A Cliff-top Duel
V
Lessons of Courage
(Shard II)
(Shard II)
“Surrender to me, desert lotus. Let me know where you are. I cannot see you.” The dead woman’s porcelain face fell away to reveal the half rotten face of a monster beneath. Indigo energy bled from the surrounding darkness to dance around the woman’s blue eyes like halos. “Why can I not see you? You have my blood and my curse within you. Reveal yourself to me. Let me take your life. Let us finally have peace in this world. Do what must be done.”
Ghelta finally was able to pull in a single breath in and screamed out her answer to the monster that held onto her. “No!” She lifted her free hand and watched it turn into the same kind of claw that the dead woman had. The darkness that the monster bled into her became something she could draw strength from. She reached out her free hand and raked at the rotten flesh of the corpse. As she continued to rake she was able to dislocate the corpse’s jaw as she tore flesh away frantically.
The corpse woman leaned in with her ruined face and began to howl and snarl at her. The room grew dark as the shadows consumed the entire world. The only thing Ghelta could see were those piercing ice-blue eyes as they tore into her vision. She could no longer breath and succumbed to unconsciousness.
The first sensation that Ghelta could feel was a low vibration coming from beside her. The second sensation was the sound of a growling wolf that thrummed through her ears. The final sensation that came to her was the feeling of dry sand filling up her mouth. She opened her eyes to the star-strewn darkness of the living world and began to cough up the sand that had made its way into her throat.
She leaned forward to spit the sand from her mouth and leaned one hand onto Khollta who was perched beside her. She could feel the vibration coming from the wolf’s chest and one of her large paws cover her hand and push her away. Once she cleaned most of the sand from her mouth she looked over to see why Khollta was being so angry. That is when she saw the dire wolf's lips curled up into a rage-filled snarl.
Khollta gave two short barks and looked sideways over to Ghelta. Her ears were pinned back as her blue eyes made contact with Ghelta’s own. It took a moment for Ghelta to wonder if the wolf was snarling at her as if she could pick up the dream she had, but she was mistaken as Khollta looked outward into the darkness. She pointed her nose ahead at the swirling clouds of sand.
Ghelta patted Khollta’s hackles and let her hand slide to the hilt of her klaive. With her other hand, she snatched up the haft of her spear. She watched the darkness ahead for whatever threat that Khollta had noticed. She couldn’t see anything in the whirling winds of crimson-stained sand.
She lifted herself from her perch and dropped several feet to the plateau surface below. Khollta got up and followed after while still snarling. Ghelta let go of her klaive and focused both of her hands on the long spear she held. She slowly lowered the banner end and prepared the spear to be thrown. It would be next to impossible for any of the other warriors to see her banner in this storm, but maybe there was a chance that someone might.
Ghelta took several measured and cautious steps forward into the dark. The sand-strewn winds billowed at her black robes. Despite all the wind, the air in this place felt hollow and heavy. It was hard to draw a breath, and as Ghelta noticed this she also noticed just how silent it had become around her. She should be able to hear the howling wind, yet she could hear nothing except the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t even hear the sound of Khollta’s snarls and growls beside her any longer.
It started as a vibration in the ground beneath her feet and then soon erupted into a shadow running headlong toward her from the sandy darkness. There was a flash of green light from almost a hundred yards away but as soon as Ghelta’s eyes could catch it, it faded away into the sands once more. A moment later another flash of green, this time much closer but far to her right.
Ghelta moved the body of the spear along with her head, her arm bent backward and ready to plunge the weapon into the darkness ahead of her. She darted her vision from one side to another, trying to find the source of the strange green lights. After scanning from her left to her right she stopped and focused on the center of her vision.
There she could see the two green lights fade in from the sand ahead of her. They looked like two bale-fire flames floating almost a dozen feet above the plateau. It took her a moment to realize that these billowing flames were eyes of some beast standing several dozen yards away.
In a panic, Ghelta launched her spear through the whirling darkness ahead of her. Despite the loss of composure, her aim was true. She could see the half of her spear flying through the air towards the monster and then disappearing into the sands.
