DemiGodChapter 16 Betrayal
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Day 10:
John walked back into the Halls of Valor arena on First World just in time to see Hal’s ice dome vanish. The Cambion crouched between head-high ice and rock walls that rapidly sank back into the floor without a trace. He held his saber in one hand, and bore several gouges about his person, including cuts on his face. He swayed with exhaustion, but a Cheshire grin plastered his face. He straightened, sheathing his sword, and marched toward the dragon. John sped his pace, and got to Hal just as he stopped before her snout.
“Challenger,” the dragon said to Hal, “You have completed the third level Task. Therefore, you are due the reward for all three Tasks. It is time to receive them.”
“Great job Hal!” John enthused, clapping Hal’s shoulder.
The Cambion nodded coolly. “It was more difficult this time. Why did you tell me to run, then take the Challenge without me?”
John nodded at the opening he’d entered through. “We were facing two giants over there. Only got through because one killed the other. Damnedest thing. Then a horde of draugyr blocked the door when we stepped inside. I didn’t want it to go down like that. What happened to you?”
“I used the good draugyr disguise and found the secret way.” Hal pointed up at the stands.
“Way to go!” John smiled. “Take your reward, and we’ll leave together.”
“I ... how did you ... you have not left yet. Why?”
John indicated the dragon. “She let us wait for you. Go ahead, take the reward.”
Hal spoke to the dragon as Syg and Treb joined them from where they’d been talking to a few of the ghosts. Now that the show was over, most were departing, sinking through the floor, or streaming through the exits. The Cambion elected to receive an improvement to his agility, asked for boots as his item, and requested the three smaller powers for his magic. He danced what John took to be some sort of jig after the first reward, then again in his new boots when they appeared. The dragon explained that the black leather, black fur-lined, soft-sole pair were Shadow Stalker Boots. Wearing them he would never trip, slip, turn an ankle, or loose his footing in any way. His steps would never make a sound, and walking would be effortless. Oh, and no blade or edge could penetrate the tough exterior. He finished by grinning like a maniac when the three tongues of fire shot into his chest.
“I’m an Ice Adept!” He declared, “The first one, ever!”
“Uh,” John pointed at Syg and Treb together.
Hal turned and looked. “Both of you?”
John leaned to whisper in his ear. “And if you’re nice to Treb, maybe he’ll show you how to do what he learned.”
“You took the larger, single power?” Hal asked the boy.
Treb nodded, and caught himself with a clenched fist when his hand came partway up.
“Your Challenge is complete.” The dragon boomed. “Please depart my home. Do not return unless invited. Final Challenger, as this was not your first Challenge, you know the Geas extends to this one as well.”
“I do, mighty dragon.” Hal’s bow flowed effortlessly.
“Your path takes you out the gates, I shall open a hole in the ice for you.” The dragon told them.
“C’mon Hal, let’s go.” John led the way out.
“Where are our guards?” Hal asked, looking around.
John put his arm around the Cambion’s shoulder. “That’s the other thing.”
The foursome walked out side-by-side, through the opening in the stands, then the massive open gates. The portcullis was raised, and crusted over with ice. A few yards outside the walls stood the stone arch John had just used. Beyond it was a glacier, hundreds of yards thick. Water flowed, and refroze, leaving a round tunnel just tall enough for Syg to walk upright. They exited single-file, and when John glanced back, the tube behind them was gone. Nothing but unbroken ice.
“Won’t be getting back in that way.” John muttered.
“Why would we go back?” Hal asked him.
John shrugged. “If we wanted to pay her a visit. You never know.”
The half-blood shook his head emphatically. “Not me. I’m tired of the cold.”
Once they exited the glacier, they found a stairway cut into the rock. Snow and ice piled in several places, so they moved cautiously. Except for Hal, they left their metal cleats on. Every landing on the way down was guarded by a squad of draugyr and a pack of varg. The undead stepped aside as they approached, the reformed behind them silently. By the time they reached level ground and the base of the mountain, John’s quads were burning from the exertion.
Syg knew of a shallow cut in a ridge only an hour’s hike beyond the last step. She even killed several small animals during their trek, so they could have fresh meat. They made for the cave, and relaxed for the first time since they’d walked through the Door.
“Trebuchet,” Hal asked the boy when they’d eaten, “would you be willing to show me your power?”
Treb looked to his mother for guidance, and though she frowned, she leaned forward.
“Show us both.” She instructed.
“Not in here.” John ordered.
“Yes, let us go outside.” Hal gestured.
The three stood outside the cave mouth and showed each other what they could do. Syg and Hal could project a foot-long icicle that flew at a target several yards away. They also could create a slick, slippery sheet of ice, and could make ice grow to cover someone’s feet, immobilizing them if they were within a spear-length. Treb’s power was to project a cone of ice, blinding and freezing anything within a thirty degree arc, out to double the distance of his mother’s abilities. No one was willing to test it, but Treb and Syg thought the ice also included ice slivers which would wound anyone caught in the blast.
