Erdil
'This is my apprentice, Finlug.' The Mage patted Denirya's shoulder and cocked his eyebrow at her.
Yes, she knew: remove the hood. She grumbled an illegible curse, but forced a smile as she threw the cowl off and exposed her skin.
'Fifty years under my tutelage,' the Mage said, 'and she still wears that dark thing like it's her lover.'
'Oh,' the brother said, 'yeh bringing her to read the book then.'
'No,' he said and Denirya gritted her teeth. 'No, not this time. There's a—' he paused and tapped his chin. 'A fire she must yet temper, before I will allow it.'
She clenched her fists. Did he just say allow? Subjugating herself to the Mage had been the hardest choice of her life, but it had saved her mother, and she paid the price to this day. Yet it was a price she thought worth paying; one day he would let her read the Book, and then vengeance would finally be hers. At the culmination of her lengthy apprenticeship, when she was deemed a Mage, she would end his life as her first act of power.
As was her custom, she breathed in the forest, though it was far away, and connected with the life she felt there to separate herself from the anger, to bury it like a squirrel hiding nuts in the verdure she knew so well. Rustling leaves. The earthy smell after the rain. Creaking branches. Cawing birds. These things calmed her heart, and she could almost ignore the ever present fire in her bones, that compulsion to do everything Kijs said. Almost, but not quite.
'Let's see the writing,' the Mage said with a click of his fingers. Again Denirya grit her teeth, but rolled open the scroll without hesitation. On it she had scribed the Guide's song, which was their map to the Book. Just thinking about it had her jowls salivating. To be so close to everything she'd ever wanted, to repay the man who had killed her father. And after all this time. She would read it, even if the Blood Moon fell on them all, she would read it.
With a polite nod, Ol' Finlug took the scroll from her hands. Her writing was neat, and in the ancient script of the Magii, which only a select few could read. It surprised her to learn that Ol' Finlug was one of these few.
#
Buried deep, buried far
In the depths of the earth
behind the Breath of the Fathers
In the heart of darkness
behind her hearth
In the sun's eye
on the stone's neck
Where the ice giants break
and Äbädä's legs quake
#
'We don't have much time left,' the Mage said, and they looked back at Emeline, laid out on the counter the Innkeeper had polished till it shone.
Her breaths were shallow, her skin paler than ever, the skin under her eyes sallow and dark. The wound on her side seemed to be healing, but then the sheen of sweat on her brow said otherwise. She had a fever, and that was never a good sign. The Mage had done what he could with The Way, but there was something wrong with her that went beyond the physical. What had the Dark Woman done to her? Who was the Dark Woman anyway; where had she come from, and how had she learned The Way, to do something to this child not even Kijs could reverse?
'Let's not waste any, then,' the Guide said. He pointed at the text. 'Buried deep means it's below ground, but you knew that Kijsir.' He smiled and the Mage returned the smile.
Avétk peeked over their heads. 'What does buried far mean?'
Denirya and the two men gaped at him. 'You can read this?' she asked, and he nodded.
'Who taught you?' Ol' Finlug stammered.
Alnä handed a fresh cloth to Ketiya who stood at Emeline's side, and Ketiya dabbed the child's forehead with it. All eyes were on Avétk. Denirya folded her arms and frowned at him.
'What?' Avétk said gazing at all the surprised faces. 'My mother taught me to read, alright?' He shrugged his shoulders defensively and leaned over the men's scroll again.
'No, Avétk,' Denirya grabbed his shoulder. 'You don't get it.'
He met her eyes wearing a look of naivety.
'This is Wegskrif, the writing of the Magii.' She threw her hands in the air. 'A two thousand year old language that fewer than half a dozen beings on Erdil can read.'
Avétk's eyes widened at that.
'And you're saying your mommy taught you this?' She huffed and folded her arms again. 'Impossible.'
For a second Avétk looked stumped, then a frown creased his brow. 'Look, I don't know the details about this special language, but I'll tell ya, my Mother taught me it and that's the truth. I don't care how impossible you think it is. Here!' He grabbed the scroll out of her hands and started reading off random sentences.