A sound of pain and rage tore through the silence of the night. This sound wasn’t given by human lungs but something entirely other. The wail was filled with a rotten and gravel-like reverberation, like something that was capable of speaking but had no lungs to do so. As soon as the sound registered to Ghelta’s ears, she looked down to see Khollta run headlong into the darkness howling her own sound of rage.
For her first time in years, Ghelta felt mortal terror grip her heart and could not find it in her to run after her wolf. She watched as the green flames faded away once more into the sands. She felt prickles in her fingers, and although she willed her feet to run, she couldn’t do so. She was stuck in place, fighting against her own fright.
It was only with the next sound that Ghelta was able to shake off the terror that seized her like lead chains. The sound of Khollta’s whine of pain, followed by a savage howl from whatever beast had attacked her. The monster’s scream was filled with cruelty and predatory joy. That is when Ghelta found herself running forward into the darkness.
She felt renewed strength as she felt spit and rage flow over her lips. She screamed back at the monster in the dark with all the rage she could muster. She could feel the heat of adrenaline coursing through her with each step against the sandy earth. She worked herself up into a berserker rage and prepared herself to meet Olthenna along with her dire-wolf ward.
At first, the impact didn’t register with her senses, but after she stopped and grabbed the spear’s head that was stuck into her stomach she could feel the stinging pain shooting up from the wound. She felt the warmth of her blood flow over her fingers as the haft-end of the spear pivoted to lift her into the air. Her feet dangled helplessly beneath her as those same two bale-fire eyes opened in front of her.
She could see the rotten flesh on the beast’s face. It was half-skeletal like the woman in her dreams. Unlike the woman, this monster didn’t speak as it couldn’t. It howled rage and fury at her as if summoning the very wind to carry its voice. The monster easily stood twice the height of Ghelta, wearing tatters of rusted armor. This was one of those abominations known as a thaekkuz. One of those remnants of the dead who, due to regret and sin in life, crawled their way up from Gehemol to give a savage unlife to their corpse.
The thaekkuz whipped her to and fro on the edge of her own spear. The blade tore more savagely into her stomach but was shoved so far into her that she limply went along with it like a doll impaled on a stick. She continued to stare at the green flames burning up from the monster’s empty eye sockets until her vision faded and shock overtook her completely. After this all she could remember was darkness.
“-You weren’t even paying attention, you little shit!” Ylethus spat over clenched fists as he charged at Ghelta once more.
Ghelta was pulled away from her reveries of past events as one of Ylethus’ meaty fists impacted her square in the chest. The wind was knocked from her lungs and she felt herself reach out to grab his wrist. He used his free hand to grab her by the collar of her armor and raise her several feet up to his eyes.
“I saw that glazed look in your eye during each one of my lessons. You weren’t even here!” He threw her across the cliff-side where she impacted several rocks near the edge. “Always with the daydreaming! I’m your gods-damned Vhollen and your gods-damned father! I’m trying to teach you to be a warrior.”
Ghelta used one of her own fists to try and push herself up from the ground. When she was thrown she had lost her klaive which was now on the ground next to Ylethus’ feet. She tried to pull air into her lungs but couldn’t. She felt her arm buckle beneath her and she fell face-first back onto the ground.
“Nothing sinks into you, does it?” Ylethus shifted his stance to aim directly at Ghelta once more. He stood with both fists held before him and his shoulders slumped forward as if he would charge at any moment. “If I’m to grant your Kollishi Thaulp, I need to know you can handle yourself on the battlefield. I need to know you won’t end up another corpse beneath the blades of bloodthirsty barbarians. I need to know that you’ll fucking listen to what I command of you!”
Ylethus stopped his rage and swiped up Ghelta’s klaive from the ground in one of his hands. He looked down to it and then grabbed the tiny hilt in his immense hand. He leveled the blade toward Ghelta as she continued to lift herself up from the ground.
