Second Chancers - Landfall

Stefnir cowered on the hilltop behind a loose lava rock. His quickened breath turned to steam in the cold air. The cold of his sword’s hilt numbed his fingers slightly as as he gripped it too tightly. Stefnir was a hardened warrior, but was terrified of what he saw before him.

On the rocky beach rested a metal beast. It was monstrous. Six longboats could easily fit into its black steel mass. Feeling the weight of his own sword, he marveled at how such a thing could rest in the air and not plummet into the depths. It’s black sail was not of cloth, but of a smooth glass, interlaced with metal rods which divided it into hundreds of diamond shapes.

It had come to a rest on the beach nearly an hour earlier with a rush of wind, but no other sound. Instead, it just sat there. Dormant. Waiting.

Its black steel was adorned with a grouping of vaguely familiar symbols. VIVIFICUS

It would be sunset before his relief, Alfgeir, would arrive.

I cannot wait! Gunnar must know of this.

Stefnir began to run.

View this story's 6 comments.