'Behind the Breath of the Fathers, in the sun's eye, where the ice giants break.' He spat the words and glared at her as if she had just stabbed him.
'Ugh!' she said, and pulled her lips tight together. Men were so frustrating. Even after all this time, she couldn't quite come to understand them.
'Come, kids.' The Mage wrapped his arms around Denirya and Avétk's shoulders. 'Let's not waste time on petty arguments. The future of Erdil depends on us.'
The anger boiled inside her, but Denir kept it buried, and instead of shrugging off the Mage's arms, she grit her teeth one last time, and thought of the forest, the trees, the— Bloody Moon, how sweet his blood would smell as it flowed from his gullet. No, those were thoughts best left for later. Who was to say what the Mage could and couldn't know about her. Could he read her thoughts? After all, she was sworn to him, vowed to his service.
'It's not a long trip,' Finlug said, 'let's be quick about it.'
Avétk nodded and scooped up the slumbering girl—how could she rescue them all, this weak girl? Perhaps Kijs was mistaken. Ketiya greeted Alnä and Caolä with kisses on their cheeks, and Färin lifted two satchels filled with food—gifts from the Inn owners.
The trip into the GrootKanon was quick and wound up a dusty trail through hills that seemed carved by the gods, smooth and shaped like rivers, towering over their heads. The path narrowed and the shadows each rock cast became longer until they were in a tunnel with only a sliver of blue sky above to light the way. The rocks sloped downward, and despite her boiling fury, Denirya became curious as to what lay beyond them. When the light was swallowed altogether by darkness, the Mage tapped a wooden staff he had picked up along the way to the earth, and a bulb grew on its tip, bursting with a flower that glowed a luminous green and cast an eerie tint to the formations around them. The heart of darkness.
She thought they would head deeper into the tunnel, but Kijs' brother paused and knelt in the red dust. Was he tired? This was no time for a break, they hadn't even travelled an hour. Men.
'Ahead?' Avétk asked. His voice echoed into the darkness past the green glow, bouncing off surfaces and ringing like Moon bells. A shiver travelled up Denirya's spine, and instinctually she loosed the clasps that held her knives inside her sleeves and let out a relieved breath when she gripped each hilt. Something cold in the air, unnatural. She narrowed her eyes. A growl rumbled up the tunnel, like bone scraping against bone, like thin ice cracking on a lake. A rush of cold wind whipped off her hood, and she pushed with all her might against the rush.
'Hurry!' Kijs said, and his brother, kneeling in the dirt, grunted, and dug in. What in the Fathers' names was he doing?
The Mage met her eyes, holding his brother's one shoulder. 'Cover him, Denirya. I'll hold it off.'
'It?'
The ground trembled, and another roar shook the rocks all about them, but the Mage, undeterred, moved to the centre of the pathway and started moving his hands. Rare, to see him using the Way in such a raw and dangerous way. For a second Denirya was mesmerised. There was a class to his movements, a certainty. Experience. How unexpected, that the Mage had mastered the forbidden art, Menskuns. How terrible and beautiful. All this time, and it was the one thing he hadn't taught her. Maybe he was afraid that she would use it against him, but then, he had always said it was because of Ajivr's foolishness.
'Get behind Denirya!' the Mage shouted just as another, louder roar erupted and whipped the skin on their faces back.
She moved into position, hood covering her face, knives held ready in front of Finlug, who was still digging in the ground, a hole that was now almost as deep as his elbow. What the—?
'It's gonna take a few minutes, Denirya,' the Mage said as he danced, his eyes full of aggression and fervour.
'I've got them,' she said, and planted her feet firmly, knives at the ready. Avétk knelt, Emeline in his arms, and watched Finlug dig, but Ketiya knelt beside him and started digging. After a second, Färin dropped the bags and knelt to help them. Power shimmered around the Mage, a circular ball of energy Denirya saw as bright green but which, she knew, the others would not see. The Mage muttered too fast for her to discern his words, and his fingers danced—it was truly masterful, spectacular.
The next roar was so close a tremble went up her spine, and the grips on her knives suddenly felt slippery with moisture. The last thing she had expected was the one thing that stepped past the shadows into the glow—a bloody ice giant. For a second she, Ketiya, and Färin paused, mouths agape.
