Something feels wrong in the story and I need second opinions, but I obviously can't show this to people I know or they'll judge me and then I'll be a failure (I figured random strangers on the internet would be more understanding and helpful).
"But Carter, no one is going to stumble across this blog you made when you were in middle school, find this story, read it all the way to the end, and then give you constructive, useful feedback on your writing!"
Good point. Is it good enough to stop me from posting the story anyways? Nope.
A TOMB
Nobody knew how old the tomb was or what was inside it. All anyone knew about it were the descriptions of the large, stone doors covered with strange symbols that barred its entry. Embedded like a black tick in the side of the snow covered mountains, it was something eternal. Something the average person couldn’t understand. Something the intelligent lost sleep over. And something that Watcher had sworn to protect. He stood motionless in the snow in front of the doors, the tip of his sword piercing the white blanket of snow while his hands rested upon the hilt. He had seen the figure approaching for quite some time. He had withstood a fierce snowstorm the night before and had worried about the opportunity that the low visibility created for attackers. Now, in the absence of the fierce blizzard, the air was sparsely filled with snowflakes drifting lazily to the immaculate landscape below, Watcher’s vision stretched across the nothingness until the horizon grew tired and decided to disappear.
The figure, though still a far way off, drew close enough for Watcher to identify some of its characteristics. The heavy fur coat and dark hood tried to hide their owner, but their size and shape gave away the strength of the man beneath them. Each step cut him closer to Watcher. Watcher tightened his grip and the hilt, but left the sword resting in the earth. The figure stopped a short distance from him and withdrew his hood. Watcher looked straight into the man’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze. Finally, Watcher let out a sigh of relief.
“How have you been, Varig?” The words pierced the chilled air and dispersed amongst snowflakes. Varig’s eyes shifted momentarily and his mood seemed to darken. The words began floating down and fading into the ground. The silence of the frozen tundra grew louder until Watcher doubted if he even had spoke in the first place.
“When will you give up on this?” Watcher continued. “I’m sure you could eventually find a woman from the village who’s desperate enough to be your wife.” Varig didn’t respond. He lowered his head and stared into the snow, before raising it to say.
“This will be the last time.” Varig stated. The silence was deafening. From far off, it seemed as though they were two dark specks were stained into a white canvas. Watcher knew that it was true. That it was different this time. He saw it in Varig’s eyes.
“Very well then…. “ Watcher understood that the stakes would be much higher in this duel. He drew his sword from the ground. “At least tell me why this time.”
“I’ve told you before, It’s my fault your here.” Varig whispered as he too drew his sword from the leather sheath at his side before shedding his coat to the ground.
“And I’ve told you before, I don’t believe you. I need to be here. I don’t care that it’s me instead of you, somebody has to guard the tomb.” Varig shook his head.
“Your chains are thicker than father’s now, he-”
“Enough about chains and father! If you wish to fight me again, then do it!” Watcher snapped. Varig clenched his jaw.
“So be it…” Watcher bent his legs in preparation. Varig was bigger than he was, stronger too, but he was much too slow. Though Varig was older, Watcher had always beaten him from the time that father first handed him a sword.
“He’ll start with a slash to my right and then step back for an overhead swing” Watcher thought. As he changed his stance to prepare for this attack, Varig had somehow already closed the distance between them and had his sword arcing straight for Watcher’s head. Shocked, Watcher raised his sword to block. The two blades clashed and shattered the frozen silence. They struggled against each other for a moment before Watcher mustered his strength and shoved Varig back and lunged for his chest. Instead of deflecting his blade, Varig merely sidestepped. As his body flew past Varig’s, Watcher felt a burning pain on his left side. He fell to one knee before quickly rising and spinning around to face Varig again. He kept his eyes locked on the other sword, waiting for the next attack. He pushed his left hand against his abdomen and felt a sticky sensation seep through his glove. He glanced down to see the slash in his coat colored red with his blood. It wasn’t fatal, but it was painful. The fight had just begun, but Watcher stood gasping for air. This wasn’t the same Varig that he had sparred with throughout his adolescence. This wasn’t the same Varig from their fight two years earlier.
“This time is different….I can’t predict what he’ll do… I need to make the next move….”
Before he could step forward to attack, Varig uttered, “You never had chains before.” Watcher paused. Snow began to fall thicker than before. The wind began to howl softly. Watcher was anxious, focused, but Varig seemed distant and calm.
“Mother’s chains were thin but many, like piles of maggots festering in a corpse. The few times I saw Father, I remember how much thicker and darker his were than Mother’s.” Watcher remembered how Varig constantly spoke about chains. He never understood what he meant, but the more he talked, the more time Watcher had to gather his thoughts. He stood panting and let him continue. “Mine grew as the day approached, they were small during the times we played together.” Watcher looked deeper at Varig. He could see that the muscles beneath his clothes were smaller. His skin was paler. Lines furrowed his brow and cheeks. He looked as if he should be weaker than ever before, not stronger. “The night before I was supposed to take father’s place, I thought that maybe I could run until my chains began to disappear. I should’ve known better. I ran until I thought they were gone, but they didn’t disappear. They fell onto you instead.” Watcher wasn’t listening. He guessed that Varig had spent the last two years training for this moment, losing sleep, shaping his body, and training just so that he could best him. To protect the tomb, Watcher would need to alter the way he usually fought. Perhaps switching his dominant hand could sway the battle in his favor. Or, maybe, if he rushed Varig while he was still talking, then he could catch Varig off guard with a feint followed by a slash to his chest.
