Contents
Title
Copyright
Chapter 1: Rock and Roll
Chapter 2: Tension
Chapter 3: Tequidi's Warning
Chapter 4: Eltra
Chapter 5: Smoke Signals
Chapter 6: Disappearing Act
Chapter 7: Hot Reunion
Chapter 8: Blazing Sorbguamis
Chapter 9: Brothers of Eternity
Chapter 10: Thulmlet's Warning
Chapter 11: Leech Mystery
Chapter 12: Nordrachosten Alley
Chapter 13: The Hacknebel Twelve
Chapter 14: Dipping in the Toe
Chapter 15: The Shroud Play
Chapter 16: Twice Fooled
Chapter 17: Father's Tavern
Chapter 18: Aerial Control
Chapter 19: Moongate
Chapter 20: House Aepherius
Chapter 21: Cursed Blessing
Chapter 22: Energised
Chapter 23: White Hot
Chapter 24: Misled Sibling
Bestiary
Review The Holtur Curse
Acknowledgements
THE HOLTUR CURSE
By Cameron Wayne Smith
Copyright © 2017 by Cameron Wayne Smith
Cover design by Liz Freeman
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be distributed, posted, or reproduced in any form by digital or mechanical means without prior written permission of the publisher.
A full art companion bestiary for The Holtur Curse, Bristrunstium Monster Records, is available for free by clicking here.
Chapter 1: Rock and Roll
Sonja gripped the shaft of the iron war-hammer. It wasn’t her first choice of weapon, but using her claymore against the approaching rock golems wouldn’t yield much more than a dull blade and a pancake. Sonja had nothing against pancakes, provided the key ingredient wasn’t herself. Ready to crush her foe, she raced out Holtur’s main gate. Behind her were an army of slayers, similarly armed, and ready to pulverise their boulder-like enemy.
The hot season was well and truly over. Each sun grew shorter, meaning the frozen suns—and the coming of Glacious—would soon arrive. For now, however, it was the slaying season; the time of year when all manners of creatures grew restless. Restless and aggressive. The sun was sitting comfortably in the blue sky and not a cloud was in sight. Perfect weather for slaying!
Sonja charged along the main road, straight towards the rock golems. They were odd creatures, appearing as though someone had stacked a bunch of rocks on top of each other, attempting to make them look like a man. What made them even more bizarre was the fact they were alive. Sonja had no idea how to give life to a conglomerate of rock, but obviously something hiding in the distant mountains was more than competent at the task.
The first golem she reached swung its arm—a tentacle-like string of boulders—straight at her. She ducked beneath the wild strike, following up with an attack of her own. Sonja flung the war-hammer through one of the creature’s knees, or about where a knee would be on a human. The creature fell. She continued moving the heavy weapon with its momentum, arcing it upwards, then slamming it down into the golem’s head. It shattered, sending crumpled rocks and dust gushing in her direction. Fine, peppery particles tickled her nostrils, forcing a sneeze and a stagger.
Perhaps that spicy taste lingering at the back of her throat had something to do with the way the creatures were animated. It didn’t matter; they could be destroyed easily enough. Rock golems appeared to be made entirely of boulder and rock, but like most other beings, destroying whatever sat atop their shoulders extinguished all life from them.
Another golem swung at her, and she did the exact same thing; dodged, took out the knee, then crushed the head. Whatever brought them to life didn’t add any intelligence into the mix. A shame really, these things were a little too easy to put down. Two more hulking golems flanked either side of her.
“Wooo!” Arnis ‘Meatloaf’ Cena leapt through the air, slamming his own hammer—one far larger than Sonja’s—into a golem’s head. It fell to the earth, fast, exploding on impact.
“Cheers for that!” Sonja called out. She then gave her hammer an upswing, striking the other golem in the chest.
“No problem!” Arnis sent his hammer through the fallen golem’s head before Sonja had the chance herself. He was a massively built man with immense strength, still, she had no idea how he moved his large hammer the way he did. He shook his long, black hair and gave her a grin.
