They had been running all day. Sweat dotted his brow. His breath coming in ragged gasps. She was practically dead on her feet. Her eyes long since closed in concentration at the effort of placing one foot in front of the other. There was no going back. She carried in her hand the seed they had taken from the valley of light.
In the crisp cool morning air the guardian mother had entrusted it to her. Floating as a spot of light, swirling downy feathers circling around the pulsating dot as she spoke. Not privy to what she had said to her, he knew at least that it was of utmost importance that they make it through before the last rays of light from sun left the peak of the mountain in shadow. She had told him the guardian mother had said that they must be out of the valley before the onset of night, or they would lose the seed.
He had watched entranced as the glowing orb had flashed green before emerged from it a gem so pure he thought he might weep at the sight. An emerald of the same green glow that had shone the light of the orb. It still held softly to this glow as it sat curled lovingly in her fingers. It seemed to glean its glimmer from the sun, always matching perfectly the radiance currently illuminating the ever-darkening forest they charged through with reckless abandon. He knew with utter certainty that if they didn’t reach the foot of the mountain soon, that radiance would be gone forever; the stone crumbling to dust in her hands. He couldn’t let it happen. He would give his life to ensure it’s safe passage. That is, of course, why she had chosen him.
Their feet were bleeding. Panic was beginning to rise in his chest. He glanced back at her tear-strewn face. Her eyes still tightly closed as she clutched the stone to her breast. She trusted him. Maybe she shouldn’t have. He had gotten them lost. Then the deartch-den-whites had found them. She was no help in the fight. How could she be? He knew the pain it caused her to grip the stone. How it burned her flesh. Such was the price they paid. Such was the price that all paid to bring a new soul into the land of the living.
The guardian mother had bid him to fill his water skin from her well. They had spent the morning walking happily through the valley dripping the cool water over her fingers to keep the stone from heating to the point of pain. Their happiness had quickly turned to staggering fear as they realized they had lost the path in a broad field in the vast valley. They had gotten confused and begun following a dear path instead. That was when the beasts had begun to chase them.
His sword now covered in dried blood, as well as his left arm. Two of his fingers there were broken and he had a nasty gash from where one of the beasts’ claws had torn his flesh while ripping asunder his shield as if it were kindling before he had lopped it’s nasty head off. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be quick and relatively easy. But as sometimes happened, they had become lost. They should have been out of the valley hours ago, before mid-day even. Now they were being pursued hotly by an enemy intent on not only eating their flesh, but on burying the seed in the valley floor, where instead of metamorphasizing into a youngling, it would twist into a gnarled beast. Then it too would become intent only on preying upon others trying to make the sacred journey. Better to let the light extinguish in her hand than allow that.
He knew, however, that if the sacred glow did dwindle to nothing clutched that way in her fist, it might well take her with it. The despair at having failed the sacred stone entrusted to her, could well break her heart; literally causing it to fail. He’d always feared such a thing might happen. No one liked to talk of such things, but it was a warning solemnly spoken of when such matters were brought up and advice was being given.
He could almost see the light moving up the mountain towards the peak. The sun having disappeared from his view some time ago. It’s lustrous rays moving steadily towards the peak; towards the mark of the dimly glowing seed’s doom. Already the line of light was reaching the tree line where disappeared the towering evergreens that climbed the mountain to where the air was too thin to any longer sustain them. The orange glow made the shrubs that dotted the mountain glow as if on fire. The fiery colors a warning beacon to him, urging him to quicken his pace, to hurry.
She cried out in pain. They heard her. They were coming. He could hear their lusty growls for his flesh. Their slobbery teeth chattering as they salivated to gnaw on his bones. Then he saw it. The marble stone archway. Glimmering in the dusk light, lit mostly by the torches ensconced on either side. Beckoning him with a warm glow, delicately framing the well of life, lit and waiting for their safe return and the conclusion the journey. It was their goal, and the safe harbor for their precious stone.
He set his teeth in resolve and with what strength he had left gripped her hand. They were almost there. If they could just reach the gate before the deartch-den-whites got them. The guardians there waved to them, beckoning them onward. Still too far away to clearly see that he was wounded and desperately fleeing for his life.
She cried out again, this time stumbling and going down. The gaping maw of a deartch-den-white filled his vision as it leapt from the brush at the side of the path behind them. It’s fangs on a collision course with the exposed flesh at the back of her neck.
Not on his watch.
He let go of her hand for a better grip on his hilt and stepped into the swing. His whole body committing to the motion of his attack. Blade level with his shoulders, sword cocked sideways as he twisted and dedicated all of his will and strength to the cleaving blow.
Contact.
It sliced cleanly with nearly silent deadly accuracy. Catching the beast square at the hinge of it’s jaw and happily separating the top of it’s head from the hideous body below before sailing free from it’s quarry into the quickly cooling valley air with a swiftness that almost didn’t give time for a trail of blood to follow it’s beautiful deadly arc as it rounded from it’s masters right side to his left.
