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It
was actually a fairly nice day as things go, it had just
finished raining and the sharp tang of pine hung in the
air. Sweetpea Corvuskuld gave her cloak a shake to rid it
of clinging raindrops, and then checked her bags to make
sure they were ready for travel. She looked around the town
square of Galpen, scanning for Torhald who was busy buying
last minute supplies. She noticed his bulky dwarven body,
his brown beard almost trailing behind him as he ran to
the smith’s hut to pick up his repaired breastplate. She
smiled fondly at the antics of her partner. She had finished
with her own errands, having spoken to the resident shaman,
and also paid a visit to the smith.
Finally
he was ready and darted over, and beamed up into her troll
face. “Come on Sweets, to the horses! I heard tell that
there was some grand hunting in Muspelheim!” He explained
as he tugged her to the stable yard, “Some giants seem to
be going for Midgardian snacks in Haggerfel and they need
help clearing them out. Good treasure to be had too.”
She
trotted after him, giving a chuckle at his exuberance. She
too was eager to get back on the road after the few days
stay in town. Rain or not, it was nice to be on the move
again.
They
retrieved their horses from where they had been stabled,
and strapped on the saddlebags and bedrolls, affixing weapons
and the other pack items. Torhald mounted his sturdy mountain
pony and watched as Sweetpea slipped a carrot to her big
draft horse before climbing aboard. He grinned and shook
his head at her and the yellow dappled pattern on her cheeks
brightened as she blushed. The ride was uneventful and quiet,
with no unexpected surprises. They pushed the horses for
the first day then took a more leisurely pace, enjoying
the change in scenery as the thick coniferous forest slowly
thinned. They arrived in the small hamlet of Haggerfel the
following evening, and decided not to bother staying overnight
and to camp out at their destination.
Torhald
headed to the fletchers to stock up on arrows as Sweetpea
took the horses to the local stable master for boarding
and grabbed their bags for the hike. Finally they were ready
to go and headed off into the hills towards Muspelheim.
A few hours later they stopped at an immense arch that was
nestled between two cliffs, amazed at how it towered so
far above them. It was then they noticed the prevailing
red glow that saturated the area. A strange barrier, pristine
white snow one on side, hard volcanic ground on the other.
"This
bodes not well Sweets."
"Aye.
For the giants." She nodded into the expanse that promised
great prey and plenty of riches. She patted his head affectionately
and gave a beaming grin. "Lets roll hun, I want to get set
up before the night falls."
They
followed the instructions on the map that Torhald had brought
with him and headed deep into the territory of Muspelheim,
at one time skirting a mass of giant spiders that caused
a shiver to run down Sweetpea's back. Thor’s hammers, but
she hated bugs! Even though it was still day out, they noticed
a marked decrease in any sunlight that got through the oppressive
sooty atmosphere. It took them awhile to get used to the
strong scent of sulphur that hung in the air, which wasn't
helped by the intense heat that attempted to suffocate them.
They followed ridges that were bordered by bubbling pools
of lava and paused at the top of a sloping cliff to survey
their chosen hunting grounds. In the distance they could
see a colossal castle, with a stone bridge arching over
a molten moat. The blood red skyline added yet another ominous
touch to the already foreboding area. The castle was surrounded
by giants, and they'd never seen such! Their skins were
shiny and cracked as if from horrible burns and were bright
scarlet, matching the color of the surrounding lava. Their
thick shaggy hair was as black as a demons lair and seemed
to sprout in disorganized clumps on their heads. Their faces
must have been created from a demented man’s nightmare,
their visages were so marred. Many looked as if the features
had melted, like beeswax in great heat, with great misshapen
fangs adding to the disfigurement. Not only was their countenance
horrible to behold, but also these creatures were immense!
The shortest being at least twice the height of Sweetpea,
with legs and arms each as thick as the widest troll. It
was no wonder the townsfolk of Haggerfel were terrified!
“Good
gods,” Tor exclaimed, “they are uglier than those damn Firbolgs
in Hibernia!”
Sweetpea
burst into laughter, “And not much is!”
