The Klenagin
The town was filled with the emptiness and destruction of war. Each street littered with rubble and filth, covered in mud and stinking of shit. The remnants of everything once held in order; all either broken away and scattered in the mud, or absent altogether.
Redmond's destination came into view; the tavern where he was to meet an unknown person. Coming from out the bar was the sound of chattering, off key singing, and the only thing resembling proper life despite its short term nature; heard throughout the western district of town, occasionally interrupted by a hoarse cough and the persistent sound of light rain pattering on the mud.
"Out with you's, run along now!" shouted a Stormhield soldier at group of children on the street, torch in hand.
The evening air, as it most commonly is in northeast Treane, was heavy and humid. This only worsened the foul stench of the shit and the muck, and the illness, and the death. What Redmond could not see or hear in the town of Sheral, he most definitely could smell.
The scent of war is an often overlooked thing, Redmond thought, for it can't be drawn in the pages of a scholar's book, and is seldom considered amongst the chaos – only after, when the bodies have turned rotten and the woman have starved and settled on the steps of their doors, beneath their roofless homes where their children lay inside fevered with plague. Only after the armies have marched on to fight their next battle, leaving only the sight of war behind the hills and mountainsides. Only after the thunderous roar of battle, echoing across the Realms of Man to be heard by those lucky enough to have done just that; heard, and not seen. Redmond had never smelt war, not until now.
Redmond entered the tavern, and suddenly the foulness of the city was gone, and replaced by the scent of booze and tobacco, carried by a heavy layer of smoke in the air. He walked through the lively bar, subtly dodging an unaware drunkard, and lightly stepping over broken glass with his boots, the sharp crunch dampened by the loudness of the bar. Redmond picked up on brief snippets of conversations as he made his way to the opposite end. All of these conversations, with the exception of a few mundane and unclear as to what was being spoken, were regarding the war.
Redmond came to a stop, "Are you Orwell?" he asked an older bearded man, sitting at the far end of the bar dressed in commoner clothing.
"Yes!" replied the man, "Yes I am. You are here for the…"
"Dragon," interrupted Redmond, as he pulled the chair from out the table and took a seat facing Orwell.
"Yes, very good! Well this dragon has been…"
"Not a dragon," interrupted Redmond again, equally unapologetically.
"I've seen it! Great big winged lizard, fly's over the town in the afternoon, swoops up my livestock, then fucks off back to whatever damned nest he came from! He's stolen half my bloody sheep, a cow, and a handful of goats. Not to mention he's stomped upon a quarter of my crops! Bastard even killed my nephew Peter!" exclaimed Orwell, smacking his fist against the table and knocking off his tankard of ale onto the bar floor, "Shit. Another ale! And one for the gentleman here as well!" he called.
Redmond slightly shifted in his chair, then drew himself closer towards the table, resting his arms upon it.
"Bloody dragon if I ever saw one – and I have!"
"I assure you haven't. If a dragon were to enter populated territory, it would not be with the intent of stealing livestock and flattening crops. From your description, its likely a klenagin."
"What in the Gods is a klenagin?"
"A species of draconid, similar in appearance to a dragon but smaller, and…."
The waitress approached the table and slammed down two fresh tankards of ale, splashing and soaking into the creases of the wood, running along the grooves and dripping onto the floor.
"Thank you, love!" said Orwell.
"As I was saying," continued Redmond, having to speak up against the drunken chatter of the bar, "We are not dealing with a dragon. A klenagin is what I'd wager on, and that I can deal with – for a price, of course."
"Call it what you'd like, just so long as you kill the fucking thing, and don't drive me to bankruptcy. Id deal with the beast myself if I was still a young lad, but I'm too old to go off on some bloody monster hunt," the man took a drink from his tankard, ale soaking into his unkempt beard, "The Wars turned this place to shit, though you could argue shit can't be turned to shit. I made what little I did selling off my crops – now that the damned Scjholhiem have taken over the place they've confiscated a quarter my land and food, part of 'King Durvann's Orders' they say, as they pluck the wheat from out my fields."
Suddenly the same drunkard that nearly crashed into Redmond stood up from his chair, lifted his tankard above his head and shouted, "Damn the Schjolhiem whoresons to The Black!" everyone in the bar raised their tankards and shouted the same.
