All Was Red

aughter echoed around the campfire when Eyvindur returned from his tent.

He stopped, still veiled in the shadow cast by the nearby cliffs, and stared.  Ran was splayed out in the snow, their shape a dark silhouette against the still-bright sky, a young man sitting on their back.  The familiar had twisted their head back and chatted eagerly with their companion.

Eyvindur swallowed, throat suddenly dry.  It was as though he had stepped back through time, into his own youth.  How many long nights had he and Ran spent talking like that?  He took a breath and tried to will himself forward, but his feet lay still in the snow.  It seemed too precious a thing to interrupt.

Eyvindur?  Ran's voice echoed through his thoughts.  What’s wrong?

Nothing.  All at once, the spell was broken.  Eyvindur approached the campfire, drew up a seat from the snow with one hand, and sat down.

On a closer look, the boy who now stared at him from Ran's back was not his younger self.  He had golden hair and clear blue eyes, not Eyvindur’s deep red and violet.  And he was not just the boy; he was Sören Rockrose.  The survivor.

The laughter stopped.  Sören regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“Took your time, Eyvi!"  Ran broke the silence before it had a chance to drag on, “get lost on your way back to the tent?"

Eyvindur grunted.  “Who's your new friend?"

“Sören Rockrose," the boy answered before Ran could speak for him.  If he was surprised that Eyvindur had asked, he showed no sign of it.  “And you are?"

“Eyvindur Maikoa.”

“And I’m Ran!”  The familiar interrupted, “but you both already knew that.”

Sören blinked, and some of the tension bled from his face.  “Are you Ran’s bonded?”

Eyvindur nodded, and for a moment neither of them spoke.  It was not that he had nothing to say, but the contrary.  Questions boiled in the pit of his chest.  He wanted nothing more than to ask after the final days of Aurora, to learn more about the final days of lost friends and comrades, but he knew that he could not.  How often had he been asked the same thing by the families of soldiers taken captive by Enyo’s forces in the war?  About what their fate had been, if there was any chance they could have escaped just as he had… the truth was rarely kind, and it was crueler still to have to be the bearer of such news.

No.  He would not ask Sören to bear that burden.  Knowing for certain that those he had served with during the war had been torn to shreds by ice-beasts would not bring him any peace.  In his uncertainty, at least, he could imagine some kinder end for them.

Instead, he asked, “what do you make of all this?  Think we’ll find anything?”

Sören shrugged.  “The Duchess seems confident.”

“She does.”

Before either of them could say anything more, a scream cut through the air, followed by silence.

Eyvindur stood up with a growl.  “Fuck was that?”

Sören’s face went pale.  “Saana should have been back by now.”

“Saana?”  Eyvindur frowned.

“She was sitting with me before you and Ran came to the fire,” Sören said, looking less happy by the minute.  “She said she was going to get our dinner rations, but…”

But she hasn’t come back.  “Stay here.  I’ll look for her.”

“Like hell I’m staying here,” Sören crossed his arms and glared up at Eyvindur.  He was far from intimidated, but he had to admire the effort.  “She went this way.”

Without waiting for Eyvindur to respond, the young man walked off ahead at a brisk pace.  He allowed himself a small shake of the head once Sören’s back was turned; it was a little uncanny how much he reminded Eyvindur of his younger self.

Hurry up!  He’s going to leave us behind!  Ran dragged themself forward, pressed their face into Eyvindur’s hand, and a second later the boat-shaped familiar had transformed into a necklace.  He snorted, stuffed it into a pocket, and set out after Sören.

…

“We’ve been using this as a shortcut,” Sören said, softly, as he led them through a narrow passage through the Halls of Ice.

Eyvindur grunted.  He might have been impressed if the walls, pale blue from diffused light and slick with melt, were not pressed so close to either side of him.  His wings had barely fit. Why anyone would have wanted to live in such a place was beyond him.  “Bit of a squeeze.”

“You could have stayed behind.”

He snorted.  “Got me there.”

Something like a smug smile flitted across Sören’s face, but before he could say anything else, Eyvindur raised a hand to quiet him.

He strained his ears.  The silence dragged on.  Long enough that Eyvindur began to question if he had heard anything strange after all.

And then it came again.  A wet, tearing sound.  Not unlike someone pulling apart waterlogged leather.

Eyvindur’s hand fell to his weapon.  “We’re not alone.”

It was then that Sören surprised him.  No fear or surprise flitted across his face.  Instead, his eyes narrowed, and his expression shifted into one of intense concentration.  “Ice monsters?”

