And then rage took him. It coursed through his veins like fire, burning away the icy aura that engulfed him. That night the Kald attacked Durtania swept through his mind; a vision of his little brother Dagrir upon the bed as the demons wrapped their fingers around his throat; Dagrir’s horrific, pinched scream as they tried to choke the life from him; his mother’s wails as they tore at her dress and scarred her flesh with their arctic claws; and the demon blade that cracked against his own skull as he tried to stand his ground.
Brandrir growled as he brought his mechanical arm up and wrapped its inhumanly strong grip around the thing’s wrists. The creature howled as he twisted, bones cracking. And then his sword plunged into the thing’s belly, tearing it wide open. Its arctic blood rushed out, pouring over his armor, crusting it with crimson rime.
And then there was an impact to his right side, his armor making a distinct crunching sound as a Kald sword tried to bite its way through his armor, fracturing the gory ice that had gathered upon it. He turned, but an icy hand wrapped around his wrist, though in his rage he felt no burning chill. He saw it’s other arm raise, its wicked blade glinting in the faint sun that filtered through gray clouds overhead. And then the demon was thrown to the ground in a burst of sapphire-blue and amethyst.
Solastron growled ferociously as his maw tore into the beast’s neck, spraying its black-red blood everywhere. Its cobalt skin was torn open by obsidian claws, limbs were ripped from sockets, and then the great wolf bounded off for its next victim.
Solastron alone was immune to the Kalds’ icy auras and burning-cold blood. Brandrir had seen the wolf fight the demons many times before, their touch never so much as frosting his fur. It was said that Solastron was the spirit of the Blue Wilds; that the wolf was the very avatar of the North. No one but Etheil really knew the truth. The wolf had saved him as a child from the clutches of the forbidden woods and had remained his constant companion ever since. As a child, Etheil had been sentenced to spend a long night in the Blue Wilds by Brandrir’s own father, the King. To spend a long night in the Blue Wilds was a death sentence. It was used as punishment against those who betrayed the lands of Duroton. It was a way that the Lands might take their justice. For Etheil, it was punishment for his father’s treachery; his father’s bargains with the Kald and his nearly successful plan to destroy the Thorodin bloodline. But Etheil had lived. He had been carried out of the Blue Wilds by Solastron, and it was therefore decided that the Lands had spared him.
But Brandrir had no time to reminisce or contemplate. He recovered quickly, his sword buzzing as he worked it in a deadly flourish against his next opponent and the next, and they all fell before him. Having cleared all immediate opponents, Brandrir turned and quickly surveyed the field. He saw a soldier upon the back of an Icelandic Great-Hoof, his black armor webbed with frost. A winged Kald hovered above him, brandishing a sword. The knight brought his own blade high, his steel sparking against the demon’s weapon. But then the demon swept its legs forward, gripping the man around the face with its long, clawed toes. The soldier howled in pain as ice crusted his face and frosted his hair. He clutched at the creature’s ankles, and icy tendrils crept up his hands and forearms. There was a sickening crack of bone as the creature’s feet twisted and the man’s neck bent at an impossible angle. He fell from his saddle and the demon descended upon his body, tearing it to pieces as a small gang of other Kald swarmed the horse.
And then Syrus was upon them. He was like a black specter of death upon the snowy field with his winterland cloak fluttering behind him. The silver blades of his sabers gleamed as he worked them in a dizzying array of combat prowess.
“Lo, there do I see the enemy upon me!” his blades flashed and four Kald fell to the ground, their black-red blood spattering his body, leaving gruesome, icy clumps. “Lo, here do the shadows of death surround me!” he spun in, his swords whirling as three more Kald failed to stop his momentum. “Hark! I hear the cries of my brothers who fought before me,” two Kald dropped from the sky as Syrus pressed in on them. Sparks flew, swords were sundered. Bodies fell. “And they beckon to call this dog of war!” Syrus ducked low as a demon blade sailed over his head. He was back up and his sword strikes came like torrential rain upon his enemies. A final Kald got in close and its clawed hand gripped Syrus’s wrist. Ice spread up his metal arm. The gears and hydraulics labored against the freezing ice that enveloped them. Syrus dropped his left sword and brought his hand up, its silver claws ripping the throat from the beast. Icy blood sprayed him and the thing fell dead at his feet.
