Holtur Stories

by Cameron Wayne Smith

  ***

  Mother Atius opened the door to the sanctuary, expectantly. Mitzi turned to look at Velatoria one last time, but she must have faded into the shadows already.

  Neither Mitzi nor Mother Atius said a word while quietly walking through the sanctuary’s orphanage. Surely she must know what happened during these exchanges? Mitzi wanted to spit forth a sea of questions. She didn’t. Velatoria’s threats straddled her brain as they strolled the corridors.

  “Good,” Mother Atius said, stopping in front of Mitzi’s dormitory. “I’m sorry for what you’ve seen, my child. You must never speak of it, under any circumstances, to anyone. Understood?”

  Mitzi nodded.

  Mother Atius opened the door, and Dirk cheered an excited squeal that meandered off to a blurred laughing cry. He almost bowled Mitzi over as he embraced her.

  “So… what exactly happened?” Karlee asked.

  “It happens every year, always before the frozen suns,” Mitzi said, quoting Karlee’s earlier words.

  “Yeah, but what happened?” Karlee pestered.

  Mitzi stroked a hand through Dirk’s hair then said, “I… I don’t really remember…”

  Karlee stomped her foot then retreated back to her bed.

  “Thanks for coming back,” Dirk said, finally releasing his grip. “I can’t protect you if you’re not with me. You know I’ll protect you forever, right?”

  Mitzi warmly smiled, then kissed her brother’s forehead. “And I’ll protect you forever, too.”

  BLUEFIRE MINE

  Rigst watched on, enthralled, as an inferno of blue fire danced across a nearby mountain. The lightning-blue streaks slithered around the barely visible mountain, appearing almost like glowing cracks that broke through reality. Anyone who had no idea what it was would most likely soil themselves. Not Rigst. He had seen it many times before. During the darkness between moons, Modryklo Mountain often showed its alluring colours. Still, in all his scouting missions, he’d never seen such an extreme display.

  Enjoying the tantalising aroma before him, Rigst rotated the shock wyvern he was roasting on his campfire. He eased in a few more chunks of wood, stirred the embers, and a sigh escaped his lips. Usually the solitude never bothered him. Most of his life he loved being alone, especially out in the wilderness. This scouting mission, despite being the same as many others he had undertaken, felt long and drawn out. “I can’t wait to get back to you…” he said under his breath.

  A whinny disturbed the quietness.

  “Oh quiet Zeidell,” Rigst demanded of his grey stallion. “Don’t you dare go telling anyone what I said!”

  The horse flicked its head up in a huff, then returned to chewing on the low hanging branches of a nearby tree.

  “I don’t understand horse,” Rigst confessed. “But there’s no need to be a smarty steed.”

  Rigst looked at Zeidell expectantly, but the stallion had lost all interest in anything he had to say. He missed his old horse. Was it actually a better conversationalist, or was Rigst just being sentimental? He laughed to himself, then reached for his dinner.

  People in town would scoff at someone chewing on a shock wyvern. In truth, the little yellow critters didn’t taste too different from chicken. Considering he had been scouting an area where shock wyverns hibernate during the frozen suns, it wasn’t much effort to bag a straggler for supper. It was also far more pleasant than the alternative source of meat that roamed around these mountains. Rigst was pretty sure no one ate slater beast flesh if there was an alternative.

  After his meal, he threw the bones into the fire. Flames licked at the remaining flesh and gristle as it slowly burnt to ash. “Alright Zeidell, time to get a good moon of rest,” he said, standing up. “At first light we’re off to Modryklo.” He then proceeded to relieve his bladder over what was left of his campfire.

  ***

  Stirring beneath the rocky outcrop where he had spent the night, it became apparent the sun hadn’t yet risen. That didn’t stop a small, blue bird—covered in black patterns—from delivering a song. It must have been of the highest import too; regardless what Rigst yelled or threw at the avian creature, it wouldn’t cease its tune.

  Giving up on slumber, Rigst climbed from his swag, only for the little bird to depart. “Thanks,” he grunted through a yawn.

