Vim stared into the fire, the small embers seeming more sullen than comforting. All around him, the adventurers pulled up tents and hoisted away supplies to the now-clear outdoors. He probably should have helped out. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn't do that he probably should have.
“Remind this old fellow,” Norlen said, as he heaved a crate of tools down the stairs, “exactly why are we going through all this trouble to move out of shelter?”
“Because, good sir,” Lannel said from under his own load, “I have been on four expeditions to four ruins and each of them has fallen apart before my eyes.” He placed the bags onto the ice, wiping his brow. “Do you really want to go against a hundred percent chance?”
“No sir.” The one-eared man turned his gaze back to the door. “Not at all.”
It was quiet. Vim had never noticed how noisy the storm was. It was like a constant background noise. Not entirely unpleasant, and not entirely pleasing, but definitely something that could be missed when it was gone.
“You alright, boy?” Sira asked, sitting down next to him. Her fur coat let out puffs of air.
“Yes, I'm—“ Vim caught the look in her eye. He sighed. “No.”
“I suppose there isn't any way you could be, considering what happened.” Sira waved her hand in front of the remaining fires. “Lannel told me what happened, by the way.”
There wasn't much to say to that. Vim grunted.
“You did a noble thing up there. Noble things never go unrewarded.”
“Do they?” Vim met the old woman's blue eyes. “Do they really?”
There was a period of silence, as they both looked into the flames.
“I don't know,” Sira said, finally. “But we might as well pretend there's some reward out there, waiting for us. Is there any point not to?”
Vim thought on it for a moment. “Yes, there is, but I guess that's as good a way to live as any.”
Sira sighed, and patted his shoulder. “Don't worry boy, I'm sure we'll find a way somehow. They don't call us experts for nothing.”
“I hope so, Sira.” Vim looked up from the flames. “But I don't think we will.”
Vim woke, cold sweat drenching his face. It took him a while to realize where he was, the white walls of fabric rising up around him.
He let out a groan, dragging himself out of the sleeping bag. His whole body ached—save for his arm, which had no feeling at all—and he wasn't sure if it was because of his injures. Pushing away the flap, Vim moved outside into the snow.
The stars shone above him, arcing across the sky like sea-spray. The golden light reflected off the fields of flowers, sending out rays in every color imaginable. It was almost like looking at a rainbow, if a rainbow was multidimensional, of course. Wind tore the snow from their perches, sending them up in haphazard swirls.
It was almost uncanny how closely the tundra resembled the desert. Or maybe it was the other way around. Vim let out a breath of mist.
Memories from his dream rose up in his head. His daughter was lying before him, crumpled in his arms. He had managed to get back in time—in time, but without the rose. As he stood helpless, his daughter had only one thing to tell him.
Why didn't you save me?
Vim tightened his fist. How much time did they have left? Two days, maybe three? It was enough to tear up every room in that castle, turn the entire thing upside-down. It wouldn't be hard, now that he knew how the locks worked. He didn't even need to bother with finesse, all he had to do was take a pickaxe and smash the obelisk to bits.
He was of half a mind to actually do it too, when he noticed the tracks in the snow. At first, he had thought that some animal had passed by, maybe even a yeti. The size was too small, however, and more importantly, they left shoe marks in the ice. Someone who needed some fresh air, maybe?
No. Vim frowned as he followed the footprints. He could understand if they led to the fields, or anywhere else, really. The ice plains of Eihon might not have been hospitable, but their nights were beautiful beyond measure. The tracks didn't lead to anywhere with a good view, however. They didn't even lead to anywhere enjoyable.
They led straight for the castle...the castle, with the purple runes and cryptic lettering. The castle that seemed to both be devoid of shadows yet was in perpetual shade. Vim had seen the looks on their faces. Even Sira, without a doubt the bravest person on this entire expedition, was unnerved by it. Whatever the reason, whoever was going there wasn't going for a pleasure trip.
The castle towered over him like a giant. Vim wondered just how many blows the runes took in the storm, just how much force they withstood. A violet light poured out from the opening of the hall. He could see the faint glow of firelight accompanying it.
Someone had lit a fire. He didn't blame them; he would've done it too, considering the environment. Still, it proved that it was a human. The yetis might have been capable of it, but they certainly weren't as scared of the place as they were.
He stepped into the ice halls, runes flanking him on all sides, battering him with purple rays. Vim rested his weight on the balls of his feet, his steps silent against the hard ice floor. He wasn't entirely sure why he was being so careful, but it was better safe than sorry.
Vim inched his way up the stairs. What was he expecting to see? Some petty thief? Or maybe an overeager adventurer? Either way, it wasn't much to care about was it? Why was he here?
He already knew the answer. He was going into the castle to smash the obelisks, to search every nook and cranny of the place if he needed to. Until he found the Rose, or some other way of saving his daughter, he was going to destroy the entire place if he needed to.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he had almost forgotten what he was looking for in the first place. It proved to be the worst mistake he would ever make.
Lannel stood in the middle, standing over a length of rope. Vim recognized it as the same rope they had taken so much effort to drag all the way to the portal chamber. He cocked his head. What was he trying to do?
Then, he noticed the torch in Lannel's hand. His friend turned to him, and looked down. “I'm sorry.”
He dropped the torch. Vim tore across the ice, every muscle in his body working as one unit. Even despite the lack of balance from one arm, and despite the injuries coating his entire body, he managed to get mere feet away from the flame.
Mere feet too far away.
The torch hit the rope, lighting the oil in flames. A blaze shot across the length, zipping straight towards the cellar. Vim threw himself at it. He missed the spark by inches. It flew past him and disappeared down the stairs.
