Author's Note:
Thanks for reading. I didn't do any work on Sat or Sun, and none on Monday....."busy" with friends :P
Tuesday: Wrote plot (massive) for the next couple of Ch's(or at least general outline)
Tuesday: Wrote part of Ch.2
Wednesday: Finished Ch.2, Yelled at people until they cowered and PR'd
Thursday: Proceeded to ignore 80% of what they did(>.>) and then posted Ch.2
So it basically should take me 3 days about to post each chapter, provided I work every day. Well, the upcoming chapters have me very excited. I managed to create such a wide swath of characters that I hope you'll enjoy.
It will now become (eventually) a band of travelers roaming around, quite better than a hermit in the middle of nowhere and his companion.
So, well...... Post things I'm doing right, doing wrong, tips to fix them, and so on. Also any thoughts you may have on the story so far (if there are any). Posting helps me know that someone out there is reading this.... :P
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A blizzard rages across a twilight sky. A figure travels heedless of the storm, its footsteps marching through the wind. Hulm patiently progresses, he had seen Lethan swept away by raging currents and assumed that he would find his body broken amidst the rocks. But he had to be sure, so here he was freezing his scales off trying to find him in spite of the snow flung into his face.
A wild gust throws him back, his mouth contorts into a grimace and he continues forward. He hears the falls and realizes that he is nearly there, he had walked for more than three hours trying to reach them and he wasn't going to stop because of a blasted blizzard. He walks onwards, the sound of rushing water becomes louder and he hastens his pace.The frigid land contains odd corridors and wind relentlessly gushes about the falls. Hulm tightens his cloak and begins to examine the rocks scattered across the water, their surfaces sleek and deadly. He travels around the edge, reluctant to venture any further due to the spray of chilling water.
An unpleasant sight greets his eye, squeezed between two boulders is the snapped handle of the axe he had given Lethan. Its smoothly carved surface is riveted with cracks. Discouraged, but not losing hope, Hulm continues his search. After all, Lethan could have just dropped his axe in the fall and managed to get out earlier. Unfortunately another sign proves his doubts, the leather collar of the mage lies torn apart and floating on top of the water. Its once bright runes are silent now and dark stains cover its surface, undoubtedly the blood of the mage.
Hulm’s face could be carved from stone as he mourns of the loss. In the end he had quite liked him, no matter how untrustworthy he had seemed. Lethan had did all he asked and seemed a decent sort. What corrupt and evil being could stare at a dull treatise on birds for three hours? Certainly none that he knew of. He slowly turns away from the remains of his fallen companion and begins to trudge back to his home. As he does so, he notices some footsteps leading away into the icy plains. They are accompanied by a thin line of spattered blood, a bright trail amongst the snow.
He lets out a grin as he examines the human tracks, but it doesn't last. A set of claws marks lie nearby, their cruel tips following the mages path. Hulm glares in disappointment, and his mouth frowns into a thin line. Shaking his head he continues tracking Lethan, praying that it was not too late.
Lethan walks uncaring of the storm. He stares into the distance but doesn't see it, occupied by visions of the past. He listens to the wind but doesn't hear it, insinuating whispers droning in his ears. He lurches across the snow, but doesn't feel the pain of his damaged body.
He shakes his head and throws off the hallucinations temporarily, trying to re-organize his thoughts. He suddenly groans, his thin and wane face collapses in fear as the whispers begin again.
"Why do you hate me so? I only tell you of your hearts desires, the ones you can achieve even now...."
"Off with you, cease your tormenting cries and let me die in peace. I see no reason for you to do this, whoever you are."
"But there is a reason, I am trying to open your mind to your own follies. Remember? You were young then, young and powerful, and the Council dared hang you back. You could have been more, so much more....."
Images flood his eyes, and he continues walking.
A large marble room is filled with golden scrollwork and wizened men. They look down from their tables at a youth boldly staring back. One of them begins to speak, his robes of the darkest blue.
"Lethan Elthwyrd, you have been summoned here to hear the Councils decision regarding your advancement."
The youth attempts to hide a grin, and shifts from foot to foot as he waits for the verdict.
