The Rise

[Fez_The_Kid]

I lie on the ground, my eyes fixed on the night sky, stars and galaxies stippling it like the work of an old master. Conifer trees jut out in the foreground of my sight, their dark silhouettes resembling that of the prayers of many struggling souls, beholding the heavens and supplicating for the gods’ mercy. Overhead a crescent moon slices its way between clouds, shimmering light down and into my eyes. I turn to the horizon, where peaks of forlorn mountains roll out and away, for as far as I could see.

The skavians had acquainted us with the story of a rabid troll, calling one of these summits home. “Zalma,” said one of them, “has slain scores of travelers, and members of her own kind alike.”

A perfect exemplar. A fore-warning of the unknown. For once, Dalia and I agree we’d better not tread these lands, where more, grave dangers linger under the full potential of the moon. It would take us, in full momentum, a week or so before we reached Archen. Too long, simply too long.

And we all knew it.

We knew it was the calm before the storm.

The chief fidgets at his reigns and his eyes shift from time to time, but Burkhart is usually a composed man. We can all feel it, but seeing him that way leaves a sinking sensation in my stomach. Could I do it? If it really came to that, could I? Who would blame me, or even notice? When finally we reached Archen, none of them will remember. I prayed that when it does happen, the bastard eats anyone but me. I was skinny then, but I've fattened up a bit. Unfortunate.

I should have stayed slim.

“Still awake?”

The words startle me as I jerk from my doze, showing that, no Tucker, I hadn't been. Turning to the camp fire, my eyes are wide as the moon. I partially meditate on how my face’s looking at the time, since I am someplace between furious and panic-stricken.

A single twig is tossed into the fire, where the voice’s source comes into view, face glowing in sweat. “Have I scared you?”

“Would you think otherwise?” I sit up, my head irritated for mistaking gravel for a bed. “Where’ve you been?”

“Hunting.” He reveals a hare, drooping from his grasp as he places it gently over a log.

My stomach grouses as I eye the lifeless quarry. “And Dalia?” There is a long pause before he shrugs, shutting his eyes as he sags onto the ground. We don’t converse afterwards. I recognize, almost immediately, the falsehood in his eyes, but I don’t confront him for it; I must stay sharp.

He’s Tucker, the food-bringer, or I should say, ‘hunter’ of our little group. He is often tranquil, and jawing away with the bloke was a warranted breather from Dalia’s on-going fits of temper. As much as I enjoy his company, I must say watching him hunt is awful hideous. If I could, I would hunt myself. But we do as Burkhart bids us, with our tails between our legs. This is why, I believe, I’ve been rawboned for the five years I knew these people.

I fancy Burkhart is patrolling the area, as he customarily does. I lay again, this time turning to the gloomy undergrowth.

I could have sworn I saw something move.

Sleep is the only recourse. Damn.

[Fez_The_Kid]

"We’re going through these mountains," says Burkhart, shifting in his saddle. "If we’re lucky enough to make it through before sunset, we’ll be camping afterwards." Glowering at our chief, I bite at my nails as he prepares to divulge the dreadful alternative. "If not... well, check your surroundings, and stay sharp. We don’t know what might greet us in the dark."

I feel a tingle pirouette up my spine.

"What about the troll?" Dalia guides her horse forward, pausing next to Burk, eyes unwavering from the tentative leader. She points straight ahead, "Do I need to remind you what is out there?" I turn my attention to the mountains, their bleached peaks scintillating under the sunrise. Indeed, it is the calm before the storm; my intuition knew that much.

I hear Tucker complete his loading, finally joining us on his mount. "We have no choice," he cuts in.

"Save me your hogwash," she snaps. I have nothing to say. What do I say? "There are other ways and you know it." Were there, Dalia? "We travel to Tirel, and cut to the south at the coastline; it’ll certainly be safer for us. Perhaps it’s longer, but I’d rather spend my time traveling woodlands than in the maw of some hideous animal."