  It was still dark, but the light was slowly creeping towards the horizon. Gazing at his next destination, he could just make out the blue flames curling through the reddening sky. Delaying the sun’s scouting was pointless. He rolled up his swag, strapped it to Zeidell, and they continued along the rocky trail.

  Seven caves—that were deep enough for shock wyverns to nest within—bore through the cliffs between Rigst and Modryklo Mountain. None of them were inhabited, not by shock wyverns anyway. One of the caves clearly stunk of slater beast. Another housed a pair of inactive rock golems. That would be something he’d report to the commander back in Holtur.

  After inspecting the last of the caves, Rigst rode down to the western side of the ranges, then onto the main track that connected Modryklo with Silverton and Altkruga. Passing merchants, driving their horse-driven wagons, nodded curtly to Rigst. Despite the stigma of greed and selfishness, he had always felt the travelling merchants were kindly enough when on the road.

  These merchants wouldn’t be heading to Holtur. The Bluefire Mining Company led the largest blazepowder mining operation in the area. Blazepowder wasn’t something Holtur would need any time soon. Wyvern oil was far superior, and Holtur always had more than enough wyverns skulking around to procure enough of the stuff.

  Technically, Rigst didn’t have to visit the mine. It was outside of the Holtur Ring and actually sat within Altkrugan territory. The miners, however, were always good to Rigst; offering food, ale, and shelter in exchange for stories about his hometown. Apparently Holtur is much more eventful than the nearby lands to the west.

  The closer he rode to the mine, the heavier the stench of sulphur stung the back of his throat. It was in no means a pleasant smell, and he had no idea how the miners could live with it every sun.

  Large buildings, forged from the plentiful grey stone of the region, billowed rancid smoke from their ceilings. Countless steel buckets—filled with yellow blazepowder—were being brought to and from storehouses. The appearance of the miners were all quite similar: sturdy men with thick facial hair, wearing leather coveralls, and covered in yellow dust. They exchanged nods of acknowledgment with Rigst as he navigated his way to Camp Six.

  The foreman of Camp Six, Horry Urso, was a jovial man who always brought a smile to Rigst’s face. He was the kind of man who was worth going out of your way to share an ale with. Horry was also easy to pick out from the crowd; on his last trip, Rigst gave him a hat made from a baby graekan shell. It was meant as a joke gift, but old Horry took it far too literally. Said it might save his life if a rock hit his head!

  “Horry!” Rigst called out. It was always nice talking to someone—other than a horse—when you’ve been on the road, alone, for over a week.

  “Ah, Rigst!” Horry threw his arms out in a wild fashion. He was stocky, a little short, and owner of a gut that had processed its fair share of ale. “Is good to see you. Is good!”

  “How’s everything going for Bluefire Mining Company’s finest?” Rigst leapt off Zeidel, and fixed the steed to a hitching rail.

  “Is good!” Horry beamed a large grin which slowly sunk to a frown. “Actually, is not so good.”

  “Not so good?” Rigst asked. He wasn’t ready for the change in attitude, Horry was always so cheerful.

  “No…” Horry shook his head. “You see, my men, good men, they been disappearing!”

  “What?” Rigst took in a deep breath.

  “You are monster slayer,” Horry said seriously. “You can stop disappearances, yes?”

  “I… ahh… hmmm…” Rigst laughed awkwardly, thinking for a moment. “I’m out scouting. That means I’m not really equipped for slaying. I don’
t even know what is taking your men?”

  “Taking them? This answer, I do not know,” Horry said. “One sun, everything is ok. The next, a man disappears! This thing, we cannot predict!”

  “Well Horry, I’d like to help you…” Rigst scratched at his neck. “But I have no idea what you’re up against! I mean, you’re outside the Holtur Ring. You should be safe from geists and ignored by wyverns, right?”

  “This is true, yes,” Horry lifted his thick lips back into a grin. “You not worry. Miners find problem, miners fix.”

  Rigst heart slumped in his chest. He’d come out here for a sneaky drink, and to share a few laughs, before returning to Holtur. Horry’s predicament repelled that joy instantly. “I’m sorry,” Rigst said. “I actually came here to try to escape all that.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Horry said.