They
decided to make camp on the crest of the hill. Massive volcanic
boulders afforded some protection from any inclement weather
and also from being seen from the castle. Sweetpea lit the
lanterns and set up the tent, tucking away supplies that
weren't essential, as Torhald got the fire going and readied
a bite to eat. They settled close together, and began to
prepare for the hunt. Every so often they would pause in
the oiling of a weapon or the checking of armor to discuss
possible tactics or explain a strategy detail. As they were
both still feeling alert, and the shamanistic blessings
of Ymir were strong within Sweetpea, they decided to head
down and try their hand at eradicating some giants. Even
with it being twilight, the ruddy glow from the lava was
more than enough to light their way.
Sweetpea
held back Torhald for a moment. "Lets get you ready love,
before you go beatin' up on the poor things."
He
gave a mischievous grin and sat, waiting for her to finish.
He watched as she entered a slight trance and the incantations
began. He let his mind wander, remembering the first time
that they had met.
She
had come to his aid like an avenging Valkyrie, a very large
and a very mad avenging Valkyrie. Funny how it was a troll
who almost killed him, and another who saved his life and
then became such an integral part of it. He had been drunk,
for a long time, spending months at a stretch in a blurry
haze. It had all started with a young dwarven lass who had
broken his heart and then robbed him blind. Torhald struggled
to remember her name... Dorsa, that was it. He had spiraled
into a depression and drifted from town to town, not even
the comfort of his hunters bow to soothe him. He'd sold
that off as the last of his meager possessions in return
for a handful of silver. He had wandered into yet another
bar, this time in Jordheim, and after downing too much cheap
ale had let some words slip to a troll. Something about
rocks, Lurikeens, and a good time. The troll had taken great
exception; not being in the clearest of minds himself, and
the two proceeded to create a scene such the likes that
had only been seen on a battlefield. Chairs, tables, tankards,
firewood, anything at hand became a bludgeoning weapon to
deck each other with. Even with Torhald being one of the
tallest and largest dwarves for his race, and giving almost
as good as he got, he was no match for the towering troll.
Torhald had just been hit with a rather sturdy wooden tabletop
and was in the process of crumbling to his knees when he
felt a firm hand scoop him up. He thought it was the troll
about to give him the last clubbing he could handle and
tried to struggle. The hand just clasped him closer and
he was enveloped with the scent of field flowers. His weary
brain had struggled to comprehend. This troll seemed a lot
… softer than the one he had been fighting, and sure didn’t
smell the way it should have. He looked up through the blood
running into his eyes and saw the most amazing thing. It
was a troll female, with buttercup yellow dapples on her
cheeks and a smile that made his head blur in a totally
different way then he had gotten used to.
She’d
tucked him under her arm, removed the hammer from her belt
with her free hand, and with a stony look at the offending
troll, who looked at this new state of events with uncertainty,
gave Torhald’s attacker a solid wallop. The troll staggered,
tried to stay upright for a moment, and then plopped to
the ground, sitting with an un-yielding thud. She then proceeded
to give the troll a tongue lashing that would have made
Odin cringe, injecting many opinions about his ancestry
that would be highly improbable let alone scandalously improper.
About halfway through the tirade, Torhald passed out. He
had awoken later in a quiet hut with Sweetpea sitting by
the cot, watching him intently. Considering the beating
he had just taken, and the mental and physical state that
he had entered the fight with, he felt amazingly well. She
must have been doing some intricate magic with his bones
to put him back together. He gazed at her, noting the dove-grey
of her hide that he knew would be soft as silk, and the
sparkling of her eyes. She wasn't very tall as trolls went,
quite petite actually. She was all in all, perfect. He sat
up, still keeping his eyes on her, and watched as she smiled
in satisfaction at his movement... and maybe something more.
His heart did a little catch and he smiled back.