And then it was over. There was that strange silence that lingered upon a won battlefield. The wind whipped at Brandrir’s face. His breaths heavy and smoking in the cold. He could hear Solastron’s hot panting somewhere behind him and hear the roar of Etheil’s fire-sword as it was blown by the wind. And then he saw her. Aries lay upon the snow, crimson staining the white all around her in gory patches.
Syrus saw her too. “Aries!” He rushed to her side, skidding to his knees before her as he scooped her head up into his metal hands.
Brandrir saw Braken nearby. He was on his hands and knees, struggling to stand. Blood dripped from his stomach as he held it tightly. “Brandrir!” he managed to shout as he got to his feet. He pointed out to the northern horizon. “Fliers escaped!”
Brandrir turned his head. He didn’t see any fliers, but far off, in the dark, gray bleakness of the snow-swept icefields he saw the towering spires of ice known as the Shardgrims. They were like titanic icicles stuck upon the ground by some ancient god; sharp, ever-looming and biting at the very clouds as if they were the teeth of a demon seeking to devour the heavens. Those were the Shardgrims. That was the boundary where men dare not go. That was the home of the Kald.
“Some escaped. We tried…” Braken coughed and spat blood from his mouth. “We tried to stop them, but there were too many.”
Brandrir looked around. Eight fallen soldiers of the Grimwatch in black armor bloodied the snow, and two of his own in winterland armor. Strewn about were ten horses torn to shreds. Braken was injured, to what extent Brandrir did not yet know. And Aries…
Brandrir watched as Solastron bounded up to her as she lay in Syrus’s arms. The man gently slapped at her rosy cheeks with his black, metal hand. “Aries! Aries!” screamed Syrus. Brandrir ran up and knelt beside them. She had a small tear in the left side of her black, leather armor and one of the silver buckles there was bent and split. The wound was black and purple with frostbite and slushy blood oozed from it. The right side of her head also had icy blood. It clumped in her straw-blonde hair, making it difficult to gauge how bad the gash was. Solastron whined as he sniffed at her wounds.
“Aries!” screamed Syrus, gently shaking her small, limp body in his arms. “Aries! Aries!” He hugged her to his body. “This bud of love, ripened by Summer’s breath, let not Winter’s cruel hand cast all petals from it! Do not let the sun set on this day! Do not let the moon rise upon an eternal night!”
Solastron began licking at Aries’s head, lapping the blood from her hair. There was a small gash in her scalp, but as Solastron licked it the bleeding seemed to slow. She stirred in Syrus’s arms.
“Aries!” said Syrus, almost laughing. He gripped her head in both hands. Her eyes rolled and she let out a low moan. “Oh Aries, the sun yet holds high for you!”
Solastron began licking at her side. Aries’s eyes cracked open, revealing their glassy, gray color. Her black pupils bobbled and floated into a delicate focus on Syrus. The gears in her broken arm made a terrible grinding sound and then began clicking, but nothing moved. She raised her left arm, her giant hand opening, and stroked at Syrus’s long, metal muzzle with a big, steel finger. “S-Syrus…”
He scooped her little body up and hugged her close. “Aries!”
Solastron lapped at her cheek until she began to spit and swat at him. “Uhg! Ack!”
Solastron barked a ha
ppy-sounding bark.
“This bud of love, ripened by Summer’s breath?” jabbed Brandrir, smirking at Syrus. Syrus’s romantic rendezvous with Aries were the worst-kept secret at the Grimwatch. “Is there something between you two that I should know?”
Syrus started and cleared his throat as he stood up, helping Aries to sit upright. Brandrir was certain the man would have blushed if steel cheeks could.
Brandrir chuckled. “The sun yet holds high for you?”
Etheil rushed to Aries’s side and began unwrapping a medical kit from a leather pack.
“What?” said Syrus, hiking his shoulders and holding out his clawed hands. “Nights are long here in the north. Sometimes I read Chaldain. I figure his words are uplifting. They were the first thing that came to me, I swear it!”
