As the group soldiered on in the bitter winds. Kergen thought of his life back in the village of Toth. To be a child was a simpler time, to be with loved ones, no cares or worries that adults have, to just live in innocence and enjoy the moments of happiness. Now, as a man, he finds the burden of responsibility and expectations from others to be too high level to achieve.

It’s true that women are a mystery to him, never having shared a bed with any as he matured. Girls he once played with and called friends, were now judging his manly behaviours and testing his patience with foolish gossip that he cared nothing for. And yet, all the women were like this, from what he could tell. All but one—Miriam Hanbel. She’s the only woman in his village that behaves differently. Mirim wasn’t a gossiper, nor one to mock his manly stature. No, she liked being with him, and he with her.

There was no confusion or annoying quirks as they accompanied one another, just calmness and relaxation. He had to admit she was exquisite, well shaped, in all the ways that matter most, but it’s her intelligence that attracted him the most.

She likes to talk of what lies beyond the village, the stars in the sky, and is interested in how things work and why. Yes, he enjoys being with her. Miriam is someone he never thought about being with, beyond the thought of lust, that is to say. She is inspiring to be around and has all the qualities he enjoys most. If he were to marry some other local maiden, he’s sure to be bored with them. For all they discuss is village gossip, what clothes to make for the children, and meaningless, mindless dribble that no man could tolerate listening to all day.

“Miriam…” He uttered while in mid-thought. “I would like to be with her… for all my days.”

He glanced about, the snow whipping in his face, making sure the others didn’t hear. Nobody could have in this weather. The roar of the high winds and pelting snow was deafening the higher up they went. It was as if the gods themselves were trying to push them back, and calling out, “Turn now!”

“Perhaps they are telling us something, after all.” He wondered. “We’ve not seen the beast at all. Not a track, not a hair, not even a sound of the creature roaring as we step closer.”

He glanced up to Gorthum, the old fool was in his glory. The man was so confidant in his stride, grinning with delight, and using his broadsword like a walking stick. Kergen had never ventured so far in all his life. This mountain was immense and rough to climb. The snow was deep. The ice was strewn around like glacial boulders. The only bare bones of the mountain’s rocky facade were visible only when the wind wished it to be seen.

“I will never climb this mountain ever again,” He cursed under breath. “So help me by the god of Toth, I will stay in my warm home and drink warm ale by the fire instead.”

“Oh, I do like that idea.” One man stated back.

Kergen didn’t realize he had openly shouted that out for all to hear. The frigid temperatures had numbed his brain and made him delirious, but his friends all agreed on his moment of madness.

“To drown my sorrows in hot punch and a warm bed.” Twiliaf proclaimed. “I will never wake until needed to fill my belly… and then, after, to return to and sleep for hours upon hours.”

“Lazy bastard…” Bilto mocked. “Why waste a warm bed like that when there’s no bare-breasted woman with you in it? That’s just the kind of warmth that will keep you there. Among other things, eh?”

The men all laughed heartily, all but Durgat. He seemed to roll his eyes at Bilto’s jest. Twiliaf pointed and gave him with a wry wink.

“Hopefully, I can still give that woman the thrill, lest the frost take my member off and leave me a cripple!”

“Worry not, I will gladly take those women if you cannot perform…” Balto grinned. “I’ll be sure to provide them with all they can muster, and keep my bed nice and warm.”

“They dare not stay with someone unwanted as you,” Durgat taunted. “They’ll have bastard children and a bastard father that has no home of his own.”

The men stopped laughing and realized he was being serious. Durgat didn’t care for Bilto, he never did for all the time he’s known him. To be unwanted like him, well, that’s like being a grade below a mongrel stray dog. Bilto glared at him with questioning eyes.

“I didn’t care for that, keep your tongue silent, if you know what’s best, Durgat.”

“You are a bastard always, unwanted man…” Durgat glared back. “And if I say you are one, then, it is so. No woman would dare touch filth such as yourself. Only the sluts who peddle in muck of the damned!”

That sparked rage from Bilto, who found the strength to run up to Durgat, just as he turned to laugh, and punch the man square in the jaw. Durgat was stunned for a second. He didn’t fall, as there others waited to see happen, instead, the man snapped back to his senses and dove at the enraged Bilto. The two men pummelled one another over and over. The skins they wore were tearing away and their brawny bare fleshed muscles were at the mercy of the bitter cold. Kergen tried to intervene, but their boiling rage and flying fists knocked him over before he could even grab them.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Take it back, you Skrim!” Bilto exploded back in anger.

“Just because Kergen said it, doesn’t give you the right to use it on me!” Durgat grumbled. He gestured over to Kergen while in mid-struggle. “Maybe you were the one that taught it to him? Yes? A foul-mouthed scum like you would poison the youth with such loathsome words!”

The two continued to wrestle in the snow, when suddenly, Gorthum stepped over and kicked them in the face. The men flew off of each other from the forceful impact. The old man might have looked weak, but his kicks were as hard as any mule’s hoof. Both Bilto and Durgat glared in surprise.

