The Rune Stone

North

Around the dawn of day the company had set out again at the repeated insistances of Kralich who had knocked on each of his employee's doors for five minutes straight, until they were out and about. Only a short breakfast was in order at the request of Torstein who did not want to travel on an empty stomach or be forced to eat off of the back of a horse.

The weather was cold and crisp, proper for a winter morning. It only now began to set in for Varonno that he was truly home. The oaks and birch trees he grew used to in the south began to be steadily and slowly replaced by fir and pine whoose greenery never faltered, even in a climate such as this. And the mountains, he got to see them again, albeit hundreds of miles off in the distance, as tiny specs on the horizon. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight allowing everyone a  clear view of their surroundings. But that day wore on, and when afternoon faded towards evening they found themselves slowly trudging along the winding ridges of a hilled land. Sometimes in the silence of that barren country they thought that they heard faint sounds behind them, a stone falling, or the step of flapping feet on the rock. But if they halted and stood still listening, they heard no more, nothing but the wind sighing over the edges of the stones – yet even that reminded them of breath softly hissing through sharp teeth, for Nicholas and Varonno especially, who were the ones who had caught a gilmpse of their stalker all those days before, on the river bank during the night.

All that day the outer ridge of the hills had been bending gradually northward, as they struggled on. Along its brink there now stretched a wide flat of scored and weathered rock, cut every now and again by trench-like gullies that sloped steeply down to deep notches in the cliff-face. To find a path in these clefts, which were becoming deeper and more frequent, the party was driven to the left, well away from the edge, and, aside from Varonno who knew this land well, they did not notice that for several miles they had been going slowly but steadily downhill: the cliff-top was sinking towards the level of the lowlands. At last they were brought to a halt when the ridge took a sharper bend northward and was gashed by a deeper ravine. On the further side it reared up again, many meters at a single leap: a great grey cliff loomed before them, cut sheer down as if by a knife stroke. They could go no further forwards, and to their mind must now turn now either west or east. But west would lead them only into more labour and delay, back towards the heart of the hills; east would take them to the outer precipice.This when the protesting began. "What in seven hells... I thought you said you knew these lands Varonno." piped up the mage, as he got down from his horse to peer down into the ravine. "Our horses can't make this turn here. It is far too steep." he added, looking at the bend. "That's why we are going to ferry them down, we have rope don't we ?" replied the ranger. "Do you have any idea how heavy a horse is ? Even I can't heave one down." commented Torstein. "That's why we are going to use a pulley sistem. I've done it plenty of times. It's how we got around. It's a hilly and mountainous country my barbarian friend, you should know tha better than anyone here." added Varonno. "Well, it's too late to turn around now, we'd waste too much time. So going down the hill it is." said Kralich, already pulling a length of rope from the side of his saddle.

After a few minutes of thinkering, pulling the rope through the branches of a leaning tree, which on closer inspection revealed that it has been used for this purpose many times over, the bark being smoothed over in said space, they were ready to begin. "I'll stay behind and descend last, after the horses have been secured,and you have all made it down. Really not that hard. Fasten the rope around you, between your legs and then jump on the rock face here." said the ranger towards  the blank faces of the rest of the company. "Torstein... We'll ferry you down first, like if you were a horse." he finished only to be met by a frown from the barbarian. "What awaits us there anyway ?" he commented, as he got the ropes fashioned around him. "A nasty drop for you probably. A laugh for us." said Nicholas with a snicker.

The cleft was longer and deeper than it seemed from above. Some way down Torstein was met by a few gnarled and stunted trees. Many were dead and gaunt, bitten to the core by the cold, but the firs still stood tall. Once in milder days there must have been a fair thicket in the ravine, but now, after some fifty yards, the trees came to an end, though old broken stumps straggled on almost to the cliff’s brink. The bottom of the gully, was rough with sharp stone and slanted steeply down. After getting himself down from the rope system, he yelled that he had arrived fine, despite not being able to see all the way up, only discerning the figure of Varonno, pulling the rope back. The smoky blur of the mountains in the North was lost in a deeper blackness that was already reaching out towards them with long arms. There was a distant mutter of thunder borne on the rising breeze. Torstein sniffed the air and looked up doubtfully at the sky. He tightened his fur cloak around him better, and settled his light pack on his back; then he stepped towards the edge, peering outwards towards the mountains, in deep thought, probably enjoying this moment of solitary reflection he had taken for granted in the past. It was not long lived however, next down came Nicholas, disrupting every semblace of peace with his constant yappering. Further along came the horses, slowly and one by one. It was an arduous task, but one that needed to be done none the less. Kralich and Varonno would lower them together, while Torstein and Nick would catch, untie and guard them. Under the first shadows of night they started out on the next stage of their journey. After a while Nicholas turned and looked back at the way they had come. The mouth of the gully was a black notch in the dim cliff. ‘I’m glad we’ve got the rope,’ he said. ‘I'd like to see that sneaky plus one of ours getting past that. He can try his nasty flappy feet on those ledges!’ he said towards Varonno who was riding alonside him.

