When she finally reached the settlement, she dismounted her steed and led it into a small cluster of snowcapped trees before turning back towards the village. The horse shook its head with a whinny, and she turned again, bringing her finger to her lips to quiet it.
"Fear not. I will return."
Once more, she turned to the village, and as silently as she could, she crossed the invisible threshold. Her boots plodded noiselessly through the snow and as she hid herself behind a pile of supplies, and she looked back, her eyes resting upon the noticeable prints she had left in the snow. Her gauntleted hand touched the ground and she spoke a single word, frost spreading out from her fingertips and filling in the tracks.
Luck must have been smiling upon her, for directly across from her was a cramped cage with a distinctly goblin-like figure curled in upon himself in the snow. She treaded closer, tapping against the cold metal of the cage with the back of her hand, and he turned towards the source of the noise, rubbing his eyes in irritation at the interruption.
His expression changed from annoyance to joy in a heartbeat.
"Are ya here to rescue us?!"
She nodded.
"Who holds your keys?"
"No idea, lady. You're gonna hafta look around; might be on the amazons, might be hidden in their homes. Wherever they are, be careful—"
He was interrupted yet again, this time by a monstrous battle axe that nearly cleaved his cage in two, and both he and the death knight rolled out of the way when it came down. Chrissa felt the flesh of her left arm sting, now exposed to the cold air and skinned cleanly from directly below her shoulder to her elbow. What remained of the metal that concealed it lay twisted and broken in the snow.
The giant azure woman gave a victorious howl, but she was cut short by the wide blade that had temporarily sheathed itself in her gut, and blood poured from her mouth and blackened the snow beneath them. As Chrissa's grip upon the handle of her blade tightened, she lifted a plated boot up and kicked hard against the azure woman's stomach, freeing the blade and allowing the woman to slump to the ground in a heap.
A small ring of keys tumbled to the ground with a jingle, but were ignored as the death knight fished a roll of frost-silk bandages out of one of her packs, hastily wrapping her arm and tying it tightly in an attempt to stymie the bleeding. She grit her teeth and snatched up the keys, forcing one into the lock and twisting until it snapped in half in her hands, the cage door swinging open.
"Thanks a lot! I think the others are deeper in the village; I saw a couple of the boys bein' dragged off!"
She sheathed her weapon, running across the courtyard in search of more goblin prisoners that needed freeing, and she found them as easily as she did with the first. She carved her way through azure amazon after azure amazon, few going down as quickly as the first and even fewer holding keys to prisoner's cells.
Another goblin walked free, and another, and another. As the last left the comfort of his cramped cage for freedom, he fell to his knees.
"Our boss is still in there! I think he's in the mines!" He pleaded.
She clenched her fists into tense spheres, and her jaw tightened as she took a deep, shuddering breath. Must she always be sent to do the dirty work of others?
She nodded firmly once, and the goblin embraced her legs before running off into the darkness. She stared after him, the tightness in her jaw refusing to lessen even after he had disappeared beyond her line of sight.
Searching for any signs of a mine entrance, she quietly sidled into the closest cave, and glanced around. Her not-so long and fruitful search revealed no patrols to speak of, which was far better than she could have ever hoped for. She pressed her back to the wall of the cave, the only noise coming from her being the nigh-silent scrape of metal upon stone, and her slow inhale and exhale.
A noise akin to a hiss met her ears, and her head whipped towards the source: an immense woman, standing nearly twice her own height, gestured to her with a gentle clinking of shackles that bound her wrists to great chains.
"You are certainly not with the Hyldnir… so I must wonder: why are you here?"
She jerked her head back faintly with quiet realization.
"You must be looking for that prisoner. The goblin, yes?"
Chrissa narrowed her eyes at the massive woman, and nodded almost hesitantly.
"I thought as much. We may be able to help each other. You will not be able to save the goblin through brute force; not alive, at any rate. I am called Lok'lira. Among my people, I am known as a Yrkvinn; a practitioner of illusions. And since they have made me their prisoner, they have taken my rune-stones from me." She sighed in clear agitation, rolling her eyes. "Specifically, Syra has them; she occasionally taunts me with them, holding them just out of reach. Should you retrieve them for me, then, and only then, shall we talk some more."