“I understand. I thought as much when I brought you out here.” Ylethus lost himself in his own mind for a moment and took a single thunderous step forward. “You only understand action, right?” He took several pitched breaths and another step towards Ghelta. “Then I’ll give you a lesson in action that you won’t soon forget.” A cruel smile tore across his bearded face.
Ghelta finally was able to draw in a breath and get to her knees. She looked up to see Ylethus charging at her with all of his weight and speed. Ahead of him, he swiped at the air several times with her klaive. His eyes were wide with a frantic kind of rage. His patience with her was gone, and she didn’t know what he was capable of at this moment.
She felt the trail of wind and heard the whistling of her blade as her klaive almost cleaved her head in two. The blade darted past her head, snipping several strands of her crimson hair. She choked another breath and jumped to her feet.
The second attack went for her stomach, but she was barely able to step back enough to avoid the blade. She felt the cold flat of the blade push and then pull back across her abdomen. She jumped one more step back, feeling her heels on the edge of the cliff. The old man wasn’t holding back anymore and if she didn’t know better she honestly thought he was trying to kill her.
The next attack was one of Ylethus’ fists hammering against her right shoulder and causing her to crumple to her left. She could barely keep her feet under her against the impact. As soon as her senses were focused again, she saw her blade thrusting forward towards her chest. She barely had enough time to grab the blade with one of her hands, and the guard of the blade with her other. She shoved the blade further to her left as the edge bit into the flesh of her palm.
In order to control the blade, she had to step back past the edge of the cliff. She found herself teetering on her toes as the center of her mass was over the fall. The only thing that held her in place was her grip on her klaive and Ylethus’ giant fist leveled against her right side. She was helpless now, having to depend upon Ylethus’ grip to keep herself from falling hundreds of feet to her death.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ghelta.” Ylethus said through grit teeth as he pushed her to teeter even more over the cliff-side. “That is why I always kept you back from your rite of adulthood. This world is a savage and brutal place. I don’t want you to be another casualty on a battlefield somewhere. I can’t lose you.” Tears began to stream down Ylethus’ face.
“Well, then just let me get back over the edge, so you don’t kill me here.” Ghelta stammered over her words as she kept her eyes trained on the crazed warrior. She lightly lifted her hand from the guard of her klaive and raised it up to the side of her head. She was trying to signal that she gave up.
“No.” Ylethus pushed the klaive forward an inch. Pain tore through Ghelta’s mind as the blade cut further into her hand. “If I can’t teach you properly-” His voice cracked and his words trailed off. “If I can’t teach you to be a warrior properly, then I have to let you go. I have to give you your last lesson, Ghelta.” He took a pitched breath beneath his continued tears. “The lesson of sacrifice.”
Ylethus took one last breath and then pulled back Ghelta’s klaive with a single motion. The sliding blade bit even harder into Ghelta’s palm. The loss of her grip sent her reeling backward over the cliff. She reached out vainly toward Ylethus’ fist near her left side but he pulled it away from her at the last moment.
The moments slowed down to a snail’s pace as Ghelta continued to reach out for her father. She could see the tears slowly dribble down his face to gather at his mustache as he took two more steps backward. Her vision distorted as her feet fell over the edge of the cliff. A feeling of vertigo swept over her once she could no longer feel an anchor to the world around her.
The wind rushing up to her from the bottom of the cliff felt soothing against her parched and sweaty skin. Terror shot through her mind but soon gave way to a strange sort of contentment. The last person she would see before her doom would be her adopted father, the man who sacrificed and cared for her. The last thing she would see is his sorrow-filled face as he let her go.
The edge of the cliff rushed up and obscured him from her vision as she continued to fall backward. Above her, she could see a patch of white clouds floating by, momentarily obscuring the twin lights of the suns above. The feeling of falling felt like she could fly. Maybe if Olthenna felt merciful she could come back to this world one day and be one of the authrocs that flew through the skies. For now, she just hoped that she could enjoy this feeling before pain overtook her and carried her away to the dark realm of the dead.
