Krogenar's Trip
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Krogenar pulled himself up into his tree, high above Mystra's Forest. Settling into his patched,
and re-patched hammock, he let himself swing side to side in the breeze.
He liked this Forest.... it had its own sort of magic.
Knowing that all wild places had some essence of The Weave, he was still surprised with this Forest.
The magic he felt in wild places was here, but it was more than a presence...
.... it ran wild on its own, clear in every leaf, every branch, every animal that roamed through it.
And yet it was lacking something. Turning over in the fabric that supported him, the strider looked down in the canopy
of the forest. All the animals scampered about without a care in the world.
A butterfly landed on the horn of a triceratops... a rabbit scampered past a displacer beast, unafraid.
The half-orc felt it was wondrous in a way, and ... unhealthy in another.
Part of him felt it was almost disgusting - and then he wondered if he was a part of this
artificial cycle of life? He shivered at the thought.
He looked down at his feet... smiled.
"Time for a walk."
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 1
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His gear on his back, Krogenar looked back over his shoulder at the Forest of Mysteries.
Headed for Westbridge, and some supplies, he looked forward to the walk ahead of him.
Strolling past the Market Square, he surveyed the statue of Nisstyre, checking for local news...
Snatching up the note, he scanned it, seeing Elbryan's signature at the bottom.
It smelled faintly of charcoal. "War again... they thirst for it."
Fighting the urge to crumple the page in his fist, the strider recalled how Fafnir and Quaster had put their longstanding fued to rest, for the good of the Church.
Deep down, he cared little for organizations, and MEETINGS...
No matter how hard he tried to calm everyone down, war seemed inevitable.
The Second Trial of Quaster was just about 2 weeks away.
He could stretch his legs, and still be back in time. Having been relieved of his duties as Lord General by Mystra, she had suggested that he find some other way to serve the Church.
And so, he had decided a long walk would help him sort things out in his head. But he still had responsibilities.
The long shadow of a titan loomed over him. Staring up at Kevin, the strider smiled.
"I have everything together, Krogenar..."
Krogenar listened to Kevin rattle on about the list of equipment and supplies that he had brought.
"... rope, we may need that - and ..."
Krogenar silently replaced Elbryan's note against the wall.
"... and then the maps for us to edit ... and -"
Krogenar changed his mind.
"Kevin. Paper and a pen. Did you bring that?"
Kevin looks at him incredulously. Turning, a 500 pound, Titan-Sized backpack slipped from Kevin's shoulder, shaking the ground.
Krogenar blinked.
Moving immediately to the correct pocket, the titan sage produced a small scroll, and a quill.
Kevin looked down at the halforc - blinked back at him.
Krogenar began writing, squinting, concentrating. When he finished, he slapped the note against the wall, turned to ask Kevin if he had a -
Kevin stooped over, a tiny pin held in his gigantic fingers.
"Thanks..."
Pinning the note aside the other, the strider turned.
Kevin peered down as Krogenar left, examined the halforc's carefully printed letters - he stood up abruptly - looked at at the departing strider, walked to catch up." 'The Rok Wars Against Us All' - well that's obvious!"
"Not to everyone!" he smiled back at the Titan, and then broke off into a swift run, while Kevin kept pace with a light jog.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 2
--------------------------
He was just a torso, floating above the terrain.
Having become numb hours ago, Krogenars legs only registered as a rythmic rushing sound somewhere below him.
His tight arms pumped - his lungs drank in cool, dry air. Part of his mind was still occupied with the necessities of navigating terrain.
Leaping over rocks and angling up hills - his eyes focused on a single peak - keeping his course true.
The rest of him considered other things. Quasters Trial, the return of Fafnir to the Church.... and Mystra.
The strider grinned, his teeth white, canines showing.
He wasnt much of a General - but he had tried.
"Thats not where my strengths lie..."
"Heh? Whats that, Krogenar? Did you say something?"
Kevin, titan sage, Mystran - and Istishian Water Brother to Krogenar - jogged a short distance behind the strider.
Standing almost four heads taller than the half-orc, the sage (no stranger to the outdoors himself) was able to match his smaller companions speed with a light jog - but the pace had been brutal.
"-Did you say? We should stop and lie down?"
For the past twelve hours they had kept up this pace, Westbridge and Polaris slipping past them. They headed true north.
But even his titan physique needed a rest. "No. But we can stop for a bit if you'd like - be dark soon."
Slowing, Krogenar hopped, his legs temporarily unwilling to stop their motion. He walked, letting himself slow his breathing. Kevin slowed, stooped to put his hands on his knees.
"Is it really necessary to run for so long? When I agreed to this trip,
I thought we'd be out for a leisurely trip...... this, this is ..."
Krogenar slapped his knee, steam rising from his skin.
"This - is just the beginning!" He smiled ferociously at Kevin.
Kevin looked down, raised his eyebrow at Krogenar's manner.
"Feeling alright, Krogenar?" He watched the strider pace about, like an animal that had been set free to roam after a long captivity - overwhelmed by the possibilities. "Where are we headed, anyway?"
Krogenar nodded with his head to the north, to distant mountains.
The titan looked north, looked back at Krogenar.
"Any other reason besides stretching your legs?"
Krogenar shrugged. "I have a lot on my mind."
Krogenar began gathering wood, scouting out a fire spot.
Kevin watched him silently, waiting.
"Care to share what's on your mind... Brother?"
Not looking up from his work, he replied,
"After we set up camp - then I'll need your advice."
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 3
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In the dim light, Krogenar crept on his elbows in the dirt.
Peering over the top of a small incline, he spotted his prey.
A small herd of elk, maybe ten or twelve, grazing on the yellow brown tufts of plains-grass.
Holding his bow ready, the half-orc took a slow, quiet breath - then stopped. Sensing the vibrations at the same time the strider did, the herd turned as a group and fled in great leaping strides.
Krogenar turned to face the small grouping of trees to see Kevin tiptoeing slowly towards him, his titan frame hunched over.
Crouching alongside his Water Brother he asked, "What was that?"
Leaning his head closer, Krogenar whispered, "Dinner."
------------------------------
Moving single file through the twilight forest, four deer and a fawn navigated the underbrush, ears twitching at different angles, constantly scanning for noise. They sensed nothing.Pulling a branch away from his face, Kevin watched, holding his breath. He waited for just the right moment.
Bursting from his hiding point, the sage bellowed, reaching out for the animals. Startled, the deer bolted along their barely visible trail. They fled in terror from the giant, reaching form. The lead animal ran
directly into a sharpened staff.
The other animals ran off, scattering into the forest.
