Daire to take a Chance

[Alyssa Snow]

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Daire to take a Chance (https://soundcloud.com/fafr/james-newton-howard-flow-like-water)

[Alyssa Snow]

“Tell me where she is!” Alyssa demanded with her revolver firmly pressed underneath his jaw. He let out a gurgled laugh and droplets of blood spat upon her tattered attire.

“I’ve sworn an oath to my master. My resolve is—“

“Fuck this,” the blonde mage gunner redirected her gun to his abdomen and pulled the trigger. His eyes shot wide and he spit more blood against her face. She slammed the chilled muzzle back into his throat and cocked the hammer. “One more try ass hole, before I paint your thoughts in the snow.”

He winced as he struggled to keep conscious. A constant stream of vitae bubbled forth from his lips while he tried to draw breath. Alyssa’s knife dug into the skin of his neck with each swallow. He looked into her pale blue eyes full of rage.

“Fuck y—“

Click!

Splat!

Alyssa exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled again in rapid succession. The last of the corpses around her gurgled and bubbled into cold silence. Tears rolled down the gunner’s face mixing with the blood and dirt. She clenched her teeth and seethed her growing anger.

“Damn it,” she muttered against the wind. “Damn it!” This time louder. “Damn assassins!” she screamed into the great white expanse.

[Alyssa Snow]

“Mornin’ dear!” waved the innkeeper, Anvil, from behind the bar. He caught Alyssa mid yawn, mid eye rub, and mid struggle with the descending stairs.

“Uhnn…” she incoherently replied.

“Rough night, aye?” he continued. Alyssa groggily nodded as she hit the last of the oaken steps and staggered into the dining area of The Ace in the Sleeve. Her hair disheveled and eyes droopy, she turned to Anvil. Luckily, this time of the morning meant sparse business and the two or three patrons currently paid more attention to their morning meals than the sight that was Alyssa Snow. The girl lifted herself atop a stool across from the dwarven inn keep.

“What can I get fer ya, lass?” he questioned as he routinely polished some glassware.

“Do you have coffee?” Alyssa asked. She folded her arms on the bar top and buried her face in them in a vain attempt to stave off the light.

“Do I have coffee…” Anvil scoffed. “Of course I ‘ave coffee. I ‘ave coffee so bold it’ll put hair on yer chest to rival my own beard!” Alyssa gave a muffled sigh from the counter.

“How about the non hair growing kind…?” she mumbled, her face still buried.

“Uh… Er… Right! Keep fergettin’ you human types aren’t much fer the hair. Though I can’t see why not. A lass with a braided mane right between ‘er—“

“Anvil!” Alyssa shouted as she rose her head. The dark circles under her eyes paired with the scrunched brows and raised voiced forced him back a step. His lip snarled as though he had gazed into the vomit riddled mop bucket from last night’s lightweight alcoholics.

“Okay! Alright, just give me a moment!”

The mage gunner watched as the bartender shook his head as though to rid the thought of something vile and disappear into the back kitchen. She took a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. Whispers from the two patrons fluttered to her ears and she jerked her head over her shoulder. Quickly, they diverted their eyes and resumed partaking their meals in an awkward manner. With a flat expression, only to hide the ire with everything morning stood for, she turned back to the bar. Both her hands cupped her tired face.

“Here we are.” Anvil placed a steaming ceramic decanter beside her with a dainty little teacup beside it. “The non-hair growin’ kind.”

Alyssa parted her hands, looked down, then back up. Anvil returned a blank stare, then furrowed a brow.

“Cream and sugar?” The mage gunner asked as though she expected him to bring it with the coffee.

“Cream and su—fine,” the dwarf ducked under the counter and clinked around. Soft grumbles in a foreign language could be faintly heard. Alyssa couldn’t help but to curl her lips into a weak smile. Anvil and her had grown close over the past several months. She had been one of his longest standing tenants and though he always chastised her about how dainty or fragile she was, he genuinely babied her. Through that tough exterior hid a gentle giant.

“Here’s yer blasted cream and sugar.” Two thuds and sure enough, a small dish of cream and cubed sugar appeared. Anvil placed his hands on his hips as though a disgruntled father would toward a stubborn child.

“Thanks Anvil, you’re the sweetest!” Alyssa chimed. It completely diffused his attempt at disappointment as both his cheeks flushed a rosy hue. She smiled at him as the rugged dwarf melted away to the innkeeper she grew to love. He dashed his gaze to floor like a child with a crush.

“I’m a… I’m gonna check on th’ others,” he stammered as he rounded the counter. “Why don’t y’think of something you’d like t’eat.”

“Will do!” Alyssa chimed, already feeling the dreaded ”Curse of Morning” become exorcised from her as she poured a hot cup of coffee.

[Alyssa Snow]

Alyssa took a sip. Three sugars and a boat load of cream, just how she liked it. The creamy, sweet, yet slightly bitter drink slid down the back of her throat and warmed her like an iron prod to embers. She blinked away the sands of sleep, wriggled her body to the edge of the stool, and smiled to herself before taking another sip. Just like that, her vitality returned. Her legs began to swing slightly and head bobbed to a tune no one could hear but her. With the porcelain cup pinched snuggly between her fingers, her other hand tended to the strays of platinum blonde.

