DIVINE CHAMPIONS 4: THE SUN'S CHOICE

LITTLE KILLING MACHINES

As soon as they landed, Ishaan knew it was all wrong. His friends were nowhere to be seen. He was all alone in the middle of nowhere. 

And this place couldn't have been Nidavellir. Definitely not. This place was cold. It was snowy. Ishaan's feet were covered in snow. This was definitely much colder than Pankhpur. Even colder than Assam. There were mountains around. Cold, bone-chilling winds blew. A few pine trees here and there, covered by snow. Overcast conditions. "Hel, I'm in Jotunheim." Ishaan said to himself. He really hoped he didn't face the Giant King here.

Ishaan looked around. Not a single soul. He cried for his friends, but his voice echoed all around him. Ishaan's feet were inside the snow. The snow wasn't very thick, but his shoes weren't exactly snow friendly. He was reminded of his learnings. So, he focused and heated his body up slightly, concentrating all the heat he acquired on his legs, while he moved.

He walked away from the mountains, climbing down and down, before he slipped and stumbled, rolling down the slope, and falling headfirst on snow-less land. The land was dry. Ishaan got up to his feet, brushed his hands and hair, and looked forward. There was a little factory. There were little carts and big carts. And then, there were carts of a certain size that could make you say 'Damn!' They were this big. The factory in itself was bigger than he had ever seen. It was nearly the size of a skyscraper. Inside were giants nearly fifteen to twenty feet tall. Ishaan knew that if he had to live through this and reunite with his friends, he needed to avoid them. So, he turned away and was about to get away from the factory, when he was caught by two men.

Okay, it was definitely Ishaan's first ever visit to Jotunheim. But he was a thousand percent sure that these two weren't from here. They were not giants. Heck, they were not even a full g. They were both half the size of Ishaan. They had a darkish skin tone, overall younger-looking, slightly athletic body. They had long black hair, a thick beard, dark brown eyes, and rough facial features. They seemed super intelligent by the looks of it. They had heavy clothings, much more than you needed in this temperature. And the scars on both their cheeks seemed to say that they knew how to fight. One of them had his hands fully tattooed, while the other one had none. Ishaan realized it wouldn't be smart to ask them about his friends. They were the first speak, though. Tattoo guy said, "Hi, gentleman. I'm Fjalar. And this is my brother, Galar. And where are you headed this fine morning?" Fjalar had a thick Northern accent.

"Just visiting." Ishaan was trying to remember the names.

"A Midgardian visiting Jotunheim while everything is going on?" Galar asked, who had the same accent as his brother, "That does sound unlikely. I don't have a good feeling about this." 

"Well, I didn't expect dwarves here either, so that feeling is mutual." 

"Boy's got a mouth." Fjalar said, "Boy, when you have bounties on your heads, none of you should have gotten here."

"Wasn't exactly our choice. This was an accident."

"Good." Galar said with a cranky smile, "Because, whatever happens next isn't going to be an accident."

And then, they took out their weapons. Fjalar held a big silver-made sword with a pointy tip, while Galar had a double-sided axe made of the same material. They attacked, and Ishaan reacted. He jumped away from their blows, and summoned flames. He hurled his flames at the two dwarves. However, they came out of that onslaught of flames unscathed. "What an idiot." Fjalar said. That is when it struck Ishaan. They were dwarves. Fire didn't harm them, for they were born around forges, fires and furnaces. Also, these guys were the murderous dwarves who had killed Kvasir for wisdom, and had made the mead of poetry. 

So, his fire didn't work on them. They were two vicious murderers. And with no fire, Ishaan had nothing to defend himself. They came at him at pace. Fjalar screamed, "Your head will give us a hefty sum of riches, divine champion. Be quiet, and stand still."

Hmm. Sure. That's what he would be doing. Ishaan turned and did the only thing he could think of. He ran. But before he could run, Galar had slashed his axe at his face. Ishaan felt the burning pain. As he ran, he could feel blood oozing out of his right cheek. He still kept running. Behind him, screaming death cries, Fjalar and Galar chased him.

Ishaan ran and ran through the snow. It wasn't easy, given the snow was tight. Ishaan slipped, but stayed up, running through the snow. He kept calling his friends' names, but no one could hear him. He felt so helpless, as helpless as he had felt the day he had lost his father. He still ran, praying to Sol to help him. But it seemed to be daytime here. Sol was up saving her own life, and he couldn't expect her help. 

Then, Fjalar threw his sword at him. Ishaan felt the sword's blade hit him, and go through his right calf. Ishaan fell over as he foot seared in pain. He screamed in pain. Fjalar and Galar walked up to him, as he took the sword out and threw it away. Fjalar spread his right hand and summoned the sword back into his hand. "It is not personal, boy." Ishaan, however, wasn't giving up. Heat ran through his body once more. He got up. Rather, tried to. He could barely stand. But if he was going down, he was going down fighting, not fallen and given up. He launched his flames once again at the dwarves, but in vain. Out of the flames came Galar's axe, and pierced itself to Ishaan's right shoulder. Ishaan screamed in pain. He looked at the wound, as he pulled out axe. Blood came out of his shoulder like a river. "You are bothering us, Midgardian. Now, you shall die painfully." Galar shouted, as he summoned the axe back in his hand.

Ishaan was in unbelievable pain. His right leg didn't work. His face was bleeding. His shoulder was bleeding. His movements had become slow. And then, Fjalar went on and slashed his sword at him. Ishaan's stomach skin tore apart, blood gushing out. Galar slashed his axe at him as well, slicing his forehead. And like a final nail in the coffin, Fjalar drove the sword through his heart.

Only, he missed because of his height, and pierced the side of Ishaan's stomach. Ishaan's eyes were full of tears, with pain, devastation and anger. And with his anger, he accumulated the last piece of his energy, and heated himself up. He pushed the dwarves away, and slammed his foot on the ground. The snow melted beneath them, and turned to water, making them slip, and lose their weapons under it. 

Ishaan walked away from them, barely able to stand. His head spun, his visions shifted from the snow capped mountains to back home. Udi's face came into view, expressionless. And then, his mother's face came up. And they were both saying. Udi was shouting, "No, Dada. You can't fall. You still have to save the world. Please, fight back." He could hear his mother say, "You promised to come back to me, Ishy. You will not leave me. Or there will be apocalypse."

Ishaan couldn't say anything. He couldn't even stand. And then, he felt the ground beneath him slip away. He was falling. Where? He didn't know. He closed his eyes, as he finally gave up on his life. His vision darkened, and he didn't remember anything else.