The heart of the mountain churned with heat deep inside its cold exterior, only to be exposed by the occasional steam rising out of the center crater. Above all other mountains this one stood amongst a range of non-volcanic peaks. It had fought its way up to its great height on its own instead of being carried up by the shifting of land.
So grand was its size that passing clouds were caught against it like fish in a net, unable to free themselves. Nearly a god among nature, it caused climate changes and shook the earth when it was angry. This happened more often now than it had in the past. In its youth it had fought for great strength and had settled with age, but lately it was no longer at peace. No longer idle or content. Respect had been lost for the great power it had provided the creatures that lived upon it. Damage was done to the mountain by those who it had been protecting.
The heartbeat of the magma inside pounded away rising and lowering with each passing emotion. It would explode; there was no doubt about it. It was just a matter of time. Just a matter of pressure, frustration, and anger. It would explode.
Steam escaped out of its various vent holes with gray smoke that contrasted with the glacier of white around the funnel’s peak. Halfway down its slope, steam bellowed out from caves under the deep snow. And below that, in a half-circle lake, smoke rose from the neck of a headless statue standing with its back against a sliced out section of the mountain.
The statue only stood a thousand feet high, now that its head was crushed against its feet in the heated mineral lake below. Dried streams of lava ran down the Mountain King statue’s body, originating from the steaming vent at his neck. The once proud King now stood in snow covered grief.
Excluding the warm steaming lake, the valley was blanketed with several feet of snow. It had been for quite a while. Paths of deer and wild cats had been erased by the current blizzard that lashed out at the valley, perhaps brought on by the mountain itself.
Snow fell at an angle and drifts built up like the dunes of the Kiri Desert. Only the lake fought to stay free of ice. The wind churned in the valley, down the mountainside, past the city of Kingsfoot, across the lake and back up the southern mountain range before coming back for another pass. Like a wagon-wheel, the storm rotated in the valley for days.
Through the windblown snow a figure moved down the mountain into the valley, against the flow of the storm to the north. Leaning forward on two powerful legs, the stranger fought for every step he took over the harsh landscape. Tall thick boots of skins rose past his knees, but still didn’t protect his feet from all the cold. A bulky coat of firs covered the rest of his body, bundled up as best he could. The hood of the coat was pulled down as tight as he could without impairing his vision.
Once he reached the valley floor, he worked his way from one white dune to another. Snow clumped onto his body, weighing him down all the more. It was as though the storm was fighting him, preventing him from entering the valley, keeping him from his destination.
Nearing the lake, the winds picked up water and sprayed the traveler again and again. The water instantly froze into layers of ice, making it nearly impossible to move his joints anymore.
Now, nearly frozen, the traveler reached the bridge, in the center of the valley, which arched over the water outlet into the King’s River. The bridge was coated with layers of ice and required him to pull himself across using the slippery arm rail. After passing the apex of the bridge his feet began to slide down the other side. Using his right gloved hand for balance on the arm rail he allowed the slide to continue until his hand hit a broken section and got knocked against the sharp edges of the stone railing afterward. He fell, but landed on one knee, a foot, and his left hand, protecting the bruised right one.
His hood had been flung off from his fall and the wind, exposing his long snout of a face. Dark red in color, the skin sunk in around his bony features. His eyebrows lowered in disgust with fighting the storm. Exhausted from the constant attack he rested a moment, looking at the last leg of his trip, the city of Kingsfoot. Growling a bit at the frigid wind pounding his face, he raised his frozen hood over his hairless Blothrud head.
Picking himself up, he moved forward around the lake to the city. Plowing through snowdrift after snowdrift, his momentum increased as his body tired. He had to reach the city before his body gave out on him. Pushing with every ounce of strength he still had, he launched forward in a full run, busting his way across the last section of open land. Blasting through the last wave of snow, he reached the perimeter wall of half exposed statues.
