001 - Nevayrah - The black Fortres
[...]
“What do you think will happen when she goes in there?”
“I don’t know. But I pray to the ancestors that she will succeed. That she will come out as the victor. We need her. The entire North needs her.”
Heyrie nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling that was gradually consuming her from her stomach to her whole body. It felt as if someone had clasped an icy hand around her heart, holding it relentlessly. Mercilessly colder than the winter’s bite. The force of nature that, for weeks at a time, plunged entire regions of the North into fear and terror with its roaring claws of snowdrifts, its light-swallowing formless body, and its bone-chilling howl. Yet, the peoples of the lands beyond the Crystal Scar and Camuladas had defied this challenge since time immemorial. Heyrie was convinced that it wouldn’t be a natural force that could bring these proud and ancient peoples to their knees as she stood at the edge of the camp, her gaze ascending the rocky chain towards a huge mountain with a fortress embedded within. But what they were here for, the reason she worried about a person and the future of her people, was not a natural force. Even though it struck with the brutality and devastation of one. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to shake off the cold while her gaze rested on a single tent. It stood apart from the path and far away from the camp. Much farther than it would have been under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances. This was not a march to war or a journey through icy lands to find a hospitable place not gripped by the winter’s icy clutches.
“She will succeed, I am sure of it. She has already achieved so much. The clans of the East and West are already on our side. If she conquers this challenge...”
“It’s madness, Odo. It’s sheer madness.” Heyrie’s heart raced.
“We shouldn’t ask her to bear these burdens alone. She shouldn’t have to carry the weight of the entire North on her shoulders!” Her voice broke as her desperate gaze fixed on Odo. A seasoned giant with a red-brown beard and ice-blue eyes. His shoulders were as massive as a bear’s, and he stood no less imposing than the revered and equally feared kings of the Northlands. A mix of leather and plate armor, along with a tattered red cloak, concealed his warrior’s body, making him appear sluggish. A potentially deadly misconception.
“I know, Princess. I know. No one should have to bear these burdens alone, and that’s why we’re here. We may not enter the black fortress with her, but we will wait for her out here.” One of his large hands gently and tenderly rested on Heyrie’s back, and the caring way he traced light circles on her back nearly broke the young warrior. Her gaze wandered up again to the lonely tent, its red colors and decorative totems clearly setting it apart from the others. Normally, it would have stood in the middle of the tent camp, and it would have seen itself as what it was: the tent of Toa’Akai, the War Mother and Clan Leader. No, the Clan Unifier. The heroine of the North and the guiding star to which so many had already joined since they began their journey what felt like an eternity ago. Role model, leader, sister, heroine. Wife. Heyrie swallowed hard. In the distance, the black fortress loomed into the endless sky. A cruel sight of petrified hardness and invincibility. A war masterpiece carved into the mountain, shaped by massive stone projections, fortress walls, and defense systems.
Eryska Nyr, as the scholars called it, still existed in a state that any warlord would desire. The walls were studded with ballistae, their spear-like giant arrowheads poised to strike over the battlements, ready to be used here and now. Everywhere one could see the calculated and sometimes cunning decisions of the builders, who hadn’t even tried to hide them. Oil pans and cauldrons, massive portcullises, huge cages in which one could only imagine what had once sat, waiting for its release to hunt. Eager and hungry. Carried by restless paws and agile bodies, up to winged monstrosities that seemed intoxicated as they perched on the walls, ready to mercilessly swoop down on the attackers. Devastating attacks from all sides. Somewhere on the western slope, there should also be a crystal-burnt ravine, a remnant of a mighty draconic creature. Some said that the shadow of Eryska Nyr still dwelled in the lower vaults, swallowed by darkness, where no ray of sunlight ever reached, with eyes glowing like coals in the fire. But whether it was still down there or not, the fortress was an almost impregnable monster. And a memorial. Despite all the things Heyria could see from her position and knew about, no one dared to set foot in this stone stronghold. The fear of what lay within was too great.
