Five days after the death of Ahnvad

Srung. Fortress of the Empire, erected here to make sure the Volcarrens never escaped their prison. Ahnvad’s citadel. Taelord’s cell.

Most Volcarrens looked at Srung with fear, and Taelord could see why: the walls were high and thick, the stone black. It was like a patch of night in the otherwise glaring sun of the Volcarren. But Taelord had learned to see it differently. It was just stone, blocks upon blocks, and those stones were being worn away by sand. Not even Ahnvad had been able to stop that. Up close, the fortress looked weathered and old, sand pushed up against the walls, as if eager to claim them.

He had been trying to escape from Srung ever since he was old enough to realize he was a prisoner there. Not that Ahnvad had exactly kept him locked up. He had been free to roam the halls and rooms within. But he hadn’t been allowed outside the walls.  

It was a strange feeling, standing before it now, looking up at the dark stone walls which rose vertically out of the sandy, rocky ground, and not needing to hide or run. Stranger still was the sight of the gates being wide open, soldiers pouring out of them in a line, throwing their weapons to the ground. They were surrendering, joining Utgar without so much as a single sword-swing. No one wanted to fight a Valkyrie.

The first thing Utgar had done upon killing Ahnvad was to revisit his old home. It hadn’t been much to look at: the shell of a Greater Ranta, mostly buried in the sand. Taelord could have easily walked right by it and assumed it to be nothing more than a skeleton, which he supposed was a good thing, as it hid the Wellspring.

Utgar hadn’t let him or Kirav inside. Instead, he had taken any spare waterskins they had, ducked under the shell with Runa, and emerged a few minutes later with several skins full of Wellspring water.

He had then sworn them to secrecy. They could not reveal the location of the Wellspring. Taelord had agreed easily. The Wellspring wars – when the Wellsprings across Valhalla had all been unsealed – had lasted for at least a hundred years. He had no desire to repeat that.

They had then met up with the five hundred raiders which had been absent when Ahnvad ambushed Nearv and slew Vraen. It had been a pitifully small force, but numbers didn’t matter with a Valkyrie. The Wellspring was under Volcarren control, Ahnvad was dead; it was time to assault Srung.

It had taken them four days to cross the Strip – the stretch of barren canyons and ravines which separated Srung from the Bone Desert to the east. On the third day, they had been joined by the Vel, warriors from the south who had agreed to fight with Vraen.

The Vel were legendary. The Volcarren clans had learned to not provoke the Empire, and accept their presence instead. The Vel never had. It was said that they had kept up a constant resistance the entire time they were in the Volcarren. As a result, every one of them was a deadly warrior. They wore loose black clothing against the sun, and hid their faces behind black masks, which only added to the air of danger they seemed to exude. Their weapons were carved from bone, and tipped with sharpened Ranta claws, or coated with paralyzing Taklay venom.

Their leader was a tall, heavily muscled kyrie by the name of Vydar. He had greeted Utgar, learned of Vraen’s death, and quickly agreed to join Utgar in assaulting Srung.

Except there had been no assault. No one wanted to fight Utgar. As soon as they were within sight of Srung, the doors were flung open, and soldiers began filing out, throwing down their weapons and armor, pledging loyalty to Utgar on the spot.

Now Taelord stood before Srung, Utgar nearby atop a small outcropping of rock, watching as the Vel and Volcarrens flooded into Srung, eager to salvage food, water, and weapons.

Taelord glanced at Utgar. He looked exactly like Taelord thought a Valkyrie should: tall, weathered by the desert, black hair whipping about his face in the ceaseless Volcarren wind. He wore the breastplate of a soldier he had slain, and a long bone knife was sheathed beneath it. In one hand, he carried the enchanted axe of Ahnvad – really more of a halberd – the tip of its haft resting on the ground. He looked towards Srung with an expression Taelord himself felt: triumph. The Empire was beaten. Their imprisonment in the Volcarren was over.

Runa and Kirav stood beside him. Runa had been uncharacteristically subdued since her capture by Ahnvad, but now that she was back with her father, she was beginning to return to her old self. She looked out over the milling soldiers with eager curiosity, her hair whipping in the wind just like her father’s.

Kirav stood just behind her, his face a mask, one hand on his axe. Utgar had charged him with keeping Runa safe at all times, and Kirav had taken to the task with unexpected fervor.

The fact that Utgar had trusted anyone to keep his daughter safe had surprised Taelord. Utgar seemed to value Runa’s safety over anything else, and he seemed to trust virtually no one. He certainly didn’t trust Taelord. At Runa’s insistence, he had agreed to let Taelord live, but that was all.

Taelord couldn’t really blame him. He might have done his best to salvage an impossible situation, but he had still gotten Vraen and his men massacred, and very nearly gotten Runa killed.

He could only imagine how Utgar might react if he learned who Taelord’s father was.

As the soldiers continued to leave Srung, Taelord approached the rock Utgar stood on. Kirav turned to look at him, but made no other movement.

“Utgar,” Taelord said, once he was just over a halberd’s length away. Utgar turned. Because of the rock he stood on, Taelord had to look up to meet his eyes. “I need to find my mother,” he said. “Ahnvad kept her here – I must find her, make sure she is safe.”

Utgar watched him for a moment, a slight frown on his face. Was he considering, wondering how much of a risk Taelord was? Taelord didn’t look away, or bow his head as others might have done. He held Utgar’s gaze. That was one thing he had learned from Ahnvad.

Utgar glanced at Srung. “Very well,” he said, looking back to Taelord. “But Kirav will go with you.”