Even
after eight winters together, she was still smiling at him
and his heart was still skipping beats. Torhald brought
himself back to the present with a mental shake as Sweetpea
finished the last of her magics, the glow from her final
spell slowly fading. He took a deep breath, always enjoying
the feeling of power and mighty strength he got from her
enhancing spells. He took out his bow and nocked an arrow,
assessing the tension. They moved in closer, reexamining
the guards’ rotations and routes. They waited until the
coast was mostly clear then an air of complete unity and
cooperation settled over the two of them, the fight was
finally at hand!
Sweetpea
performed a quick casting, and Torhald’s perception grew.
He felt the force that would go behind the shot he'd make
and knew the arrows damage would be greater than normal.
This was one spell that unlike the others which lasted for
many hours, had to be cast quite often.
He
took a step forward, lining up the sight just so, and released.
With the combination of his increased strength and Sweetpea's
augmentations the arrow flew fast and true towards its victim.
The giant grunted and tried to grasp at its back as the
arrow sunk into its ribcage. By the time it had turned,
Torhald had already released another arrow, this time hitting
it high in the shoulder. In the meantime Sweetpea started
the incantations to her destructive spells and while Torhald’s
first shot was flying towards the unfortunate quarry, a
roiling black ball of magic was following it. The giant
roared, blinded by rage from the two arrows and the bolt
that had slammed into it. Soon a sickly green ichor writhed
around the giant as Sweetpea wove another spell, this one
of disease, robbing it of its strength. It gasped for breath
as its knees went momentarily weak and paused just a moment
in its rush forward. Torhald was already pulling another
arrow out of his quiver and sending it racing towards the
ill-fated creature, just as Sweetpea let loose with her
third spell. Poisonous tendrils of blood red and noxious
orange burst from the ground to wrap around the giant. It
amazingly ran faster, almost heedless of the pain, intent
on the demise of the two that dared attack it.
Torhald
quickly slapped his bow into the holder on his back and
pulled out his spear. He prepared himself for the blows
he knew would come, the adrenaline racing in his blood.
Sweetpea gave an exuberant holler and unleashed a slowed
healing spell on Torhald. That would work continuously to
keep him alive in the first barrage of attacks. The giant
rushed onward, its fists curled into fleshy hammers. Its
initial goal was to pummel Torhald where he stood. Without
the defenses and shields that had been cast on him, Torhald
was sure all his bones would have cracked under the pressure.
He lunged forward and rammed his spear into the giant's
leg. It swatted at the thing that caused such intense pain
and took a step backward. Tor was already thrusting the
spear again, this time into the creature's tender stomach;
he gave a twist and pushed up, causing the giant to spasm.
It swung its arm out, knocking Torhald with the flat of
his hand, throwing him up against the cliffs stony side.
Torhald grunted as he collided, sliding to the base of the
cliff. He shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs, and
then gave an evil smile as a heal immediately settled over
him. As he advanced once more, he noticed that the monster
would give odd twitches at times and sway as the toxic spells
from Sweetpea did their work. It feebly tried to hit her,
angered by the fact she was keeping Torhald alive. She blocked
most of the blows, earning herself a few bruises and cuts,
yet landing some strikes of her own. Finally it seemed that
the wounds from the arrows, spear thrusts, hammers blows,
and hexes were taking their toll, and the giant fell to
its hands and knees, panting in exhaustion and agony. Sweetpea
backed up a bit and Torhald came in for the killing blow,
driving the spearhead up into the chest, through bone and
thick muscle, to penetrate the heart. It gave a piercing
wail, jolting upright and flailing its arms, in its death-throws
clouting Torhald one last time, then crumpled forward, sending
dirt and rock chips flying as it fell with a thud. Torhald
rose from where he had been flung, many strides away, and
removed his helmet to rub at the large bump that was already
forming. He wobbled over to Sweetpea and she chuckled as
she let another restorative blanket envelope him.
"Thanks
love."
"Anytime
hun." She leaned down to kiss the top of his head then planted
his helmet back on. "Well let’s see what the creature has
in his pockets, shall we?"
They
riffled through the giants’ belongings, both exerting a
bit to tip the giant over as they reached for the pouch
of coins and gems.
