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talisnormandy · 4 years ago

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Chapter 3?

Far to the north, overlooking the Frozen Quay, Vullk shivered amidst a crowd of giants. Indeed, the giant Troupes from all across the continent had gathered at the top of these icy cliffs, their heads bowed in fervent prayer, as Elder Dron of Shiverpeak continued to speak from his stone plinth.

“...and as the cycle of Life and Death continues perpetually, in Dreatheron’s name, we shall continue as guides, shepherds, and executioners, to these shelterless dead. In the absence of our fallen kin, we giants, children of Dreatheron, allow these souls to Part, crossing these sacred icy waters, that they might be renewed into yet another life.”

All around him, the giants murmured small prayers of their own, their voices rumbling like thunder. Vullk just kept his head down, not sure who he should be praying for. Remembering what Sel, had told him, he offered up a prayer to Dreatheron, asking for his protection. The wind blew even fiercer than before: Vullk hoped the god of Death heard his prayer above the din.

Elder Dron droned on. “At this time, I ask the Elders of each Troupe to step to the edge of the cliff, and produce their blades.” At that, the crowds parted to let their Elders through. There were far too many to count, but Vullk could see that each one of them was ancient, probably getting close to their second century in age. Scanning the line, he spotted his grandmother, Sel, amongst them. She in turn looked back at her gathered Troupe, and caught Vullk’s eye. Her stern expression gave way to a slight smile as she nodded at him, then turned around to face the Quay once more. He didn’t know how she could stand there, at the top of such a tall cliff during wind like this. Just the thought of it made Vullk shiver even more.

“Now, take the blades to your palm, and release your gathered spirits to the final embrace of Death,” Bron called out. Each of the elders proceeded to pull out long daggers, each one five feet in length but of otherwise unique design, and slashed their left palms. Vullk was glad the Elders stood with their backs facing the crowd, this part of the ritual always made him a little queasy. Not to mention he didn’t wish to see his grandmother in pain.

All of a sudden, the wind died down completely. All the giants stopped their prayers, their attention now solely on the line of Elders. The silence grew deafening, every Elder holding their bleeding hands out in front of them. Vullk could’ve sworn he heard the blood dripping from each of their hands onto the cliff’s edge. Then, from each newly formed puddle, shapes began to emerge. Though they were red and misty, they were unmistakably hands, then arms, then a whole upper body, until soon the form of a giant stood in each pool of blood. They took a few stumbling steps, before tumbling off the edge of the cliff, and seemingly evaporating into the white mist and snow of the Frozen Quay. They weren’t the only ones either. Soon, other, smaller silhouettes followed: human, elf, dwarf... A steady stream of dead souls emerged from the blood and walked into the Quay, beginning their journey to their final resting places.

Vullk could only await silently along with the other giants as the deathly procession continued before them. The wind picked up again, sending flurries of snow streaking through the crowded plateau. The souls seemed to blur as the blizzard gained strength, turning the racing snow red as blood. Vullk’s eyes followed the reddened mist as it swirled around the Elders and into the snowy expanse before them. Snowflakes blew into his eyes, and yet he couldn’t look away.

Whether it was a trick of the light, or whether Vullk was simply imagining it, something appeared amidst the mist. Coiling like a serpent, with exposed ribs jutting from its belly, it turned its head towards the young giant. Its head could’ve been that of a dragon, except that it was nearly devoid of any flesh, and its eyes were empty sockets that descended into an impenetrable darkness.

As this apparition floated there, Vullk found himself gripped by terror, unable to speak. The Elders did not seem to acknowledge the skeletal dragon’s presence, and as he looked around, Vullk saw that the other giants crowded around him still had their heads dipped in prayer. Then the creature spoke, directly into his mind: So this is what has become of the prideful murderers. Reduced to simpering zealots, the garbage collectors of the Natural World. All for a creator that could care less about them. You giants were always pathetic, but this... this surprises even me.

All the people and the wind and dead spirits, all of it, faded away until there was nothing except Vullk and the apparition. It continued to speak: And then there’s you. A little weakling, a worm amongst worms. You aren’t worthy of the name warrior; you can hardly even look me in the eye. In this empty void, the voice in his head seemed to grow louder, flooding the space with its contemptuous words. You spend your life hiding away with the scum, pretending to hold some degree of worth, somewhere within you. The truth is, you’d be better off joining these dead souls in oblivion. A coward like you has no place in the fire and blood that is to come, except as a corpse.

The dragon skull drew closer to him, close enough that Vullk could smell the stench of decay emanating from it. In fact, it chuckled, it’s jagged teeth forming a macabre grin, the fire and blood has already arrived. So go coward. Die.

Vullk felt himself falling, deep into the void...

Only to be jerked back into reality as he awoke, his heart pounding.

