Chapter 3
Watch The Teeth
Rhuadhán managed to make it through the rest of the gentle slopes of Aksobahya Valley without encountering any delays; comfortably keeping a bit faster jogging pace than expected with the downward momentum of the path and softer ground to ease his journey. He passed by a few spots where pilgrims were camping out for the night; people who had obviously thought they could push through past Dzultripuk Monastery to reach Darchen before nightfall and had over-estimated their capabilities. They were fast asleep in their all-weather tents and trying to recuperate their stamina for the last leg of their hike. He was able to jog parallel to their encampments with the silence of a shadow cast by a cloud shifting by; not even their domesticated yaks brought for carrying their gear noticed his passing to make noises that could alert the trekkers to the fact they weren't alone. When he passed by a small tributary stream of one of the rivers that looked particularly undisturbed, he used a lesser conjuring cantrip to make himself a cup, collected some water, cast a cleansing cantrip to not give himself some internal parasite, and enjoyed a well-earned five minute break to rehydrate himself.
Then the young Champion was off again for the next stretch of his jog.
He came up around the Southeastern side of the mountain by following the path that led down through the Gold and Red Cliffs. The ground here shifted back to dirt and tiny pebbles, and he slowed his travel to his normal jogging speed to not abuse his feet more than necessary. When he passed Kandrö Tora, the Dakinis' normal haunt, they were nowhere to be seen. They had probably decided it best to stay out of sight for the rest of the evening somewhere on the summit of the mountain. Where the pass ran alongside a large river, there was a small site established for pilgrims to hang prayer flags. There were so many of them this late into the year that they created a low-hanging pseudo-canopy above the narrow footpath for a short distance. The fluttering bits of cloth cast darker shadows on the ground and rock slope; the latter of which had unnatural pits in places from some pilgrims defiling it by carving out pieces to bring home a "sacred rock" with them as a souvenir or in hopes of using it as some sort of luck talisman.
The path through the cliffs eventually led out to a sprawling countryside, the start of the Barkha Plain. Which meant he was about three kilometers from Darchen village. By the time he skirted the village, got back up on the path proper, and made it to Tarboche, it'd probably be half past eleven. The soft ground being back under his feet, and knowing it would last for most of the southern leg of the journey, was appreciated. Even with the conditioning they had put his feet through to toughen them up and having taken the dip in Gauri Kund, his feet were starting to get tender again from the rocky stretches he had been over. By the time he reached the western passes, he'd probably have blisters starting. Climbing those passes back up around the mountain was going to be miserable; but he had gone into this knowing what waited on that front, so he'd grit his teeth and deal with it. He was maintaining a solid two and a half hour margin for arrival ahead of dawn and wasn't going to concede any minute of that without good reason.
As Rhuadhán continued his jog along the southern face of the mountain, he noticed large clouds blowing in from the Plains. They were making a lazy but direct path towards Kangri Rinpoche and beginning to block out some of the starlight. With the moon nearing the end of its time in the sky, darker shadows began to noticeably encroach in on the valley. A scan of those cloud formations told him they were storm clouds. It might only be early October, but in a place so high in altitude, that storm could bring anything from rain, sleet, snow, or hail, depending on just how the temperatures shifted by the time the front rolled in.
The Champion sighed with annoyance, having no illusions as to the chances of that incoming front not bringing him complications by the time he reached the western pass, if not sooner. Fortunately for him, he wasn't other men who had tried to scale the side of the mountain with climbing equipment to reach the summit, so the worst this storm would do is pelt him with precipitation of some kind and make footing along the trail more difficult. If it didn't blow itself out by the time he reached the top and was ready to make his ascent up the mountain, Magie had a powerful weather spell prepared that would clear the sky for a distance above them and last long enough to let the first rays of sunlight through to make sure he could cast his own spell.
"You are such a damned nit," Rhuadhán muttered as he picked up his pace, hoping to make it to at least Tarboche before the storm hit, and the cluster of buildings that made up Darchen came into view up ahead, about a kilometer away. "Alright, you smarmy bastard, have it your way. Blow me with all you got, but I'm not finishing until I get up there and have the pleasure of watching you have to grit your teeth and take it. Unless you want me to skip the foreplay when I do, you better refrain from using teeth." That warning given, he went back to his mental mantra to keep his thoughts where they needed to be.
By the time Rhuadhán reached the modest, low-sitting stone wall that marked the borders of Darchen village, winds were kicking up speed in warning to the incoming storm. He made sure to give the village a wide berth and stay in the what little cover the Plains were offering, speed slowing and keeping low with a wary eye out for any patrols that might be moving about or stray predatory animals that might push him closer towards the village if they could creep up on him and force him into a position of playing a lethal game of Keep-Away. The last thing he needed was to be mauled to death or caught trying to sneak about without visas and permits, especially in possession of Milarepa's Staff that was supposed to either be a legend or buried in stone. If he wasn't shot on sight for trespassing in the middle of the night, the PSB officials would go check out the sacred cave and find the pillar destroyed, and then Magie would need to devise a way to whisk him out of whatever gulag or cell the Chinese tossed him in for such crimes.
