Stories Of Zoltah

The Frozen Forest

Azrin and Ingvar emerged out from the portal and stepped into the snow-blanketed village of Norburg, facing a row of abandoned yards lined with thatched, stone houses. All around, an eerie silence hung over the air, with only the distance hubbub from the market square carrying through the air, while an indistinct clinking told of a forge nearby. Though both of Azrin's slender arms protruded from his short-sleeved, leather robes with neither a fleece nor covering for warmth, he barely felt the cold as years of training finally bore fruit. With his lips parting into a victorious smile, he stepped forward in the snow, his crunching footsteps closely followed by Ingvar, who, still lost in a trance-like state, took a step ahead.

"Silence," Azrin suddenly ordered, raising a fist in the air and motioning for Ingvar to stop moving. The distant murmuring of muffled voices could be heard, carrying from somewhere afar off in the distance. Casting both eyes to the north of the houses, Azrin noticed a trail, leading towards a hill. "Follow," he stated, and marched through the snow, Ingvar striding mindlessly behind him. Sliding both eyes from one row of houses to the next, Azrin took in the sight – his first time in Norburg, where he had heard tales of fearsome giants, lurking in the forests beyond. The thatched roofs, woven from dried, brown grass, were disturbed by short, stone chimneys, spewing steady streams of smoke out into the air. 'Where the villagers huddled inside?' he wondered as he and Ingvar cleared one row after the other, eventually coming out onto a clearing where the path meandered round a well dug in the center. Its wooden beams were tied together by lengths of rope and a single, iron-rimmed, wooden bucket had been left resting gingerly atop the surface. Curious, Azrin sauntered off from the path and made for the well, both eyes fixed upon the structure. With a flick of the finger, he sent the wooden bucket tittering to life, swirling round and round as it appeared to find its bearings, then without warning, it fell sideways and plunged deep into the darkened space. From the trail where he stood, both arms frozen to his sides, Ingvar watched as Azrin leaned over the side of the well and peer inside, careening out of the way as the bucket finally came streaking back and nearly colliding with his face.

The water, Azrin's suspicions were confirmed, was unlike any that he had come across thus far. It's radiant luminance almost shimmered with some sort of inner light, while the very texture was almost viscous and malleable.

"Ingvar!" he called out urgently. "Ingvar!" casting his glance over his shoulder, he shouted once more, "come and take a look at this!"

His face expressionless, Ingvar marched ahead until he came to a halt next to Azrin.

"Do you see this Ingvar?" said Azrin, plunging a hand into the bucket and withdrawing a palmful of the liquid.

Ingvar's eyes fell onto the bucket but he didn't respond.

"Was the water from the fountain where you fished for the gemstones the same as this?"

Silence.

Frustrated, Azrin spewed the water back into the bucket and rose from the well, bringing himself nearly face to face with Ingvar. He intently gazed into the young Asgardian's dilated eyes, the gemstone resting firmly between them. Somehow, the stone had reduced Ingvar into a mindless drone, but for his plans to succeeded, Azrin required whoever partook of the gemstones, to retain a semblance of themselves. Raising a hand to his face and clutching his pointed chin while lost deep in thought, Azrin considered Ingvar a moment – breathing normally, eyes unblinking. Had there been a page in the prime secta he still needed to read? At that moment, he suddenly recalled the reason for his excursion to Norburg, and deciding to deal with Ingvar later, Azrin wheeled from the well, intending to stride back towards the path. But planted in the middle of the path, frozen as they stared at Azrin's deathly pale face and skeletal appearance, two young boys draped in overgrown fleeces, gaped in awe. Subtly, Azrin motioned for Ingvar to remain standing, while he stalked slowly forward as though afraid sudden movements would frighten the boys off.