Vullk sat up from the ground, drenched in sweat. It was still nighttime, his Troupe was still asleep. Two dozen lumps covered in snow littered the ground around him, rising and falling with each breath as they slept. It was a surprisingly soothing sight, watching his family in peaceful slumber, and Vullk felt himself slowly calming down. That nightmare again, the one with that terrifying grin, it had come once again. He rubbed his eyes, trying to recall the details, but the memory was already fading away, as dreams are prone to doing. That smile remained, however, rows of jagged teeth sunk into his mind.

Vullk shivered, and pulled the bear hides closer to himself. The Troupe still had a long walk ahead of them; he really needed to get some sleep. But as he settled down and laid his head to the snowy ground, he just barely noticed a dark figure, standing some ways away from the giants. Glancing around at the others, Vullk realized that Sel wasn’t with them. He looked back at the shadowy shape. What could she be doing up so late?

Being careful not to disturb the others, Vullk stood up, brushing the snow off, and quietly tiptoed over to where his grandmother stood. Fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she was leaning on her quarterstaff as she gazed solemnly towards the Somburlindt Mountains, rising high above the Al’theruun Woods. Even in the dim light of crescent moon, Vullk could see she hadn’t moved in some time, as the lightly falling snow had accumulated considerably on her hunched shoulders.

Even when Vullk had reached her side, Sel did not stir. Was she sleepwalking, perhaps? He slipped his hand into hers. “Grandmother,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

Vullk jumped back, startled, when Sel suddenly drew a sharp breath and blinked. Her eyes began to twinkle with the red lights of the many dead souls trapped within her as she turned to face her grandson. She eyed him closely with a stern look before speaking. “It is late, my blood. You should be resting with the others.”

Vullk shuffled his feet, kicking up some snow. “I’m sorry Elder, I couldn’t sleep.” Sel sighed, looking back towards the mountains. “Neither could I, if I’m honest. The souls grow more restless the closer we get to Shiverpeak.”

“Does it hurt? Having all those souls inside you,” Vullk asked, concerned.

“Not at all,” the old giant reassured him, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ve been Elder for a very long time, my blood. I’m used to the rambunctiousness of spirits.” She turned her attention towards him, her eyes agleam with crimson. “Tell me, what haunts you this night?”

“I had that nightmare again, grandmother,” Vullk said, head bowed. “The same nightmare, with that evil smile. Like the grin of a demon.” He shivered just thinking about it. Sel’s expression grew even more stern, and she eyed Vullk intently.

“This is the fourth night in a row you’ve had this dream. I’m beginning to suspect it may not be a dream at all, but a vision instead.”

“A-a vision? Like, seeing the future?”, Vullk wondered, eyes wide.

“It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that you shared this talent with your father,” Sel said. “He was an incredibly gifted Seer, able to be selective about what visions he saw as he slept. According to him, he could see his whole life laid out before him.” Sel grimaced. “But not his own death, or the death of your mother. That, is something no Seer can see.” She paused. “Or, it might simply be that these nightmares are just that: nightmares.”

Vullk shifted nervously. He’d never had any dreams that lingered like these ones did. “You think they could just be dreams Elder?”

Sel looked back out over the landscape, her breath forming clouds around her head. Vullk followed suite, awaiting an answer.

Among the jagged peaks in the distance, one stood out from the others. It was needle-like in its narrowness, standing at nearly twice the height of its neighbors. Were it daytime, Vullk knew he would see smoke pouring from various points on its rocky surface.

“Shiverpeak,” Sel suddenly spoke, as of guessing where Vullk was looking. “Near the peak, inside an icy cavern,” she continued, “lies a gathering of souls: the Oracle. Before we make our way to the Parting, you must speak with it.”

Vullk was flabbergasted. “M-m-me?! Sel- er, grandmother, I don’t know about, I mean, surely one of the others would be better suited to talk to the Oracle. Maybe Vrick, or what about Driss? She loves to climb!”

“No, my blood, it must be you.” Sel grabbed his shoulder tightly. “The Oracle cannot communicate with anyone except Seers. If it does not speak to you, you can return to the base of Shiverpeak without fear. If it does, however, listen intently to what is has to say. It will reveal to you the true nature of this dream, and what it may mean for us.” Her eyes pierced through him, with an intensity Vullk was all too familiar with. The recipient of that gaze would always yield, no matter their objections.

Sel’s eyes suddenly softened, though her stony expression did not. “I think this will be good for you. It may help you break out of your shell a bit, show everyone all that strength I know you carry within. Please, do this for me.”

Vullk gulped audibly. “Yes Elder.”

“Good.” She pecked him on the crown of his head. “Now, go back to bed, my blood. You have a long day ahead of you.”

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