"Eh,
not a bad haul!" Torhald exclaimed. "And one less giant
for Haggerfel." They grinned at each other, then Sweetpea
glanced at the body again. "What is it Sweets?"
Sweetpea
scratched her head, a puzzled look on her face. "Well… well
how are we going to hide this thing?” She gestured to the
corpse. “We can't just leave it laying around for the others
to see, and even I can't drag that monstrosity somewhere.
They are a stupid race, but not totally oblivious and will
notice if its left here."
"I
have just the thing," rustling through a pouch on his belt
and pulling out a black stone. Showing it to her, she noticed
that it seemed to churn deep inside like a disturbed fire.
"Picked this up in Haggerfel from the fletcher. When I told
him where we were headed, he said it might come in handy."
He swaggered over to the dead giant and making sure the
stone was touching skin, placed it on the chest. He walked
back to Sweetpea, and leaned against her to watch, putting
an arm around her hips. A ripple of smoke soon arose from
the torso and then the whole body began to smolder from
the inside out. They watched as the body first turned black,
clothes and all, then cave in as it turned into a pile of
ash, and lastly seemed to dissolve away. Soon only the stone
was left. Sweetpea strode over and picked it up gingerly,
then clenched it in her fist. "Its cool to the touch! No
heat at all!"
Torhald
caught the stone as she threw it to him, “Handy indeed!”
They
decided to chance one more giant. The fight went fairly
smoothly and almost the same as the first. The one difference
being that the next one carried a weapon. A huge curving
scimitar that was as long as Torhald was tall. Only once
during the fight did things get alarming, when Torhald received
a horrific gash across his shoulder, but it was quickly
mended by Sweetpea. Once again the haul was rich with precious
gems and coin. After disposing of the body they called it
a night and hiked back to their campground. Weary but elated,
they curled up together, falling asleep to the knowledge
that not only were they lining their pockets with some well
earned and needed coin, but helping rid a town of a troublesome
menace.
They
woke in the morning refreshed. They broke fast quickly,
eager to challenge the giants again. They seemed to be an
easy target, not very bright when it came to defending their
stronghold and simplistic in their fighting skills. Sweetpea
donned her chain armor, securely affixing her shield to
her arm. Torhald checked his own, pulling the straps of
the studded armor tight, giving his spear and bow a once
over, checking for any cracks or flaws. She then prepared
them both with Ymir’s blessings, as extra protection from
anything untoward in the fights to come.
This
time they decided that Torhald should scout ahead. For it
seemed there was more activity at the castle then there
was the previous night. Maybe their exploits hadn’t gone
unnoticed after all. With a crushing hug and a tender kiss,
Sweetpea released Torhald to investigate. He pulled his
cloak close and after walking just a few steps away, seemed
to disappear. Sweetpea gave a soft sigh. She was always
impressed when he did that, and even a bit jealous at his
ability to just blend in with any scenery that was around.
After
waiting a few anxious moments, he reappeared by her side.
She jumped a bit and he gave a flash of a smile, then it
quickly disappeared, his expression showing barely contained
fury. “What news love? How does it look?”
“Come
see. There’s a new one… and he’s a brute. Bigger than the
rest of them and seems to be the leader of the pack.” He
led her to a outcropping of jagged rocks, to what seemed
only a stones throw away from the bridge, they hunkered
behind it, peering out to observe. He didn’t even have to
point out the newcomer to her. He was quite noticeable compared
to the others. Bands of roughly beaten gold enclosed its
massive upper arms, and a torque as thick as Sweetpea’s
wrist was around the bullish neck. A chain hung from its
belt, adorned with the grisly reminder of why the two of
them were there. It was strung with dwarven heads and even
one troll, hapless victims from Haggerfel. Sweetpea’s blood
began to boil, and a snarl crossed her usually serene features.
Torhald glanced up at her and gave a knowing nod. Sweetpea
did not anger easily, but when she did, beware to any and
all who crossed her path.
“I
can’t believe it! Why haven’t the townsfolk done something
sooner!” She whispered furiously. “Surely there would be
more than just us that have come to fight!” Sweetpea clenched
her fists in suppressed emotion, tears welling in her eyes.
