Patreon or PayPal Me keeps this site and its author alive. Thank you. |
Stories from the Verse
A Dozen Verses
Chapter 125: Slade 292
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Kondor 297
Somewhere beyond cold, Slade felt the draw of the death goddess. Resisting, bitterly, obstinately, he pushed back, and rose to the point where he saw light in front of him. Was this Valhalla? No, he was seeing sunlight through the ice crusted on his face. Brushing it off with numbed fingers, he could see again.
The bright light reflected off the snow, stabbing spears into his eyes. Banging his hands, he worked feeling into them until he could grab the rough rope and pull it loose out of the overcoat of ice. Suddenly he dropped, but it was only a jolting foot. Now free, he gathered up the rope and hook, and lifted legs to climb from the shallow crevice in the ice mountain.
"Watch your step here, Phil," he said. Wait--who in Hades' was Phil? He turned and looked. He was alone--yet he had the strong sensation that he wasn't alone. Did the gods send someone to accompany him? Was this one of the Norns, watching him find his fate? Or was he hallucinating from the exhaustion and the cold?
It didn't matter, really. He was alone, and was going to have to get through this on his own.
It took several tries for him to get his foot to contact the little notch in the wall. Attaining that he shoved himself up and out. On the far side, he crawled, uncertain of his balance for now until he reached the highest point in a pass between two spiking ice towers. Now he could see the other side.
It was more snow, but it went up and down in hills. Thankfully, perhaps a mile distant, he saw a herd of mammoths. One was drinking from a creek. His parched throat drove him onward. Past the pass and down the far side he slid. He could not run here, but in the hills and vales dimpling the land he was able to slide down slopes at least. The snow was thicker, higher, to his waist in places, and he felt his muscles burn as he pushed against it. This was good, he decided. He needed to be warm.
Striding down, moving loudly so as to not startle the small herd of giant creatures, he muttered to himself. “Do or die time. Or is it do or don’t do.” Blinking, he realized that the endless hours of trekking across the wasteland had worn at him. To keep on going, he needed more water, and soon his need for food would be desperate as well. The mammoths showed signs of parking themselves, and he could have chosen to wait them out. Instead he boldly walked up to them.
A couple heads turned his way, and one tail flicked. A mammoth shook itself and chunks of ice fell from its thatched brown fur. Eyeballing him as he got closer, the herd just observed, and he began to speak in a hopefully calming tone.
“It's just me, Slade. I don’t want to fight, just want some water and fish. Plenty of water to share.”
A single small trumpet responded, and most of the herd shifted a foot or so. Slade kept on. Other men might have felt fear, but in this moment Slade just felt more alive. He walked past a mammoth trunk, and did not scratch it. Kneeling by the creek, he took in gulps of water, spacing them out to avoid brain freeze.
A soft arm draped over his shoulder. Looking slowly up to his right, he saw the patient eyes of a matriarch. She gently pushed at him with her long trunk, and he took the hint. Moving aside, he watched her fill her trunk and drink three times before she meandered back by turning about and taking a half-dozen steps.
“Anyone else want some?” He fought the urge to giggle. None took him up on his invitation, and he went back to drinking. Catching a fish was easier now, and he ate two of them on the spot. Filling up again with more water, he caught two more fish. They would freeze draped from his crossbow grapple. Later, he could have a fish-sicle. Rising to his feet, he raised one hand.
“Thanks.”
A couple blew out their trunks almost like they were sneezing, and he took that as goodbye before heading further south into the steadily dropping ground. He would have followed the creek, but it vanished under the ice again. Feeling more optimistic, with a belly full of water and sushi, he continued to the hopefully warmer southland.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
