The Shadow's Spear

22 Termon

The next morning, Termon awoke to a loud, booming voice, one amplified by magic: “Today, you die.”

That was it. Simply, “today, you die.” No hope of parley, no taunting, just a cold, hard truth. The pursuers must be as tired of these peaks as Termon.

Termon and the others quickly gathered their things and began the day’s march. They still didn’t see the enemies behind them. Perhaps it was just a fear tactic.

Termon breathed the icy morning air as they hiked through a valley between two of the god’s peaks, snow not far above.

When they first came into these mountains, before Chukah, Termon had feared wasting his heritage. He feared dying without that glorious charge for some great cause. That golden moment had haunted his imagination since earliest memories, fueled by the tales of his family.

But now? That fear was gone. Yes, his father and grandfather lived spectacular adventures and fought great battles. And all those stories had caused him to leave the Manor. But for each man that came home with tales of victory and fame, three did not return. How many of them had given their lives, forgotten but worthy? Termon would be the same. His uncles and aunts would never know what became of him, but he would live up to the honor of those who had gone before.

None of the others could really defend themselves from hounds and wizards. So when the time came, he would give his life for this one worthy cause: his friends. Pelan, Kohal, and even Anoran. Yes, Anoran. Just as suddenly, he was going by that name, again.

 He imagined the voice of his grandfather. You’ve changed, boy. This journey has changed you. Remember when you left? You were a whiny brat who craved a piece of adventure. And you thought that travelling the world and playing music in every inn and tavern on the road would satisfy. Well, now?

I know, grandfather, it’s not so simple.

Termon kept looking back over his shoulder, not sure how the attack would come. But his friends stood in front of him. He smiled to them. If nothing else, I’ll at least be faithful to them.

A red blur streaked up the slope of the mountain. One of the wizards stood high up on the peak, his robe swirling about him.

“It’s coming,” Termon gasped.

They looked with him to the tiny dot on the snowy slope. There was a flash, then the wizard vanished in another red smear.

Pelan muttered, “What do you think—”

A terrible rumbling engulfed his words. The mountain fell towards them.

“Run!” Termon screamed.

He sprinted away from avalanche. The opposite slope rose steep before him, and he scrambled up as best he could. It was a steep, rocky surface, but he managed to get part-way up before the ice and snow crashed around him.

The force threw Termon against the slope and buried him up to his chest. He dug out himself, then the others, then laid on his back and panted.

“We have to… keep… going…”

They’re coming, Termon thought. On his back, glanced at the slope above them.

No…

Another wizard stood up there, that same red dot causing those same flashes of light. He departed with another streak of red, then the rumbling started, again.

Termon physically pulled Anoran to his feet, and they stumbled across the snowy field. It was no use. Their feet sank to the knee at every step. Termon looked back again, expecting a crashing wave of white to end him in a freezing blanket. But it was barely a trickle. It washed around his shins.