C3 Chapter 3: Horrors Without End

Next morning, Nikko finally snapped out of his dazed state with a terrible headache, chilled to the bone and shivering. He felt miserable, physically and mentally. He could not think clearly, his head throbbed, and he felt barely able to hold a single clear thought in his mind.

It was already light, and with some relief he saw that at least his bag and the backpack were still there. He quickly pulled out his two blankets and wrapped himself inside them, which at least helped against the chills. They also gave him a slight sense of security and safety in the midst of this merciless, alien place. For a long time, he sat there barely moving, staring into nothingness.

Some time later, after a listless breakfast that he could hardly taste, he began to feel a little better physically, but his mind was still as if in a trance. So he went down to the creek and washed his face in the ice-cold mountain water to clear his head once and for all.

What was real? And what dreamed? His mind was a tangle of confused impressions. He tried to focus the disconnected thoughts and took a closer look around the campsite. The ground looked as if it had been burned, at least inside a square marked on the ground, probably what the stranger had marked out with the powder. There were no traces left, however, of what became of Thorodos, not even the spreading pool of blood that Nikko recalled in that moment.

Thorodos is dead . For the first time, Nikko became truly aware of that fact, and the images of his violent death replayed clearly before his mind's eye. There was no sign, now, of the body, but what he had seen the day before spoke for itself. No doubt the man with the strange bow had shot him in the back, Nikko concluded, with tears in his eyes.

Thorodos is dead , he thought again, and this time the repercussions of the old man's death were much clearer to the lad. He had to sit down, and could do nothing but let his tears flow. Somehow, he had taken the crotchety old man into his heart, quirks and all. And his own future had been completely in Thorodos's hands. What's supposed to become of me now? he wondered, and for the first time real fear came over him.

He was alone! Alone in this foreign land full of unforeseeable perils. Only then did that really hit home. What was he supposed to do now? For a moment, Nikko wished he had never set off on this accursed journey. Life as a goat herder was tedious, that was true, but he would never have found himself in such a spot in his home in Vyldoro.

Think, he ordered himself. Think! Think through all the options, then decide what the best course of action would be. That was the only way he would have any chance of surviving this disaster.

He knew he had only two choices. It was actually very simple. Either onward, or back!

Back … that would mean crossing the dangerous pass a second time. And this time all by himself! Although the thought of returning quickly to Vyldoro seemed very appealing to him in his desperate situation, he was afraid of attempting the snowed-in mountain trail by himself. It was not at all unlikely that he would freeze to death up there, in the merciless ice.

But going on meant traveling deeper into Hymal. Deeper into that unknown country, at the very threshold of which he had already had to face such horrors. How could he possibly proceed? And anyway, the old man had told him that the landgrave's expedition would have set up an outpost close to the pass. Should he perhaps try to find that outpost, and seek protection there?

It was late morning, but he still had not been able to decide. Both options seemed too dangerous, though they were the only choices open to him. He could not simply stay where he was. Then Nikko recalled the heavy backpack that Thorodos had made him lug all this whole way. He would never have dared to sneak a peek inside it. But now that the old man was gone, there was no longer any reason not to.

Curiously, he opened the leather pack. Inside, the first thing he found was a large book, which was obviously the main reason for the surprising weight of the pack. Nikko lifted out the tome with reverence. Thorodos had certainly taught him to read, but the old man's books had always been off limits to him. Now, wide-eyed, the lad admired the heavy volume in its leather cover, on which no words at all appeared. When he tried to open the book, he found he could not do it. It was as if the pages had been glued together. As hard as he tried, the book simply refused to open.

Disappointed, Nikko finally laid the book aside and went back to examining the contents of the backpack. The only other thing he found inside was a strange wand. It was a beautiful piece of work, finished from some kind of silvery metal and decorated with the finest engraving work. The exquisite artifact was as long as Nikko's forearm, and on one end glowed a blue crystal, the myriad facets of which mysteriously refracted the light falling on it.

