by Henry Otis Clarke
I
The high pitched wail of a terrified little girl echoed in his mind. Vohl! Vohl! She cried. Alia! Alía! his own voice screamed to his daughter. The fetters held taut as he fought against them. bolted to the floor. Helpless. Helpless. And her screams rang and pealed off the vaulted chamber, combining with the cabalistic invocations of the wizard king Tuathal. Vohl‘s voice stopped as he saw the sacrificial knife raise. Vo-! The scream ended. The dream was always the same. The dream was a memory.
How many days had past since he'd found himself loosened from his bonds? Tuathal looking down at him through eyes of gloating satisfaction, his armored guards hemmed in with weapons ready to finish Vohl. Tuathal's hair still frizzed with static electricity. There was the faint glow in his flesh of one who seethed with unearthly powers. “I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to know it was done and you could do nothing to stoop it. I needed an ‘unopened door', a virgin.”
Vohl lurched toward him but the guards held him at bay. “Kill me now wizard. You won't get a second chance. You hear? You won't get another chance! I'll come for you!” Tuathal closed his eyes, bathing in the anguish in Vohl's voice. He smiled, opened them “Of course you will. I want you to. “ his blue robes billowed as he turned and walked away, “Throw him outside!” he called to the guards behind his back, “Send him off sweetly.” The beating started at once. He awoke to find himself outside Tuathal's Keep. The Castle fortress silhouetted against the waning sun. he stole a horse. Stole provisions. He rode for days without stopping, an intuition driving him north.
He'd ridden deep into the night which had come upon him faster than he'd anticipated. His internal drive moved him inexplicably northward and he'd pushed the beast beyond its limits. Helpless. Helpless. The pain, anger fueled his need for revenge. Justice demanded requital. But something else pushed him, guided him forced him northward. The beasts finally stumbled to the ground wheezing, its frothy breath freezing as it struck the air. Vohl crashed into the snow, tumbling painfully into the hard packed snow. The wind tore at his limbs and howled demonic choruses across the tundra. He saw no shelter. Except, the dying still warm body of the horse. Vohl drew the hunting knife that he'd managed to steal from one of the guards as they threw him out. The stallion's legs kicked slowly and its head lolled in feeble motions in the ice. Vohl moved around to its back. Reaching around, he drew the blade across its throat. The horse jerked, whinnying and dying. He smelled the hot blood as it flowed onto the glacial field. He worked fast, slitting the torso lengthwise. Wrapping his cloak about himself, he entered the makeshift. shelter.
Morning came. Vohl struggled against the enclosure which now held him and opened his eyes as the warmth rapidly left the carcass of the horse that he'd buried himself in against the cold. If he didn't find adequate shelter soon, the caking equine blood would soon freeze and he would die. Vengeance from the grave did not suit Vohl's plans. Vohl stood up in the feeble sunlight. The windless cold turned the blood and bits of flesh into a brown crust covering the great, hooded dark green cloak he wore against the weather. The sun rose on his right, casting morning shadows that made the snow sparkle blue and gold. Vohl reached for his canteen. Empty. Well, at least there was plenty snow to melt into water. Thirst would not kill him. He looked at the horse carcass. Neither would hunger. He unsheathed his hunting blade and set about harvesting meat for himself.
***
Night fell quickly, unexpectedly. The deafening wind seared Vohl's skin. The heavy cloak and thick clothes, stiff with ice and blood were useless. Vohl felt the call of exhaustion after hours of traversing the rough artic terrain. Mother Death's lullaby sounded faintly. The wind sliced at his groin. Mother Death's cold eye gleamed full in the sudden night sky. His mind formed her words; “Nunkuk alei, alei ,alei Nunkuk alei, sa saba soonkua.”
“Come unto me to me to me
Come unto me and sleep forever.”
And Vohl wanted to sleep. To drift away from the cold; away from the pain and devastation; away from the loss and the sounds of Alia screaming. Give in to Mother Death. The land was rocky now. It rolled before him while snow capped boulders jutted out like hag's teeth. He staggered. Fell. Raised himself up and found that a sharp rock had gashed his forearm adding his own fresh blood to the stained and crusted garments. “Never felt it,” he said and the wind answered him.
Not far ahead a large rock loomed. Its southern face afforded shelter if only from the wind. Vohl moved toward it and sat with his back against the cold surface, not feeling it bite into him. Wait here for Mother Death. Join Alía, Alía, my daughter, my child. I'm so sorry. He wept into semi-consciousness. His senses dulled as he let go. Sleep now, sleep forever. Snow crunched with syncopated footfalls. Horsemen? Caravan of Mother Death? He didn't see the two forms that gazed down at his fleeting soul. Their words formed in his mind.
”He smells of good blood,” said the One.
”He smells of stale horse meat,” said the Other.
”Good for food still?” said the One
”No. The rules we must follow” said the Other
”But he's almost dead.” said the One
”Almost is not most” said the Other
”I can make him most…” said the One
”Rules? I'll tell…” said the Other
”You wouldn't!” said the One
”Fine. Let's find out.” said the Other
”All right,” sighed the One, ”rules we will obey.”
”Good choice,” said the Other, ”now pick him up so we can go.” said the Other
”You carry him. You want to follow rules.” said the One
” Spoiled sport,” said the Other.
”Sour puss,” said the One
II
He awoke in water, his head supported smooth contoured stone. The smoothness continued down below the waterline along his back and under his buttocks. All this he felt for his nakedness. He kept his eyes closed, taking in his surroundings with his other senses. The pool gurgled. The ambient drips of water told him the area was fairly large; a cavern perhaps. Or a chamber like the one where he saw--. He stopped himself, forced himself away from self pity. Focus. What else? He felt the minute pressure of light on his eyelids. The water wasn't hot nor cold, but comfortable. His body felt the effects of healing herbs. Felt the feather touch of leaves brush against his chest as they floated with the ripples of current. A spring? He listened intently. Among other sounds he heard breathing, panting. He was not alone. Something bestial, and mammoth attended him. His nostrils picked a faint animal scent. He drew a deep, slow breath. Voices formed in his head
”He wakens,” said the One
”He does indeed, call Mistress. I'll watch him,” said the Other
”You're a bossy bitch, you know that?” rumbled the One.
”Bossy? Yes. That I am. Bitch? That's your mother.” hummed the Other
”Why you!…well, I guess you got a point there.” conceded the One.
Vohl partly raised his eyes. The room was indeed a cavern. The ceiling glowed with phosphorescent stalactites. A fire burned in a vast hearth hewn from the cave's wall. Torches added light to the petrified hall. Vohl's pool was a spa carved from rock. It sat opposite the fire place and was about eight feet in circumference. Along the wall next to him were a series of similar spas, each with varying degrees of heat. His clothes lay folded neatly on a small table near the inglenook. His eyes fell upon the source of the breathing . Silhouetted against the fireplace, living forms appraised him. The One to Vohl's left was an immense wolf. Its triangular head cocked in curiosity. His ears peaked and alert. The Other to his right was an enormous cat similar in form to the ones that prowled Vohl's homeland. But this one's fur was the color of storm clouds and long tusks protruded from either side of its jaws and curved inward like hunting knives. Around its neck was a leather collar with a luminescent stone at its throat that glowed a dull turquoise. Its tail moved languid and pensively. Both had eyes that glowed wickedly in the flamelight.
”The water will cleanse his skin.” said the wolf.
”He is not dirty stupid, that's his natural color. He's far from home.”
”There are those so dark? He's as dark as hardened lava!”
”Will you get Mistress or not?”
”Did I not say you were bossy?”
The tiger snarled and pounced past the wolf and trotted through a doorway cursing. When her voice had dwindled, the wolf said. ”You are awake. We both know it.” It stood on all fours as Vohl opened his eyes fully and stared at the beast. It had to be nearly a horse's height.
“Yes, he said, “I am. What is this place.”
“You are in the house of the Lady Jökulhetta. The Ice Queen. I am Hovaritch. The cat is Morana. Do you feel sick?”
“No. should I?”
”Pity. Then I guess I'll have to lie.” Hovaritch crossed the hall slowly. His eyes narrowed.
“Lie? About what?” Vohl said. Beneath the water he tightened his left fist watching for the right moment, knowing it was vain.
“About why I had to eat you.” Hovaritch bounded toward the pool, teeth bared, a low growl seeped through his jaws.
Vohl braced himself for the impact of fur, flesh and teeth, the pain of crushed bone and torn skin that would come. At least it would be a good death. A warrior's death.
Vohl's fist exploded from the water to strike at its nose A flash occurred as the wolf's jaws neared. Hovaritch howled. Vohl was blinded. He smelled singed fur and ozone. When his eyes adjusted, the wolf was nursing his paws and mouth by dipping them in the adjacent pool. “That damned cat!” it growled. In Vohl's own pool, he noticed for the first time, dried yellow flowers with green helmet shaped leaves disintegrating in the agitated water.
