The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (76 page)

“
We are called the Nöhreg,
the Teachers and the Students of the Light, Wardens of the Mortal
Plane and Keepers of the Truth,” continued the one in the
middle.

Joaquin merely nodded
politely. None of what it said made any sense to him.

“
We have summoned you here
by the only means left onto us, since the Promise has been
circumvented and the three final beats of Hope have sounded, and
alas, the Heart, the Organ, has been made inconsequential.” His
voice faded into a sad silence as if he could not speak through the
emotion he felt.

The one on Joaquin’s right
took up where there other had left off. “I am called Röjan Selbû,”
he spoke with a smile, placing a hand to his chest and leaning
forward slightly in a half-bow of sorts.

“
The honor is mine,”
replied Joaquin in the most formal manner he knew. For some reason,
he placed his hand over his heart as if he were pledging allegiance
to the Flag of the United States of America, though he didn’t know
why. It just felt like the right thing to do at the
time.

“
The Nöhreg you see
standing next to me is my brother, Slind Selbû, and beyond him is
my second brother, Knüd Selbû. Together, we are the High Teachers
and Foremost Students of the Light.”

Joaquin nodded to the
others as Röjan introduced them to him. He felt a little better at
the soft and gentle manner with which they’d expressed themselves.
They weren’t at all like the Swüreg he had encountered thus
far.

“
Now we know you have
many, many questions, and we would normally be more than happy to
answer anything you might ask of us,” began Knüd his voice
identical to others who had spoken before him.

Joaquin wondered,
absently, if they were triplets, since they looked alike and moved
with similar mannerisms.

“
But, I am afraid that
time is working against us. We have so much we must explain to you.
So, if you would be so kind to ask your questions while we explain,
I think we might be able to convey a modicum of understanding to
you and your newfound friends with greater efficiency.

“
Is that to your
liking?”

Joaquin was lost for words
for a few moments. Then, “That’s ok with me. It would be nice to at
least know a little of what is going on, especially since
everything’s been so weird and unexpected.”

“
Good,” said Slind, having
regained his composure. “Let us begin with a question for you,
shall we… Do you know why you have been brought to the Melded
World?” He leaned slightly toward Joaquin in anticipation of his
reply.

“
Well, one of my
companions, a little girl, said that we were chosen or taken,
because we all possessed some sort of power or magic inside of us.
She and some of the others believed in some way we are a threat to
those that want to capture us. There was something else about a
Yule Throne and the Lord of the Storm casting a final doom, but I
think that was some crazy thought of my own,” answered Joaquin in a
rush.

Slind stood erect once
again and shared a quick glance with each one of his brothers.
“Well, it seems the Seeds of Knowledge cast into your mind have
done an exceedingly good job, eh?” His brothers nodded, smiling,
appeared relieved as well, which confused Joaquin. “But it is
termed the Jüle Throne, not the Yule Throne, and it is not really a
throne per se, but more of a sacrificial mount,” corrected Slind.
Then he peered at either brother with a smile of his
own.

Seeing Joaquin’s brow
furl, Knüd began with a motioning of his hand. “You are quite
correct, nonetheless, on both accounts, my young Lord.”

The sound of a title
directed at him almost made him jump out of his own
skin.

But, Knüd did not seem to
notice and continued without pause. “You are one of the Twelve
Guardians, or Gifts, given onto your world in order to protect it
in times of dire need. You possess of one of the eleven powers, or
skills, or tools. It dwells within you, formed in the very crux of
your soul, making you unique among the men and the women of your
universe. You hold within you one of these vast Gifts, powers,
hugely different from one another, but are
in concert
with one another. You are
one of the eleven spokes about a twelfth that is the center. When
used together, in unison, the eleven spokes about the twelfth hub
can represent a tremendous gathering of force.” He breathed deeply.
“Can you tell me what Gift you are?”

Joaquin shrugged his
shoulders, embarrassed at his lack of knowledge. And yet, he was
utterly unsure why he should feel that way in the first place. All
of this was utterly confused to him. It might as well have been
Greek.

