The Prisoner went out from the cell and into the weird light outside where the Prison Guard stood waiting for him. Unsheathing his sword, he watched as the Guard kept his eyes firmly on him, the blade catching the light, a stream of light seeming to bounce off of the edge.
“I’m gonna’ make you regret every little thing, I’m gonna’ make you wish you’d never been born.” The Guard said, his baton now in hand, his knuckles reflecting white.
The Guard wasn’t particularly well armoured, better watch his speed and mobility. The two of them stood several metres apart, on the balls of their feet, ready to pounce at a moments notice like two predators in a lethal stand off. The Guard gave no warning as he leapt forward, his baton now an angry blur as he swung. Deflecting the blow with his sword, The Prisoner had half expected his blade to slice the baton in half leaving The Guard with nothing, but he’d been wrong, the thing was obviously made from a very light, very strong blend of alloy. He let The Guard move in several times to measure his speed, and indeed, he was a lot faster than he’d initially expected.
The Prisoner deflected and counter attacked several times just to measure The Guards reactions, and although the guy was fast, his attacks had been messy and inaccurate. It’d only taken The Prisoner twice to recognise this and formulate a counter blow. Although The Prisoner didn’t have any armour, he could probably afford to sustain a couple of hits from The Guard before it caught up with him, a risk he was willing to take. The Guard darted from side to side as he closed in before letting loose a single swing, The Prisoner strafed to one side avoiding the blow before another, very quick back hand strike came in as a follow up. He raised his sword directly in the path of The Guards strike bracing himself for impact. The steel of the blade rang out as the two made contact, only the strongest would stay put. But it had been The Guards baton that has bounced straight off and rebounded back hitting him straight in the face. Stunned by the hit, The Guard stepped back once before The Prisoner delivered a powerful side kick from the hips hitting him again in the face. Knowing The Guards speed, he wasted no time not moving in for a strike, but instead launching his sword through the air at his captor. The blade cut through the air like an arrow in flight, a split second stretched out into what seemed like several seconds, The Guard spotting the incoming sword, but like bullet dodging, he was just too late.
The Prisoners sword ran The Guard through the chest, he let out a single grunt before letting his baton drop to the floor. The Prisoner darted in, retrieving the blade and slashing The Guard through on the way out just to be sure.
“You did it.” The Observer said as she walked up to him.
“That’s it, we can climb the first part of Ukko’s Ladder, let’s keep going.”
Wiping the blade and sheathing it, he looked beyond to the path ahead. It was a steep climb up a series of floating rock fragments up to the next island above them.
“It’ll be a hard climb up, but it’s no problem for someone like you.” She said.
The Prisoner made his way onto the first of the fragments, then to the next.
“I don’t suppose you know who’s ahead? They call her The Dancer, she’s from the desert. She was a prisoner here just like you, but they say she’s been here so long no one knows why she chose to stay and not climb the rest of Ukko’s Ladder.”
The Prisoner listened as he kept climbing, each step higher, The Observer there waiting ahead, she was always ahead of him somehow.
“She’s got an affinity with knives, and she’s keeps a bunch of them on her, so be careful. A master of movement or so they say, but what would a dancer be if they couldn’t move adequately?”
He climbed the last rock before emerging onto a tiny heat stricken desert island, the figure of The Dancer distorted by the heat waves in the distance.

CONTINUED IN EPISODE 3