“Fine,” Taelord said. He turned, and started walking towards Srung without waiting. He knew where the Wellspring was, and in Utgar’s eyes, that made him a danger. He hadn’t sent Kirav with him as protection, but as insurance. Kirav would kill him if he tried to divulge the Wellspring location. Runa might not have thought so, but Taelord knew better.

None of the soldiers exiting Srung were harmed. Utgar had given very clear orders: no killing unless there was resistance. He had just ended one conflict, and had no desire to start another. That was something else Taelord agreed with: they were both ready for peace. Whatever that might look like.

He entered Srung, Kirav behind him, pushing past Volcarrens and soldiers. Inside the fortress it was dark, the passageways lit only by blackened lanterns. It wasn’t cooler inside the walls though; if anything, it was hotter. It would be cooler down below, where the armory was, but Taelord first had to find his mother. And she would be near the top of the fortress.

They passed rooms and stairwells, all equally crammed with Volcarrens trying to salvage something. Taelord saw furniture which had been imported from the North smashed, chests he had never seen unlocked now broken open, charts and maps scattered on the floor. Srung had been a symbol of imprisonment for the Volcarrens – they wanted to destroy it, along with everything it held. Taelord did too, for that matter.

After climbing several flights of stairs – each one increasing the temperature of the air around them – they finally emerged in a narrow hallway, completely devoid of lanterns, and leading only to a single wooden door, fastened with a heavy iron bolt.

Taelord pulled the bolt back with some difficulty, and shoved the door open. Within was a small room. It was a circular chamber, housing a bed, a small table, and a few chairs. A door in the far wall led to a privy.

Despite the size, the room was well-furnished. There was an expensive – if threadbare – rug on the floor, and the bed was massive, with imported northern furs and woven sheets. The single stone window – narrow and shuttered – even had a piece of patterned cloth over it to keep the sand out. Ahnvad might have been cold and heartless, but he had at least given Taelord’s mother some comforts in life – as long as she didn’t fight him.

She was there, sitting on one of the chairs. She looked uninjured, and Taelord breathed a sigh of relief. Ahnvad had threatened her life as a means of getting him to cooperate – he had half expected to find her bruised and bloodied.

She seemed fine however, and rose as he entered. “Taelord?” she said. “Taelord, you’re safe?” She rushed to him, and grasped him in a tight embrace. “I was worried,” she whispered. “Ahnvad said you had been captured.”

Well, that much was true. Taelord was willing to bet that Ahnvad had left out the part about forcing him to spy on Vraen, though.

“I’m fine, Mother,” he said. “I came here to get you out.”

“Out?” she echoed.

So Taelord explained what had happened. How Utgar had found a Wellspring and was now Valkyrie, how Ahnvad was dead, and how Srung was emptying as they spoke. “We can leave now,” he finished. “Utgar’s going to lead us out of the Volcarren.”

His mother had sat down as he spoke, and now looked up at him, worry on her face. “It won’t be safe,” she said.

“It would be unwise to stay,” Kirav said, speaking for the first time from behind them.

Taelord’s mother glanced at him. “And you are?” she said.

“Kirav. Soldier of Utgar.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Fera,” she said. Then she turned her back on him pointedly, and took Taelord by the arms. “Taelord,” she said, “we must stay here. We’ll be safe here.”

“Safe…” Taelord grimaced. He had been afraid of this. When he had been young, his mother had been the one to suggest they escape Srung. Now she rejected the idea. She had been that way for some time – Ahnvad’s doing.

“Mother,” he said, “they’re probably going to burn this place down. Even if they don’t, it will be deserted. All the soldiers are leaving. The food is being looted right now. We can’t stay.”

She frowned. “Alright,” she said. “But we’ll have to hide as soon as possible.”

“Hide?” Taelord echoed.

She smiled at him, a sad smile, as if he were confused. “There will be war, Taelord,” she said gently. “You think the Empire will just let this pass? This Utgar – you said he doesn’t want conflict, but it will come. I want us to be somewhere safe when it does.”

“The safest place is with Utgar,” Taelord said, frowning. “He’s a Valkyrie, Mother. No one in their right mind would attack him.”

She tilted her head. “I suppose that’s true,” she said. “For now, the safest place would be with the Valkyrie. Yes.” She nodded to herself. “But Taelord,” she added, “we must leave at some point. We must find somewhere safe, away from the coming war.”

Good enough. There would be plenty of time to convince her later. “Gather your things, Mother,” Taelord said. “Utgar wants to move out soon.”

She turned, gathering what few possessions Ahnvad had given her: blankets, cushions off of chairs, a variety of small gifts Ahnvad had brought her – all rewards for letting him control her.

Taelord watched her with a frown. Ahnvad had taught her to always expect the worst – in this case, war. That was how she lived now, preparing for the worst, taking life’s simple comforts as they came. Taelord remembered when he was little, that she had used to dream of leaving the Volcarren. She had used to try to escape, to beat Ahnvad. And now that she could be free, the first thing she did was insist on staying.

But Ahnvad hadn’t won. He was dead, and Taelord’s mother could return to who she had been. It all came down to Ahnvad. Taelord had to prove that he had been wrong. That life wasn’t about war, and death, and ceaseless sand. That there was a better life, and that they could have it.

Taelord thought that Ahnvad’s death might have proven that to his mother, but apparently not. She still thought there would be a war. Fine. He’d just have to prove it to her another way. Once they left this place, and entered Valhalla, then she’d see. Utgar would negotiate some sort of treaty with the Empire, and they would settle down somewhere they could be alone. Somewhere near water perhaps. And then, eventually, his mother would realize Ahnvad had been wrong.

Then they’d be able to start over, and rebuild what Ahnvad had torn down.