Impure: Godslayers

The boys were led deeper into the vast island. They trudged all morning, up misty hills and around foggy marshes. Finally in the afternoon, they reached a valley populated with snow-covered houses. However, the houses were so small and crudely crafted that they could barely be compared to cabins. The dispirited inhabitants of the settlement all came out to ogle at the four strangers. Their houses were round with thatched roofs of straw. The walls were made from wattle and daub, but George could see chunks of wood as well. Lee on the other hand had his eyes set on other things.

“Look at the girls… and the women,” Lee whispered brazenly.

“Calm down Lee, none of us has ever seen women either,” Osy said.

Yet even as he spoke, Osy’s eyes lingered a little longer on the females. The boys were led to the centre of the settlement, where a wooden structure stood. The structure was not only the largest building in the settlement but also the most flamboyant. Below the roof and over the great doors was an intricate collage of horses, carved expertly into its wooden surface.

“Wait here,” the first horseman said.

He dismounted his horse and sprinted towards a large house not too far from the wooden structure.

“King Aldur we found some strangers on the shores,” the first horseman said.

The group of men in the house turned to the horseman at the doorway.

“Kill them,” the eldest of the men said.

The old man continued to converse with the two men in front of him. Yet after uttering a mere word, the King turned to back to the horseman.

“Jarl Kilowulf, why do I not hear the screams of dying men?” Aldur said.

The gruff tone of the King seemed to have pacified Kilowulf, who stood there stuttering and blabbering.

“Well what is it…out with it man,”

“It is because of their eyes …”

“What of their eyes?” Aldur asked.

Meanwhile the boys were knelt in the settlement square. They were unceremoniously stripped of their fur coats and boots, by the scavenging settlers.

“This is demeaning, to let these mortals treat us like this. It is so cold, and yet they take our clothes and shoes. I should burn them all to ash,” Lee hissed menacingly.

“Silence Lee you will do no such thing. Mortals are of no threat to us; we must give them no reason to become one. Am I clear?” Osy whispered.

“Yes, yes,” George replied.

“Lee?”

Lee however did not hear Osy calling him, because he was fixated on the woman rounding up the horses.

“Are you seeing that lady tending the horses? Look at the size of her ch-,”

“Lee!” Osy hissed.

Osy stuttered as he caught sight of the woman that Lee was gaping at. He was momentarily entranced by her alluring figure and spellbindingly beautiful face.

“Ho-How can you think of women at a time like this?” Osy stuttered.

“How can you not? We have been on an island surrounded by men all our lives,”

“That is no reason to behave as a mongrel, mad with lust,” George commented snidely.

“And you are behaving as a woman… a mortal woman,” Lee sneered.

George stood up with his fists raised.

“I ought to-”

However a guard pushed him back to his knees. George brows furrowed as Osy put a hand on his shoulder.

“Please calm down,” Osy whispered.

Meanwhile, Lee chuckled uncontrollably at George’s predicament; that was until he was smacked on the head by a guard. Subsequently, Kilowulf could be heard barking orders loudly, clearing a path in the crowd for the King. The old man slowed his approach, when he finally caught sight of the boys. The boys looked with incredulity as the old man loosened his wolf pelt cloak, letting it fall on the snow. Subsequently he took off his crown. As he fell to his knees, the King dropped the bronze emblazoned band causing his subjects to gasp in shock.

“Forgive me great demi-gods,” Aldur shouted.

“My King,”

“Get off me Jarl Kilowulf,” Aldur yelled as he slapped Kilowulf’s hand away.

Then Aldur stood up and put on his crown and cloak.

“Forgive me my demi-gods; forgive my people. Welcome to Freydal. Please stand up. Unbind them!”

As the Freydalis horsemen began to untie the boys, Aldur continued to address them.

“Lee, Osy and George. Our ancestors told us of your coming, the descendants of the light gods who will save us. They have come to slay the god that terrorises us,” Aldur exclaimed.