Vim pulled himself to his feet. Lannel was already running for the exit. He thought about chasing after the spark, to somehow stamp it out before it got to its destination, but knew better than to attempt the impossible. Letting out a growl, he whirled around and chased after the expedition leader.
Lannel bounded out the gates and into the snowy outdoors. The man clutched his knees in the cold, mist convulsing around his lips as he struggled for breath. Vim let out a roar as he bounded towards the man, clutching his collar and lifting him off the ground.
“What—“Vim said, through strained breaths. “—did you do?”
“I'm sorry Vim,” his friend said. His eyes were glazed over. “I had to, I couldn't wait any longer.”
Before he could ask exactly what that meant, the world exploded into tremors. The ground shook beneath them five times. One time for each pillar.
Vim watched as the lights pouring out from the walls flickered out one by one, the purple glow vanishing as if it were never there. Each and every one of them disappeared, until none of them were left.
Everything went quiet. For a moment, Vim thought that it would've been fine. All it did was remove the locks on every door, and the defenses against the storms. It would still have been fine.
Then, a series of roaring cracks erupted from the ice. The cracks spread out across every inch of the walls—no longer supernatural, but simply ordinary ice. Windows snapped, battlements shook, towers rumbled.
The Ice Gardens of Eihon was collapsing into itself.
Vim threw Lannel to the ground. “How?” he croaked out.
“Five charges of explosives,” Lannel said, wiping his mouth. “One for each pillar.”
He remembered Sira's words. One bag of charged explosives. He let out a sputter. “Why?”
“I couldn't, Vim.” Lannel lay in the snow. A tear streamed down his cheek. “I just couldn't let you scour every room in search for a nonexistent cure. You would've revealed too much. Revealed things that weren't meant to ever be revealed.”
A tower toppled off into the distance, walls crumbling like the normal ice that it was.
“That was my only chance, Lannel,” Vim said, fist clenched. “My only chance.”
“Yes, it was.” Lannel let out a breath. “And I'm sorry.”
With one final roar, the bulk of the gate shattered before his eyes, turning into little more than a heap of ice and snow. The last Elder Ruin fell.
A crunch of weight on snow came from behind. Dark figures, blue fur glinting in the starlight, stretched out as far as he could see. Hundreds upon hundreds of yetis gathered around in a half-circle around them. One stood in front of all the rest.
Vim recognized the towering form. The mother yeti stepped over the snow, stalking toward Lannel as slowly as an executioner would to a convict. He had half a mind to leave him there, to let him get whatever was coming. It was only fair, wasn't it?
The yeti's foot stopped inches from Lannel's head. It raised its arms. Lannel closed his eyes.
Daddy!
Vim bounded across the snow, throwing himself between the two leaders. The leathery fists stopped a hair away from turning him into paste.
Its two gray eyes narrowed as it looked at him. He could see the confusion flicker underneath the hard features of the yeti. After a moment though, it gave a curt nod, as if it understood. With fluid, almost graceful motions, the mother drew her arms back and turned on her heel. It wasn't the leader for nothing. The crowd parted as she rejoined them.
Lannel stared at him, a stunned expression on his face. “Why?”
“If it were up to me, I would've let you die,” Vim said, “but I'm not here for myself. I'm here for Ashe. And she would never have let you die, no matter how much you deserved it.”
Lannel opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a silent gape. He closed it and looked away.
What would he tell Laura when he got back? What would he tell Ashe? Vim looked up at the sky. Everything had been for nothing. He would have to go back empty-handed, to watch his daughter die. He still felt the tingle of the Rose on his fingertips.
The crowd started shuffling, the rows of yetis parting before him. Vim raised an eyebrow. They were making way for something. Someone. Who could it be? Some high-ranking tribe leader? Or another yeti, more willing to inflict punishment? He found that he didn't really care.
Not until the front row parted to reveal a small, young yeti, fur brushing back in the wind. There wasn't a single injury on its body, not even the faint ones from a week before. Vim felt a faint smile form on his lips. At least someone got to live today. At least someone didn't have to die before their time.
The yeti pointed to him, making a ring-like gesture. Are you okay?
Vim shook his head. The yeti waited a moment, before pointing at itself. Is it because of me?
He paused, then shook his head again. It was his choice. No one had forced him into it, or even pushed him. “I'm glad to see you doing well. I'll be sure to tell my daughter about you, if I see her when I get back.”
The yeti shook its head and reached a hand underneath the leather clothes. In that one instant, every shard of ice was illuminated, every inch of the snow showered in unrelenting light. The tip of the rose glowed with a blue-white intensity.
Vim's mouth dropped open as the yeti placed the cure in his hands. It chilled his fingers to the bone, but he didn't care. How? Where? Why? There were too many questions to ask. When he opened his mouth though, only two words came out.
“Thank you.”
The yeti smiled and raised its hand, flicking it in a thumbs-up sign. Vim returned the gesture, a smile plastered over his face. The yeti moved to the side of its mother. Each member of the gathering turned around one by one, and walked off into the icy mountains, never to return to the Gardens again.
Vim was still standing there when Sira found him.
The old woman glanced at his face, then at the trampled snow, then finally to Lannel, sitting cross-legged on the ice. Snow was falling in the night like crystals. She was silent for a long time. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, though it was closer to a few minutes, Sira shook her head and spoke, “You boys had best started getting packed now. We have a long long way to go home.”
Lannel pulled himself to his feet, letting out a muffled sigh. He moved off in the direction of the frantic adventurers. Vim stood there, a moment longer; looking at the stars, then did the same.
They had a long way to go, after all.