The woman fell silent, leaving Chrissa to find this Syra and retrieve her rune-stones. Her feet shuffled against the stone she walked upon, and her search began. Through a winding passageway she went, the Vrykul slave-men ignoring her and continuing to mine at the walls under the threat of pain. Several feet in front of her, an azure woman walked, her furred skirts shifting awkwardly as she did. Chrissa pulled from her belt a frost-coated short sword, and she outstretched a hand, a dark energy gathering and shooting towards the woman, dragging her towards the knight. She drove the short sword upwards, stopping Syra short as it tore through her flesh and to her heart, and she fell forward, nearly on top of the smaller woman.
She shoved the body aside, and a comparatively small drawstring sack fell loose from Syra's sash, the sound of several smooth stones bumping against each other within the sack as it landed on the ground. She scooped it up in one hand and tossed it into the air once before catching it, weighing it momentarily and very tempted to look inside. Turning back, she decided that it was not really her business before returning to the shackled woman.
"I was not so sure that you would return. You have my rune-stones?"
She held out her hand expectantly, and the knight dropped the drawstring sack into her outstretched palm.
"Our deal is made. You help release me of these chains, and I help you find your… friend."
The rune-magic of the Yrkvinn Vrykul flowed from her hands as water flows from a spring, and it encircled and enveloped the knight in its foreign embrace. She could feel it change her far more deep than just her flesh; although how, she could not quite say.
She felt gargantuan as the illusion was completed, and she briefly examined herself: azure skin, frost-coated leather and chain, and furs of unnamable beasts she was outfitted in.
"The Hyldnir who is in charge is known as Mildred the Cruel ‒ and with good reason." She continued. "She should be at the top of the stairs. Tell her that you have been sent to lend a hand with the mines, and do whatever she requires of you until she trusts you with the keys to my shackles."
"Of course."
She turned from the woman, her eyes resting on the set of stairs several feet in front of her, and as she made her way to them, the leather of her illusional boots scuffing against the solid stone of the floors, she felt as if something was wrong. Not completely so; just an itch at the back of her mind that told her that not everything was as it seemed to be.
She climbed the stairs and glanced to her left, a wide balcony overlooking the area below, and another set of stairs beyond it.
"I was expecting a replacement for one of my overseers."
The voice that came from the Hyldnir that was standing upon the balcony was colder than she appeared, even with her cobalt skin and frost-tipped furs, and the grin that followed as she approached her was nothing short of malicious.
"It's about time you showed up. Let's put you to work, shall we?"
The disguised woman nodded firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Very good. We'll start you with something simple. The male Vrykul that work the mines for us do so against their will, and mostly out of fear. Once in a while, though, one loses their motivation to work, so I wish you to search for any uncooperative males and put them back in their place."
She offered a sturdy, polished metal rod adorned with cobalt.
"Use this. You will want to inflict pain, not death." She paused. "…most of the time."
And again, she nodded, but did not speak as she grasped the metal rod firmly. She tapped it a few times upon her outstretched palm before dropping her hands to her sides, beginning her search for any miners that could be considered "uncooperative".
It did not take long; she found one of the men sitting for a short pause down one of the tunnels. Even with the frigid air that hung heavily, sweat was dripping from his brow faster than he could mop it from his skin. He appeared old; his hair was white, his hairline was receding, and his white beard was so long that he could have tucked it into his belt.
"I am sorry." She murmured as she raised the metal rod.
She struck his back hard, but definitely not as hard as she could have. He lurched forwards, a loud groan of pain passing his gritted teeth, and he staggered to his feet, sending a glare at her that had it been even a blunt butter knife, it would have rent the hide of a yeti.
She could not find words for her actions, and she knew that it would weigh heavily upon her conscience long after she had gone.
She continued her search for the "uncooperative", putting away the rod and using words instead of violence to solve this specific problem. She made sure not another was watching, and pulled one after another to his feet, brushing him off and telling him firmly to get back to work lest he feel the bite of the metal rod upon his back.
It appeared to work, at least for a while; some were grateful they weren't being beaten, while others outright attacked her for it. She did not like leaving behind the lifeless bodies of the men she was only trying to help, but those men did not know her thoughts. They saw her, saw the metal rod at her hip and the sword on her back, and refused to listen to her words.