The old and grand voice goes on,
"Throughout our lives we have had the pleasure to advance many other youths such as yourself into the higher ranks. We had watched them grow from their apprenticeships into full Masters of the Art." he pauses, rubbing his head and evading the youths eyes,
"However, we feel that you are not yet....ready....for such an honor. You lack a certain capability that we are disinclined to mention. As such, the Council will postpone your advancement until you are better prepared for such responsibility. We think that a slight period of about five years would be enough for the purpose. The Council is now adjourned and all parties dismissed."
The council members all stand up to leave the room, each one walking past the young man, each one ignoring him. Until the elderly wizard who proclaimed the verdict turns to him with softened eyes.
He murmurs in a kinder voice as he turns away,
"My boy, I'm so sorry that I couldn't help you. I've tried my best, but....." he shrugs, and leaves with the others, the last one to go out.
The youth stands there with shoulders slumped, disbelief written about his face as the doors close one by one, leaving him alone in the room.
Lethan says " They had their reasons, I was young and prideful, to certain of my powers."
"Are you so forgetful of the verdict later? Seven years to be exact...."
The same room is filled with the same wizened men, their brows parted with worry. A man stands in the center, his eyes raging against the assembled mages. The blue robes rise again, but with a different man,
A stern voice speaks,
"Lethan Elthwyrd, you have been summoned here to hear the Councils decision regarding your actions," he pauses, catching his breath.
"The charges against you include the following. One, you snuck into the D'lar section of the Library under the cover of night. Two, that upon going there you attempted to read the books inside, and to learn the runes forbidden for any U'tar. Three, being caught, you attempted to escape and this resulted in the grevious bodily harm upon several of this distinguished assembly. Do you have anything to say for yourself before we pronounce our verdict?"
The man steps forward , and pushes them all back with a glare. He speaks in words dripping with scorn,
"For charge one I admit guilt, although as far as I remember the charge for breaking curfew was a mere fine. I didn't sneak in, I came through the front and stepped through the opened doors, if any of the guards weren't watchful then it is no sin of mine. "
"As to the second, you owe those runes to me. I have waited five years for you to graciously get off your seats and give me a title, five long and painful years of being seen as the stupid one and the one that got held back. When those five years ended, I got nothing for my troubles, but still I waited faithfully for the summons granting me what I had long wished for. Two more years passed, and I could wait no longer. I didn't learn forbidden runes, I merely took what was stolen from me to begin with. "
"As for the third, you make me seem like some kind of cowardly thief. This so-called distinguished assembly managed to hurt itself, all I did was chant a minor defensive rune, of rank three which I hope you all know merely deflects the shots. They ignored my runes, perhaps thinking me for a simpleton and cast a array of spells on me that were targeted to kill. Had their aim been a bit better, perhaps I would be lying dead and forgotten, but thankfully their addled wits couldn't hold a stick against my casting. Blaming me for their own fault is the epitome of cowardice, I expected far more from you Archchancellor. I rest my case, and await your verdict graciously."
He bows with a smirk, and pretends to doze against one of the walls, as if he already knows what verdict is coming.
The Archchancellor’s face turns red with self righteous fury. He smashes his fist into the table causing the quills and glass ink bottles to rattle on the table. He continues his tirade,
"For harming members of the Council, conspiring to steal the Libraries secrets , and illegally breaking into the Library, we hereby expel you from the University for an indefinite period. We hope that you will realize your mistakes and later regret your hasty decisions. I myself hope you will do this as far away as possible, preferably dead. Council adjourned and members dismissed."
He haughtily straightens his wizard hat, topsy from his emotional oration and turns to leave. But the mage has final words to say,
"If you think this ends here, think again. One day you yourselves will rue the day you cast me out. You will scream in pain as you dance to my magics tune, begging me to have the mercy that you lacked. Perhaps you yourselves will realize your mistake. I doubt it though, old vermin such as you seldom learn new tricks. Now to the so-called esteemed University, its brainless faculty, and blustering mages, I bid adieu."
