A star had fallen.
Esbern had seen it, watched its fire split the dusk sky over Valdun in twain and disappear from sight behind the forests and cliffs that marked the edge of the Glimmerfrost. He sounded the call that night, the need for warriors to accompany him on an expedition into the snowy fields and hated Wolfwood that bordered the northernmost reaches of Stenise, then down into the barren ice fields beyond to find this star. Now, just a short ways beyond the palisade wall that bordered Valdun, he and his chosen three - his brother Arne, the aging tracker Sieglinde, and the young upstart Luthmor - had already been halted by the unexpected arrival of a fourth.
Her name was Gaiur, a young woman of seventeen summers who became something of a black sheep in Valdun over the last year. Three years ago she wedded her husband, Varro, an old friend from Esbern's adventuring days. It was of little surprise. Gaiur was a beautiful and shapely young woman with wide hips, an ample bosom, and long blue-black hair that helped her stand out against the blondes and browns and reds of the village. This element of the exotic attracted Varro who, as an olive skinned and green eyed southerner, was seen as quite exotic himself. Like most in Valdun, Gaiur showed the kind of strength, grit, and determination borne from hard living. Together they bore one child, her son Erik, but when her husband and child were devoured by a desperate and starving greatwolf that wandered into Valdun last winter, her demeanor changed. She became reclusive and distant, so stricken by her grief that she no longer bothered to aid the people of her community. Some even believed she’d been cursed, so when she, of all people, emerged with her husband’s axe in hand to catch Esbern’s party as they made for the edge of the village, the warrior was taken aback.
“We should leave her, brother,” Arne said. Like Esbern he was tall and broad shouldered, his body well muscled and latticed with scars. Where they differed was the face. Despite only being two years his younger, Arne maintained a youthful beauty in his visage. Bright red hair framed features which were lupine like their mother's. He was clean shaven with prominent cheekbones and a sharp, angular jaw; entirely different from Esbern's broad nose and the square jaw he kept hidden beneath his thick beard. Both men eyed the dour girl with sharp blue eyes until Arne shook his head disapprovingly and faced his brother. “Her line is cursed. She'll bring ill fortune to us if she follows.”
Just behind Arne, aging Sieglinde grunted. “I agree with Arne," she said. Her voice was coarse and gravelly, perfectly matching her timeworn visage. Esbern had concerns about bringing Sieglinde with them. He didn't doubt her skill with the bow and no other Valdunite could match her knowledge of the Wolfwood, but age had begun to take its toll on her body. Esbern was by no means a young man himself; he'd already seen thirty two summers and in that time proved himself worthy to be Valdun's protector. But Sieglinde had seen fifteen more than that, and years of hunting and tracking left her with long standing injuries that continued to tax her endurance even to this day.
The older woman looked past the brothers at young Gaiur. There was sympathy in her eyes, but it did nothing to sway her reasoning. "Cursed or not, she spent the last year locked away in her hovel. She'll slow us down.”
“I won’t,” Gaiur said, though her words were little more than a mutter.
Esbern looked her over. Apart from his sizable axe she also wore her husband’s chain hauberk beneath a thick wool tunic and drab goat-fur cloak. But even beneath these heavy winter garments Esbern could tell the armor didn’t properly fit her. It hung too loose in places where it shouldn’t and she frequently tugged at it to keep it adjusted.
"You carry Varro's axe, drape his armor on yourself, but you can't even wear them?" He shook his head. “Go home, Gaiur. Ill fitted armor and an axe in hand don't make you a warrior.”
Esbern started to lead the party away again, but Gaiur halted in front of him. Russet red eyes looked pleadingly into his own and she clutched the haft of the axe tight in both hands. “Please! The star is a sign from the gods, I know it! I ask only for…” She paused for a moment, her head hanging, then dropped to her knees in the snow. “I want to prove my value again.”
Esbern opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Luthmor’s crowing. “Let the girl try to prove her worth. If she does, we get another able body to find the star! If not, the forest or the wolves or the snow will take care of her for us.”
Esbern narrowed his gaze at the smirking boy. He was the youngest of them, other than Gaiur, an arrogant youth named after the mighty God of the Seas and Storms. Luthmor was the most insistent on being part of the expedition, so eager was he to prove himself. Were it not for the skill in his sword arm, Esbern would've left him behind. Now his brazen callousness had him considering that option again. Regardless of how anyone felt about Gaiur she was still one of them, and as Valdun’s sworn protector that made protecting her his charge, too.
“It’s a benefit to us either way," Luthmor said, shrugging.