Orwell lifted his tankard, took another drink, then placed it back on the table, "The last thing we need to compliment this anarchy is a monster running off with the little food we've left. I can offer you one hundred in silver, nothing more."
"That'll do." A brief silence passed, and Redmond was driven to offer his condolences in a rather uncharacteristic fashion of himself, "That's unfortunate. What happened to your nephew."
Orwell let out a great sigh, "Ahh, not really. The stupid bastard had it coming. After my brother died in the war, may he restlessly wander the void for all eternity, I was pressured into taking his son in by my wife. After my wife died of plague, I've suddenly got myself this worthless, disrespectful spoilt teenager to care for. So I told him, 'there's a dragon about, stay inside while I'm at the brothel, less you aim to wind up eaten', but the senseless moron ran off and got himself eaten alive, despite my warning him. Not even a body to bury, eaten whole I presume. In that sense I've got something of a thanks to give this dragon – or klenagin, whatever you bloody call it."
Redmond, finding himself somewhat without words, simply gripped his tankard and took a drink. The ale was admittedly better than he thought, though by no means was it good.
"I suppose, though, you'd be more interested in the details and whereabouts of this creature, opposed to my ramblings. Well, the fucker always fly's in from the south, so I reckon he's out in that general direction, at the very least."
"Likely not. Klenagins circle the towns they steal from, flying in from the opposite direction to avoid being tracked down. If he fly's in from the south, he's nested in the north."
Orwell grinned and let out a chuckle, "Cheeky bastard it is! This is why you hire the professionals; if I hadn't of known that I'd have some poor fool headed off to the border of Relden!"
Redmond drank from his tankard again, "Klenagins are intelligent, but not intelligent enough to avoid developing predictable patterns. I'm certain its nested up in the mountains north of here." Said Redmond, in an almost mechanical fashion. This is hardly the first klenagin he's hunted. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the klenagin?"
"No sir!" exclaimed Orwell, extending out his hand as a gesture of business conducted, then handing Redmond a sack of silver coins, "You'll get the other half upon killing the beast."
Redmond shook his hand, nodded, then stuffed the coin purse in his satchel.
Redmond exited the tavern, and was greeted with the foul stench of the town once again. The outside air felt good in his lungs compared to the smoke filled bar. Redmond's hatred for this place became even more evident to himself as he took comfort in this breath of air, that only a half hour prior he had found nearly intolerable to breathe.
He went on his way to the Sheralview Inn, where he would stay the night. He walked through the city making his way to the eastern side, avoiding filth on the streets to the best of his ability in the dark. The eastern district was in somewhat better condition; most of the buildings were still intact, and the streets were lightened by flickering torches.
He walked past a cracked wall with 'go home Stormhields' painted on it, next to a corpse dangling from a rope. He then entered a large circular intersection, with a broken-down statue of the Goddess Freidas laying in ruins at the intersections center, bits of rubble and stonework scattered across the muddy, paved street surrounded by the walls of abandoned homes.
"Hello there!" called a man from out an alleyway across the intersection, the upper half of his face concealed by a mask resembling a crow, and hands casually stuffed in his pockets, "I take it you're enjoying your stay in our beautiful city?"
Four more men, all armed and similarly masked stepped out of the dark surrounding Redmond.
"The eastern jewel of Treane," replied Redmond sarcastically, without the slightest semblance of fear in his voice.
The man laughed and stepped closer towards Redmond, fully revealing his somewhat scrawny figure, "Beautiful this time of night, isn't it? The stink of shit and death is complimented by the moonlight, bless her divinity, oh divine Freidas!" the man jumped up onto the broken statue, and sarcastically raised his hands in the air, "Hail thee, great goddess of moonlight! Bless her and her two little tits! Perfectly rounded, as is the silver moon itself!" the man jumped off the statue, kicked a chunk of rubble to the other end of the intersection, then assumed his previous stance as the goons howled with laughter.
"Surely you don't wish to preach me a sermon?" said Redmond, maintaining his cold neutrality.
"As a matter of fact I would. And your first offering to the church; that lovely little satchel you've strapped round your back, to begin with."
"Not gonna happen."
"Then I'll have to take your satchel and kill you as well, which is a much worse deal for you. I will of course suffer from the immense emotional trauma of having taken an innocent life, so it's no better for me that way either, you see."