When she returned to Mildred, she had to wonder how far she would have to fall before she would be able to pick herself up again.
"Not bad, not at all bad. I've another task for you, if you're feeling particularly brave."
She sucked in a silent breath, the muscles of her jaw tightening, but she made no objections.
"For every action, there is an opposite reaction. In the case of us applying pressure on the males, this has meant rumors of an uprising among them."
She paused, searching for any sign of surprise on the other woman's features. When she found none, she continued.
"The bearded pig behind this… rabble-rousing is called Garhal. Put an end to him, and make sure that the other males see his passing. They must learn that insubordination will never be tolerated."
She heard a shout behind her, followed by many deep-voiced cheers and the clanking of metal against stone. She turned entirely, following the shouts and the cheers, and coming upon a scene: one man, standing in the middle of many, shouting and raising his fist in apparent triumph.
"They enslaved us! We will break free of their chains, and enslave them! Return the pain that was wrought tenfold!"
Cries of agreement followed, and she braced herself, pushing through the crowd of men and to the center of the ring. Several stumbled aside, bumping into others with protests and threats, and she emerged through the hole she had made, her hands clenched into tight fists.
"See now, brothers! This lone she-wolf has come to stop us! She wishes us to continue our enslavement like well-trained dogs, to work until we can no longer! She will—"
She silenced him with a blade through his gut, and she twisted it before letting him collapse to the floor. The silence that overtook the group was deafening as she glanced around, her lips twisting into a snarl.
"Back to work!"
The remaining men stood motionless in terror.
"I said, BACK TO WORK!" She screeched.
She felt her cheeks burning beneath her horned helm as the men scrambled to retrieve their pickaxes, refusing to meet her burning gaze.
She could almost feel the bile rising in her throat. The rush of dominance had ended, leaving her only with the feeling of complete and utter shame. She forced it back down, feeling more sick than ever, and she returned to Mildred.
The Hyldnir woman applauded her slowly.
"If I had any reservations regarding your commitment when you first arrived, I no longer have any. With only a little more effort, you could become a permanent member of this operation." She paused faintly. "You are without mercy. You will do very well around here, very well indeed."
Her praise felt so hollow.
"I have another task to ask of you."
Her head nearly dropped to her chest in defeat, but she did not object.
"There is a female Vrykul prisoner that has become more of a liability than I had previously anticipated. She had the gall to claim the right to take part in the Hyldsmeet, our sacred competition of strength and fighting prowess."
She handed a key to the woman opposite her.
"Here is the key to her shackles, and make it as painless as possible. She is a female after all, even if not one of our own."
She did not speak, only nodding once, and turning to head back down the stairs. Her strides quickened and the wood creaked beneath her boots, and her steps carried her back to Lok'lira, who crossed her arms over her chest as well as she could.
"It's about time."
She held the key up, and the shackled woman held back a shout of joy.
"I knew you would return! Release me of these shackles, and I will help you find the goblin."
She slid the key into the locks in turn, and they released with a click, falling to the ground with a muted clang. She rubbed at her wrists, now bruised and dark blue.
"There is an exit at the eastern end of the mine that leads to Brunnhildar Village. Follow it, and I will meet you there."
The magic again flowed from her hands, but enveloped her this time, her skin and hair changing from a warm light brown to the cold azure of the Hyldnir.
"We must not be seen together so none suspect you of aiding me." Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Do not worry. We shall find your friend soon."
She left the other woman behind, and Chrissa waited several moments before following her out at a slow pace. She made her way up the stairs and back by Mildred, who gave her a nod of approval. She quickened her pace faintly, going through the wide tunnel and coming back out into the open on the other side. She took a few steps forward, glancing around and trying not to draw much attention to herself when to her right, Lok'lira gestured to her.
"You're here – good. I… think I know where the goblin is."
She stared and nodded past Chrissa's shoulder.
"If I were you, I would step in before that Hyldnir splits him in half."
She was speaking to the air by the time she had reached the last word.
"Hail, sister. What are you called?"
"Hail. I am called Agnetta Tyrsdottar."
She gestured to the goblin.
"What business have you with one so much smaller than you?" She questioned.
