.
Rugged Trail
The convoy was slow, rickety and cantankerous. Wagons creaked and the horses and mules snorted. Tryndamere spat on the ground. The snow effortlessly drifted down from the cloudy, yet serene morning sky.
The trip had started off slow and had picked up pace up until the rocks and debris started to clutter the road, breaking an axel or two. The weather was also unpredictable. Some days the wind was strong and pushed a unsuspecting man off his horse in a sharp breeze, other days the air was still and speckled with snowflakes.
There was a routine to follow, but Tryndamere didn't mind scouting and clambering up peaks as long as the brisk Frejordian air was swirling around him. Every incline was different, every hill passed had its own set of hurdles. He was free from the dull repetition of the castle, alive and walking in the world. Every moment he reached the apex of a mountain and stared down the horizon, he felt as though he hadn't made that promise, that pledge to the Frost Archer.
Today he was done with scaling peaks, and tomorrow there was only one more left to do. As they passed through the valley, he would scale the Shattered Helm and make sure nothing was hiding in the shadows of those peaks. Then they would be at Daggercave. He must have been tired or had imbibed some rotten water, since he had the idiocy to strike up a conversation with her. She was not leading the convoy, to his surprise, but riding above it on the slope.
"Good evening, Tryndamere. Have you enjoyed the journey?"
"Yes." Tryndamere responded cautiously. "How far out are we?"
"About two day's ride. I haven't seen much of you, busy climbing the peaks?"
"Some one has to do it." Tryndamere shrugged, "What have you been up to all this time?"
"Practicing my bow."
"Really."
"Mmhm. I take aim at the features of the landscape, and as we pass them people can appraise how well I've aimed."
Tryndamere raised an eyebrow, perplexed. Somehow it felt like vandalism to him.
"How far have you been shooting?"
"A 100 meters, I'd reckon."
Tryndamere found himself smirking.
"Hundred meters? Tall story."
Ashe smirked back, once again taking Tryndamere head on.
"Ask around."
"The effective range of this bow cannot be that far." Tryndamere continued, motioning to the icy bow that Ashe had on her back.
"This is no ordinary bow, Tryndamere."
"As I said, tall tales for children." Tryndamere replied sharply. "Don't let appearances fool you, Ashe. A bow may be able to reach a target, but that does not mean it will-"
"I'm the archer here, Tryndamere."
Flames rose up within the Barbarian. He was surprised that they had not rose up earlier.
"How about this." Ashe replied quietly, before Tryndamere could start spitting flames. She brought out her bow and strung it quietly, nodding up towards the peak looming ahead.
"How about I put this arrow through the peak of The Ursine? You can bring down the arrow to me when you climb it tomorrow."
Tryndamere looked at the peak. It was kilometers up, farther than the Shattered Helm by far. The convoy rattled by, unaware of the Royalty conversing in the shadowed ledge.
He looked back at her.
"Impossible."
The Frost Archer smiled back at him, her eyes confident.
"I've been practicing. Shall I?"
Tryndamere rolled his eyes. It was all he could do.
"Knock yourself out."
She pulled the arrow back, and the dark steel of the True-Ice bow flickered with something ancient. As calmly as she had pulled the bow taught, she released it, and he could feel the wind shudder ever so slightly.
There was barely any noise, nobody on the convoy noticed. Ashe returned the arrow to her back smoothly and with a sly smile.
"Fetch it for me, will you?"
There was a noise that turned Trundle's head, one of shattering rock. He saw a stream of bits fall downwards to him and his group as they scaled the last remaining feet of the mountaintop. He paid it no mind, and returned to scan the convoy and see if they still followed the usual route. They had clambered their way up the shadowed end of the mountain, and he could see the Avarosan expedition inch its way out form the last ridge of mountains. He could see them easy, but he doubted that they could see him. As long as they kept their route, he had nothing to fear.
He scuttled over the peak, finding flat ground amidst the loose snow for his team to gather, and soon he was outlining his plan.
"Last peak, gents. Daggercave is just over there, and once they pass this point we might as well try invading the ocean." he began, pointing to the black castle that stood a few kilometers away from The Ursine.
"So what do we do? Why wait until the last moment?" One of the trolls started.
"What do you think?!" Trundle laughed, "Come morning, they'll hug this mountain on the way to Daggercave. We just drop a couple of rocks and jobs done."
"What about the Barbarian King?" Another asked. "He's been climbing all of the tallest peaks around."
"Aye, but The Ursine is a pain to climb, and I think Tryndamere will be more concerned about the Shattered Helm. If it weren't for the King, we'd be at the Shattered Helm... but forget that. He can scale it, let him. He can watch our little avalanche. We're here for Ashe."
The Avarosan party was setting up camp, Trundle could tell, as they spread out and slowed down after they emerged from the mountain valley. Soon they'd be fast asleep, except for the Barbarian and his massive blade. There was no change in direction, they all seemed content, calm, unaware of the gang of trolls that were huddling at the top of the mountain. He rubbed his hands together, thinking of tomorrow and what it would bring.
"Now then gentlemen... We wait."
End Chapter