Shardfall, The Shardheld Saga, #1

CHAPTER 1 - SKYSHARD (Part 2)

'Svartalves are a bard's tale,' said Hagen. 'Shut up and wait for orders.' He looked at Kjelle.

The Holderling wiped the sweat from his face. 'Go see what it is,' said he, poking his slave.

Muus shrugged. The blue glow didn't scare him and he walked into the circle. The light enveloped him as if in welcome. In the middle lay a shard the color of a cloudless winter sky, translucent like a lump of ice and as big as the palm of his hand. This was where the glow came from. Without thinking, Muus picked up the shard. A noiseless flash covered him; a sharp pain came and went. As he stood there in a daze, staring at the glowing stone, Kjelle came up to him.

'What have you got there?' he snapped. 'Give it to me.' The Holderling held out a compelling hand.

Muus started to give him the stone, when a voice in his head said, 'No.'

'No?' said Kjelle in disbelieve.

With a shock, Muus realized that he had spoken aloud.

His master exploded in wrath. 'You mangy rat! Give it to me, or I'll leave your carcass here for the wolves.'

The skyshard strengthened Muus' resolve and he shook his head. 'It's mine,' said he in a soft voice. 'I found it.'

'You're a slave,' yelled Kjelle. 'Nothing is yours.' He grabbed Muus' hand and squeezed.

Muus tried to break free, but the Holderling was stronger. When Kjelle bent his middle finger back, he had to give in. He opened his hand and eagerly Kjelle grabbed the blue stone. The moment his fingers touched the shiny surface, a thunderclap echoed against the top of the Silfjall and shook the plateau. A massive tremor threw Kjelle and Muus hard against the mountainside. From somewhere came a cry of deadly fear, which was drowned out by a growling like the awakening of a large, hungry snow bear. Dazed, Muus saw an immense load of snow pass within an arm's length of where he lay. Without thinking, he pressed himself against the mountain, his ears filled with the wild roar of the avalanche. It happened in three or four heartbeats, before a final boulder bounced past and a swirling cloud of fine powder rose above the pasture. The roar died into deep silence.

It took a while before Muus found the courage to crawl out from under the narrow overhang that had saved his life. He stared in horror at the immense swath of bare rock the avalanche had left. No more snow, no more grass, the summer meadow had been ruined.

A sudden cramp penetrated through the shock and he looked at his hand. His fingers were stiff from holding on to the blue shard. All the light had gone; the stone lay cold and lifeless in his palm. He put it in the pouch around his neck. While he tried to stand, something clutched his ankles. Gazing down, he saw his old snowshoes, broken and useless. He cursed as he tore them from his feet, and walked to the edge of the precipice. Below him, the Hold, if there was anything left of it, lay hidden, unreachable behind a barrier of snow. Muus suppressed a scream and threw the snowshoes over the edge.

An immense calm came over him. This was it. There was no going back. The three Norns had cut his life thread; he'd die on this plateau. He turned around and saw Kjelle, curled up in the shadow of the overhang. A little further away lay Hagen, as a shapeless heap at the foot of the mountainside. Jal with his fine boots and Orn the Red Braggart had disappeared. Over the edge, probably.

He walked back to his master. Kjelle was unconscious; his face was deathly pale and a trickle of blood ran down from a gash in his forehead. Muus bent over him. He thought of all the times this coward had humiliated him and he felt his anger rise. His hand went for his knife, but with the blade half-drawn, he hesitated. No. I can't just murder the bastard. He resheated his knife and hurried over to Hagen. To his surprise, the karl still lived. There was blood in his beard and his legs lay folded in an odd angle under his body, but his eyes were alert.