William Stormrider began the ascent, aiming for the summit – as always. In the eye of the beholder, even if you happened to be a giant, the keep looked impenetrable atop Mt. Braxius, like a titanic stature looming over the region. A spiking obelisk of Icevein, although, it had not always been there.

  It was home. Home horrible home, right? Also, like a prison, in a way. He convinced himself he liked it.

  ”Hiyaah!” he beckoned to Argomar. It went smoothly, as always, at the foot of the mountain, but then came the harsh, frostier air higher up – pricking your cheeks, like a thousand needles.

  ”Cold, and getting colder still. Kinda gets me in the mood again. Nothing like a little bad weather to get that climbing spirit going,” he said to his horse.

  Argomar merely snorted, apparently not as psyched about the uptilting path. This would be the second time in a week, after all.

  The Stormrider did not want to do it, but every climb he would feel invigorated by the air. Strange how one can have such conflicting feelings.

  *

  Gate 1 swooped clear of the misty snowfall. Intimidation, as if not implied by the mountain itself, was its purpose. A dwarven construction, carved from the great rocky pillars, edging the titanic fell – going past eyes reach above.

  He saw glimpses of familiar shapes, peering from the burrows above and beyond the gate. A fine bunch of cut-throats. One could only imagine the imposing defense of the dwarves, when Braxius was still a beacon of commerse. The big spikes, crafted ingeniously, to deter enemies from climbing over the gate, reminded the few who still dared a visit, of times of war – an age filled with life, believe it or not, as it was of death.

  But times changed. The humans ruled now – an awkward rule really, as no one had attacked in 170 years, and still they guarded all seven gates and the keep, as if every day had an enemy legion approaching.

  He nodded slightly to the gatekeeper. A frowning old man that could have done being elsewhere that particular day, as he looked quite cold and unhappy, leaning against his spear.

  ”Aye!” he replied with a tip of his helmet, now resting the spear against the inside of his arm and rubbing his hands together in frantic motions.

  ”Good to be seein’ ya, young William, Sir! Any news from the lowlands?” He looked considerably happier seeing a familiar face again. Hadn’t seen anyone since William went down the mountain last week.

  ”You bet,” he replied. ”Though you know I can’t spill anything.” The Stormrider blinked, followed by an awkward silence.

  ”Well, you know… You know how it is down there. Some fights needing to be broken up. Some gossip, though that’s for our king’s ears only, as you do understand.”

  ”Aye, I know, I know. It’s just so incredibly boring here at the lowest outpost. Can’t see much, can’t do much, know what I mean?”

  William chimed in; ”I hear you, but look on the bright side; It may be the lesser viewpoint from this mountain, but it far exceeds the treetops anyway. By the way, don’t you have guard duty at Gate 7, few days from now? Take heart to it , friend!”

  The guard’s face lit up just a fraction more by the encouragement. ”That I do, captain! The rotation is a curse, but also a blessin’. We should hope the damned weather clears up by then. I’ll have the best view in Icevein Kingdom! Well, apart from the royals, and yourself of course!” They laughed together, clearly incincere.

  ”Well, look at The Stormrider, coming here, getting my hopes up.” With closed eyes the guard gave a relieved sigh. ”Suppose that’s one of the things you do best.” He opened his eyes, stood at attention and gave a sarcastic salute, sloppily raising the right hand to his forehead.

  Sweat dripped inside William’s heavy armor, as he wiggled back and forth to keep warm. Mother always said; ”Whatever you do, don’t get cold!” A simple woman, sure, but the most wise he ever knew.

  After exchanging minor disguises of pleasantries for a good 20 minutes, it was time to move on.

  ”Time moves fast during friendly conversations, don’t you think?”

  ”Like a murder of ravens, sir.”

  ”See you on the way down then,” he said, as Argomar already started the carry towards Gate 2.

  *

  Argomar was installed in the stables, the warmest place to be at gate 2, given all the hay. It had to be built that far down. Any higher and the climb would be too steep, for both horses and their cargo. Not to mention; the neat pathway ended here, just inside the gate.

  The dwarves knew where to shape the mountain roughly, and where they could actually build sound integral structures. The keep at the summit was strategically built to beat an army of many, with an army of few. Gotta admire those beardy bastards. It’s a shame many scriptures, of the history of Mt. Braxius, were destroyed – when the orks raided Spirehaven.