The bearded warrior grumbled. He didn’t like it, but ultimately he couldn’t deny the sense of Luthmor’s thinking. What’s more, this was the first sign of normalcy Gaiur had shown anyone since she lost her family. If the fallen star truly was a sign from the gods as they all suspected, then who was he to deny what might well be their will? He relented, and the five’s journey to the southernmost edge of the Glimmerfrost began in earnest.
The trek proved a difficult undertaking. By midday on the first day the weather turned on them, their clear skies replaced with dense clouds of dark gray, heavy snows, and strong winds. By evening Esbern feared they may have found themselves in a blizzard. Hugging their cloaks tight against their bodies he led them to the eastern wall of the river valley. There were caves there which were once thought to be troll burrows. If they ever were, their vicious masters had long since abandoned them. They hunkered down in one near the base of the cliffs and waited out the storm. By late morning the following day, the wind and snow had died down enough that they could continue their journey.
They entered the Wolfwood shortly before midday. Sieglinde took the lead from there, guiding them through the dense packed woods and over snow covered game trails. At one point, just past midday, they halted when they heard the deep howl of a greatwolf echoing between the trees. Huddled back to back, they tried to spy the beast, but nothing came and they continued on. The intent was to cross as much of the Wolfwood as possible that day. Stops were a dangerous prospect with the vicious megafauna prowling about, but a short while later they came upon a gruesome sight that halted them in their tracks.
It was the corpse of a polar bear, its flesh ravaged with gashes and tears and its fur painted red with its own blood. Esbern grimaced at the sight. Jagged cuts were ripped into its hindquarters, deep furrows in its flesh that split the raw red muscle to the bone. A coil of massive intestines spilled out into the snow from a hole ripped in the bear's belly. They stank of shit and death and lay in a pool of blood fresh enough that it still steamed in the bitter cold. But most unsettling of all was the head. It was gone, severed at the neck. Esbern knelt beside the bloody stump between its shoulders and frowned, Sieglinde joining him a moment later.
"This was no greatwolf, Esbern. The kill's still fresh and nothing's been eaten. No tracks, either."
"What killed it, then?" Gaiur asked. Esbern could hear the slight tremble in her voice, and apparently Luthmor could, too.
"Perhaps your curse did," the boy quipped.
Gaiur was about to say something back, but a hard look from Esbern to them both silenced her before she started. "Whatever did this, it's gone now. Harvest what you can, Sieglinde. No sense letting a fresh kill go to waste."
Sieglinde set to the task immediately, calling Gaiur over to help. As they worked Esbern looked deep into the woods, an uncomfortable knot formed in his stomach. Something was wrong about this, he just didn't know exactly what.
"Brother," Arne whispered harshly from his right. His sword and shield were drawn and he stared with frightful intensity into the trees.
"What is it? What do you see?"
"Something moves in the branches."
Esbern's hand went to his sword hilt and he followed his brother's gaze. The leather of his glove creaked as his grip on the hilt tightened. Above them, branches swayed and rustled in a wind that flowed through the highest boughs of the titanic pines. His fierce blue gaze hopped from branch to branch, tree to tree, but try though he might he could see nothing and released his grip on his sword.
"Just the wind, brother," he said, clapping a reassuring hand on Arne's shoulder. "Come. We've stalled long enough."
Arne lingered a moment longer as Esbern gathered the others to him. Only when Esbern called to him again did he finally rejoin them. When he did he was greeted first by Gaiur, who held out a small sack of the freshly carved bear meat to the powerful man. He regarded her for a moment, then shoved past her without a word. Esbern's brow furrowed. He didn't know what Arne saw in the trees, but he knew what he saw in Gaiur; an ill omen, a harbinger of their doom worthy only of hate and scorn. As they continued on their way, Esbern wondered for a moment if perhaps he should've left her behind after all? Well, it was too late for that now.
They hiked through the night, picking their way through the pitch dark forest by flickering torchlight. Wind and snow threatened to snuff their oil soaked torches multiple times, but they held out. Finally, at dawn on the third day, the dense trees of the Wolfwood gave way and opened to a massive ice field that stretched as far as the eye could see. The Glimmerfrost, a series of colossal glaciers that stretched as far north as anyone had ever traveled before. Down in that barren expanse of blinding blue-white, tucked inside a barely noticeable crater, something glinted in the light of the dawn - the fallen star.
I know you mentioned in your other story that Gauir had been married, had child, and lost both husband and child, but married at 13. I can see it, considering that older men married younger girls only 250 years ago. I hearken back to Romeo and Juliet.
I just never thought of her being so young when she started her life's journey.
All in all, it's a great first chapter.