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The time had come for the Tantalum troupe that was to be as it always should. Bards. Heroes. Tellers of tall tales no longer. They had the power and the drive no to make stories of their own. To be a part of the regalia of the stage for generations to come. Of course, none of them had any idea about wherever or not their intended deeds would have any impact on the minds of the world, but they had a duty to try. To make the world a better place. Most of them thought it was pious bullshit, but they had agreed unanimously to do the right thing.
“It’s not too far.” Leopold trudged through the snow with his head down and kept his mind on the task at hand.
“You said that three miles ago,” Ruby retorted.
As a trio, Duffy, Ruby, and Leopold had set out from the border between Salvar and Berevar at dawn. They had no idea what the time was now, only that it had seemed an age since they had seen sunlight. Berevar was constantly shrouded in dusk, thick snow clouds hiding away the sun from the roving orc warbands and giants below.
“Arguing isn’t going to get us to the Ice Henge any bloody quicker.” Duffy darted a glance between his siblings, eternally stuck between warring idiots. “That’s if it’s even still there.”
“I told you already Duffy. I only moved the cap stone, the ice circle won’t have just upped and left on its own accord.” Leopold looked up through the gloom, doubting himself. He had not been to Berevar in years.
Overhead, the clouds swirled like white sheep through the night. Patches of cloud glowed silver, taunting those below with the falsities of the day. Even when it was truly night, Berevar’s sky remained an enigma. It defied logic and reason and even the shamans of the orc tribes paid no attentions to the clock so dependent on order in the south lands. Only Leopold could remember what his homeland looked like before the Thayne tore the fabric of the land apart.
“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Ruby prodded the snow ahead, checking for boulders hidden by the permafrost or bodies which often had the tendency to not stay bodies for long.
They proposed to re-open the wellspring contained within the Ice Henge. Years ago, Leopold had battled the Old God of War over possession of the Henge’s capstone, the key to its power. When he moved it to the south land Yedda’s hold over his home was shattered. The orc shamans began to dream of their own deities once again. The Old Gods fell to sleep again and the Ice Henge had fallen silent.
“It should be easy enough. Slap a few cunts about and get them angry enough to break the Ice Henge themselves.” Duffy almost sounded excited at the prospect of certain death.
“Well when you put it like that, dear sir,” Ruby said sardonically. “How can a lady possibly refuse such a notion?” Her breath wisped overhead, the threat of hypothermia not strong enough to warrant the troupe jabbering on.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to move, never mind pull the trigger.” Leopold patted his shoulders, desperate to rekindle some warmth in his bones. He longed to be as he once was, a little portly and ravishingly good looking. Whilst the waif like body of a soldier had its perks, it was not best suited to tromping through the coldest place in the world.
They walked on in silence, cutting sideways across the tundra as the deep snow turned to solid ice. Shelves jutted out over deep ravines nobody wanted to gauge the depth of. In time, they all began to feel warmer, as though they were back in Scara Brae sipping on gin and waiting for something to happen. When Leopold saw a familiar sight on the horizon he forged ahead. Duffy and Ruby slouched, caught their breath, then made to catch up with him.
Leopold approached the outskirts of the Ice Henge with decreasing enthusiasm. As he neared the crags the bitter howl of the wind gave way to a deep vibrating hum that vibrated through his bones. When he was a child he often thought it sounded like snoring giants. When he found out that was precisely what it was, he stopped playing quite so close.
“Hello old friend,” he mumbled, spying a raven perched on the nearest of the icy henge. He cocked his head to one side, surprised to see it but at the same time, expectant.
“You took your time,” it cawed.
The merchant stopped ten feet away from the finger of ice and rested his hands on his hips. He could hear Ruby and Duffy approaching behind.
“I thought you were dead.”
“Lady Clarissa Montague is death.”
Leopold rolled his eyes.
“Well, yes, but you took War’s hammer to the chest. Not many would live through that and sit waiting like a school mistress to chide an old friend.”
“Oh, I’m not going to chide you.” The raven’s eye glinted as it took flight and dropped in a spiral to the snow below.
As Ruby and Duffy appeared at Leopold’s side, the Raven burst into purple flames and from the flickering prangs of magic emerged a woman whom Ruby was less than pleased to see. She drew her sword, who would have thrown her own daggers had she eyes, and took a defiant step forwards to bar Clarissa’s advance at her husband.
“Oh, Ruby dear. Please. Leopold and I are just friends, and whatever reservations you have about that are worthless.”
“Worthless? Everytime you come back into his life one of you ends up dead or broke.”
“Ruby. Really now…” Duffy looked gingerly at his brother in law. “I’m sure Clarissa is here on business.” He mouthed ‘isn’t she’ at the merchant. Leopold nodded back, and rested a palm onto Ruby’s sword hand.
“Clarissa wants the same thing we do. Do you think I’d give up divinity and spend millennia trying to find you again just to commit adultery with an old flame?” He raised a frosted eyebrow.
“Old?” Clarissa chuckled.
Ruby’s finger pointed fiercely stayed any further jibes from Raven. She sheathed her sword.
“Last I heard you tried to run Leopold through when he put everything on the line to help you.”
“A misunderstanding. War is quite persuasive in the heat of a battle, but I saw the error of my ways and made it possible for Leopold to escape.” Cocksure, Clarissa mimicked Ruby’s defensive stance but plastered a polite smile across her face.
“She did?” Ruby turned accursedly to her husband. “He forgot to mention.”
“We are not here to rehash the old days.” Leopold pointed at the henge behind Clarissa. “We’re here to destroy that, and in doing so move on from our past. Or have you forgotten?”
Clarissa clapped. “Precisely. I’ve been standing guard here for over seven years,” she counted on her fingers, “or something like that. Leopold asked for my help, here I am.”
“He forgot to mention,” Ruby replied, though her voice eased off its threatening tone. It was as close to forgiveness and acceptance as she was going to give. “Why are you here?”
Leopold sighed. It was going to be a long night.
“It doesn’t matter how many times you keep saying it Ruby, I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react.”
“With the fury of a tempest?” She darted daggers at her husband.
“Yes. What we are trying to accomplish here is more important than our petty squabbles. We can’t do this without Clarissa.”
“I will behave, I promise,” the necromancer smiled.
Duffy walked past the group and approached the Ice Henge, anticipating a long, drawn out distraction from their objectives. His boots ploughed through the thickening drift, kept soft by the radix of power that emanated from Y’edda’s coup de grace. Ten feet away from the nearest henge, a glowing barrier appeared inches from the bard’s face and propelled him backwards fifty feet in a flailing, gasping arc of awkwardness.
“What the hell?” Leopold saw his brother fly past him, shooting in between the arguing trio with speed with a strong odour of lavender and smoke in his wake.
Ruby started to run to him the moment he skidded to a halt, carefully applying weight into her heel to keep her balance. Leopold watched nervously, but when he saw Duffy start to push himself up he approached the Ice Henge to investigate.
“That wasn’t there last time.” Clarissa narrowed her eyes, searching for hint of what had rejected Duffy from entering. “It smells like light magic.”
Leopold nodded.
“It smells like a mystic’s light magic, specifically.” He held out a hand gently, and pressed against the barrier. It crackled with power, but it’s energy was tempered by the merchant’s godhood. Still, he winced, sensing his muscles twitch and his bones creak as they tried to fight off the spell.
Standing side by side, Rook and Raven began to appear different, if you looked at them out the corner of your eye. The heat emanating from the Ice Henge washed over them, and in the distant edges of the wind a melody from their youth began to remind them of something they would rather forget. Home.
“Only one person could have put this here. You wouldn’t have noticed it because it’s specifically designed to keep me out.” Leopold furrowed his brow. He shook the ice forming on his beard and pictured a winged mute aglow with piety and self-righteousness.
“Enlighten me?” Clarissa pulled a vial of blood from her bandoleer and pulled the stopper out. She poured a dram onto her left palm and closed her fist. She felt its effects immediately, and black feathers began to sprout from her back and form a cloak of midnight.
“Sei Orlouge. He and I had a disagreement about destroyed the Ice Henge a long time ago. He’s in bed with Y’edda, so I expect she had something to say about it too.”
“Heroes are so infuriating.” Clarissa held out her bloodied hand and pressed it against the dome, which she now realised was made of glass ensorcelled with the sun’s rage. “Let’s show them being good is terribly boring.” Her eyes sparkled, and when Leopold looked into them he realised what she intended to do.
“Ruby’s right. You are always the death of me.” He stuck out his tongue but summoned the inner Raven into his palm. Together, they forced their powers into a sphere that blistered on the surface of the dome.