The hurrying darkness, now gathering great speed, rushed up from the North and swallowed the sky. There was a dry splitting crack of thunder right overhead. Searing lightning struck down into the hills. Then came a blast of savage wind, and with it, mingling with its roar, there came a high shriek which prompted everyone to have their hair stand on end. "What the hell was that ?" murmured a voice which belonged to Nicholas from the darkness. "A wendigo I believe. Pray that we do not meet him." answered Varonno equally as quiet as he lit up his pipe, a brief flash of warm light washing over those present. He passed it around, trying to calm the nervers of people, even Kralich taking a whiff and following it with a cough. Eventually the company barley managed to scramble together beneath an incline within the stone, which had been used by past rangers, according to Varonno to escape the pouring rain. There, for some time, they sat huddled mournfully together in the cold stony night. Luckly, the storm and darkness had passed without incident, despite nobody within the group had managing to get much shut eye, either from the constant thunder and lightning or the fear of being snuck upon by a fearsome creature that would devour their flesh in a heart beat.

The following days much of the same followed, more steep inclines to ascend or descend and sheer drops to avoid. On the third night, when the stars and moon where both clear and out, the party had finally began to make it out of the sharp hills, despite their struggle to keep up with Varonno who had quickened the steps of his horse in the past hour, arguing that he did not want to spend a third night in the cliffs, the shrieks of the creature were getting closer each night. And he meant it, but it was not the entrire truth, the man sitrred on the inside, there was only a day's march, through the forest to his ancestral home. He was eager to return.

As they clambered off the last slope of the hills their eyes were no longer covered by steep inclines and stony clefts blocking their view. Ahead now lay a massive forest of pine trees that streched further than their gaze could make out both Northwards and Eastwards. Towards the west a dirt path that steadily formed into a road, winded on North,  towards the distant shape of the Frostbite mountains. This is where Varonno had them camp for the night. In between the road and the forest, for this was the place where he had planned to have the company split ways. The night was clear and windless, countless starts dotting the sky, it seemed almost as if there were many more present on the midnight sky of this cold country. Despite this inspiring sight, the campfire the had set up was quiet and dull, none of those present daring to speak, only to much in silence of their sad dinner composed of dry meat and fruit with cheese and bread. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard." commented Torstein as he tossed a piece of cheese towards Shadow, who muched on in with equal dullness and grimness about him as the rest of the party. "This is where we will split ways. You have to follow that path and it will lead you to the mountains. There, you should hire a dwarven guide. I am no good in those mountains, far too steep, labyrinthian  and threachours for me to learn in my time there." said the ranger with a matter of fact like tone. No further protests were given by the rest of the party, only an exchange of brief goodbyes after the ranger informed that he would leave before the dawn would even be upon them as he would take the last watch. The only heart felt moment had taken place between the old barbarian and Shadow, who seemed to have taken a liking to one other, embracing like old friends for a long while, with Torstein ending by hucking another piece of meat to the dire wolf who barked happily in exchange.

The night was eventless, nothing pierce the silence aside from the distant hoot of owls or a gentle gust of wind that prompted the dying embers of the fire to spring back to life for a moment more. In this time Varonno reflected on what he had been told by the lady of the Neck. If the prophecy she told him was true after all and if it was even the same people that he was going back to. He also gazed at the sleeping mage for a long while, trying to place him, decide if he really wanted to protect the stone as he had claimed many times, trying to earn their trust by revealing his goals to them. Yet he could not shake all the shady and questionable actions he had taken to further this goal, killing people, using forbbiden magic and who knows what more when he had been separated or alone in his room. He felt responsible, for getting him up to this point, only to leave now, unchecked. But he felt he had to go, he had to see home again, find out if it was still what he had hoped, if he could find redemption, or even happines. And with that final thought in his mind, the ranger packed what little he had, mounted his horse, whistled softly for Shadow and began to make his way North.