Impure: Godslayers

George and Osy stood outside the stables, saddling their eight-legged horses.

“Rhadir and Thomgard, our best Slepnirs,” Aldur said as he joined them.

“Slep – what?” George asked.

“Slepnirs, the eight legged breed of horses, they can only be found on this island,” Aldur said as he slapped the flank of the great horse.

George nodded thoughtfully and resumed his securing of the saddle on the horse.

“I can send some of my fighting men with you,” Aldur said.

“Do not bother they will only get in the way,” Osy replied nonchalantly.

“And die,” George added monotonously.

They led their horses eastward, towards the mountain, beyond the marshes. As they passed by centre of the settlement, they were berated by Lee.

“Osy this is ridiculous. This mortal prison cannot hold me….this is a farce, you planned this!”

Lee was imprisoned in large wooden cage, which was crudely held together by thick ropes.

“You turned George against me so that you can both claim the glory for yourselves!”

George and Osy did not so much as look in his direction, which only served to frustrate Lee even further.

“…I am thankful that Norton did not live to see the day when you two would abandon me,”

The moment the words left his mouth, Lee knew he had gone too far. However, he could not help but find some satisfaction in Osy’s reaction.

“Norton is still alive, you should know better,” Osy snapped angrily.

He released his horse’s reins and walked towards Lee’s cage.

“Forgive me. My anger got the better of me…Let me come with you brother,” Lee entreated innocently.

“You know I am in no place to sanction that,” Osy hissed.

“These mortals are little more than ants to us Osy. Scavenger Ants… We can do anything we want, besides it is in their interest if we all go together,” Lee said as he held on to the thick wooden railings.

“I told you we need these mortals on our side,”

“Damn you! …..Damn you and your mortals!”

As he assailed Osy, Lee’s hands burst into blue flames, which rapidly spread to the wooden cage. Almost instantly, the cage was burnt to a crisp, leaving a large checked square of ashes around Lee. As Lee brushed some ashes off his head and shoulders, some nearby Freydalis horsemen sped forward with their weapons at the ready.

“I like you brother, but if you step out of those lines, I will leech enough of your life… to leave you feeble and dribbling for the next month,” Osy said as he clenched his fists.

Lee narrowed his eyes defiantly as he inched a foot closer to the bordering line of the square of ashes. Answering Lee’s challenge, Osy became a wraith and bared his teeth. The scowl on Osy’s spectral face seemed to force Lee to volte-face, as he took a step back. Osy’s body became solid once more and he walked towards his horse.

“You will need me. You will be sorry…!” Lee yelled.

George, who had already mounted his horse, rode close to Osy.

“He is right you know,” George whispered.

“I know. But what choice has he left us?” Osy sighed as he mounted his horse.

The atmosphere on the ship was far from that of the tranquil sea on which it sailed on. The torch lit narrow deck was cramped with passengers, traders and also crooks. One such crook was Pellion. He was not a particularly desirable man, but what he lacked in looks and stature; he accrued in libidinousness and spite. He had grown tired of wanting the hooded girl, for he had been staring at her slender waist for the entirety of the journey. Subsequently Pellion stood up and pushed through the pack of passenger till he had his chest pressed firmly on her back.

“Fleeing priestess? Have you ever felt a man before?” Pellion laughed.

At first no one said a word, but the sight of the man grabbing incessantly at the meek hooded girl was too much for a mother to handle.

“Let her be,”

As Pellion scowled at the woman who had just spoken, she clutched her children closer to her protectively.

“Halfway fare for passage to the eastern mainland. If you do not have coin, you will be thrown overboard,”

The call of the shrewd and avaricious captain was met with great protestation and complaint, however in the end everyone was forced to pay

“That is unfair; we have already paid you,”

The shrieks of the mother fell on deaf ears as she was forced aside with her children. This was not just because the sailors did not care, but also because they found much pleasure in Pellion’s teary remonstration, for he also was unable to pay the fare.

“This is not right,”

“Alright boys throw them off” the Captain barked.

“Wait,”

The captain turned to the hooded girl, who approached him. Greedily, he snatched the purse that she offered him.

“Let them go,” the Captain said as he weighed the bag in his palm.

As the sailors released them, the mother and the children ran to the hooded girl and thanked her.

“Will you not show gratitude? She saved our lives,” the mother scolded at Pellion.

Pellion, who had silently been regretting his lecherous advances to the hooded girl, looked away in humiliation.

“When we reach the eastern mainland I shall thank Avida, for keeping the vessel from the fiery chasm in the sea-”

Pellion was interrupted by the loud gasp of the hooded girl, who bent her head low, concealing her face even more.

“…Not some no name wench for her gold,” Pellion said before walking away.