Wait — the goddess of death be damned — she wanted to live. She scrabbled and clawed at the empty air that rushed up around her. She began to fill her lungs to their fullest and screamed out her rage-fueled determination for all the world to hear. Olthenna be damned, she wasn’t done living, yet. She wasn’t going to die like this.
Ghelta finally was able to pull in a single breath in and screamed out her answer to the monster that held onto her. “No!” She lifted her free hand and watched it turn into the same kind of claw that the dead woman had. The darkness that the monster bled into her became something she could draw strength from. She reached out her free hand and raked at the rotten flesh of the corpse. As she continued to rake she was able to dislocate the corpse’s jaw as she tore flesh away frantically.
The corpse woman leaned in with her ruined face and began to howl and snarl at her. The room grew dark as the shadows consumed the entire world. The only thing Ghelta could see were those piercing ice-blue eyes as they tore into her vision. She could no longer breath and succumbed to unconsciousness.
The first sensation that Ghelta could feel was a low vibration coming from beside her. The second sensation was the sound of a growling wolf that thrummed through her ears. The final sensation that came to her was the feeling of dry sand filling up her mouth. She opened her eyes to the star-strewn darkness of the living world and began to cough up the sand that had made its way into her throat.
She leaned forward to spit the sand from her mouth and leaned one hand onto Khollta who was perched beside her. She could feel the vibration coming from the wolf’s chest and one of her large paws cover her hand and push her away. Once she cleaned most of the sand from her mouth she looked over to see why Khollta was being so angry. That is when she saw the dire wolf's lips curled up into a rage-filled snarl.
Khollta gave two short barks and looked sideways over to Ghelta. Her ears were pinned back as her blue eyes made contact with Ghelta’s own. It took a moment for Ghelta to wonder if the wolf was snarling at her as if she could pick up the dream she had, but she was mistaken as Khollta looked outward into the darkness. She pointed her nose ahead at the swirling clouds of sand.
Ghelta patted Khollta’s hackles and let her hand slide to the hilt of her klaive. With her other hand, she snatched up the haft of her spear. She watched the darkness ahead for whatever threat that Khollta had noticed. She couldn’t see anything in the whirling winds of crimson-stained sand.
She lifted herself from her perch and dropped several feet to the plateau surface below. Khollta got up and followed after while still snarling. Ghelta let go of her klaive and focused both of her hands on the long spear she held. She slowly lowered the banner end and prepared the spear to be thrown. It would be next to impossible for any of the other warriors to see her banner in this storm, but maybe there was a chance that someone might.
Ghelta took several measured and cautious steps forward into the dark. The sand-strewn winds billowed at her black robes. Despite all the wind, the air in this place felt hollow and heavy. It was hard to draw a breath, and as Ghelta noticed this she also noticed just how silent it had become around her. She should be able to hear the howling wind, yet she could hear nothing except the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t even hear the sound of Khollta’s snarls and growls beside her any longer.
It started as a vibration in the ground beneath her feet and then soon erupted into a shadow running headlong toward her from the sandy darkness. There was a flash of green light from almost a hundred yards away but as soon as Ghelta’s eyes could catch it, it faded away into the sands once more. A moment later another flash of green, this time much closer but far to her right.
Ghelta moved the body of the spear along with her head, her arm bent backward and ready to plunge the weapon into the darkness ahead of her. She darted her vision from one side to another, trying to find the source of the strange green lights. After scanning from her left to her right she stopped and focused on the center of her vision.
There she could see the two green lights fade in from the sand ahead of her. They looked like two bale-fire flames floating almost a dozen feet above the plateau. It took her a moment to realize that these billowing flames were eyes of some beast standing several dozen yards away.
In a panic, Ghelta launched her spear through the whirling darkness ahead of her. Despite the loss of composure, her aim was true. She could see the half of her spear flying through the air towards the monster and then disappearing into the sands.
A sound of pain and rage tore through the silence of the night. This sound wasn’t given by human lungs but something entirely other. The wail was filled with a rotten and gravel-like reverberation, like something that was capable of speaking but had no lungs to do so. As soon as the sound registered to Ghelta’s ears, she looked down to see Khollta run headlong into the darkness howling her own sound of rage.
