They're All Crazy

They're All Crazy is a short story related to the same AU as Lotus' story in Getting Lost. And, eventually, it all ties in with Angel in Bronze. If you've been following along, I do thank you for your patience. It's been a really rough year, and I've been slower than I'd like to be on story telling.

I want to hank Krellyn and RNebular for editing.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

Guinevere A. Hart

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Mountain Pass, Norrhim Mountain Range, Hibreon

235 years after coronation of King Malevaur of Raelinholm

Wyfrost stared for a long time into the shadowed canyon of the passage. The gap in the Mountain had formed a million years ago when a god used his axe blade to open the world and make it his home. The Mountain god still remained, guiding, protecting, and judging the Norrhim people. Traveling the Pass symbolized a Norrhim youth's crossing into adulthood. Wyfrost had waited his whole life for his turn. He was finally fifteen, but all he could do was stare at it.

He remembered every sin he'd ever committed. There were the countless times he'd teased his little cousins. He had punched his older brother, breaking his nose. Most recently, he'd stolen a tooth from the wyvern skull above the Arl's chair. Wyfrost could feel the Mountain frowning at him from the shadows of that narrow gap. If he went in there, the Mountain would close him up inside and grind his bones.

Wyfrost's mother grabbed one of his horns and gave his head a gentle shake. She spoke softly to him so the rest of his family wouldn't hear. "You don't have to go if you're not ready, my little Wy-bu. There's no shame in waiting another year."

She tried to give him an out. But if there was no shame in it, she wouldn't have whispered. It was almost as embarrassing as being called "little Wy-bu". Wyfrost was a grown Norrhim, and the only way to prove it was to go inside that cramped space and take the Mountain's judgment.

He reached up and took his mother's hand from his horn. "It's my turn, Mama." Then he added another sin when he lied to his mother. "I'm not afraid."

At first, he walked slow, showing a confidence he didn't feel. When he was sure he was out of his family's sight, Wy ran. The walls of the gap towered over him, and he was sure they would fall at any minute. Cold sweat was a stream down his spine, and his chest strained to breathe. Still, he pushed himself harder, because he needed to get it over with.

When the sun set, he was bruised from running into corners and branches and stones. There was a painful stitch in his ribs and his lungs burned. His limbs shook with exhaustion. He let his pack drop from his shoulder, and he collapsed beside it.

Wy sipped his water and tried to eat, all with his eyes closed. Perhaps, if he didn't see how trapped in he was, it would be alright. He lay with his head on his bag, determined to rest just a few minutes, then press ahead through the night. He drifted in and out of sleep.

At night, the sounds in the canyon had an unearthly quality. Now that he was still and quiet, he could hear the Mountain. The old god mumbled and groaned. At times he muttered to Wy in the voices of his deceased grandparents, his mother and father, his brother, and even his Arl. Several times, he opened his eyes, expecting to find them standing over him. All he saw was the light of the stars winking at him from the narrow thread of space above.

When real sleep came, it took him deep. In his dreams he ran from vile demons with blue skin and black eyes. The demons pursued him until he encountered a handsome elfess with auburn hair. The monsters stopped chasing him only to watch him spar with her. In his dream, she was his match not only in combat, but in bed. He hadn't expected to have that sort of dream in the Mountain Pass.

He opened his eyes to a strip of heavy grey sky. He had the sense that someone watched him. When he turned his head to the side, there was another elfess seated beside him. This one was diminutive, compared to the beauty from his dream. She had white hair and blue tattoos on her face. She smiled at him and said, "You're not ready."

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm lost."

"Oh. I know where we are. I can help you get back. I just have to do this first, okay?" She only stared at him with her enigmatic smile.

Then Wyfrost woke for real when thunder echoed off the walls of the canyon. It was loud enough to rattle his bones. The sky opened up and poured ice cold rain on him. "Damn it." He swore when he sat up, because absolutely everything in his body hurt.

Regardless of the pain, he would run until he reached the other side. The journey took four to five days for most Norrhim youth. Wyfrost cut it in half, and gave himself a day to recoup once he was out. Then he pushed himself just as hard to get back home. He wouldn't spend any more time in that awful place than he had to. He imagined someday he'd bring his own child to the Pass, but after this, Wy thought he'd never go into the gap again.