Another pair of rock golems approached. Sonja and Arnis took them down with ease. Afterwards, Sonja dropped her hammer, taking a second to catch her breath. Her team of slayers had eliminated the invading rock golems—hopefully—without a single casualty.
“Is anyone hurt?” Sonja called out down the line.
“Man down over here!” a slayer called out, then put his arm in the air. “I think it’s just a broken leg.”
Sonja turned to the main gates with a pair of fingers in her mouth, took in a deep breath, then blasted out a whistle. Rak ‘Bolt’ Bolzen, atop his large, black stallion, shot out of the gates. He galloped towards the slayer that was waving his hand. Sonja gazed on ahead, ignoring the screams of the injured slayer as he was hauled upon the horse.
Arnis was not as resilient against a broken man’s cry. He shuddered, then confessed, “A broken leg? At least it’s not the worst we’ve come out against rock golems.” And he was right, much worse had happened. Of course, zero injuries were always preferential to any at all.
The sound of rocks thudding against each other echoed off the mountains. “Fall back!” Sonja yelled as she raced back to the Holtur wall. “Distance yourselves from the mountains!” She exuded urgency, leaving her war-hammer behind. Ditching a weapon was rarely the correct decision in battle, but creating a distance of drag between you and a rolling slater-beast was the easiest way to success. It was never wise to be near them while they had momentum.
The noise grew louder. Behind them, boulders were rolling down the mountains, gaining speed as they fell. She glanced around, looking at the different types of boulders, making a mental note of each one.
Sonja unsheathed her claymore. “Ready yourselves!”
The slayers had almost made it back to the main gate when she commanded the formation change. Like her, most of the slayers had left behind their hammers. They hadn’t expected the slater beasts to attack straight after the golems, but—like always—these men were ready for anything. The slayers who now lacked hammers unsheathed their primary weapons; blades of all shapes and sizes, axes, hatchets, bows, and other unique tools effective for beast eradication.
The boulders continued towards them, losing speed until they eventually stopped. The rocks uncurled, revealing the slater beasts for what they truly were. The rocky carapace along their hide hid a coat of thick, brown fur. Short, stocky limbs shot out, and a canine muzzle—beneath beady eyes—snapped. Drool slobbered from gaping maws lined with small, sharp teeth.
“A free ale for anyone who takes down a roller!” Sonja screamed, charging at the beasts in a fury.
Ballista bolts and arrows rained down from atop the northern wall’s battlements. Slayers charged with readied weapons. As for the slater beasts, well, they had turned tail and began to retreat. The creatures were ambush predators, and not really suited to one-on-one combat. Finding yourself in one’s path while it rolled, however, would result in it uncurling, snatching you up, then re-curling itself and crushing you to death. Definitely not among the most pleasant of activities for one to engage in.
Of late, the sla
ter beasts had become quite aggressive. Sonja was unsure exactly why, but she figured a change in pack alpha might alter their behaviour. There was only one problem: they all looked the same to her, and she had no idea which one was the alpha!
The creatures began their escape slowly, but as they ran their speed increased. Three slayers had caught up to one of the slower ones. She turned to see Volk ‘Red’ Lodern’s flaming, black hook swords sear through one of the beastly limbs. The foul smell of burning fur pounced from the wounded animal, invading the nostrils of those close by. Sonja spat, trying to get rid of the unpleasant taste.
The distance between her and the slater beasts grew faster. Damn, the bastards were going to escape again! A whooshing noise flew overhead, and a ballista bolt pierced into a slater beast’s rocky back. The projectile didn’t harm it, but did flip it over. It whined with fear, rocking back and forth in attempt to right itself up. Sonja twirled her claymore, then leapt through the air. She held her blade overhead in a reverse grip, then slammed it straight through the stomach of the creature.
