Soulitude- second season

by JC Borch

Chapter 6: Chases, Hunts and Infiltration

I have finally found my childhood friend; my life-long pal Ulrich Pendragon. He was discovered in a disposal chamber for all of Butterscotch’s failed experiments, encased in ice on a slab of stone. We are still not certain whether he lives or dies. He shows no vital signs, but it is still a possibility that he is merely frozen. More bad news. Werewolves attacked the Skaal village just as I was made an honorary Skaal and made off with Heart-Fang, their leader. To help me fight against them and King Sombra, I retrieved the Totem of Claw and Fang. It will protect me against magic.

CHAPTER 6 PART 1: THE SPIRIT CHASE

Lars was sitting in a small, empty room. A fire burned in a hearth in the other end. By his side lay Ulrich in bed with arms crossed on his abdomen. The human was deathly still and did not stir, despite how intently Lars kept watch or wished. Ulrich’s skin was still cold. No amount of fire had managed to raise his temperature even a fraction. Instead the human slumbered and slumbered. So entranced was Lars that he did not notice the intruder. Nor did he discover how it had entered.

A white wolf sat on the carpet covering the wooden floor, wagging its tail. Its yelp brought Lars out of his trance. He fell off his stool in surprise. The wolf merely observed him with a watchful glance. Lars jolted up on his feet and took the mace from his waist. The wolf didn’t flinch, did not make a sound. It got up from the floor and strolled leisurely towards the door. It looked back at Lars.

“Well… Korst did tell me I would know when he had something, and you look like the friendly sort. How did you get in here, boy?”

The wolf said nothing and slinked outside. The room was a small hut in the Raven Rock mining colony. They had taken Ulrich to the fort but there was nothing they could do there, nothing that anyone could do. So Lars had taken him back to the colony and Melon had offered him a room. Lars had been keeping vigil until the lupine shape had interrupted him. The other ponies in the colony didn’t as much as flinch at the wolf. Had Lars been more into the moment, he would have noticed only he could see the apparition. It disappeared down the road and appeared again in the distance, peering at him with its soulful eyes.

The day was waning. Darkness ate of the light in the distance and silently encroached. Out in the wilderness, Lars could see for miles of uninterrupted land and sky. Only the mountains blocked his view of the north. The air was fresh and clean and smelled of frost and undisturbed nature. His breath came in clouds as he climbed hills and snow dunes. The wolf was always there, observing him, always out of reach.

In Skaal village, however, everyone noticed the wolf. They lowered their heads at it and smiled like a returning friend. The wolf waited for Lars and kept around his feet all the way into Korst’s hut. It vanished in the darkness inside despite its brilliant hue. Korst himself came into the light from the fire in the middle of the room. As always, it only served to illuminate a small area around it and strengthening the darkness outside. “You’re finally here. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it,” Korst said anxiously, his face irritable and his gestures quick.

“You sent that wolf for me, didn’t you? I got here as quickly as I could,” Lars replied in kind.

“Yes. You bear the talisman of our people, after all. With it, you can also summon and see our patrons. The wolf has accepted you. It is a loyal animal but uses guiles to make up for its shortcomings. If you want to find King Sombra you must gain the respect of an animal with real strength and wisdom. I have arranged for a spirit chase but your target will soon return to its own world. Hurry to Lake Fjalding south of here, and meet the other Skaal warriors.”

Again Lars felt the wolf locking its watchful eyes on him from outside the door, but he kept his focus on what was ahead. “And this spirit will show me the way to King Sombra?” he asked. Korst merely nodded. “Then I won’t return until I’ve had an audience. I owe it to this world that took in a stranger like myself to put everything right.”

The wolf again ran ahead and always stayed ahead, watching him from afar. As he got nearer, it turned around and was gone, but there it was again, in the distance. It ran down to the lake towards a group of three Skaal warriors and evaporated. The ponies, perhaps having sensed it, turned around and saw only Lars panting along. The three Skaal were not guards, and wore armour of sturdy leather and fur. Only their leader wore a suit of metal, in golden and grey colours. He took off his helmet and revealed a bald, light-brown head.

“We were just about to start the chase. The spirit bear won’t stick around forever, you know?” His voice suited a strong, burly earth pony like himself.

Lars came to a stop before him and put his hands on his knees as he bent over to get his breath. “Sorry, sorry, I got here as fast as I could. I can feel I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m Lars,” he said with a tinge of humour that flew completely past the warrior.

“Long Tooth,” the warrior said and turned around. The warriors began the chase in a slow pace with eyes glued to the ground on all sides. “The Skaal has a lot to thank you for, though your help has not been needed. I could have activated the Stones myself, if someone had cared to ask, or dealt with that fire in this lake.”

“Well I’m not implying you couldn’t,” Lars said quickly in surprise, having taken the gratitude of the Skaal as a given. The proud warrior tribe however still contained ponies afraid of the change the human would inevitably bring and come to represent. “I’m just here to ask this spirit bear for advice.”

“You leave the asking, and talking in general, to us. Sattir the Bold,” he interjected and threw his head off into the darkening distance. The pony he addressed had a bear’s blue paw print painted across his face. He nodded and galloped off. “I trust that shaman only enough to take care of our spiritual matters. I’m sure our honourable leader would agree.”

Lars groaned his dissatisfaction but was not allowed a proper reply. Sattir the Bold rounded an enormous rock. Not ten seconds later his scream rent the air. “What was that?” Lars burst out instead.