Saying so he blasts down the ironwood doors with a few syllables, his wicked laughter echoing in the corridor as he leaves.
"I was foolish, little did I know of the world outside. I did learn to regret the mistake, and often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed. Perhaps nothing, but better than being expelled I suppose."
"I can't listen to this any longer, you wallow in self-admonishment and misery. You seem to prove their actions right by finding blame inside yourself, have you lost the wit that you had then? I dare you to prove their actions later. Remember the glade and Bessa..."
Lethans eyes cloud in thought and he stops momentarily, the name parting his lips as he remembers the glade, how-
He breaks off and staggers onto one knee, clutching his head in a furious howl.
"Stop, I command you, I beg you to stop. Leave me be and go back to where you came from, I have no need of you. I can die by myself without your hands meddling."
A deep voice joins a scaled figure as it reaches for the mage,
"Really? Are you so willing to die that you refuse my help? Come, let us go back home, a warm hearth and a good stew is what you need."
After a long pause, Lethan gazes at him, his pupil dilated in his madness
"Home? I know of no such thing, do you mean the flowers around me? Look how softly the light falls upon them, beautiful isn't it? You must get some for yourself sometime."
Hulm's eye widens in confusion,
"What nonsense are you babbling? I talk of the cave, not flowers. Let's go before the weather gets any worse, we need to leave as soon as possible"
Lethan steps back a little ,
"Leave? No I like my glade thank you very much.Unless...you have come to take me away haven't you? Just like they did before, they made you do it again didn't they?"
His voice rises in pitch and he continues to hastily back away from Hulm,
"No, never again. I will never go back to that room, to be dusted off every decade just to seal up a simple demon and then put back with no thanks. I'm with Bessa again, at last. You can go tell the Archchancellor that his tool is taking a vacation, for an undetermined amount of time"
He begins to run away , lost in his madness with the whispers egging him on. His crazed laugh echoes through the plains, ending abruptly with a fall.
Hulm tries to catch him, but he disappears and falls down a large precipice, his figure lost amongst the depths. Hulm waits for a few moments hoping to hear some sign that he was still moving. None came, and he curses in disappointment as he reluctantly goes back. Sometime later, an echo is heard.
****
Lethan lies on the ground cradled by soft snow. His left eye opens, and it reveals an endless void. A dark aura emanates from his body as it begins to twitch and spaz about. Like a marionette he rises, propelled by some tangled strings he lurches around. His legs get tangled in his arms, and temporarily he tries to lift himself with his head. Soon though, the movements of the body are remembered and he begins to stagger about in at least some orderly fashion. A voice rings through unseen caves and brings with it the coldness of the grave.
"At.....Last.....They..said...I would fail....but here I am, I , Nephtym have conquered death " a wicked laughter is swallowed by the surrounding cavern.
"Now what to do what to do....." he begins to mumble as he wanders about , "Ah, I see, so convenient. To have my host bring me to the very place which I desired. Fate has finally played into my hand...."
Nephtym feels around for a crevice, and when he finds it chants the opening sigils. "Brythuray, Alvanh dru poKveh". A light glows from within, and the walls part to allow him to step through. He mutters again, "How quaint, the Ulduin never change their spells or methods, the same as their traditions I suppose.....well, it has no doubt proved their downfall."
Dead bodies of the Ulduins lie where they died, their dull eyes staring reproachfully at his intrusion. Their bodies are scarred with the claw marks of ancient creatures.
He scoffs at them,
"You will bar my way no longer, neither charm nor door can stop me from my goal now."
He kicks one in the head and it crumbles to a fine grey dust, the armor falling with a clang. He continues to walk through walls hewn out of ice and stone, decorated with a dull grey metal. They are empty and damaged, as he walks he avoids the rubble that had gathered there over the centuries.
He stops at a tarnished door, as dull as the walls around it. On its surface embossed symbols can be seen but they are to worn away to tell what they meant or represented. He tries to open it, but the hinges are rusted and refuse to budge. Seeing this, he breaks down the door with force instead, issuing a clang and another wave of dust.