"We have two options, Dalia, and with both we’re risking all our lives--through the mountains it’s more time saved; and the sooner we’re on the move, the sooner we’re out of--

“You go your way, I’ll go mine.” I can tell how the chief’s eyes widen, even from behind. “Come find me in Archen; if you’re still alive, that is.”

“Now, now, we don’t want any surprises here.” Tucker guides his horse in front of Dalia’s.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tuck.” Even I feel the repulsive sensation in his heart. “Get out of the way.”

The hunter is robbed of speech, his eyes on the ground, not daring meet the archer’s as she calmly makes her way through. Within minutes, the horse and its rider become a speck in the distance. “Tucker. You know what do.”

“What?” his head snaps, contentment edging in his voice.

“Go with her; the kid’s coming with me.” Oh, gods.

Tucker looks at me, and I could sense a message in his eyes. They whisper: “Be careful.” The hunter turns, gathers and snaps the reins. It was only Burkhart and I now.

“Let’s go,” he says, avoiding eye contact. I don’t move a muscle, try to find the breath to speak. To revolt. I want to live.

“No.” The chief halts. There is no going back now. “I’m going with them.”

“I’ll cut off your legs and feed them to the god-damned wolves," the gulp surely reaches his ears, “...if you do not follow my orders.” It took me ten seconds.

“Yes, sir…” I mutter, ready to burst in tears.

“Hyaah!”

I’m going to die.

[Fez_The_Kid]

"Stay sharp, kid."

Like hell, I will.

It’s been days since Tuck and Dalia’s egress, and only now are we actually entering the mountain zone. Mid-morning air becomes drastic frost in my mouth. Bitter wind whispers in my ears, sustaining the unheard moans of souls long lost in the Skavian sierra. Green steppes were reduced to unblemished snow valleys, bounded by bleached mountaintops and perfect precipices. Our horses’ hooves now step with a crunch, creating a short-lasting trail and leaving their mark in the snow. These were the persevering attempts to spark the birth of a snowstorm. The turning point of our journey. It was only a matter of time.

Should we ever reach Archen, we'd then be a few nights ahead of Dalia and Tuck. The archer’s scheme seemed more plausible to me, despite its being as perilous. Where there were no growing snowstorms, no looming rocky towers, there were ancient pine forests, and beasts lurking within the depths, camouflaged betwixt the deadly underbush. We had scores of leagues ahead of us. They had hundreds. I’m beginning to discern, in terms of proportions, those who who were at a higher chance of death were them. The full moon was nigh, and with it the bloodlust of many supernatural beasts.

I pray to the gods that they get out of there in one piece.

"How’re you doing back there?" the chief calls, the words almost sputtering and dying out as they reach my ears.

"I’m fine!" I respond. I’m not quite sure if he heard, but I suppose his idleness assures so.

Burkhart and I are close friends, and our connection has grown enough to match that of a father son’s. Our chief is a venerable warrior, but his hands have started to wrinkle and fold. It’s ever a shame to observe people in their prime, moving out and about, their bodies never demanding some rest; within a few years they’re close to retiring, and before your very eyes it shows. To them, a longsword was as light as a feather, but now lifting it off the ground’s become an encumbrance. And this man in front of me was no different.

I’ve been bracing myself for the advent of Zalma. Sans proper preparation, I’m going to breath my last because of her very shadow, if not by her mandible. While we were advancing up the mountains, I noticed a change in our surroundings: The mountaintops have become shorter, and blockier. The precipices are now crags, the snow-carrying wind battering at their uneven structure, threatening to collapse and end our sorry lives. We are entering her territory.

"Hyaah!" I shout, urging my mount to place me besides Burk. Him and I need to talk.

"We’re in her territory."

The words thump me like an iron shield. I sensed it. I recognized that negligible, yet life-threatening change in the atmosphere. This... this is where I truly need to stay sharp. “How big is it?”

"She’s superior to anything I encountered before, based on what our fellow Skavians told us, so I’d say the whole mountain chain." His words come out blandly, his tone, if ever slightly, influenced by innate trepidation. "I’m anxious, too, you know."

"Then, why?" I demand of him, "we should have gone together. You know Dalia, she'll never listen to what you have to say."

