All things considered, Bandle supposed that it wasn’t a total loss finding someone frozen in a block of ice. A day of travelling had passed now and he was trying to look on the bright side of things as best he could. It might even earn him a nice little sum of coins should he find the right buyer. Even if it did mean that he and his companions ended up losing nearly all they had securing it.

“You know, when you think about it,” Bandle started saying to Jorry and Misfit. “This all could have gone much much worse.” Bandle didn’t look back to see their reaction, but he could almost feel their shocked looks at his attempt to look on the brighter side of things.

“And how in the world could it have gotten worse?” Misfit asked. “We were mauled by goblins. Goblins, Bandle! None of our planning could have prepared us for that. And we still don’t know what in the world brought them that far north. Or what happened to us in the…in that place.”

“What do we do when the Chief finds out?” Jorry muttered. “What do you think he’ll do? What if we get exiled? Oh, I bet we get banished for sure this time! I knew we shouldn’t have gone down to the Dark Place! Why on earth did we follow you, Bandle? What if your dad goes and tells the Jarl? She’ll be in the village for the festival. What if…what if they send word to the Emperor’s men?!”

Bandle quickly hushed them both. “Relax, will you? Snap out of it! Look, no one’s getting banished. Just let me do all the talking and we’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah, right.” Said Misfit.

“Look, no one knows what happened out there but the three of us. Now if we’re lucky, we might be able to pawn our new frozen friend here off one of the merchants in town, and then we can re-buy what the village needs to make up what we lost when we didn’t make the trade. Just…just let me do the talking when we get to Blizzard Helm.”

As Bandle led the bison pulling their wagon back into the snowy, mountain village of Froljörow, early that morning, he quietly took in all the festive preparations that had gone up since they left for the upcoming Festival of Gloaming; the rich smells of freshly cooked bison sausages and uber waffles engulfed them quickly upon passing the village border. Just outside her small cottage, there was also an elderly woman that could be seen working to get her steam-powered generator humming to warm up a large cauldron filled with what smelled like hot chocolate chicken milk, Bandle’s favourite holiday drink.

Even the children of Froljörow were busy that day: some were building snowmen wrapped with colourful scarves, mittens, and hats. Then some were helping their parents put up decorations on their homes and setting up food stands and other festive stations. And dotted all around the village were the many younger children who were in costume as strikingly colourful faerie lords and ladies from the Seelie courts of old that once ruled these lands during the previous Age.

Like many Jords in the northern tundra empire they called home, this was Bandle’s favourite time of the year. The Festival of Gloaming was one of the few times of the year when he could look back on in life and he had only but the best of memories. It was the event that marked the end-of-year festivities that took place on Twilight’s Eve, with some of the events spilling into the new year on Twilight Day. Thinking of this only soured their return for him, though, as he figured that what had happened on their journey would surely change that.

As their wagon started to move closer and closer toward the village’s northern end, more and more eyes started locking onto their mysterious cargo. A chorus of whispers and mumbling started to grow as people began to stop what they were doing to watch and follow them. No doubt hoping for some sort of explanation for what they were seeing. Eventually, they reached the large, stone building that acted as the home for the chief of the village. It was called Blizzard Helm, and it was the place where Bandle grew up when he was little. The guards posted at its large oaken doors of the stone hall looked warily at them and their cargo too as their wagon came to a stop just at the bottom of the steps leading up to the building.

Bandle got off the wagon, straightened out his clothing and made his way into Blizzard Helm. On the other side of the door, were his family, a host of guards and village elders all huddled around the large table that sat in front of the chief’s throne. All eyes turned to Bandle upon his entering the room, and instantly he knew that they were already mad about something.

“Bandle.” Said his father, sternly. “Just the person we’ve been dying to talk to.”

No one else said anything. So, Bandle awkwardly made his way up to the end of the table and said hello.

“Bandle,” continued his father. “A few days ago I sent you on a trade mission. A simple mission. Then not long after, this hall became flooded with birds of all sorts from the Jarl’s village, to the Capital, and everywhere in between. All of them carrying scrolls with messages about how one of the forbidden Dark Places had been entered—that someone was actually dumb enough to go inside one of those forsaken caves…those same letters also tell us which one of the Dark Places exactly had been entered…and it’s all too close to the route that I sent you on.”

Bandle said nothing. His voice was lost amounts to the glaring, unforgiving looks of all that were on him.

“Do you know why I never mentioned that that kind of place was near your route?” his father went on. “It was because your mother assured me that there would be no need. It was because I generally believed that there was no way you’d be dumb enough—no way that you would be stupid enough to go in there. And…I still want to believe that, son. So I’m going to give you one chance—just the one—to come clean about what happened out there. And I want you to tell me right now!”

And so, Bandle told them everything. When he was done retelling their tale, everyone in the room looked horrified. He even tried, hopelessly, to tell them about his plan to sell the Jörd in the ice so that they could just buy the supplies they needed from one of the visiting merchants, but his mother cut him off.

“You brought what here?” said his mother. “You actually brought something from that place back here? Into the village? Into our home, Bandle?!”