Krogenar let the makeshift spear slide from his hands, lowering the animal to the ground. Moving swiftly, not waiting for Kevin, the strider let himself fall into the well-known steps for dressing a kill.
Hoisting the animal by its hind-legs, he tied it spread eagle to a tree, letting the blood drain.
He sharpened his skinning knife, grinning hungrily.
------------------------------
In the dim glow of the small cooking fire, a shank of meat hissed, dripping fat into the flames.
Krogenar lounged back against the side of a hill, sheltered from the wind that swept across the plains.
Kevin watched the food hungrily, watching the strider for a sign to eat.Reaching across to the slowly roasting meat,
the halforc ripped a small scrap from it, sniffed it. Nibbling it, he nodded. Kevin reached across, tearing away an entire leg by the bone.Krogenar smiled at his Brother, watching him tear into the meal.
"Never really know anyone until you hunt with them."
Kevin looked up from his meal, grinning - resumed eating.
------------------------------
Watching the bones of their meals cracking in the fire, Kevin licked his fingers clean, and patted his belly.
"So now my Brother, that we have eaten - and hunted - will you speak?"
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 4
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Krogenar huddled closer to the fire warming his hands.
Kevin watched, waiting for his Water Brother to speak.
"Kevin... if you had to choose between Fafnir or Quaster, as leader of our Church - who would you pick?"The titan sage paused, sipped from his wineflask, smiled.
"Why - they are both excellent leaders..."
Shaking his head, Krogenar pressed him.
"Yes, but if you had to choose only ONE - which would it be?"
The strider sat back into his side of the hill that shielded the fire from the wind. He gave Kevin the chance to think on it. Finally speaking, the sage said:"I would choose Fafnir, he founded the Church, and he's the most forgiving and caring..." the strider waited for him to balance."But Quaster is also a devout Istishian, and has served us."
Krogenar squinted at Kevin from across the fire, as if trying to squeeze the sage's opinion from him.
"But Quaster is not very forgiving at times - well, he-"The strider nodded, "He's still our Brother - I'd not have it any other way."
The two looked across the fire at each other, understanding that regardless of what happened, neither Brother could be forgotten.Poking at the fire, Kevin asked, "Why do you ask me this?"
Krogenar stood, kicked at the remaining wood in the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the night. Only glowing embers remained."I fear that all Istishians may have to choose, and that our choice will decide the fate and future of our Church."
Digging a shallow trench in the dirt, the strider prepared his bedroll, motioning for Kevin to do the same. "Cold is coming."
The sage watched the strider make a second, titan-sized trench.
Helping him, Kevin tossed a handful of earth over his shoulder.
"No! We'll need that dirt close by..."
Later, spreading some of the remaining fire embers in their trenches, they covered them back with the grass-covered dirt. Settling in to their bedrolls, the coals beneath them warming them somewhat, they drifted to sleep.In the depths of sleep, the halforc dreamt of leaping flame and hissing water.
...a woman, someone he knew, someone like him... untracked icy wastes...
he shivered, despite the warm ground below him... in preparation.
Overhead, the clouds of stars whirled slowly...
- a single star streaked over the Brothers.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 5
Kevin opened his eyes, watching the plains stretch before him, sideways.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, the titan sage watched the clouds atop the distant mountains redden for a moment - then vanish as the sun pierced them. Stretching the sleep from his titan frame, he looked about for Krogenar.Touching the ground where the strider had lain, he noted it was cold.
What little equipment Krogenar carried with him was gone.
Dusting himself off, smiling, Kevin wished his friend a silent farewell.
..............................
Running over the plains, the strider let his mind wander...
As the miles slipped past, the scrub of the plains slowly became rockier, and the Realm of Vector neared... the strider reflected on his past affiliation with The MagiTek Army... youthful stupidity.Letting one part of his mind handle the running, while the rest continued its woolgathering... something knocked him from his musings.Smoke on the horizon...
Changing his track slightly, not wanting to slow his pace, Krogenar pulled his senses closer to himself - observing the land, watching for an opportunity to investigate the smoke. Holding his hand against the sky, framing the rising cloud of smoke, he estimated the distance, and the size."Something big... "
Two hours later, the half-orc strider perched in the upper branches of one of the few trees, staring at the remnants of a blasted, burning airship. Vectorian soldiers milled about it, white coated scientists picked through the debris.Unable to spot an insignia on the downed ship, he could only wonder whether it was a test ship for Vector, or an enemy ship. He suppressed a shiver - what a vehicle! He would have to try to speak with his fellow Mystrans about building his own...-- nothing as large or unwieldly as these ships... something smaller.
More suited to a single occupant.
Sighing, and unable to do anything about the ship, he continued his trip northwards.
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Next Chapters... MountainSide
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Here, Krogenar finds his prey, and we get some glimpses of his past life, and his origins. Also, dear reader, you'll discover that Krogenar can do math - of a sort.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 6
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Krogenar walked openly in the sunlight, directly through the Vectorian Guardpost - a moss-covered MagiTek Armor lay to one side of the trail. A rectangular sign swung in the breeze by one rusted chain.Entering the shadow of the guardpost, the strider could smell only age and disuse. A wooden gallows held up a cage nearby the guardpost.A bird crossed the sky above Krogenar, as he walked to the cage.
Looking inside, Krogenar gazed on the browned bones of the cage's inhabitant. An esper, long forgotten - a toy in a cage.
Krogenar's weathered, cracked palms closed about the rusted bars.
........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .
The tendons in his young, wiry arms stood out, straining.
His small, tanned fists smashed against the bars as he wailed.
A yank from behind sent him sprawling back into the filthy straw of his cage.
His breath returning, the young halforc pulled at the ring of metal that encircled his neck.Glaster adjusted his belt, letting his belly sit solidly against it.
"Doesn't like his cage, eh Boss?"
The owner of the traveling show looked down in disgust at his crony.
Grunard tended to the animals, but never missed an opportunity to reveal the obvious.
"Has it fed?" Grunard scratched at his stubble, looked down.
"Nay... the creature willna eat." The crony pulled a rag from his back pocket, tried to rub the last of the food stain that covered him - he looked up, surprised by Glaster's glare.".... where did you find him?"
"Caught him up north in some town - wandered into it, caused trouble."
Glaster looked back to the cage, watched the long-haired creature intently...
"Look at him Grunard... he strains at the neckchain."
The shaggy-haired halforc had wedged the ring about his neck between the bars of his cage, was levering the bars against the metal. A trickle of blood ran down the things neck. Krogenar felt the ring begin to warp inwards, weakening, but cutting into his neck. The chain connected to the ring tightened, jerked him back into the center of his enclosure.Sulking in the straw, he turned to face the bars... tried to calm himself.
