Water poured over Hallik’s head and soaked into his shirt. He flicked the water from his eyes and brushed his hair back, placing the bucket on the ground beside the well for the next student. All the other students milled about the castle courtyard, trying to catch their breath, cheeks red.
He smirked at them.
“You’re insufferable, you know,” Svea said as she tossed her wooden sword onto the stack. She jabbed a finger at him. “You and that smirk of yours.”
His smirk only grew.
“Jealousy is unbecoming,” Elowyn said. She didn’t even look tired, as if they hadn’t been running for the last hour.
“It’s envy,” Svea corrected. “And why shouldn’t I be? He could beat everybody.”
It was true. Lind was off on some assignment, and they’d been stuck running drills with Arenda all day. Even Instructor Arvid had been called in by Captain Mikel Vigsen for some reason, leaving them with no relief.
Regardless, Arenda’s instruction was Hallik’s favorite. They’d gone beyond simple duels today, but had actually practiced team combat formations. She acknowledged that they would need to adjust the structure a bit once they emerged from Vanalf as Grimnirs, but the general structure would still be relevant. Either way, Hallik was all for it. They needed all the real training they could get. When they entered the cave, Hallik had every intention of working with his team to ensure as many of them as possible emerged alive.
Their island had been at peace for so long, but yesterday with the draugrs proved they still needed Grimnirs.
But today had been fun. In addition to the drills, Hallik had beaten both Svea and Elowyn in duels, and he’d even dueled both of them at the same time, emerging unscathed, much to their chagrin.
“Perhaps you need a real duel, then, eh Hallik?”
Hallik’s smile disappeared as he turned his head to regard Instructor Arenda, who retrieved two wooden swords from the pile. Unsure what she meant, he remained silent.
Arenda tossed a wooden sword to him, which he caught in his left hand. Hushed whispers rippled through the students. There were nearly a hundred of them in the courtyard, and they all shuffled closer to see what their Valtyra instructor was about to do.
Arenda’s wings flexed before folding back behind her. She rolled her neck before taking a fighting stance before Hallik, wooden sword held at the ready.
Hallik’s mouth hung open, but once he realized, he snapped it shut and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be afraid or excited, but either way, his body flushed with energy. “We are to duel, then?” Hallik asked, still not sure of her intentions.
Arenda did not smile. Her expression remained solid as stone. “You need a challenge. I offer you that challenge.” She tilted her head at him. “I suggest you take a stance. I doubt you’ll be able to defend my barrage with that posture.”
So she wanted to play, then. Hallik suppressed his smirk and switched the sword to his right hand as he shifted his right leg back, left hand and foot in front. He held the sword high, prepared not only to defend, but to attack. At the back of his mind, he wondered what kind of punishment she might give him if he hit her with the sword, but the thought fled as she whipped forward, assaulting him with her sword.
Hallik barely moved quick enough to parry her strikes. This would be a true challenge, not only because Arenda was extremely skilled and experienced, but Valtyras emerged from Vanalf with more than just wings; they had strength and stamina unrivaled. He would need to be creative if he had any hope of defeating her. What he really needed was proper armor or a shield. Her quick, powerful strokes were too much to defend against with a simple sword.
The students formed a circle as they watched their best fighter struggling to keep up with Arenda. Hallik only wished they left the circle a little larger, because he was using all the space he could to back up and dodge away from her attacks. With too little room, he wouldn’t have anywhere to retreat to. It would come down to blows.
He knew he needed to switch tactics. Hallik was already more exhausted from all the drills earlier, and though Arenda had participated to some degree, she would most likely still be at her full strength. He needed to strike.
Hoping to take Arenda by surprise, Hallik stepped toward her next attack instead of away. Their swords met with a terrible crack as he held a firm grip, whipping her sword away. The impact shook through his arms, but he followed through with a whirling blur of attacks, each swing shifting into the next.
Arenda stood her ground, her sword clacking against Hallik’s every swing. Her talent thrilled him. It was as though they entered a rhythm, erratic as it seemed, and the reverberating clacks of their swords became like beating drums.