*****

Norrhim village of Fjallheim

7 Years Later

It was bright and hot in the longhouse. They'd lit every torch, and the fire pit burned high. More and more people filed in as the summons reached the far ends of the village. Everyone talked at once, the noise level rising with questions the Arl would answer in his own time.

Wyfrost considered the assembly. He thought there were too many people in too small a space. He tried to suppress a nagging, irrational, notion that there wasn't enough air for all of them. If some idiot knocked over a light and started a fire, they could never get everyone out safely. He wished he could sit near the door, his usual place at these community meetings. This time though, he'd been told to sit beside Arl Isulf.

He rubbed the sweat on the back of his neck and shifted, uncomfortable on the bench near the Arl's seat. Wyfrost had never been asked to sit there before, and he felt a foreboding at the honor. Usually, these seats were reserved for the Arl's family and important dignitaries; and Wy was neither of those. He was just a simple hunter, but also a warrior, if one was necessary.

Wy turned his attention to the door as the din fell to a whisper. The crowd parted for Vala Gudny. Myth said Gudny was old as the mountain, but she stood tall and strong. The walking stick she carried was only a symbol of her authority as head vala. She nodded her respect to the Arl and he lowered his head in return. What surprised Wy and the rest of the Norrhim people was Vala Gudny's retinue.

Following close behind her were a handful of elf magic users. The elves had arrived more than a century ago, seeking refuge from their own people. The Norrhim gave the lithe, long-lived beings asylum, and they'd remained ever since. The elves had their place within the village, but they'd never been invited to council before.

Gudny lifted her staff and brought it down hard, clacking the floor thrice to get everyone's attention. She simply stated, "War comes to Fjallheim."

The Arl grunted, "War is a strong word, Vala Gudny. But nothing is stronger than a Fjallheim warrior, eh?" the Arl laughed and turned to Wyfrost for affirmation.

Arl Isulf had been through more than one battle in his lifetime, and nothing frightened the grizzled Norrhim. One of his horns was broken off near the temple, part of his left hand was gone, he walked with a limp, and he had more scars than the mountain. The old Arl laughed in the face of any threat. At only twenty-two years, the barely seasoned Wyfrost could find no humor in the thought of war. Still, he smiled for the Arl, because it was expected of him.

The Arl called out, "Tell me, Vala, what have you seen with your witch's sight? Who is it that wants my axe in his skull, hmm? And why do you bring your little elves into my longhouse?"

Vala Gudny was not impressed with the Arl's bravado. She said, "The elves only confirm the portents I have seen, for they have known the same visions. To the south of us, stars rain down upon elven Raelinholm. Great beasts of steel and light consume their people, and soon, they will feast upon our own."

The assembly murmured, and a few people laughed. The Arl leaned forward on his seat and smiled. He pointed at the wyvern skull that hung above his head. "That," he said, "was a great beast. The wyvern bit my horn off. I'll not soil my britches over some pansy elf in a metal suit."

Gudny slammed her stick into the floor again and shouted, "The metal beasts aren't elves. I told you, they are attacking the elves. The beasts are twice the size of a Norrhim, and they are nearly indestructible."

The Arl sat back in his chair and sighed, "Sounds like an elf problem."

Gudny said, "For now, but they are moving northward, towards the mountain." She stepped forward and locked eyes with the Arl. With vehemence she declared, "I have witnessed our future. I have seen the conquest of Fjallheim. Surely even you have seen the portents: the stars falling out of the sky, the animals behaving strangely. My Arl... Isulf, please, listen to me. We need to enlist help, before it's too late for us."

Wy had noticed the lights in the night sky, but what the gods played at was none of his concern. He also knew about the animals that lived in the mountain forest surrounding Fjallheim. Flocks of birds that should be headed south were hunkering down, but Wy just assumed it meant a late winter. Herds of deer roamed to higher ground when they should have been headed for the valley. Then there was the large sabre cat, boldly coming into the village to take their goats.

Arl Isulf looked at his people as he considered the Vala's plea. Vala Gudny had never been wrong before, and the people knew it. Some shifted their eyes, nervous, leaning in to mutter fearful words into any ear that would listen. Others balled their fists, some even drawing whatever simple weapons they had on their belts. Wyfrost waited on the will of his Arl.

