11-01-2015, 03:24 PM
The ground trembled. Ice threw up in chunks, wicked sharp as glass. Amidst the howling wind, Sören laughed and ran. Blocks of ice bounced off his shield. The effort took its toll, rattling around in his skull, the volcano heat in his chest threatening to rip him apart. Blood oozed from his palm around the crescents of his nails. His knuckles were white. But he was grinning, a mad cadaver behind the whip of his loosened scarf.
Terror blanched Declan's face. He grabbed the man roughly to propel him on, but shadowed him close in order to share the benefit of the runes. He could feel the defence weakening, but could not spare the time to renew it. Snow showered them, the cold like a thousand knife points, each footstep sinking, dragging them back downhill. The exhilaration of fear made safety seem a thousand miles away.
Then, Delcan stumbled and cried out. Sören's hand opened to brace the fall, and the power blinked out. The white blizzard suddenly choked him, lungs frozen. He hauled at Declan with both hands, one leaving a bloody smear. Dark eyes could not resist the glance back, at the creature rearing from the lake. He drank the view greedily, his grip on Declan relaxing. "Jag vet vi ska träffas igen*,"
he vowed it, shoving the man once more forward, then letting him go. He fisted his bloodied hand, drew a symbol in the air with the other.
A chunk of ice rebounded from the invisible shield. Sören's grin sharpened, and though his instinct urged him back towards the lake and its tantalizing secrets, he did not answer the call. The power of the runes raged in him; he felt like a god. Unconquerable.
Heaving air into his ragged lungs, he turned and ran, teeth grit together with the promise to return. They crested the hill, Sören only a few seconds behind. The weather had stilled, its silence an ache. He collapsed on hands and knees in the snow, then slowly sat up, breathing hard. Both hands lay flat on his thighs. He took a moment to readjust, but grinned when he did. Blood smudged his cheek, where he must have swiped at the ice frozen there. "So, Noah did find something."
---
* I know we'll meet again.
Terror blanched Declan's face. He grabbed the man roughly to propel him on, but shadowed him close in order to share the benefit of the runes. He could feel the defence weakening, but could not spare the time to renew it. Snow showered them, the cold like a thousand knife points, each footstep sinking, dragging them back downhill. The exhilaration of fear made safety seem a thousand miles away.
Then, Delcan stumbled and cried out. Sören's hand opened to brace the fall, and the power blinked out. The white blizzard suddenly choked him, lungs frozen. He hauled at Declan with both hands, one leaving a bloody smear. Dark eyes could not resist the glance back, at the creature rearing from the lake. He drank the view greedily, his grip on Declan relaxing. "Jag vet vi ska träffas igen*,"
he vowed it, shoving the man once more forward, then letting him go. He fisted his bloodied hand, drew a symbol in the air with the other.
A chunk of ice rebounded from the invisible shield. Sören's grin sharpened, and though his instinct urged him back towards the lake and its tantalizing secrets, he did not answer the call. The power of the runes raged in him; he felt like a god. Unconquerable.
Heaving air into his ragged lungs, he turned and ran, teeth grit together with the promise to return. They crested the hill, Sören only a few seconds behind. The weather had stilled, its silence an ache. He collapsed on hands and knees in the snow, then slowly sat up, breathing hard. Both hands lay flat on his thighs. He took a moment to readjust, but grinned when he did. Blood smudged his cheek, where he must have swiped at the ice frozen there. "So, Noah did find something."
---
* I know we'll meet again.
![[Image: odinraven.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/odinraven.png)