'Bloody hell,' Färin said.
'Yeah,' Ketiya said, 'hit it on the nail dearie.'
Its legs were thick as oak trees, gleaming and smooth like chiselled blocks of ice, because it was ice—the whole cursed thing. Down to the glowing blue eyes, the icicles for teeth, and that chilling breath puffing like clouds from its nostrils as it snarled.
'Holy Fathers,' she said. An ice giant here? In the hot lands of North West Öldeim? There was no time to ponder. The thing roared, and rolled the icebergs she assumed were his shoulders, making a crunching sound. It looked around and spotted them, ignoring the Mage.
She'd take it; she snarled, and lifted her knives, though the Fathers only knew how that would help. 'Come on big guy,' she yelled. There was enough fire in her to burn this thing to a puddle. She slung her knives around in a clumsy formation of Fuurweg, The Way of Fire, one she was not very practised in. A blue spark snaked up the edges of her knives and spluttered out. Dammit. An icy arm swiped at her and she ducked, the cold air frosting her coat sleeve.
Again. She swiped her arms in The Way, and forced her fury into the words. A spark snaked up her blades, and ignited. 'Yes!'
The glow behind the beast made it seem green—the Mage's movement was working, she just had to delay the ice beast until the movement was completed. The ice giant roared and swept at her with its huge hands, taking one booming step in her direction that knocked her off her feet and set the rocks above their heads to cracking and tumbling.
'Careful,' she screamed, reaching for Ketiya from where she'd fallen and kicking herself back up to her feet. Lucky the others were quick and practised at these sorts of things. Ketiya moved in front of Avétk wearing a cheeky smile, kind of like she enjoyed this, and Avétk curled his body over Emeline's, shielding her from rubble with his axe while Finlug dug at the ground as if it were a sunny day and he was an innocent mole. Crazy, the man was crazy.
She'd need to stab the giant at the joints, where his shoulders and torso were connected, with the flaming knives. Without arms, it would be a lot less hazardous, and she could climb around its torso and pierce its chest, where she hoped its heart was.
As she watched, the ice giant lifted both its hands into the air and roared into the sky. On its palms, hundred of bumps appeared, each smooth like a little frozen hill, and each grew and became sharper as it became longer, until the giant's palms were covered with hundreds of long, sharp icicles. Its glowing eyes met hers and, was it smirking? The nerve! She flipped a flaming knife once in the air, gathered courage, and ran for its knee, planning to vault from the knee up high enough to stab one knife into the joint at its shoulder, and use the momentum to swing from the knife onto its shoulder, from where she could stab at its heart, if she survived those sharp palms.
The giant roared, and swung its palm at her, but she was fast and it just missed her. She leapt for its knee, and landed on the icy surface, lunging at its shoulder, but her foot slipped at the last moment and she lost momentum, only reaching to the height of its elbow. With too little time to redo it, she grit her teeth and jabbed the flaming knife in as deep as she could. It sizzled and steam rose from the joint, and she clung to the hilt, swinging while the monster lifted its arm and glared at her as if she were a mosquito nipping at his arm. The knife hilt started moving, and she realised soon the flame would melt away the ice that held it in place.
The giant started shaking its arm, and she let go of the knife hilt and clung to its arm with all her might while it tried to whip her off. Her hood flew back and her blonde plaits flew free, slapping against her back.
Behind her, she heard Färin shout, and then the sound of his sword ringing against the ice. Then a blinding crack, and a jolt shot through her body, making her fingers tingle, her heart race, her vision blur. The giant had smashed its arm against a rock wall. Pain bled from her right arm up into her body and she focused with all her might to keep hold of the giant's slippery arm. A blinding headache. She blacked out, and in the dark saw a pudgy man touch her face. Terror, repulsion, disgust. The man reached between her legs, and she saw red, and screamed.
Her scream rang on when she opened her eyes. The terrors inside her were far worse than this monster. She had to get to its shoulder. Below her, Färin shouted something, and cut at the giant's foot while the giant stomped, trying to squash him like an ant. He dodged, dodged again.