“No doubt the spirit bear,” Long Tooth said and sprinted with his company to the direction of the scream. Sattir the Bold lay on his back with legs twitching.

“It was the great spirit bear!” he said exalted and laughed, only to be cut off by his own coughing. “I’m sorry, sir, it didn’t find me worthy. It swatted me aside like I was a ragdoll.”

Long Tooth nodded with his hard face. “You did well, warrior. Guide us in the direction it left and then get some rest. That’s an order.” The warrior waved his hoof weakly away from the lake, into the forest. Long Tooth took off along with his last remaining warrior, a wiry mare, and Lars right behind them.

“Perhaps you should let me try and speak with the bear next time? It doesn’t seem to–”

“Nonsense. The spirit bear is a sacred Skaal patron. It would be sacrilege to let a foreigner even touch eyes upon it. You’re just here to keep the normal wildlife, and any bandits, in check. Axe Wife, you’re up next.”

The mare’s downcast face easily found the most likely route and disappeared into the trees. Long Tooth sat down with a triumphant smile. It didn’t take long before her screams paled his face.

They found her, also on the ground with her suit torn, but no blood drawn. Colour refused to return to Long Tooth’s face. Instead his breath came in white clouds. The sky had turned almost completely black.

“She was my finest warrior. Her handle on a weapon is unmatched by anypony I have ever trained. That the spirit bear so quickly cast her aside can only mean one thing… it wants to speak with me alone. This must be a very serious matter.”

Like a pony possessed, Long Tooth set out again into the forest. Lars looked from his dwindling shape to the mare on the ground. She was still breathing but her eyes closed and her head rested on the snow. “Wait up for me, goddammit,” Lars shouted after Long Tooth. “The spirit bear has already cast aside your team, why do you think it’s going to show you any mercy?”

Lars caught up with him quickly as Long Tooth had halted. He stood completely still in the middle of the forest. Lars smiled for a moment, thinking the warrior to finally have come to his senses, but the real reason quickly revealed itself. Three pairs of glowing, yellow eyes came out of the darkness. Lars took out his mace. The first shape leapt. The mace swished and crunched. The shape fell dead on the ground. A werewolf.

The other two attacked in a pincer formation. Long Teeth unsheathed a sword. The glowing moon fell on his blade for just a moment. The glint was stained with crimson and a deathly howl. Lars put his mace back. The third and last werewolf joined its comrade on the forest floor.

“Well human, no… Lars Leland, I may have erred on my part. We Skaal owe you a debt of gratitude that we would never be able to repay. You may lead the spirit chase if you will allow me to call you friend?” Long Tooth panted, not so much from the exertion as the sudden scare. He took a few moments before turning around to face Lars. He had left the strong pony on a shelf, and instead revealed a pony with solitary eyes.

“It will be an honour. You have helped me find the spirit bear, so go back to the village and take care of your wounded.”

Long Tooth teetered for a moment, unsure whether he should stay and help, but eventually decided on the wisdom in Lars’ words and nodded. The armoured pony sprinted back the way they had come while Lars headed further into the woods.

An enormous bear shuffled towards him and roared. For a moment Lars readied his fighting stance but the wolf returned and sat down next to him and barked. Both animals were surrounded by a ghostly sheen, the more visible contrasting with the darkness. The pure white bear sat down as well. As it did, the light surrounding the wolf intensified and a completely white mare emerged from it with her mane flowing behind her. The same light surrounded the bear, and an old stallion leisurely walked out of the bear.

“Hoy. It’s been a while!” the mare said with a grin.

“It has. What took you so long?” the old stallion grouched and sat down in front of his glowing bear husk. “This world is about to fall into ruin. I’ve been calling out to you for ages.”

Lars looked from on to the other; unsure whether to believe it or not with everything else he had seen in Equestria. In the end he simply sat down on a rock between the spirits to see what may come. The wolf spoke again. “Ah, sorry, you know my spirit is bound to the talisman. This creature teamed up with the spirit of our prophet to rescue me from the werewolf den.”

“I told you before not to trust the prophet… he just isn’t what he seems. That includes any creatures he associates with. You, aren’t you a human? He had one like you around him before.”

“I am, but I know for a fact he’s not what he seems to be,” Lars replied, taken aback at being addressed so casually. “Princess Celestia imprisoned him long ago, but he broke free a few years ago and there was this whole thing–”

The old stallion waved his hoof and Lars fell silent again. “The Skaal are fools for not listening to you, and as much as I would love to hear your story, we have a more pressing issue at hand. King Sombra has been taking strong ponies from all over the Frozen Wasteland. I’m guessing he needs their power to regenerate himself. First the general of Fort Frostmoth and now the Skaal’s own chief. It’s a disgrace! Do you want to dispel the evil that is King Sombra?” the spirit bear pony asked.

“That’s right. I’ve come too far now to turn my back on you ponies. I’ve come to trust you with my life,” Lars said.

The wolf mare snickered. “Isn’t he great? Speaking so confidently about dangers he has no concept of. One day he will come to question his words. I just hope when the time comes he will not lose courage.”

“Hmm. Indeed, he is strong of body, but also of mind I should think. If his heart is not in this, he will surely lose his way,” the bear pony agreed and nodded.

