Fimbulvetr

by Alkarasu

21: Skuld

The branch shook once more and Vsevolod grabbed Oleg so he won't slip from it. The skies above were covered by a giant aurora that shifted in sync with the roars of the beast below. The giant snakelike dragon was already halfway to them, and with no sign of stopping.

"He'll be here any minute," noted Oleg, glancing over the edge, "and he looks pissed. What did you do to him?"

"Might as well be you," snapped the griffon, plunging his talons deeper into the wood. "I've never seen it in my life! How are you here anyway?"

"I thought you'd know, you are supposed to have more experience with this!"

"Damn it, it's a dream! How can I have more experience with it than anyone else?" The dragon below roared once more and slithered closer. "It was always just me and the tree here!"

"Well, not anymore, and I like to be uneaten, even if it's a dream. Maybe we can fly away from him?" mused Oleg, grabbing a smaller branch to avoid slipping.

"I probably can. You don't have wings," pointed Vsevolod, glaring at his companion's very human form. "Not that you know how to use them anyway."

The beast below grabbed a branch with its mouth and tore it off the tree. The branch fell to the forests below, easily toppling even the largest trees with its immense bulk.

"You can carry me," shrugged the batpony, shifting to get a better hold.

"Are you kidding? You are five times my size!" roared Vsevolod, whose insecurities of being small were only doubled by the comparison to the normal human height. "I'm not sure if I can even pick you up if you were your pony size! I'm a bad flyer, ask Helga!"

"Who cares, it's a dream! You can haul an elephant here!"

"Then you can fly away yourself!" retorted the griffon. The beast was getting really close and he was already considering just abandoning his new acquaintance. It was a dream after all, what was the worst that could happen?

Thankfully, he never got to actually making that choice - or learning the answer to that question - since at that moment the skies above cracked with mighty lightning strike and from the crack descended a giant fishhook on a thick rope. It held a whole head of a bull strapped to it as a bait. The wise eyes of the bull looked at the shocked travelers with sadness. The hook slid to the face of the dragon and it sniffed at it with interest.

"Come on, come on!" whispered a booming voice from above, and the rope shook, dangling the bull's head before the eyes of the giant serpent. The dragon roared and snapped at the prey, swallowing it in one gulp. The hook, of course, immediately lodged itself somewhere in the beast's mouth. The rope ringed from the sudden added weight but held. With a mighty roar, the dragon pulled on it, but the rope and the hook were made of something even such a beast couldn't break so easily. For several minutes both of the stunned dreamers were witnessing a fishing of a giant, with the rope giving some slack, allowing the dragon to pull on it, then tightening and dragging him to the mysterious sky fisher. After a while, it became obvious that the beast is getting weaker, his pulls losing their enormous power and the movement slowing down. Still, the dragon had found some inner reserves for a last desperate pull, so strong, that for the first time since the start of the struggle, he managed to win several meters of the rope. That was enough to finally show the one who fishes for dragons to the onlookers.

The mysterious fisher turned out to be a rather large batpony mare of a blue-gray colors and sporting a magnificent blonde beard. The rope was securely tied to her forehooves. She was furiously beating with her wings to slow her descent. Looking around, she spotted Oleg and Vsevolod, and huffed through her clenched teeth, "Hey there! Newbie! Stop gawking and help me already!"

Oleg has snapped out of his stupor and looked around. The pony was slowly sinking, unable to fight the pull of the monster, and unable to drop the rope since it was tied to her. Thinking fast, he grabbed the nearest sharp object and sliced the rope with it at the moment the batpony finally managed to turn the tables and start pulling the serpent back up. The dragon snapped its teeth in surprise and fell to the ground below, while the batpony was thrown upwards, disappearing into the hole in the skies with a startled yelp. Oleg released the sharp object, that turned out to be Vsevolod's claw, and sighed contently, "Well, that takes care of them both, I think."

Vsevolod blinked and the dream around them faded away.