The partially visible barrier thickened and clouded, and ripples of energy shot out across the dome. Leopold had never seen a mystic’s light magic on such a grand scale. Sei must have really not wanted his precious Thayne’s relic sundered. It began to fight back, and Clarissa and Leopold both sprouted feathers, taking on a beastly form flickering in the shadows cast by the illuminated dome. Then, with a crack like thunder, the spell broke. Cracks formed across the dome’s surface, breaking it into a million pieces and sucking the air and warmth and love from all around it.
“Shit. I forgot about that part.”
“What part?” Clarissa’s eyes widened with panic.
As Ruby and Duffy made to limp back to their companions, they saw the dome shatter outwards and send Clarissa and Leopold flying. A chime and a tinkle, like diamonds falling in the rain echoed out across the barren heart of Berevar.
“Leopold!” Ruby screamed.
Her cry scattered the echoes of the spell and fuelled Duffy’s adrenaline. He sprinted forwards, bones warming and muscles finally alive after the long, cold march. He made a beeline for his brother, and when he reached his side dropped to both knees and rolled the merchant over. His cloak was mottled with glass shards, but his face was unhurt.
“You’re a lucky bastard!” the bard clucked. He brushed aside shards from Leopold’s lapel and pulled a large shard out from his top hot. “What happened?”
“I,” Leopold coughed. “I think Sei left us a present.”
“That faerie bastard.” Duffy slouched. “I thought we had an agreement.”
“You did. I ignored it.” Leopold held out a hand and Duffy helped him up.
“How is she?” He looked around the bard’s shoulder and saw Ruby reach Clarissa and roll her over.
Ruby examined her carefully, but saw no wounds and no sign of glass shards. She looked puzzled, and mouthed ‘she’s fine’ to her companions. Leopold and Duffy approached the dome’s out limits and tentatively walked beyond. Though it’s essence remained, the way to the inner ring of the Ice Henge was no longer barred.
“What did you do to it?” Duffy had never seen a mystic’s dome broken without it’s owner’s will. “I wish I had known how to do that about thirty years ago.” He remembered all the times the Orlouge family had shredded limbs and windpipes in his long-standing effort to earn their trust as a captain of the Nine.
Clarissa and Leopold had combined their talents, blood magic and Old Magic, and formed a spell uncast outside the Tap for centuries. He was surprised he remembered how to do it, never mind that he had ignored his pledge long ago to turn his back on his power. He turned back to watch Ruby and Clarissa approach, both whom looked dazed but unhurt.
“It’s an old soul binding trick, we combine the spirits of two old gods and channel it directly into the inner bindings of a spell.” Leopold left out the details about the potential consequences. He had drawn enough of Ruby’s ire for one day.
“Don’t do it again, either of you.” Ruby let Clarissa stand on her own strength and crossed the threshold into the Ice Henge proper. “We don’t want to give them anything to use against you. If War can turn Clarissa against us despite her…unconventional talents then Leopold will stand little chance if he begins to turn into Raven again.”
“Would that be so bad?” Clarissa shrugged. “We gave up much of our power millennia ago because of a lie. Ow we know the truth about the Thayne, why not reclaim our place amongst the pantheon and truly play a part in the restoration of Berevar?”
Leopold had to concede Clarissa had a point. He had not thought about it, considering his promise set in stone but that was before Duffy returned from the Tap with a gavel of truth and a pledge of his own – to topple the Thayne and weaken their hold over the Old Gods. It was all desperately complicated, and without bourbon in his system, he hadn’t the guts to speak his mind.
“We’ll see how it goes, Clarissa. I won’t jeopardise my family for anyone, including you.” He smiled weakly, but Clarissa didn’t take it personally.
“Good enough. We can work out why Sei wanted you away from the Ice Henge another day. For now, let’s continue with caution. The Henge only keeps the Old Gods from leaving, inside we face them on their terms. Their angry, pissed off, brute strength terms.” She adjusted her bodice and wiped the dried blood from her hand. She let the empty vial drop to the snow and crack, venting the last essence of a mystic’s soul mingle with the melting snow. They walked on, oblivious to the storm brewing inside.
The landscape had changed since Leopold last walked these hallowed grounds. The henges were crooked, as though time itself had rewound and returned them to their beginning. The first orc tribes of Berevar had carved them from boulders of ice from the heart of the mountains, believing the fingers of ice to be sacred. Each of the twelve served as a shrine to the twelve Old Gods, standing before one would draw their attentions and they would, if one was worthy, emerge from the shimmering ice resplendent.
“You never did get around to telling me the names of all of the gods.” Ruby turned on the spot, taking in each henge with deep curiosity.
“The Northern henge is where the Owl sleeps, the Old God of Wisdom. Clockwise from there we have Raven, Rook, Eagle, Phoenix, Hawk, Swan, Sparrow, Vulture, Condor, Roc, and Crow.” Clarissa pointed to each as she listed them in order of privilege.
“What do they represent?” Duffy had picked up the aspects of one or two in his studies, but only since he learnt that the Old Gods were the first Thayne had he grown truly interested.
“In the same order, we have wisdom, death, moon, courage, life, murder, day, cunning, survival, pride, strength, and deception.” Leopold chuckled. “That pretty much sums up the orcs and the giants in a nutshell.”
“Have other gods existed?” Ruby had heard tall tales but never divined wherever or not they were truly immortal.
“Oh, certainly. Lesser gods come and go with the seasons, often bird-like or demi-human and short lived. None have been born or returned since the war with the Thayne though. I doubt we’ll ever see a new god rise. It’s a good thing, most of them are quite mad, or pissed off, or selfish to anyone save their followers.”
“So, the Thayne with wings, then?” Duffy chuckled, realising the growing irony in their actions.
“They never enslaved their people, and did all they could to ensure they survived the harsh landscape in which you now find yourself. Try going a long winter’s night here alone, only praying to the old gods, showing reverence to nature would lead you to seeing the sun rise.” Clarissa spoiled Duffy’s fun, but he saw the truth in her words.
“Wait, You’re the god of the moon?” Ruby raised an eyebrow.
“Which represents the night, shadow, and dark magic. The shamans called to me for inspiration when speaking to the dead, and I guess I took on their culture and turned to blood magic as they did.” She patted the vials on her chest. “We are the product of our environment.”
“Which will help us I’d wager, if any of the elder gods wake. We don’t want to meet some of these, I assure you.”
“I’ve had enough of them meeting you two,” Duffy said flatly.
They stood at the four points of a square, facing inwards, with the weight of history bearing down on them. Inside the Ice Henge there was no wind, but the overhead howl as the tundra’s scouring weather was pushed aside reminded them that they were far from home. Each knew what they had come to do, but putting intent into action was another problem altogether.
“So.” Leopold pulled his pistol from its holster. “Are we ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Duffy paced along a line to keep himself warm. Even though the wind was diverted around the henges, the cold of the tundra still lingered.
“Do we have a plan?” Clarissa rested her hands on her shoulders, oblivious to the weather. In the moonlight she looked quite imposing.
“Ermm. Well, the thing with plans is they tend to go wrong for us.” Leopold’s sheepish grin didn’t alleviate the group’s anxiety. “We cause as much damage as we can and hopefully the Ice Henge will collapse.”
“Why am I not surprised violence is the answer?” Ruby rolled her eyes, but unsheathed her sword all the same.
“Not so much violence, dear. Think of it as creative rabble rousing. If enough of the henges fall the Old Gods will start to wake proper, and Y’edda’s magic will weaken enough for them to bring this cursed placed down.”
They readied themselves, swords and guns and gall their weapons, faith and blind and idiotic hope their armour. For a while, they stood still and in silence, hoping another would take the lead. When impatience got the better of her Clarissa stomped over to the henge belonging to the Old God of Cunning and started shouting at it.
“Hawk, I call upon you to hear my plea!” The Ice Henge shone, as though something inside woke. “Help us free your brethren and shatter chains!”
“What is she doing?” Ruby’s face soured.
“The painfully obvious,” Leopold sighed. “Hawk, hear Raven, and wake!” He gestured for Ruby to do the same but the look on his wife’s face suggested he was going it alone.
“Hear me, and stand at your seat of power!” A shrill echo filled the air, as Clarissa drew on her magic to send a signal into the henge and deep down into the wellspring of the Tap below the tundra. Though she could no longer sense it, she knew it was there, and that all they had to do was break it open just enough.
“Errr, Duffy.” Ruby began to shake.
“Hear me, Hawk,” the bard roared.
“Duffy.”
“Take your seat!”