Vohl, amused but still recovering from the flash said, “Least-ways you won't have to lie.” Hovaritch looked over at his would be victim.
“You're not upset that I attacked you?”
“No. A good death is all a warrior can hope for. If you were able to kill me.”
Hovaritch rose facing him fully, teeth bared. “You doubt that I could? You do not know me.”
“I know me.”
“Perhaps when the wolfsbane herb isn't guarding you, we'll see.”
“Aye,” Vohl said, “Perhaps”
Hovaritch dropped down onto the floor, approached the fireplace, turned around three times and laid down. He crossed his paws and rested his head on them. His eyes remained fixed upon Vohl. Vohl returned the gaze.
The water hadn't lost its warmth and continued to churn gently. Vohl began to feel his strength building slowly. He touched the area where he'd scratched himself. A scar was there. Almost healed. He decided to stay in the pool since Hovaritch had made himself comfortable by the hearth. The heat felt good, although hunger tugged at his gut. He leaned back against the poolside. Jökulhetta. Ice Queen. This was her palace no doubt. But he hadn't seen any servants around since he'd awakened. Except for the great feline and lupine beast that guarded him. And they were more than servants. They were Familiars. Vohl sighed. Another witch. He shook his head with a rueful smile. Jökulhetta was the latest in his frequent sorcery encounters. It was a witch that had killed Alía. It was a witch that had opened the portals of spacetime to allow the Ethereals in to plunge the world into darkness. To produce halflings that served as purveyors of violence and death. Fellers, some called them, Nephillim. Vohl had had his fill with witches. This Jökulhetta would be the first to feel his vengeance against her kind. Why was he rescued from the snow? No doubt she sought another victim to spellbind. Vohl knew some magic himself. It was a witch that had trained him in the art of blood and death. The Shaman of his longed for homeland taught him though he rarely used magic. Sword and spear were enough for him.
Hovaritch's ears perked and he bounced to his feet, facing the entranceway. Morana silently entered followed by a figure clad in a thick gray fur robe. Its hood obscured any hint of identity. The mantle seemed bulky and shapeless. Was this Jökulhetta? He heard a whisper, prayer-like coming from the opening of the hood. The figure seemed tall. The clothing made the shoulders hunch. Mittens covered its hands. A large skin bag hung from the left mit while the other dipped into the purse as the form approached Vohl's pool. Morana gave a low rumble as she passed Hovaritch who glared at her and bared his teeth. The cat eyed a low ledge carved out of the wall and jumped upon it and perched. The stone in her collar seemed to have dulled. The figure began tossing the contents of the bag into the pool. The muttering continued and the water roiled furiously. Vohl, at first alarmed, saw dried leaves fall into the pool. He felt rejuvenated as they released an aroma that filled the air. He thought of the spices used by his mother and the women of his home in preparing ceremonial meals. He kept his eye on the fur clad specter. There was a slight buzzing sensation on his arm. He touched it. The scar was gone. The figure reached out over the pool hands inches above the water. The whisper became a hum, a concentrating of thoughts. A gasp, like the sound of dried leaves, followed by a sigh of satisfied comprehension ended the work. It stepped back from the pool and gestured Vohl to stand and come out.
Vohl faltered. Hovaritch's yellow eyes bore into him. The witch wouldn't have saved and healed him only to have him torn apart by this wolf creature, he thought. As for modesty, well, Nudity was common in his land. Bolstered by such thoughts, Vohl stood. water dripped from his lean, massive frame catching the firelight and the weirdling overhead glow. He stepped out of the pool and onto the stone floor. The hearth warmed the ground to his soles and water pooled around his feet. Morana shifted on her perch and grumbled slightly. Vohl glanced uneasily at her. The figure stood quietly. Vohl could feel its appraising gaze from within the darkness of its hood. It motioned for him to dress, then turned abruptly and strode toward the door. A hissed command snapped the animals to notice. Morana leaped from her placed and landed silently behind her liege.
