An Icy Void – A Shadowed Horizons Short Story

Cold winds whipped around Bretta’s face. The thick furs covering her body stirred and shifted, as if dancing with the breeze. Bretta barely registered the conditions, despite the freezing temperatures. Instead, her eyes were firmly fixed on the former city of Blackridge, nestled in the valley below. Her frostfang mount stirred slightly as another large crash from the settlement echoed around the frozen hills. Bretta tried her best to soothe the beast but she could feel its discomfort. The monstrous animal could sense something.

Since abandoning Blackridge all those years ago, the scouts of the Northern Alliance had kept a careful eye on the greenskins that had flooded over the walls and into the streets. Initially there was a fear the orcs and goblins would use the city as a staging posts for more raids against the North. Instead, the orcs appeared too busy with in-fighting and squabbles to unite properly against the alliance. Still, all it would take was one powerful Krudger to bring the greenskins together and that didn’t bear thinking about.

There was another large boom from Blackridge, followed by guttural whoops and shouts. A large plume of dust and debris suddenly shot into the air when another building crumbled to the ground. The plumes of dirt were quickly swept away by the swirling winds, as though nothing had happened.

“Savages,” grunted Torick and spat on the snow.

The older tribesman was grumpy at the best of times but recently his temper had been significantly worse. As the apprentice scout, Bretta had been paired with Torick to help build her experience of tracking through the snow and ice of the Winterlands. Although humans like her and Torick weren’t as skilled as the Ice Kin hunters, the Northern Alliance needed as many scouts as possible to patrol the borders. In quieter moments, the grizzled veteran would go through harsh combat drills, which left Bretta sweating in all her thick furs. But despite his gruff moods and surly nature, Bretta had grown to respect her mentor, although she wouldn’t say the respect extended to friendship.

Bretta was about to reply, when she noticed the old man staring at dark grey clouds that were fast approaching on the horizon. His one remaining eye darted between Blackridge and the sky.

“Blizzard’s coming,” he muttered and turned his frostfang mount away from the ridge before heading off. “Best head back.”

Bretta quickly did the same and fell in alongside her comrade. She had lost count of how many days they had travelled from their meagre camp to watch the greenskins, only to retreat  to safety when the weather took a turn for the worse. To say she was getting frustrated with the lack of action, was an understatement.

“Why don’t we just attack Blackridge and push the greenskins out?” she asked. “It doesn’t make sense to keep watching them day in and day out.”

For a moment Torick was silent and Bretta wondered if he had fallen asleep while riding again. Eventually he mumbled an answer.

“Why waste what little resources we have? We know where the beasts are. Let them destroy themselves.”

“But…”

Before Bretta could continue, Torick held up a finger for silence and brought his mount to a halt. With a kick of heels he wheeled the frostfang around to look back the way they had come.

“Hear that?”

Bretta strained her ears. The old man was always giving her stupid challenges like this. Getting her to listen for snow hares in the grass, or pinpoint the location of grouse scrabbling up the hillside.

“I can’t hear anything,” she replied.

Then she heard it. A low rumbling in the distance.

“The greenskins?”

“That ain’t the greenskins. It’s the blizzard. Thundersnow.”

After growing up in the North, Bretta was used to all kinds of freezing weather but thundersnow storms were still fairly rare. The air would crackle with electrical energy, while thick snowflakes filled the sky and thunderous booms shook the mountains. The cacophony was so loud it would often cause avalanches, which is why Torick must be looking worried.

“There used to be an old shepherd’s hut around here,” explained Torick. “We could use that for cover while the blizzard blows over. Follow me.”

Without waiting he dug his heels into the frostfang’s side and started to head up a steep hill to his left. Bretta quickly followed, her own frostfang eating up the climb as though it were nothing. The power of beasts always surprised her. Despite their bulk, they could cling to the mountainside as well as any goat. She tightened her grip on the reins, as the incline increased. Behind her she heard another rumble, although this time it was much closer. Instinctively she spurred on her steed.

Eventually they arrived at a small, stone hut that emerged from the hillside like a growth. Bretta was always amazed by Torick’s incredible knowledge of the terrain in the North. She couldn’t have found this tatty old hut again tomorrow, let alone after what must have been years for Torick. In fact, the hut was so dilapidated that Bretta was surprised it was still standing and she wondered how it could possibly survive the encroaching storm. To call it basic was almost an overstatement. There were no windows and a simple wooden door creaked as it moved slowly in the wind. She shivered, despite her thick furs.

