Chapter Three Ruhlin #3
“White whales,” he said. “They’re very dangerous.
” Sitting down, he cast his gaze around the other tables.
He noted how many of their neighbours avoided looking in their direction, and the few that didn’t risked a glance at him while scrupulously avoiding his companions.
He wondered which of them they feared most, but Ohtera, clearly possessed of a perceptive eye, answered the question before he asked it.
“They never eat with us,” she said, cheek bulging with a morsel of pork. “Worried I’ll eat them or this one will take off her blindfold.” She gave Fernhyld a nudge, though Ruhlin detected a fair amount of sadness in her fading smile.
“What happens if she does?” he asked.
“People die, usually.” Ohtera swallowed and burped. “Or, more accurately, they…”
“Ohtera,” Fernhyld said in a small voice.
The smaller woman lowered her gaze, chagrin showing in the sudden hardness of her lips. However, the tension quickly vanished when Fernhyld took her hand. “Are you truly from the realm beyond the Fire Isles?” Fernhyld asked Ruhlin.
“I am,” he said, helping himself to some bread. “Ascarlia, we call it.”
“When I was child, and far from these walls, they called it Gehrinvahl. The Forsaken Land. It was said to be a terrible place where people wallowed in weakness and misery, having lost the Altvar’s favour.
Later, when the Vortigurn needed to justify his war, it became a vast lair to all manner of foul, corrupted humanity, ruled over by three evil queens who plotted our destruction. ”
Would that they had, Ruhlin thought, saying, “Then you were not born here.”
“No. My home lies in the port of Speltsaer, where my mother runs a merchant house that trades from one end of the Deep Fjord to the other.” The sadness returned then, Ruhlin fancying he would perhaps see tears welling in her eyes but for their covering.
“Full as her purse was, even she couldn’t save me from this place.
Although—” she squeezed Ohtera’s hand “—I suppose I should be grateful.”
“So now you know,” Ohtera said, wiping her hand across her mouth.
“We are all blessed of the Altvar gathered here at the Vortigurn’s order.
Some of us were born here.” She huffed a mirthless laugh.
“Bred here, in truth. Others, like Fernhyld, and yourself, were brought to the Kelvengyr when their blessings became known.” She pulled a crumb of bread from a loaf and tossed it at Ruhlin.
“I told you everything. Now you tell me things, Amundyr who isn’t Amundyr. ”
“Not quite everything,” Ruhlin said. “You haven’t told me why. What are we gathered here for?”
“To breed, of course. Make lots of babies that can become Ventra one day. Though I’ve sworn to die before they ever get one from me.”
“There’s more,” Ruhlin said, shaking his head. “The Vortigurn made it plain that something is expected of me here. Something I was not to be spared.”
“You met the Vortigurn?” Fernhyld gaped at him. “What… what did he look like?”
“Younger than expected.” Ruhlin kept his gaze on Ohtera. “What am I truly here for?”
Ohtera’s face took on a warning glare, her eyes flicking to Fernhyld. However, despite her enforced blindness, she was plainly not lacking in perception. “What does he mean?” she asked. “What is he not to be spared?”
“We’ll talk of it later…” Ohtera began, falling silent when Fernhyld slammed a hand to the table.
“We’ll talk of it now! What did he mean?”
A sudden hush settled over the other tables, Ruhlin turning to see many abandoning meals to beat a hasty retreat to the arched doorway.
The rest kept their eyes averted, some turning their backs and hunching low.
It became abruptly clear to Ruhlin that Silvahk had contrived to place him in company with the two most dangerous souls in this place.
When Ohtera spoke, the words emerged with near toneless resignation that told Ruhlin he had forced her to reveal something long hidden. “The Vortigurn’s Meidvang,” she said, casting a glare at Ruhlin.
“There is no Vortigurn’s Meidvang,” Fernhyld said. “Towns and cities host their own, but I’ve never heard of the Vortigurn hosting one.”
“It’s done in secret.” Ohtera tried to rest a hand on Fernhyld’s arm but she pulled it clear.
“What is done in secret?” she demanded.
Ohtera clasped her long nailed hands together and let out a shuddering breath.
“Every five years we are made to fight. At first it will be captured outlaws. If we survive, we will face the champions of the other Meidvang. Only through victory do we demonstrate the strength of blood and our worthiness to remain in the Vortigurn’s care. ”
“You’ve done it before,” Ruhlin said.
“Once.” Her entwined knuckles whitened. “When spring arrives, I’ll do so again. As will you.” She hesitated before turning to Fernhyld. “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you since you arrived…”
Fernhyld said nothing, instead rising from the table and walking away on stiff legs.
Ruhlin heard her let out a sob before she stumbled to her knees.
He turned back to Ohtera, intending to offer an apology but the words died at the sight of her features.
They were changed. Her cheekbones had widened further and her eyes grown larger.
A grating hiss issued from her lips before they peeled back to reveal teeth elongated into points, twin fangs extending from a lengthening jaw.
Ruhlin reeled back as she leaped upon the table, one hand now rendered into a claw.
Scattering food, she let out a sound that resembled an ugly mix of growl and whine.
Ruhlin crouched, locking eyes with Ohtera, her breath now coming in hungry gasps.
Her entire form had swollen, already lean muscle forming thick knots upon her limbs, her neck and shoulders thickening as those teeth became ever more prominent.
He heard the other Kelven fleeing the garden, which he felt to be the wisest course.
Yet, of course, his own monster wouldn’t allow such cowardice when faced with a threat.
A familiar heat began to build in his core, hands twitching as veins bulged and sinews stretched.
An explosion of freezing agony erupted in Ruhlin’s chest before the transformation could spread to his arms. He collapsed instantly, the world becoming a vague smear of colour.
He had suffered the stagna’s effects before, but never with such intensity.
Even Aerling Eldryk had ordained it be used with moderation lest it damage his most prized captive.
There was no such restraint now. Ruhlin writhed in a lacerating blizzard that cut both into and out of his body.
Soon even the melange of light and dark became a dimming flicker smothered by the dominating grip of an unseen, icy fist.
When at last it faded, he found himself staring up at Silvahk’s furious visage.
“You’ve upset her,” he said. Hearing the sound of weeping, Ruhlin craned his neck to see Ohtera, now returned to her previous size, crouched at Fernhyld’s side.
They both appeared to be sobbing, Ohtera gabbling out entreaties for forgiveness.
“I do not like to see her upset!” Silvahk stated before once again unleashing the stagna.
Through the torment that followed, Ruhlin surprised himself by managing to grasp a morsel of solace.
He loves Ohtera. An unwise thing for a gaoler to love his prisoner.
It transpired this chain had a flaw after all.