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Chapter 58: FROZEN CARNAGE
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 00:58:11 +0000 UTCAUTHOR'S NOTE - You are reading this chapter prior to the final draft for public release. This will be updated with the final version once it is complete. As always, we'd love to hear any feedback you might have! Thank you again for continuing this journey!
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Risens followed the assassins like a shadow chases its figure throughout the day. He pushed them hard as they rounded the switchbacks climbing ever higher into the mountains. Through the darkness, he’d seen no signs of Orio and Feylen following. That they were not far behind was a certainty.
The light of the fire that consumed a portion of the village had faded first to a distant, flickering orange glow before dissolving into darkness. At two separate points throughout the night, he watched a distinct, bright streak of light race through the darkness. The flare hovered in the air for a few breaths before descending slowly to the ground. Signals, no doubt from the assassins on their trail.
At least two of the three were given a separate missions to accomplish, one, in particular that he would fight to deny. Between they and he, only one would return to give report to the King.
He considered the implications as he jogged up the seemingly endless incline. His faith in the King and in the justifications of his orders had been shattered. The murder of the civilians, beyond the pointless order to eliminate the Warlord was inexcusable. The citizens, asleep in their beds had done nothing to deserve their deaths. They posed neither a direct nor existential threat to the safety of Halthome.
Why had he been sent on a journey, far from the confines of the city he hunted, beyond the realm that he protected? It was a task that would take at least a week in the close quarters of killers he didn’t know or trust.
Was it that they hoped his body would never be found? That the evidence of his death would be hidden among the rocky crags until he was nothing more existed of him beyond bleached while bones on the rocks.
He was already a ghost. To them he was a nameless, faceless assassin beyond the title he bore. The secrets Risens wore, proudly on his skin would define him far beyond the title he had earned by his unquestioning ruthlessness.
Out of the assassins that had been sent in tow, had all been given the same coded instructions or had it been provided only to the three?
Either way, it was he who would be walking off the mountain alive.
He pushed them hard through the night as they enjoyed the calm of mild weather instead of the torrential rain they had harried them the first trip through. The chill cut through their clothes and into their skin, though neither Bakka nor Destra complained.
Dawn had greeted them miles before they crested the peak of Breakker’s Pass, the concern of patrols from the outposts were unfounded. The details of his brief conversation with Trufang troubled him. The surprise that was etched into his face appeared genuine. If these were not his soldiers lurking among the crags of the mountains, then to whom did they belong?
The pass was shared territory that bordered two kingdoms, it stood to reason that they hailed from one or the other. He believed that they weren’t from the Warlord’s troop, though logic dictated that they could have been from another of the provinces. He doubted that reality as the one way passage of that many troops through the sleepy village would have not gone unnoticed.
Thoughts of the other possibility fueled the agitation that rankled his senses. The Kings emissaries had passed through the mountains within the last month. The first patrol they encountered had mentioned that they had been there for roughly the same time. Why would the Warlord have positioned them there if he was in the process of treating with King Lathrenon.
Risens expected he knew the truth behind their appearance. The served the very same master, yet in very different capacities.
He had allowed their pace to slack with the coming light of day. They would not stop and spend a night tucked away in a cave on the hill. He expected that if he were to close his eyes for anything longer than a blink in his present company, he’d never again open his eyes as a blade through his skull would prevent it.
Risens quickly recognized why he enjoyed the opportunity to work alone. Having to be perpetually on guard for enemies was something he was well accustomed to. Watching companions who you are supposed to have your back entirely sabotaged the purpose of having them there in the first place. In the early hours of the morning, he’d witnessed the quick movements of two individuals as they rounded the switchbacks of the pass. They made no attempts at hiding their presence He knew Orio and Feylen were on their trail and so did the others.
Judging the wind that cut through the peaks was always a guessing game. One moment it would be a gentle breeze pulling from the south, carrying particles of ice from the lofty frozen heights of the pinnacles high above. Other times it would race through the pass seemingly changing direction at a whim, whipping out clothing a hair as it circles. Their progress ground to a halt at the gentle breeze brought the.scent of something foul.
It was death.
In massive quantities.
He exchanged glances with the assassins that marched with them as they all took heavy droughts from their water skins. They had paused for a second at every spring they encountered, working to hold the sudden rapid change in elevation at bay. As callus as it seemed, at this point, he didn’t care if he ran them to the ground and they were forced to return on their own. That they had stuck with his, maintained his pace and pressure without failing and without griping was a step, albeit small to the redemption of their trust.
“It’s been far too quiet being this close to the outpost,” Bakka talked in short burst between his breaths. “This odor doesn’t bode well. I think we all know what we will find.”
“Do we press on, or do we investigate?” Destra shared a similar laborious breathing, yet both men were fantastically fit. “Expecting that I know what the distraction will be, I find that I prefer running, thank you very much.”
Risens allowed the grin to pull up on the corners of his lips, not worrying to hid it as the face wrap and the shadows shroud provided plenty of layers of disguise. If he was in a position to trust entirely trust either of assassins, he believed that he would have genuinely enjoyed their company, regardless off how infinitely different they were.
