Chapter 31 – The Problems with Mountains.

For as close as they were meant to be to the attackers, it was proving to be very frustrating to actually catch up to them, exhaustion on their side and all. The signs were everywhere that the attackers were not doing well, and yet they were still eluding them. Clocky knew, definitively knew, that they would catch them, such was the nature of his touched magic, yet it was almost as if they were being toyed with.

The incline had gone from gentle to steep as it went through a heavily forested section of the mountain side, the track weaving its way around the trees, roots growing under and through the track, both providing extra grip as well as tripping hazards. It was definitely causing the attackers issues, as they could tell where someone had slid back down sections of the trail, and drops of blood had started to appear on the track. The wounds that had been sustained on the train were now causing more grief. One of their team had died, and at this rate another would likely follow. As to why they were still keeping the wounded team member with them Clocky was not sure, but it seemed that for that they had earned a little of Clocky’s respect. Would it change what would happen when they eventually caught up? Crys wasn’t sure, but nor did she really know what exactly the plan was when they did anyway.

Fighting creatures was one thing, but fighting actual people was another thing entirely. Especially if she had to kill someone. Crys shuddered as she thought about it. She wasn’t even certain if she’d be able to bring herself to do so. A persons life was still exactly that, even if they were the enemy, and she didn’t want to become a murderer. Sure, times had changed, and they had killed Mason and the drivers, but still...

She had come from a peaceful age after all. And this wasn’t about revenge, was it?

Would she do so if one of the teams lives was on the line? Perhaps. She would certainly never forgive herself if one of their team members got hurt or killed because of her inaction, when she could have done something to intervene, assuming she had the ability to do so. What about if Rachael’s life was on the line? Crys was certain in that case Hell couldn’t stop her from trying to save her. She hadn’t fared so well at that last time, and she needed to make up for that, not to mentioned that Rachael was special to her. Very special.

an enemy is an enemy,

be it monster or human,

or both.

you will fight.

it is in you,

part of you,

pyre.

Near the top of the forested section they found a pleasant surprise. A small stream gurgled its way across the path before slipping down the slope amongst the trees, berry bushes also growing near by. A welcome if convenient discovery. The attackers had definitely stopped there, discarded berries and wet patches on the path evidence of their actions. They didn’t pass up the opportunity either, stopping long enough to fill up their water bottles just upstream of the track, take a good drink, and pick some berries for a snack. Then they were off again. They still had plenty of their own supplies so there was no reason to stay any longer than needed, and it would hopefully give them another slight edge.

By midday they had cleared the forested section, the track back to a gentle incline as it worked its way along the mountain side, the surrounding terrain this time a lot more friendly, a short deviation from the track not likely to end fatally. A longer one though would be a different story. It was still more of the same, short coarse grass and stubby bushes stretched patchily over the rocky terrain. The mountain was if nothing else, consistent, well apart from the forested section they had just passed.

While there was still signs of the attackers recent passing along the track, they still couldn’t visually see them further along, even given the lengths of it that were visible. Clocky was pretty sure by this point they should have been in range, but they weren’t. Either they were further ahead than they thought, or one of them also had the ability to hide them from view. Possibly both. Spectre shared Clocky’s view on this one, and if there was something effecting them, it was effecting it as well. Which it shouldn’t, according to the cat-fox.

Not that they were really left with much choice apart from continuing along the track and trying to be as alert as possible.

Clocky reckoned it was probably equal either way if their quarry realised that they were being pursued. They certainly weren’t hiding their tracks, but they should have figured that they would be chased. Unless they were naively assuming that they’d all died in the train crash that they would have been certain would happen but would not be present to see. Irrespective they wouldn’t be aware of how far behind them they were, and that would work to their advantage. Perhaps they had become complacent as no one had intercepted them on the first day. At least it meant there was likely less chance of being ambushed.

Mid afternoon, everything suddenly took a shift for the worse. While the signs of the attackers were getting fresher, a bitterly cold wind picked up, easily cutting through the team and causing Crys to shiver in spite of her best efforts not too. Dark clouds began to gather overhead, and the atmosphere began to feel damp. To top it all off the mountainside became steep sheer rocky inclines on either side of the now very narrow and stony trail, now little more than a ledge, patches of coarse grass clinking to the mountain face where able but most of it was bare. It felt as bleak as it looked, and light mists soon enveloped the lower reaches of the mountain, steady rising up till the trail was also engulfed, visibility reduced to just a dozen meters in front of them.

