“Yes,” Horry said. “Not good. Taste bad. Give gut pain. Get caught in blazepowder yield. Shield-shrimp not good. Is small, not dangerous.”
“Do you think whatever killed Eddie might be related to the shield-shrimp?” Rigst asked Osten. “Or do you think it is something foreign?”
“I don’t think so…” Osten shook his head. “Well, it did look a bit shelly, a bit spikey. But I don’t think it was a shrimp. It was way too big!”
Rigst pondered. The conditions on Modryklo Mountain weren’t the most hospitable. He’d heard of freak evolutions in dangerous conditions. But shrimp to monster? That seemed a bit too bizarre. “How deep is the lake?” he eventually questioned.
“Is not known,” Horry said. “Lake falls deep, fast. Water burn the eyes. Diving here not good.”
“Perhaps there are creatures that live deep in the lake,” Rigst said. “If your men are disturbing the balance of things, a creature may be lashing back. Like an alpha male defending its territory.”
“We take soil and rock,” Horry said. “Not take shrimp, not take water.”
“It’s probably still in the cave,” Osten said. “You should slay it.”
Rigst took in a deep breath. “Alright, lets go have a closer look. No matter what, we don’t engage the creature. The explosions of the lake seem destructive enough without a secondary force!”
“Yes,” Horry and Osten said in unison.
The trio walked around the edge of the lake, dodging rocks and staying on dry land where possible. Still, some parts of the lake were easier to walk through than the crumbling edge of rocks surrounding it.
Rigst finally caught a glance of a miner washing off an anyshine. He held it up in the sunlight to admire it. The gem appeared rather simple looking really: translucent with a faded green colour. Rigst had seen far more exquisite stones in the past. He simply shrugged it off, assuming that different regions must prize alternative gems.
The lake was larger than Rigst had anticipated. Distance across water was always difficult to judge. With no trees, and only the sky and neighbouring mountain peaks for reference, his estimation was way off! It took about an hour before they found themselves at the mouth of the cave.
It was far wider than it was deep. More of a sheltered overhang than a true cave. Rigst also noticed that the other miners were keeping well clear of it. Whether they always behaved that way, or if it was due to the earlier incident, he could only guess.
They had to walk through water now. Fortunately, it was relatively shallow. Rigst’s boots kept the foul water out, and would continue to do so provided the water didn’t get much deeper. Taking care with each step, while being sure of their footing to avoid unnecessary noise, they trudged across the southern end of the wide entrance.
“Does the water get any deeper inside?” Rigst asked, whispering.
“I don’t think so,” Osten whispered back. “It only gets deep if you walk towards the centre of the lake. Where the gas that—”
Thundering behind them, the new pillar of gas ignited into a fiery inferno. Reverberating back from the cavern walls, the crackling noise forced the three of them to cover their ears. Flashes briefly lit up the darkness beneath the overhang. Rigst couldn’t pick out anything out of the ordinary.
“That can’t be good for your ears,” Rigst said, unsure if he was whispering or yelling through the ringing. It probably didn’t matter; if the alleged creature had sensitive hearing, a raised voice would be the least of their worries.
“Is not good,” Horry agreed.
Osten’s focus had shifted since the blast, almost like he was enthralled by something. He softly shifted through shallow water, away from the group and into the darkness.
“Osten,” Horry called. “Get back, now! Is not safe!”
The miner ignored the order, continuing into the darkness. “Did you see it?” Osten asked. “The biggest anyshine I’ve ever seen. Even bigger than the one Eddie found!”
“Perhaps it is best to get back over here,” Rigst urged, watching Osten bend over and pluck something out of the dark water. “Remember what happened to Eddie?”
Osten raised his hand. His entire body appeared like a shadow in the darkness. Within that clenched fist, his fingers curled around a gem. A gem that looked well out of place; it wasn’t emanating light, but it didn’t share the darkness of everything else in the cavern.
“Is beautiful!” Horry confessed.