As it clears a wide chamber is revealed. The many corpses of mages gather about a runic circle in the center, falling where they had made their last stand. He looks around finds the remains of one in particular, scorched and with a sword through it. He exclaims with laughter,
"My dear Thrylla, so good to see you again. Ah , where are my manners. After all, one lowly mage doesn't address a Grand Magus in such disrespectful tones. Then again, you can't do much about it now, can you, not with your own sword stabbed through you."
"And yet here I stand above you, still alive from the very research you sought to seal away. No matter what you did to me I still managed to come back, your pitiful mind can't even begin to comprehend what I went through to achieve this. This reward, that I should be able to see you dead was beyond my wildest dreams. You who had once scorned me are now in turn ridiculed by me. So pass all imbeciles, "
He spits and leaves the chamber.
"Hmm...where was I ...Ah yes, my studies. I wonder if their pitiful forces had managed to break through, not that it would have mattered. "
He resumes walking, and reaches a door. It is plain and simple, nothing giving away the contents inside. The doorknob and locks are invisible, he speaks to open them
"Krylmu van akhet, Zeraptu vo lo thruta, Abrekara telphura, hagharbaprobnet."
With a slow groan, the door slides downwards into the ice, moved by an ancient mechanism.
He snickers,
"Figured as much, they didn't even manage to pass the locks. I wish I could have seen their faces when the fireball exploded in their midst.....ah well, lets see what's inside shall we? "
He enters the room, its insides as plain as the door that had restrained it. No magical instruments line the desks, no books or tomes of ancient knowledge decompose in a corner. The only things that occupy the room are dust, and a bed.
He speaks several more syllables, and a box appears. Its ethereal surface lies on the 8'th plane, scarcely visible even with his magic. He smiles , his eyes flicker over the box rapidly, lusting for the contents inside. He begins a droning chant, twisting words flowing into and over each other, a pulse escaping the box at each one. He doesn't hear the entrance of a creature through the opened walls or its sharp-pitched cry as it sniffed the air, searching for its prey.
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At the end of his chant the strongbox opens silently.He reaches with his hands and pulls out two items, so powerful they are warping the space itself. The staff is of a dark wood , a blue crystal embedded in its top. The ring is obsidian, bands of shadow flowing through it.
His voice is filled with pride,
"Oh how I've waited for this, to hold and wear these items that I constructed myself. I remember the past days of contracts, summonings, sacrifices....ah, those were the days. Crijit and Narka were at my call, doing my every whim, and the entire blathering assembly was in my palm. If it wasn't for an accidental spy I might have even been able to open the portal without them suspecting anything. "
He breaks out of his reverie, and begins to inspect the items for any malformations. Finding none, he decided that he might as well start with the ring.
His smile widens as he puts on the ring, waiting expectantly for the flow of power to commence. His upturned lips turn horizontal as his eyebrows furrow together, something is wrong. Too late, another set of runes begin to glow amongst the ring and rise from its inky depths. They are as dark as where they came from, yet glow with a sullen majesty. As they float up they begin to inscribe a complex rune structure over him, twisting and turning as they fit into their places.
He struggles to read it with a worried voice,
"Thvulm? no , wait...that's Drem paired with Lutwyn, what are they....no, god no, they have Usreala in there as well, for gods sakes no!"
He waves his arms at the floating runes desperate for anything to break its progress,
"Blit! Varagraph! break damn you, Trilyhfg, Crifgh Altarmi, aargh."
His words end as the runes contract, sinking into him and binding him in their many circles. He closes his eye, preparing for the pain to come. Yet again, nothing happens. He opens his eye hesitantly, not feeling any different even after the runes had passed. His eyes glance at the ring, but a relieved sigh escapes him. The ring is dark once more, no more runes are spilling forth. He walks out of the room, his steps slipping across the marble as he makes his way towards the exit, when the creature appears.