"This puny green pup was of no use in the mines. No matter; he will make a suitable warm-up for the battles of the Hyldsmeet."
"Skip the warm-up. Or are you too afraid to face someone your own size?"
Agnetta was seething.
"I fear nothing!"
Agnetta raised her axe high into the air, but did not get far. Chrissa drew her blade and slashed, striking her across her throat, and she fell to her knees and she clutched at the wound, dark blood dripping down her front. Her eyes rolled back, and she teetered precariously before falling to one side with a dull thud.
The goblin gingerly embraced her leather boot.
"Thank you! I think it's time to get away from these crazy blue women!"
And with that, he ran off. Her gaze followed him a short distance, her eyebrow raised slightly, and she shrugged before returning to Lok'lira.
"Well done. It looks like our deal has been satisfied on both our ends. And whether you've noticed by now or not, by defeating a Hyldnir in hand-to-hand combat, you've entered into the Hyldsmeet. The Hyldsmeet was the reason why I was imprisoned, for I sought to partake in the competition, but was far too old and frail to be a match for those competing.
"If you're willing to listen, I've a proposal for you."
The death knight lifted her hand to her chin, stroking it gently in thought.
"Very well, then. Tell me of this proposal."
Lok'lira nodded.
"Thorim is not like these harpies." She spat. "He is of near god-like stature, and he has served the titans as a guardian of Ulduar, and in the Terrace of the Makers." She paused. "…that is, until his wife Sif was so cowardly slain by his brother."
"What happened then?"
"Thorim…" She paused. "He lashed out against his most beloved allies: the frost giants. That is one reason why this land is torn apart by the war between the Hyldnir and the Sons of Hodir… and why Thorim has exiled himself to the Temple of Storms."
"So you want me to take part in this competition to end the war between them?"
Lok'lira's face contorted slightly.
"What do I care if they kill each other? No, no… what I want is for Thorim to break from his stupor and rally all of his allies to retake Ulduar. The world will be torn apart if he fails to do this!
"So… what say you?"
Chrissa's features hardened as she considered the proposal.
"I will take part in this competition." She answered.
Lok'lira nodded once more.
"Then it's decided. You will compete in the Hyldsmeet, and with my help, you will restore the great Thorim to his rightful place. So then, let's get you started." She continued without even a pause, sounding as if she had rehearsed beforehand. "The good news is that by defeating Agnetta, you have earned a spot in the next round. The bad news is that all of your opponents will also have defeated someone in the first round."
The crone sized up the woman opposite her.
"Do not expect pushovers."
She said nothing as she turned towards fellow competitors, and approached one, grasping at the hilt of her blade and drawing it from its place upon her back. The one approached narrowed her eyes at the one coming towards her, and she hoisted her shield up.
"You challenge me, sister?" She asked, sounding almost bored.
"I do."
"Very well. Defend yourself!"
Blade clashed against both shield and axe within seconds, but the fight was already won the moment the other woman's shield dropped. Chrissa's blade smashed the shield into splinters and she ran the Vrykul through, the woman slumping against her as she yanked her weapon from the lifeless body. The Hyldnir who stood beside her placed her hands upon her hips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Do you challenge me, as well?"
"I do."
She used her shield to push Chrissa away, scoring a hit to her left thigh and close to her hip. She gave a victorious shout, but it was cut off as the other woman brought her blade up, only for it to be blocked by the sturdy shield.
"I will not go down as easily as she did!"
She felt as if she spoke too soon when her opponent's blade came slicing partway through her leg. She let loose a pained howl, not noticing that her opponent had snatched up her own axe, raised it above her head, and was bringing it down upon her neck. Her head and helm rolled a few feet away, leaving a trail of dark blood behind it.
Another Hyldnir went down, and another, and another. By the sixth, her breathing was slow and ragged, and she was grateful when Lok'lira called her back to her.
"You have done it: you have bested some of the fiercest fighter the Hyldnir race has to offer. Because of your success in the first rounds, you are able to advance further. But to advance further, you are going to need a war-bear of your own."
"A… a war-bear?"
Lok'lira raised an eyebrow, but nodded.
