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TUNDRA of HEROES
TOH is a work in progress—I am still editing it. There are some rough spots; there may be inconsistencies. Don't hesitate to shoot criticism my way!

Those Who Have Died


Jeuni woke screaming and clutching his left arm. The giant stood above him, hands on sword hilt, pinning the juggler to the forest floor with the blade.


"Damn it, beast-man!" he cried. "What the hell do you think—"


"We meet again, Master Huros."


Jeuni gritted his teeth as pain lanced through his body. This is nothing... nothing more than a juggling mishap... just a scratch... A six-inch-wide slab of metal was embedded in his arm. He couldn't move, he couldn't pull away. He was trapped, and bleeding a river.


Magic!


Just like my dream, I'll shr—


"What's wrong, Master Huros?" the giant asked.


It was too dark to tell, but Jeuni imagined a leer etched into his companion's face.


"Is your magic refusing you? Or are you refusing it?"


The giant leaned closer, putting more weight on his sword.


"I promise you I'm not blocking it," he said.


Jeuni's mind raced as he tried to devise a strategy. He couldn't reenact his dream. He couldn't do anything else, either. He didn't have his daggers—there they were, mere feet away on the ground, reflecting what little moonlight shone through the pines. He didn't have his bag of tricks, the objects hidden in his cloak—there they were, even closer than the daggers, but inaccessible.


And even if I were willing to lose an arm, Ynthon's keeping me from moving.


"You want me alive, don't you?"


"It would be nice to enjoy more tea together, yes," replied the giant, "but push come to shove, I'd have no qualms with you dying right here on the Second's sword."


Jeuni was furious at not only the hopeless situation, but also the fact that his foe wasn't even in sight. With his mouth the only part of him that wasn't bound by the enemy, he lashed out with his only remaining weapon:


"Coward."


"I don't want to hear that from you, Master Huros."


The giant removed one hand from his sword and punched Jeuni in the stomach.


"You are the coward, Master Huros."


Another punch.


"You were scared, Master Huros."


Another punch.


"You were frightened, Master Huros."


Another punch.


"You ran away, Master Huros."


Another punch.


"You deserted, Master Huros."


Another punch.


"You left me behind, Master Huros."


Huh—


Another punch.


"You left me to die, Master Huros."


What?!


Another punch. Jeuni coughed up blood.


"No, that's not right, is it," mused the giant, pausing with his fist in midair. "It wasn't you."


"I'll... seriously... die," gasped Jeuni.


"Not if you use your magic." The giant cackled madly, then punched the flat of his blade, causing the metal in Jeuni's arm to resonate.


The juggler screamed in agony.


"Sadist," he breathed.


"Are you not going to use it?" The giant reached down and prodded Jeuni's forehead. "I suppose cowardice is hereditary. Giving up at the crucial moment... in the end, you're just like your father."


Jeuni's eyes lit up and blue energy traced the contour of the giant's sword, exploding at the hilt and tearing off one gloved hand.


"What did you just say?"


"Was I wrong?" asked the giant, voice trembling as he gripped his fresh stump.


"Definitely wrong." You don't know my dad.


The pain from the sword wound had lessened, almost disappeared. All Jeuni could feel was the chirping of millions of birds ringing through him, through his ears, his bones, his eyes, he could smell them, he could taste the crackling magic.


The forest began moving, coming to life, tree after tree uprooting itself and then crashing down, a parade of conifer dominoes tumbling down one upon the next. The earth rose up to meet the sky, mud flying this way and that as it mixed with the juggler's blood and daggers.


"Magnificent!" shouted the giant.


"Shut up!" screamed Jeuni, still prone, as he released every bit of energy he had.


Glittering forms whisked through the air, shooting in every direction, wind blowing out from the juggler and bisecting trees—


"You know, Jeuni."


Jeuni's eyes widened as the giant said his first name for the first time.


"I was to be your godfather."


Thousands of tiny blue birds sped through the giant, obliterating his torso.


"What?" cried Jeuni, but the magic was already underway. He couldn't terminate it. The sky was visible above, just as in his dreams, and the radius of the new clearing was growing by the second. Soon, Ynthon would be shredded along with the forest, wherever he was hiding.


"I have failed in my duties to you," came an unfamiliar voice.


Ynthon?


"And now, I have failed in my duties to the god."


No, wait—


"If I die, that Westerner girl will make sure I can't revive. And I'm going to die. Even if I run, I can't escape your magic, Master Huros."


Are you talking to me? Or are you talking to my—


"Wizards, Jeuni, are not unlike clouds."


The crashing of falling timber continued for another few minutes as Jeuni's magic finished working itself, but Ynthon was silent. Jeuni stood weakly, clutching his left arm where the giant's blade had pierced it. The sword was gone, liquidated along with a hundred trees and two Holders of the Covenant. Kihara alone lay unscathed, curled up next to the pile of plate-mail.