At length, the Arl asked, "What's your plan then, Vala? And what have your elves to do with it?"

Gudny lifted her chin and announced, "We wake the Slumbering One and ask for his aid."

The room went quiet, and every wide eye turned to stare at Vala Gudny. The Slumbering One was believed to be an ancient dormant dragon. Northward, through the Great Pass and into a land of perpetual winter, the dragon slept in a cave behind a wall of ice. The dragon was a companion for the god who lived in the Mountain. He was a sacred part of Norrhim faith, and he was something to be left alone.

Arl Isulf broke the stunned silence with a hearty laugh, and in seconds the rest of the people joined him. Wyfrost forced a smile, but he could see where this conversation was going. And his seat of "honor" beside the Arl suddenly became even less comfortable. He wouldn't admit to being afraid of the Pass. That was bad enough, but getting himself mauled by an angry dragon seemed like a stupid way to die.

When neither Vala Gudny nor the elves laughed, the Arl shook his head. "You've been spending too much time with your little elf witches, Vala. Their crazy's rubbing off on you. Go back to your sticks and your bones, old woman."

"Shut up, and listen to me, you stubborn ass!" Gudny was the only clan member who could talk to the Arl like that and get away with it. Wyfrost winced all the same. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Arl Isulf smirked and waved a lazy hand at her. "Fine, fine. Continue."

One of the elves stepped forward, and Wy thought she was rather pretty. Long, dark brown hair, free flowing around her shoulders and touched with a hint of burnished red. She had the kind of lips that were meant to be kissed, and hips meant to... Wyfrost let that idea trail off right there, because everyone knew that elves were unstable. Her eyes, a deep soft sable, seemed to convey innocence. He wasn't about to let that look beguile him. As an elf, she could have been more than twice as old as he. He truly believed their longevity drove them crazy. Beautiful or not, elves were insane, every last one of them.

Gudny said, "This is Mila. She's been able to interpret part of an ancient text preserved by her own people. She will go to the dragon, and negotiate with him on our behalf. Her sorcery should give her the ability to communicate and perhaps sway him to fight against the invaders with us."

Arl Isulf looked the girl up and down, appreciating her beauty as much as Wyfrost had. "'Negotiate'," he said. "Right. That's your plan, huh? All right, so, what do you want Wyfrost for?"

"Wyfrost was the one who took the initiative when our goats were disappearing. He stalked and killed the great sabre cat, and he did it on his own. He is capable and loyal. Wyfrost knows the Mountain, and the Mountain knows him."

So, this is what comes of being a good dog, Wy thought. He kept his feelings to himself while he waited for the Arl to make a decision. Wy did know the Mountain, and he also knew his place. If it was decided he'd have to carry a doe-eyed lunatic to the arctic so she could parlay with a dragon, then that's what he'd do.

The Vala and the Arl held one another in a palpable stare-down. Wy felt himself stretched between them. The wise woman would win. She always did, and Wy accepted his sentencing for good behavior before it was even passed. Finally, the Arl broke the silence with, "What say you, Wyfrost?"

Being offered a choice was unexpected. Wy's gut instinct was to tell Vala Gudny to find another fool for her errand. He scanned the crowd of faces all waiting for his answer. Any fool but him, and the task would end in tragedy before it had barely begun. That wasn't arrogance or bravado, just a plain truth.

"Yeah," Wyfrost said, "I'll do it."

*****

He stood at the edge of the northward path, waiting for Mila. She took her time, and he couldn't understand what took so long. He inwardly griped over his predicament. He hadn't the first clue when it came to the proper care and feeding of elven witches. Of course, if she was anything at all like a Norrhim female, she'd be loud and clear about it when he screwed something up. Any way he looked at it, the walk to the arctic was bound to be more arduous than if he'd gone alone.

A voice startled him from his thoughts, "Ready?" It was a light, chipper sound.

Youthful, he thought, but she was probably older than his great grandmother. Even in her bulky, fur lined hooded cloak and heavy boots, she'd still been able to sneak up on him. Big dark eyes looked through him, as if she checked out his soul and was unimpressed. This close, he could feel her power radiating from her, smell it, like the air before a lightning storm. Mila gave Wyfrost the creeps.

He wasn't about to let her know that. "I've been ready. I thought we agreed on sun-up?"