“He is not a god, he is a monster,”

“A beast,”

The townspeople cursed and called out with hate and disdain.

“The prophecy speaks of four, I see only three,”

The voice came from a woman who stepped forward from the crowd. Compared to the settlers, she was dressed rather elegantly. The young lady wore a form-fitting garment, made from some sort of thin fur and a bronze circlet.

“What prophecy,” Lee said.

“Forgive my daughter Joyta she speaks out of turn,” Aldur said.

“Mortals at every corner of the world have been silently anticipating the coming of the four god-slayers…. But I see only three.”

Osy and George looked at each other questioningly.

“I am Lee, this is Osy and George,” Lee said.

He walked towards the horseman who was untying Singe. Once free, the monkey jumped on Lee and hugged his head.

“And this is Singe,” Lee laughed.

“Where is the fourth?” Joyta said interrogatively.

“Imposters”

“Kill them,”

In an instant the crowd turned against the boys once again, jeering and shouting.

“You will do no such thing,” Aldur barked.

At the sound of the old man’s voice, everyone was silent.

“Good King … we know nothing of this prophecy, but we will slay this so-called god that you fear!”

As the people whispered in awe of his grandiose proclamation, Lee winked at the lady who had sparked his interest earlier. She smiled back toothily as she played with a horse’s mane. Suddenly Osy yanked Lee back.

“Are you insane?” Osy hissed.

“We are supposed to be hiding, not making trouble,” George spat.

“Trouble? We are already in trouble. Everyone is dead and Norton has being captured, all because of us,” Lee snapped.

“Us? …you nearly burnt Borr alive. It is your fault,” George retorted.

“Me? Us? It matters not. What matters is I am trying to do something to atone, instead of hiding; unlike you two. Hide.… in a world ruled by our enemies. Where can we hide that they cannot follow?” Lee said bitterly.

George shook his head. He was unconvinced until he saw the despondent look on Osy’s face.

“They will slay him, Ragnaghast will die! Like the dark god of old,” Aldur declared.

As the people cheered hesitantly, Lee leaned close to Osy.

“What now oh fearless leader,”

“Ragnaghast?!” Osy asked loudly whilst he glowered at Lee with disdain.

“It is the name of the god…Ragnaghast the fire-eater, the drinker of flames,” Aldur explained enthusiastically.

“I know nothing of this prophecy but three against one are overwhelming odds, even among gods!” Osy said.

George’s jaw dropped. He had been expecting Osy to discharge them from this unexpected responsibility, not assume it.

“The god-slayers have come! On the mountain that is where the god’s temple resides. Will you desecrate his altars and do battle there?” Aldur asked.

The boys looked up at the wide mountain that overshadowed the settlement.

“Your land is unimaginably cold… and we seemed to have misplaced our boots and fur coats on the way from our ship. Might we warm ourselves by a fire and perhaps fill our bellies before taking on such a task?” Osy inquired politely.

“No fires are to be built save for the day of the Fire Festival. The one day in a year when we may use fire to cook, craft …live. Ragnaghast’s gift to us. If a fire is lit no matter how small on any other day, the god will come down from his mountain, eat the flames and kill as many as he pleases” Joyta said sorrowfully.

“So you live your lives in the cold, with no fire?” Lee said as he grimaced.

“What part of fire brings down the god do you not understand?” Kilowulf barked.

Lee gritted his teeth in annoyance and clenched his fist with the intent of teaching the young Jarl a lesson, but then Osy put a hand on his shoulders. Although he shrugged Osy’s hand off him aggressively, Lee relaxed and did not pursue the matter.

“So fire brings down the god huh!” Osy asked.

He raised a brow and his lips formed a cunning smile as he looking directly at the King. Wide-eyed, Aldur returned the smile when he understood Osy’s meaning.

“Cook, craft, open the mead-hall, warm up for today we have fire!”

On their King’s announcement, the settlers cheered.