“That’s it, Bandle…” said his father. “This was your last chance, and now you’ve really screwed things up…and now you’ve left me no choice.” The chief closed his eyes and drew in a breath of cold air as he steeled himself, he opened his eyes again to glare at Bandle and finally, he said, “Bandle…you are under arrest for the crime of entering one of the forbidden Dark Places. Kroff…arrest your brother.”

Then Kroff, who was the captain of the village guard, started to move around the table towards Bandle with the rest of the guard following his lead. Bandle looked at this mother, hoping, desperate for an ally. It was no use, though. Quickly after meeting his pleading gaze, his mother turned her face away from him, a look of utter disappointment having thoroughly overtaken it.

“Come quietly, Bandle.” Said Kroff. “Don’t make this into a bigger scene. There’s no need for that.”

“No…I won’t.” Said Bandle, reaching for his axe.

“Don’t be stupid.” Kroff and his men began conjuring magical weapons made of black ice in response. “You can’t take us, Bandle. Not without magic.”

Deep down, Bandle knew how right he was. Fighting back would have been a tall order for two reasons. On one hand, Bandle was a large, well-built man who was six feet tall, so he towered over most of the villagers and had done so from a young age, including most of the guards present. However, he was the smallest out of all his family members. They all were at least half a foot taller than he was, including his brother Kroff who was six and a half feet tall. That being said, brute forcing his way past him and his fellow guards wasn’t likely to happen, even with the help of Jorry and Misfit if they were in the hall.

Then there was the magic. This was the other reason that forcing his way out of Blizzard Helm would be troublesome at best. Because in the Arcane Age of Enchantyon, all were subject to magical might. And Bandle had no magical power whatsoever. He was the only member of his family who was born without it.  He couldn’t back down now, though. Bandle refused to be cowed by his older brother in front of them all, magic or not. Especially when they did everything they could to make things right.

“Last chance, Bandle. Lay down your weapons now.”

“No.”

Kroff raised his hands and Bandle had only a split second to jump out of the way as ice bolts shot out of Kroff’s hands and whizzed toward his face. Bandle then hurried back onto his feet and engaged his brother and his men. As he did, though, several of the guards blasted him with a force of magic so strong that it sent him off his feet, crashing through the oaken doors of the hall, and tumbling down the steps and into the snow.

“Bandle?” shouted Jorry, rushing to help him to his feet. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“It didn’t go well.” Said Bandle, grimacing at the pain. “Move!”

Bandle pushed Jorry out of the way just in time before several ice pikes came whizzing out of the stone hall and lodged themselves deeply into the side of the wagon, much to the disapproval of the bison that were still attached to it.

“What are they trying to kill us?” Jorry yelled.

“Possibly.” Said Bandle. “Where’s Misfit?”

Just then, Kroff and the rest of the guards that were pouring out of their family’s home found themselves being pelted by a storm of flying monkeys that Misfit had just conjured while standing on top of the block of ice on their wagon. The monkeys screeched and howled at the guards as they threw slow and ice at them.

“Come on, get up!” Misfit yelled down at Bandle and Jorry. “They won’t be stopped by that for long. We’ve got to get out of here.”

And just at that moment, the bison somehow managed to snap their harnesses free of the wagon and began bolting away from the conflict altogether, leaving them all behind for safer pastures. With no way left out of the situation, the three men decided that they had no choice but to fight. Bandle took his axe off of his back, and the three of them engaged their enemy.

They gave it their all, but as time passed on during the fight, both Bandle’s friends became frozen from the waist down in blocks of ice, and the guards accompanying Kroff were both laying flat on the ground, apparently too bruised to move anymore. Meanwhile, the two brothers fought on.

“Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” Kroff spat at Bandle, swinging an axe that he forged out of ice. “Why do you have to screw up every job you’re given?”

“I already told you, it wasn’t my fault!” And with a large swing of his axe, Bandle lunged at Kroff who had fallen back on Bandle’s wagon.

Seeing the blade coming, Kroff’s eyes widened, he snapped his fingers, and teleported behind Bandle. As a result, Bandle ended up lodging the head of his axe firmly in the block of ice he had brought home on his wagon.

“BANDLE!” Bandle’s father had just come out of Blizzard Helm and was now gaping at the frozen man for the first time alongside Bandle’s mother from atop the steps. And when they all noticed that there was black smoke and a sharp, whispering coming from the spot where Bandle’s axe had been lodged in the ice, the chief said with sorrow in his eyes, “Son…what have you brought into our home?”

BANG!

The explosion of force that came from the crack in the ice sent Bandle flying backwards. It took a second, but Bandle managed to get himself back to his feet. When he did, he looked at the block of ice and saw that from its cracks, plumes of black liquid smoke were rising out of the ice and up into the air.

“What’s happening?”

Bandle turned around and saw that Kroff’s magical ice axe was crumbling in his hands.

“My magic.” Said Kroff, a slight note of panic in his voice. “It’s not working. It just stopped. Why won’t it work?” He then looked up and glared at his brother. “What is this? What did you do?”

Before Bandle could answer, they all became distracted by the whispering that was now coming from the ice block. They couldn’t make out the words that were being said, but the whispers grew louder and louder still. Rapidly, the black liquid smoke coming from the ice began pouring out so that the entire area was engulfed by the darkness. Bandle turned around quickly and got one last look at his brother’s angry face just before he too was swallowed up by the black.