Fantasy – Vostak

The Valley – Part 3

The valley was so large that Sevir, while looking at it from the south end, could only see an outline of the mountains in the north. There was also, in fact, a large portion of the valley that Sevir could not see. It was hidden behind the mountains as a result of the valley’s bean-like shape. What Sevir did see, however, was enough to amaze him.

In the west, the land was hidden beneath a lush green blanket. A large forest lay at the base of the mountain range on the west, as though a sea. Its emerald waves rolled over into the center of the valley in between the high places and hills, which stood as an island amongst the trees. These highlands at the center of the valley divided it in two, as though a painter decided to put in a swath of brown, gray and yellow in the middle of his painting. The woods swept under these hills in the south, and came around to the east. What was left of the land was endless green fields in the north and northeast, nestled against the looming mountains. The orange hues of eventide covered a portion of the sky, whilst beams of gold danced across the mountains’ white peaks.

The valley was full of life. More so than Sevir would have expected. Across the fields in the north, and among the hills in the middle of the valley, several columns of smoke had sprung up from the ground and trailed off into the sky. Sevir stood dumbfounded for a moment. His heart almost stopped, and then began to beat so fast that he felt dizzy and lightheaded. He felt a rush and a whirlwind of emotions, filled with an almost childlike bewilderment and curiosity. He got carried away with excitement and almost slipped off the edge of the cliff he was standing on. The precarious moment which could have quickly proven perilous was like a slap in the face. While letting out his breath and clearing his mind, Sevir took a step back and rooted his feet in the ground.

Though he had reached the valley, he was not yet completely over the pass. He stood on the cliff with the gorge he was in before on his left, opening out into the valley before him. It was a fifty-foot drop down to the ground, and there wasn’t really any other way to come down. Once again, Sevir found himself stuck between a rock and an abyss.

He needed to survey the face of the cliff to see if he could climb down it. Once again, he approached the edge, only this time he did it right – on his knees. The cliff was a mixture of smooth and ragged stone. It would be difficult to climb down, with there being few crevices in the rock. It wasn’t impossible, however, and Sevir was determined to make it down. Led on by his curiosity and excitement, he was consumed by a sense of urgency and a need to make haste. Abandoning his reason and sense of time, he failed to notice the darkness which loomed over the valley. Sevir began climbing down the side of the cliff just as the sun was hiding behind the mountains.

The Valley – Part 2

The sky was like a canvas for the sunrise. Tendrils of orange spread across the clouds whilst rays of gold pierced through them and bathed the white mountain peaks with light. The morning mist lay over the earth and a slight breeze tugged at the trees. The sun looked over the mountains in the east as dawn made its way west. Birds chirped, chattered, and trilled. Below the cliff, a mother deer and her fawns came to the stream for water.

Sevir was surrounded by otherworldly sights and sounds, but he didn’t get to enjoy the setting for long. He had to pack up and keep moving while the sun was up. A thought to kill the deer for food crossed his mind, but he decided against it. He still had a quail wrapped up in his pack, and the deer was far more meat than he could eat or carry with him.

It took some time for Sevir to solve his dilemma. He didn’t have many options for how to keep moving forward. He could double back the way he came along the ledge, which would take him half of the day. The nearest treetop was about ten feet below the edge of the terrace. He could try jumping down to it and then climbing down the tree, which would surely be suicide. His one remaining option was to climb up to the top of the cliff and continue from there. It looked to be a thirty or forty foot straight upward climb. The cliff face was jagged enough that it could be possible. But if Sevir got stuck halfway up with no proper footrest, he could be stranded up there.

After several minutes of consideration, Sevir resolved to take the risk and scale the cliff. Long story short – he survived. Though the climb was perilous and there was many a moment when he thought that he was surely doomed. When he reached the top, he marveled at the sights. To the south was familiar territory – the mountain-side he trekked before reaching this canyon. To the west, he saw the other side of the canyon, and the side of the mountain which it carved through. In the east, Sevir couldn’t see much save for the woods right before him, and the mountain up above. But when he turned north, Sevir couldn’t believe his eyes. The canyon continued on northward, and the stream at its base. A few miles ahead, however, they passed inbetween two mountains. Beyond these two mountainsides Sevir saw a glimpse of what lay beyond.

