[originally published December 1, 2013]
Callista looked up from where they sat crouched behind the rocky
outcropping. The Black Mountain loomed
ominously before her. Although spring
had nearly turned into summer, little that was green and growing had taken root
in this forsaken place. The Black Mountain it was, indeed.
She looked back at Bastian where he sat lost in thought, carefully
sharpening the blade of his rapier.
Following her mentor's lead, she turned inward to her own thoughts and
went over once more in her mind what had led them to this barren land.
It had been only a little more than a month ago that Bastian informed
her that she was no longer his student, that she had proved herself in need of
no more training. After years of
sparring, of fighting in seasonal tournaments against the squires of the north,
as well as the occasional bar brawl on those rare occasions when they went to
the distant town of Avang for supplies, she was informed that her time with
Bastian had come to an end.
Just like that.
No warning. No pomp. No circumstance. Just, 'we're done.' Well, it wasn't quite just like that. Bastian had also told her that he was going
to travel to the Black Mountain in the Tortured Lands to the north and west of
Vaasa, to face a great foe and win a great treasure.
He had asked her if she wished to share this perilous quest with
him. Without hesitating, she'd
accepted. She had desperately wanted for
some time to be able to strike out and make her name known across the tundra
and steppe of her homeland. As it turned
out, she had no need to go out and look for adventure. Her very first had been waiting for her all
along.
Only now, standing at long last before their destination, she felt the
first real hint of nervousness. Bastian
had said many times that their ultimate foe was a demon-tainted creature that
men had named in whispers the 'Madusilith.'
It was serpentine from the waste down and had a female, humanoid torso
with six arms. Its head was crowned with
a mane of poisonous snakes, and it was known to coat its fell weapons with its
own poison. Worst of all, it's gaze
turned its victims to stone.
Bastian and Callista had spent many a day on the road north strategizing
how best to confront such a foe, trying several times to simulate an actual
battle with the thing. Bastian had
confessed that he had once faced the creature alone to get to her treasure, but
had barely escaped with his life.
Callista had not been deterred by the enemy's power, nor by the great
challenge set before them. Each day they
moved ever closer to the mountain, grimly determined to see the thing through
to the end.
"If mighty Tyr Grimjaws smiles down on us, little orc, then we will
win the day!" Bastian had said to her more than once on their journey.
"And if not, well, we shall exist for all time as unliving stone!"
The young half-orc frowned darkly as Bastian stood and sheathed his
enchanted blade.
"It is time."