"Why not?" he replies, and to be quite frank, that hadn’t been what I expected. I’m unconfident of my answer. "I don’t see why we deserve to live." My brow furrows suspiciously. Where’s he going with this? "This life is only so long," he continues. "If we do deserve this life, we wouldn’t have been in this situation."

I begin contemplating, my eyes unwavering from the snow-covered land. Agnostic or not, his words do have some merit. Perhaps he’s right. The gods want us dead. But, why? In all my nineteen years, I haven’t done wrong. And if I were to believe in deities, I’d never associate myself with the damned Sway. Those filthy, corrupt, slave-owning sacks of shit. If it were possible, I’d have rode one of those fire-breathing reptiles and razed each of their related premises to the ground. Any survivors? Then the airborne lizard is in for a treat, raw or roasted. However it wishes to engorge itself on their unscrupulous flesh.

I can only dream.

"But don’t fret about that now; I won’t surrender to my fate until it gets the better of me," I notice his breath coming out pale. "We’re quite high above sea level, now," he remarks. "Oh, and, you too. If that bastard decides to show up, draw your sword, and don’t hesitate to strike its head. That’s its weak point."

I eye my iron dao briefly, the unfortunate scene playing out before my eyes. Where will you, Burk, be then? The thought only continues to feast on my energy, and I fear that the bigger it is, the closer to reality it becomes. Every time I try and take it down, it perseveres, dodging my commands and multiplying in size, threatening to take over my very being.

Chief.

You better not die.

[Fez_The_Kid]

I awake during nightfall with a racing heart.

Hail had evolved into snow, each particle the size of my thumb, clobbering at my skin and compelling my body to quiver like the blade of my sword. We had set up camp in a grotto that we’d had found during nightfall. Covered in layers upon layers of leather, we were. But it wasn’t enough; we were losing ground, both physically and mentally. The weather was draining up on our reserves, and our knapsacks -- often packed with Salvarian fare -- are nearly empty, only leaving behind the scent of food and rotting canvas. I can’t sense the presence of my hands anymore, and as much I am perturbed by the thought, it won’t be long before my ears fall out of place.

Burkhart's situation was discrete.

He’d noticed my hardship, and decided to give up some of his own apparel to warm myself up; and, I dare say, it’s not enough. His efforts, though very much valued, are in vain. I suspect if we continue to tread this path, we will never see daylight again. More, Zalma will find us sooner or later. We’ve already found bones, both human and beast, piled in the grotto. Sufficient evidence of her nearby presence, and also multiplying the likelihood of her taking this picturesque cave as a den. The Skavians don't jest. Our efforts at surviving are starting to strike us as being futile, much so that I wouldn’t be surprised if we breathe our last before we even meet the troll.

Our poor forethought is going to end us. The only cause for our death is going to be no-one but us; I won’t blame a troll, and a rabid one at that, for seeking our flesh--and neither should Burkhart.

My hands lie suspended over the small campfire, which popped and crackled faintly under the wind's howls. Burkhart shook as if he were having a seizure, the clatter of his teeth rivaling that of a woodpecker drumming on dead bark. The cave was not too large, but it definitely fit to stand as one of a troll’s many dens. That thought on its own contributed to my wetting of my leather leggings. I’d noticed that, with our shadows stretching behind us, under the orange lighting of the campfire, the walls were pale, slightly leaning to gold in color. Soon enough I realize that this is a limestone reserve, enough to sustain Knife’s Edge for years.

"Dalia," I pull my attention towards Burkhart, one brow raised, "though can come across as despotic, is compassionate more than Tuck or I, you know."

"Then I’m a blind man," I respond blandly, poking at the campfire with a frangible twig.

"She’s saved our lives more than once." I glance at the gaffer, my face expressionless.

"What do you mean, 'saved?'" I pause the poking. "She hasn’t helped us one bit since she joined us."

He sniggered, his eyes glinting under the campfire's light. "I haven’t told you, have I?"