When Vohl had dressed, Hovaritch led him along a series of rock hewn corridors. A pervasive melancholy began to build within Vohl; and the pull, the urge to venture northward gnawed at his mind's fringes. Somehow he knew that to answer that call, to follow the pull would lead to the means of vengeance against Tuathal. He didn't need to be here, he told himself. Alía was dead. Her screams became a chorus in his memory. Tuathal's strength was complete. His oneness with the Ethereals a holistic continuum of darkness. Alía's blood had been the key. Vohl's breathed heavily. His anger seared his innards and the walls seemed to shrink. Alía's cries keened in his mind's ears high-pitched and horrified. The call to flee north. Avenge his daughter. Kill Tuathal.
“Keep pace Dark Meat,” Hovaritch's voice growled in Vohl's head, “or I'll feast on your entrails!”
Vohl's foot lashed out, catching the lupine servant between its hind legs. Hovaritch yelped and spun around, his jaws naked and jagged with teeth. He snapped where Vohl's leg should have been. But the warrior's speed matched its own. Vohl crouched. His hands poised in open palm at right angles to his body. Instinct functioned both man and fiend. Hovaritch bounded toward him. Vohl caught him in mid flight and fell backward, holding the wolf's jaws inches from his face. Hot drops of saliva speckled Vohl as Hovaritch snapped and snarled. Talons tore at Vohl's clothing. He had underestimated Hovaritch's size and strength. The demon dog's weight bore down on him. Vohl gasped and threw him off. Both jumped to their feet. Hovaritch growled and crouched for another leap.
“Hovaritch!” the voice boomed in his mind, “Stop it!”
Vohl squatted and felt the twinge of scratches where the beast's talons ripped through his leather jerkin. He watched its hind legs for the slightest hint of a leap. The wolf lunged, his jaws agape seeking his opponent's throat. Vohl wished he had a blade. A sudden artic blast rushed past his ear. A ball of snow struck he wolf, the force slamming him into the wall. Vohl turned to find mysterious host standing some feet behind him..
The woman that stood before him was tall. Her silver gray sleeveless tunic that reached down to her fur clad snow boots. Her right arm was cuffed with a polished band of beaten silver. Her headband was black leather and held a stone similar to the Cat's. It held in place hair that fell past her shoulders to the small of her back. Her large almond shaped eyes were gray. Her face shaped like a teardrop, bore a small hard set mouth with full lips. Her skin was blue. Her left arm was raised and ice seemed to thaw from her forearm to her fingers. Frosty crystals rapidly faded. She gazed hard at her familiar.
“I said stop it!”
III
Jökulhetta dressed his wounds with care. Herbs steeped in hot springwater filled a large ceramic bowl. Vohl watched her dip a cloth in it and tenderly clean each scratch. Morana stretched out in front of a raised throne. Air filled one cheek and seeped through her mouth as she dosed. Her saber like canines gleamed in the flamelight and phosphorescence. Hovaritch was nowhere in sight.
She said nothing as she worked, cleansing and applying salves to each cut on his shoulders, arms abdomen. His brown leather jerkin would need repair or replacing. Water dripped as Jökulhetta squeezed out the rag. Vohl observed her care. Why hadn't she just returned him to the healing pool? She seemed to revel in touching him, her artic blue skin stark against the jet black of his own. Occasionally she would glance at him. her eyes with irises like polished silver, seemed to fight to remain impassive.
“He wouldn't have killed you, you know,” She said. Vohl snorted.
“Of course. He just sought an affectionate kiss.”
“He was testing you; to see if you were worthy.”
“Worthy? Worthy of what witch!” Vohl blazed. He stood and caught her forearms. Morana roared and crouched, ready to strike. “Release my queen darkling!”
Vohl felt Jökulhetta arms grow cold. Ice crystals raced from her fingertips and down to her elbow. In an instant Vohl was holding a sculpture of her. The ice figure shattered as Morana roared again. Vohl turned to see Jökulhetta standing beside her.
“You forget your place Danduian! You think because I nurse you that I'd not have your guts spread across this floor! Touch me again and see what happens.”
“Why am I here!” shouted Vohl, “What rule of yours do these creatures follow that I should be brought here and attacked?”
“Sit down and I'll tell you, you thick headed brute! Do you think I've spared you, healed you for my own purposes? Haven't you felt the Call?” Vohl hesitated. How did she know of that? He sank slowly to the bench, guardedly watching her.
“Go on,” he said.
Jökulhetta alighted the dais to her throne and sat meeting his gaze. Morana followed her and sat at her feet. She bared her teeth and gave a menaced rumble.
