by Jean Rabe
She wished Jasper and Gair were here to share in this, regretted a little that she had plunged on ahead of them. However, Goldmoon had wanted— needed— some time alone, and there was some consolation that her favorite students would not be too far behind. She glanced down at her discarded sandals, swallowed hard, and took another step, then another. There were no handholds, no landings that she could discern, just this seemingly never-ending spiral of steps so narrow that her heels hung over the edge.
Goldmoon continued to climb, the hot summer air cocooning her and making her sweat even more profusely. The sweat-slick skin of her feet made her ascent more precarious, but she wasn't about to turn back and retrieve her sandals. She guessed she was at least a dozen feet above the earth when she paused to catch her breath. Her sailcloth tunic clung to her body, and her leggings were as wet as if she'd been wading. If she climbed higher, she knew that one careless footfall would bring certain death, but she wasn't afraid of dying. She had lived long enough, outlived, in fact, all those who had been closest to her. Perhaps it was past time for her spirit to join theirs.
She steadied herself as a faint wave of dizziness washed over her, and she concentrated on the tingling of the steps against her feet. The healer's legs ached. She'd pushed herself hard to reach this place by nightfall, and she was pushing herself harder still. There were limits to her aging body, and she had just about reached them. She would not give in to the infirmity of her years just yet. Goldmoon glanced to the south as she climbed higher, thrusting the soreness in her legs to the back of her mind and focusing instead on the faint lights of the port city of Schallsea. She climbed higher still, until her feet felt numb, her legs felt stiff like wood, until those lights almost disappeared, looking as tiny as fireflies. Higher.
The heat was gone from the summer sky, replaced with a chill breeze this high above the ground. She climbed higher still, wishing she'd not abandoned her cloak. It was cold now, and the wind was increasing in intensity. She forced herself to continue.
Goldmoon shivered as the wind whirled all around her. Trails of fire and ice raced in and out of her with each step she took. Her lungs burned from the climb and froze from the thin, cold air she was taking into them in ever more ragged gulps. Her feet tingled, not the interesting, magical sensation any longer. The energy of the place seemed stronger the higher she climbed, and the tingling was causing her feet to throb almost painfully.
"Not much farther," she said to herself, though in truth she didn't know how much higher the stairway went. She still couldn't see the top of it. She entertained no thoughts of giving up, but she mentally berated herself for not seeking this site much earlier in her life, when her body was as strong as her mind and when she was confident she would have been able to reach the top. She wasn't completely certain she had the physical strength left to tackle this, at least not this night.
As she continued to ascend, more doubts about her capabilities crept into her mind. It took a considerable effort now to lift her legs to attain the next step, and there were so many steps left to go. She didn't want to give up, wouldn't willingly give up, but she recognized that no matter how strong her mind was, her body would not permit her to go much farther, perhaps not any farther.
As well, there was the climb down to consider.
Goldmoon knew the Silver Stair was the only surviving Celestial Ladder on all of Krynn. At one time, there had been two others, and each was said to take those who dared to climb them to the home of a god of magic. The Silver Stair was reputed to be the link to Solinari, the god of good magic. The other two ladders, the Star Stones in Neraka and the Moon Steps in Northern Ergoth, were said to have led to the homes of Nuitari and Lunitari respectively. Both those stairways had collapsed during the Chaos War.
Goldmoon glanced down. She no longer saw the firefly lights of the port town of Schallsea, nor could she see the ground—only blackness, cut through by the moonbeam of glistening silver steps winding away below her. Higher, she demanded of herself… just a little higher.
The fact that this one Celestial Ladder remained, Goldmoon thought, surely was a sign that good would ultimately triumph in the dragon-plagued world. Now if she could only triumph over the limitations of her body and reach the top before she froze to death.
A few more steps and a mist swirled around her head. Clouds, she guessed as she reached deep inside herself to summon the very last of her strength, climbing higher still. Suddenly the mist swirled all around her, and she could no longer make out the stairway above or below her—even directly beneath her feet. Her pace slowed to a crawl as she forced herself on, edged one foot up at a time, feeling for the next step. It was so terribly cold here, and the air was incredibly thin. It hurt just to breathe.