He thought of his Father, so far away. Snickering came from his left.
Turning, the halforc stared at the little dirty man, who spun his chain in his hand. Some gibberish came out his mouth, sneeringly.
Krogenar couldn't understand what he was saying.
Glaster motioned for Grunard to rejoin him.
The beast-keeper for the show arrived, smiling.
"That got 'is attention, eh?" Glaster ignored his boasts.
"Does it always growl like that? Or does it speak?"
Grunard stood slightly straighter, like a child ready for praise.
"He don talk no more!" The grimy man held back a riot of laughter.
Glaster watched his henchman's hand linger near the oily cutting knife which hung at his belt. Buried in the filth of his cage, Krogenar stared at the two, trying to make some sense of the gibberish they spoke. His neck throbbed, but he refused to rub at it. They stared back, unblinking.
"Make sure he performs well for our next group, Grunard."
. .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
Tanned, coarse hands released the bars, calmly.
Krogenar walked past the cage, regarding the distant mountains as he continued his northward journey, and his journey through his past.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 7
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Krogenar reached into the leather bag hanging at his belt, withdrew a metal spike. Wedging it into the crack his hands had found, he tapped it in with his ice hammer, angling it slightly downwards.Securing his line to the piton spike, he continued his ascent.
The distant cities of the Realm of Vector lay behind him, and the icy wastes of the Far North lay ahead - up and beyond these mountains.Pushing back with one bare foot against the cold rock, Krogenar pressed his back against the opposite wall of the rock chimney - he did not look up or down - only ahead at the rock.His hands and remaining foot slid over the cool stone, searching through his thick calluses for any difference in texture, that could hold him.The screech of a gyrfalcon overhead stopped his hands.
The strider watched it soar, the fingers of its wings spread wide - hunting.
He smiled, envious.
The falcon was so perfectly adapted. It was born with something special.
The druid looked down at the small boy, hidden in the trees from him.
........ ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .
Below, the halforc boy hid from the animals in the clearing, breathless at his own ability to hide from them so easily. The druid smiled, but made a note to teach him a lesson in humility. Still, the boy was becoming skilled, and was becoming more gentle.
Below, the halforc child pushed a branch away, watched the porcupine move about its business, unperturbed at the wolf that sniffed at it. The wolf followed the strange mound of quills, wondering if it was -NOT EDIBLE! The porcupine swung its small tail at the wolf's snout. Yelping in pain, it lept away from the creature, which curled into a spiny, quivering ball. The wolf pawed at the quills protruding from its face...The boy stared in awe... such a small animal, could fend off such a large predator! In the days that followed, he studied more animals. He had fled from the skunk, marveled at the ant hill, and wondered how an owl could turn its head around so far... The light inside a cougar's eyes - it seemed all creatures had some special ... something. Finally, in his Father's haphazard garden, his Father had crossed his arms, and just stared at him - his eyes asking, "What have you discovered?" Using his hands, the boy had hummed like a bee, made soaring motions with arms, and described his explorations in wild hand motions.
Eventually, the druid had poked this child playfully, asking him if he had wings, or a long snout to ferret out food? His eyebrows arched at the boy, asking silently, "What about you? What gift were you given?"
The boy froze in thought... looking to his Father for some hint, some clue to the right answer...He stood tall and proud, flexed his arms, balled his fists - grimaced!
Seeing his Father had not changed his expression, he strained to make his bicep look a bit bigger, twisting his fist sideways. The druid shook his head slowly, grinned, eyebrows arched again.The young halforc smiled widely, understood, his canines showing.
He slapped at his forehead - what a wondrous mind! He had discovered the secrets of all the animals, had ferreted out their secrets, he-
His Father, frowned, shook his head with more energy - confident he was wrong.
The small boy shrugged, abashed at his ineptitude.
The druid walked to him slowly, patted his shoulder, and pinched at his tiny biceps, nodding impressively. The boy smiled meekly back; the druid held the childs forehead between his palms, repeated his judicial nod of satisfaction. But he looked to his Father, wondering still, what was his ..."specialness"?
In a quick motion, the druid reached down, grabbed the boy by his ankles - spun him up into the air, holding him by his ankles. The boy looked up at his Father's smiling face, upside down.He still didn't get it. His Father tapped his feet together, drawing his attention to them. The halforc child scowled - my feet?!
. .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
The druid smiled down at him, nodded slowly. Krogenar regarded his bare feet, pressed out against the cold rock. The gyrfalcon's cry rang out over the mountains. Weathered and calloused - his feet had taken him far. Thick-toed, and ugly to others - Krogenar smiled at his twin companions, and then reached for another piton spike.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 8
==========================
Krogenar knelt on the warm, pine-needle covered ground.
His hands touched the ground gently, felt a slight depression.
The clearing he was in, was small, secluded, and level. It also offered an excellent view of the icy tundra that lay beyond the Kamekh Mountains."This is where I would stay." he thought.
Pulling the sod up in a neatly trimmed section, the strider found the remnants of a fire beneath. Handling the blackened wood, he could still feel a very light heat. The ground was still moist.He was closing in on his prey, but caution was needed.
Very faint tracks leading down, into The Waste, confirmed that he was on the right trail. No muscle-brained warrior had tramped off into the wilderness, no bumbling settler either.Frowning, he looked down at the wood before replacing the sod.
Not far away, in the rock wall that sheltered the clearing, black lustrous rocks jutted from the stone.
... why use wood at all? ... anyone who knows this region would not.
... the rocks themselves can burn.So his prey was knowledgable in survival, but not familiar with this region in particular.The Kagluni could find him, or her, before he did. Krogenar hoped they remained as superstitious as they had been years ago. He might still have some dark mojo in their eyes - if he was lucky.With dark hair, almond shaped eyes, the Kagluni were to be feared.
Short, with olive colored skin, they were the masters of this Waste.
And damnably vicious - they hunted anyone who entered their land.
The strider hurried after his prey, hoping it would not be snatched from him.
.........................
Walking through the mountain pass, great drifts of snow littered the path to the left and right, as the stranger passed through them. His armor, finely crafted, with gold flourishes, and silver chainmail were not well suited to the cold. Why had he come to this damnable place?Pushing his platinum hair out of his eyes, he pushed on past the snow drifts, towards the icy plains below. As he passed, a snow drift exploded outwards in a shower of ice!The strider felt himself shoved sideways into the opposite drift, his armor deflecting the first strike of a strangely curved axe-head. His opponent, wearing white, shaggy furs skipped back, raised his short hand axe high for another strike.His blue eyes blazing with a strange light, the strider crouched.