Ruby watched a creature emerge from the opposite henge and stalk out into the moonlight in silence. Its unnatural movements sent a shiver down the spell singer’s spine, a trembling of true fear she had not felt in years. She edged closer to her brother, trying to catch his attention.
“Duffy, you’re a cunt, look behind you!”
Chaos erupted in the heart of Berevar. Hawk’s henge cracked, and from its depths emerged a giant bird with talons of gold and feathers laced with sunlight. Leopold unveiled his spear and charged. Ruby began to sing, a song filled with rage and emotion normally reserved for funerals and empires falling. Her hair burst into flame, swelled by the presence of a shrine once dedicated to the Phoenix within. Clarissa cackled, but when she heard Ruby behind her turned to see that Hawk was not the only one to hear their pleas.
“Duffy, turn around now!” The necromancer grabbed at tendrils in the ice and pulled as hard as she could. Bidden to action by dark magic, the bard turned and saw what all the fuss was about. “Do not let Her interfere!” Desperation and hatred filled her voice.
“Who are you?” Duffy bent his knees and curled his fingers into claws. His sense focussed on the alien creature before him, the six long and cruel blades in its hands a statement of intent. “What are you?”
A voice like a thousand-year sleep washed over the party as bedlam consumed them. Before it could answer, Duffy summoned two swords from the ether and charged headlong forwards.
“I,” it whispered, “am Y’edda the Wise.” The swords flailed and cut apart the air with burning swaths of power. “This is my sanctum.”
The Old God Hawk flew high above the Ice Henge amidst a torrent of embers. It circled overhead as it’s rebirth cracked born and burnt feathers into being. When it dove down and landed with an earthquake at the foot of its shrine, it’s form was half man and half bird. When it stood upright, it was twice as tall as Clarissa and brandishing a battle axe as big as a wagon.
“Fire!” the necromancer roared.
A single bullet loosed from Leopold’s gun, followed by an echo and a grunt. It struck Hawk’s chest and ricocheted away, leaving a faint glowing mark. It healed quickly, making Leopold curse and Clarissa resort to desperate measures.
“Fine. Let’s fight as in the old days.”
Prangs of fire rose around Ruby, as her song came to fruition and the heat of her spell song made the Ice Henge a humid cavalcade of power. As it began to spread out and consume all within with illusory flames, Clarissa pulled two vials from her bandoleer of her own blood, one of her before the fall, and one of her now. She smashed them together and chanted an incantation in elven.
“Clarissa no!”
Leopold ran to his old friend, but when a corona of purple light surrounded her he stopped dead in his tracks. Over the cries of Duffy and the shrill taunts of Y’edda, he could hear Clarissa scream as her body snapped in half and her bones reformed into something older and more wicked. Emerging from the maelstrom came Rook, as tall as Hawk but clad in black feathers and bronze armour. He snarled.
“Ruby now would be a good time to finish your song!” He ran to her side, spear at the ready, eyes telling his wife how urgently he needed her.
The flames, which dances along the edges of the ice henge and sprouted from the jagged landscape stopped. Time stopped. For a moment, everyone was peaceful and still. Then, as the last note faded into the wind the fire fled back towards it’s maker and smothered her in primal fury. Leopold realised too late what was happening. The swell of power when Hawk emerged triggered a dark impulse in Ruby. From the coruscating flames emerged his wife as he remembered her from millenni ago – Phoenix. Nine feet tall and swaddled in feathers of every hue, the Old God threw fireballs at Hawk the size of boulders.
“Well I fell useless,” Leopold moaned, as Rook and Phoenix ploughed into Hawk and the three titans of another age tore at one another. He turned to Duffy, and saw an opening. “Disarm her!” he roared as he ploughed over the melting snow towards the Thaynes.
“Easier,” Duffy ducked two swiping slashes that could have cut time in half and leapt over a low follow up strike. “Said than done!” Winded, he landed on a blade edge and skittered up one of the long, disjointed arms.
“Bad idea!” Leopold warned. He strode into spear’s reach and thrusted it under the flailing arms at the needle point limb holding the avatar aloft. It pierced the grey skin with ease, but only sand poured out. He frowned. “Worse idea,” he corrected.
“Why?” Duffy stopped atop the Thayne’s shoulder and drove both blade tips down into its shoulder. No scream. No pain. When the bard realised his mistake, it was too late. The two lowest arms clicked out of their joints and punched up and down. One hit the bard square in the ribs and knocked him ten feet into the air. The other downed Leopold and drove him into the snow with the force of a comet.
Phoenix raked at Hawk’s wings as Rook went in for a low blow with its talons. Though they were beyond language, they communicated with a common cause and fought as one. Hawk, older than them both rebuked their attacks with its wing tips and swung its battle axe with the force of a hurricane. It dug deep into Rook’s shoulder, from which purple blood ran freely and lightning crackled.
“The Old Gods failed. They will never walk this earth.” Y’edda, gloating in her victory, stood over Duffy and raised her six blades.
“We already are.”
Leopold loosened a flurry of ravens, recovered quickly as the Old God’s power invigorated him. They struck Y’edda’s upper right arm and as she roared, the sword dropped to the snow. It formed a crater, it’s power spent, and the Thayne turned and scowled.
“You are nothing, Raven.”
“I beg to differ. What took you so long to fight your own battles, witch?” Finally finding his own two feet, the merchant waded into battle with his spear held at arm’s length and a whirl of malice forming about its tip. Though he struggled to keep control of himself, some semblance of his old self empowered his weapon with the power of death itself.
“Violence is a powerful tool, best used only when mortals ignore our warnings.” Two swords dove towards Leopold, but he smacked one aside and a raven parried the other. The final one circled overhead, ready to heed its master’s call.
“That’s what Hromagh said, just before I cut his head off.” Duffy appeared over the rise, bloodied brow and eyes dancing with mischief. He had summoned Lysander, his black katana, and absorbed the remnants of Ruby’s spell song into its blade. It vibrated intensely, keened to the point where even a god’s fabric would tear to shreds if struck.
“You turned your back on divinity, bard. You are nothing.” Y’edda struck one sword at Duffy and another at Leopold, using the distraction as leverage when outnumbered.
“I turned my back on your lies!” Their blades clashed, and despite Duffy blocking it, he pushed back ten feet with grit teeth and immeasurable pain running down both arms and bruising his shoulders. “Tantalus lives, despite your meddling!”
She leant closer, abyssal eyes reflecting Duffy’s grimace. Her breath was cold, filled with false promises and the tales of ages.
“For how long?”
Leopold replied by way of brute force. He disconnected the saber from his spear so that Y’edda’s blade pushed through and cut deep into the permafrost. He dropped the shaft, but brought the blade around and held its hilt in both hands. He drove it down into the wrist and pushed it in to the cross guard.
“Long enough.” Duffy smirked. Fighting through the pain, he gave way just enough to slide under the sword as it swiped through and met the same fight.
Y’edda screamed with anger, and left the blades where they stood, like metal henges and a reminder of her arrogance. With three blades left, she brought two to the side with the bard and held the last in a duelling stance against the merchant.
“You must choose, Duffy Bracken. Shall the Ice Henge fall, or will you lose your sister forever?” Another ploy, Duffy thought. But he looked past the lithe adversary at the bestial melee on the far side of the Ice Henge and felt sick to the stomach.
“Leopold, bring Ruby back to us!”
He snarled, and with blade singing in his hand, called upon absent friends to fulfil his promise to his family that their struggles would not be in vain. A promise that the Thayne would be crushed, and the Tap returned to the world. He leapt at Y’edda with his own bestial fury, and though no animal appeared from within, he lost himself in the moment and the sound of blades clashing echoed out into the hollow night sky.
Time and time again, the three Old Gods dealt blows to one another. Instead of blood, representation of their magic flowed down feather and frock. Hawk, one wing bent and broken behind his back shrugged off anything Rook could muster, and when he struck Clarissa between the eyes with the flat of his axe, turned his attentions fully to Phoenix. Swaddled in flame, turning more avian by the second, Phoenix threw flame lash and firebrand at the God of Cunning and gave no quarter.
Leopold approached as close as he could, ducking and dodging errant spells as they whirred and crackled overhead. He watched Rook fall backwards and disappear in a cloud of snow dust, winced, and cast aside his saber and into the ether. He watched his wife tear into Hawk’s remaining wing, desperate to hamstring the Old God and bring him down.
“What have I done…,” he whispered. His black waistcoat was glowing in the light of the fire, and his mind filled with memories of long ago, before he had abandoned his chair in the Ice Henge to life a human life by Ruby’s side. Centuries had passed since he had remembered. Millennia since they stood in their true form and fought against the fledgling Thayne.