“I knew you’d say that,” Destra droned as he straightened himself out. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the lead. I know Bakka here wouldn’t resort to stabbing me in the back. Finally figured out that the trio was sent to do more than just eliminate a Warlord, didn’t you?”
The joking manner erased itself from his face as he stalked in their lead toward where they knew the outpost would be.
Where they expected to find the bodies.
Bakka followed close behind though he offered a subtle nod before he moved. The longer he’d spent in the presence of these two, the more he doubted that they were sent to kill him, while the intent of the others became more glaring. He expected that if they were to catch them, there would be no words before blades were drawn in battle. At that point, he would be happy to let the talons hunt.
The outpost, hidden among the rocks was positioned several hundred meters off the winding roadbed of the pass. More than double in size as the first, it only amounted to a greatly increased disaster when they finally reached the remains. The method was brutally similar only on a far wider scale.
The signal fire, one that he assumed was purely for show was the only feature left standing in the remains of the outpost. The fires had long since died as they consumed the remaining fuel. Scraps, pieces and appendages of what had once been soldiers lay in partially frozen chunks scattered amid the tattered tents and wood. A few blades, bent and pitted were present in the wreckage, the rest still remained secured in the scabbards where they had been when their sanctuary in the mountains had been destroyed.
“I’ve thought long and hard since we stumbled into the first ruin a few days ago,” Bakka whispered, his hands hovered close to his daggers as he scanned the area around and above the outpost. “There is nothing that I can account for that would have been able to accomplish what destroyed the first station. The level of total and complete annihilation here is beyond understanding.”
“I was raised in the shadows of the Shial Slivers” Bakka intoned with a surprising amount of personal information. “Whatever did this is not natural to these ranges. Of course, there were always stories told to keep the children from wandering off into the mountains. Not even in those was there anything like this.”
Risens agreed with the sentiment of both of the assassins. The curious destruction of the first outpost had troubled him. Most deaths were easily attributed to a likely predator, though nothing in his mind gave him any understanding of this.
He scanned the scene once more, looking for any clues that he’d missed. Finding none, he turned his vision to the sky. The morning had dawned clear with only a few wisps of clouds marring the sky. He was surprised to find that even with the amount of death, none of the scavengers of the air had appeared for an easy feast.
“I have no desire to find out what caused this,” he whispered. The remains scattered around the scene were cold, though the massacre had happened sometime within the last day. “The pass slopes downhill from here. I want nothing more than to be off this mountain range.”
As with the previous outpost, there were no tracks left among the frozen stones that offered any clues. Judging from the vicious scars that tore through the victims and the scattered bits of the bodies, he expected that it was something large and incredibly strong.
With vision constantly scanning their surroundings for any signs of threats they hastened from the ruins of the outpost pack toward the winding road through the pass. They had only just reached the track when their progress was again halted. This time it was their sense of feeling and hearing that sounded the alarm.
It started as a slight tremor.
Barely noted through the soles of his boots, it was only a hint at first, a confusing buzzing underfoot. It quickly intensified taking on a thunderous sound. The grating of stone against stone ripped through the air as they were tossed to their feet as the ground shook uncontrollably. It felt as if the very mountain itself shifted with the earthquake.
As quickly as it had come the violent tremors stopped. Quiet reverberations continued as if the mountain trembled in fear. Scattered cracking sounds filled the air. Risens tracked the movement of stones from the heights of the mountains around them. In many placed loose stone separated from the cliff faces, skipping down the peaks, splintering as they crashed into large solid stones. Somewhere off to the south, a massive section of mountain separated near the peak, rolling down the cliff face in a deadly mixture of snow and stone that rumbled like distant thunder.
They sought shelter behind what stones they could though thankfully, the relatively flat section of the mountain they occupied was relatively isolated from the repercussions of the quake. Even so, rocks or various sizes smashed into the remains of the ill-fated encampment. The lofty peak that towered still several thousand meters above them shifted alarmingly though the snow, ice and stone held. If it gave way, he expected that there was nothing they could do to escape its deadly slide.
As if Risens needed any further convincing to be free of the mountain pass, this was merely another detail that would hasten his steps. Windwake was situated on a vast stretch of gently undulating land bordering the Sea Solace. Earthquakes while they seldom happened were not unheard of. Landslides and death by falling rocks was not a typical hazard the city would offer. Still, he was wise enough to understand when he’d overstayed his welcome.
He wanted nothing more than to be free of this mountain. To return to the Roost.
As if the peril that already surrounded his position wasn’t already great enough, having potentially earned the ire of the King his life would be increasingly complicated. He needed to be stronger. The limitless power and talent hidden within the hallowed temple called to him, demanded his attention.
He would make himself strong enough so that they could not kill him.
Regaining their footing, they hastened from the tenuous shelter of the boulders they crouched behind. Stealth was no longer a necessity. Speed it what would be required now. The concern over whatever had destroyed the encampment remained, yet a far more tangible danger loomed, one of stones, ice and unavoidable death.
The thought streamed through his head as the wind of their passing raced by his ears. What would his return to Windwake bring?
Shouted voices, far closer than he anticipated force him to stop. Their delay at the outpost, while a necessary detail to report was costly. Orio hailed them again as he and Feylen jogged around the corner after them.
Both had blades in their hands.
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CJ Aaron
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Esther Barra
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