Alarick

By , Cincinnati, OH
Fog as black as smoke snaked between narrow paths of gravel surrounded on both sides by towering, craggy cliffs. Alarick Sandulf trudged silently and miserably through the strange fog, his ink-black hair matted to his pale forehead from the moisture in the air. His clothes were soaked through with water from the fog and were hanging heavily on his thin body. As he walked, he angrily kicked at any rocks he could manage to see though the impossibly thick mist. That clanging of his sword sheathed at his waist echoed off the rocky walls and disappeared into the fog, just like everything else. It seemed to suck everything in like a vacuum, taking everything that it could reach with its spider-like fingers. And it had grabbed Alarick.


Just as he was beginning to think about turning back, he heard an ear-splitting shriek, more animal-like than human. Alarick tensed, and adrenaline sent his senses into overdrive; he’d found what he’d come for. With one hand on the hilt of his blade, he began to jog down the path, his breath coming quicker as his heart thudded in his chest. Ocean-grey eyes scanned what little area he could see through the shroud for any signs of movement other than small weeds blowing in the wind. He heard something crunching through the gravel behind him, and he skidded to a stop and whipped around, drawing his blade. The sound of it sent even more adrenaline pounding into his blood. He listened, still as a statue, breathing silently, as the sounds of footsteps grew louder, coming closer. He tightened his grip on his sword, preparing himself both mentally and physically for what he had spent years training for; the slaying of the beast that had destroyed his father.


Alarick took a small shaky step forward; his entire body was trembling. It’s just the cold, he kept telling himself, over and over. But he knew he was scared. Very, very scared, so scared that he nearly toppled over he was shaking so bad, and he realized his breath was ragged now. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry as sand. His eyes widened as a silhouette began to take form. He took another step forward and stumbled, nearly falling over again. It all led up to this, he thought, and raised his blade high above his head, preparing to strike.


His eyes widened in disbelief, and he dropped his sword in surprise. A deer came trotting through the fog, stopping warily when it heard the sword hit the ground with an echo. Alarick began to laugh with nervous relief, as the deer turned and bolted in the direction it had came. His body shook with relief now, not fear. And then something hard as steel slammed into his spine and sent him sprawling, crashing into one of the sharp, rocky walls. His forehead bleeding slightly, he staggered to his feet, and came face to face with the true monster.

To be continued.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback