The Iconoclast

Chapter 2 - The Shadow on the Mountain

"Silence!" The leader commanded the young hunter. "You shall not speak more of this!"

"But it's true! I saw her with my own eyes," Eridan continued. The younger of the strangers chuckled all the more, while the elder one raised a hand to his chin.

"Eridan, was it?" The younger boy cooed. "My name is Samuel. I do hope we can talk more about what you saw. Perhaps in the shade?"

Eridan looked to the leader of the group, whose grey skin relinquished a hint of a red anger. The larger hunter pulled his scarf back over his mouth and scoffed quietly.

"It appears you don't mean us harm," He stated as he laid down his arms. "But I will be watching you. Closely."

And with that, the hunters left one by one, back down the hill into their homes where their families timidly emerged to greet the travelers. Children ran to the side of the taller stranger and tugged at his empty sleeve that hung to his right side. The man didn't seem to mind and merely observed their play with eyes that resembled a summer sky. Samuel chuckled more and more, although he was barely older than most of the village children who swarmed them with an insatiable curiosity.

An older villager shooed the little ones away in a language the strangers couldn't understand. The man's grey skin matched his aged hair that he scratched tiredly while the children scattered back to their parents. He approached with an inspecting glance between each of their sides. It had become a common practice amongst their people to never approach an outsider without checking for weaponry. Far too many times had some come to steal away a young child for their traveling circus as 'The grey wanderers of the valley'.

"You come seeking the child?" The elder spoke in a near mumble, diverting his attention between the two.

"They called her their friend," Eridan interrupted as he quickly approached.

"You are either liars or fools," the elder stated, shaking his head ever so slightly. "The child has never left the valley. And she does not take kindly to mortal men."

"She will listen to us. We have been sent here by Keithia, the Gatherer." Samuel replied cheerfully. This came as a shock to the elder man. Even in the ashy hills of the Scorched Valley, the name of the Gatherer of Life was well known. She was said to be the goddess of all that tastes in life's sweet nectar.

"Then you are more of a fool than I first thought," The old man coughed harshly into his scarf. Sickness was common amongst the people of the valley. The air itself was too contaminated to breathe for the number of years that most tribesman made it to. This elder had made it quite longer than the usual life expectancy of the tribe. "Keithia holds no power here. Nothing in the valley has known her warmth."

The old man laughed with sickly wheezes in between each few chuckles. Eridan nodded to agree with the wise elder. Their stories had taught that the eternal embers that dot the hills of the valley were not of Keithia, but of a force more destructive and cruel. A nameless power that remained untapped after the Great Fire two hundred years ago.

"We understand," The taller stranger finally interrupted. He removed his hood, letting his short white hair greet the breeze that swept by suddenly, scattering ash from the ground into the air. "We did not expect the task to be simple. We need only to speak with her."

The elder examined the tall stranger from where he stood. The silence lasted only a few moments before he spoke with a quiet seriousness.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Eurus," The tall man replied. "Of the Dinstral Heights."

"Well, Eurus," The elder continued. "You need not look very far to find her. Climb to the smouldering peak of the mountain and simply follow the path of destruction."