The curtain...


Jeuni fell to his knees next to the black and red shreds of Ynthon's trenchcoat.


"What the hell was all that about, damn it..."


Clouds?


Jeuni shut his eyes tight. His arm burned with the strongest pain he had ever felt, and there was no mender nearby. There was no one nearby. Just corpses.


Jeuni opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the stars overhead. They were a welcome sight after two and a half days of trekking through the dense woodlands. Glittering against the dark blue sky like so many of his birds... an uncomfortable laugh passed through the juggler and then he noticed that he couldn't see anything.


* * *


Jeuni Huros stood five feet tall, beardless, and barefoot, in the middle of a large room that reeked of alcohol and unwashed bodies. The high rafters, colored dark yellow by age and rot, were strung with cobwebs. Three beds, one smashed and in pieces, occupied much of the floor space; the rest was taken up by empty bottles and the body of a man.


"Get up, dad," said Jeuni, anger in his voice. The man lying in the corner didn't stir. "I said, get up!"


No response. Jeuni took a step forward, shattering a bottle of brandy underfoot in the process. Though it cut his feet and he bled, he felt no pain. All he could focus on was the body in the corner. As he approached, he heard a whimpering noise from one of the beds.


It was the sound of a girl sobbing.


Jeuni looked up at the rafters, rolled his eyes, and took a deep breath.


"What's wrong now, Sone? What do you want me to do?"


"Go..." came a word between the sobs, and then another— "... away."


"You don't mean it," Jeuni laughed, turning his gaze back to the body of his father. The floor was stained red. "Go away? Leave you here? You don't mean that."


"I do, Jeuni."


"Why? I'm just trying to wake up dad." Jeuni bit his lip. "I'm not leaving until he gets up."


Tiny, brilliant birds circled around his right hand. In the blue light, it looked like his hand was soaked in black ink.


"Dad's dead, Jeuni."


There were no more tears, no more sobs. The girl's voice was still hurt, still broken, but more confident, more assertive. It was accusatory.


"You killed him."


"He can't be dead," argued Jeuni, getting down on his knees and reaching for his father's shoulders. Shards of glass cut into his legs as he put his weight forward. He stretched out his right hand, still swirling with energies and still coated in blood. "He's always like this."


"Don't touch him, Jeuni."


"He's my dad, too, damn it!" yelled Jeuni, turning back to look in the direction of the girl. "He did this to you and mom, to me, to us. And now he's ignoring me! Sleeping comfortably in his stupor! I can't forgive him for that."


"Jeuni, you did this to me."


* * *


The first thing Jeuni felt upon waking up was something tickling his nose. He instinctively tried to reach up and brush it away, beginning to laugh slightly. His hand wouldn't move to obey him.


Jeuni's eyes snapped open, and all his other senses returned. He was on his back, cold, and clammy—drenched in sweat. Lancing pains were shooting up and down his left arm. Kihara's face hovered two feet above his, silky blue locks cascading down and washing away the nightmare.


"You've come to, Master Huros!" she exclaimed, beaming.


You've come to as well, Kihara.


The juggler struggled to sit up by leaning on his right elbow. The pain in his left arm intensified.


"Don't move too quickly now," cooed Kihara. "You've been unconscious for days."


"What... happened to me?"


Jeuni shivered and looked around. Everything was white. The bandages around his arm, Kihara's skin, the ground, the sky—


"Oh," said Jeuni, "I'm still dreaming."


The giant stood a few feet away, large white sack hoisted over shoulder, cloak white, hair white.


"Thanks for replacing Sone, Kihara. And for erasing that room."


"Sone?" asked Kihara.


Jeuni yawned. The pain in his arm couldn't be real. He would parade that bartender's head around on the tavern stage if a wound were to hurt this much for this long. And even the winter nights in the Midlands weren't this cold.


"Master Huros, try not to fall asleep again."


"Good one, Kihara!" Jeuni cracked a smile as his eyes closed. "I'll probably never... wait!" He opened his eyes wide. "That's right, a dream from which I'll never wake up. Say, Kihara, is this the Shaded Orchard?"


"In a sense, yes," said the girl. "Welcome to the South."


"Ah well. If we're dead, we're dead." Jeuni sighed. "I don't suppose the pain in my arm will ever go away? It'd be a pain in the ass if you carried all your injuries into eternity when you kicked the bucket."


"Dead? No, no, Master Huros."


Kihara stood up and made a sweeping gesture with her arms.


"This is the South, Master Huros."


Jeuni blinked.


"According to an old archaeologist friend of mine," added the giant, "this place was called the 'snow-plains.' North of here, you'll find the woodlands through which Byhr draws its southern border. South of here, the snow thins as the ground hardens."


"The frozen wasteland?" asked Jeuni.


"You remember the song," smiled Kihara.


"This is snow?" Jeuni looked around, patted the soft ground by his side, kicked at the white stuff on his boots. "All of it?"