“Figure out what y’got a taste for this mornin’?” the familiar voice of her gentle giant asked. Anvil walked past with a pair of dirty dishes held high and disappeared into the kitchen. Alyssa heard the dishes clatter into the sink and splashes of water soon followed. She leaned to the side to get a look, but only caught a glimpse of the dwarf’s slightly soiled apron.

“Eggs and bacon too much to ask?” she called out to him over the sound of cleaning.

“Nope. How would you be liking those eggs?”

“Scrambled, and could I have just a little hash too?”

“Oh, I don’t know ‘bout th’ hash. Might be askin’ too much, now,” he mused. Alyssa gave a soft giggle. “I’ll get to work on them right away.” Sure enough, the clink of cleaned dishware transitioned into the melody of cooked breakfast. Sizzles and crackles filled the air mixed with the mouth watering aroma of bacon. Alyssa continued to tend to her coffee as she waited and poured herself a second cup.

“Hot n’ ready,” Anvil announced as he rounded the corner with a plate mounded with far more food than her petite frame could handle. She opened her mouth to comment, but shook her head with a smile. “I know y’asked fer a little hash, but lookit yourself! One blow from a rearin’ horse and you’d shatter like that there teacup!” He placed the plate in front of her. There was easily half dozen in eggs, nearly a dozen strips of thick-cut bacon, and either one massive tater or two medium ones worth of hash. She looked up to the innkeep and with a toothy grin from ear to ear, he placed a fork and knife beside the plate.

“You know there is no way I can eat all this, right?” Alyssa set aside her coffee and picked up the utensils.

“Oh hogwash. That’s a meager meal for a girl your age back home,” he boasted. She looked down upon its steaming, delicious glory, tightly gripped her choice of weapons, and prepared to do battle. “Go on, get in there!” He gave a hearty chuckle.

Alyssa took a deep breath and bravely buried her fork into the eggs. She managed to break a chunk off of the great yellow mountain and brought it to her lips. Out of sight it vanished and her shoulders laxed from the flawless execution in their consistency and flavor. They were delicious. They always were when Anvil made them.

“So aside from yer usual hatred of sunrise, y’seemed especially upset this mornin’,” he led on as she went back for another forkful. “Somethin’ happen last night you’d like to share with rusty ol’ Anvil.”

Alyssa swallowed and washed it down with another sip of coffee.

“Well,” she began while padding her hand around for a tablecloth. Anvil pulled one from behind the bar, slid it into her grasp, and waited as she dabbed her lips. “Last night, a messenger bird came to my window. It looked like one of those snow pigeons from up North. Y’know, all fluffy and adorable?”

“Aye,” he followed.

“Well, the note he carried was from an old acquaintance from many months ago.” She set down her utensils and her voice dulled. “I think she’s in danger. She… the note was stained in blood. I don’t know if it was hers or not…”

Anvil scrunched his face in concern and stepped closer to the counter that divided them. Alyssa stared blankly at the carefully prepared food in front of her, all appetite faded.

“Do y’still have it?” the old dwarf asked. She nodded and produced it from the chest of her Akashiman themed attire. He pulled it from her fingers, unfolded it, and ran over the words. The light from the nearby window shone through the parchment and accented the dark spatter across the page.

[Alyssa Snow]

“Talks about Knife’s Edge. Says she thinks she’s bein’ tailed,” Anvil surmised. He narrowed his deep brown eyes on the page, lowered it, and looked to Alyssa with a pale face. “Do you ‘ave any idea what the ‘Crimson ‘Ands’ are?”

He placed the paged next to her plate and pushed a thick finger against the two words in question. She looked up and frowned at his state of expression.

“Worse than I thought?” she meekly inquired.

“Far worse. They’re a band of unsavory sods runnin’ amuck all over th’ frozen wastes.” Anvil leaned in, glanced about for nearby eavesdroppers and began to whisper. “They’re the one that nearly wiped out every livin’ person in the kingdom of Eiskalt.” Anvil pulled back, then frowned.

Alyssa looked to him with an obvious struggle to hold back tears. This pained the gentle giant.

“Look, I’m sure it’s not as bad as we’re thinkin’” he spoke in attempted comfort.

“What if it is, Anvil? What if it’s too late?” He held up his hands to hush her raise tones. With a quivering voice, she softly continued. “That’s her blood on the paper. It has to be. She’s hurt and asking me for help and I’m sitting here with a safe place to sleep, food, and people that care. What does she have?”

“Alright, alright.” He continued to gesture his hands to keep her at ease. “Take it easy.”

“I can’t! It kept me up all night!”

“Keep quiet will ya? You want to draw more attention to th’ situation? What’s keepin’ ya from checkin’ up on her? Why not head out and make sure she’s alright?”

