Fortitude

The devil is a keeper of secrets. In the conscious journey we come to pitfalls, stand up to enemies, and must scale mountains all in pursuit of our drive. Obstacles are natural, we say, and yet we stutter and back down when faced with them; I step unknowingly into traps when I travel at night. If I haven't humbled myself before a master of the sword how will I take down my enemies?
_______________

I've seen the mountain for days now, looming grey in the distance. I must achieve the summit if I'm to continue further. I round a bend and there's a man in black standing in the road, debris strewn about him. As I get closer there's a mess of human remains, broken shields, dented armour, and torn standards. There are parts of swords, quivers and used bows. He's been a fixture here for some time.

"Hail, traveler," he calls, unmoving. His voice is hard and provocative. I grow unsure at the very sound of it, which is his strategy, of course: make himself a friend so he's hard to silence, and in a moment's hesitation he'll have the power.
"I seek the road to the summit," I respond, careful to not reveal my further goals.
"The road ahead is hard. Go back from whence you came. Go back to your family and friends. For their sakes, abandon this folly. You shall not pass"
He's right, of course, the road will be hard. But have I trained, studied, and sacrificed for nothing? Do I now, in the face of adversity, at the first word of contention leave off all I know? I've been proud before, but...
He sees my consideration.
"There's nothing up there."
"Then what are you guarding?"
"I'm saving the ignorant from certain destruction."
"Oh, you're a saviour, are you? You saved all these men?"
"What awaits would have been a far worse fate."
I blanch. My teacher has told me what I would face, showed me how to deal with them. But here, gazing up the cliffs, crags, and snow, the very mountain seems against me. What could my teacher not have known?

_______________

I thrust to the side, and he parries.  I turn and strike again. He's lightning quick and seems to know what I'll do next. I've got to be unconventional, I think.
You can only be conventional, the doubt surfaces in my mind.
Our blades connect with a clang and our momentum brings us together, hilt to hilt.
"Don't doubt yourself," I squeeze through pursed lips, pushing with all my might, neither allowing nor gaining an inch.
"Having second thoughts, are we?" he laughs. Our facemasks are close and his breath is rank.
My foot is on a torn and bloody fabric. I glance down for a moment and time stops. On the ground is a white surcoat with blue and gold trim. Its crest is a crowned, blue lion holding an olive branch, encircled by five shields. The crest is mine.

_______________

I walk past him, chest heaving, and look back. The man in black is a doll mounted to a stick sliding back and forth in a groove. Having fought him now...again... I am somehow unsurprised.  Without registering the questions float in the back of my mind: who put him here? Why?
I continue up the incline looking forward to my next trial.