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Snowclad
The wind sliced over the snowy ridge hard enough to drive snowflakes into bare flesh as her gloved hand reached over the edge. She pulled herself up, fighting the demon-howling wind that sought to throw her off and send her plummeting thousands of feet down. But she hadn’t come this far for it to end like that.
Tucked inside her parka, she had a locket with his face in it, and his last letter promising he’d return, and she was going to learn what had happened to him, even if she could only say a prayer by his frozen corpse. If she could also discover what he’d gone to find to honor his memory, so much the better.
And there was always that chance that he was still alive, somehow.
She shook her head to clear it of the impossible hope, and set herself to climbing the next ridge. She’d run out of ropes and pitons, only her hammer and her will were left. Carving handholds into the rock and ice, lying low in the vicious wind, she inched up over the next ridge, and the next. Hours later, she found what he had been seeking.
Even without the drawing he’d sketched based on his research, she would still have been able to pick out the lines of the temple, hewn into the frigid rock and coated thickly with ice, with who knows what knowledge lying inside, dusted with ice crystals.
But there was a feature not shown in his drawing; a single statue to the left of the doorway. She had to glance twice to see that it wasn’t a natural feature, and again to perceive that it was humanoid. Over ten feet tall and made of dark blue stone, it stood on blocky legs, arms in a warning posture, its face a simple blank square-hewn stone. The whole thing was ice covered, but the layer was much thinner than it was on other surfaces of stone.
She squinted into the relentless wind, but saw no signs of him, no body, no campsite. There was only the icy temple with its dark door and the stony thing before it. Perhaps he’d made it inside... hope flamed again in her heart.
She took a step forward and heard the grinding sound an instant before she saw anything and ducked as the massive hand swung over her head. She yelled and rolled out of its way and dodged in time again as the stomping giant, chunks of ice scaling from its sides, swept its enormous hand down again to smash into the snow.
She had a split second to decide whether to run into the temple, chances were good that it would just make it easier for the thing to trap her, or maybe there were more inside. But she had to know. She dodged it again and ran into the dark doorway.
Inside, past natural stone columns that vaulted up into shadows, she saw a shredded parka and boots and the last embers of hope died inside her.
But she also saw his rock hammer, and near it, a mass of shattered blue stone. So these things could die; she had a chance. She took her own hammer and whirled as its feet thudded on the floor behind her. She jumped to the side and swung; the hammer grazed it with a comet trail of sparks, and in the next second it grabbed her.
She screamed and strained against its stone grip, but it only held her as the large blank face seemed to study her curiously. With no eyes, no features, it looked at her tenderly.
And then it took a small sharp shard of blue stone, and pressed it swiftly into the flesh of her thigh. It was cold, colder than ice, and yet the feeling flowed through her body, calming her flesh, making her blood thick as syrup, slowing her thoughts, turning her skin dark blue as she grew and her clothes split at their seams.
And she realized what had happened to him, even as it happened to her. He must have gotten cut when he smashed the prior guardian statue, which made him become one himself, and with whatever remained of his mind, he was doing the most merciful thing he could now do for her.
An hour later, two stone giants stood before the temple door, blue and still while the wind slowly coated them with ice, as it would for centuries to come.
Tucked inside her parka, she had a locket with his face in it, and his last letter promising he’d return, and she was going to learn what had happened to him, even if she could only say a prayer by his frozen corpse. If she could also discover what he’d gone to find to honor his memory, so much the better.
And there was always that chance that he was still alive, somehow.
She shook her head to clear it of the impossible hope, and set herself to climbing the next ridge. She’d run out of ropes and pitons, only her hammer and her will were left. Carving handholds into the rock and ice, lying low in the vicious wind, she inched up over the next ridge, and the next. Hours later, she found what he had been seeking.
Even without the drawing he’d sketched based on his research, she would still have been able to pick out the lines of the temple, hewn into the frigid rock and coated thickly with ice, with who knows what knowledge lying inside, dusted with ice crystals.
But there was a feature not shown in his drawing; a single statue to the left of the doorway. She had to glance twice to see that it wasn’t a natural feature, and again to perceive that it was humanoid. Over ten feet tall and made of dark blue stone, it stood on blocky legs, arms in a warning posture, its face a simple blank square-hewn stone. The whole thing was ice covered, but the layer was much thinner than it was on other surfaces of stone.
She squinted into the relentless wind, but saw no signs of him, no body, no campsite. There was only the icy temple with its dark door and the stony thing before it. Perhaps he’d made it inside... hope flamed again in her heart.
She took a step forward and heard the grinding sound an instant before she saw anything and ducked as the massive hand swung over her head. She yelled and rolled out of its way and dodged in time again as the stomping giant, chunks of ice scaling from its sides, swept its enormous hand down again to smash into the snow.
She had a split second to decide whether to run into the temple, chances were good that it would just make it easier for the thing to trap her, or maybe there were more inside. But she had to know. She dodged it again and ran into the dark doorway.
Inside, past natural stone columns that vaulted up into shadows, she saw a shredded parka and boots and the last embers of hope died inside her.
But she also saw his rock hammer, and near it, a mass of shattered blue stone. So these things could die; she had a chance. She took her own hammer and whirled as its feet thudded on the floor behind her. She jumped to the side and swung; the hammer grazed it with a comet trail of sparks, and in the next second it grabbed her.
She screamed and strained against its stone grip, but it only held her as the large blank face seemed to study her curiously. With no eyes, no features, it looked at her tenderly.
And then it took a small sharp shard of blue stone, and pressed it swiftly into the flesh of her thigh. It was cold, colder than ice, and yet the feeling flowed through her body, calming her flesh, making her blood thick as syrup, slowing her thoughts, turning her skin dark blue as she grew and her clothes split at their seams.
And she realized what had happened to him, even as it happened to her. He must have gotten cut when he smashed the prior guardian statue, which made him become one himself, and with whatever remained of his mind, he was doing the most merciful thing he could now do for her.
An hour later, two stone giants stood before the temple door, blue and still while the wind slowly coated them with ice, as it would for centuries to come.
Bravo. The hardest thing, I think, about mini rounds is getting a full narrative arc completed in the space allotted, and in that regard I call this a great success. We have two established characters, even without names, a goal, progress to that goal, and resolution! More than just the basics though, I want to commend the first two paragraphs for establishing character and setting without ever naming or narrating as such. We know our protagonist is an experienced mountaineer, as her partner must have been as well to have made it so far, we learn exactly what she wants and how far she's willing to go to get it, and the consolation prize she's willing to accept if worst had come to worst.
I feel like that's a lot of heavy lifting for two short paragraphs. The rest of the prose is concise, but never boring or lacking, and to top it all off I didn't predict the ending, which is always a great treat.
Top marks all around.
I feel like that's a lot of heavy lifting for two short paragraphs. The rest of the prose is concise, but never boring or lacking, and to top it all off I didn't predict the ending, which is always a great treat.
Top marks all around.