A: Ch. 5.4

“And where do you plan on going, Lieutenant?” Hilt chimed in a sing-song voice.

Kya calmly clicked closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway without a glance at him.

“Oh, come now,” Hilt said, dancing after her. “You’ve been such a cranky little dove these past few days. You wouldn’t eat, you wouldn’t open the door, you sent away your servants; it’s almost as if you wanted to be left alone!”

Hilt watched as the muscles in her jaw tensed, but she kept walking.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, coming alongside her.

“Out.”

“Out?”

“Out.”

Hilt stared at her for a moment, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Out where?”

“Out for a ride.”

“Oh,” Hilt said brightly, “I’ll go with you then.”

“No,” Kya growled, quickening her pace. Hilt matched it easily.

“It’s raining,” he informed her. Granted, it was always raining up north…

“I’ll take a cloak.”

“You’ll be covered in mud.”

“Then I’ll bathe,” Kya hissed.

“What if a big nasty rhetek attacks you?”

“Then I will shoot it.”

“Oh?” Hilt asked, his face brightening even more. “With what? The pistol that I took from you after that embarrassing little stunt you pulled the other day? Or perhaps these?” He tugged at the strap holding her quiver which he had draped across his shoulder, the bow alongside it. He hadn’t even tried to hide it from her.

Kya finally stopped, but did not look at him.

“Give me back my bow.” Her thick, northern accent began to show when she was testy. How entertaining.

“Shame that a bow requires arrows to be a useful weapon,” Hilt teased.

“I am still able to beat you with it.”

“And I am still coming with you, Lieutenant.”

Kya took a deep sigh, tilted her head to the heavens, and finally turned to face him. Her face was blotchy and the fair skin at her scalp turned a vivid crimson. Breathing seemed to take her full concentration as it was labored and firm.

“I want to go alone,” she said, her voice surprisingly even.

“No.”

“And I want my bow back. And my arrows.”

“No.”

Her eye twitched and Hilt felt a tingling in his fingers. She was too easy to tease, too easy to predict. She liked to pretend she was some stoic little strategist with a face of stone, but it disintegrated the instant he prodded her obvious faults.

“I will not play at your games anymore, Damien,” Kya spat, planting her fists squarely on her hips. Apparently the little bird had some bottled up anger. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. Your cocky voice, the way you strut about when you walk, and this ridiculous desire to prove you’re the strongest brute about!” As she spoke, she threw up her arms. She then reached out to grab the embossed sword at his hip. “And this! Your hand constantly grasping it as if—“

Green eyes narrowed to slits. Hilt’s frame instantly grew larger and more ominous. His chest barreled out, his shoulders squared, and his whole frame glowered over the girl.

“Listen, pasty,” Hilt growled, his voice low, “I may have fun toying with that pathetic little mind of yours, but don’t forget the deal we made. You will take me to your fortress, and I will not allow you delay it any longer.”

His hand grasped hers and he squeezed it with a bit more force than necessary. “And if you ever touch this sword again, I promise you that the meaning of my nickname will become a tangible reality for you. Now,” he grunted, “I will go riding with you, is that clear?”

The girl stared up at him, her dove grey eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. He accepted her silence as understanding.

Hilt grunted as he shoved her away and started walking down the hall again. “Plan on coming, my little fawn?” Hilt asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

There was a tense moment between the two, but Kya finally unstuck her feet from the ground and followed after him in complete silence. Good. It was so much better when she didn’t speak.

“What in the seven hells is that?” Hilt asked, wincing as he watched Kya trot out on her, well, he supposed it was a horse.

Kya glared at him but patted the little runt’s neck. “This is Bramble. He’s my pony.”

“Pony?” Hilt asked, raising a brow and trying desperately to hold in his laughter. A dwarf horse for a dwarf of a girl, hm?

He didn’t even know that horses came that small. He had heard of ponies being used in the north, but he had never actually seen one. They were a waste of gold in Nibheis where they needed fast warhorses with high endurance for battle and strong mules and donkeys for the work in mines and fields. Granted, they shouldn’t need too many more horses in the mines for much longer. Not with the advancements they were making in Nymel.

