A Game of Chi Book III: A Sword of Dust

Chapter 25: Gorzan IV

GORZAN

Snow had begun to fall, and that was what woke Gorzan up. The feeling of the little cold and wet droplets on his face caused him to stir slightly, and as the events of the day quickly rushed back to him, he sprang to his feet and looked around in a panic. I killed that wolf here, he remembered, glancing at the river. He walked over to his overturned Speedor and felt around in the water, and indeed, the wolf's corpse was still there. The new snow covered up all the footprints, Gorzan thought. But I need to get out of this forest and find Crokenburg. The sky was grey and the sun was nowhere to be found, so Gorzan had no easy way to retrace his steps. The river was perpendicular to me when I arrived here, he recalled, so I really only have two options as to where to go. Gorzan frowned as he remembered more of what had happened. I didn't cross the river, I climbed a tree. So that means I'm on the right side now. With a grunt, he lifted his Speedor, shook off some of the water and mounted it. I hope the wolves captured Crokenburg. Please, let them have just captured him. Revving his vehicle, Gorzan drove through the snow, remembering that at some point, he had veered left to evade the wolves. Turning right to return to the correct path, Gorzan kept on driving until the trees began to thin out. I'm approaching the end of the forest, he thought. Closer to Wylda's Stronghold. Where we were defeated for the third time. Hopefully it isn't our last.

After a short while, Gorzan had emerged from the forest and could see the wooden spikes blocking Wylda's Stronghold. Is it just me, or did they make the fence taller? Gorzan remembered that he could see further into the south side of the base, but now, taller wooden stakes obscured his view. Perhaps they fortified the southern side of the stronghold. As Gorzan drove, he saw several overturned crocodile Speedorz jutting out from under the snow, and he grimaced at the sight of them. The last ones to stay by Crokenburg, he thought ruefully. Hopefully Crux and the others managed to get to the Command Ship and escape. There were no bodies in the snow, but that could have been due to the falling snowflakes, which were getting thicker and falling more densely by the moment. Either the wolves in the stronghold haven't seen me, or they don't think I'm a threat. Then, something caught Gorzan's eye and he slowed his vehicle. A glint of gold next to the Speedor that Gorzan recognized as Crokenburg's was calling to him, and he quickly dismounted to check it out. By Cavora! It's Crokenburg's trident! The weapon was lodged in the snow, its three points facing down. It was partially obscured by the Speedor, Gorzan thought as he approached. He grabbed onto the cold metal shaft and pulled, but it came loose with a surprising amount of resistance. Its points were bloody. As Gorzan looked at what it had impaled, he fought the urge to throw up. Underneath the mound of snow that had just been displaced when Gorzan pulled the trident loose laid Crokenburg's body, frozen and motionless. His metal jaw was stuck hanging open, perhaps in a final scream or battle cry, while his arms were splayed awkwardly. His neck had three deep holes, where his own trident had no doubt been used to impale him. No, Gorzan thought desperately. No! This can't be the end for him! Whether Wilhurt had actually killed Crokenburg with his own weapon or he had simply done this as a final insult, Gorzan would never know, but he fell to his knees and began weeping. The Steeljaw, Crokenburg, he lamented. The bravest, most honest and honourable person I ever knew. Reduced to a manic tyrant in his last moments and then killed with no one to see it in the snow. How could this have happened? How?

Gorzan remained there for some time, gathering the courage for what he would need to do next. His tears long dry, or perhaps frozen, Gorzan covered the Steeljaw's body with the nearby snow, putting his trident in his hands one last time. Once the crocodile's body was completely covered, Gorzan got back on his Speedor and gazed out at Wylda's Stronghold for a long moment. What do I do now? he wondered. Where can I go? The Command Ship is long gone, and the wolves in Wylda's Stronghold will probably just kill me, right? Sighing, he decided to head towards the fortress. I don't deserve to get away, he told himself. I should have been harsher with Crokenburg. He even applauded me for it back in the Crocfort; he said that even though he didn't always appreciate my counsel when it contradicted him, it was the right thing to do. After we lost the Swamplands, I should have kept him on the right path. I shouldn't have let him lead us north, or kill Craven, or foolishly get massacred. His failure is my sin to bear too. As Gorzan approached Wylda's Stronghold, he slowed his Speedor down and raised both of his arms. "My name is Gorzan! I'm not here to fight!" he shouted. "I know my side has lost! So I'm here to offer myself as your prisoner!" There was no response, but the wooden stakes looked even more daunting than the last time he had come. Once he was in front of the gates, he dismounted, keeping his arms up. "Please! Don't let me freeze to death out here. At least kill me, if that's the result you want." After a painfully long silence, the wooden gates slowly creaked open. The female white wolf Gorzan had previously seen beside Wilhurt had a pained expression on her face, and she gestured for him to enter. "We'll take you prisoner," she told him. "But why did you come back here? You could have left, and we wouldn't have stopped you."