Ruth looked up at the sky. The snowfall had intensified, and soon she could only make out the rugged peaks of Nordmar in faint outlines. A cold wind howled through the canyons, making the fir trees creak under heavy gusts. A strand of her auburn hair whipped into her face, further obscuring her view. Squinting, she scanned the white-gray world, hoping to see the path they had taken. But her strained, young eyes failed her, and to make matters worse, nightfall was closing in. They were out of torches, so she could no longer make out the faint footprints in the snow, which she had taken for human tracks. Tracks they’d been following for half a day, hoping they’d lead back to civilization. Ruth shivered, though less from the cold than from the fear of getting lost again. Traversing Nordmar without a local guide was risky enough, but with Egan at her side, it felt like a one-way trip.
She took a deep breath of the icy air, then exhaled with a quiet sigh and stared into the haze. “Now I feel just like you, Grandpa. But I can’t let you see how scared I am. You need me. You’ve only got me. And I… I only have you.” These were the thoughts Ruth couldn’t ignore. She held Egan closer and tried to keep her voice calm: “Come on, keep holding on to me. We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.” Whether she was reassuring herself or Egan, only the gods would know.
The old man, hunched over, leaned on his cane with one hand and held onto Ruth with the other, managing to find a steady pace. Slowly, but steadily, they made progress. He looked up with a strained face and spoke, “Ruth, my dear. That howling. It’s getting louder.” “It’s just the wind, Grandpa. A storm’s coming over the mountains. Let’s hurry.” But Egan stopped in his tracks: “No, I mean the howling in the storm, dear Ruth. You know what that means. I insist that you take your young, fast legs and run if it comes to that. You gave me your word.” “It won’t come to that,” Ruth replied, pulling Egan along. Their vision was now limited to barely twenty paces. Nearly blind, they trudged through the snow, passing snow-laden shrubs and scraggly fir trees. Ruth scratched her face on a branch, groaning as she clutched her cold-reddened cheek. She looked into the haze once again. The howling was indeed louder now, so she struggled to pull the old man along at a quicker pace.
Suddenly, Egan stumbled, and they both fell into the snow with a thud. Fortunately, the thick bison hides they had traded from the Wolf Clan hunters two days ago kept them warm and cushioned the fall. Ruth had reluctantly traded her last keepsakes from her lost homeland for them, except for Egan’s one treasured memento—she couldn’t bear to part with that.
Ruth got up, ready to help Egan to his feet when she noticed a shadow moving swiftly through the snow toward them. She froze, gripping her grandfather’s hand tightly. Was it an ice wolf? Or something worse? Had one of the North’s brutal beasts finally tracked them down? Just then, a snow-white stag emerged from the swirling snow. The deer startled as much as they did at the unexpected encounter, then bolted into the distance. Silence fell.
Ruth began to sob, overwhelmed. What had they been thinking, seeking refuge at the Nordmar monastery? At the end of the world. Yes, it was far from the war’s devastation, but she hadn’t imagined it would be so difficult. “Keep heading north, deeper into the mountains until you reach the mountain ridge. Stay on the road. It’s a long journey, but if Innos wills it, you’ll make it,” a wounded soldier had advised them the morning they set out. By then, their group of refugees in the woods had grown to dozens, and everyone knew supplies were dwindling. Ruth now suspected the monastery suggestion had merely been an excuse to send them away. After all, who else would want to take on an old, frail man in the midst of war? The monastery had seemed like the only option for a safe haven, and so they’d taken the risk.
Egan was back on his feet, clutching his cane. “No complaints, child. After rain comes sunshine, always. We’ve come this far. Surely Innos is watching over us; why would he abandon us now?” Ruth forced a smile, gathering her resolve. Her grandfather had been there for her throughout her life, even as his sight began to fail. Now, with everything lost to war, she had vowed to be there for him. Renewed in her promise, she linked arms with Egan, and they continued their journey. As they pressed on, they came upon a passage between two cliff faces, where Ruth thought she saw a clear path. “Thank the gods,” she thought, telling Egan to keep moving. The wind didn’t cut through as harshly between the rocks, and their vision improved. She looked up and saw a rope bridge stretching across the gorge. “Grandpa, there’s a bridge! We must be close now,” she said with relief.
Her gaze followed the path, and at the end of the ravine, she saw a distant glow. She stopped Egan to take a better look. The light seemed to be moving, growing brighter. Was it a fire? As unease crept over her, the wind fell silent for a brief moment, and she heard a faint, rhythmic pounding. The wind picked up again, the glow intensified. Boom! Boom! The sound was clearer now. Ruth and Egan knew this sound all too well, a deep echo burned into their memories.
Orc drums.
Ruth didn’t hesitate, grabbing Egan and pulling him to the roadside thicket, where they threw themselves into the snow and lay still. The orcish troop, led by a drummer, marched up the gorge, their torches lighting the path.
Just as the two humans dove into the bushes, heavily armored warriors with broad axes stomped through the snow barely three meters from their hiding spot. The drum pounded its relentless rhythm. Ruth didn’t bother counting the orcs, but she was sure this was no scouting party—there were too many. As they lay still, holding their breath, one of the orcs noticed strange tracks on the path. Tracks too small for an orc and not quite like a Northman’s, either. Wolf? No. Deer? Also no. The orc lowered his torch over the snow. Five tracks, close together—four looked like small footprints, the fifth like the mark of a staff. Humans! The orc let out a harsh shout, and the group halted. Ruth, from her hiding spot, could see three more orcs examining the trail and discussing it in a language she didn’t understand. The other warriors stared into the mist, and for a moment, Ruth thought one of the creatures’ grim eyes locked onto hers, making her heart race. Beside her, she felt Egan trembling slightly, causing the bush to shake. They would be discovered any second. Panic flooded Ruth as she clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. But after a tense deliberation, the orcs seemed to decide the tracks weren’t worth pursuing and continued their march. Soon, the drumbeats faded into the distance.
They stayed absolutely still for what felt like an eternity, listening to the cold wind. They’d been lucky. “Ruth, my toes are freezing. We need to keep moving,” Egan insisted, crawling out of the bushes and shaking off the snow. Ruth followed. If they didn’t reach their destination soon, their luck would surely run out. Linking arms once more, they pressed forward into the unknown.
As the snow finally ceased and visibility cleared, Ruth could make out the path in the morning sun. They followed it a bit further, and sure enough, at the end of the gorge, she saw huts perched atop the rocks.
In the morning quiet, Sivert could hardly believe his eyes as he saw who was approaching. He hurried over to help Ruth bring the shivering Egan into the village. “Here, sit by the fire and warm up. I’ve kept watch here for thirteen winters, but never have I seen an old blind man and an unarmed young woman make it this far. Innos must have truly watched over you. Welcome to the Fire Clan, flatlanders.”
Author: Dr.Gothic