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In the most northern reaches of the continent, up on the high mountains, the sheer cold alone would kill most who dared venture here. Others most likely perished from hunger or crushed under avalanches, or hunted and killed by wolves or giant white-furred bears. Those with no luck whatsoever could encounter a frost dragon which stories described as the most painful death of all.
Not for Girn. He ground his teeth and pushed on, unafraid of anything that would cross his path. Boots crunching in the snow and arm held high across his face to protect it from the stabbing snow flakes. It surprised him he even had skin left after this onslaught of cutting snow. His entire body felt raw. Maybe, he thought, a loincloth as only clothing wasn't ideal for this. But Girn kept his eyes ahead, always focused on the direction he was travelling. Getting lost was not an option he considered.
In his line of work, the only adversaries that brought substantial difficulty were spellcaster. Sorcerers, wizards, necromancers, even priests with magical abilities. The whole lot of them with their spells were bloody hard to fight with only his greataxe. He needed an edge against them. And here, in the most northern reaches, the Greataxe of Magic Protection was fabled to be lost. Girn had talked to many a scholar and taught himself what his mediocre intellectual self could learn from books and scrolls. He was on the right path, it had to be.
He kept his heart warm and pumping by thinking of Kaylie and Aryana. One a beautiful and caring woman, the other a playful and naughty Forest Nymph. Two encounters on his journey north that stirred something deep inside him with every memory. The thought of meeting either one of them again heated him to his core.
A red blur moved through the snow ahead. Then it was gone. Girn quickly wrote it off as his mind playing tricks, the endless whirlwind of snow flakes creating deceiving visions. He digged deeper into his memories trying to forget the biting cold around him while trudging on through the white carpet that reached to his knees. In his mind he saw the beautiful smile of Kaylie and he took another step. Then his thoughts jumped to the soft touch of Aryana's green skin. Another step. Back with Kaylie, her ample bosom pressed against his chest. One more step. Beside the campfire with Aryana sliding up and down in his lap. Another step--
His foot did not find any purchase and Girn tumbled head over heels downhill through the snow. Coming to a halt at the bottom, he lay still and checked if any bones were broken before moving. Luckily no fractures and he stood up. Maybe Kaylie and Aryana were more distracting than he thought.
Checking his surroundings he guessed where he had fallen and where he was now. Girn then decided where his next steps should lead him. He lumbered on, more carefully placing his feet with each step. But, there it was again, that red blur moving through the snow, straight ahead. Now visible for longer before disappearing. This couldn't be a mind trick, not for the second time and so clearly. If it was something dangerous, Girn thought, he rather dealt with it now, then it stabbing him in the back later.
Girn ventured onwards where the blur had been. What could be bright red and living in these mountains? Girn couldn't find an answer to his own question. Then it appeared again before vanishing quickly. Girn increased his pace. The red blur peeked through the snowstorm again but was swallowed soon after. He kept following.
Girn started as a large black shape appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed for his greataxe on his back but relaxed as it became clear the shape was not an enemy. He was stood before a gaping cave entrance.
Something unrecognizable echoed from within and the red thing appeared again inside as if beckoning Girn to follow further. He cautiously approached the cave and nonetheless took his greataxe from his back. Entering the cave, he felt an instant increase in comfort, finally guarded from the icy storm. It was dark inside except for some lichen on the cave ceiling in between the icicles giving off a slightly white glow. The cave snaked further and Girn proceeded.
A sudden rumble from within shook some icicles loose and Girn had to jump forward to dodge being impaled on the spot. Girn slid across the frozen floor as the icicles shattered on impact behind him.
In the dim light ahead, the red blur appeared again, only it wasn't a blur anymore. Clearly a figure stepped from behind a rock and disappeared behind another.
"Who are you?" Girn yelled out after the figure. "Why did you lure me to this cavern?" Girn received no answer. He sneaked forward.
After some twists and turns, the cave opened up and Girn found himself in a large underground dome. The floor was covered in soft green moss and the ceiling displayed a fishnet lattice of luminescent lichen. Throughout the chamber, boulders as large as Girn were scattered about, the green moss also claiming most of the boulders' surface. Before he could marvel any longer, something impacted his side and he was thrown to the ground, landing heavily on his shoulder, the moss barely dampening his falling bulk. His greataxe escaped his grasp and clattered away towards the cave wall. Girn climbed quickly to his feet and looked around, prepared to dodge another attack, or launch a barehanded one of his own.
He only saw the underground chamber as he did before.
Grin cautiously walked to his greataxe and picked it up, only then noticing the large amount of bones scattered near the walls of the chamber. The entire dome was encircled by an army of bones. It was not difficult for Girn to conclude he was in a dangerous place. When he turned his attention towards the centre of the cavern, there was someone stood there. The figure floated slightly above the ground, a small chain attached to a bracelet around an ankle, large blue robes flapping gently although there was not the slightest wind inside. Two tight lips were whispering something and two clear blue eyes watched him intently. To top it all off, long fiery-red curly hair tumbled past a pretty face and onto the shoulders. This woman, whoever she was, stopped whispering and threw her arms in front of her. A torrent of ice sped towards Girn.
He reacted barely fast enough to dodge to the side and without thinking charged at this levitating ice witch. He impacted her stomach with his shoulder but instead of both being thrown to the ground, it was as if Girn had charged shoulder-first into a wall.
The ice witch whispered what could only be another spell and Girn fled behind a boulder. Blade-sharp ice fragments the size of his fists flew overhead and crashed against the wall. If one would've hit Girn, it would've cut to his bone. The whole outburst would've ripped him to pieces.
He looked to both sides to memorise his surroundings and forge a plan of action. His gaze caught a granite pillar. On the pillar was rested a greataxe. Girn's jaw dropped. This was surely a joke! He restrained himself from releasing a loud laugh. Following a strange red blur through the snow storm and it ended up guiding him straight where he wanted to be. But of course his precious prize that would protect him against magic was guarded by a witch casting ice spells.
Girn saw only one real chance. He fainted leaving the safety of the boulder, causing the witch to send her spell that way. Then, quickly, Girn charged the other way towards the granite pillar and his Greataxe of Magic Protection. Almost there, he only just dodged another icy bolt of magic. He slung his own greataxe toward the witch as a distraction and grabbed the magical one from the pillar. It felt good in his hands and he tested the weight as another arcane bolt impacted his chest. Girn was pushed back a little but did not experience any further inconveniences. The magical greataxe already did its work protecting its wielder.
Girn slowly straightened and stood face to face with the witch. A whisper died on her lips and she slowly floated downward and rested on her knees on the soft moss. Girn approached but kept his new greataxe raised, ready for anything.
"Please," Girn heard her soft voice whisper. "Don't hurt me, please."
"You beg mercy after your merciless assault?"
"I never mean to hurt anyone, it is only my curse to do so." A single teardrop escaped her eye but instantly froze and fell, disappearing in the green moss.
"Tell me your name, witch." Gern asked without emotion.
"Lyra Frostkiss," she replied softly and looked up.
Her face was unblemished and without any crease. Her skin very pale in contrast to her bright blue eyes and fiery red curls. She looked sincerely remorseful.
"Don't try to fool Girn the Barbarian, witch! Lyra Frostkiss is a legend, one told children to withhold them venturing out during winter," Girn said.