Brandrir raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“His poems are beautiful! Beautiful I tell you!”
Brandrir laughed and watched as Etheil began dabbing at the wound on Aries’s head with some gauze. “Here, hold this here,” he told her. Then he began inspecting the gash at her side. He frowned and began taking out a needle and some thread.
Aries held the bandage to her head with her left hand. She watched Etheil thread the needle and she groaned. “Stitches again?” she whined.
Braken strode up, clutching at his gut. He looked at Syrus as Solastron began lapping at his wound. “At least Winter’s cruel hand has not cast all petals from this flower.”
“Dah!” spat Syrus, waving a dismissive hand.
Brandrir looked at Braken, his eyes lowering to the wound that Solastron was licking. “How bad is it?”
“I’ll live.” said Braken. He shooed the wolf away. Solastron made a slight whine and then padded off toward a snowbank. “For me, the moon has not risen upon an eternal—”
“Dah!” Syrus threw his arms up and strode over to Solastron who had his leg hiked at a snow drift, peeing. “I told you I would kill four with one stroke!” he boasted as he sidled up next to the wolf. “Ah, my friend,” said Syrus, relieving himself next to the wolf. “It’s good to mark our territory after a battle, is it not? When the scent of victory yet courses through our…”
Solastron hiked his leg higher and the soft patter of his urine changed to a metallic chime as the warm liquid began dripping down Syrus’s leg.
“Oh, come on!” cried Syrus. “We are brothers! Brothers!”
Solastron walked off toward Etheil who was now attending Braken, taking a moment to roll himself into some clean snow, covering his bright fur in powdery white.
“How many escaped?” asked Brandrir.
“Hard to say,” said Braken. He hissed as Etheil poked a threaded needle through his flesh. “At least two fliers.”
Brandrir puffed out a smoking breath and looked out upon the abyssal horizon where the Shardgrims loomed like the teeth of an ancient dragon. He appraised what was left of his men: eighteen soldiers, all a little worse for wear but in good shape nonetheless; himself, Etheil, Solastron and Syrus all in fighting condition. But Braken and Aries… He looked Braken in his red lenses. “How bad is it? For real.”
Braken’s reply of, “Not bad.” was overlaid with Etheil’s own reply of “Bad.”
Brandrir turned his eyes to Aries. She was in worse shape. “What happened to your right arm?”
She looked down at the limp thing a little forlornly. Then she turned her eyes to Brandrir. “It’s a long story.”
Brandrir sighed, his breath smoking and being carried off by the arctic winds. “I want you and Braken to return by way of—” He was about to say ‘Grimwalk’ when he remembered having caught the smell of the being there. If that thing were there, there was no way he could send Aries and Braken back home that way. Whatever it was, it was powerful. There was no way Aries and Braken would be able to face it alone in their condition. Brandrir changed his course of thought. “Are you two able to come with us?”
Etheil started at that and was about to protest when Aries said, “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” She tried to punch her giant fists together but grinding gears reminded her that her right arm was useless.
“Where you go, I go, my King.” said Braken.
Etheil finished up his stitches and looked at Brandrir, shaking his head. “I think we should all go back.” said Etheil. “Aries and Braken are in no condition to fight and we’re down two men of our own. And if fliers got away, they know we’re out here.”
Brandrir thought for a moment, staring out at the Shardgrims. There was nothing here. Nothing he might use to seek aid from his brother. There was no army of Kald; no gathering battalions or machines of war. Still, the Kald had to be up to something. He looked out at those jagged teeth that tore at the sky. There had to be something there. “If we could just see beyond the Shardgrims.” he said aloud, but mostly to himself.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” said Etheil.
Brandrir puffed out a smoking breath. He couldn’t appeal to his brother and the Council if he didn’t have something. “We have a chance to see beyond the Shardgrims. The next time we’re out here there might very well be a full army waiting. We press on. I have to know what they’re up to.”
“Brandrir,” Etheil whispered into his ear with a warning tone. They walked alone back toward the opening to the Grimwalk. “Braken and Aries are in no shape. At least send them back through the Grimwalk.”
Brandrir looked at Etheil. “I can’t. That thing that attacked me the other night is in there.”
