Westward (written by Darkspyr)
Spirits renewed, Rika and Simon set down off the frozen wastes, the dark outlines of low hills and forests drawing them on. Once the snow thinned, they stretched their legs, only slowing to pass treacherous fissures, bypassing rotting ice and frigid streams of fast flowing water. Finally, they set foot on soil, not covered in ice or snow. Simon stopped to praise Torm for the leagues past and prayers for the leagues ahead.
The weather remained clear for days as they made their way through the woods and finally to a travelled road. Beasts seemed to shy away from them and the howls of wolves that seem to have followed them down from the ice, dwindled away. They spotted what appeared to be a lone trapper heading west like them, but outpaced him quickly. Finally hitting a road, they moved along it cautiously since the lands were not well known to either. With roads came civilization, and with civilization came those that preyed upon others and both were familiar with such in their journeys.
Their supplies were gone and taking the time to hunt or trap did not fit with the constant urgency in Rika’s stride. They were both gaunt and looked half wild when they turned up a narrow steep tract that bore a sign with a tree on it, hinting at civilization. Simon struggled to keep up the pace and was 20 paces behind when the dire bear rounded the path ahead. He was not sure if the roar was Rika’s or the bear’s but he found his bow in hand and an arrow already flying as she charged the beast, her double bladed axe leading the way. Perhaps if, there had been space, the bear might have run off but there was nowhere to go. A second arrow was let go as Rika and the bear collided. It was Torm’s own mercy that his arrow hit the bear in the shoulder and not Simon’s companion. But it did not matter, the bear in all its power and strength could not match her speed and skill and blood covered them both as Simon finally arrived, sword in hand to watch the bear collapse, one paw missing along with half its skull. Rika stood over it her breaths blooming in the air as she gathered herself. Simon pulled his knife and proceeded to cut meat off the bear. No time to skin and pack it up he took large slabs off its shoulders and quarters as well as the heart and liver and packed them quickly away. They heaved the rest off the trail and moved ahead seeing spires of smoke cresting the hill.
After only one day and night they rested in the small village of Deadsnows, a mixed community of mostly dwarves and humans. The dwarves took them into the traveler’s shelter where they slept the rest of the day and that night. They bathed in the heated baths and ate until they thought they might burst. Simon traded much of the meat for trail rations and they resupplied in the village shops. Salt and dried herbs, trail rations, dried meat and a few winter apples. Then they were off down the mountain trail and back to the main road. Fortunately, few travelers were out on these narrow back roads and they made good time. The pace was relentless, and their camps were cold or minimal fire, sharing body warmth and little enough shelter. Often Simon had just enough energy to praise Torm for the day and pray for the coming days ahead, eat and roll up and then sleep like the dead. The rains settled in and the pace slowed as the road turned to mud and side trails to small streams.
Days turned into weeks as the road became wider and populous. They were able to hitch rides on wagons and Rika and Simon would conserve some their strength as they regaled their hosts with stories of their journey. They finally came to Sundabar, but only stayed long enough to purchase 4 horses. Neither was a great rider, but speed seemed of the essence. Simon often caught Rika’s glance to the West and North, her brow furrowed and would come up beside her and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and smile. With saddlebags bulging on the spare mounts they set off at an uncomfortable trot.
The six people arrayed before them in the road did not move as they slowed, and Simon could sense eyes on them from the woods. But the greed in their eyes and the weapons in their hands left no doubt of their desires. Without any signal, Rika and Simon dropped from the restless horses. One of the men stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Simon surprised Rika and took a step forward and raised his voice. “Torm grant mercy to those about to meet you, Torm grant grace to those in need of you, may your justice be swift, your honor untouched and duty upheld.” And as the bandits gawked light flared around Simon and the ground shook and groaned as the earth itself heaved and came to life, a huge figure erupting and then striding forward. An arrow glanced off Simon’s helm and Rika was gone, a mere blur as she exploded into the woods. Screams and thrashing could barely be heard over the charging rock figure and Simon’s voice rose like thunder. “Honor withheld is not Honor, Justice withheld is not justice, duty withheld is not duty.” And spreading his arms wide he cried out, “I grant you all in TORM’s NAME!!!” With sword in hand he charged after the Huge Earth Elemental.
Minutes later the earth settled and an unnatural quiet reigned. Rika stepped out of the woods, her short axe covered in blood, small cuts on her face and hands from branches and desperate deflections. Simon examined the dent in his helm and probed the welt on his forehead, blood dripping down the side of his face. He looked somewhat bemused as she walked over and grabbed his head and hugged him fiercely then stepped back and punched him in the shoulder. “What was that for? I mean the shoulder punch, the other I am not complaining about” he grinned and blushed slightly at the same time. She silently looked at him, then the dead and then the road behind them, the empty road behind them. With a solemn face she said, “you let go of the horses”.
Together they dragged the dead off the road and gathered those in the wood. He built a cairn over them as Rika hunted the horses. Fortunately, the beasts had not gone far and when she returned Simon had finished the rites for the dead. When she gave him a questioning look he said, “When you take a life you take all that a person has, past, present, future, there is no more. So I speak of the sorrows for what was lost, a path wrongly taken, all the misspent moments that lead to this. Potential squandered, the gift of life wasted. They have been judged here, and now they shall face final judgement in what is beyond.”
They moved several more leagues down the road and then made camp for the night. They sat in companionable silence until Simon’s breathing evened out and then Rika eased him down, curled up to him and pulled the blanket over them. The roads seemed alive with people two days later as the city came into sight. People heading in and out of the city from all over, carts and wagons loaded and empty, patrols of soldiers, nobles in carriages. Silverymoon seemed to explode onto their senses as they neared the open gates.
