Light Among the Darkness
’’Son, are you listening to me?’’
Vilar regarded his father in obvious boredom.
’’Yes, father,’’ he said. ’’I am.’’
His father gave him a dubious stare, and he faced it with one of his own stern gazes, not willing to argue about something so asinine. Truth was, he wasn’t listening to his father’s rants any longer, he had heard them a million times already after all. Unfortunately the elder threehorn wasn’t going to yield yet.
’’Oh, did you, Vilar?’’ his father asked. ’’Then repeat what I said. It shouldn’t be a problem if you were indeed listening.’’
He had gone through this once before, and the best answer he could give was just to admit the truth, and get it over with.
’’Alright,’’ Vilar began. ’’I wasn’t.’’
’’And why is that?’’ his father’s tone rose higher with emerging suspicion.
’’I’ve just had lot on my mind lately. That’s all.’’
’’Don’t tell me you’re thinking about that, son.’’ the elder’s voice lowered to almost a whisper, and he spoke with resentment.
Of course Vilar knew what his father meant by that. The impending duel that was held once a year for young male threehorns to prove their worth. That matter however was not the topic of discussion Vilar wanted to have, it surprised him that anyone in their herd would be interested to talk about it, but it was not like they had a choice in the matter. Once you were chosen, that was it.
The ’famous’ duel, that was to take place once every season, it was something that only a few individuals in the herd awaited for. A chance to prove that they were not weaklings. But there was something even more sinister about this disgusting tradition that irked Vilar greatly.
The tradition was supposedly an atonement for the herd’s disgraceful sins done long ago. The legend told that once the threehorn’s were diabolic against their ancestors wishes. And so it was decreed that each season after that particular day, the herd would recompense their aberrations and to never dampen the ancestors again, to save them from the wrath they would bring upon them if done otherwise.
In his own mind, Vilar could not understand the decisions made by past leaders of the herd, and so he blamed those particular individuals for the situation he was now trapped in.
The duel intrinsically lasted until only one remained alive, the participants couldn’t forfeit to their adversary, if they were too weak to continue on. And it was even generally frowned upon among threehorns to submit to pain. The remaining one would then be proclaimed the victor. The fights were traumatic as they were. Each contestant trying their very best to succeed. Not only did defeat mean their deaths, but also the shame that would be cast down on their families subsequently. Vilar’s very own grandfather had to witness one of his son’s death in the contest, Vilar himself never had any intent to participate in this tradition, he just wished it was never invented in the first place. But he didn’t have any choice in this matter. He would just have to hope that tomorrow the elders wouldn’t pick him as one of the participants this season.
Finally, after being silent for a while, Vilar opened his mouth again, and spoke to his father in a crestfallen tone.
’’Yes, father,’’ he said. ’’I’ve indeed been thinking about that lately, and I’m growing more worried every day because of it.’’
His father regarded him with something that remotely resembled like pity.
’’Oh, Vilar,’’ his father said. ’’I know that tomorrow frightens you very much. Me and your mother wish you’d never have to grow through this.’’
His father had never had to participate in the duel himself, however, he had seen his fair share of the gore it brought to know what he was speaking of, so Vilar just decided to take his word for it.
Before Vilar could reply with something reassuring to his father, his mother’s form appeared alongside her mate’s. Almost like she could sense that she had been part of the topic of discussion recently.
’’Dener, I hope you’re not interrogating our son too much,’’ she said.
’’Of course not, Cerra, my dear,’’ his father answered while blushing slightly in embarrassment.
That’s good to hear, dear,’’ Vilar could sense the tension among the trio right now, more than likely because of tomorrow’s approaching event that they were not looking forward to.
As if sensing her son’s despondent frame of mind, the female turned toward the young male with a nurturing gaze that only mother could give to her children.
’’Don’t worry, son,’’ she reassured him. ’’Our family hasn’t been picked in the duel for many seasons. The ancestors must be sheltering us.’’
If that was so, then why did they force us on this pitiful path? Vilar thought inwardly. At least according to the legends, but only the ancestors truly knew what was correct.
’’Your mother speaks wise words, Vilar,’’ his father agreed. ’’It as been a long time since anyone in our family was chosen for this precarious task.’’
’’But we won’t know that until tomorrow, won’t we?’’ Vilar asked his parents.
’’Indeed, we won’t,’’ his parents nodded in agreement, but it was his father who spoke. ’’All we can do is prey our ancestors to be merciful.’’
But Vilar knew, that despite if he wasn’t chosen tomorrow as one of the participants to compete, someone else would lose their son, and would have to suffer because of it. It infuriated him like nothing ever had before. Those responsible for this… murder would just shake it off, and continue their lives like it was nothing. What kind of a world did they live in?
Sometimes Vilar liked to imagine what it would be like to live in a world where they didn’t have to worry about the duel at all. That definitely sounded like a paradise. A paradise, that they would never achieve.
His father’s voice roused him from his thoughts. ’’Well, it’s time for sleep,’’ he said. ’’We all have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.’’
Vilar saw his mother nod in agreement of her mate’s verdict. And he, too, realized how dark it had gotten so fast. Perhaps time really did fly when you were busy.
The day had transformed into a beautifully serene and clear night. The Night Circle’s shadow reflected in the nearby pond, the starry night sky almost breathtakingly graceful sight.
Trudging after his parents’ forms in the growing darkness, Vilar could admit that while the life in the Land of the Wandering Fields was not the best option they had, it was home. On these lands he was hatched, and here he would also die one day. Hopefully after many long seasons had passed.
Arriving at their nest, the trio of three horns were more than ready to welcome comfort that their nest brought to them. After saying good night’s wishes, the family was eager to delve into their sleep stories at last.
For Vilar, however, he would not get an easy night tonight. His dreams were continually plagued by visions of him getting chosen in the upcoming duel, him to face his adversary, failing to defend himself from the enemy’s attacks, with him finally feeling his soul leave his body, and pass on to the place that was called the Great Beyond.
Last sentiment that twirled in his head before he finally succumbed to deep unconsciousness was his fear of the imminent future he now faced.
Dawn dawned in the early morning, the Bright Circle had barely risen over the treetops above, when it was time to wake up and prepare for the upcoming day. The truth was, Vilar didn’t want to get up today at all. He would have rather wanted to spend the whole day resting under the tree’s shadows undisturbed. But he knew that such a possibility would not be available to him. So he rose briskly up, somewhat still sleepy from the previous night.
After eating a palatable breakfast with his parents, they ventured together to the meeting place, where all of the herd members were due to meet this day. After arriving at their destination, Vilar was trying almost in desperation to find his friends among the assembled dinosaurs present, to his surprise, the crowd was already quite unexpectedly large one, which made finding his friends easier said than done.
Observing the assembled dinosaurs more, Vilar noticed that the large majority of the crowd seemed to almost get over this as soon as possible, which somewhat calmed down Vilar’s emotions a little.
His father noticed him looking around the field, and consoled him as they were waiting for the ceremony to start.
’’You’re looking for your friends, aren’t you?’’
’’I am,’’ Vilar answered his father.
Vilar’s parents gazed at each other like in an almost nonverbal communication, then directed their focus to their son once more.
’’Go on, son,’’ his mother said. ’’We’ll catch up with you later.’’
Vilar was indeed very grateful to his parents and before he left to find his friends, he gave both of them a grateful nuzzle. They returned the gesture, and then he was off to search for his friends, whose company he graved now more than ever.
At the same time as he searched for his friends, he looked around observing other members of the herd to potentially identify them as dinosaurs he knew. He had indeed seen someone that he recognized as his aunt and her family. Vilar paused momentarily to give her a nod, which was like a sign of good luck for the day.