For her first time in years, Ghelta felt mortal terror grip her heart and could not find it in her to run after her wolf. She watched as the green flames faded away once more into the sands. She felt prickles in her fingers, and although she willed her feet to run, she couldn’t do so. She was stuck in place, fighting against her own fright.
It was only with the next sound that Ghelta was able to shake off the terror that seized her like lead chains. The sound of Khollta’s whine of pain, followed by a savage howl from whatever beast had attacked her. The monster’s scream was filled with cruelty and predatory joy. That is when Ghelta found herself running forward into the darkness.
She felt renewed strength as she felt spit and rage flow over her lips. She screamed back at the monster in the dark with all the rage she could muster. She could feel the heat of adrenaline coursing through her with each step against the sandy earth. She worked herself up into a berserker rage and prepared herself to meet Olthenna along with her dire-wolf ward.
At first, the impact didn’t register with her senses, but after she stopped and grabbed the spear’s head that was stuck into her stomach she could feel the stinging pain shooting up from the wound. She felt the warmth of her blood flow over her fingers as the haft-end of the spear pivoted to lift her into the air. Her feet dangled helplessly beneath her as those same two bale-fire eyes opened in front of her.
She could see the rotten flesh on the beast’s face. It was half-skeletal like the woman in her dreams. Unlike the woman, this monster didn’t speak as it couldn’t. It howled rage and fury at her as if summoning the very wind to carry its voice. The monster easily stood twice the height of Ghelta, wearing tatters of rusted armor. This was one of those abominations known as a thaekkuz. One of those remnants of the dead who, due to regret and sin in life, crawled their way up from Gehemol to give a savage unlife to their corpse.
The thaekkuz whipped her to and fro on the edge of her own spear. The blade tore more savagely into her stomach but was shoved so far into her that she limply went along with it like a doll impaled on a stick. She continued to stare at the green flames burning up from the monster’s empty eye sockets until her vision faded and shock overtook her completely. After this all she could remember was darkness.
* * *
“-You weren’t even paying attention, you little shit!” Ylethus spat over clenched fists as he charged at Ghelta once more.
Ghelta was pulled away from her reveries of past events as one of Ylethus’ meaty fists impacted her square in the chest. The wind was knocked from her lungs and she felt herself reach out to grab his wrist. He used his free hand to grab her by the collar of her armor and raise her several feet up to his eyes.
“I saw that glazed look in your eye during each one of my lessons. You weren’t even here!” He threw her across the cliff-side where she impacted several rocks near the edge. “Always with the daydreaming! I’m your gods-damned Vhollen and your gods-damned father! I’m trying to teach you to be a warrior.”
Ghelta used one of her own fists to try and push herself up from the ground. When she was thrown she had lost her klaive which was now on the ground next to Ylethus’ feet. She tried to pull air into her lungs but couldn’t. She felt her arm buckle beneath her and she fell face-first back onto the ground.
“Nothing sinks into you, does it?” Ylethus shifted his stance to aim directly at Ghelta once more. He stood with both fists held before him and his shoulders slumped forward as if he would charge at any moment. “If I’m to grant your Kollishi Thaulp, I need to know you can handle yourself on the battlefield. I need to know you won’t end up another corpse beneath the blades of bloodthirsty barbarians. I need to know that you’ll fucking listen to what I command of you!”
Ylethus stopped his rage and swiped up Ghelta’s klaive from the ground in one of his hands. He looked down to it and then grabbed the tiny hilt in his immense hand. He leveled the blade toward Ghelta as she continued to lift herself up from the ground.
“I understand. I thought as much when I brought you out here.” Ylethus lost himself in his own mind for a moment and took a single thunderous step forward. “You only understand action, right?” He took several pitched breaths and another step towards Ghelta. “Then I’ll give you a lesson in action that you won’t soon forget.” A cruel smile tore across his bearded face.