Nikko held the wand in his right hand, and immediately felt a prickling sensation that reminded him a little of the energy-giving drink that the old man had let him drink when they had approached the pass. Slowly, he stood up and pointed the wand at a small bush a few steps away, without knowing why he did so. Without warning, a powerful bolt of lightning shot from the crystal to the bush, causing the bush to explode in a glittering shower of light! Nothing remained but a burning skeleton of the bush. Nikko's eyes almost popped out of his head. A weapon! And what a weapon!

Of course, he took the opportunity to try out the wand thoroughly on more bushes and stones. He discovered that, if he concentrated hard enough, he could control the strength of the lightning bolt. And the wand had a surprising range. Nikko could fire a bolt at a target many stone's throws away, although it seemed to lose some of its power over greater distances.

When he felt he had spent enough time playing with his new weapon, his thoughts returned to the decisive question. Should he go back over the pass, or push on toward Hymal?

Just then, the weather did not favor the pass, for clouds had begun to gather ominously. High in the mountains, that could mean light snow or a storm, while down here all he would do was get wet. What's more, his new weapon gave him the confidence to feel he was a match for any dangers that Hymal might present. And the outpost could not be far away. Hymal, then , he resolved, casting aside any lingering doubts.

For many hours, Nikko followed the path down the valley, feeling more and more lonely as he went. He thought often of old Thorodos and the bizarre nature of his death. Then sadness and fear crept back into his heart, swelling to a burden that robbed him of all confidence. He hoped that the stranger and his murderous thugs were far away. The man in the black robe, however, had seemed to lose all interest in Nikko. Besides, now he had a weapon, and knew how to defend himself.

After a brief shower, the skies had once again cleared. It was late afternoon, and it seemed to Nikko that he was almost out of the valley. Now, he had a clear view out over the plain of Hymal, lower still. Not far below where he stood, the rushing brook that the path still followed opened into a larger river that flowed out of a thick forest to the north. By contrast, the broad plain to the east was bare of even a single tree. Nikko had never in his life been able to see so far into the distance. High mountains had always blocked his view. All he could see now was green grass and small bushes, as far as the eye could see.

But gazing then more intently, he discovered a bare hill rising from the plain on which something seemed to have been built. He could not make out anything more than that, however. He was still too far away. Could that be the outpost? Even if it weren't, he would be able to get a good overview of the surrounding plain from up there. So Nikko set his sights on that lonely hill as his next objective … at least until something better appeared.

A little later, when the path Nikko had been following led him to the point where the stream flowed into the river from the forest, he was startled to find that path seemed to have come to an end. It occurred to him that he probably had to get to the other side of the river. But it was already quite dark, and in the deepening twilight Nikko could hardly even see the far shore. Besides, crossing a river in the dark was no doubt not a wise thing to attempt. Instead, he decided to spend the night at the secluded bank of the river.

Once he had satisfied his hunger with some now rock-hard bread and a little sausage, he thought about lighting a fire. It was not very cold, but he was forced to admit that the darkness frightened him, especially now that he was all alone. He had no idea what was waiting for him in this foreign place. A fire, as much as it might give him some light and warmth, would alert half the plain below to his presence. The few bushes and high grass surrounding his camp offered scant concealment for the light of a fire. He could not risk it. So he lay back in the soft grass and wrapped his blankets close around him. Holding his wand of lightning tight, he waited for the salvation of sleep.

It was a restless night, the images of Thorodos's death haunting Nikko's sleep. He could not forget the way the old man had groaned and collapsed, the way the blood poured out of him. And the face of the terrible stranger—in his menacing black robe with the sinister, red decorations—had been burned into Nikko's memory, pursuing the lad through his dreams.

It was late in the morning when he finally awoke. It seemed his weariness had well and truly overcome him in the early hours of the morning, at least sparing him any further nightmares. He felt surprisingly good, and looked forward to a decent bite to eat to satisfy the hunger gnawing at his stomach. But a glance at his provisions brought him down to earth with a jolt. If he kept eating the way he was, he wouldn't even have enough to last him till the evening. One apple, two slices of hard bread, a small piece of sausage and a little salt meat was all he had left. Nikko sighed, and with a heavy heart decided to go without breakfast.