“Why did you come here Vohl?” Jökulhetta said, “What do you seek? You don't know do you. You kept coming North, always North, until the night fell and became eternal and the Wolf and Bear feared to tread. Where Hovaritch and Morana hunt and fight. Where I reside in loneliness save for these bestial companions. What brought you here to me?”
“I know why you're here, even if you don't. You seek the means to avenge yourself for the death of your daughter. You seek resources against the Ethereals and their progeny. Did you even know there was such a thing? A thing so awful to them so as to set those mighty spirits to tremble? Aye I tell you, my obsidian fighter, you seek that which was attuned to you ere you were born.”
He felt truth as she spoke. He could have returned to his homeland; carried out the traditional mourning for his lost Alía. There would've been no shame in this. But the pull was so great! He ventured northward before he could even realize where he was going. He looked at the floor. The pain of Alía's suffering and death felt like a salted wound.
“What is this thing? Tell me. I must know what I'm here for.” Jökulhetta shifted in her seat. She tossed her silver hair back with a deliberate smile. She leaned forward, placed her elbows on her knees and steepled her fingertips together. She recited a verse, almost as if to herself;
‘The Dance of Four Shadows will begin,
Two to fall but One to win,
The blade of darkness that is light,
Will bring to naught Ethereal might,
A halfling seed both dark and true,
Born of blood both deep and blue.'”
“I felt the air of your presence. No other man could wield this thing. It has called to you when you‘d be most sensitive to its summoning. The Onyx Blade calls you Vohl. You are its kith. You must answer the call. But you cannot go into battle alone. And you must prepare yourself for the challenges ahead. That is why you are here. This is the rule that governs my servants. Any man that comes to these lands must be brought to me. I must know if they are Kith to the Blade. Some have slipped by unnoticed by me. But they fail the Guardian.”
Vohl placed his hands over his face. So many questions. He'd battled so much darkness. The forces of the Ethereals enveloped much of the lands he'd traveled. Their offspring created dark realms that catered to their fathers' base desires. He needed to think. Why was he of all persons Kith to this Onyx Blade? Why would it call to him? He felt the questions gnawing at his soul even as hunger did his stomach. He glanced up. Jökulhetta waited patiently for him to absorb what she had said. Her steady gaze carried a sense of expectation. Vohl sighed and stood. The cat watched him intently.
“You have much to ponder Danduian,” she said “Once you were called Shadow Dragon yes? After you eat and are rested, you may hone your skills in the arms room.” Vohl nodded. Morana rumbled and Vohl heard her speak in his mind
”Welcome Vohl of Danduiae.”
IV
The armory was immense. Its walls were studded with sconces interspersed with shield and crossed swords or spears. The far wall was covered with a great mammoth skin painted with battles scenes. Heroes and warriors battled gods and demons on a warfield. Tables stood against the other walls. Weapons from several cultures were arrayed upon a crimson cloth. They gleamed in the firelight. Vohl approached one table upon which was a long curved broad scimitar accompanied by several smaller curled knives of varying lengths. Above these hung a long heavy spear. A red tassel hung from the bottom of its shaft. He lifted it, weighing it in his hands. Good balance. He twirled so that the spear ended held behind him in his left hand while his right hand stretched outward. This was the stance taught by his village elders, the way of combat among brothers. Vohl's knowledge had grown since then. He knew that warfare among those not kin is most common and that kindness did not fit the affairs of death and blood. He brought the spear around and across his breast, holding it just beneath its heavy bronze head. He jabbed parried, kicked and thrust. Spinning on one foot he dervished and brought the spearhead around in a circle which could slice several opponents in two. His movements were precise and rhythmic. The training drums of his youth played in his head. Sweat beads formed on his brow. He thought of Tuathal. Of his lost Alía. He felt the call of the Onyx Blade that seemed to live in and of itself. Next he grabbed a hooked sword, similar that he'd carried for so many years. His own broken in battle. This one had less sharp areas but would suffice. He inscribed an arc in the air, his movements slow and deliberate. Vohl thought of Jökulhetta. Her blue skin and large silver eyes. He sensed that her interest was more than just what was cast by design. She had designs of her own. Even now as he went through the training exercises, desire flowed through him. Vohl knew that she wanted him too. He spun around, imagining taking heads with the sword. Then jabbing with the crescent blade that was fixed above the handhold. There were a pair of twin axes. Vohl lifted them and began the routine of battle. Chop block duck bunt chop. He kicked again. His loins caught between sensations of anger and desire. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. So long since he'd broken his celibacy vow with Alía's mother. So long since he'd lost her and had never loved again. He chopped again and again ducking low and spinning. He leaped and somersaulted, bringing the axes down and releasing them. they struck a thick wooden pole, imbedding themselves deep and cracking the target. He willed slowness in his pulse. His eyes closed in meditation. He felt his breathing slow. But other breathing was there. He opened his eyes. Hovaritch stood watching him. his mouth open and panting. He crouched, hissing and snarling.
