Chapter 35 Enter the Mountains

### Chapter 34: Enter the Mountains

The rising sun cast long shadows over the caravan as it finally began its trek into the jagged volcanic mountains of the north. The towering peaks loomed ahead, their blackened faces scarred by centuries of eruptions. Streams of ash and sulfuric fumes spiraled from distant craters, the air thick with a bitter tang that stung the nose and throat.

Trill walked at the front of the caravan, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His sharp eyes scanned the rocky terrain, looking for signs of danger. Bren was at his side, her molten blade sheathed but never far from her grasp. Lyra trailed a few steps behind, her bow ready, while the rest of the Blade Breakers guildmates flanked the wagons, their presence a reassuring barrier against the unknown.

"Cheerful place," Bren muttered, her gaze darting to the shadowed cliffs above. "Feels like something's watching us."

"Everything here watches," Trill replied, his tone calm but edged with caution. "The mountains have eyes, ears, and claws."

Bren snorted. "That's comforting."

The caravan creaked and groaned as it moved forward, the pack animals laboring under the weight of supplies and trade goods. The merchant, a nervous man named Arlen, clutched the reins of his wagon, his face pale despite his attempts to appear composed.

"Keep the pace steady," Trill called back to the caravan. "We don't stop unless I say so."

The trail wound its way through narrow passes and steep inclines, the rocky ground uneven and treacherous. The caravan's drivers muttered curses as wheels jolted over loose stones, their frustration mounting with each precarious turn.

As the group pressed on, the air grew colder, and the distant howl of wind echoed through the valleys. Trill's senses were on high alert, every crunch of gravel underfoot and rustle of wind in the rocks setting his nerves on edge.

Bren broke the silence. "You've been quiet. What's on your mind?"

"Everything," Trill admitted. "The terrain, the caravan, the people we're escorting... It's all a liability."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust them?"

"I don't trust anyone," he said simply, his eyes scanning the cliffs above. "That's why we're still alive."

Bren didn't argue. Instead, her gaze followed his to the jagged outcroppings, her grip tightening on her sword hilt.

They weren't the only ones on edge. Lyra moved with a hunter's grace, her eyes flickering to every shadow. The other guildmates had fallen silent, their usual banter replaced by tense focus.

The caravan reached a narrow pass flanked by towering stone walls. Trill slowed, raising a hand to signal a halt.

"What is it?" Bren asked.

Trill didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his connection to the natural world. Even here, in this barren and hostile terrain, there were traces of life—scraggly plants clinging to cracks in the rock, the faint whispers of wind carrying the scent of danger.

"There's something ahead," he said finally.

Bren unsheathed her molten blade, the weapon's glow a stark contrast to the cold gray of the mountains. "Want me to take a look?"

Trill shook his head. "No. We move together."

The group advanced cautiously, weapons at the ready. The narrow pass opened into a wide plateau, its rocky surface littered with bones and shattered wood. The remains of another caravan.

"Looks like we're not the first to come this way," Lyra murmured, her voice low.

"Or the last," Bren said grimly.

A guttural roar echoed across the plateau, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. From the shadows of a nearby cave emerged a massive mountain troll, its gray skin blending seamlessly with the surrounding stone. The creature was easily twice the height of a man, its broad shoulders and tree trunk-like arms radiating brute strength.

The troll wasn't alone. Behind it, three hulking hill giants stepped into the light, their clubs resting on their shoulders. The caravan drivers froze in terror, their animals braying and stomping in panic.

Trill stepped forward, drawing his sword with a deliberate motion. The blade gleamed in the pale light, its edge as sharp as his resolve.

"Bren, Lyra," he said calmly. "Take the left. Guildmates, hold the caravan."

"What about you?" Bren asked, her molten sword already raised.

"I'll handle the troll," Trill said.

Bren hesitated, then nodded. "Don't get yourself killed."

The group moved into action, splitting off to engage the giants. Bren's blade blazed as she leapt into the fray, her movements a blur of molten steel and fiery strikes. Lyra's arrows flew with precision, finding their marks in the giants' thick hides.

Trill faced the troll alone. The creature roared, swinging a massive stone fist toward him. He dodged nimbly, the air rushing past as the blow missed him by inches.

The troll snarled, its yellow eyes filled with rage. It lunged again, but this time Trill countered, his sword slicing through its thick skin. The troll howled in pain, its movements becoming more erratic.

Trill pressed the attack, his strikes calculated and precise. He could feel the troll's strength waning, but he didn't let up. One mistake could be fatal.

Behind him, the battle raged on. Bren fought with a ferocity that seemed almost otherworldly, her molten blade carving through the giants' defenses. Lyra provided cover, her arrows keeping the giants off balance.

The caravan drivers watched in awe as the guildmates held their ground, their fear replaced by a flicker of hope.

But the tide of battle shifted. A deafening screech filled the air, and a shadow passed over the plateau.

"Wyvern!" Lyra shouted.

The creature swooped down, its leathery wings kicking up a cloud of dust. Its talons raked across the ground, narrowly missing one of the wagons. The caravan erupted into chaos as animals bucked and drivers scrambled for cover.

Trill gritted his teeth. "This just keeps getting better."

The troll seized the opportunity, swinging its massive fist toward him. Trill rolled out of the way, coming to his feet in one fluid motion.

He glanced toward the caravan, his mind racing. They couldn't fight both the giants and the wyvern—not like this.

"Bren!" he called out.

She turned, her blade glowing brightly. "What?"

"We need to regroup," Trill said. "Fall back to the caravan!"

Bren nodded, cutting down one last giant before retreating. Lyra followed, her arrows providing cover.

Trill turned back to the troll, his grip tightening on his sword. "Not so fast," he said, his voice low.

The troll roared, charging toward him. Trill held his ground, his blade steady. At the last moment, he sidestepped, his sword slashing through the creature's knee. The troll stumbled, its massive body crashing to the ground.

Trill didn't hesitate. He drove his blade into the troll's chest, the creature's roar fading into a gurgling growl.

The wyvern screeched again, its wings beating furiously as it circled overhead. Trill turned toward the caravan, his mind racing.

"Time to go," he muttered, breaking into a run.

The group regrouped at the caravan, their faces grim but determined. The wyvern landed nearby, its piercing eyes fixed on them.

"Suggestions?" Bren asked, her molten blade ready.

Trill glanced around, his mind racing. The terrain was against them, but they still had a chance.

"Get the caravan moving," he said. "I'll distract it."

Bren's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"Do it," Trill said firmly.

Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the wyvern, his sword gleaming in the pale light.

**To be continued...**