The day was already bright, and he could see where the path continued on the other side of the sedately flowing river. The water was only ankle deep, but there were enough large stones for him to be able to cross the river by jumping from one stone to the next, without getting wet at all. On the other side, he discovered that the trail forked. One path led to the north, back up the river toward the forest. The other led eastward, out onto the plain with the solitary hill that Nikko had taken as his next goal.

For a moment, Nikko considered going into the woods. He was, after all, more at home in high mountains and heavy forests. The plain, as broad and open as it was, seemed somehow sinister by comparison. On the other hand, that lone, green hill seemed more promising. He believed that he had seen some sort of construction up there, at least. To the hill first , he decided. If he found nothing there, he could always come back to the forest.

He had been walking for perhaps two hours when the path led down into a hollow in which a number of small trees grew. There were boulders there, too, as big as a small house. Nikko immediately felt better, because the openness of the plain was still frightening to him. A good place for a campsite , he thought. But it was still only late morning. And, considering his dwindling supplies, he had also decided to do without any sort of lunch. So he went on walking briskly along the path through the boulders.

Suddenly, he heard a crack! Then a low curse! Nikko closed his hand around the wand, which he had stowed in his belt, in easy reach. He held the mighty weapon at the ready in front of him and waited, tense.

“Is someone there?” he asked, after endless seconds, trying to sound strong.

He heard a growl, followed by guttural words in a language he did not know. Suddenly, a hideous creature shot out from behind a boulder, a spiked club raised to strike! Before Nikko could even think, a crackling bolt of lightning shot from the wand, hurling his howling adversary several paces backward. For a heartbeat, Nikko stood as if petrified.

Screams and shouts came from all around! Several abrasive-sounding voices barked in the horrible language that Nikko could not understand. Two of the creatures attacked him from the front, one from behind. With a second bolt of lightning, Nikko quickly sent the one behind sprawling, then he began to run back the way he'd come. But seconds later, three of the hostile creatures blocked his path back out of the little valley.

One particularly large example of the hideous brutes stood with his feet firmly planted, flanked by two others. The largest one, perhaps a leader, held a rusty iron axe firmly in both claws. The others wielded only primitive clubs. Instinctively, Nikko aimed the wand at the leader and focused as well as he could, as long as he dared. A powerful bolt flew from the tip of the wand and hit the creature in its monstrous head, which instantly exploded! Dark blood and grotesque scraps sprayed in all directions. The bolt was so powerful that it sprang from the leader to the two flanking beasts, singeing them. One went down immediately, while the other loped away, howling.

Nikko looked behind him and saw a half dozen of the creatures blocking his path to the east. They seemed confused, wavering, at least momentarily, but they made no move to get out of Nikko's way. The terrified lad decided instinctively to flee to the west, and ran back along the path he'd just come along as fast as his skinny legs would carry him.

What kind of creatures were these? Somewhat taller than he was, and so hairy that could even be called furry. Their faces resembled those of wild boars. Were they orcs, as he'd only ever heard about in stories? If that were so, then he was in great danger. Orcs were ferocious, wild things. Even in Vyldoro, people knew that.

Only then did it become clear to Nikko that he had come within a hair's breadth of death a second time. What did he think he was he doing there, wandering all alone through that accursed land? Suddenly, his decision not to head back up to the pass immediately seemed incredibly stupid. How could he—Nikko, a simple farmer's boy—even hope to survive in a land full of evil orcs? Back to the pass, then, any way he could! If he made it back to Vyldoro alive, he would never again leave that safe, familiar place, he swore, in the heat of that moment.

Nikko kept moving at a brisk pace, looking back nervously over his shoulder, making sure that none of the creatures were following him. He had almost reached the river where the path branched off toward the forest, when he spied a suspicious-looking cloud of dust in the east. When he looked a second time, he was terrified to see a large number of figures, and they looked to be riding some kind of large animals! He could not yet see anything more precisely. But as the menacing riders drew nearer and nearer, Nikko began to run again, as fast as he could.