They discussed how it felt, and attempted to duplicate each others feats. Syg was a natural. Within an hour, she could duplicate her son’s ability. Treb had a harder time, but before they went to sleep, was able to make the icicle-dart once. Unfortunately, Hal wasn’t able to do even that. He went to his bedroll fuming.
“It’s just a start.” John encouraged. “Keep trying. I know you’ll get the hang of it.”
Hal just grumbled to himself and rolled away.
“Hey now!” John admonished. “You just got a free lesson. You get anything like that from the Infernals you traveled with?”
“No.” Hal grumped, still facing away.
“So, be friendly, and keep trying. Nothing worth doing comes without effort.”
Hal sighed. “You are correct. I am just frustrated.”
“And dog-ass tired, too I’ll bet.” John commiserated. “Let’s get some sleep; tomorrow’s a new day.”
“What does―d” Treb started.
“It just means very, very tired.” John interrupted. “Go to sleep.”
John took the first watch, fingering his ear silently as he watched and listened.
Syg escorted them to Last Watchtower in the morning. The town sat perched on a ridge, length-wise, with a giant blocky concrete tower at one end, and a steep cliff at the other. It didn’t have any walls, but the houses were all stone-walled, with arrow-slit windows. An elevated, snow-covered walkway led from roof to roof before ending at a door in the tower’s side. The tower’s arrow slits were ‘T’ shaped, instead of just vertical, reminding John of a more modern fortification. Atop the several-story concrete was a mortared-stone crenelation, with a mirrored light of some kind in the middle. They made their way up to the tower along switchbacks carved in the frozen dirt. Before they were close enough to identify, John suggested Hal put a Nord disguise on, now that he didn’t need to ‘ask inconvenient questions’ anymore. Sygraid banged on another door, set in the tower’s foundation, that the path led to. A dull thump told him the door was thick, very thick.
A head peaked over the top.
“Who goes there?” Echoed down.
Syg took a step back. She peered up and spread her arms.
“Warden? Is that you?”
“Yes! Now open up!” She shouted.
The head disappeared, and a few moments later they heard something heavy being moved inside. The door swung back, and they followed Syg into the interior. The basement was small, with a retractable ladder/steps leading through a hole in the concrete floor, up to the first level. A squared-off spiral, concrete staircase hugged the wall starting on that floor, winding its way to the next floor, and beyond. A trio of armored men greeted them, all with swords in hand. Spears hung from hooks, and each man had a shield leaning by his feet.
“Sygraid!” One said, holding a hand out for her. “What can we do for you?”
Sygraid took the hand, clasping forearms. “Yatho, how are you this morn?”
“Still secure.” Yatho waved around the tower. He nervously eyed the woman. “What do you need, Shield-maiden of the Wardens?”
“We’ve just returned from the top of the Crag.” Sygraid waved to indicate the four of them. “Would you ask Gaybe to meet with us at the common room?”
Yatho coughed. “You just ... what?” He tentatively touched Sygraid again.
“Where is Gaybe?” Sygraid asked.
“He’s,” Yatho cleared his throat, “he’s not on this morning. I suppose he must be home, I haven’t seen him.”
“Very well. I will get him.” Sygraid started up the steps.
The companions followed her up around a full turn and then some before she led them out onto the rooftop walkway. She stopped at the second building, pointing at the third.
“I’ll get him. Take the stairs there and see if there is any food. Ask Pakwa what’s good today.”
John led the way, finding an opening in the next, much larger structure. A blocky set of stone steps led into the corner of what could’ve been a duplicate of Rorik’s inn. The only difference was the stone fireplace against one wall, beside the bar instead of a giant fire-pit in the center. The room was dark, after the bright sun reflecting snow, and it took a minute for their eyes to adjust. A buxom woman came into the room when they entered.
“Pakwa?” John asked.
“Yes?”
“Sygraid asked us to wait here, and wondered what is good to eat today.” John explained as they found seats around a large table.
“Sygraid is here?” The woman sounded scared.
“Yes. She’s getting an, um Gaybe? To meet with us.”
The woman disappeared into the back room without another word. John shrugged at Hal and Treb.
“Mother is famous.” Treb said proudly, as though that explained everything.
They waited patiently for several minutes before Pakwa returned. She carried five tankards, or more precisely four tankards and an undersized keg which she deposited onto the table. She dashed back out and returned with a large black cauldron and a stack of bowls. The cauldron had small feet, which kept the bottom from burning the leather and furs covering the table. She produced a ladle and began spooning a thick, steaming stew into the bowls.
“That smells wonderful!” Sygraid boomed, walking in with another man behind her.
This man could’ve been Heegan’s twin, right down to the cut of his armor, and sword at his waist. He eyed John and Hal suspiciously, but gave Treb a smile and slap on the back.
“Sygraid, be welcome in my house.” Pakwa backed away, bowing deeply.
With a heavy sigh, Sygraid picked up the ladle and continued filling bowls.
