Valiant

Chapter 19: Revenge is Best Served...

Far away from the Vale, in the gathering cold of the Hoarfrost Mountains, the nightfires burn like individual stars reflected upon the ice with a ghostly defiance, sinfully warm against the Cold Goddess's embrace. Rydir Of Chat'thakka  stirs restlessly inside his tent. Beside him, sleeping peacefully, his wife Theinai huddles against the white-bearskins. Her snow-white hair seems out of place on her full, young body, and yet she remains beautiful. Her pure, light brown skin rises and falls methodically to the rhythm of sleep. So as not to wake her, Rydir rises slowly. When free of his bedding, he wraps himself in his tribal chieftain garb- a white, bearskin cloak, a wooden circlet for his brow, and his fur loincloth. His hardened feet make little noise as he exits the tent. A pang of longing and emptiness dances across his scarred chest, but the cold numbs him. Shields him from his thoughts. Snow falls from the pitch-dark sky, whipping and spiraling in the wind- soft, wet kisses of the Cold Goddess.

His hard, rough hands grip the burnished ash haft of his spear. The head gleams with runes- the tribal weapon of power.  Rohlit'blin-chethar- "Fury of the Cold".  Wisely named, Rydir muses. For what man can withstand the fury of the cold?

His head bows in memory, and a single tear freezes upon his cheek. His feet carry him through the camp, past fires and huts, swarming with men and women and children. His people. His family. His back turns to them all, favoring the solitude of the cliffs, and the company of the ice and snow. A wolf howls deep within the forest. A song of mourning, and sorrow, lanced through with determination.

Rydir lets himself wander, as his feet hang from the edge of the cliffs, into the empty, whispering wind. The Forests of Baelik stretch in front of him, a kingdom of pure, beautiful trees, covered in the shimmering white blessed blankets of the Cold Goddess and illuminated by the mysterious moon. The stars gaze down, approvingly upon Rydir's domain. My ancestors, Rydir knew. Heroes and warriors ascended into the realms of frost and bliss far above, to look down upon their descendants and wait for the Final Battle.

"Not going to jump off again, are you, my love?" Rydir looks around, and sees Theinai, sitting beside him, smiling with her ice-colored eyes. "No, my dear wife," Rydir chuckles, kissing her on her cheek. "I am simply thinking of things long lost. Do not trouble yourself."
Her smile looses some of its savor, as it is pierced by the pain of loss.

"It has been many moons since then. Do not let the memory destroy the will in your heart," she says, laying her small, fragile hand over Rydir's mighty, scarred breast.

"Much has changed. He will not even remember us. He is one of them by now," Rydir whispers, laying his head upon her shoulder. Her arms wrap around his head and pull him closer to her.

"Let not your resolve crumble. He is alive! My bones and your blood in his veins. He will be a great warrior one day, once we retrieve him. What has been done can also be undone, husband, and you may pass on your power to him. The Miracle will remain checked, and the realm may yet escape the wrath of the gods."

"Do you truly think that they would let the... The 'Barbarian Prince' live for eighteen years? These men do not think like us. They will have dashed his head on a wall, if he was lucky. They are savages, for all of their steel and stone. And they presume to call US barbarians!"
Rydir scoffs, and turns to face his kingdom yet again. Wolves begin to howl with increasing urgency, their songs  baleful and strong.

"No. At sunrise, we will strike for his memory. We will strike, and the Cold will strike with us. We will retake our ancestral castle and lands, and escape the clutches of those who would harm us. These Mongrels will burn in their own sinful flames, and they shall face the wrath of the Third Gift!"

"Yes, my love," Theinai whispers, letting her hands wander. "For our child! For Raziel!"
Rydir grinned, and falls upon her lips under the cold gaze of the moon.