Unknown to the villagers living just fifteen miles south of it, hidden in the mountains was a large bountiful valley. Sevir was stunned. All his life he had been told that the North Mountains completely covered the land north of their village for a hundred miles or more. But now he saw, with his own eyes, that there was yet much to be found and explored. So, his eyes full of wonder, his heart filled with excitement, and his belly full of game, he continued his journey towards the valley.

The Valley – Part 1

The sun was beating down upon the mountaintops. The snow capped peaks gleamed and shimmered above a sea of fog. Or was it clouds? One would not be able to tell. This was not so much a mountain range, as simply a land of mountains. From a bird’s eye view, it was all mountains to the east, north, and west, save for a large valley to the north. Of course, Sevir saw none of this. He was making his way through the mountains along a narrow cliff. All he saw was the stream far down at the bottom, his feet on the narrow ledge, the cliff face before him, and the crevices in which he placed his hands.

Sevir felt his pulse in his head and his heart pounding in his chest. He constantly had to adjust his grip because his hands were sweaty. His arms and feet felt heavy. His breath was weak and unsteady. He felt as though he could fall already. Though just moments ago, he thought that he was ready to scale the cliff. As he crept along the ledge, Sevir tried his best to occupy his mind. His thoughts carried him off of the cliff, out of the mountains, and back to the village he once called home.

Many called Sevir a fool for leaving his village, which was nestled under the Great Mountains. It had been common wisdom for centuries that there was nothing beyond the mountains but more mountains. Sevir, however, figured that he had no choice. Though there was much space to build new homes, there was no room for Sevir in the village. Not anymore.

Over the span of a few years, Sevir observed the Head Council become skewed and misguided in their thinking. Faithful laborers were ignored and cast aside in favor of agreeable yes-men. Decisions were made not to benefit the village’s families but for the ego and pride of those in charge. Though the Head Council claimed otherwise, it was clear that everything they did served no purpose other than gaining more resources and growing in their status. Perhaps, on the surface, it appeared that the village was prospering. Growing more into a town than a village. But in Sevir’s eyes, even if the village really was growing, it was all for the wrong reasons.

It came to a point that Sevir decided he had had enough. He figured that he would rather risk his life in search of a different home for his family than continue serving those that had abused him and others in their bid for glory. And so, Sevir found himself in the mountains. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was afraid. Yet he pressed on.

He slowly shimmied along until he reached a point where the ledge came to a natural rocky terrace. It overlooked the stream and greenery below. Though far safer than what came before it, it was a small opening and didn’t lead anywhere. How he would continue, Sevir had no idea. He decided to rest and spend the night at this spot as he figured that a solution might come to him in the morning. In the meantime, he was content to eat a morsel of bread and enjoy the view.

The Prey

Dalibor bent over to catch his breath. His throat felt ragged, as though the air was scratching it. His heart was pounding in his chest, his head was spinning, and his calves were burning. He let his bag drop off of his shoulder and sat down next to it on the ground, which was all a coarse black rock. It came out of the mouth of the cave and extended down the slope. There were no trees, no brush, no grass near the cave. Only the black rock and a dry red soil. The rest of the mountain below was all dirt, rock, ash, and withered trees. Far down the slope, at the foot of the mountain, there was a dense forest. It could not be seen from where Dalibor was, however, as there was a thick fog over the mountain.

As Dalibor’s breath evened out and his mind cleared, he began to scan his surroundings. The mouth of the cave at which he sat was a little shy of ten meters in height. It was so dark inside that he only saw a bit of the entrance. The surrounding stone was charred. Higher up the mountain, the stone was smooth and almost aglow. The peak stood out amongst the rest of the mountain range as the other mountains were all snow-capped. It was unusual, but not surprising to Dalibor. He felt the heat coming from within the mountain as he sat on the ground. As he moved his hand along the rock, he felt tremors, as though a mighty beast stirred within the mountain.

Though the rock was warm, Dalibor felt a chill come over him. His eye twitched, his knees felt weak, his neck stiffened, and his breath got caught in his throat. His heart was gripped with a terror he had never felt before. It was clear now that his quarry was far mightier than he expected. In all his years of hunting, he had never had a thought such as the one he did now: “Perhaps I might become the prey today.”

He stood up shakily and gripped his bow. With the other hand, he grabbed an arrow from the quiver at his hip and nocked it. As he did so, a rumble started to rise from within the cave, as though a growl. It was clear: the beast was aware of Dalibor’s presence. He figured that if he tried to run, it would pursue and kill him. He had only one choice – to fight the terror and slay it.