"Or," said Redmond, having some fun with the verbal back and forth, "I keep my satchel and the fifty silver inside it, and your body's are added to the pile of needless corpses stacked outside the city walls, if anyone bothers to gather your remains from the street."
The man lightly gripped the hilt of his sword. The rest of the goons followed.
Redmond's hands remained at his side, and his gaze remained locked on the man's eyes.
The man, eyes tightly locked as well, stepped even closer to Redmond, and pulled his mask from off his face. He had a soft, clean shaven appearance, "I must say, you are held together rather tightly. You know, quite often if the ladies don't undress and kneel over at the snap of my fingers on command, they scream at the top of their lungs for help, awful sounding screech, like a bloody degan you'd swear," the man's face became exaggeratedly fearful, eyes wide open in mocking terror. He looked up to the sky, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Help! Oh help! I'm but a humble beggar! A virgin! A widow, a mother, a priestess!" the man's face quickly fell back into its normal position once the goons stopped laughing, "Though of course nobody comes. Everybody hears, but nobody comes."
Redmond clenched his fist, and narrowed his eyes still dead locked on the man.
"Those little elvish girls, though, those are the best - the ones that haven't yet been sent off for a hanging, that is. Easy to look at, easy to handle, and smooth to the touch like the southern sands of the Bosharian coast, under the azure summer sky," the man looked off as if he was day dreaming, "The best part is nobody cares what happens to them - not even themselves, I think."
Redmond tightly gripped his sword.
The man sighed, "I agree. That's enough of that I think," he drew his sword, and before he could fully unsheathe it Redmond drew his blade and slashed his throat in one swift movement. The man dropped his weapon, and wrapped his hands around his neck. The blood rapidly sprayed from the creases between his fingers and dripped down his chest, soaking his white tunic red.
Redmond immediately focused on the other four men, all running at him sword in hand. The first one clumsily swung his sword, catching his blade on Redmond's parry. Redmond threw a kick at his chest, knocking him back, then quickly spun around to catch another man's attack. He slid his sword up his opponent's blade, then cast it aside and slashed at his wrist, cutting his hand clean off. The man screamed in pain and fell to his knees as Redmond grabbed the third man, pushing him against the wall then slashing his stomach, ejecting blood and guts from out the wound.
The man Redmond had kicked down attempted the same clumsy strike, and so Redmond parried it again then slashed his blade across his chest. The final goon was the most skilled swordsmen, parrying two of Redmond's attacks before he foolishly raised his arms in the air for a powerful strike, allowing Redmond to side step the downwards slash and thrust his blade into the back of his opponent, penetrating directly into his lungs. Redmond twisted his sword still inside the man, causing him to bellow in pain then fall unconscious before Redmond yanked weapon from out his back.
He wiped the blood from his sword, then sheathed it back onto his belt. Five corpses laid scattered on the street, surrounding the dilapidated statue. The blood turned the mud into a dark crimson red, running through the cracks and grooves of the pavement, dripping down into the sewer below.
Redmond opened the door to his room at the Sheralview Inn, and was greeted with an unexpected but familiar face.
"Hello there," she said, without looking up from her book as she sat on a red cushioned chair, with intricate carvings along the wooden legs. The room was filled with scented candles, which Redmond immediately recognized as her own.
"You aren't here to mug me, are you?" said Redmond jokingly, then realizing his reference to the prior altercation in the streets would go unnoticed.
"Quite the contraire, actually. I'm here to make you aware of a business opportunity," she took her eyes away from the book, placed it aside and looked to Redmond.
"Let me guess," said Redmond as he walked across the room, taking a seat on the bed across from her, "A klenagin stealing livestock, nested in the mountains north of here?"
"I see you have already been made aware of the business opportunity. The question is, have you been paid?"
"Not fully."
"Ah, then my visit here is not wasted."
Sarah pulled out a small silver trinket, shaped like a rounded coin with ruins etched across it; likely elvish, Redmond thought. She twiddled it in her hand, passing it between each of her long elegant finger's with her thumb, slightly fumbling as it went by her ring finger before she immediately corrected herself.
