Their grandmother, like a general, issued her directions, having some items placed in the laundry room or refrigerator for use later, while overflow items went onto the dining room table for easy access when needed. Lastly, the immediate items stayed in the kitchen and were divided about the various workstations she had prepared in advance. Finally, together, like some wondrous orchestra, they got to work.
For the next few hours, the kitchen was all talk and chopping, chatter and slicing, and laughter and clanking and clanging of pots and pans and platters. So much noise, it filled the whole house. In the background, as always, their grandmother’s favorite music blasted - whether Prince or James Taylor or Michael Buble it mattered not – the music was always on. They would sometimes move to the thrumming beats, while they worked. Most times, they weren’t even aware they’d been doing so all along.
Now, hours later, all three of the Herrera kids were outside, in the backyard, in their warm coats and gloves and scarves. They were cleaning up after the dogs, sweeping the various walkways free of fallen ice and snow. They were setting out the lawn furniture, a few umbrellas, and the many plastic chairs and cushions.
Above, the skies had finally cleared, but it was still cold out. Well, cold for Los Angeles that is, since most Angelinos would only see daytime temperatures in the mid-twenties, two, possibly three times, in their entire lifetimes. So, for these environs – it was cold!
Their grandmother had told them to put out the all of the electric heaters and firewood in the outdoor Chiminea. The forecast had called for brisk temperatures, in the mid-forties for Thanksgiving, but the day would dawn clear and bright, and would stay that way throughout the daylight hours. With so much snow on the ground, a true rarity in the southern California, their grandmother had thought, who wouldn’t want to be outside? Who wouldn’t want to make snowmen or have snowball fights? What better way to burn off the thousands of calories consumed at the Thanksgiving table?
The siblings had talked excitedly about that, knowing their grandmother and their dad would definitely join in, once the white stuff started flying about the yard. The talk of the fun to come was a welcomed interruption of the stress and misgiving they’d experienced over the course of the past few days. They were all looking for to it. The sisters were giddy with anticipation.
They were just about finished, making the last of the preparations. Anthony was almost done sweeping the snow off the cemented portion of the yard. He’d been cleaning the concrete slab leading from the backdoor of the house, all the way around the side of the home to back yard and some distance beyond as well. Mikalah had just placed the last of the large fire logs into the Chiminea, standing in a central portion of the yard, while Elena was closing the large door of the tool shed. The wooden structure stood farthest from the house, in one of the remote corners of the yard. She’d been tasked with putting away the last of tools they’d used.
Elena rubbed her gloved hands together in an attempt to warm them. She glanced about, watching Anthony’s hunched shoulders sway back and forth for a few seconds, then turned slightly to the right, just in time to see Mikalah readjust the last of the logs in the fire pit. She knew her sister was making sure they were balanced directly over the kindling below, ensuring the fire would take once it was lit. Since she was in the darker portion of the yard, she could see her siblings, but was certain they could barely make her out behind the glare of the outdoor lights all about the yard. She flexed her hands again and smelled at the air, the many delicious scents emanating from their grandmother’s kitchen wafting into her nose had made their way all the way back to the rear of the property.
I hope everything calms down enough so we can enjoy the holidays like we’re supposed each year, she thought, bringing her hands up to blow on them - another failed attempt get them warmer. It would really suck if we couldn’t have a good time during the Christmas season, especially since I waited for it all year long!
Ahead of her, she saw Mikalah stand and wipe off her gloves on either side of her jeans. Elena was going to yell out to Mikalah. To let her know, she was done with her part of the chores and was about to head back inside where it was warm.
She never got the chance.
Something grabbed a hold of the collar of her coat.
Suddenly, she was yanked viciously off the ground and hosted into the air. All she could manage was a small, strangled quip of a wail…
*****
…it was a muted screech, just loud enough for Mikalah to hear as she went erect quickly, looking in Elena’s general direction.
“Ellie, are you ok?” she inquired in a shaky voice, thinking her sister might’ve fallen down in the dark. The short scream she’d heard sounded strange in her ears, but she couldn’t see her through the glare of the lights to discern what had happened. The relative dark of the back portion of the yard beyond had rendered her sight useless.
Not knowing why, she felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry…
*****
Near the back door, Anthony heard Mikalah’s questioning voice and stopped cold. His ears strained to hear something, anything. Then, he thought he heard something move, back toward the far end of the yard, something heavy. He dropped the broom where he stood, began walking toward the sound, stepping closer to Mikalah. When she came into view, he could see her craning her neck toward the tool shed, her hand over her eyes, trying to block the brilliance of the nightlights strung around that portion of the yard. His gaze followed Mikalah’s, but all he could see was shadows. He tried harder, straightening his glasses before his eyes as if that would give him a clearer picture.
Were those shadows moving back there? Jeez, they’re gigantic!
*****
The initial shock had worn off. Elena fervently prodded backward with one of her arms, trying to dislodge herself from whatever it was holding her, but she kept hitting something extremely hard and unforgiving. She began to squirm and kick her legs more frantically, trying to get free, her screams stuck in her throat out of stark terror.