  William pressed on. If you stopped for a chat at every gate, the weather could take you by nightfall.

  ”Don’t get cold. Don’t get cold,” he would borrow from his mother, making it his Mt. Mantra, peptalking himself not to stop, to reach the top. Also the warm bread helped. Baked fresh, by his own two daughters, in fact. Jolenia and Yazenyir Stormrider. They were 16 and 20, and they made their reputation as the Deites of Resolve, as their contribution to the gatekeepers and staff of the keep was immense, boosting everyone’s morale. Although the bread would be cold, arriving at the gates below Gate 7, it was still a delight to see the supply-men arrive, with that big woolen package.

  *

  ”Stormbringer!” a man was shouting, stepping out of a burrow, just above the gate.

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  ”Blackthorn!” The Stormrider climbed the ladder, leading up to the guard post. ”You always make me do more than what should be necessary,” he said, with a glint in his eye.

  His colleague just shrugged his shoulders. ”Cedric Blackthorn is saving energy for the war, sir!”

  The Stormrider laughed. ”This year marks 170 years without a major battle. I’m just glad I’m in likeminded company.” He paused slightly. ”Well, apart from that energy saving bullshit,” he half joked.

  ”I’m bloody serious. You always come here, as if we’re all standing still all day. Well we ain’t! The others can speak for themselves, but I do my two hour routine every day. Every single day. Running, weights, co-ordination.”

  The joyful face of The Stormrider turned on a dime.

  ”You may think you’re tough, with your two plus meters, but I bet my life you wouldn’t trade your job for mine. I know some of the guys who defend this mountain complain how hard it is to move up a single damn gate! Try making it to the top in a day! Multiple times!” Realising he was losing composure, he took a breath, still eyeballing Blackthorn. ”I do realise you keep yourselves in shape. It was me who bloody taught you discipline in the first place.”

  The look on Blackthorn’s face said it all. ”You’d better get going then. It’s getting late.”

  ”Think about how you act, in front of your men first of all. If you seek some kind of beef, I’m here. Well, I am sometimes. Some of us has actually drawn the shorter end of the stick. I like it though. Keeps me two steps above the likes of you.” The Stormrider just nodded as he turned and walked away. Not happy, but he let go of his anger fast. He could clearly hear the muttering behind him, though he could not care less.

  Gate 3 would have to be reported to the king. The king’s guard could not afford to faulter, after all, even if times were peaceful. A good standing between everyone within the army brings benefits regardless of the times.

  *

  Gate 4 emerged from the mist.

  ”Dismas!” The Stormrider bellowed through the entrance.

  ”Gone blind, sir?” he said, chilly as winter itself, a finger tapping at William’s back.

  ”Good god! Dismas!” he said, almost losing his footing. ”If you want me off the mountain, this is the way, I think.” The Stormrider spat, maybe to snap back to looking like the leader type again. ”Where did you hide this time?”

  ”Hide? Ha! You’re an easy one to fool. Nothing else to it. I followed you about 20 strides. If that’s hiding, wait ’til you see me try for real.”

  ”Exactly why you’re my right hand man, Dismas,” said The Stormrider, putting Dismas arm around his own shoulder. ”Now, be a darling and help me through the gate. Your jumpscare seem to have aged me by 20 years.”

  They both laughed, as Dismas directed his captain. They stopped by a burrow, looking like any other cavity in the mountain. It was the bar of Gate 4 - The Sun. One tasted both the irony and sarcasm of that name every time it came up. A little comedy never hurt, especially not in Icevein, where the weather was obvious and the people were few and far between.

  The Sun was once host to as many as 200 guests. It was the most popular stop for merchants, politicians and spies. Well, those last two are often one and the same anyway.

  Thank God for the books and scrolls. Some even have illustrations.

  ”I can’t drink today, Dismas,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  ”Why- Oh, right. You’re pressed for time, yeah?”

  ”That’s right. Pulling a one day climb to the summit. Three more gates is a lot. Can’t afford to get tipsy. Can’t afford the time, most of all.”

  ”As said, yes, of course.” Dismas had that look, one that said; ”I have information, as much as our damned king might have, but never-you-mind-that, I guess!”