”Time to finish it dark meat” Vohl heard in his mind. He leaned into a battle stance. His right leg was straight, his left bent at the knee. His right hand extended toward his opponent, his left guarded his head. His hands formed claws. His smile was grim. “Come hither pooch!”
Hovaritch bared his teeth and lunged. Vohl's left hand lashed out and caught the great wolf beneath the jaw he turned, using its own momentum and hurled it across the room. Hovaritch landed in a heap of fur. Vohl stood still assuming the tiger claw stance again. Hovaritch circled him, wary from throw. His yellow eyes burned into Vohl's own. This time he advanced a little at a time biting and snapping. Vohl was forced back . when he was near the wall, Hovaritch pounced. His weight pushed Vohl against the wall. Vohl turned and slammed the canine against the wall until Hovaritch yelped. Vohl was about to throw the beast down when an idea occurred to him. He remembered something told to him as a child. He slammed the wolf on the ground and exposed its throat. Holding it still Vohl leaned in as if to bite the beast's throat. The voice the came to him was weak, fearful and pleading.
”Yield! I--I yield. You are master.”
Vohl released him and stood. The beast remained on its back. “Get up.” Vohl said. Hovaritch rose. His eyes remained downcast. ”I serve the Doyen” he said.
“Look at me!” Vohl said, “Of what am I worthy?” Hovaritch stretched, his bones popped. ”Only the Doyen can defeat Hovaritch. Only you can be worthy of my assistance and loyalty.” Hovaritch's tail wagged a bit, ”I follow you. I guide you. We will fight as one.”
“What should I know about Jökulhetta? Is she to be trusted?” Hovaritch looked up at him. his brow furrowed in subservience. ”Trust her you may my lord. But…”
“But what?”
”She is not as she appears.”
V
Jökulhetta did not appear for several days. Hovaritch said that her tasks at gathering herbs and arranging potions took much of her time and strength. Since Vohl's arrival, Jökulhetta had begun preparing for an event. Hovaritch wasn't sure what it was, but knew that it was connected with Vohl's own quest for the Blade. The creature told him many things since their bout. The great canine belonged to a race called the Garwolf. Morana was of the Wirkahts. Each of them owed their life to her. Both are the last of their breed. Each proud race was annihilated by the Ethereals. Jökulhetta too was the last of a race of artic blue beings like herself. War, disease and famine emaciated them until only she, a priestess in the weirding ways, was left.
Vohl sat alone on a balcony overlooking the great hall. So much to ponder. hours of exercising, and weapons training left his body centered and clam. A draft from the passageway stirred the fringes of his pale blue cloak. The mountain palace echoed with settling rocks and soil. From deep within came the constant gentle throb of volcanic water. He thought of all that was told him. there was a foretelling, a prophecy of the Four Shadows. His Jökulhetta had known his assassin's name; Shadow Dragon. Did this have anything to do with it? the rhythm of the keep lulled him. Vohl's head nodded with heavy eyelid. Just then, below him Hovaritch scurried across the floor of the hall carrying a large sac. He reached the end across from and beneath Vohl. Hovaritch laid the sack down and grabbed its bottom with his teeth, turning it over and emptying the contents. Out spilled dried plants with sturdy stems and heart-shaped grayish-green leaves. There were blue tubular shaped flowers spotted with tiny white dots. Hovaritch worked quickly, forming the herbs into a bed over the floor just beyond and below the lip of the balcony. Once finished, he carried the sack with him, disappearing into a nearby corridor. Moments later, Morana entered the chamber from underneath Vohl. The Wirkaht spied the plants strewn on the other side. Vohl watch as she seemed to inhale deeply. Her thoughts came to him unabashed and flagrant. mmm ohhh yeah!
The warrior watched as the magnificent feline approached the herbacious pile She sniffed it, purred and laid upon it. aahh! she rubbed herself against it, working the leaves and stems into her crotch. ooo…ahh. Yesss! she turned onto her back and squirmed in delight. Vohl sensed the trembles of a giggle rippling from her mind. Ooo yeah, yeah, YEAH! her eyes were closed drunk with the catmint's unique inebriation.
