The Dark Savior
Kratos balanced with all his strength on the thin, wheeled platform as it rolled across the steel cable connecting the cliffs. A little shift in weight to one side or the other would throw him into the chasm below. Harpies rested on the peaks above him. Kratos wanted to keep them resting. He was halfway across the chasm now… His legs were getting tired. This was when he heard the screech. Kratos knew what creature had made that sound before he saw it on the cliff in the distance. A satyr. The satyr regarded Kratos with empty slits for a moment and then swung the wicked looking scythe that it held into the cable where it connected to the cliff face. Kratos saw the blade tear halfway through the steel. Another hit would tear the cable apart. With no time to think, Kratos leaped off the plank and fell past the cable and into the chasm, swinging his chaos blades. The blades sailed up and wrapped themselves around the cable. The tiny plank hit the blades and bounced off its track and into the chasm. Kratos jerked his head up. He was at the mercy of the satyr. But the satyr did not seem to have any intention of killing him yet. It seemed amused by this turn of events. Nonetheless, Kratos waited for the monster to rip the cable. Instead, the satyr jumped forward onto the cable and began its nimble journey over to where the chaos blades were cut into the steel.
Resigned to his fate, as he had been since the day he began his journey to save his brother, Kratos yanked on the chains fixed to his right arm and the blade attached to them tore lose from the cable, shaking it a little. The satyr jumped forward again and landed neatly back on the line once it had stopped moving. Kratos glared into the sockets of the satyr. Maybe he would die here but before he did he would have no intention of dying. In one lightning fast movement, Kratos swung his free blade toward a section of cable several feet behind the satyr. The satyr glanced around to see the blade successfully wrap itself around the cable and then it swung its scythe, tearing a deep notch in the steel in front of it. The cable groaned as Kratos pulled his other blade out of the steel, cutting it further as it left. Kratos was sure the fragile cord would snap as he swung to within a hundred feet of the cliff face but he swung his chaos blade up, aiming for the spot where the cable was fixed into the rock. The blade overshot the rock by a few inches and disappeared over the top of the cliff. Kratos prepared to yank it back when he heard the satyr laugh above him. He gazed up. The satyr was off the cable, perched once again on the edge of the cliff. It stared down at Kratos, inviting him to look back and see the oblivion that awaited him.
Kratos….
Kratos suddenly felt afraid for the first time since he'd begun his journey. For the voice that issued from the satyr's mouth did not belong to it but to Kratos' brother.
Die, Kratos…. Let go and embrace the wrath I will exact upon you in Hades….
"By the Gods…" Kratos whispered. "Brother…"
His brother gave a dry laugh and Kratos felt the pull of the chain burned into his right arm as the satyr yanked it up off the ground. The blade still attached to the cable gave a little metallic whine and Kratos jerked his head around in time to see it slide almost entirely out of the steel. If he tried to swing back, it would come loose. The satyr solved his problem by snapping the cable with a final cut. Kratos tugged his blade loose and the cable smashed into the cliff wall on the other side of the chasm. The satyr bent forward over the cliff's edge, dangling Kratos like a puppet. Kratos ignored the excruciating pain in his right arm even as he felt the muscles stretch under his skin. He pulled on the chains on his other arm, retrieving the blade that had come from the cable. Once it flew into his hand, he sheathed it and clung to the chain held by the satyr with both hands. His muscles were screaming.
Let go, Kratos… his brother hissed from within the satyr.
Kratos glared at the creature…and pushed himself forward. He let go of the chain with one hand and got hold of a small slab sticking out of the rock. Then he grabbed the slab with his other hand. The satyr dropped the chain and Kratos felt himself almost lose his grip as the blade's sudden halt in the air strained on his arm. Kratos saw another slab sticking out of the wall higher up. This one was a little bigger but not by much. He climbed up to it while the satyr looked on silently. If the satyr swung its weapon at him now, he would surely feel the wind of it. To his right, Kratos saw another slab of rock. If he could reach it…
He let go with one hand and clutched at air. Then he finally found a weak purchase on the slab. But it wasn't enough. Kratos shoved himself to the right and his fingers scrabbled against the rock until they held it in a claw-like grip. Kratos got both hands on the slab and dug his feet into the rock but they kept slipping. The satyr screeched and dashed forward.