The shaggy assassin was taken aback by his eyes - a look of horror overtaking his expression. Holding his axe before him, the raider made wild hand signals, all about him - backing off quickly.The strider wondered at the gestures, warding gestures?
He shoulder exploded in pain.
- an arrow, with a black and red markings pierced through the joint in his armor.Spinning behind the far side of the drift, for what he hoped was cover, The strider pulled his shield up, listened to the thudding of more red and black arrows peppering the area where he had stood.
He looked up into the tree-covered hills from whence he had come.He had passed by them, without noticing!
His mind calculated at least six archers were above him. A voice, from above yelled down, sounded older, grizzled."Hatuna Gredata! Ipshe! Ipshe! Fek'ud jikow!"
To his ears, it sounded angry, but imperative. Like an order.
Pinned where he was, the silver haired strider waited.
Another voice, younger, more shrill, came from nearby his position.
"Egri t'ganow... ekti wek ta..."
He could not make out the language, but it sounded pleading, as though whoever spoke argued against an unfairness.Then it became quiet.
Struggling to control his breathing, the strider looked above at the hills - waiting, listening for a bowstring to bend. But they were most likely already notched with arrows trained on him.Reaching for his knife, he held it loosely, ready in his hand.
The warrior he had repelled did not attack.
"Sepki Hatuna! ekti Wek ta!"
He could hear another's footsteps enter the area opposite the drift.
It was an older voice, but sounded relaxed and calm.
"They will not harm either of us together."
Peering about the drift, the strider saw a short man clad in furs standing where he had been attacked moments before.
"Swiftly now, before they doubt us, and change their minds."Stepping out into the open, he joined the man, who stood tall, unafraid.
Standing much taller than the other, he looked up the hill, searched
for the hidden archers. The figure of his attacker sprinted up the hill not looking back at the two.
The shorter man whispered under his breath,
"They're superstitious - don't look afraid - or we'll lose our heads."
The taller man straightened into his full height, ignoring the arrow that was still lodged in his shoulder.A flurry of arrows appeared in the ground before them.
An older voice called down, "Getwa Hirktu Kro-Henar!"
The two waited for a while, but the smaller man seemed to relax.
"Seems we've too much dark magic about us for their liking."
The taller strider looked down, wondering, then smirked.
"I've no evil magic!" he looked disgusted at the idea.
The smaller strider pulled his hood back, grinned, his canines peeking out. The taller man suppressed a feeling of mild disgust... ... a halforc. Forcing a smile, the taller of the two gave a short bow."I am Sammian, well met - who were those -"
"The Kagluni - this is their hunting ground. Seems they selected you as a suitable test for one of their younger hunters. A test of manhood.""Each youth must perform his 'walkabout' - he returns as a man."
Sammian paused ... knew that it made sense. The smaller man spoke again.
"Luckily, they thought you a an evil spirit."He grinned, those sickening fangs poking out again.
"Your eyes must have frightened them - I am also thought to be an evil spirit of nature - I'm Krogenar."Unconvinced, Sammian looked down at the diminuitive man.
"They fear you? They would not attack you?"
Ignoring the slight, Krogenar explained.
"Hardly - they would relish killing me. They'd rid their land of a spirit."
"Alone, they would attack me - as they did you. But they are cautious."
"Against us both, they will let us pass."Krogenar looked down at the forest of arrows at his feet.
"But they are eager to have us leave... or separate."
Looking back at the quiet, white hills, Sammian nodded in agreement.
They left the area together, into the tundra.
Krogenar's conscience nagged at him - he didn't like lying. But he needed some way to spend some time with this .. Sammian. He had recognized Garul's red and black arrows.His presence alone had stopped the conflict - what he had told Sammian of the Kagluni was true enough - but they held Krogenar in a grudging respect. It would protect them for a time.But he was not on friendly terms with all the Kagluni.
His conscience eased, the strider followed the younger strider, watching his every move carefully, sizing up his skills, and knowledge.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 9
Sammian winced.
Krogenar eyed the red and black striped arrow he had withdrawn from Sammians shoulder - but not before pressing some healing herbs (properly chopped, and boiled) - into the open wound.The two sat atop a hilly knoll overlooking The Waste, an icy tundra far beyond the Kamekh Mountains. A gray white haze hung shroud-like over the featureless white place. From here, they could see into the heart of it.Both men were striders. The one sitting, younger, with platinum hair falling down his back in thick curls surveyed the land before him - his lavendar eyes nearly glowing with anticipation. He wore gilded, heavy armor, jewels of all sorts cunningly worked into place so as to both beautify the armor, and deflect a blade. He carried himself with a confident, noble air.The other, rising from his crouch, was short, his arms and legs wiry.
Red-brown hair tangled about his face; he brushed away some of it, revealing a greying patch of hair just above his ear. A somewhat piggish nose was off center, and a keen observer would see the tips of small canines peeking from above his lower lip.
Licking his cracked lips, he gazed out at the landscape.
His eyes were small, with creases about them, - plain brown.
Both men were striders - both gazed out on the land they aimed to enter.
But they saw different things.Sammian rose, his arm patched - beaming a smile out into the Waste.
He looked down upon it as though it were a newly found jewel.
"Whats down there, Krogenar?" Sammian asked excitedly.
Krogenar sank into a crouch, pulled his worn and patched fur coat tighter
around him. Looking up into Sammians eyes... he felt some jealousy.
Responses scrolled through his mind:
"Death....ice.... numbness..... pain..." or (the most correct) "nothing."
Could he squash another strider's discovery-joy that way? He could not.
"Its a whole world, Sammian - but dangerous."
"Its beautiful... so perfect looking - at the very summit of the world!"
Krogenar nodded at Sammians words. He had felt the same when he had crossed it so long ago.
But he would not let go of his prey so easily. The older, half-orc strider pointed westward.
"Theres a pass that will take you to the side of the Kamekh Mountains..."
He watched the look on the younger striders face sag, tried again"... past the Towers of High Sorcery... in the Shadow Grove."
Unconvinced, Sammians frown deepened - he turned back to gaze at The Waste.
The younger strider dropped to a crouch, then lay himself flat out on the cold rock.
Trusting Sammian's instinct, Krogenar dropped as well.Peering out into the Waste, the half-orc squinted.
A dot moved against the featureless white tundra. Taking a breath, he let his vision compress, let the details of the dot expand...A man, smiling, confident, wrapped in skins, drove a large wagon southward.