Kihara nodded.


"I'm not dreaming, and I'm not dead."


"That's right."


"And you're alive, too, Beast-man?"


The giant shrugged, snow falling from his shoulders as he did, and smiled.


"I told you not to worry about killing me, and you didn't. Everything went according to plan."


"How long was I out?"


"Maybe four, five days. It was hard to feed you while you were unconscious, but we managed."


So you two caught up while I was out. So much for me observing the reunion.


"And Ynthon?"


"I stopped him from reviving."


"Why?"


"Why?" Kihara looked puzzled. "Why... because King would have wanted me to."


"Why?" asked Jeuni again, turning to the giant.


The giant seemed to think about it for a moment, then closed his eyes.


"Tomora Ynthon would have wanted us to."


"What the hell does that mean?"


"Not everyone takes the covenant willingly."


"So you kill the people who don't truly believe? This doesn't make shit for sense. He's the one who was calling you guys fakes! He said—"


"Are you still worrying about all that?" asked the giant.


Kihara cleared her throat.


"More importantly," she said, "let's get you on your feet and see if you can't walk a little. Here, lean on me, your balance is probably—there we go."


"What? Are we heading somewhere?"


"These are only the outskirts," explained Kihara. "Like King said, the frozen wasteland is still further. That's our destination, the heart of the South."


Jeuni took three staggering steps, each time miscalculating how deep the snow was.


"It'll take me some time to get used to this." He rubbed his left arm with his right. "By the way, does either of you have my cloak? I'm pretty cold..."


"King couldn't lift it," laughed Kihara. "Even though he's absurdly strong, he couldn't lift it."


"Seriously, Master Huros, what do you keep in there?"


"It's still in the forest?"


"That's right."


"Well, time to retrieve it," said Jeuni, weaving warm energies into the air around him. Did the pain in my left arm just get stronger?


"We're a bit tight on time," said Kihara, looking away.


"Are you sure we shouldn't just tell him?" asked the giant.


"You're hiding something from me?" Jeuni asked, frowning. "Anything to do with my arm?"


"It's fine, Master Huros," laughed Kihara, smiling at him with her eyes closed. "I used the powers the god gave me to heal your wound."


"Kihara..." the giant trailed off.


"Not the first time," said Jeuni, shrugging with one shoulder. "I don't suppose either of you is going to tell me anything important. Full of secrets, Holders."


What the hell was all that horseshit you spouted, Ynthon?


Kihara and the giant walked alongside the juggler, the girl helping him to balance with one supporting arm.


"Did he... say anything else?" The giant paused. "After you killed me."


The juggler shook his head. I can't make sense of it. Godfather? That psycho?


"He said that wizards aren't unlike clouds. And then he died." Jeuni took a deep breath. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Clouds? I can't figure it out at all. I don't understand anything he said."


Kihara squeezed Jeuni's shoulder reassuringly.


"Wizards like clouds, you say?"


"When it rains, it pours?" offered the giant.


"They're the opposite of good weather?" asked Kihara.


"They are suspicious."


"When wizards come together, no one has fun?"


"Forget it," sighed Jeuni. "It's okay."


"Are you sure?"


"No," he laughed, "I'm not sure about anything."


The three walked in silence for a while, trudging through the white expanses of the southern plains. The cold bit at Jeuni, and he reinforced his warmth magic, each time to feel another pang of pain shoot through his arm. There's something seriously wrong with my arm.


And with everything.


What was that dream? And what was Ynthon talking about? Dad doesn't know any Holders. Godfather? Family... I should probably visit them when I get back to town. But they never celebrated Byhr's god!


Nothing makes sense... Tomora Ynthon wanted to die?


Hell no he didn't! The light in his eyes when he discussed the immortality of Holders—


"Kihara," he began, "why did Ynthon attack us?"


"I can only guess," she replied. "He was likely acting on orders from the god. Maybe to keep anyone from crossing the border. Maybe he had orders specific to you."


"So you don't even know what your own god tells the rest of you to do?" How dysfunctional is this system? "Don't tell me he gives you conflicting orders."


"Frequently," said the giant.


"You're shitting me."


"No. For better or worse, the god likes seeing us fight."


"And you worship this bastard?"


"I don't," muttered Kihara.


"Bitter?" laughed the giant.


"Not all of us wanted to become tools of the god, King."


"'Not everyone takes the covenant willingly,' huh. So you were talking about yourself?" Jeuni asked.


Kihara took a deep breath.


"I didn't know what was going on. My father had become a Holder of the Covenant, and I wanted to be like him, because I admired him." She paused. "When he tried to stop me from taking the covenant, the god struck him down in an instant. I became a Holder while staring in fright at my father's corpse. I didn't worship any deities. I was just a little girl."


Jeuni had no words with which to respond.


The three travelers trudged onward in an awkward silence.