CHAPTER TWELVE

THE REMNANTS

The cursed storm passed. In its wake, it left ash and destruction. The once lively camp lies scorched and empty; adorned with the unfortunate remnants of those taken by its grasp. A handful of the remaining survivors look at the aftermath as they exit the crevices of the mountain. Their supplies, the animals they brought, and the men that accompanied them all mixed in black ash. A gust of wind blows as it carries the ashes away into oblivion. Now, not even ash remains.

They cannot feel pity for the dead as the horror they escaped gives them a guilty sense of relief. Luckily, it wasn’t me. This is an all too familiar sensation when facing a disaster of such proportions. They won't admit it but they know... deep down.

Patrick looks around, unknowst to him his body shivers; his eyes, red from exhaustion, he did not sleep. He wasn’t alone. The usually joyful and full-of-life attitude of the merry-men was snuffed away in one fell swoop. Tyr leans on the cold stones of the mountain in silence; thinking, I told you so.

“What are we going to do now?” Patrick asks; no answer. What now, indeed?

The caravan leader yells orders, trying to salvage what he can; no one pays attention. What can he salvage?

“Listen, people! This brief journey is over. Go home, go back to your lives and be glad you still have them,” a man says.

“What?” Patrick blurts out as he rushes toward him.

“What about the demon? What about the people it killed? The people it could still kill?” Patrick yells, drawing the attention of the few survivors. His voice is loud as a dreaded silence rules the sight of the disaster. They glance at him; Tyr glances at him surprised that he can still think about that.

Did he not learn his lesson, Tyr wonders?

“Do you not see our current situation? Are you blind or plain stupid?” the caravan leader screams in frustration and annoyance.

“We took an oath that we would help those people,” Patrick quickly responds.

“An oath? We gathered in one insignificant tavern because there was a job that could make us money. An oath? What do you think this is? Some story about heroes and villains? This is real life, boy!” the caravan leader says as he brushes off his foolish remark.

“I know this isn’t some story! I know that all too well. I know it even more now... but... but lives are still on the line. The lives of good people, the lives of children. Who will save them if we don’t?” Patrick inspiringly says unable to control his body from shaking.

Tyr looks at him with even more surprise.

He is still clinging to his ideals? How?

“Look over there,” the caravan leader says as he points towards the mountain pass.

Patrick looks as he notices an extensive amount of rubble blocking the path.

The cursed storm destroyed the path.

“Do you understand now?” the caravan leader asks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“There must still be a way, there has to be a way,” Patrick says, clinging to hope.

“Blah! I’m done talking to you. You are as stubborn as a mule,” the caravan leader says as he walks away.

The other mercenaries look at Patrick for a moment as they turn their backs and walk away; all but one. The bearded axe-wielding mercenary from last night.

“I did not think you would still have the spine to continue. I have to say, I am quite impressed. I realized we didn’t properly introduce ourselves last night. My name is Olaf,” Olaf says as he extends his hand towards Patrick.

“A pleasure, Olaf,” Patrick shakes his hand.

” You still want to continue?” Olaf asks.

"We have to endure through hardships,” Patrick adds.

Further away, on the cold stones of the mountain, Tyr is deep in thought. He looks at his white sword. Tyr remembers. He remembers himself as a young boy; remembers the harsh training he underwent. Tyr remembers one of his instructors yelling at him and the other children; yelling the word endure as the harsh training broke their minds and bodies.

ENDURE!

“Tyr?” a voice calls out.

Tyr shakes his head as he returns to reality.

“Uh! What?” Tyr asks as trying to find the source of the voice. Patrick and Olaf stand near him.

“Tyr, the rest of the men gave up on our quest,” Patrick says.

“A wise decision,” Tyr adds, nodding.

“It is not! We have to continue, we have to endure this and move on,” Patrick says.

Endure? Why do I have to endure anything? I have endured for far too long. Why did he have to use that word? Tyr evades direct eye contact pretending to look elsewhere.

“You promised me,” Patrick says as he looks Tyr in the eyes. Tyr wonders if this is even the same person. It is almost as he matured a little. Almost. And a little.

“Fine,” Tyr adds.

“So what is the plan?” Olaf asks.

Patrick encompassed in dignity, and confidence stands imposing...

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, swiftly killing the serious atmosphere. Olaf and Tyr look at him as if someone forced a lemon in their mouths.