At first he's taken aback, but he flaunts his staff and speaks,
"Really? I am stopped in my tracks by a mere Glyth? You pitiful vermin shall be the first to fall under my staff. Feast your eyes on power you will never have, nor live to see again. Ajisy, val Halmar"
The staff glows with an otherworldly force. Glimpses of the other planes flicker through its crystal tip as the mage cocks a grin and continues to chant. Halfway done, the glow fades and the runes falter as the magic fails. The staff shatters into thousands of tiny fragments, pelting him and the creature, soon he is left with nothing but an empty hand.
The creature stares at him, wondering what was supposed to happen. It sits back on its haunches a bit confused at the whole proceedings, a bright light then a shattering and pelting of some random sticks. It tilts its head quizzically at him, as he begins to run. Its maw parts in a toothy grin, well this it could understand, finally its prey had done something that made sense. It leaps and begins to chase him through the halls.
Left, right, and back again Nephtym leads the creature. His steps are disjointed, and his breath comes out in harsh gasps. Periodically he would look back, only to see the monster and speed up his pace. The Counting room! This is where he would lead it, but alas, it had caved in long ago. He turns into another hallway, steps pittering over the cobblestones.
He runs through an ancient dining hall, banging into wooden tables corroded and malformed with rot and leaving dust in his wake. He kicks one of them into the creature, it barely pauses as it rams through it and the worn shield that follows. Gathering speed, he slides his body into a narrow hallway, breaking a couple cobwebs as he does so. The creature pauses, sniffs the opening and attempts to get a paw inside. When that doesn't work it walks off, intending to capture its prey via a different route.
He leans against the walls and catches his breath, as he relaxes he looks up for a moment. Slowly crawling down the sides were thousands of tiny spiders, eager to have a meal that was so easily presented. He lets out a panicked scream, sweat covering his face as he recognizes them as Gavarian Mothbiters, known for the excruciatingly painful deaths they cause. He squeezes alongst the hallway, dodging the hungry swarm. He recklessly crawls out, barely escaping their hungry tendrils. On his elbows he glances up, and views the creature grinning at him from across the hall.
“By the Gods!”
Scrabbling onto his feet, he runs as fast as he can away from both creature and spider, the heavy footfalls echoing through the empty corridors.
A closet beckons, a sturdy door leaning half open. Nephtym rushes inside and slams it, barricading the door with buckets and shelves that lie scattered about. He looks up and views a broken roof and a blizzard raging across a twilight sky. He starts to climb up but hesitates, not wanting to freeze himself out there. A loud slam interrupts his thoughts as the doors rock back with the blow, the creature has found him and refuses to wait. Its eye views him through a hole in the door, telling him to wait a little longer, it will be right down. As the hits continue he speeds up and jumps out into the storm, dashing through the snow in escape from the threat behind him.
The creature manages to break down the door into splinters but is greeted with an empty room. It tries to climb up but falls down quickly, the shaky roof not able to support its weight. It looks around uncertain, releasing several keen wuffles, and seems to give up as it heads back outside into the halls. It shambles about discontentedly, annoyed with the entire situation. It had chased the darn mage all across the valley, even fallen off a cliff just to get him, and he gets away just from climbing a wall. Its musing are interrupted by a cloud of shadows.
They seem to spin around in circles, gradually forming a humanoid shape. Flocks of glyphs twirl inside the cloud, runes inscribed on dark iron floating in midair and giving a certain substance to the creature. They flare occasionally, releasing pulses of light amongst the darkness like miniature thunderstorms. It turns around to regard the creature, a thin monstrosity of a meter in height. Its heavy footsteps , disproportioned to its size, crunch the ground wherever it walks. But none of them are heard, sound seems muffled around it giving a mute silence to its passing. It barrels through, barely noticing the creature that it pummels into the dust, and continues marching towards the object that it's spelled to protect.
Into the snow a figure falls, but then staggers back up again. This is not the first time for Nephtym, the body is on the verge of breaking down and collapses frequently, only to rise at Nephtym’s insistent commands. His haggard face sports new bruises, and a tinge of blue is not the only reaction to the cold. He keeps going despite its protests, although shambling a little slower now. A spiteful frown is seen, to have come so close only to be chained and bound to such an insignificant speck of a body. Blasted Thrylla and her conclave, they had no doubt snuck in and tampered with his gear. He had been too lenient in inspecting it, he should have cast a divining spell at least. It's too late anyways, this blizzard has no regard for him and is intent on burying the body.
