Thick fog drifted amongst old and wary pines, a damp chill stirring the fallen needles muffling the footsteps of a strange duo. She had yellow hair that swayed to her hips, braided tightly with leaves and the odd bit of moss throughout. Her simple beauty highlighted the rough edges of her companion. His weathered face held weary grey eyes, his stature protective. They both had deep green cloaks that flowed from their shoulders, cascading over plain brown linens warped by the shape of their armor below.
Photo by Geraldine Soh on Pexel
She paused for a moment as if to smell the air, long ornamented fingers resting on the hilt of an elaborately detailed blade. Along the scabbard were 7 gems, a gleaming rainbow. Her posture suddenly stiffened "Iver run! Now." with a gesture of her hand she rendered the blade plain, her rings no longer visible. "Please do not try to argue, as much as you hate to hear it, you know that you will only slow me down." there was an apology in her expression, but it was clear she was right.
"Go fast my friend. I will see you again" his face shrouded in remorse, its features began to take on an odd appearance. One of his arms shrunk down, then a leg. Falling off center his body twisted and shrunk, waves of feathers sprouting along the length of his unstable form. Shaking out his plumage, a crow took off from where Iver stood a moment ago. He cawed out to his friend in support as he flew off, but Spaz was long gone.
As Spaz reached a sloped riverbank, she quickened her pace. Skating down its muddy side, her boots landed her in 4 inches of murky water at it's edge. With a sigh she closed her eyes, pushing an open palmed hand out with a forceful motion. Scanning her surroundings, she searched for her way out. Her eyelids popped open and focused on a spot about 40 feet away, across the river... great. A piercing shriek rang out all around her, ethereal and very very angry. They were here.
Launching forward towards her beacon through the raging river, icy rancid water splashed up into her face, turning her yellow hair a sickly green color. Breathlessly she dropped to a crawl as she found deliverance on the other bank. Shuffling forward as fast as her heaving lungs would allow, finally her hands touched the edge of the sewer cap. Behind her the river had begun to stiffen with ice crystals where it had just flowed. Sparing a moment to look back, she immediately regretted it.
The fallen have dead eyes, features slightly slack as if there is not much life or motive behind them. They often amble along slowly in a zombielike manner, but they are far from emptyheaded. Their putrid stench assaulted Spaz as she quickly turned to yank the cap off of the sewer, shooting ice crystals into the air. In one fluid motion she had dropped into the opening, twisting to pull the cap shut as her heeled boots gripped the rungs set into the already frosting channel. One long finger traced the edge of the cap, hissing as it fused the metal with a deep red glow.
Above her the Renalda shrieked out in frustration, each voice vibrating in shrill harmony that came to a painful peak. Their fury manifested, crushing the last playful gurgles of water in sheets of ice. Trees whose greenery had just reflected in these waters pulled their extremities in close, leaves falling as branches withered. As the last of the fallen walked towards the fused cap, the blight spread rapidly. Where luscious fir trees had blanketed the land only moments ago, now stood a wasteland of their petrified frames.
Photo by Kris Møklebust on Pexel
All eyes rested on one man, he stood a good foot taller than the rest of the Renalda, milk white skin in stark contrast to the black of his eyes. Leisurely he ambled over to the cap, head not quite centered on his neck properly, fingers curled at the end of arms that did not seem to be made for his body. He leaned down and licked the sewer cap with a purple worm like tongue, eyelids fluttering as the scant flesh of his face distorted. He coughed, producing a glob of yellow-green swollen looking insects that scattered away from him immediately, burrowing into the waste.
A putrefactive miasma began to seep from him, curling as it met the feet of the Renalda. A small woman breathed in deeply, pulling up rank wisps that funneled into her nostrils. Momentarily her eyes shone white, illuminating her burgundy hair as it blew about her shoulders. “I… cannot… reach her there, Sigurd” her voice wavered, a look of desperation furrowing her brow. This seemed to set the others on edge, one heavyset man in particular wilted with anguish, gripping his shaggy gray hair as he sank to his knees. A high-pitched whimper escaped from the lips of a lanky youth who couldn’t have been more than 15 winters old, her sullen face marked with the blight that the Renalda had drank from the earth.
Sigurd gripped the shoulders of the red haired woman, shaking her small frame slightly “Then we continue our search, Fen” he asserted. A briefly melancholy look passed over his stoic visage. Fen threw back her shoulders and shrieked into the sky, and as each voice joined in so did the wind with a bitterly cold howl. As the rime spread Sigurd and Fen departed, their shapes dissipating into a mist that swirled away. The Fallen turned on their heels, scattering into the frigid wasteland.
Below, Spaz set her feet on polished stone as she dropped from the ancient entrance. She squinted around, eyes still adjusting to the dim green glow of a subterranean mystery. This particular portal may have been a first for her, but it hardly mattered. Each time a door was accessed what you found beyond was seemingly completely random. All that mattered was that she had escaped, and was safe...for now. As she steeled herself to keep moving, she took a moment to hope that Iver was safe as well.
Photo by Iuliyan Metodiev on Pexel
I'd like to take a moment to appreciate 
Thank you for reading this short story, which features some characters from my developing Novel! If you would like to read more about Iver, the first installment of a three part series he appears in can be found here
