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.

him awake. Groggy and disoriented, Sunny blinked a

let the flames go out and wake us up once the sun starts to rise. Or

places with Hero, who added a couple of logs into the

hours, he was on

crescent of the newborn moon. However, its light was not enough to pierce the darkness that enveloped the mountain. Only Sunny's eyes seemed to

fact that they had managed to climb quite high during the previous day, he could still see the distant ribbon of

littering the stones were the dead bodies of

figure slowly crawled on the platform from beneath the cliff. It stayed motionless for a while and then moved forward, scraping its claws against the ground. Every time a claw hit one of

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

noise of these falling rocks sounded like thunder

below, the tyrant suddenly turned

the tiniest sound. For a while, he even forgot to breathe. The tyrant was staring directly at him,

passed, each feeling like an eternity. Then the tyrant calmly turned away and continued to devour dead slaves, as though he had not seen Sunny

blind,' Sunny

King with widened eyes. It was true. The

of 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

was all making sense

***

the others up. Hero had hoped that a full night's rest would do Shifty and Scholar some good, but his hopes were crushed. Somehow, the two slaves looked even worse than before. It was as though yesterday's climb had overstrained Scholar too

condition could not 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?"

doing very well, helplessly

might be the mountain sickness. It affects different

sounded

fine, assholes. Get out of

had trouble forming full sentences, but still

then took most of the supplies the defiant slave was supposed to carry before

happen while we were