“You’re right.”
“Here there’s wyrd, there’s other races. For once I feel like this is where I belong,” Leona said. “This is home.”
“It is where we were born, if what everyone says is true.”
Leona nodded. “There’s the harbingers of light. I’ve never heard of them before. Do you think they exist on O?”
Abagail didn’t answer.
“We fit here Abbie,” Leona said after a few moments.
They were silent for a time as the camp came to life behind them. Leona knew they were about to head out. She would eat her breakfast on the way. At least it would give her something to focus on besides the monotonous march into the snow.
“Do me a favor,” Abagail said. “You need to promise me that your mind won’t change on the darklings and what needs to be done.”
Leona frowned. “Okay?”
“What I mean is you will likely meet many more people like Daniken. People who speak with confidence and warmth. Just promise me that you will stay true to what you know to be right. Don’t let them convince you otherwise,” Abagail said.
Leona nodded. “I will do my best.”
Footsteps crunched through the snow behind them and Leona knew Rorick was approaching them before he came into view. “Cold morning,” he said with a shiver.
“It is winter,” Abagail said, smirking at him.
“It’s summer, get it right, Abbie,” Rorick nudged her with his shoulder.
“Oh, how could I ever forget that?”
Leona started to laugh, but as she turned her gaze toward the two of them, her eyes fell on the iron hammer at Rorick’s waist and one thought burned in her mind: Mine.
They hadn’t traveled more than a few hours when a heavy fog began to gather in the plains around them. Fat flakes of snow ambled out of the sky, drifting lazily to the ground. Watching them was enough to make Abagail wish for hot chocolate and a roaring fire.
The elves were silent, scanning as far as their eyes would let them out into the fog and snow. Abagail couldn’t see very far at all, except maybe some shadows here and there, drifting through the fog like monoliths.
She blinked her eyes several times, and each time she did, the shadows seemed to fade. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her.
“I don’t like this fog,” Celeste finally said. “It’s ominous.”
“There’s darkling wyrd in it.” Mari nodded her head. “It crackles with energy.”
“And the snow,” Skye said.
“Come on,” Rorick cut in. “It’s been snowing on and off for three years, according to you guys.”
“But this is different,” Celeste interjected. “Somehow.”
Abagail let out a long sigh and started looking around herself like the elves were.
She wasn’t sure how long they walked like that, gazing around at the white snow with nothing seeming to change around them. Abagail wondered if they were moving at all.
“We’ve got trouble,” Celeste said.
Abagail was suddenly aware of the path before her, and what she saw made her draw up short, every hair on her body standing at attention. Before them loomed an enormous shadow.
“A wolf!” Abagail said. Chills sprung up along her spine and she dragged Celeste to a stop. “I’ve seen this before.”
“It’s way too large to be a wolf,” Rorick said. He drew his hammer and Abagail caught the way Leona stared sidelong at the weapon.
Abagail looked back, but she was sure what she looked at was the silhouette of an enormous wolf before them, coming closer, separating the fog like curtains around its bulk.
But then the air sizzled. There was a bright flash from the direction of the wolf. Lightning blasted the fog and burned the air, crawling along the ground toward them. Abagail pushed Celeste away from her violently, and pulled Leona backwards as she dove away from the lightning.
Abagail barely made it out of the way in time.
“Storm giants!” Skye yelled from somewhere out of the fog. “A lot of them!”
“Only one,” Leona called back. “Skuld says the rest are frost giants.”
“Perfect,” Skye said as Celeste spat an elvish word that could only be a curse.
The ground quaked beneath their feet as the shadow brought both fists down. Snow blasted up all around them at the concussion of his attack. Lightning arched out of the heavens, angling toward where Abagail and Leona crouched. Abagail dove away, but lost Leona in the fog and the gathering cloud of snow and rock settling around them.
“They’re separating us!” Celeste yelled, but she was far away, her voice just audible over the wind and the storm of giants.
Abagail drew her sword. Her eyes were fixed on the storm giant. She had no idea what she would do when she got to him, but she had to do something to distract him.
Golden light flared brightly through the fog as an elf transformed and launched their self at the giant. There was another flash and Abagail figured it was Skye and Mari lending their aid to the battle.
A prickle worked its way up from her palm and to her shoulder, but she shook her head. If there was an army of giants around them she hoped they would escape most of the attention of the others.
Unless they’re looking for us, the sickening thought came to her mind. She pushed it aside.
The shadow loomed closer and overhead as she neared it. She could hear the giant grunt every time he brought his hands thundering down. More lightning lanced out away from the giant in waves. Abagail did her best to avoid them, but as she traveled closer to the giant, the lightning didn’t come near enough for her to worry about. Abagail realized that he couldn’t exactly sense where her team was, and he was randomly sending the bolts out.
The golden light flashed around the head of the giant, aggravating him into swatting them away. A purple light fluttered in between his legs, blasting violet light at the giant that erupted in white sparks whenever it touched his flesh.