“Don’t worry, I have had greater adversaries than a disembodied ghost before,” Lars replied and felt the weight of the gazes on him. Before they could reply or carry on the reproach and questioning, Lars continued: “So how do you know about King Sombra? None of the other Skaal seems to recognise him.”

The wolf-mare hung her head and sighed. “The Skaal are the survivors of the Crystal Empire. We have lost most of our original magic with the years, and only earth foals are born these days. Even the great evil of King Sombra has been repressed, as an anchor cut away so the ship can sail towards new shores. But we of the first generation still remember him. We used the last of our magic to protect the village forever, but the artefacts connecting us to this mortal soil have been lost over the years. Only bear and I are left now.” Having finished explaining, she raised her head longingly to the Moon.

“But the Crystal Empire is back. There’s no need for you to hide away out here.”

The bear-stallion grunted. “We Skaal moved on while the crystal ponies were lost to the ages. We are too separate now, but perhaps it is our destiny to merge again someday. Do not concern yourself with those matters. You, who would destroy King Sombra, go to his old hideout to the far west. Conquer the blizzards and snow and reach Castle Karstaag. Maybe you will find him there, or perhaps you will find the last pieces of the puzzle. We have dwelt long enough on old memories and it is time for me to leave, but I will allow you to summon me again should you wish.” The old pony went back inside the bear and the light dwindled. The bear fell back on all four and shuffled away into the forest.

The mare grinned up at Lars. “Thank you for rescuing me from that crypt. I can’t tell you how long I was trapped in there.” She also went back to her husk, but not before casting one last look over shoulder. “Don’t forget. If you’re ever in trouble, just summon me and I’ll come to your side.”

The wolf vanished and the darkness fell on Lars’ shoulder like a heavy weight. All of his exhaustion and pain crashed down on him at once. It was late with a full moon out.

Long Tooth was gone, along with his small team. Lars returned to the mine to check up on his friend. Ulrich still slept, a pale ghost of a past that could have been, and the last relic Lars had to hold on to. He knew in his heart of hearts that Ulrich would likely never wake up. There were no more tears for him to spend on the issue. Instead he sat vigil.

CHAPTER 6 PART 2: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

He had not meant to fall asleep there. It always meant he woke up feeling sore all over. But that was exactly where had dozed off late the night before. In his chair keeping watching over Ulrich. It was Melon that woke him with a shake. Lars smacked his lips dully and realised the tired pony face pressed all the way up against his.

“You have to wake up!” Melon insisted in a panicky voice between hyperventilating. “This is a true disaster, like flowers blooming too early. They bloom in a warm spell, but it is winter and then the cold sets in again and crushes them and leaves no survivors for spring. This is a disaster of that calibre.”

“I’m up already, what’s going on?”

Melon released Lars collar and fell back down on all four. The pony paced the little hut frantically, visibly more hair missing from his mane. “It’s that accursed Trusty Gunner. He has tried stooping to coercion and murder, but it never worked because I had you. Now he’s taking up the fight with me… legally.”

Lars stood from his chair, cracking his back and massaging his shoulders. “Don’t tell you made a mistake that can get you fired?”

“It won’t be long until that. He moved the deadline for the colony report to five hours from now. Meaning if he doesn’t receive it by then, he would have every legal right to fire me for negligence.”

Lars nodded in understanding but turned his attention to his friend on the slab of rock. For each day it seemed more colour returned to his skin, yet whether it was a portent of good or ill remained to be seen. “We know the tricks of Trusty Gunner. The journey is not long, certainly shorter if I hurry on foot, but it is almost guaranteed he has set another trap,” Lars said with eyes still riveted on Ulrich’s lifeless form.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Melon stuck his head inside his wrinkled doublet and pulled out a single sheet of sturdy paper on which a very fine writing was imprinted with black ink. “If it came to speed, I could ask any of the ponies in the mine. We have many fine pegasuses and earth ponies, but I fear none of them would stand up to the guiles of that lunatic. Nor would I wish to sacrifice their lives needlessly. He has shown himself to not be beneath callous murder.”

Lars took the roll of paper and pulled his suit apart to put it inside. “Well I may not match the speed of any pony, but I know this land like the back of my hand by now. I’ll find Trusty Gunner, wherever he may be.”

He had not taken the road since his first days at the mine, before ships were made to come and go, but he still remembered it. It was not a difficult route either. Fort Frostmoth lay higher in the lands than Raven Rock and was plainly visible through the forest. The guards still greeted him, but not nearly as warmly. A gloom had settled upon them, and with it came lethargy. Guards did patrol the ramparts and grounds, but debris still littered the fort from the ruined arch and the destroyed well. Lars observed it with a heavy heart. It reminded him why it was so important to find King Sombra and do away with him, once and for all.

Trusty Gunner’s office was empty, as they had expected, and his rat-like flunkey instead waited inside with a grin on his lips that somehow accentuated his ugliness even further. His face looked to have taken a beating with a blunt object one too many times. Even his teeth were crooked and his eyes pointing in the nine o’ clock direction. “What… what did you come here for?” the green pony asked, barely able to keep back his snickering.

Lars stepped in on the oval rug softening the cold, hard floor. “I have the report for Trusty Gunner. He’s not here?”

“No sir, he went out to expect a site for expanding the mine, sir,” the lackey glibbed.

The rug tingled oddly under Lars’ feet. It was familiar feeling, of magic. “I see,” Lars said and looked down at the rug with smug smile. No amount of magic would be able to touch him with the amulet around his neck. “And where can I find him?”