Despite his love for his wife, as herself, they had little chance to defeat Hawk when they were divided and injured. He watched, as cruel and dangerous as it was as Phoenix turned fully into a giant bird of red feathers and sun’s rage. It cried, a shrill shriek that pierced the soul and as it rose on its rainbow wings, descended full force into Hawk and drove its peak into the Old God’s neck. Light poured from its vein, gathering in intensity until cracks formed across the god’s body. It disappeared in a radiant explosion, leaving nothing but flecks of ice and echoes behind. The shards fell to the ground and as Phoenix writhed in triumphant flames, the Ice Henge that served as Hawk’s shrine split asunder.
“Ruby!” Leopold roared.
The cacophony of swords clashing behind him, and the Ice Henge shuddering in front drowned out his plea.
“Ruby come back to us!”
Phoenix craned its neck slowly. Its eyes reminded Leopold of a volcano’s heart. They swirled and hissed and oozed. Somewhere inside those orbs screamed the woman he loved, overwhelmed by the past.
“Ruby. Ruby listen to me.” Leopold pleaded with his arms clasped together. He dropped to his knees, sweat pouring from every orifice and heart racing. “You are not Phoenix. You are Ruby Winchester. Don’t let this overwhelm you.”
A flash of lightning lit the sky as the chain reaction from Hawk’s death stirred the well spring deep below the Ice Henge. The ground trembled. Phoenix closed, it’s armoured beak blackened with ash and the blood of the enemy stopping an inch from Leopold’s nose. Leopold shed a tear, which quickly turned into a torrent.
“Please.” He whimpered. “Please, I can’t lose you again.”
In this exact same spot at the end of the war, the Thayne had sealed away the Old Gods, who raged and stormed against their prison’s bars. Phoenix and Raven had fought for days. Raven had wanted to fight, he refused to give up so easily and fall asleep to be forgotten. Phoenix wanted to dive deep into the Tap and sacrifice herself to destroy the Ice Henge. Only by offering up his power, abandoning the veil of the Old God of the afterlife had he tricked Phoenix and saved his true love.
“I’m so sorry.” Tears rolled done his cheeks and began to freeze on his beard as the magic of the Ice Henge faded. The cold wind of the snow wastes rolled through the needle like henges and reminded them what they were fighting for. A Berevar restored. A land no longer enthralled to winter’s grip.
“I forgive you,” Phoenix said with a gravelly bark.
Phoenix reared up and climbed over Leopold. The merchant sighed with relief, the fear for his life and his wife draining away. He turned only when the sight of feathers and fire overhead vanished. The creature charged Y’edda, a torrent of claws and caws and rage.
“Get out of there Duffy!” Power swelled his voice and a ring of purple energy rocked the Ice Henge.
Duffy, still duelling the Thayne cocked his head and hesitated. Y’edda turned mid strike and brought her blades up to block the advance of a new opponent. As she did so, she swatted the bard with an unarmed arm and knocked him across the clearing. He smashed into Eagle’s shrine and ploughed through its point. Shards of ice sprayed out across the tundra.
“Pitiful. You’d have the world burn just to save the family that abandoned you?” The Thayne spoke with sullen truths, her mind’s eye focussing on Ruby’s past and her vicious streak pulling at the strands of fate that carried the spell singer from birth to death.
“I’d burn a thousand worlds to ensure my family survives.”
Phoenix’s words burnt into Y’edda’s mind, scouring clean any rebuke or lies she could muster. Claws raked the lithe form of the goddess, and a beak snuck through her guard and dug deep into her chest. Strands of glowing bursts burst out from the wound and she stumbled back.
Leopold felt helpless as he watched. The gods fought tooth and nail and every time Phoenix struck a blow, Y’edda began to fall apart. He winced every time a sword tip sliced away feathers and tore into his wife’s divine form. Fire and fame and tale and flame spiralled upwards, forming a metaphorical fire of old and new.
“Wound up, can’t sleep, can’t do anything right.” Leopold began to sing. On his knees, trembling, and with hope fading he remembered the song he used to sing to Ruby when they found one another again. War and time and destiny had kept them apart, yet she remembered. She smiled. “Oh, since I set my eyes on you I tell you the truth, twisting like a flame in a slow dance.” He stood on unsteady feet. “Come on, fire woman, come on!”
The flames rising from Phoenix intensified, red to gold, yellow to amber. From within her godly cage Ruby could hear a faint whisper of hope. She cried out and the Ice Henge shook. As history began to repeat itself she closed in on Y’edda and leapt, wings beating like drums and dug in her claws. She closed her wings around the Thayne and let lose all the rage and fury and heat within.
“Fire, smoke she is a rising fire, yeah smoke on the horizon! Fire, smoke she is a rising fire, oh smoke stack lightning, smoke stack lightning!”
Both gods screamed, half rage, half desperate realisation that the end was near. The flare turned into a beacon and the beacon turned into a roaring pyre. Phoenix disappeared into the centre of her power, and Y’edda dissipated, leaving nothing but a forest of blades protruding from the Ice Henge’s heart. Embers danced overhead, new stars in the night sky and vespers of smoke and ash vanished into the headwinds. Silence. Sudden sense of loneliness. Leopold wandered to the ruination left in their wake numb and solemn.
“I am so sick of being thrown around like a rag doll.†Duffy opened his eyes.
Outside the Ice Henge without shelter, every bone in his body felt like ice. He shuddered, lips blue and hair frosted. Though he often lacked common sense, he knew he had to get back into the fray or turn into a statue. Neither option enticed him, but living was always preferable.
“Come on you jackass.†He reached out with a cold hand and dug it into the snow. He heaved, emerging from a growing drift and wincing as his bruised shoulders reminded him that he was no longer carefree and immortal. “Shit!†He bit his lip.
The wind rolled over him, flicking his cloak to life and rattling the icicles in his hair. As he slowly rose, he began to wonder how long he had been unconscious. Minutes, hours…days? His eyes struggled to focus in the shadows, but when he turned and latched on to the familiar sight of the Ice Henge’s spires smoke spiralled up and a flurry of embers rained down. He mouthed a silent prayer and began to wander back towards his family.
Every step made him wince. Every breath reminded him that charging a Thayne a second time was suicide. Somehow, he had survived. He had to give it to himself, he was a lucky bastard. He crossed the threshold and admired the inadvertent small victory his catapult had afforded them. The spire was shattered, its lustre gone, another part of the Ice Henge destroyed.
“Leopold!†He turned back to the centre, scanned the fiery crater, and frowned. His stomach churned, fearing the worst.
“Over here!â€
The voice came from the edge of the crater, and Duffy hurried as quick as he could to his brother’s side. The merchant was on both knees with his arms hanging loosely by his side. His blank expression was an ill omen.
“What happened? Are you okay?†He knelt beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Leopold flinched, but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Where’s Ruby?â€
Leopold, dry tears staining his face shrugged.
“She and Y’edda just…burnt away.â€
“Burnt away? That’s Ruby’s shtick. Where is she?†Duffy looked around, but saw no signs of life. He turned to examine the centre of the crater but there was nothing. No bodies. No singing. No scorned woman ready for a drink.
“Phoenix used all her magic to defeat Y’edda.†Leopold sobbed. “She’s gone.â€
Duffy shook his head.
“Bullshit.â€
“No. Duffy. She’s dead. She said she forgave me. I made her give up her power during the war and had to destroy the Old God part of me to set her free. She returned the favour.â€
Duffy cleared his throat.
“So, Phoenix is gone. That doesn’t mean Ruby is too.†Panic crept into his stomach and began to undo his composure. “Come on old chap, let’s go and find her.†He stepped away and held out a hand.
Leopold stared at the crater for a while, trying to come to terms with what had happened. He felt powerless, for the first time in a long time. He had spent all his life protecting Ruby, and the one time when she needed him there was nothing he could do.
“Okay,†he said softly. He took Duffy’s hand and clambered upright.
“That’s the spirit. Let’s see if Clarissa made it, she can help.†The bard pointed to Hawk’s cracked shrine and slowly but surely, they made their way to the first battleground.
Rook’s body rested in the snow, aglow with purple light that ooze from her wounds. Duffy and Leopold rushed to her side, dwarfed by her immensity. Leopold pressed a shaking hand on her beak, and smiled weakly when he felt her move.
“She’s still alive. Barely.”
“What can we do?” Duffy looked up at Hawk’s shattered henge and spat. “That bastard.”