She was dressed lavishly, as is the ordinary for her. Her hair rested upon her shoulders; dark black complimenting her attire perfectly, almost identical in shade to her tall leather boots, tightly wound halfway up her shin below her shapely but slender thighs. Redmond could tell she was exhausted. Her soft hazel eyes, though normally somewhat somber were even more relaxed than usual.
Sarah crossed her right leg over her left, then subtly pushed her chest out as she stretched her arms upwards into an arch, letting out a soft yawn.
"What's the meaning of your visit, other than informing me of a klenagin?" said Redmond realizing he has been staring for more than a moment.
"Am I not wanted?" she said, as she jokingly placed her hand on her chest as if to signify having taken offence, then placing the trinket away in her pocket.
"Of course not. All outlaws and sorceresses are welcome," said Redmond, returning the sarcasm.
"Good. I happen to be both at the moment, and unfortunately I may require your assistance in a study of mine."
"With what?"
"I require the blood of a klenigan."
"Strange request."
"Don't question my needs, Redmond. I don't question the oddities of your profession, do I?"
"Fair enough. Then again, I kill monstrosities. You practice the arcane arts, and meddle with the fabric of reality."
"Your point, Redmond?" she asked plainly, as she summoned a flickering flame at the tips of her fingers, and re lighted one of the candles which must have gone out since they had begun talking.
Redmond grinned. He knew any further attempt to make a point would result in him making a fool of himself, regardless of how right or wrong he was, "So, do you wish to join me on this monster hunt?"
"I do. Though we won't be a duo, as I'll be bringing along our good friend Harold."
Redmond let out a scoff, "looking for an opportunity to get him killed?"
Sarah laughed, which surprised him, "Not quite," she said, quickly forcing away her smile, "He personally requested to come along. Why, I haven't a clue. Besides, don't lie to me Redmond; I know despite your miserable attitude and pessimism you enjoy his company."
"Perhaps. He is…interesting, when he's not cheating me, or stealing from under my nose."
"He is indeed interesting, and he most certainly is untrustworthy."
"Why allow him to join, then?"
"If someone has proven to be untrustworthy, Redmond, then simply do not trust them – then they no longer possess that trait."
"You have an odd way of looking at people," he said in a negative tone, though in truth Redmond liked that quality about her. She's always been capable of viewing things in a way that seemed absurd while also making complete sense, in a bizarre way.
"I must view people in an odd way, if I continue to insist on surrounding myself with those who are fundamentally odd in nature."
Redmond smiled, looking away from her eyes for just a brief moment as she yawned again, stretching her back and shoulders then taking in a deep breath, expanding her diaphragm as her hands clenched together, and legs uncrossed.
"You're exhausted," stated Redmond, on the brink of yawning himself.
"Is it that terribly obvious?"
"Get some rest. You'll need it if you really planning on assisting me with this klenagin."
"I never said assist, Redmond, I merely said join. I figured you could do most of the monster hunting. But you're right – I am exhausted," Sarah lifted her legs, undid the buckle on her boots, then slid them off revealing her ornate lace stockings beneath. She got up from the chair and walked across the room to lay down on the bed, placing her slender legs over Redmond who remained seated at the end, as she rested her head upon the pillow, "I've traveled halfway across Treane, crossed the border of Joutunwell, and have spent the last three hours in this disgustingly abhorrent place," she let out a long sigh, "I am very much exhausted, Redmond."
"So am I," he said, placing his hands on her shin, running them along her legs.
"Do you mind removing them, Redmond? My stockings?"
He placed his fingers at the rim of the stocking, pulling it down as the soft, intricate material folded under itself. He rolled it down to her ankles, then pulled it over her gentle, feminine foot. He did the same with the other stocking, but slower. He then folded them, and placed them at the edge of the bed.
Sarah elegantly waved her hand, summoning a light gust of wind that blew out the candles, "Redmond," she said in the darkness, "Iwill be sleeping on the bed tonight."
The wagon shook as it hit the occasional rut in the road, riding along the dirt paths across the rolling green hills and fields of Treane, surrounded by distant forests and great mountains. They had waited until the afternoon to allow the ground to dry, and skies to clear. The sky was a mellow sapphire blue, devoid of clouds and filled with pleasantly warm sunlight. Redmond's back was still stiff from his sleep on the floor, (made no better by the bumps in the path), but the refreshing air and sunlight was a welcome change of environment. The wagon approached Harold at the crossroads, sitting beneath the shade of a large oak tree.
