Blood of the Red

Chapter 14 - Sindri

Chapter 14 – Sindri

"Well I suppose dying in a tomb saves on the burial arrangements." Corlothis sat cross-legged at the centre of the chamber. "You'll forgive me for not staying to watch." Already his black flesh was boiling away into nothingness.

Sindri looked back to the steps, his mouth grim and set. I'll be damned if I beg. Prissy old maid's running scared - probably can't help anyhow.

The mists coiling before the doorway glowed faintly from within. Sindri held his axe before him. The axe borne by seven generations of the Lairds of Greyloft. He saw his father's face, with Greyheart and the others at his shoulder.

"Come! Come Cold Ones. We northmen know the cold!"

Something moved within the mist. A man-shape. Growing more definite, moving closer. It stepped clear, trailing streamers of freezing fog, shaped like a man yet not a man - not even close. Thin, thinner than a skeleton, more narrow in the chest. Coloured in white and blue, adorned with ice, jagged with it, tinkling as it moved. The winterkin's face was a sharp wedge. Above cold blue pits, brows of frost bristled. It smiled, a cruel and brittle smile that sent cracks across its cheeks.

"The priests of the Black require your death man-born. Come I have to put ice in your veins."

Silvery trails of ice spread from the winterkin, reaching out across the flagstones, like roots from a tree. The winterkin peered about the tomb. Where Corlothis had sat, only bones remained, fading from black to white as the darkness steamed away.

"Old One!" the winterkin called.

Only silence answered.

"Good it is that you have run from me, Corlothis. Bade me to brook no interference, did your sons. Thin has worn their patience with you, Old One. They want the First Key, now that it is loose. Stand in their way and an ending will they make of you."

The winterkin capered towards Sindri. Fingers like icicles reached for his throat and the fog became rope-like about his arms. Sindri struggled to swing his axe but the mist's clutch held him almost motionless. Freezing fingers stroked his neck...

"The First Key eh?" Corlothis's voice issued from the walls.

The winterkin flew backward up the stairs to the outside, as if swatted by the fist of an invisible giant. The fog fled, taking all sign of him with it, sucked away through the door, like smoke drawn into a pipe-bowl.

A moment later white hands clawed around the lintel of the door. A fierce cold bit into the room and thick trails of ice ran across the walls, reaching for Sindri.

"Out!" Corlothis boomed.

The unseen forces built, the freezing air crackled with them. With a howl the winterkin was gone, leaving only gouges in the stone where he had clung.

Corlothis rebuilt himself quickly. "They must have been desperate to send winterkin! Elementals can never keep their mouths shut. Especially those of the Air."

A film of ice came away in Sindri's hand when he rubbed at his neck. He watched it melt in his fingers.

"Thank you," he said.

Corlothis waved it off. "That old bird of yours may be right after all. Our frosty friend may just have named the price and the manner of your salvation."

Sindri pursed his lips. Something troubled him. "He said 'your sons'."

"What?" The undying one turned. "Oh, yes. My boys. All three of 'em. The Priests of the Black! Can you believe they founded a religion on... Well, in any case, let's just say we don't see eye to eye any more."

Sindri felt out of his depth, many fathoms out of it. "The First Key? That will help us fight them?"

"Yes. Give me your axe."

He handed it over without thinking. "What is the First Key?"

"The key? Don't you know anything? How do you think the High Church keeps all the blood lords in check? It's not with the love of Adam, I'll tell you that much!"

Darkness pulsed from Corlothis's fingers, liquid and flowing, running up the axe. Fluid night sank into the yew wood and the iron runes shone silver against it. "Ah! I thought so! I can work with this. Well constructed, nearly as old as me."

"My axe!"

"Don't worry, boy. I'm just giving it a keener edge, so's to speak.You'll have need of it if you're to bring me the key." Corlothis took the bladeof the axe flat between his ebony palms and squeezed.

It took a distinct effort of will for Sindri to set his hands by his sides. Never taking his eyes from the axe he asked, "What good is a key? King Jeggath has an army that he sends where the Black Priests will."

Corlothis looked up from his work. "Sindri, the First Key opens many doors. It's the master-key, Arthur's own. It will open the vaults of the Priesthoods - where their power lies. And it will unlock something far greater still. The Priests of all Bloods fear it, and well they should."