“She’ll be fine, we just need to find where her reliquary is.” Leopold began to search between the giant feathers, growing desperate and delirious. He slipped into and out of madness with one thought on his mind: his wife.
“Reliquary? What?” Duffy shrugged.
“Blood, Duffy!” Leopold shouted. “Find her damned blood!”
The bard’s eyes widened. His brother had only mentioned Rook in passing, but he remembered being told about her necromancy. She carried the blood of her enemies and herself, able to undo the gravest of wounds and perform seeming miracles. He raced up and down, stepping around pools of blood in search of the bandoleer.
It took them an age to find the vials. Leopold snatched it from Duffy’s hands and began to search for Clarissa’s sample. It was darker than the rest, laced with flecks of purple ooze and sealed with wax. He dropped the bandoleer to the snow and hurried to her head. Duffy followed, unsure what to do, and watched his brother break the seal and poured it gently onto Rook’s beak.
“It’s that simple?”
“Yes. Stand back.” Leopold tossed the empty vial over his shoulder and made a hasty retreat. “She’s going to be really, really pissed.”
They watched as the Rook’s body began to shrink. The wounds widened, shrunk, and folded in themselves. In a manner of minutes there was no sign of black feathers and divinity, and an upstart lady remained amidst the lake of glowing lifeforce. As Rook faded, so too did her blood and when she opened her eyes and gasped there was no trace of the Old God at all.
“How dare you!” she screamed. She practically leapt into the air and drew her sword. “I told you never to touch the reliquary!” She swirled, eyes set on Leopold, and advanced with bloodlust in her eyes.
“Clarissa, wait!” Duffy stepped in front of his brother. “It was the only way to save you!”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way bard.” She waved him aside with her blade but he stayed put. “I will run you through.”
“You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Whatever cost you have to pay for that, it is worth it.”
“What do you know about blood magic?” She snarled.
“Blood magic?” Duffy gawped. “Leopold told me you were a necromancer.”
“Oh, please. Anyone can be a necromancer. Blood magic is the only reason we can live as we are. Those vials, they contain blood from all the Old Gods. Only because of me were we able to make it this far!”
Duffy looked to Leopold for answers.
“Anyone who uses the lifeforce of the dead for their own ends is a necromancer. You can’t dress it up in semantics but we don’t have time for this.”
Stood in a triangle, the trio let their anger and confusion run its course. Contrary to her legendary temper, Clarissa sheathed her sword and relented first. She tucked her hair behind her ears and folded her arms across her chest.
“What happened after I fell?”
Duffy explained that Hawk was dead and Y’edda, for now, was banished. When he explained what Phoenix had done even Clarissa’s cool, emotionless facade broke. She looked worried, but not desperate.
“Leopold, Ruby isn’t gone. She’s just…lost. When I transform it’s like I float away and watch the old me run rampant. It’s hard to describe, but somewhere nearby Ruby is watching. She’s waiting for a chance to find her way back to you.” She realised how silly it sounded, but waved over the Ice Henge to encourage him to look. He glanced upwards into the night sky. “She might have fallen into the Tap, we’re so close to being rid of that bitch’s magic forever.”
“When you put it like that,” Duffy chuckled.
“I’m not leaving without her,” Leopold said stoically. “We finish what we started, then we find her. I don’t care what it takes and you’d better be right.” The half-veiled threat did not phase Clarissa. “Are we agreed?”
She nodded.
“I think he might object to that idea.” She smirked and pointed south.
Leopold and Duffy turned, both reluctant but knowing danger when they saw it. They clapped eyes on a giant fist rising from the heart of the Ice Henge clutching a Warhammer the size of a tree. A second followed, and as the orcish head emerged between them they came face to face with the strongest of the Old Gods.
“That’s him, isn’t it.” Duffy pulled his katana across time and space into his shaking hand. “The big one.”
Leopold armed himself with his hunting rifle, a heavy clunky contraption that he could barely hold to aim. The gruff grunt told Duffy all he needed to know about who they were facing. Clarissa formed a line between them, carving it into the ice with her sword.
“Behind the line, both of you. Quickly!”
Duffy and Leopold retreated, the second they did the line burst into purple fire. Duffy watched Clarissa drain the last of another vial onto the blade and take to a defensive stance.
“He must have felt the death of Hawk.”
“Why doesn’t he have a Henge?” Duffy rattled off the list of names she had said when they arrived. A god for every rage and whim save the most important drive of all in Berevar. “Why doesn’t War have a shrine?”
“The Ice Henge was built on it, now he only forms when the Old Gods fight or the orc tribes unify and march south. This is our chance, both of you, we have to get that hammer on our side!” Clarissa crossed her blade in the air and her skin glowed in the light of the cross that lingered in its wake. “Lure him close to a Henge and don’t let him flatten you.”
Duffy had no intention of being made into a pancake. In his current state he doubted he could anything other than act as a very brief distraction. He looked at his sword meekly.
“Leopold, you and Clarissa keep him off me. I need to sing to stand any chance of making this work.” He sent the sword away, and replaced it with a violin laced with gold thread. The bow floated in front of him, a familiar sight to Leopold. He smirked.
“It’s what Ruby would do,” Leopold said with acknowledgement. “Clarissa, I think it’s time I broke my promise. Help me remember who I am.” With grit teeth Leopold marched forwards, hands balled into whitening fists and every intent of settling old scores with the Old God of War.
Clarissa appeared far too excited at the prospect, and followed Raven quickly. She plucked the last two vials from her bandoleer and broke their seals. She drank one in a single gulp and poured the other onto Leopold’s shoulder. Duffy saw them both begin to transform in the shadows, then fade into the growing storm that descended over the failing Ice Henge. Two pairs of wings rose high above the snow and as War stood tall over the Henge, the bard began to sing a song to inspire himself to fight on. He pictured his sister in the back of his mind, smiling and dancing, and let the lyrics flow freely.
Raven and Rook found a common tempo in their attacks, as though the thousands of years since they had last stood side by side were a dream. Despite their newfound strength, ensorcelled by the Ice Henge’s awakening power, War stood twice as tall and each swing of his hammer shattered the steel like ice underfoot. Swaddled by the white howling snow, Raven and Rook had to beat their wings to stay above the maelstrom and used their beaks and talons to rake at the orc’s unarmoured torso.
“Betrayers!” He roared. The crude common tongue vibrated the air. “After all I have done!”
The hammer rose, held in two hands and meant for Leopold. As it fell, the animal’s eyes watched it, powerless to avoid it’s swing. The flat of the hammer’s head struck Raven square in the chest and the sound of giant ribs breaking and blood vessels bursting echoed out across the tundra. Winded by the ordeal, the Old God stumbled back, cawed, then disappeared into the snow. Rook seized the opportunity to even the playing field and leapt up onto War’s shoulder.
“These are our lands, War. You chose to fight and Berevar fell!”
Rook’s beak lunged and struck War’s temple. Again, and again, raining down like a hail of arrows. The fourth cracked the skull, but only served to enrage the god of war further. He flailed, and when Rook began to rock back and forth he grabbed her by the wing and tossed her aside.
“Death for a home is valiant!”
War raised his hammer and took a deep breath. He exhaled with the force of a hurricane and dropped the hammer’s shaft to the ground. A shockwave pierced through the storm and cast it out of the Ice Henge. Vespers of snow dust trailed through the air as the damage to the shrine of the Old God’s was revealed. The crater where Y’edda had fallen still smouldered and the two henges shattered by the conflict stood broken and dull. When War saw what had stirred him, he roared with such fury and zeal the ground beneath his feet cracked.
“Thousands of years of sleep have brought only ruin to my home.” Leopold’s voice carried over the tension, and he stood upright as himself, chest in agony, nostrils oozing blood and spear in hand. “I warned you all, but your ignorance led to our downfall.”
In the final days of the war with the Thayne Raven had appealed to the pantheon to change. To let the Thayne preach their ways in Berevar. He knew that although it would cost them, the Old Gods would live on in the hearts and minds of the people of Berevar. War, pig-headed and blinded by his power gave Leopold an ultimatum. Either fight with them, or be cast out from the Ice Henge forever.
“You are weak, Raven. You’d have us enthralled to usurpers!” War advanced, considering the man no threat to his life and lifted a foot. It lingered over the merchant, casting him in shadow as the Old God laughed wickedly. “Berevar has slept long enough.”
Leopold closed his eyes, facing death willingly for his passions as he had done centuries ago. One thought went through his mind as the moon disappeared behind War’s heel: Ruby. He would die a thousand times if each sacrifice meant she could live on, if she could continue to inspire and lead the downtrodden.