However, he decided not to disturb them, especially at the current moment when emotions were all time high in almost all of the herd members. He saw his aunt give a nod back to him, after which she turned back to focus on whatever she was doing before he interrupted her.
Continuing forward once more, Vilar saw how the so-called herd’s elders stood almost proud on the ledge of the crag, almost looking like how a predator would be prowling for any potential victims. Vilar decided not to fixate any more attention to them from this point on, at the moment he was so filled with raw rage, that he almost believed he would be ready to rush toward them with an intention to hurt them severely.
But his parents had taught him better than to behave like a scorned and stubborn threehorn that many of their kind were, so he curbed all the angry feelings he felt right at that moment.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally spotted his friends not too far from where he left his parents at. They noticed him before he had a chance to announce his presence, and as one started to advance toward him.
’’Vilar! We were beginning to wonder if you’d even show up,’’ said a male threehorn called Kivan.
Vilar decided to humor his friend, and said, ’’And leave you all alone today?’’
’’Not my style, Kivan,’’ he finished in a mocking tone.
’’Oh, ha-ha, very funny, Vilar,’’ Kivan said. ’’When do you gonna give me a break?’’
’’When you finally stop making those awful taunts of yours.’’
The voice belonged to another one of Auron’s good friends, Salna.
’’Oh, bite me, Salna,’’ Kivan called back to the female.
’’I just might do exactly that, if you keep annoying us.’’ Salna countered.
’’Don’t tell me you two are fighting, again?’’ Came the question from the third threehorn, a female one called Halima, who joined the conversation.
’’You know those two, Halima,’’ Vilar said. ’’They like to bicker with each other.’’
’’They certainly do,’’ a mischievous grin came to her face. ’’It would be very easy to mistake them as mates, right?’’
’’Who knows? They might end up together in the end.’’ Vilar laughed.
’’Okay, stop. As much as I enjoy her company, she’s not exactly my type, you see.’’ Kivan said.
’’Not like I would accept someone like you as a mate,’’ Salna mocked playfully.
’’You might have a better chance with someone who can actually take your constant ramblings and not kill you while at it.’’
Moments like these were what Vilar loved to preserve. This momentary, but friendly teasing was their way of showing to each other that they cared deeply for one another. It also provided a good opportunity to escape this day’s event for some time longer, but they all knew deep down that it would hardly last.
At that moment, however, it was like the elders of the herd could hear Vilar’s thoughts, a loud cry echoed across the surrounding valley, indicating that the ceremony was about to begin. Now the moment had arrived what Vilar had been afraid of for quite some time, the selection. He just prayed that it would not be either he, nor anyone of his friends.
Together, a cluster of elder threehorns stood in a neat row on the ledge of the crag, gazing down toward the others with a look that Auron was not able to detect from that distance where he was right now. A few of them had cold grins on their old faces, which was a bad sign already that promised nothing good to anyone.
Among them one stepped closer to the ledge, and Vilar almost wished that the old one would just slip and fall down and to never to rise again, but of course, nothing like that happened, which was a big disappointment to him. He, of course, recognized this particular individual quite easily in fact. This particular elder always began the ceremony.
Gray, bold and surprisingly still very healthy looking despite his old age, Grimlock’s piercing bright blue eyes, sat well within their sockets, gazed energetically over the assembled threehorns. A deep scar ran across his large forehead and ended just above his left eye, a compelling memory of his youth left behind. There was something enigmatic about his appearance, perhaps it was the cold look with which he gazed around or perhaps it’s simply a feeling of dread.
There had been rumors spread about him throughout the seasons behind his back, none of them good, but Vilar could hardly care about his reputation. Then the elder opened his mouth to begin the speech he had prepared.
’’Welcome to you all. It is time once again to pick our lucky contestants who will participate in this season's contest.’’
Short applause echoed around, but only about half of the herd meant their actions, the rest, like Vilar, only did it for appearances sake. When everyone was once again silent, Grimlock continued his address.
’’Let us all rejoice this day, for today we will honor the pledge made by our forefathers many seasons ago to our ancestors demands for tribute.’’
Vilar tried hard to curb his growing anger, as his friends were trying to do, when he turned to observe them for a moment longer than needed. There was absolutely nothing to rejoice on this particular day, it only brought misery. But of course, those old buffoons had to get their sick pleasure. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he focused once more on the speech, even if it was already familiar to him.
’’Now, we must pick our participants. I understand that there are many among you who would like the honor to compete, but the rules are clear: only two are allowed to compete. No more, no less.’’
Vilar noticed how some of the other young threehorns eagerly waited for the decision to be made. Of course, he knew these particular dinosaurs all too well. These threehorns would practice and train their whole lives for this event.
They thought in their minds that it was simply the greatest honor and glory they could receive during their lives. Vilar turned his head away, disgusted look on his face. He had never been able to understand how anyone could think this way of life was perfect. In the past, he had had a few minor brawls with some of them, and they were quite ruthless in their task. To them showing any kind of emotion was a weakness that needed to be squelched, no matter what.
The elders once again gathered together, and were speaking in hushed tones, so that no soul could hear a word they uttered. Vilar wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know what their topic of discussion was right now. He swallowed his fear down, and tried to calm his nerves, to some success.
After a while the elders turned toward the herd again, and went back to their respective spots where they had stood a moment ago. It seemed that they had agreed on a decision, And Vilar was not looking forward to it. Grimock opened his mouth and resumed from where he had left off earlier.
’’The first contestant is…’’ He paused for a moment, as if he liked to keep everyone in suspense, then continued.
’’Craster!’’
Loud applause echoed again through the valley. Young and strong-looking reddish-brown threehorn almost leaped toward the ledge in anticipation. Vilar recognized this particular male. He had once fought with him in the past, and knew that no matter who would encounter him would be in a lot of trouble.
Grimlock’s gaze wandered over to Craster, he nodded in approval of the first contestant.
’’And of course, we will need a second one as well,’’ Grimlock said.
Another small pause followed, and everyone were growing even more restless than before. Luckily, Grimlock wouldn’t hold them in anticipation much longer.
’’The second and final contestant will be…’’
Vilar felt his heart jump into his throat, the pressure felt unbearable.
’’Vilar!’’
Vilar’s eyes went wide with fear. He heard gasps all around him, more so from his friends, and he suspected his parents hardly weren’t doing any better right now.
Grimlock, however, didn’t allow him to muse it.
’’Come and take your place beside your opponent, Vilar.’’
With hesitant steps, he walked forward, eyes cast down in obvious fright. No matter how hard he tried to compel his dread away, he simply found no strength to do so. He continued to amble forward. He could vaintly hear sounds of sobbing behind him. He shared glances with everyone else while he strode onward.
Most of them held looks of pity, but there were those who showed clear jealousy for him being chosen instead of them. If it were up to Vilar, he would give over his position in an heartbeat to someone else who truly wanted it. But there was not such option. Once you were chosen, only way out was if you either won, or died.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally arrived near the ledge, where his opponent, Craster was waiting patiently. The other threehorn gave him a sly and superior smirk, and Vilar felt hundred times worse already.
Turning to face the herd, to his relief, he couldn’t spot his parents anywhere, even though they must’ve been near. Vilar feared that one brief look to his parents would completely break him apart from inside. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened his eyes once more after calming himself to some extent. Outside he appeared to be fine, but on the inside he felt horrible.
’’Perfect! We now have our two contestants,’’ Grimlock proclaimed.
’’ But in the end only one of them will go down in history as the victor. And he will receive the glory of participating in this magnificent tradition!’’
Damn the glory, Vilar just wanted to survive and live. He didn’t want to part from his family, or his friends for that matter. Right now, he wished he wasn’t even born.
This day was now officially Vilar’s worst one ever, and even worse was that the day had only just begun.
