2006, 25th January
Plovdiv, Bulgaria
“What.. are you?”
Magnus idly inspected his knuckles, stained with blood, as a younger man cowered, crouched over the prone form of his friend.
A grey old man inspected the scene from behind a counter, seeming to chew on his words before spitting them out.
“Oh, he’ll walk it off, you baby. Take him outside and pour some water over his head.”
The customers gathered at the coffee shop broke the nervous silence with gradual titters as the man struggled to support the weight of his unconscious friend over his shoulder, and stumbled out the door.
Magnus returned to his own table, wiping his knuckles with a napkin, and the old man approached his table.
“That was… one hell of a hook… you have there.”
Magnus took a sip from his mug, and gestured to the vacant seat opposite him.
“My name… is Ivan. How about you?”
“Magnus.”
“Well, Magnus… don’t mind the lads. Those boys were… locals, they can get a bit, ah, rowdy… after they’ve had a few drinks. Everyone around here knows…”
“Hmm.”
“What I’m saying is, it isn’t your fault. You don’t need to look so… sour, about it.”
Magnus replaced his cup on the table with a dry look.
“I’m sure I’ll get over it.”
“So, Magnus… where are you coming from, anyway?”
“I’m from Denmark.”
“Good to know…. But that isn’t what I meant.”
Magnus paused to take another sip.
“I was in Iraq. In the war.”
“So, that’s why your clothes are so… road-stained.”
It was clear Ivan had more to say. Magnus motioned for him to continue.
“Isn’t the war… still going on? Have you… deserted, lad?”
“I wasn’t part of the army, but I was hired to fight with them.”
Magnus paused to consider.
“But yes, in a sense, I suppose I have.”
“Why?”
“...Saw no reason to stay, I suppose. No reason to keep killing people I have no quarrel with.”
Ivan sighed, his eyes reflecting all the weight of his years.”
“I suppose war is like that, sonny… It makes monsters of us all.”
“Or perhaps soldiers are monsters, and war is all they’re good for…”
“Now, you knock that nonsense off son…. A man… A man can choose. That’s what makes us men. We can choose.”
A bitter smile crept onto Magnus’ face.
“I had a friend. He said something much the same. ‘Men can choose. Even if their ability to choose has been taken away, they fight for the right to choose. And a man who stops fighting for that right is no man at all.’”
“Well… Seems like you have some smart friends, boy.” Ivan paused, introspective. “Except for that last bit. Kind of thing, err, an asshole would say.”
Magnus barked with laughter.
“Yes, well, I suppose he was a bit of an asshole at that.”
Magnus finished off the last of his coffee as they talked.
“That coffee’s on the house, son. Least I can do after that… spot of bother there. And let me know if you need someplace to stay, I can arrange something, I’m sure.”
“I already have it taken care of, but thanks, Ivan.”
“Of course. Don’t forget to stop by again if you ever need to talk.”
Magnus waved and made his exit.
He was content; for the first time in what felt like forever.
Content to aimlessly wander the roads of Old Town.
Content to let hours slip by, watching an artist who used a spray can as a tool instead of a brush, paint a multi-layered tale on the wall that was his canvas of choice.
But contentment could not last forever, as he found when he walked back to the tiny room he had rented to find the lock on the front door broken open, blood stained on the door knob.
He recognized the scent, and so walked in, not bothering to conceal his presence.
A wheezing cough sounded from the shaded corner of his little room.
“Long time, no… cough… see.”
“Hello, Anders.”
After getting him cleaned up, Magnus replaced the wrapping around it.
“Your wound.. How fresh is it?”
“Been a few hours I think.”
“It should have healed by now.”
Magus inspected the gash on Anders’ side, wrapped tightly but still open, soaking the wrapping in red.
“Well, it’s hardly mundane damage. Tussled with a powerful spirit while getting here through the Horizon. At least it isn’t silver, that would have been… irritating.”
Magnus sat on Anders’ side, leaning back against the wall.
“Anders, how did you get here?”
“I just told you, I tracked you through the Horizon-”
“Not that. I mean, did you finally walk away as well? I didn’t think you-”
“They’re dead.”
“What?”
“They’re all dead.”
At this, Magnus sat up straight.
“How?”
“It happened when I was out, to track you down. It was the fucking new guy-”
“Start at the beginning.”
“You remember Victor Hansen?”
“I do.”
“It was him. He killed them. He killed them all.”
Magnus remembered Victor as a glory hound and a braggart, but with unquestionable skill to back up his bravado. Magnus and Victor were constantly neck and neck regarding their performance on the battlefield.
But this outcome, he had never expected.
“Why… why would he do that?”
“Somehow, it never occurred to me to ask. I was too busy fleeing.”
Anders sighed heavily.
“Honestly, I just… walked in on him, you know? Killing them. Our comrades. And without hesitation, he attacked.”
His tone dropped a few octaves.
“He timed it with both our departure. Yours specifically. If you had been there…”
“What are you trying to say, Anders?”
