I clung to the rocks, searching for handholds. Around me, others attempted the ascent. Many faltered and fell to the ground far below. Some, battered and bruised, got up to make another attempt. The rest were too broken in body or spirit to try again.
The higher I climbed, the risks became greater. To save myself, I allied myself with a fellow climbers. Together, we survived everything the mountain threw at us. Those, who got in our way, were cast down.
Finally, we reached the summit and the old king. He been at the top for some time now. This ground was his. He was master of it and all he surveyed. Those he cast down from his lofty perch could testify to that. We didn’t let that stop us.
Together, the old king was no match for us. He fell, his body tumbling down the side of the mountain. I took a moment to take in the view as my partner caught his breath. I never would have made here without him.
My attack came as a surprise to him. He falls, following the old king. His curses are swallowed up by the wind and distance. Did I do the right thing? Maybe he would have been content to share the summit and power? I couldn’t take the chance.
I look down to see the other climbers I passed by and the new ones struggling to conquer the mountain as I did. There are so many of them and I’m all alone with no to watch my back or help me. How long will I last before I’m cast down, to join the old king and my former partner?
Author’s Note: I wrote this story a long time ago for a contest. After looking at the terms, I decided not to submit it. Even though it’s not one of my best stories, I’m still quite possessive of it. I hope you enjoy it.