  An awkward silence stilled the air between the two. Rigst’s mind was racing, trying to think what could possibly be attacking Horry’s men. No doubt Horry was thinking the same thing, and how to convince Rigst to help put an end to it. Damn it. Of course Rigst would help out. He just needed to figure out how.

  “Horry!” a frantic voice screamed from a nearby tunnel mouth. “Horry! Horry!”

  Both Rigst and Horry turned towards the network of tunnels. A man in leather coveralls, coated in dust with splashes of blue liquid over the top, sprinted out of the darkness.

  “Horry!” the man said, then released a phlegm-filled cough. “Eddie, he’s been murdered!”

  Horry’s brow furrowed as he grabbed the man’s shoulders. “Slow down, Osten. Take in deep breath.” He inhaled deeply as if reminding the man how to do so. “Now, you say murder, not taken, yes?”

  “Yes…” Osten said, lips trembling. “We were gathering anyshines. Found a whole lot of them we did. Then something made Eddie ‘splode!”

  “Explode?” Horry gasped.

  “Something?” Rigst interrupted. “Not someone?”

  “Yeah, a monster…” Osten said, his sob twisting into an off grin. “Hey, you’re Rigst! The guy who tells all those slaying stories! You can kill that thing!”

  Rigst sighed. There’d be no turning back now. Rigst, famous monster slayer of Holtur, was here!

  “No, no, no,” Horry said, shaking his head. “Rigst not work for Bluefire. Not his mess to clean up!”

  “What did it look like?” Rigst asked, his sense of pride—along with a dose of curiosity—taking over.

  “Big. And spikey. And blue. Bright Blue. It was big!” Osten said.

  “No, Bluefire handle this,” Horry said. “Too much paperwork for us to pay you properly. Besides, this thing, it sound bad.”

  Money? Screw money. That’s not the reason Rigst would battle a bloodthirsty creature. “Horry, you always give me shelter and ale. I don’t want anything more from you.”

  “You sure?” Horry asked.

  “Of course,” Rigst said, confidently. “I’m happy to look into this matter for you and, if I can, remove the problem.”

  “If you can’t?”

  “Then Bluefire Mining Company is going to need more muscle. Better to know what you’re up against before hiring anyone.”

  “Thank you,” Horry said, his smile beaming the brightest Rigst had seen since his arrival.

  “Oh, and if it’s something we haven’t seen before, the Bristrunstium—the Holtur branch—claims the creature’s remains. Is that ok?”

  “If not blazepowder or anyshine, Bluefire have no interest.” Horry nodded, offering his hand. “Bristrumblebumle can have.”

  “Bristrunstium.” Rigst corrected, laughing. He shook Horry’s hand, then turned his gaze to the distraught miner. “Osten, wasn’t it? Do you know where this creature is?”

  Osten’s eyes grew wide. “Yes… ummm… I don’t really want to go back up there though… It made Eddie ‘splode, remember?”

  Horry slapped Osten upside the head. “You will show Rigst where this thing is.”

  “Trust me, I have no intention of exploding myself,” Rigst said, smirking. “We’ll find this creature, observe from afar, and only make contact if I deem the situation safe.”

  Osten began to nod quick and shallow. “Alright, this way.”

  Rigst followed, then turned back to Horry. “You coming?” he asked. The man loved Rigst’s stories so much, he might as well be involved in one!

  After a big toothy grin, a laugh, and a point of his finger, Horry realised Rigst wasn’t going to continue without him. The foreman rushed to his side, and the three of them set off for the tunnels.

  ***

  Before entering the tunnel, Rigst traded out his furs for a set of coveralls. His new attire was much like what Osten and the other miners wore. The attire didn’t offer much freedom of movement, but Horry insisted that blazepowder dust was near impossible to get out of good furs. Fortunately, there were no issues strapping his blade and shield over the top.

  Rigst had never been through these tunnels before, and was impressed with what Bluefire was capable of. Glass capsules were fixed along cracks in the wall. Within them, blue fires illuminated the path ahead. It wasn’t bright like the usual fire Rigst was used to, but it was more than enough to navigate the tunnels.

  Metal carts, full of the mined blazepowder, ran along dedicated tracks of iron beams. Rigst wasn’t savvy as to what the anyshines were, but was pretty sure he didn’t see any during their trip through the winding tunnels.

