Whistler's Pass III, 5108 (short story)
Title: Whistler's Pass III, 5108
Author: player of Charna Ja'Varrel'Kav
Clouds shifted unnoticed through the sky bathing half the valley in a dull grey shadow that was punctuated sporadically with the golden light of dawn well on its way through the skies. The puffy clouds, laden and cold, released their light white burden, which immediately began to float on the odd air currents that riddled this part of the world to the already icy cold ground.
Below, upon the valley floor, a macabre dance had begun in earnest. Several victims to its play lay scattered upon the ground, the dark liquids of the life forces seeping from their prone forms to taint the fluffy white purity that lies beneath. Within a ring of four tall trees, three figures were all that remained of the dance – an elf, a girl, and a beast.
Her lids were heavy, and the relief at seeing the elf join the battle had nearly overwhelmed her. A quick glance at the limp mastiff lying twisted against a nearby tree trunk aided her in her resolve to fight on. She struggled to rise in the slick ground, aware as she did that much of the crimson stain within the snow was her own blood.
Placing her arm beneath her, she attempted to stand for what seemed like the millionth time. Her left arm still would not respond and the sensation of pain was not dulling; it beat like an angry drummer to the rhythm of her heart. Warily, she kept one eye upon the beasts as the elf cleaved through the second. Time was ticking away on her and she knew she had to stand or all would be lost.
Issuing a quiet apology to her khopesh, she stuck the blade into the ground and gave herself a mighty heave to her wobbly feet. The groan that fell from her lips was nothing compared to the angry growl that shivered up her spine from the beast before her. It gazed balefully between the girl and the elf, its hatred, and rage palpable. Breathing deeply, she attempted to call upon the power of nature to aid her one last time in this battle but the words would not come. The shock was beginning to coarse through her veins, and a fine tremor that had nothing to do with the cold was causing her lips and teeth to chatter. Clenching her jaw, she stabilized her stance as best as she could and put her bad arm nearest the elf where she knew he would shield her.
These were not times for formality. No greetings passed between them. Silently, they stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the beast seethe before them. The seconds stretched between heartbeats feeling for the entire world like minutes bleeding into hours.
Beside her, the elf remained in his low, loose stance and never allowed the distance between them to grow greater than the span of one hand. He stared ahead, waiting for the right moment to move. In his mind’s eye, the potentials of the impending combat played rapidly over and over, like some morbid dream of death. He skipped through myriad possibilities, each branching into another result, yet none seemed probable. Clarity, at last, seeped into the blurred collection of thoughts, and the elf knew with certainty that the creature would move to his right – towards the girl.
And then, the moment of movement was upon them. Lunging forward with teeth and claws, the jackal grasped for its prey. The elf, however, was ready and pivoted his body towards the girl bringing them both into a spin of evasion that placed his back to the creature and caused it to tumble past them. His eyes met hers as they faced each other for the first time since his arrival, and he noted the heavy fatigue that discolored the flesh of her face. His nose brushed past hers and he locked his strong gaze with hers. Their irises expanded slightly in the shadow of their sudden proximity and cast the world around them in a strange hazy glow that allowed it to briefly melt away. Eternity spilled through time and froze them for the shortest of seconds while his blue-grey gaze locked onto her glittering hazel orbs in silent communication. Trust me, they bespoke her. Parting his lips slightly, he allowed the briefest of grins to touch them, and then suddenly he was gone and open-air greeted her senses.
Panic threatened to choke her, and her heartbeat in an odd, alarming staccato in her chest. Narrowing her gaze through the empty space that suddenly left her wounded side naked and bare, she struggled to double grip her khopesh with her useless left hand. It swung limply at her side in response. Before her, the creature’s stumble had halted and his gaze, still filled with shock at the sudden absence of the offending elf, glittered with blind hatred. Its lower lip twisted upward into a sneer that caused foul green saliva to spill froth from its blackened mouth.
Steeling herself for the creature’s approach, she widened her stumbling stance in the fresh snow and willed her weary reflexes to respond. Her mind kept repeating a soft litany of hope over and over, but her flagging spirits were finding it hard to believe.
He would not leave me, he would not leave me, it said.
Thrusting her khopesh into the intervening space, her arm throbbing, she stood ready to play her part in these final moments; no matter what they might be.
Its howling challenge jarred her body and caused her to jump despite her experience. Charging at her, she watched it suddenly stumble in the snow. A trail of crimson splattered across the pristine snow accompanied by its yowl of pure agony. The beast was driven to its knees and skidded the last few feet towards her. Issuing her own cry of challenge, she lunged with all her might and impaled the still moving beast upon her khopesh.
Shock registered briefly upon its features before it sped into action and attempted to wrestle the weapon from her grasp. Its strength was beginning to outweigh her own, the strain pulling along her shoulders and back. It won out, however, when it began to slash wildly at her with its black talons. Its wicked claws scraped down her side and limp arm, reopening wounds and create fresh ones as it rent her flesh She skipped backward by instinct and watched in growing disbelief as it frantically clawed at the blade protruding from its chest. Gripping her hilt with slick, twisted hands, it wrenched the khopesh free, removing most of its chest and heart with it, and then keeled over in a growing pool of its own blood and waste.
On the other side of death stood the elf, his blades poised and bloody. He casually relaxed his stance, an easy grin finding its way to his lips. It was only then that she saw the grizzly gashes in the beast’s calves and thighs.
He had not left her.
Numbly, she moved forward in a wounded shuffle. Her right arm still responded, the left dead at her side, but was rent from shoulder to the elbow. She lifted her hand towards him and watched in growing fascination as blood dripped from her fingertips. Were it not for the elf, she’d have fallen face-first into the recently deceased beast at her feet. He caught her as her legs gave out beneath her, and her body succumbed to the growing shock that gripped her system. Blackness began to cloud her vision and into its welcoming arms she whispered, “Thank you.”