Rise of the Horde-Chapter 507

The Tekarr Mountains was never meant to be explored too deeply.

Captain Baldred didn't just walk…he endured. Step by step, hour by hour, his body driven by a grim instinct older than strategy: survive. The jagged earth beneath his boots cracked with every step, brittle and sharp, the dust rising with each footfall only to cling to his throat. His armor, once polished, was now a dull patchwork of dents and dried blood. The sword at his hip hung more like a burden than a weapon.

Behind him came three shadows, just as ruined, just as grim.

Lieutenant Kael walked with a slight limp, his left leg stiff from an injury sustained during the collapse of their last foothold. He said little now, conserving energy and words. Behind him was Gerber, the elder of Baldred's lieutenants…careful, steady, though his bandaged arm told its own story. And last came Halveth, the last of the workers. He had never been a soldier, yet he now moved like one…silent, hardened, eyes always searching the cliffs above.

There had once been thousands of them. Soldiers. Engineers. Skilled Workers. The best of what the Threian expedition could offer.

Now there were four.

They were not retreating. Retreat implied the luxury of a fallback point. They were fleeing…north, toward the plains. Towards safety, towards life.

*****

The mountains offered nothing. No water, no shade, no forgiveness. The sun bore down without mercy. Every breeze was dry and hot, like the breath of something ancient. Loose stone gave way beneath their steps, forcing them to move cautiously, their progress measured in painful strides rather than distance.

They spoke rarely, and when they did, it was in clipped murmurs.

"How much longer do you think we've got?" Kael asked one afternoon, voice hoarse.

"Water for one day," Gerber replied. "If we ration."

"And after that?"

Baldred didn't answer. He didn't have to. They all knew.

The only thing heavier than the heat was what Baldred carried inside his coat pocket.

A stone.

A bit more than palm-sized. Smooth. Dull black. On its surface were inscriptions…etched carefully, purposefully. Ancient letters. Some still legible, others worn nearly invisible by time.

It had no glow, no magic. No hum. It did not float or whisper. But it had cost them everything.

Baldred had taken it from the ruins they'd unearthed from the deep region of the Tekarr Mountains. The site had been marked by silence and decay. No corpses. No relics. Just that stone, part of an enormous arch that was in dire need of repair.

He remembered the way his men had fallen quiet when they'd uncovered it. The way the air had thickened when he reached out and took it. He remembered the shouts. The dust. The screaming. The first deaths.

He remembered, the Dargan.

And that monstrosity of an Owl and a Bear mixed together.

****

They had not seen it since the sixth day.

The creature that was a mixture of an Owl and a Bear.

But they had felt it.

Kael called it a beast. Gerber called it a demon. Halveth didn't call it anything. Baldred preferred not to think of it at all.

But it was there. Watching. Always behind them. They found signs: claw marks gouged into stone, carrion birds scattered without feeding, which would only mean that they are still within its territory. Once, the echo of a breath…wet, slow, and enormous.

They never said its name anymore.

As they moved deeper into the northern ridges, the terrain began to shift…less vertical, more winding. The signs of the plains beyond began to appear in the form of gentler slopes, occasional clusters of scrub, the sound of insects instead of silence.

But that only made them more nervous.

"I don't trust the quiet," Gerber muttered as they set camp near a sun-cracked ridge. "We haven't seen anything in two days."

"That should be good," Halveth said, though even he didn't believe it.

Kael sat down with a groan, massaging his leg. "Unless it's watching from further out. Waiting for us to lower our guard."

They all looked at Baldred.

He sat apart, back to the stone, the small artifact in his hand. He turned it slowly, tracing the grooves with a dirty thumb.

Halveth leaned in slightly, curious on what is on that stone. "May I?"

Baldred hesitated. Then handed it over, after realizing that the man had been risking his life alongside them all this time and it won't hurt if he takes a look at the item.

Halveth examined the markings with care. "It's written in layered script," he said. "A form of Empyrean if I am not mistaken, but old. Very old. There's structure…like a formula. It could be a warning. Or a map. Or something else entirely"

"We're not here to guess about what is on it," Baldred said. "Our orders were to recover it. What it means is for the mages back home to decipher and understand."

"What if it's not meant to be read at all?" Kael asked suddenly. "What if it's meant to be hidden?"

They fell silent.

The stone had done nothing since the day it was found. But no one could shake the feeling that it was... aware.

*****

That night, they did not sleep.

The sky was clear. The stars sharp above them. But the wind had changed. It no longer rustled or whispered. It moved in pulses, as though responding to something deeper.

Baldred kept the stone tucked beneath his coat, hand resting over it.

Kael kept watch, blade in hand.

Gerber never closed his eyes.

Halveth muttered theories to himself until Baldred asked him, softly, to stop.

In the darkest hour before dawn, something scraped across the rocks nearby.

They all heard it.

A pause.

Then retreating silence.

Not a predator seeking prey. A predator measuring distance.

They moved again before the sun rose.

*****

By midday, they reached a high ridge. Below them, the ground rolled outward in waves of cracked dirt and hardy grass. The sky seemed to open for the first time in weeks.

The northern plains.

Gerber dropped to one knee. Kael exhaled hard through his nose, not quite smiling. Halveth shielded his eyes, blinking at the sheer openness.

Baldred stood unmoving.

The stone in his pocket was warm.

He turned slowly.

Far up on the mountain's edge, a shape stood…tall, still.

It did not move. It did not chase.

It only watched.

And then it was gone.

They descended in silence, each step pulling them further from death.

Baldred did not look back again.

The stone remained silent in his hand.