“I can’t…” Alyssa placed her face in her hands, struggling to keep the emotions from bubbling over. “I can’t afford the travel.” She looked at him in anguish. “Anvil, you and I know that if it weren’t for Leona, I wouldn’t even have this room you’ve given me.” She looked down and pushed aside her plate of now cold breakfast. “Or food to eat.”

Anvil crossed his arms and bit at the whiskers of his mustache. He grit his teeth as he struggled for the words to say. She shook her head and slumped her shoulders.

“I’m sorry Anvil. It’s not your fault.” Alyssa picked up her tablecloth and used it to dab the moisture from her eyes. “I’m just scared for her. She’s an orphan like me. She knows what it’s like. I miss her.”

Anvil unfolded his arms and reached across the counter. He took her slender hands in his giant grasp. His touch was deceivingly gentle.

“Listen, I ‘ave a son the works in the Kachuk mines. We don’t talk much ever since ‘is mother passed, rest her soul, but I believe he may be able to help ye get to where you need to be.”

Alyssa looked at him confused. “But how am I supposed to get to the mines? Aren’t they just as far North?”

The dwarven inkeep smiled. “Ah, ya’see, that there be th’ benefit of ownin’ yer own business. It’s called travel expenses and if I work them into th’ cost of services fer some of these tourists, I’ll easily make it back in coin.”

“Anvil, I couldn’t.”

“Shite you can’t! Y’can and y’will.” He pushed his thumb back into the blood stained message. Alyssa looked to it, then back to him.

“Thank you,” she said with a faint smile.

“Oh now don’t y’think yer getting’ off scot free. I need you to give my boy somethin’. Should also prove to help you convince him to help. Wait here.”

[Alyssa Snow]

The burly, muscular, rugged, yet kindest man Alyssa ever knew disappeared once more to the kitchen behind. She took the moment to breathe. The warmth from earlier quickly found its way back into her heart and she felt uplifted. Though the bloodied parchment still knotted at the back of her mind, the opportunity to help her old friend forced a smile back into her. The mage gunner glanced back to her breakfast. Though she tried to deny it, the hunger still teased at her stomach. She pulled the plate back and took a bite. Though not as delicious as right off the pan, it still hit the spot.

“Alrigh—“ The dwarf stopped in his tracks and light up at the sight. His smile fanned his wiry whiskers out. “That a girl! You’ll be needin’ a full stomach. Remind me to fix you up something fer the road.”

The mage gunner choked down her mouthful, but Anvil halted her from interjecting. He placed a small, green, metallic strongbox on the counter.

“What’s that?” she asked as she ditched her manners and wiped her mouth clean with a gloved hand.

“Ever seen adamantium before?” Alyssa shook her head. “Well, this’d be a family heirloom. From his mums side. When she passed, she left it t’him in her will, but th’ poor lad fled the hills before I could get it to him. Mighta had something to do with me bein’ a little too hard on him…”

“You?!” she giggled.

“Stow it!” he quipped back. “I used to be hard as dwarven stone back in the day. Lot has changed since she passed. Anyway, it takes two keys. I have one…” He pulled a chord from his neck and looped it over his head. On the end dangled a green key to match that of the box. “… and he has the other. I want you to bring it to him – help me fulfill his mum’s last wishes. You do that fer me and I’ll see to it you get to where you’re going. I’m sure it’ll help convince Malek to help ya as well.”

The mage gunner nodded and she reached for the strongbox. Anvil stayed her hand with his own.

“Listen,” he began in hushed tones, “this is worth more than the king’s crown. You keep it out of sight and out of anyone’s hands but yours and Malek’s. I trust ya Lass. Almost as one of my own. Don’t ya go lettin’ me down.”

“I won’t,” Alyssa affirmed, “I promise.”

“Good.” Anvil relaxed, and picked up another glass for which he began polishing vigorously in preparation for the lunch rush. “Now get to eatin’. The supply wagon is due in any moment, now. That’ll be yer ride North.”

Alyssa looked to him warmly and bobbed her head.

“I’m coming Daire. Wait for me,” the mage gunner thought as she resumed her breakfast with a crispy piece of bacon.

“You do know I can’t finish all this…”

“Oh ya better! Thaynes be damned if after all that, y’died from bein’ too dainty!”

Alyssa let out a soft laugh, and Anvil gave her a warm smile.

[Alyssa Snow]

Alyssa pulled the furs closer to her skin in an attempt to stave off the frigid mountain air. Ever prepared, the caravan leader, Barton kept extra in case additional warmth was need or a weary traveler joined the trek. A close friend of Anvil's Barton made extra exception for the little mage gunner. He made it known that the furs she borrowed were of the finest fox hairs Archen could harvest. She ran her hand over the impossibly soft pelts for the umpteenth time and wriggled in place out of satisfaction.

"I see you've taken a liking to them," Barton stated.

"Yup," Alyssa replied. "Thank you again. I'd be a popsicle by this point if you hadn't let me borrow them."