Claws lashed wildly at her, but not for long. She twisted her blade back and forth, and with one last whining yelp, the slater beast fell limp. Sonja freed her claymore from the beast, cleaning the blood and gore from the blade with the beast’s own fur.
The smell of burnt beast was the least of her worries now. Small, stinking giblets of the creature’s innards had splashed over the furs she wore. “Damn beast,” Sonja grumbled to herself. It would be many moons before this reek would wash out.
A wall of dust, rock, and grass burst up from the ground ahead of her. The majority of the beasts were gaining speed, kicking up all manner of shit as they escaped. Turning back to her slayers, Sonja noticed a total of four slater beasts had been slain.
“Fucking slater beasts,” Arnis remarked as he made his way over to Sonja.
“Hopefully we got the alpha.” Sonja slit the throat of the creature she had taken down—being careful not to let more gore splash over her—then jumped to the ground. “I’m really not fond of the meat, and they are a right pain to harvest.”
“That’s because the meat tastes like kuhvi shit.” Arnis pushed up against the creature’s back, helping Sonja roll it over.
Sonja inhaled a deep breath. “Even you think so? I thought you devoured the flesh of all our beastly enemies!”
“I do! I just don’t like eating shit!”
With the creature bleeding out and guts falling from its insides, the stink of the rancid beast continued its brutal assault on their senses.
“Fuck!” Sonja wrapped her arm around her face. It was preferable to inhale through her sweaty furs rather than the air tainted by the beast’s stench.
They walked away to let the slater beast drain.
“What an unrewarding defence,” Arnis said to himself. “Stinking piles of shit and crumbled rocks!”
“The frozen suns will be here soon enough,” Sonja said with a laugh. “Then, when these things go into hiding, we can spend our suns idly twiddling our thumbs.”
“You actually get bored when there’s nothing to slay?”
“Well, I usually find the odd thing to go do.” The odd thing usually meant hunting down hibernating creatures or taking care of monstrosities that don’t fear the frozen suns. “Looks like that’s it for this sun. It’s quietening down and first moon will be here soon enough. I can’t even hear a single wyvern’s wing beating over the mountains!”
“It will be good when all the scouts get home,” Arnis said without thought.
“Rigst…” Sonja sighed, her blue eyes gazing off into the distance. “I hope he does return soon…”
“Shit,” Arnis said under his breath. “Sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” With a flick of her head, Sonja regained her clarity. “He’ll return soon enough, I know it.”
“Yeah, he will,” Arnis said, avoiding eye contact. “Come on, go recover your hammer, and I’ll give you a hand pulling this thing apart.”
“Thanks Meatloaf,” Sonja said with a warm smile. She then strolled towards the ditched war-hammer, enjoying a tranquil moment before mentally preparing to harvest the stinking beast.
Chapter 2: Tension
Three months earlier…
During the summer months, slaying sessions were long and exhausting. They were also exciting and rewarding. At the end of a long sun of slaying, first moon was often filled with drinking; provided the town was safe, which most moons were. Slayers were well known for fighting hard and partying even harder.
During a period when the town knew it was free of attack, bored, single women would go on the prowl, looking for a slayer to bed for the night. Men who weren’t slayers would generally stay home or at least keep to themselves. When it was free of its enemies, Holtur belonged to the slayers. This was accepted, as at all other times—and most of the year—the slayers belonged to the town. The townsfolk were also well aware that most slayers would die while defending their town.
The Wounded Wyvern Tavern was Sonja’s waterhole. At first glance, the place seems dark and dank, but if you looked a little deeper, you’d see it had a certain charm. A charm that attracted Sonja—and many other slayers—whenever a quiet sun presented itself. It also had strong ale. Sonja was known to spend a lot of the frozen suns here. It was also the perfect place to take a well-earnt break from slaying.
Sonja staggered into the building, inhaling deep and savouring the stale smell of spilt ale. The sun lingered in the sky, and rays of light pierced through the windows, assaulting the long bench tables and dark stone foundation. A few townsfolk put down their eating utensils and gazed upon the slayer with a sense of dread. Sonja was ready for a stiff drink—she needed it—but the rest of Holtur wasn’t yet ready for drunken slayer shenanigans.