He reached the river, and looked around briefly. His pursuers were close enough then for him to see clearly what they were riding: enormous, black wolves! He counted perhaps a dozen. It made no sense to even bother crossing the river, with the trail back up toward the pass offering little in the way of cover. But the deep woods perhaps offered a chance to shake off his pursuers, or to hide.

He ran along the path to the north. He could already hear the furious bellowing of the horrible beasts behind him. The rasping sound of the voices left no doubt that the things following him were the same creatures he'd encountered down in the valley.

Nikko was running for his life. The tenacious pursuers were already close behind him when he finally reached the sheltering forest. The path was narrow and winding, heavy undergrowth bordering it on both sides. Nikko dropped down the side of an embankment desperately, hoping in his panic that the furious beasts would ride on past.

Instead, however, his pursuers reined in their wolves and dismounted, then made their way cautiously into the woods behind their prey. But they did not simply creep past him, as Nikko—crouching there in the dense undergrowth, trembling so hard he was afraid the chattering of his teeth would give away his hiding place—had hoped they would. After a few tense moments, his heart thumping hard, Nikko heard a horrible snuffling sound not far away, and once again he drew his saving grace—the wand.

The snuffling came closer and closer, broken now and then by mutterings in the creature's repulsive language. Nikko, in a fearful sweat, could not hold out in his hiding place any longer. With his nerves shredded, every muscle trembling, he held the wand in front of him and crept slowly back out onto the path. The first ugly countenance to cross his path instantly felt the sting of the blue lightning: the hunter's head exploded, sending its revolting contents flying in all directions. In a blind panic, Nikko began to run deeper into the woods.

Furious yells and crashing through the underbrush followed hot on his heels. The path ran straight then, and the forest was a little more open. There was nowhere he could hide. Was he supposed to destroy all of his pursuers with the wand? But there were far too many of them; he'd counted at least a dozen!

So he ran on, ran for his life, with no real hope of a good outcome. The clamor of the creatures after him grew more and more furious, coming closer and closer. He heard a whirring noise then. They were shooting at him! Damn it , he thought, can it get any worse? More whirring. A howl! A howl?

Nikko stopped and turned around, the wand held desperately in front of him. His pursuers, however, all looked to be dead, shot through with arrows! The lad was completely confused. More of the whirring! Nikko didn't know what to do, so he ran on into the woods. But he did not make it far before the sound came again and an arrow bored into the earth directly in front of his feet. A clear signal, and he understood its intent immediately.

Without wasting any time, Nikko turned tail and ran back toward the edge of the forest. Dozens of the revolting creatures had been slaughtered by the arrows, and lined the trail as he ran. There were far more, in fact, than he had expected. When he reached the edge of the eerie woodland, he saw that even the enormous wolves had been shot dead. But even there, he saw no trace of the mysterious archers.

Nikko sensed that he was no longer in any direct danger. Whoever shot his enemies could as easily have killed him. But he knew, too, that he was not welcome in the woods, and he made his way back along the trail as fast as he could. When he reached the place where the trail forked, still scarcely able to believe his luck, he hazarded a final look back toward the forest, but saw no sign of the bowmen. He would gladly have thanked whoever had saved his life.

Early in the evening, Nikko arrived again at the place where, two days earlier, Thorodos had met a terrible fate. He had been moving at a fast pace, pushing himself along for hours, and only then did he realize how tired and hungry he was. What a day , he thought to himself. Easing the backpack off his shoulders, he was surprised to find an arrow protruding from it. He could not recall being shot at all. But he now felt even happier at having made it out of the woods alive.

He tugged the slim arrow out. It had buried itself deep into Thorodos's heavy tome. Examining it closely, he saw that it was a beautiful piece of workmanship. An elegant tip, very sharp, made of a silvery metal and intricately engraved. A flawless shaft with snow-white fletching. He would keep it!