The lackey looked uncomprehending from the rug and up to Lars’ face. “Well, uh… a-a-a grove near the mine,” he responded with previous mirth quickly dwindling.

“You can tell Trusty Gunner that his petty tricks won’t work on me, whatever enchantment or entrapment he put on this thing.”

Lars left the lackey with a dumbfounded expression. Sensing that he should perhaps try a more active approach in stopping him, the rat-like stallion stepped on to rug in his eager to give chase. The trap sprung, and blinding light engulfed him. The lackey’s movements slowed down to an absurd movie effect of slow-motion.

It was not a long way to the grove. The main problem was finding it. With the clue he had gotten Lars could only run back towards the mine and hope the information wasn’t false. Thus, Lars investigated the area around Raven Rock. He had seen many parts of the Frozen Wasteland and knew of a few spots that could be the right one. Northeast of the mine, he found a group ponies. One was unmistakably dressed in an expensive and well-preserved doublet. The others were guards carrying torches.

“Trusty Gunner! I have your report,” Lars called out. The lavender pony turned around with eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Lars took the report from inside his coat, and Trusty Gunner stared in disbelief between it and the human.

“Uh… thanks. I am certainly… happy that you could make it. I do apologise for leaving the fort so suddenly, but I had to see about expanding the mine. This spot looks very, um… suitable.”

The guards he had with him looked disinterested, and just as dispirited as the other ones from the fort. “Not to worry, your assistant was very helpful. I’m afraid there isn’t much to report this time around, from what I saw. Some rotten supplies that need to be returned, I think that’s about it.” Lars saluted him with a fist under his chin and a mocking smile. Trusty Gunner looked ready to tear the report up. Only professional courtesy restrained him, and even made him repay the smile briefly before turning back to his guards.

Lars turned towards the north east. His body had been warmed up for whatever lay in front of him. The Skaal village greeted him with smiles and bows. Everypony had heard of the chase and how the spirit bear had dismissed the three warriors that had gone out with him. The guards as well acknowledged his presence with courteous nods.

Korst sat as usual inside his hut, half shrouded in the darkness and looking into the scant illuminating flames. “I heard the chase was a success yesterday,” Korst said equably without looking up. “Well? What did our patron bear have to say?”

“At first he scolded you for ignoring the warning signs and for being so slow to react,” Lars replied and sat down on the opposite side of Korst.

The flames danced on the old, weathered pony’s face. “I expected at least that much. We have grown complacent over the years of peace, but we are still prepared to do what we must. Did the great spirit bear mention any solution?” Korst asked.

Lars nodded and warmed his cold hands at the fire. Only they were left unprotected by his suit. “It mentioned something about a castle called Karstaag, to the west. I would have gone straight there except I don’t know the way. Can you guide me?”

“Right you are for coming here first. You usually enter the village from the south, but it also has a western exit. It is never used as it leads across cliffs and chasms to an old castle carved out of the glacier. A jotun lives there now. His servants and he usually leave us alone, but our hunting parties have recently encountered more and more of them. Perhaps you have seen them? Rieklings we call them, little blue-skinned imps, sometimes riding boars.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re talking about,” Lars said and thought back to his quest for the Skaal, activating their stones. Rieklings had attacked him several times. “So why do you think that the spirit bear would want me to go there?”

“I think you’re better equipped to answer that than me. Did the spirit bear reveal anything of King Sombra’s plans?” Korst asked without looking up.

“Uh, let’s see. It mentioned that King Sombra might be kidnapping your chief and the general of the fort to draw their power. Do you think that has anything to do with it?”

“Certainly,” Korst said and fell into deep thought. His eyes were still distant when he replied. “The fact that we have not heard from King Sombra for all this time can only mean he isn’t strong enough to manifest yet. Perhaps he seeks to kidnap the jotun as well? It would explain why his servants have fallen back to their evil ways.”

“Then I must leave at once to check up on the castle. The chances are King Sombra has already been there, but perhaps there is still something I can do.”

Lars got up and made to leave but Korst sprang from his seat. “Ah, wait, hold on a minute. You will not be able to go through the front door; the jotun always keeps it closed. Our hunters report seeing rieklings go into a pool of water north of the castle, though. There is probably a cave underwater which would be your best choice, unless you could grow wings and fly to the top of the castle.”

“That would certainly be a feat.” Lars smiled at the rare humour from the old pony. As it was not returned, it became obvious Korst had been serious. Lars coughed and turned towards the outside again. “Ah, I suppose I better get going then.”

CHAPTER 6 PART 3: CASTLE KARSTAAG

Lars stopped briefly on the outskirt of the village. A long and hard road lay ahead, but it was the only way he knew. Out from the village and through a landscape dotted with snow-clad hills and mounds. He had not gone far when the wind picked up and howled in his ears like a stricken beast. The snow came right after and lashed against his face. He had lost the helmet and gloves and boots for his protective suit. Only the boots had been replaced with a golden pair during his stay in Canterlot many, many years ago.

The landscape rose steadily upwards, and the blizzard worsened. Undeterred he walked as long as there was still light for him to go by. Another sound mixed in, of running water somewhere far below him. He followed the sound very carefully. Somewhere ahead would be the edge of the land and a great chasm beyond. It was not something he was willing to fall into. Slowly he inched closer until he found it. It was wide; a gigantic crack in the ice. He moved closer towards the mountains and finally found what he needed: a sturdy bridge arching the gap.