As the official ceremony ended shortly after Vilar was fortunately given one day to prepare himself. He decided to spend some of that time alone at a nearby river, trying to collect his thoughts.
Vilar gazed at his own reflection in the river’s surface and pondered aghast of future events. This was not how it was meant to be at all. How could fate be so cruel and unforgiving that it chose him to take part in this hellish tradition. He could not understand, nor accept it.
Deep down, he knew that he had next to no chances of surviving against such a strong opponent as Craster, he had been preparing for this moment far longer, and he suspected that the reddish-brown threehorn would hardly go easy on him. No, he was more likely to enjoy killing him. He had seen the look on his face earlier, the eagerness and the bloodlust.
Pushing any thoughts about the impending duel to the back of his mind, he focused once more on calming himself down. There was no need to weep anymore, he knew what his future held for him. It surprised him by how fast his tears had stopped flowing down his face, perhaps he had few qualities not even apparent to himself. Before he could ponder further, however, a familiar voice roused him from his deep surmises.
’’Vilar! Thank the ancestors we found you,’’ his father said.
’’Are you okay, dear?’’ asked his mother.
’’What kind of a question is that?’’ Vilar said.
His mother realized her apparent mistake, and was determined to fixed it.
’’I’m sorry, Vilar. I just… just-’’
’’Don’t. Do not say anything.’’
Silence reigned over them for a few minutes, but it felt more like an eternity. Vilar opted to speak again.
’’I’m sorry. It’s not your fault I’m in this mess,’’ he said. ’’I shouldn’t have said that.’’
’’Son, right now you have every right to act like this,’’ his father spoke with crestfallen tone.
’’I couldn’t ever imagine going through this again in my life. Your grandfather spoke to me about that, but… I could not believe that I would be on the same position later in my life.’’
’’Whatever happens, Vilar, know that we love you with all our hearts.’’ Cerra said.
’’I do know what, mother,’’ said Vilar. ’’But that hardly makes it any better. This will be my last day on this world. Soon, I will follow the path our ancerstors took once.’’
’’You do not know that for certain, son,’’ his father interrupted. ’’You have a chan-’’
’’Chance? You saw my opponent. How can I ever beat someone like him? He has been training for this moment ever since he learned how to walk.’’
’’That’s true, Vilar, but-’’
’’But what? Are you trying to tell me that I still have a chance to beat him, despite his massive advantage?’’
’’Craster maybe stronger than you, son, but he has a weakness that you don’t,’’ his father said.
’’And what might that be?’’
’’Arrogance. He believes that no one is stronger than him, if he thinks himself to be invisible, that can become a big problem.’’
’’You remember what I’ve taught you about arrogance, Vilar?’’ his father asked him expectantly.
’’It can get you killed, if you’re not careful,’’ Vilar said.
’’That’s right. You are strong, Vilar,’’ his father said. ’’Maybe not as strong as Craster, but strong nonetheless.’’
Vilar pondered deeply and carefully about his father’s advice. Now suddenly everything didn’t seem so bleak in the world, he indeed had a chance to survive this ordeal. A small one, but it was there.
But even so the potential victory was not yet anywhere near available to him. This would be a tough ordeal for him to overcome. And whatever would happen, he would do his absolute everything he could. He gave his word for that, and whenever Vilar made a promise, he would always keep it as well.
’’I… guess you have a point,’’ Vilar confessed. ’’But… I’m scared.’’
’’It’s okay to be afraid, Vilar. It means you’re not stupid.’’ his father said.
His mother smiled in approval, ’’Your father is right.’’
Vilar trudged towards his parents and gave them both long and a lovely nuzzle, he desperately hoped that it wouldn’t be their last one. After some time they separated from each others embrace, although all three would have wanted to remain so forever, unfortunately it was not a possibility they could enjoy.
’’Your friends are here, would you like to see them?’’ his father asked.
’’Yes.’’ he said without futher to add on.
’’Okay, we’ll go now, give you some privacy,’’ his mother said, tears in her eyes.
’’I’ll see you again before the duel, right?’’ Vilar asked them.
’’Yes, you will,’’ his father confirmed with a smile.
Then they both walked slowly away from the scene, and Vilar wanted above all to run after them and never let them go, but he still had others to say goodbye to before it was time for the duel to begin.
A few minutes later he saw his friends appear in the proximity. They walked past thick trees, the three branches swayed in the morning wind. They stopped in front of him, worried and sad expressions visible on their faces.
’’Vilar… we’re sorry you have to go through this,’’ said Halima.
’’Yeah, I didn’t want to believe something like this could happen, but…’’ Kivan mumbled.
’’Guys… this isn’t your fault. I just had… bad luck today,’’ Vilar said.
A sob escaped from Salna, and she spoke in hesitant voice. ’’Maybe, you’ll make it? There’s always a chance, isn’t there?’’
She looked toward the others for support, but got only sad smiles in return.
’’Promise me something,’’ Vilar said.
’’Anything.’’ Kivan responded, to which the two females nodded in support.
’’After I’m… gone, I want you to move forward.’’
Vilar received chorus of negative responses from all of his friends.
’’How can you even suggest something like that?’’ Halima cried.
’’We’ve been friends practiclly since we hatched, Vilar,’’ Salna said. ’’We won’t ever abandon you.’’
’’You won’t be abandoning me by simply moving on with your lives after I am…’’
He couldn’t find the strength to finish the sentence.
Kivan sniffed and said, ’’You’re talking about it like it has already happened.’’
’’There’s a big chance that it might happen,’’ Vilar said.
’’And what if it doesn’t happen?’’ Halima asked, quietly sobbing.
’’I already argued about this with my parents, I’m not going to do it with you as well.’’
Salna scoffed, ’’And that makes it okay for you to just say ’hey, guys, I’m about to die soon, please, promise me you’ll move on after I’m gone’. That’s load of spiketail dung and you know it!’’
’’You know what kind of person Craster is,’’ Vilar cried. ’’He won’t show any mercy.’’
’’Damn Craster, he’s not important right now. You are.’’
The remark came from Halima’s mouth, but everyone else agreed with her statement.
Vilar wanted really hard to keep trying to turn his friends heads on the matter, but finally relented in the end. Deciding that it was not worth the effort. His friends had always been very headstrong, even when the four of them were only small hatchlings. He wished he could go back to those simpler times, but he couldn’t. They were nothing but memories now.
He would hold on to those, until his end finally would come to greet him, and take him where his ancestors resided. Away from all this into a more peaceful environment to live in, and hopefully, even to meet some of his long-lost relatives as well. Despite not believing everything his father teached him, it didn’t seem such a bad thought.
Vilar had often asked his parents if there was a way to live a better life than their current one. Their answer had always been the same: it is not for us to question the ancestors work.
He sighed deeply to calm his anger down, then faced his friends faces once more.
’’I don’t want our possibly last encounter to be an argument.’’
’’Neither do we, but you can’t just give up, Vilar.’’
’’I know that, Salna,’’ he said. ’’And I’m not going to either. I will fight, and if the ancestors demand that I die, then so be it.’’
’’The time to grow up has come,’’ Vilar finished.
’’I don’t think we’ve ever been allowed to be just… well, children,’’ Kivan said.
Halima nodded in agreement, ’’Our parents made sure that we would be as prepared as possible if we were ever chosen.’’
’’And now it’s time to learn if all of those teachings were of any use to us,’’ Vilar said.
The four of them stood still a moment quietly, listening to the water flow and the wind grace them with its presence. To Vilar, it brought some form of comfort, and he was delighted about that.
’’Well… any last confessions or words you want to say before it’s time?’’ Vilar asked.
’’Do your best, Vilar. We believe in you. All of us,’’ said Salna.