The ground rumbled beneath her and Abagail had to stop to catch her footing. The gray flesh of the stony storm giant’s foot came into view. Abagail lunged at it, sinking her sword in deep. The giant roared and kicked his leg. Abagail held on tight, trying to wrench the sword free, but instead she was carried with the sword, and it didn’t come free.
She held tight to the sword, grappling with the giant’s leg so that she didn’t fall off her perch. The blade finally tore free, and she tumbled to the ground. There was no time to waste because his foot was coming down at her. Abagail pushed herself into a roll, barely making it out from under his foot as it came down and shot gouts of snow higher into the air.
Chunks of ice that his stomp broke free rained down around her. But she wasn’t concerned about that, because there were more shadows emerging from the depths of the fog.
They were surrounded.
“There’s no reason to fight,” the storm giant said above her. His voice rumbled like thunder. “There’s too many of us.”
The golden light of Mari and Skye separated, taking on other giants as they emerged from the fog.
“Run!” Celeste said. She wasn’t that far from Abagail, possibly just on the other side of the storm giant. Abagail rolled out from under the giant and sprinted in the direction of the elf. She could see the sun scepter glowing dimly in the fog. Abagail made for it, but as she was about to run into it, the scepter vanished from sight.
And then the elf emerged from the shadows. “Thank the All Father,” she said, clasping Abagail close.
“Where’s Leona, I can’t leave her!” Abagail said, her voice shuddering between her teeth.
“I’m here,” Leona said, stepping out from behind Celeste.
“Come on!” Celeste said, pulling both sisters along with her.
They ran as fast as they could through the snow churned up by the legs of the giants.
“Find them!” A voice spoke to their left. It was close enough that Abagail was afraid the speaker would run into them if he w
as moving at all. “Bring me the God Slayer!”
She recognized it as Gorjugan from their time in Bauer Hall. Abagail started to slow, but Leona pulled her on wordlessly.
Abagail’s hand throbbed, and she clasped the sword tighter. It seemed as long as she had something to grip tight, she could keep her palm closed. Before long they were slowing to a stop. Abagail’s lungs burned and she was sweating profusely. Leona bent at her waist, her hands on her knees, gulping at the air.
A purple light streaked out of the darkness behind them and alighted on Celeste’s shoulder. Daphne climbed under the elf’s cloak, her light fading as the sun scepter’s had.
“We can wait here for a few moments for the others to catch up,” Celeste told them once their breathing had calmed and their heart rates were returning to normal. Abagail wasn’t a stranger to hard work, but running through that snow was harder than anything she’d done in a very long time. She wanted to sit to ease her screaming legs, but she worried that if she did sit, she might not get up.
“What if they don’t find us?” Leona asked.
Abagail looked up at the elf from under a crooked eyebrow.
Celeste frowned. “We will have to trust they made it away.”
“But Rorick!” Leona started to protest.
“Leo, there’s nothing we can do right now,” Abagail told her sister. “The other elves are there, maybe he made it away with them.” The pain in her hand was dulling enough that she felt confident in loosening the grip on her sword some.
Leona crossed her arms with a huff.
“If he made it away with Skye and Mari, they will take him to New Landanten, just as we are going,” Celeste said.
“And if he didn’t?” Leona wondered.
“Then we will send elves out to search for him.”
“What do you think that man meant, the God Slayer?” Abagail said.
“It’s the hammer,” Leona said.
“Skuld tell you that?” Abagail asked. Now that the conversation was coming to the hammer, maybe she could figure out why Leona had been eyeballing it.
“No. But it makes sense,” Leona said, almost to herself.
“I fail to see how that makes any kind of sense,” Abagail said, but if she hoped to provoke an answer out of her sister, it didn’t work.
“Well, whatever it is, they are looking for it, and they think we have it,” Celeste said. “Since the darklings have been hunting us all this time, I can only assume you’ve had it since you came through the mirror. Gorjugan was told while we listened that the God Slayer was near. Either it’s the hammer, or it’s your sword.”
“How do we know it’s a weapon at all?” Abagail wondered. “How do we know it’s not a person?”
“Seems highly unlikely that a human could slay a God without help,” Celeste argued.
Abagail nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Alright, we can’t wait any longer,” Celeste said. “There were a lot of giants, and it’s likely they will be on our trail before long.”
Abagail looked behind her, concern written in the hard set of her eyes. Her lips tightened with resolve and she nodded. She glanced at Leona who was already starting to move forward behind Celeste.
They hadn’t made it very far before a golden light landed on the ground before them. The familiar figure of Mari formed out of the receding glow of the orb.
“Where are the others?” Celeste asked, her hand on Mari’s arm. She steadied the other elf as she grew accustomed to being physical once more.
“I didn’t see them,” she said. “Everything was happening so fast. Once Skye and I parted from our attack on the storm giant, I lost sight of him.” She looked over at Abagail. “I’m sorry, I lost Rorick as well.”
“It’s not your fault,” Abagail told her, reaching a hand out in reassurance. But she never made it to the elf because just then a roar of thunder erupted behind them and a blinding flash of lightning arched through the darkening day.
