Young Writers Society

They reached the other side of the cave in two minutes flat, Carris leading the way through the tricky and uneven ground. The dragon continued its assault on the Sadorians who sounded like they had all they could handle by the shouts and cries that echoed. A small light poked through the wall revealing an entrance about the size of a regular door. Devlin followed Carris through it, but not before giving one last look back. The dragon was screeching and flailing its wings about, stirring up snow, dust, and smoke so that it was impossible to see if there was anyone left, including Eridan.

“Come on!” Carris said, huffing and puffing.

Devlin turned toward her. “That sword. That’s where his powers are coming from. At least, I think they are.”

“Fantastic,” Carris said, turning to head down the new passage. She stopped a few steps into her jog as she realized that Devlin had not moved. “What are you doing? That dragon is mad and it’s going to come for us.” Her voice squeaked more than she would have liked.

Devlin nodded, but his backward showed no apparent comprehension of what she had said.

“You want to go back?” Carris asked, hands on her hips, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “You want that sword.”

Devlin shrugged. “That could change the tide of the war. Think of what that could do to an opposing army in the open field of battle!”

Carris huffed. “Yeah, but there’s a bloodthirsty dragon in there.”

“Not bloodthirsty,” Devlin shook his head, “dorram are bloodthirsty. That animal’s just scared. But that's beside the point. We get that sword, we change the course of the war.”

Carris narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to change the tide of the war. I don’t care who wins the bloody thing. I want to get out of this hellhole, and this is the best shot I’ve got. I already lost what little money I had to protect these people who for all I know are burnt to a crisp in that cave,” she jabbed a finger past Devlin. “I’m not risking my life for a sword. I’m looking for Gwyn and I’m leaving this mountain.” She turned to go, ramming her hands into her pockets.

Devlin sighed. “You have a fighter in you, you know that? You would make a great soldier.”

“I hate soldiers,” Carris spat back. And with that, she took off down the passage.

Devlin shifted his feet, closed his eyes, sighed again, and ran off after her.

The passage was no more than thirty-five feet long early morning sunlight was streaming in directly at them, illuminating the small puffs their breath made, and tickling them with a hint of warmth. They exited the cave, and after what felt like an eternity of being chased and pursued in that confined and dark catacomb, even Carris was grateful to feel the brisk breeze snap at every inch of bare skin. There was an intake of breath as the first full gust of wind smacked her face, stinging her cheeks.

 She put up a hand to block the sun from her eyes and surveyed the landscape. The small hill they now stood upon spilled down into a small trench, then rose up on the other side again to reach for the sky. Several oaks with their massive, spider-like roots grasped the mountainside as if clinging onto it for dear life. The shrubbery that was present was all a barren brown, any indication of life having been blown away long ago, and drafts of snow now piled up where the brush was thickest. The sun curled over the peak that rose directly ahead of them, several miles forward and upward, snow-capped and with mottled grey-brown rocks and foliage the whole way up.

Carris smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Devlin said, shielding the sun with his eyes to the best of his ability while still surveying the scene. “Almost makes you forget about everything else."

“Almost,” Carris said, looking side-to-side. “Gwyn? Mrs. Hedvel?” she yelled, her voice already hoarse from the night. She sucked in the cold air. “Gwyn! Are you there?”

Devlin stood silent, watching the cave exit.

Carris began to peak over bushes and rocks, looking for any sign that Gwyn had made it out.

Come on, girl, please be here.

“Gwyn, it’s safe to come out!” Carris tried to keep her heart from beating faster, but she couldn’t help it. If Gwyn was dead...

There was a twig snap to the right of Carris, and she spun, rushing over. There was a large boulder that had at one time likely been part of the cave itself, for it was now fallen against a large oak which was bent at an unnatural angle. Out from behind the tree a little head poked out.

“Gwyn!” Carris burst into tears and she scrambled over the tree roots and crashed into Gwyn so hard that they nearly toppled over together. Carris caught herself and they embraced silently for a few seconds. That’s when Carris noticed the second figure nearby.

Malcolm.

He was shaking in the wind, most of his clothes torn to shred and blackened. Carris hesitated. Now that she looked at Gwyn at arm's length she realized that Gwyn was in no better condition. Tears streamed down both faces. Carris wiped them away from Gwyn's face.

“Is anyone else safe? Is anyone else with you?”

“I don’t know,” Gwyn said, shaking her head. “I lost my mom and then the dragon came and I don’t know!” She burst into a fresh set of tears, and hugged Carris again, body heaving up and down.

Carris stroked her hair, tenderly shushing her. She practically had to pry Gwyn off. She hurried to give her jacket to Gwyn, who simply let Carris put it on her. Devlin was beside them now, eying Malcolm. He pursed his lips, then tossed Malcolm his own jacket. Malcolm took it silently as Devlin pulled Carris aside.

“We are going to freeze out in here in less than a day if we don’t get some sort of warm clothes.” He glanced back at the cave.

“No,” Carris said.

Devlin grimaced. “It may be our only option.”

“No, we’re not going back in there.”

“Then what do we do? You’ll freeze by noon, even if we stay moving. Is there any sort of way back to the village. Maybe there is something left of it?”

“No.” Carris hesitated.

“Any trappers lodges, trailblazers cabins, something?”