With visibility restored, Duffy changed his lyrics mid-song. He shed the flames of healing that he needed to fight on and turned his focus to protection, to sacrifice, and to surviving to live another day. He watched War’s foot rise and fall, heart like a stone as the final notes of his verse danced out across the ice and lashed together around his brother.
“And from your lips she drew hallelujah!”
Complete, the song turned the air around the merchant into a solid white sphere, hard as diamond and full of hope. War’s strength pushed the orb into the ice, shards breaking up and raising like claws to ensnare his enemies. When he moved his foot away and saw the orb he abandoned reason. The hammer came down full-force and struck, casting light out across the Ice Henge in a halcyon burst. Frustrated, War struck again and again until finally a thin white crack appeared at the apex of Leopold’s sanctuary.
“Shit…,” the merchant grumbled.
A wicked smile broke on War’s face. He raised his hammer for a killing blow, and its head stood fifty feet in the air, protruding from the Ice Henge’s ward and draining the cold from the night sky. Ice formed around it, as though Berevar itself were War’s to command. Leopold watched, rooted to the spot and racing for a solution to a rather painful problem. The urge to flee rose from his stomach and made him shake. Duffy watched, equally helpless, and began to run as quickly as his broken body could towards the fight.
“Get out of there!” he roared.
Leopold glanced to his left and saw the bard bounding, stumbling, and flailing towards him. He smirked. What would Duffy do? Duffy would do something really stupid. He found himself reaching for his pistol and cocking it, slotting a bullet into the barrel instinctively. He aimed it at War’s hands without turning away from his brother.
“Aim at his hands!” he roared back.
Leopold had to wonder why he hadn’t thought of this idea before. Towering over him was the perfect tool to shatter the Ice Henge for good. War had driven himself to rage, and the merchant had spent too many years trying to reason with him. He would not get in his way and prevent Berevar’s rise again. Lavender and cinnamon filled his nostrils, the tell-tale sign of Old Magic. He poured his heart and soul into the bullet, and the clockwork pistol began to glow purple as the spirits of three ravens melded with his shot.
“Are you kidding me?” Duffy balked. He skidded to halt fifty feet away from the crater in which his brother launched a desperate gambit and looked up at War in awe. “Fuck it.”
He drew on the Aria and conjured ravens of his own. One appeared on each shoulder and the third appeared in his cupped hands. With a mental push he sent them flying upwards, leaving umbra shades of vermilion and burgundy in their wake. A second later Leopold fired, head turned away to avoid the flare and all four projectiles impacted against the Old God’s knuckles.
No more than a flesh wound, War bellowed with rage and made to bring the hammer down. As he did so, he lost his grip, and the hammer over extended. Duffy held his breath and prayed, and his worried look turned into a beaming smile when the hammer head shattered Eagle’s shrine on the eastern edge of the Ice Henge. The collision sent fist sized shards of ice flying in every direction and a wellspring of power rose skyward like a beacon.
“No!” War’s eyes dimmed and the power released spiralled up his hammer shaft and snared his fists. The ground trembled and began to crack, fractures swift turning into ravines and a web like bottomless crevasse.
Leopold clambered out of the crater without a second thought. The deep, rumbling sound laced with haunting whispers was all the encouragement he needed. When he crested the ridge, and slapped his hands on his knees to catch his breath the shattered henge caused the web way of power that kept the Tap sealed beneath Berevar to snap.
“That was pikin’ close,” he wheezed.
Duffy shuffled up to him, questioning look on his face.
“How are you still alive? You took a titan’s hammer to the chest.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Look,” he pulled his shirt open and immediately regretted it. “Oh.”
A deep black bruise covered most of the merchant’s chest. When it dawned on him that his Raven form had not protected him quite as much as he’d hoped, his brain caught up and floored him. He dropped onto his hands and knees in agony. He swore several times; words Duffy had never heard his brother shout with such determined gusto.
“That’s it. We’re done here. We have to leave!” Duffy bent forwards and helped Leopold up. He hooked him over his shoulder and raised his wrists. His sleeves dropped, revealing two obsidian bands inscribed with lyrics from the First Song the troupe sang.
“We, we can’t leave without Ruby.” Blood trickled out from the corner of Leopold’s mouth. “You have to find her!” He looked up, tearful eyes pleading to Duffy’s better nature.
“Ugh, I swear you’re going to get me killed. Go. Go back to Scara Brae and get help. I’ll find your damned wife.” He pushed Leopold off him and stared expectantly until the merchant clashed his own bands together and vanished in a whorl of blue ribbons and defeat.
Suddenly alone, Duffy pieced together the damage that had been done to his body. His shoulders were aching beyond belief, red bruises forming on every inch of his upper arms. His head throbbed, blood purging the toxins in his body from his wicked corruption of Ruby’s spell singing. He looked around the devastation, hoping for signs of his sister. There was nothing save for splintered ruins and geysers of grey light rushing out of the widening cracks in the ice plateau. He could feel the Tap drawing near, suffocating and invigorating all at once. He looked back to the south and saw the purple cross cut into the fabric of reality by Clarissa. He frowned.
“She didn’t…did she?” He limped towards it, heart racing as a glimmer of hope returned.
The temperature near the cross was tropical. Beneath its crackling form the ice melted, forming puddles that hid unfathomable depths and ancient sea creatures. The bard approached slowly, and when it was in reach he stretched out a shaking hand and pressed two fingers against it. His eyes widened as pain and pleasure and tomorrow and yesterday struck him all at once. Reacting to his presence, the cross widened with a sucking sound as whatever lay beyond let in the growing wellspring of power from the crumbling Ice Henge.
“That crafty witch!”
Beyond, Duffy could see a mercury sea. At the base of the portal a jetty stretched out over the calm reflecting surface of the true, untainted Tap. It was the Aria.
“What the hell is she up to now…”
The argument between Ruby and Clarissa on the plains suddenly made a lot of sense. She was clearly working to her own agenda. He looked over his shoulder and saw War still transfixed, hammer lodged in the ice, tendrils of the Tap smothering his muscles and stifling his voice. Gurgles and whimpering cries echoed out across the calming tundra, as though the weather was pathetic fallacy for the Old God’s turbulent emotions. The moonlight reflected from every cold surface, dancing over the jagged graveyard of those who dared to question War’s motives long ago.
Every time War tried to free his hammer another iceberg broke free, rising and falling until the landscape was a mountain range of ice. Duffy couldn’t quite believe that they had succeeded. The grey geysers turning into gushing torrents of mercury and slowly but surely the icebergs sank into the depths, and a circular lake appeared between the remaining henges.
“She knew Ruby would become Phoenix.” Duffy turned back to the portal. “She never forgot her promise.” Hoping to god he was right Duffy marched brazen into the breach and it sealed shut behind him.
The Ice Henge continued to crumble, and a familiar face appeared from the shadows with a wicked grin. She made sure Duffy had left before she walked over to War and folded her arms across her chest.
“It’s over, old friend. Your kin are free.”
War ground his teeth and fell to his knees. He leant against his hammer for support. Its base began to freeze and ice grew around it, rising about the shaft.
“It is not over, Rook.”
“Oh, my dear, dear War. Did you really think that old hag could do this?” She waved over the ruination. The moonlight danced over the Tap and brought the lake to scintillating life. “I’ve waited so, so long to break free of this accursed place. A long game, you could say.”
“Who are you?” He scowled.
Clarissa cackled and waved a hand over her face to lift the glamour that veiled her true form. War recognised the avian features immediately, which only added to his sense of defeat and loss.
“Sparrow…”
“Indeed. Your little confidant in the war, passing messages back and forth whilst turning the Old Gods against you one by one.” She smirked.
“You brought this ruin to our home…”
“No. You did. When there was no other choice I let my kin sleep knowing that one day, after centuries of watching and waiting, Raven and Phoenix would fulfil their promise to undo Y’edda’s curse.”
“You go against your own kind for what?”
“I am everything I was made to be.” She spat. “Only you became something anathema to your purpose. War is not supposed to make empires. It only ends them.” She laughed again, revelling in the realisation of her dream. “You ended Berevar. You will fade into nothingness and be forgotten.”
The ice reached War’s hands, and the fading of his strength accelerated. In a manner of minutes, the titan became a statue of ice, a contorted look of rage and betrayal on his frozen features. Clarissa waited for a few moments, long enough to see the ground give way beneath him and for his shattering form to plunge into the Tap. She turned to where Leopold had last stood.
“Thank you, old friend.”
She turned into a sparrow in a flash and fluttered skyward into the night, free at last from her oath.
