> “Used to know a northerner once, Thorum’s the name. Strong and honorable, one you’d depend your back on. Was strong with an axe and shield yet didn't have it in him to kill an enemy at his mercy.
>
> Later on, he'd tell me it's cause the man was a northerner, and to him, ‘north don’t fight north.’
>
> Made no difference to the empire, is all. They saw a soldier going against regulations, so old reliable Thorum became a message to the army. Got locked up in chains and fell in the long line of the executioner’s block.
>
> Before his death, had asked him if he could go back and kill the northerner, would he? The man just smiled and said no, said it was a matter of principle.
>
> Really, the old fuck was just too stubborn for his own good. Now his head lay in a cart with the others. Among deserters and traitors. Didn't feel right, is all, the soldier deserved a better end. A family to go back to.
>
> That story good enough for you? Right, then where's my drink?"
>
> - Retired Frontline Veteran
> From the book Memoirs of War
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She chortled, then it bloomed to a sudden laughter that warmed his heart, fuzzy to his ears that in moments made him join her in her merriment. They laughed together, pearl white teeth showing, easing their nerves. It was a pure moment filled with so much mirth that at one point he even noticed a tear drip down her cheek.
Then the growls and howls grew louder, and the stampede of feet seemed nearer.
“All right, shut it, girl,” he had to say, which abruptly made her frown and narrow her eyes at him, “there’s a horde coming, we’ve got to go.”
He unslung his leather backpack, took a knee and opened it, bringing out his metal hooks attached with rope. He looked around, wondering where it would best to set it up-
“What the hells are you doing?”
He looked up and frowned at the girl that interrupted him, “we can climb down,” he said, “how else can we avoid the horde?”
She sputtered in response, “climb down? You want to climb down the side that faces the Allwinter? Even with thermal magic, we’ll freeze midway through! And what of when your length of rope is not enough, or your hooks not stable enough, what will you use then to descend?”
“My hands,” he said matter-of-factly.
She balled her hands to her face and growled in frustration, an exasperation that lasted moments. After a while, she closed her eyes and laid her hand on her hips, and took deep breaths. “All right, pea-brain,” she said in finality, as she opened her eyes, “you’ll be following my lead.”
He frowned harder, but he moved to bring his hooks back inside his bag, “and why is that?”
“One,” she started, her ocean blue eyes staring straight at him as he secured his backpack, “I’m smarter than you, dunghead.” Sure that its contents were safe, he slung the leather bag back to his shoulder, “two, played this as a game or not, in this setting, I am your princess, hence you are my retainer.” He stood then to his full height, irritation clear on his face, and stared down at her.
“Three, we are northerners.”
His face slackened then, and closed his eyes, remembering the countless lessons and words his mother taught him, emphasizing the one thing northerners valued most: Tradition.
He opened his eyes with acceptance.
“The winter embraces all, for all of life it would crave,” he started.
“To the northerners, together the winter they shall brave,” she finished.
He sighed then, and reluctantly acquiesced, “fine, if at least for my mother’s sake,” he said, to which the girl raised an inquisitive brow, “what are we to do then, oh genius princess?” She smiled then in relief, glad that her persuasion worked.
“Carry me on your shoulders.”
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He blinked, “what?”
In the caverns the sound of beasts and feet echoed louder, and the girl closed her eyes and held a hand on her chest, focusing her arcana for a magical feat. “No time,” she said as blue veins rose from her chest, creeping up on her pale neck, then finally touching her lips, “just carry me-”
Without pause the boy reached her and extended an arm on her belly, lifting her up, leaving her feet dangling in front of him and her face facing his back.
Like a potato sack.
The girl sputtered in indignation, momentarily faltering her magic, “you piece of-!”
“You said no time!” the boy said innocently with a mischievous smile, before becoming serious once again, “now where to?”
“Just run straight!” She said to his behind, and went back to focusing on her arcana.
“Uh,” the boy muttered, now seeing shadows of movement beyond the darkness of the cave, “straight is bad.”
No response.
Fuck.
He ran forward, trusting in her judgment. Arcanist or no, she healed him, and he owed her that much. His legs took him towards the darkness of the cave, and he could not help but see it as an actual maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth waiting to chew and grind him, where a speck of bone would not be left.