Die!
Kratos looked up and saw the scythe flash. And then he screamed. His right hand slipped off the rock leaving a blood trail as it went. And Kratos knew why. The satyr had cut off his fingers.
Kratos roared in pain and prepared to swing a chaos blade but even as he did so, he saw that he was too late. The satyr's scythe was already coming down on the last of his fingers. But the satyr gave a sudden cry and the scythe only threw some wind onto Kratos' left hand. Kratos looked up to see the satyr sway uncertainly and then topple forward and over the cliff's edge into the chasm. A white, wavy haired old man appeared where the satyr had stood just moments before. The man lay down at the edge and reaching down, gripping Kratos' left arm. Kratos gladly let go of the slab and the old man pulled him up and over the cliff. Kratos collapsed on the ground and cradled his bloody right hand with his left.
"Kratos," the old man said. "Look at me."
Kratos looked. He hadn't noticed it before. It was the old man who had once pulled him out of Hades.
"You…." Kratos gasped. "Who are you..?"
"I am your savior, Kratos- and, your greatest enemy."
Kratos sat up, clenching his teeth at the pain shooting up through his right arm. He could fight this man if he had to. He might be physically strong but he didn't look that fast. Even with one useless hand, Kratos could still swing his chaos blades as fast as ever.
"What…what are you talking about?" Kratos asked him. Perhaps if he could lure the man into thinking he was weak…
The man chuckled amiably.
"Look here, Kratos," he said, and pulled out five gray objects from his robes. The objects were long and narrow. And then Kratos saw them for what they were. Fingers.
"What trickery is this?" Kratos demanded.
"The best kind," the old man said. "If you are to finish your quest, Kratos, you must climb the cliff face before us, for the temple lies at the top. But you'll need all your fingers for that and you appear to be lacking some…"
Kratos struggled to his feet.
"You lie," Kratos spat. "Those fingers are cursed."
The old man smiled.
"Ever the astute one, Kratos," he said. "Look."
The old man titled his hand that held the fingers so that one fell off and onto the ground. After a few seconds, it began to steam in the sun. It curled up and withered into dust before Kratos' eyes.
The old man frowned.
"Hm, perhaps you don't need all your fingers."
Kratos almost killed the man. But a picture in his mind stayed his blades. He could see himself climbing into the temple and finally claiming his brother's heart- the only thing that could transform his brother's hatred for him back into love. He could see his brother, with his heart intact again, cease to be a devil bent on revenge and become a benevolent spirit that could finally now find rest in the underworld. And yet, without a way to climb to the temple, Kratos's quest would end here. No. He would not come this far and then renounce his brother- no matter what the cost.
"Very well," Kratos seethed. "Give them to me."
"There you are," the old man said, dropping the fingers into Kratos's left hand. Kratos looked at them and trembled. Each one would fit perfectly.
"I see now that you truly love your brother," the old man said. "To take my cursed gifts knowing full well that they could shrivel at any time, leaving you in sight of your brother's heart yet having no way to reach it…."
Kratos resisted another urge to kill the old man and fitted each finger onto his right hand. The fingers sealed themselves to the bloody stumps. Kratos flexed them and they moved without flaw. They felt so real….
Kratos turned away and walked up to the final cliff face, looking for spots where he could grab hold of the rock with his fingers.
"Beware, Kratos," the old man said from behind him. "Once you are inside the temple, you may decide to forsake your brother's love. Some things are not worth the terrible price you must pay to attain them…."
Kratos said nothing. With his wife and child dead, his brother's love meant everything to him. He would never stop trying to get it back- not until his last breath was stolen from his body. Kratos found some suitable depressions in the rock, and then he began to climb.