Hovaritch loomed above her on the balcony. Vohl watched as the beast lifted a large pale with his teeth and placed onto the balustrade. Morana twisted in frenetic bliss. Ah ha, ah ah yes yes, yeooow! the contents of the bucket splashed Morana. She sprung up. Shocked and confused, she shook herself. Droplets of water flew sparkling in the flamelight. ”Arrgh! Hovaritch you, you son of a bitch! Wait ‘til I get my teeth into your hyde!”
Vohl smiled, shaking his head. The Garwolf had disappeared. But off in the distance there were reeling howls tinged with laughter.
VI “So now you know what you are and what you must do, eh Doyen?” White linen covered Jökulhetta from shoulder to ankle. Her hair, caught the firelight and glowed golden. Corridor gently blew against her, clinging the fabric to her body. The hearth crackled and spat echoing against the armory walls. The weapons room had become Vohl's home where he slept, ate and practiced. Now she was there and Vohl sensed her purpose. “I'll be leaving tomorrow to finish this thing.”
“Finish?” Jökulhetta drew closer waving her finger, “Oh Shadow Dragon, you've not even begun. Do you know what lies ahead?”
“I know of prophecies that I don't believe in, and care not for.”
“Whether you believe or not Danduian, you must care. And you must take great care at that!” she removed one of the shields that hung upon the wall. She placed it on the ground, its convex shape made it wobble some. She held it still and placed her left hand over it, moving it clockwise. Ice began forming within the makeshift basin; white at first, then becoming clear crystal.
“Come..” she said, “See!” Vohl stepped closer to the Seer's Bowl. Images moved within, clouded and shapeless, coalescing into familiar forms. Glaciers sloped at slight angles, sun glinted off diamond snowfields long untrodden. A black mountain loomed in the distance. It's peak strangely snowless in the otherwise white clad tundra. An abrupt border of black rocky soil surrounded the mountainside that held a cavernous opening.
“There is where you must go Vohl of Danduiae,” Jökulhetta's hand grazed Vohl's bare bicep, “There is where the prophecy starts its fulfillment:
‘The Dance of Four Shadows will begin,
Two to fall but One to win,
The blade of darkness that is light,
Will bring to naught Ethereal might,
A halfling seed both dark and true,
Born of blood both deep and blue.'”
The cave's mouth grew closer. Vohl saw, or thought he saw something move inside. He instinctively leaned into the bowl to get a better look, but the scenes faded and the ice frosted over. Vohl looked up at the sorceress. “Bring it back! Let me see what's going to happen!”
“You cannot see it Vohl. Your destiny is set.” They stood up together. You brought me here! You beckoned me to come north! There is no blade, why didn't I see it!”
“Take care Vohl, I've not lied to you. I did not bring you to me. You were meant to be here!”
“Nonsense!' Vohl reached for one of the swords nearby, a large broad curved blade.
Jökulhetta stepped back her body silhouetted against the hearth. It outlined the contours of her body. Her thighs were strong and shapely. A fine tuft of hair was distinct where they met. She glared at him, her arms raised, crystals forming from her elbows upward. “You dare insult me in my own home Darkling? I don't need my pets to deal with you!”
She screamed hurling large globes of ice at Vohl. He dodged them and advanced. His blade created a steel web as he maneuvered the sword. Jökulhetta formed an ice spear and hurled it as she moved. Vohl sliced through it. She bansheed her rage with a guttural shriek, her eyes wild, her teeth bared and gritted. She came at Vohl, full fury, a blizzard's ire. She hurled herself at him, clawing at his eyes. Vohl caught her arms and pulled her to him and wrestling her to the ground. Her arms pinned, she blazed at him and fought to get free. Vohl held her, feeling his body pressed against her firmness. Their panted in time.
“This is not an insult witch,” he said bringing his mouth to hers, “this is a taking.” He kissed her and felt her body warm. She kissed him back with hunger. He held her arms and she did not grow cold. She was soft, strong and wanting. And her hair was silver.
