Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves

by Richard M. Heredia

  He watched the various reactions of the others to his words. There was skepticism from the Hand, introspection from the Mheto-Prēost and rapt attention from all four members of the Hross. Indifference flowed from Rodíc and a bland expression exuded from Leonif.

  It was Malik who spoke first. “What sort of Gifts?”

  Vallüm outlined everything Inghëldir had told him as well as all he was able to pull from her mind itself.

  The others listened in silence.

  When he finished, Fenris brought his hands together, a steeple of fingers just underneath his chin. He squinted with a query in his eye. “Why would the Vyche, our great sorcerers, not warn us of this possibility before our coming here? I am certain they would have foreseen something, no?”

  The Conclave, are you serious? Vallüm thought, incredulous and chuffed in annoyance. “Forgive me, Crown Prince. But, I have found over the years, through many a discourse with the Vyche that they often boast more of their great abilities and what wonders they can work, while they tend to keep quiet the side effects that always seem to follow their incantations.”

  Though both Fenris and the Hross were Vyche-trained, none of them bristled at Vallüm’s remarks. Their allegiances lay elsewhere. The Prēost knew this well enough and spoke his mind without fear of reprisal.

  Malik-Käi was already nodding his head in agreement.

  The Hand seemed to take the comment for what is was worth and glanced over at the Mheto-Prēost. “Do you think Rûdulfolo and his Conclave could have overlooked a possibility of this size?” he asked without a shred of guile or sarcasm.

  “I am not sure the word ‘overlooked’ is the correct word for what might have transpired here,” replied Malik-Käi. He rapped the table before him with the gnarled remnants of a wolf-like paw. “Though I am not a spiritualist as is the Vicar of the Storm, he is likely the best candidate to pose questions of this nature.

  “Nonetheless, even as a Fleshmaster, I can speculate. This is an undertaking never before attempted in the past. There could be outcomes or consequences no one could have foreseen. Building a Construct Universe and then filling it with aspects of two separate planes of existence was a monumental feat. It is likely the greatest ever accomplished in all time, next to the Creation of time and space itself. One would have to assume there would be some things that would slip through the cracks or fill heretofore unknown voids, holes, etc. The possibilities are quite endless, the more one considers the situation. After all, it was a herculean task.”

  Vallüm watched as the Crown Prince of the Vülfen considered the words of his ancient ancestor. He seemed to weigh the various aspects of the situation in his head.

  “We should send out a search party. We should give them specific orders to find this entity and it destroyed before it grows any stronger,” suggested Rodíc. He appeared smug and confident in his words. His eyes were narrow and piercing, though to the Prēost it looked like an act.

  Leonif took a deep breath and made a gallant effort to not roll his eyes, but it was Fenris who answered. “So, High Lieutenant, who do you propose we send? Inghëldir could not catch this thing, this paradoxical creature as she describes. And she is better suited to the task than any of your beasts or my dear uncle’s underlings. Even the Hross would be hard-pressed to ensnare such an entity. I would not want to waste their time chasing after ghosts. There is still much we have to do before the arrival of the Hlāford Dhŏŏm and the army his is bringing with him.” He paused to look at each one of them at a time. “Beside that point, the Twelve are still of a higher priority as far as I am concerned. They are the ones we will waste resources searching for, precious resources if need be. All else is secondary.”

  The Hand continued. “No, we will send nothing after this being. We will not waste ourselves, or our time, as Vallüm’s wayward plaything has done. It was a waste of time to pursue that which she could not hope to catch. In the end, if we capture the Twelve and he has allied himself with them… well, then he will come to us. If he remains neutral, then the point is moot. Our plans remain intact.” Fenris smiled like a fiend as he finished and then his eyes falling upon his uncle. Together they shared a slight nod.

  Vallüm began to wonder if there was more happening here with the Vülfen than he had first anticipated. True, Malik-Käi was the Mheto-Prēost of the Fleshmasters, but he had been a Vülfen first…

  Leonif was glaring at Rodíc, who seemed to have shriveled in his seat.

  “Vallüm!” shouted Fenris startling the Prēost from his thoughts.

  “Y-yes, m’Lord?” he stammered as all eyes turned upon him.

  “You have done well and for that I commend you. If you would now instruct your Nixy to come back to the Encampment, it would be greatly appreciated. She needs to undergo a more in-depth cross-examination by my Hross." He nodded at Vallüm. "Even if we do not move against this being, I want to know everything there is to know of him. Is that clear?” His rasping lisp set Vallüm’s ears on edge.

  He had no choice, especially with his Overlord looking on, titling his head in agreement with the Hand. “Yes, Crown Prince, I already have instructed her to do just that,” was his meek reply.

  “Uncle, do you think you could call off your Pixy to allow Inghëldir to return unmolested and be of some use to us?”

  What is this? Vallüm thought, outraged. The twisted, little Vülfen had sent Enricht anyway! After he had promised I had time enough to recover her…

  “I can only attempt to, Crown Prince,” began Malik with a salacious smirk at Vallüm. “If he has caught her scent… well, nothing can stop him…”

  “I see,” was Fenris’ curt response. “Oh well, try just the same. We’ll all hope for the best, eh?”

