you when I’m done,” Clovis said, gently pushing Kallum out of the way.

  “This is quite out of the ordinary,” Kallum said. “Best you divulge all you know on the subject at once.”

  Clovis turned his full attention to Kallum, brows furrowed, a look of ‘do you know who you are talking to?’ on his face.

  “Captain Clovis Sudtor, I am Kallum Bluwahlt, Sonja Bluwahlt’s brother,” Kallum said, trying not to grin smugly afterwards. He failed. “We spent some time together when my sister and Rigst dealt with the graekan problem. Remember?”

  Clovis scowled, mumbling something under his breath. “Give me a moment,” he said, dismissing the man he had been speaking with. His eyes then narrowed on Kallum and he gave a nod. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  “As to be expected; I’m not wearing a disguise this sun.”

  Clovis shook his head. “What do you want to know?”

  “When did they come? How they came? Who attacked first? What weapons had been used? What—”

  “I understand,” Clovis interrupted. “They appeared at first sun. Just the two of them. One after the other.”

  “Which one first?”

  “The larger thing.”

  “What happened?” Kallum asked.

  “Ellard was doing a quick perimeter check. After he made his way back through the south gate, that thing came bounding after him.”

  “And then?”

  “Lambert fired th—”

  “A ballista bolt through the head,” Kallum finished the sentence. Classic Lambert; shoot first, ask questions later. Kallum disliked that about the man, but he was one of the few south gate slayers with the decency to bring new findings straight to him. That must have been who had brought the smaller one to his lab earlier.

  “Yes.” Clovis gave a shallow nod. “Ellard was unaware of the fact it had been stalking him. He turned back as it screeched, dodged an attack and—”

  “Sliced it through the neck,” Kallum finished another sentence. “Then?”

  “We didn’t see the smaller one, not at first. It howled, then charged at the gate like a rabid dog.”

  Kallum nodded. “Ample reason to drive a sword through its heart.”

  “Why do you ask for the details, Kallum Bluwahlt, when you already seem to know everything?” Clovis shook his head, irritated.

  “If I knew of all things, I would not be investigating the matter,” Kallum said. “Now I understand that WE attacked first, and that the smaller creatures turn hostile if the larger ones are slain.”

  “Do you mock my men?”

  “Not at all, Captain,” Kallum said. “Thank you for the information, and for keeping Holtur safe.” He turned away from the captain; research needed to be done.

  ***

  “It’s getting late,” Professor Zimmerman said. “I’ll be retiring shortly, so finish whatever it is you’re working on.”

  Kallum sighed in acknowledgment. Because of his illness, he couldn’t stay back unless someone else wished to remain with him. If only they shared his fascination for understanding the creatures around Holtur.

  He didn’t need to work hard on studying these dog-creatures though. They were incredibly… fallible. All the toxins and diseases he tested on the canines had swiftly corrupted their cells. Fire burnt the muscle tissue of both creatures with ease. Blades found no resistance when piercing their skin. They had minimal skeletal integrity. It was as if these things had never seen conflict.

  Kallum had felt a trace of guilt when Clovis told him of the situation. Knowledge that these creatures never stood a chance churned that guilt even further.

  “All finished?” the professor called out.

  “I suppose I’ll have to be.” Kallum reluctantly abandoned his work and stepped out into the corridor.

  ***

  Despite the darkness, sleep would not come with ease these moons. He had informed his father and sister about the creatures; how easily they were slain and how inept their bodies were suited to battle. All it invoked from them was laughter. They were warriors, not intellectuals. Apparently his sister’s issue, with the new slayer—one preoccupied with tracking down the ‘perfect’ merchant—had been a more compelling topic. How could they see a complication with an unintelligent creature? One easily exterminated? It was simply one less obstacle for Holtur to worry about. The real question was: were these beings actually unintelligent?

  Immediately after dinner, Kallum dismissed himself for bed. Not the greatest place he could be, but it was one of the few places he could safely stay on his own. If he had an episode, while laying down and at rest, he had the ability guide himself through it and seek slumber. He would actually welcome an episode right now, at least it would help him sleep.

  He shuffled towards the window and peered out into the street. Maybe he’d see his guardian? They could sneak out and go for a stroll under the moonlight together. No, too much of a cloud blanketed the sky, and she was nowhere to be seen. He did, however, notice a cloaked man by their front door. A cloak made from plant material.

  That pe
rson must be knowledgeable of these dog-beings. Kallum hurriedly layered himself up, preparing to go out into the cold and converse with whoever it was.

  A soft knock came to his door. “Kallum?” his father whispered. “There’s a man here to see you about those dogs.”

  “Really?” Kallum opened the door, fully dressed, a smile on his face.

  “You weren’t asleep, were you?”

  “Thinking!” Kallum tapped his scalp, then hurried down the staircase. His sister rolled her eyes as he ran past to receive the visitor. “Hello?”

  “Ah, Kallum,” the man said in a cracked voice—like that of pubescent teen. Apparently, this person was a boy! Despite the cloak giving him a broad frame, he looked to be scarcely fifteen. “My name is Radolt, I wish to speak with you about helping the nima’lup and magna’lup.”

  “The what?”

  “The canine creatures that you’ve been studying.”

  “Nima’lup… magna’lup…” Kallum had never heard these terms before. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Radolt,” the man—no, the boy—repeated. The overly large cloak slipped from his body. Not boy, angel! White, feathery wings protruded from his back, spreading freely into the air once revealed.

  “By Ralumina!” Kallum’s jaw dropped. He’d never known such a thing existed. Angels, the alleged descendants of the god of light. He thought such beings were simple myth! Sure, he'd met a guardian—his guardian—but she was nothing like the being standing before him.

  “Don’t use her name in vain,” Radolt said.

  “Shouldn’t you belong in the Ralumina Sanctuary or something?” Kallum asked. “They’d worship you there!”

  Radolt lifted a hand out to Kallum. Within his grasp, a dog-man—a baby one—looked at Kallum. “I’m here for him. And the rest of his people.”

  Kallum eyed the puny creature. So cute. So innocent. So weak and dependent.