Capítulo 6: Hunting the Beast of Freljord 2
By evening, the group of hunters reached the foothills of the Dragon's Ridge. According to legends, in ancient times, dragons inhabited these lands—creatures so massive that they could blanket the entire sky with their bodies. One of these dragons was defeated and fell upon this land, its body forming the mountain range that now bore the name.
It was terrifying to imagine what powerful beings once roamed here if even such colossal creatures could be felled. The mountains themselves carried numerous dangers: avalanches descending from the peaks could bury unwary travelers, and those who dared to cross the range faced perilous challenges. Here, the cold reached its peak, with biting winds turning living beings into ice. Any careless step could mean death, as steep slopes and dangerous precipices lurked at every turn.
The hunters were fortunate—they didn't have to traverse the most treacherous parts of the range, only skirting them slightly before moving on. The camp was set up just in time, with the sun already having dipped below the horizon.
The camp consisted of small communal tents made of animal hides. Inside each, a small fire smoldered, providing warmth to those within. A small opening at the top served as a vent for the smoke. Two hunters were assigned to patrol the area at night. The region was teeming with wild animals that could attack sleeping people, and there was also the risk of bandits passing through, dragging their loot to their settlements or embarking on a new raid.
Kailen volunteered to take the first watch. The cold didn't bother him, and he was hardly tired from the journey. He sat in a meditative pose, eyes closed. Despite this, his hearing was sharp, and by concentrating, he could pick up the crunch of snow underfoot even through the howling wind. In such conditions, trusting one's eyes was difficult, as seeing anything beyond an arm's length was often impossible.
Yorund decided not to leave his friend alone and volunteered to keep watch with him. He sat on a small platform surrounded by snowdrifts that served as protection from the wind. A fire burned in the center. Yorund sat close to it, trying to warm himself.
"Lucky you, brother. I wouldn't mind having your abilities," Yorund admitted with a slightly trembling voice. Although all of the cold-blooded people were resilient to the cold, staying out in such harsh conditions for so long was still unpleasant for the body.
"You know how I got them," Kailen replied without opening his eyes. Everyone in the village knew the story—Freljord had taken the weak Kailen and turned him into a great warrior.
"I know, but I'm still envious. Just wait until we get back from this hunt—I'll have my own boar. Then all the girls will be begging for rides on it, and I'll have no shortage of admirers, you'll see," Yorund mused, lost in his dreams.
"Hm, first you'll need to train and raise it well. That'll take time, and we haven't even caught one yet. The more you imagine you already have it, the greater your disappointment if it doesn't happen," Kailen said wisely.
"Forgive me, but not all of us think so deeply. I'm a simple man—I want to eat and drink. I eat and I drink," Yorund said proudly. Many of the villagers shared his views. They weren't concerned with science, art, or other pursuits typical of southern dwellers. Their primary goal was simple—survive and ensure their children didn't die of hunger. On one hand, this was stagnation, which had lasted for hundreds of years; on the other, it allowed the people to live.
"Hm, do you think if I want to eat, I starve myself?" Kailen asked.
"Well, I don't know. Sometimes you get lost in your meditation, and no one can wake you. You just sit there for days," Yorund said, tossing some wood into the fire.
"I am understanding our world," came the simple reply.
"Sure, sure, understand your world all you want. Maybe Ingun will decide to marry me, and—" Yorund started to joke, but Kaelen cut him off, a stream of ice shooting from his hand to extinguish the fire. His face was stern. "Hey, I was just kidding! No one's after your girl, everyone—"
"Shut up," Kaelen snapped. His ears picked up the faint crunch of snow in the distance, as if someone was walking. He tensed, trying to locate the threat, but the sound quickly faded, disappearing into the night. The falling snow obscured his vision. "Someone was near our camp."
Yorund immediately realized the situation and unsheathed his sword, scanning the area.
"Calm down, whoever it was, they're gone. But we need to stay alert," Kaelen said.
"Should I wake the others?" Yorund asked.
"Wake Bjorn. I'll go check the tracks. Before the snow covers them, we need to find out who it was," Kaelen ordered, rising to his feet.
He headed toward the source of the noise. After walking several hundred meters, he found tracks, nearly covered by the snow. They didn't look like animal tracks. They led deeper into the ridge. If it was people, they could be scouts, but they might also be animals. These thoughts circled in Kaelen's mind.
He carefully examined the area but found no one, then returned to the camp. He saw Bjorn and Yorund standing with their swords drawn.
"Did you find anything?" Bjorn, the eldest, asked.
"No, whoever it was, they're long gone," Kaelen shook his head.
