Solastron whirled around and rolled on the ground, re-covering himself with snow, and then bounded up onto the snowbank. Etheil climbed up and lay down beside the wolf. Solastron pointed his black nose toward the west and made a couple of low, menacing rumbles as he scratched at the snow.
“That way,” said Etheil to Brandrir, pointing. “There’s something that way.”
Solastron bounded forward, toward the foot of one of the sheer, icy faces of the Shardgrims, about two-hundred yards ahead. Brandrir stood up and looked at his men. “Move out!” he ordered, and then leapt up and hurried toward the wolf.
The Shardgrims were a tight collection of mountainous spires that broke straight up from the icefields, as if they had chewed themselves free during some ancient age. Each was at least a thousand feet high, tapering to a wicked looking point that scraped at the eternal layer of gray clouds that swirled above them. Their walls were sheer and steep, caked with snow and rime. No one knew if they were stone or solid ice beneath that shell. They stood like soldiers in a semi-circular line, blocking the arctics beyond. Nobody had ever traveled past the Shardgrims, and nobody knew what the yonder arctics held, for that was the domain of the Kald. Occasionally Brandrir would send patrols out into these icefields to scout for any activity, and some never returned. Brandrir himself had only been this close to the Shardgrims once before and at that time they had been swarming with demons. He felt there was something off about not having seen a single one out here.
They all threw their backs against the massive face of the Shardgrims. High above their heads the winds whistled through their sharp, jagged tops. They made eerie popping and cracking noises, as if they were alive and sought to free themselves from the snow and ice that encased them. Occasionally a large chunk of ice would tumble down and thud into the snow nearby, and Brandrir could see it had all the men on edge. Solastron had his black nose to the ground as he slunk along the perimeter, his hot breaths churning up snow as he went. Brandrir led his men in single-file, keeping close to the sheer face, and the men all ducked or put their arms up at each sound of falling ice.
Solastron kept them at a light jog for a full league. The sky had darkened to deep, menacing grays and the Shardgrims were casting everything in haunting shadows when at last the wolf stopped and put his nose to the falling snow. His nostrils flared as he sucked in the frostbitten air and then his eyes fixed on something in the distance. He let out a low growl.
“Braken!” Brandrir’s voice was a loud whisper as he beckoned to his lieutenant.
In the long shadows Braken’s ruby-lensed goggles shone eerily as he came up behind Brandrir, panting and holding his stomach. “Yes, my Liege.” he said between heavy, ghostly breaths.
“What do you see?” asked Brandrir.
Braken crept past Brandrir and stood beside the growling Solastron. His lenses focused on the forward distance, his head scanning the sheer face of the Shardgrims. “Hidden stairs.” he said. “Cut from the ice. They look like some type of secret entrance. They’re narrow, but they seem to lead up into some sort of outpost above.”
“Any Kald?” asked Brandrir.
Braken studied the distance for a long moment. “I see nothing. No lights, no movement.”
“What do you think?” Etheil whispered behind Brandrir. “A trap?”
“Probably.” said Brandrir. “They know we’re out here. Strange that we have not seen any of them.”
“We’ve all but lost the sun now.” said Etheil. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Brandrir thought for a moment. Nobody had ever been this close to the Shardgrims in recent memory. He really wanted to see what was beyond these icy spires.
Etheil nudged Brandrir’s side and motioned with his head. Brandrir looked at Braken as the man stood holding his injured gut, panting. Brandrir chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. Then he put a hand on Braken’s shoulder. “Can you continue?”
“Brandrir Thorodin, if you go on, so must I.” said Braken. “I shall not stand idly by as my King runs headlong into danger. And my eyes may yet be of service to you.”
Brandrir’s lips skewed. He looked at Aries.
“I’m not staying back either.” said Aries. “My one arm is worth two of yours. Besides, something might need to go boom.”
Brandrir looked at his men. “We are tired. Some of us are injured. The day fails us. But if we go, we shall be the first men since the age of the Great Falling to see beyond the icy walls of the Shardgrims. I shall not order any of you to press on. What say you?”