She heard the good portion of the fence behind her begin to groan, strain, as the wood began to bend, then splinter. She could hear the nails screaming in protest. A second later, there came the unmistakable sound of wood cracking as if something very heavy was leaning against it, tried to move through it.
“Elena! What is happening?” quailed Mikalah again, borderline fearful now.
“Elena, answer us, now!” That was Anthony, afraid and angry at the same time.
They both sounded so far away…
Whatever was holding her shifted to one side, away from the tool shed. She was thrust forward, her neck bending with the movement as the fence gave way with the agony of splintering wood.
It was in that moment, her hands caught a hold of the massive, hard thing behind her head. She was able to get purchase enough to turn halfway around and see. She found her voice at once, releasing the most blood-curling scream of her short life…
It was… HORROR!
It was too much. Blackness consumed her. She floated away into the void.
*****
Mikalah stomped her foot in frustration and was about to give Elena a piece of her mind when her ears picked up the sound of cracking wood. She stopped, her eyes trying to make out what was moving in the shadows.
Suddenly, a good portion of the fence exploded outward, forcing the girl to shield her eyes from the debris. A second later, Elena shrieked. Mikalah could see it in her mind.
Elena was being torn limb from limb!
She wanted to move, but Mikalah could only stand there, dumbfounded, as an enormous ape-like creature walked into the light, holding a very limp Elena by her tiny neck in one of its’ immense hands. It was horrible, easily the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes upon. Its’ face was a melded visage of a man and a gorilla, twisted, with beady red eyes, exuding malevolent intelligence. Its’ mouth full with a single row of sharp teeth, complemented by four-inch, blunted fangs
. It had a grotesquely large nose, wide, with only one central nostril that throbbed and vibrated sickeningly when it breathed. It was a ghastly kind of trumpeting snort when it sounded, dispelling great globs of mucus with every exhalation. It stood an incredible nine feet tall with black, leathery skin, much like a great ape, only it was partially covered by splotchy patches of long whitish-gray hair. It seemed in the constant state of molting. In some areas, it was free of hair, while in others its’ skin completely covered. The coat itself looked decayed and sickly as if the beast suffered from the advanced stages of mange, and yet, overall, the creature seemed hale, mighty even. It had arms and legs the size of tree trunks that moved with jerking twitches, more bird-like than those of a giant ape-man-thing. It almost made Mikalah throw up just watching it move. It was so… unnatural.
“Oh my god,” was all the eight-year-old girl was able to mutter when a confident, commanding voice sounded directly behind her. An unseen gauntleted hand descended upon her left shoulder, gripping her so hard she nearly yelled out in pain.
“Be careful with her you idiot, our Great Lord Metohkangmi, wishes for all of them to be healthy and unhurt when they are placed upon the Throne. I do not want that one marred with a broken neck.”
The girl wasn’t certain to who was the owner of the disembodied voice. For the time being, she would continue to be ignorant of it.
Something heavy clouted Mikalah, hard across the back of her head and she fell into the inky darkness of unconsciousness.
*****
Anthony stared in awe at first. The side fence, toward the back of their grandmother’s yard, erupted as if it had dynamited. Unbelievably, Elena came floating out of the shadows, dangling in front of the something his eyes couldn’t comprehend, but his mind had no trouble recognizing. A calm voice in his head spoke. “It is a Jötun. This is what you see before you.” He knew what it was, although he wasn’t able to explain how he could know. Had he dreamt of them before? Had the shock and fear of Jätung clouded his mind, so he couldn’t remember? Then, he turned toward a loud voice, booming throughout the yard…
“Be careful with her you idiot, our Great Lord Metohkangmi, wishes for all of them to be healthy and unhurt when they are placed upon the Throne. I do not want that one marred with a broken neck.”
…He watched in horror, as another large creature stood upright, directly behind Mikalah, man-sized, but big, wearing what seemed to be a thick, leather jerkin and matching leather pants. Both were dyed a very deep red. They were studded here and there, reinforced and hardened, as if for battle. It wore calf-high, horned boots and heavy, armored gloves. Over all else, a heavy cloak draped, apparently treated to resist anything wet, for beads of moisture gathered atop its shoulders and sluiced off onto the ground when it moved.
It turned to look at Anthony with a wide grin. The boy stood thunderstruck. His eyes revealed what his mind couldn’t readily understand. The voice in his head had gone silent.
Its’ head was wolf-like, complete with a five-inch shout and long tooth-filled jaw. Its’ skin was the color of dried blood - deep crimson - offset by course hair, long, jet black and pulled back over its head. It had it tied loosely at the back of its half-man, half-canine neck with a thin leather cord. When it smiled, it looked frightening, almost insane, but it was the shrewdness in its eyes, belying something altogether different. This was a creature of cunning. It was intelligent. He knew this wasn’t a mere animal like the Jötun, holding Elena.
It didn’t look away as it placed a large, gauntleted hand upon Mikalah’s shoulder, squeezing. Its’ grin was maniacal as it rose its’ other hand above its’ shoulder. It continued to stare at him.
Anthony was a flurry of activity, trying to reach his sister, but didn’t get far.