It really did feel as if something was toying with them.

She could even feel it now. That presence. Whatever it was. Always there in the background.

Clocky slowed the pace of the team down. The combination of low visibility, dampness, and an unstable path meant they couldn’t move as fast as they had been. The passing of time also seemed to slow down, as they worked they way along the trail, everything looking the same as it snaked its way across the side of the mountain.

The path had a sudden steep incline, scree rolling past Crys as they scrambled their way up it, to where it flattened and widened out into a shelf. And straight into their quarry.

There were four of them, all dressed in leather armour, three standing, one who was leaning over the last member who was sitting against the mountain side, clutching her side as blood seeped out through their fingers. A young woman, as pale as the mists that surrounded them all, long brown hair matted to the side of her face. She did not look like she had much life left in her at all.

The man closest to them spun around, swearing as he drew his sword in a fluid motion and lunged at Vorsce. Vorsce drew his swords as he dodged the first swing, blocking the second. Fairweather and Clocky both quickly and carefully circled around Crys, drawing their weapons as they did so. Crys wasted no time either, drawing her sword and shield. They felt right in her hands now, and she could feel the anticipation of battle slowly start to rise within her. For better or worse. She wasn’t actually sure, she still had the whole people conundrum thing going on in her mind, and they looked haggard.

focus.

“We’d rather talk first, than have more death here,” Clocky called out as he moved to beside Vorsce.

The man who had been leaning over the young woman straightened up, drawing a sword and releasing the axe he had strapped to his back. He looked to be the oldest of the group, around the age of Crys’ parents. Rough cut hair, with a scar along one cheek, his armour having seen better days.

“What would be the point? You’re Bowser’s lackeys aren’t you?” he replied, scowling, as the other man stepped back, to stand beside him. Sharp nose and long black hair tied up in a pony tail, he reminded Crys of a raven.

The last member, a woman around Clocky’s age, stood on the other side of the man, cocking the crossbow that she held in her hands. Her hair was a dusty orange, short cropped, cat-like whiskers on her cheeks, and her fingernails glinted wickedly in the pale light. Definitely a touched.

“No, we are not,” stated Clocky. “Contracting for the rail company actually, which makes what you’ve done a lot worse for us.”

The woman started to raise her crossbow up, but dropped it back down again as Clocky glared at her and the scared man also motioned for her to hold fire.

“However, actions have consequences. What form they take really depends on what you have to say. You have after all killed some of my team...” Clocky continued.

“It wasn’t meant to go that way,” hissed the woman, agitation evident.

“Well, then there’s blood on both our hands,” the scared man stated, stretching his shoulders. “Be it the train company or the Channeller, you were hired to protect the little brat. Hence you share responsibility for what he has done. His precious cargo, that has consumed him, was made at the cost of the lives of my family, friends, and those like us. The lives of the touched. A cost that must be repaid.”

Clocky frowned. “What exactly has he been doing?”

“Experimenting on a so called magic,” hissed the woman. “With our kind as the ingredients.”

“Killing scores of us,” the scared man added bluntly.

Clocky too a deep breath. “I know nothing of such things, nor do I condone such behaviour. He will pay for his crimes. Irrespective though, we must find Sean,” he then stated.

“No. He will die. By our hands. And you will too, if you get in our way.” The scared man's face twisted into a mask of rage.

“This talk is over,” the woman hissed, raising the crossbow.

Clocky shook his head as Vorsce charged forward towards the group, reading his weapon. The bolt twanged out of the crossbow before Vorsce could reach them, just grazing Clocky’s head as he sidestepped at last moment. Crys instinctively brought her shield up, the bolt ricocheting off it and embedding itself in the nearby rock. That had been a little too close for comfort, but the response was almost as disturbing. The gift really had done something to her. Had it been a few days earlier, Crys was certain she would have been impaled. And dead.

The shelf was suddenly a mess. Vorsce and Clocky were trading blows with the woman and scared man as they circled each other, clawed hands and sword and axe versus swords. The team work of the opposing pair was just as good as that of Clocky and Vorsce, each supporting the other and trying to take advantage of any openings. For as rundown as they were, hatred was driving them on. Fairweather was dodging the attacks of the raven man, keeping him away from the others. Watching, Crys could clearly see the openings, where she could step in and make a difference for Fairweather. She didn’t even need to do much, just be silent and time a swing well. Steeling herself, still not sure about attacking another person, Crys made to move into the fray.

