//------------------------------// // XV // Story: We Are Born From The Mist // by NeverEatTheLemonsAlone //------------------------------// Star and Hurricane were briefly stunned into silence, the enormity of the statement hitting them like a javelin from on high. Star recovered first, diving for the window. It shattered with an almighty crash and she darted off into the darkness of the mountain tunnels, pursued by a pair of gryphons. As Hurricane dashed forward to break past Asger, spear in hoof, two more gryphons stepped out from behind the doorframe and she screeched to a stop. Asger took it as an opportunity, and he gripped the spear’s haft tightly, tearing it from her grip. Unarmed, she stood before them, unsure of what to do. She had little choice; in just a moment, Asger had surged forward with speed to rival hers and seized her by the neck with a single talon, effectively cutting off her air. His eyes bored coldly into hers. “As I said, Hurricane, you’ll be coming with me.” Not being able to do much else, in less than a minute the pegasus choked out a strangled acquiescence and nodded. She was released instantly and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The large gryphon nodded to his companions. “Take her. Bring the spear to Hroki and take her to a cell while the Testing Chamber is prepared.” Wasting no time, they bound Hurricane’s wings to her sides with strong rope and proceeded to lead her through the main room of the inn. They ignored the thrown hunks of meat and the loud yells of rage, half-dragging her from the building and out into the bright sunlight. Wasting no time, they turned instantly, headed towards the tunnels, diving into the dim torchlight. An idea began to sprout in Hurricane’s mind, but it was dashed as Star bolted out in front of her, quickly followed by the gryphons. Evidently, their stamina managed to defeat her speed, and she was bound instantly in similar fashion to Hurricane and moved in beside her. A few sharp turns brought them to a long hallway, filled with iron doors. Asger shoved a heavy iron key into a lock and turned it, stepping back as the door creaked open. He turned and shoved the ponies in, Hurricane first, then Star. He closed and locked the door, growling through the small, barred window. “Some guards will be back for you shortly. You’d best prepare yourself.” Finished, he turned sharply and stalked out of the ponies line of sight, leaving them to worry about what he meant. What were they supposed to be preparing for? Hurricane wasn’t particularly intelligent. There was nothing about her that gave off the air of a scholar, and that’s how she preferred it. That being said, she certainly wasn’t stupid. She had a finely honed level of common sense that was seldom matched. It didn’t take that to realize how absolutely screwed she and Star were. After a small collection of warriors had taken them from their prison cell, they'd confiscated Star's knives and brought them to a torchlit cavern carved deeply into the mountain: the Testing Chamber. It was almost like the Cloudosseum from the Nimbus Ring in construction, but smaller, and obviously made from stone instead of clouds. They were surrounded by a crowd of perhaps fifty gryphons that really wanted their blood, completely outnumbered and, though Hurricane was loath to admit it, possibly outclassed. The Gryphonic society was entirely centered on war, after all. Swearing viciously in her head, she attempted to defend her case, but her words were drowned by the jeering crowd that rested in the stands. She looked helplessly at Star, then narrowed her eyes. The ialtag was shaking like a leaf, looking around wide-eyed like she’d seen a ghost. Hurricane leaned over, speaking into her ear. “What is it, Star? Do you know what this place is?” Star nodded, replying hesitantly. “It’s called a…Colosseum, if memory serves. I saw one once, when I snuck into Gryphica to try to find some food. They…” she swallowed, her throat dry. “They make creatures, usually ponies, fight to the death against their greatest warriors. It’s sometimes for sport, but usually, it’s for justice. This is how they solve crime.” It was then that it sank into Hurricane how absolutely, truly, amazingly screwed she and Star really were. She didn’t have any time to dwell on it, though, because the crowd fell silent as a door opened on the other side of the arena. Asger walked out, flanked by a pair of smaller gryphons, who each carried a piece of battle gear. The one on his right carried a sword. On his left, a small buckler shield. He was in full armour. A loud voice rang out from the stands. “Would the little horse called Hurricane stand forth?” Grumbling at being called a horse, the pegasus did so, tracing the voice to a rather elderly gryphon who sat directly above Asger’s door. He thrust a talon forward and a gleaming point of light hurtled towards Hurricane. She sidestepped as her spear slammed point-first into the hard-packed soil floor. She briefly wondered how long it took to carry enough dirt up here to cover the floor in that much, but quickly discarded the idea. There were more important things to focus on, like escaping from this alive. The same old gryphon stood and spoke again, his voice grave and exaggerated. “Thusly, the trial of combat begins, with Asger serving as champion of the gryphons and Hurricane, of the ponies. If Asger wins, then Hurricane and her companion are guilty, and they pay the ultimate price. If Hurricane is the victor,” a brief smattering of derisive laughter burst from the crowd at that, “then she and Starlight Armour are innocent and will be free to go. All doors to the Testing Chamber are sealed so that none may leave until this ends. Do you both agree to the terms?” Asger nodded, taking the sword and shield as his attendants scurried back through the door, which closed with an ominous thud. "I do, Hroki." He was followed shortly by Hurricane as she tore the spear from the ground and slashed off her wing-bindings with the razorlike blade. The aged creature sat heavily back upon his seat, his voice like the tolling of a funeral bell: “Then in the sight of the Ravenlord, let the challenge begin.” ----- The stallion grunted as he forced his way through the densely-packed tree trunks. His hilt of the sword slung on his back caught on low-hanging branches, slowing him down dramatically as he narrowed his eyes in irritation. Days had gone by, and still the forest encircled him. For the tenth time that morning, he looked at the sky, ascertaining that he was still headed north. In that brief period of time, he walked into a branch. There was a nearly audible snap, and his eyes glinted in anger. His horn ignited in cerulean light and the blade slid free of its sheath, revealing its tremendous size. It was nearly as long as he and weighed over four kilos, shearing through the offending limb with ease. He smiled grimly as he began moving forward again, much faster this time. Instead of brushing the limbs and twigs out of the way, he simply cleared a path, the massive sword cleaving small trees with ease. Hours went by, and fit as he was, the stallion’s yellow coat was streaked with sweat, his dark blue mane matted to his forehead. Just as he was tiring, a clearing opened itself up in front of him. Chest heaving, he grinned. A rock outcrop was evident in front of him and he lay down heavily, propping his head against it and leaning his sword next to him. Minutes passed and the forest grew louder as he lay there listening, staring at the canopy above him. The sun splashed through in tranquil droplets, casting the ground in dappled light, shaking with the wind and occasionally interrupted by a bird flitting through the high trees. From the rough canvas saddlebags that lay beside him, he withdrew a canteen. Magically unscrewing the lid, he extracted a ball of water, letting it hover in the air a moment. Looking through the lens, he could see the forest in a new light, trees twisting and light shimmering unnaturally. Beneath the small sphere, the sunlight condensed and then scattering, casting a rainbow of light onto the ground. The prismatic shine was hypnotizing, and his eyes settled on it for close to an hour. Then he funneled the water into his mouth—no point wasting it—and recapped the container, standing up and reclaiming his sword. Turning once again, he could see mountains in the north, looming in the far distance. His trained eye estimated the distance at perhaps a week of quick walking. If he could keep up a trot for any length of time, he might make four or five days. He swallowed and raised his head, traveling onwards with his sword whirling in the air like a gleaming circle of steel. As he left the clearing, nothing had truly changed. The light from the canopy dappled on the forest floor, the green shade beneath the leaves starkly outlined by the brilliant sun. The stone remained solid, unshakeable, a gray-black bastion of the forest. The birds quieted their songs, and the little world of the clearing was enveloped in silence once more. Facing north, Thunder moved on.