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Ragnest and Tyron / II
Ragnest slept very little that night, he was far too busy with his thoughts and plans to possibly shut it off for fear of missing a sudden burst of inspiration. Tyron slept uncomfortably beside him, occasionally grunting as he stretched out, reminding himself just how small the cave was by the sharp bursts of pain he felt from kicking solid rock. It was relatively early, and the sun, once again clouded by fog, shone dimly through the small ground-level opening at the mouth of the hole. It was time to get going.
Both Ragnest and Tyron knew far too well the people of the mountain pass were not friendly, not in any manner of meaning. They had read various explorer's accounts of travelling through the mountains, many of whom had seen horrific and barbaric practices such as cannibalism and painful execution. Therefore it was only natural for Ragnest to want to leave the hole as soon as possible for fear of being discovered unprepared, and ultimately eaten alive like many of those brave explorers who had never made it back.
"Tyron, are you awake? we must be going, we cannot linger here too long" said Ragnest, obviously quite eager to leave by the quickened tone of his voice. He realised this, and began to speak more slowly.
"Tyron?" He gave him a slight nudge and Tyron turned from facing the wall to Ragnest, his eyes struggling to adjust to the light coming in at the hole's entrance which was illuminating the space between them.
"Yes m'lord", it took Tyron a second to work out where he was again. "We are to be going then? I have everything packed from last night and we can set off at a moment's notice."
"I should have guessed. Yes we will leave now, I do not trust these mountains and neither does my gut. We will continue until sundown. Thankfully we are nearly out of the mountain pass so we may be able to return to much friendlier lands soon".
"Thank Tyche for that."
Both Ragnest and Tyron then began to struggle in the mayhem that first involved finding their packs, and then turning themselves around so that they could emerge head first. In this frenzy both were kicked more often than not, but they laughed at one another and continued in patting the floor to find their items; Ragnest did anyway, Tyron was mostly all set. Because of this Tyron was the first to emerge, leaving the dark dimly-lit hole in favour of an unnaturally bright, misty and bitterly cold morning. He looked about, squinting his eyes and holding a hand above his head to block out the sun.
Below him was a huge valley, at the bottom of which green pines stood diligently accompanying a winding river right up till the valley turned behind a mountain to the left of the hole, out of Tyron's view. He was stood on a narrow mountain path, protruding a scarce few inches from the side of the mountain. He did not realise how dangerous they had been last night as they had ran along this very same path out of desperation to escape from the cold, such desperation and a misplaced foot a few inches off could have gotten them killed. He turned around to face the hole and looked upwards at the mountain they had stayed in. It was pyramidal peak, from what Tyron could tell, and they were stood on one of the outer edges of it between two corries that seemed to act as bastions of support for the gigantic pyramid of rock.
It was beautiful, minus of course the cold and the potential for a sudden death. Tyron continued looking about him, doing his best to take in every inch of the beauty and praising himself on his earlier learned knowledge which allowed him to name various features and formations. While he was doing this Ragnest had emerged from the small opening in the side of the mountain, quite clearly flustered as he had spent so long trying to find various elements of his apparel and weaponry; despite staying up most of the night.
Like Tyron he stood for a second, admiring the harshness and beauty of the soaring mountains and deep valleys surrounding him. But, he was quicker to rouse himself to and regain his primary objective.
"Lets go, I'm sure there are a few taverns where we are going" Ragnest said merrily as he walked past Tyron and slung his backpack over his shoulder.
"Very well, it would be a marvel if they could bring the tavern here though" Tyron sighed as he lumbered after Ragnest.
* * *
Four and a half hours later and both Ragnest and Tyron were still going. By this point the cold had settled into their boots and it felt as though their toes had frozen into one cumbersome foot. They were no longer high up in the mountains and had just descended down into the valley Tyron had been admiring earlier. It was no better really, the dangerous paths had simply been replaced by deeper snow on the valley floor, plus the views were not as impressive by any measure.
