The Climb

Mountain

A lone man treks up a mountain, the cold wind biting at his gloveless hands as they struggle to warm each other against his chest. A fur suit dawned on his chest flapping against the harsh breeze. Tugging on his back was a cube attached with a bandolier. The cube coated in simple puzzles, all remaining unsolved.

The peeks of the mountain began to cut into the sun, splitting it's rays as it trudged ever downwards into the horizon. A loose ray briefly shining of a sheathed sword. The man took quick notice and began to look for flat ground. The mountain blew waves of snow onto him, seemingly aggravated by his persistence.

Eventually the small mercy of a cavern showing it's entrance was given to him by the storm. Before shadows of the mountain could envelope him he shambled inside. Once inside the cavern he looked out, a thick black wave rolling over the city below him as night approached. He unslung a sack from his back and placed it beside him soon looting through it in the darkness. He had found what he needed and placed the kindle into a pile keeping his hand on it as he searched for a lighter. A spark soon ignited his Vision. Shortly the small fire and kindle gave way to heat and light.

He relaxed, only slightly pained by the thoughts of the cube. He warmed his hands against the fire, the voice of the cube still heard through the whistling of the wind. A cold draft forcing him to turn and protect the fire. He unslung the cube from his back and let it lay by his sack. Unfortunately this method did not give his mind a break from the tournament that the object set on him. The cube as usual proved to be an ineffective prison, then again it was mostly to keep people out.

Knowing that he had to prepare for possible conflicts he took his bastard sword out of it's sheath and let it lie on a nearby wall. A few small throwing daggers were taken out of his vest and sharpened. He made it a priority to count his bullets, seven was the number he landed on. He let out a heavy yawn as his own tiredness began to get the better of him.

He eventually gave up and let his body fall away into sleep. During his rest his dreams turned on him. Yet his will remained intact. Thoughts of the worst filled his mind begging him to fall onto his failures and accept the inevitable. For even he knew now the repeating pattern that would once more plunge the city into chaos. But he was buying more time, at least that's what he hoped. Someday a system better than delaying would be devised, but then again maybe that's what the ones before him thought.

The next morning came beginning in darkness, the sun seemingly shying away from illuminating his quest. He struggled up onto his feet, the jagged rock on the floor cutting into his hands. Not wishing to repeat mistakes he grabbed two bandages and wrapped them around his hands. Which had the unexpected benefit of keeping his hands slightly warmer. He sheathed his sword and loaded his gun, but hesitated about picking up the cube. He stood there for a few minutes staring at the object in darkness. He eventually picked it up trying to ignore it's words. He couldn't let this sort of thing happen, he couldn't give the object a foot hold in his mind. He couldn't have doubt.

He stepped out of the cave into the snow briefly looking up to where he was headed. It was to hard to see from only the small sunlight seeping through gaps in between the teeth of the mountain range. Although it didn't take an owl to tell you that the path was sheer.

The snow slowed him down as he made his way to the route up the mountain. An ever more oppressive storm grew off to the distance forcing him to keep a rapid pace. As he continued his pace he could feel himself losing his balance against the snow and wind. He could just rest for awhile, but that would doom him to the storm. He could hear it now, thunder and rain drawing ever closer to his side. Choosing to ignore his needs he continued up the mountain.

Eventually he reached a roadblock in the form of a sheer wall, the sun now someways up in the sky, not that it mattered as dark clouds blocked it out. Choosing to replace it with rain and thunder. There was a far easier route but he didn't have the time. Although a small thought tugged at him, maybe he could just throw the cube off the mountain. No one would find it in the snow, right? No, these thoughts were not his own. He continued to push through the freezing snow drenched rain.

He found an appropriate spot to start climbing and found a hand hold. Despite it being the best he could do it was far from optimal, as the rocks were jagged and his bandages only served to freeze his hands as they got wet. The rocks on the cliff were slippery as well forcing him to hang on, tightly pressed against the rock. He stuck his hand deep into the snow of the mountain looking to find another hand hold, to no luck. A small piece of jetting rock had been stabbing into his chest as he attempted to hang on, slowly he began to feel a small amount of blood trickling from his chest. He ignored it and continued to look around.

The water from the storm assaulted his eyes as he attempted to look up. Barley seeing the finish line through his blurred vision. Swiftly he stuck his head down blinking rapidly as to clean them out, unable to run them out of fear of falling. His eyes continued to cinch and blur, despite his best efforts.

He blindly reached up to where he remembered seeing the handhold. His hand almost slipped off the moment he found it. Once he had a good grip he felt around for a good foothold. Eventually he found one and pushed himself up, his luck seeming to turn around.

Immediately the rock that had poked his chest ripped a shallow cut down the rest of his front. The sudden pain causing him to lose his footing, barely landing where he previously was. He resisted the urge to grab onto a particularly deep portion of the cut and stop the bleeding, keeping instead a tight grip on the rocks. He needed to find a way off the spike. He looked off too his right attempting to see some possible holds through the water in his eyes.

Before he started to get off the spike another thought invaded his mind. Jumping would simply cause the pain to stop. There would be no more need for him to follow the quest no more need to do anything ever again. His suffering would finally end. It was to good an offer to pass up, he would probably jump after he finished his quest. He wouldn't admit defeat to this fucking thing. It'd be faster than starving anyway.

He pulled himself off the rock letting his adrenaline take over, the pain lessened. He used the spike as a foothold and pulled himself back up. He could just about see the ledge. He reached out to it, only to feel his hands fumble against it. They were slowly dying, getting to cold and overused. The cube felt heavier against his back, weighing on his mind even more so. Overcrowding his brain to where he couldn't even tell what thoughts were his.

He couldn't make there was no way, he had to do something else. He screamed out all his pain as loudly as he could hoping someone, something would hear him. He unslung the cube from his back and flung it over the ledge.

He let out a sigh of relief.....and let go.