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Chapter 129 - Heralding the Unconquerable
🕑 Added 2022-02-07 23:22:47 +0000 UTCChapter 129
Heralding the Unconquerable
Under the cover of a remarkably dark night, one where the moon elected to hide behind the thick clouds and the sky decided to be starless, Agnes and Sylas snuck out of the castle and headed westward. Both knew that leaving during the day would likely elicit the kind of sendoff that neither was particularly comfortable with, so they decided to simply... go, as it were.
Unlike the last time, however, they were far better prepared--dropping her usual, summer dress fashion, Agnes was draped in thick layers of wool and cloth, with some padded leather acting as a further insulator. Furthermore, she had prepared two shawls and an extra pair of gloves.
In addition to twelve talismans that Sylas decided to bring with him, all of which had something to do with either starting a long-burning fire out of nowhere or neutralizing cold in some other way, he also packed a heavy bag of supplies, and four extremely thick blankets for when the night falls and, with it, temperatures drop to the deadly levels.
As far as he was aware, they actually couldn’t prepare any better short of trying to bring an entourage and all which that entailed. However, considering that even Agnes and he ended up dying specifically to the harsh conditions, there’s likely nobody in the castle, not even Derrek, who could survive, even with all the externals.
Since it was night and was already remarkably cold, they didn’t walk far, choosing to set up a tent and have some early practice for it, especially because the conditions would only get worse the further up the mountain they went. For starters, this far down, there was little to no wind--an utter rarity even just a mile up--which meant that starting a fire didn’t require any fiddling or extra tools, and that was just one of the benefits.
Having settled in, Sylas quickly prepared a vegetable broth for the two, saving meat for when they would have to expend far more energy per step walked.
“How come you’re so good at reading people?” Agnes suddenly asked, blowing at the bowl in her hands.
“Hm? Where did that come from?” Sylas asked, not bothering and immediately eating since, even boiling, in his throat it still felt lukewarm.
“With Ryne,” she elaborated. “How you read her.”
“... really?”
“What?”
“She’s a kid,” Sylas scoffed. “No matter how clever, glib-tongued, and seemingly iron-made, she’s still a sixteen-year-old girl at the end of the day. There’s only so many things she can be. Kind of like how I can read you.”
“You can’t read me.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“So, what people can’t you read?” she added.
“There’s nobody I can’t read,” Sylas said. “But it’s in the layers. People like me, for instance, are good at chucking in an occasional lie to muddy the waters and fester uncertainties. The key to reading the people is establishing a baseline--ask ‘em a few innocent questions to see how they react, and then fish for a lie. And thusly compare.”
“... sounds exhausting,” she said, taking the first sip of the broth.
“It is. Nothing hairier than trying to dig into someone’s brain when they’re just asking for some sympathy.”
“What do you think we’ll find west?” she suddenly switched the topic.
“You’re fairly chatty tonight,” Sylas smiled.
“I’m always chatty.”
“Yeah, but it’s usually ‘Sylas, stop saying stupid things’ and ‘Sylas, put on a shirt’ and ‘Sylas, I really loathe everything you say’.”
“And you see nothing wrong with that?”
“Just keeping you engaged.”
“I’m serious,” she sighed. “Losing the connection to the Gods... has never happened to me before, Sylas. I was never without their loathing love and care. It’s... it’s strange. Eerie. It tells me that whatever lies beyond these mountains... it’s probably much bigger than us.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty big. It’s gonna hard to top me.”
“What do you mean?” she looked at him innocently. “You seem slightly above average, at best. And I didn’t mean it literally--I meant metaphorically.”
“... sometimes,” he said, sighing. “Your innocence causes a flower to bloom inside of me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And look, whatever we find out there, it won’t be yours to deal with. Just stay back, clap your hands, and cheer me on.”
“That might have been the best ‘you’re quite useless’ jab at me yet,” she said. “You’re getting creative with those.”
“You’re not useless. Just... differently useful.”
“Oh, wow. Another one.”
“You done with your broth?”
“Yeah?”
“Then go to sleep,” he said.
“Yes, hush the messenger. Quite nice of you,” though she complained, a smile persisted through as she put down the bowl and dragged over one of the blankets, wrapping herself in it as though cocooning. “At least I have something nice to warm me up this time.”
“Good on you. Now go to sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I have to peruse some deep thoughts.”
“So, get drunk?”
“Verily.”
“Hah...”
