by Cody Loewen
With the battle fresh in our minds, we find ourselves being more careful and attentive to our surroundings. As several more days pass by uneventfully, our conversations quickly return to their carefree nature as the miles pass under our feet, the mountain looming huge above us. With no settlements or buildings on the path, we are forced to sleep outside each night. Fortunately, here in the foothills, mounds of boulders naturally create protection from prying eyes and the shrill winds. With just the two of us, we decide to take our chances without a watch, opting to both sleep at the same time to minimize the amount of time we need to be stopped in one place. Each morning, we are back on the road before the sun comes up, hoping to cover as much ground as possible.
On the fifteenth day, we finally reach the base of the mountain. The ground has steadily become rockier over the past few days, the vegetation scragglier. As we stand at the bottom of the giant mountain, we are overwhelmed by the sheer size. I have to crane my neck back as far as it will go to follow the mountain upward, and the peak is lost in the clouds, hidden from our view. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. That is what its name describes. We have spent more than two weeks of relentless walking to get to this point, but now that we are finally here, I find myself rooted in place, unable to take a step forward. Rayfe seems to be experiencing the same sense of inertia because he, too, stands frozen in place, gazing up into the clouds.
I inhale a mouth full of icy air, swallowing the fear that threatens to end this journey right here and now.
“Ready for this?”
Rayfe’s grin is his only answer. Together we take our first steps upward, beginning the task of climbing into the sky.
This far north, the cold has fully taken hold of the land, and we have donned every layer of extra clothing we brought with us. At the moment, I am comfortable, the thick clothes protecting me from the cold wind, my hands warm in my gloves, and my face and head protected by the thick hat and mask I was given back in the forest. As we climb, though, I can feel the air getting colder, and I know that soon the icy wind will penetrate even the thickness of the winter layers I have on.
The upward path loops back and forth across the face of the mountain as we climb, the wild nature of the terrain making the trek perilous for us. In some places we can walk normally, but all too often loose scree where the path has fallen apart threatens to send us sliding down the side of the mountain. We spend valuable time clinging to the rocks along the trail and even climbing the cliff face to skirt areas made impassable by time and weather. Our progress is painfully slow, seeming at times like we are barely moving.
We don’t come across any natural indentations or caves to shelter us from the wind whipping at our faces. Unwilling to risk stopping to eat for fear of the cold overtaking us, we eat as we walk. At first we try to keep the conversation going, but the howl of the wind up this high on the mountain quickly drowns out our words, and we are forced to climb in silence.
Having grown up in the flatlands, I haven’t had any real experience with heights, but I quickly discover during our climb that I have no fear of them. I enjoy looking down the side of the mountain as we climb, watching the ground drop away underneath us, the path transforming into a thin line, barely noticeable against the rough, grey background of the terrain. High-pitched screeches sound far above us, piercing the howl of the wind. When I ask Rayfe about them, he guesses there must be some sort of bird that makes its home high up on the peak somewhere. I try to picture a bird living up here in the brutal cold, so far from any other living thing, and I can’t imagine the birds I am used to being able to survive. But then again, none of this is what I am used to.
We reach a point on our climb where the path has broken away, leaving a thin ledge barely the width of two of my feet. Our pace slows to a crawl, covering inches at a time as I slide my feet across the thin expanse of rock, gripping whatever tiny hand holds I can find on the face of the mountain to anchor myself. I take every tiny step carefully, wary of breaking the ledge even more. I put a small amount of weight on each new section of rock to test it before shifting my weight to that foot to slide my other foot forward, repeating this process over and over again. My hands ache in their gloves from gripping the rock in front of my face. When I finally slide my foot onto a wider section of rock where the path has reformed, I realize I have been holding my breath and take in several huge gulps of air, filling my lungs while I wait for Rayfe to join me on the other side.
