11,723 words so far. I have about 2,000 more that I’d like to get down today, to stay on track. Enjoy the excerpt, and make sure to check out my patreon if you are enjoying the novel so far!
The monstrosities eyes were ice blue, its legs rigidly moved as it traversed the path, searching for the essence of a rune. Covering the once man, frozen water formed in spires and jagged edges, replacing all skin and signs of life. The husk of ice continued to shuffle, tasting flicker on the air.
Gryr could only assume that what they were hiding from was a Runewalker, and a blue one by the looks of it. At one point in its life, there was a man or woman under the ice. They once had a flash of brilliant blue in their eyes whenever they tapped into the rune that coursed through their body. That much Gryr knew, and he knew to be afraid of what he saw even more. Rektra was far behind them and Trolingstad was still a way away. They were alone.
Taybus released Gryr’s mouth, the imprint of the gripped hand stayed on his face. Bringing a finger to his lips, Taybus signaled silence from Gryr. With a flash of black, Taybus concentrate on Gryr’s eyes, seemingly memorizing them, studying them. He stepped into the overgrown and disheveled path the Runewalker controlled.
It screeched, the sound of metal sliding across angrier metal. Blades of ice ripped from its crystalline arms as it sprinted toward the mountain of a man. Taybus read its moves and side stepped, reaching an open decaying hand to brush the monster as it flew past him. The Runewalker didn’t feel pain, but its side corroded and fell away. At the sight of its body dying, it roared in rage and lashed toward Taybus. Instead of blindly charging, the ice covered fiend threw a myriad of slashes toward the blacksmith. In quick succession, Taybus jolted and dodged every slash.
Gryr couldn’t help but marvel at how well his master moved. The muscle bound man flowed with the grace of a young dancer. Master Taybus couldn’t have just been a blacksmith, Gryr took note to remember to quiz his master later. Wide eyed, he continued to watch the spectacle.
Taybus’s salted black hair told an age that his movements didn’t agree with. The veteran blacksmith read every attack to perfection, his hand flashing out and gripping the Runewalker for a brief moment in between slashes. It was all he needed to do, a quick touch of his death covered hand and his opponent’s life was quickly sapped. He hated it, but he prefered to live at this point in time. On Taybus’s hips he had two hand axes flanking both of his sides. The self crafted weapons were not touched once during the fight, he was in full control over the mindless monster before him.
Gryr watched as the blacksmith decided the fight was over. His master ducked beneath a stab and closed the distance between the two, thrusting his palm into the monsters chest. The ice covering whatever rested beneath shattered and Taybus’s putrid black hand plunged deep into the Runewalkers body. Gryr emerged from the shrubbery to watch as the vibrant blue left the beings eyes, whatever life kept it moving slowly drained away.
Kris Writes Worlds 
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