She took a moment to cast her eyes back to Blackridge, but it was now completely obscured by thick, grey clouds. Occasionally a bolt of lightning would surge through the storm and light the surrounding valley.

“Tie up the fangs,” said Torick and headed through the door into the hut. “The thunder might spook ‘em.”

Dismounting her own creature, Bretta gave it a casual stroke. She could feel the thick muscles under its matted fur and its chest rose and fell with each hot breath. She couldn’t imagine such a magnificent animal being scared by a bit of thunder, but Torick knew best. Bretta considered tying them to a pair of rusty hooks that hung from the hut, but she wasn’t sure the structure would survive a couple of frostfangs pulling against it. Instead she led both frostfangs to a nearby tree and tightly tied their reins. Then, with a final stroke of her mount, she headed into the hut and almost bumped straight into Torick.

“Someone’s been ‘ere,” he muttered.

With the door only allowing a small shaft of light into the room, Bretta struggled to see in the gloom. Firstly, she was surprised to see how big the hut was inside. It appeared as though the rear had been carved into the hillside, making the interior much larger than it looked from outside. She couldn’t quite see how far it went, as it disappeared into the dark. On the floor were the remnants of a fire. It was long cold, but it had clearly been used within the last few months. Surrounding the fire were the remnants of a meal. Small hare bones littered the ground.

“Orcs?” asked Bretta.

“Ain’t greenskins,” mumbled Torick.

He bent down toward the fire and picked up what looked like a dagger. In the dim light, Bretta could see a purple hilt that shimmered eerily in the murk. Torick turned it over and gazed at the intricate carvings. A crash of thunder echoed through the valley and they both gave a startled jump.

“Light the fire then,” snapped Torick with a cough and Bretta wondered if he was ashamed of his reaction.

While she used some flint to light a meagre fire, she saw Torick stuff the dagger into his pack, then sling it into the corner. After a moment’s consideration, he stretched out on the floor with his head resting on the satchel.

“Wake me when the storm’s over,” he grunted and promptly closed his eyes.

Bretta was amazed Torick could sleep through a blizzard but with the fire lit, she took the opportunity to take a better look at the hut. Apart from the bones scattered across the floor and a few scraps of cloth, there really wasn’t anything of note. She was about to try and get some rest herself, when a reflection from the flickering flames caught her eye. There was something glinting deeper into the hut.

For a moment she considered waking Torick but a loud snore told her he was fast asleep. She had made the mistake of waking him before and wasn’t in a rush to do it again. Instead, she grabbed a log from the fire and approached the rear of the room. Once again, she was surprised how far the builder had buried into the hillside. Also, it seemed colder and darker here, despite her makeshift torch.

Eventually, out of the gloom, she spotted a small chest. Although mostly made from wood there was an ornate metal carving on the top. This was what had caught her attention. Slowly, she moved the torch closer and inspected the carving. A shiver ran down her spine. The metal had been sculpted into a screaming, eyeless face. The teeth were sharpened fangs, like that of a tundra wolf, while the twisted tongue reminded her of a lizard.

“Bretta,” hissed a voice.

She spun round, expecting to see that Torick had woken up, but a loud snore told her he was still fast asleep. Bretta focused on the chest again. She reached out to touch the carving and stroked her fingers across the eyeless visage. It was ice cold. Colder than ice, in fact. Outside the hut, the thunder was getting closer and a loud crash rattled the creaking door.

Almost without realising she placed the torch down before grasping the box. She gave one last, surreptitious glance back to Torick before flinging the lid open. Inside was… nothing. Bretta struggled to hide her disappointment. However, she realised that the box wasn’t empty. There was just an absence of light and the interior was pitch black. She grabbed the torch and held it over the gaping darkness for a better look. But no matter how close she moved the torch though, the gloom inside the chest never changed. It absorbed the light, as though it were feeding on it.

Suddenly overcome with guilt, Bretta attempted to close the lid but it wouldn’t shut. The inky blackness was emerging out of the chest and getting larger by the moment. With an involuntary shriek she knocked the box over. The lid yawned wide open, as if trying to swallow her whole and the gloom seeped out, creeping ever closer.

“What have you done?” asked Torick. Even in the bleak light, Bretta could see the fear on his face.

“Ready the frostfangs,” said Torick.

“What about the storm?” asked Bretta.

“We’ve got more to worry about than a damned blizzard, thanks to you girl.”