"Not much farther." Please, she added to herself, please don't let it be much farther. There had to be an end to the stairway, didn't there? It couldn't continue on to infinity.
She felt as if she couldn't move another inch when her head poked above the clouds and the last few steps came into view. "Not much farther," she stated with more conviction as she slowly struggled up the remaining few steps, her legs so sore it felt as if tiny needles were being jabbed into them.
Balancing carefully on the top step, she gazed out at a majestic sea of stars spread out like a blanket before her. She sucked in her breath, overwhelmed by the stark resplendence. Abruptly the stars were gone, the cold gone. The stairway beneath her feet had faded. In a heartbeat, stretching out before her was an arid plane.
"By the vanished gods," she breathed in hushed disbelief. The air grew instantly warm around her, night turned to bright day, and waves of heat drifted up from the parched ground. The waves quavered and caught her attention, coalescing to form an image of a beautiful woman.
"Mishakal," Goldmoon whispered. Her fingers fluttered up to touch an ornate disk hanging around her neck, the symbol of Mishakal, the goddess of healing magic whom she revered and had dedicated her life to so many years ago. "Mishakal?" Goldmoon somehow found a new reserve of strength. She took a step forward and another, experiencing a moment of panic so intense it felt as if her heart were being squeezed. This is an illusion, she admonished herself. You're standing on the topmost step of the Silver Stair, and if you move another inch you'll fall a very long distance.
The goddess floated backward, her arms beckoning Goldmoon to follow. She seemed so incredibly real.
"It's an illusion," Goldmoon stated aloud. Nevertheless, she edged a foot out. The ground, cracked like a scorched riverbed, felt solid enough beneath her bare feet, and it felt genuine—dry and jagged and unpleasant to walk upon. The tingling of the stair was gone. She tentatively took another step, and then another and another. As she neared the goddess, the air grew warmer, as hot as a blistering day during Raging Fire.
"Mishakal," Goldmoon said in a strong voice, staring into the diaphanous face of the goddess. "Where are you? Have you truly left Krynn? Am I only imagining you?"
As if in answer, the effigy faltered, and Goldmoon stretched out a hand to touch it, hoping to hold on to some part of the goddess, and therefore some part of the faith she once fervently had in her and in all of Krynn's deities. "Mishakal? No!"
The image wavered until it was so transparent she could hardly make it out, then it grew until it towered over Goldmoon and the plateau. It darkened and thickened, taking on a new visage.
"Chaos." The word sent the color draining from Goldmoon's face.
The God of All and of Nothing opened his maw and laughed at the insignificant healer so far below him. Goldmoon thrust her hands over her ears to blot out the sound. Instead, she heard the laughter more clearly. As it grew louder, it became distorted, sounding like the roar of a great fire one moment, next like the booming thunder of a storm. The sound receded, but it did not disappear entirely, as other noises came from the god's mouth—snarls and battle cries. He opened his maw wider, and tiny dragons fluttered out in a blur of racing colors.
The soft thunder of hi
s laughter was gradually drowned out by the cracks from bolts of lightning that came from blue dragons. As those dragons grew larger and started circling the god's head, Goldmoon made out Knights of Takhisis astride their backs. The dragons passed close so the riders could jab lances at the god's eyes. Silver dragons joined the blues, Solamnic knights mounted atop them. Their small swords glimmered like stars.
The plain beneath Chaos's feet rippled, and from the ground sprouted more knights and dragons, all fighting the God of Everything and of Nothing—and all to no avail. Goldmoon guessed she was seeing the Chaos War in the Abyss played out before her.
The fight continued for what seemed like hours, though she sensed only minutes had passed. Nothing seemed to faze the god. Nearly hidden behind the god's leg, Goldmoon saw the diaphanous image of Mishakal once more, and near her a kender who plunged a knife into the god's boot.