The griffon awoke to a moonlit night, quiet and calm, save for the soft sobbing. Looking around, he spotted Kurgash sitting several steps from the sleeping spot and looking at the narrow crescent of the moon. She was crying quietly, tears falling through the clouds. Listening closely, Vsevolod was able to hear that what he took for sobbing was actually a song.

"Through the cerulean steppe, the young Crescent roams
With a mane of white that reaches his hooves.
The soft jingle of Mongol stirrups
Born by the winds and fragrant with the rains."

The young griffon felt like he knows the song, though it was impossible. No song of his time could survive the time gap, and he heard none of the local ones. Still, the sad tune continued:

"Over the edge of a jug, the skies are filled with milk
Sleep my love, dream well, for a long road awaits you tomorrow.
You sought the dawn - you got away unscathed, weren't my lips only yours alone?"

Now he had a good idea who the song was for, and the sadness overwhelmed him. After all, he was one of the reasons Kurgash had to be here, on a lonely cold cloud, instead of her own herd with her friends and the loved one.

"So, the grass has risen before the doors of Tamerlan
Am I not your arrow, am I not your bowstring?
You are a heart of fire, you are a song of the banners
You would leave me alone, captured by the fields."

The voice of the small pegasus rose, not a quiet sobbing anymore, but still sad and broken.

"Vagons of the moons through the fog of the road
The herd of the skies, the heavy quiver.
The enemy's arrow cleaves moon in a half
Sagebrush and ash, awaits you, Tamerlan."

The voice had dropped again, so Vsevolod had to really strain to hear the rest of the song.

"You'll touch the grass of the feather on some other shore
And the gold would cool in your high tomb.
And mine fate is to stitch an olive linen
Dropping my tears in a soft jingle.
The bound of fire is my eternal pledge
Not your sister no more
Not your wife ever."

Finishing the song, Kurgash stood up, wiped off her tears and silently rejoined the sleeping pile.

The morning came, and they've discovered that the cloud they were on had suffered the same fate as the previous one. It was completely stationary, but this time it was also completely alone. As far as the eye could see around them, there was no speck of cloud, and the morning sun brightly lit the hills below. The sun was rising from behind the mountain range, its rays glistering on the snowy peaks.

Vsevolod looked at his friends, fighting through the fog of massive oversleeping he had accumulated during the last few days. They also looked a bit tired by the constant napping, though Kurgash was a bit more lively than usual. The batpony had a slightly haunted look that contrasted with his previous happy attitude quite a lot.

"That woman... mare. With the beard. Jackie. She came back later," said Oleg, noticing the questioning look of the small griffon. "We had... words. She wasn't happy. Said she had hunted that beast for years, and now it seems that she'll have to do it all over again. It... seems that I'll have to figure out all that dreamwalking stuff on my own, not that I expected any help... or knew it exists. She said she'll make sure no other batpony would speak to me, ever. She'll be back, though. They always come back after they scream so much."

Vsevolod sighed and handed Oleg a piece of stale bread with something resembling pickled hay on top. It seemed that the problems with the locals were a thing every respectable Return had to endure, almost like the spell that dragged them from their time was made to drop them into most undesirable situation available. Then again, the pony was lucky to fall onto a safe cloud with a handful of friendly people on it, and even some supplies... supplies, that were rapidly running out under their combined assault.

"Well, call me a horse, but I think we're at the Urals already," commented Oleg, trying to eat his breakfast with at least some dignity. Despite all the helpful pointers from Kurgash, the skill of single-digit manipulation was still beyond him. "Where to next?"

"Helga knows," shrugged Vsevolod. "You might've noticed that she's not too good with the explanations, so I just assumed that when she invited us to her home, she was meaning something more than just a familiar branch on a tree."

"Home!" happily chirped Helga, licking her claws. "Close! Soon! Fun!"

"You've heard the bird," nodded Vsevolod. "I don't think our ideas of fun overlap too much... but it's not like we have a choice at this point."

