Darkness. My eyes were open, or at least I was trying to open them, but I couldn't see anything. Had I gone blind? Was I about to die?

Noise. My ears were ringing but I heard muffled shouts and screams. I was either alive or already across the Pale River and being dragged into the horrible afterlife that more than likely awaited a man like me.

Warmth. Something warm and viscous ran over my face. Blood, maybe? Was it mine? 

Weight. I suddenly felt a horrible pressure on my chest. I tried to suck in a breath, but felt my ribs press hard into my lungs. I pushed with all my might, letting out my last bit of air in a scream as I shoved the weight aside.

Light. I took in the scene around me and confirmed that I was, perhaps unfortunately, still alive.

I was not on a boat crossing the Pale River, I was instead on a boat sinking into a freezing lake. 

The weight on my chest had been the corpse of a large man with a large wooden shard sticking through his throat. I wiped the man's blood out of my eyes and checked myself for injuries as the world moved at a snail's pace around me. I wasn't hurt. Just bumps and bruises, covered in blood and filth. I looked around.

The front of the boat was simply just a giant, flaming boulder. Corpses were crushed beneath it, some burning, some just a pile of red. One man screamed as two others attempted to pull him from under the rock. They grabbed his arms and pulled and I could only watch in horror as the other half of the man's body stayed buried beneath the rock. The ground under my feet shifted, the boat tilting back. I caught myself as the boat lurched back and separated from the boulder slightly. A hand grabbed my shoulder.

I turned and saw Jarret. He was saying something, but the ringing in my ears muffled his voice. He looked desperate, pointing to the back of the boat. I followed his finger and saw Rost ripping open the hatch to the top deck, climbing up and squeezing his massive form through the hole. I turned back to Jarret and his voice finally came through the haze.

"We have to move, now!"

I was never a man to sit idle. I spent the two seconds required to grab my bow and quiver, though some of the arrows had scattered to the ground. Jarret had already made it to the ladder, fighting with a couple other soldiers trying to climb out as the boat lurched again, sending two men sprawling to the side of the cabin. I stumbled, but caught myself on one of the barricades in the middle of the room. Jarret had managed to climb up the ladder and out of sight as I pushed my way forward. The boat lurched again, this time falling onto its side and throwing everyone to one side of the cabin. I grabbed a hand on the ladder just in time to not get slammed into the wall with the rest of the soldiers. Through sheer effort and adrenaline flowing through me, I pulled myself up and made it halfway through the hatch. 

"Take my hand!"

Jarret was standing against the mast of the ship, able to keep a foothold while the boat sank into the water at an angle. I took the hand and realized I'd severely underestimated the southerner's strength as he yanked me up and onto precarious ground.

"You're hurt?" Jarret asking, staring at me wide-eyed.

I touched a hand to my head and felt the warm blood of the man who'd died on top of me.

"Not mine," I said. Jarret nodded and turned to help another man out of the hatch.

I took a moment to finally take in my surroundings and realized just how little I was. Chaos, confusion, water, blood, fire, ice, lightning, and of course the sheer scale of the Death Bowl all combined to overwhelm me as I took it all in.

First was our boat. The giant flaming boulder sat idly on the shore atop the wreckage of the front half of Boat #5 less than a hundred feet away from me. The back half of the boat had finally stopped its lurching, now just slowly sinking back into the cold depths of the lake. Not great, but for the moment there didn't seem to be any threat of it collapsing further. There were fewer than twenty of us on the top deck, all standing in awkward positions to keep our footing as the boat had fallen nearly all the way on its side. Rost, Growly, and Simet were among those who'd made it this far still alive. In the water there were a couple dozen more of us. Mostly it was the crew who'd been flung off the deck as the boulder hit. Some were just bodies floating limply in the icy water, others were desperately trying to swim to the shore or back to the boat. Staying in the water for more than a few moments would spell the doom of the Thrymarrans, let alone men from the south. I realized that I was one of the lucky ones, though I didn't currently feel particularly lucky. I was reminded of something Old Nan used to tell me when I'd complain: "There's always a bigger stack of splinters somewhere."

