Realms of Glomora: The Guardian of the Frosted Mountains

 

The dwarf cursed at his pony as it stumbled over a stone. Once he was able to right the beast, he looked sheepishly over his shoulder at Veran. “Like I told you, Master Bloodstalker, these paths are treacherous. Even after half a century, I still have trouble navigating through the Frosted Mountains.”

Veran gave the barest hint of a smile and turned to look at the behemoths that towered over them. They stretched toward the sky, huge snow-covered mountains that made Veran feel as if he were as insignificant as an ant at the feet of gods. Looking at them he felt himself grow a mite dizzy and lowered his eyes. “How much father, Narzeer?”

The dwarf continued his pony on its trek, Veran following behind on his own mount. “Not too much farther. That being the case, I’d venture another word of warning to ye…”

“No,” Veran said. “I appreciate the concern, let me assure you, but I did not make the choice to come to these mountains lightly. I have a mission that I have to complete.”

Narzeer did not turn to look at the vampire hunter, but Veran could hear the dwarf’s concern in his voice. “If you say so…what exactly are you looking for from this spirit again?”

“Information.”

 “Information? From a snowflake? Why?”

“Every library I visited was guarded by a grumpy old wizard that was reluctant to let me touch his books.” Veran quirked the corner of his mouth.

The dwarf didn’t laugh.

They continued on for sometime when suddenly, a keening howl cascaded off the side of the mountain reaching the trail that the two of them were on. It was more than a howl though. It possessed a music, a haunting melody that caused gooseflesh to break out across Veran's skin. For him, it was both lovely and frightening at the same time. The voice echoed all around him and Narzeer, their mounts writhing and neighing in consternation.

“It’s her!” Narzeer gritted his teeth. “The witch is upon us!”

 A white figure appeared under the boughs of a snow-laden tree farther down the path. She was a young woman, her phantom eyes gray as storm clouds, her hair as white and fine as fresh milk. She stared at Narzeer and Veran with a cold gaze. Narzeer lifted his crossbow, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you really expect that to have any effect?” Veran asked.

“It’s a silver bolt,” the dwarf said. “I’ll skewer the ghost whore.”

“Peace.” Veran lowered himself from his horse, his boots planting in the snow. “Let me talk to her.”

“You’re mad!”

Veran shrugged. “I don't deny it.”

“At least draw your sword,” Narzeer pleaded from behind.

“Now, Narzeer. That’s no way to approach a lady. You need more tact than that, you know.”

Veran walked towards the woman until he stood under the glass-like shroud of icy tree limbs with her. The pale woman had not moved, but stared at Veran with an intense gaze. Up close, Veran realized how solid the spirit appeared. Her white skin looked hard, as if it were coated in frost. Her gray eyes changed to a light blue as a stray sunbeam caught the irises, sending a chill through Veran. He had never encountered a creature like this before. 

“Are you the Guardian of the Frosted Mountains?” he asked.

Her voice  possessed an ancient cadence as she spoke, as if it were the very voice of winter. “I am who you say I am, Veran Bloodstalker.”

“You know me?”

“Your name has been shared among us in the Realm Unseen, the World Untouched. As has your sword, ShadowWeep.”

A voice, the melding of two, one dark and masculine, the other soft and feminine, resounded through Veran’s mind.

She knows us.

“And do you know why I am here?”

“You seek answers,” she said. An icy wind blew, billowing Veran’s cloak, but it did not stir the woman’s long hair. “About your sword, about your mission of blood.”

“Yes,” Veran said. He felt a hope flicker in his chest, a burning desire to have all the questions that had plagued him for so long finally answered.

Her pale eyes never left him. “I have none for you, Bloodstalker.”

Veran’s heart plummeted, as cold as the chill that seeped its way past his clothes into his skin. “What do you mean?”

“I am forbidden to tell you the things you want to know,” she said. “You seek to release the spirit of Naivya from your sword, and that is something I cannot tell you how to do. As I have said, I am forbidden.”

Veran felt his face grow hot. “Forbidden by whom?”