A foul smell met him as he entered the cave. He moved quickly, as though trying to escape his fear with speed. He realized that he had forgotten his bag, but it was too late now. He pressed on. Dalibor had to meet the beast where it didn’t expect it and take his shot before it made its move.

It was pitch black in the cave, but Dalibor had hit his mark in such conditions before. As he shuffled through the labyrinth, he listened closely for any sounds the beast could make. It was hot and moist in the tunnels. The trickle of water could be heard almost as clearly as the gnashing of teeth and scraping of claws. As the sounds became louder, Dalibor took his stance and drew a deep breath. The beast approached him from behind a row of stalagmites. He exhaled, took a half breath, turned towards the sound of slithering and snarling, and took his shot.

Dalibor could not see what happened, but he heard it. First, the twang of his bowstring releasing. Next, the sound of metal striking metal. Then a knock, as of wood hitting a rock. Finally, a rustling and a feint rumble. After all of this, he saw a bright orange light coming from behind a row of big black teeth. For one moment, Dalibor saw his foe. Then he was covered in flame.

The Ringing of the Bells – Part 2

Richard was drifting, as though a spirit, over a vast forest. The sky was clear and open above him. Below him, a sea of green. The forest continued as far as the eye could see to the west. In the east, at the edge of visibility, a mighty mountain range stretched across the horizon. Beneath him, Rich could see a river cutting across the forest. It flowed from the foot of a lone mountain rising from the sea of green straight ahead, in the north. This was where Rich was headed, in spite of his will.

The mountain wasn’t as tall as others, but it dominated the scene. Perhaps because of how relatively flat the rest of the landscape was. Unlike most mountains, this one had no trees growing on its’ surface. The stone-like greyness of the base gave way to a dark blue hue. The peak was covered in snow, giving the mountain a glowing white crown.

A warm breeze came from the south, riffling through Rich’s hair and brushing against the back of his neck. He heard the singing of birds and the rushing of water from below the trees. The sun shined brightly overhead, warm and soothing. As the breeze began to pick up, it made the trees sing a song of their own. Their leaves rustled in the wind, as though the entire forest was letting out a big sigh. Rich closed his eyes and let out a sigh himself.

The breeze grew stronger. It blew away the sun’s warmth, and silenced the birds. Soon, it made the trees begin to groan and creak. It continued to increase, until it was a wild and untameable wind. Up ahead, the crown of the mountain erupted, giving way to a giant plume of ash and smoke. As it soared across the sky, the pillar began to grow outward. Dark fingers stretching out in all directions, even against the wind, covering the earth until no sign of the sun or the sky was left. Yet, a light remained. Not the warm and pleasant light of the sun, but a bleak and dead light that seemed to come from nowhere.

By this point, Rich had reached the mountain. He saw that it was entirely covered in ash, which was now falling from the sky like snow. Bolts of lightning began to shoot down from the sky, cracking like whips. The thunder resounded in Rich’s ears, until all he heard was a high pitched ringing. Wherever the lightning struck, it started a fire. Soon, the entire forest was in flames.

Rich was carried up and settled down on the top of the mountain. The snow-capped peak was completely gone. In its’ place was a large crater, filled with blood. Its’ stench filled Rich’s nose. Along with the smell of smoke and brimstone. He turned away from it, and looked to the north.

On the north side of the mountain, the river (which looped around it on both sides) was split in two. The two rivers encircled a large open plain, which was lifeless and baren. Far in the north-east, the mountain range looped around and cut across the entire horizon on the north end. From those mountains, in the far north, a sea began to flow. It came, as though from within the mountains, and rushed across the plain. It crashed through the forest and uprooted trees. It roared and splashed in powerful waves, hundreds of feet high. As it came near, Rich came to realize that it was not made of water. It was a sea of blood.

The waves crashed into the base of the mountain, and flowed all around it. The blood continued to flow, never slowing down or running out, until it filled the earth from north to south and from east to west. Nothing remained but the lone mountain, and the mountains on the horizon. Then, slowly, the blood began to rise higher and higher.

As the blood came closer, Rich almost stumbled and fell. He was at the edge of the crater, with only a foot or so of ground to stand on. The blood rushed up and flowed over his feet. It quickly filled up the crater, and continued rising rapidly. Rich had to start swimming. It was hard to keep his head above the blood. It was rising as fast as boiling water in a kettle. Soon, Rich found himself submerged completely in blood.