Next was the hill of the Death Bowl. As I cast my gaze across the battlefield, my lips curled into a smile and I let out a dry chuckle of disbelief. I thought that my imagination would've conjured up something far more foul than what reality held in store. 

I was so very wrong.

I knew the general layout of the geography before coming here, though I'd never seen it. Now that it lay before me I realized just how insane the upper brass were to send us here. To the east and west stood the towering Giant's Maw Mountains. Their jagged peaks disappeared into the clouds above, and their rocky faces plunged so steeply toward the lake that no sane man would dare attempt the climb. That was why we were here after all. A single stretch of land, just a few thousand feet across, spread out before me. This was the only place where our troops could actually push into Thrymarran lands without taking on the impossible task of scaling the mountains. There was one issue, though, the Thrymarrans understood that as much as we did.

The beach itself was rocky, covered in ice and snow. The waters were crowded with the Borevainian boats, some torn asunder by giant, flaming boulders just as mine was, others had managed to successfully land on the icy shores. Hundreds of Borevainian soldiers had already made their charge and began their ascent of the hill.

No one made it far. 

Some worked together, standing shoulder to shoulder, pushing up the hill using the large wooden barricades we'd been given as shields. Some ran by themselves, reckless and foolish. Others still, tried desperately to drag wounded out of the freezing waters of the lake. The climb itself seemed a fool's errand. Men slipped, tumbled back, or slid down the steep slope of frozen earth. To climb this hill with no actionable threat from the enemy would have been a challenge. Parts of the slope were so uneven and steep that it required one to climb on hands and knees, digging at the earth just to gain ground. Carrying a heavy wooden barricade, even with the help of nine other men, made the climb slow and the soldiers sitting ducks. Worst of all, I realized why we needed these barricades. 

While the ground of the slope was uneven and steep, there was no cover to be found. Not one rock or tree. Not so much as a blade of grass to hide behind. Our options were limited. Climb slightly faster with no cover at all or use all our energy to slowly ascend the hill with a shield that might crush us as we slide down when we inevitably stumble. 

Outlook?

Grim. You'd have a better chance swimming across the Pale River.

At the top of the hill stood our foe. Our goal. They were a thin line on the horizon, sunlight shining in behind them through grey clouds. A shadow that broke the beauty of the land. The entire crest of the hill was covered by Thrymarrans, all raining down flaming arrows upon the southern invaders as they drove their way up. I watched as the group who'd made it furthest were targeted by a volley. Their barricade was pummeled with arrows over and over, pushing them back. One man finally took a hit and tumbled lifelessly down the hill, cloak catching fire as he went. That was enough to break them. Another soldier stumbled and the barricade dropped, sliding to one side. The rest of the men followed shortly after. 

Along the line of archers were five reasons to call a retreat. 

The people of Borevain like to call the Thrymarrans savages or uneducated, but one thing is certain—they know their weapons of war. 

Five towering structures stood, spread out from one another at the top of the Death Bowl.

They were trebuchets. Far larger than any I'd ever heard of or read about. They towered above the line of Thrymarrans, casting an ominous shadow over the hill like a warning to those who approached.

I watched another flaming boulder the size of a house soar through the air as if slowed by time. It flew over my head and crashed into another boat a few hundred feet back in the lake. I wondered how they could possibly hit a target from that distance.

But then again, that wasn't the most unbelievable thing the Thrymarrans had up their sleeve.

A flash of light, a scream, a puff of smoke, followed by the crack of thunder. From the darkened heavens above came destruction and doom. Like the gods intervening to smite sinners, lightning crashed down onto any soldier who drew anywhere close to the apex of the Death Bowl.

"He's here!"

Jarret had finished helping up the last of our comrades from the ruined boat, Scaredy surprisingly among them. Now the southerner stared at the skies above, his eyes tinged with madness.

"Unfortunately," I mumbled to myself.

The remainder of the soldiers from boat five stood precariously on the deck for a brief moment, watching the horror of battle unfold before them.

"We have to move!" Simet yelled over another clap of thunder. 

"FUCKING WHERE?!?" Growly shouted back.