“I’m just saying, you and him were a class apart from all the other warriors in our company. He waited till you had left to make his move. If you hadn’t-”
Magnus rose to his feet abruptly.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“You should rest here… Regenerate. I’ll bring back some supplies and something to stitch up your wounds.”
The sun had gone down, but Magnus still hadn’t returned, content to aimlessly wander the street.
He really should be getting back.
He found himself in front of the coffee shop once more.
He hesitated to enter, shuffling his feet in front of the door.
That was when Ivan saw him.
And without a word, guided him inside by the shoulder.
“I know our specialty is supposed to be coffee, but I’m also really good at tea. Try it.”
Magnus took a sip from the cup placed in front of him.
“This is really good.”
They sat in silence for a while before Ivan finally broke it.
“So…”
“A squad mate of mine tracked me down today. Apparently, all the others were killed.”
“Ah, son…”
Ivan crossed over to Magnus’ side, putting an arm over his shoulders.
Magnus sighed.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you about all this… It’s not your concern, really.”
“Who else would you talk to? Your fellow soldier is not really… impartial. And you’re a stranger here. I’m… the only one you know here.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to you. You don’t have to listen to me go on.”
“War is… hard, for people like us, er, you know, not… not soldiers like you. It’s hard to imagine what you see there. So anything I say… well, I can’t really say anything to that, can I?”
Ivan paused for breath before continuing.
“There is one truth. People who keep fighting, they will eventually not come back.”
“Hmm.”
“I can’t say what is or is not… worth fighting for. That all, uh, depends. On who you are, who you’re fighting for, where you’re from. But this is the one truth. People who keep fighting… they will eventually die fighting. And death is never pretty. It's never glorious. And it only leaves pain… Ah, but who am I lecturing… you’re a soldier. You already know all about that.”
Magnus simply stared at his reflection in what remained of his tea.
Far later than he had planned, he returned to his apartment.
Anders had drifted asleep, but stirred and rose as Magnus entered.
Wordlessly, Magnus unbuttoned the other man’s shirt, and removed his bandages.
“Did you recognize what attacked you?”
“Looked like a forge elemental to me.”
Forge elemental spirits had influence over fire and metal. They were powerful industrial elemental spirits.
“How did one of those make its way all the way over here?” Magnus muttered to himself, not especially expecting a reply.
Anders merely huffed and lay back down as Magnus cleaned the wound.
After stitching it up and dressing it once more, Magnus washed his hands off in the sink, as Anders dressed himself again.
Magnus started to leave, and Anders stirred.
“Where are you going now?”
“To hunt that spirit.”
Anders started to scramble to his feet, but Magnus merely shook his head.
“Rest. I’ll be back shortly.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Anders.”
Tone brooking no argument, Magnus looked him straight in the eye.
“You need to rest. And I need to clear my head. We’re both just…”
“Just what, Magnus?”
“Doing what we need to.”
Saying so, Magnus walked out and shut the door on their conversation.
Walking once more to the edge of the city, he found the Bleed he had used to exit the Horizon realm in the first place.
He felt the sensation of something entirely immaterial as he stepped through the tear in the fabric of reality.
And found himself in the Spirit plane once more.
It gleamed with the light of several hundred minor concept spirits, scattered across the plane.
Magnus had always thought it a beautiful sight.
Beautiful, and deadly.
The sea of spirits on the ink black floor made it seem as if the night sky was laid out at his feet, but stepping too close to a star could very possibly burn him in more ways than one.
Even these minor spirits, with all the power of a candle flame and the intellect of a shrub, had the memory and the capacity to nurse a grudge.
And they could affect the physical world in tangible ways.
The more powerful spirits, such as the one he was hunting, powerful enough to cause grievous harm that even Anders’ advanced healing could not mitigate, made extremely dangerous prey.
The Beast stirred and growled deep within Magnus’ chest.
But they were prey all the same.
His muscles expanded, his senses heightened, and trailed the traces of Anders’ blood dispersed through the air.
The metallic scent of blood mingled with that of cooked flesh.
He followed it further to a red star on the horizon.
The heat of the star grew more intense, washing over his skin as he drew closer.
As he approached it, the red star dimmed, and from the light stepped a humanoid figure, it’s flesh composed entirely of molten metal, one hand ending in a large sphere, another in a wicked curved blade.
A hollow, expressionless face greeted him, and the creature pointed both its appendages at him, metal growing brighter with increasing heat.
The intent was clear.
This spirit had claimed this section of the Spirit Plane as it’s dominion.
And the king demanded tribute.
Magnus’ vision went hazy-red for a moment before returning in clarity, colours and lights amplified against the inky blackness of the plane.
And a half man half wolf beast stood in front of the self styled monarch, and roared his challenge full in its face.
The blade of molten metal swung at the beast in a crescent arc, and he back stepped away.
Retaliation was swift, as his own claws struck true.
And the beast yelped, drawing back it’s claws as boiling metal singed his paw.
The curve blade swung once more, and would have bitten clean through the beast’s bicep, had he not hastily leapt away, letting himself fall away from the force of the blow.
Magnus’ intellect cut through the fog of the beast’s bloodlust.