She shook her head. “That is not for me to say either. Your answer does not lie with me, Veran Bloodstalker.”

“You will tell me,” Veran said, drawing ShadowWeep, the black and blue jewels of its pommel glistening in the dim light of the winter sun. “Or I will destroy you.”

“Foolish boy.”

Veran brought down his sword but the woman disappeared into a white mist, and a cold breeze tousled his hair. 

Narzeer cursed. "I knew that woman couldn't be trusted!"

Veran, anger pulsing through his veins, turned. Then his eyes widened. "Narzeer!"

Blood sprouted in a scarlet fountain from Narzeer's neck as the spirit sunk her fangs into his flesh. Her eyes flared yellow as she glared at Veran while she drank the dwarf's blood. Narzeer gasped, his crossbow falling from his hands. There was a wet squelching of blood and meat as the spirit tore his throat out. 

Veran ran then leapt at the apparition, a scarlet glow emitting from his blade. This time ShadowWeep clashed against the spirit's skin as if against a piece of armor, leaving no mark. The spirit hissed, her fingers going around his neck and constricting as she lifted him off the ground. 

"I am not a malignant guardian, Bloodstalker. But I will not be crossed." 

She threw him onto the snow with a violent ferocity then leapt upon him, her sharp, claw-like nails tearing into his flesh. He cried out, the wounds being corporeal. But he could feel a deeper pain, one that was sinking into the very veins of his soul. 

"Despite what they told me, I will kill you," the spirit said, her needle-like teeth an inch from his face. "I will kill you for daring to cross the guardian of the Frosted Mountains."

A voice not Veran's escaped his lips. "No, you won't."

The spirit recoiled. "Your eyes...how..."

A pulsing, dark blue light shot out from Veran's hands, sending the spirit flying through the air. She screeched, her body elongating and swirling about as she took flight, writhing around like an eel cutting through  water. She landed, crouching next to Narzeer's corpse, her eyes brimming with yellow hate. 

The same aura that had repelled the spirit now surrounded Veran. He felt as if he was looking down on himself, squaring off against the guardian, his eyes the same color as the arcane energy that surrounded him. He lifted his sword, though it was no longer himself who controlled his arm. 

"You do not have the Soul Right, Halure," Veran said. His voice sounded like a blend between his own and that of a woman. "You will not kill Veran Bloodstalker, or you shall be banished to the Void."

The spirit called Halure glared at Veran. Then she smiled. "You are weak, Naivya. Your being bound to this man's body has taken most of your strength, and you are even more weakened with your perpetual conflict with Voldrid for Veran's soul. You have no power to banish me to the Void."

Veran's eyes flared. He leapt as quick as the flash of a falling star. Before Halure could move, she found ShadowWeep run through her being, the arcane energy of her lifeblood rising from  her body in a pale white steam.

Veran brought his lips to her ear. "You will never question one of the Tahu again. Even as you spiral endlessly in the Void." 

Halure screamed, her voice reaching a high keening that echoed through the mountains. Then she vanished into an icy white mist that was carried into the wind until every trace of it faded into the sky. The echo continued, growing dimmer and dimmer until all was silent in the world of snowy white. 

Veran found himself on his knees, exhausted, ShadowWeep laying in the snow next to him. His hands trembled, but no magical aura surrounded him. 

"Naivya..." he whispered. There was no answer. 

"NAIVYA!"

His voice carried into the snowy peaks, but nothing around him stirred. When the last remnants of his anguished cry had finally faded away he stood and sheathed his sword. He could no longer feel her. Though she had been there for the first time in a long time, Veran could no longer feel Naivya's presence. 

"I won't give up," he whispered to the Frosted Mountains around him. "I will find a way to free you."

The Frosted Mountains did not reply. Instead they watched as he loaded Narzeer's body onto the pony then led the mounts out of the shadows of the mountains.  The mountains watched as he treaded onward, chilled with cold, and all alone. 

Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/alanfrijns-16705522/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7533400">Alan Frijns</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=7533400">Pixabay</a>