Shadow Slave

By the time they decided to stop, Sunny was on the verge of fainting. After hours and hours of traversing the rough mountain slope, his body was almost at its limit. However, to everyone’s surprise, Shifty seemed to be doing even worse than him.

The roguish slave’s eyes were muddy and unfocused, aimlessly wandering around. His breath was ragged and shallow, as though something was exerting pressure on his lungs. He looked feverish and unwell.

As soon as Hero found a suitable place for a camp, Shifty simply collapsed on the ground. The most unnerving part about all of this was the lack of angry cursing that they had already gotten used to. The slave lay silent and motionless, with only movements of his chest betraying that he was still alive. Several moments later, he uncorked his flagon with a shaky hand and greedily drank a few large gulps.

“Conserve your water,” Hero said, a hint of concern somehow finding its way into his usually stoic voice.

Disregarding these words, Shifty drank more, emptying the flagon completely.

Scholar didn’t look much better than him. The arduous climb took a heavy toll on the older slave. Despite the unbearable cold, he was sweaty, with bloodshot eyes and a grim expression on his face.

Being the weakest of the three, Sunny had somehow managed to endure the best.

“Can’t we just melt the snow once there’s no more water?”

Hero gave Scholar a complicated look.

“There might come a time when we won’t be able to make a fire, as to not attract unwanted attention.”

No one commented, knowing perfectly well whose attention they had to avoid. The memory of Mountain King’s horror was still fresh in their minds.

Luckily, today Hero had managed to find a natural alcove in the mountain wall, perched precariously behind a narrow ledge. The fire was well hidden by the rocks, allowing them to enjoy its warmth without the fear of being noticed. No one was in the mood to talk, so they just roasted slices of oxen meat above the flames and ate in silence.

By the time the skies had turned completely black, Shifty and Scholar were already asleep, lost in the thrall of their own nightmares. Hero took out his sword and moved to the edge of the rock outcropping.

“Try to rest, as well. I’ll take the first watch.”

Sunny gave him a nod and lay down near the fire, dead tired. Falling asleep inside a dream was a new experience for him, but, unexpectedly, it turned out to be quite mundane. As soon as his head touched the ground, his consciousness slipped into darkness.

gently shaken him awake. Groggy and disoriented, Sunny blinked a few

look too well, so it’s better to give them some time to recover. Don’t let the flames go out and wake us up once the sun starts to

a couple of

hours, he

its light was not enough to pierce the darkness that enveloped the mountain. Only Sunny’s eyes seemed to be

managed to climb quite high during the previous day, he could still see the distant ribbon of the road. He could even trace it back to the stone platform where the fight with the tyrant had taken

littering the stones were

while and then moved forward, scraping its claws against the ground. Every time a claw hit one of the bodies, the tyrant would grab and bring it to its

wind brought the muffled sounds of crunching bones to Sunny’s ears. He flinched, accidentally pushing a small rock off the ledge. It fell, hit the slope and then rolled down, causing a few more

of these falling rocks sounded like

tyrant suddenly turned its head, looking directly

to make even the tiniest sound. For a while, he even forgot to breathe. The tyrant was staring directly at him, not

turned away and continued to devour dead slaves, as though he had not seen Sunny at

blind,’ Sunny suddenly

inhaled, watching Mountain King with widened eyes. It was true.

his guess. Those milky, expressionless eyes. Come to think of it, he never saw the tyrant moving them at all. And back when Sunny was pushing the wagon off the cliff, the tyrant only reacted after the wagon’s had started to fall, scraping

It was all

***

would do Shifty and Scholar some good, but his hopes were crushed. Somehow, the two slaves looked even worse

be explained by simple overexertion. He was deadly pale and shaky, with half-conscious eyes and a lost look on his

“What’s wrong with him?”

who himself was not doing very well, helplessly shook

mountain sickness. It affects different

sounded

assholes. Get out

full sentences, but still insisted that he

supplies the defiant slave was supposed to carry before adding them to his own load. After hesitating a little, he gave some