Meanwhile one of the children caught sight of the gold colour of Avida’s sclera and he gasped loudly. Avida put a finger on her lips and winked at the child, who nodded continuously in disbelief.

Time passed and most of the people on the ship fell asleep. Avida however remained awake. She was stroking the head of one of the children who had fallen asleep on her lap, thinking of her current predicament. Suddenly Avida caught a glimpse of something strange at the corner of her eye. A sailor was walking away, but the shadow he casted on the torch lit deck remained still. Briefly looking around to see if anyone else had noticed, Avida realised she was alone in her discovery. Avida looked back at the shadow, as it smiled and beckoned to her. Whilst everyone slept, Avida quietly stood up and crept in the night, towards the shadow.

The bitter icy winds snapped at their skin as George and Osy traversed up the snowy mountain.

“Damned land, always snowing, the cloud chokes the sun out of the sky and the cold penetrates your bones!” Osy yelled.

“It is so damn cold. I do not think the plan will work. It is too cold to do anything, much less fight,” George bellowed back.

They had resorted to shouting at each other, in order to hold a conversation over the howling of the wintry winds. Finally they reached a towering structure. A twenty feet tall statute of Ragnaghast enveloped a large stone structure, which comprised of two walls and a canopy.

“How did those long beard barbarians manage to build such a monumental temple, and yet they live in shanties?” George said as he dismounted his horse.

“It is surprising what some people will do for their god… what a temple?” Osy said as he dismounted and ran his fingers along the stone walls.

“This is no temple, it is a tomb!”

Despite the wailing wind, the shrill scream sounded like it was coming from right above them. The eerie voice sent the spooked horses galloping back down the mountain. Out of the snowy winds above, a figure dropped on the temple roof.

“Now I can sense you demi-gods. How did my son fall at the hands of two children?”

George and Osy looked at each other knowingly, when they noticed the faint gold colour of the pale woman’s sclera.

“Your son was weak,” Osy yelled.

“Yes Precipia, a spoilt little giant,” George jeered.

“….you will pay. Freeze!”

As she screamed, Precipia raised her hands revealing five sharp icicles for fingernails. She threw a palm forward and a concentrated gust of icy wind, blasted towards George and Osy. Osy became a wraith and flew evasively, whereas the ground literally opened up and swallowed George. Precipia shrieked indignantly as her icy blast left a formation of thick ice on the ground. Suddenly Precipia received a blow to her face and she staggered back clutching her lips. Precipia winced when she saw the blood dripping from her mouth.

“You drew blood?” Precipia wheezed in disbelief.

She screamed as Osy retracted his fist and became a wraith once more. He flew evasively away from her icy blast. Subsequently George erupted from the ground and was propelled all the way to the top of the temple. The moment he landed on the roof, George smashed his stone-fleshed fist into Precipia’s back. Precipia held her back and screamed out in pain. She turned round and directed her icy blast to George, who had already dived to the ground. Yet George did not land on the ground for it cracked open and shut right behind him.

“Damn you,” Precipia yelled as her blast hit the ground leaving a thick formation of ice.

Although they were not her match, their evasive manoeuvre was getting the better of Precipia, and a goddess like Precipia did not take too kindly to being made the fool. Enraged, she raised both arms high and far apart in the air. The direction of the icy gales suddenly changed and blew inwards to each of her palms. George and Osy were grounded and blinded by the force of the vortex on Precipia’s palms. As suddenly as it had changed, the arctic winds reverted to blowing in the eastern direction. George and Osy wiped the snow from their eyes only to find that Precipia now had a gigantic snowball hovering over each of her palms. The boys ran for cover as Precipia threw the snowballs at them. The snowballs were so huge that they did not roll down the mountain but smashed down on the sloping terrain. Immediately, they cracked open and four frost giants ripped their way out like hatchlings from an egg. The faceless, featureless hulking men had cold blue skin and stood twelve feet tall. Their heads turned to George and Osy, who immediately turned and ran. As destructive as they were, the two frost giants could not touch George. They shovelled whole sections of the mountains with their fists, but they may as well have gone fishing with a spoon, for George burrowed around underground like a fish swimming in water. Meanwhile Osy was evading a frost giant in his ethereal state, when a sudden, crippling chill took hold of him.

“What is the matter boy, even as a wraith you cannot take the chill? Your trick cannot stop you feeling cold, and I am cold itself,”

Unwittingly Osy had allowed himself to be hit by Precipia’s icy blast. He landed roughly on the ground but remained immobile. His joints were frozen. Yet before Osy was frozen solid, Precipia waved the frost giant away.

“No he is mine,”

She flew down to the ground and landed next to Osy. A jagged ice sword crystallised out of the thin air and into her hands.

“God-slayers my foot,” Precipia said as she raised the sword above her head.