Crossing it did not get him halfway, not by a longshot. The landscape only continued up with the cold winds howling down the mountain. His feet were tired from slogging through the snow.

There was a change in the altitude. The road drastically dropped down a steep incline. The wind lessened, and green patches were revealed through the snow. Ahead was a gigantic block of ice, looking more like a fort than anything else, just at the foot of the mountains. With renewed resolved Lars commenced the final leg of the journey.

Castle Karstaag was indeed an impregnable fort. Four gigantic towers of twisted ice slanted towards the middle from each corner. Perhaps in the long distant past, it had been a pyramid. Only the slope of the sides and the towers were left to hint at it.

The front door was carved carefully out of ice and primitively decorated with stripes and swirls. It was locked like predicted, and did not budge however much Lars tugged and pulled. Somewhere on top of the flat roof was a smaller tower with no door, but also no way of reaching. If one indeed just had wings. There was no other choice. Lars trekked around the castle to the other side. A pool of water lay there like described. Lars reached down and put a hand to it. It was warm. Likely it stemmed from a hot spring far below the ice. Then perhaps the mountains weren’t mountains at all, but volcanoes? Lars looked up at the looming, towering, threatening mountains and shivered.

His only way in was through the large puddle. How deep to the entrance? If rieklings used it, it couldn’t be too much of a problem. He held his breath and plunged in.

It was a welcome change from the biting cold of the frozen wasteland, but also a sharp contrast. Lars enjoyed it while he could and almost forgot about his mission in the pleasant feeling. A flicker of light near the bottom drew his attention again. There certainly was a hole there, and the pond wasn’t deeper than he could make the dive in the matter of thirty seconds. He drew closer, the light beckoning him.

There was nothing else visible in the water. The silhouette of a fish passed by him now and then, but was gone as quick as it came. Ever downwards he dived. The light got closer until he could see the bottom further below. Nothing but rocks and a few plants. He looked around one last time. There were no other holes, and his lungs were starting to ache for air. Lars made the final push and allowed the light to engulf him.

It was the light of torches lining the wall, he noticed as he swam up into the cave. His lungs gasped the air in several gulps while he bobbed up and down in the pool. Feeling strength come back to him again, he climbed the last stretch and collapsed on the floor. It was nice and warm, but a chill persisted to kill the mood. He could not afford to stay there. With a surge of will, Lars pushed himself back up on his feet.

It was not much further down the corridor that Lars happened upon his first enemy. A riekling; a small blue man with a deeper blue beard, dressed in skins and fur and armed with a long piece of metal fitted with a wooden grip.

“Don’t hurt me, whoever, whatever you are. I am too tired to fight back,” the ugly manling said in a nasal voice. Truly, the riekling was slumped against the wall and seemed to be resting. Red lines crossed his torso, and a fresh scar ran down his left cheek. “If you do not trust me, then strike me down now. You will find I won’t resist.”

Lars nearly dropped the mace from his hand. Rather than raise it, he put it away. “I have met a few of you in the past. What makes you different?”

“Curious, eh? Well… I’ll take at least that.” The riekling coughed and used the blade to lift himself up to a standing position. “My name is Krish, and I lead the rieklings under Karstaag’s rule. He gave understanding and language to those of us who would take it. But ever since he disappeared, Dulk took over. Dulk isn’t too bright, but he’s plenty strong. I knew I couldn’t overpower him with my few loyal soldiers alone, so I hired a band of grahls. Suffice to say I have two problems now. Listen, I don’t know why you’re here or who you are, but you must help me. I fought for my life when the grahls got out of hand, and now I would not make the swim outside.”

“I don’t have any reason to trust a riekling, but I am not a fool either. I can see you’re not faking your exhaustion, and certainly not your wounds. All right, I’ll help you, but only because I’m going the same way.”

“I suppose a thank you is in order then, though I cannot trust you either. You speak as if you have come to do war, yet you are alone. That makes you either a fool or a vanguard.”

Lars smiled at the creature. “I am neither. My name is Lars Leland and I am a human. I came here because I believe your leader is in danger. I come too late though, it would seem.”

The riekling, Krish, nodded and tottered forward. He was a stout little manling with plenty of drive. Despite his heavy wounds he still carried on. “By a week at least. I lost track down here in the tunnel. The whole place really fell to pieces without him. I feel like the only civilised riekling left in this whole world.” They turned a corner and heard a deep grunt. A large shadow fell down the corridor. An unbelievable stench of sweat and death followed.

Lars took his mace with one hand and held the other arm up to his nose. “Good lord that’s ripe. Don’t tell me…”

The grahl was also an enemy he had met before. An anthropomorphic elephant with claws of ice for fingers and toes with tusks of ice from its tapir face. Spikes grew out of its frozen, grey hide at the back. Evil shone red in its eyes. It swiped at Lars with its deadly hand.

Krish retreated back. “That’s a grahl. I think seven more of them roam around down here.”

“We’ve had the unpleasantness.”

Lars took his mace again and charged forward. The spiked head sank into the creature’s abdomen. It whined in pain and staggered back. Blood trickled down but froze from the mace’s lingering magic. Its body was like stone splintering from the force of the stahlrim mace. The creature reeled from its wounds and Lars pursued it again until it fell to the ground and moved no more.