“We’re about to find out.”

They had not gone much further before they found irrefutable evidence that Saana had met with trouble.  Red blood, still warm and liquid, pooled on the floor, and beyond it crimson drag marks led further down the tunnel.  Eyvindur bent to get a closer look at the mess.  A set of tracks echoed the blood trail, not that of an ice monster but a dragon.

I don’t like this, Ran’s thought echoed his own unease.

Neither do I.  Eyvindur frowned.  Was there a murderer in their ranks?  Judging by the amount of blood spilled here, he did not think that Saana had survived her wounds, but if there was any chance of rescuing her, they had to take it.  And if she was dead… it was still important that they found whatever had killed her.

The trail led a few metres down the hall, before it turned sharply into a narrow room.  Here the noises were louder, and despite all he had seen during the War of Seasons, Eyvindur’s stomach turned at what he saw there.

Something sinuous and silvery hunched over Saana’s body.  At the sound of their approach, its head jerked up, showing off a smooth, featureless face.  It chirped, but when no response came, it bared its teeth in an ugly snarl, gobbets of blood dripping from its open maw.

It tensed, muscles bunching up under itself in preparation to jump, before Eyvindur acted.

The icy floor rushed up at his command, spearing the creature’s chest.  It shrieked shrilly, many legs clawing at the ice, before going limp.  Dark blue-black blood seeped from its wound.

“What in Blóm’s name was that?”  Sören was the first to break the silence.  He stepped into the room, staring at the strange creature before crouching to examine Saana’s still body.  She was dead.  Eyvindur did not avert his eyes, but neither did he allow himself to think too deeply about her final moments.  “A dragon?”

“Not one from the expedition.”  Eyvindur sighed.  “We need to tell the Duchess about this.  Come on.”

“No.”  Sören glared up at him, eyes as cold and harsh as ice.  “We’re not leaving her body here.”

“Yes, we are.”  He wasn’t going to sugarcoat this for him.  As much as he had thought of Sören as ‘the boy’ not so long ago, he had more than earned the right to be treated the same as any soldier.  “This—thing is dead, but there could be others.  Our responsibility now is the safety of the rest of the expedition.”

Sören swallowed hard.  He looked at Saana's body and, nearly too softly for him to hear, promised, “we’ll come back for you.”  Then he stood and began to make his way out of the room…

…and it was then that the screams began.

…

When he and Sören emerged into the light, the sky had darkened to a deep crimson as the sun reached its lowest point in the way.  The vista before them was one of purest chaos.  Silver shapes, all twisted in unique and horrifying ways, climbed along the snow-covered ground, attacking the expedition’s members.

Well, shit.

Hurry!  Ran cried, and their sense of urgency flooded his senses.  He and Sören shared a look, and then they raced down the hill towards the others.

Eyvindur lost track of him after that.  He was upon the creatures with a roar, attacking with axe and ice.  There were so many of them, and he learned quickly not to look too close at any of them, lest his stomach turn.  If it had not been for the Duchess’ potions, would he have looked like that?  It was strange to consider.

Heat whooshed before him as a wall of fire erupted across the battlefield.  He stepped back, catching his breath and trying to take stock of what was happening around him.

The fire seemed to be from a man with golden hair, a black-and-white familiar shaped like a raven perched on his shoulder.  A dark-haired woman stood at his side, wielding a revolver with ruthless accuracy.  Nikolai, Branwen, and Iskra, he thought.  The Brookians.  Around them, the monstrosities were dropping like flies.

But it did not seem to be enough.  Where were these things coming from?

Eyvindur kicked off the ground, wings beating hard to carry him into the sky.  Below, the ground seemed to shimmer and writhe, alive with silver scales.  He alternated his attention between watching out for attack and trying to locate where the creatures were coming from, and, like the current of a stream, the source of the monsters became clear after he had looked long enough.

They were coming from the fissure, and the smaller crevasses surrounding it.

Ran.  I’ve got an idea.  He stooped and dove.  At the same time that he began his descent, he saw Iskra and Nikolai breaking off in the same direction.

He landed hard.  The metal spikes on the soles of his shoes dug into the ice, preventing him from slipping.  Behind him, the two Brookians and their familiar flinched, clearly not having spotted him above.

“Wow-wee, big wings, sky-man,” Branwen said, circling his head.  Eyvindur almost turned to stare her down, but stopped himself from the indignity of spinning in a circle to watch as she returned to Nikolai’s shoulder.  “What’s got you dropping in?”

