Chapter 31 Calder
CALDER
Makt’s Temple, Skalor
Aura’s hand flies to her mouth while Argnier scratches his chin.
Calder stands behind the Princess, his hand clutching her shoulder. “The King of the Gods? But I thought Gullveig was the head of the pantheon. Your Gothi have stressed that knowledge.”
Edmund remains strangely silent as they all gawk at Volund’s depiction and his sigil.
“Throughout my life, I have been fascinated by the gods. It was a sick, twisted courtesy that my fathers agreed to punish me by sending me to a Gullveig temple. However, I have only heard of this rendition of the pantheon in ancient tomes written over a millennium ago.”
“How does this help us defeat Makt?” Aura leans against Calder’s chest, and somehow, the burning need to hurt someone returns.
Maintaining his silent anger, he responds to the only person who matters in his misery-filled life and envelopes her in his arms.
“We know for certain that Freyr and Makt are still alive, albeit unworshipped, which indicates they are not in their respective afterlives. Wildly, this states Makt’s afterlife is the Palace of Virtue.” Edmund leans against the wall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his robes.
“The peasant afterlife?” Calder asks.
Aura swats at his arm. “That’s not true! Other souls can ascend there, too.”
“It’s a little true, cousin.” Edmund scratches the peach fuzz that clings to his chin.
“Most who believe in the Palace of Virtue or worship the God of Power are peasants or greedy lords. It is said that the Palace of Virtue is where one can assume the role of a king for eternity. Whatever that means.”
Edmund shrugs. “It’s fairly compassionate. Not unlike Freyr’s basic afterlife, the Hereafter, which allows farmers, craftsmen, hunters, and other folks to find eternal peace, living exactly as they did in life.” The Gothi scoffs at such a notion.
“There is a wild theory I have developed about our three friends, here.” Edmund continues as everyone gazes at the relief in silence. “I think the three gods are locked in the Abyss with Volund.”
“How in the blazes do you lock a god away?” Argnier swings his arms around.
As interesting as this revelation has become, Calder is ready to move on before more questions about the temple arise, such as how they gained entry or his conversation with his celestial father.
Edmund runs his hand along the carving. “It would seem a coup occurred over a millennium ago, and our friends are eager for revenge. As a betting man, I would say Freyr and Thrain’s attempt twenty winters ago was just the start.
In the Gothi world, there are whispers that Lavinia has been mobilizing Makt worship once again. ”
They all shift uncomfortably at the added weight to their quest.
Argnier shuffles next to Edmund. “Did you say you are a Gothi of Gullveig?”
“Yes?” Edmund looks worried at his sudden line of questioning.
“Ah, my friend, I apologize for your situation.” Genuine sympathy spills from Argnier. “Do you feel like you might burst?” His whisper carries enough volume for the entire room to hear.
Calder grumbles internally. Edmund is many things, but he does not deserve the eternal punishment that Gullveig inflicts on her Gothi, nor Argnier’s interrogation.
Edmund shifts his weight between his feet until he is out of the firelight. “Of all the Gothi Temples, it is nigh impossible to break from worshipping her.”
“Does she keep blackmailing you?” Argnier doesn’t seem able to stop asking questions.
Edmund’s responding expression looks anguished. “She denies you the ability of a sexual release.”
“But you hump anything that moves?” Argnier tilts his head, undoubtedly struggling to conceptualize what it would be like to constantly be denied that sensation.
“It is a bit like being edged directly into the sun,” Edmund snarls. “Let’s move along.”
Aura lightly touches Edmund’s shoulder. “Did they know? Did your parents know when they agreed to send you?”
Hurt reflects in his dark eyes. “No, but you should know better than anyone that little lord’s children keep their mouths shut when life collapses around them.”
She steps away, looking as if he has struck her.
“We should keep moving,” Calder says, pulling Aura toward the door as the other two follow closely behind. “There were a couple of doors on the lower level. I'm sure that's the direction.”
They descend to where he searched earlier, but find only old Gothi living quarters, a spoiled kitchen, and a washroom.
Argnier exclaims, “I found something!”
They rush to the end of the passage in time for him to pry open a stone door leading to a wide corridor that ends in two identical grand stone doors twice the size of Calder. Engraved on the doors is Makt’s symbol, which resembles a standing stone with a slanted top.
“My sight might not be what it used to be,” Argnier pants from the exertion, “but I know a fancy door when I see one.”
“Good find.” Calder strides through the passage and opens one of the grand doors with a loud groan.
Inside is a Great Hall larger than any he has ever seen before.
The vaulted ceilings feature wooden crossbeams with chains suspended at varying intervals.
Wrapped in the chains are bare skeletons.
Leveled seating lines both sides of the room, where a wide altar crafted of white marble stands at the center.
Stains along the altar and the floor nearby signal everything they need to know about its original purpose.
His head begins to throb with anticipation of leaving. Distancing himself from Makt has been his primary motivation since he was a young boy, and now that urge to flee burns beneath his skin.
At the end of the hall is an iron weapons rack supporting a great axe. The blade is crafted from rare Astrian steel. The faint seidr glow of the room illuminates the iridescent metal, believed to be the strongest ever uncovered.
Calder sighs at the obvious trap.
“How is there light in here?” Argnier glances at the dark ceiling.
“Seidr,” Calder replies as his heavy boots thud toward the other end of the chamber, prepared to spring whatever Abyss-filled shit Makt has planned for him.
Aura and her battalion of flames stay behind him as Edmund and Argnier fan out, inspecting for trap triggers in every nook and cranny of the chamber.