“You are strong, human. I was strong too but now I feel limper than a wet rag. Go on and slay the grahls and return to me once it’s safe. I would only slow you down.”

“You’re kind of pushy for someone asking for help,” Lars said and shook his wrist. “Very well though, but remember, I’m not going out of my way for your sake. I would have to take care of them anyway.”

Krish waved his hand weakly and slumped against the wall again.

The way to the left was blocked by a wall of ice. Another grahl waited down the other corridor. It was the same result as with the last. Lars followed down natural caves slinking this way and that, up and down. The grahl posed little threat to his strength. It was worse on his stamina. Fortunately the grahl were smaller and weaker than the ones had once fought previously. The end came in a solid wood door inserted into the ice. It was locked and too sturdy for him to break down. Beet-faced, he returned to the riekling. His suit kept him cool, but his face was near burning up. He wiped his forehead where locks of dirty blonde hair clung.

“You look bushed,” Krish said and jumped up on his feet. “Personally I feel so much better. I shall assist you however I can from here on in.”

Lars took a moment to regain his breath and turned around. “If that isn’t too much to ask for,” he said, and they were moving again. “Did I hear you right calling the jotun for Karstaag? I thought that was the name of the castle?”

“We don’t know what the castle was called before he moved in, so we named the castle after him. Seems like the ponies adopted the name as well.” The manling had trouble keeping up with Lars and ran to compensate for the difference in leg length. “These caves lead directly to the banquet hall. Dulk’s main force will be there.”

Back through the tunnels they went and came again to the locked door. In front of it lay another dead grahl. The creatures had been unable to get through the door even with their strong arms and legs. The deep scratches in the wood attested to the fact. Krish stepped out around the beast and took a key from around his neck. He had to jump up to get it into the keyhole.

The banded door swung inwards to reveal a storage room. Barrels on the left side filled with drinks and crates of food on the right, enough for a small army. For rieklings it would probably last longer, but for a giant it could be a short supply only. The cold was stronger. Lars opened the door in the other end of the storage room. The entire castle was made of ice. His suit kept him warm but it was harsh conditions for his exposed face and hands.

The banquet hall was enormous. A table in the middle easily took up half the space, and a chandelier shaped like a glowing sun provided most of the light. All of it also made of ice. Only standing torches in the corners weren’t, instead made of bones with flames licking out of grinning skulls. They were not ponies, nor humans.

Around the table sat a gathering of rieklings, six of them, feasting and drinking. Krish took his blade in his small little hand as he peered out of the door. “We’re in luck. Looks like most of them are out hunting.” He looked up at Lars. “Why are you helping me, human? You came to check on Karstaag, and I’ve already told you he isn’t here.”

“I’m also hoping to find some clues about King Sombra, and besides, I’ve already come this far. Might as well see this through to the end.” Lars took his mace in hand. It was if possible colder than the castle.

“I see. I guess I should thank you again, then. Thank you,” Krish said with a bow. “The ponies would not help me. I can hardly blame them since rieklings frequently make a sport of challenging their hunting parties. Let’s just do this and get it over with.”

Krish stormed ahead. The first riekling was down before it could do anything. Another two drew their sword too later. The wounds did not slow down Krish in the least. Lars joined in behind him and went around the table. The remaining three rieklings did not know who to attack, but Lars seemed the bigger threat. They jumped him in unison. The mace flung one of them far away. The last two stabbed him with their swords, uselessly, as they could not get through the suit. Striking once and twice, they fell to the ground. Lars relaxed his hand and rested his mace down his legs.

“Good thing they were all drunk, eh?”

“This is no time to relax. Dulk isn’t among these, so he must be in the throne room. Come on.”

The blue manling scampered towards the door in front of the table. The hallway curved and they stood in the entrance hall. On their left was the door outside. Further in was the throne room, a much smaller room where a handful of rieklings were prepared with swords and some with primitive lances as well. On top of the dais, on a throne of ice, sat a riekling with a young face behind his small beard. His hand made a simple gesture and the rieklings lowered their weapons again. They made no attempts at fighting but instead scowled at Krish.

Dulk didn’t get up and sat passively with a bored expression. “I see you survived your foolish coup with the grahls. Did this creature help you?” he asked and turned his piercing glare to Lars.

“He wants to know about master’s disappearance,” Krish answered, still with blade in hand but pointed at the ice ground. “Perhaps you know something?”

“Why did you come here, you fool? You would have been better off escaping while you could,” Dulk said, and the guards raised their weapons again.

“Look, I don’t care about you strife so could you put your differences aside for just one moment?” Lars asked. Dulk rolled his eyes and gestured again. “Thank you. Did you notice anything odd about the abduction? Did the werewolves say anything?”

“The abduction of my master? Yes, certainly it was werewolves who did it, but what would be stranger than that?” Still, Dulk looked away to think. “They thought us beneath their notice. Our weapons could barely scratch them, and most of us can’t even understand pony speech. Nasty, arrogant creatures. Dulk spits on them! You want to know more? How about this: have you ever thought about where werewolves come from?”

Lars paused at the question. “Uh… I’m afraid I don’t understand. Werewolves come from being bitten by other werewolves?” he replied.

Dulk shook his head. “Yes, that is how they duplicate themselves, but do you know where they go when not hunting?”