The wagon, covered against the cold, was lit from within. The flap of canvas beside the man opened, a feminine hand held out a cup of some drink. But the horses dragged their feet, their breath coming out in ragged white clouds.Still, the man smiled back into the canvas.
Krogenar began the grim arithmetic - 5 days journey distant, two horses who would be dead in two days at most... Krogenar stood. "They will die."
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 9: Part 2
Sammian lowered his eyebrows in concern.
"That cant be! They have hors-" Krogenar interupted him.
"Horses which will be dead by tonight, most likely." "Foolish settlers..."
Sammian responded,
"What would they be doing in the Waste?! Theres nothing to settle!"
Krogenar sighed.
"Not The Waste - they seek it as a shortcut. Rather than take the pass I told you of, they cut through the Waste to reach the more prosperous southern lands."The Pass took 2 months. The Waste would take 2 weeks.
Sammian pressed on, "We could help them Krogenar."
The older strider watched his and Sammian's numbers fall into the grim arithmetic - saw that the numbers did not add up. He frowned, shook his head."Then we will die with them."
Sammian looked back down at the dot, imagined the man and his wife inside their small wagon, slowly freezing to death. He turned back to the older strider.
"I will go alone - no less could be expected from a D'Ryne."Hearing the slight derision in his voice, Krogenar spoke again.
"Did I tell you, that there is no magical escape from the Waste?"
"Did I also tell you, that there is nothing to truly HUNT in the Waste?"
Sammian snatched up his pack, slung it over his back.
Krogenar saw Sammian with the people in the wagon. At first they would reject him as another mouth to feed - not even seeing their own danger. Then the horses would die. Then they would welcome him, and be glad of his presence. He would find nothing to hunt, but he would share his food with them.They would be greatly impressed by his nobility and kindness...
-- but in the end, he would huddle with them in the cold,
-- and die just as they did.
He looked at the departing strider. Sammian would be the last to perish.
Krogenar could not let that happen. He snatched a pebble, hurled it.
Sammian turned at the impact of the tiny pebble - it would be unstriderlike to call out.
Krogenar moved down to him."All right... well help them. But I will go, and you will seek help."Sammian opened his mouth to protest, but Krogenar let his reasons spill out.
"I'm smaller, faster and know the terrain - I eat less than you do."
Sammian closed his mouth; nodded slowly.
That night, they hunted down a full deer, packing it for a long haul.
Krogenar pulled the rope that held the carcass around his shoulders, balancing them out. Pulling the gold ring that bound his hair from him, he turned the symbol of Mystra towards Sammian.
"Take this to Westbridge... seek out a Mystran. Any Mystran will do."
"They will seek me out." He turned, and trotted off into The Waste, leaving Sammian behind. Krogenar had business in The Waste anyway.
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Trudging through the snow, his feet buoyed up by the branches of evergreen boughs he had strapped to them, Krogenar looked back to where he had left Sammian.Certain that he had left for Westbridge, and help, the strider let the harness drop from his shoulders. Kneeling, he cut away a large portion of meat from the carcass. Those settlers were dead, or soon would be.
He would not risk Sammian's life - or his own - for a lost cause.
Carrying less weight, his pace quickened. He continued North.
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Next Chapters... The Waste & The Eye
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This is a slight detour in the story... illustrating the nature of The Church of Mysteries. We also see the value that even a thief can bring to a church of wizards!
This series contains information on two other members of The Church
- Kalamar and Othello.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 10
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Sammian made his way through the Pass in haste, heading for Vector,
But as a noble, of the D'Ryne family - a descendant of the ancient angel, Arynthalas - leaving people to die was not an honorable option. He said a silent prayer to his ancestors, for Krogenar's sake.
---------------------------------------------------
Without the burden of the deer carcass, the strider moved over the permanently frozen land quickly. His makeshift snowshoes allowed him to pass over the deep snow, without falling into it.
Further north, it would be hard-packed tundra - good for skids, dogsleds, and wagons. By nightfall, he would no longer need them. He had left Sammian to return, and find The Church of Mysteries.
Laisha would most likely find him, and bring him into the Church.
Smiling inwardly, he thought, "She will net him..."
His business here in the Waste was to find The Way.
And hunt for other striders, rangers, and other survivors. He paused in his tracks, peering through the white haze of the blowing snow. Pulling his furs closer to himself, he watched a lone figure, indistinct, rise up from the snow.It waved to him, beckoning for him to follow.
It was too similar to the tales he had heard of the 'Wendigo'
Old trappers and hunters would tell the story of an evil, but lonely wind spirit, that would lure travelers to follow. They would follow after, and soon, the unlucky traveler would begin to be dragged along by the spirit...Krogenar had seen the tracks they spoke of... tracks that started to appear further apart, as if someone began running, and then they would lengthen, as though they were being dragged through the snow...The figure waved again, it's form white and shadowy.
The Wendigo, lonely but cruel, would take its victim into the sky.
Krogenar had scoffed at the tales, even as the ancient trappers nodded.
But he had seen the frozen corpses - sunk deep into the snow -
- as if from some prodigious height. And their feet were gone.
Just burnt stumps.
The form waved again, beckoning.
Did the Wendigo need a companion for its lonely wanderings in the sky?
Would he be discarded after he froze, and then dropped to his doom?
Perhaps he would see what he searched for... The Way.
Krogenar wouldn't need his feet anymore if he could see it.
He waved to the shape, and stepped towards it.
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 11
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Kalamar pulled his white-furred jacket around him, grateful for its warmth, and it kept him hidden.
He waved to Krogenar again. What was wrong with him anyway?
He could see the strider walking to him now, but cautiously.
-----------------------------
As Krogenar got closer to the figure, his fears began to ease.
This was no Wendigo - it was human. Which made him feel better about killing it.
Better a natural foe, than supernatural.Since leaving Sammian behind, the strider had made straight for one of the Church of Mysteries many secret places. He had never felt the need to actively guard this particular magical storehouse, since it was already protected by The Waste.He planned to go inside, and search for rest or food.
But now it had been discovered - and he could not allow the discoverer, this person - live.
He pulled his coat tighter, placing his hand on the dagger hidden within.
He hunched over, making himself appear more tired than he was.
-----------------------------
Kalamar noticed the strider looked cold, and weak, his head low.
"Blessed Be! Krogenar!"
Krogenar stopped, his head lifted, his frame straightened.
Kalamar watched the fatigue disappear from the strider - a trick.
Crunching through the snow, Krogenar trotted to his friend.
"Blessed Be, Kalamar!" the half-orc stared.
"Do we have a thief on our hands, Kal?"