Rigst held back a cough, worried about the two men. They were behaving more like miners than one should when surveying a possible monster lair. “Maybe we should remove ourselves from here,” Rigst suggested. “Take your prize away and let me check again later.”
“There could be more!” Osten said enthusiastically.
Suddenly, a plume of mist shot out of the darkness. Rigst coughed and choked as the bitter tasting stuff burnt his throat. He could feel it creeping down into his lungs, like a flaming serpent thrashing through his body. Horry was violently coughing, even worse than Rigst. Despite their situation, the blast of gas was clearly aimed at Osten. He couldn’t even suck in enough air to cough; he was simply choking, clawing at his throat as if it would help allow air in.
Rigst swiftly brought his shield out in front of him. He grabbed Horry, pulling him behind the shield, and dragging him from the cavern. He also noticed tiny, green crystals floating among the mist. They drifted back and forth, similar to feathers that gravity struggled to control.
“Osten!” Horry cried.
“I’ll come back for him the moment we know it is safe,” Rigst said, continuing to pull the foreman out. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but his insides felt like they were on fire. That spray of mist barely clipped Horry and Rigst. What was it doing to Osten’s insides? Rigst didn’t want to imagine that level of pain!
“Is not good…” Horry complained.
Rigst couldn’t agree more. He watched the sparkling crystals fall closer to the water, and he couldn’t help imagine they were following him. Instinctively, he kept his shield between him and the crystals. A good decision too, for the cave—and Osten—ignited with bright blue fire. Somehow, the crystals created sparks when they collided with the water. The mist was even more explosive than blazepowder. A lot more explosive.
“Down!” Rigst yelled, pushing Horry down and crouching beside him. He then readied his shield, hoping it would be enough to cover their bodies. Flames flowed over and around the metallic shield, licking at their coveralls and heating up the water they crouched in.
He tried not to breathe, but there is only so long you can hold your breath. Especially with adrenaline coursing through your veins. Rigst attempted to suck in precious oxygen. What hit his lungs tore through him with burning pain. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand such an attack.
The heat intensified, but it dwindled before reaching too extreme a temperature. Rigst stood dumbly, gulping in the non-combusting air before him, glaring into the cave with horror.
The fire raged, consuming Osten’s remains. He wasn’t in one piece. To put it in Osten’s own words: he ‘sploded. It also appeared that a massive crustacean was slowly lumbering about in the blue fire, inspecting the burning remains. Rigst thought it looked a vaguely similar to the crayfish he used to collect as a child. Only wider, the size of a house, and tolerant to fire.
“Does that look like your shield-shrimp?” Rigst asked.
“Is not good,” Horry said, worried. “Shield shrimp is little.” He offered a centimetre gap between his thumb and index finger as proof. “Like this.”
Rigst continued backing off from the lair, keeping his eyes locked on the giant crustacean. He felt confident the creature—like the miners—had quite an appreciation for the anyshines, and would attack anyone who attempted to remove them from its territory.
The thunderous boom of another pillar of gas igniting from the lake’s centre stole Rigst and Horry’s attention. Fortunately, the winds were swirling the blue fire away from
them. Rigst took in a deep breath and returned his gaze back to the overhang. The fire within had faded, and he couldn’t see the creature at all.
“C’mon, let’s get off this peak!” Rigst urged. “I request the miners up here finish their sun’s work early.”
“Is good plan,” Horry agreed.
They made their way around the rim, gathering workers as they did. Rigst, Horry, and the miners made their way back to Camp Six, fast. No one wanted to be confronted by the explosion monster, regardless how good the anyshines were.
***
After arriving back in Camp Six, Rigst found himself turning in after a mere five ales. Despite the easy fall to slumber, he had terrible broken sleep. Constantly waking up with a nasty cough that tore through his lungs. He’d never be a miner, that’s for sure!
After the sun had risen, Rigst sought out Horry in the mess hall. The foreman was sitting at a bench table, his head hovering low, with a mug of black coffee in his hand. Not healthy looking, the man was pale, clammy, and stricken with a dreadful cough.