"Good afternoon!" he cheerfully said in his strong Reldenian accent, springing up and walking towards the wagon, "The sky is the deepest of blues, and Areyu is looking down upon us! Today is, by all means necessary, most ideal for our business!" he hopped on back the wagon, taking a seat next to Sarah.
"Hello Harold," she said.
"Though of course, despite today's unequivocal beauty, it pales in the presence of your own, dear Sarah."
"Thank you, Harold."
"Make no mention of it! And it's a pleasure to see you as well, Red ol' boy!"
Redmond hated that nickname - hated his regular name as well, for that matter, "I do wish I could say the same Harold," he said from the driver's seat.
Harold let out a great laugh, "Yes, of course! I did miss the both of you! Say, what have you two been up two, hmm?" before anyone could answer, he continued on, "I personally have been making quite the name for myself. Recently, I got involved in gambling – haven't lost a poker game yet!"
"I take it," asked Sarah sarcastically, "You've kept to every rule in the book, then?"
"Of course, of course! You know I wouldn't have it any other way than by the rules, established by the kind gentlemen who designed these casino games fairly, and with good honest intention."
The wagon crossed over a wooden bridge above a narrow stream, creaking under the wheels.
"Then what is it that brings you here, hunting a klenagin?" asked Redmond.
"Why, a sense of adventure, my friend!" he exclaimed, as he lightly slapped his hands on the back of Redmond's shoulders, "A source of inspiration, a taste of adrenaline, a means for a new, exciting interpretation of life! I often envy the pair of you, you know."
"You shouldn't," said Sarah, "Not me at least. Sorcery, though romanticized, can be incredibly dull at its worst, and horribly frustrating at its best."
"I don't believe that for a moment. You have not experienced true dullness, dear Sarah, and if you think you have it is only because of the lack of said dullness in your life."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, it is. How do I know this? Because here you are, a beautiful young lady in her prime, off collecting draconid samples on this gorgeous sunny day while the rest of them are baking pies, fattening up their husbands and keeping their kitchen cupboards neatly organized."
"Perhaps your right," she considered, "But then again…"
"Damn it," said Redmond suddenly, "Schjolhiem on the road, up ahead. Looks like they've blocked the way."
"No worries, dear boy! I am more than capable of handling that."
They continued along the road, then halted before the Schjolhiem soldiers. There were two of them, the first armed with a sword, and the other with an axe at his hip. They were standing in front of a small fort that looked as though it were shoddily scrambled together in a days' time, surrounded by an uneven wooden fence half buried in the tall grass.
"Halt!" demanded the first soldier, "You aren't to pass less you've instruction to."
Redmond attempted to speak, but before he could even utter out a full word Harold silenced him, "Don't listen to him, he's but a humble stagecoach whip; he'd take you straight into a poxen lair if you offered enough silver!" he jumped off from the wagon, and approached the two soldiers, "We just came out of Sheral, and I must say this fresh air is a delight on the old lungs! Could hardly breathe in that bloody place."
"Who gave you instruction to pass?" asked the first soldier, unamused by Harold.
"Why the general, of course, the one situated in Sheral - before he died, that is".
"General Srelldun is dead?"
"Afraid so. Passed along just last night; suppose his time simply came, is all."
"He was only in his forty's! Perfectly healthy, at that!"
"Yes, well, it seems good health only applied to his exterior. I recall the doctors saying something about his internal organs being that of an older gentleman's in his mid-sixty's. All of those stressful working hours take a toll on a man, it seems. Apparently his kidneys had swollen twice their normal size, and his liver had shrunken by the same ratio."
The soldiers remained silent, with a look of confusion on their faces.
"Well," continued Harold, "May the Gods rest his soul, but in the meantime I must carry out what may very well have been his final wish – the transportation of these weapons to your fellow soldiers," he headed towards the wagon.
"Wait a minute! You've weapons for us?" asked the second soldier.
"Indeed. The shipment of weapons sent by general Srelldun before his unfortunate and untimely death," he stated obviously.
The second soldier stormed towards the wagon, "I don't see any weapons!"
Harold lifted a cloth hanging below the seats, revealing a stash of blades, axes, and long hammers, "Are you not expecting a shipment of weaponry?" he asked.