Then came another rumble, but not from the skies. This one came from the man too large and brawny to possibly be called a man.

Rost roared with a fury so terrible I thought he might choose to start killing us, being the nearest living creatures. His arms shook and spittle flew from his mouth as he continued to release his battle cry.

Then, bare-chested, barefooted, and unarmed—he jumped into the water below. 

The force of his departure shook the entire boat, leaving little choice for our next move. Everyone followed Rost's lead and bellowed their mightiest before taking the plunge off the boat. I chose to save my breath since deciding it was better spent elsewhere, but I jumped off the boat all the same.

When a man jumps into water that he understands to be freezing cold, he believes he's ready. In his mind he is prepared for the feeling, especially since he's done it before. 

That man was me.

That man was wrong.

The shock of the cold hit me immediately as I was consumed by the water. I desperately tried to stop myself from filling my lungs with freezing water, but every normal body function had been seized by the cold. As though imprisoned by chains of ice, I sunk. I couldn't get my arms and legs to move. Everything felt heavy. 

Then my feet touched the bottom. 

I used every ounce of strength I had for one last kick and pushed myself up. Luckily, we weren't far off the shore and the water was shallow. From just my one kick I broke the surface of the lake and gulped air into my lungs. I blinked away the watery haze in my eyes and saw the shore less than a dozen feet away.

I could make that.

I was freezing to death and my entire body felt like it was being pierced with nails, but I could make that.

A few kicks of my feet and paddle of my hands later and I could stand with my head out of the water. My body was shaking and my breaths came in shallow gasps. I tore off my soaked fur coat as I trudged the last few steps to shore. The other soldiers who'd made it to shore were in a similar state. Rost was the sole exception. It seemed that his battle fury had stoked a fire in him that even the freezing waters of the Death Bowl could not extinguish. The monster of a man bounded across the shore and began up the hill while the rest of us attempted to recover.

We had one saving grace—a giant boulder burning bright and hot right next to us.

Everyone scrambled to the fire, trying to steal any amount of warmth they could.

I still had my bow, but I'd lost almost every arrow from my quiver during the chaos. I'd lost my helmet, but my dagger was still on my belt. More important than the gear, however, I was still alive. Most of my crewmates couldn't say the same.

Scaredy made it to the boulder before collapsing in a soaking heap at my feet.

"I...can't..." he muttered weakly. 

I rubbed my hands, holding them to the fiery rock, and looked down at the man.

I hadn't expected him to make it this far. Despite his demeanor, I had to have some respect for his will to survive. 

I crouched down and patted a hand on his chest. "What's your name, man?"

"D...Deifis," he replied.

I grimaced while I emptied the water of my quiver.

That was the worst name I'd ever heard and, unfortunately, I thought it fit him well.

"Deifis, the hard part's over," I lied. "Now we just have to climb a hill. Don't give up just yet."

Jarret stepped forward, ringing the water out of his dark cloak. "Yes. Now all we have to do is climb."

We all looked up at the hill. It was no less daunting from the shore.

We were along the eastern edge with a steep mountainside wall to our left. Rost had made it a few hundred feet which was farther than some of the previous squads had made it judging by the abandoned barricades and corpses lining our side of the hill.

"What the fuck do we even do?" Growly asked. 

I pointed up ahead of us. "There are plenty of left over barricades from previous squads who've tried to climb. We take one and push. Not much else to do."

"Ain't we just gonna die like they did? Surely there's some other way?" 

Another voice chimed in, one of the men from the back of the boat. His nose was crooked and he was missing a few teeth, causing his voice to grate on the ears. 

"We could sit here and piss ourselves till another rock flies down on us."

Growly snarled at him. "I'm just saying, there's no point in following the path of certain death. That's all."

"That's just it my friends."

Simet stepped in front of the group, gazing up the hill. He'd shed his outer layer like the rest of us, revealing a fine set of chainmail underneath. He held his greatsword in one hand and spread his arms wide as he slowly started forward.

"It is as the scriptures say," he continued. "The path of the damned and the righteous are one and the same. It is the quality of the man who strides upon it that determines his fate."