The other knife. Denirya whispered the words and blinked her eyes against the pain, forcing her fingers and feet to take hold, to move up the beast's arm. She reached for the knife jabbed into its elbow, and tugged it out. The thing took another step and she lost her grip for a moment and nearly fell from its arm.
It had Färin cornered now, against the smooth rock. No! With a great tug, she freed the knife stuck into the giant's elbow and roared a battle cry as she jabbed it up higher in the things arm. Its arm jerked, shaking all her insides, reviving the blinding pain in her arm and shoulder, and she shouted again, this time for the pain, while her vision blurred.
The energy of the Mage's movement made the air shimmer, and she remembered the first time she had seen that energy, and the fear and determination she had felt then, on the edge of death and faced for the first time with the reality of magic. If she could survive then, against all that power, she could destroy this ice beast now, and live to remember it.
The giant lifted both its hands into the air so fast that it tore her coat back. The coat pulled at her elbows in the rush of air, and without hesitation, she shrugged it off, biting her lip and clinging to the giant's arm with her legs. There was no time to feel exposed. The giant's hands paused high in the air, and she realised what it was planning. Where its palms would meet Färin stood, cornered and helpless against those skewering icicles that covered the giant's palms. There was only one option left, and though it terrified her, she knew it was the only way to save Färin from death.
She frowned, determined, and wrapped her tail around its arm, swinging below. She grabbed the knife in the giant's arm and took the other in her other hand. The giant's arms started moving down together—they would squash Färin like a fly. The air rushed over her, frosting her skin, but Denirya set her eyes on where she thought its heart might be and ignored the cold. As its arm came closer to its chest, she leapt through the air, both knives out. It seemed then that time paused while she flew towards the giant's heart, and she thought of the first time she had put on that black coat, and the feeling of safety it had given her. Then she slammed into the ice, knives first, and the giant roared and lost its balance, knocking against a rock formation to its side. She had changed the trajectory of its hands, but as the giant stumbled she heard a sickening crunch, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Where was Färin?
A body flew through the air, a streak of blood trailed it, and it slammed against the far wall and plummeted to the earth. 'No!' she screamed. It couldn't be.
The giant did not appear to have a heart. Its deep blue eyes glared down at her, and it reached for her and grabbed her tail between its fingers, lifting her into the air. All the rage she had ever felt boiled over, and she screamed, and swung at the giant, but she was helpless, twirling and roaring at it as it lifted her nearer to its face - its mouth. It was going to eat her. Of all the ways she had thought she might die, this had never been on the list. Eaten by a giant. Then again, people had called her Rat once, instead of Apprentice, and Rats got eaten, didn't they.
First it roared at her, freezing her skin, and then it opened its mouth to swallow her, and beyond the terror she felt for death, there was a numb acceptance, a giving in. This was the end of her putrid life, and maybe it was best that way. What good had she ever brought to the world, what hope or love? This was the death she deserved.
She closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness she found there.
A sharp light pierced through and overwhelmed her, and then she was falling. A thousand shards of ice exploded, millions of tiny diamonds, of shattered ice-giant, spat into every corner of the cavern, and Denirya fell, all the passion and fire in her frozen, the feeling of purpose she had clung to gone.
As she hit the ground, the air was knocked out of her, and that blackness she yeared for took her.
Green, she saw a bright intrusive green, not like the green of the forest who stretched out its branches to carry her sorrows, but a green that cut through who she was, that demanded of her, that invaded her space. Earth, she felt earth beneath her, not rich and moist like the Gruwoud Forest's, but dry and lifeless. Dusty. Cold, and wet. There was water, she felt it under her fingers as it mixed with the dust. There was pain, she recalled, and with the thought the aches in her shoulder and arms and body and tail revived. When she opened her eyes, the Mage stood above her holding the staff, a victorious hero, and he reached his hand down to help her up. She took it.
PS
yay! see? I was writing, just takes me forever is all. Please forgive typos, etc. This is draft material. And PLEASE YE GODS, tell me what you thought, eh? I'm writing this for you after all.
© Joy Cronjé 2015