Rather than following my steps across the ledge, Rayfe nimbly scales the cliff face, choosing to climb above the ledge rather than trust it to bear his weight. He moves like a spider skittering across the rocks, hands and feet finding little nooks to hold onto that I can’t even see. I can’t even imagine the strength it must take in his fingers and arms to propel himself across the sheer rock. Shaking my head at his athleticism, I continue my awkward shuffle up the face of the mountain, stepping carefully, but covering ground much more quickly now that I can walk forward normally. Another shriek pierces the air from above; this time the noise sounds much closer than it was before.
Hello bird. Welcoming us to your home?
I push thoughts of the bird out of my head. I can’t let an insignificant bird nesting on the mountain above us break my concentration, or I might slip up, falling to my death. It has started snowing and already a white blanket has covered everything around us, the force of the wind blowing the white flakes in a frenzy, forcing us to slow our pace, hindered by the lack of sight. I keep my steps short, feet underneath me to avoid slipping on any ice below the snow, and hunker down into my heavy coat, unsuccessfully trying to escape the cold.
I wipe snow from my face with a gloved hand, the frozen material scraping uncomfortably against the raw skin of my cheek. Rayfe follows closely behind me, looking just as miserable as I feel. A thin layer of ice covers his eyelashes, and the true color of his clothes is completely hidden under a thick layer of snow. He gives me a crusty smile and an encouraging nod in response to my look. I want to smile back, but my face is too cold to obey, so I simply turn back into the wind and continue forward. As I turn, a black shape flashes right in front of me, a powerful gust of wind blowing me sideways into the cliff face, and I have to fight to keep my footing. I whip my head around in the direction that the figure moved, but I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me with the blizzard blaring full force.
While my eyes fail me, my ears do not, and another avian scream surrounds us, this one much closer than before, and more agitated. I turn to find Rayfe holding his bow in his hands, an arrow notched and ready. I draw my sword; not sure how much good it will do against a flying enemy that I can’t see. The flying adversary whips by us again, and we flatten ourselves against the side of the cliff, wary of those giant, powerful wings. On its third pass, the bird comes right at us, perpendicular to the mountain face, deadly talons extended, ready to rips us apart. I barely have time to get my sword up in the way as it closes the distance to us, but Rayfe manages to get a shot off, scoring a hit on one of its wings. It lets out a pained scream, but its momentum doesn’t slow, connecting with Rayfe and throwing him to the ground. He manages to stay on the ridge, but the bow flies out of his hands, disappearing as it falls to the ground far below.
“I have a plan!” I yell to Rayfe, my voice barely intelligible above the roar of the wind. I move to where he fell, standing right beside him. He tries to rise, but I put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. “Stay down for a second!”
I plant my feet, my back to the mountain face, peering through the driving snow for any glimpse of our airborne enemy. I narrow my focus in front of me, drowning out the noise of the winter storm, and wait for the next attack. Without warning, the giant bird reappears, hurtling toward us, coming in for the kill. Its giant wings extend to either side, talons as long as a dagger extended right at me, ready to impale me. I stare defiantly at the creature, egging it on while I quickly plant the butt of the spear I now hold in place of my sword into the gr
ound, point extended. Unable to stop its momentum in time, the creature slams into the metal point, forcing me to let go of the spear and step to the side. The bird crashes into the cliff face, fully impaling itself on my weapon. It lets out one spasm before it goes still, already dead.
With the spear still imbedded in the chest of the giant creature, I help Rayfe to his feet. A quick inspection confirms he is unharmed, and I get to work on extracting the spear from the carcass. The creature is massive, each wing stretching father than I am tall. The thickly muscled body of the creature is covered in layers upon layers of thick black feathers, which must offer ample protection from the cold. The creature’s beak, longer than my forearm, extends to a razor-sharp point, and I am glad that neither one of us came into contact with the deadly appendage. I finally wrestle the spear from the creature’s chest and return it to its normal shape before sliding it into its scabbard on my belt.