The laughter stopped, and the great form of Chaos seemed to tremble. The god inhaled deeply then, drawing back into his mouth the forms of the dragons and knights—and the form of Mishakal, who spiraled around his body and then slipped inside his mouth as his teeth clamped closed.
"Chaos took the gods with him," Goldmoon stated softly. "When he left Krynn, he bade them to follow." She stared at the great image, which trembled more noticeably now. As Goldmoon continued to watch, his form began to shrink and then to melt. She stepped backward as a god pool formed on the plateau, red with the blood of Chaos and those he had slaughtered. The pool bubbled like lava, adding to the heat of the place, and Goldmoon's eyes grew wide as the bubbles rose above the pool and collected into the images of the great dragons now plaguing Krynn.
They flew toward her, diving and passing through her like phantasms, so fast that they were a blinding blur of red and white, black and green and blue. She blinked and trembled in disbelief as the dry ground rippled, the lava becoming a bright green now and covering the land, the bubbles thinning and forming tall blades of grass. Trees sprouted at the edge of her vision, circling her as the sky darkened again. She stood in a clearing now, and before her was the Silver Stair, its steps glimmering invitingly as they had when she first saw them. Minutes ago? Just this instant? Waiting to be climbed.
"I…" For a moment Goldmoon wondered if she had ever climbed the stairs in the first place, if she had instead fallen down from exhaustion and merely imagined the arduous climb and the images of Chaos and Mishakal at the top. There was no cloak on her shoulders, and no sandals at the base of the steps that twinkled several yards away. She glanced behind her: no discarded lantern.
She took a tentative step forward and considered climbing this new stairway, though she doubted she could manage more than a few feet. Another step.
"Ouch!" Bending down, she saw a nail. There was a small pile of them, and a hammer nearby—Jasper's hammer. The nails and hammer hadn't been there a heartbeat before. When she again looked up to see the stairs, the land had changed once more. Hedges, carefully trimmed, circled the steps and flowed outward like spilled ink. She skittered back several steps to avoid being overrun by the bushes. Springing up around them were large pearls.
Not pearls, she realized as she stared longer and the globes grew to dwarf her. Buildings. They ringed her and the hedges and the stairway like a bracelet. As she tried to take it all in, she heard voices. Coming from all around her, they were talking to her, though she saw no one, only shadows moving about within the globes.
"Teach me." The voice was young and feminine.
"I want to help others." An elderly man's voice.
"Teach me."
"I don't understand this… this power of the heart. Is that what you call it?" This was a coarse voice, sounding almost dwarflike.
"Teach me."
"I want to make a difference." The young, feminine voice again. "Show me how."
"Teach me. Please."
"Teach me… teach me… teach me." The words repeated like the persistent buzzing of a bee. More and more shadows flitted inside the globes, pressing themselves against the glass, looking out at her, whispering to her, asking her to teach them. "Teach me." It had become a resonant mantra.
Goldmoon could almost make out faces.
" I… I will teach you," she heard herself say. "All of you. I will…" Her words trailed off as the globes melted into the ground, and the grass ran like water away from her in all directions. The stars winked into view again, gemstones on velvet, and the Silver Stair that had seemed several yards away was now beneath her feet, the topmost step tingling with magical energy. She was impossibly high above the earth once more.
The air was cold again, and the breeze whipped her silver-gold hair madly about her face. She brushed away the strands, carefully pivoted on the balls of her feet, and slowly made her way down the waiting stairs.
"Goldmoon! Are you all right?" Gair was at the edge of the clearing where he had picked up her lantern. Concern was etched deeply on his young face. Jasper tromped past him as fast as his stumpy legs would carry him, his eyes locked on to the shimmering stairway, mouth open in amazement, all thoughts of whatever or whoever had been watching them instantly discarded. The dwarf mumbled a greeting to Goldmoon as he brushed by her and approached the celestial ladder.
Goldmoon knelt to retrieve her cloak, slipped into her sandals. "I'm fine, Gair," she answered. "I feel… well." The ache was gone from her legs and she breathed easily, as if she hadn't undertaken the laborious climb up the magical staircase or the long walk to reach the clearing. "I'm just a little tired. It's been a long day."