None of these bloody mountains or trees had been here when he went into his long sleep. His sense of direction is too skewed to find a way to safety, limited to wandering randomly in hope of a lucky break. Then a weak smile alights his face, Lethan might know, he had after all been here before. He begins to ransack the mages recent memories, trying to figure out a path back to Hulm's place based on his and the mages combined knowledge. He manages to get a general idea and forces the body into a shaky run, knowing that if he should stop he won't get up again.
Sometime later he collapses, his strength gone and his vision dwindling. However he sees Hulm approaching , he had made it to the cave. He goes back to sleep, his mission done and the precious body saved.
Lethan awakens, still mad and dazed from the journey. He begins to ramble,
"Darkness that isn't dark, light that isn't light."
He lets out a cracked laugh,
"Oh the things they teach, the wonders and the instruments, so many creations lost when they fell."
His smile is gone and he stares at Hulm with intensity,
"I don't think they're all gone though, some might come back. Come back and...."
The grin comes back,
"Bring me flowers for Bessa, she'll like that wouldn't she"
His murmurings continue even with Hulm picks him up and carriers him back inside the cave. They only cease once he falls asleep, warmed by the hearth and the stew that Hulm had fed him. Hulm watches Lethan as he lies there sleeping, wondering what in the world could have brought him to this madness, and what creations he had mentioned. Somehow they didn't seem like the nice and simple ones....
A couple days pass , with the mage mumbling things from his wild dreams, sometimes waking up screaming but not remembering why. Fragments of old languages and twisted runes tumble out of his mouth, occasionally calling Hulm by many other names. The storm continues to rage outside, and on the third day the mage regains his sanity enough to talk with Hulm.
A thin whisper of a voice speaks,
"I don't know what happened to me. I remember walking across an icy plane and arguing with...whispers.."
He coughs briefly and continues, his voice gaining strength as he went on.
"They told me of power and of riches I could have had, someone I could have been. I don't remember much of that, only that I managed to see you for a moment. For some reason I remember feeling angry at you, I don't even know why. I'm sure you saw me fall, it wasn't as bad as it seemed to be, the snow had cushioned my fall. However soon after, it wasn't me who stood up and walked around...it was someone else."
"He called himself Nephtym, and traversed the citadel searching for something. I think the ring I have is what he wanted, although he seemed to rage over it. I don't remember much more, other than a scant few fragments of chanting and runes glowing the rest passed in a blur."
Hulm nods thoughtfully as Lethan goes back to sleep. Why in the world would a darkness possess the mage, only to leave as quickly as it had come. He has his suspicions, but only time would tell if the thing still lingers. He sits back and continues to watch the mage as he lies sleeping, thankful that the nightmares that had plagued Lethan were over.
Later in the night, a silence descends. Hulm wakes up and glances around, there was a raging blizzard just recently and it was unlikely that it would end so soon. As he turns around and views the caves entrance, he sees a fearsome sight. A cloud of shadows, darker than the night around it, slowly steps into the cave. In its body float glowing runes in complex patterns, releasing flashes of light as they hum through the air. Its face only had what could be called a mouth, the rest a formless and smooth black. It stares at Lethan, quietly stepping forward as cracks emitted from the floor.
Hulm reaches for his dagger, keeping his eye on the creature and watching for any sign of hostility. He throws the blade, and it whistles clean through the creature with no apparent harm done. It stares at him for a second but then resumes pacing towards Lethan. Hulm goes tense, a worried frown across his face. The creature raises an arm prepared to strike a blow at the lying mage. Hulm mouths ancient words, unheard in the creatures vicinity, and the cave dazzles with a blinding light.
Hidden runes cover every inch of the caves surface, summoned by Hulms call. They swarm and gather in a frenzy, pushing back the creature like a cloud of gnats. Its own runes begin to flare and fight, but the others are too many for it and it's thrown back in a pulsating shockwave. A sphere of darkness forms around it, binding it and imprisoning so it could do no harm.