The Mystran thief nodded. "Someone's inside, searching for the Eye!"
The strider stiffened at the thought of an intruder.
Kalamar calmed him.
"It's alright. The Eye is safe;
I was just about to go inside, and check on his progress."
-----------------------------
His cold-weather gear discarded, the thief lowered himself into the cold, stone crypt.
He had found the crypt by carefully searching for some hills that (from above) would look like the points of a star.Months earlier, he had found some intriguing scribblings in the margins of a book he had stolen from a mage. They spoke of a valuable jewel.
"The Eye of Kashoon-Amun..." he muttered under his breath.He had made it his business to steal books from mages whenever the opportunity presented itself - and from jewelers. From those merchants of shiny things... he took their indexes, and codexes of geological lore - searching for more lore on The Eye.At least one jeweler had awakened, and Othello had fled.
The shopkeeper was relieved to find only some of his inventory stolen - but all his books taken!Othello completed his journey down the stone corridor.
There were no webs - since there were no spiders.
A stone wall, covered in dust faced him. Rubbing his hands across the surface, a symbol of a closed fist, with a single finger pointed up - energy radiating from it.Othello smiled. He hadn't come so far to fail.
"Azuth" he breathed slowly, but carefully.
The etched grooves of the symbol began to shine.... and parted.
A doorway opened silently, as the glyph of warding faded.
Passing through, anxious at the ease of his entry, the thief crouched
- ready for any trick.
The passage sloped down, into a larger, circular chamber.
Inside, he found what he came for, and what he expected.
An obsidian statue of Kashoon-Amun, an ancient mage.
Cunningly sculpted, it was not a typical statue.
Most statues of mages depicted them on rocky pinnacles, their arms waving in some mighty spell, destroying and creating whole worlds by whim.Kashoon-Amun's statue described him as sitting at a desk, deeply in thought.
His desk was littered with odds and ends, scraps of paper...
He looked down into his lap, where his fingers held a small jewel.
Walking slowly towards it, feeling very vulnerable in such an open space, Othello approached the obsidian desk.The ceiling arched overhead, icicles dangling in the cold air.
Ignoring the statue, and focusing on the gem that the statue held, the thief began to reach for it...
The eyes of Kashoon-Amun looked down at the gem quizzically... wondering.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 12
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Othello stopped himself.
What did he really know of Kashoon-Amun? His researches had revealed only that he had been a powerful mage, an ancient member of the Church of Mysteries. His area of specialty had been ... prescience. The ability to see the future.Or the ability to manipulate the future.
A voice in Othello's head shouted angrily at him.
"Grab the bloody thing and let's go before whatever trap is sprung! Haste!"
But remained still, ignoring his impulse.
The thief stared back at the eyes of Kashoon-Amun; he grinned.
Standing, he looked down at the statue's desk, wondering what notes he perused here in this tomb.Wanted Posters.
Posters of thieves and other rogues. Mercenaries, robbers, all manner of brigands, pirates - every nefarious sort of pilferer could be found, engraved on the desk as notes.Stepping back, and feeling a cold shiver run down his spine, Othello looked back at the mage who sat at the desk. Kashoon stared back at him - or, rather, past him.Othello started for the exit, even before he could hear the hidden gears in the crypt begin turning. The floor shook, and the icicles from the ceiling began falling, shattering all around him.He stopped, looked back at the statue, saw the glimmering gem held in its fingertips. He ran back, snatched it, and ran for the exit - the top of the door was descending into the floor.He dropped, skidding through the shrinking opening.
Othello took a deep, panting breath - on all fours. He laughed at the crease on the floor, where the top of the doorway had vanished into the floor."Good ... try..." he grinned despite himself.
But something about the statue, at the end, was strange.
It had not only warned him by looking back at the doorway...
... he had detected a faint smile on its face?
He had expected a cruel smile, the smile of a mage that had trapped a robber - but it - it had been a proud smile. The sort of smile that a father would give to a son. Or a master to a skilled apprentice.Looking down at his prize, the Eye shone in the dark.
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Above, in the cold of the Waste, Kalamar listened to the rumbling beneath the ground.
He knew that the Eye had been found, and waited to see if the thief would be of any value to his Church.
Krogenar waved, wishing his Churchmate luck, and continued north.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 13
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Othello kept his distance from the newcomer.
He'd done the same himself - thieving from a thief.
"Come now, no need to be nervous..." Kalamar advanced slowly.
Othello, tall and fair-haired, put his cold weather gear back on, always keeping his eye on this other one. He was human, and didn't seem to wish to take The Eye - but he couldn't take a chance.Kalamar held his hands apart, trying to calm the younger thief.
"If you're worried about your treasure... it's yours."
"Aye, it is! What do you know of it?"
After some time, the two thieves spoke; Kalamar telling Othello
of his membership in The Church of Mysteries. The younger thief had
questions. "How could you be a Mystran? A thief?"
Kalamar nodded, "Aye, but I am a member - and they need me."
The older thief explained...
"The Church of Mysteries is charged with discovering, and protecting mysteries - the ultimate mystery of course, being 'The Art ... commonly called magic. It allows us to manipulate The Weave."Othello nodded, beginning to understand.
"But all knowledge is precious to us. But aside from discovering new magic, we must preserve what secrets we have..."Othello started to understand... he looked back at the entrance to the crypt.
"And what of me? The Eye is still mine!"Kalamar shrugged, continued, "Before I was a Mystran..."
"... I was a masterful thief. But I tired of stealing coins, and useless trinkets.
I began to discover that the ultimate commidity was knowledge - information."Smiling at the younger thief, he said, "You know, perhaps, of what I speak?"
"Has this quest for 'The Eye' not been the most thrilling so far?"
"Will you sell this bauble now?" Kalamar produced the jewel from his pocket.
Othello paled - pulled his dagger, held it outwards from him, his other hand outstretched.
"Back! Give it back!"Kalamar tossed it to him high in the air, above his head.
Othello snatched the gem out of the air above his head, never taking his eyes or his daggerpoint away from Kalamar.Impressed, Kalamar smiled at Othello, continued walking towards him.
"What was it about this particular job that excited you? Was it the risk?"
"Was it the careful preparation, and research that was required?"
"The patience, and attention to detail?" Kalamar arched an eyebrow.
Othello continued away, clutching 'The Eye' protectively.
Yet, somehow, it did not seem to shine so brightly, did not seem quite so valuable anymore... but it was HIS nonetheless! Kalamar stopped following him, but continued to speak."As a thief, I know best how to guard secrets against thieves!"
"THAT is my service to Mystra!"
