Chapter 9
"Under the table and dreaming"
He gestured quickly toward a column of dust rising from the ground in the distance. The fast moving cloud glittered in the afternoon sunlight as it bore down upon them.
“WHAT IS IT?” Durnae shouted.
“TUNDRA STORM!” was the reply, barely audible over the howling winds.
Unfamiliar with this foreign landscape, Durnae stumbled around looking for shelter. He found a small pile of medium sized rocks stacked in a triangle. Underneath the pile he spied a small ledge, barely big enough for him to crouch under. He darted inside just as the storm swept over him. He pulled the horse in after him, hoping to protect its head from the storm, but the stubborn beast would have nothing of the tiny hole under the overhang. It fought him with all its strength, nearly pulling Durnae from his sanctuary and into the screaming winds.
And then the sky fell.
Fist sized rocks began showering down upon Durnae, striking him in his outstretched arms. The stones struck his hideout like a thundering symphony, bouncing from rock to rock before falling to the ground before him, spinning on the dusty ground. Durnae, tiring from his struggle with the horse, let go of the reins when a particularly large rock struck his right temple.
The pain was intense, his vision blurred. He staggered backward holding the side of his skull and screamed in agony. He fell to one knee, pulling his cloak up to protect his head from further attacks. The horse, flanks pelted with stones and eyes brimming with fear, reared up on its hind legs and whinnied in horror.
Suddenly, Mirny was there. The dwarf appeared from behind the rocks, blanket in hand. In a flash the ragged dwarf threw the worn cloth over the horse’s head and grabbed the reins before the beast could bolt. Reaching into his tunic, ignoring the rain of earth about him, Mirny snatched a sharp looking object and jammed it up under the blanket. It was bloody when he drew it back and stabbed the horse again.
Durnae, body reeling from the pain, watched this scene unfold before him as the wind began to howl even louder. Swirling eddies of frozen dirt and ice danced before the makeshift shelter. It was suddenly very cold. Each breath was a challenge. His struggle for survival was made harder still by the stinging blasts of wind that coated the hideout with a thick layer of earth, threatening to bury Durnae if he did not move soon.
Seconds after being stabbed, the horse calmed down, its tail swishing lazily in the maelstrom, ignoring the rocks and pain. Mirny, holding his cloak above him, tumbled over next to his fallen companion. He looked for all the world like he had tumbled out of Hell itself, covered in ash and clothing ripped in a dozen places.
“CAN YA WALK BOY?! WE HAVE TO GET YA ON YER FEET OR YOU’LL BE BURIED ALIVE!!”
“Nay, Mirny… go on…” was all he could manage to whisper as the pain swept from his skull down through his spine, sending daggers of stinging pain into his hands and feet. A severe gust of wind blasted the shelter at that moment, filling Durnae’s mouth with tundra soil.
The last thing he saw as the darkness claimed him was Mirny reaching for his dagger.
"Under the table and dreaming"
He gestured quickly toward a column of dust rising from the ground in the distance. The fast moving cloud glittered in the afternoon sunlight as it bore down upon them.
“WHAT IS IT?” Durnae shouted.
“TUNDRA STORM!” was the reply, barely audible over the howling winds.
Unfamiliar with this foreign landscape, Durnae stumbled around looking for shelter. He found a small pile of medium sized rocks stacked in a triangle. Underneath the pile he spied a small ledge, barely big enough for him to crouch under. He darted inside just as the storm swept over him. He pulled the horse in after him, hoping to protect its head from the storm, but the stubborn beast would have nothing of the tiny hole under the overhang. It fought him with all its strength, nearly pulling Durnae from his sanctuary and into the screaming winds.
And then the sky fell.
Fist sized rocks began showering down upon Durnae, striking him in his outstretched arms. The stones struck his hideout like a thundering symphony, bouncing from rock to rock before falling to the ground before him, spinning on the dusty ground. Durnae, tiring from his struggle with the horse, let go of the reins when a particularly large rock struck his right temple.
The pain was intense, his vision blurred. He staggered backward holding the side of his skull and screamed in agony. He fell to one knee, pulling his cloak up to protect his head from further attacks. The horse, flanks pelted with stones and eyes brimming with fear, reared up on its hind legs and whinnied in horror.
Suddenly, Mirny was there. The dwarf appeared from behind the rocks, blanket in hand. In a flash the ragged dwarf threw the worn cloth over the horse’s head and grabbed the reins before the beast could bolt. Reaching into his tunic, ignoring the rain of earth about him, Mirny snatched a sharp looking object and jammed it up under the blanket. It was bloody when he drew it back and stabbed the horse again.
Durnae, body reeling from the pain, watched this scene unfold before him as the wind began to howl even louder. Swirling eddies of frozen dirt and ice danced before the makeshift shelter. It was suddenly very cold. Each breath was a challenge. His struggle for survival was made harder still by the stinging blasts of wind that coated the hideout with a thick layer of earth, threatening to bury Durnae if he did not move soon.
Seconds after being stabbed, the horse calmed down, its tail swishing lazily in the maelstrom, ignoring the rocks and pain. Mirny, holding his cloak above him, tumbled over next to his fallen companion. He looked for all the world like he had tumbled out of Hell itself, covered in ash and clothing ripped in a dozen places.
“CAN YA WALK BOY?! WE HAVE TO GET YA ON YER FEET OR YOU’LL BE BURIED ALIVE!!”
“Nay, Mirny… go on…” was all he could manage to whisper as the pain swept from his skull down through his spine, sending daggers of stinging pain into his hands and feet. A severe gust of wind blasted the shelter at that moment, filling Durnae’s mouth with tundra soil.
The last thing he saw as the darkness claimed him was Mirny reaching for his dagger.
