The Dragonwalk Highway: The Fellowship of Thirteen

16 - The Hundred Year Storm

Entering the Hundred Year Storm was like entering a new world. The driving rain pelted the remaining members of the Fellowship with a constant barrage of shale water that cut them to the bone. The thunder overhead rattled their internal organs. The fog was so thick it was impossible to see more than a few dongs ahead. The sand beneath their feet surrendered to a rock field so they found themselves bouncing from boulder to boulder as they blindly raced through the fog. They hit a few dead-ends and had to double back and quickly lost their way.

"Stay—together!" Melthiar ordered through labored breaths.

But the Red Shirt kept moving ahead of the group and soon he was claimed by the swirling fog.

And then there were four.

Lozen's cruel voice sliced through the fog, angry and promising violence, but it was impossible to tell from which direction the voice was coming. Oron led the group deeper into the fog, but they kept seeing the same rock formations over and over again. A flash of lightning lit up the area and Oron spotted Lozen and his men running towards them. Oron ducked between two large rocks and ushered everyone else inside the nook. If they were spotted, they'd be trapped like rats.

Oron watched several of Lozen's thugs run past in several different directions. Two smashed into each other and fell to the rocky earth. Oron took comfort knowing they were just as lost as the rest of them. Then he spotted Lozen through the mist. His human walkway was slowing him down. There were far less of them. Some had been claimed by the fog. It didn't make Lozen any less intimidating. He held two scimitar swords and he seemed anxious to use them.

"Come out, you cowards!" he screamed into the howling winds. "Come out and receive the spanking you deserve! Kneel before your King!"

Oron waited until Lozen and his thugs disappeared into the fog and he could no longer hear their voices. Then he lead everyone out of hiding and back into the storm. They had gone several minutes without seeing anyone but rocks when Mo finally broke the silence.

"This storm is crazy!"

"Don't even start," Oron said.

"No, seriously," Mo continued. "A hundred year storm—wow! Wait...does that mean it's been storming for 100 years."

"Just stop."

"The storm is a curse," Melthiar explained. "It was cast by an exiled wizard following the Great War against Pazuzu. He claimed the storm would rage for 100 years as a reminder of how the exiled wizards were treated after the war."

"And how long ago was that?" Mo asked.

"Why are you still talking?!"

Melthiar thought about it. "Actually, I think it was almost 100 years ago precisely now that I think about it."

The rain suddenly cut off and the final rumble of thunder faded into the clouds. Then the clouds broke and the sun shone down on the ground that hadn't seen sunlight in a century. The mist cleared almost instantly.

"You just had to say it, didn't you?" Oron said to Mo.

Mo bleated and took cover behind the Princess.

To make matters worse, the Fellowship found they were boxed in behind a semicircle of boulders. The thugs nearby easily spotted them in the clear, sunny weather. In the distance, Lozen and what was left of his human walkway came charging in.

Zelda took out two goons with her last two arrows. Mo bucked and headbutted anyone who came into his perimeter. Melthiar drew his sword but he could barely hold it. Oron took out three thugs himself.