“No.” Carris’s voice dropped off. “Nothing.”

“Then we’re going back in.”

Carris opened her mouth to object but Devlin pressed on.”\

“We will die if we stay out here. At least there’s a chance, if we go back in there, of survival. I’ll o myself,” he put a hand to his chest, “and you stay here with them. They need your help.”

Carris eyed Malcolm and Gwyn, who were both still shaking, eyes downcast.

“Fine.”

Devlin nodded. “You should stay hidden, just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case I don’t make it. In case that drag-“

Carris grabbed Devlin by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the side. He tried to say something but Carris put a hand to his mouth.

Taste of your own medicine, she thought, reminiscing of the night’s earlier events.

She pointed toward the cave exit while at the same time pushing him toward the tree. A silent “no” escaped Devlin’s lips, and a slight whimper escaped Gwyn’s. Out of the cave staggered the black knight, no longer with a helmet or the right shoulder guard. But he was alive. Behind him trailed three more Sadorians, Jacoby included. There jackets and beards were scorched, and there were fresh burns on their arms and torso, but they were still walking and breathing.

Carris grabbed Gwyn’s hand and led her behind the boulder, sitting her down and putting a finger to her lips. Malcolm hunkered down beside her, a look of confusion on his face as if he had just awoken from a vivid dream and hadn’t taken in his surroundings yet.

Most quiet he’s ever been.

Carris rejoined Devlin’s side, shivering already without her jacket. He was kneeling, head poked around the side of the tree, hand on his hilt. The Sadorians were talking now, taking a seat on a patch of dead grass that had been swept clear of snow by the meandering winds.

“It’s not worth it,” one of them was saying, head in his hands. His scalp was burned a dark reddish-purple concoction. Carris wasn’t sure how he was still alive.

The other nameless Sadorian grunted in agreement, putting a handful of snow to his cheeks as he sank down by a silent Jacoby. Only Eridan stood, the sword hanging loosely in his left hand. He wiped his face free of soot and stabbed the ground with his blade.

“We’re not quitting, not now, not until we’ve finished our mission.”

Jacoby ran a hand over his beard and scratched his chin. “Eridan, we’ve lost nearly all of our men. We started with nearly two dozen. Look at us now.”

“Do you see our people set free?” spittle flew from Eridan’s mouth as his voiced swelled. “Do you see King Ormen’s head on a pike? Do you their so-called Royal City in ashes? Do you see Atheron avenged?”

Was there a tear in his eye as he spoke of Atheron?

The first Sadorian stood now, pushing himself up with his ax handle. “We can regroup. You think you are the only one that wants revenge? We had families as well!”

Jacoby put a hand on his shoulder as the man strode toward Eridan. He shoved it aside and stood within an inch of Eridan’s face. His voice lowered now to a growl, and Carris had to strain to listen.

“Just because you trained on a mountaintop with a maniac who gave you some ridiculous prophecy does not make you some sort of national savior. We are the ones who fought the war for years while you hid on a mountaintop.”

Eridan inhaled, and despite the light in his eyes, his answer came out quietly. “We have all suffered much. This is not the time to quarrel. We have taken an impregnable outpost, we have slain a dragon, and now we have no opposition ahead of us. You saw the bodies in there. No one else escaped.”

The man was shaking his head, as tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks. “No, we didn’t do those things.” He jabbed a stubby finger at Eridan. “You did it, with that sword, while we ran about like cattle to the slaughter. I’ve had enough.”

Eridan took a step back, hand on his sword. “What do you mean to do?”

The man eyed the sword, then glanced at Jacoby he simply shrugged.

Eridan pleaded with him. “Martius, you have born a great burden. I know that you have suffered greatly. I know that I wield a greater power than you, but this is not about me. This is about Sadoria. “He grasped Martius’ jacket. “We are so close to the end. I need you when this is all over. The Plains of Cahl is just the beginning. We will need a commander, and there is no one that Jacoby and I trust more than you. You were the one who finished off that dragon!”

Martius hung his head. “Yes, and I sacrificed Jorge and Ferdo to accomplish that. I can’t do this anymore.”

He turned, trudging through a snow drift headed straight for Carris and Devlin. They scrambled behind the tree, sure that they had made some sort of noise that Martius would hear and Eridan would come charging in, sending them flying. But Martius had his head hung low, ignoring Eridan and Jacoby’s calls for him to come back. Carris looked at Devlin. He mouthed “jacket” and pointed at Martius. Realization dawned on Carris. She nodded, then felt her stomach drop when she realized what that more than likely entailed.

Eridan was talking again, his voice with less energy than before, like someone tired of life. “We’ll press on. Martius was a good man, but none of us define the mission before us by ourselves. We’ll head for Atheron, gather supplies, and then we are headed for the Plains of Cahl.”

Without another word they departed, headed away from the hidden group. Carris was about to speak, but Devlin put a hand up. After a few moments, he nodded and rose.

Carris spoke in a hushed tone, afraid that Martius might still be nearby. “I’m not going to the Plains of Cahl. That’s the wrong direction. The Royal City is down the mountainside.”

“Until we get some warm clothing you’re going exactly where I am unless you prefer to freeze to death. We’ll acquire that Sadorian’s jacket, and head for Atheron.”

“Acquire?” Carris gulped.