Despite the pragmatic worries of dangers for this stretch of the journey, no packs of wild dogs or prowling snow leopards showed up. There ended up only being a small group of people a distance off, still up and sounding like they were celebrating the completion of their hike that afternoon, and a pair of guards at the roadside station leading into the village. The trekkers were inebriated and not in any state to notice things beyond their group. The guards looked zoned out from being stuck on late night duty. One seemed to be reading something from how little he moved and his head being tilted down; and the other, who looked the same age or even a little younger than Rhuadhán, was playing a game on what was clearly some model of the Nintendo DS.
'At least someone is getting to relax this evening…' the Champion thought wryly once he was past the potential line of sight for the guards and starting to circle back around to eventually rejoin the hiking path. 'Kind of hope the higher ups don't blame them for the pillar when it's discovered; they don't look like such a bad pair of blokes.'
Rhuadhán managed to make it around Darchen and back onto the hiking trail before the storm clouds caught up to him. The winds blowing were as frigid as those on the northern pass had been and whipped at his robes and namjar wrap when he was about two kilometers out, where the path through Barkha Plains was just starting to angle up and narrow out to lead towards the Lha-Chu River. Another kilometer along the path, dirt road becoming more gravelly as it started to climb up towards the first ridge, the first heavy, wet bits of sleet were carried on the wind and began to pelt him from behind.
The young Champion paused to unfurl his namjar from how it was currently folded and draped around his shoulders and torso to wrap it securely around his body, going around his neck, crossing over his upper arms and then winding around his torso. His belt was tucked under the cloth in the process to protect the contents from being exposed to the elements, pulled securely against his body. As much as he'd like to drape a length over his head, he didn't want to risk obscuring his peripheral vision, but he did tuck his long tail of crimson hair beneath the neck fold to keep it from whipping about.
As Rhuadhán was resituating his namjar, he kept his mind occupied with calculating just how much further he had to go. 'Three or so kilometers to Tarboche, then two to Chuku Monastery. Sarshung is just barely beyond Chuku, and then it's six kilometers up Lha-Chu Valley until it turns into the western side of the Dolma-La pass. Once in those passes it's six more kilometers to Dirapuk Monastery, and from Dirapuk it's four kilometers through the Valley of the Dead to Shiva-Tsal. Magie and the wolves are less than two kilometers beyond, just beyond Drölma Rock. That's twenty-three kilometers left to go. Already near sixty percent of the way through the distance, only one last item to obtain, and I've got somewhere over seven hours out of the original thirteen left...'
The young Champion decided those were excellent odds in his favor. He cast a water repelling cantrip on the namjar to ensure his belt beneath would stay dry, then gave a joking knock on the wooden staff for luck as he thought in good humor, 'Barring pulling out some entirely unsporting catastrophe, which would get The Three breathing down his neck for such a stunt, this is going down as my playing a blinder for the records.'
Knowing full well a certain Master of Kangri Rinpoche was liable to hear it, the Master of Magic and Time said to the staff, "Alright, love. Now's the part where I've got to leg it up the long, uphill stretch and it's bound to get slippery. I know you're still shaking off the dust, but I would be grateful for you lending me your support if I need it. Don't let me down and you'll have the entertainment of seeing me remind that old prick that anything a monk can do, a magus can do better, and him twisting himself up into knots to make excuses."
Rhuadhán couldn't be entirely certain, but he thought he felt the faintest thrum of magic beneath his long fingers. A smirk formed and sapphire gaze turned to the path ahead as he quietly said the spell to allow him to see in the dark so he wouldn't be stumbling about to find his way in the storm. He took off at a jogging pace he'd be able to maintain long distance and concentrated on Lemuel's mantra to help zone out some of the discomforts of what was going to be a mightily uncomfortable twenty-one kilometer hike up to Shiva-Tsal. Ankhbaatar's was prone to making him tunnel vision on his goal and he needed to keep his wits about him. Every kilometer closer to the Valley of the Dead was going to be a kilometer closer to success, and each increased the chances of running into some trick by his opponent aimed to steal the win out from under him.
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Rhuadhán's endurance training with the Mongolian tribe was put to the test as he hiked up the western side of the mountain. The storm slowly but steady increased its fury. Sky blackened entirely over with the clouds, stinging sleet whipped about from different angles. By the time he reached Tarboche and its 27 meter tall flagpole, visibility dropped to the point where, despite the spell to not need light to see around himself, he could only make out about three meters in front of him through the precipitation. His pace slowed to a swift walk for his own safety and to make sure he didn't lose the trail.
He passed by Chuku Monastery without even realizing it, unable to spot the small complex clinging to the cliff side and blending in with its rock wall made of the same stones of the mountain. He realized he had gone another two kilometers when he reached Sarshung village and could just barely make out a light in a building off to one side. He was far closer to said building, and the others of the village, than he wanted to be. Given the storm raging, however, he decided to alter his original plan of skirting the tiny village like he had Darchen and stick to the path he was on to bee-line for the bridge. The last thing he needed was to get himself turned about in the storm and lose time trying to find his way back on track. He was going to have enough of those concerns he couldn't so easily avoid if the storm followed him up to the northwestern corner of Dolma-La Pass and towards Drölma summit, as there were periodic side trails through slopes leading away from the pass that a hiker could get lost on if they weren't paying attention to where they were going.