A brow furrows. "No," I stress on the word. "You have not told me whatever it is that you want to tell me. Chief.”

"We've known Dalia for a dozen years; long before you became a part of us." The twig almost shatters in my hands. "Dalia is my better half, Anubis." A ruckus breaks out in my stomach. You god-damned liars. ‘Partners in war’ my arse. I don’t reply this time, breaking my gaze as I return to the campfire poking.

"So?" he captures my attention again, this time with a revolted expression worn on my face.

"Where are you going with this?" I demand.

"Listen, son--

"I’m not your son," I snap, cold-blooded and ruthless. He doesn’t bend.

"If I die, take this to her." I note a letter in his hand, pro-offering it to me. Our horses cry in time as I move to grab it, capturing Burk’s attention and keeping my hand from twitching a muscle. The chief stands.

"Where are you going?"

"Need to check what's wrong," he replies, his breath hissing out between his teeth, coming out pale like the death-dealing breath of a frost dragon. I rise, wincing at the protesting of my joints. Each step I take is another painful pulse through my bones. I follow suit. The horses had foreseeably tolerated the cold better than us. If I had to clarify our placing them at the entrance, I would say they stand as a forewarning about approaching danger, rather than bait with the purpose of saving our arses. Even if the troll killed them, how are we to escape? On our feet, with us barely able to stand?

I lie my palm on my stallion, caressing its snout and whispering in its ear. It seems to react, but I’m undecided if it did take note of my addressing it. Burkhart emerges from the snow. "Well?"

"I need you to listen very carefully." My eyes widen as I hypothesize. "Take the horses, and run; run as fast you can. Got it?"

The frost seems to have gotten through my skin, and up my spine. "She’s…"

"Yes, I saw her."

"I’m not going anywhere, Burk." I'd never called him by his name before.

"You dumb-arse," he snaps. "I knew it would come to this, and either we both die,” he pauses. “Or I die alone."

"Stop. I’ll help you take her down," I push him aside, and skip across the cavern, taking ahold of our swords. I turn in time to hear Burkhart shout, flailing his arms as he and the two stallions run out of view.

Gods, no.

There. I see it. The cause of all the tormenting pain in my mind; standing on two, hulking humanoid feet. It pauses, sniffing at the entrance and, much to my horror, resolves to enter. As soon as the campfire light touches its stout figure, it staggers, brushing hurled snow off its face before letting out a blood-curdling cry. The troll turns towards Burk’s direction, and flounces out of view.

My shoulders sag with a wheeze, allowing my beating heart to subside. That was close. Too damn close.

I must save Burkhart.

With the sudden rush of adrenaline, I clutch the two swords in each hand, and with all my speed, run outside the grotto. I pause, briefly noting their prints, running parallel to those of a very angry beast. I can’t really brood over the weather now, being twice as much harsher than it was inside; yet it still niggles in the back of my mind: I need to warm myself. There was no campfire here, at least not when I’m chasing after a troll like a madman.

I only hear the sound of my heart, beating and pounding thick at my chest. Burkhart, though significantly faster than a troll, can’t hope to escape its wrath. It won’t be long till he’s out of breath, and she won’t stop until he’s either out of her territory or dead. I won’t allow it. I must slay this troll, here and now.

My pace slows as I hear breathing, not human, but beast. It’s here, and so is Burk. The air clears, and as I follow the footprints, I notice something: instead of following the main road, they half-gyrate into a turnoff. The horses’, however, do continue forward. They must have gotten separated. I unsheathe my sword, the blade leaving its scabbard with a ring, signifying that the drawing of blood is near.

As I enter the turnoff, I pause and take in the scene. Before me runs a trail of man and beast, ending ten paces in front of me. A three-toed foot stands firmly in the snow, matching that of the footprint that I’d been following not moments ago. The turnoff is three feet to each of my sides wide, barely able to hold the beast as the hair on its arms brush against the precipice. I step forth, deliberately sounding my footfall as to attract its attention. To which it does. Turning with a grunt, it glares at me from under the ridge of its brows, two, yellow iris studying my features like prey. I notice blood smeared on its teeth. Bastard.