"Well, you're the one with the experience here," said the batpony, squinting at the sun. "So what, we just jump overboard and glide to wherever this home is?"

Vsevolod looked down and then at Oleg, "If you want to die, I suppose that would be the way to go. You are yet to spread your wings, and gliding is not as simple as just spreading them and let aerodynamics do the job. But I can't show you the trick unless you can move your wings."

Oleg turned his head to look at his leathery wing, furrowing his brows in concentration. The wing remained motionless. No amount of grunts and huffs were able to make it even quiver. Looking at the titanic struggle Vsevolod decided to offer a helping claw, lightly tapping the wing membrane with a talon. The batpony shuddered and suddenly went limp.

"He's unconscious!" said Kurgash after inspecting the prone body. "Honored Ancestor, what did you do to him?"

"Just touched his wing, nothing more," answered the griffon. "Wasn't expecting... this."

"Do it again!" weakly asked Oleg, suddenly regaining consciousness. Vsevolod looked at him with concern, but complied, tapping the wing once more. The batpony shuddered once again, but this time managed not to pass out. "This is the weirdest thing I've ever felt! Stop, that's enough! Damn it's weird. All right, all right, I get your point. No flying for me yet. Hmm..." He looked around, pausing to get a better look at himself. "Now, that's not funny. What is this and whose idea was to put it there?"

"What?" asked Kurgash, moving closer and inspecting the stallion's rear.

"This purple stuff. The picture. It was you, right? You have those clouds on your butt, and your tribe traditions declare that I must have something as well!"

"Dreamwalker is funny!" giggled the pegasus, carefully touching the spot in question. "You can't make a Mark of Destiny, it comes when it comes. It's a sign of good fortune in the Herds. I got mine when I was calming the foals with a story during the big storm last year. Mother was so happy..."

Vsevolod looked at the batpony's flank and found out that indeed, he was marked in the same way he saw with Teplovoz, Podorozhnik and Kurgash. His mark was a bright purple cube, drawn with the sides crossing in a way no real cube can be made.

"So it just appears on people's butts and they are supposed to be happy with it?" asked Oleg, inspecting the mark closely.

"Yes! It shows who you are and what place in the world the Great Spirits see you in!"

"Great. Looks like they were drunk when they chose that one. Good for them. Now, since it seems that I won't be flying today, and that's a shame, who would carry me down?"

"No carry dinner!" said Helga, walking around the pony and nudging him. "Fat!"

"Am I?" asked Oleg, turning to Kurgash.

"No! You are small, like uncle Pelesh Chipchik. But you are bigger than me, so..."

The batpony frowned and looked down once again. The ground was still pretty far away and not getting any closer. He poked the cloud and watched as the parts he separated dissipate in the wind.

"I wonder how much of the cloud is needed to support any of us," he mused, trying to carve a chunk of the cloud stuff big enough to crawl onto. Looking at him, the rest made an attempt to do it as well. After an hour of trying, they found out that it's possible to form smaller clouds from the larger one, but the ones made by griffons don't last long and evaporate in mere minutes, while those made by Kurgash remain in the shape and size she left them in for as long as she likes. Oleg's own effort has proven to be more lasting than those of the griffons, but still vanished after half an hour. They also found out that the cloud needs to be about the size of the pony or griffon to support them in the air. Anything less just dissipated if someone attempted to climb on it.

"Interesting," concluded the batpony, looking at their much smaller cloud. "It needs more research, but it's safe to say that the only good cloud sculptor among us is Kurgash, for whatever reason. And we can't just carve ourselves a parachute from a cloud. Here goes that idea. Hmm... maybe I can use the actual parachute? If we shorten the straps... wait, no, I can't pull the release with these bricks." He looked at his hooves with disdain. "Damn, I wish we could just move the cloud itself, would've made this all much easier."

"Actually, we can," said Vsevolod. "I did it yesterday when our first cloud stopped."

