The Glaciermen #46: Crucible
Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"
Good Tuesday to you!
I hope you are nicely settling into whatever nook or cranny you prefer as you ready yourself for the next chilling installment of our journey into the glacier.
Whether it’s a comfy armchair next to a fireplace (are those even real? If so, I hope you have one), or the porcelain throne at your corporate job’s headquarters, I mind little. What matters is that it is your place for reading.
Are you ready to jump in?
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(Here’s the previous segment if you missed it, and the first chapter and index, if you’re new).
Recap (spoilers!): After Muktuk’s inglorious end, Lee sends the station crew back to the surface, then takes the viking to go after the shaman in a risky bid to save Tyra.
Crucible
The throne chamber was a cathedral of ice, its frozen walls glimmering with the ghostly light of mineral-blue torches. Lee and the viking stepped forward, their breaths misting in the frigid air, their weapons clutched ready. At the far end of the chamber, atop a grotesque mound of freshly frozen bodies—faces twisted in their final agony—sat the shaman. He lounged on his macabre throne like a predator sated from a kill, his staff resting lazily across his lap. Even though Lee knew it was just a mask, the clawing antlers and night-black eye sockets of the caribou skull sent shivers down his spine as it turned to face them.
“Ah,” the shaman intoned, his voice slicing into the silence like a lubricated blade. “I had hoped you would come. It is always so satisfying to have visitors whenever my throne is recently elevated—someone to see the glory of it all. It certainly helps assuage my disappointment at your recent choices.”
“I’m not here to chat,” Lee spat.
“Now, now,” the shaman chided, waving a finger. “There is no need to get so worked up quite yet. It will truly be a shame if I am forced to end you—the two of you are such fine specimens after all, admirable stock to be integrated into the lineage.”
“You can talk about playing god all you want,” Lee said, “I’m still going to kill you.”
“Oh, Adopted One,” the shaman said, sighing, “You had such promise once. I truly do hope you change your mind once you see my offer. This other one, however, I have no need of him now that I have secured the progeny of his bloodline. I must say, her gilded hair is most elegant.”
Lee tightened his grip on the ice picks, his knuckles going white.
“You’ll pay for this,” he growled, taking a step forward.
The shaman chuckled, a rich, hollow sound that echoed unnaturally through the chamber. “On the contrary—your friends have already covered the bill.”
The fight began with an explosion of movement. The shaman leapt from his throne, skin shining blue with a thick layer of godseye, seemingly flying from the mound to close the distance in an instant.
The viking’s axe sliced through the air, a blur of raw power, but the shaman deflected it with a casual turn of his staff, sparks flying as metal screamed against metal. Lee lunged in tandem, his ice picks aiming for the shaman’s exposed side, but the ancient man moved like liquid shadow, twisting away with unnatural grace
“You’ll have to do better than that,” the shaman quipped, his voice dripping with mockery.
He countered with a sweep of his staff that took Lee’s feet out from under him. He twirled the staff and brought it down for a crushing blow. Lee rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the dense metal as it slammed into the ice, sending a spider web of cracks out from the point of impact.
The viking roared and charged again, his axe glinting in the cold light. He reigned down blow after blow, ravenous and wild, but the shaman met each one with maddening ease, his staff a blur of precision and control. Lee circled, looking for an opening, but the frenetic back and forth of motion left no room for entry. Every one of the viking’s strikes rebounded, his axe beginning to slow against the shaman’s impossible endurance.
The viking roared again, face red with rage and exertion, and swung his axe around for a massive strike with all his strength. With a twisting flick of his staff, the shaman redirected it, wrenched the axe from the viking’s grip and sent it sliding across the ice. He then spun and slammed the butt of the staff into the viking’s stomach, doubling him over. He raised the staff for a killing blow.
Lee pounced at the opening, ice picks swinging toward the shaman’s open torso, forcing him to block the attacks instead of hitting the viking. The shaman countered one of the picks and sidestepped the other, then twirled his body to deliver a backwards kick to Lee’s chest, sending him flying backward to the ground.
The shaman laughed darkly. “Did you really think you could defeat me? Worse still, you made an attempt without the blessing of the godseye. Pitiful! Had you prostrated yourself before the spirits you might have had a chance… perhaps they may even have favored you. Now it is time to finish the lesson. Behold the true power of—”
A bottle sailed through the air. It shattered at the shaman’s feet in a burst of fire and glass. The flames splattered, licking hungrily everywhere they landed. The shaman hissed, jumping back as the fire danced against his legs, his composure cracking for the first time.
Amanda stepped into view, clutching another makeshift molotov in trembling hands. Her face was pale, but her expression was defiant.
“You were supposed to leave!” Lee shouted, his voice cracking with a mix of anger and relief.
“You came back for me, now it’s my turn. I couldn’t just let you die,” she shot back, lighting another ragged fuse and throwing a second bottle.
The shaman, his focus directed at the new threat, sidestepped the next blast, but he failed to keep an eye on the viking in the chaos. The blade of the viking’s axe flashed, finally connecting with the shaman and carving a deep, gruesome gash across his chest. Dark blood spilled out of the wound, and the shaman faltered, his breath hitching. A cheer escaped Lee’s lips.
The viking raised his axe for another blow, but he paused as the shaman staggered backward and began to laugh, blood streaming from the wound and spreading across the gel coating his torso. The gel began to glow brighter until it was blazing with bright, pulsing energy.
“You fools!” the shaman cackled, sadistic laughter echoing out from the dark hollows of the caribou skull.
With an animalistic howl, the shaman convulsed, his body twisting as he gave himself over to the chain reaction happening on the surface of his flesh. With another shrieking cry, he thrust his staff forward, and the pulsing energy from his chest flashed white before streaking across his arm and down the staff, leaping from the metal as a blinding bolt of energy. It tore through the air toward the viking, striking him square in the chest. The viking was lifted off his feet and flung backward, his body landing with a sickening thud as smoke rose from his wound.
Not again! Lee thought, before another, smaller burst of lighting struck him, too, catching him on the shoulder and sending him sprawling. His head struck the ice floor, and the world spun in dizzying chaos. As his vision dimmed, he caught a final, darkened image: the shaman standing over Amanda, his head cocked in curious amusement.
Then the darkness swallowed him.
Until Next Week (ideally)
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– Xavier Macfarlane
Author, The Glaciermen
©Xavier Macfarlane 2024. All rights reserved.