’’You can beat that brute, Craster, I know you can,’’ Kivan cried.
’’You go out there and show everyone what you can do, Vilar. Make Craster regret he ever faced you.’’ added Halima.
’’I think I’m as ready as I can be,’’ Vilar responded. ’’I just hope that it will be enough in the end.’’
The herd of threehorns gathered together around the spacious and tremendous forest. Its canopy was contested by thick branches, which would leave almost no room for sunlight to burst through. A medley of beastly sounds, most belonged to insects, reverberated through the cool air, and were accompanied by the rustling of the leaves and branches of the tree tops in the wind.
The herd was only bit blurry-eyed from the early wakeup call a few hours before, which left them just enough time for quick breakfast before it was time to gather together again. Most were still trying hard to resist the temptation to fall back into the sweet oblivion that was sleep.
But none of them faced the peril two young male threehorn’s were about to encounter.
Vilar himself was especially wary and drained from yesterday’s shock. He had barely had a good night at all, constantly stirring and mumbling things he could not recollect. And he had no good conceits about the whole ordeal. But even so, it was a very difficult period to forget.
Standing beside his soon-to-be opponent, Vilar moved his gaze from one dinosaur to the next, in hopes of spotting the ones who mattered to him most. Eventually, he did manage to identify them among the sea of threehorns.
His family was standing beside his friends, apparently deciding to stick together instead of going their separate ways for the time being. The gesture made him smile, despite the growing tension that was slowly but surely going to spiral out of control. His opponent saw his smile, however, and spoke to him in cold and taunting tone that was already familiar to him.
’’Already missing them, are you?’’
Vilar didn’t reply, neither did he look in his direction. He hoped the other threehorn would give up with his taunts, but sadly for him that was not to be.
’’There’s no need to fret, you’ll see them again one day,’’ he sneered. ’’They’ll join you in the Great Beyond once their time comes as well.’’
’’And if you’re wondering how long it’s going to take,’’ Craster paused, chuckling lightly. ’’Well, I would hate to ruin the surprise for you, so all you have to do is just wait and see.’’
Vilar turned to him.
’’Oh, got your attention now, did I?’’ Craster mocked.
’’You’re quite confident in your abilities, aren’t you?’’ Vilar said.
’’Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be sure of my imminent victory?’’ Craster said. ’’And my line will be remembered for generations to come!’’
’’You really believe in all that nonsense, do you? Vilar asked. ’’Part of me pities you.’’
Craster ceased chuckling and his voice became sinister.
’’Pity? I don’t need or want your pity. You just focus on dying, it’s the best thing you can do with your pathetic life.’’
’’Me, pathetic? That’s rich, especially from someone like you.’’ Vilar switched his gaze from Craster to Grimlock’s form, listening to his booming voice rang over the valley.
Craster scoffed, ’’We’ll see if you can keep up that attitude when I run my horns to your flesh.’’
The reddish-brown threehorn expected a retort to come from Vilar, but the threehorn stayed silent and unmoving, as if he was frozen on the spot. Craster grunted and turned back to Grimlock as well.
’’I know you all must be very eager to see our contestants in action, so I’ll be sure to keep this short.’’
’’In short,’’ Grimlock began, ’it is the time for the annual duel to commence once again, with this specific tradition that our ancestors once laid for us to continue, has finally come again.’’
’’You are all familiar with the rules, but for traditions sake let us go over them once more.’’
Grimlock turned to Vilar and Craster and spoke to them in clear and undisputed voice, ’’Only one of you must remain, the last one standing will be named the victor. Neither of you are allowed to forfeit, you are however, allowed to take one single break. How you use that time is yours to decide.’’
’’Any kind of forms of attack is allowed, so be prepared for anything. Only you can make the difference on the battlefield. Which leads us to our next point.’’
’’No one else is allowed to help you in any way in the duel,’’ Grimlock said firmly. ’’This is your task alone, have I made myself abundantly clear?’’
’’Yes,’’ both threehorns answered.
Grimlock smiled for a brief moment, then resumed.
’’Then I assume that both of you are ready? And that you have done what you needed to? Cause no one is leaving this place until one of you dies.’’
Grimlock received nods of confirmation from both.
’’Take your places, competitors, the duel will begin momentarily.’’
Vilar took his own place on one side of the large clearing. Behind him stood a deep and large ravine, around where he had once played with his friends when they were little, despite their parents’ displeasure. But he didn’t need to worry about it right now, for it was very far from his current position, so falling down there seemed next to impossible. Opposite of him Craster did the same. They locked eyes with each other and the reddish-brown threehorn gave him a wide smirk. Both of them would be trying their hardest to kill one another, but Vilar suspected Craster would want some payback for his putdown earlier. Vilar was more than willing to grant this request. He had prepared for this moment as best he could, now the time had come to see if it would pay off in the end.
The young threehorn gazed at his family and friends for what might have been the last time, and on their faces he saw nothing but support, for which he was more than grateful. He nodded at them and he received one from each of them as well.
You can do this, Vilar, their stares seemed to convey to him. He would not disappoint them now, it was time to show everyone what he was made of. His father’s words from yesterday rang in his ears: remember, keep your head in the current moment, don’t take any risks and take notice of any mistakes on his part. It might be enough to grant you victory.
’’Contestants, once more, are you ready?’’ Grimlock shouted.
Both threehorns nodded again and yelled at once in a loud tone, ’’Ready!’’
Grimlock smirked, ’’Then let the duel… begin!’’
The moment Vilar feared had finally come, but he felt something else inside him besides fear this time.
Courage.
Vilar stopped his charge about twenty meters from his opponent and pointed his large horns directly towards the still charging threehorn. He surmised that Craster perchance thought he could finish this fight in quick fashion.
Then, however, he too, started to slow his advance and presumably preparing for a strike. Vilar flung his body in a completely other direction and the reddish-brown threehorn swooped past him.
Craster quickly turned around to face his opponent, that maneuver had caught him off guard, but it would hardly work again. But Vilar would be lying if he said that dodging was all that was on his mind. Craster gathered enough speed for another charge, but this time, Vilar would not turn away from him. Instead, he would meet him head-on, taking him by surprise.
Both collided hard with each other, but thanks to their kind’s thick skulls they were able to continue the fight like nothing happened. Hit like that to someone else, however, would have meant their end, but not for the two threehorns. Their kind was made for such things.
’’Going to run away again soon?’’ Craster mocked.
’’I guess you’ll have to find out.’’ Vilar answered.
Craster grunted and pushed harder against him, and started to push him back a little. He definitely was stronger than he was, he would not win this fight with strength alone. Releasing himself from his trap, Vilar started to retreat, backpedaling as fast and far as he possibly could without putting himself in disadvantage.
’’I knew it! You’re too cowardly to accept your death,’’ Craster sneered.
’’It isn’t cowardly to maneuver yourself into more preferable position. Then again, I didn’t expect you would understand it.’’
Craster begun to charge again, ’’That’s the last time you insult me!’’
Vilar was trying very hard to dodge Craster’s attacks and at the same time maneuver himself into a position more suitable for him that would allow him to strike back. Right now, neither action was going very well for him.
It seemed that every time he would find a good position to strike the other threehorn would sidestep away from him and then continue his own attacks on him. Keeping his opponent firmly in his line of sight, Vilar yet again attempted to maneuver, but this time around him. With a quick strike to his unguarded back, he could win this quickly and he wouldn’t have to put himself in so much danger as before. However, he wasn’t expecting his opponent to take advantage of his slight misstep.
Fast as a lightning hit the ground, Craster slashed his skin with his horns. The hit penetrated and screwed up his concentration enough to send him tumbling down to the ground. Craster was on him in an instant, ready to strike again, only this time he attempted to crush his skull to a bloody pulp.
