"Babe," the woman whispered, waking up beside him.
He stroked her hair, black like the night, looking into her dark brown eyes.
"Stay," he whispered, caressing her backside.
She was fit, nothing close to Al, but had the body of a warrior no less.
After rolling off him, she hurried to get dressed, putting on strange blue pants, a white short sleeved shirt, and a tight black leather jacket. He sat up, grabbing her hand, but she yanked it away from him.
She folded her arms, and they were silent.
'Say something dammit. Something you fucking iron head!' He cursed to himself.
What the fuck were they hoping to accomplish by just being silent?
Either they were sorcerers, playing games with one another's minds, or the sex was so bad neither of them could speak. Perhaps it was too good? Then there'd be little reason for her to be in such a hurry, he figured.
"I warned you," she said, shaking her head. "You're not the same."
"I'm not, your father," he muttered, getting out the bed, "or your brother. I'm fine."
"Are you? Two weeks you've been back, going from bar to bar, getting arrested, not speaking to your family?"
He shrugged. "I needed a minute."
"You needed a minute?" She repeated.
Again, a damning silence, and he could've strangled them both.
He wanted this memory to be over, but a knock at the door made them both shudder.
"Shit!" She cursed, tucking herself behind the bed.
"I know you're in there! The fucking car's outside!" Some high-pitched lad screeched.
"Don't say anything," she whispered.
"Ella! Open this fucking door!"
He stormed to the door, the battle lust taking over.
"Stop!" She screamed, but he flung the door open.
A tall wiry lad, wearing clean clothes.
Some sort of tunic, all black, similar to the attire the folk at the funeral wore. The lad shivered, looking down at him, though he ran the tall cunt against a wall.
"I don't know what the fuck she told you, but we weren't through," he spat into the lad's ear, dragging him down to his level. "Unless ya' want me to skin you like we did Taliban like dogs, you'll get the fuck o-."
She jumped on his back, screaming at him. "Fucking stop!"
The lad took the opportunity, punching him in the jaws.
A pillow may as well have struck him, and he handled them both, flinging her on top of the lad before backing into his room. They cursed at one another, Ella with teary eyes, then he slammed the door on them both.
"Babe listen!" Ella begged, knocking on the door. "I want to help you, j-."
"Fuck help! You help me by fucking him? Go fuck yourself!"
He flopped back on his bed, ignoring endless knocking.
Bottle in hand, he drank until he was numb, and the white walls faded black.
Dust filled his nose.
He coughed, cursing Al for letting Paul into the hut, and allowing the old man to smoke of all things.
Though the fireplace didn't greet him, and the sun beamed overhead, warmth easing all his aching muscles. While sitting up, jagged rocks all around, he saw what was left of the summit. The northern side was gone, though the rest was still intact.
It was as if they were never in real danger to fall, as if it would've made a difference.
Leon slept on the east side, Al on the south, and Eris was a few paces from himself, taking in the view.
Stiff in the legs, but limber enough to walk, he made his way over to her. She looked so peaceful, the sun shining her skin, even ragged from the battle. Though there wasn't much more they had in common other than sex before a fire, he couldn't see himself getting so angry at her.
If there were an issue, he'd just talk.
"What'd you see, if you don't mind me asking?" Eris asked, approaching.
Still looking at Al, he said, "Nothing I've not the slightest clue of."
"Aye," Eris sighed, removing a soot covered helm. "I envy you."
He shook his head, turning to face Eris, who appeared a bit shorter, but still looked down at him.
A look at his hands, and they were thicker. His muscles were bigger, in spite of tight throbs, and he listened to everyone's heartbeat.
"A great deal of its returned, has it not?" Eris said, giving him a light jab. "You're blessed to no have the burden of a life that ended up meaning nothing."
"How can I know what it meant if I know nothing about it?"
Eris nodded. "Fair point, but I along with those who do remember can tell you. World we're from wasn't as unforgiving as this, but it was still unforgiving."
"Aye, and ya' have something," he pointed out, Al and Leon starting to wake up. "You what made you who you are, not just some fucking curse that doesn't even let you die properly."
Eris grew a cold look. "Dying isn't proper. It's the end of life, something that shouldn't be taken away from many folk so soon."
They said no more as Al and Leon sat up.
After helping her up, Eris helping Leon, the party gathered on the summit's west side.
Creahllachia faced them, a green countryside with hills, forests and a sliver of darkness. As if a thin shadow were awaiting, a sliver of hair on the horizon in the north. In those darker lands was a chance at not redemption but reclaiming what little glory he had left.
Glory wasn't reserved for soulless, as they'd return from the dead.
For them, it was a hunt, a test of will and wits. Something a man with a mortal soul couldn't fathom, and even if it meant returning to the swamp thousands of times, he'd do it.
There was no escape for the First Sword.
"Find out something new, 'Babe?'" Al teased, poking his chest.
He nodded, slowly. "Never enough, as always."
She ruffled his arm.
There was a long journey ahead, and while making their way down the mountains, they separated from Al and Leon, walking trails leading to the mainlands.
"Don't be a stranger!" Leon called out. "I'd be more than happy to get you too in fighting shape again."
"Don't get your hopes up earsling," he called back, and they laughed.
"Thank you," Al said, rubbing her eyes. "We'll return some day."
Leon pointed his thumb up.
He had little idea what it meant, but Al told him to return it. Odd as it felt, they both did at the same time.
Eris said nothing, drained more than anything, but he could sense the man's battle lust was far from over.
"No telling what he'll do," he said to Al, Leon and Eris disappearing beneath the trails.
"He'll be alright," she said, holding his arm. "He reminds me of someone, a stubborn ironheaded lad."
They laughed, then looked towards the sky as an eagle soared.
Upon crossing into canyon, they climbed over a slope to find Hardok's corpse. Stiff as a cold rock, birds nibbled on what little meat there was in the cracks of the dragons scales. On his backside, which absorbed the fall most, were flies, river lizards, and rodents, scurrying between chipped ironite.
They looted as much as they could carry, enough ironite for Al to replace dozens of arrows and reinforce his armor.
Mountain winds howled, lightly, for the rest of the day, and they camped by a river within the canyon. He managed to scourge up some fish, and a turtle, and they ate beneath the stars as wolves howled.
As she laid on his chest, he looked towards the mountain where Hardok once rested.
Shadows slipped behind the other side of the mountain face.
Or so he thought, as he was so exhausted he didn't stay awake much longer.
White walls, Ella screaming, the tall cunt up against the wall with his fist in his face. There were better things to dream about, and he wondered if it were even worth killing anymore champions.
Perhaps the village wasn't such a bad place, if nothing else somewhere he and Al could visit whenever weary.
Yet the Embers were still out there.
Vampyres lurked in the kingdoms, and he knew Dany and Arthur were part of the hunt, he could feel it in his bones. They had to know, lest they stayed rotting in dung festered waters.
So, at dawn they pressed on, the fireborne kingdom awaiting.
He looked back to the mountain once more, still in sight after a day's travel.
Something was up there.