"Unfortunately for you, the Hyldnir don't give them out to just anyone. You will have to emerge victorious from true battle. Not just gladiatorial combat." She continued. "Since the Hyldnir of Brunnhildar are involved in a stupid quarrel with the Sons of Hodir, speak to Brijana just off of the eastern path leaving the village and see how you can help. You might be able to prove yourself to them in the process."
"Of course." She answered rather lamely.
She followed the path and headed east out of the village, and down a snow-covered ramp. She spotted a Hyldnir standing tall and proud next to a massive snow-white bear.
"You are Brijana?"
The woman turned towards her, and nodded once.
"I am. You are here to help with our giant problem?"
She nodded in response.
"I am. I am also here for a war-bear."
"Are you?" Her eyes narrowed, her attitude seeming to change. "Do you think that we will give you your own war-bear, just like that? You will have to prove yourself worthy of it before you get anything from us. Do not think too highly of yourself, just because you bested some challengers in the Hyldsmeet."
She appeared to stand even taller and prouder.
"Your test awaits, woman. Do you have the heart of a warrior queen, or the heart of a sniveling seamstress?" She asked, but continued before she could receive an answer. "One taste of war, and we will know the answer."
She took a step closer, her grip upon her spear tightening, and she stared down at Chrissa.
"You might lie to your mother, your sisters, even yourself." Her voice dropped to low and threatening pitch. "…but the battlefield always exposes one's true nature. Make your preparations."
She shoved a clearly magical longbow and a quiver full of arrows into her hands.
"Mount Icefang and ride into the battle. From her back, you must rain death upon our enemy."
She could do naught but nod dumbly, and climb upon the bear's back. The bear growled lowly and charged forwards, nearly knocking her from its back and into the snow. As the bear approached the battlefield, Chrissa could see colossal forms, and it was not until she drew closer did she see what she was fighting.
A small army of frost giants, far bigger than she could have ever imagined, each with three or more frostworgs snapping at their heels. A dozen or more of her "sisters" were on the battlefield as well, also riding upon the backs of bears. She gripped tightly to Icefang's sides with her legs, readied the bow, notching an arrow and taking aim at the closest giant.
She loosed the arrow, and it flew towards its target. When it struck, however, it did not just bury itself into the leather of the giant's boot; it exploded, setting the giant's leg alight with bright flames. He bellowed furiously as he attempted to smother the flames with his massive hands.
Arrow after arrow she loosed until she was completely out, until the battlefield she was leaving behind was blazing. She spurred Icefang faster again, returning to Brijana.
"Perhaps you do have the heart of a warrior." She mused, sounding almost impressed as Chrissa dismounted the bear. "Only time will tell for sure."
She handed the bow and empty back to her.
"I have another task to ask of you."
"What is it?"
"To be slain honorably in the field of battle brings glory to us all. To be frozen in a block of ice and endlessly taunted does not." She began. "You are to fly to the frost giant city of Dun Niffelem, just east of the Valley of Ancient Winters, and liberate a captive proto-drake. With her, you will be able to free our sisters from their frozen bonds and carry them safely home." She paused faintly. "Beware the giants' clubs, lest you find yourself numbered among the captives."
Brijana pointed up the hill behind her.
"Should you need to, follow the path to the stables, and you may borrow a proto-drake. Do not worry if you leave her behind; she knows the way home."
"Thank you. I shall."
Chrissa jogged up the hill and into the village, climbed into the saddle of a proto-drake, and spurred it into the air, steering it in the direction of Dun Niffelem. It soared above the remains of the battle fought only minutes before, the scattered frost giants and frostworgs attempting to retreat back to their city for the night to regroup.
Upon approaching the city, the drake weaved between the gargantuan spires of ice to its captive sisters, and its powerful jaws broke through the chains. She leapt from its back to the freed drake, her boots slipping on its scales. She clung to its back as well as she could before spurring it onwards, and it circled around in the air, descending until it was within distance of a large block of ice containing a Brunnhildar prisoner.
It smashed its head against the ice and it shattered, the prisoner shaking her head a few times before climbing up behind Chrissa. The drake smashed through another block of ice, and another, the two more prisoners each holding onto one of the drake's taloned feet as it escaped the frozen clubs of the frost giants.
She returned twice more, breaking the ice that held her "sisters" captive and carrying them back to the village, each embracing her tightly in turn before she left to find Brijana again.