Duffy walked along the jetty in silence. His mind raced as the impact of their actions caught up with him. Seeing the Aria in the world proper sent a shiver down his spine. They had shattered the Ice Henge and opened the wellspring beneath Berevar. Still, despite their revelatory actions, the thoughts of Ruby’s fate gnawed at him. When he reached the end of the rickety walkway he folded his hands across his chest and cast his mind bac. Clarissa was a rogue factor. What was her game plan? Who was crossing who?
“Hello.”
The bard’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He wheeled about and balled his fists, but when he saw who spoke he relaxed. Fifty feet away stood his sister, Ruby Winchester, and whatever she had gone through during her transformation had made her a new woman. Gone was her red hair, replaced with sullen grey strands unkempt and wily.
“I had an inkling you’d be skulking in here.”
Ruby smirked.
“Clarissa put all the pieces into place to save me from myself.”
Duffy examined his sister. Though her hair was lacking in lustre, she wore the same dragon scale dress and held a violin in one hand and a brazen bow in the other. Her skin was sullen, reflecting the ordeal she had been through. The grey clouds overhead did little to put her in positive light. Tiredness was marked on her face, and all Duffy wanted to do was run to her.
“Ruby. What happened?”
The spell singer shrugged.
“I think she opened the rift between our world and the Tap so that I’d fall away when Phoenix emerged. I’ve been watching the battle. She’s not who she appears to be.”
“Wait. You could see everything?” Duffy grew frustrated.
“After you left she talked to War. She isn’t Rook. She’s Sparrow, the Old God of trickery. She’s been playing a long game to get what she always wanted.”
The bard frowned. “Which is?” He took a few tentative steps forwards.
“Freedom. The Ice Henge is shattered, the Old Gods that survived are free to do as they please with Berevar. But, Sparrow is no longer part of the pantheon. She might have kept her promise to Leopold to always put me first, but now she’s a rogue element.”
Duffy remembered back to the list of Old Gods and scowled. Sparrow. The Old God of Trickery. In the War she had played both sides for her own agenda. It reminded him all too keenly of Oblivion.
“What promise?” He narrowed his gaze at his sister. “Ruby. I know you don’t like talking about her, but I think now’s the time.”
She slouched and hung her head.
“Leopold knew the war couldn’t be won. The Thayne were pervasive, and their foothold on our world was too strong. They couldn’t sway Berevar’s people so they had one choice. Destroy their hope. Leopold gave up his power to give it to Clarissa, in exchange, he made her promise to always protect me no matter the cost.”
“But you hate her?”
“Misunderstood her,” she corrected.
“Jeez. I thought we were messed up.”
“We can talk about this later, Duffy.” Ruby strolled across the jetty, the mercury sea a poignant backdrop to their tempered reunion.
“Yes. Yes, we can. Are you dead or alive?”
She shook her head. “Neither. Phoenix is. I am glad to be shot of her.” They embraced one another with a longing hug. “I’ll need some time before the Aria lets me go.”
Duffy shed a tear.
“Take all the time you need.”
“You, Duffy, need to find Leopold. His transformation awoke something in him neither of us want to see again. Without the luxury of Oblivion’s curse, and with the Ice Henge shattered he may not heal.”
There was always risk messing with the forces which bore you. Duffy sniffed, wiped his cheeks with his sleeve and pushed Ruby away. He looked at her with brotherly love and regret.
“We’ll get through this.” He nodded.
“We always do,” Ruby replied. She ushered him away, and watched as he walked to the end of the jetty and fell into the mercury sea to find his way home. When she was alone, she burst into tears unfettered by piety or class.
For an age, the spell singer stood at the end of the jetty and stared at the myriad visions of possibilities that danced over the clouds of their inner sanctum. The Aria, for centuries, had been the only Haven the troupe had against the horrors of the world. With their endeavour to release the Tap and usurp the Thayne, their only sanctuary slowly turned against them. It no longer felt like home in a time when the troupe were lost, listless, and in need of guidance.
“I know you’re listening,” she said softly.
A crack of thunder tore through the clouds.
“You tried to hurt my family. Whatever misplaced notions think your actions are justified, mark my words Y’edda. I will be your ruin.” Her emotion spent, Ruby took on the mantle of her true self, devoid of the fury and uncertainty of her past lives. For the first time in decades she thought clearly. “Show yourself.”
A shudder, a twist in the air, and a form appeared at the jetty’s end. Smaller than her previous self, Y’edda gently swung four blades in concentric circles over the scar on her chest. Without the Ice Henge the goddess fought hard to manifest and the spell singer curled her lips into a wicked smile.
“This small victory will not lead you to redemption.”
“I’m not looking for redemption. I’m looking for a home. You took that from us, and we will take it back one way or another.” She cocked the bow to her violin and rested the guard under her chin.
“Save it.” The Thanyne bowed.
“Oh, going so soon?” Ruby dropped the violin to her side.
“The Ice Henge has fallen. Berevar is lost to us. You may not see our point of view, and hate us for what we made in the war of the Tap but this world is stronger with us. This is not over.”
In a flurry of owl feathers and piety Y’edda’s avatar disappeared. Ruby smirked long after she had gone, ignoring the flashbacks of Sei Orlouge’s warnings to the troupe that meddling with the Thayne would turn the Hero of Radasanth against them. In his absence, the people they had lived and died to free from the shackles of false gods in the Tap would finally now the meaning of free will.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Ominous echoes drifted out over the mercury sea, ricocheting away from eddies of uncertain futures and torrents of doom. She sat on the jetty and crossed her legs. Turning to the one thing she could do flawlessly, she began to play whatever her heart desired on her violin.
Duffy appeared in the empty grand hall of Winchester House in a flurry of blue ribbons and desperation. He turned around on the spot in search of his brother, and his heart sank at the heap of bloodied tailored cloth at the foot of the great staircase leading to the upper floor. He bounded across the black and white marble flagstones and dropped to Leopold’s side.
“Leopold!” He shook him by the shoulders. “Leopold, can you hear me?”
The bedraggled mess stirred, blood oozing from his mouth and dried red marks crusting around his ears. He lay on his back, shirt torn open and extensive bruising telling the bard all he needed to know about his outlook.
“I, I don’t feel to good Duffy.”
“You look fantastic, you’re going to be okay.” Duffy examined Leopold’s injuries with a concerned look on his face. The bruising went down to his abdomen, and blood oozed through the sleeves of his shirt where ice shards had lacerated his skin.
“You, are a terrible liar.”
Duffy chuckled.
“Yeah. You look like shit.”
“That’s better.” Leopold craned his neck to look at Duffy. “Did you find her?”
“Ruby? Yes. She’s fine. Clarissa ensured she could reincarnate when the Tap break through. She said something about keeping her promise, so I guess she’s not a completely a heartless bitch.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Leopold coughed, and more blood, fresher and brighter than the congealing clots on his cheeks poured freely.
“Okay. You’ve got one chance. I’m getting Arden.”
Leopold thought about it for a while, his skin turning pale and clammy and his hands trembling as his heart fought to pump blood through crushed veins and broken bones.
“Okay,” he said flatly.
“Are you sure?” Duffy knew what blood magic cost.
“Do it.”
The bard frowned and pushed up and away from Leopold. He gave him one final look of re-assurance and clashed his bands together.
Leopold tried to sit upright, but the second he pushed down on the panels and curved his spine agony erupted across every inch of his chest. He fell back, head cracking against the tiles and reminding him that trying to move would be a very bad idea. He stared at the ceiling and tried to count the carvings in the beams to distract himself.
“This is a fine mess,” he grumbled. He breathed snotty breaths through his nose as his throat filled with fluid and stole his ability to pun his way through the pain.
The hall fell silent, save for strained and gargled breaths. Long ago, his butler and wife would have come running down the stairs to his aid, but his empire had long since crumbled and his bank account emptied. He reflected on all the times he had died over the years, and smiled weakly for being blessed enough to have never died alone. Until now. He felt his heart rate drop slowly, each reduction pushing him closer to sleep and a slow, dark dive into nothingness. One final breath exhaled marked his death, then silence and regret filled the household.
Arden hammered away at a white-hot rod of metal, sweat pouring down his forehead and goose bumps pricking on the back of his neck. He had worked since dawn and would not rest until he fulfilled the order long into the early hours of the morning. Nobody had visited his forge the days, and he became zealous about his work, forgetting all and sundry save for the designs burnt into his mind and the bag of gold he’d receive at the end of the week.
When Duffy appeared suddenly in front of him, his reflexes flicked the hammer from his grip and squarely at the bard’s skull. Fortunately for Duffy, he was just as quick and flickered into and out of being in a whorl of light. He raised his hands defensively.