"Well…" the soldier hesitated, "Yes, we have been, but…"
"You's aren't soldiers!" interrupted the first Stormheild, "We've not been expecting our weapons from a Reldenian, a pretty little lady, and some miserable fucking stagecoach driver!"
"These are pressing times, my good fellow. Your general, rest his soul, hired us because we were available when other, more ideal candidates were not. We are a last resort, if you will – but we bring you weapons none the less."
"Alright, I suppose you can pass then," said the guard somewhat uncertainly, after a brief period of silence.
Harold joyfully tipped his hat, hopped back on the stagecoach and waved goodbye to the soldiers, "Keep on fighting the good fight, gentlemen! Gods be with you!" he shouted as they rode off.
Sarah turned to Harold, "How exactly did you manage that?"
"Quite simply, my dear. At an earlier point I was made aware that the Stormheilds had blocked off this road, and I was also made aware a shipment of weapons was awaiting transportation in the Sheral stalls. I went and acquired the stagecoach which carried these weapons, then arranged that this wagon would end up in your possession at the rental. I figured that would not only provide us a hefty load of military grade weaponry to pawn off, but also a viable reason to pass the blockade."
"Impressive," said Redmond, "What about your mention of the general?"
"That was something of a lucky guess on my part. I assumed a Stormhield general would have been situated in Sheral, though It will be quite the surprise when they find him alive and well, kidneys the same as the rest of us!"
They continued northward down the road, passing through a small patch of forest offering shade from the sun. They continued into the rocky highlands, departing from the stagecoach once it became too challenging to ride along the steep, rocky path. They climbed up the mountainous hills, searching for any signs of a klenagin.
Redmond came across the mangled corpse of a sheep laying on the rocks, underneath a layer of dried blood. He kneeled down to inspect the animal, "These cuts; from the talons of a klenagin. Must have dropped it here accidentally, on the way back to its nest. We're getting close."
"Horrid," said Harold in disgust.
"It's only a sheep, Harold," mocked Sarah.
They continued up the mountain, following the narrow path, stepping over jagged protrusions of rock. They were high enough to see the entirety of the small forest they had cut through earlier. Beyond that they could make out the stream they crossed, cutting miles across the valleys of Treane and leading into a bright blue lake. The path became increasingly narrow as they came to a tight ridge of mountainous rock overlooking the vast fields below, barely two feet wide. This part of the path must have broken off.
"By the Gods!" exclaimed Harold, tightly pressed against the side of the mountain.
"Stay along the edge," said Redmond, "Don't lean forward and you'll be fine."
"Yes, of course!" he assured himself.
Suddenly a loud screech sounded off above them, along with the flapping of wings. Dust and bits of rock were launched off the cliff above, creating a brief veil of dust followed by another sharp screech.
"By the Gods!" exclaimed Harold again, twice as fearfully.
The klenagin flew into view, quickly flying down the mountainside then shooting back up again. Redmond immediately noticed the immense size of the beast, much larger than any klenagin he had seen prior. It had blueish grey scales, and massive curved talons extending from out its two hind legs, "Stay calm!" he demanded.
"What have I gotten myself into! This is madness!"
The beast shot towards them, flying upwards in the direction it had come down from. Harold stumbled, losing his footing and falling off the narrow ridge. He shouted wildly as he fell down the mountain side.
"Harold!" shouted Sarah as she reached to grab him, catching only air.
The klenagin caught Harold with its claws, flying out of sight over the cliff above.
"Oh my," Sarah said.
Redmond sighed in frustration, "I thought you didn't plan on him getting killed."
"Not planned, no. Besides, he's fine."
"You don't know that," he said as the hopped off the ridge and onto the regular path.
"Yes, I do know that. At the very least, he'd be much more dead if he had fallen to the bottom. Perhaps we have something of a thanks to give this klenagin."
"You're the second person who's said that."
"Really? Has it saved people before?"
Redmond chuckled, "Not quite."
