Remembrance
The fading afternoon light glinted through the clouds onto the warrior embarking on his journey below.
Callan ascended the Shrieking Bluff, his hands braced on the weathered rock. Northern winds whipped his face with a frigid blow. His cloak flailed west, an anchor dragging his burly frame towards impending death. Blood trickled from Callan’s entrenched fingers as the coarse limestone cut through his skin. He clamped his feet into small recesses in the earth lest his waning strength succumb to nature’s wrath.
Everything on this day conspired against him.
Yet he held on to hope in the form of a memory: childhood glee in Ruaridh’s soft voice sprung like a melody, as they clambered atop the same slope decades ago. The vividness of the climb echoed forth to him. Their spry little bodies scaled the broad, steep face of the hill with relative ease. The northern winds bore little threat to them back then. Talk of exploring the world together hung in the air like a childhood conquest. Little did they know how futile such fantasies would be. On their race towards the zenith, Callan fell behind his best friend. In reckless pursuit, he launched himself up and hastily tugged onto a loose bit of rock. It tumbled and young Callan dangled off the edge of the steep face. Struggling to maintain a hold, Ruaridh’s hand emerged from above and quickly reached out to keep him from plummeting down the bluff. Callan held on for dear life as Ruaridh tugged him up from the edge of the cliff. They had averted death’s grasp once more. Out of breath at the summit, they both lay beside a cairn for some time, amused at their brash undertaking.
Ruaridh’s lingering reminder then chimed in to mind:
‘We’ll see it through, to the very end.’
Determination coursed through him. Callan the warrior heaved his drained body across the steep face, scaling it carefully, mustering his might, holding himself firm against the wind’s shrieking torment. Until eventually, he ascended the Shrieking Bluff and reached the zenith. When nature coerced him to fall, thrashing and slashing with every blow, the warrior held his fortitude.
Callan took refuge near the cairn, the vigour in his body depleted after the climb.
His panting became stifled from the restless northern air. The breathtaking view atop the Shrieking Bluff was a sight to behold.
The biting winds gnawed at Callan’s flesh as he surveyed the scene. The rolling landscape unfurled before his eyes: villages and towns sprawled across the surrounding plateau, beyond that hills and woods nestled in-between outlying settlements, and elsewhere on the fringes of civilisation, cliff rocks jutted out of the land to form mountainous boundaries that protected the Caledonian realm.
Less than a hundred miles away, the capital could be seen in plain view.
For a moment he bore the mantle of a sentinel, protecting all the lands of the realm as far as his naked eye could see.
Then he remembered his purpose up there.
Callan removed his knapsack and pulled out a crude urn.
The northern winds rattled against the ceramic vase. He carefully peeled off the lid and held the urn in his bloodied hands. The warrior let out a heavy sigh. The wind now understood his purpose and eased itself into a gentle breeze. His cloak of mourning wrapped around his frame, caressing his grief. Streams had frozen across his tender cheeks.
Callan poured out the urn’s contents; ashes scattered out over the Shrieking Bluff. The wind rallied its strength and bellowed them forth.
Callan kept his warrior’s vigil as the ashes flew out across the horizon.
‘Now you can finally see the world, old friend.’ he proclaimed only to himself and the northern wind.
Ruaridh’s ashes sailed into the dying light. The last trace of golden rays now faded under the setting sun.
The winds carried his friend far and wide to places unknown.
Callan felt the lingering remains of his childhood friend echo in his head. He answered back as a candid smile stretched across his lips:
‘We did see it through, to the very end. Rest in peace.’
The warrior bid him farewell for the last time, before he departed from the memories of their past.
A story about honouring friendship.
Day 13 - This piece was posted as part of the 31 Days of Content Challenge that I undertook in March 2022.