He marveled at the delicate beauty of what he had done with his sword, nearly without thinking, for a fraction of a second before the world again exploded with the menace of new threat. Death was almost upon him.
“Go!” He screamed, as the whole of the valley floor cried out with a deadly wail of the triumphant cry of the beasts that had now, finally, found them again. She, gasping sobs back, stumbled to her feet, fleeing down the path. Those waiting guardians had gone from happy calls of beckoning to terrified urgent cries for them to flee.
She would make it. He thought he would not. He stood to fight. Happy in the knowledge that she would be safe. He, committed now, and acceptant of the fact he would die, set about the grim task of reaping down her foe with a certain solemn satisfaction of the work set before him. His mind finally, and for the first time, cleared of all fear. Time slowed down as he saw to the killing with almost lazy certain strokes. He thought he would fail in the end of course, but with a quite confidence also he knew she would reach the gates.
Time to stand. Time to fight.
He could feel them coming. The bushes again exploded into a tangle of leaves, claws, fangs and death. He didn’t even give the monster time to clear the brush before running it straight through with his blade. It yelped in surprise before falling flailing on the ground as another came charging directly behind it. He flicked his blade from the side, catching it in the arm-pit and pivoting around letting it’s momentum carry it into another of his quarry coming flying down the path for him. They collided into a furry bloody mass as he lunged forward running the first the rest of the way through sliding the sword cleanly between the second’s ribs. This is the fight he had been preparing for his entire life.
She cried out. He looked back, newly stricken with terror. There between him and her, tearing with mad abandon toward her back, was one of the fell beasts. He shot like an arrow towards it. Urged on by her frantic screams. There was no way he was going to get there in time. The creature leapt through the air landing heavily on her back, knocking the cries from her lungs with a heavy thud as she tumbled to the ground.
His vision went red. Rage filled his mind. She would not die this day. Not while he yet breathed.
His legs churned. His lungs screamed. His arms ached. He watched in horror as the beast crouched on her back. It’s claw coming up in the air, pausing (it seemed for an eternity), then plunging down to rip flesh from her back. She gasped and coughed. The wind still knocked from her lungs preventing her from crying out. The beast tipped its head back in triumphant laughter as it brought its now bloody claws up for another torturing swipe. It was toying with her. That was it’s last mistake.
He slammed into the nightmarish creature with all of his might. They sailed off the path and into a tree. The beast bearing the brunt of the impact. His sword went flying. In his rage it only took three swift motions to render the creature unconscious and beyond recovery. It would not rise again.
He turned to see her bleeding and stumbling towards safety. He glanced toward the mountain. To his horror he saw the shadow now beginning to swallow the bottom of the snow line. They had very little time, and very little chance.
He grabbed her behind her shoulders, sweeping his arm and his ruined hand beneath her knees, gathering her in his arms. He staggered under her weight. She was light, but he was dead tired. He could still hear them coming. The rest of them were charging through the woods toward them. Placing one foot in front of the other with all the strength and swiftness he could muster, he trudged towards the arch with a pace that surprised him. Fear, adrenaline, and resolve adding strength and swiftness to his exhausted legs. If the nightmarish monsters caught him now, they were both dead.
They were almost there. They still had time. They could still make it through the gate and plant the seed in the sacred well. Arrows sailed past him, thunking into their quarries with deadly accuracy. Bringing them down smoothly and surely. They would make it. He and her both. He couldn’t believe his fortune.
They stepped through the archway and the gate came slamming closed behind them as the watchmen grasped his and her arms helping them on toward the well were she would plant the seed. They had but moments before the icy peak above plunged into darkness.
Her eyes opened as she stood at the brink of the ring of stones surrounding the mystical soil waiting to accept the stone from her tender hands. He looked at her expectantly and she stared at the flames below. Flames! He reached for the water the guardian mother had given him from her well. He was to throw the icy water on the flames to give her the moment she needed to plunge the seed into the soil without being burnt.
The water was gone. Sometime in the fight he had lost it. His moth dropped open. Anguish gripped his heart.
He could tell by the set of her jaw, the resolve in her eye, that she was determined. She drew a deep breath into her lungs before dropping swiftly to her knees punching the ground in the center of the ring as she came down. That breath that had so quietly and calmly gone in, came out in a blood-curdling scream as her fist sank into the burning soil mixed with coals. The flames licked and danced up her arm to her elbow, crisping the fringes of her sleeve. Her scream chilled his blood and seemed to freeze the moment in eternity. He realized he had fallen to the ground with her as she came down and was now looking up at her crouched figure framed against the peak as the last light of the day glimmered from the icy mountain tip, and then was gone. She quickly withdrew her hand and collapsed beside him.
Had they made it?