“Let’s hope that they are solitary,” Rayfe declares as he steps around the body behind me. “I’ll never be able to look at normal birds again.”
I chuckle at him but have to admit to myself that I feel the same way.
“Maybe we can grab it on the way back and cook ourselves a nice fresh meal,” he continues with a grin. “Bet it takes just like chicken. A giant, man-eating chicken.”
I let out a full laugh at the ridiculous comment, temporarily forgetting about the cold and blowing snow, imagining the giant bird roasting over a fire.
“Can you imagine trying to eat one of the legs on this thing?” I ask him. We both look down at its back legs, thicker around than a large man’s bicep. Picturing trying to hold one of the massive limbs to eat it gets us both laughing, and it is several moments before we regain our composure enough to keep moving forward. When we do resume our trek upward, and the adrenaline wears off, the cold wastes no time in settling back in, numbing my hands and toes, and I have to squint as hard as I can to keep the blowing ice from blinding me.
Fortunately, we are able to cover ground at a steady pace, the path remaining intact and free of giant avian predators. When I look out from the mountain now, all I are see clouds underneath us mixed with the snow and ice. Without anything to look out down below, I keep my eyes either in front of me, or down at my feet as we walk. Thankfully, the path widens slightly as we climb, and Rayfe and I can travel side by side for the first time since we reached the mountain. We continue to travel in silence but being able to see him beside me puts me at ease.
A crack in the rock in front of us reveals a path leading into a thin canyon heading directly into the mountain. The rocky walls on either side provide much needed relief from the wind and blowing snow, and our vision improves significantly. I can see the dark outline of an opening in the rock face in front of us, where a cave has been cut out of the dead end of the canyon. With the prospect of shelter for the night, out of the gale-force winds, we pick up our pace and quickly reach the cave entrance, not sure of what to expect inside.
As soon as we cross through the opening, the air immediately feels warmer, bringing much needed relief to our frozen extremities. I sigh, my muscles relaxing slightly as my body feels like it is starting to thaw. Jagged rocks becomes smoother the farther into the cave we go, and I gratefully slide down to a sitting position, shrugging off my pack to take a much needed break. I turn to ask Rayfe if we can build a fire for the night, but he isn’t beside me. He is standing staring at something at the back of the cave. Sighing, I struggle to stand back up and go over to see what has caught his attention. A set of stairs cut into the rock in front of us, disappears downward into the heart of the mountain. Sharp and even, I know that they were not made by nature. All thoughts of rest and a fire evaporate as I stare at those steps. Rayfe and I share a look. We have no idea what might be at the bottom. It could be nothing. It could be everything that we hope for. Or it could be our worst nightmare.
Only one way to find out.
We headed down into the darkness.
Chapter 17
An ornate door marks the bottom of what felt like a never-ending set of stairs. My thighs burn from the exertion of first climbing the mountain and then immediately descending back to what feels like the ground again. The cold that we couldn’t escape from on the peak has disappeared, replaced by a comfortable warmth. We began to shed layers of heavy winter clothing at the beginning of our descent, and we now stand in front of the door wearing our normal traveling clothes, the extra layers folded and stuffed back inside our bags.
The door, seemingly created from a single piece of brilliant white opal, stands out against the plain grey of the stone walls. Hidden in the veins of the cut stone door are subtle carvings depicting a huge variety of different scenes, from battles and war, to the peaceful forest life of the elves, to images of races I have never seen before. With difficulty I pull my eyes from the mesmerizing carvings and focus on the doorknob, which appears to be made from a solid chunk of gold. It is perfectly round, smooth and polished, and seems to push right through the door with no visible attachment.
“Whoever this keeper is, he has more coin than I have ever seen,” Rayfe remarks in awe, eyes locked on the door. “Not what I expected from someone who lives inside a mountain, whose sole purpose is to protect some gem.”
I nod in agreement, wondering what we will find behind the marvelous door. My hand instinctively goes to he handle of my sword and begins to draw it from its scabbard on my belt.