The spirit was powerful; enough to overwhelm him in a few blows.
If he did not keep control of his senses instead of letting bestial instinct guide him, he would die, here and now.
The dots of light around them seemed to be converging closer, no doubt in anticipation of the feast the fallen wolf would make after the raging Forge was done with him.
The spirit king twisted bonelessly into impossible shapes, as its raw will set the floor around it alight.
Magnus, in response, simply failed to venture into the field of flames.
The opponents stared each other down, unmoving.
The spirit made the first move.
Rushing forward, it would smite the wolf on a mace of heated metal.
Initiating the charge required supporting its weight on the leading leg.
Which is when Magnus chose to strike, at an angle, right at the leg supporting the spirit’s weight, and it gave way under a charging mass of muscle and silver fur.
Magnus’ fur ignited as he charged into the fray, but he would not let up the assault.
The spirit’s form was malleable, but it chose a specific anatomical form to attack, and that would be its undoing, as Magnus exploited the seconds the spirit took to shift form and attacked, forcing it to shift forms once more- opening it up to further ravages from the wolf.
Magnus’ flesh continued to burn, and his lungs cried in agony as the air within was supplanted by heat and smoke.
But if he pulled back now, the spirit would solidify, and strike. And that would be a fatal mistake.
So uncaring of the pain, he attacked, and attacked, and attacked some more, even as his fur burned to cinders, and the boiling metal from the spirit’s form ate the flesh off his hands, faster than even he could regenerate.
But the ordeal came to an end at last, as the spirit fell, and with it, the fires died as well.
The wolf howled at his victory as the spirit’s physical form rapidly dissolved to essence, scattering though the plane, devoured by the neighbouring dots of starlight, each growing a little brighter as they added the essence to their own.
But to the victor went the spoils, and Magnus sank his teeth into the heart of the essence.
The spark of the spirit’s fire and rage took it’s home in the wolf’s heart, and added it’s power to his own.
Then the form of the wolf-man melted away, and Magnus staggered to his feet, naked, flesh pocked with burns.
The burns on his skin were superficial enough to heal within short order.
The molten metal, though, had eaten away his fingers, nearly exposing the bone within.
Magnus hastened his steps to the Bleed once more.
A vulnerable target would do well not to linger within the Horizon Realms.
Staggering out into the physical world, he examined his hands in dismay, then, noticing his own state of undress, he morphed, this time entirely to a wolf.
A wolf that outsized a horse, and would cut a man in half with a bite.
But a wolf nonetheless, able to move quicker and quieter than the man ever could.
Magnus could see the golden rays of sunshine begin to peek over the horizon. Time was of the essence.
A wolf bounded soundlessly over the darkened thatched roofs, acute hearing pinpointing all around it, humanity, to be avoided.
It’s paws burned with agony, but the dawn ensured it could not stop.
And with a final heave, Magnus made it back to his rented room, stumbling inside.
Anders had already scrambled up from the bed, and caught him in his embrace.
“Shit, Magnus. What have you done with yourself?”
“I need… to rest. Close my eyes. I’ll catch you up.. Later.”
“Yeah… yeah, come on then.”
Magnus fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed.
He rose as sunlight flooded the room.
He saw he had been dressed already, and his hands had been wrapped up.
“That’ll take a few hours to heal.” Anders said.
Magnus did not reply, sitting up.
“What were you thinking?” Anders continued.
The question had no heat to it, just genuine curiosity.
“A Forge Spirit this close to a bleed.. It could have manifested here. It could have been dangerous.”
“It could have been dangerous to you.”
“Everyone who chooses to fight dies eventually.”
Anders cocked his head to a side.
“Somehow, I feel like we’re not talking about the spirit anymore.”
“I guess not.”
“Everyone dies, Magnus. Period. Doesn’t matter if they fight or don’t. I don’t know who put this peasant wisdom in your head, but there’s nobody out there that isn’t going to die eventually. All anyone can do is make their death meaningful.”
“And what about our company? What meaning was there in fighting a larger nation’s war against a smaller one? A war between human nations that we don’t even have any stakes in? What meaning would you say their death had?”
“I don’t know why they died. And we won’t know why they dies unless we track Victor down, and make him spit out the answers before we cut his throat.”
“So that’s what you want? You want to return there?”
“I want to see justice done for our friends, yes. I want to be able to look them in the eye when I face them on the other side.”
Anders approached Magnus, putting his arms over his shoulders.
“Tell me that’s not what you want as well.”
Magnus averted his eyes, and said nothing.
“Fuck.”
Anders rose to his entire length, head nearly scraping the roof of the tiny room.
He turned away, expression unreadable.
“Stay here if you want. I’m going back.”
“And what happens when you find him? You can’t fight him on your own.”
“Then I’ll die, won’t I?”
“Anders…”
“No, Magnus. This is the end of it. If you’re coming with me, come along. If you’re not, I’m going anyway. Your choice.”
“You’re not giving me a choice at all.”
“I guess not.”
Merely a few hours later, they had settled their affairs and packed up, off to the Bleed once more.