He gritted his teeth, no matter, he thought, the snow will not stop me.
His legs continued straight and true, heedless of danger, and finally he went inside the darkness, where silence suddenly reigned. He felt as if eyes bore into him and tongue licked lips, but he gave it no heed.
Until Amelia’s Igni hovered in front of him to light the way, and now he gave every damn in the world.
White thick furred monsters greeted his view, their spindly hands and feet crawling the cave walls and roofs like monkeys. They showed their smiling mouth of thick fangs and licking lips, their dark blue eyes in glee for the chance of eating exotic dinner.
“Amelia!” He screamed as manly as possible.
Glancing his behind, he saw the girl open her mouth wide, as if screaming, yet he heard nothing. The mountain dwellers, however, suddenly shrieked, their shrill cries echoing in the cave as they tried to cover their bleeding ears.
Now, the path was clear.
“Just… just follow Igni,” she huffed in total exhaustion.
He nodded, and jumped over agonized hunched mountain dwellers and evaded the ones that fell from the roof. His feet were quick but careful, finding purchase in whatever ground that had no monster. Through it all, he took turns and blindly followed the hovering firelight orb, reaching for it like the light at the end of the tunnel.
Until the tunnel actually ended and he met with a cave wall, stopping their tracks.
“Your orb’s not moving, girl,” he huffed, the frantic run clawing at his lungs with ache, “what now?”
“We stay,” she said weakly, “now put me down.”
He gingerly put her down, her back to the wall as she groaned in her seat. His brows furrowed in worry as she seemed languid, her eyes drooping in exhaustion, then he realized she may have spent her core from her recent magic.
She fumbled for the clasps of her leather chest, and undid them to show the pockets filled with cylindrical blue vials embedded in the vest's inside. She gave a sigh of relief when they were whole, and took them out and removed their stoppers. “Didn’t shatter in tumble, fortunately,” she said with a faint smile, before gulping them down, her eyes closed as if in euphoria.
He frowned, “your core is still growing, not properly stabilized,” he said in worry, “drugs will risk contamination.”
“Enough of that,” she said as she finished the last vial, “we’ve no choice. My core is spent, and my magic only incapacitates the mountain dwellers for a few minutes. Didn’t find the exit in time, so we stay,” she waved around her, “we fight.”
He nodded slowly, accepting their situation. He did not ask if they could handle the fight, for both knew they couldn’t afford to lose. We’ll fight, he thought, gripping the pommel of his sword tight, and if we die, came his somber thought, remembering earlier how frostbite slowly crept up on him, where death seemed so near and so real.
Then at least we've fought well.
Looking around him, he saw they were positioned around a somewhat circular room, where the one and only entrance was narrow.
“Good place,” he noted as he studied the location, trying to ease their nerves before the monsters came. "The mountain dwellers wouldn't be able to use their swarm tactics," he smiled cheekily at her, “how’d you find it, luck?”
She smiled back, “used sound.” He stared at her, and she shrugged, “Echolocation. Told you, arcana is diverse.”
“Huh, you sure are proficient in more than one area of arcane arts.”
She smiled wider this time, in pride, “again, told you,” she started, raising her chin up, “I’m talented, and am just that special." He smiled genuinely in return, and for a brief moment, he did not look down on arcana.
Howls once again rose from the darkness of the caverns, and the pitter-patter of crawling feet echoed down the tunnels, eager to dine on the intruding fools. “They smell us,” he said as he stood, facing the entrance, and finally unsheathed his steel sword to its full length, the edge glinting in the firelight. He glanced behind him, “they’ll be upon us in minutes. Ready?”
“Always,” she said as she stood on shaky feet, rubbing on her sleeve the blood that dripped down on her nose. She took a deep breath, and there was a moment of rare indecision, her brows furrowed in worry and hands trembling in nervousness. She stared at him, her glazed eyes still the beautiful gaze of the ocean, "we can handle this, yes?"
He smiled confidently at her, and gave her the assurance he did not have. "It is of no matter," he said, as he stared back at the entrance, where beyond the firelight of Igni he saw the clusters of white furs and sharp claws, swarms of snarling monsters that barreled toward them, like an avalanche that would devour all in its way.
"The snow will not stop us."