“You honestly plan on riding that thing?” Hilt asked warily as he mounted Fierant, his trusty steed. The horse impatiently pawed at the ground. The poor beast had been cooped up in a comfy stable with fresh hay and oats for over two weeks now. They even gave him extra carrots and sugar cubes. What a terrible life!

Kya ignored him and trotted her ridiculous pony away from the stable.

“Is this the… pony you plan on taking north to the fortress?” Hilt asked. He tapped his horse, Fierant, into a trot and followed.

“Of course,” Kya responded over her shoulder.

“Do you have a death wish? The runt will die before we even hit the Forever Snows,” Hilt responded.

Kya kicked her pony into a canter and followed the trail that led out of the city. Hilt had no choice but to follow his reticent companion.

Fierant was antsy and eager to go on a brisk ride, but Hilt had to restrain him. He was certain that if they went too fast, the little pony would die from exhaustion. So, instead Hilt took it upon himself to examine the scenery that surrounded the castle and the city. The rapid rivers that formed at the base of the waterfalls wrapped around the city and wound through its shallow valleys and cascaded off the small steps which gave the Capitol its peculiar layout. The waters continuously branched before they coalesced at the very base of the city.

The large cliff side that the falls tumbled over behind the castle itself was particularly large and rugged. Strangely, the top of it swooped in a gentle slope on either side, giving an angled horseshoe shape around the city. Hilt supposed it gave the citizens a sense of security, he felt otherwise. If they were cornered, there was no possible way out of the city. The cliffs and falls prevented any escape. How could they not see that?

Strangely enough, Hilt couldn’t pinpoint where Kya was taking them. They had followed a path that tracked the inside of the cliff until they were free of the horseshoe ‘shield’. Kya then made an abrupt turn and started up the slope. It was a winding and tedious path through a thick forest as they had to avoid curling streams, which were deeper than they appeared, and patches of Strangling Thistle—a nasty weed which would turn your whole leg or arm numb if you brushed past it.

Without much warning, the slight drizzle which dampened their cloaks and seeped into their hair turned into a gushing downpour. The sound of the enormous pebble-sized droplets was deafening as they smacked on the wet ground and bounced off the leaves. It was frustrating, grating, and nearly as insufferable as the girl before him.

 Fierant was furious with the rain as well. The water didn’t create sticky mud as Hilt had anticipated, but instead created horrible pockets of mush hidden within the ever prevalent moss. It was slick and treacherous. Fierant had faltered at one point and Hilt quite nearly thought the horse had broken a foot.

Irritatingly, both Kya and the rat she was riding were not only handling the conditions, but positively enjoying them. The pony pranced about the sink holes as if from a memorized path and the little charlatan soldier had tilted her hood back to let the monstrous raindrops splatter on her face.

“Where are we going?” Hilt finally asked. He hoped that by asking it would remind her to get out of the blasted rain and return home.

“Just up ahead,” Kya said, pointing to a nonexistent path through the thick trees.

This is why he needed the damn girl, he reminded himself. This is why he could not kill her—yet. There was no way he could find his own route through these forests on his own. Well, there was a way, but it would likely take longer than he preferred. Besides, if things turned for the worse, he had a perfect little hostage.

Suddenly, the rain was gone. They pushed through the oppressive foliage and burst into a clearing of crisp sunlight which nearly blinded Hilt. He blinked away the initial shock and quickly looked about. They had traveled to the top of a large hill which gave them a spectacular view of the city below. The strange horseshoe formation of rock loomed over the Capital and the crashing falls coated it in tendrils of fog and mist.

It was quite a sight; even Hilt could not deny that. But there was something odd with the vision. His stomach growled and his brow furrowed as the position of the sun glistening on the horizon nudged the gears in his head into place.

“We’ve been riding for hours. It will be dark by the time we get back,” Hilt grumbled, tossing a vicious glare at Kya. He was starving. That sickening, insatiable tug on his body returned as a violent reminder of how long it had been for him. His jaws began to ache as his feral mind yearned for the familiar metallic tang on his lips, the warm liquid on his fingertips, and the delicate melody of fading screams. A myriad of pleasures to assuage the beast he was told could never be tamed.

“The guards will let us through the gates. They know who I am,” Kya told him as she quickly dismounted her dwarf horse and walked toward the very peak of the hill.  

Hilt rolled his head back as the lingering sensations tickled his spine. He recalled how difficult it used to be to fight back that urge, how many times he used to slip. Luckily for him, Nibheis’ history was soaked in blood.