“Lunch time?” Sonja cocked her head, confused. “It’s only lunch time?”
“Yes, Captain Bluwahlt,” a skinny woman said. “Would you like us to leave?”
Sonja was well known, but she hated being feared. Why would people fear a person who kept them safe? “No, no, no, it’s fine! Holtur is perfectly safe right now. My companions and I just need a refreshing beverage.” She gestured to the slayers on either side of her, flicking her hand and discharging blood as she did. That’s right, she forgot; she was covered in blood—that would explain their fear!
“Mummy, when I grow up, I want to be big and strong, like that pretty lady!” a girl who had been dining with her parents said out loud. The parents said nothing, but the girl received a disappointed scowl from her father.
“Excuse me, pretty lady,” Rigst said, stealing Sonja’s gaze from the child, “but if we stand here gawking much longer, I may just die of thirst!”
“Go on then,” Sonja said. “Grab a cold one for me while you’re at it.”
The little girl reminded Sonja of herself when she was little. Should she say hello? Would that be appropriate with the parents displaying such fear towards her? Would it be appropriate when she is coated in the remains of a wyvern? She laughed at the irony; covered in wyvern guts in the Wounded Wyvern Tavern.
She noticed the parents had eaten most of their meal, and figured her appearance shouldn’t harm the little girl’s appetite. She sat down on the bench seat, opposite the girl and next to the father. Sonja grabbed a half eaten carrot stick from the father’s plate, then looked at him with a raised brow, as if asking permission to gobble it up. He nodded.
“Thank you! I’m starving,” Sonja said. She chomped down on the carrot, then looked at the little girl. “So, little one, what’s your name?”
The little girl grinned wide and her eyes sparkled. “My name’s Olivia Reuling! This is my dad, Jaye Reuling, and this is my mum, Hildemara Reuling.”
Sonja gave a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olivia Reuling. You too, Jaye and Hildemara. My name is Sonja Bluwahlt.” It was always refreshing to be reminded of what she foug
ht to protect. “You must be very proud to have such a lovely daughter.”
“Yes,” Hildemara said with a nod. Her gaze remained down on the table, refusing to make eye contact with Sonja.
“Miss Sonja, why are you covered in red?” Olivia asked.
“Well, Olivia, early this sun… did you hear the loud roars over the mountains?”
“I did!” Olivia said, excited.
“Did you hear the wings beating through the sky?”
“I did!” The little girl jumped out of her seat.
“That was the sound of wyverns!” Sonja pointed to the picture over the bar, the Wounded Wyvern Tavern’s mascot: a white, marbled wyvern coiled up, nursing a broken wing. “Lots of them! More than… this many!” Sonja threw her hands up, flicking blood into the air, spreading her hands out to display ten digits.
“Was it like… this many?” Olivia did the same, then closed her fists, and reopened them, indicating twenty.
“It was more like this!” Sonja began blinking her fists open and closed. She wasn’t sure how many times she did, but she also wasn’t sure how many wyverns they had taken down that sun. Thirty? Forty? Not that it mattered; she’d never let the truth to get in the way of a good story! Not when the child listening was so enthralled by it.
“Woah!” Olivia jumped up again. “That’s a lot!” She turned to her parents. “Aren’t we lucky that Miss Sonja saved us!”
“We’re very lucky, Sweety,” Jaye said. The father’s fidgeting became obvious, as did the sweat forming on his brow.
Rigst slammed a mug of ale onto the table, between Sonja and Jaye. “You enjoying talking to your fans?”
“Of course I am!” Sonja grabbed the mug and took a large gulp. Then she took another… and another. She’d almost finished the entire mug shortly after it reached her lips! Thirst would do that to a slayer. She rolled her neck, cracked it, then turned to face Rigst. “She did call me pretty!”
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