He turned back to us, the fire of the boulder reflecting in his glassy eyes. "Rise now, sons of freedom. Rein in fear and doubt like they are your noble steeds. Ride upon the light of dawn and deliver doom to the enemy."

I wouldn't say we were inspired by Simet's speech, but at the very least it forced us to make the collective decision to go together.

Simet led the charge. Growly, crook-nose, and Jarret followed shortly after along with the ten or so surviving members of our boat.

I dragged Deifis to his feet. "Come on, now. Just a jaunt up the hill."

"Fuck you," he managed.

The first fifty feet of climbing were relatively quick and easy. No arrows fell our way, no flaming boulders, no lightning—just a squad of soldiers breathing and grunting their way up a slippery slope. I quickly remembered that these were veteran men. With the exception of Deifis, everyone was surefooted and even if someone slipped, the next man reached out a helping hand. The terrain was rocky, uneven and, slick with ice, but our progress was steady. The adrenaline of battle had negated most of the shock of the cold from the water and I felt myself settling into the effort of the climb. For fifty feet, a little bead of hope grew within my heart. 

But as I glanced to my right, I was reminded of what we were up against. In just a few split moments, I watched four different squads all be reduced to nothing but smears of blood along the icy slope. A crack of lightning bright enough to blind me for a moment. A boulder crashing into a barricade and rolling down the hill into another squad. A coordinated rain of arrows decimating a squad only a few dozen feet to our right.

The climb hadn't been easy. We'd just been lucky. I knew more than most that relying on luck to stay alive was a dangerous thing.

We were mere steps away from an abandoned barricade when the arrows began to fall. Just one at first, but in seconds it was a volley. Someone took a hit to the leg, tumbled and cracked his skull against the rocks and slid down the slope. I reached out to try to grab him but stopped when I nearly lost my own footing.

Deifis screamed as an arrow hit his shoulder. He dove to the ground, clinging to the earth to not slide back. The rest of us had made it to the barricade, crouching behind as it absorbed the last of the volley. 

I reached a hand out to Deifis. "Come on!"

I was certain he would be cut down before he reached me. But once more, scared, little Deifis surprised me. He leapt forward the last few feet to safety with a yelp and grabbed my hand.

We all sat behind the barricade, chests heaving.

"We cannot sit still," Jarret breathed.

"True enough," I mumbled back.

I peered over the top of our shield to look up the slope. 

Not great. 

As far as I could tell, we were the only squad this far up on the eastern edge of the hill. There were more barricades ahead of us, but they were surrounded by corpses filled with arrows or smoking circles where lightning had struck. There was only one person farther up the slope—Rost. He had grabbed a barricade and lifted it all on his own. There was even a corpse of one of its previous squad members hanging limply off one side. The beast of a man roared as he drove his legs into the earth. His progress was slow, but he continued to push ever upward.

Down the hill below us more boats had landed and more had been destroyed by the trebuchets. To our right, hundreds of Borevainian soldiers made the same push we were making and as far as I could tell, there was no sneaky strategy or cunning tactic being employed. We were in the thick of it now. I never thought I'd miss the battles at the Pass, there we at least had the option of retreating. If we tried to make our way back down the hill now...

Arrows began to thud into our barricade once more.

"Shit!" Growly shouted. "Push, you bastards! Fucking push!"

I turned and grabbed the handle nearest to me and lifted. I'd helped with the lumber in many winters so I knew how heavy this timber would be. Apparently Deifis did not. I heard a squeak as he tried to push against it and I watched him slip, landing hard on the ground. Jarret reached down and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to safety as an arrow landed right where he'd been. 

"Stay with us now," Jarret grunted as he resumed his efforts on the barricade. 

The next fifty feet made me miss the first fifty and I imagined I'd be thinking the same thing in another fifty if we ever made it that far.

For normal men, even well-trained soldiers, climbing such treacherous a slope while carrying a weight as heavy as the barricade would certainly spell their doom. Luckily for us, every man other than Deifis on the line was a veteran. We understood that we couldn't just push as we liked or go at our own pace. We knew we had to work together if we wanted any chance at surviving this battle.

Simet was the one to speak up and set our pace, taking it one arduous step at a time. 