“Whoa, there killer,” Rayfe says with feigned concern in his voice as he places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “According to the book, the keeper of the gem is supposed to be good. Our purpose is just, so he should be our ally.”
“Don’t you want to be prepared if he isn’t?” I ask, more than a little paranoid. “We don’t actually know anything about what lies beyond this door.”
“I’m just trusting the book and hoping for a lucky break,” Rayfe remarks with a grin. “It’s about time we met someone or something on this trip that wasn’t trying to kill or eat us. Besides, if we burst into the chamber ready for a fight, what kind of first impression does that give this keeper?”
I relent, sliding my sword back down on my belt, still wary of possible danger, but knowing he is right. We need this keeper to be on our side and to hand over the artifact, so starting a fight wouldn’t be a good idea. Taking a deep breath, I grab the golden doorknob in one hand and give it a turn. A faint click of some hidden locking mechanism sliding free rewards my efforts, and the door effortlessly glides open to reveal the room beyond.
With the opulence of the door serving as my only expectation of the chamber it hides, I am left breathless at the sight that lies in front of us. We stand at the entrance to a single, huge chamber at the heart of the mountain. While not filled with gold and gems and wealth, what the room lacks in these things, it makes up for in magic. The exterior walls of the chamber, which appears to be perfectly circular in shape, are illuminated by spheres of light that seem to hang in the air unaided, casting a soft yellow glow across the room. We step through the portal onto stone floors, perfectly smooth and even, not a flaw to be found. In the center of the room a circular pool of water about 15 feet in diameter, draws my attention. The water, perfectly clean and blue, reflects the glow of blue flames that burn of their own accord over the pool. A small pillar of stone stands in the center of the blue blaze, seemingly unharmed by the heat, which I can feel from across the room.
I stand there for several moments, mesmerized by the flames, unaware that this kind of magic was even still present in the world.
Just who is this keeper?
I turn to Rayfe, standing dumbfounded beside me. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“Only in stories,” he replies, pulling his eyes from the pool of water and the magical fire. “I guess there used to be magic like this all over, harnessed by powerful sorcerers and witches and other magic users. But I had thought it had all disappeared long ago. This chamber is full of power, I can fee
l it in the air.”
I can feel it too. Like a tiny shock running through my veins. It almost feels like a gentle tug propelling me forward.
Strange.
“I think it’s time to meet the keeper,” Rayfe whispers.
“Where?” I ask, not sure of where to go from here to find this mysterious person. Rayfe points directly at the fire, and I look closely, barely making out a shape on the other side. We both move forward, straight toward the pool. Surprisingly, the heat from the fire doesn’t increase as we approach the water. Even standing right in front of the pool, close enough to almost reach out and touch the flames, the heat feels the same as when we were standing at the door on the far side of the room. Cautiously, we make our way around the body of water, and the keeper comes into view. He sits near the far wall, in a heavily cushioned chair that looks as if the entire thing is magical. The chair hovers several inches from the floor and doesn’t quite appear solid. The form subtly shifts, the edges blurred and shifting, as if it is a shape formed from smoke.
The figure sitting on the curious chair, however, appears normal, unlike everything else in the room. His hair, which is jet black, is cut short, and he sports a well-groomed beard, just as black. In contrast, a stark white robe covers his body, extending from his neck, down to the ground, hiding his feet from view. The only sign of anything remarkable about the man lies in a single ring he wears on his right hand. A large emerald sits atop a ring of gold on his finger, and I swear that I can see fire burning inside the gem.
“Greetings!” The man announces warmly once we stand in front of him. “And welcome to my home.”
I stand, still in awe of everything in the room, and can’t seem to bring words forward to my lips. Luckily, like he has so many times before, Rayfe jumps in and speaks up.
“I’m Rayfe,” he begins, his thumb pointed at his chest. “This is Lykara.”