The bolt took Mari straight in the chest and the elf exploded in sparks of golden light. Abagail was blasted backwards, her ears ringing and her vision wavering. She landed hard, her head smashing into a rock.
Stars floated before her eyes and she barely had time to roll over before she lost all the contents of her stomach into the snow.
Booted feet stopped before her. She looked up the thin legs, clad all in black, to the face of what might have been an angel at one time, before the right half of his body had been consumed by the shadow plague. He smiled at her, his crystal blue eyes twinkling.
“It’s so nice to meet you finally, harbinger!” he said. Abagail didn’t have time to consider how he knew about her, because just then he smacked her hard on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword, and she knew only darkness.
Heat seared the air around Abagail which seemed to fill her lungs with fire, rather than air. Everywhere she looked, towering flames rose up around the edge of the well, crisping the bottom most leaves of the great tree. The grass of the plains around the well were blackened and smoldering. The fire tinged the sky high above her with a violent red that she never thought she would forget.
Abagail stood on the rim of the giant well once more, and watched as all around her as the multitudes of races warred. The once verdant lands of Eget Row ran red with blood and fire. The rivers and streams that flowed out from Elivigar were polluted with death.
A sound in the north drew her attention, and Abagail watched as a great winter storm reared up in the distance, and attacked the smoking land with ice and frost. The frost giants came. Great rivers of frost and ice raced through the fire cracked earth. The banks of the Elivigar crystalized. The air grew colder, but where before the air was nearly too hot to breathe, now it was too cold, burning her lungs in a different way. She shivered, her breath coming out in frozen plumes. The tree behind her popped violently as the chill settled into its depths causing the water of the well to surge around the rim and slosh to the polluted lands below.
The smell of smoke drew her attention to the south. Fire raged up from the plains to the south. Where before ice and frost had dominated, fire once more regained its footing. Blackened smoke rose high into the air carrying on it the smell of flesh and burned hair. Within the clouds of soot, Abagail saw legions of fire giants and twisted devils making their way into the fray.
But then the sounds of battle faded, as if her ears were being muffled with cotton. The smell of death and the fear of war ebbed away from her and Abagail knew only peace. A great shadow fell across the land, smothering out the sun, blanking out the moon, both of which were always present in Eget Row.
When she looked up Abagail saw the giant form of a silver and white wolf before her. It was much larger than it had been when she met him in the Fey Forest, easily large enough to dwarf the storm giants she’d just fought. He looked down on her with his aqua eyes. The smoke and the frost that were raging around the well, taking out the other races of the Nine Worlds didn’t touch his white and silver coat.
She felt a weight in her hand, and Abagail’s attention was diverted to a cruel looking weapon that she held. The spear was clasped in her polluted right hand. Long and thin it ended in an angry curved blade, the edges chipped away. Along its length were markings, runes as she came to understand them: the language of the gods. But this language seemed perverse, not something the gods would speak at all. The markings of Muspelheim.
Chosen, Abagail heard in her head, and she looked up once more to the wolf. But it wasn’t a wolf any longer. It was a man. Impossibly he was as tall as the wolf, maybe taller. His hair was short and shaggy in tones of silver and white. His skin was as milky white as the coat of the wolf had been. He appeared to be chiseled out of marble, the lines and plains of his bare torso worked in muscular relief. There was a delicate quality to him as well, but it didn’t soften his air of power, if anything it made him feel more dangerous. Abagail looked once more up into his aqua eyes, but she didn’t see anything of a man there.
Those eyes were still animal eyes. The eyes of a hunter.
The sound of dripping water eased Abagail to the waking world. Above her was a rough stone ceiling. Years of water dripping from the ceiling had formed stalactites like cruel daggers clinging precariously to the roof. The room was dark, save a flickering torch outside their barred cell. Abagail was able to see enough of the chamber to know it was small and made of the same rough stone as the ceiling. They were in some kind of cave.
The home of the giants? We are all the way in the Frozen North? But that didn’t mean anything to her really. She didn’t know Agaranth so there was no telling how far away from the Frozen North they’d been to begin with.
She rubbed the back of her head. The pain in her skull was so intense that she wanted nothing more than to die. Abagail winced and sat up. The room spun around her and nausea swam up to claim her. She fought the urge to vomit.
Leona sat beside her, her knees pulled up to her chest, her thumb rubbing her bottom lip, her eyebrows drawn tight in concentration. Celeste sat on the other side of the small, dank chamber. Her head rested on the rough earthen wall, her eyes closed. From the filtered light coming through the barred door, Abagail could see traces of tears running down the elf’s face.
The sun scepter was gone. Abagail checked her side, but wasn’t surprised to find her short sword was missing as well.
She didn’t have time to look for her sword though. Just then a shadow fell across the barred door. The door squealed open, and a tall shape was pushed into the room with them. The figure stumbled and then fell to his knees. When the shadow vanished Abagail could see by the torchlight that it was Skye. His face was bruised, his lip split. Soot and blood marred his face. His once bright violet eyes were dimmed.
A Lament of Moonlight Page 6