"You did well to react immediately. I heard that the harvest was poor in the southern lands. Many raiding clans couldn't stockpile enough provisions. If it was a scout, they'll likely report us soon. They won't attack tonight, but an attack is coming. The question is, when?" Bjorn reasoned.
"We'll be ready," Kaelen responded.
"We have to be," Bjorn said. "You'll be relieved soon, so hold out a little longer."
Bjorn returned to the tent. The friends resumed their conversation, keeping a vigilant watch on the surroundings. The rest of the night passed without incident.
The group of hunters gathered their things and prepared to continue their journey. Now, they were on high alert, scanning their surroundings carefully. Their caution slowed their progress, as they frequently scouted ahead and prepared for potential ambushes. No one wanted to risk their lives, hoping to be forgotten or ignored—such people don't last long in these lands.
Using ice axes, the group of hunters navigated the treacherous terrain of the mountains. The paths were narrow and dangerous. Thanks to Kaelen, who could create passages with ice, their route was significantly easier. As they passed by a nearby mountain peak, Kaelen felt someone watching them. Glancing in that direction, he saw a figure disappear almost immediately. "Looks like we've been spotted by bandits," he thought and relayed this information to Bjorn.
Having overcome the last stretch of their journey, they emerged at the base of the mountain. The terrain here began to level out, and patches of vegetation appeared. The weather was calm, with the sun shining brightly, blinding their eyes.
The group approached a forest of white leaves. Every tree here had white foliage, an anomaly that added an air of mystery and intrigue to the place.
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"Draw your weapons, we're moving forward with extreme caution," Bjorn ordered.
Half the group unsheathed their swords, while the others readied their bows. The forest was the perfect place for an ambush. The trees provided excellent cover, and the leaves could easily conceal anyone lying in wait atop the branches. The hunters kept a sharp eye out for any potential ambush, but the forest was eerily quiet, with nothing out of place. Kaelen carefully scanned the surroundings, trying to sense any foreign presence through nature. Leading the group, he was prepared to use his magic for both attack and defense at a moment's notice.
The silence became unnatural. There wasn't even the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. No animal sounds. Suddenly, a few meters away, the snow erupted, revealing hidden bandits. Their bows were drawn, and arrows flew toward the group. Most missed, but one arrow struck a hunter in the throat, knocking him onto his back, his blood staining the snow.
Kaelen swiftly raised his hand, and ice walls sprang up from the ground, shielding the group from the bandits' arrows. The hunters returned fire, their arrows felling two of the attackers. More bandits emerged from the forest, shouting, armed with close-combat weapons.
"Form ranks! Meet the enemy, archers, cover us!" Bjorn shouted. The warriors with ranged weapons stayed behind cover, firing at the enemy archers. Meanwhile, the four fighters lined up, ready to face the oncoming bandits.
Kaelen was the first to engage, summoning a wave of ice that froze several opponents in place. Clenching one hand into a fist, he pressed his palm and began forming an ice sword in front of him.
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A bandit managed to close the distance, and their swords clashed with a sharp ring. Kaelen parried the blow, then swung his sword, severing the bandit's arm. The man barely had time to scream before his head was separated from his body. The arm fell to the ground, followed by the head and then the lifeless body.
Sensing danger, Kaelen quickly raised ice walls on his flanks, arrows embedding themselves into the barriers. He stomped the ice beneath his feet, pushing it toward the presumed location of the archers. But the enemy archers were high in the trees, and his attack had no effect. Placing his palms one above the other, he concentrated his ice magic, exhaled, and sent a barrage of ice projectiles flying toward the bandits.
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They tried to hide, but the barrage of ice projectiles shredded them along with the tree branches.
The remaining hunters joined the battle, swiftly reacting to every move of the enemies. The archers continued to fire from a distance, thinning the attackers' ranks. The forest had become a battlefield, with the sounds of clashing steel, the glint of blades, and the whistling of arrows intertwining in a chaotic symphony.
Bjorn was fighting against three opponents, barely managing to fend off their attacks. Yorund rushed to his aid, knocking two of the attackers to the ground. Bjorn seized the moment, dodging an attack and plunging his sword into the throat of one enemy before helping to finish off the fallen bandits.
A bandit lunged at Kaelen from behind, but Kaelen quickly ducked, dodging the strike. He spun around, kicking the bandit in the head. A quick punch to the jaw, a sweep to the legs, and the bandit fell to the ground, where an ice spear, conjured by Kaelen, pierced his head.
Meanwhile, the group of hunters fought against the overwhelming number of enemies. Only their experience kept them alive, fending off the attackers as a united front. They managed to take down several foes, but not without sustaining injuries themselves.