Deciding on that new plan, Rhuadhan's magic shifted around him, altering the flow of Time for himself. The Master of Kangri Rinpoche was already aware of his presence and trying to contrive ways to slow him down; if spirits were going to show, they were going to show whether or not he used magic because their master would point them in his direction. He didn't need the potential problems with humans; while most people were abed, and visibility was next to nothing, staying on the path would mean going straight past whoever was stationed at the bridge.
The Master of Time made his way across the short length of Sarshung's only proper road at what would, to an outside party, seem like a running speed so impossibly fast that he was little more than a fleeting blur of movement. His speed of movement from his perspective was that he was at his comfortable jogging speed; it was only that Time was bending to carry him along a faster stream of reckoning itself than the pace the world around him was currently drifting along at. He could move and observe and react to what he saw around him as usual, but the things around him didn't have the same capability to interact with him. The icy sleet around him, for example, suddenly stopped actively pelting him; the droplets that existed in the path he was moving through were caught in the flux of Time differences, taking on a static quality of how they had been formed when coming into contact with his magic, and his movements past simply brushed them aside as whole droplets. Which had the lovely little side benefit of giving his chilled body a temporary reprieve from the soaking. Small or fleeting sounds from things that weren't caused by him got swallowed up if they didn't exist where he was moving to as they couldn't keep pace with him. Louder and persistent sounds that reverberated enough to continue to where he was moving to, like the unceasing wind and cacophony of the sleet coming down, became dulled and distorted, taking on a hollow echo as it filtered through the Time flux.
He kept his attention on the trail ahead to guide where he was going and not collide with things more substantial than precipitation that he'd not be able to brush past. Things might not be able to interact with him properly, but they didn't lose their mass, nor did he, and running face first into a building or tripping and hitting the ground would hurt the same as it normally would. He'd be past the bridge and checkpoint before the PSB officials could even notice him approaching; and even if they were looking exactly where he passed to see the moment between seconds where he passed the point, he'd be well out of sight before they could even do a double take to confirm they saw something. Their brain would come to some rational explanation like tired eyes playing a trick of movement with a shadow, or perhaps a fleeting peripheral glimpse of one of the rumored ghosts of the mountain.
And because he was who he was and knew his craft so well, Rhuadhán's altered plan worked exactly as expected. Neither guard in their station at the bridge even had a chance to look his way as he approached; and he was up, over and off the other side of the bridge before either of them could finish a blink. He kept up the Time magic until he had gone about a quarter of a kilometer past the bridge, up the path that curved towards the next ridge that would lead out towards Lha-Chu Valley, and was safely assured of being out of sight of the authorities by any possible means of viewing, slim as that risk was for them to be able to spot him in this weather.
Time settled back to its normal flow around him, and he gave a shake of his head as sleet went back to bombarding him. Using his Time magic to travel less than half a kilometer total wasn't terribly taxing, from his perspective it was only three minutes or so of magic channeling, but he could feel a tremor of magic fatigue creeping in from having done so. Pleasurable as things like getting Tantric could be, bodies were such pains in the arses to deal with at times.
The young Champion shook his head again, this time in response to the thought, and started hiking up towards the Lha-Chu pass. If things went right, such complaints would soon be nothing more than a memory. Once his powers were properly restored, he'd be claiming everything owed to him. He just needed to deal with the inferior parts of his existence a bit longer.
Leaning some of his weight on the staff to help him pick his way along the pebbly path, feeling pressure on blisters beginning to form with each step taken, Rhuadhán went back to concentrating on the mantra to help zone out such discomforts. He needed to get into a reasonably Zen state, because the difficulty of his trek was going to be steadily increasing from here on out.
The upcoming valley was apparently the polar opposite of its cousin Aksobahya on the eastern side, as different as the Dark God was from the God of Light. Where Aksobahya was somewhat sheltered and its many rivers and side streams provided some measure of lush undergrowth, Lha-Chu was a moraine of grey, prehistoric sedimentary rock that was left over from when the mountains had first been pushed up out of the ocean by the plates colliding. It had the river and some small tributaries running through it, but the way the winds and glaciers combined conditions on the west side of the mountain, no soil had been able to form and it remained a near desolate landscape of stone. He wasn't going to be able to see much of it when he got there, but, from what Lemuel had told him, he wasn't going to be missing out on anything interesting and he needed to concentrate on watching his footing on the uneven ground so he didn't twist an ankle or cut his feet up to ridiculous amounts on the edges of rock shelfs and gravel. That was going to be fun in this storm…
The young Champion grunted at the thought in annoyance, he needed to concentrate on his mantra and just deal with each obstacle as they came. He was still making decent time and staying well ahead of schedule, though with the sky blocked he didn't have an easy way to gauge just how well his progress was going and he had more important things to keep his mind focused on. He had been trouncing this stupid torture hike. He'd continue to do so, no matter what the terrain or the weather or whatever else he had to put up with for this last leg of his trek.