“Thank you Pakwa, your hospitality is appreciated this morning. We have had quite a journey, and no hot food for days.”
“Thank you Pakwa.” Gaybe said.
The woman turned and nearly fled from the room. Gaybe refused a bowl, but waited patiently while they started eating. Syg shot-gunned an entire bowl, then filled it again.
“Gaybe,” she said to the man while spooning her seconds, “we’ve just returned from the Crag. We walked the Halls of Valor and saw the dragon. Once our story becomes known, others are going to try to do what we did. We must convene a Watch Council to decide what to do about it. And we must speak with the Valkyrie, can you signal them?”
Gaybe stared at her, jaw on the table.
Syg ate her second bowl a little more slowly than the first, but when she spooned thirds and he still hadn’t spoken, she waved the spoon in his face.
“Gaybe? Hello?”
Gaybe took a very deep breath. “You ... walked through the Halls of Valor ... and lived? The dragon didn’t ... eat you? Do the Valkyrie know you were going to do this?” He pointed at her helmet.
“They do.” She grinned. It didn’t seem to put him at ease. “Even gave me this helmet before we left.”
“They ... gave you one of their helms?” He sounded incredulous.
“They did.” She confirmed. “And offered to pay us a reward if we brought something for them. I ask again, will you signal the Valkyrie?”
“I will.” He moistened his lips. “But you must tell me the entire story. The true one.”
John patted Hal’s shoulder. “Good thing we have a good story-teller with us, isn’t it?”
Hal looked at him in surprise. “Me?”
“Sure.” John gushed. “You’ve been practicing your Norse the entire trip. This will give you a chance to show off.”
“Very well.” The Cambion admitted. “But if I might tell it once, to all concerned, that might be better.”
“How quickly do you think the Valkyrie will come?” John asked Gaybe.
He shrugged. “The Valkyrie keep their own counsel, and are not ours to command. They will come when they wish to. If you signal them from here, you must wait for them here.”
“I believe they will come quickly.” Syg assured them.
Gaybe stood. “Then I will go to signal them. I am anxious to hear your story.”
Syg raised her enormous cup. “We shall endeavor to remain sober enough to tell it right.”
Shaking his head, Gaybe went back up the stairs.
“Pakwa!” Syg called “Pakwa! Come out here.”
The woman returned, eyes downcast. “Yes, Sygraid?”
Syg pointed at John. “Tell her what you were telling me, about what Rorik should do.”
“Well, um Pakwa, may I call you Pakwa?” He started. “I’m John.”
She met his eyes through her lashes. “Safe travels, Jyon. I am Pakwa, yes.”
“Do you own this place?” John waved at the room.
“I am the tavern-keeper for Watchtower, since my husband died.” Her eyes darted briefly to Sygraid.
John’s questioning look was met with a head-shake.
“Does your tavern have guest rooms?” He asked.
“Yes.” She pointed to another door beside the bar. “We have three rooms, for travelers. Through there.”
“I was talking about what might happen, once our story begins to spread.” John told her. “I believe you will see a rush of people trying to copy us. I’m not sure how hard it would be to add more rooms, but you might want to consider it. If anyone else manages to duplicate what we did, you’ll see a steady stream of travelers coming through here.”
“Why?” Pakwa asked. “What did you do?”
Sygraid held her hand up, and an icicle-dart streaked across to shatter on the back of the fireplace. Pakwa’s eyes were saucers. Syg nodded at Treb, and after a moment, he duplicated her. The woman looked scared now.
“How... ? How did you do that?” She whispered.
“We journeyed up the Crag, and met the dragon. He gave us tasks to complete, and once we did, showed us how to do what we just did.” Syg summarized.
Pakwa stared at them all. “You ... all can do that?”
“Except me.” John admitted.
“Why not you?” She asked.
Sygraid leaned over conspiratorially. “He chose protection instead.”
“Protection? From what?” Pakwa wondered.
Sygraid’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “All cold, magic or natural. He is completely unharmed by it.”
“Is this true? Like the frost giants are said to be?”
“I believe even more so.” Sygraid asserted.
“You could walk through the snow without furs? And it would not feel cold?” She questioned.
“It feels like the perfect temperature. Like a warm tropical―uh, like it does much farther south, where people don’t wear as much clothing.” John told her.
“I don’t know about that, but to not fear any cold would be a serious boon, here in the North.” She confirmed.
The woman chatted with them for a few more minutes before Gaybe returned.
“I have signaled, and they have seen it. Now we will see how long they take.” He said.
“How long who takes?” Pakwa asked him.
“The Valkyrie.”
“The Valkyrie? Are coming here? When?” Pakwa practically fainted.
Gaybe shrugged. “I do not know. Sygraid says it will be soon. I have only seen them come here once, and that was not with urgency.”
“When was this?” Pakwa asked.
“When I was made Watch Captain here.” He told her.
“And you did not bring them here?” She accused.
“I do not command the Valkyrie.” He explained. “And should you see for yourself, they are not hospitable to those not born of them.”
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