Oleg looked at the smaller griffon and sighed, "And of course it was so obvious you never had a reason to tell us that. This world is doomed, as was the one before it. Well, stop looking at me like that, start pushing!"

Shrugging, Vsevolod spread his wings, feeling the streams in the air, and found the one that went downwards. Placing his claws in the center of the cloud, he angled the wings and carefully flapped them, imagining going down. The cloud shuddered and began to slowly descend, trailing thin strands of mist upwards.

"Fun!" Helga immediately perked up, found a spot nearby and started pushing as well. The cloud tilted a bit and the strands of mist became thicker. After a few minutes, it became clear that the cloud is shrinking, and rather rapidly at that.

"I'm not sure it's safe," pondered the batpony, comparing the distance to the ground and the remaining cloud size. "It definitely needs more research. If I survive that, of course."

When the ground was only a dozen meters below, the cloud finally disintegrated completely, dumping its passengers on the snow. Luckily, Kurgash's recently acquired ability to fly was enough to safely glide her into a thorny bush - her steering still had much to be desired. Seeing her safely glide away, Vsevolod looked around, trying to find the helpless batpony splattered on the ground. There were no traces of that, though, as well as no indication that anyone had touched it at all. Glancing around he spotted a strange growth on one of the thicker branches of the nearby pine tree. When the mist of the ruined cloud finally dissipated, he discovered that the growth was, in fact, the missing batpony. Without enough experience of using his limbs, Oleg did the next best thing available to him - he bit the branch as hard as he could. Now he hung from it like a huge pear and mumbled something incoherently, while his huge eyes reflected all the fears of heights in the universe.

Vsevolod carefully landed on the branch, noticing how his body easily balances itself on it and examined the bat's predicament. It turned out that in his attempt to grab onto something, Oleg bit the branch so hard that now his massive fangs were firmly stuck in the bark.

"Elp! M'stk!" mumbled the bat, trying to grab the branch with his hooves and only managing to make himself swing under it a little. "Fhpit oovsh!"

The griffon grabbed the pony's head and tried to pry it away from the branch, but the teeth held with surprising strength. Adding more power only caused the pony to yelp in pain and start shoving Vsevolod away. Helga circled above the tree, looking at all of that, then suddenly smirked and fell on Oleg baring her claws and scowling like she was about to eat him. The batpony screeched, clenched his teeth and bit right through the branch. With yet another yelp he fell to the ground, only to be stopped by the larger griffon grabbing him by the mane. Helga wasn't lying when she said that she can't carry a full-grown stallion - even simply slowing his fall for several meters made her flap her wings with all her might, and even then she could only slow their descent to the safe speed. Dropping Oleg into the snow, she landed nearby, panting.

"Heavy! Fat-fly-denial!"

Oleg spat the remnants of the branch and glared at Helga, "That was scary! And this branch tastes like wood. Zero twigs of five, won't bite again. So, it looks like I should kiss the ground and lie that I won't ever leave it again, right? Right, skipping that. Where's everyone?"

"I'm fine!" shouted Kurgash, slowly untangling herself from the bush. "I can fly!"

"Now you only need to learn how to land," nodded Vsevolod, landing nearby and helping her out. "But crash landing is still technically a landing, so congratulations. Now... Helga, stop laughing at our poor Dreamwalker, we need to move before some wolves or worse decided to check if we are edible. Where to next?"

Helga looked around, sniffed the air, snickered at still glaring Oleg, and pointed towards the nearby mountain, "There. Home! Rock-feather-grey!" She turned in that direction and started walking, not waiting for anyone else. Vsevolod and Kurgash helped Oleg on his hooves and took turns helping him walking after the impatient carbird.

Thankfully, their destination was much closer than they thought. Only a couple of hours later, they walked to a big clearing near the mountain foot. Overlooking the clearing, stood a high cliff with snowy top. Helga pointed to it and happily exclaimed: "Home! Family!" She then led them to the almost invisible thin trail in the side of the cliff, and after a long climb, they finally got to see what was their destination for the last week.

