The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

Not So Easily Broken

Not So Easily Broken
It was nearly impossible to see as I held my hand over my eyes to block out the winds. The storm had only grown more intense during my long march, so much so that I had long lost sight of my pursuers. Instead, my vision was assaulted by a blanket of white that covered everything before me, even the dead trunks of the trees had shifted to a sickly pale color, as though wrapped in a frozen cocoon. The roaring winds drowned out anything that wasn't its own incessant howling, even the clanking of my armor fell silent.

The wind even disrupted the snow itself, sending its assaults sidelong rather than from above. Even the simple act of balancing was proving a challenge, as my body constantly shifted to the left, as though being pulled by the hand of the devil. My arms ached, my legs somehow felt on fire and completely absent all at once, and my whole body shivered with an intensity that frightened me. The only thing keeping me going was the knowledge that somewhere out there, Blackstone was still following me. Worse still was that I couldn't see or hear them, but I knew they were there, they had to be.

Focus, I told myself, I needed to focus. I knew the best thing to do was to find shelter, and ride out this storm before pressing on. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option now, I was mostly unfamiliar with the land around me, only having two treks to the fort to call upon for reference, both of which were using different paths. I knew I was running blind into the grey, changing my destination would do nothing to resolve that. Staying put was a death sentence, for I had no insight into how long this blizzard would remain, be it mere minutes, or agonizing hours. Freezing to death was an all too possible, and terrifying possibility.  And as I said, Blackstone was still out here, potentially lurking and hunting me even as I tried to push on. Building a small cave of my own would take far too long, and was much too perilous with them on the prowl.

I had to keep going, ill advised as I knew that was. My sight was much too limited to keep proper track of my progress, or to ensure I had not doubled back by mistake. However, the task was not impossible. Every few minutes the haze would clear ever so slightly, the land becoming visible with the wind slowing enough for me to hasten my steps. These windows lasted only briefly, but they were enough for me to keep my bearings and not lose my way. One such window came now, quickly fading tracks coming to my attention almost immediately.

The tracks were not mine, they were much too large for that. My first thought was one of the rangers, but a closer glance led me to see how deep these steps were, even as they faded away. A Ranger would never step so intensely, and risk leaving hints of their travel. Had Cross somehow passed me in the storm and not noticed? No, that couldn't be right, Cross had been traveling with his own team of soldiers, these tracks were solitary. These had to belong to someone else. Still, these could not belong to any ally of mine, and they were traveling ever forward, along the same path I was advancing down. I prayed our paths did not cross.

Again the storm intensified, blocking out any forward vision. The torrential winds once more began to sting my eyes, forcing me to bring my hand just over them. Onward I marched, shifting through the deep snow in awkward dragging motions more than actual steps. In truth, it was more akin to trudging through a long frozen bog than it was a well treaded path. Even my head was beginning to ache from the intensity of these conditions. I worried just how detrimental that would soon become, how long before navigation became impossible? Before forwards and backwards lost any meaning? Before blind stumbling was progress enough for a delirious mind? I had to reach my destination before I deteriorated that far.

Step by step I went as minute after minute passed with no change in my surroundings. Even the passing trees seemed completely similar, when I was even able to perceive them. I thanked God that my armor had so many layers, the layers of gambeson and chain  keeping the worst of the cold off my body, the thin layers of plate, unfortunately, did little. My fingers felt as though hundreds of insects were biting and clawing, tearing at their flesh. I longed for it to stop, yet at the same time, I feared the loss of that pain. Without it, I knew they would be lost, too far gone to save. A cruel dilemma, make no mistake.