Eyvindur grunted.  He felt a headache coming on already.  “I’m going to plug up these crevices.  And you?”

“We had the same thought,” Nikolai said.  Before he could continue, a group of monsters lunged at them, cutting off whatever else he might have said.

Eyvindur grunted as he caught the full weight of one of the creatures.  Crooked, yellowish teeth snapped at his face.  With a cry of effort, he shoved it off of him.  But just as he had dispatched it and was trying to catch his breath, another approached.  He turned, too slow, and expected to feel teeth or claws digging into his side.

Instead, a loud bang cut through the battle-din.

The creature went still, blood trailing from a hole in its head.  Behind him, Iskra’s gun smoked.  Eyvindur caught her eye, nodded, and turned back to the fight.

In quiet moments between flashes of combat, the two Brookians were able to relay their plan to him.  They’d had the same thought as him; locate where these creatures were coming from, and fill them in.

“We’ll split up, then,” Iskra said, voice firm.  “Nikolai, take the eastern side.  And you…”

“Eyvindur.”

“Eyvindur.  You’ll take the west.  And I’ll do my best to keep these things off you.”

She reminds me of you.  Ran said.

Eyvindur rolled his eyes.  And so did Sören.  Do you see me in everyone, then?

The familiar laughed, and then all their focus was eaten up by the task at hand.  He did not envy Nikolai and Branwen; his work was hard enough, and all he was doing was pulling the existing ice and snow downward.  Those two had to draw up heat and lava from the ether, and keep it warm in the oppressive cold long enough to be effective.

Despite his best efforts, the tide of draconic bodies pushed him back inch by inch, and eventually he and Ran found themselves back with the bulk of their expedition-mates.  That was annoying.  He supposed that it would be up to Nikolai to finish things now.

As he closed ranks with friendlier bodies, he caught sight of a crouched, trembling form behind the main group of soldiers.  A dragon.  Borealis, he thought her name was.  A scholar.  Her blue-and-green shape shook with a terror so potent he could have drowned in it, if he wanted to.  He had seen this before, in young soldiers sent to Hovell before their time.  And in older soldiers, after witnessing one too many horror in the field.

Eyvindur slipped past the others, lifting his wings to block the sights and sound of battle around them.  Voice low, comforting, he said, “hey, hey, focus on me, alright?"

Borealis opened her mouth, but the words came out tangled and confused.  Eyvindur lifted his wings higher.  “Don't focus on them, focus on me.  We'll get out of this alive and you'll be okay. It’ll be okay, we’ll get through this.  Just breathe."

The dragon tried, breathing in deeply in sound to his voice, but each exhale came out broken, like an interrupted hiccup.

“Close your eyes and breathe in slowly.”

Borealis closed her eyes.  She drew breath, evenly this time.

“Now breathe out.”

She exhaled.

They repeated this several times, the blood and chaos around them forgotten, until Borealis had calmed enough to move.  “Good, you’re doing well.  I’m going to take you somewhere safe, okay?  Can I touch you?”

She nodded, focused on her breathing and his voice alone.  Placing one hand gently on her back, Eyvindur led her away from the sights and smells of violence.  They walked together until they found a part of camp where some of those useless in a fight had taken shelter, and were now guarded by a few members of the Copper Claws.  She would be safe enough here, he thought.

Unless the creatures get past us.  Then we’re all dead.  He ignored his own grim thought.

“Here.  You’ll be safe here.”

“Thank you,” Borealis said, finding her voice at last. “What—what was that?”

“You had a panic attack.  You’re okay now.  Stay here and focus on your breathing.”  It was more words than he would ever have normally used in a sentence, but this was a special case.  “We’ll keep things safe out here, and you’ll be okay.”

She frowned.  “Are you going to come back?  When it’s over?”

“I’ll see you once everything calms down. Promise.”  With that, Eyvindur turned to leave.

“Wait!”  She called after him.  “What’s your name?  I’m Borealis.”

Aha.  So I remembered correctly.  “Eyvindur.”

Borealis smiled.  Or at least, he thought that was a smile.  Admittedly, he was not the most familiar with the expressions of dragons.  “Thank you, Eyvindur.”

Eyvindur nodded and, before he could think better of it, flashed her a small smile in turn.

I didn’t know you could be so sweet. Ran teased.  Going soft, are we?

Eyvindur rolled his eyes, and began the walk back to where his comrades still fought for their lives.