She glanced eastward and stated, "Yeah, sun's up. Let's go."

"Look, if you're going to survive out here, you're going to have to listen to me. It's my job to keep you safe."

Mila didn't let him finish. She rolled her eyes and said, "Great! If your little lecture's going to run long, do you think you could walk and talk? You know, both at the same time?"

Wyfrost paused, torn between fulfilling his duties and going back home. His earlier predictions reaffirmed themselves. This was going to be one hell of a long walk. It'd be a real shame if she back-sassed a pack of wolves, or maybe she'd just run her mouth right off the edge of a cliff.

While Wyfrost imagined Mila's tragic end, they'd stared at each other for a full minute. Then she broke the silence with, "For somebody getting on my ass because he thinks I'm late, it sure is taking a while for you to move yours."

As quiet as Mila had been to sneak up on him before, that was where her silence ended. They hadn't gone far when her complaints became a constant annoying buzz in Wy's ear. "We've been trudging through this snow for half the day, and my feet are killing me. Probably time to stop for the night, huh Wy?"

Wyfrost knew precisely how long they'd been walking. To humor her, he paused and checked the position of the sun. "Three hours," he announced. "We've been out here all of three hours. You want to quit for the night? We can get there in week on my schedule. Or we can go with your plan and spend a whole month out here. Just you... and me." He drew out the last phrase to make his point as clear as possible.

"You don't have to be so dramatic. Is this really going to take a week?"

"The longer we spend walking, the faster this trip ends— for both of us."

"Well, can we stop for just a minute? My feet feel like their being skinned inside these boots."

Wy looked down at her feet. "Those new boots?" he asked.

"Of course they are. New to me, anyway. My own shoes were fine for the village, but they'd never last on a hike like this."

He knelt and pressed on the toe of one boot confirming his suspicions. Mila's shoes were too big for her. He wanted to explain to her that she was an imbecile, that she was the most irritating creature he had ever had the displeasure of escorting, and she could take a hike right back to the village. Instead, he told her, "Those are too big for your feet. I assume you packed extra socks. Put them on over the ones you're wearing."

The way Mila dug around in her pack made Wyfrost think she was going to take the rest of the day just to find some socks. Finally, she dumped the contents out onto the snow. She'd packed one extra pair of socks and one clean shirt. The rest of it was junk: a pile of useless beautifying accoutrements, four witchy looking elf books, a glass globe with a preserved flower inside it, and an alarmingly large dildo. Wyfrost bent to pick it up and she snatched it from his hands. She shoved the thing back in her bag and waved her socks at him. "Found them!"

He might've said something about how she'd packed, but his imagination was trailing off on its own. He wondered if she was using that thing to practice in preparation for servicing a dragon's morning wood. The thought made him feel both queasy and titillated at the same time. He laughed aloud and tried to cover with a cough. He mumbled, "Practice makes perfect, I guess."

"What was that?" she asked while she pulled off her boots.

"Yeah," Wyfrost said, "Socks! Socks make er... a perfect fit."

"That's better," she declared after a few test strides. Mila shouldered her bag of junk. One thing was for certain, Wyfrost wasn't about to let her con him into carrying all that stuff around.

A few hours later, with his bag on one shoulder and Mila's on the other, Wyfrost was ready for a break. Mila had stopped complaining about her feet only to start griping about her back. At some point, he'd taken her pack from her just to shut her up. "You hungry?" he asked.

He'd noticed she hadn't packed any food, and Wy began to wonder if this woman had ever even left the house before. He had his supply, and he'd brought emergency rations in case anything happened. He supposed idiocy was emergency enough. While he settled into his lunch, he silently prayed to the Mountain for mercy. He also threw in a plea to the gods of the Sacred Eternal Empire for the patience he did not possess. If she complained about the food, Wyfrost feared he might pitch Mila headlong down the mountainside.

"This bread tastes stale."

Wy stoically ignored the comment. He stuffed his mouth and chewed with vigor while inwardly congratulating himself for his divine behavior. The witch was pleasant enough to look at, but as far as he was concerned, the dragon could have her. And best of luck to him.

By the time they were ready to stop for the night, Mila was tired enough to quit complaining. He cleared a space for a fire and started to look for kindling. She asked, "Can I help?"