Calder reaches for the axe, sensing a power pulsating from the weapon, eager to be wielded. He grips the handle and lifts it from the glow of the weapon’s rack. He glances around, anticipating a reckoning set by Makt and his ancient Gothi.
“How does it feel?” Aura whispers at his side.
“Light and deadly.”
The sounds of shifting stones make them both pause. Suddenly, the floor gives way beneath them. He and Aura plunge into the unknown.
He lands hard on the rough stone floor with an echoing thud.
Immediately, he seeks out Aura, who fell through a separate stone chute.
As he stands, Calder rubs his back, scanning the seemingly endless darkness.
“Aura!” He peers around the passage, unable to find her or her flames. “Aura!”
His stomach knots, and he quickly loses the ability to breathe.
Did Makt take her from him?
No! He grits. If Makt took her from me, he knows his end is near, for I will storm the Abyss and cleave him in half!
Somewhere in the faint recesses of his mind, he hears faint, familiar cackling.
Lights ignite along the corridor, illuminating a narrow passage. Calder moves through with resolute firmness, finding only dead ends.
He pauses at a crossroads when, at the end, he can see movement. “Aura?” Calder flies towards the activity but slows when the creature emits an inhuman noise.
Drauger.
To think it has been over twenty winters since he last faced off against these undead creatures with their necrotic flesh and soulless gaze.
In the War for Treland, he had the Drengr and Timber armies, along with great warriors like Sigvid, Slode, and Kar at his side. Wielding Makt’s axe, he cuts down the few drauger emerging seemingly from the stone itself.
Damn this thing is light. He remarks about the God of Power’s weapon.
More converge as he rounds the next corner. Calder slices through the first drauger, allowing his ice spikes to shoot from the walls and spear the rest. He climbs over the undead bodies dressed in tattered clothing to find his next turn, which leads to yet another dead end.
“I do not have time for this!” Clader thrusts his hands against the wall, freezing all the remaining drauger in their unsteady movements.
He punches each of them, shattering their rotten flesh at his feet.
His seidr frost flows from his hands until he reaches the next corner, and further movement propels him forward.
He barrels down the remaining corridor, swearing around each corner despite the cold death he leaves in his wake.
“Aura!” Her name reverberates off the stone walls like a summons from the beyond.
I swear to all the gods I will bleed the pantheon dry if harm befalls her.
His last junction thrusts him into an oval-shaped ring filled with sand and gravel. Several other passages converge in the area illuminated by the eerie seidr light. Cautiously, he sweeps his feet across the surface of the sand, expecting…
More drauger burst from the ground, crawling onto the sand. Their grunts and wails, meant to taunt, do nothing but enrage the Iss Drengr as he easily faces off against fifty undead.
Is this all you can throw at me, Makt?
“Calder!” Aura bolts out of the opposite gate. Her flames condensed into one violet-colored creature roughly the size of a fat cat bouncing at her side.
His heart resumes its rhythm in his chest at the sight of her dark auburn curls bobbing gracefully along her shoulders.
“Stay back!” Calder lifts his hands, and ice spikes erupt from the floor, impaling most of the horde. Using Makt’s axe, he cuts through the remaining drauger like butter.
More undead rise from the ground and pour out through the other gates.
He checks on Aura’s condition and is pleased to find her managing on her own with her father’s axe and seidr fire.
Her open palm clutches flames that she hurls at the drauger while her violet companion bounces off any nearby foes, igniting them in fire.
Calder freezes and cleaves the remaining drauger as he wades toward her, who is now surrounded by burning and dying creatures of the Abyss. As he reaches the Princess, he sends more ice spikes through the others, beginning to surround her.
An ear-piercing scream from Aura halts the rhythm of his heart. A drauger with a burning hand clutches her arm, searing into her tunic. Calder slices the head off before it can do more damage.
“This may hurt.” He gently grasps her arm and hovers his palm over the burn, offering the faintest ice seidr, a soothing, cool sensation to treat the wound. Once her burn heals, they return to fend off the growing horde, which quickly overruns them.
Calder hears Makt’s voice in his mind as before. “When my drauger slay you, nothing will stop me from taking the Princess’ body for my own. She will agree to be my vessel. Imagine all the pleasure I can have with her.” His maniacal laugh sears his ears.
“Stand behind me!” Calder commands as he drops the great axe and slams both fists into the sand.
Already, he can feel his exhausted seidr approaching its natural limit. He knows this action is reckless, with dire, if not deadly, consequences.
“No, Calder!” Aura warns him, already sensing his next move as the horde expands to nearly three hundred.
“If it’s between you and me, Aura, you will be the one to walk away from this with Makt’s axe.”
His bellows echo off the walls as ice coats the room and every undead within it.
Calder continues to push into the ground, banishing any lingering drauger below him.
A tremendous amount of power expels from his palms, draining his energy.
The sound of ice hissing is the only noise heard when movement comes to a halt.
His knuckles relax under his pressure as he can no longer exert his seidr.
“Calder…” Aura’s voice is a distant light, drawing him to the only home he has ever known.
I will keep the truth about my parentage from her for as long as I can. Let her think the best of me for as long as possible.
He stumbles to his feet, placing a hand on Aura’s shoulder before collapsing onto his back.
As he loses consciousness, he becomes aware of a winged, heavily armored woman bursting through the stone. Something about her feels familiar.
Makt’s voice once more pierces through his skull. “I told you, my son, you are too weak to handle your seidr. But Aura, on the other hand…”