He stopped and leaned against one of the stone scroll statues to catch his breath and shield him from the ever-ferocious wind. Reaching under his robes he pulled out a small dagger covered with runes and gems along the handle. It was a glorious design of twisted blades as it shined with virginity. Not a scratch on it, never used, never damaged. It was as fresh and sharp as it was the day it was made.
Holding the small dagger tight in his large fist, he looked at his reflection within the swirling blades. Still breathing heavily, he asked himself. “Are you ready for this? This could be your undoing.”
Glancing around the statue, he saw a courtyard of half-submerged statues before the three vaguely distinguishable terrace levels up to the city’s wall. Wind blasted him in the face as he looked about.
Placing the dagger back under his coat of ice and snow covered furs, he made his way up to the city in a slow gallop. The stairs in the center were useless under all the snow but his large wolf-like legs on his eight-foot body conquered them with ease.
He pushed one of the two doors open quietly and peered inside to see several vats of oil fires lighting the large room with yellow dancing light. Several doors and halls exited the room in every direction as he looked for signs of life.
Closing the main door behind him, a wave of warmth covered his body. He quickly removed his gloves and coat that weighed more of snow and ice than of firs and skins. He removed his shirt that was soaking from the sweat of his trek. To freeze in some body parts while sweating to death in others was no way for this Blothrud to travel. He hated the cold.
As he patted himself dry, a large scar could be seen on his back from his upper left shoulder blade down below his belt. It had been a deep gouge that never fully healed. It scarred much wider than the rest of the whip marks on his back. Several wide blades extended from his spine a few inches, many had been chipped and damaged but dangerous all the same. Spikes could also be seen on shoulder blades, knuckles, and elbows. They also were rough from battles of the past. He was a seasoned veteran with many a battle to his name.
Checking the blade once again, he rotated the dagger in his fist a few times to make sure he had a good hold on it.
He then spied a green light coming from a room at the end of one of the many hallways. The door was shut and the light trimmed the bottom with shadows moving in front of the sickly light.
Standing up tall with his chest out firm he proceeded down toward the closed door, dagger to his side. He walked with confidence and composure as he reached the door and opened it.
The room inside was half that of the first room. Two vats, one in each corner on the far side, gave off a smoky green light that danced on the walls, covered in stone carvings of wilderness. The flickering light made the ceiling’s carved tree leaves appear to sway in the breeze as well as the ferns along the walls. Several small stone and crystal statues stood in the room with a throne on the far side between the two vats. The throne was solid crystal and carved out to look like it was the base of a tree with roots reaching out for the seat and arms.
Sitting in the throne was a cloaked figure. It looked to be short and standing on the seat, seeing that no legs came forward and then down in front. The other possibility was that the figure was sitting with its legs crossed. The Blothrud didn’t care either way.
As he advanced into the room, blade in hand, he noticed the animal statues moving and walking about. He slowed his pace as the stone and crystal animals foll
owed.
A large black marble panther stood in his way just prior to reaching the throne. It growled and prepared to pounce on the Blothrud who stood defiantly. A wave of a hand from the cloaked figure caused the panther to back down and sit next the throne.
The Blothrud lifted his precious dagger and pointed it at the other. “This is Varacon, the blade of your request. Countless lives have been lost to bring this to you.”
The cloaked figure sat up slightly from its previously hunched over position. In doing so, the cloak moved and exposed his upper legs that mutated into cracked and fragmented wood, splintering and decaying. His left hand reached out to grab the dagger from him as the Blothrud turned the handle for him to grab.
Lifting it from the red creature’s hand, he inspected the blade. Polishing it on the right arm of his cloak, he exposed his deformed right hand. It also had been turned to shards of rotten wood. “You have done well.” His voice sounded raspy and tired.
The Blothrud could see excessive burn damage along the cloaked man’s neck. “What shall you have me do with it?”
The cloaked man looked up from his hood. “You shall kill my son, Ericc.”