“It’s dangerous for a pasty skáld to be so far away from her castle,” Hilt teased. He followed suit and dismounted, allowing Fierant to graze.

“I believe it’s far more dangerous for me to be in the company of the Third General,” Kya snapped. “I’ll take my chances.”

Hilt followed her gaze to the city, watching the tendrils of fog obscure most of its inhabitants. Buildings were hardly more than shadows and the rivers simply cracks in the mist. Everything appeared like a mirage except…

“Who built your castle?” Hilt asked suddenly.

“Pardon?” Kya asked, looking perplexed at the sudden question.

“Your castle. It’s obvious that Elivagar did not build it. The architecture is foreign to everything else in your cities and the materials at not native. The stones that make up the bridge are as shiny as glass and dark as night. I’ve only ever seen obsidian in the southern mountain ranges. I can’t see you pasties blistering your skin just to get it.”

Kya blinked, her mouth open like a stranded guppy.

“And your prison cells,” Hilt continued, “ingenious, but certainly not of your own design. So who built it?”

The girl swallowed hard and her cheeks flushed. “We don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Hilt snorted.

“We found it, or so the scriptures say.”

Hilt’s ears perked up a twinge. He was ravenous for history, especially since he could not satiate his other hunger as quickly as he would like. Having an artifact as large as a castle from the lost ages? He never thought something possible.

“Legends say that it was once a fortress carved into the cliff by the ancients. It is the oldest piece of history we happened to have, yet much of it is unseen.”

Hilt looked at her strangely. “But your castle is in front of the ridge and the waterfalls obscure the cliff itself.”

The girl was staring down at the city, her face somber. Hilt followed her gaze and stared at the castle, but did not see much through the mist. Details were blurred and the water tricked the mind into seeing shapes that certainly could not be there. For a moment the castle looked to be in the shape of a face; glints of amber sunlight reflected off windows in black eye sockets and the curve of a tower formed the gentle angle of a jaw. Even the haze would swirl to create tendrils of hair in bouncy curls.

As he looked, Hilt saw more faces staring at expressive palace. Spires of rock on the cliff blocked the thundering falls and became the horns of a beast. Dark holes that flickered from view became craggily mouths. They seemed haphazard, almost fluid in their chaos. Natural variations, right?

But something was latched onto his mind, pulling his eyes to small details that just didn’t fit. The slabs of granite in the face were too uniform. The black caverns fluttering between the water were perfectly arched. Stairs, windows.

“The original castle was originally in the hill,” Hilt said slowly, his eyes darting from the spires which had assumed to be rocks. Not rocks, towers. “But what happened?”

“Aisgarde was home to a people with rich knowledge and a voracious desire to know all the secrets of their world. They were hungry to learn everything from the sea to the skies. They were master engineers and craftsmen, but it was never enough. The legend talked of a power that was sparsely used by the spirits. The scholars of Aisgarde wanted it. In secret, hidden from the eyes of our creators, they succeeded.”

Kya’s face was stoic as she told her tale, her voice flat and even.

“They grew cocky and felt that they could improve on such power. Instead they only angered the Spirits. In their blind desire they created something they could not control. The scriptures are vague here; we do not know exactly what ‘it’ was. Some say it was a dragon which blocked out the sun for a year, other legends speak of an army which multiplied without restraints, finally overtaking their creators. All we know is that both Velrin the Ephemeral and Karst the Avaricious blessed ‘it’ with their powers. A war ensued. The Aisgardians fell.”

“Is this what broke apart the nation?” Hilt asked, confused.

“In part,” Kya responded. “As punishment for their defiance, Lylari the Detached collapsed their castle and Rubicon the Bellicose moved the rivers to conceal any of the scholars’ secrets. That is why there is a crater for the falls to tumble into. The castle was absorbed back into the earth.”

“So how did the country split?”

Kya shrugged. “The scriptures stop. We have no history for at least 200 years after the fall. It’s almost as if everyone disappeared.”

Hilt furrowed his brow and looked back at the misty shadows, his mind and soul salivating at the prospect of such hidden history. Kya’s story had holes. He wanted them filled. The most important event in the history of the continent and the answers were just behind those falls. He needed to find it.

