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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.