“Rigst,” Horry said, then coughed again. “Ugh, is not good.”
“No,” Rigst replied. “It’s not.” Rigst felt as bad as Horry looked. “I think it would be best to leave the mountain’s peak to the creature. Like you, it wants the anyshines.”
“Not good.” Horry nodded. Fighting back a cough as he sipped his beverage.
“Bluefire Mining company could try to slay the beast. Although, I am unsure there’d be any group well equipped to fight it. A fiery thing that lives in water and generates explosions, how do you fight that?” Rigst shuddered, remembering what it did to Osten.
“Bluefire Mining Company won’t be happy,” Horry said. “This thing, is like you said—like we saw—not so easily dealt with.”
“Even if it is destroyed, there’s no way to know if there are more. Are the anyshines really worth more than human lives to the company?”
“No…” Horry said, hoarsely. “Poor Osten. Eddie. Each worth more than any riches. Stupid monster!”
“I’m all for destroying monstrosities and protecting people.” Rigst narrowed his eyes. “But if the creature confines itself to the peak of Modryklo Mountain, and humans kill it—for riches—doesn’t that make us the monsters?”
“Is true,” Horry said. “Best to leave anyshines to creature. I will talk with company.”
Rigst nodded, happy with Horry’s agreement, then felt his lungs flare with searing pain. Weakly, he sat down on a bench seat, focusing on his breathing. His body wanted to cough, but coughing hurt.
“Drink this,” Horry said, passing his beverage to Rigst. “Special herbs mixed with coffee. Helps clear lungs of dust.”
Rigst took a swig. The burning subsided. “Thanks.”
“You look unwell.”
“As do you!”
They both shared a laugh.
“Seriously,” Horry said. “You should visit camp’s healers. They good with sore throat.”
Rigst shook his head. “I’ll admit, last sun took its toll on me.” And it had. A part of him wanted to stay until he felt better—he had a feeling that this illness would take its toll on him. “I need to get back to Holtur.” If his condition was to deteriorate, Rigst would rather be back at home. “Besides, people need me.”
“Of course!” Horry laughed. “Drink coffee, eat food, and have safe journey, friend.”
“Thanks.”
Rigst hooked into the food. Still, he felt bothered. Something wasn’t right. He’d had bad coughs before, but this was something different. Something that made him question his mortality. A weird feeling tore through him, through his heart. He felt that, even if he let the mine healers see to his affliction, this was something he would never fully recover from. Whatever weapon that creature used, it was dangerous. Really dangerous.
While Rigst didn’t necessarily look forward to it, he didn’t fear death either. How fast his ailment would spread, he could not tell. Home, that’s where he needed to be. There was someone he had to see at least one more time. After saying his goodbyes, he mounted Zeidell and set off towards Holtur.
Once over the ranges and back within the Holtur Ring, he reached into his leathers and pulled out a large, green stone. Struggling through a cough, he reached over and showed it to his horse. “So, Zeidell, reckon she’ll like this?”
Zeidell responded with a delightful neigh.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right!” Rigst said. He returned the gem to a safe pocket and urged the steed into a canter. “To Holtur!”
ESCAPE
Despite the searing pain that coursed through Ignia’s wing, her children remained her priority. Control of her descent had become an impossibility. A long chunk of wood had pierced through her shoulder. Crimson fluid sputtered from the wound with every beat of her wings. Nerves flared beyond any pain she had known. Pulling the limb close to her body was the least discomfort she could offer herself.
As she plummeted in awkward spirals she glanced up at the three young flame wyverns. They were worried and confused. Worst of all, they had ceased trying to escape. Ignia roared, prompting them to flee. Fear only kept them close to their mother. They had such little time. The horde was almost upon them.
Ignia braced for impact. An explosion of snow erupted from the ground. The piloting frame—a metal A-frame attached to the underside of her body—crumpled beneath her, cutting into her leathery chest. She exhaled a breath of fire to release the agony. It didn’t help.
Her eyes closed, but the pattering of footsteps—and the pain from the wound—surged adrenaline through her. She launched up onto her hind legs and locked eyes with Freida.
