Rest in Pieces

Frost-tipped wings fluttered in the dark as Eyvindur alighted atop Dura’s outer wall.

He’d spent much of his military service outside the capital, but gazing down from its battlements at a hostile force was not an unfamiliar sight.  As the watchman, a young woman named Sigrun, had told him, the ice monsters were thickest here.  They writhed against the heaped stone of the wall like icebergs along the banks of the thawing river.

Sigrun joined him minutes later, panting from her hasty journey up the walls.  “You could have taken the stairs,” she said, “not all of us have wings, you know.”

“It sounded urgent.”

“It is,” she conceded.  After her breaths evened, she gestured over the wall and hissed, “it’s a right mess.  We’ve seen worse, but these walls are older than my grandparents and I…”  Sigrun trailed off, leaving the fear that they might crumble unspoken.

Eyvindur rubbed a thumb over the cool ‘metal’ of Ran’s token form where it hung around his neck.  He counted twelve of the creatures, give or take.  They were far enough below that he was not confident he could affect them from where he stood.

“I’ll try to break them up,” he told Sigrun.  “You get some extra hands.  Bring something hot—water, tar, anything—and we’ll get rid of these bastards.”

She nodded, and Eyvindur turned his attention back to their enemy.  Are you ready, Ran?

Of course!  His familiar’s voice emanated from within his own thoughts.  Let’s send these creeps packing.

He nodded sharply and kicked off the ground.

The creatures’ responses to his approach was immediate.  They turned with sword-sharp howls more like the distant crackle of ice than an animal’s call.  Eyvindur swung his hand upward and a wall of ice formed between him and the monsters.

Hunting howls cut off into high-pitched shrieks as they slammed into it.  The surface cracked and Eyvindur knew it would not hold.  Eyvindur held out a hand and concentrated on the largest of the bunch.

It let out a wretched noise, steam beginning to rise along a line down its middle.  As soon as he felt it weak he pulled, splitting the monster in half.

Eyvindur clapped his hands together to form the hunk of ice into long spears.  They shot off, flashing faintly as they pierced their targets, rooting them to the ground.  He destroyed several more in the same fashion, striking as they were immobile.

Flying up to a window, he perched at its ledge to catch his breath.  It had been a years since he’d used his abilities this much, and half-frozen sweat had begun to bead on his brow.

Perhaps we should take a break?  Ran suggested.

Eyvindur hesitated, then nodded. He did not enjoy leaving a fight unfinished, but he had cleared out close to half of them, and they no longer rammed themselves against the walls.  Let’s—

He did not finish that thought. His only warning was a high-pitched keening from above; he looked to see something drop toward him from the clouds.  With no time to move out of the way, he shoved violently, throwing the ice monster off-course and into the wall.

Eyvindur kicked back into the air as the creature turned to face him.  It resembled a woodpecker—or at least a child’s attempt at carving one—with its beak splintered into a jagged stump from the impact.

It trilled at him in wordless rage, but before either of them could move, a shout came from above.  Sigrun.

“Outta the way, fly-boy!”

Eyvindur darted sideways and up.

As soon as he had gotten out of the way, a cascade of glass bottles dropped from the battlements.  He only had a moment to flash Sigrun and her reinforcements a puzzled look before they exploded.  The sound echoed in his bones, greater even than the thunder of cannon shot.

He lifted an arm to shield his eyes as everything below him rippled with colour.  It first flashed icy blue with lighting, followed by brilliant red-orange as fire fanned out across the snow.  Then a rush of heat caught Eyvindur’s wings and sent him careening upwards.  He fought to keep his balance against the violent updraft, and once it had evened, he shot the group on the walls an annoyed look.

Eyvindur only then noticed the strange, tall figure amongst them.  Red markings pulsed along their body, though as he watched they began to leave.  By the time he touched down on the wall, they were gone.

“You’re more resourceful than I thought,” Eyvindur tried not to let the compliment sound too begrudging.  “Where in Blom’s name did you find potions?”

“I ran into a Captain Thistle—”  Sigrun went to gesture at someone over her shoulder, then stopped abruptly.  “Ah, she’s already gone.  You’ll have to thank her later.”

Eyvindur nodded.  “You’ll have to introduce us.”

After making sure that the last of the ice monsters had been dealt with, he left Sigrun to finish her watch.  Already he had forgotten the strange figure on the walls, occupied instead by thoughts of the mead hall’s fireplace and a hot drink.