With disgust, Nikko realized that not only the backpack but also his clothes were covered in splatters of dark blood and probably worse. He tried the best he could to clean himself and his gear in the brook. But he could not get the things perfectly clean, and already began to look forward to fresh clothes back on the farm.

Nikko's stomach was protesting its hunger loudly. After all, he hadn't eaten a thing the whole long day. If everything went well, he'd be back home in Vyldoro the following evening. That meant he had to divide his remaining provisions to cover three meals. He ate a slice of bread and some sausage and salt meat, but decided that he'd rather save the apple for breakfast.

That evening, too, Nikko decided not to risk a fire. Although the fearful lad was certain that those horrible creatures were no longer after him, a campfire still seemed unnecessarily dangerous. Who knew what else was creeping around in this abominable country? Nikko had had more than enough of Hymal, he was certain of that.

When he had finished his meager evening meal, his thoughts turned back to Thorodos. Escaping from those creatures and his bizarre rescue in the woods had made him forget the events of two nights earlier. But there, where that terrible event had taken place, the images of that evening returned: the stranger in the black robe who challenged the old man to a duel, then had him shot in the back in an ambush. Nikko could not hold back his tears at the sadness of it all. More and more, he missed the eccentric old crank.

He scanned the mountains to the west, where the sun was slowly setting. It washed the summits there in an unreal, fiery gleam, giving them an almost wrathful glow. They looked to Nikko like the fangs of a fire-beast, looming over the pass, keeping watch … the lad imagined the most dreadful dangers all around.

Finally, he nestled inside his blankets again, which at least offered him some small sense of protection in the sinister darkness. He made himself comfortable, as comfortable as he could, at least. In spite of everything that had happened in recent days, he felt safe again there, for now.

But in his seeming safety, he was suddenly plagued by thoughts of a different kind. It occurred to him that he had committed murder that day. He, a peasant boy who had never killed anything in his life … he had slaughtered four of those creatures, if he counted correctly, with his lightning wand. Horrible beasts they had been, certainly, but still almost human. Of course, he had only been defending himself. But had he stumbled onto their patch without being entitled to? Had those creatures only been trying to defend their own territory? Whatever the case, Nikko could feel no remorse.

He slept better that night than he had for some time. Indeed, he dreamed again of Thorodos's murder, but over the course of the night, his sleep was calmer and more restful. He woke with the first rays of dawn in the east, and ate a sparse breakfast.

Then he set off quickly for the high pass. The earlier he finally had it behind him, the better. It wouldn't be easy to get back to his home in Vyldoro by evening, but it was possible. There were the ominous scraps of cloud high in the mountains, and that worried him. He hoped he would not have to face a thunderstorm, and that there would be no new snow up there.

The ascent was harder and took longer than he had counted on. The toils of the last few days had taken their toll on him, physically and probably mentally, with the terrors of Hymal still fresh in his mind. His meager provisions were slowly running out, to boot. At midday, having made it up to the plateau where he and Thorodos had spent their first night in Hymal, he ate a few paltry morsels.

Nikko was feeling more and more dismal the higher he climbed. He felt nothing but tired, and was growing weaker. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself on the ground and bawl his eyes out. The endless drudgery of the climb made him angry and drove him to the edge of despair. To top things off, the clouds had gathered overhead, dropping occasional showers on the unhappy wanderer. Soon, too, his path would lead him back into the cold snow.

Fortunately, however, Nikko's fear that it would be difficult to find the trail in the snow proved unfounded. True, it was not easy to see the actual path under the white blanket, but fresh footprints showed him the way. It must have been the trail left by the black-robed man and his henchmen, who had apparently followed them over the pass. But the haggard lad suffered in the growing cold at that altitude, felt it creeping into his limbs, and his clothes were still wet from the rain showers further down in the valley.