“I go.” said Braken.
“I go too.” said Aries.
“I’m with you, boss.” said Syrus.
The soldiers stepped forward as one and stomped their right feet in unison. “We go.” said one.
Brandrir took a leather pack from one of the soldiers and pulled out a small, wooden chest. He knelt down, his armored knee digging into the snowpack. He opened the lid and poured black soil upon the white snow. “May the Duroton sky yet see us. May the Lands bear witness to our bravery.” He stood and addressed the men. “For the Grimwatch!”
“For the Grimwatch!” the men cheered as one and Solastron barked.
Etheil smiled at Brandrir. “I have to admit, there’s something exhilarating about throwing caution to the wind.”
Brandrir looked at his men. “Swords out. Move silent, move fast.”
Brandrir slid his sword from its sheath but did not activate it, fearing its hum might give their position away. He heard the hiss of steel as the rest of his men armed themselves. He turned to Etheil. “No fire unless we need it.”
Etheil nodded.
“Let’s go!” Brandrir waved his arm and took off after Solastron who bounded ahead.
Built up the side of the icy wall, hidden behind an alcove of snow-covered stones, was a narrow and cleverly disguised flight of stairs carved right out of the ice. They ascended at a very steep incline and disappeared about fifty-yards up, behind some jagged, icy pillars. Solastron raced up them with little effort and was soon out of sight, but Brandrir found himself scrambling up the steps with both his arms and legs, trying to dig the sharp points of his boots and bracers into the ice to keep from slipping. From above came the muted snarls of the wolf, and a couple brief shrieks cut short.
As Brandrir neared the top of the ice-steps he saw slushy, red clumps dripping down. He entered onto a frosty platform where three Kald lay in a mangled heap. Ahead there was a narrow corridor, and he could see the big, bloody pawprints of Solastron leading across it. He hurried to catch up, the boots of his men coming close behind. He could hear some more snarls and aborted shrieks and then entered into a large chamber without a ceiling. Above, the darkening skies loomed. To either side were sheer walls of ice capped by sharp, snow-covered spires. Two more Kald lay here, already torn to pieces.
At the end of the chamber there was another corridor, and Solastron stood before it, his hot breath smoking in the chill air. His lips were furled in something of a snarl, baring his pearly fangs that dripped with black-red demon blood. His shaggy, blue tail swished from side to side. There was something about his gaze though that Brandrir noticed right away. Solastron’s aquamarine eyes typically shown with an intelligent benevolence. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trick of the fading light and the gruesome blood upon his maw, but right now they seemed to gleam with a more bestial intent and wild judgment. The wolf turned and waited at the foot of the corridor, swishing his tail.
Brandrir and his men sidled up to the wall and he peered down the dark hall. It was carved from stone, every inch covered with misanthropic ice. It was lit by only a handful of low-burning torches set on the walls. The high ceiling was hung with frosty-white stalactites and at various intervals he could see a few wooden doors down its length. Each was opened, and each was white with frost. He could hear hisses and the growling tongue of the Kald coming
from some of them. Brandrir turned to his men, gesturing with his hands to move quickly and in teams of three. Solastron set off down the hall and Brandrir and his soldiers gave chase, their boot-falls surprisingly silent on the icy floor.
Brandrir turned into the first entryway, following Solastron. It was some sort of barracks whose walls were lined with frosty, wooden racks of demon weapons. Upon the walls a couple torches flickered. There were a number of Kald but before they could even turn around Brandrir was on them. His sword swept out, slicing wide the first’s neck. A second began to raise a shrill cry when Brandrir’s sword took its head off. Beside him, Solastron pounced on top of one of the creatures, ripping it limb from limb in a blinding frenzy. Another began to run from the room but the wolf leapt into the air, tackling it and then tearing into the back of its head, throwing icy blood everywhere. From the other chambers down the hall Brandrir could hear the clang of steel and a few grunts and shrieks. By the time he and Solastron were back into the corridor the rest of his men came filing out of their respective rooms, their swords all clung with slushy Kald blood.