Varig’s eyes grew red. “I’m so sorry….” Watcher came back to the moment. For a split second, he forgot his plan. He didn’t see a man anymore. There was no warrior or enemy facing him. His heart swelled as he saw his older brother fighting back tears.
“Just leave.” Watcher begged.
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can”
“I can’t let you wear my chains any longer.” Varig turned his back on Watcher and began walking towards the tomb. Watcher felt anger rising in his chest. He went to step forward, but a stinging pain in his side stopped him in his tracks.
“You’ll die before you open those doors!” He yelled. Varig kept walking. Watcher shrugged off his pain. He raised his sword and charged towards his brother. Varig turned right as the blade threatened to sever his spine. His blade easily flicked the sword away as he spun back to face Watcher. Wind roared as Watcher stumbled before regaining his balance. He feinted a slash to Varig’s right side. Varig went to block but Watcher shifted his momentum and smashed the hilt of the sword in Varig’s skull. Varig staggered back and ducked just as the sword sliced through the air where his neck had been. He sprung up and planted his knee into Watcher’s stomach. Watcher’s body curved violently around his brother’s leg before dropping with a thud.
His face buried in the snow, Watcher heard a voice say, “Please...you won’t like the other way this ends.” He heard snow crunching beneath Varig’s boots as he continued his advance towards the looming doors. Watcher was sure he heard a crack when his hilt bashed against Varig’s head, how did Varig shrug such a blow off so easily? Why did he want to destroy everything their family had spent eons defending?
“No...it won’t be me...I won’t be the link that breaks the chain.” Watcher’s father had spent his life guarding the tomb. Father told stories of his father, of his father’s father, of his father’s grandfather, of all those who preceded them in this sacred responsibility. Watcher planted his fist in the snow and began to push his body from the ground. When Varig ran away, he was thrilled that he would uphold the tradition. That he could honor his family by protecting the tomb. Why did Varig fight so hard to take that from him? From his knees, Watcher snatched his sword and rose to his feet. He screamed.
“Our family will mean nothing if you open that tomb!” Varig stopped yards away from the doors. He turned to face Watcher for the last time. His eyes were dark. The howling of the wind and silence intensified until it seemed the tundra would explode. It all stopped when he spoke.
“We are family.” Varig took another step to the doors and placed his hand against one of them and began to push. The large door creaked and groaned as it slipped open. Watcher was only a short distance away, but the doors would be open by the time he would be able to reach Varig. Watcher tightened his grip on the sword in his arm and screamed as he arched his back before whipping forward and throwing the sword through the air towards Varig. There was a sickening crunch followed by a soft thud and Watcher blinked before seeing Varig laying in the snow. Watcher breathed a sigh of relief and triumph. The tomb was safe, the tradition protected, and the meaning of his life could continue.
But....
Watcher ran to his brother’s side and fell to his knees. The sword protruded like a thorn from Varig’s back. Watcher flipped his brother as far as the sword would allow so that he could see his face. His skin was paler than before. The lines of his brow and cheeks had disappeared. His eyes were shut and he coughed flecks of blood from his fading lips.
“I told you…” Varig’s voice softer than a ghost as he finished, “you wouldn’t like...the way…this….” His face relaxed and Varig exhaled deeply. Watcher cradled his brother. He didn't’t cry. He didn’t scream. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad. He stared at Varig’s lifeless face. The wind screeched louder than it ever had, but everything had gone silent.
“It’s okay...as long as the tomb is safe...it’s fine...there’s nothing else I could do....there’s nothing…” Watcher’s thoughts tumbled through his mind.
“This is all your fault...why did there have to be a last time? Why didn’t you leave and come back in another two years!? Why did you want to die!?” Watcher screamed as hot tears dripped down his cheeks and melted into the snow. He looked down to the sword again. Blood had soaked the snow surrounding it. Watcher looked back to his face. He bent his arm and ripped his glove off and placed his hand under Varig’s nose to feel the breath entering and leaving his body, but there was none. He looked around him as if there was plant or medicine nearby that could rescue him, but there was only the cold, uncaring snow. Defeated, Watcher closed his eyes and began sobbing.
“Chains! Chains! Chains! Mother’s chains, Father’s chains, your chains! They’re all mine now!” He screamed to no one. A bitter laugh clawed its way out from his throat before the sobbing returned. After an eternity passed and the tears had frozen on his face, Watcher gazed up at the doors. He lowered his head and stared once more at Varig’s body. Watcher made a decision. He pushed his arms deeper under his brother’s body and began lifting him. After struggling to his feet, he turned and placed his back against the tomb doors and began pushing. His legs pushed and pushed as the doors creaked and squealed and cracked like links slowly breaking in a long, rusted chain. With a final grunt, the doors swung open and Watcher fell on his back. He rolled over Varig’s body and repositioned his grip and lifted him once more. The tomb was spacious. Gray pillars reached forever towards the roof of the mountain, but were swallowed by darkness before touching it. A light shone on a distant stone table in the middle of chamber. Watcher walked forward, his heavy steps echoing throughout the tomb. Soon, he stood next to the table, staring at the object resting atop it. He lifted his leg and, with all his might, kicked the object and sent it shattering into a nearby pillar. He laid his brother’s body face down on the table. He didn’t wait a second after that. He turned and walked out of the tomb. He walked past the cabin he had lived in for years. He walked and walked until he finally understood the chains his brother had always been talking about.