But it came to an abrupt end as Arenda merely feinted one of her own strokes, sword flicking just over the tip of Hallik’s. The wooden blade slid up Hallik’s arm until the point thwacked against his chest. Arenda kicked Hallik’s sword at the same time, jolting it from his grip.
Hallik stumbled back to one knee with a cry. He pressed a hand to his chest where the wooden sword would undoubtedly leave a bruise, and looked up at his instructor. Neither of them smiled, but the students forming the circle erupted. All the bushnings that lived in the courtyard shuffled away from the loud humans, bundling up like a walking pile of bushes near the exterior wall.
Arenda gave the slightest nod. “Well fought. It was wise of you to take the offensive.” She reached a hand down.
Hallik took her hand, and she helped him back to his feet. She’d been holding back during the duel. When she’d finally struck him, she made it look easy. She probably could have done it at any point during the fight.
“I hope you learned something,” Arenda said, raising one of her dark brown eyebrows at him.
Hallik breathed a laugh. “I did. That rhythm we had for a while was… thrilling.”
Arenda’s second eyebrow joined the first, sliding further up her forehead. “Yes. I matched your pace. It felt rhythmic because you became easy to read. I was anticipating your strikes. It may be fun, but it also makes it easy for your enemy to break the rhythm to their advantage. Which I did.” She offered a sad smile. “With ease.”
“Noted,” Hallik said, lightly running his fingers over the new bruise on his chest. His plain woolen shirt had done little to shield the blow.
Arenda tossed the sword onto the pile. “We may need to duel more. I think you have potential.”
Hallik smiled. Was Arenda being sarcastic?
Without waiting for a response, Arenda raised her voice so all the students could hear. “Dismissed. You may return to your homes.”
The students devolved into ant-like chaos, some rushing into the castle to gather their things, others heading straight for the gates on either side of the castle grounds.
Hallik put his sword back and caught Elowyn’s eyes. Her questioning gaze was all too familiar, and he knew what she was asking even without words.
“I will come by later,” Hallik said.
Elowyn nodded and disappeared into the crowd of bustling students.
Hallik entered the castle, navigating the hallways back to the room they’d all stayed in last night.
Sefrid had since been taken back to his home by his parents after a healing poultice had been applied to his wounds. From the looks of it, he’d be running around again within a couple more days even.
Hallik retrieved his cankerous sword from where he’d left it in the room. The metal beneath the grime was steel—certainly not what he would have expected of an ancient weapon wielded by a draugr. The idea of carrying his own sword with him was comforting, since his possessions were almost completely limited to the clothes he wore. He wanted to take the sword to the castle’s smithy, which wasn’t often operated, though it was well equipped.
He wound his way back out of the castle, wondering what kind of history the weapon had before its owner had become a draugr. How old was it, truly? If it was as ancient as some people had speculated, then he thought it would have looked a lot worse. Sure, there was a bit of rust and some hardened, green crusty stuff, but looked fine otherwise. But he’d also seen bits of metal that had been fished out of the sea before, and those always looked a lot worse. If he had to guess, this weapon hadn’t really spent as much time submerged as some of the Grimnirs wanted to think.
That was the danger. It further solidified his idea that the draugr ship had come from outside of Avskild’s mystical shield. But he still didn’t understand enough to know how the shield worked. Didn’t something have to pass through a portal in order to leave or enter Avskild?
He’d have to ask Lind when he got back. Surely he would know.
When he got outside, he went toward the back of the castle where the old smithy was built up against the side of the wall. It was close to the gate that led back into Dalstava. A couple students were just trickling out.
Watcher Khanak stood beside the gate as the two students left, arms folded. He was a shorter man, with a well-trimmed, dark brown goatee, his head capped with short hair. He wore his usual dark gray tunic, both an axe and a sword holstered at his waist, a medallion hanging from his neck with the depiction of an eye, the official insignia of the Watchers. He also often wielded a spear, and sometimes a shield. It was like every day he wanted to flaunt a different weapon.
As Hallik headed to the smithy, Khanak smiled and moved to walk beside him. “Decided to clean up that cursed weapon of yours, eh?”
“You heard about this, then?” Hallik said, hefting the blade so Khanak could see it better.