She wiped them away viciously.
“I
think some of… those… WERE the fighters Sweetpea.” He gripped
her forearm tightly, reminding her where she was. “They
must not have had the benefit of a healer or shaman with
their raiding parties. I think he’s the one we have to get.
Without him the others will be confused and disorganized,
and that will give the townsfolk a chance to rally a proper
force and take out the rest of them.”
Sweetpea
nodded her agreement, not trusting to her voice at the moment.
The sight of the heads was extremely distressing to her.
She’d seen a lot as one of the healing caste, but that…
that was beyond acceptable, even the hated Albions and Hibernians
wouldn’t stoop so low!
They
took off and set up watch down the path, to avoid any wandering
giants. They waited, biding for the perfect time when the
chief would be alone. After the sun had moved a good distance
across the sky, it seemed that opportunity had arrived.
The giant chief finally made his appearance, together with
one of his lackeys. They had wandered across the bridge
and were a fair distance from any safety the others might
have offered. It was decided to try taking the both of them,
seeing as how the previous giants were not that difficult
to kill, due to their limited intelligence and ineptitude
in fighting. Torhald headed back the way they had come,
once again blending into the rocks, while Sweetpea stepped
from concealment, letting the two giants notice her.
The
leader laughed, an appalling rumble that held no mirth at
all. “Just one you? You no match for Gortan. Make your body
paste and put your head on my belt!”
Sweetpea
just gave a bone-chilling smile, beckoning for the two to
advance. The two giants each drew their swords and raced
towards her. She stood until the last possible moment and
then calling deep into the magic of the earth, summoned
forth gripping vines. They erupted from the ground, grasping
tendrils reaching up to wrap and coil around the leader.
He was yanked to an abrupt halt, stunned at what had just
happened. His underling paused and looked back as he noticed
the lack of Gortan by his side, then turned to stare at
Sweetpea, puzzlement flickering across his face. Which turned
to an expression of pain as an arrow embedded itself in
his chest. While Sweetpea was providing ample distraction,
Torhald had looped back the way they had come, getting some
distance for a bowshot. As soon as he had seen Gortan stop
he had let the arrow go. The giant immediately changed targets
from shaman to hunter, so Sweetpea spun and cast the damage
increasing charm upon Torhald. Gotan struggled to free himself
from the creepers tightening around him, watching and roaring
in indignation as his aide charged after the dwarven newcomer.
Sweetpea headed for Torhald, trying to get some space between
the giants and herself, room enough to cast her offensive
spells.
It
seems that they were fated to be wrong about an easy fight.
The giant was obviously of higher rank and had greater experience
than the previous ones they had fought, being more methodical
and rational in its attack. Totally disregarding the two
arrows that now protruded from its body, it headed straight
for Torhald. It ignored Sweetpea entirely, presenting a
lucky break, as it gave Sweetpea time to release some of
her more devastating spells and concentrate on keeping Torhald
alive. Torhald rammed his spear as hard as he could, trying
to target vital areas, pacing his endurance for the fight.
He wanted this to be a quick kill, knowing that they still
had the rooted overlord to slay. The giant landed some powerful
blows, and only Sweetpea’s quick actions prevented Torhald
from passing out or being grievously hurt.
Sweetpea
kept one eye on Torhald and the other on the increasingly
agitated Gotan. The vines were beginning to tear from the
ground, slowly giving way to his violent thrashing. She
threw another healing upon Torhald, and knowing he’d be
okay for a moment, summoned a diseasing cloud to encompass
the Chief. It slowed him for a moment, giving her a brief
respite. She sat, and sunk into a light trance, trying to
regain some power. She was still aware of what was happening
so immediately jumped up and screamed when she noticed that
Gotan had finally broken free of his confines.
“TOR!
He’s free!”
Torhald
intensified his efforts, trying to finish off the weakening
giant. “Die already demon spawn!”
Gotan
thundered closer, rushing to his comrade’s side. He quickly
reached Torhald, stunning him with a staggering shield bash.
