“What the hell was that?” Alf asked. His tone made it sound more like he was complaining, even though this was a success.
“I didn’t bring war” Reg replied. Smug was an emotion he wore well. Gialli picked up the thread the fastest, with the answer now staring them in the face.
“Weapons…” he muttered “we kept taking in our weapons”.
“Exactly” Reg drawled. “Can’t be all-peaceful if you’re carrying a sword, can you now?”
They looked over to the altar at the front of the room, where they could now see as well that the bowl with the carving of Baldur in it was now glowing, as if light had pooled in it of its own accord. They stared at it for a moment, letting it inspire them.
“Well I hope now that we’ve cracked the first one the rest will fall into place” said Teclis, striding to the adjacent door. He grabbed the handle. “I’m sure this one will take half the time” he declared, pulling it open.
Immediately, the temperature in the whole chamber plummeted, dropping tens of degrees in only a couple of seconds as an icy gale blasted out of the door. Teclis, who had been stood directly in front of it was almost blown off his feet. He threw both of his hands in front of his face to shield his eyes from the winds buffeting him.
“Bloody close it!” shouted Reg, barely audible.
“I’m trying!” Teclis shouted back. He pushed towards the door, each step an effort requiring his full body. The door had been blasted fully open, pinned against the wall at the full extent of the hinge. Straining, he grabbed the handle on what had been the inside of the door, and began to pull. As soon as he put his fingers to the cold metal though, he felt them freeze against it. However he was going to get his hands off, he’d be leaving skin behind. Pulling with his whole body, the door moved inch by painful inch. He could barely keep his eyes open, and his body had been chilled to the bone in a matter of seconds.
As he continued to strain, he felt the burden suddenly lighten, and the door swing closed more easily. Squinting, he could make out the hulking shape of Talani, pulling on the wooden part of the door and looking much less bothered.
“Take your hands off the handle”. Talani instructed.
“I would if I could,” Teclis replied in a near-panic, “but they’re frozen on!”
“I know. But we can’t shut the door with you on that side”.
Teclis went to make another complaint, but thought better of it. Talani was right. If he didn’t let go then there was no way of getting the door shut, and he would surely freeze. But taking his hands off would equally surely tear the skin from his palms and finger. Teclis didn’t consider himself a coward, but there was a difference between facing possible danger and doing what you knew would cause agony.
“How can I?” Teclis whimpered. He was in tears for a number of reasons, but they were freezing on his face before they could roll down. “I can barely move my fingers at all”.
“Like this” Talani replied. Teclis barely had time to register what was happening before it happened. Talani had wedged the door against his foot to stop it blowing open, and taken each of Teclis’ forearms in his hands.
“No, wait!” Teclis shouted. Whether Talani heard him or not didn’t matter. There was a yanking sensation as Talani pulled up. Hard. That quickly became a tearing sensation as the skin of Teclis’ hands was ripped off, left behind on the cold metal. The ice-cold air did nothing to muffle the red-hot pain that bloomed across Teclis’ hands. His eyes that had been squinting now shot open wide, and he screamed in pain. His hands were a red wreck each, the bare flesh open to the air which was already leaving crystals of ice on it.
With a heave, Talani shoved the door closed, and the roaring wind finally stopped. The tears that had been a frosty trickle were now able to freely flood down Teclis’ face as he stared in numb shock at the bloody ruin of his palms.
“What the fuck have you done?”. His voice was a whispered mix of pain and accusation directed at Talani.
“I freed you from that door” came the brusque reply. “Unless you would rather still have been stuck there”.
“There would have been other ways. Ways that didn’t leave my fucking skin on a door to Hel!”
“Maybe”. Talani shrugged. “But you would have frozen solid before then, as would the others”.
“Teclis” interrupted Tove, walking over “let me see your hands”. Dutifully, he held them out to her. As the time went by, it was clear that this was nothing that would permanently damage him, but that didn’t lessen the physical agony much.
“This might sting a bit” Tove said. At least with her there was a note of sympathy, unlike the ‘tough love’ of Talani.
“I’m sure it can’t be any worse than this” Teclis replied. She gave him a slightly pitying look. She reached into a pouch she had, and sprinkled some powder over it, a mixture of dried plants of some kinds.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
If his hands had been on fire before, now was like they had been dipped into lava. He did everything he could not to look as in pain as he was, but even then the tears began to flow anew. As it all mixed into his blood and flesh, Tove pulled some bandages out, and began wrapping them around each of his hands.