Barton chuckled as he cracked the reigns to urge the horses onward. "Anything for a friend of Anvil."

"Speaking of, how did you two meet?" the young blonde inquired.

"Well, when the dwarf was starting out in Beinost, he and his wife ran into somewhat of an issue with their old providers. Something about stifling them on inventory and outrageous delivery charges. Just so happened I had that day off and overheard them talking while I grabbed a drink at the new tavern in town, The Ace in the Sleeve."

Alyssa shifted closer to hear the story over the hiss of winter winds. She took extra caution when moving the crates and sacks around her. One could never know what was and what wasn't fragile. She then wrapped her arms around the knapsack Anvil had given to her.

"The guy was certainly intimidating back then," the Elven caravan master continued. "Anyway, I approached him with a proposition. If he was willing to help me rough up some highwaymen that's been giving me grief on my trade route, I'd cut him a lifetime discount on freight for whatever product he wanted." Barton turned around to emphasize the next part. "I didn't think he'd accept, but the tough bastard jumped on the opportunity."

"Anvil? No way. You're making this up," Alyssa laughed. She could not fathom Anvil ever being aggressive beyond his forcing food at you.

"Oh no," Barton continued with another crack of the reigns. He turned back toward the road and pulled his dark, furred hood back into place. "Your sweet little dwarf wasn't always the gentle giant you know him as. In fact, when we got to those highwaymen, he was a brute outright."

"He--" Alyssa clutched the knapsack tightly, her arms pressing against the rectangular strongbox within. "He didn't kill any of them did he?"

Barton gave her silence for a moment as he brought his hand up to his brow. He leaned forward to exercise his elven vision into the flurry of the blizzard, snarled his lip, then flopped against the driver's bench of the wagon.

"Depends. Have you ever seen a dwarf lay into a man with his fist?" Barton asked, eyes trying to keep on the narrow mountainside pass.

Alyssa sighed. She spent everything but the last year of her life confined within four walls. She recalled the recent memory of the first time she witnessed sunlight, trees, and even squirrels. There had been so much she had yet to see, and dwarven might was one of them.

"No," the mage gunner replied with a hint of sadness.

"Well there's a reason they take to blacksmithing so easily and your buddy very well lived up to his name. One slug from that man, and he nearly crushed an iron helmet like a tin cup. I'd rather not get started on what his war hammer did to those poor bastards. I won't lie to you lass, I'm almost sure at least one of those cut throats didn't survive."

The girl's soft blue eyes locked to the back of Barton's hood with both confusion and shock.

"Like I said, that soft loaf you know today used to be the epitome of the stories about dwarves. It was his human wife, Ericka, that filed down his rough edges - Thaynes bless her soul." Barton's horses began to neigh and snort. The wagon jerked to a firm stop. He snapped the reigns, but the mares would not respond.

"That's how I met Anvil," the high elf concluded with a concerned tone.

[Alyssa Snow]

"Something wrong?" Alyssa questioned. Barton held up a hand to quiet her as he peered through the drifting sheets of white. Only the soft whistle of wind replied. He whistled a distinct tune to the caravan ahead. Again, no reply.

"I want you to stay in the wagon," Barton commanded. His tone was quiet, as though to avoid being overheard. His keen eyes never once peered back to her as he slid from the driver's bench and into the ankle high snow.

"What is it?" Alyssa whispered. She took the knapsack off her lap and placed it on a cargo box beside her.

"Wolves," the caravan master replied as he drew his long elven rapier, "Or worse..."

"Worse?" she thought as she sifted to her knees, and thumbed the release over one of magnums on her thigh.

"I'm going to check the lead wagon. If anything happens to me, you need to turn the caravan around." He looked directly into her eyes with a stern face. "Do you understand?" She nodded and replied his expression with a concerned one of her own.

Barton let loose another shrill whistle, this time a faint reply echoed from behind them. The elf took a deep breath, hunched low, and advanced up the cliff side trail. Alyssa kept him in her sights as long as the snow permitted, but unfortunately her vision was not as keen as his. He left her in silence. For some reason, in light of the unnerving quiet, the biting winds of the Dagger Peaks felt exceptionally chilly. The mage gunner shivered within the limited shelter of the wagon and began to worry for Barton's safety.

Regardless of his warnings, Alyssa crawled over the barrier dividing the cargo from the driver's bench. She slipped over the edge and landed into Barton's footprints, at least, where they should have been. Already the freshly fallen powder had erased all evidence of the elf. This only worsened her growing anxiety. She looked to the rear of the cart to see if she could spot the rest of the group to no avail. She snapped back forward, took a few steps, and kept her ears open. Still nothing.

"Barton?" Alyssa whispered with both hands on her pistol and ready. She stepped deeper into the white abyss, beside the two mares. Both animals breathed heavily and paced in place. The occasional nervous nicker sounded from them.

"Barton," she tried again slightly louder. This time, the clash of steel sounded in the distance. Both horses whinnied and stomped their hooves. Alyssa ducked down and tightened her grip as another clash sounded with a familiar voice roaring with it. More steel sounded.