And when she did, Brijana embraced her tightly.
"Your efforts have been successful! You have brought glory to us!"
She grasped her shoulders tightly, a bright smile lighting her features.
"You have succeeded where many have failed, but whether it be by strength and courage or mere dumb luck remains to be seen. Return to the village and seek Astrid Bjornrittar. Tell her of your accomplishments, but be warned. She is not easily impressed."
She could feel the muscles of her jaw tighten and her teeth grinding. Yet another "I am never impressed by anything that you do". She thought. My patience with these types is wearing thin indeed. She trudged up the hill again and back into the village, both getting used to the sight as well as getting sick of it. It was becoming too familiar, and it was not something she enjoyed.
She approached another Hyldsmeet competitor.
"Hail, sister. Do you know where Astrid Bjornrittar might be found?"
"Hail, sister." She pointed to the hut to the furthest left on the opposite side of the village. "Astrid can usually be found in that hut."
She bowed politely.
"Thank you."
She jogged to the hut, and found a woman within, a hood covering most of her eyes, skulls on her belt, and a roughly hewn wooden staff in her hand. She turned towards the newcomer, and before Chrissa could even open her mouth to speak, she cut her off.
"I know why you are here, so do not waste your breath with pointless boasting. You think that doing a few chores makes you a heroine?" She looked the other woman up and down, as if sizing her up. "You shall learn."
"I am not here for boasting. I am here to ride."
"So, you want to ride? Well, if you have made it this far, someone must think that you've a chance at the Hyldsmeet. But first things first: we will have to make you a harness. In the cliffs to the south, you'll find scattered groups of yeti; their hides are tough and just the right thickness for riding harnesses. Bring some back to me, and we shall get you started on the path of the bear-rider."
Nearly an hour, a mountain of slain yeti, and more ruined hides than she could count later, she returned to Astrid.
"Have you retrieved the hides?"
She reached into her pack, and pulled out the hides, carefully handing them to her.
"These will do nicely. I will have the harness ready for you soon. In the meantime, please sit. I must tell you something that pertains to these." She gestured to the hides.
She led the other woman into her home and nodded towards the long bench. Chrissa took a seat while Astrid retrieved the things she would need, and she took a seat beside her.
"For as long as I can remember, we have obtained our best bears from the Hibernal Cave. Those times, I fear, may be finally gone; the cave has been overrun by ravenous jormungar, and the wild bears are all but extinct." She sighed almost sadly as she stitched the hides together. "…however, if you were to find a surviving matriarch, I would guarantee that she would fight better than any of these bears born in captivity."
She rose from her seat, beckoning Chrissa to as well, and handed to her the completed harness.
"Take this, and rescue a surviving matriarch. I wish you luck in finding one."
She took hold of the massive harness, and headed back down the hill and away from the village. She squinted, searching for a sign of the Hibernal Cave, and an opening framed by cerulean stones in the distance told her that she was not far off. She trudged through the snows towards it, and upon reaching it, crept inside. Creatures she assumed to be the jormungar slithered about, their huge fangs dripping saliva as they hissed at any icemaw bear that came too close.
Her hands reached for her blade, and she ran forwards, cleaving the jormungar in two with a strong strike. It toppled to the ground of the cave, black blood soaking the snow and slowly spreading in a dark pool beneath it. Any jormungar that was unfortunate enough to be in her line of sight was immediately hewn; not just for her, but for the Hyldnir, and for the icemaw.
She at last came into a large open area, and several feet from her was perhaps the largest bear she had ever seen. As she approached it, she could see one of the great bear's eyes open, and look in her direction. She sheathed her blade upon her back, and the beast let loose a great, heaving sigh, as if to surrender.
"Do not worry. I will save you."
She fitted the harness upon the great matriarch, and she rose to her great paws. She mounted her back, and her claws dug into the snow before she rushed forwards from the cave, through the snows, up the winding hill-path, and finally to Astrid.
Astrid herself emerged from her hut, her eyebrows knit and her eyes staring holes into what had approached.
"I am impressed. I never thought that I would see an icemaw matriarch again, and especially not one of this size."
She walked a circle around the matriarch and the mounted knight, examining every aspect. When she had come back around, she was smiling.
"You have been very fortunate, indeed. This is a matriarch the likes of which has not been seen in years. But a good bear will not do you much good if you haven't the skill to ride it." She grinned. "I'll have you practice on Kirgaraak. He is the largest yeti we have ever managed to capture, so be cautious. Do not be afraid to walk away should he give you a beating; there is a reason why we keep him chained."
The matriarch trotted along beside her as she made her way across the village, and as soon as the great yeti's eyes rested upon the pair, he strained against his chains with a vicious snarl. Chrissa mounted the matriarch, and braced herself.
The bear charged, smashing into the yeti and knocking him backwards several feet. Her great claws slashed at his hide, and he howled as they struck true. His arm thudded against the matriarch, slowing her momentarily, but her powerful jaws closed like a toothed trap into his arm. He howled again, this time in fury, but the continued assault from the matriarch proved to be too much.
He drew backwards, away from the sharp claws, and the matriarch bellowed in victory. Chrissa dismounted the bear to let her take at least a short rest as she returned to Astrid.
"Not bad, not bad at all. I was hoping that Kirgaraak would snap your neck so that I could keep your bear."
Chrissa felt as if her eyebrows had risen into her hairline, but the other woman laughed.
"I jest. Well… half so. That is a very nice bear you have."
She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one foot as she leaned backwards slightly.
"Besting a tethered opponent is one thing. Fighting other bear riders on equal footing is entirely another. Head into the Pit of the Fang, and use what you've learned to defeat your opponents. Glory awaits, should you succeed."
Astrid reached out and gripped Chrissa's hand tightly.
"Good luck, sister."
She slowly approached the Pit of the Fang in the center of the village, her matriarch beside her. She stood still in quiet contemplation, staring into the pit and at the other bear-riders. Taking a deep breath, her eyes sliding shut as she released it, she slowly mounted her matriarch and headed into the pit.
A low growl and a shout was all she heard.
She spurred her bear to the source, and the collision of fur and muscle was almost too loud to her ears. They bit and clawed and snarled, blood blossoming from new wounds made with teeth and claw until the other collapsed in exhaustion, her rider jumping to the ground to crudely tend to the bears wounds.
Chrissa steered her bear around at the sound of another low growl, but she was not quick enough. Again, the matriarch collided with the challenger, but was not as lucky. The challenger's teeth sank deeply into her shoulder, and she snarled and beat them away with a giant paw.
Challenger after challenger charged, but in the end, they had all been fended off, some by just barely. She dismounted her bear; the matriarch was limping clearly, bright red spattered upon the stark white of her fur.
"You… you really did it! You made it out, and with your health, no less!" Astrid's face fell suddenly. "I wish that I could say the same for your bear… It is going to take a long while for her to recover. Fortunately, you will not need her for a while."
She paused, as if searching for the proper words to say.
"This is it, then. I shall take care of your bear now; you will not be needing her for what is next. Say goodbye to your friends and your allies, and leave your affairs in order. For you will return victorious… or you will not return at all."
A short jaunt across the village, and she was before Lok'lira again.
"You have truly made it this far. Never would I have ever thought that you would progress so quickly among the Hyldnir." She took a deep breath and released it before continuing. "You have been an excellent ally, but now comes your true test. You will need skill, courage, and a little luck."
Lok'lira leaned forward, her hands coming up and attaching a thin strand of hair to one of Chrissa's own.
"You cannot fail now. Speak to Gretta the Arbiter, near the stables where we keep the drakes. She will see you on your way."
She turned in the direction Lok'lira nodded in, turned back towards her, and offered her hand. Lok'lira glanced down at it and then at the other woman's face before taking hold of it, and shaking it once firmly.
"It has been an honor."
Lok'lira could find no words to say, even as Chrissa turned and left.
"Are you ready to ride? There is no coming back."
She nodded once to the Arbiter.
"You've risen among our sisters as one of the finest and fiercest combatants. You've passed all of the tests of the Hyldsmeet. All but one."
She paused, her eyes attempting to read any wordless communication the other woman may have unintentionally been speaking.