That was when Bretta noticed the chittering sound. At least, she thought it was a sound. It was filling her head and overwhelming her senses. She covered her ears but it made no difference. The chittering was endless. She squeezed her eyes shut but quickly opened them again when the darkness reminded her of the chest and its dreadful contents.

Unfortunately, the sight when she opened her eyes wasn’t much better. The inky black of the box had crept up the walls of the hut and now resembled a large, black mirror that shimmered and twisted in the weak light of the fire. Inside the endless gloom she thought she could hear voices. They whispered to her and asked her to join them. She reached out her hand to touch the rippling shadows.

“Bretta!” shouted Torick. She snapped to attention and turned to face her mentor. The young scout couldn’t hide her surprise when she noticed Torick had pulled his ice axe from his belt and was holding it tightly.

“Let me see your eyes,” instructed Torick. He roughly grabbed her by the chin and inspected her for a moment. The ageing warrior must have been satisfied by what he saw and gave a grunt of approval. “We’ve leaving. Now!”

The pair rushed out the hut and were immediately hit by the strong winds of the blizzard. Thick grey clouds and swirls of snowflakes blotted out the sun, making it seem like sunset. Occasionally streaks of lightning from the thundersnow storm would light up the hills around them, casting everything in an eerie blue light. Pulling their clothes tightly against the raging elements, they mounted the frostfangs.

“What was that?” shouted Bretta above the howling winds.

“A void cage! Those blasted Abyssal Dwarfs hid them throughout the mountains during the assault on Chill,” replied Torick. “The Ice Queens said we’d found them all and destroyed them. That one seemed different though. We need to warn the camp.”

Torick gave his mount a sharp kick with his heels and headed into the blizzard. Bretta quickly followed.

“Is there something inside the cage?”

With that, Bretta heard the hut’s door being ripped off its hinges. Turning in her saddle, she was horrified to see the beast that emerged through the door. It had pinkish skin and limbs that ended in wicked-looking scythes. It walked with a shuddering gait as if each step sent jolts of pain through its body. Despite having no nose, it sniffed the air, like it was sensing Bretta and Torick. As it turned its eyeless face toward Bretta, an ice arrow shot through the air and pierced its skull. The monstrosity screeched loudly before falling to the ground, twitching.

Torick rode up beside Bretta and holstered his bow.

“There’ll be more where that came from,” growled Torick. Then, as if in response, there were more screams from inside the hut. “Come on, girl!”

This time Torick grabbed the reins of Bretta’s frostfang and dragged them both away from the hut. Bretta risked a glance backward. In amongst the swirling snow she could see more of the monsters spilling from the hut. They each turned toward her before quickly giving chase. Despite their shambling walk, the creatures were fast and they started to close in on their quarry. Some ran on two legs, while others bounded across the ground like a hideous animal.

“What in Hrimm’s name are they?” shouted Bretta.

“Reapers!”

Bretta was just a wide-eyed child when the Northern Alliance had fought these foul beasts in the battle for Chill ten years ago. But she had seen the hollow gazes of the soldiers that returned and heard the screams ringing through the camp when their dreams were haunted by whatever they’d encountered on the battlefield. Now to see them in the awful flesh, here in the mountains of the Winterlands, she gave a shudder and gripped her reins.

In a flash of lightning, she noticed one of the stalkers was sprinting alongside Torick. With a screech, it leapt toward her mentor. With reactions that belie his age, Torick grabbed the monster by its neck. It snapped its fangs and tried to use its long claws to gouge at Torick’s skin. But it was no use. Torick promptly drew his ice axe and plunged it into the skull of his attacker. Its claws went limp and Torick threw the body into the snow.

“Watch out!” shouted Torick.

Another creature jumped from the hillside and landed in front of Bretta’s frostfang. Before she could pull on her reins, the frostfang clamped its mighty jaws around the would-be attacker’s stomach. Black blood spilled from the mouth of the nightstalker and it let out an agonised screech. Bretta grabbed her ice axe and swung with all her might. The decapitated head of the monster toppled to the ground. The frostfang continued to shake the corpse for a moment before letting go, satisfied that it must be dead.

“Stop messing around,” bellowed Torick. “The campsite should be up ahead.”

Normally Bretta would trust Torick’s sense of direction but something seemed off. The hillsides looked different. Darker somehow.

Behind them Bretta could hear the claws of their pursuers scuttling against the rocks of the hills. She didn’t risk looking back but it sounded like there were dozens of them. If they didn’t reach the camp in time… well, she shuddered to think of what might happen.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Of course! I’ve scouted the mountains for-”

Torick’s voice trailed off when they turned a corner on the rugged path. Instead of the trail leading to the camp, they were presented by a sheer cliff face that disappeared up into the grey clouds. The scouts quickly brought their mounts to a halt.

