Marcello sways and I reach out a hand, steadying him before I realize the foolishness of my actions. We are not in a temporal world, it does not matter if he falls.
He runs a hand down the side of his face. “Where are we? What happened?”
I quickly step away. “My best guess is that we are in someone’s memories.” I glance around, sniffing as the sharp bitter wind causes my nose to begin to run. The night is dark; in the distance I can make out some glaciers. There isn’t a star in the sky, it’s a cursed night. “It isn’t my memory,” I say at last.
I may not be able to make out much, but I know enough to determine that I’ve never been here before.
“Must be yours,” I reply, glancing over my shoulder at Marcello to make certain that he isn’t about to jump me. Not that him doing so in this dream state would do anything to earn his freedom, but I’m here to look for answers. Not wrestle this imperial boy.
He’s standing there, his cloak whipping around him, his hair blown into his forehead. “My…what?”
“Your past.” I brace my hand on the handle of my ax as I scan the night, squinting against the flakes that threaten to cause tears to form in my eyes. Finally, my eyes land on a faint light flickering in the distance. I can just barely make out the dull echo of drums.
Likely the camp of a war party. If I were anywhere else than in a vision, I’d be shoving Marcello down and trying to take cover in the piles of snow. There is nothing more deadly in the frozen mountains of Nelgata than a roving war party. Men on the hunt for blood will kill anything that bleeds in order to fulfill that lust. Be it man or beast.
Being a Negating gives no added protection. We share only the land with the other tribes, but we are not allies. We fight amongst ourselves as much as we war with the Imperials, and it is the duty of each tribe to make sure that it is strong enough to withhold an attack from our neighbors and the imperial invaders both.
However, since this is only a vision, I have nothing to fear. This world may feel real, but it is only a figment of the mind. I know from prior experience that my presence does not affect a vision, those I see don’t see me in return. It is as if I am a phantom, haunting Marcello’s memories.
“I think you’re quite mistaken. First of all,how?” He gives his head a sharp shake. “I would add a second of all, but honestly, I’m just hoping to have that first question answered.Where are we?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I reply as I glance at the sky. Overcast clouds hanging heavy with the weight of snow block out the stars. “We are in Nelgata, at least.”
I would have suspected that a glimpse into the Imperial’s past would show me a glimpse into the land of the Imperial’s. A land I’ve heard that has permanent structures made of stone and paths that have been carved into the earth for ease of traveling, that cities are huge and opulent and the sun shines almost every day.
Not that I wouldwantto see such a strange place, I’m far more content here in the harsh but beautiful world of Nelgata where at least I won’t ever have to worry about becoming soft like the Imperials.
Because here in Nelgata those who are weak are those the wolves feed on. I can at live a useful life and die a hero’s death…
That is unless I can’t figure out how to rid myself of this Valknut.
“There’s one way to find out,” I say half to myself and half in reply to Marcello. Then I do something that I’ve never been fool enough to do before.
I head toward a war party.
Chapter Ten
The Blood Eagle
Movinginvisionsisnot the same as walking to and fro in real life. I do not use my legs to travel, instead I must rely on my mind. I simply will myself forward and either my consciousness or perhaps the entire dreamscape moves to that desire, until I find myself in the middle of camp.
The wind blows fiercely, whipping snow into the dancing figures, illuminated by the flickering firelight in the center of the clearing. They don’t seem to mind the bitter chill though, Nelgatans never do. The Werma claims that our ancestors were frost giants, that we are born with a certain amount of ice in our veins and stone upon our hearts.
We do not feel the cold quite so keenly and we feel no mercy. It is perhaps one thing that all Nelgatans have in common no matter our clans or territorial differences.
Tents line the outer boundaries of the camp, made of stitched together animal skins and offering a scant amount of shelter against the elements and the beasts of the night.
I’ve never joined a war party. I was never of age and instead left to guard the homestead with the children, expecting mothers, and the handful of warriors left to protect our home. I’ve always had the sturdiness of the wooden walls of my home to guard me from the blackness of the night.
Beyond this campfire is a darkness so pitch it is almost as if I am in that dragon’s cave again. The shadows are pervasive, suffocating, and exist as an entity all their own. Then I had my shield sisters at my side and although I didn’t know it, an egg with twin hatchlings that would soon become my closest companions.
Here I have only Marcello and the dancing memories of this war party. So, in other words, I have nothing and no one to watch my back and to guard me from the dark.
The sound of beating drums and the chanting are almost enough to drown out the screams.Almost.
I look over to see a woman. She is bedraggled with dark matted locks, her robes which were perhaps once purple and red are dirty and torn, but despite all that and the terror etched across her face, I can tell that she is quite beautiful. For an Imperial anyway.
The darkness of her skin and her clothing style give her away as one of my enemies. I’m not sure how the Negaltan war party got a hold of her, but she is the only captive that I see.
