Holtur Stories

by Cameron Wayne Smith

  “Uh… Father!” Sonja nervously call out. “What is that?” The white wings must have surprised Kallum’s sister. As to be expected from a slayer of all things non-human.

  “We must go!” Radolt leapt into the air. His feet wrapped around Kallum’s shoulders and pulled him upwards. Kallum looked down to discover the angel had talons for feet. On the ground below, his sister and father were swearing at the angel, slowly shrinking as the distance between them grew.

  “Where are you taking me?” Kallum asked, curiously. He wasn’t afraid, this creature had no intention of bloodshed; it was carrying an infant.

  “To my leviathan.”

  “Your leviathan?”

  “Yes.” Radolt flew south. Fast. “My home. You will find out soon enough.”

  The haste of their flight made conversation difficult. Kallum shivered as the freezing wind buffeted through his clothes. The air smelt so fresh, so crisp. He had always imagined what Holtur would look like from the sky, but it was nothing as he’d imagined; possibly due to the lack of sunshine! Tiny lights flickered within the lamps that lined the tangled mess of streets. Clouds shifted slightly to allow first moon to illuminate the town. The stone buildings looked so small, all bar the Bristrunstium. It was the heart of Holtur, the central hub. The grand building’s exterior looked even more impressive than the interior.

  The angel flew south east, towards the coastal cliffs that dropped into the harsh southern ocean. Behind them, Holtur sank into the mountains they flew around. Why here? He’d heard of an old family—that somehow survived—living within this mess of coastal, spire-like crags. But a leviathan? Dog-men?

  They travelled around a mountainous peninsula. On the far side he witnessed an island come into view. He’d never wandered around this area before, but no map had ever revealed such an island, not here. While not as sheer as the southern cliffs, it was lined with three distinct mountains. They were out of proportion, too high for the island’s size, which at Kallum’s guess was approximately three kilometres long. It wasn’t all that wide, and the high slopes curved into the water smoothly at each length’s end.

  The first thing Kallum noticed as they descended towards the island was the rising temperature. Sure, the high altitude air was chilly, but this island was warm. Too tropical for how far south they were. The plants growing atop the island were thick and lush. Some reached for the skies with grand canopies that sprout far and wide. Others were short and fat, greedily stretching across the soil. Thick vines and creepers hung from plant to plant. Very exotic. Out of place.

  Radolt continued towards the central peak. “Welcome to my home.”

  Exotic rain-forest shrouded the peak—probably the entire island—but they were heading towards a circular clearing of about five metres in radius. In the heart of the grassy clearing was an irregular structure: like a well, only organic.

  “This place is unmapped,” Kallum said. “I shall rectify this when we return.”

  “There is no point,” Radolt said with sorrow. He gently placed Kallum down on the peak, then fluttered to a landing himself. “For this place will not remain, not here anyways.” He sat the pup down. It plopped into a cross-legged sitting position.

  A bead of sweat trickled down Kallum’s neck. It certainly was warm here. “What do you imply?” Kallum asked.

  “There are only two possible futures for this place.” Radolt crouched, rubbing his hand across the lush blades of grass beneath them. “Sink or depart.”

  The angel had referred to his home as a ‘leviathan.’ Could this island be alive?

  “Why did you bring me here?” Kallum asked.

  “I told you,” Radolt said calmly. “To help the nima’lup.”

  Dog-men began walking out from the surrounding thicket. They all shared a similar brown complexion, just like the one Kallum had dissected earlier. With the absence of light the creatures appeared identical. However, there were two distinct methods of dress. Both styles covered the waist and groin, but over the chest they varied; one form with a loose, open jacket, the other with their chests completely hidden beneath a tunic. Male and female? Their clothing was made entirely from the plant matter of the island. They sat cross-legged, and the baby had found its way into a lap.

  Radolt tilted his head. “And the magna’lup.”

  Vibrations shook the mountain. Something was galloping up its sides. Six of the large amphibian dog-things burst out of the forest. They panted with excitement. After seeing Kallum they bowed their heads, then rested beside the dog-men.

  “Why are you with them?” Kallum asked. “And why did you bring the nima’lup pup with you into Holtur?”