"Barton!" she shouted, unable to see, and unsure what to do. She wanted to help, but she didn't know her way, nor what awaited in that white void. Her mind raced with fear and heart fluttered with concern.

"Barto--"

"Alyssa get back to the wagon!" The elf's thin frame emerged from the snow like a specter. He rushed at her with incredible speed and yanked her arm in tow with him. She nearly lost her footing as the rushed between the mountainside and wagon. Barton hooked around and pulled her behind, his breathing ragged.

"Barton! What's going on?!" Alyssa caught her bearings and noticed a warm trickle from her wrist.

"Shh!" he hushed and peered over the corner. The mage gunner looked down to see blood spatter into the snow. The fur all along Barton's left arm was matted dark.

"You're injured!"

"It's nothing." He turned to her. "Do you know how to fight?" She drew a blank. "Alyssa!"

"Yes, yes," she quipped with a nod. The wagon at their back jerked forward, then back. The sounds of bucking, neighing horses filled the air and devolved into spine chilling howls of pain.

"Good, I need you listen closely."

[Alyssa Snow]

The neighing, bucking, and crying yielded. Try as it might, the hiss of wind could not mask the grotesque sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching. Instead, a soft protest of those behind could be heard. They could smell the blood of their kin. Two fiends, no longer living yet no longer dead, buried their fanged maws into the entrails of their fresh kill. Where their claws and teeth could not tear off meat, their massive rusted cleavers lent aide. They swung the bloodied blades with arms that lacked flesh and muscle capable to do so. By some ungodly will, they wielded the weapons with ease.

"Hey!" shouted a voice from the porcelain haze of snow. Both abominations turned their glowing, hallowed eyes toward the commotion.

"Yeah, you two ugly bastards, I'm talkin' to you!" The fiends emitted a sound somewhere between a scream and a moan, then lurched with shocking speed toward the source of the insults.

Alyssa peaked her pale blue eyes around the opposite corner of the wagon. She wished she hadn't. While the creatures vanished after their quarry, her eyes fell upon the mess which used to be attached to the reigns. All likeness of the poor animals became lost into the steaming stain of blood, meat, and bones. The mage gunner choked down the vomit which welled at the back of her throat. Hearing the fiends shriek and cry in chase of shouts and taunts, Alyssa tip toed over the remains. She turned to the front of the wagon and climbed back up into the cargo hold.

"Damn it," she mumbled softly. She slid her magnum back into its holster and pulled out her knife. In a rush, yet with the utmost care to be as quiet as possible, the girl pried open crates and cut open sacks. She peek inside one, crunch her face, and move to the next.

"I'm going to distract them," she replayed in their head. "While they're chasing after me, I need you to get into the wagon and find a shipment of dwarven fire whiskey. These things won't die by a blade, they need to be burnt..."

"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed as her knife pried another container open in vain. The sounds of shouts and shrieks began to grow again.

"I'm going to lead them around the front cart then back to you. You need to be ready by then or things get ugly."

They drew closer. Alyssa was running out of time.

"Yes!" she softly exclaimed, producing two jugs from a freshly opened crate. Each was stamped with a crest that seemed familiar to the mage gunner.

"Alyssa!" Barton shouted. Though reassuring, his voice was too close for comfort. She tucked her knife away, grabbed both the jugs, and made for the opening of the wagon.

Thwack!

Just missing the girl, a mighty cleaver cut across her field of vision and cleaved the support frame of the wagon in twine. Alyssa let out a shriek and stumbled backwards. Her foot hit the clutter created during her search and she fell to her bottom as a hallowed face peered inside the wagon. Like a dragon breathing smoke, the frosty haze of decayed breath billowed from between blackened teeth. The fiend's unholy stare fixed on her petrified expression. It howled and rose its cleaver. Alyssa tried to back up, but the wall of goods locked her into a corner.

The canvas to her left tore open and shot forth a bloodied arm. It gripped her firmly as the fiend in front brought his blade down with unrelenting force. By the width of a hair, she avoided dismemberment as the arm tore her through the opening. Back out into the chilling winds, she crashed into the snow. Her chest heaved in a panic as she scrambled to face her attacker.

"I told you to fucking hurry," Barton scolded as he lifted both her to her feet and snatched a jug from her hand.

"Where's the other one?!" Alyssa asked in a panicked quiver.

"Ran him through, but he'll be back on his feet in no time. Hurry, follow me." Barton dashed from behind the cover of the wagon. Alyssa kelp close on his heels. The fiend, as though it still believed its prey were inside the wagon, continued to hack away. The elf skid to a stop and let out a shrill whistle. It stopped and turned to them.