“Fight on you own time, you worthless animals! The beast laughs at your weakness and cannot wait to single you out!”

“How would the beast know of our fight? Or what it’s about…” Balto quiried, while sputtering out the blood pooling in his mouth. “I think you make this stuff up, you foolish old man.”

“I’ve seen greater men than you fall to its mystical powers.” Gorthum glared. “The closer we get, the more it feeds on your weaknesses. It laughs at the feeble frailties of those it will consider prey.”

And without another word more, Gorthum turned around and walked back to the front of the line. The two men blinked in a stupor. Kergen got up off the ground and rubbed his head from the blow he was dealt.

“The cold has made you all mad!” He screamed at them. “We freeze to death, and all you can do is talk of stupid things. Gorthum is right,” he gestured bitterly. “We will all fall prey to the beast if we are as quibbling children like this.”

Sotolar tossed their ripped animal skins to the two men. He was just as frustrated as Kergen. He kicked the snow to them in disgust and walked away without giving another glance at them. Kergen joined his friend, and the two carried on with Gorthum up the mountain. Durgat and Bilto re-dressed themselves, found their fallen weapon and packs, and followed up behind. Their silence was golden to the others. Perhaps now they can all focus on finding this menacing beast.

* * *

After a few hours, they broke camp again, using the huge protruding ice form that acted like a shield against the winds. The mountain had many such monoliths of ice like this, especially when getting closer to the very peak of it. The men stayed close to keep warm. Their foul odours of having traveled long didn’t deter them from keeping close. Kergen was especially worst for wear. He shivered non-stop and looked unhealthy. Sotolar wasn’t sure what else more he could do for the young man. The water containers had long frozen over, it was just as ice as the rest of the surroundings.

“You are tired, Kergan,” Bilto noted. “Rest your eyes, sleep, it will help get your strength back.”

Kergan shivered and shook, but he was extremely fatigued. The young warrior didn’t find it too hard to listen to his friend’s advice. He leaned on his side, his back away from the cold, and drifted off. Once Kergen closed his eyes, and fell into slumber, Bilto whispered his concerns to the rest of the group.

“I do not wish for such warrior to die so easily, to be frost bit by weather is less than honourable.”

“I agree…” Sotolar glanced over. “If we had some fire, he would get better. All we have is some stale, dried up meat, which is just as petrified solid as the rest of the surroundings.”

“Rub his arms and chest.” Gorthum stated.

The men looked over to see Gorthum sitting near the edge of their shelter. His sight remained focused beyond, out to the cold mountain, but he heard their concerns, nonetheless.

“You need to keep the blood flowing, this will keep him from dying in his sleep.”

“You are certain?” Balto glared at him.

The old man nodded at him, and gestured a hand. “The warmth of your hand and the rhythmic movement will stop it from freezing completely.”

The group looked to one another, as if thinking on the matter, but then, Bilto nodded at them all, as if he agreed.

“You and I will take turns.” Bilto directed to Sotolar. “You begin for a few minutes, and then I will follow…”

Sotolar did as instructed. He made sure Kergan didn’t fall to the next world before the great battle they would face. He rubbed the arms and chest vigorously, and even felt his own hands warming up from the motion. This was good, even it was a bit odd to him in the action. Gorthum nodded, as if he saw what he was doing, and gave a slow exhale while continuing to scan the darkened horizon.

“He is not like you men.” He stated. “Not as well built and strong, with tanned hides as thick as leather.”

“No,” Sotolar conceded. “But he is just as determined as the rest of us. He is a man, like us all, warrior brothers on a bold quest to seek our names and become legend to all.”

Gorthum snorted. “Oh, to be legends… just as I wished to be. So many others I took up with me, so many failed to become that which they sought. The only thing I become remember for, is spinning tales of the beast, for the lives it took, and yet…” He passively patted his own legs. “No one speaks highly of the dead that went before.”

Bilto eyed the old man and fiddled with his own sword on the ground. “We are not like them. We are young and strong. Those others, they were elders, weak ones, ours is a tribe of young healthy stock. We will not break.”

Gorthum snickered at his pretentiousness. “Such arrogance, like all the young ones wanting to prove themselves. It is a pattern that repeats with every generation.”

Bilto held up his sword, he aimed it in Gorthum’s direction and curled his lip with malice.

“You were young once too, old man.” Bilto grumbled. “Don’t mock us so casually. But when I say we are strong, I mean my words… we are men of strength and courage like no other.”

Gorthum did not respond. He continued to smirk and look out into the icy wilderness. Balto lowered his sword, convinced that his statement silenced the old fool, and turned his attention back to the others. Each of them were feeling the bitter cold on their skin. Sotolar was busy tending to Kergan, but the others tended to their own warmth as they mimicked it on themselves. Twiliaf started to hum a melody, an old tune of his youth that the others recognized immediately. They soon joined in, giving it a variance of pitch and tone, making it grow into a steady orchestra of beauty. Even Gorthum joined in, with a lone whistle that added to the song and echoed into the frigid night air.