  “You see, several years ago my kalinga fell from the sky into the ocean,” Radolt said. Kallum had heard of kalingas—the angelic islands of the sky—but had never confirmed their existence. He also knew nothing of a large island falling into the ocean near Holtur. “I was trapped, soaked, and incapable of flight. A magna’lup found me, came to my rescue, then brought me here.”

  “Why didn’t you find another kalinga?” Kallum asked.

  “I liked it here. It felt like home.” Radolt smiled. “But, recently the magna’lup rescued another being. A human. When we neared this land, he fled with our leviathan’s omnivitae.”

  “Omnivitae?”

  “The essence of the leviathan’s life force.”

  “Why?”

  “Greed, I would assume,” Radolt said, pacing back and forth. His age belied his actions. “A single nima’lup and magna’lup pair tracked him to your home town. Sadly, they were slaughtered.” The dog-creatures all began to whimper. Kallum felt soothing emotions within him, and the creatures began to calm.

  “The slayers defend Holtur,” Kallum said. “We are under continual threat from many terrifying beings. When something large storms towards our town, we strike back. If we never did, our town would be in ruins.”

  “We’ve noticed. Other… things have been attacking us. Without the omnivitae, the leviathan cannot protect its inhabitants.”

  Kallum tilted his head, eyeing the sword at Radolt’s side. “Why don’t you just run the man through? You have a blade, you have wings; how could an insignificant human evade you?”

  “My blessing,” Radolt rasped, “I can’t compromise it.”

  Kallum understood that Ralumina worshippers—ones that had been blessed—must avoid spilling mortal blood, lest they lose their blessing. It must be similar for angels. “Why me?”

  “I’ll explain your question with but a simple answer.” Radolt took the nima’lup baby from its parent’s lap. “This one, he chose you.”

  “Chose me?”

  “The inhabitants of this leviathan have powerful psychic capabilities,” Radolt said. “This one knew you had studied its brother. It knew you had sympathy towards our fallen.”

  Kallum shook his head. “You should have fetched my sister! She’s the one with the power to protect you!”

  “You were selected to save us, Kallum of Holtur.” Radolt, along with all the dog-like creatures, stared at him. He felt an emotion, hope, invading his mind. “You can end this without bloodshed and save the world.”

  “The world?”

  Radolt nodded. “As far as the nima’lup, magna’lup, and myself are concerned, yes. It would be saving our world, saving our existence.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kallum said. “Or at least I’ll try. How do we find the omnivitae?”

  “Without a proper understanding, the omnivitae would seem like a valuable jewel,” Radolt said. “A large diamond—a living diamond—pulsing with light. It would be worth quite a lot to a gemstone enthusiast.”

  “I believe I can find the one you seek.” Kallum grinned. He should thank his sister for raving on and on about that new slayer. The one who was desperately seeking a merchant. “We’ll save your people.”

  With the baby still in his arms, Radolt leapt into the sky. He hooked his talons under Kallum’s armpits, pulling him along. Howls—accomp
anied by positive emotions—obliterated the silence, slowly quietening as they flew away from the living island.

  Kallum tried to work the creatures out: were they more human or canine? Neither, he decided. These beings were something completely different. Something unique. Something worth saving.

  ***

  A small group of slayers had assembled at the south gate of Holtur. Kallum's father and sister were present, along with some of her most trusted slayers. A scouting party to locate him, no doubt. Kallum tapped the angels leg. “Land down there,” he suggested, pointing to an alley. “In the shadows of that building.”

  Radolt complied. However, their descent didn’t go unnoticed. Once in the alley, Kallum recollected himself, and marched out into the oncoming slayers.

  “Kallum!” Sonja raced over to her brother, embracing him tightly and lifting him off the ground. “What happened to you? That winged man, he just took off with you? Did he harm you?”

  “I’m fine!” Kallum pushed himself away from his sister.

  “Are you alright, son?” his father inquired.

  “It’s a long story,” Kallum said. “More importantly, that new slayer you were talking about earlier, is he with this group?”

  Sonja tilted her head. “No. Why?”