“Do you think the two armies are still fighting inside?”
“Helia and Abros?” Odo also directed his gaze towards Eryska. His eyes wandered over the colossus of black stone, and Heyrie could feel his body stiffening next to her.
“It wouldn’t be impossible. And just the thought of what that would mean is unspeakable...”
“Cruel.”
“Yes. Cruel.”
“They were at the feast to celebrate the birth of the king’s son, weren’t they?” Odo nodded, his hand retracting from her back to rest on the hilt of his shortsword, while he used his free hand to trace the symbol of Let in the air.
“That’s right. May Let protect their souls and grant them peace. If that is still possible.”
As warlike as the peoples of the North were, family stood above all. In every clan, births were celebrated as something sacred, and the birth of Tarum, in particular, was to be celebrated and sung about extensively. His mother had battled illness and death personally while giving birth to Tarum. The healers had barely managed to get her through that phase, while the entire army of Helia feared for their queen. The king, as the story goes, had paced in front of his queen’s room for days, sleepless and without meals satisfying his restless mind. An unexpectedly loving and caring side, which one could hardly associate with what the army of Helia had done under his leadership. And what Eryska Nyr embodied as a materialized symbol. But the king had been greedy and wanted to increase his army to ride to Camulada next spring. An attack on the free lands. Unthinkable, megalomaniacal, and utterly devoid of reason, as Heyria thought. But the king had not listened to his most loyal advisors—something that happened all too often in cases like these—and had fallen for a trick. Warriors, no, mercenaries, had infiltrated the ranks for months. They had infiltrated the army with everything one could imagine. And on Helia’s holiest day, when all hearts and minds were focused on one theme and relief and light filled the halls of the fortress, they struck. An attack from within. A devastating blow. What exactly had transpired within the fortress walls of Eryska Nyr hadnot been revealed, but the survivors, before succumbing completely to madness, could recount what they had seen down there. Warriors from both armies trapped in a cycle of spectral death and rebirth, condemned to fight and kill each other over and over again. An endless, brutal nightmare. One could only hope and wish that these souls were not aware of it. That they didn’t have to relive and feel all of it repeatedly. And it was precisely to that place, to that scene of terror, that Nevayrah would go. In a few days, she would leave her tent and embark on a journey with an outcome as unpredictable as Heyria’s protest had been loud when her voice, filled with incomprehension and horror, thundered through the halls of her ancestral palace. But now they were here. With somber faces, furrowed brows, and heavy hearts, they waited for it to begin. Only to wait even longer and more anxiously afterward, until Nevayrah, hopefully alive and in control of her senses, would emerge from under the archway of the fortress. Heyria was already sick with worry again, a fact not lost on Odo.
“Come, Princess. Let’s return to the others. Rumael will inform us when she sets out, and it’s not advantageous for us to stand around here twiddling our thumbs.” Heyria looked at him briefly, her gaze unspeakably exhausted, but she knew he was right. Their armies had gathered here as well, following their common leader. Toa’Akai, War Mother, that’s what they called her. The Princess of Ryratan nodded and turned to leave, casting one last glance at the tent where Nevayrah, together with Rumael and Zyrphael, prepared for the ascent. What was she doing right now? What thoughts were going through her mind? Probably everything at once and more worries than one person could bear alone. Heyria took a deep breath and sighed. Odo was right; it didn’t help anyone if she neglected her duties.
“You’re right, old friend. She would probably unleash the Winter’s Bite on me personally if I neglected our warriors in her absence.” Odo chuckled, the first time in days, and Heyria’s heart became slightly lighter.
“It would be an absolute catastrophe, Your Highness. Just imagine in what state the rabble would be if we weren’t here. From lazy warriors to tents piled high with dirty socks—anything would have to be expected.” Both turned around and walked slowly down the snowy path, their view wandering over the stretched out area where the armies had established their camp.
“No, that would absolutely not be acceptable, how true.”