Othello turned, and ran into The Waste, back to civilization.
But the older man's words echoed in his ears.
"Stop hunting shiny bits of metal... Hunt for Mysteries!"
---------------------------------------------
That night, as Othello slept, his saddlebag held tightly to his chest, 'The Eye' secured in several layers of clothing within it, the saddlebag crumpled slightly.
---------------------------------------------In a dark tavern in Torregiano, a mercenary sat in a booth, groping at a drunken barmaid, unworking the lacings of her corset as she laughed. He never noticed his dagger slipping from its sheath.Floating beneath the oaken table, it began etching words into the wood, writing directions, shadowed hints... it slid back into its sheath.
---------------------------------------------
The librarian snored, facedown in a large book. He awoke, the letters from the script faintly visible on his face. He heard a scratching. Looking about, he could see no one among the stacks of books. He shrugged, and went back to sleep.Back in the stacks, a red quill danced across a page, writing in the margins. Its task done, it dropped, and the book snapped shut, floating to the top of the bookcase, and waited to be found. Waiting to direct the next potential Mystran to his or her test.
---------------------------------------------
As the ceiling arose in the chamber of Kashoon-Amun, a flickering appeared in the finger tips of the statue... which waited patiently.
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Next Chapters... The Wendigo
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 14
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Leaning into the wind, the strider pulled his coat closer around his face, shielding it from the stinging shards of windbourne ice.
The features of The Waste?
None. Just a flat white monotony that stretched on... the distant mountains were the only landmark, and Krogenar often peeked up at them, fixing his path on a particular peak... using it to orient himself.
He'd accomplished at least two goals on his trip so far.
One, he'd found his prey - another strider for his Church.
Sammian would be a fine addition to The Order of the Shooting Star.
Second, he was sure he had broken out of the peaceful boredom that had gripped him in the Forest of Mysteries. He had felt regret at having to deceive Sammian about the settlers.
They had not had a chance to survive. Unfortunate, but true.
Those foolish settlers, trying to cross The Waste - just to save some traveling time.
But of all his goals, one still eluded him.
He still had not found 'The Way'.
The halforc grinned spitefully against the wind, his teeth bared.
He felt as though some force sought to hold him back -
something more than the wind, something that hid from him.Since learning from his fellow Mystrans the true nature of The Rok, that it was not Lord Ao's desire to destroy them all, but to destroy his accursed "apprentice" - he had thought long and hard on what could be done to save the Realms.
There was the Sword Prophecy, of course.
Legend stated that if the five elemental blades of Ragnarok were brought together in the Templ of Light (which had never been found) - The Apprentice would be destroyed, and The Rok would fade.
If someone of evil brought the blades together... the world would be plunged into death.
Krogenar had put more stock in throwing pebbles at The Rok.
The people who held the Swords would never part with them, let alone allow them to come together to stop The Rok.
So he had his own plan.
At first he was too stunned about the nature of the Great Realms.
"A bubble... a sort of wall..." Grandal had tried to explain.
At the elder Mystran's words, the strider's thoughts had burned.
Wall, barrier, call it whatever you wished. It was a cage.
Bits and pieces of Grandal's words had pierced his thinkings.
"The original founders of this world passed through.."
After calming himself over the thought of being caged, he had eventually warmed to another thought. The thought of other, newer lands, just beyond that barrier.
And while The Rok blazed overhead, The Way could also provide...
... other opportunities. There were always the Mysteries to protect.
He could see in his mind's eye, the squabbling and fighting that would come at the end, when The Rok began its final descent. But he and His Own would survive it, carrying themselves and whatever Secrets that could be carried with them.
And in another sense... it was the greatest challenge he could strive for as a strider. He had always found a path. Whether it was over a mountain, across a river, or about some other geographical obstacle - he had always found some Way.
He paused, turning his back to the wind. His pack was heavier.
A small weight to be sure... but heavier.
Peering inside his pack, a scroll, neatly rolled, with a blob of wax sealing it.
The Harper Sigil upon it.
Strange. He turned back again into the wind, determined to make a shelter, in which to rest, and read this message. No trees, no rocky outcroppings. Just a plain of stark white.
Kneeling into the snow, Krogenar pulled his heavier gloves over his usual fingerless gloves, and began digging.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 15
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He pulled the last block of ice into position, lodging his ice knife and ice hammer between the joints - in case it should freeze over during the course of the night.
Krogenar removed a ball of continual light from his pack. Dirty from years of use (why discard what was useful?) the strider rubbed the dirt from it, brightening the small shelter's interior.
After settling himself on an icy ledge he had leveled out, the strider ripped into a bit of beef jerky, unrolling the mysterious Harper Scroll.
Reading it carefully, his mouth sometimes sounded out the words.
After some time, he withdrew his writing materials, uneasily.
The bottle of ink was old - the ink long since dried.
He dripped some water into the bottle, closed it, shook it.
He glanced about for something to write on.
He tore some paper away from a wrapper for the iron rations he carried.
Flicking off a speck of food, he prepared to write.No pen.
Biting at his fingernail, he produced a small nail paring.
Inspecting it against the light, it was long, and sharp.
He dipped it gingerly into the ink well, he began to write in small block letters...
Jovik -
Good travels to you Harper.
You have assumd korectly. The sities are already Evil.
It would be best, I think, to remain at the edges of sosiete.
That is where we hav opirated in the past.
I do not think we can destroy our Foes.
We must survive against them.
The frontier towns represent new places, and new people.
The halforc paused... considered the letter.
The Harpers and his Church had always preferred to work behind the scenes. But this new Faction, The Pax Faerunis... ... it would have to be out in the open.
But I cee your poiunt.
If we are to make our Peace open to all, we must make a bowld stand.
It chould be a majour city... we must be bold - it would be out of our character.
As alwais, you have my support in what ever decision we make.
In my absence, do what you thinck best.
He ended in the traditional strider fashion.
Keep your eyes on the Horizon, and your nose to the Wind.
Your Friend, -K.
He crumpled it in his hands then, packing it into a tight ball.
Digging a small hole in the ice, he dropped the balled paper into it, covering it back up with ice.
Placing his hand over it, he slowed his breathing.
The ice covering the hole dropped down further, as his Druidic magic carried the paper away.
Grasping the ball of light, he placed it in his pack.
In the darkness, he shivered, then slept, and dreamt of The Way.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 16
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Wrenching on his ice hammer, the strider cracked the ice that surrounded it.
Having loosened the key block of ice, he used his second ice hammer to hook onto the other side of the block. The halforc dug his heels in, and pulled.
The block shifted and then slid free, letting the light of day into the shelter.