The central continent was divided by a large lifeless desert. Yet on the peak of the highest mountain in the desert, stood four figures, each more different than the last.

“I do not understand why all the weapons must stay with you?” Drazo grumbled.

With Macius looking inquisitively over his shoulder, Drazo examined the three godly weapons. One was planted on the mountaintop and the other two weapons were being held by Shadro and Drazo.

“The fact that only two of my four siblings, whom I summoned to this summit actually bothered to attend is not reason enough?” Shadro asked with a jaded tone.

“Whose fault is it that you set the time for such a meeting, merely three days after your emissaries reached us? You know Wazenio is unable to move as we do,”

Shadro’s brows furrowed as he stared at the woman who had just spoken. She had long blue hair and cold pale skin, although it was not as pale as Drazo’s. Her eyes were blue but her sclera was the colour of faded gold. Rolling up the sleeves of her white fur coat, she picked up the weapon that was in the mountaintop. She realised that it was different from the other two weapons. Whereas they were swords, the weapon she held was a pole, with a long sabre blade mounted on it.

“Fine Precipia, then what is Tzio’s excuse, he can fly faster than both of us?” Shadro queried.

“Maybe he does not fancy being summoned like a common mortal, perhaps he thinks he is somehow greater, why else would he fail to show?” Precipia responded.

“And the other reason?”

Drazo interjected just as Shadro was getting antagonised by Precipia’s tone.

“Until those children are dead the weapons shall remain with me…Avida included,” Shadro said.

“What?” Drazo exclaimed.

“I think Shadro is taking these children too seriously. I mean Avida is one of us now,” Precipia chimed in as she examined the weapon.

“Be that as it may, we cannot risk her finding out her true identity and turning against us,” Shadro stated inattentively.

“Was it not your sons who were sent to secure the godly weapons and instead aided the whores of the light gods,” Drazo scolded.

“I killed my sons. I have paid the ultimate price for their betrayal,” Shadro affirmed warningly.

“No you have not,”

“How did you know of…? Norton will die in time. After he has told me where the children have fled to, he will die,”

Precipia made an expression that sounded something between a sarcastic scoff and a laugh.

“I am a god of my word,” Shadro growled menacingly.

“When you dispose of your child, I will dispose of mine,” Drazo snarled.

“That is not your child Drazo! I will not let these children grow up and unite, because you are addicted to the taste of godly blood,”

“She is more than that to me,”

“It is a shame that you cannot have children and must spread your immortality through mortals, like an affliction. But your misguided need to be a father will not be the reason for our downfall. Kill that wench or… I will,” Shadro said calmly, but coldly.

For a tense moment Drazo and Shadro glared at each other, the faded gold colour of their sclera was a terrifying sight.

“After we have disposed of the children I expect we will talk about how the weapons will be divided amongst us,” Precipia asked.

“Yes, why not?”

As he answered, Shadro’s glare lingered on his brother.

“I hope we are, for your sake,”

As Shadro turned to his sister, she spun the weapon and planted it in the mountaintop. Suddenly a wintry western wind began to blow seemingly out of nowhere. Then Precipia was violently hauled in the air and gone with the wind. Drazo and Shadro watched Precipia fly away as they walked to the edge of the mountaintop.

“Do we have an accord?” Shadro asked between gritted teeth.

“I will drain her dry, like I did her mother before her…You cannot defeat all four of us, even if you do have the three weapons that were used to slay our father. I suggest you begin to contemplate on how the weapons should be divided,” Drazo said.

Subsequently, Drazo planted the weapon on the mountaintop and nodded at Macius. Both beings calmly walked off the edge of the mountain, and plummeted to the ground. Standing straight they tore through the clouds and continued on their perilous descent. They landed heavily on their knees, creating two craters. Yet they maintained their upright stance as though nothing had happened. Shadro watched them silently, from this height they appeared as two ants. Drazo and Macius then sprinted away with such speed, that they became nothing but two blurs.