Despite the tempest being strong enough to give Rhuadhán's fleshy self full body shivers, he vaguely noticed the staff beneath his hand was remaining warm from its innate magic.
The Champion continued his mantra, steeling his resolve to be like the artifact; unyielding and unaffected by the storm raging and stony terrain beneath it, burning with an inner fire of magic that all the sleet in the sky couldn't snuff out, within a vessel that all the rocks in the world couldn't splinter.
Concentrated as he was on that mantra and complimentary visual and keeping to the path beneath his feet, Rhuadhán didn't notice when the magic inside him innately started shifting to accommodate his will. It slipped its way through his veins, spreading out into his body with a sensation lighter than the displacement of air from a butterfly's flapping, lending him just enough warmth at his core to keep potential hypothermia at bay and his stamina from flagging.
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Rhuadhán slogged through the next four kilometers of growing slushy muck, steadily pushing his way up the rocky moraine of Lha-Chu Valley. In some spots the footing was slippery, especially where there was gravel built up between rock shelfs or directly on the main pathway people walked and had been worn down smooth. He figured out within the first half a kilometer of catching himself from doing slip-and-slides that it was better for his progress in this weather to go off to the side a bit and walk up the middle of rock shelves as he could. Unlike a lot of the slicker rocks like varieties of shale that he was used to dealing with, this grey-brown rock beneath his feet was a bit more porous and nubby. While aggravating to the aching soles of his feet, it at least provided traction in the sleet. He'd take some extra blisters to not break an ankle or take a tumble down the way he had come.
He had just hefted himself up a few feet onto a new rock shelf and starting across it when something prickled at his attention. Something that wasn't the stinging winds of the storm trying to impede his progress or the coarse rock beneath his feet.
It was a feeling in the back of his mind; one that had no discernable cause, but sent the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. An instinct that, with his connection to the force of Time and its flows, he knew to trust when it rang an alarm.
The young Champion's primal instinct was picking up that he was being stalked by something decidedly dangerous.
Rhuadhán's gaze darted quickly to the sides and ahead to see if he was walking into danger, but he couldn't make out anything moving somewhere within the storm. He turned around back to check that obviously vulnerable direction something might try to catch him from, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the sleet and squinting down and out into the storm.
And he saw that there was indeed something out there. Something was trailing him in the storm, blending with it. It was too solid looking to be a spirit; movements across the rock shelf below nimble like a ghost's might be, but sleet impacting against it instead of going through. Any sound of its passage was being masked by the howls of the wind and concussive patter of sleet against valley floor.
And then Rhuadhán got a better glimpse of it as the winds shifted a fraction; saw a flash of yellow-green eyes and the six meter-long line of its back with pale grey stripes lacing down its side.
A white tiger; something decidedly abnormal for these parts, and at least twice the size any tiger had any right to be. A massive white tiger that was closing in at eight meters out, and would have probably finished closing the distance and made a lunge when he reached the next rock shelf and was occupied with lifting himself up on it.
This Godzilla of tigers, seeing that it had been noticed, left off its stalking to dash at its prey. And those movements were far too swift for a beast of its size, even with being an apex predator like a tiger.
Rhuadhán knew he didn't have time to try casting the spell to speak with an animal and reason with it, nor was he the least confident that it would listen even if he could because it was undoubtedly a servant of the Master of Kangri Rinpoche. Pure instinct caused him to shift his magic and call on the force of Time to save his arse from getting pounced and mauled.
As the tiger made the leap at him, the Champion was making a break for it to one side and twisting around to keep it in sight.
And as the tiger was completing its arc to land in the now empty spot Rhuadhán had just been occupying, gargantuan fluffy paws slipping a bit to gain purchase on the rock shelf, he saw that the tiger wasn't alone, though they were usually solitary hunters.
"Are you kidding?! That's not Queensberry Rules, you smarmy prick!"
Visibility as poor as it was, he hadn't been able to initially make out two more tigers, of about the normal three meters in length, that had been stalking in from opposite angles ahead of him. Probably maneuvering for the big one at the rear to have a lunge for his back, and then they would have rushed in to help finish him off.
The Champion wasn't allowed to kill anyone, nothing with a soul and was capable of understanding that rule could; but the Master of Kangri Rinpoche was apparently bent on going full Monty on the loophole that animals could act out natural law and he'd have to find non-violent means to deal with it.
Rhuadhán looked around for signs of more tigers, between quick glances behind himself to guide his way as he jogged backwards, to put some distance between himself and the three he knew of. He couldn't see any stragglers.
That was hardly reassuring because those three tigers, they weren't able to quite keep pace with him stepping through time as he was, but they were moving with a terrifying level of supernatural swiftness. Even as he was stepping through seconds and gaining a margin of distance from them, they seemed to have little trouble tracking and reacting to his movements. The Champion could tell they weren't under Time magic as he was, but they were indisputably modified with some form of alteration magic to increase their speed and mental processes to have a proper chance of hunting him. He had never seen anything quite like this before; at least, not in this life or his few scattered memories of the most recent one previous. He had no idea if he had encountered something like this in a more distant incarnation, or if this was an entirely new trick that had been worked out.