’’Say goodbye!’’ Craster laughed.
Vilar blocked the next attack with his own set of horns and barely had managed to duck out of the way as Craster struck again. He kicked his feet and saw him buckle slightly backwards, then sprang away from the spot and put some distance between him and the seething threehorn.
’’I may not be as good as you, but don’t count me out that easily,’’ Vilar said.
Seething with rage, Craster sprang forward surprisingly agile. This fight had gone over for quite some time and still he showed no signs of exhaustion. Then again, something like this was to be expected from his opponent. He had been training for this moment his entire life, after all, so it would make sense that he would be in a more favorable position.
Vilar met his opponent yet again face to face, both trying their absolute hardest to find one ounce of weakness they could exploit. Vilar was careful to keep an eye on his opponent’s movements from now on, he didn’t want to be caught off guard again. Then something unexpected happened.
Craster exposed his side a bit, not enough to cause his death, but enough so to do some serious damage. This little mistake was something that Vilar was waiting to happen, and as if the ancestors heard his pleads, had granted him a way out of this mess. This was a golden opportunity that Vilar would not let slip past him. With a plan in mind, he proceeded.
He pushed against Craster with all of his might, managing to push the other threehorn back a bit, which surprised Vilar. Perhaps his parents and friends had been right in the first place, maybe he really did posses skills not apparent to him.
Apparently, Craster figured what he was about to do, because he sidestepped to his right in order to counter Vilar’s own attack. Vilar smacked his tail hard against the threehorn’s figure, in hopes of breaking last of his defenses. He could feel it, something told him that he was actually winning, it filled him with joy.
However, if he would have still been on his guard, he would’ve noticed that everything about this seemed too good to be true, that Craster was purposely making mistakes that Vilar could perceive as an opportunity. Vilar was so over his head that he missed the fact that right behind him stood the deep ravine, exactly what he had been avoiding this whole time.
Vilar felt Craster’s powers beginning to dwindle away, and he pushed more onwards towards a certain victory to deliver the killing blow.
Big mistake.
Suddenly, pain erupted on his side, and he lost his momentum. His side erupted in anguish as he was still trying to vainly push forward, not recognizing the danger he was in.
’’Now, you can say goodbye,’’ Craster said. ’’Because now you die.’’
Vilar grunted, ’’What…?’’
’’You didn’t really believe it would be that easy, did you?’’
Vilar’s face went pale.
Before he could utter another word, however, Craster quickly sidestepped once more to his right, and shoved Vilar roughly forward, directly towards the gloomy ravine.
Vilar tried to save himself from the impending fall to no avail, he felt the ground disappear from under him and he plummeted down to the darkness below.
He smacked hard against the cold rocks, still surprisingly conscious. He felt how his blood begun to flow to the ground, forming a small pool around him.
His ears begun to drum, he felt himself starting to panic. Still, he tried to assure himself that all was going to be alright.
But he wasn’t, down here, he was good as dead.
The last thing he heard before falling into unconsciousness was someone screaming his name in distress.
This place will become my grave. This is where I’m going to die, all alone.
These thoughts lingered through the threehorn’s mind, and he had no intention of rejecting them from his mind. What was the point of that anyway? All of his powers were nearly completely repressed. He simply had no will nor the power to continue any further.
The trial was finished, he was finished. Everything had gone just completely wrong. He had been preparing for this moment quite some time the previous day, and he was certain of his eventual victory, but it had been just a futility in the end. He had gotten cocky, he had done the one thing his family had warned him about; arrogance. That very thing had caused others like him to fail in this task. But right now, he could hardly care about any of it. He just wanted to continue to lie down, and wait until the end came.
He could feel his wounds bleed on his sides, his blood flowing down onto the hard and cold ground of the ravine he was now trapped in. When he woke this morning, this was the least he could expect would happen to him this day. He was afraid. Yes, what creature wouldn’t be afraid of impending death? Even if his stubborn personality tried to prevent his mind from thinking any of those thoughts, he suppressed the little fragrant noise in his mind.
He lay in his unexpected and unwanted habitat silent as the night. The rays of the morning sunlight were barely visible to the dark ravine. He could hear some vague sounds of water dripping down somewhere, but other than that it was the only sound accompanying him. It brought him some sort of ease at that current moment.
The threehorn wasn’t even sure how he was still alive. The fall should have killed anything that was unfortunate enough to befall it. Maybe the ancestors were watching out for him? His family had often preached about their kinds history, to his mild irritation. But now, part of him was fractionally yearning for something like that, to talk to the long since passed dinosaurs of his family line.
But none of that mattered right now, he was most certainly going to die here. And to his surprise, he had accepted it.
A strange, but also a familiar voice rang in his head, he was almost convinced for a moment that he was delusional. But then, it sounded again, louder this time. It sounded very soothing, and he closed his eyes and listened to it. It would be so easy to just keep his eyes closed, until the end came.
’'This is it. Goodbye, everyone.'' he managed to whisper weakly.
The voice echoed once more, louder with every second. It seemed to approach him rapidly, as if someone was running toward him in clear distress. There was something oddly familiar about the way the voice had spoken to him, but he could not untangle what. Ultimately, though, he decided it didn’t matter anymore. He was about to die in this deserted ravine alone after all.
He closed his eyes once more, and the world around him began to fade away. He saw a flash of bright white light blind him, and he felt no more.
Vilar felt the surreal sensation when he began to come to. The first thing that came to his mind was that he wasn’t lying on his own nest. The ground was cold and hard. It took him a moment to remember where he was at. He remembered how he had fallen here in the first place—because of his own stupidity.
His senses were coming back to him one at a time, attempting to recover his thoughts. At first, he could only hear some vague buzzing, but over time he could hear more and more sounds. The blow of the wind, water dripping down and his ragged breath. He then opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness first, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the lighting, and he could see once again.
Vilar attempted to maneuver himself into a more comfortable position—when a painful sensation overtook him. Blood seeped from his wounds and sweat dripped down his forehead. He felt dull pain in every part of his body, it was if as his body had a mind of its own and was busy screaming in anguish over the inflicted wounds.
An overwhelming of dread took over and for a moment he thought the pain would only get worse and worse. It took a minute or two to gather his composure, but with conflicting thoughts still plaguing his mind. His entire body was trembling now. He was weak and exhausted and it cost him almost all of his remaining strength to keep fighting. But remarkably, he was still alive.
However, for how long was uncertain. No one could survive these kind of wounds and expect to live if they weren’t treated right. Unfortunately, he didn’t have such opportunity right now. It seemed as if he was trapped underwater, everything moving in slow motion, and all was garbled around him. It felt like a fog that had descended over all your senses, and gradually lifted one sense at a time.
Vilar tried once again to maneuver around, this time to some extent. He grunted, determined to block out the pain and ignore the little voice in his head begging him to stop. Vilar told himself he wouldn’t give up so easily, threehorns never knew when to give up after all. His bones ached severely. He managed to rise into a sitting position, he gasped for air and stumbled a bit, the world seemed to spin around him.
The pain became even more disorienting and it started to affect his judgment, but despite this or perhaps even due to this he still continued forward. If it had hurt this much to simply sit up, then how much it would hurt to stand up? Only one way to find out.
Vilar attempted to stand up, and immediately a dull pulsing pain crept up his legs, increasing in intensity every second. He had to take a moment to rest. Ten seconds passed, and then another ten, until he finally resumed his current task. The pain became even more unbearable, but he still pushed on.
His entire body was trembling even more now, but he had surprisingly managed to stand up, even though it hurt like hell. Every part of Vilar’s mind begged for an answer to relieve this feeling of misery, and any answer that he could come up with was worth considering.