It was rather disappointing. The top of the cliff was almost flat and completely covered by something that looked like huts, in a very generous definition of the term. Most looked like someone took a bird's nest, made it big enough to accommodate a lion, and then turned it upside-down. The rest were resembling piles of straw and twigs with an entrance dug into the side. What was in common for both types was that they shared the same aura of neglect, most showing at least some signs of decay of the materials, and some even completely collapsed and rotting. Among the buildings, the travelers saw a couple of adult griffons, probably even old, judging from the scars, missing feathers, and greying fur, and a pack of younger ones - ranging from very small cubs to almost-adults, like Helga. The elders paid the visitors no heed, while the younger catbirds immediately flocked to them, surrounding and staring at the ponies with judging, hungry eyes.

After a minute of staring, one of the bigger males took a step closer and attempted to unceremoniously grab Kurgash. Before his claws touched her fur, they were intercepted by furious Helga, beating them away and hissing: "Touch-refuse-possession! Wounds-future-implication!"

The griffon shrugged and turned to Oleg. Helga made no motion to stop him, so Vsevolod stepped forward, feeling the fur and feathers on his back bristling. The older griffon looked at him, clearly surprised, but then just pushed him away. When Vsevolod pushed back, the griffon tuned and in a single swift motion sent him flying, with the head spinning from the sudden hit. Turning back, he poked the batpony and chirped, "My-food-tasty!"

Vsevolod felt, how somewhere deep inside him the rage that was dormant since the fight with the wolves stirs and ignites his blood. The world around him turned red and very slow when he jumped up and shot at the startled enemy, his claws making deep bloody gashes in his sides. In mere moments, the bigger griffon was on his back, looking up into the eyes of the very angry philologist.

"No," said Vsevolod, grabbing his opponent by the neck and starting to squeeze. "Mine."

Author's Note:

Well, that took longer than I thought it would... by much. Sorry!
The song Kurgash sings (and I had to butcher into English) is Tamerlan's Doors by Melnitsa. How she managed to learn it we may never know, but I think it fits with her rather well.
Yet another incomprehensible name translation: Pelesh Chipchik means Bald Sparrow.
And look! Home! Fun!

Almost forgot! This chapter comes with an illustration by the amazing Coffee Bat!

...and now in color by the awesome Negasun!

Comments

[SolangeEggbert]

Interesting. Sort of a Rookery for feral griffons with more elaborate nests.
I suppose it is needed if you've got a species whos young are not capable of largely fending for themselves after a handful of weeks.

[Alkarasu]

8575178
Especially for the species that are not exactly popular among the neighbours.

[Doppler Effect]

Not exactly an unexpected thing to find at Helga's home, though it does raise the question of why they thought going to Helga's home was a good idea in the first place.

The different attitudes in the fight is interesting. I'm guessing from the feral side, it's supposed to be some kind of dominance display that he expects the smaller griffon to immediately back down from, while from the human side it's an instant "if you hurt my friend, I'll kill you". This wasn't at all what the feral griffon signed up for....

[Alkarasu]

8575550
They had no better place to go anyway, and Helga kinda promised it to be safe and fun. How could it be that her definitions of both are not what they expect is a mystery.
As for the feral - well, that was one part of Vsevolod's motivation, sure... but don't forget that he also has a griffon side. I wonder which one is more in play in this situation.

[Celefin]

"Heavy! Fat-fly-denial!"

OMFG.
Helga remains best catbird in existence.

Still love the way you keep the learning curve going for all of your strange team, cloud research and all. And landings, of course... although that fang-based attempt wasn't the best approach. The image that created was totally hilarious and almost identical to the illustration :)

So Griffonstone is real :)
And Vesevolod now displaying typical feline possessiveness? That can only end well.

[Alkarasu]

8681177

That can only end well.

*reads the beginning of the next chapter*
Oh, you have no idea.

So Griffonstone is real

You've noticed? I thought no one would get Helga's, erm, transcription of the name.