  “Excellent!” Kallum looked out over the slayers behind her; Volk, Rigst, Rak, Rahlman. Good, all loyal to his sister. “No one is to speak of this incident.” Further back were some of the south gate slayers. He didn’t know them as well and was uncertain if he could trust them with this information.

  Sonja tilted her head further “What?”

  “Rigst,” Kallum called out, “inform the south gate that I’m fine, and that they are not to discuss any of this moon's events, not for a few suns at least.”

  Rigst shrugged, scrunching up his face.

  “Do it,” Sonja commanded. The slayer raced off to deliver the message. She then put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes on her brother. “Now, explain!”

  Kallum grinned. He had a plan, and he loved it when he had a plan! “You are going to fool the new slayer into believing I’m a merchant—an extremely wealthy one—that is going to arrive early second moon, and will be ready to trade by mid-sun. He has something, something that doesn’t belong to him. We need to get that back, to save an entire world.”

  Sonja’s head was almost ninety degrees now, she whipped it back upright with a laugh. “No, brother, explain why some winged creature took you off into the sky.”

  “To help save my world.” Radolt stepped forward into the light. Rahlman dropped to his knees and placed his head down to the stone. Volk’s jaw dropped. Rak almost choked on his cigarette. Kallum’s father just shook his head.

  Rigst had returned after dismissing the other slayers, then remarked, “You make the most odd friends Kallum.”

  “Thanks, friend,” Kallum returned.

  “What is this world?” Sonja asked bluntly.

  “A leviathan,” Radolt said. “Home to the nima’lup, magna’lup, and myself.”

  “The things Sudtor's men slew earlier,” Rak grunted.

  Sonja narrowed her eyes. “Kallum, why would you want to help the very creatures that attack our home?”

  “They didn’t attack,” Radolt said. “They were searching for the omnivitae. Your people were the ones who attacked.”

  “Sonja,” Kallum said, “I studied those corpses. Like I told you earlier, they are ill adapted to the Holtur surrounds. Even the large ones wouldn’t stand a chance against a slayer. Not even if it was five of them against one of us!”

  “Kallum…” Sonja sighed. “You’re asking us to trick a man—a slayer—to help a group of dog-monsters?”

  “They aren’t monsters!” Kallum argued. “Look, they have an angel on their side! What more proof of their innocence do you need?”

  Sonja grunted, narrowing her eyes on Radolt.

  The baby nima’lup cautiously poked its head out between Radolt’s legs. When it stood upright, its head wasn’t even as high as the angels knees. The pup shuffled towards the slayers, lost its balance, then fell to the ground.

  Rahlman lifted his head, eyes meeting with the nima’lup. “We should help Ralumina’s chosen,” he said. “Kallum is right: an angel would not align himself with evil.”

  “Right,” Sonja said. “So, we need to trick Georgio into meeting with you, have him bring this ‘thing’ you are after, and take it from him?” She looked at the juvenile nima’lup. “Then we please the angels and save this little guy’s parents?”

  Kallum’s grin grew large, and he nodded vigorously. It was pleasant when he didn’t have to explain himself multiple times.

  “Any objections to this?” Sonja asked, glancing from slayer to slayer. “This is a bit of an unusual task. I don’t want to force any of you to trick one of our own—regardless how long he has been with us—against your will. Speak now, otherwise I don’t want to hear any complaints later.”

  Kallum grinned at the silence.

  “You all understand what we need to do?” Sonja asked her slayers. “Trick Georgio and take his thing.”

  The slayers all nodded their acknowledgment.

  Sonja released a deep sigh. “Well, after all this excitement, I think I need a drink. Wounded Wyvern Tavern?”

  Another round of nods.

  “Are you coming Kallum?” Sonja asked.

  He attempted to respond, but something caught in his throat. Breathing became problematic. Shortly after, so did standing. He saw Sonja’s eyes go wide, then everything turned to slow motion. Sound became blurred. He collapsed, with his sister grabbing hold of him as he fell. She reached in his top pocket, fishing for a vial of his elixir. It wasn’t there. He never expected to be leaving the house when he greeted the visitor earlier.

