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?”