Wriggling out through the opening, Krogenar pulled his pack and gear out behind him.
Stowing his hammers in his belt, he surveyed the distant mountains, sighting along the mountain peak he had selected for his navigation point.
He strapped his snowshoes on, tested them on the packed snow, and then set out, keeping the mountain peak directly ahead of him. He started trotting along, keeping his eyes on the snow ahead, peering up at the peak every few minutes, correcting his direction when needed.
As he ran, a ghostly image began to form in the distance - a shape.
As the drifting snow moved like a curtain around it, he saw the rectangular shape of it.
Veering towards it, he squinted. It was the ice-rimed shape of a collapsed wagon.
The settlers he had spotted days before. Or what was left.
"... useful gear... food... maybe new snowshoes ..." he thought, and felt ghoulish for thinking it - his decision not to aid them only worsening the feeling.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 17
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Staying low to the ground, the strider skirted the edge of a snow drift, extending his senses outward. Even in the chill air, his nose picked apart the various smells.
...... leather... wood... oil ... flesh ... rust ...
His ears twitched... no noise. Just the wind and the sound of ice skittering across the ground. Emerging from hiding, the half-orc advanced on the wagon, some 50 yards away yet.
The rear of the wagon was crusted over with a wrinkled skin of ice.
Sunken into the snow, like some beast that had fallen to its side, its wheels lay frozen into the permafrost - shipwrecked against an icy shore.
Krogenar looked into the black opening of the fabric that closed off the wagon. The sheet of canvas flapped in the wind, small icicles hanging from the ropes, where they hung free.
"Opened." he thought. But relaced from within.
Crouching, he touched the snowy ground. Small shoeprints led away from the wagon, after circling it somewhat. Squinting at them, they seemed smallish.
"Young adult... adolescent mayhap...." But strange. A normal shoe - but whoever wore them walked toe to heel. "An injury? No." Not like an injury. An injured persons tracks often showed signs of sliding, a dragging of the injured limb. Not this 'toe-walker'.
Circling the wagon, he followed the small tracks to the front of the wagon.
Grimacing, he met the still face of the driver. In his early forties, he was frozen to the seat, his hands still clutching the reins. Hunched in on himself, the driver lay to one side across the driving bench, its springs rusted over.
His eyes were shut, as though sleeping. Strange again. Krogenar had come face to face with many a wide-eyed ice-corpse. Their eyes stayed open.
Krogenar pulled himself onto the bench beside the driver - the wood creaked - brittle from the cold. Holding his face over the drivers face, the lids were pinched shut. Closed by the toe-walker.
From his new vantage point, Krogenar examined the interior of the wagon.
Dark inside, a ghostly white shape lay curled upon the floor - unbreathing.
Disarray all about. Belongings hurled into a pile within. Signs of a struggle.
Could toe-walker have been a thief of some kind.. a scavenger?
Sensible enough to take the belongings of the dead, but kind enough to close their eyes on The Waste?
No.
The woman was covered by a blanket.
No scavenger would leave so precious a belonging behind.
Not even to the dead.
He couldn't smell it, hear it or touch it... but 'toe-walker' had draped the blanket over the female shape. A mother? Turning his head slightly to the driver, he knew.
It was their child that had left this deathtrap. The strider imagined the struggle within, the thrusting of equipment into the childs hands. No food left.
Leagues ago, he had seen their wagon, and had applied the Grim Arithmetic.
And those rules of survival had predicted this grisly result.
Foolish of them to attempt a crossing. And all just to save 6 weeks travel time.Guilt washed over Krogenar. He snapped himself back to the moment.
The wind howled out at him, singing, "the tracks will be gone soon...."
He left the wagon, and set out after the toe-walker.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 18
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Giving little regard to the terrain about him, Krogenar picked up his pace.
In this storm, the tracks would disappear soon. His breath came out in ragged white clouds, his hair was wet, clinging to his face where it was not bound.
Hugging himself, the strider let the increased pace warm him. But his sweat was collecting in his clothing - chilling him. In a short time, he’d have to stop,
and change his clothing, allow himself to dry out. When that happened, his search for “Toe-Walker” would be over. There would be no surviving the storm without shelter. The tracks were very faint now. He gave himself another hour of searching.
He stopped.
In the distance, a short, dark humanoid shape was visible between the wafting ice dust. Krogenar squinted. ‘Toe-Walker’ was moving away.
He hurried to catch up, yelling out. The figure turned, still indistinct.
It was short, where the head should be sloped down, angling into the shoulders.
Was it a cowl? Or a girl with long hair? It stood motionless.
A sick dread began inching its way into Krogenar’s gut, twisting at his innards.
Looking about himself, he could not spot the mountains he had used for navigation. Everything was a white cloud about him. But his senses told him he was moving deeper into the storm. Was he led here by “Toe-Walker”?
The ground between them arched slightly. He rushed over the distance - eager to end the chase, and take the child to safety.
On his first stride, his leg passed through the thin layer of ice and snow -
shattering it. In a curtain of ice and snow, he fell. His arms reached out into nothing. There was a moment of silence - only wind in his ears.
Krogenar’s body glanced off the edge of the ravine, knocking the breath from him. Limply, his torso spun sideways from the impact.
With a sickening crumping sound, he landed on the bottom of the ravine.
His face smashed downwards against the rock-like ice. Blood jetted from his nose. Chunks of ice tumbled down the icy ramp, settling atop him.
The strider remained still.
His head shaking, Krogenar turned his head from the floor, peered through watery eyes at the edge of the ravine, at least 30 feet above.
A dark shape stood at the edge, peering down.
Then it crouched at the edge, like some bird of prey, the tips of its feet
hanging over the edge.
“The Wendigo.” he thought dreamily.
“Needing a companion for your journey through the skies, eh?”
Putting one hand to the floor, he pushed to raise himself...
... and screamed.
Falling back down from the pain, he turned his head as far back as it would go. The strider’s legs lay behind him, twisted at a crazy angle, a grey-white spur of bone peeking from his thigh.
A dry sob gripped him. A sharp intake of breath - he could not breathe out.
Nausea.
It had been a trick. The Wendigo, that malevolent spirit, had needed a companion. Luring travelers to their deaths, legend stated that it would take its victims into the sky, walking the winds, visiting distant, unknown lands.
It then discarded them at a great height. Their feet burned away by the walking, they were found deep in the snow drifts, frozen solid.
Turning to the where he had seen it, Krogenar gasped - the creature was now on the ravine floor, only moments later. Pulling himself away, the pain in his leg overwhelmed him, and he collapsed.
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Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 19
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