"Catch," Barton shouted as he flung the jug toward it with all his might. The undead abomination moved quicker than Alyssa thought possible and shattered the jug to pieces with a swift blow. Barton dashed forward as the whiskey doused the fiend and blotted out its overwhelming stench of undeath. Alyssa watched in awe as the elf slid low and braced to parry another cleaving blow. Steel met iron and there was a spark. The elven warrior let out a howl and a burst of light blotted them both from view. Flames overtook the beast and it shrieked wildly while flailing its arms. The shadow of a smaller figure stood in contrast to the light and delivered a firm kick to the monster's midsection. It staggered, fell backward, and slipped from view over the cliff side. Its harrowing call dwindled into nothing. The shadow turned to Alyssa, took a few steps, then buckled and landed face first into the snow.

"Barton!" Alyssa screamed.

[Alyssa Snow]

She ran to the elf's side, dropping to her knees to tend to him. She set aside the remaining jug and struggled to roll him to his back. The elf flopped to his back without a word or movement. Her eyes fell upon the grievous wound running from his shoulder clear down to his abdomen. The dirt, snow, and clothes around it all mottled into only crimson hue.

"Barton!" she cried again. No response. The mage gunner placed her ear to his mouth.

"Just a scratch..." he whispered into her ear. Alyssa let out an huge sigh of relief and pulled back.

"Oh Thaynes, I thought you died!" He tried to sit up, winced and gripped at the wound. "Stop!" she shouted and gently urged him down with a hand.

"One more..." he managed through pained breaths. He was right.

"You stay here. Don't move. You've done enough," Alyssa tried to sound stern, but her voice carried her feelings of concern. Barton choked down a groan and simply nodded his head.

The mage gunner gripped the remaining jug and stood. She took quick survey of the surroundings and thanks to remaining flames, Alyssa could see better within the flurry of snowfall. She looked to the cart, then to the faint outline ahead. It didn't seem human, but it didn't seem like a lurching fiend. Instead, she gazed upon the mangled wreckage of the lead cart. She stepped closer, keeping her ears open for the remaining undead. As she neared, she made out more markings in the snow. Unlike the horses, these stains of red belonged to the eviscerated remains of several men. Their blades were still in their sheathes. They didn't stand a chance.

Alyssa gulped. Silence and endless white left her in wait and teased at her nerves. A twig snapped and she snapped her attention to it, gun drawn. Emptiness. She took a deep breath to steel herself and turned.

They met eye to eye. Something swept in from the side.

Alyssa ducked and a rusty cleaver sang overhead. She pushed herself into a roll, keeping her grip firm on the dwarven fire whiskey. Again, she evaded another swift blow. Alyssa quickly sprang to her feet, pivoted, and copied her elven counterpart with a toss of the jug. The fiend seemed prepared, and gripped it with a free hand. The mage gunner's eyes widened in shock and she quickly propelled herself backwards away from its reach. The beast opened its gaping maw and loosed a shriek at her. It raised the jug over its head to throw. As though driven by some force of instinct, Alyssa brought her revolver in line with the jug and squeezed the trigger.

The hammer fell, struck the magically charged crystal within, and the muzzle cracked with a concentrated burst of wind. The jug exploded as the abomination brought his hand down to throw. Whiskey rained upon him, dousing his hulking frame. The aroma of alcohol filled the air, but the light of flame and crackle of fire did not. Instead, the handle of the ceramic container harmlessly bounced off the mage gunner's chest.

"Shit, now what?!"

Unlike Barton, Alyssa didn't have the strength, nor the skill to mimic the elf's cunning maneuver. She looked to the fragments scattered around the creature, then up into its glowing sockets. It hissed a cloud of chilled breath and began to charge. Her body panicked either from survival instinct or fear and she took flight away from her attacker.

"Think! Think! Think!" she chanted as she ran. The groans, and shrieks it made behind her rose the hairs on her neck.

"That's it!"

Her panicked expression faded and Alyssa quickened her stride. She tore to the left toward the cliff-side and dimly flickering light. Her chest heaved and arms pumped. The cold air in her lungs felt like daggers. Alyssa sped past Barton, past the horse remains, and around the fading flames of their last assault. She skid to a stop in the snow, beast roaring just meters away. She twisted, leveled the revolver toward the ground, and cracked off to quick shots.

POP! POP!

The arcane bursts of wind magic slammed into the snow and kicked up powder in all directions - powder that was still alight from the makeshift Molotov. The flaming liquid spattered against the ghoul and in seconds, it became a screaming, charging tower of flame. One of which quickly approached the mage gunner. Alyssa prepared, and snatched up her second M-Class pistol. As the fiend was nearly upon her, she sprang to the side, twisted her body to level both guns toward it, and unleashed a magical volley into its body. She hit the snow as she heard the final cries of the undead as the impacts from the attack drove it off the cliff.

[Alyssa Snow]

Her chest continued to rise and fall as she lay on the frigid cliff. She peered off into the endless white in disbelief and relief rolled into one. She listened as the crack and rustle of debris rattled off the rocks below until it became an eerie quiet. Alyssa shivered with a chill that urged her to rise. She stood, holstered her weapons, and patted the powder from her attire.

Something rustled in the distance.

She froze. Her stomach churned at the thoughts whirring in her head. Where there more? Did the other one climb back up? Did wolves or whatever other predator smell the blood and come for food?