At the highest point on the eastern side of the pass, Nikko decided to rest briefly. Recalling their journey just a few days before, he estimated that, from there, it was still an hour or two to the highest point in the west. It was already late in the afternoon, and he would have to get a move on if he didn't want to spend a cold mountain night up there in the unprotected pass. The clouds were low above him now, dark and heavy. Occasional flakes of snow did not bode well, and a bitter wind had sprung up.

Not much later, Nikko found himself in the middle of a whirling squall of snowflakes that nearly blinded him. The wind had turned into an icy storm that whipped the snow into his face without mercy. He could still just make out the footprints that showed him the way back west. Without them, he would probably have gotten lost long before.

Every part of his body shivered. The icy chill had penetrated his clothes long before. He had lost almost all feeling in his hands, feet and face, and it was growing harder to see the trail he had to follow. The fierce snowstorm had transformed the once-deep footprints into no more than shallow dents in the white carpet, fading marks that blurred before his tired eyes.

And now it was growing dark, and Nikko could see practically nothing at all. The snow was hip deep, and the footprints impossible to see. The lad could hardly even keep himself upright. He had fallen several times already, which had just caused more snow to find a way into the chinks and tears in his clothes. Soaked to the skin, unprotected, he was at the mercy of the bitter cold.

Nikko was moving slower and slower. As if in a trance, he pushed on aimlessly on all fours, barely even feeling the cold anymore. Lethargy came over him, and he was on the verge of giving in to it. Then, suddenly, he felt stones. Stones? A wall! Wide awake again, Nikko ran his numb fingers over the stonework. It was dark, and whatever sight he might otherwise have had, the snow robbed him of. So he felt his way along the wall, for where there was a wall, there had to be a door, too!

After a few moments, he felt his way to the entrance. With his last reserves, he dug his way through the snow and found the door. He worked his way up to the door handle and, with a huge effort, pulled down on it until the door swung inward. With the absolute last remnants of his strength, the half-frozen youth dragged himself inside to safety, and was just able to push the door to behind him.

Next morning, when Nikko woke up shivering and chilled to the bone, every breath he took made his lungs burn. His throat was parched and scratchy, making him cough incessantly. He had a splitting headache. Still, he gathered his strength and made an effort to clear his head. Where was he? He remembered digging his way through the snow into a building. But wasn't he still in the pass? The broken-down hut on the western side! That had to be it. That was good news, because from there the trail down was easy to find, and Vyldoro only a few hours descent away. But in his weakened state, could he risk the attempt?

He looked around inside the ramshackle building. He couldn't see much, however. The windows were sealed with wooden shutters. The only light inside came in through the roof that had collapsed over one half of the place. Nikko could make out a little blue sky, so at least the weather had improved. Then go, fast , before it gets worse again , he thought to himself, and reached for the door handle. When he pulled the door open, glaring daylight instantly brightened the spartan hut. It must already have been late in the morning.

When Nikko was about to step out into the snow, his eyes swung to the right of the door. What he saw there made him cry out sharply in shock. Dead eyes stared back at him from an ashen face! The sight terrified the lad so much that, panicking, he tried to barge out through the door. Without warning, though, he found himself lying on his stomach in the snow. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to get away again, but discovered that his right foot was caught! He tried to pull free, and fell again. Lying there, he managed to calm himself a little, and realized that his right foot was caught in the strap of a satchel. He reached back and freed his foot, then stood and ran away as fast as he could through the deep snow.

Despite his shock at seeing the frozen body, Nikko recovered quickly, and the sight had given the sick lad some much-needed energy. Once he had calmed down, though, the throbbing in his head and burning in his lungs returned. Nikko, coughing, pushed ahead slowly in the direction of home.

He could hardly think clearly anymore. His wobbly legs carried him automatically down the path. Many times, he collapsed, and had to regather his strength before he was able to get to his feet again.

The pain grew worse and worse. His head felt like it was pounding itself apart. His lungs and throat burned and stung from all the coughing. He had no idea anymore where he was. The snow was gone, and it was still daylight. But he was dizzy and everything around him blurred. He had to sit, just for a little while. Then he would get going again.