An Axe in the Flames

The Horde of Nightmares

The frigid wind blistered his exposed skin as he clung to the icy cliff. He had no idea how long he had been on the face of the great mountain, but the Pigmen above had finally stopped their terrifying screams and lunges over the cliff edge. He had moved halfway down to the mountain pass where he and his pack had first began their climb, but he was afraid to move lower. What if the Pigmen had already found the trail and were waiting for him? Could he fight them and actually have a chance? He was a Berserker, the best of the warriors from the Great North, but these mythical creatures were something he'd never seen before tonight. Tonight? Was it still night? He looked up and through the nearly blinding snow gusts he could make out a soft break in the darkness, a slight ambering of the sky above him. It was nearly dawn, he had been hanging on the face all night. He had to do something, hanging out here was no option and he had to get back to his village to let them know what he had seen and fought. His stomach growled, what a terrible time to be hungry.

He looked below and saw the flat surface of the pass below him, it was surrounded in a u-shape by thick fur and pine trees. He couldn't see anything through he canopy of white and green, but the flat rock was clear. He would have to take his chances, and with it still being hundreds of paces below him he would continue to make sure he saw no movement. Slowly, he moved his body for the first time in hours. Immediately he was assaulted by the pang of tired and sore muscles. He gritted his teeth against the resistance and willed his arms and legs to work. He pulled his pick out of the ice and set it lower, then forced his legs to work by pulling out one iron tipped shoe and going lower, then the other. As he continued the strenuous pace, as slowly and steadily as he felt comfortable doing, he continued to look below. The details in the surroundings became more and more evident. The snow fall was heavier today than it had been yesterday, and the frost had already set in. A thin layer of ice seemed to cover the flat rock below him and clung to the foliage of the trees, weighing them down in a slight bend.

The forest was quiet, no birds or ground animals stirred, but this wasn't unusual for a cold winter morning after a freeze. Just above him the sun began to sleepily poke it's brilliant head over the mountain, the sky bursting into pink and yellow blooms against the dark gray snow clouds. Njal was about 50 paces from the bottom now, his muscles were on the verge of cramping and he was so thirsty. His mouth felt like sand, as he reached up and broke a chunk of ice free. He stuffed it in his mouth and let the moisture soak into his tongue and gums. The cold running down his throat calmed the fire that had been there before. A tree branch gave, somewhere below him, the weight of the ice too much for it. The crash echoed through the forest and up to Njal as he held his breath. Waiting for the screams, the moving shadows proving that the Pigmen had followed him. His heart was beating loud enough for him hear but as he stared below him, he didn't hear or see anything. Maybe he had been lucky and they hadn't chased him or figured out that there was a trail below them? He had to believe that, as he continued down the frozen face. He couldn't imagine finally reaching the bottom then having to fight off a herd of those creatures. His story would surely end there.

Just paces above where a Pigman couldn't jump and reach him, he hung scanning the landscape. He was just below eye level with most of the lowest branches of the surrounding trees. The rock clearing was still absent of anything, and he knew nothing would be waiting beyond where the frozen cliff turned to a sheer rock drop for another hundred paces. He would have to rely on the trail to get back to his village, the rock cliff wasn't an option because he hadn't brought his regular rock climbing gear. What a fine mess this was turning out to be, he and his pack had gone out yesterday morning to gather eggs and instead they had found the depths of hell had opened up and spat out the most vile mythical creature any of them knew. They had found their death, and Njal could only hope they had found it swiftly. He scanned a last time and only saw the dark trunks of trees and snow covered pine needles on the floor of the forest. No footprints or signs of anyone had been left in the snow, but then it was snowing so hard, he wasn't quite sure if they could be covered up or not. He knew he had to get off this cliff, and now might as well be the time he did it. He wasn't sure if his arms could support him any longer, and he knew his legs were soon to give out.