“Lind mentioned it to the rest of us before he left this morning,” Khanak said, thumbs looped through his belt. “He did not speak favorably of your decision to keep it. Everything else got burned.”
Hallik rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, well, I thought perhaps I could clean it off a bit. Would you mind helping me?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Khanak gave a boisterous laugh and clapped Hallik on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I couldn’t have you in here ruining the smithy.” He led the way to the smithy and hefted a clay jug out from under a shelf. When he removed the lid, a strong scent of vinegar wafted up. “It looks like good metal, but we’ll want to clean it with this, and then we can work it on the grindstone.”
Hallik nodded eagerly. “Let’s get to it.” From this day forward, Hallik was committed to never being without a weapon. If what he suspected about the shield around Avskild was true, he was going to need it.
***
After working on the blade for over an hour, Hallik decided the sword was about as good as he could get it. There were small things to polish out of course. Some rust still lingered around the crossguard, and it would certainly benefit from some fresh wrap on the handle, but at least he’d learned how to work on it himself when he’d need to.
“You’re a true gem, Khanak,” Hallik said to the older man as he left the smithy.
“Indeed,” Khanak said with a smirk before waving his goodbye. “Peace.”
“Peace,” Hallik replied, then jogged to the other side of the grounds. Elowyn’s house wasn’t too far into the woods, but the sun was already getting low, and her mother would have food waiting for him. He didn’t have a proper sheath for the sword, so he simply held it in his left hand for now.
He nodded to Latshal who stood guard at the gate before jogging off towards the forest. Rain clouds showered down the higher levels of the mountains, and he guessed they’d eventually shift down toward the city by nightfall.
Elowyn’s home was closer to the base of the mountain, but he and Elowyn had walked to and from Castle Vrodr often enough that a small trail had been etched into the ground. There was one spot where a large rock cut off the trail, and Hallik always made a point of jumping off it with a flourish every time. He smiled as he jumped, then jogged into the cover of the trees. From there, the elevation started to change more dramatically as he climbed the foothill. A mixture of trees melded to form a thick canopy, but moss covered nearly every stone. The remnants of an old stone wall had crumbled with age.
Elowyn’s mother, Selke, said that this island had once been much larger, and had even been connected to other lands. The portals, the cave of Vanalf, and the rich magic here held much to blame for the changing landscape, but it had supposedly been part of a significantly larger kingdom. The sagas Selke sang had been passed down for generations, far longer than anything Instructor Lind had to read in all his papers.
Though Hallik made a point not to bring such things to Lind’s attention. Selke enjoyed her solitude—with the exception of Hallik and Elowyn, of course.
Hallik breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the forest air. Birds and squirrels chirped happily, and a few small lights darted by, the sign of passing nature spirits. The thickness of life in the forest always felt so invigorating. It was no wonder Selke chose to make her home out here.
He was probably halfway up the hill when he heard what sounded like a distant scream, like a woman in distress. Hallik stopped short. The sound had come from the east, deeper in the forest. His instinct called for him to go help, but he’d been warned about things like this before. A scream coming from deep in the woods? That could easily be a trap. Any number of malignant spirits could be hoping to lure somebody away.
He proceeded up the hill more slowly, listening closely. If he recognized the voice as Elowyn’s or Selke’s, then he’d not hesitate.
The scream sounded again, more desperate this time, and it cut off at the end.
“Curse it all,” he muttered to himself. Then he switched the grip on his blade and ran towards the voice. His better judgment grasped at him, but he forced it away. He was going to be a Grimnir. Isn’t this the sort of thing Grimnirs would do? Besides, he’d faced a draugr, how much worse could any forest spirit be?
Trees whipped past him as he ran. The forest here was thick, the trees tall and ancient. Wisps of clouds passed in front of the sun, plunging the forest into an ever-increasing darkness. He knew he was a complete fool for doing this, but he’d already made up his mind. He continued running for several minutes. Surely he should have reached the location of the scream, but he had no idea what he was really looking for. He reached a clearing and slowed to a stop. A break in leaves above allowed more light to enter this part of the forest, but he squinted around to try and find anything.