“
Search within you,
Lordling,” urged Röjan.

Joaquin thought for a
while.
Gift am I? What the hell is he
talking about?
Then, he remembered
something. “Well, now that you mentioned it, I kept getting these
strange thoughts in my head, thought that don’t seem to come from
me. So, I am guessing, if I were supposed to be - or have to be -
some kind of Gift as you say, then I guess it would mean I have
some sort of informational thingy in me…” He trailed off uneasy.
“Right?” He glanced from brother to brother to brother feeling very
vulnerable and exposed.

“
That is very close
actually,” grinned Knüd as he bowed an admiring head toward
Joaquin. “Your Gift, Joaquin Barrientos, is Knowledge. It is
termed, the My-Ėind, in the ancient tongue of us Nöhreg. It states,
simply, that you shall always know what needs to be known at the
specific time of need. A very useful and prodigious tool if you ask
me.” He paused to chuckle into a fisted hand. “Your companions,
some of which you have not met yet, will have gifts of Strength,
Chance, Transparency, Mind, Air, Speed, Laughter, Dance, Light
–.”

“
And Weather!” exclaimed
Joaquin unexpectedly. He almost clamped his hands over his mouth,
not sure how he knew that, but it had burst into his mind so
quickly he couldn’t help himself.

All three of the brothers
laughed aloud.

“
It seems as though your
Gift is quite strong already,” mused Slind.

After a time, Knüd
continued, “Indeed, young man, indeed, but there is one more Gift
that is the cornerstone of all the other Gifts. It is the one that
binds them together. It forms a Wheel of Light so mighty, once
created, it cannot be torn asunder. It is said to be very difficult
to defeat.”

“
You speak of the
Kring-Hël.” Joaquin had suspected that on his own, without the use
of any “power” or “tool” he might’ve had inside him.

“
Yes, I
do, the Kring-Hël. He is the Spirit of the Light, who has been
charged with holding the center of the Twelve. He is their
wellspring and the very key that unlocks the true potential of all
their Gifts. The Kring-Hël is the Leader and the Guide of the
Twelve, bestowed the same sorceries once safeguarded by the Lord of
Light himself. He holds within his grasp tremendous power
and
carries a tremendous
burden as well, for it is he that is charged with keeping the Storm
at bay. It is
his
responsibility to make certain the ancient Snowman, the vile
Maelstrom, gets not even a toehold in the World of Man, for then
the delicate balance that exists between the Light and the Storm
would be upset.” He paused to take a slow, long breath. “Whenever
there has been a threat to your world, Kring-Hëls of the past have
always been able to allow their Gifts to mature naturally, with
time and practice, and eventually the threat was thwarted and
banished forthwith…,” he trailed off, glancing at each of his
brothers, who both nodded for him to continue. “This time, however,
the current Kring-Hël might be forced to go along a different path,
one that requires him to accelerate the process of maturing the
Twelve Gifts by becoming something else entirely, something of
legend.”

“
Of what?” asked Joaquin,
still no closer to understanding what the Nöhreg was
speaking.

“
It is said in the oldest
of our myths and has long been forgotten by most. Now, it is
something only postulated in the high councils of the Light,”
answered Knüd. “ It is what we call, the Final Iteration, the
higher form of the Kring-Hël, the one who must die and be reborn
into his final form. Once given his rebirth, he will become a being
so infused with the Light, he will be forever changed. For all of
time, he will turn into something quite different and
unexpected.

“
In the many, many
millennia that the Guardians have watched over the World of Man, no
one has ever laid eyes upon this Reborn Spirit of the Light. Not
even I could tell you what would be unleashed upon the universes if
the Final Iteration were realized. Though this struggle between the
Light and the Storm has been raging for more years than you can
imagine, never has the Reborn Kring-Hël walked the earth, not a
single time.