Hulm relaxes, glancing at Lethan to make sure he was safe. Lethan had woken up by now, staring at the sealed creature.
"I remember this as well, this cold and aged darkness was in the chamber with the ring, lying in wait for something. I think its after me, it was probably sent to guard it."
Hulm swears and replies,
"That damn things a Shadow Golem, why the hell did you have to go and get it over here. They are near invincible and guard relics of the old. They are formed of runes unbreaking, and kill without a moments thought. Worse still, they never, ever, rest or stop."
He turns to the mage and gestures for him to stand up,
"Pack up, won't have much time. We need to leave as quickly as possible, I think I know someone who can help in Aclyth."
They turn to look at the runes, and they shiver from what they saw. The runes are going out one by one, flaring suddenly and then lapsing into nothingness. With the pressing time on them as the runes continue to go out, Hulm quickly gathers the provisions for a journey, packing everything he could into multiple satchels along with Lethans help. He yells for the mage to follow him, and they run away into the blizzard, as far away from the beast as possible.
The creature senses their leaving, and quickly tears the remaining runes to shreds. A patternless shrieking scrapes through the blizzard and cuts at their ears, as it screams out what seems like words. It begins to chase after its prey determined to catch it, its footsteps marking huge holes in the ground where it ran.
They reach a frozen river , a raging current flowing under it with a bed of ice above. A road leads onwards, but it is too far for them to escape the creature that is gaining on them.
Hulm shouts,
"Step back! The undead are weaker over running water."
He raises his axe and staunchly stands against the approaching monster. With a sudden jerk it stops, staring down into the water. It tries to step forward, but the ice cracks and it nearly falls through. Hulm steps back, mincing as far away from the monster as he can. His eye scans the ground it had stepped on, it wasn't likely to step on the ice anytime soon. Perhaps it couldn't even cross. However these doubts are dispelled as the creature pulls yet another card from its shadowed sleeves.
Runes float and gather at its feet creating a strange and darkened contraption, a pair of boots with blades in their soles. It steps forward slowly at first, but with increasing speed it seems to float across the ice, dashing towards the mage. Hulm lunges to intercept it, and manages to make a solid hit against its shoulder. The hit has it spin across the ice and hit an icy wall with a loud crunch. Its face turns to look at him, regarding him now as an obstacle to be disposed of. It crouches down and braces itself against the wall, and then it shoots off towards Hulm, a streak of darkness skating across the ice.
Runes flash and dart around it, striking at Hulm in little whispers of light and darkness. He parries most of them, the remaining few making superficial scratches across his skin. The rhythmic hits form their own tune as they dance across the ice, shadows clashing against each other. The golem spins with the fluidity of a dancer, sliding about and using its hands to score deep wounds in Hulm’s body. Meanwhile Hulm stands still, a un-movable wall of flesh repulsing the shadow. Soon this number will end, one of them dead and bleeding on the floor.
At this rate it seems that Hulm would be the one to fall, his movements becoming sluggish and his strikes beginning to falter. The golem senses its advantage, and presses in to finish him off, which proves to be its first mistake. No longer tired, he quickly swings his blade and cuts through it, dealing a heavy wound. Panicking as it had not felt pain in many years, it rushes back against the wall and commits its second mistake. He says an Ancient Wyrd and throws a shadowed dagger, hitting the outcrop of ice above it.
A violent explosion shakes the cliff, and a chunk of decent enough size to be called an iceberg tumbles down onto the golem. It attempts to reach and grab Hulm , but it misses by a scant inch. Its cries sink into the depths of the raging river as the current carries it away. Hulm staggers back to the mage, wounded and exhausted from the ordeal. It had taken nearly all he had to cast the Wyrd and swing his axe.
He manages to croak out,
"Lets go....the time the river bought us will not last long, we must hurry to Aclyth. I've heard of an artificer there who could maybe help us, although I've also heard that he's a bit...queer."
They leave for the city, Hulm hanging onto Lethans helpful shoulder. They fade into the distance as they walk over an ancient road, still hunted by the creature.