Patrick awkwardly laughs.

“I was hoping one of you would have an idea,” Patrick says as he avoids eye contact in a slight embarrassment.

“Well, since the mountain pass is blocked, we cannot go there. We could either go around the mountain, which will take a long time, or we could...” Olaf says as he gets cut off.

“Don’t even finish that,” Tyr says with visible disgust.

“Finish what?” Patrick asks as he looks at them, “Finish what?” he repeats.

The two men stand in silence as Tyr turns to Patrick and looks at him.

“Or we could go through the mountain,” Tyr adds.

“Isn't the mountain pass blocked? Is that even possible?” Patrick asks as if hope suddenly appeared and smacked him over the head.

“It is possible... but not recommended,” Tyr says.

“How? Why? What?” Patrick asks, impatiently.

“How do you not know about this?” Olaf asks as he puts his hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Know what? Can you please explain it to me?” Patrick asks in frustration.

Olaf sighs.

“There are three ways to pass the mountain. One to go through the path. The second is to go around the mountain. Both are sensible options. The third is to go through the mountain since climbing the mountain is impossible because of its sharp and narrow peaks,” Olaf explains.

“This mountain is not any mountain. It is a remnant of the old world. They say in ancient times there was a civilization that lived here, a civilization that dabbled in evil magic. They say that civilization dug the mountain and made buildings inside. Many have explored this and other places of similar nature! They are called the Ancient Dwellings and there are a total of three of them in Ferro. This being one of them. Did they teach you nothing?” Tyr explains.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Patrick asks as he makes his way towards the mountain; Tyr grabs him by the shoulder.

“The reason no one does this anymore is that there are dangers in there,” Tyr adds.

“What dangers?” Patrick asks as he is still hastily waiting to continue his journey.

“Remember the part about evil magic?” Olaf says.

“Yes?” Patrick says as he awaits an explanation.

“People from all across the kingdom used to gather at places such as these. They explored them...” Olaf explains as he gets cut off.

“They stole treasures from them and cleaned them dry. They continued going further and further until they woke something,” Tyr continues explaining.

“What is this something?” Patrick asks with curiosity.

“They woke some sort of creatures. Beings not like us, beings not of the flesh, but beings made of metal. They awoke death,” Tyr explains.

“Beings of metal?” Patrick repeats.

“Yes. Many died, and because of this, no one dares venture into them anymore. For good reason. There is evil magic there,“ Olaf adds.

The three look at the ominous mountain. Closely inspecting the opening where they hid. Listening. It is as the mountain whispers to them. Whispers of darkness. Their minds play tricks as they hear noises. And as they hear noises those noises turn to words. An uneasy feeling encompasses them and draws them closer... and closer... and...

“This is splendid news!” Patrick yells breaking the spell.

Olaf and Tyr look at him with surprise and confusion, all melted into one expression.

“Good news? Have you been listening?” Tyr asks in shock.

“I have! You are saying we can go through the mountain,” Patrick says with a light smile on his face.

“That is the part you heard? Not the part about death and danger?” Tyr asks, not expecting an answer to his question.

“With your skills, I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. Also, we can quickly pass so there shouldn’t be a problem,” Patrick says with confidence.

“You give me way too much credit. Even if we bypass the danger, how will we know where to go?” Tyr says.

“It is not difficult. They say the pass through the mountain is simple. Head straight. The issue lies when people went to the levels below,” Olaf says.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Tyr asks, staring judgementally at Olaf.

“I have to get to Greybloom. I have my reasons,” Olaf says.

“Then it is settled,” Patrick says as he walks; he stops and turns back towards Olaf and Tyr.

“Where exactly is the entrance,” Patrick asks as both Tyr and Olaf harshly slap themselves in the forehead.

“The opening we hid from the storm,” Tyr says as he points to its direction.

"Of course, that makes sense," Patrick adds as he awkwardly laughs.

Tyr and Olaf shrug as they follow the adventurous youth. Making their way through the dark of the mountain. Tyr’s white sword works well as a source of light casting a slight light in the darkness.

Suddenly, they reach an opening where emerald light radiates around a large stone door. Runes illuminate the entrance and the name of Lugh inscribed atop it. Olaf pushes the door as it moves almost on its own.

Patrick and Olaf enter.

“Why am I even doing this?” Tyr says as he shakes his head. He follows.

The adventure continues against Tyr’s better judgment.