VII
Vooohl! The voice shot through him and he sprung up, the nightmare still clinging to the fringes of his mind. They had moved to Jökulhetta's private chambers. The walls glowed dimly and the light of the room was increased by torchlight. Jökulhetta was gone. The room smelled of sweet herbs and oils. Smelled like her. He surveyed the room, having been too occupied to do so the night before. A mirror was embedded in the wall to his right. Vohl rose and went to it, his feet moving silently upon animal skin rugs. He discovered the mirror to be part of the wall that had been altered and polished. Next to it a basin extended from the wall. Cool water filled it. Vohl washed quickly and looked for his clothes. The bed was a platform covered with soft furred skins. He stretched and opened the door. Hovaritch's lupine bulk was curled in the foyer. He bounded to his feet, his tail wagging.
”Morning my Doyen!” he said.
“Yes it is,” Vohl said, “Where is Jökulhetta?”
”She is preparing for our departure.”
“So you are coming with me?
Hovaritch sat on his haunches, cocked his head to one side.
”She told you the prophecy?”
“She did. But I don't understand your role in all of this. What could you do?”
The Garwolf stood and his eyes seemed to glaze. They glowed green with preternatural light.
”Ah! But I'm so much more than just a big wolf Lord Vohl, I've traveled worlds of which you have only dreamed of. the Ethereals owe me and their blood for the near extinction of my kin. I have enough of the Sight to guide you to their destruction.”
Vohl looked dubious, “Ethereals have blood?”
”An energy plasma which can be called blood. But we must hurry. We've many leagues to travel ere sunset. You'll have to harness me.”
“Harness you? What, are you my steed as well?”
”I said I was more than just a big wolf.”
Jökulhetta was in the great hall when they entered. Morana curled around her throne stood, stretched and glared at Hovaritch. She came around to the queen's side, a low hiss came through bared teeth. “Morana!.” Jökulhetta snapped. Then to Vohl, “Well then, I see you've prepared to go.” Morana look up at her mistress and back to Hovaritch. ”Go?”
”Aye lady cat, Vohl is the Doyen. I must fulfill my destiny with him.”
”You can't do that to me! I have to get even with you! Her voice echoed with pain and desperation.
”We'll have time again for practical jokes kitten, this is my Charge. I cannot shrink back.”
”But I…I'll miss you” Bemused confusion filled Vohl's mind. He was more alarmed when Morana moved down the steps to Hovaritch and they nuzzled each other.
”And I you Morana.”
”Fare thee well Hovaritch Garwolf. Hurry back to me for the days are too long without you.”
“Keep the wolfsbane fresh and think up some more diabolical jokes sourpuss, rest assured that I'll be dong the same.”
“Wait now!” Vohl could stand no more. “I though you two hated each other!”
“And did I hate you last night my Dark lover?” He turned. Jökulhetta was at his side. She reached her arms around his neck pulled him close and kissed him.
“Hasten back to me as well Vohl of Danduiae. You must melt your Ice Queen again.”
VIII
They traveled in silence for the first two miles. Vohl astride the Garwolf, while Morana bore Jökulhetta. She wore a silver fur coat that matched her hair. Vohl thought of what lay ahead. The Dance of Four Shadows. How would this play out? What role would his new found partner play? The sky was bright and cloudless. The sun threw distorted shadows behind them. around them great mountains of ice, rock and snow glittered like shards of glass. The snow crunched beneath the animals' feet. they reached the borders of her land.
“Fifty leagues north from here is where the Iron Tooth lies,” Jökulhetta said, “It's the mountain you saw in the Seer's bowl.”
“And within, are the Four Shadows.”
“Not yet, but soon they will be.”
He looked at her. Her eyes held him as Morana drew closer to Hovaritch. Vohl reached out and stroked Jökulhetta's hair. She smiled.
“You know something more don't you?” he said.
“I can only guess my obsidian giant, and to tell a guess would put you in peril.”
Vohl sighed. She kissed him, “Let this kiss stay with you until you come back to me.”
They parted then. Hovaritch bounded off with greater speed than any steed that Vohl had ever ridden. He held on, leaning low against the beast. The wind whipped his skin and he wrapped his face in a woolen scarf Jökulhetta had given him.
”Had one wild night didn't you?” Hovaritch said at length.
“That's none of your concern wolf,” Vohl said indignantly through the rush of air.
”My Lord, we are going to face many dangers together. Bedding a beautiful woman should be the least of things to be secretive about.”
“You are a son of a bitch you that?”
”And Jökulhetta's quite proud of me too.”
Vohl's eyes widened in disbelief. His hands tightened on the reigns of the harness. “What! She—she's your mother?”
Vohl felt a wave amusement surge through the wolf.
“Told you she was not as she appears.”
THE END
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