Spirit Warriors: A clan shall rise

The snow fell with weight the next morning.

Not lightly, like flakes tossed by idle wind — but heavy, wet, and purposeful. It clung to Eirik's cloak and sword sheath, settled into the folds of his shirt, and dragged at him with every step like the hands of the mountain trying to hold him back.

He said nothing for hours. He only continued to climb, his gaze locked on the path before him.

The crag had turned crueler overnight. What paths once allowed handholds were now buried. The slope tilted at a punishing angle, and each step had to be carved with boot or blade. His right leg — that cursed limb — was half-numb now, and the skin beneath the wrappings had turned a greyish blue.

The pain was overwhelming, but Eirik knew, if he chose to give up, he would never have the chance to gain a blessing again. He would not even have the chance of healing his leg…

He gritted his teeth, focusing on what little strength he had to move his two feet ever so slightly forward. One step at a time.

His steps, although small and heavy, seemed steady. And soon, they came to a halt, Eirik's eyes locked forward, where he could see it.

A flattened shelf of stone. Broad. Open to the sky. A black stump of rock jutting up like a crown. The summit. 'The summit!'

He didn't speak it. But his mind was overwhelmed with excitement, glee, and joy seemed to fill him with vigor once more. His journey was not the most dangerous, but it still had its difficulties. And even Eirik was surprised as he was about to reach the end.

He tried climbing faster, moving faster, but his body didn't allow it; he could only climb slowly, doggedly. One hand gripping ice-crusted branches, one dragging the dull weight of his pack. His breath rasped like sand against his teeth.

'I made it.'

He thought it when he reached the edge. He thought it as he stumbled onto that frost-slicked plateau, his body shaking with adrenaline and disbelief.

But then he looked up.

There was no Standing Stone.

Only a cracked monument. Broken. Split in two. Whatever it had been — marker, altar, tomb — had long since fallen. The peak he'd reached was not the end.

Eirik stared, dumbfoundedly, his expression changing like a rising tide.

He wasn't there yet. Not even close. He could see a path further up, leading upwards once more. A scream clawed its way up his throat. He bit it back.

Instead, he dropped to his knees. Snow soaked through his breeches, numbing what little feeling remained in his frostbitten flesh.

He punched the stone.

Then again.

And again.

"Damn you," he growled. "Damn you for mocking me—"

He choked. Spat blood. Frustrated and filled with anger, he continued to curse and to vent.

"Damn this trial. Damn this mountain. Damn this cursed spirit-forsaken—"

The scream came then. But not from him.

It was sharp, high-pitched, echoing off stone like metal screeching through bone. A shadow crossed the ledge. Eirik turned just in time to see the talons coming.

A Bone-Billed Raptor — long-necked, sinewy, feathered in patchy ash-grey and crimson. One eye was clouded. A scar running down its flank. The beast was bleeding profusely, and a clear sign of battle rang along his sleek body.

'An Eldbeast!' Eirik froze. Fear clawed his mind, and the beast stared coldly at Eirik with snake-like eyes. Watching him, observing him.

Eirik could do nothing; it was like his body gave in to instinct. "Damn it, damn it! Come on! Move!" he whispered hoarsely, but his feet didn't even budge.

Eirik turned his head, seeking a place to escape to, but there was none. Only an open stretch of frozen plateau. Only the ridge behind him, but he knew that, given the terrain, he would never make it down in time. Let alone make it, he would probably die trying to descend in haste.

A rough roar sounded, pulling Eirik back from his scrambling thoughts. He turned to see the beast lunge at him. Eirik slammed his fist against his leg, and finally, he could feel it! He could move once more.

He ducked to the side, his leg screaming in pain as he did so, but the beast…

Even as injured as it was, it was too fast. Its claws raked Eirik's back, slicing cloth and skin. His face contorted in pain, he screamed out. Pure agony, but he had no time to think. 

Since he was ten, he was taught not to let his guard down, keep one eye on his enemy at all times, but in the heat of the moment, he forgot. The pain, however, brought him back, and he remembered his father's words.

From rolling to jumping onto his feet, Eirik pulled out his blade and turned to face the beast, who glared menacingly at him. 'Bloody hell! Looks like I won't be able to use the ridge now.

The beast now stood between him and the ridge, essentially his only escape. Now he had only two choices: either outsmart the beast, or…

Kill it in combat.

Neither an easy option, he could outsmart the beast, but he knew beasts who became Eldbeasts had almost the same intellect as humans. Thus, it made his choices and options… difficult.

The beast once more lunged, its speed too fast to catch. Eirik moved swiftly, but again the beast was too fast, its claws ripping flesh off the side of his leg. In pain, Eirik rolled, came up, and swung his sword with all his might, aimed for the already injured flank of the beast.

His blade caught it in the side — not deep enough to kill, but enough to anger. 

The raptor reared back, hissing. Blood sprayed across the snow in black arcs.

'Oh for Valdrun's sake!' he choked. The beast roared and, with a swing of its tail, slammed into Eirik. Sending him reeling backwards. Eirik coughed blood and fell to his knees, sliding ever so slightly on the icy plateau.

The broken monument stopped his movement. Eirik turned to face the object, and his eyes brightened.