Vilar squeezed his eyes shut tight and his face turned into a grimace. Swallowing the pain and ignoring it to the best of his ability was his only option right now. For now, the pain was still manageable. Annoying and hindering, but manageable.
He started to stroll slowly forward, careful to keep his balance in case he fell down unexpectedly.
’’Take… take that, you creeps.’’
Vilar was not quite certain to whom he said that, or if he even meant to say it.
While continuing his walk, Vilar gazed around him to find a possible escape from the ravine. He saw few ways lead down further underground, but decided not to venture there. He would have to find a way out and fast, every moment he wasted was one less to get out before he succumbed to his wounds.
Pressing onward, deeper into the cavern’s darkness, Vilar passed a small pond which was devoid of any water, to his dismal. Further ahead the way curved into three different paths, Vilar stopped to contemplate which route to take. The left path was twisted and it led to a slummy area. The middle one was too small for him to fit through, and the last one curved deeper into the cavern. So he had two choices out of three.
He could decide to venture through the left passageway, and hope that it would lead him into something much more hospitable. On the other hand, what reliabilities did he have that the path would indeed lead him somewhere worthy? None. It was all a gamble, really.
His other option was to use the path on his right, but it would only lead him deeper down, not upwards. And he had no way of knowing what could await him down there, and quite frankly, he was not eager to find out.
’’Curse my luck,’’ he said.
In the end Vilar decided to venture through the right pathway. He slowly marched onwards, deeper into the cavern’s depths. He passed a few more passages, each of them seemingly ending in a secluded room that could not offer him any salvation, so he left them alone and moved on.
Vilar’s stroll continued for a long time, his chosen passageway seemed to go on forever; leading to who knows what. He eventually made it to an even larger section of the cavern. The rock walls tall and mighty, preventing him escaping from his prison. He was about to investigate his surroundings more, when he heard something.
Vilar thought he could hear some faint sounds coming from somewhere near him. Following the sound, Vilar found himself passing by a minor waterfall on the other side. Beyond the waterfall lied another small room, covered in roots. He ventured through the gap.
Cautiously proceeding onwards, Vilar was once more reminded of his wounds starting to become worse with every passing second. He didn’t have much time now, now more than ever he needed to find a way out.
Stepping inside the small and cramped room, and to his delight, the rays of sunlight managed to peek through the gaps of the stone wall. With a careful look, Vilar examined the rock wall further. He was delighted by how frail the wall looked like, with enough force you could force yourself through it. He could hear once more faint sounds, coming from the other side. Who was out there? Was it someone he knew? He would soon find out.
Gathering enough speed and strength, Vilar backed away from the wall, until his back hit the stone wall behind him. With whatever strength he had left, he started to rush towards the wall, with the intention to break it with his momentum. He hit the wall with a harsh vigor, the wall crumbled a bit, few more hits like that and he would be free.
The noises on the other side intensified, apparently alarmed by Vilar’s actions. Once more, Vilar picked enough speed and crushed into the wall again. The wall was beginning to give out, rays of sunlight peeking more and more through the growing gap.
After few more strikes, Vilar desperately hoped that one hit was all he needed to break the wall, because his strength was beginning to dwindle rapidly. Fortunately, the wall did indeed fragment after his last hit. Sunlight completely illuminated the room, and Vilar was blinded momentarily, not expecting the sun to be so unforgiving to him.
However, Vilar’s strength was now almost completely evaporated, and almost fell head first into the ground. The sounds, which Vilar could not interpret, were now very clear to him, and he remembered them quite well too. Gasps of shock and surprise were audible enough to him. But he did recognize one of them that belonged to his father.
’’Vilar!’’
He saw his father rush toward him, and with a quick move, had moved to his side and enveloped him in a tight hug. ’’Thank the ancestors you’re alive!’’
More bodies joined the duo, of course, Vilar recognized them as well.
’’My boy! He’s alive!’’ Vilar’s mother cried.
Kivan mumbled, ’’I can’t believe it… How are you alive?’’
’’I knew you couldn’t have been dead, Vilar!’’ Salna said.
’’How did you find your way back here?’’ Halima asked.
Though he was glad that he had been reunited with his loved ones, his growing fears of imminent death were still very much more likely to occur. And they seemed to notice it as well since they quickly separated themselves from Vilar.
’’Oh my, Vilar… you’re hurt,’’ Auron’s father said.
’’Thanks… for the invaluable observation,’’ Vilar grunted.
Salna cried, ’’We need to help him, quick!’’
Before they could do anything to help Vilar, however, a voice rang out.
’’Not so fast.’’
Vilar weakly turned his gaze in the direction where the speaker was, and to his distress it happened to be non other than Grimlock himself, who was observing him silently.
’’May I inquire about how you are still with us?’’
Vilar chuckled, ’’What? Are you surprised, Grimlock?’’
’’Surprised by how someone can survive a fall like that? Indeed I am.’’
’’I don’t even know myself,’’ Vilar said. ’’But I don’t quit so easily. It’s going to take more than a fall to get rid of me.’’
Grimlock shrugged, ’’Honestly, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that this means the duel must continue until we have a winner.’’
A reddish-brown form leaped from the assembled crowd, right in front of Vilar, ’’How…? How in the name of ancestors can you still be alive?’’
Vilar smirked, ’’You didn’t believe it would be that easy, did you?’’
’’Why you…’’ Craster growled.
’’That’s enough, Craster,’’ Grimlock said. ’’You will get your chance, eventually.’’
Craster continued to seethe.
Grimlock turned to face the herd, ’’Everyone, the duel will continue momentarily. Please, remain collected.’’
’’You can’t send out my son out there again, Grimlock! Look at him. He’s not fit to fight.’’
Grimlock switched his gaze to Vilar’s father, and spoke, ’’The rules are clear; the duel will not end until only one remains, and your son is still alive.’’
’’He won’t last a minute in this state,’’ Vilar’s mother argued.
’’Then we’ll have our champion before the day is over, won’t we?’’
’’You-’’
’’Father, don’t,’’ Vilar said. ’’I can keep fighting,’’
His father looked at him, and shook his head, ’’Absolutely no. I will not lose you, not again.’’
’’He really doesn’t have any choice in the matter,’’ Grimlock said. ’’Once chosen, they are bound to complete their trial. Not doing so is an affront to our ancestors.’’
’’Besides, you heard him yourself. He is willing to continue on.’’
’’Even so, I’m not going to let him-’’
Vilar pushed his father away from him, ’’It is not your decision, father. It’s mine, it has always been mine. I can do this, I know that I can.’’
’’Vilar-’’
’’No, mother,’’ Vilar said. ’’It has to be this way.’’
His family and friends looked at him dumbfounded and afraid. They had just got him back and now they were going to lose him again.
’’Excellent,’’ Grimlock said. ’’Then we can-’’
’’Not yet, I wish to do something first,’’ Vilar said.
Grimlock rolled his eyes, ’’And what might that be?’’
’’You said that according to the rules, I can take one break from the fighting,’’ Vilar said. ’’So, that’s what I wish to do.’’
’’That is true,’’ Grimlock replied. ’’I did say that. Very well, have your break. But it won’t last for long, just so you know. If you’re trying to slither away from the trial, you are going to wish you were never born.’’
Vilar glared at Grimlock.’’Don’t worry. I won’t.’’
’’Then good luck, Vilar,’’ Grimlock said. ’’You’re going to need it.’’
’’We’ll see about that.’’
Despite his parents' wishes that he stay way from the fight, Vilar concluded to finish what he had started. Not like forfeit was allowed, anyway, so he really had no choice in the matter. Vilar studied his opponent for any potential weaknesses he could exploit, but could not find any.
At Grimlock’s shout, both of them leaped forward, determined to finish each other.