He felt something large and hard smash against him on its’ way up, and he grabbed hold of it. It was a log. It carried him to the top, and he could finally breathe in a large gulp of air. But as he was catching his breath, he slipped and fell back into the blood. It rushed into his mouth and into his eyes, stinging them with a fierce heat. His mouth was full of blood. But it did not taste like blood. In fact, it tasted like nothing. As though he had just taken in a large gulp of water. When Rich came back out, he couldn’t withstand his curiosity. He carefully took a sip of the blood, to try it again. This time, it tasted like warm milk mixed with honey.

Unbidden, Rich’s mouth opened wide and the stuff, whatever it was, rushed in. Then, when he was submerged and was drinking the substance, it turned to blood again in his mouth. He tried desparately to close his mouth and swim back to the surface, but his arms and legs turned numb, his jaw would not shut, and his eyes were opened. Blood was all he saw and felt. It was in his eyes, in his ears, in his nose, and in his mouth. He choked on it and gagged, but could do nothing. Then, suddenly, as though he had consumed all of the blood, he found himself on the edge of the crater once more. There was no more blood around, only in the crater, filling it to the brim. The forest was gone, and the river too. All that remained was dirt. The world had turned into an empty, lifeless void.

The smoke was gone, and the sky was clear again. The sun shined in Rich’s eyes, blinding him. It burned with a fierce summer heat. Rich looked into the crater and realized that it was no longer filled with blood, but with a rich red wine.

Rich could see right through the wine. He examined the floor of the crater. For a moment he could not believe what he saw. Then he remembered everything he had seen before, and this sight seemed almost natural in comparison. Nothing out of the ordinary for this strange world.

What Rich saw was gold. Not a small cache somewhere in the corner of the crater, or a few slabs laying about. The entire floor of the crater was covered in gold. It shined through the wine, as though a second sun. And it called to Rich.

He never had a distinct love for money or wine, though, of course, he enjoyed them both as all are prone to do. But this time was different. This time, it was as though all Rich had ever wanted in the world was in that crater; and, he needed only to reach out and claim it. His mind was clouded, as though he was already drunk on the wine, and his body felt numb. Powerless to do anything other than what he felt compelled to do. Filled with an unrelenting desire.

Rich jumped, entering the wine with a splash. He opened his mouth wide, and drank. It was rich and sweet. Though he was not breathing, he did not feel as though he was losing breath or drowning. He let his entire body go limp, sinking towards the bottom, and basked in the wine.

It was odd how fast he was sinking, rather than floating at the top as one usually would. He tried to float up, but his legs wouldn’t move. He looked down to see a pair of golden legs. His legs. The gold spread quickly up his torso, like a cold shiver. Terror filled his mind. He tried to scream, but could not. He tried to swim up, but half his body was already solid gold. He saw his arms turn to gold before him. Then it finally spread to his head, and he was covered in gold. A solid statue.

Suddenly, the wine disappeared and Rich was falling towards the ground. He smashed into the rock, splinters of gold flying in every direction. Then he awoke. He felt a dull pain in his temple, where he hit the floorboards. His blanket was wrapped around one of his legs, the rest of it hanging off the edge of the bed. A jar of wine rolled across the floor. Thunder, waves, and the shouting of pannicked men could be heard outside. The cabin moved, heaving to and fro. Rich struggled to rise, and stumbled towards the chest at the foot of his bed. He quickly put on a pair of pants, and ran out the door.

What he saw on deck was a scene of pure chaos. Sailors scurried back and forth like busied ants. The captain and the first mate were both barking orders. Rain came down as though someone had upended a bucket over the ship.

A crewmate bumped into him and grabbed hold of his shoulders. He was a young deckhand. Blonde with blue eyes, yet unwithered by the life of a sailor. His clothes were completely soaked, and his hair came down to his eyes, like a mop over his head.

“You’d best get inside, Lord Devoue!” He yelled over the hubbub. “We’re caught in a storm.”

Richard broke free of the young sailor’s grasp and stumbled back inside the captain’s cabin. He picked up the jar of wine and sat down on the bed, popping out the corck with his mouth. A shiver ran up his chest and over his arms. He wasn’t sure whether he was trembling from the dream or from the fear of what he saw on deck; or, from the fact that he was half soaked in water. He took a swig of wine, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closed the jar, steadied himself against the headboard with one foot on the bed and another on the floor, and closed his eyes.