As Lars was quiet, Dulk continued. “The ponies think they know every inch of the frozen wasteland. Miserable, blind creatures! They might tell you that King Sombra is nowhere in the physical world… do not believe them. There are places where ponies do not go, where even we rieklings dare not go. Forbidden places. Places of evil. They exist, physically, within this land.”

“So how do I find him?”

Dulk pondered but twisted his face into a grimace of anger. “Questions, nothing but questions! How do you expect me to answer them all? Dulk is just a small riekling; master does not tell us all. He only warns us of places not to go and of events to happen. Long ago he tasted the air and then he knew. He told us of King Sombra and his defeat, and how his wretched spirit still lingers. But not for much longer. The evil king has finally taken the three sacrifices he needs. Soon he will feel bold enough to appear in the flesh, but only once all obstacles have been disposed of.”

Lars clenched his free left fist and looked at it thoughtfully. “Me,” he said. “When he feels strong enough, he will abduct me as well and kill me.”

Dulk nodded and sprang up on his feet. “Most likely. You… you are strong if you can kill eight grahls. Or perhaps you just have a strong weapon.” He turned his gaze to Krish. “You will go with this man, or we will kill you now. Castle Karstaag is no longer your home. You get no other chances, you traitor.”

“I could not stand to see you defile master’s castle another moment longer. I will leave with the human and make my own riekling home. When master returns he will praise Krish and not Dulk.” Not waiting for a reply, Krish wheeled around and stormed down the corridor. Lars looked up to the throne. Dulk stared back with hard eyes.

“I hope you find King Sombra,” the riekling said and sat down again. “It would be troublesome if he was allowed to enslave this world.”

“Will you keep your people from attacking the Skaal, and any other ponies?” Lars asked, attention devoted solely to Dulk. Not even the rustling of weapons around him from impatient rieklings fazed him.

“I can make no such promise. From the start, the lives of ponies have had little interest to Dulk, but we rieklings no longer enjoy our master’s unity. There are hunting parties out there with their own leaders. All I can do is defend this castle.” Dulk cut the air with a swipe of his hand, and the rieklings advanced with their weapons pointed ahead of them. Lars took a few steps back and retreated out of the castle.

CHAPTER 6 AFTER-PART: RAZING THE FOREST

The Skaal village had not changed at all. His actions had had no impact on their lives. It was for that reason he had gone; so that the ponies of the Frozen Wasteland, of the Crystal Empire, and everywhere else could live their lives in peace. And now he was one step closer. Korst was thoughtful and tapped his muzzle. “I would not normally trust a riekling, but this Dulk does speak my mind. There are many places completely inaccessible to us that wolves could get to more easily. If King Sombra comes for you next, then you ought to be better prepared,” he said in his mystical, far-away voice.

Lars drummed his fingers on the mace by his hip. He had learnt not to touch the head. “I have the mace. That will kill anything in my path… I’ve proven that.”

Korst shook his head. “The Mace of Aevar Stone-Singer has accompanied you well on your journey, but it will only get you so far. We Skaal sit on another treasure that I think will come in more hoofy for you.” Korst got up from his bench and into the darkness. His hut looked small, but from the clattering it sounded like he used every inch of it, piled high with objects of metal and stone, and with heavy objects and lighter objects, all crashing down around him. “Ah, here we are. I knew it was around here in this corner.”

“What… a sword? I definitely have more experience and technique with that, if I can still recall any of my uh… previous times with one.” Lars accepted the blade resting on Korst’s front hooves. A longsword of stalhrim fitted with an elaborate steel guard. As soon as Lars took it in his hands the blade burst into flame.

Korst pulled back from the human to the edge of the light, but there was no more shadow to hide in. The flames of the sword burned so brightly it dispelled all the darkness. Every nook and cranny of the tiny hut was revealed to be piled high with pots and pans, with old bones and crystal balls, with weapons and armour of steel and ice and wood and stone and glass, and with tools to hammer and screw and file.

Lars waved the sword around, Korst’s trembling eyes following the flames. “You… you actually did it. The Longsword of Flames is actually burning again, after all these hundreds of years.” The old shaman laughed in disbelief though he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Congratulations, Lars Leland. You have achieved the highest honour we Skaal can bestow upon an outsider, or even one of our own. I would ask you to lead us but, knowing you, you would probably turn me down.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture at least. Don’t worry; I’ll get you your leader back. Mm, this is a very nice sword. Is it really okay for me to just take it?”

“Yes, by the All-Maker, take it. Wars against unspeakable beasts have been won with that thing, and blood has been lost. But no one has been found worthy to ignite the flames of it for so long I nearly thought it a myth myself.” Korst had to sit down right there on the floor; the light showing every wrinkle in his aging face. Lars nodded impressed and put the sword into the belt around his waist, and the fire went out. He unhooked the mace and handed it over.

“Stahlrim sure is amazing though. The flames are so hot I can feel it in the hilt, but none of the ice is melting. It just… warms the sword up. It really is quite unbelievable.”

Without the flames, the room once again descended into darkness. “I will leave the fate of our land with you then,” Korst spoke solemnly, apprehension taking him. “The All-Maker knows you’re the last we can entrust with this task. All other capable have been taken from us.”

“King Sombra made a mistake not coming for me before.” Lars clutched the pommel of the sword until his knuckles whitened and his hand shook. He put it into his belt. “I’m ready to put him away forever.”