She turned her gaze into the haze of white. There was another rustle, this time closer. Alyssa drew one of her guns and slowly backed up towards where Barton had fallen. She cautiously glanced to her feet, just inches from a deadly fall, and back to the direction of the noise. Her free hand slid along the side of the wagon to guide her until the corner. She stared into the emptiness, but nothing emerged. With hesitation, she rounded the wagon back to the scene of horse remains, charred earth, and a fallen friend. Then it dawned upon her.

"Barton!" Alyssa exclaimed as she ran to his side, careful to avoid a boot-full of gore. She knelt beside him. "Barton?"

No response. She placed her gloved hand upon his face and felt no warmth. The freshly fallen powder nearly washed away his dark attire. The mage gunner hurriedly tried to brush it free from him as though somehow that would improve his condition. As she brushed it away, the girl felt her eyes burn. Her vision blurred and chilled tears stung at her skin.

"Barton?" she asked again in a quiver. Desperate for anything, a movement, a groan, even breath, she placed her ear near his mouth. Though faint, his breath tickled at the hairs of her neck. She smiled.

As she lifted from him, something strong firmly gripped her shoulders. Alyssa shrieked and brought her arm toward it. Her torso tried to twist, but all was in vain. It gripped her arm, and held her firm.

"Let go!" she shouted, desperately wriggling for freedom.

"Easy girl! Easy!" a deep voice replied. It sounded calm, almost sad. She jerked her head toward the attacker. He looked back to her, his expression somber.

"We're from the rear caravan," he explained as his grip loosened on her.

"We?" Alyssa inquired as she stilled. He nodded and over his shoulder, Alyssa saw two more mounted men. The both held lanterns to ward off the snowfall and stared upon the carnage in awe.

"What happened?" the rugged man asked. He let her free and she relaxed though her heart still pounded. Where would she start? What exactly did happen? The past few moments were all but a panicked blur mixed with fear, sadness, and pure luck.

"I-I don't know," Alyssa spoke timidly before she looked to the fallen elf. "Barton, he needs medical attention. Please, we need to help him first!"

Her panicked eyes shot back to man as he stepped to Barton's side and knelt. He inspected the elf's open wounds with a frown. He pulled off one of his gloves and placed his hand against Barton's neck.

"He's lost a lot of blood. His pulse is weak," the man stated. The battered and dirty mage gunner returned a concerned look.

"You two!" the man shouted toward the horsemen. "Alexander, go back to the wagon and fetch the medical supplies. Thadeus, I want you to check the forward wagon."

"They're all dead," Alyssa muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"The forward wagon - they're all dead." Alyssa kept her head down, focused on Barton's lifeless features. His thin, chestnut hair just fluttered wistfully in the winds. The man looked to her, then back to the horsemen.

"Join Alexander. See if you can't get more men up here. If what she said is true, we'll need to clear the way and retrieve the bodies. Now hurry up and go."

Their horses neighed and reared. With a clatter of hooves, they vanished from sight. The man who remained looked toward the girl.

"Alyssa, right?"

She nodded quietly.

"I'm Galveston, head of the rear guard. I need you to tell me what you know. What happened?"

"Will he be okay?"

Galveston hesitated, "I pray so."

[Alyssa Snow]

Alyssa shared what she could remember while the two of them waited for the others to return. Galveston did his best to tend Barton's wounds in the meanwhile. Luckily, he stopped the bleeding and together, they relocated him to the back of the wagon. By this time, the two horsemen arrived with a makeshift sled pulled behind them. Atop the sled sat four more men. The one called Alexander stopped his horse near the wagon's front while the others continued on. The beast frantically pounded its hooves into the snow at the sight its kin mangled just feet away. By now, most of their gory remains lay under a thin sheet of white.

"Here's what we managed as far as supplies," Alexander said as he tossed a satchel to Galveston. The well-built man snatched the bag from the air and set it atop a nearby crate.

"Thank you. Now see if you can't salvage the yoke and get that steed of yours bound to it. The canopy is torn, and front post is a wreck, but I think she's still road worthy." Alexander saluted, dismounted the steed, and moved it from the view which spooked it. Alyssa heard the horse calm after the soldier whispered some soft tones to it. His lamp-lit silhouette danced upon the canvas as he tied his steed to the wagon's side and moved to inspect the damage.

"Let's see what we have," Galveston mumbled as he sifted through the medical satchel. "Linens, alc herbs, mortar, pestle, suture, hmm... bone saw." The gruff soldier pulled the serrated blade from the bag and held it to the flickering light. Alyssa watched him wide eyed.

"Please tell me we don't have to cut anything off..." she pleaded. Galveston grinned.

"Given how much shite this bastard has driven us into over the years, it might do him some good to lose a limb or two." He turned to the concerned mage gunner and turned straightened his goofy expression. "No, not this time. But we do need to disinfect and close those wounds. He still needs a proper medic, but it should hold him together until Kachuk." The soldier set the blade upon a crate and produced a glass bottle with a few scraps of linen.