Whatever was done to the tigers, he was not the least accustomed to things being able to hunt him while he was in Time. And they definitely wanted to hunt him down. The big one stayed in the middle, waiting for a chance to lunge straight at him, and the two smaller ones fanned out to either route him or attack from the sides.
"You absolute minging potato!" Rhuadhán cursed as he scanned the terrain to form a plan so he wouldn't get boxed in and kept moving to keep distance between him and the beasts stalking him. "I know you wouldn't be siccing bloody tigers enchanted in such ways on a monk trying to make this trek! If you think this will wring an apology out of me and send me to my knees begging for mercy, you're going to be sorely disappointed!"
The tigers fell into a formation with about five meters between them, the one on the right dropping down over the side to the rock shelf below the one the rest of them were on. There wasn't enough space for him to try dashing between them without getting attacked from one or both. They clearly wanted to herd him to the side of the narrow valley; and given that he was about to reach the river, which was blessedly low because of the time of year, he was probably about halfway across the valley. Once he hit the slope, he'd have nowhere to go. At least not without turning his back on them to try clambering up the side. He could pull off some impressive feats of reflexes and dexterity with his training being what it was, especially when he was bending Time around himself, but he was certain the powerful beasts would pounce him before he could get far.
That left the other option of angling around to dash down the path away from his intended destination before the tiger on the right could cut off the option. But that meant retreating, rapidly losing the distance he had made up the valley; distance that he'd have to backtrack up at mundane speeds after figuring out how to deal with the animals. And he still wasn't sure how to deal with three bloody tigers stalking him in concert...
Rhuadhán had to turn his back on the tigers long enough to take a running leap as far as he could across the river, catch his balance, and trudge the last few feet across. When he turned back around, the tigers had gained two meters back on him.
Even if he was willing to try the spell to talk to animals to try calling off the big one and hope the smaller would follow its lead, or try some other purely defensive spell like trying to put them to sleep, he couldn't pull off casting spells while bending Time. If he tried to drop his Time magic to cast something, those beasts would tear him to shreds before he could get a proper spell out. He couldn't pick up the pace to make a proper run for a distance to get more space between them to allow for spellcasting, not on the slippery rock face; he was barely maintaining this pace without tripping up. His talismans on his belt, even if he pulled one out from under his namjar, were useless against animals, they were meant for spirits.
The tigers leapt clear across the river when they reached it. 'Bloody felines made it look easy too. Shite.'
So what options were open? Making a break for it down the slope, trying to avoid slippery sections of rock and not get too much forward momentum or he'd risk breaking his damn neck, with only the goal of putting distance between him and the tigers? Didn't seem like a good idea at all. He had no idea how long they might chase him. If they would stop at a certain point and simply wait for him to try coming back up, if they were limited to prowl the Lha-Chu Valley itself; or if the magical beasts had supernatural stamina to go with the speed and permission to chase him as far as they wanted down the mountain. He did know he couldn't outrun them indefinitely. He'd burn through his magic, and then be left in an exhausted physical state, unable to defend himself or try climbing the rest of the way.
He could tolerate not moving forward briefly, having to take lateral movements to survive, but he was not losing ground he had gained through this miserable storm and risking not making it to the summit in time if more upsets arose; or being chased down the whole damn mountain until he collapsed and was eaten alive.
So how to deal with these blighters without getting himself disqualified? How to do so in an expedient manner so he wasn't too worn out to continue?
Rhuadhán was almost out of flat ground behind him, the slope looming ahead through the storm. And even if he had put a solid fifteen meters or so between him and the tigers, they were still stalking after him with single-minded focus to route or attack him.
Sapphire gaze darted around again, but he couldn't see any way to disengage from this situation that wouldn't screw him out of his win, and possibly get him served up as tiger chow in the process.
"For a guy who is supposed to be on the fluffy-love and peace side of things, you certainly love putting people in nearly impossible to escape life or death situations!" the young Champion said through gritted teeth. He really didn't like being cornered and under restraint to not defend himself properly.
'You know what? Fuck these cats,' Rhuadhán thought in a pique as he came to a split second decision.
He came to a stop with only a few meters of space left behind him, shifted his stance, and then dashed as fast as he could, heading straight for the smaller tiger to his left. That abrupt change in tactics surprised the animals, causing them to skid across the slush covered rock to bring their swift movements to a halt and try gauging what he was planning. Before they could recover or make a charge for him, staff went out and slammed into one of the notches in the rock like a pole. He shoved off with every bit of strength he had, propelling himself to go up over the left flank tiger.
The tiger realized just what was happening as his running leap brought him arcing overhead, and twisted its body up to try swatting him out of the air with one of its large snowy paws.
Rhuadhán understood feline behavior well enough that he fully expected it to make that attempt and, as he saw the beast's muscles contracting to make its move, he twisted and tucked his legs up to try avoiding the strike.
Massive paw swept in as he was just passing the mid-point of his arc. Faintly yellow claws raked across the side of his shemdap, but only managed to tear pleated fabric.
The Champion tucked in further to protect himself as he came down from the arc, landing on the rock shelf a few meters behind the tiger in a roll. 'That's going to leave some nasty bruises,' he thought with a groan of pain as he untucked and shoved up to his feet, and saw the tiger he leaped over was turning around where it stood and the other two were making a charge for him.
"You are not the sort of pussies I want to be playing with tonight! Just bugger off already!" Rhuadhán was back to jogging, turning himself around to see where he was going and relying on glances over his shoulder to gauge where tigers were maneuvering. Much as he didn't want his back to them, it was easier staying out of reach of pouncing distance this way, zig-zagging back across to the other side of the valley as he tried to figure out how to permanently shake off the tigers.
When he got a good lead on them again and was almost out of space, he angled towards the next rock shelf and hauled himself up as swiftly as he could. Then he was trekking across the valley again to get some distance between him and the tigers, who weren't quite as quick up rock shelves as they were across the river. Whatever speed magic was being done to them, they had some minor issues with redirecting their increased momentum and making smooth turnabouts. Zig-zags and turns were definitely his allies to keep distance from them.
Even if he had maneuvered the chase in the direction he wanted, he was still facing the same problems considered for retreat of eventually exhausting himself of magic and physical stamina, especially trying for an uphill trek. He had twelve kilometers to go before reaching Shiva-Tsal. He had never pushed just how long he could maintain running with Time bent around him, but he knew he got pretty damn zonked after eight or nine kilometers. He highly doubted he could maintain this game of cat and mouse all the way to Shiva-Tsal, especially because that distance would be made even longer with having to make lateral zig-zags as he was, even with the motivation to not be tiger food to push himself as long as he could. And he had been briefed enough on the terrain he'd be going over to know that in a few kilometers, as Lha-Chu Valley became the western corner of Dolma-La pass, the trail was going to narrow even further, in some places there was only room for a few people to stand shoulder to shoulder. He'd have no dodging room if his magic gave out.
If he stayed ahead long enough that they chased him past Dirapuk Monestary and into the Valley of the Dead, he'd be potentially trying to dodge tigers and spirits. And if he somehow survived the both and didn't drop somewhere in the Valley of the Dead, and they chased him all the way up to Shiva-Tsal, he'd be tiger food if he tried to stop to undertake what needed to be done there. His only option at that point would be hoping he could make it two more kilometers to Magie, where the tigers could be dealt with in non-lethal fashion, but then he'd be forfeiting his chance to go up to the mountain summit because he had crossed beyond Drölma Rock without the last thing he needed.
He was not running to Magie and the wolves for help like a little bitch. He sure as hell wasn't sending up a magical flare for getting pulled out of this and losing by default. He was going to get himself out of this dog's dinner of a situation, and in a way that still left him with enough magic and stamina to slog through whatever else came at him.
The big question was: How?! ...This really wasn't looking promising for options. But there had to be something he could do that wasn't going to cause a loss. He just had to figure it out.
Decent lead gained again, the next rock shelf wasn't so high and he jumped up onto it. Oh, this was a right mess. Bugger these tigers. Bugger that old prick. Bugger all this.
The young Champion spared a second to look up at the storm covered sky in exasperation. He sent out his sarcastic thoughts in a prayer as his gaze went back forward, to the patron whose season of reign it was. 'Hey, Dark God? You there? It's me, Majikahla. Um... You seeing this shite down here?!' He glanced over his shoulders to check where the tigers were, and angled himself a little further north to keep one from being able to circle around on him and cut off his next jump up a rock shelf. 'I don't usually ask you Three for anything because you've already given me access to the big boy magic, but I think this qualifies as extenuating circumstances. If it's not going to get my arse disqualified for it, maybe send a Priest a bit of inspiration on how the bloody hell to get himself out of this clanger with what magic he has prepped?' Another glance over his shoulders, and it looked like he was good for the moment. 'I'll do all the work, I'm not asking for a rescue, but unless you've decided you want a different son in law, perhaps give a bloke a tiny clue on how not to end up as tiger chow?!'
Rhuadhán lifted himself up onto the rock shelf, and the tigers made tighter turns this time, moving in a close V formation with the big one in front, not taking quite as long to follow after. 'Shite, they're learning what I'm doing.' This kept up, they'd be moving to make the leap ahead to keep him from heading across, or otherwise fuck with his progress somehow.
And, unfortunately for him, the Dark God didn't give him so much as the faintest nudge of inspiration. Like he had been the last moon cycle, it was radio silence. Maybe it would get him disqualified to even get a hint from his patrons? Whether that was the reason or not, he really was completely on his own for this.
This was such a load of shite. Seriously, fuck these tigers. He was out here, dodging about on the rocks like a cockroach at a tap dancing party. That old prick was probably having a grand laugh at his expense right now, just waiting for him to slip up. And he could feel magic fatigue creeping in from holding the Time magic like he was. He really couldn't afford to keep this up. He needed to be saving his magic for the ascent to the summit.
And fuck this storm! The sleet might not be able to affect him as much when he was in Time, but it was still pea-soup visibility out here. He couldn't see more than a few meters ahead at a time, leaving him unable to try planning more than evasions.
Rhuadhan made another leap across the river as far as he could, stumbling a bit on the uneven bottom and so very grateful for the staff to catch himself with, and then slogging to the other side.
And fuck the bloody river as well! Crossing it repeatedly was making him even colder than he already was! And the landings were killing his feet! He was pretty sure at least a few blisters had ruptured from the sharply more sensitive areas on the soles of his feet. He had been hoping to at least make it onto Dolma-La before that happened.
There was nothing helpful in this forsaken valley to deal with the tigers! He couldn't even use the river to his advantage. Those damn tigers leapt straight over it. And even if they didn't, even if he could get them in the water, he had no ice spells prepared to maybe try freezing their furry paws in it and leaving them stuck in the ice. He hadn't expected something like this to happen, and he was in the middle of a half frozen environment to begin with, so he had skipped over the ice and other elemental spells to avoid potentially killing something, in favor of spells that seemed more likely to be needed. And even if he had prepped an ice spell, he would get pounced and mauled by at least one of them before he could fire it off because he'd have to drop the Time magic and stop to cast it, and wait until the tigers were closing in because his magic could only reach just so far out from himself right now, and he probably wouldn't get them all with one spell.
The Champion gave the tigers less notice about heading up a rock shelf this time, not waiting quite so far into his trek back and making a sharp turn for it instead of angling for it. They went skidding to try turning in time to follow him. There was another ledge a bare meter and a half away, and a glance over his shoulder told him he had just enough time to climb that one too. Then he was again dashing off to avoid the very determined overgrown kitties who wanted to make him their snack.
Where was a proper cliff when you needed one?! At least then he might be able to pull a Looney Tunes of leading them over and do a last second slide to one side, get at least one or two of them off his back that way. He was pretty sure that wouldn't break the rules, as that was their shite reflexes' fault. He'd have to dash all the way down the valley and back towards the pass to Sarshung to get to the closest cliff he knew of. A four kilometer hike backwards, which he'd then have to make up, wasn't worth only losing one or two of the tigers.
'Oh... I'm going to eventually find a way to pay that rat bastard back for being such a sore sport...' Rhuadhán thought vindictively. 'A few verbal jabs while I'm otherwise following his bloody rules for this asinine test doesn't warrant sending three Sonic the White Tigers after me. I don't know how yet, but barring the Queen of Evil imploding all of creation, I've got all the Time in the universe to think up something and find the most appropriate moment to spring it. This is sooooo not over with after tonight.'
The next time the young Champion lifted himself up onto a rock shelf, the Godzilla tiger made an even tighter turn than before and, as he feared might eventually happen, it leaped up on the rock shelf ahead of where he was planning to dash down. The other two tigers stayed below, coming up on his rear side in hopes of catching him if he tried backtracking. He had already calculated out that if this happened, and he tried to go up, whichever tiger was on level with him would just shadow him and encroach closer, pushing him further towards the edge of the valley until he was out of room and it or the others could nab him. And he didn't have enough room to try making a running leap over Godzilla tiger, nor did he think he could get near high enough to avoid its monster claws.
So Rhuadhán did the only thing he could, much as it galled him to do.
He turned himself around, slammed the staff against the ground, and launched himself over the two smaller tigers as hard as he could, hoping to land a couple rock shelfs down from them and be back on his feet before they could give chase.
The tigers weren't expecting that after spending so much time chasing him up the valley. The one nearest tried to twist itself to leap and swipe him out of the air, and it looked like it just might get him this time.
Rhuadhán was saved from finding out what it was like to get his side rended open by tiger claws because the other tiger couldn't quite turn off in time from his charge and slammed into the first's hind legs. The first was knocked off balance and they tumbled over together, with the first snarls he had heard from them being exchanged at one another for the collision. The noise was distorted by his Time magic, but he caught the reverberations of it starting as he sailed over and past them.
The Champion didnt have time to thank his lucky stars for the save, because he was arcing down already and had to tuck up protectively for landing. And this one was a much harder landing to try absorbing because it wasn't a lateral jump and gravity was a right bitch like that.
Rhuadhán couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped him as he impacted with unforgiving rock. He kept his head, neck and legs safe, but the left side of his back impacted first and he felt a sharp pain lance out. He didn't even have time to register he had a cracked rib or two, nor that he lost hold of the staff, as more pain followed from the road rash of skidding against rock with little to no protection for his skin. He couldn't pull out of the tumble in time to stop himself from going over the edge of the rock shelf he had landed on, and he hit the one below with another, albeit not nearly as severe, jarring thud. He skidded a few more inches and then finally came to a halt.
Rhuadhán groaned in pain, then was gasping as he struggled to lift himself up. It didn't feel like the cracked rib or ribs, which he was now acutely aware of, had fully broken and pierced any vital organs, but there was more than enough pain to feel from it and elsewhere and it was making it hard to catch his breath. The outer side of his left arm and leg were bloodied and had bits of ice and gravelly pebbles embedded, and he had scraped up part of his right forearm and leg as well.
And as he was trying to regain his feet, multiple realizations outside the catalog of pain struck him in quick succession.
He didn't have the staff to help pull himself up off the ground.
He could properly feel sleet hitting him, stinging at his injuries and swiftly spreading their chill.
The sound of the storm was back to being the ungodly racket it had been.
He had lost his hold on Time.
He was moving at the normal flow of Time.
The Champion felt a stab of fear then, and he grabbed the edge of the nearby rock shelf just above his head with his right hand to help pull himself on his knees so he could try to see over and locate the tigers and gauge how long he had until they caught up to him. Words to his sleep spell came to mind.
And as he was pulling himself up, half afraid they'd already have caught up and he'd come face to face with one of the beasts and have his face bitten off for the effort, he heard tiger snarls. Very close by. There was movement ahead, he could just make out one tiger through the sleet coming down.
Then Rhuadhán realized the tiger wasn't approaching him.
And there wasn't just tiger snarls echoing and distorting on the winds.
There were much quieter, but just as menacing, growls coming from ahead, and the tiger's attention was on the source with its back to him.
There was more movement ahead as sounds of animals fighting became louder.
Before the young Champion could register what was going on, streaks of black and white and reddish-brown were coming his way. And he felt a familiar energy emanating from them.
"Holy Mother of All Wolves," Rhuadhán murmured, and this time the exclamation wasn't one of sarcasm. Six large wolves were dashing towards him, forms seeming less than fully corporeal and shimmering faintly with unearthly light; and their postures were not the least threatening as they made to surround him. He could hear an unknown number of other wolves sent by The Mother engaging the tigers to chase them off and, from the sounds of things, those wolves were more than corporeal enough to do damage.
As the first wolf made it to the Champion, one of the red hued ones, and gave a worried lick at his face, he gave a wheeze of a stunned laugh. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought this had been stacking the deck too far against him.
Another wolf approached and it immediately set about licking at his left arm. "Oy, I know you mean well, but..." As he flinched away, he saw that the spot the wolf licked was devoid of debris and the skin was starting to heal over. "Oh, well then, never mind. Carry on."
Rhuadhán sagged against the rock shelf he was leaning against, and right hand weakly patted the front leg of the wolf by his head, who was radiating out a sense of safety and still nuzzling at him. As the other five wolves set about giving his injuries what was apparently to be a healing tongue bath, he said with a grateful look up at the sky, not caring about the sleet pelting him in the face to do so, "I'm not sure where you had to pull these wonderful woofers up from, but thank you for the timely interference play!" Chafing as an arranged pairing might be at times, at least it came with the side benefit of divine future in laws who appreciated his efforts and wanted this incarnation's arse to stay whole. All things considered, his patrons really were the best out of the divine lot.
Rhuadhán let his head rest against the edge of the rock shelf, eyes closing as he relaxed further because the sounds of animals fighting were moving further away and he heard pained noises coming with increasing frequency from the tigers. His own pain was bit by bit fading and he breathed a sigh of weary relief.
He said with strained humor returning, giving the wolf at his head another pat on the leg as he felt it settle next to him protectively, "Those cats should've remembered if you threaten a wolf, you get the whole pack calling a hunt on your arse. You lot are all on my Yule present list this year, you best woofers ever. I'll personally hunt you down a few antelope and have them out as offering for you, so you better come by and not let it go to waste." He gave another shaky laugh. "Oh, bloody hell, mate. Let me tell you, even when you know death's not a permanent end for you and the pain is ultimately a passing thing, the potential of being rended in a flurry of teeth and claws attached to a thousand kilo Godzilla tiger is going to get the ticker pumping. That was hair raising to try keeping ahead of."
The Champion gave another shaky laugh, and then it was cut short by a thought and sapphire eyes flew open. "Wait, are you woofers allowed to be here? Or am I disqualified for your presence that wasn't by personally summoning or conjuring you and getting the first aid treatment?! I want the record to show I only requested inspiration, I did not ask for the rescue!"
The red wolf head butted the obstinate mage-druidic priest with a small wolfy huff and then gave an unconcerned lick to his cheek.
.
.
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A/N: Deku, with as much as you seem to dislike Rhuadhán, I hope you'll enjoy the mental images of him scurrying about to avoid being tiger chow.
Also, to readers in general, and forestalling the question- Yes, I am having it that Raistlin's later incarnations cross-classed to pick up druid ranks. Once he took Mage/Wizard as far as possible and some prestige classes, he started delving into other forms of magic that those incarnations could tolerate to become the "Master of Magic"- ie, having no school of magic considered off limits. Canon Raistlin always had an affinity for nature/gardening and sympathy for animals, and wanted access to clerical type magics that wizards were denied, so druid (especially as it's the Gods of Magic's form of clerics in this series) was something he was willing to learn for access to magics that would help round out what he had already mastered. He's had a few lifetimes learning druid magic and then fusing elements of that for a prestige class I've developed for him based on a similar 3.5 model. Rhuadhán does not have access to all the collective magic in it's full spectrum because he's a 22year old guy whose body and mind aren't conditioned to handle channeling high level spells and hasn't unlocked his soul's knowledge of such magics yet. He is currently a nerfed form of his collective self from reincarnating and stuff past lives have done that have caused trouble for his soul.