  The sulphur stench got really thick in some places, making it difficult to breathe. The blue lights burnt much fiercer in those sections. Osten, along with many of the miners they passed, had nasty coughs that followed them around. The air scratched at Rigst’s throat, forcing him to join in sporadically.

  After ascending through a labyrinth of tunnels, even more confusing than those of the Bristrunstium, they emerged out into the open air. Rigst took delight in inhaling some fresh air, and the feeling of the sun on his face was blissful. The air wasn’t all that clean, but still far less sulphuric than what had been trapped within the tunnels.

  “Not far now,” Osten confessed.

  “How do you get used to the air here?” Rigst asked. “It burns my throat!”

  “How do you get used to living within the Holtur Ring?” Horry whipped back, wheezing a laugh.

  “We just learn to live with it,” Rigst confessed. “It’s not that bad. Monsters bleed just like you and I.”

  “Learning to love the life you get,” Horry said, “is good thing, yes?”

  “I guess so,” Rigst said, then coughed again.

  Wandering around the outside of the mountain revealed an unusual landscape. Pools of murky, green water bubbled and released thick clouds of foul gas. Miners were busily removing soil and rock from the water, filling up carts as they went about the mundane task.

  Carved into the mountainside were channels that had even more condensed gas bursting through, igniting into flame as it reacted with the air. Rigst couldn’t see the fire, but he could surely feel the warmth it generated. That must be what created the blue streaks that danced across Modryklo Mountain once the sun was down. Odd, he’d always assumed it to be a flowing liquid that burned down the mountain’s side.

  They entered another tunnel, a much steeper and narrow one. Miners passed, but not any carts. Instead, the miners carried small buckets in each hand. Lids covered the contents, but it didn’t take a genius to figure something valuable would be inside. Anyshines.

  Natural light revealed the end of the tunnel, and Rigst couldn’t help feeling the heat of the mountain’s peak. He was glad he had removed his furs earlier, but now he wished he’d ditched his leather armour as well. The sweat building up beneath felt sticky, almost as unpleasant as the dust messing up his hair and face.

  The sight of the mountain’s peak was more than a shock to Rigst. They had travelled through dry caverns that boasted the occasional small body of water. Now, they were standing beside a huge green lake. Rigst watched as a huge clo
ud of thick, white smoke reached far into the sky.

  “Must be careful of cloud,” Horry said. “If wind send it in your direction, run!”

  Rigst nodded. “Why is that?”

  A thunderous crack ripped at Rigst’s ears, widening his eyes upon the smoke’s violent transformation. Intense heat blasted, followed by numerous shock waves as the gas ignited. Despite the clear sky, this tremendous blue flame was plainly visible.

  “It ‘splodes,” Osten informed. Rigst barely heard the words through his ringing ears. Not that an explanation was necessary.

  Waves pulsed out from the centre of the lake, splashing against the rocky shore and flowing over the peak in some spots. The movement slowly returned to a ripple, and a fresh plume of smoke began to seep from the centre of the lake.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Rigst confessed once the pain withdrew from his ears.

  “Lake Modryklo,” Horry said, proudly. “Is what makes our blazepowder so good. Also, it summon anyshines. Is good lake.”

  Rigst nodded. “So, Osten, where was this creature?”

  Osten pointed to the far end of the lake. A small section of the water was covered by a raised section of rock. It would be the perfect lair for an amphibious creature, provided the lake was drinkable and the sky wasn’t wont to explode.

  “No,” Horry said, rather matter-of-factly. “No creature in cave. Is known.”

  “Eddie and I were collecting anyshines!” Osten argued. “He found the biggest and most beautiful one I’d ever seen. That’s when that thing appeared! Sprayed him, then he ‘sploded!”

  “I haven’t noticed any indigenous life-forms during our climb,” Rigst said, scratching his chin. “Do you know of anything that lives on Modryklo Mountain? Or lived here before the mine?”

  “Shield-shrimp live in the water,” Osten said. “That’s about all I know of. Oh, and the ‘sploding monster.”

  “Shrimp?” Rigst repeated. He couldn’t imagine a small water creature forcing a man to explode.