Suddenly, more hands, powerful and relentless, restrained him, holding him helpless and immobile. They forced him to watch as the wolf-thing’s hand descended and smashed into Mikalah’s unprotected head. The awful –
Thwack!
- of the impact, resounded in Anthony’s ears, a lightning quick glare blinding him for a second. He felt his stomach lurch at the sight of her rendered unconscious. She crumpled onto the ground like a rag doll.
He struggled against his captors with all of his might, tears beginning to stream down his face. The huge ape-bird-thing approached the man-like-wolf-thing in two massive strides, the ground itself groaning against its tremendous weight. Concrete and stepping stones alike cracked and shattered beneath its heavy trod.
“Stop you’re wiggling, man-child, or we will tickle you just as Lord Fenris has tickled the wee-one over there,” said a guttural voice at Anthony’s ear. He let himself go partially limp in their grasp and watched as Mikalah was put into the arms of the same Jötun holding Elena. The hulking creature had no problem carrying both of the girls in its clutches. It had them piled like cord wood in its arms, holding them close to its chest, protectively. Its’ bottomless eyes searched over the man-wolf, awaiting further instructions.
Anthony could feel one of his captors’ breaths upon his ear, hot and foul, surmising at least he was as tall as him was, possibly taller. Gauging from the two sets of hands on his person, he knew there was more than one of them. And, to his chagrin, they were stronger. He gave up, relaxing fully in their grip, defeated - a few more strangled whimpers escaping from between his lips.
“Bring forth the Kring-Hël!” shouted the wolf-thing the man behind him had called, Fenris.
Here we go again with that name!
…Or was it a title?
Anthony was hauled toward the creature without ceremony. It stood in the centermost area of the backyard. They had to traverse the cemented walkway to the main patio area. The furniture he and his sisters had just made ready for the following day, now lay strewn about, knocked over, this way and that.
It was then, Anthony realized there were a lot more figures in the backyard than he’d initially seen. He glanced around, taking better mental notes.
They’d come from almost every direction, hopping the fences, surrounding the yard or smashing through them when they were forced to. There was one more Jötun beside the one holding his sisters, Fenris, and at least a score more man-like warriors.
Although, if he had a choice, Anthony wouldn’t have called them men, per se. Though they were about the same size and shape as an average six-foot human male, they clearly weren’t. They were dressed similarly to Fenris, though in dark green leather jerkins and pants with less studding. They wore boots and gloves, and weather resistant cloaks. Unlike Fenris, though, they bared arms. Some with swords and daggers sheathed about their waists, some with wrist-crossbows, while others with black re-curved bows and wickedly barbed arrows notched and at the ready. All of it, fairly man-ish in appearance, but that’s where the similarities stopped.
It was the color of their skin that made them unique from men. It was a shade mankind didn’t possess, a sort of gray that took Anthony a few minutes to place. Yet, if he had to name it, the color that came close to what he was seeing was that of wet cement – gray, gleaming and glossy, but with a shine giving it depth. The color was so unique and unequaled, Anthony wasn’t sure there was any other way to describe it. Wet cement seemed correct.
In addition to this, there was a second feature setting them aside from humanity. It was the shape and placement of their ears. They were wildly strange when compared to those of the average human. In fact, they might’ve been construed as a deformity.
Every human, when turned to the side, has the opening of the ear, on average, a quarter inch or so lower than the corner of their eye. With these creatures, placement of their auditory orifice was a half inch above the dramatic corner of their eyes. The actual lobe of their ears was much, much larger on the bottom, instead of toward the top as with humans. Furthermore, each earlobe was hideously stretched. So long, in fact, they reached around the sides of their skulls and nearly touched at the back of their heads. It was as though they formed a natural
headband behind their heads, conveniently keeping their long, straight hair out of their faces and eyes.
No need for a scrunchie with these dicks. Sarcasm sometimes helped Anthony control his fear.
“What do you think, Kring-Hël, of my Swüreg warriors? Quite impressive are they not? One should think so with all of the time and effort required to get them here, to this… woefully soft place,” said Fenris with a throaty lisp. His snout and long pink tongue prevented him from speaking as clearly as a human would’ve spoken. “Too bad it won’t remain that way for long…”
“Don’t you hurt my sisters!” warned Anthony with false bravado. His voice trembled with fright, though not for himself, but at the sight of his sisters being manhandled by a creature straight from the pit of hell.
He stiffened, contorting backward, as one of his captors grabbed him roughly by the scalp, painfully yanked back his head, the gloved hand tangled in his long hair, pulling hard. Anthony continued to glare at Fenris with feverish eyes, savage, like those of a caged animal backed into a corner. Tears steadily fell across both cheeks.
The tall man-wolf returned the glare and laughed aloud, a chortle, sounding somewhere between a bark and a cough, repeated again and again. “Or what, boy? Are you going to reach for your Gift and use it against me?” He chuckled anew. “It is my contention you haven’t even realized one percent of one percent of the power your title claims you possess. How can you possibly imagine you would be a threat to me?” said Fenris coming toward Anthony. His menacing face hovered inches from the boys own.
The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves Page 27