Before she could bring the sword down, Osy groaned loudly as he strained his frozen joints, until he was finally able to grab Precipia’s leg. Precipia immediately became lethargic as Osy began to sap the life out of her. Suddenly a frost giant picked Osy up, forcing him to let go of Precipia. The frost giant smashed Osy down on the ground. As Precipia caught her breath, she looked indignantly at Osy’s broken body. She teetered up to her feet, struggling with her nausea for a moment before she plunged her sword down on Osy. Instinctively Osy’s eyes open and clapped his hands on Precipia’s blade.

Meanwhile the four frost giants were in a circle digging a rapidly growing hole in the mountain. Suddenly George erupted from the hole, in a spiralling motion with his stone-fleshed arms stretched out wide. Each of the frost giants’ heads were shattered by George’s fists, leaving their bodies falling lifelessly to the ground. George landed on the ground, but his smile swiftly receded when he saw the heads of the frost giants crystallising into existence from the surrounding snow and ice.

“We cannot win,” George muttered.

He was crushed, tired and broken.

“George!” Osy yelled.

George turned to where Osy was struggling to keep Precipia’s sword from stabbing into his head.

“Ragnaghast….he is … from stone,” Osy muffled the words out as he struggled for his life.

“Ragnaghast is dead” George said in confusion.

His eyes lit up and he looked up at the colossal statue of Ragnaghast.

“….oh” George sighed in realisation.

He dove underground, narrowly avoiding the violent swipe of a frost giant. Moments later George erupted out of the ground next to the statue of Ragnaghast. In one brief motion he shook of the layer of stone around his arms, like a dog shakes of water from its fur. Then George placed his palm against the side of the statue and immediately a hair-line crack spread from the point of contact, to the rest of the statue.

Meanwhile Osy’s arms grew steadily weary. Yet before they gave way, he pushed the blade out of his face. Although the blade missed its mark, Precipia was still able to bury it deep in Osy’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. With his able hand, Osy grabbed the blade so that it would not sink deeper into his right shoulder. Precipia smiled as she placed her palm right in Osy’s face.

“Hurry George,”

The desperate words barely passed through his chilled lips before Osy was little more than an icicle.

George took his hand off the statue and immediately there was a rumble as small rocks began to crumble of its stone joints.

“Stone Ragnaghast, destroy them,” George yelled.

Immediately the statue raised its head and looked at the four frost giants advancing up the mountain. The whole mountain shook as Stone Ragnaghast stood up and strode towards the frost giants.

“Father, come out here father,”

“What is it Joyta,” Aldur said.

King Aldur stepped out of his house to see his daughter standing at his doorway but looking off into the distance. His brow furrowed with agitation as he took a swig of his horn and looked in the direction that Joyta was gawking at. Aldur spat out a mouthful of mead, when he saw the silhouette of the colossal figure against the horizon. It was walking down the mountain.

“Good gods,”

Stone Ragnaghast kicked the frost giants to smithereens and turned his attention to Precipia.

“How dare you…” Precipia screamed as she flew up in the air.

The fat tear droplets crystallised on her arctic cheeks as Precipia stroked the rocky face of her son’s statue. For a moment Stone Ragnaghast remained motionless looking at her. This caused the memories of her late son to come flooding back to Precipia as she trembled sorrowfully.

“My son my beautiful boy he is not your puppet!” Precipia warned as she looked down at George.

The sight of his creator being threatened angered Stone Ragnaghast, who snatched Precipia out of the air and tossed her to the ground. The drop would have killed a mere mortal but Precipia was only suffering from a broken heart. After her body stopped bouncing, she raised her hands up defensively as Stone Ragnaghast bent down with his fist raised.

“No my son,” Precipia yelled tearfully.

She used her icy blast and Stone Ragnaghast was frozen almost immediately as the ice rapidly spread from his outstretched hand to the rest of his body. Whether it was because the statue was frozen in mid-motion, or perhaps it was the awkward position that it was frozen in, there was a large cracking sound as the knee joints crumble off the lower legs.

“NO!”

Precipia screamed as the top half of the frozen colossal statue fell on her. There was a ground-shaking thud as the statue shattered, sending some heavy debris rolling down the mountain. George did not care for the catastrophic scene; instead he absorbed the texture of his rock necklace to his arms as he ran towards Osy. He smashed Osy free from his icy prison, but the boy lay still.

“No, no, no” George hissed.

He grabbed one of Osy’s hands and scrubbed the layer of frost off. Subsequently, George shook his stone skin off and grabbed Osy’s palm with his bare hands, however Osy was still unresponsive. George rubbed his hand frantically against Osy’s palm. He hoped to revive Osy with some of his life.

“Come on leech it, live,” George urged desperately.