“Hello?” His voice came out hollow, disappearing as though it were a distant echo. The forest was still. The only sound was that of his heavy breathing. It was a stark contrast to the hum of life that had been buzzing through the forest near the trail. His heart hammered in his chest.
There was a tangle of vines and branches that formed an odd shape in the middle of the clearing. There was also a large stone, about chest-high. Despite the feeling in his chest that told him this was a mistake, he stepped forward. He’d already committed himself to this. He would not back down.
As he neared the center, he realized the vines and branches formed a large arch. Dull, green light shimmered along the veins of the leaves.
It was a portal.
He was so enraptured by it that he only noticed the body that lay crumpled at the base of the portal when he stepped in a pool of their blood. He growled, looking down at his feet, anger rising as he noticed the Watcher medallion around the body’s neck, spattered with blood. The face was unrecognizable. A broken spear lay inches from the Watcher’s hand, but the victim was clearly not female. So the scream should have belonged to somebody else. The wounds across the person’s body looked like it had been gouged, clawed, and bitten by a creature. No human could have done it.
Part of him felt inclined to look away, but he knew he needed the details. Wasn’t that what Lind’s lessons were all about? Knowing his enemy was key to victory, even if his enemy was more powerful.
What did the wounds tell him?
Four claws. Long, massive jaws with larger canines. A wolf?
But a Watcher falling victim to a mere wolf seemed highly improbable.
A deep, rumbling sound barely perceptible to his ears filled the space around him. He felt it more than heard it. The air itself shivered. The scent of copper was so thick that he could taste it on his tongue.
Whatever it was, this was no wolf, but he would not be its next victim. His eyes whipped about, scanning the edge of the forest, his back up against the vines of the portal. It was difficult to see through the strange effect that rippled the air, but he set his jaw and spread his feet apart, preparing for a fight.
The sound morphed, becoming more perceivable until he recognized it as a growl. It was coming from his left. He turned, slashing his blade as though he might cut it down, but nothing was there. Now the sound was behind him. He shifted his stance, blade high. Nothing.
It was playing tricks on him.
He could have sworn he’d heard of something like this before in one of Lind’s tales, but nothing came to mind. This was one of those moments where he needed Elowyn’s knowledge, but she wouldn’t be coming to rescue him this time. He should have paid closer attention. What good were all his fighting skills if he couldn’t even find his enemy.
He inhaled a sharp breath and held it. The sound continued to play tricks on him, but he ignored it altogether. He wasn’t sure there were any of his senses he could trust, but he had to assume that everything was a trick, so if the sound came from behind him, then perhaps he needed to look in the opposite direction.
When he tested his theory, he found himself facing the boulder. The portion of it that faced him and the portal was flat, etched with intricate carvings, but from atop it, a gray-black, furry figure glared down at him, one massive paw taking a slow step down the surface of the boulder. Its claws were longer than he would have thought possible, the dagger-like protrusions scratching gouges into the stone surface. One swipe would easily have him completely eviscerated.
The Watcher’s speartip protruded from its shoulder, but the monster seemed unphased.
Hallik shifted to a two-handed grip. The possibility of dying crossed his mind, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the battle, and how he died.
The creature watched him, taking one more slow step down the stone. He expected it to pounce at any time, but he suspected it was not accustomed to having its prey stand ground. The delay allowed him to get a closer look. Its ears were shorter and rounder, and a thick mane of gray fur coated its neck. Yellow eyes glared at him and its lips gradually raised in a snarl, head lowering.
This was the moment it would strike. Hallik bent his knees and elbows so that he’d have enough room to leverage a strike, but he certainly wasn’t about to make the first move against an unknown enemy. This was no mere creature. There was clearly something magical about it.
The rippling muscles along its forelegs flexed just before it pounced. Claws reached for him, and its jaws opened wide, everything aiming for his head.
Hallik dropped to his knees, thrusting his sword down like a hammer. The blade met flesh, and he rolled across the dead Watcher’s blood, barely dodging the monstrous creature that crashed down where he’d been standing.
The beast turned without delay and snapped at him. Hallik whipped his sword towards its face, but its jaws clamped down on the metal. It shook its head, wrenching the weapon from Hallik’s grip.