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Altered Creatures Epic Adventures continues with the following books:
Nums of Shoreview Series (Pre-teen, Ages 7 to 12)
Stolen Orb
Unfair Trade
Slave Trade
Baka’s Curse
Haunted Secrets
Rodent Buttes
Thorik Dain Series (Young Adult and Adult)
Treasure of Sorat [Short Story Prequel]
Fate of Thorik [Book 1]
Sacrifice of Ericc [Book 2]
Essence of Gluic [Book 3]
Rise of Rummon [Book 4]
Prey of Ambrosius [Book 5]
Plea of Avanda [Book 6]
Keep an eye out for future stories of…
Ambrosius
Santorray
Gluic
Myth’Unday
Alchemist & E’rudite Battle
Dragon & Del’Unday Wars
And many more…
*CHARACTERS* Pronunciation Guide
Ambrosius: aeM-brO-zee-ahs
Asentar: as-en-Tar
Avanda: ah-Van-Dah
Bakalor: Bah-Kah-Lor
Beltrow: beL-trO
Bredgin: Brehd-gehn
Brimmelle: Brim-‘ell
Darkmere: Dark-Meer
Deleth: deL-‘eth
Draq: draK
Emilen: ehM-il-eN
Ergrauth: erR-gRahTH
Ericc: ehR-iK
Feshlan: FehSH-Lahn
Gluic: Glu-iK
Grewen: Gru-‘en
Irluk: uhR-luhK
Ovlan: ahV-lahN
Sharcodi: shAR-kO-dEE
Thorik: Thor-iK
Trumette: truhm-et
Wyrlyn: Wer-Len
*LOCATIONS* Pronunciation Guide
Corrock: koR-RahK
Cuev’Laru Mountains: Koo-ehV Lah-Roo
Cucurrian River: Koo-kuR-ee-uhn
Doven: dO-ven
Govi: Gah-Vee
Kiri: kE-rE
Lu’Tythis: Loo-Tith-is
Pelonthal: peL-ahn-THahl
Pyrth: perTH
Wierfortus: wEer-fort-us
Woodlen: Wood-lehn
*SPECIES* Pronunciation Guide
Blothrud (AKA Ruds): BlahTH-Ruhd
7’ to 9’ tall; Bony hairless Dragon/Wolf-like head; Red muscular human torso and arms; Sharp spikes extend out across shoulder blades, back of arms, and back of hands; Red hair covered waist and over two thick strong wolf legs. Blothruds are typically the highest class of the Del’Undays.
Del’Unday: DeL-OOn-Day
The Del’Unday are a collection of Altered Creatures who live in structured communities with rules and strong leadership.
Fesh’Unday: FehSH-OOn-Day
The Fesh’Unday are all of the Altered Creatures that roam freely without societies.
Gathler: GahTH-ler
6’ to 8’ tall; Hunched over giant sloth-like face and body; Gathlers are the spiritual leaders of the Ov’Undays.
Human: Hyoo-muhn
5’ to 6’ tall; pale to dark complexion; weight varies from anorexic to obese. Most live within the Dovenar Kingdom.
Krupes: KrooP
6’ to 8’ tall; Covered from head to toe in black armor, these thick and heavy bipedal creatures move slow but are difficult to defeat. Few have seen what they look like under their armor. Krupes are the soldiers of the Del’Unday.
Mognin (AKA Mogs): MahG-Nen
10’ to 12’ tall; Mognins are the tallest of the Ov’Unday.
Myth’Unday: Meeth-OOn-Day
The Myth’Unday are a collection of Creatures brought to life by altering nature’s plants and insects.
Ov’Unday: ahv-OOn-Day
The Ov’Unday are a collection of Altered Creatures who believe in living as equals in peaceful communities.
Polenum (AKA Nums): Pol-uhn-um
4’ to 5’ tall; Human-like features; Very pale skin; Soul-markings cover their bodies in thin or thick lines as they mature. Exceptional Eyesight.
Fate of Thorik Page 59