“Are you alright?” Freida asked, stumbling towards her. “I’m sorry about all this. I love you, yet I failed you. I’m sorry.”
Ignia didn’t understand everything her pilot had said. However, the words sorry and love she could understand. She felt the same emotions towards Freida.
At first, Ignia was pleased to see that Freida’s silk wing had allowed for a safe ejection and landing. She didn’t look forward to seeing what would happen once the horde had caught up to them.
Curling her slender neck around, Ignia yelped at her young. They remained close to her. She turned to Freida and whimpered, offering a worried looked.
“Shoo!” Freida screamed at the juveniles. “Get out of here!” She swung her hands out as if to attack them. The sight startled Ignia, but she understood what the human was trying to do. The young wyverns raced away a few steps, screeched playfully among themselves, then came back to Ignia’s side.
Ignia roared at her young, but they simply cocked their heads. They gaped up at Ignia; they thought this was a game. Domesticated with humans—good humans—had made her offspring kind and soft. Now that bad humans—a horde of them—were coming, her brood would all die.
More footsteps crested a snow-covered mound before them. The horde had arrived. A single man, clad in crimson armour with golden etchings, stood before them. “Surrender,” he said. “Join our cause. Hand over your wyverns.”
Ignia had no idea what the man’s words meant, but she did understand that her young were the topic. It must have angered Freida greatly, for she screamed back at the man, “Never!”
“Foolish child,” the crimson clad man said, unsheathing his blade. “You would have been wise to have let the fall kill you. The alternate end to your life, offered by the cloth wing, will be much less pleasant.”
“Fuck you!” Freida cried, pulling out her own blade.
She swung her sword at the man, but he quickly parried the blow. A riposte saw the man’s blade slide along Freida’s. She dropped the blade. Her hand now bloody.
Ignia was overcome with worry for her pilot. She sucked in a deep breath and locked eyes on the man, but she couldn’t blast him. Not yet. Freida was still too close. Instead, she roared at the juveniles. They still didn’t understand the situation. This was not a game.
Freida grabbed for her
blade with her off hand. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed.
“My brothers and I follow a higher purpose,” the crimson man said. His lips flickered to a grin, and he sliced through Freida’s hand.
Ignia roared. Fear, anger, and despair flooded her body as she watched Freida’s blade fall to the ground. Her hand—disconnected at the wrist—dropping with it.
“You really should have let gravity claim you,” the man said. He turned his back on Freida, and made his way back through the horde.
Countless men swarmed down the hill towards Freida. Ignia fought through the pain, making her way towards her wounded pilot. Ignia had lost a lot of blood. Pain surged through her each time a foot hit the ground.
“No!” Freida cried. Her wounded hand desperately clutched the stump of her amputated one. “Ignia, get out of here!” Her voice was cut off by the men who were now taking her away. They were taking her away.
Even more of the horde crested into Ignia’s vision. Fleeing was not an option. She would die here. Freida wouldn’t survive either. Before she would allow herself to die, Ignia would put a blazing wound through the horde. Her final hope was that her young would flee. That they would live on.
She took in as deep of a breath as she could, then braced herself—through the pain—with her winged fore-claws. Men raced towards her, screaming, with pointed shafts. Others readied bows on the hill. A big enough blast and she may fell the lot of them.
Fire exploded from her snout, turning the men before her into bubbling messes of flesh and steel. The flames continued through the ranks, incinerating the foul butchers of the horde. Arrows rained down on her, but the fire pulsing through the exhaust vents along her spine turned them to ash and slag before impact. The ranged fighters were not far enough away to protect them from Ignia’s fury; the inferno caught up to them.
Ignia’s lungs were empty and the attack was over. Smoke billowed into the sky. Men—or what were men—fell into the melting snow. Most of them were ash, others where bubbling pools of goo. Freida shared that same fate. Ignia couldn’t save her pilot, but she could offer a quick death; Ignia had seen what bad humans were capable of.
Holtur Stories Page 14