Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 28.1 - Choices

Alam and Tajar were making slow progress. Five days had passed since leaving Lasthome and so far the map had held out to be true. They had followed the river for the best part of two days before reaching a frighteningly unsteady swing-bridge which took them across the foamy river to a clearing with trapper's tents flapping in the breeze. They had pressed on without stopping and had turned into the third valley pointing north as indicated by the map. It was from there that their progress slowed. They had only a goat trail to follow through the thick forest. As they climbed steadily up through the valley the trees became more stunted with branches intertwined as if they were huddling together for refuge from the northern winds. Twiggy branches snatched and snagged their clothes, and scratched exposed skin. In places the trail was so narrow and dark they were forced to dismount their horses and lead them slowly up the winding trail. After battling against the trail for most of the day it was with great relief that the forest suddenly opened before them. A wide gravelly flat lay in front of them with a shallow, gurgling, mountain stream picking its way through the middle of it.

Alam and Tajar stopped and looked around in delight. The late afternoon sun glinted on the sides of the ice covered mountain looming overhead. The mountain was brutal yet breathtaking. Dark green trees clung desperately to its steep slopes. The top half of the mountain face was naked, horizontal stone: bleached, scoured, and stained by thousands of years of withstanding the elements. It was so steep that nothing grew on it. The summit of the mountain was covered in snow and ice.

The valley that the two young men stood in was untouched by the sun. Despite the dim light and cool breeze Alam and Tajar felt joy flood into them as they deeply inhaled the fresh air.

"This almost makes the trail behind us worth travelling through," sighed Tajar.

Alam nodded in agreement. "Beautiful. Fresh water looks good too." Once they had both drunk their fill and refilled their water-skins, Alam asked, "Where to from here?"

Tajar pulled out the map. "This map is hardly precise. I think we cross the river and then follow another goat trail. I suspect it's leading us to the other side of that mountain," Tajar pointed up.

"I hope not."

"Do we press on and make the most of the good weather? Or do we camp here in comfort but lose four hours of light?"

"The wise thing to do is to move on, but to be honest I would rather rest here tonight than be wise at the moment."

"Good. I agree," Tajar nodded.

They set up camp, ate a meager meal, and slept soundly without setting a watch for the night. The next morning they rose stiff with cold as the first rays of sun slanted between the trees into the valley floor. They were halfway through eating breakfast when Tajar stood up suddenly.

"Shh!" he signaled Alam to silence.

"What?"

"Voices."

"Fur traders?" Now that Alam concentrated he could faintly hear snatches of conversation over the gurgling stream.

"No," Tajar quickly bundled up their supplies. "There are at least three voices and they don't sound happy. Do you think trappers would make that much noise?"

"No," Alam conceded.

Alam stamped out the small fire. Smoky haze from it lingered in the valley. There was no breeze to blow it away.

Nothing we can do about that.

He threw his blankets onto Mist's back. Tajar was already on his horse.

"Hurry! No time for saddles!" Tajar held his horse tack in front of him. "Hurry up, Alam!" There was fear in Tajar's eyes.

"What's the rush? It could just be..." Before he could finish his statement a palpable wave of fear washed over Alam and he understood. His pulse suddenly increased and he felt an overwhelming compulsion to flee from whatever was approaching. He leapt onto Mist.