Taking advantage of the dazed dwarf, he rammed his sword
into the meaty flesh of Torhald’s shoulder. The arm immediately
fell useless to his side and he was faced with two giants,
even if one was noticeably hurt. A small heal wrapped around
him, repairing the arm about halfway, just enough for Torhald
to grab up the two-handed spear again. Another mending cast
quickly followed, the wound now completely healed. He concentrated,
knowing… and hoping, that Sweetpea could keep him alive
while Gotan and his aide tried to slaughter him. He gave
a shout of pain and frustration as Gotan slashed him again,
this time piercing his side, then gave a final thrust finishing
off the Gotan’s crony. The giant crashed to his side, thankfully
out of the way of the ensuing fight.
Torhald
took a steadying breath, mentally realigning himself to
another fight, while trying to ward off Gotan’s attacks.
He was tiring now as he lost blood, his side throbbing.
The first giant had been tougher than the others put together,
and now he had Gotan to deal with! Sweetpea’s regenerating
spell settled over him, bracing him enough to carry on.
Torhald heard her scream to Ymir, calling upon herself a
fresh rush of power, knowing then that she must be running
low on reserves. She let loose this time with the full measure
of her combat spells, anything to help her love, trying
to contain the worry she felt as she saw Torhald stumble
more and evade less. A blast ripped from the below, sending
rings of flame coursing around the giant. It howled in pain
as its skin was flayed by the burning magic. The next few
moments seemed like an eternity as Gotan pressed and Torhald
fought back, the air filled with the charge of spells, the
sound of weapons clanging, the grunts of pain from both
the tyrant and his opponent.
It
seemed that they were slowly pulling ahead, as Gotan stumbled
to one knee, when with a mighty lurch Gotan plunged his
sword into Torhald’s chest. With barely a gurgle, Torhald
slowly slid off the sword, collapsing in a bloody heap at
Gotan’s feet.
“TORHAAALD!”
His name tore from Sweetpea’s throat, her vision turned
red as she watched her love’s life give out. Something seemed
to turn inside her and the normally contained Sweetpea reached
to her side and yanked out her hammer. Her face was filled
with stony rage, her eyes cold and icy as she glowered at
the one who had take the life of her love. With a mindless
scream, she ran up and dealt a blow to the head of the kneeling
Gotan, he shuddered, lifting his sword in reaction. Staggering
back to his feet, he lunged at her, tossing his shield down.
She blocked the sword easily with her shield, the blade
skittering off harmlessly. With a snarl she ripped her own
shield off, reached back and swiftly un-strapped the immense
two-handed hammer from her back. Showing strength and drive
that usually only a warrior could, Sweetpea swung the hammer
at his knee. A loud crack rippled through the air as the
joint was brutally crushed and Gotan once again fell to
a knee. He reached out, swatting at her, and she batted
the hand away with the hammer. The bones in the hand instantly
shattered, and he tucked it to his side, dropping his sword.
It was then the first hints of fear began, the knowledge
sinking in that he might actually die. Not in glorious battle
with a thousand enemies, but at the hands of this puny troll
female who was beyond a doubt, insane.
“You
DARED to take him!” She growled like a savage animal. “You
made a mistake Gotan. You didn’t take ME first!” She arced
the hammer over her head, the tip of the hammer almost touching
the small of her back and with a power brought on from despair
and passion, she swung it forward, contacting with the center
of Gotan’s chest. It alighted with unstoppable force, snapping
ribs, pulverizing lungs, heart, all with total disregard.
Gotan’s eyes flew wide open in shock and he shuddered, and
then with one wet hacking cough, fell back, his head snapping
forward from the force of hitting the ground.
Sweetpea
hovered over for him, making sure that he was finally dead.