The return trip to the mine was disquieting; it was as if nature itself could feel the coming conclusion. Jittery birds screeched to the sky at the slightest disturbance. Wolves skulked around at the edge of the periphery. Most other animals were already hiding. The tension was palpable; making Lars’ heart hammer in his chest. The road back tripled in length. Not only did it feel longer, Lars was also hotter and sweating worse than he ever did. The fear of the unknown was a heavy blanket that had been laid over the world. Grey skies shut out the light and bitter winds howled to the bone.

He stood at the edge at the colony and immediately saw something was wrong. Ponies ran around in confusion. The cause was not immediately clear. Still Lars pressed on and entered the mining town. Something caught him across the face, making him stumble back. It took him a moment to realise it was a branch. The tree hissed at him. It was shaped like a pony and the branch was its tail. “More friends from the past,” he said and drew his sword. The flames made the tree pony cower with a wail like that of the wind whistling through a hole in a tree. “You don’t like that, do you?”

One swing of the sword. The blade cut through its body and the flames set it ablaze. It did not regenerate. Instead it burned with the crackle of firewood.

There was some construction on the east edge of town where Lars entered from. Wooden support beams leant up against half-finished walls of stone. Two more tree ponies roamed around there. The miners had pickaxes and shovels in their mouth. The laughter from the tree ponies were unnervingly pony, like a foal giggling.

The workers looked up as Lars approached and retreated. The tree ponies stopped laughing and looked toward him as well. The flames danced on the blade still. His face was half illuminated and half cast in shadows. The tree ponies hissed angrily and rustled with their leafy manes. The first of the two pounced him. The sword cleft her like an axe, clean in two. The halves fell to the ground and burned.

The second opened its carved eyes wide in shock. It tried backing away, but the miners formed a wall behind it. It tried running to the left. Lars was quicker and decapitated it along with its shoulder and half its chest. “Are there any more?” Lars asked to the crowd. They all pointed their tools toward the inn up behind them. “Thank you.”

Behind the inn ran a low stone wall around the whole colony. A bright yellow unicorn stood on top of it. A tree pony hissed at him from beneath. It swiped its long, deadly claws on its hoof at him while he blasted it with ineffective spells. It only hissed more angrily.

“Ah! A little help here, please?” the unicorn asked. His mane was long and the same colour as his coat, drawn back into a tail. His cutie mark was a scroll with flowers printed on it.

The tree pony completely lost interest in him. Instead it charged at Lars. He stabbed it through its exposed chest and twisted the blade. The anger was etched into the wooden doll’s face. It fell off his sword and broke into flaming pieces before it could hit the ground. The young unicorn colt jumped down and smiled brightly.

“I cannot tell you how happy I am you came by. I was hired recently to take care of some pesky roots… being an expert on plant life and all. I have never seen or even heard of these things before though. Did you save me a specimen?”

Lars shook his head and returned the sword to his belt. “I’m afraid not. Turns out they really don’t like fire.” Melon stumbled towards them, panting. The heavy weather was also taking a toll of him. Or perhaps he was just as stressed out as usual. “What’s up with you? You look worse than usual.”

Melon looked around until he found the charred remains. He breathed a deep sigh and wiped his forehead. “I nearly had a heart attack when I heard that trees were attacking the colony, and just as you were away too. Ah, and I see you met the biologist I hired. I want you to escort him down into the mines and have a look at those roots.” The young unicorn beamed at his mention. Melon continued in a lower tone so that Lars had to bow down. “The miners can take care of themselves if anything should happen… I am not so sure about this guy.”

The young unicorn poked his hooves at the charcoal left of the tree pony. It crumbled into the dust that the wind blew away. “My name is Opulence Brilliant, a recently graduated biologist, a pleasure to meet you.” He wiped the soot from his hooves and extended an arm. Lars took it in a handshake. “Shall we get going? As much as those living trees fascinate me, I’m afraid you didn’t leave me with much.”

“Lars will be with you in a moment,” Melon interjected and led Lars into an alley between the inn and an indeterminate square of building. He took a moment’s silence before breathing deeply. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Lars, so I will be blunt. I am not so sure your friend is alive anymore. Every day more colour returns to him, but I don’t see lustre or pulse or breathing… I fear it’s residual stahlrim that’s preserving him and nothing else.”

“I… I know. He’s still so cold to my touch despite the fire being kept in his hut. But you can’t ask me to abandon him until I am absolutely certain. We will know in a few days whether he’s alive or not, once the last magic of the stahlrim has worn off,” Lars said in a soft voice. There were tears behind his eyes that could not get out.

“I will respect that for as long as we can sacrifice the space. Your service for the mine is invaluable and I would not do this for anyone else. Just as long as you know it’s a slim hope.” Melon retained eye contact, even as Lars hung his head.

Lars put a hand on Melon’s head and offered a weak smile. “Forgive an old fool for his eccentricities. Will you promise to keep respecting my wish even if something happens to me?”

“I doubt there is anything dangerous down in the mine right now. Though with the air this heavy, I feel like something could jump us from behind every bush. I’m out of breath just talking with you.”

“I’ll see what I can do about it. It will all be over soon, one way or the way.” Lars left with his weak smile, but it faded out of sight of Melon, and it was a much more serious human that escorted the young biologist to the mine.

Author's Note:

Again I have devoted a lot of time to this yet it still feels rushed in parts. And I still have... one, two... three chapters left?