“This will keep the wounds clean for now and stop the bleeding” she declared, the tone of a medic, or of a mother.
“I can’t lie, I was really hoping you’d use some magic to heal those” Teclis half-joked. Tove gave him a Talani-like shrug of indifference.
“Magic is for life-or-death, and I’m still low. These will heal in their own time, you’ll just be a bit clumsy until then. When we’re out of here I’ll give you the magic”. She smiled, letting him know she’d help more if she could, but this was as good as they could do for now. He looked down at his hands again, which he could hardly bear to see when they were bloody and raw. Under the bandages now you could hardly see the damage, but his hands still hurt when he tried to flex them. There would be no using a sword for a while, but at least magic shouldn’t be beyond him.
“Not to state the obvious once again” came the voice of Reg, “but how are we going to get past this one? As Talani pointed out, we’ll all freeze if we go in there for long”.
“Well,” replied Talani, “I said that you’d all freeze”.
“Elaborate”.
“My people live high up the mountains. Blizzards to me are like rain to you”.
“So to get this clear” said Alf “we’re going to have to rely on Talani for this one?”
None of the others had wanted to be as rude as that, but there was some discomfort at that thought. Talani spoke in his own defence.
“Just because I don’t bother being ‘refined’ doesn’t mean I’m slow”.
“Nobody’s calling you stupid big guy” said Reg diplomatically. Talani just gave one of his characteristic shrugs.
“I couldn’t care less if you did” he replied “but whatever your feelings, you will all die in that room”. He adopted a Gialli-like tone, and took a low bow “So if you’d all be so kind as to excuse me”. At the bottom of his bow he threw a wink at Tove, then stood up again and marched over to the door. The others all prepared themselves for the blast of cold air. Talani pulled on a thick pair of hide gloves, pulled the door open, and then slammed it shut behind himself.
“Rather him than me” murmured Gialli. “He didn’t have to be cruel about it though”.
--
Beyond the door, it seemed that Teclis had been right. It was Hel. This was not a room, it was a frozen wasteland stretching as far as the eye could see, fields or barren rock, and ice, with the faint outlines of distant mountains. Behind Talani, the door stood alone, a portal into this place. The only thing of any note was a brazier with a weak flame already lit, spluttering in the wind but never quite going out. Next to it was a plinth, with a small plaque on top. Talani looked around, and saw nothing else, so approached. The ground was frozen underfoot, each step crunching. Even by his standards, this was close to unbearable, and he was hardly equipped for the cold. Anyone else would be frozen solid by now, but too long in this place and he would meet a similar fate too. He read from the plinth.
“That which would light the flame of dishonour is that which would extinguish any other flame”.
The meaning was simple. He had to put the fire out. Even knowing the likely results, he tried the obvious solution first. Taking his waterskin, he uncorked it and tipped a small amount out. The wind and cold caught it immediately, and it was a hundred droplets of ice before it fell even a foot, scattering into the wind.
The flame was barely larger than a candle, so he bent down to try and blow it out, but he could hardly do any better than the wind already blowing, so that went nowhere either. The best way he knew to douse a flame was liquid, but that was in short supply around here. He turned back to the door, staring at it and thinking if he could go back and get anything that would help. They could, he supposed, find some way of using magic to keep water heated, as long as they could find a way to keep themselves heated as well.
He walked back towards the door, but as he reached his hand out, he noticed something. The skin that Teclis had left behind was still attached, and something red glistened on it. Teclis’ blood, ripped from his hands, was only now crystallising. Drops of it had fallen when the door closed, and he could see it spattered on the ground. There, he thought, was a heated liquid.
He walked back to the brazier, drawing a small knife as he did so. There wasn’t even a question of pain in his mind, only one of efficiency. He drew the knife across his exposed forearm, and held it low above the flames. A thin trickle of blood began to spill out. Some was caught by the wind, but other drops of it began falling. A faint hiss was heard as one by one, the liquid flowing from his arm began spilling into the brazier, slowly pooling and drowning the fire until it guttered once more, and was silent.
He stood up, wiped the blade on his trousers before slotting it back into place, and then strode back to the door. Placing a gloved hand over the handle, he went to turn it, pleased with his success. A voice spoke out from behind him. It was soft, but it carried over the howling wind.
“Those who light dishonour’s flame, must yet know dishonour’s shame”. Talani was not one for mystical voices or strange happenings. He ignored the voice, turned the handle, and pushed the door.
It was locked.