They were largely surrounded by tall white forest pines and so it was difficult to see too far ahead, but Ragnest knew the general direction to travel in, largely thanks to a Vaolosian sun dial gifted to him by a travelling merchant which he infrequently glanced at. It is what you would expect from any tabletop sun dial, only that it was miniature in size, handheld, and had a dark green base, on which brown numerical figures were printed and it was crowned with a straight golden wedge to measure the sun's rays. It was quite magnificent.
As they marched along, Ragnest began to muse over his thoughts. Was he doing the right thing, was he just a coward for leaving? These thoughts troubled him often, but the further away from Vaolosian lands the less intense they became, so he continued marching. He remembered the people he had left back home, distinctly one Sir Daniel Westforth, whose company he longed for and enjoyed considerably. Westforth was not like himself, he did not care much for the peasantry, nor did he take much to learning of the world and admiring its beauty. He was a warlike man, continually caught up in all the small and large revelries of the kingdom. Why then did Ragnest care so much about him, he could not quite put his finger on it, after all Westforth was as different as any man could be from himself. He also smirked as he remembered Ghaedra Joy, a simple peasant wife who was not a holder of any status or influence, but he greatly respected her strength and purpose as she worked continually to keep her family fed and clothed; she was also known throughout Pharen for being quite the bitch to her husband too.
Just then, as Ragnest sought to move onwards with his next line up of depressive thoughts, a quick and quiet crack sounded just ahead of him, the sound emanating from behind a tree. Ragnest stopped dead, only to be barged forward by Tyron who walked straight into the back of him.
"Ugh", "stop" Ragnest whispered sharply, not glancing round to look at Tyron but keeping his eyes scanning the forestry ahead of him. "I heard something, a twig, I don't think we are alone."
Both Tyron and Ragnest reached for their sword belts, laying their hands on the handles of their swords and grasping them firmly. Tyron was quite shaken, and after the sudden bump and realization that he had let his guard down, began to grow faint.
"Tryon, back-to-back, holler if you see anything, anything at all" whispered Ragnest, still scanning the forest in front of him.
"It could be nothing th... though m'lord" Tyron replied in a shaken whisper. Nonetheless he obeyed and squared up behind Ragnest to cover his back.
Just at the moment two more twig-snaps were heard, both of which came from behind and in front of Ragnest. At this both men tensed up, Ragnest half drawing his sword and expecting an imminent attack.
"Oh, Fucks sake" Ragnest muttered.
"What, what, oh..." Tyron had realised what Ragnest had. They were in a Bardeshian trap, explicitly recorded by numerous explorers. The Bardesh would deliberately snap twigs to draw their opponents back to back, and then, when the Bardesh were in position, they would fire poison darts from the side, bypassing all armour and striking straight into their victims necks. Even if their victims stood to counter this, they would simply move again to re-counter, it was hopeless.
By this point both men had sweat running down their necks and backs, despite the harshness of the temperature, and Tyron trembled, scarcely able to hold onto consciousness. They began looking frantically, to their sides, to their front, in a desperate search to find the oncoming darts and move out of the way, but no darts came. They had been standing there for what seemed a couple of seconds, but in reality was almost a minute, and they began to wonder what was keeping the mountain people so long.
Just then, Ragnest breathed a sigh of relief, "Ah, oh my, oh okay".
"What, what is it?" Inquired Tryon, a frantic tone to his voice.
"A deer my friend, nothing more" Ragnest replied quite triumphantly; after all, he had diligently stood his ground and kept his breathing expertly controlled, despite his adversary being a deer.
Tyron turned slowly, and let out his own sigh of relief after spotting the deer. "I.. It is always good to have practice" mentioned Tyron, coughing slightly to clear his throat. Ragnest turned to give him a look, not a mocking look, but a more empathetic look just to check his dear friend's well being.
"Well," Ragnest turned back to look a the deer, "I believe we have caught dinner, we deserve it at the very least". He stood for a few seconds, still staring at the deer which was only a few meters away from him. Slowly, Ragnest drew a small dagger from his pocket and launched it quickly at the deer, the oblivious deer that continued to stand in front of them foraging carelessly through the undergrowth. The dagger struck true, piercing the deer's neck, which fell with a groan into the soft snow blanketing the ground beneath it.