Ghelta finally was able to draw in a breath and get to her knees. She looked up to see Ylethus charging at her with all of his weight and speed. Ahead of him, he swiped at the air several times with her klaive. His eyes were wide with a frantic kind of rage. His patience with her was gone, and she didn’t know what he was capable of at this moment.
She felt the trail of wind and heard the whistling of her blade as her klaive almost cleaved her head in two. The blade darted past her head, snipping several strands of her crimson hair. She choked another breath and jumped to her feet.
The second attack went for her stomach, but she was barely able to step back enough to avoid the blade. She felt the cold flat of the blade push and then pull back across her abdomen. She jumped one more step back, feeling her heels on the edge of the cliff. The old man wasn’t holding back anymore and if she didn’t know better she honestly thought he was trying to kill her.
The next attack was one of Ylethus’ fists hammering against her right shoulder and causing her to crumple to her left. She could barely keep her feet under her against the impact. As soon as her senses were focused again, she saw her blade thrusting forward towards her chest. She barely had enough time to grab the blade with one of her hands, and the guard of the blade with her other. She shoved the blade further to her left as the edge bit into the flesh of her palm.
In order to control the blade, she had to step back past the edge of the cliff. She found herself teetering on her toes as the center of her mass was over the fall. The only thing that held her in place was her grip on her klaive and Ylethus’ giant fist leveled against her right side. She was helpless now, having to depend upon Ylethus’ grip to keep herself from falling hundreds of feet to her death.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ghelta.” Ylethus said through grit teeth as he pushed her to teeter even more over the cliff-side. “That is why I always kept you back from your rite of adulthood. This world is a savage and brutal place. I don’t want you to be another casualty on a battlefield somewhere. I can’t lose you.” Tears began to stream down Ylethus’ face.
“Well, then just let me get back over the edge, so you don’t kill me here.” Ghelta stammered over her words as she kept her eyes trained on the crazed warrior. She lightly lifted her hand from the guard of her klaive and raised it up to the side of her head. She was trying to signal that she gave up.
“No.” Ylethus pushed the klaive forward an inch. Pain tore through Ghelta’s mind as the blade cut further into her hand. “If I can’t teach you properly-” His voice cracked and his words trailed off. “If I can’t teach you to be a warrior properly, then I have to let you go. I have to give you your last lesson, Ghelta.” He took a pitched breath beneath his continued tears. “The lesson of sacrifice.”
Ylethus took one last breath and then pulled back Ghelta’s klaive with a single motion. The sliding blade bit even harder into Ghelta’s palm. The loss of her grip sent her reeling backward over the cliff. She reached out vainly toward Ylethus’ fist near her left side but he pulled it away from her at the last moment.
The moments slowed down to a snail’s pace as Ghelta continued to reach out for her father. She could see the tears slowly dribble down his face to gather at his mustache as he took two more steps backward. Her vision distorted as her feet fell over the edge of the cliff. A feeling of vertigo swept over her once she could no longer feel an anchor to the world around her.
The wind rushing up to her from the bottom of the cliff felt soothing against her parched and sweaty skin. Terror shot through her mind but soon gave way to a strange sort of contentment. The last person she would see before her doom would be her adopted father, the man who sacrificed and cared for her. The last thing she would see is his sorrow-filled face as he let her go.
The edge of the cliff rushed up and obscured him from her vision as she continued to fall backward. Above her, she could see a patch of white clouds floating by, momentarily obscuring the twin lights of the suns above. The feeling of falling felt like she could fly. Maybe if Olthenna felt merciful she could come back to this world one day and be one of the authrocs that flew through the skies. For now, she just hoped that she could enjoy this feeling before pain overtook her and carried her away to the dark realm of the dead.
Wait — the goddess of death be damned — she wanted to live. She scrabbled and clawed at the empty air that rushed up around her. She began to fill her lungs to their fullest and screamed out her rage-fueled determination for all the world to hear. Olthenna be damned, she wasn’t done living, yet. She wasn’t going to die like this.
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