They were greeted by the picturesque Valconan countryside, with its golden wheat fields, charming farmhouses, and lush apple orchards. The fresh air transported the ripe fruit's sweet fragrance and the freshly plowed soil's earthy scent. In contrast to the dark and oppressive forest, this peaceful idyllic scenery brought a moment of calm in a world on the verge of chaos.
Silas's crow, their guide, flew in circles above, a dark shape against the blue sky. Occasionally, it let out a caw as it guided them along a familiar path weaving through the hilly terrain. Anya, always practical, stayed attentive to their feathered leader, as Res, relaxed and prepared to move, searched for any potential threats in the vicinity. With his hand placed on the hilt of his sword, Andre was filled with a sense of unease. This idyllic scene felt too good to be true.
As they arrived at the foot of Mount Wyrmtor, the sun set below the horizon, filling the sky with fiery shades of orange and red. The impressive mountain peak, covered in snow at its top, stood tall in front of them, showcasing the difficult task that awaited. Sharp peaks of rock protruded like pointing fingers, as the air became thinner, a chilling wind tugging at their cloaks.
Anya examined the mountain with a skilled eye. "This climb is going to be difficult," she commented, her voice barely audible over the strong wind.
With a look of both concern and resolve in his eyes, Marcus nodded in agreement. "No," he confessed, "but we will succeed."
Res let out a low whistle as she reached for the climbing axes on her pack. "It appears that someone has gotten to the path before us."
Indeed, a winding, rocky trail made its way up the dangerous mountainside, providing a slightly safer route compared to going straight up. As they began their ascent, the initial shadows started to spread over the scenery. The wind aggressively howled, almost tearing them from the mountain, while the icy cold penetrated their cloaks, causing shivers to run down their backs.
The ascent was difficult, a continual struggle against the weather and their own exhaustion. Every movement was difficult, their breath catching from the lack of oxygen, their bodies protesting with sore muscles. However, they continued forward, fueled by a strong resolve to reach their goal.
Following what seemed like a never-ending period of time, a sudden change in direction on the trail brought into view a person covered in white clothing, positioned at a high point observing the challenging ascent.
The silhouette remained motionless, appearing like a phantom against the starry night sky. With a quick movement of their wrist, an arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing Andre's ear and embedding into the rocky wall next to him with a muted thud.
Andre felt his heart leap into his throat. He staggered backwards, reaching for his weapon reflexively. Anya and Res spun, their expressions serious, their eyes fixed on the hooded person.
"Who are you?" Marcus demanded, his voice echoing through the thin air. "Show yourself!"
The woman with sharp blue eyes that sparkled in the moonlight turned around gradually. Her extended, white hair swirled around her face resembling a ghostly halo, and her face displayed a severe expression. She wore a voluminous white cloak that flapped dramatically in the wind.
"Go back," she ordered, her voice harsh and lacking any emotion. "These are not the mountains you are looking for."
Anya scoffed. "And who are you to tell us what mountains we seek?"
The woman's gaze narrowed to slits. "One who guards this path. One who protects what lies beyond." Her voice dropped to a low growl. "Turn back, or face the consequences."
A tense stillness lingered, disrupted solely by the howling wind that whipped through the mountain pass. After that, an unexpected thing happened. The crow belonging to Silas, which had been flying around with a troubling focus, descended and perched on the woman's extended arm. Its head angled, its dark eyes shining in the moonlight, as it released a succession of piercing caws. The woman focused closely, her stiff stance relaxing slightly.
After receiving the mysterious message, the woman's eyes shifted back to the crow. They were surprised to see a glimmer of recognition instead of the previous hostility. "Sorry," she responded, her tone remaining chilly, yet tinged with regret. I confused you with... trespassers. She pointed to the crow on her shoulder and remarked, "It appears to know who you are."
Anya, always ready to take advantage of a chance, raised an eyebrow. "It certainly does." He is owned by Silas, who informed us about the way… and about the rebellion.
The woman's eyes slightly widened. "She repeated Silas, with a hint of respect entering her voice." "So, you are... allies?"
Andre moved ahead, briefly relieving the tension. "We are." "We have arrived to participate in the battle."
The woman observed them for an extended period, her eyes pausing on each individual in sequence. At last, she reluctantly nodded. "Extremely good." Come with me now. However, it is important to note that the road ahead is not suitable for those who are easily scared.
Turning around, she started ascending the path again, her white cloak flowing behind her like a ghostly flag. Silas's crow let out a single caw before flying off, soaring overhead as though showing them the way.
The ascent carried on for what seemed like a never-ending amount of time. Right as they were about to be overcome by exhaustion, the trail flattened onto a compact plateau. And what they witnessed left them breathless.
This rebel camp was anything but ordinary. The makeshift tents they had imagined were no longer there. Instead of that, a group of small, snug cottages were placed among the snow-covered rocks, apparently designed for two adults to live comfortably in each one. Smoke drifted from chimneys, creating a cozy light against the night sky speckled with stars.
There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the air, but it wasn't the disorderly commotion they had anticipated.
Outside a modest blacksmith shop, a large man with a bushy beard and a dirty apron hammered on a hot metal piece, creating a steady rhythm. A woman with vibrant orange hair served hot bowls of broth to a cluster of tired men gathered around a flickering fire. The setting resembled a tranquil village rather than a military base.
Andre felt filled with wonder as he gazed at his surroundings. It was not only a revolt, it was a united group. A refuge for those who bravely stood up for a brighter future.
All of a sudden, Silas's crow perched on the shoulder of a man who was separated from the rest of the group. He was tall and wearing a white cloak adorned with the recognizable phoenix symbol. His hands were covered with thick gloves, and he had a pipe hanging from his mouth, blowing fragrant smoke into the fresh mountain air. He glanced at the crow before turning his eyes to meet theirs.
"Welcome," he greeted with a deep, gravelly voice. "Silas said you would be arriving. I am Eldred, one of the leaders of the 10th legion .
Marcus moved forward, feeling a rush of determination flow through him. "Marcus Giada, here to help," he stated, nodding with respect. "We're here to participate in the battle."
Eldred grinned, a glimmer of warmth flickering in his eyes. "It's nice to hear that, Marcus. Having a fighter like you, especially with your family background, would be very beneficial". He made a hand motion in the direction of the camp situated behind him. "Let's go. Let's help you feel comfortable in your new environment. You must be very tired from your trip.
While trailing behind Eldred towards the inviting warmth of the fire, Andre experienced a sense of relief come over him. They had at last reached their destination. The struggle for liberation had only just started.