"The Drakkensryd – the true test of a Hyldnir's worth and warrior spirit." She explained further. "Nothing but you, your drake, a chained harpoon…"
As Chrissa mounted the nearby proto-drake, Gretta tossed a massive harpoon with a length of chain wrapped around it to her.
"…and a score of your sisters competing to be the victor."
Her features hardened into an expressionless mask.
"Show no quarter. None will be expected."
She struck the hindquarters of the drake, and it lifted into the air, its wings beating against the wind as it soared towards a tall peak. She could see the other competitors from where she was, also on drake-back and each armed with a harpoon more vicious that the last's.
She gripped the reins of the proto-drake in one hand, the chained harpoon in the other, and she spurred the drake higher and faster into the sky. Further upwards was another competitor, one of her "sisters", and she rose swiftly to meet her. She wasted no time, grasping the thick chain tightly as she hurled the harpoon and impaled the Hyldnir through her back. She choked on the dark blood that rose in her throat, and she slowly slid from the harness of the drake.
She yanked the harpoon free of the corpse and steered the proto-drake towards the newly empty harness. She threw herself to it, abandoning the old drake for the new, and it let loose a shriek as it rose higher.
Another competitor appeared, far more prepared than the first, and she hastily threw her own harpoon at Chrissa, who brought her weapon up and sent the encroaching messy, excruciating death far off course. She grabbed hold of the competitor's chain and pulled hard, throwing her opponent off balance and nearly plunging to the snow-covered rocks below. She hurled her own harpoon again, but her opponent of the moment caught it, and yanked her from her place on the drake.
They wrestled, both attempting to push the other from the harness. Chrissa grit her teeth tightly and spoke a single word, decay spreading from her hand to the Hyldnir, who roared loudly as her gauntlet melted from her hand. She gripped the Hyldnir's arm tightly and threw her completely askew, finally sending her to the ground far below them.
Her grip upon her harpoon tightening again, she soared even higher still. Competitor after competitor fell to her strength, and when she reached the top of the mountain, she saw a great, open-aired temple, a gargantuan throne in the center, and what appeared to be an equally gargantuan statue of a man seated upon it.
She hurled the harpoon at one of the temple ornaments, and it stuck planted firmly in the stone. She stood upon the back of the drake, and gripping the chain tightly, she swung from the drake to the temple, landing heavily upon her knees.
She slowly rose to her feet. The statue in the center of the temple seemed to glare down at her.
She approached it almost hesitantly.
"Begone!"
The deep, booming voice that came from the colossal man caught her off guard, and when his gaze fell upon her, his entirety seemed to freeze as if time itself had stopped.
"Sif… is that you?"
She shook her head as the illusion cast upon her faded.
"I am sorry, but I am not who you mistake me for."
He shifted in his great seat.
"Then, what is your name, little one?"
She blinked. It had been several years since someone had referred to her as 'little one', but she supposed that next to him, she was quite little.
"Chrissa Renn."
The titanic watcher tilted his head, almost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Chrissa Renn?" He repeated, and shook his large head. "No, no. That is no good at all."
He then stood, stretching to his full, colossal height.
"Chrissa is a soft name, for a soft human. Chrissa is a name appropriate for a young girl who battles with swords made of brushwood, a young girl who wishes to be a hero from stories. It is not befitting of a victor of the Drakkensryd."
He paused only slightly.
"Name yourself anew. You are not a young girl anymore."
Her mind raced; she was supposed to name herself? She thought back to every word the Hyldnir might have ever said, and a renaming of oneself was never mentioned for the victor of the Hyldsmeet.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and spoke a single word:
"Ragnhilde."
"Ragnhilde." The titanic watcher repeated, taking his seat again and stroking his beard in thought. "'Wise in battle', indeed."
She stood still, unsure of what else to say, and the titanic watcher's eyes rested on her tiny form.
"Very well, then. Ragnhilde." He stated in his booming voice. "Go now. Go, and leave your mark upon the world."
She stood silent, cocking her head to one side with a raised eyebrow. Surely he didn't expect her to leave now, did he? She soon lowered herself, sitting upon the cool, smooth stone surface, a small smile playing on her mouth as she wrapped her fur-lined cloak around herself.
"No, thank you. I think that I shall rest first, at least for a short while. I have had quite a day, and I am exhausted."