Etheil seemed to grow paler as he looked toward the corridor’s dark opening. “Are you certain?”
Brandrir nodded. “Before we left the corridor I caught its scent.”
Etheil looked back at Brandrir. “Fire the flare. Seal it off. Braken said fliers escaped, we can’t risk keeping it now anyway. We all return home down the valley.”
At Brandrir’s side hung a steel pistol, like a miniature bolt-thrower. It was the flare gun to signal the permanent sealing of the Grimwalk, should the need arise. Brandrir thought for a moment. Then he reached over to the jagged, rocky wall and found the hidden stone and depressed it. With a rumble, the massive boulder began to rise up, closing off the Grimwalk. “That thing can open portals. It’ll get out even if we seal the Grimwalk. The escapees were gone before we exited. The Grimwalk is too valuable to seal unless we absolutely have to.”
“Then we all return home down the valley.” said Etheil.
Brandrir looked at Etheil. “We need supplies. We need Jinn at the Grimwatch. I have to seek aid from my brother, but I can’t do that unless I have good reason. I need to see what the Kald are up to.”
Etheil was stunned. “You mean, you’re actually going to go speak with your brother?”
Brandrir pursed his lips and nodded. “But I won’t unless we have a good reason.”
“Your brother loves you, Brandrir.” said Etheil. “Ask him for aid, and he will give it to you. He won’t abandon you.”
Brandrir shook his head. “I won’t go to him. Not unless there is a reason.”
“Then send me.” urged Etheil. “I will go to him.”
“Not without reason.” said Brandrir, starting to become annoyed.
Etheil pursed his lips. Brandrir could see the battle raging in his Captain’s mind. Etheil had been on his case for months about seeking aid from King Dagrir and was now torn between wanting what was best for Aries and Braken, and what was best for the Grimwatch. But Brandrir knew that Etheil wouldn’t want to pass up a chance for him to finally speak with his brother. Brandrir slapped Etheil on the shoulder a couple times. “We can’t send Aries and Braken back alone, not even through the valley if that thing knows we’re out here. If we run into trouble at the Shardgrims, I’ll order them to hold back.”
Etheil sighed, his frosty breath carried away with the winds. He looked at Bra
ndrir and nodded.
Brandrir looked over to his waiting men. “Let’s go!” he shouted. “Move out!”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
“Braken said he didn’t see anything.” Etheil whispered into Brandrir’s ear as they ducked behind an icy snowdrift that curled over their heads like a tidalwave ready to devour them. Beyond, across a short distance of deep snow, the Shardgrims loomed like menacing giants in the deepening, gray skies. All around them large flakes of snow floated down in straight curtains, like strings of pearls. There was little wind, and their breaths lingered by their faces in ghostly clouds. At their left, behind a drift of snow with a sharp, curled overhang sculpted by winds, huddled Syrus, Aries, Braken and the other men. “His eyes see better than any of ours, and he saw no movement. Should we move out?”
“Not yet,” said Brandrir, peeking his head up over the drift. He couldn’t immediately see Solastron anywhere. He hoped the wolf would return soon. “Where’s Solastron?”
“He might have found something.” said Etheil. “He’ll be back.” Then he said more quietly, “We should leave Aries and Braken here.”
Brandrir ducked behind the snowdrift and puffed out a breath. He looked to the side where his other men were all ducked behind their own snow drifts. “We might still need Braken’s eyes. And I can’t leave Aries alone.”
Etheil sighed, blowing a plume of frosty breath from his mouth. Snowflakes settled on his black shroud and frozen beads of ice clung to his and Brandrir’s winterland armor. “I think they should stay back.”
Brandrir didn’t say anything. He knew Etheil was right, but he also knew that there was no way Aries or Braken would agree to stay here and he didn’t feel like getting into arguments with them about it. He and Etheil sat together silently for many long minutes until a giant, blue and purple streak bounded over their heads and landed behind the snowdrift with them. Solastron nuzzled up to Etheil and made a couple small barks. Etheil rubbed the great wolf’s ears and sides, knocking clumps of snow from his fur. “What did you see, boy?” he asked.
Here Shines the Sun Page 22