Seeing his comrades struggling, Kaelen rushed to their aid. He formed an ice path ahead of him, propelling himself forward and launching himself into the air with an ice pillar. His fist swirled with magic, and as he landed in the midst of the enemy line, he struck the ground. Waves of icy spikes spread out in all directions, impaling the enemies from below.
"Retreat!" came the panicked cries among the bandits.
Those who survived began to fall back. Kaelen hurled a few more ice spells in their direction but did not pursue them. Their group was too battered to continue.
The battlefield was drenched in blood, the snow littered with the bodies of bandits. They were dressed in animal skins and bone masks. Their weapons were crude and unwieldy, clearly not crafted by a master, yet still deadly.
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The group gathered around the body of their fallen comrade. An arrow had pierced his throat, and during the battle, Tormir had bled out.
"Kaelen, freeze his body. We'll take him back to the village and give him a proper burial. You were a good warrior, Tormir," Bjorn said, closing the eyes that were frozen in horror.
The body began to be encased in a layer of ice, preserving it so that the village could hold the funeral according to their traditions. Tormir left behind a family: a wife, a son, and a daughter. Another family had lost a loved one in the endless conflicts.
"Heal your wounds, we need to return home. We were unlucky to encounter bandits; with these injuries, we won't be able to catch our prey," Bjorn ordered somberly.
"Aren't we going to avenge Tormir? He was our brother!" someone from the group exclaimed.
"No, we don't know which clan they belong to, and we won't be able to find them now. We'd only wander aimlessly, and if we run into another group, we'll lose someone else. Forget about revenge," Bjorn said. He had experienced many losses among his comrades and didn't want the rest to lay down their lives in a futile attempt at vengeance.
"So, was our expedition pointless?" Kaelen asked.
"No, now we know that bandits have started operating here, and their scouts are everywhere. This knowledge will save lives in our settlement," Bjorn replied.
The group began tending to their wounds with salves and medicinal ointments. Kaelen had only a few minor scratches that didn't require much attention; he covered them with a thin layer of ice to prevent bleeding.
After a brief rest, they left the bandits' bodies behind, carrying their fallen comrade's body as they withdrew from the battlefield. The blood would attract predators, and in their tired and wounded state, they would struggle to defend themselves against dangerous beasts. The predators wouldn't pursue the survivors despite the scent, as the dead bodies were more enticing.
Kaelen pondered the expedition: "Was it all in vain, and are we just going to leave? I refuse to return without a victory. If they don't want to continue, then I'll go alone." With these thoughts, he decided to approach Bjorn.
"I want to continue the hunt," Kaelen said. The entire group froze, watching their conversation.
"Listen, you're young, and your blood runs hot, but this doesn't make sense anymore. Right now, we need to preserve our warriors; otherwise, the village's defenses will weaken," Bjorn tried to reason with him.
"I'll go alone; you can return," Kaelen insisted.
"Kaelen, as your superior, I order you to return to the village," Bjorn said sternly.
"Undoubtedly, you're my superior, but are you stronger? Will our village once again suffer from hunger and abandon its weak children?" Kaelen asked, facing Bjorn. Anger flashed on both their faces.
"The boy's right. This hunt will bring great benefits to our clan. I'm willing to give my life for my descendants," said Folkar, an older but still skilled hunter.
Looking around at his group, Bjorn saw the support in their eyes, backing Kaelen's words. He couldn't leave the strongest warrior of the clan alone.
"Damn it, fine. Know this, Kaelen, if we all die out there, it'll be your fault alone. You'll have to face every widow and tell them that you were the cause of their husbands' deaths," Bjorn said in a foul mood, turning away to calm himself down.
Yorund approached his friend, a cut on his cheek that would leave a scar. He placed a hand on Kaelen's shoulder.
"Brother, I'm with you," his friend assured him.
Kaelen nodded at his friend's words. The group of hunters rested for nearly two hours after the battle. Once they regained their strength, they headed toward the caves where the boars were supposed to dwell.
As they scouted the surrounding area, they spotted the beast. The Drevasian boar moved on four legs, with a massive build and incredibly tough hide. Its mouth was adorned with large tusks, and its jaws were filled with sharp teeth capable of biting a person in half. Its keen sense of smell could detect prey from several kilometers away.
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It was a male, leaving the cave and returning with food after several hours. It seemed the female couldn't leave, as she was tending to her young. They decided to wait for the male's next outing and kill him, then deal with the female, which shouldn't pose much difficulty.
The group set up an ambush. When the boar emerged again, they would all attack simultaneously. Kaelen would make sure it didn't escape.
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