  He recognised his body rising with Sonja’s screams. The sounds strained and distorted with the apparent slowed pace inside Kallum's head. Horrified faces all gazed down at him. Darkness began to consume him.

  Suddenly, there was light. Bright, white light filtered through the gloom. He heard the softness of it, smelt a comforting smokiness, and tasted a warmth in his mouth. Time returned to its natural flow, and he opened his eyes to see the angel looking down on him.

  “By Ralumina,” Rahlman said, “you are a walking miracle.”

  “It was nothing, really,” Radolt said. Wisps of white light dissipated from his hands.

  “Thank you,” Sonja said, “we will get your thing back.”

  “Omnivitae,” Kallum croaked, correcting his sister. Why did she have difficulty with words?

  “Yes, the ominivaytay,” she tried to repeat.

  Kallum laughed. “The thing will do.” He felt much healthier than he usually did after an episode. Though exhaustion still overcame him. He squirmed, freeing himself from his sister’s grip.

  “Omanantay?” A worse attempt.

  Kallum grinned. “Go have a beverage, sister. I must plan the rest of this merchanting venture of mine.”

  “I’ll walk him home,” their father said. He then looked to the angel. “Thank you, for what you just did, but no more flights this moon.”

  ***

  The next sun, Kallum and Radolt went about their plan. Acquiring what they needed was simple enough; the Ralumina Sanctuary was more than delighted to lend them enough odd trinkets to create the facade of a travelling merchant. They would never reject an angel’s wishes, especially when his requests were to help ‘save his people.’ Kallum had also obtained a few unique and exceptional items from the Bristrunstium. This thief may consider a trader with only holy wares somewhat fishy.

  The plan was ready and set by mid-sun. Radolt was perched upon a nearby bell tower. A vantage point to track the thief if he fled. Kallum assumed that the nima’lup pup would be capable of retaining the thief's scent or mental presence. He didn’t understand all that much about psychic abilities, but the concept of it excited him.

  “He mentioned he’d be selling
wares around here someplace!” Sonja’s voice drifted into the alley. “Ah, here he is!” Sonja pointed towards Kallum.

  “Why, hello there,” Kallum said in the greatest northern accent he could conjure. “Can I interest you in my wares?” He endeavored to release a belly laugh, chuckling as he did.

  “Hello again,” Sonja said, raising a brow at his disguise. What didn’t she like? The moustache he had attached to his face? The merchant-sized gut he had fashioned by shoving pillows under a tremendous coat? He was a genuine master of disguise. He had even tricked several of his colleagues into believing he was truly a merchant!

  “Ah, Sandra,” Kallum mispronounced his sister’s name on purpose; she despised it when people did that. “You’re the woman I met at the Wounded Wyvern Tavern!”

  “Sonja,” she amended, rolling her eyes.

  “Yes, that is what I said,” Kallum grumbled. “I told you I had the finest products. Look, all the greatest items a slayer would ever want! Now, what are you considering for purchase?”

  “Do you… buy goods?” Georgio asked.

  “Oh, well…” Kallum made some throat noises. “Perhaps. Only if it is something of great worth. Why? What have you brought along?”

  Georgio set down a bag and began to rummage through it. Kallum leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of the omnivitae—or whatever else the sack may have concealed. Gravity plucked the moustache from his face. It fell, landing next to the new slayer’s feet.

  Georgio hesitated for a moment, then drew something from his bag. “I have this?” Georgio revealed a silver cylinder, etched with gold filigree patterns. The device had an angled wooden handle. Pretty, but not the omnivitae. “What happened to your moustache?”

  Kallum wiped his brow. “Oh no, it tumbled off again! Bothersome thing.”

  Georgio narrowed his eyes, pushing the cylinder towards Kallum. “What would you consider for this?”

  Kallum took the odd device into a thickly gloved palm. After a thorough examination, he concluded that it was a weapon of some sort. Something that would fire projectiles; a weapon from far away. “A delicious piece.” He wouldn’t mind to study it further, but it was at this point that he realised he had no gold on him. “I’d ah, offer you this!” He picked up a shiny charm and handed it to the man. “A fantastic trade!”