“Can you get into the castle?” Hilt asked.

Kya shook her head. “The bridge was the only thing in tact when we found it half a millennia ago. We rebuilt as best we could. As long as I can remember there have been people looking for an entrance to the old castle, but the falls have eliminated any possibility. The Spirits have hidden that history quite well.”

Just because these daft pasties couldn’t find the entrance, didn’t mean Hilt would face the same problem. He had… rather special abilities that these northerners lacked. His mind awhirl with plots and possibilities, the General grew giddy. Perhaps he didn’t have to brave the snows and head to the fortress. Perhaps everything he ever dreamed was just waiting behind a bit of water.

“We need to get back,” Hilt said quickly. He couldn’t hide the grin from his face. After all of the research in Nibheis and the constant struggle to find reliable history, this could be it. This could answer everything.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Kya asked, her face contorted in a confused look.

“Because I’d rather not be hiking back to the castle in the rain and the dark. How am I to explain to your Master Silae that you disappeared when some dangerous monster attacked?”

“There are no dangerous beasts like that around here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Hilt smiled.

The ride back was in silence, and for once Hilt wasn’t focusing on their path. His mind was clouded with a fanciful plan of scurrying along the cliff and stumbling upon a mountain of antiquity. He didn’t even mind the persistent drizzle upon his head.

Before Hilt knew what happened, the pair was riding up to the stables. Fierant was tucked away in a stall (far away from the runt) and then they made their way into the castle. All the while, Hilt was searching for little crevices in the rock or hand-holes to help him climb along. But with the sun long below the horizon, even his eyes found it difficult to see through the fog.

“Do you still plan on going north?” Kya asked, almost hopefully.

“Aye,” Hilt said as they passed through the gates. Something was wrong, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it. Ever since they left the stables it seemed almost too quiet.

“And you still plan on taking me with you?”

“That was our agreement, wasn’t it?” Hilt said. It dawned on him. The hairs on his arm stood on end as they crossed the obsidian bridge.

Kya was speaking again, but he no longer heard her. Light was flickering in the windows of the palace, but it was all very still. He had been distracted. He knew better than to allow such a mistake. Constant diligence, he trained himself. And yet he failed to realize a lack of a dozen guards at the gate?

Cursing himself, he grabbed Kya’s wrist and stopped her halfway across the bridge.

“Ow, what are you doing?” Kya hissed, tugging away from him.

“Stop talking,” Hilt growled, glancing behind him. He half expected an attack, a coup to sneak up and drive a dagger in his back. “Do you not sense anything strange?”

“Like what?” Kya grumbled, still trying to pull away.

“You were the one who told me the guards would recognize you and allow us in. Well, where are they?” The city was completely unguarded.

Hilt watched as Kya’s face fell. Her shoulders hunched and her eyes grew wide.

“Give me my bow,” Kya whispered, colorless eyes darting around.

Hilt obliged. He never liked using a bow anyway. It would simply slow him down when he drew his sword. He handed her the bow and quiver before placing his hand at his hip, grasping the hilt of his trusty sword.

He tried to think back. Had there been anyone in the city? It was late; most of the peasants were asleep in their beds. But there had to be someone about, right? The stable. Had there been a boy at the stable? Hilt couldn’t remember. The mickle of delusions and desires had clouded his mind and tested his training.

He could hear Kya breathing heavily next to him as she strung her bow and pulled out an arrow.  The bridge was no place for a fight. The obsidian was slippery with muggy mist and there were only two ways to escape, three if they decided to leap off. How could he make such a neophyte mistake?

Hilt spun around as the crick of an opening door cut through the pounding of the falls. Light cascaded around a round silhouette. A single person. The tap of footsteps echoed behind him and he watched from the corner of his eye as nearly a hundred guards filtered through the gates and started charging along the bridge.

Squaring his shoulders, Hilt prepared himself for an attack. He’d been waiting for a good fight. Who knew? Perhaps he could get a meal out of this. Just as he was ready to charge into the tangled mess of jumbled ranks, he heard a voice scream behind him.

“Stop! It’s Lieutenant Kya!”

Hilt whirled around to see the silhouette running towards them, and then skid to a stop. In the soft glow of a torch, a fat boy with sandy hair and pig eyes locked eyes with him.

Oh, this would be interesting. 

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