Hallik bellowed at the monster, knowing his own death was imminent. It swung a paw at him, which Hallik kicked away with the bottom of his foot, but then it leaped forward, its other paw thunking down into Hallik’s chest, full weight bearing down on him. He hammered down into the ground, straight to his back as the beast glared down at him, sword still gripped in its mouth. Hot saliva dripped onto Hallik’s forehead, and the tips of its razor claws slowly tightened against his shoulder.
With his free hand, Hallik punched at the creature’s neck, but it ignored the blows and flicked Hallik’s sword away with a twitch of its head. Mouth free, it opened wide, preparing to mangle Hallik’s face just like it had the Watcher.
In the next instant, one of the monster’s eyes popped, a stick protruding where its eye had been. Its paw pressed down harder into Hallik’s chest, forcing the air from his lungs. Something wet dripped across his body as the best lurched forward, a roar breaking from its throat, vibrating the air.
There was a blur and flash of steel that drove the monster back. It stepped off of Hallik’s body and snarled at its new opponent.
Hallik sucked in air as the pressure on his chest was gone and rolled to the side where his sword had been tossed.
A man stepped in to defend Hallik.
His savior, whoever it was, slashed the best across the side of its face, then jumped, grabbing the spearhead protruding from its shoulder, using it to swing up onto the monster’s back. With one hand, he jabbed his sword down into the monster’s snout as it tried snapping at his leg, then with his other hand, he withdrew a dagger and slammed it down into the back of the beast’s head, not once, but three times.
By the time Hallik got to his feet, the monster collapsed with a raspy sigh of death. He grunted and lowered his sword.
The other man slid from the beast’s back and wiped his blades on its fur. Hallik had never seen someone like him before. He was clothed in full armor of dark brown, hardened leather, additionally reinforced with dark iron on his forearms, shoulders, and shins. Weapons clung to his body in seemingly every available space.
When the man’s dark green eyes settled on Hallik, they couldn’t have been more disinterested, as if this whole ordeal had been boring. His hair was shaved on both sides of his head, but dark blonde hair crowned the top, though it was still short. The muscle of his sharp jaw clenched before he sighed and said, “So, you managed not to die.”
“Thanks to you,” Hallik said, glancing down at the monster, blood pooling out from its mouth.
“It’s only part of my job,” the man said. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Hallik, but a frown line creased his brow. He glanced around the forest, eyes lingering on the portal.
“Who are you,” Hallik ventured to ask. The man clearly wasn’t a Grimnir. Hallik hadn’t traveled to all the different parts of Avskild, and though there were other villages, he’d never seen somebody dressed in such a way.
The man’s eyes flicked back to him, narrowing in annoyance. “They call me a monster hunter, but my name is Jaysen Bjorn.” He pulled a long sheaf of parchment that had been folded several times from a pocket and set it against the flat part of the stone before making a mark on it with a bit of graphite.
“Jaysen?” Hallik said, testing the strange name.
“I go by Bjorn,” he said, folding the parchment back up to tuck it away.
“What’s that for?” Hallik said, aware that he was asking many questions.
Bjorn’s eyes narrowed. “My list.” He nudged the monster with his foot. “I haven’t killed a liowolf before.”
Liowolf. Of course. Hallik had heard of them before, but they belonged only in legends. Such a thing hadn’t been seen on Avskild for ages.
Bjorn’s head tilted ever-so-slightly. “Your eyes widened when I named the beast. You’ve heard of it?”
Hallik nodded, finally glad to be the one answering a question. “Heard of them, yes, though I’ve never seen one before. The Grimnirs will be interested in hearing about this.”
Bjorn blanched. “Grimnirs?” His voice came out as more of a growl than a word. More incoherent words escaped his lips. He looked around the forest again with renewed interest, a hand lingering dangerously over one of the knives sheathed on the back of his arm. “Where is this place?”
Hallik looked to the portal. The glow he’d seen in the leaves earlier was now gone. Perhaps it had been the aftereffects of its magic. One thing seemed certain. Jaysen Bjorn was not from Avskild.