On the Edge

On the Edge
By Milan Klon

It was a gloomy day. Birds of prey flew across the sky, shrouded in grey clouds. A cold wind was blowing. A man was lying on a muddy dirty path in the middle of grassy plains. His forehead was buried in a muddy puddle. His clothes were torn and stained with blood. His sweaty muscular back was cut a lot. He breathed heavily. There was a bloody sword in the grass beside him.

The man raised his head. He wiped his eyes with shaking hands and opened his eyes slowly. He tried to get up and stand on his feet. The blood was coming from his belly where he felt a severe pain. He was cold. He looked around. In the distance, a cliff, on which stood a stone cottage, emerged from the fog. The man walked towards it.

He stopped every few steps. He was breathing hard. He fell to the ground. After a while he got up again and continued his way. Reflections of sea waves flickered through the fog under the cliff. He felt he couldn’t go on. The pain permeated his entire body. Streams of blood flowed from his belly. Drops of sweat formed on his pale face. He came to the dwelling. That seemed like a relatively new building with stone walls and a straw roof. However, it was slightly damaged. A Viking axe was laying in the grass in front of the door. The whole cottage looked deserted. He was crawling with all his might towards the door. He stopped near it. A wooden carillon clinked above him, hanging on the beam. A closer look revealed that there had been some strange tiny pagan figurines hanged in a circle. They looked sinister. The man was frightened, but he finally decided to knock on the door. No one had opened or answered. So, the man opened the door slowly. He moved slowly inside. He found himself in a modestly furnished room. He only heard the roar of the wind outside. Otherwise, there was peace and quiet. After a while, he heard some steps. He looked around. Nobody anywhere.

Suddenly a rattle approaches him, but the man hasn’t seen anyone. At once he feels a gust of wind behind his back. He turns as fast as he can. A person with an axe in its hand! The man doesn't even look at its face and he fainted out of nowhere. He saw some flashes of light. He was in the sea. He drowned. He was pursued by some men with torches and axes. He heard a dog’s barking and horse’s clopping. Then he saw some arrows. They stabbed into his body. Blood. Everything was wrong with him…

The man opened his eyes slowly. He was lying on a bed. He could move hard and had a lot of wounds, which had been sutured, on his body. He looked around the room. It was full of books, scrolls, jars, bottles of all possible colours, strange equipment, and glasses, full of organs in some fluid. He was horrified. He passed out for a while. He didn't want to wake up anymore. Sweat was running down his body. He had a severe fever. Suddenly he heard some sounds. He dared to open his eyes. He saw old, wrinkled hands on the headboard of the bed. He stared at them. A surrendered expression appeared on his face…