The Hammer Unfalls

4.57 Heart Warmer

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Glim looked at the hundredth ice shard of the day and snapped. He already knew this. Had Master Willow always stalled this much? Had Glim just now noticed?

“The quickest way to kill, Master. It’s all I need to know. If you can’t answer such a simple question, I fear I’m wasting my time with you. Perhaps the Gardener would be a better tutor.”

Master Willow scowled, and opened his mouth to speak. His words died unspoken. His irritated expression morphed into trepidation under Glim’s piercing gaze.

“Fine. Wait here.” He disappeared into the tower for a few moments, then handed Glim a knapsack and a folded square of parchment.

“What is this?” Glim asked, unable to hide his suspicion.

“I need something from the ruins. This is the chance you so tactfully requested for you to hone your skills in the field.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ruin is near a hinterjack lair.”

Glim blanched.

“Don't worry. I will be cautious. Can't have my star pupil dying atop some mountain.”

They left Wohn-Grab and walked into the Hiemal Peaks. Glim had been out here many times. After a few hours of hiking, though, the surroundings became unfamiliar.

“Use your map! That's why I drew it for you.”

Glim unfolded the parchment and looked at it. Judging by the scale and the dot that marked Wohn-Grab, they'd walked halfway to their destination. Glim sighted along the visible peaks and gauged where the tower would be.

He didn't recall the exact moment it happened, but at some point their uneventful march towards the tower shifted into a confrontation. Glim's scalp crawled as he realized he'd been stalked. Nothing had visibly changed. The sky retained its bleak, cloudy gray and the snow stretched unbroken before them. Nevertheless, Glim knew that danger walked beside them.

He started to speak but Master Willow cut him off. “Hush, boy. Just keep walking. Focus. Don't give them an opportunity. Remember about parsimony. Use the least essentiæ possible.”

Their brief conversation had been opportunity enough. Six hulking forms crashed through the snow. Two of the hinterjacks ran right for Glim.

The beauty of their gait struck him. Taut muscles gathering and releasing. Tan and white fur, flecked with dark patches. The hinterjacks had a presence, a wildness, that touched him. For a moment, Glim forgot that these creatures were coming for him. Yet one look into the eyes of the nearest told him the creatures would rip his throat from his body.

Remorse and loathing welled inside Glim. He immediately regretted his request to learn how to kill, born of anger instead of logic. Too late now for regret. He snapped into focus and sent a pair of shards whistling towards the onrushing creatures. One shard found its mark and the animal lay still, twitching in the snow. The second missile glanced off the shoulder of the second hinterjack, who yipped but hardly stumbled.

Glim's hand found his sword. As he waited for the inevitable attack, his mind cast about for options. Must he kill these creatures in their own home, as they sought a meal? Was death the only answer?

When the creature leapt at his throat, Glim delivered a vicious, precise thrust. The jackal fell into a lifeless heap. Glim looked at it, guilt and revulsion coiling in his gut.

Its kin had learned to expect the shards. They feinted and dodged haphazardly and fell into a herding formation around him and Master Willow. Glim flung occasional shards with varying levels of success. By the time he saw the tower at the bottom of the next rise, Glim had killed all but two of the beasts.

At some unspoken signal, the remaining hinterjacks yelped and leapt for Glim's throat. Pure instinct guided him. He spun and flung both hands wide. Dual shards erupted from his palms. One severed the breast of a hinterjack, which crashed to the ground, twitching and spraying blood across Glim. The second shard lodged in the remaining jackal's throat. It crashed to the ground as well, but immediately found its legs again and ran at Glim. He peppered it with more icicles, listening to it wheeze as it's lung collapsed. It fell to its side, pawing itself in a bloody circle in the ground as it snarled and snapped at him before falling still.

Glim had learned nothing. The battle had been a complete waste of time.

He knelt in the snow, trembling with reaction as blood stained the white coat of the dead jackal. Disgust rose in him as life left its eyes. Glim shuddered with relief and revulsion. He stared at Master Willow, accusing the older man with his eyes.