An ear splitting snarl rang out, and a body hurtled out of the mists at Crys from behind. Crys spun around, bringing up the shield to deflect the trajectory of the body while at the same time stabbing the sword downwards into it. She instinctively knew that the form that the weapons were currently in wasn’t suited to the opponent she was facing in the given conditions. Not that she knew what to do about that however. Crys was slammed into the mountain face from the momentum of the great cat, her sword glowing for an instant as it sliced into the cat. It snarled again, landing on the ledge and skidding along it, blackish blood dripping out from the wound. It once was a great cat, almost three quarters of her height. Wisps of darkness danced over it’s muscular and sleek body and swirled in it’s third eye that sat above it’s other two. The Dark Cat was corrupted just like the Dark Wolf had been, and that was a worry.

Snarling again it leapt at Crys, seemingly oblivious to everything else going on around it. She dodged to the side, bringing the sword to bear just as she spotted a second one leaping down at her from up the mountain side. With little time to react she brought the shield to bear, the full weight of the Dark Cat slamming into her and pushing her back...

..and over the edge of the ledge.

The Dark Cat hurtled past her howling in rage as she twisted herself away from it, both in free fall down the shear slope of the mountain. If she didn’t do something quick, she knew she was going to fall to her death. Praying that it would work Crys gripped the sword with both hands and slammed it into the rockface of the mountain. Shards of rock pelted her as the sword glowed and dug into the mountain, carving a scar as slid down it, her descent quickly slowing.

‘That works,’ Spectre commented, its claws digging into Crys’ flesh. It had somehow managed to hold on during the fight and fall. She would have been impressed if it wasn’t for the pain it’s claws were causing.

Another snarl rang out as a second cat plummeted past her, followed by a second figure behind it. A person.

“Grab ahold,” Crys cried out, holding out one arm and trying to grab ahold of them as the went past. She had no idea who it was, but there was no time to try and work out who. Friend or foe, she wasn’t going to let them plummet to their death. Pain shot through her arms as they both grabbed each other, the momentum of the other person knocking Spectre loose and almost causing her to lose her grip on her sword as she proceeded to slide down the mountainside a bit more before coming to a halt again, the two of them swinging like a pendulum from the sword. Her body was aching from the strain. Looking down, she was finally about to work out who she had caught. Fairweather. Crys started to panic. What was happening up there, and were the others alright.

“Thanks,” Fairweather said with a sheepish smile. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Crys smiled back.

‘I’m fine too! Thanks for caring. Just a little further down,’ Spectre informed her. That was good, after having survived the encounter up to this point. Would have been a little disappointing to loose it during a rescue, but then again surely the cat-fox was actually capable of some form of self preservation beside just clinging on for dear life.

“There’s a small ledge just below,” Fairweather said as she looked around. “I’m going to drop down onto it, then you follow.”

Crys nodded, letting the cat-girl go. Fairweather gracefully dropped down a couple of meters, landing on the narrow ledge. Waiting for her signal, Crys pulled out her sword, and dropped down beside her, Fairweather catching her and holding her stable as she landed. Spectre was standing on the ledge beside them.

“Are the others alright?” Crys asked. She couldn’t hear anything from above.

“I don’t know,” Fairweather answered. “Those Dark Grazeyes were attacking us and them indiscriminately. We’ll know shortly I’m sure.”

Another Dark Grazeye, a smaller one, hurtled past them.

“That’s a good sign,” Fairweather said with a smile.

They were deep in the mists now. Looking around, Crys could make out that the narrow ledge continued along the rock face for a bit, getting wider as it went. She could feel something tugging at her, calling her.

“I’m just going to have a look along this ledge,” she informed Fairweather.

Fairweather nodded. “I’ll wait here for the moment. Each pack has ropes, though I can’t tell how far we dropped.”

Crys carefully made her way along the ledge, hugging what was in essence the cliff face as Spectre trotted along in front of her. At least the ledge was made of solid rock. Nothing else came careening down as she shuffled along. The ledge didn’t actually go much further than what she had seen, rounding a bend and finishing at a large cave mouth. It was dark within, she could hear the dripping of water, it smelt damp, and she could feel a breeze blowing out of the cave mouth. Which meant it went somewhere.

More importantly, sitting in the middle of a raised rock at the mouth of the cave was a small painted figurine.

Pyre. There was no mistaking it. Painting mistakes and all.

“Oh come on!” she declared in exasperation to the world in general. “You’re not even being subtle this time. Could you be any more obvious?”

Come.