Rebelmind Rising

Rebel Sword

Jesse stirred and rubbed his eyes. Curling himself into a tight ball at the entrance of the rough driftwood shelter he'd constructed the night before; he studied the sea before him. Brooding waves sulked under a leaden sky, yellowing seafoam riding each crest and falling into the trough, disappearing entirely before finding its way to the surface again. The ashes of last night's fire huddled against the sand, blackened and spent. Like a man in a dream, Jesse rose, methodically strapping on armor and sword before tackling, step by step, the steep sea wall. From the top, the road stretching on across the plains, bordering the sea. Grass rippled as far as the eye could see, bending under the sea breeze. On the other side, rows of advancing waves broke upon the shore, billowing into spray and foam. The shore, a narrow strand between land and tide, marked the boundary between the two realms like a line struck with a sword. Beyond the incoming waves, the divide between sky and sea blurred and fingers of mist reached down to clasp the waves' foam.

Jesse trudged northward, the mist becoming drizzle and the drizzle becoming rain as the miles passed wearily under foot. Puddles formed in the wheel tracks, dimpled by the drops, and ruffled by the wind. Soaked to the skin, he slogged forward, driven to escape the storm inside more than the storm without, soaking him to the skin. Phantoms grasped through the mist and pursuing hoofbeats echoed in his ears.

"He's gone," Jesse sternly told the puddle. It didn't do his appearance any favors, but then again, the bedraggled looks weren't to far from accurate. "They both are and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You could have tried harder, done something, sacrificed yourself. It would have been better to die a hero there than be damned to this stretch of shore forever. There's no end to it. You'll just keep going on forever."

"What? Who's there?" Jesse swung sharply around. The road was empty. "Who's talking, answer me!" The silence, broken only by the rasping of grass and screaming gulls and surf mocked him.

"I did what needed to be done." He told himself.

"But you could have done more. You could have saved them if you'd only tried hard enough. You're selfish, Jesse, selfish! And now they're dead because of it."

"No!"

"You're a failure."

"I did what had to be done."

"You ran away and now they're all dead."

Last night's fish turned sour, and he turned aside, retching in the rasping grasses.

The miles passed slowly, mocking phantoms tormented every step more personally than the sucking mud. The seacoast scenery didn't change much throughout the day, and the storm only increased in fury. Lashing rain cut through already soaking clothes and streamed down his face.

Afternoon came and went, and an early dusk began to fall. The rain hadn't let up and the temperature had fallen. Sleet bent the backs of the grasses and shone along the edges of the road. His bones ached with cold. The westerly storms in Nevermore brought rain and piercing winds, but never sleet or snow. The inland mountains were high enough to receive snow in winter, but Jesse had never seen frozen precipitation along the coast itself. Turning, he looked back over the road he'd traversed. Its penciled lines traced across the sea cliffs and disappeared in the mist. A million miles may as well separate him from Nevermore, but it seemed like the same steps over and over. Perhaps the iron gates waited just beyond the curtain of mist, stealthily watching his every move, waiting like a forest cat for the opportune moment to pounce. Sleet rasped melancholily in the grasses that bent submissively before its icy touch and the surf raged mindlessly.

Turning back to the road ahead of him, Jesse plodded forward into the darkness, allowing it to swallow him up. Then, just beyond the veil of mist and twilight a light glimmered. But no, there was nothing out here. It must just be a figment of imagination like the phantoms of the morning. It brightened, glowing stronger and burning back the doubt. It was a light! A few steps further and others came into view. Ducking into the grasses at the side of the road, he studied them. A pursuing party couldn't have gotten past without his knowledge. It must be a garrison or patrol out on the road heading southward. But the lights didn't move. Could they be from a town? It must be. He hastened to almost a staggering run. The side stitch soon vied with the gnawing pains of hunger. Wet, cold, and utterly miserable, Jesse pressed down the road toward the lights.