Vilar, however, was much slower than Craster, so he was more eager to stand back and let the other threehorn make the initiative. He had cleaned his wounds a few hours prior, but even so his weak demeanor showed. He took notice of the lush region around him, he knew he had no chance of winning this fight with brute force. Instead, he had to use his head. Be smart.
There was enough vegetation to hide in, an ideal spot for an ambush. It was considered dishonorable to do such a thing, but right now Vilar had no other option available. Taking Craster by surprise, he dashed as fast as he could into the thick forest. He could hear Craster’s taunts about him being a coward follow behind him, but he paid no attention to it.
Vilar kept on running, but with his injuries, it was proving to be a difficult task. Fortunately, he had kept enough distance between himself and Craster. He wouldn’t catch up to him yet, but unlike him, Craster didn’t have any serious wounds to hinder him. He ran for a few more meters before slowing down and taking a hard left.
Vilar began to work his way through along the thick vegetation, moving slowly as the path was restricted to allow only such movements. He made sure that his balance was stable, dripping down now would make everything so much easier for Craster. He hit an occasional rock, sending a jolt of pain up his legs.
Eventually, he arrived at a circular section in the forest, a very ideal spot for an ambush. Perfect. Now all he needed to do was hide and wait for the opportune moment. It arrived faster than he would have liked, as he was just crouching down behind a large rock, Craster appeared from the vegetation. ’’Once again, you do what you do best. Run and hide.’’
Vilar carefully peered over the rock to figure out Craster’s exact position. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, moving his gaze slowly from place to place while walking forward. ’’Make it easy for yourself, and just give up.’’
Craster seemed oblivious to the his presence, glaring around him. But Vilar would be a fool if he believed that Craster would lower his guard down, he wasn’t that stupid. Fortunately, Vilar had wiped out any kind of tracks he left behind him before taking shelter behind the rock. Vilar knew him enough to know that Craster was not someone who gave up easily. As he watched Craster began to approach his position, he checked his position once more to confirm he wasn’t going to be seen before he wanted to. But was he trained to identify a distraction when he saw one?
He peeked once again, Craster was busy switching his gaze around everywhere. That was the problem with these kind of places—too many places to check all at once. Craster’s back was turned to him momentarily. Vilar seized this opportunity to deliver the distraction. He started to roll a heavy rock down the hill, once it hit the ground it would impact with other rocks, making enough sound for Vilar to move to another location. He just hoped that Craster would take the bait.
’’This is starting to get ridiculous,’’ Craster said. ’’If everyone could see you now…’’
As Vilar worked, he took a closer look at Craster. He wanted to find any possible weak points in him. Externally, all he appeared to have were few scratches here and there, nothing good enough to actually… Cutting that thought in midsentence, Vilar noticed something odd about Craster’s movement. He was sure to keep less weight on his hindleg than any other. After closer inspection, Vilar determined that he was wounded from there. Apparently Vilar had harmed him enough so previously, that he had trouble with that particular leg.
And it would work nicely with Vilar’s plan.
Finally, the rock he had been pushing gave away, sending it tumbling down with a quick speed and slamming hard to the ground. Craster sharply turned around when he heard the noise behind him. Luckily Vilar had managed to slip back into hiding before he could have been discovered.
Peering over the top again, he noticed that Craster was making his way toward the place where the rock had fallen. He took the bait. Now it was time to sprung the trap.
Craster chuckled noisily. ’’Come out, Vilar,’’ he said. ’’I know you’re there somewhere. Why continue make it hard for all of us, when you can just give up and die with whatever dignity you might have left in you.’’
Vilar allowed Craster continue to live in false thoughts, he would soon wake up to the harsh reality. He started to crept up behind him, slow and steady, not making any noise that could give him away. He redied his horns for quick strike against Craster’s hindleg. Once that was done, all he had to do was pierce his heart or some other vital organ. Then it would all be over.
Craster was now standing direcly in front of the gorge created by the rock slide, when he suddenly stopped moving. Vilar didn’t cease his stroll, and he continued forward, with intention to finally end this blasted nightmare. He saw Craster inspect the damage, then he spoke, ’’Wait a minute…’’
Not giving him any time to respond, Vilar dashed forward. Craster turned around after hearing the sounds of someone approaching behind him, his eyes widened and he attempted to block Vilar’s attack. Unfortunately for him, it was too late for such action. Vilar’s horns impacted with his hindleg, and he fell down immediately, screaming in pain. In quick fashion, Vilar kept striking against his legs, to his disgust, he could hear bones start to break. Craster screamed louder and louder while attempting to remove Vilar.
Even still, Craster stubbornly refused to give up, and used his tail to strike against Vilar, hitting him on the center of his head. Vilar pushed the pain away from his mind and continued to pound against Craster. He could feel the other threehorn’s strength beginning to dwindle with each strike, it only fueled his will more.
’’Get off me, you git!’’
Apparently Craster decided he was done being under Vilar, and in quick fashion that surprised him, turned them around so that he was now the one stuck under him. Fortunately, he knew a way to escape before Craster could do serious damage. He struck his foot to Craster’s hindleg. Craster howled in pain, and flipped off from him. Apparently now content with staying far away from him instead of chasing him. ’’You… I’m gonna kill you for that!’’
Vilar’s gaze drifted toward Craster’s injured leg. It was all mangled, and the threehorn had trouble staying upright. It wouldn’t take lot to down him again. They both charged at each other, although now both hard problems of their own, they were still determined to hang on to their lives a while longer. A true threehorn never gave up.
They clashed once more. Both knew that only one would walk away from this. Vilar shuffled to the side and awaited in attack, and, possibly, inevitable death. Craster charged with a mighty cry. Vilar dodged to the side in one fluid move. His opponent swirled in his direction. His menacing eyes were a blazing red and his features indistinguishable due to the bloody conflict.
Craster thrust his horns forward, only to be met with Vilar’s own. Slowly, both of them were beginning to tire. The duel was at its end. With renewed vigor, Vilar slashed his opponent with his horns back and forth. Craster attempted to block his attacks while concurrently using his own set of horns to strike back. ’’I have to admit it, you’re tougher opponent than I thought.’’ he said.
Vilar smirked. ’’Don’t count your hatchlings until they hatch, Craster.’’
’’I think it’s about time we finish this,’’ Craster said. ’’Don’t want to keep the others waiting for too long.’’
Vilar nodded. ’’Agreed.’’
In that frozen moment between the fighting, Vilar and Craster’s eyes flicked to one another. Faces unreadable, no fear, no superior smirk, but respect for one another. It was something that neither of them expected. If only everyone else could see them now. What would they think right now? Two enemies, giving each other something that they should not have. But things do not usually go as planned after all.
Vilar gazed at Craster, his training holding up very well despite this being his first real fight. There was a flash of something in his face, but before Vilar could take another look it was gone. Like it was never there and determination had taken its place. But it hardly mattered. It was time to finish this once and for all.
The threehorns rushed forward, screaming. Both thrust their horns at one another once again, they impacted. More screams and shouts broke out. The clash was efficient, fierce and deadly. Vilar twisted his body to his right to find an opening and after a while, he found it. Striking his horns into Craster’s hind leg once more, and not able to bear the pain, Craster fell down in the mud with a loud splash.
Vilar gave him no time to act, and thrust again. This time aimed at his chest. Craster screamed louder than ever now. It made Vilar cringe away a bit. It was over now. Vilar had won. He’d done it, he had survived!
Craster, however, was still breathing weakly, worn out. His scream was reduced to whimpering.
’’Do it, then,’’ he said. ’’Kill me. You’ve won.’’
Vilar flicked his eyes to Craster and he saw something that he had never seen before in him.
Fear. He was afraid.
Craster coughed. ’’You know what’s funny? I’m… I’m actually afraid. For the first time since I can remember.’’