“This is impossible,” muttered Torick. “The blizzard must have gotten me turned around somehow.”

The screams and screeches of the nightstalkers emerged through the storm. They were getting closer. Torick turned back to face the path, followed by Bretta.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“We’ll do what the people of the North always do. We’ll fight!”

Torick brandished his ice axe, while his frostfang let out a roar. Muttering a prayer, Bretta gripped her own axe and prepared for combat. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Even the heart of her usually implacable steed appeared to be hammering faster than normal.

The blizzard continued to shift and swirl around them but the attack didn’t come. The uncanny howls of the monsters vanished, only to be replaced by the slow tapping of their claws on the surrounding hills and an odd, chittering sound that sounded almost like laughing. Occasionally, amongst the thick snow, she would catch shadowy forms coming closer, before retreating back into the storm.

“Just attack already!” shouted Bretta and waved her axe.

“They’re playing with us,” grunted Torick. “Feeding on our fear.”

“I’m… I’m not afraid,” replied Bretta but even she could hear the quiver in her voice.

As if sensing her emotions, a shadow darted from the storm toward them. Racing on all fours, it came within striking distance before disappearing back into the blizzard. It was greeted by loud chittering. This time there was no mistaking the mocking laughter. Bretta could feel the fight draining out of her. They were surrounded. Just two scouts against a horde of vicious creatures. It was hopeless.

Suddenly, overhead she heard a new noise. It almost sounded like the flapping of giant wings.

“What now?” she groaned.

To their right, there was a whooshing noise, followed by the sound of an explosion and a shimmering blue light that briefly lit the hills. Then a nightstalker, encased in thick ice, tumbled to the ground. The frozen limbs smashed into pieces and scattered across the scrub.

Next, a large shadow swooped down into the blizzard ahead of them, before disappearing back up into the clouds. Bretta tried to see where it had gone, when two nightstalkers unexpectedly crashed to the ground, dead. The chittering stopped, only to be replaced by angry howls and screams.

More shimmering lights and explosions lit up their surroundings and Bretta briefly caught sight of their saviours: dwarfs on the back of giant ravens. The frostclaw riders were once a rarity in the lands surrounding Chill but with more Free Dwarfs bending the knee to Talannar, they were becoming more common among the ranks of the Alliance. Still, Bretta couldn’t quite believe the spectacle of these majestic birds ducking and diving between the encroaching reapers.

One of the enormous birds soared down from the clouds before hovering in front of them. Bretta shielded her eyes from the winds being swept up by its mammoth wings. The frostfangs snapped and growled at the raven, which seemed indifferent to their challenges.

“Torick you old bastard, looks like you’re in a tight spot,” shouted a deep voice. Despite the situation there was humour in his voice. “Always needing a dwarf to save your behind!”

Bretta could make out a dwarf with a long blond beard and mohican perched astride the raven. He was beaming at Torick.

“Osian… always determined to make a grand entrance!” replied Torick, but Bretta could detect a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Serakina sensed a rip in the Void and sent us to investigate,” boomed Osian. “Didn’t expect to find you and your pets here. Looks like we arrived just in time.”

It seemed strange to Bretta that the pair were having an almost normal conversation, while the skirmish and the storm raged around them.

“I need to see Serakina. This was no normal void cage,” said Torick.

For the first time, Osian’s good-natured appearance slipped and he looked serious for a moment.

“In that case, we’ll fly you back to Chill.”

“Fly?” asked Bretta.

Before anyone could respond, she felt a beat of wings and then two massive claws grasped her shoulders. She was ripped from her saddle, before soaring skyward. She spotted another raven doing the same to Torick and heard Osian laughing heartily at Torick’s loud protests.

“What about the frostfangs?” she hollered to Torick.

“They’ll take care of themselves,” replied her mentor, although she noted a touch of sadness in his voice.

As she watched the magnificent beasts issued a roar before charging into the storm, snapping at the remaining ravens as they went.

They climbed higher and higher until they were swooping over the mountains. The blizzard was moving quickly, and the clouds were beginning to disappear. But what they revealed chilled Bretta’s heart more fiercely than the iciest storm. The hillside was alive with nightstalkers of different shapes and sizes. From her vantage point, it looked like a slithering tide of twitching bodies, and they were all heading in the same direction: Chill.

Author: Rob Burman