At the end of the frozen hall there was a T-intersection. A narrow corridor hewn of jagged, lumpy ice wound its way up into chill darkness above. A second hall led downward upon a steep incline, its frosted walls lit by a handful of torches until darkness obscured its destination. Brandrir briefly pondered his options. Something told him that the upward route might be a safer bet, but there was something alluring to him about the downward hall and it seemed to call out to him. He felt compelled in that direction, and he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps it was because downward might lead out to the fields beyond the Shardgrims? Or maybe it was because downward was the natural inclination of direction when thinking about demons? No, Brandrir felt it was something more profound. Something down that direction was pulling him, and he had to know what it was.
“Which way?” Etheil whispered into Brandrir’s ear.
Brandrir turned to his captain. “Lead the charge up that way.” he said. “Take Syrus and eight of the soldiers with you. Keep Braken and Aries at the rear. I’ll take the other ten soldiers down this way.”
“Is this such a good idea?” argued Etheil. “To split our numbers like that?”
“If we all take the same direction we risk being flanked.” said Brandrir. “We meet back here in an hour.”
Etheil nodded. He turned and quickly sorted out the ten strongest soldiers and sent them to Brandrir. “Sixty minutes.” said Etheil. “Let’s move.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Solastron slowly padded his way up the narrow, winding corridor and Etheil followed close behind with Syrus and eight soldiers in tow and Aries and Braken bringing up the rear. Whether the steps were stone covered in a thick layer of lumpy, white ice or they were carved right out of the very walls of the Shardgrims Etheil did not know, but they were slippery and treacherous at best. More than once he heard a soldier’s steel boot slip and scrape loudly on them. There were few torches lighting the way, and many of them appeared to have gone out long ago. At length the stairs wound around a final bend and Etheil could smell fresh, frostbitten air pouring over him.
He followed Solastron up onto a large landing that spread out into a wide, canyon-like passageway canopied by nothing but the night sky. At either side were jagged spires of ice, like the fangs of beasts, set against sheer walls of snow and ice that rose many hundreds of feet above. The canyon walls shielded them from all wind, but large snowflakes drifted down in soft curtains all around. Through the gray clouds that obscured the night sky Etheil could see the moon’s pale orb desperately trying to shine its way through, and its diffuse, silver light was all that lit their way. The wide pass led about a hundred yards out to where two pillars of ice were set against the side of an icy cliff. It was a cavernous opening that was hung with icicles, making it look like the maw of some otherworldly beast.
Solastron began padding his way across the passage and Etheil followed with the others behind. As Solastron walked, Etheil noticed that the wolf’s panting sounded a little labored, and hot clouds of his breath streamed from his muzzle. The wolf’s paws were black with demon blood and they left gruesome prints in his wake. But Solastron was also leaving a dotted trail of his own blood between them. Next to the demon blood, the wolf’s own shown true crimson and was unmistakable. Etheil couldn’t immediately see any wounds on the wolf but figured he must be injured somewhere.
“Solastron, boy.” said Etheil quietly. “Come.”
The wolf did not slow his padding.
“What is wrong?” asked Syrus from behind.
Etheil pointed at the bloody trail.
“Ah, wounds of battle.” said Syrus. “They help to build character. Perhaps with enough character he will finally speak with me. Solastron, my brother! Come and be mended! Share your tale of woe with me!”
The wolf let loose a low growl but continued padding along.
Etheil pursed his lips into a frown. It was not like the wolf to ignore him, nor to act like this. “Solastron,” he said a little more loudly. “Come.”
The wolf paid him no heed.
Etheil hurried his pace and reached out for Solastron. No sooner had his hand touched the top of the wolf’s back when Solastron turned, snarling and growling viciously, his jaws snapping at Etheil’s hand. Etheil flinched back, his fingers narrowly escaping. “Whoa, boy!”