’’Deep down, I have always known that I’d end up like this,’’ Craster said. ’’Despite that, I told myself continually that it would never happen. Look at me now…’’
’’What?’’ Vilar mumbled.
’’This… this is all that I know how to do,’’ Craster said. ’’All of my life, this moment has been on my mind. I have been raised to rejoice this occasion.’’
Craster scoffed. ’’But you know what? I always secretly despised what they have turned me into. Not just by them. But my family as well. Only now, do I realize what an idiot I was.’’
Vilar knew very well by who they were. Craster continued, ’’I have been trained to kill since the day I learned to walk. My fate has been chosen for me, and there is nothing I could do to change that.’’
’’To bring ’glory and honor to the family line’. That’s what they kept saying to me all these years. And, I believed them,’’ Craster said. ’’Not anymore. Now I see what they truly are.’’
’’Lies.’’
Craster gazed at Vilar gravely. ’’All of them. This trial is a not an appeasing to our ancestors. It’s just for their sick amusement.’’
The reddish-brown threehorn growled. ’’But now it is going to change. This will be my first and only decision.’’
’’What are you talking about?’’ Vilar asked.
’’I cannot pretend anymore, Vilar,’’ Craster said. ’’Release me from this suffering.’’
Vilar blinked. ’’You want me to… kill you?’’
’’Yes.’’
Craster whimpered. ’’Please, Vilar. End it. Do it, do it and you will be the victor. I can’t live with myself anymore.’’
’’I can’t just kill you! Not now after hearing what you have been through.’’
’’You have to! It’s my wish. My very own wish, no one else’s,’’ Craster said.
Vilar thought about it for a long time. He didn’t want to kill Craster, no matter what had happened in the past. He couldn’t just become a murderer and live the rest of his life in peace. He simply couldn’t. But… a small part of Auron wished to help Craster.
Pause.
Craster continued to whimper in pain. ’’Please! I cannot take this pain any longer. End it now!’’
Vilar gazed at Crator deeply into his eyes, and asked, ’’Is this what you truly want?’’
Craster nodded. ’’It is. Of that I am certain.’’
Another pause.
Vilar turned his gaze upwards to the sky, the day was beginning to turn into a night. A moment later, he turned back to Craster, and gave him his answer.
’’Very well. I will do it.’’
Craster sighed. ’’Thank you.’’
Vilar raised his horns high into the air. He looked at Craster once last time. He received a nod from the other threehorn. No words were needed. Goodbye.
Vilar thrust his horns to Craster’s chest, piercing his heart. Craster weakly chocked out.
’’Finally… free…’’
The shadows had already dissolved into the nighttime darkness when Vilar ambled away from the forest. Two had entered its domain and only one had returned. He saw the herd stroll forward to receive him. Vilar had to chuckle a bit for their astonished looks. Apparently they didn’t expect him to survive.
His family and friends quickly sprinted away from the herd toward him. Vilar was glad to welcome their care. He would need it after today. They congratulated him, but he didn’t want to hear any compliments right now. He was sure that he would never want to hear. Unfortunately, Grimlock decided to cut the happy reunion short.
’’It appears we have our victor,’’ he said. ’’I must admit, this is a surprise.’’
’’Disappointed?’’ Vilar asked.
Grimlock smirked. ’’Not at all. Surprised is all. Considering your injuries I can honestly say that we all expected Craster to win. Speaking of him, he is dead, right? We aren’t going to have more ghosts suddenly appear in front of us?’’
Vilar shook his head. ’’He is dead. I killed him myself.’’ Vilar would not reveal the conversation between them to Grimlock, however.
Grimlock smiled, and spoke with enthusiasm. ’’Then I happily announce that this season’s trial is now officially over!’’
The gray threehorn turned his gaze to Vilar. ’’Everyone, let us give our humble compliments to our winner, Vilar!’’
Some of the herd cheered, but most opted to stay quiet and simply just congratulate Vilar on their own. And to give their sympathies. The herd moved away from the valley to their nesting grounds. The night’s celebration was still on the way. Vilar, his family and friends were the last ones to depart. Before leaving, Vilar shared one last look with the forest and whispered. ’’Rest now, Craster. You deserve it.’’
Vilar stood near a cliff overlooking the valley below him. He saw some of the herd members move around doing their usual affairs in peace. Vilar himself yearned for such. That was why he decided to venture to the cliff. To clear his mind. His friends followed shortly after him. They joined him on the cliff. Kivan was the first to speak.
’’Hard to believe it has been two days already since the trial.’’
Salna nodded. ’’Agreed. Time flies past when you have something to occupy your mind.’’
Halima gazed at Vilar, and spoke. ’’How are you doing?’’
’’Better,’’ Vilar replied. ’’I still have sleep terrors, but it’s starting to get easier.’’
Kivan smiled. ’’That’s good. I would just forget the damn thing completely.’’
’’Easy to say,’’ Vilar said.
Salna smiled sadly. ’’It will be okay one day, Vilar. We’re here for you.’’
’’That’s right,’’ Halima nodded. ’’If there is anything you want to talk about, we will listen.’’
VIlar pondered whether to reveal to them what he had been thinking about for the duration of two days. The things that Craster had said to him. He decided to be truthful to his friends.
’’There is something that has been on my mind lately.’’
’’Oh? What is it?’’ Kivan asked.
’’Promise me that this will stay only between us,’’ Vilar said. ’’This cannot be allowed to spread.’’
All three nodded.
’’Okay. When Craster and I were in the forest fighting each other and when I finally overpowered him, he said things that I can’t get out of my head.’’
’’What kind of things?’’ Salna asked.
Vilar swallowed, then resumed. ’’He had always despised this tradition. He said that the only thing he knew was to kill. That he had been raised like that since he was a small hatchling.’’
’’He didn’t fight back in the end, I did not overcome him because he made a mistake. He wanted to die.’’
Vilars’s friends had dumbfounded looks on their faces. Eventually, it was Halima who opened her mouth. ’’Wanted to die? What does that mean?’’
’’He didn’t want to live any more,’’ Vilar replied. ’’The last thing he said was that he was finally free.’’
’’Free from what?’’ Salna pondered.
’’From all of this.’’ Vilar said.
They stayed silent for a long time. Until Vilar continued again.
’’It appears that not all are what they seem to be.’’
Kivan mumbled. ’’So… you killed him to ’release’ him?’’
’’He wanted me to. And I did.’’
Another long pause ensued.
’’That’s… messed up.’’ Salna said, and everyone agreed with her.
’’Our whole lives are messed up,’’ Halima said. ’’And it will continue to be until Grimlock and his cronies are gone.’’
’’Did you see the look on other’s faces when he announced you the winner? They looked at him with resentment.’’
Vilar gazed at Kivan. ’’I was more focused on glaring at him myself to take any notice.’’
’’Grimlock may have support in this herd,’’ Salna said. ’’But not enough. There are far more those who hate his guts. Why don’t they do anything?’’
’’For the same reason why Craster couldn’t fight back,’’ Vilar said. ’’Fear. That’s how they control our lives.’’
Yet another silence followed.
’’I do not know what the future holds for us,’’ Vilar said. ’’Whether it is good or bad, but together, we will overcome those obstacles. Alone we fall, together we stand.’’
Vilar smiled. ’’All in due time. After all, it is not for us to question the ancestors work.’’
This is my response to the Gang of Five’s May prompt. I decided to cut a few scenes away from the story, but it will hardly dampen the overall plot. I also chose to depict the threehorns bit differently in this one, but they still have their substantial demeanor. Some of you might have noticed that I took some inspiration from Suzanne Collin’s The Hunger Games to my story. As always, any kind of feedback is welcome. I will see you again next time!