The dawn took long to come, in part because it was slightly difficult to discern it was dawn due to the very bad weather. The wind picked up on the speed and brought snow with it, turning into a blizzard. Though it wasn’t anything insurmountable, it was still a bad sign of things to come.
The two progressed in silence and slowly, having to trek through the feet of snow at the minimum--and uphill at that. Though it still wasn’t as steep as it would get, it wasn’t much easier to move, especially speedily.
They moved in sporadic bursts--often moving for an hour before sheltering for half of that and recharging before moving again. Even Sylas felt the toll, especially once the evening fell, let alone Agnes who looked to be at her last breath. Toward the last stretch, Sylas put her on his shoulder and carried her up to the shelter they had planned to hide in the first night, a small dent in the mountain with an overhead rock shielding them from the falling snow.
He immediately started the fire while Agnes began preparing food, wrapped tightly in a blanket. Neither spoke much, merely going over the plan for tomorrow, as they both knew they’d need every minute of rest to recover their condition. Even still, they were very much aware that they’d never hit their peak again--with each passing day, there’d be some diminishing returns to their rest as their overall condition would begin to plummet.
The dawn came yet again, and the two woke up, had a quick breakfast, and began their daily trek. The visibility had dropped to the point they barely saw further than ten feet, causing their pace to slow down as they had to pay attention to any potential pitfalls and dangers. The wind, too, decided to pick up on speed today, and the blizzard became nigh unbearable. And yet, they pushed. Unlike yesterday, however, they had to take breaks every forty-five minutes and rest the equal amount. But they pushed forward.
Another night came and with it even more exhaustion than yesterday--but dinner and rest were still in order, and their moods still chirpy. They rested and awoke to a new day, and a new challenge.
Days passed as such, and soon they hit a ten-day mark. By their calculations, they traveled over forty miles of distance. Though it sounded like a lot, it was actually extremely slow considering they traveled, on average, almost seven-eight hours a day--though those numbers had dropped considerably in the last few days as they could barely make a dent before needing to stop.
In fact, it wasn’t even the tiredness that was holding them back, but the weather--the winds were so fast and heavy that even Sylas could hardly root himself without being swayed. As such, they had to move in the few brief moments where the wind slowed down somewhat, but even then they barely made any progress. Still, they did make progress--even in the worst ways. The good thing about it all was that they still had plenty of supplies and that the cold was no longer a bother.
Though it was frustrating to move so slowly, as long as no accidents happened, and as long as the weather didn’t take it up another notch, they should be able to make steady progress moving forward. But that was the question--moving forward.
Nowhere on the man could Sylas find any indication of just how large the mountains actually were--for all intents and purposes, whatever was displayed on the map was merely an artistic interpretation of reality. For all he knew, they’ve barely made a percent of progress. Just the same, they could be on the doorstep of something else. That was what bothered them the most, not knowing.
“Looks like the weather steadied, somewhat,” Sylas spoke out on the fifteenth day since their departure, glancing out of the tent into the white nothingness. “The winds have been blowing consistently the past few days, the temperature is the same, so it looks like... this is it for the rest of the journey. How are you holding up?”
“I’m tired,” Agnes sighed, cupping tightly a cup of warm tea. “And I lost it, Sylas.”
“Lost it? What did you lose?” he quizzed.
“The last shred of connection I had with the Gods. I can’t feel them anymore.”
“...”
“It’s scary.”
“You have me.”
“... did you just equate yourself to not just a God, but Gods?” she looked at him oddly.
“Hey, a man’s only as great as his projected confidence!”
“Ah, yes, a clever excuse for narcissism.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he comforted her. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a perfect grasp of where we are. Geez, you should have said that we’re almost there earlier! I was worried for nothing!”
“I feel it.”
“Well, if you feel it...”
“Hey, when did we switch our roles?” he grunted, taking a sip of wine. One good thing about the weather was that the booze never got warm. “I’m supposed to be a cynic and you’re supposed to be a hopeless optimist.”
“Hard to be an optimist with... well, all this.”
“That’s true,” he sighed. “But we endured this far. If we can’t make it still even after all this... then it just wasn’t meant to be. Let’s take a nap. It doesn’t seem like the wind will let up anytime soon.”
"Yeah, let's," she said, putting down the cup and wrapping herself into a blanket. Sylas didn't know how to help her--as he didn't know what it felt like to lose that connection, especially for someone who's always had it. All he could do was trust that she knew how to handle herself, something he, at the very least, was fairly confident in, all else notwithstanding.