"LIFT! PUSH! STEP! LIFT! PUSH! STEP!" 

We all fell into the rhythm as as he continued to bark commands. Arrows thudded into our barricade and fell all around us, some still coated in oil and burning. I feared that our barricade would eventually become engulfed in flames, but at the moment I was more worried about keeping my footing and not getting caught by a stray arrow. By the time we'd made it the next fifty feet, my legs felt like they were ready to give out and my lungs burned with the cold winter air. The rest of the line were mostly the same with the exception of Deifis. He was in a far worse state. I think he'd simply been hanging on as we dragged him the last dozen steps or so. Tears filled his eyes and snot ran from his nose as blood leaked from the wound on his shoulder.

As we took our next step, I glanced over the barricade, nearly taking an arrow to the face for my curiosity. I ducked down as the arrow whizzed past me and thudded into the ground behind. 

"Mad bastard," Crook-nose sneered at me.

It hadn't been my smartest move, but I saw something important.

We were nowhere near even halfway up the slope. I felt my own exhaustion, saw the same on the others, ducked as another wave of arrows rained down on our barricade, and realized—this was not possible. At least not how we were going. We were already moving slow and we'd only tire the farther up we went. Our barricade was fine for now, but it would catch fire eventually, and without it we'd be pincushioned with arrows in seconds.

"Wait!" I yelled.

The squad dropped the barricade down, hunkering behind it.

"What is it?" Jarret shouted over the chaos.

They all looked at me expectantly. 

I gulped. "We can't keep this up all the way to the top."

There were grunts of agreement.

"You have a plan?" Simet asked.

Not a good one, I thought.

I pointed out in front of us. "The big fella."

A mere twenty feet in front of us, Rost still pushed forward. His barricade was covered with arrows, and a few had made it through and hit the giant man, though he didn't seem affected in the least bit.

"If he's carrying the shield for us... we might have enough strength to reach the top," I continued. "We just have to get to him."

"How the hell do we get there?" Growly asked between breaths.

I shrugged my shoulders and held up my palms. "We run for it."

No one seemed excited by the prospect, but everyone understood that we couldn't keep up what we'd been doing. It was a risky gamble, but having some chance was far better than none at all. If we could make it to the top and disrupt even a small part of the Thrymarran defense then just maybe...

No point in pondering that right now. We'd only made it a little over a hundred feet. Let's worry about getting to Rost. 

"Well, if we're gonna go," Growly roared as he got to his feet. "LET'S GO!"

We were off. The entire squad leapt up and ran. A deathly sprint up the slope a couple dozen feet long.

Instantly I regretted leaving the safety of the barricade. The crook-nosed man was in front of me and after two steps an arrow slammed into his side. He went down hard, tripping me as he slid down the hill. I landed on my shoulder and rolled a couple of feet down before I caught myself. I scrambled to my feet and nearly lost my balance again. One arrow whistled past my ear and another thudded into the ground inches from my foot. I pushed with everything I had, clambering with speed only possible for a man as desperate to survive as I.

I'm not sure if it was skill, dumb luck, or if perhaps the Lady of the Loom had simply woven my death for another time—but I made it.

Five of us now crouched behind the still roaring Rost and his barricade. Jarret, Simet, Growly, and a scar-faced man were the only ones to make it. There were once over a hundred of us in our boat, now there was... Deifis?

Deifis. Cowardly, sniveling Deifis was still climbing. He was slower than the rest, even with my stumbling mishap, but he was still alive.  

"COME ON!" I shouted, waving him on.

I saw the horrified look on his face. I saw the tremble in his hands. I saw the blood dripping down from his shoulder. I saw the determination in his eyes. 

Step after step, the man ran. Twice I thought he'd fall, but miraculously he kept his feet, somehow dodging every arrow sent his way. 

And then—he made it.

He let out a primal scream as we helped him into line behind Rost with the rest of us. Growly gave him a pat on the back, nearly hard enough to knock him down.

I opened my mouth to say something to the man when there was a flash of blinding light and a searing heat.

For a moment everything went numb and my vision was entirely white.

More than likely—I just died.