“Arden, it’s me!†His eyes widened.
“Can’t you use the door like everyone else?†the swordsman chuckled. When he noticed the blood stains on the bard’s hands and the scars all over his exposed skin he frowned.
“What have you done now?†He put the white-hot metal back into the water vat and disappeared briefly behind a plume of steam. When it faded, Duffy pulled up his sleeves and revealed his bands.
“We’re going. Right now.†He advanced around the anvil and before Arden could object, they both vanished into the Tap and spiralled across continents and back to the grand hall.
Arden appeared first, dazed but unsurprised that his brother had dragged him into another mess. He looked around, puzzled, and when Duffy appeared he shrugged.
“Going to do what?â€
Duffy pointed at Leopold.
“Oh. Shit. What the hell?†He drew his sword, forever at his side and wiped its edge clean with the edge of his blood red scarf.
“Long story. Bring him back!†Duffy trudged to his brother’s side and knelt to close his eyes. He looked to Arden, who hesitated.
“You know what can happen if I do. Did he consent?â€
“Of course.†Duffy rolled his eyes. “He did!†He pointed frustrated at the corpse. “Now!â€
Arden didn’t need telling twice. He approached Leopold and pushed his blade’s tip into his chest to bloody Kerria. The red liquid rolled up the blade and spiralled along its edge. It formed Leopold’s true name and burnt bright orange for a second. He said a silent prayer in Akashiman, then raised the sword with two hands over Leopold’s heart. Duffy scuttled back, wary of the consequences of their actions.
“Are you sure?†Arden raised an eyebrow.
Duffy nodded.
Arden plunged the sword straight through his brother’s heart and a well of energy rose up from his corpse. A sudden blast of fire rocked the great hall and the smell of burning flesh and sakura blossoms cloyed their nostrils. The swordsman pulled it free and instantly the blood magic began to stitch back together Leopold’s body. The bruises healed outwards from the sword strike.
“Now we have to wait.â€
He retreated and sheathed his blade.
“Now. Tell me what the fuck happened?â€
Duffy sat on his bum, knees up, and head in his hands. He took some time to piece together events before he began his account.
“We went to the Ice Henge, Ruby, Leopold and I. We destroyed it.”
Arden remained calm, but Duffy could see his blood boiling and his fists slowly balling.
“After everything Sei told you?”
“That was before I became a Thayne. Before I found out the truth.”
“Why didn’t you ask Lilith and I for help?” Arden’s façade cracked.
“It wasn’t that easy. You and Lilith aren’t like them. At the Ice Henge they could let their Old God heritage run riot. It was a hell of a battle, and two of them are dead and the rest freed.”
“Was it worth the sacrifice?” Arden pointed at Leopold’s reviving corpse. “He will have nightmares, at the very least.” He had seen the strongest men he had known fall into madness as the oni now bound to their hearts tore at their sanity.
“He’s a tough old goat. We all knew what we were getting ourselves into.”
“You came out pretty alright.”
Duffy looked himself over. He sniggered and unbuttoned his shirt. When Arden saw the extensive bruising on both shoulders and the deep, oozing cuts on his legs he felt a little more satisfied.
“Too deep for the spell song. You’ll have to suffer like a real boy.”
“It’s not about suffering, Arden.” Duffy frowned. He watched Leopold’s ribs snap back into place and his chest cavity rise and fall. Breath returned to his body and the blood around his mouth and ears drained back into his skull. “It’s about making changes for the people we promised to protect. Berevar can thrive again and if we deal a blow to the Thayne, all the better.”
Arden sat cross legged, lifting his sword to avoid running himself through.
“Did they try to stop you?”
“Yeah. Y’edda showed herself. Uglier than the statues show her.” He pictured her octopus like arms and unnatural bone structure and shuddered. “Ruby turned into Phoenix and burnt her from existence.”
“She really doesn’t like being upstaged, does she.” Arden smiled, realising his immediate response had been overblown. “Okay. So, Leopold’s okay. You’re going to be doing no dancing for a while, and Ruby’s in the Aria. Is there good news?”
Duffy beamed his own little victory smile, now that the worry of losing members of his family was gone.
“The Ice Henge is gone. There’s a mercury lake at its heart, as though the Tap has broken through and started to well on the surface again. You should see it, Arden. It’s beautiful!”
Arden would see it in due course. He watched Leopold’s leg click back into place and the blood magic begin to drain from his body. It collected into a black pool of ichor and when the liquid formed a small, scuttling spider the swordsman rose and squished it under his boot.
“This isn’t the last of it.” He breathed relief when Leopold opened his eyes and took a deep, pained breath. He scrabbled at the tails until he recognised where he was and the memories of death cleared enough for him to think.
“Why did I think that was a good idea?” he cried. Pain spiralling up and down his spine and revenants pulled at his tendons.
“It’s not supposed to be painless, but if you’re going to go toe to toe with the Old God of War you’d better forget your pretty face.” Arden kicked the merchant softly in the rubs. “Don’t ever do that to Ruby again.”
“Yeah. If you think we’re angry, wait until she comes back.” Duffy frowned. “I should probably tell you…” He bit his lip.
Leopold rose slowly, until he held himself upright with his aching arms and gave the bard a wicked look.
“What is it?”
“Errr, well, you see when Ruby died it wasn’t her per say. Phoenix is gone and she’s sort of, ermm, different.” Duffy really didn’t know how to say it properly. He had seen Ruby anew.
“Different how?” Leopold reached for his top hat and propped it onto his brow.
“Her hair is grey.”
Leopold rolled his eyes.
“She sacrificed Phoenix to ensure our success. I can live with a little bit of a cooler temper and the occasional hair dye.” Leopold sighed.
They looked at one another awkwardly.
“I still can’t quite believe you destroyed the Ice Henge. How did you lot pull it off where others failed?” Arden referred to the Forgotten Ones, and wizards unhinged and gods enraged. He folded his arms across his torso.
“Like you said, Y’edda’s going to be weaker, but gunning for us. She won’t forgive us hamstringing her quite to blatantly.” Duffy knew the battle was over, but the war with the Thayne had only just begun.
“I don’t know about you, but having just died and seen the world change I could really, really do with a drink.” The merchant rose on uneasy feet and dusted himself down. Though his body was anew, his clothes bore the marks of his injuries. He didn’t care an inch how he looked, only that he very soon forgot everything he’d endured and fell into a deep, drunken stupor.
“That sounds like a bloody good idea old chap.” Duffy slapped his knees and bounded upright. Arden was already halfway to the drawing room before his brothers realised and broke into an uneasy stride to catch up.
“Should we get Lilith?”
“Lord no, she’ll gut you for so much as hurting a hair on Ruby’s head.” Arden winced. “I’ll tell her when this has all blown over to save you ruining another good shirt.”
Leopold could only nod in agreement as he entered the dusty drawing room and flopped into a leather wingback chair in front of an unlit fireplace. Duffy and Arden joined him with a bottle in each hand and a pile of cut crystal glasses tucked under each arm. They poured their own drinks and downed one before pouring another with which to toast.
“Here’s to the death of the Raven, the fall of the Haven, and the rise of the Craven.” They cheers, and felt the warm amber liquid remind them of what they were all fighting to protect: freedom.
Epilogue
The sun rose over Berevar’s Ahyark Tundra, oblivious to the devastation that had taken place beneath the moon’s silver glare. Great eagles launched from the snow peak eyries and descended silently down to the plains below in search of game. The giants stirred from their slumber deep beneath the mountains and sang songs of yesterday, feeling the dawn of a new age in the stone all around them. The orcs marched east to where the frozen rivers of old gathered into the ice plateaus where they held their moots. Shamans from across the kingdom conversed with ancestors and united the tribes in a common cause – celebration of the commune from the Old Gods that they slept no longer.
The remaining henges, teeth like spires surrounding a gaping maw of pure magic shattered all at once. Light rocketed skyward, venting the spirits of the Old Gods and in their wake, nine birds fluttered into the golden glow of daylight. One by one they disappeared into the horizon and returned to their ancestral seats of power. Old, crumbling shrines revealed themselves as ice thawed and landslides crumbled. Fae and fickle feline creatures gathered around the shrines and bowed. Bird song, for the first time in centuries filled the morning air with joy and the faint promise of a spring soon to arrive.
Berevar, the land of eternal winter, found itself on the slow march into spring.
Name of thread: The Raven, the Haven and the Craven
Workshop
Rewards:
Duffy receives:
2500 exp
160 gp
Leopold recieves:
1665 exp
160 gp
All rewards have been added.