"I thought I told you to escape!" I hear Burk, the voice coming from behind the hulking brute. Its white body blending within the frozen background, it turns on its heels. I see an almost sinister smile through its mindless features.

"He’ll not abandon you."

I take a step back, staggered, shocked, confused. My brows raised, I try to respond, but I am robbed of speech. The troll notes my reaction, much to her joy.

"You humans are so... impractical." The voice is sonorous and booming in the valley, a register close to what you’d expect from a troll. I still find difficulty to speak. I’m now tasked with conversing with an animal that intends to eat me. My thoughts shatter in the back of mind, as the situation snaps me to reality once more.

I need a plan.

"Fly! You idiot!" Burk yells weakly. His steel armor bent and bloodstained, I begin to reconsider my choices here. It’s either I fight, or I fly. But the troll is right; I can’t leave our chief.

I fight.

I toss Burk his sword, then I turn, gesturing for the beast to follow. "Where do you think you’re going?" she demands, the earth trembling under her soles as she approaches. I take to the main valley once more, this time backtracking to our camp. I don’t look back, knowing she follows as the ground resumes to tremble under me.

The cave then comes into sight. I must face her here. “Why do you run?” Damn you, you bastard. “I only wish to speak to you. Your friend has surely enjoyed my company. Ha! Ha!” Her guffaw is as hideous as her jaws.

I halt, turning to my assailant. She doesn’t stop. Shit. I tighten my grip on the hilt, standing, nailed to the spot. She only grows larger and larger. The onslaught punctuated by ear-rattling roars, and yellow cuspids seeking to anchor in my flesh, I press my heel into the snow. My conscience persuades me to fly, my instincts telling me this is a fight I can’t win; that my efforts are futile. She’s taken my whole field of view by now.

Burk. I’m sorry.

I extend my sword forth, shutting my eyes as my muscles tense, prepare for the incoming collision.

Nothing.

I open one eye, the troll is still there, her prodigious dukes a hairbreadth away. She remains, her attention seemingly occupied elsewhere. I’m confused. She reaches for her back, turning in the process. A sword had struck home, most of the blade anchored in her back. I see Burk, smiling at me, yet barely standing. A dozen paces further stands my hack.

I don’t--can’t move. I watch in horror, as Burkhart is swept up like a hair string, his head covered by her mammoth fingers.

Snaap!

“NOO!” I wail in grief as the cadaver drops with a thud.

Strike at its head.

That’s its weak point.

Its head; now's my chance. Oblivion take you.

I accumulate all my residual power, all my strength, my fear and my energy into one, ultimate wallop. Burk, your death will not be in vain.

Blood spatters over snow, the sound accompanied by a bestial squelch as I dig deeper into muscle. The troll clutches at its neck, collapsing to its knees in the process. I pull out the blade, spraying more blood through the gash I’d just caused. “Die...” I murmur, walloping the blade at the bleeding wound again. I watch, as in one final tremble, the looming brute collapses onto the earth. The sword drops into the newly-formed blood puddle.

I pull out Burk’s. This one is made of steel, its hilt wrapped with the hide of some quadruped. Cheap, yet honorable. I step over the beastly corpse, retrieving my own sword in the process. I approach him. My eyes start to water as his lifeless features become clearer and clearer. I kneel and put my fingers on his face. It’s cold, clay-like, almost as cold as the weather. Nothing like in life. Gently, I drag the lids closed over his stock-still eyes. I manage four, precisely four seconds before I burst into tears, wailing over the body as I come to a realization.

The letter.

I fish through his pockets. I can’t find it. There. I must bring this to Dalia. I rise once, again, wiping tears away with the flat of my hand. The storm’s over. It’s only me and you now, horse. Two lives ended today, but the world did not. Even if Burk’s body is gone, his soul stays by my side. I sense it. I know it.

Chief, I’ll make you proud.

[Philomel]

Name of Judgement: The Rise
Judgement Type: Workshop Submission

Rewards:
Fez The Kid receives:
350 EXP
10 GP