"You ever treat a wound?" he asked.

"Some worse than this, yes," she replied to his astonishment. "Hand me the bag, and I'll start working on a styptic for the wounds."

Galveston passed it to her and she produced a small wooden case of vials, each packed with various dried herbs and powders. She then removed the mortar and pestle. Placing the remaining contents aside, she set up her materials in a small nook of the wagon near Barton's feet.

"So, how does a lass like you know how to make a styptic?" Galveston asked as he unraveled the makeshift bandages from Barton's shoulder. The rags, torn from the elf's own cloak, dripped with thick vitae as the soldier pulled them off. The deep wound underneath began to gently seep more of the elf's blood.

"I've spent a few months in the wilds," the mage gunner replied as she thumbed through the vials. "I had some training in herbalism before then. Everything else just came naturally I guess." She pulled three containers labeled "Viceroot", "Witchhazel", and "Rosebuds". Alyssa popped the cork from the vials and emptied their contents into the mortar with deliberate ratios. "I've also lead a few groups on some risky quests." The mage gunner corked and returned the left overs to their case. Then, she took the pestle to the herbs and began to grind away.

"Oh?" Galveston splashed some of the alcohol on the linen patches. "You're so young. I wouldn't have believed you if you didn't just handle a Blight Walker on your own." The gruff man pressed the wet dressings into Barton's wounds. Surprisingly, his face scrunched and legs moved slightly, but slid back to rest after a brief moment. "As you can see, those things make quick work of all but the most skilled soldiers."

Alyssa gave her wounded hero a sympathetic expression. She continued to mix her remedy as she watched his vain attempts to thrash in pain. He was weak, but still tried to fight. "I've never encountered one of those... things before. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead too. He knew fire was the only trick and those fiends don't seem the type to cater to trial and error."

"No, no they don't," Galveston replied with a weak smile. Her comment wasn't intended to be funny, but yet it seemed to amuse the seasoned guardsman.

[Alyssa Snow]

Together, Alyssa and Galveston stabilized Barton to the best of their ability. Alyssa's styptic prevented the linens from soaking through in a deep red, but some splotches still surfaced as expected. With the storm increasing, Galveston and his rear guard expedited their salvaging and patched Barton's wagon to the best of their ability. As for the forward wreckage, much of the remains were cast cliff-side including pieces of meat that were once alive minutes ago.

The rest of the journey remained as quiet as the beginning. Aside from the howling blizzard winds, many of the men drove on quietly with eyes to the treeline. Alyssa sat by Barton's side and held his hand. Every once in a while, his chest would cease to move and Alyssa would squeeze to remind him he was not alone.

"Miss," Galveston quipped with a crack of the reigns, "how's he doing?"

Alyssa looked to the wagon's new driver and back to Barton.

"Not good," she quietly replied. "His breathing is shallow, and he looks awfully pale."

Alyssa ran her hand over Barton's forehead and through sweat matted locks. His brows winced but only slightly.

"We're less than five minutes from the gates. Keep an eye on him." Galveston didn't look back. His tone conveyed his concern.

The mage gunner diverted her attention from the wounded warrior in an attempt to see Kachuk on the horizon. The blizzard had died down enough to see a fair distance but to the girl's surprise, she only saw more snow, rock, trees, and the shear drop of the cliffs on their right. Alyssa raise a brow.

"Are you sure?" she doubted, "I don't see anything."

Galveston chuckled.

"That's how they like it," he added. "We already passed two watchtowers. Did you see those?"

"Two?! You're lying. I haven't seen a building since we left the base village. All I've seen is cliffs, snow, and trees."

"You don't know much about Dwarves, do you, miss?"

Alyssa shook her head. The pause confirmed Galveston's question.

"They are people of the mountain. They do not build on the surface like humans or elves. In fact, we're most likely passing over a portion of their residential district as we speak."

With intrigue and confusion still worn on her face, the young gunner peered through the canvas down the cliff's edge. Again, only more rock greeted her suspicion.

"Are they camouflaged?"

Again, he chuckled.

"You could say that. How about you see what I'm saying for yourself. We're here."

Galveston pulled the reigns and the horses whinnied as they stopped. The cart lurched which sent Anvil's lock box tipping over the edge of a crate. Alyssa snatched it before it could hit the floor and as she raised her eyes, they fell upon the massive mithril doors of Kachuk. Unlike steel, iron, or other traditional materials, mithril shone with a white hue. Against the power capped mountains, Alyssa barely noticed them until now.

Galveston put his fingers to his lips and released a shrill to not only signal their arrival, but to the rest of the caravan behind. Just moments later, a deep surge rattled the chilled air and shook the snow from ornate craftsmanship upon the gate. A seam split in the mountain. Through the grinding sound of gears and hiss of steam, the colossal doors swung inward.

"Help me ease him out," Glaveston directed to a jaw dropped teen.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Congratulations!

Alyssa Snow receives 1335 EXP and 145 GP!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards have been added!