Solastron stood there facing Etheil, his lips turned up in a savage snarl, revealing his bloodied teeth. His eyes gleamed fiercely in the silver light of the moon. Hot breath smoked around his giant, blue head.
Etheil took a couple steps back until he bumped into the metal body of Syrus. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Solastron was much smarter and brighter than anybody knew. Etheil alone was privy to the wolf’s true nature and intelligence. But in this moment Solastron’s eyes did not show with any benevolence; his demeanor had not an ounce of friendship in it. He looked like a wild beast, and it terrified Etheil.
From behind, Etheil could hear the soldier’s whispering among themselves. He heard Aries ask what the matter was. He could feel the tension of all the men behind him as the great wolf stared them down, as if he would tear into their ranks at any moment.
“I do not think your wolf is well.” said Syrus. “Perhaps the Kald blood has gone to his brain?”
“Solastron,” said Etheil, bending to his knees. He patted them, his gauntlets gently chiming on his armor. “Solastron, come here, boy. What’s wrong. Let me take a look.”
The wolf’s eyes narrowed. Etheil saw his obsidian claws rake the ice he stood upon. And then Solastron turned, his tail swishing, and he padded forward again.
“What was that about?” asked Braken, coming up behind Etheil.
Etheil shook his head. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never seen him act like this.”
“Is he safe?” asked Aries. “I mean, I’ve seen what he can do when he’s mad.”
Etheil breathed in deeply, keeping his eyes on the wolf as he headed down the pass toward the cavernous opening. “Let’s go back. Something isn’t right with him.” Etheil called out to Solastron, probably a little more loudly than he should have. “Solastron, come! We’re going back!”
The wolf did not turn around and continued heading for the pillared cavern.
“All of you go back and wait for Brandrir. I have to see what’s wrong with Solastron.” Etheil hurried toward the wolf.
“If he’s going I’m going.” said Aries.
“Us wolfs, we must stick together.” said Syrus. “It is the way of the pack.”
From behind, one of the soldiers stated that he would not leave his Captain behind.
“We go,” said Syrus, leading the men forward.
“Solastron,” said Etheil, coming up behind the wolf as he approached the cave opening. Beyond was a large chambe
r of ice and stone with a high ceiling hung with frosty stalactites. It was lit by a number of brightly burning torches and at the opposite side was another large gateway that seemed to lead down into darkened tunnels.
Solastron padded his way inside. Hesitantly, Etheil followed. “Solastron!” he called, a little more forcefully, but the wolf kept walking. Etheil took a glance behind him and silently cursed when he saw the others approaching. He had hoped he might chance speaking with the wolf, but he could not do that if they were around.
Etheil looked at Solastron. Blood now stained his underside red and it pattered like rain upon the snow-covered floor, leaving a grisly trail. Then Etheil noticed something. There were deep, red gashes beneath his fur, all over his body, as if he had been hacked repeatedly by a sword. And Etheil felt his blood run cold as a memory stirred in his mind; a memory of a tale Solastron had once told him. “S-Solastron…”
The wolf stopped in his tracks and turned around. Thick, white, foamy saliva dripped from the edges of his mouth. His eyes gleamed with an uncontrolled ferocity. And there, upon his chest, dashing any doubt Etheil might have had about the nature of the wounds, was a deep, bloody cut that rained blood.
Etheil froze. In his mind he counted the wounds and an unbidden memory of Solastron’s voice echoed in his mind. “Six Judges of Hell there are and six scars do I bear upon my body. The one upon my chest is Anger, and it bit me the deepest of all. The sword that left it is named War and the Judge who wields it is more terrible than words can recount.”
The wolf snarled at him and then turned, passing ever deeper into the chamber.
“What’s wrong?” Braken’s metallic voice rumbled into Etheil’s ear.
“I don’t know.” said Etheil. “But all of you need to go. Now.”
Here Shines the Sun Page 23