  The Stormrider had to explain the urgency of the matter. He felt his tongue slip, twice. The climb was tiring, as always. What did he say? Some information about Gorv? Did he say he tried to help him? No, of course not. Right? William knew – he knew he messed up! He tried to keep a sane face through the freefall of a conversation.

  ”Dismas, I really have to go!” he said, trying to force himself away, to peace of mind – to the cold, unforgiving, climb.

  ”What in the hells do you mean, Stormrider?! I asked you about Victor, and now… you leave? Listen. You are a great captain. The best. Right now though…” said Dismas, shaking his head.

  ”I’m- I have to go. I’ll explain next time.”

  Stonefaced, Dismas said nothing, which in itself made The Stormrider feel even worse.

  He knew that look. But he had only seen Dismas aim it at folk fighting for a different lord than their own. By the wolf, this felt bad! What exactly happened? He’d never lost his focus like that before. Why now?

  As he looked back, he saw the raven land on Dismas’s shoulder.

  *

  He waved at the gatekeeper. Gate 5 was, somehow, even more narrow than the other gates. One could practically slip, and accidentally fall off the mountain, if not careful enough.

  So this was the life of The Stormrider, huh? Utterly insane.

  He realized something. The name of his king had slipped his mind.

  The gatekeeper had no visible facial features. He was waving back, with both hands. He was running. Why? What was his name?

  William felt nothing, and nothing good.

  *

  On route to Gate 6.

  No. Not gate 6… Where was he now? Indoors? A wooden interior? The only things of that nature, up Mt. Braxius, could be found in The Sun and Fellwood Keep itself.

  No… He knew this! This was Gorv’s cabin! He must’ve hit his head – hard.

  Why’s he not waking though?

  The room flickered.

  He was back again. Back on route to Gate 6.

  The Stormrider rubbed his eyes, hard. And again.

  Still, he was high up on the mountain, somehow. Maybe he was snowblind, only for a short moment? He shook his head and doused his face with snow. It was time to reach the top, double time the last two gates. There was no time to think about what happened. The night was lurking at the threshold, and it could claim anyone, especially up the fell of Braxius.

  *

  Horror met The Stormrider at Gate 6. At first he saw nothing. No one was guarding the passage, and it stood open. The bars swayed back and forth, eerily sending clangs to his ears and shivers up his spine.

  This, needless to say, was something new. If the gatekeeper left his post, there had to be a backup. But an empty post stood silent – creepy.

  He went to the sleeping lodge, could see several prints in the snow, leading in. As he entered, his heart skipped a beat.

  ”Blood. What in the name of Vantirium,” he said, stunned at the trickle, leading up to a huge puddle.

  There was something moving, making a noise he could never dare describe.

  It dripped steadily from above. The Stormrider decided, looking was not for him. Not today. He turned, and he ran, leaps of distress. He tripped as the last weak sunrays of the day shone upon his panting face, which thudded hard against the ground.

  No… It should have. But he felt something soft hit his face instead. The smell, however, made him wish for that serious bump to the head instead. It was like old eggs and raw meat smeared his dome, spreading the goo in his hair, having lost his helm in the fall.

  Lifting himself, he saw a creature. A creature unknown. Realizing his face had slumped and splashed into the thing’s wound, all wet and sludgy, he lost all his words. He flapped his bloodied hands, like butterfly wings, proceeded to wipe his face several times before realizing he could wash it with snow. However, the smell lingered.

  He wanted to rid himself of the heavy armor and sprint to the keep, with sword in hand. Chest heaved with panic. Where was the captain that had journeyed this obelisk of Icevein so many times before? He no longer felt like The Stormrider. Just William, from boyhood.

  What was that, behind the lodge?! A shadow? Definitely was.

  He started running for his life, unable to make out how his routine had turned to this play of horror.

  ”It was supposed to be a routine quest!” He spat, while shouting the words, not thinking about his stamina. ”One more gate!”

  A huge man, or whatever it was, loomed over him, as he rounded the next segment of fallen boulders.

  It all happened in a hearbeat.

  A flicker. A flash. A moment of blinding light.

  Three times he blinked, and saw Gorv’s cabin – clear as day, in the dark of his eyelids.

  ***

  Gone was the mountain around him.

  Was he dead? He dared not say it.

  All was dark.