The path had widened up as they reached the top of the mountain. There was old mining equipment tossed along the stone; broken pickaxes, wooden beams and pools of frayed rope. They came to a manmade set of stairs, carved directly into the stone. At the top was a large flat platform of rock next to the jagged peak of the mountain. The klenagin was curled up in the center, surrounded by the corpses and skeletons of the livestock it had stolen. To the right of the klenagin was the entrance of an old mine, closed off with a wall of rubble and filled with even more corpses. To the beasts left, a large, circular wooden platform extending off the mountain. At the end of the platform was a makeshift elevator, connected to a wooden pole with rope.
"Do you see Harold?" asked Sarah.
"Yes. He's piled up in the mine," Redmond observed for a moment more, "He's breathing."
"Good," a moment of silence passed, as they sat crouched at the top of the stairs, "Well? I await my klenagin samples, Redmond."
He stepped off the stairs, taking two light steps towards the beast who remained unaware of his presence. Redmond drew his blade. The beast sprang up at the sound of steel, rising on its legs and springing out its wings, launching the pile of animal corpses into the air as it let out a mighty roar.
It charged at Redmond, slamming down its wings. He swiftly rolled out of the way, dodging the attack and slashing at the beast's side. The klenagin attacked again with its wings ineffectively, then rose into the air. Redmond could feel the powerful wind from the klenagins wings in motion, as the beast swooped down, jaw wide open revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. Redmond dropped to his back, lifting his sword in the air and slicing the softer underbelly of the monster.
It yelped ferociously as blood poured out of the wound, then dived down at Redmond, claws extending from its hind legs. The klenagin tightly gripped him, and tossed him into the hard mountain wall. Redmond tumbled down the mountainside, then smacked against the flat rock ground. The pain shot through his body; his back felt as though it were on fire.
"Look out Red!" called Harold from the mine, who must have been awakened during the fight.
The klenagin charged at Redmond while he was dazed, but he rolled out of the way again, regaining his alertness. The beast continued to push Redmond backwards, forcing him onto the shoddy wooden platform. The wood creaked under his feet, unstable and shakily wavering underneath him. The beast lunged out its neck, viscously snapping its jaws at Redmond as he jumped back further onto the wooden platform, now shaking as though an earthquake had struck it. The beast launched into the air then shot down in a spiral, crashing directly into platform. Bits of wood shot into Redmond's face as the floor beneath him crumbled, falling apart like shattered glass. Redmond fell for only a moment, then found himself levitated in the air atop the floating chunks of wooden plank.
"I can't hold it much longer!" shouted Sarah on the mountain across from him.
The shards of platform were being held together by a sort of glowing blue energy. Redmond heard the ferocious screech of the klenagin below, infuriated that his plan had not worked. The bits of wood starting breaking apart.
"Redmond!" she shouted.
He spotted the beast, then sprinted across the platform, jumping from each chunk of floating wood to the next as the magical barrier began to falter. The elevator fell, crashing against the side of the mountain into a thousand shards as the platform completely broke apart. Redmond leaped off, falling through the air and stabilizing himself in the direction of the klenagin below. The extended his sword outwards, sticking it into the back of the beast, ripping apart hardened scales and flesh as the blade tore down the beasts back, stopping halfway. The klenagin let out a blood curdling howl, thrashing back and forth in the air. He held on to the hilt of his blade, then launched himself up the beast, pulling out his dagger and sticking it into the monster's neck. He repeatedly twisted the blade, fighting against the thrashing and the pounding wind as the klenagin rapidly fell downwards, approaching a patch of forest below.
The beast finally ceased to struggle, losing control midair. Redmond braced himself before they crashed into the top of the forest, tearing apart the trees and toppling them down. Bits of branches and shards of wood barraged Redmond's face as the trees were snapped into pieces, then a great thump followed by what sounded like a crack of lighting knocked Redmond flying off the klenagin, landing on the forest floor. The monster tore up the ground, creating a deep rivet in its path before slowing down and halting at the base of a large chunk of rock. The beast lightly thrashed in the dirt, subtly twitching its tail and damaged wings before giving out.
Redmond's entire body ached, but he could walk. His clothes were tattered, and his body was horribly cut and scratched. He slowly approached the lifeless body of the klenagin and pulled his sword from out the beasts back; the weapon was chipped along the edges, made dull by the hard scales of the monster. He pulled a flask from his satchel and drained the whisky out of it, then slid his finger along the blade, swiping the klenagin blood off and pouring it into the empty flask. He sheathed the blade back onto his belt, and began his journey to Sheral.