  “Of course, my Lord,” crooned the Mheto-Prēost.

  “Good! This is prodigious indeed,” announced the Hand with a lolling smile. “Now, the rest of you, get out. There are some delicate details of our mission I must discuss with my uncle in private. Please, be gone.”

  With that, Vallüm turned upon his heel and made his way for the towering doors, more at ease than before, but resigned as well. If the Pixy got a hold of his precious Inghëldir and pumped her to the brim with his seed, she would be just as lost to him. It would prove the same though if the Hross got their hands upon her. Either way what he got back would be much too little to play with in a proper fashion. She would be useless to him no matter what.

  As a group, they all exited the council chamber, leaving behind the Hand and the Mheto-Prēost.

  Vallüm took a deep draught of air and exhaled, slow and long. Nothing lasts forever, he thought to himself, already devising in his mind, the face he would put on the next Nixy he would forge.

  The Kring-Hël’s youngest sibling was delightful enough to gaze upon. Maybe I will put a replica of her sweet, innocent visage upon my next toy.

  Yessss… that would be perfect.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 35 ~

  A Kiss in the Dark

  Day Four, Sunday, 7:42 pm…

  Anthony stood ten feet back from the three sets of double doors leading out to the upper parking lot. He tried to peer through the blinding snow and darkness, but could not. He gave up after a time. As Garfield had mentioned earlier, he could not see further than seven feet beyond the surface of the glass. He could only feel the icy chill trying to push its’ way into the building. It was animal-like, hungered to cool the warmth the store afforded them. Though he was a good distance from the rattling, vibrating doors, the battery-operated space heater he had brought with him was having difficulty keeping it at bay.

  He shuffled from one foot to the next. His mind drifted from the blinding storm and its’ accompanying chill to something more immediate. It was an issue more central to their plight. He was completely preoccupied with it, though he was trying his best to hide it from the others. Still, he found the task difficult.

  He was anxious to leave the store. He wanted nothing more than
to get back to the cave and begin the final push to Crystal Lake. It was time by far to seek resolution to their quandary.

  Ever since Andrew’s outburst back at the cave, days ago, Anthony had convinced himself he had to keep his real thoughts hidden. He had forced himself to exude an even-keeled temperament for the sake of his companions. Moreso now that things were beginning to change at an unbelievable pace. The climate, the inhabitants of the land, even the plantlife were altering fast, so rapid it was impossible to keep up.

  At the same time, he could feel the weight of responsibility increasing evermore upon his shoulders. This was in a tangible sense, something felt and not just thought. He could even see the deference his companions were giving him now. He could feel their reliance on his leadership, their faith in his judgment. Some of the Twelve he hardly knew and yet their acceptance of his role as the primary of their group seemed natural to them. To him it was unnerving. He had never sought to be the main figure in any group he had ever associated himself with. This behavior, so fast and so absolute, scared him.

  Things were changing too fast.

  It made him feel undeserving and a little fake. He was having an uneasy time choosing to believe it with the whole of his heart. He was not sure he wanted to step into the role completely. Yet, when he saw his sisters, thrown into this diabolical world, so dangerous and brutal, he could not help but step-up out of pure necessity. From that perspective, he had no choice. One way or another, he would have to embrace it. They needed him, maybe more now than they ever had needed their parents in the past. He might be the only person who could save them.

  This, in its' simplest terms, frightened the shit out of him.

  It could have been a by-product of his upbringing. Or, maybe it was something he had been waiting for his entire life and had not known it. Maybe its’ revelation was the key that had opened this leadership trait. Maybe it had come from within, like Joaquin’s crazy “as-you-need-to-know” Gift. He did not know in truth. But what he did know for certain was his sisters needed him. As he stood there looking out at sheet upon sheet of wind-blown, blistering snow, he knew he could not ignore that fact. The role of “leader” had fallen onto him, because of their necessity. He could not shift their well-being onto the mantle of someone else. They were his charges. They were his family, his blood and he would never walk out on them. He would never turn his back on the teachings of his parents. He would not be able to look himself in the mirror if he did so.

  That said, he needed to move. He had to start taking those final steps and begin true resistance against the Lord of the Storm. Time was getting short. He could feel it. He knew it was real. This sense, this notion of inactivity was bothering him more than anything else. If he was going to be their leader, then he was going to have to do something, fast. Or else, he could chance risking everyone’s safety.

  Joaquin had told him, told them all, what needed doing. Now that they’d found Marianna, the final member of the Twelve, it was time to act on that knowledge. It was time to execute their final courses of action. They needed to move on with the plan. It was time to get things done. It was time to begin the fight.

  Instead, the storm had trapped - trapped them all. Still, they had been lucky. It was a blessing this Target store had survived the Rending. That it had managed to exist in the Melded World.

  Still, he could not shake the idea that Fenris was out there. He knew the half-wolf, half-man was looking for them, while they waited, lounging in the warmth of their sanctuary.

  He was certain Inghëldir and Jätung were out there too. They would all be searching, questing for their lifeblood.

  In fact, all the minions of the Lord of the Storm were out there.

