Spirit Warriors: A clan shall rise

'I really hope this works'

If his idea worked, there was a chance of survival; otherwise, he would be welcomed in the great halls of Vaelthall.

With no choice left, Eirik slowly stood up. His eyes glowing fiercely, it was here he would either die or rise to be a warrior! 

He screamed, his voice strong and desperate.

"Ah! Come you beast! Let me send you to Vaelthall myself!"

The raptor screamed again and charged. Eirik waited—just long enough. At the last second, he dropped low and twisted his body. The beast surged past him, straight into the blackened edge of the shattered stone.

His idea was for the beast to crash into the monument, the icy plateau made it so that landing and moving were hard, and since the monument was old, very old. He placed his hopes that either the beast would become even more injured by the monument or, by breaking the monument, the beast would die.

Eirik heard a crack. He hurriedly moved, trying to place himself out of harm's way when a loud crunch, followed by a thud. A shriek, unwilling and painful, echoed before falling silent.

Eirik turned to see the beast lying underneath the large monument piece, its neck bent too far. Its body twitched. Then stopped. Silence. He stared at it. 

Stared at the bloodied stone. At his own shaking hands.

Then collapsed to his knees. And darkness flooded his mind.

The night soon fell. Eirik, startled, awoke in the dark of night. A soft layer of snow and ice covered him. His body was cold, very cold. And his mind seemed slow as he tried to observe his surroundings. 

Looks like I'm fine for now. I am safe.

He thought as he saw himself, still lying near the dead raptor. He tried pushing himself up, but his body was stiff, and it felt like his joints were almost frozen solid as he moved. He hissed, his hand drifting to his wounds on his back and leg.

He was fortunate. Lucky even. Very.

Were it not for the surroundings and the beast being heavily injured, Eirik might not have seen the light of day that was to come.

The wounds were still open, but a layer of frost seemed to have covered them. Eirik hissed, 'Ice burns.'

He had passed out from exertion and pain earlier and wasn't able to treat his body. Now, hours later, he had ice burns, indescribable pain in his body, and if he didn't treat it quickly, he would most likely get hypothermic.

Eirik eventually pushed himself up and scrambled to a sack that lay to the side. Eirik had probably lost it in the fight, but he had no time to focus on it.

When he reached it, he hurriedly searched its contents.

His mother had been prepared and had given him a few herbs such as Willow bark, Comfrey, and Plantain, which would help with inflammation and pain. Being a herbalist's son, he had to learn the way of medicine since he was young and thus has quite the extensive knowledge of herbal medicine.

'Thank Valdrun. The herbs are still here, I should probably get a fire going. That would be the best course of action. For the ice burns… the willow bark and a fire should be enough.'

With a plan, he hurriedly moved to complete his task. He needed to tend to his wounds and cleanse them; he needed to treat his iceburns as well.

A few hours later, Eirik had successfully treated all of his injuries, thanks to the herbs he had on hand and the multi-purpose tool - the fire.

It was still dark, and he was in a dangerous situation. The raptor beast, still lying behind him, its blood frozen. Other beasts could be attracted to the smell of blood or the sight of the fire, but Eirik had to take the chance.

Moving about through the dark without knowing where to go is basically a death sentence with his current health.

And so, Eirik could only watch the stars glitter in the sky with dazzling brightness as the night slowly passed.

Early next morning, Eirik blinked against the dull grey sky. The sun had yet to rise, but the ever-burning embers could be seen emerging in the distance. Snowflakes danced like falling ash. The air was bitter and dry, and the body beside him — the Bone-Billed Raptor — had frozen stiff in the night, its wings caked with frost.

Carefully scanning his surroundings, Eirik smiled bitterly. 'I should get a move on, today, I need to reach the stone. The rest would have probably reached it by now.

His thoughts drifted to his bear-like friend, laughing and talking loudly. Eirik had no doubt that Torvin had made it safely to the stone. 

His thoughts raced, and soon he gathered what little strength he had to push himself to one knee. Every bone ached. His right leg screamed in protest. But he gritted his teeth and pushed through.

With a deep breath, Eirik lifted his head, looking at the summit, still hidden beyond the ever-present mist. 'Only one way left to go,' he smiled and started walking, his steps slow.

Moving upwards, he realised there was a path, but as he continued, the path once more disappeared. Now there was no trail left, and the slope continued to rear like the spin of a dead beast - jagged, steep, and dusted by treacherous ice.

Eirik slowly but surely made his way up, as carefully as he could be. The mountainside made it so that he had to continue upwards with almost a crawl. He had to use his hands for a grip in order to move. 

He bled from both hands by the time he cleared the first ridge. Wind tugged at his cloak, trying to pull him backward. The mountain groaned beneath him — or perhaps it was his own joints.

The final ledge merged through the fog. And there it stood…

The Standing Stone of Eldvorn.