Goldmoon watched as the relieved elf left her side to circle the staircase. The dwarf stood unmoving, like a rock, about a yard away from the base of the Silver Stair and was mumbling something in his native tongue. The elf couldn't contain his curiosity, touching the steps, feeling the energy tingle beneath his fingertips. He climbed up the first half-dozen steps, craning his neck toward the stars above, then scampered down, his cautious nature winning out, and nearly knocking Jasper over.
"You climbed it," Gair began as he rushed back to her side. "I saw you coming down just as we got here. You looked like you were walking on air. Did you go all the way to the top?"
Goldmoon nodded, a smile playing gently across her lined face as she saw the dwarf finally move. He inched closer, knelt in front of the stair as if it were an altar, prodded at the bottom step with the scrutinizing eye of an engineer. "What's it made of?" she heard him ask. "It's not metal. Amazin'."
"I can't even see the top," the elf interjected. "What's up there, anyway?"
The aging healer drew her lower lip into her mouth. It still tasted faintly of blood. "I'm not sure, Gair. Everything. Nothing. You must climb it and find out yourself."
The elf was clearly fascinated by the structure, as he was with magic in general, drawn to it like a moth to light. Again he scampered up the first few steps, nearly trampling Jasper's questing fingers. He craned his neck upward and narrowed his eyes. The dwarf continued to prod at the lowest step.
"Truly amazin'," Jasper said in a hushed tone.
"Tales say the Silver Stair only shows itself by the light of the moon," Goldmoon explained as she glanced around the clearing. She thought she'd heard a twig snap somewhere nearby.
"Wish my Uncle Flint were alive to see this." Jasper cocked his head. "Hmmph. On second thought, maybe he did. He traveled quite a bit. Amazin'." The dwarf looked up at his elven friend, rooted on the seventh step, still staring at the stars and trying to see the top of the stairway. "Go ahead, Gair."
The elf didn't budge.
"Well, you gonna climb it?"
The elf shook his head and leapt nimbly to the ground.
"Ah, the wariness of youth," the dwarf grumbled. "You never take chances."
"Some other time," Gair replied. "I'm sure we'll return here. I'll climb it then."
"Return?" Goldmoon stopped her survey of the clearing. "Gair, Jasper, I'm not leaving, not for a long time. Perhaps not for the rest of my life."
Behind the elf, Jasper chattered happily to himself. "Well, at least I won't have to climb the stairway tonight then. There'll be plenty of time later. An' then maybe I can figure out what it's made of. Not metal, that's for certain. Tomorrow night, I think, I'll climb it. Maybe I can get some sleep now." He tromped a few feet away from the Celestial Ladder and settled himself on the ground, cradling his head with his folded arms, his face pointing toward the magical structure.
"Not leaving?" The elf's mouth gaped open, then he quickly regained his composure and presented his serious face. "You're going to stay here? But Goldmoon, what about your students in Abanasinia? You've so much to offer them, and they have so much yet to learn."
"We'll send word for them to join us." She reached into her pack and retrieved a thin blanket, carefully spread it on the ground near the base of the stairway, and lay down. She arranged her pack to use as a pillow. Despite the warm night air, she pulled her cloak over her. "I'll teach them here."
The elf scanned the clearing, remembering the prickling sensation on his neck. The sensation was gone now, and whatever or whoever had been watching them was likely gone with it. Maybe it was just a forest animal. He vowed to look for tracks in the morning.
As he considered the situation, a chorus of crickets rose around him, accompanied by the sonorous tone of Jasper's snoring. He turned to glance again at the magical stairway, stepped closer, and bent to touch the bottom step. Energy pulsed through it, and he felt a tingling sensation against his slender fingers. He ran his hand along the edge of the step, then along the underside.
"All right," the elf pronounced to himself as he concentrated on the tingling energy that continued to pulse through his fingertips. "I suppose I could get used to the woods again. We can stay here for a while, anyway." He swatted at a mosquito with his free hand and stared up the spiral staircase. "So beautiful."