  Yes, he trusted Garfield and his rationale with every fiber of his being. But, he could feel that things - even as this blizzard was walloping the landscape - were still moving at a pace they could not hope to match. The enemy was out-pacing them at every turn.

  He needed to get moving. He needed to do something other than stand in this damned store and wait for the snow to stop falling and the wind to stop blowing.

  It was time for the Kring-Hël to act!

  He swallowed deep at the thought as if he had to stomach something distasteful. There was nothing nasty in his throat. It was in his head.

  He pulled off the elastic cord binding his long brown hair in a ponytail and let his hair fall free about either side of his face. He shook his head back and forth, pulling the individual locks of hair apart with fingers from both hands. This relaxed the pressure on his head. His hair fell into a more nature state. He took a deep breath and released it in a long, forlorn sigh. He watched as the wind buffeted the glass doors, making them vibrate within their metal casements. Intense, he thought.

  About him, the air chilled for a few seconds as the cold outmatched the warmth of the space heater at his feet. He placed the elastic hair twine in one of his front pockets, bouncing on his toes a couple of times. Up and down in quick succession, he welcomed the returning heat as the space heater once again gained the upper hand.

  It was time for the Kring-Hël to act, god damn it!

  They were wasting time.

  The enemy was out-pacing them.

  “Why are you standing here in the dark, you weirdo?” came a sweet and melodic voice.

  He thought, with a shuddering breath, she could not have come at a better time.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deep again, as he felt her hands and arms come about him, surround him from behind. She pulled him backward and into her embrace. It was unavoidable, from his perspective, not to lean back into the curvature of her body. He let her vibrant, youthful frame support him for a second or two. He let her hug him fierce for more than a few heartbeats, enjoying supplicating to her will. He wallowed in the touch of her strong body against his, before he turned about in her grasp. He hugged her back just as desperate.

  “Thank you, babe. I needed that,” he said. His voice was a little huskier than usual. Feeling the feminine aspects of Sophie’s body along his entire length made it so.

  “Why are you way over here standing alone?” she repeated herself.

  Though it was somewhat dark around them, Anthony could still see the flash of her eyes through the murk. He considered her query for a moment still holding onto her, liking the press of her against him. “I don’t know. I guess I just needed to see the storm for myself. You know, see exactly what the hell was keeping us trapped here for so long.” He shrugged as an afterthought, staring into the dim reflection of her orbs. He hoped to catch a hint of the crystalline blue of her irises. He did not.

  She peered back at him, searching for something in his face or his eyes, despite the fact she could only make out his most basic features.

  They stood like that for a second or two.

  Then, Anthony felt her hands move from about his waist upward to the middle of his back.

  She stood on her tiptoes with the grace of a gazelle, bringing her face closer to his, her eyes closing, her expression wanton. He could feel her take a deep breath and hold it.

  Still, her face came closer.

  Maybe his vision had adjusted to the lack of light or maybe it was the proximity of her, but in that moment, he could see her as clear as day.

  Her right hand crept beneath the long, looping curls of his hair almost to the nape of his neck. Gently, she applied pressure.

  He could do nothing but lean forward into her embrace. There was only a second to think he was a lucky guy, when her lips met his in a chaste kiss they both savored. He slipped his hand to the small of her back, parting her lips with his tongue and tasted her for the first time. There were no thoughts in his brain. There were only sensations - sweetness and warmth.

  A sigh after, she too tasted him with her tongue and their kiss become more intense, insistent. They crushed their bodies together. Their hands roamed up and down.

  Suddenly, they were lost.

  A heat unlike anything he had
ever felt in the past seemed to radiate from his chest, past his neck and face, and out of the crown of his head. It tantalized his mind in an unfamiliar way. It was almost like being on fire from the inside out.

  He felt Sophie react to him as well. She brought up one of her legs, wrapping her foot around one of his calves, pulling herself closer. Their pelvises mashed together. They moved their heads from side to side, a continuous changing of the angle of their kiss.

  Somehow, his hand squirmed beneath her layers of clothing. The warmth between the palm of his hand and her pliant flesh underneath her beltline surprised him. He gasped.

  Their lips parted. Their breath was harsh, raspy with animalistic craving.

  They stared back at one another, chests heaving, hearts pounding and eyes as big as saucers. They clutched one another so close, they could feel one of them was male and the other was female. They were exquisitely different, two pieces of a puzzle that would fit together as nature intended. If they were wearing less clothing, it would not take much to make those opposing pieces come together. She would have to push upward onto the tip of her toe, just for a few moments and then they would be…

  Sophie did not look away. Her eyes were even more curious than before, so innocent and willing that Anthony almost felt guilty of his effect on her. True, she was older than him. True, she had instigated their little tryst in the dark. Yet, it baffled him, because he had never had such an overwhelming physical effect on a member of the opposite sex before. It was as befuddling as it was glorious.

  She looked hungry, unfulfilled.

  From her look, he knew she wanted more. “Sophie,” he managed, gulping for air, “that… that was…”

  “…Good,” she finished for him. Her hunger made her eyes sparkle as if she had just eaten a confection of extraordinary manufacture. She reached for him again.