The realization that she had only killed him out of pure
luck sank into her, making her tremble for a moment. Then
dropping her hammer, she rushed to Torhald's side. She didn’t
know then, but he had been and was watching her. He was
hovering between the call of Valhalla and the ties of his
heart. He couldn’t bear to leave her, knowing that his death
would be more than she could handle. He reached out with
a ghostly hand, wishing he could get up, hug her, and comfort
her. She clutched him to her, slowly rocking back and forth,
smoothed his beard down, and tenderly wiping the blood away
from his face with the edge of her cloak. Tears poured from
her eyes, dropping to mingle with his blood. He could see
as she struggled internally with herself, watching as first
an intense grief came over her, then guilt that she hadn’t
kept him alive, that maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough,
or could have healed him faster. He wanted to cry himself,
knowing that it wasn’t her fault, that she had done as best
as she could.
Sweetpea
knew there was something that she wasn’t thinking of, but
she couldn’t think clearly at the moment. She was too swamped
with despair. How could she loose him! She remembered seeing
him that first time at the bar. How they’d realized from
the moment he woken in her rented hut, that there was something
special between them. Remembered all the times they’d traveled
together, hunted together. How much he made her laugh just
by the little comments he’d make or made her feel safe and
warm with his big-hearted hugs. The memories threatened
to overwhelm her, and she cried harder, whimpers escaping
from her throat. No one until Gotan had threatened the bond
they had. Anger stirred within her at the thought of the
giant chief. Ymir had given her something very special in
her dwarven love and Gotan had the nerve to…. to... She
sat up straight, shock running through her.
That
was it! Ymir! How could she have been so stupid to have
forgotten! There was one spell that she had learned during
in her shamanistic training. It used a great deal of power,
involved very intricate and meticulous casting, but could
be done. She glanced down at Torhald, leaning over to kiss
his forehead, then laid him lovingly back on the ground
before her.
He
had observed her this whole time, and when she had appeared
startled and then determined, wondered what she was going
to do. He panicked, hoping it wasn’t something rash. But
all she seemed to be doing was sinking into a deep trance.
He knew that she was gathering power for a great spell,
and after seeing her damaging spells, he felt the traces
of panic stir in him again. After what seemed like hours,
she finally stood and began the longest incantation he had
yet seen. He spun as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and
there stood one of the Valkyrie, those sent to bring souls
to Odin’s court, her armor shone with the light of a thousand
suns and seemed to blind him, hiding her face from him.
“Now is not your time in Valhalla’s halls, Torhald Stonebow.
You have much to do and she needs you.” He felt a rush of
light and power run through him and suddenly he was looking
up at Sweetpea. She was kneeling once again by his side,
weeping this time tears of joy. She murmured the words of
mending and warmth enfolded him. He sighed in relief, content,
and happiness, and reached up to caress her face. She grabbed
his hand and kissed the palm. They stayed that way for a
long while, waiting until the effects of being brought from
the brink of death had faded, and his torn body was restored.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed tight.
He
looked up into her face, giving a smile, and in a still
weak voice proclaimed, “I hear there’s some grand hunting
in Skona Ravine, Sweets. Seems some werewolves are making
snacks of passersby.”
She
gaped at him for a moment, then with a peel of laughter
that filled his heart with joy, clutched him to her chest,
almost smothering and sending him back to Valhalla.
EPILOGUE
Torhald
and Sweetpea continued to fight many creatures of Midgard,
setting out on a multitude of missions for townsfolk in
trouble. As they traveled they heard reports of a great
Alliance, which was made up of many Guilds and Companies.
They
finally had the chance to meet up with one of these Guilds,
as they helped some members in the eradication of a rather
large horde of svart elves. The Guild’s name was Scarab,
their adage being to uphold the qualities of honor, valor,
and loyalty. They also held the same value for life as Torhald
and Sweetpea did, willing to die in defense of the people
of Midgard. Scarab accepted the unusual couple into their
ranks and they soon became an integrated part of the Guild.
In
time, as Torhald and Sweetpea gained experience in fighting
tactics and healing methods, they joined in rallying against
invading Hibernians and roving bands of renegade Albions.
They camped for weeks at a time in the frontier with Scarab
colleagues, far from any comforts of a town or city, sharing
campfires with, and fighting alongside, mercenary bands
and other Companies from the Alliance of Honor.
And
always together, until such time Odin would decide to call
them both home.
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