“
Up until now, there has
been no need great enough to call this wondrous, transformed being
into existence.” He stopped to gather himself. “Please, understand,
Joaquin, there have been other Kring-Hëls striding about, marching
or teaching or giving or resisting throughout the many lands and
countries and nations of your great universe, putting down great
uprisings of evil and destruction in their times. Although, their
methods and manners were each onto themselves, as vastly different
as individual flakes of snow, in the end, they were all, one in the
same. They were unrealized Kring-Hëls. They were necessary to
oppose the forces of the Storm and its’ evil master - Metohkangmi
or Nicor or Ahriman, or whatever else he is calling himself these
days - but they were adequate enough to banish the evil spreading
into the World of Man. They were fortunate, young man. They were
facing but a fraction of the might of Storm, no more than a
pinprick, a nuisance, nothing more. They were not coerced into the
final form of the Kring-Hël, because there was no need to call upon
him. His spirit may only be summoned in the darkest hour, when the
situation is dire and there is little hope for all of your kind -
mankind.” He paused, clasping his hands before him, though they
were hidden in the voluminous sleeves of his robe.

Joaquin sighed,
apprehension rising. Something unsavory was about to come his
way.

“
This time, though,” began
the Nöhreg, “the Lord of the Storm means to end the struggle once
and for all. He intends to enter the World of Men himself. His has
put forth his grand design and, the final step of its’ preamble, he
set into motion the day before yesterday. He has done what was
thought to be impossible by even the wisest and most learned of us
Teachers. He has done something deviously ingenious and abhorrent
to the natural order of things. He has circumvented the boundaries
and shackles of his prison. He has constructed the Melded World, a
plane consisting of some of the elements of your world, but
representative of even more elements of his own grotesque plane of
existence. In this Melded World he has not only control, but he now
has a means, with only the most minor of incantation and ceremony,
to enter it himself, bodily. This is why he has created another
universe in the first place. This is why he has taken you and your
companions from the World of Man, the Twelve Guardians, and placed
you there. You twelve children are the most powerful of all forces
allied against him in your universe. It is his scheme to kill you
all on this unlikely plane; thus, leaving the World of Man
defenseless against his final assault. This is why you were put
upon the Melded World.

“
It is also the reason
why, in this chapter of the struggle of all struggles, the
Kring-Hël, in all of his Truth and Glory, must be reborn. His true
powers must be realized for the first time in history.”

He stopped again,
swallowing, a crude gesture when expressed by a Nöhreg.

Seconds passed, uneasy,
the sounds of the fire suddenly growling with anger.

Here it comes,
thought Joaquin.

“
This monumental task has
been bestowed upon your newfound friend, Anthony Herrera,”
expounded Knüd with a shuddering breath.

Joaquin could only stare
back at first. All of what Knüd said ringing truthful against the
unleashed knowledge of his gift, then, “Wait a minute… are you
telling me Anthony must die?” He couldn’t help but repeat Knüd’s
dread-filled expulsion of air.

“
That is correct.” They
all spoke at once, in unison.

“
Well, shit, that
sucks!”

The Nöhreg, as one, lifted
an eyebrow each, their expression disdainfully similar.

“
It is what must be done
or the Lord of the Storm will rule all four planes,” replied Slind
succinctly.

“
But, can’t you guys help
us out? I mean, why we have to do this on our own. Surely, the
Light can provide more, right?” asked Joaquin, his voice becoming
shriller as he continued talking.

“
We would if we could,
Joaquin,” began Röjan sadly, “but, unfortunately, this will be the
last assistance the Light will be able to provide you. For this, we
are deeply sorry. You see, The Lord of the Storm has made this
combined plane inaccessible to any and all of the Light. Even to
send a Fist of the Light to aid you, took several thousand of us,
using all of our powers together, stretching ourselves to the very
extant of our abilities, before we could manage the task. This
meeting here, now, could only take place, while you were asleep and
with the aid of even more of us Teachers and Students. The Lord of
the Storm’s grip on this plane is tightening, as his power
continues to grow and fester upon it. We only hope not so many will
perish this time, as had the last time we made an attempt to
contact the Melded World.”