That's when the seventh hinterjack chose to attack. Far larger than the others, it jumped silently at Glim.

Master Willow flicked his staff and the predator froze in place. A column of ice bound its limbs and massive chest, but its snout retained some mobility. Its eyes widened as it snapped at Glim, who merely stared in shock at the yellowed teeth chomping the air a foot away from his face.

Master Willow stood before the frozen animal. He traced a fingertip along the icy column until he pointed at the jackal's eye. He drew his finger back and held it in the air. An icicle erupted from his fingertip like a wasp sting. The jackal shuddered and writhed inside the column, yipping pathetically until its movements stilled. Hatred for the man nearly choked Glim. The hinterjack hadn't been a threat. Why kill it?

Master Willow sneered.

“I suppose this won't come as a surprise to you, boy, but you've failed yet again. Focus. Focus! Did you even know that seventh hinterjack was there? If not for me, you'd be dead now. You're welcome, by the way.”

The older man shoved past.

“Just stay out of my way while I get what I came for, and think about how to keep yourself alive in those times when I'm not around.”

Glim listened sullenly while Master Willow pressed some buttons. The door swung outward and Master Willow bustled into the tower.

Glim poked around inside while his tutor descended a stairway to a lower level. The entry featured a stone floor, a table and some chairs, and something that resembled a metal fireplace. On the opposite side, a strange grouping of metal boxes and pipes emerged from the side of the tower. Glim observed the array with faint interest and noticed a misalignment.

He heard Ryn’s words in his mind: it’s always the damn pipes getting misaligned.

He studied the control panel and saw a row of indicators backlit by flickering orange light. He could not comprehend the symbols, but its workings seemed simple enough. Glim turned a dial, then another, and watched one of the darkened indicators spark to life. The misaligned pipe shifted into place and the tower hummed, almost imperceptibly.

Master Willow came up behind him. “Stop fiddling and let's go. I don't want to be caught by the nightfall.”

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For the second time in as many homecomings, Glim’s return to Wohn-Grab met with chaos. The fortress stirred with agitation when the pair returned. People ran from place to place with panic in their faces. The guards clutched their spears, twitching with tension.

“What is this about?” Master Willow asked the guards as they arrived at the gate.

“Can't say for sure, Master Willow. A couple of hours ago, the lower chambers got to shaking a little, and now they are heating up.”

“Heating up how? Is there a fire?”

“Well, no. Just... they are getting warmer.”

Master Willow strode towards the lower chambers. Glim followed, keeping a safe distance. Master Willow opened one of the doors to a musty room. These chambers had been vacant for decades, perhaps centuries, because of cold, and the impossibility of putting fireplaces in the lower chambers.

Master Willow poked around with growing irritation, which finally simmered over.

“Simpletons, the lot of them. The warmers have turned back on. That's all. I don't know how, but there it is. No need to scour the fortress for mauraders.”

His tutor didn't know how the warmers had come back on, but Glim knew. He'd done it. He'd realigned the pipes at the other tower, and somehow that had fixed the warmers here.

Wonderment at the Elderkin suffused him. The interconnectedness, the resilience of their creations, filled him with awe.

Glim decided something on the spot: he would repair Wohn-Grab. The townspeople been living with discomfort so long they didn't know what was possible. These lower chambers, regarded with mistrust by most, would become Glim's personal haven.

Inspired, but nervous, Glim looked through the dusty panels and cabinets, long ago scavenged for whatever trinkets remained. But Glim knew something most trinket seekers didn’t. Ryn had shown him the cleverness of the Elderkin, and just how fine their craftsmanship could be. A smooth wall might seem innocuous to most. Recalling the hidden cabinets and panels in the shuttle, Glim poked and pulled at the walls, revealing all sorts of hidden storage, spare parts, diagrams, and control panels.

The warmth and light allowed him access he’d never had before, which led to other rooms that had sparked to life in response to his realigning the pipes. The deeper Glim ventured, the more mysteries he uncovered that he’d need to study later. He’d be busy for years with this stuff.

As long as it prepared him for what would come, Glim did not mind in the least.