Aethir

by DeWayne Kunkel

  “What we seek lies within these mountains?” Connell fairly shouted to be heard over the wind.

  Marcos squinted against the glare, studying the mountaintops. “That is what I hope to be true.”

  Casius was awed by the size of the range; it stretched from horizon to horizon. It was as if the world ended here and nothing lay further west than this impregnable barrier. “But where?” He said loudly. “We could spend a lifetime searching these crags.”

  Marcos took his eyes from the summit. “We should find what shelter we may. I will try an ascertain the next path to take.”

  They made camp within a nearby grove of pine. The dense needles sheltered them from the worst of the wind. They ate a frugal meal of dried fruit and beef. The repast was quiet, each of them wishing they could risk the comfort of a small fire.

  Marcos brushed the crumbs from his cloak and stood. Behind him the sun was setting beyond the mountains tinting the landscape with a slight reddish hue. The sky itself was afire with deep reds, warm yellows. The shadow of the mountains passed over them casting their campsite into a deep gloom.

  “What I am about to do is not without risk.” Marcos said looking at each of them in turn. “I may alert our foe to my presence. If he is distracted and has his gaze looking elsewhere, my use of power may go unnoticed.”

  “Is there no other way?” Connell asked, concerned for the safety of the group.

  Marcos shook his head. “I wish it were otherwise, but we have not the time as Casius has pointed out.

  “I must stand in the open for this to work, out from under these trees. Do not follow or disturb me, I must concentrate on the task at hand.”

  With a nod to Suni he walked out of the stand of pines and into the biting wind. He came to a large flat-topped boulder and climbed to its top.

  Suni ranged about ensuring the area was free of any immediate threats. Satisfied that the area was secure he seated himself near the boulder upon which Marcos stood and placed his Kalmari in his lap.

  Marcos turned facing the mountains, closing his eyes he called up a faint trickle of power. Using it as a bridge he allowed his awareness to slip from him and creep up the mountainsides. Faster and faster it flew gaining speed until miles passed by in a heartbeat. He remained immobile upon his perch as the long cold hours of night passed. The ring upon his finger glowing faintly, a sliver of argent in the darkness.

  He stood steadfast as the wind strengthened with the coming dawn. Slashing down out of the mountains it carried the cold of the glaciers far above with it. By mid afternoon a light snow had begun to fall, growing into a fierce storm in a matter of a few hours. The wet flakes grew thick upon the ground, pushed into high drifts by the blasting wind.

  Connell and Casius grew concerned for their friends, and they ventured to the tree line where they could see Marcos standing atop the rock, oblivious to the thick layer of snow and ice covering his cloak. Nearby was the ever-vigilant Suni; he nodded to them in a reassuring gesture.

  The storm blew throughout the night, and Marcos still had not moved. Before dawn the wind dropped dramatically and the snowfall ended. The Skies overhead grew clear and the stars shone brightly.

  As the suns first light touched him Marcos gasped. He shook the snow from his shoulders and stepped down from the boulder. He staggered as if exhausted and clutched Suni’s arm for support. Together they entered the camp where Connell and Casius quickly built a fire.

  “Smoke be damned,” Connell muttered. “He needs warmth.”

  Sitting close to the flames Marcos accepted a cup of hot tea with shaking hands. He emptied the cup, allowing the warm liquid to restore his strength.

  “I believe I have succeeded.” He said when his strength had returned. “Our goal lies a short distance northward, perhaps two days along this plateau.”

  “Then the sword still exists.” Connell smiled leaning forward, his eyes bright with excitement.

  “There is an emanation of power,” Marcos said cautiously. “Faint but familiar, but I cannot be certain. It lies quiescent, barely detectable hidden away within a mountain of stone.”

  Something bothered Casius, a small twinge of trepidation that refused to go away. They remained at the camp for the day allowing Marcos the time to recover his strength before pressing on.

  “Why has the sword remained here untouched for so long?” He asked voicing his concerns. “An item of such power and worth would have drawn many men.”

  “The knowledge of the sword was never commonly known.” Marcos responded. “There were men however who did seek the blade. Leaving home and kin they ventured forth never to be seen again.”

  “Then it is warded.” Casius said, his fears confirmed.

  “I do not know for certain.” Marcos answered. “If it is, it is not a working of the Phay’ge. That I would have detected, it must be something more mundane and subtle.”

  “Warded or not,” Connell interjected. “We have come to far to turn aside now.”

  “For good our ill our lot is cast.” Marcos said. “To forgo the final leg of our trek would doom the world of man.” He wrapped his cloak about him and lay down on the bed of nettles beneath a hoary old fir.

  Casius spent the morning tending to their horses. He was grateful for another day of rest. Traveling across the harsh landscape was an onerous task that he wished was behind him.

  That afternoon Connell took him aside and they practice their swordsmanship. Running through the stylized fighting stances and various swings used in combat. Connell would have preferred to spar but the wood was silent and they had no desire to call attention to themselves by filling the still air with the sounds of ringing steel.

  While they rehearsed Suni sat with his back against a tree. His eyes were closed but Casius knew he was alert to all that was transpiring about them.

  Sweating from the exertion they returned to the campsite and sat down to rest. After only a few minutes Suni climbed to his feet and motioned for Casius to do the same.

  “You must practice,” He said simply.

  “I just did,” Casius said with a laugh. “I can barely lift my arms.”

  Suni cocked an eyebrow at him. “Will you be able to foil an attack by proclaiming your weariness?”

  Connell laughed as Casius groaned. “Go on,” He said smacking Casius’s shoulder. “You were the one who asked for the training.”

  Casius sighed and stood removing his sword belt. With a shrug of his shoulders he followed Suni out of the wood.

  They sparred for hours, Suni taught him nothing new. Instead they focused on the throws and punches he had already learned. Doing them over and over until the Anghor Shok was satisfied with his progress.

  As darkness fell they returned to the camp and Casius retrieved his sword. He went to take his place at watch when Suni approached him.

  “Rest now,” He said, with a nod back to the camp.

  “I was to take the first watch,” Casius protested.

  “I will stand in your place.” Suni replied. “You have worked hard today and weariness has dulled your senses.”

  “You need the rest more than I,” Casius countered. “You warded Marcos for two days without rest.”

  “I am rested.” Suni responded in a tone that allowed no room for further arguing.

  Casius smiled. “Very well,” He said giving up. “I will sleep better knowing you’re about.”

  Suni accepted the compliment with a slight bow of his head. Turning away he faded into the shadows.

  Wrapping his blanket tightly about him, Casius lay on the rough ground. Although he was far from comfortable he fell fast asleep in moments.

  Breaking camp at sunrise they followed the plateau northward riding through small rills of frigid snowmelt. They made camp once more within a stand of trees. Returning to the open land with the rising sun.

  Late that afternoon the plateau ended in a steep slope that led down towards the northern plains of Morne. Marcos turned them westward and led the group
up a narrow track into the wooded foothills.

  That night more snow fell adding to the burden already upon the sagging pine boughs. Large wet clumps of snow would fall landing upon the ground and riders alike. In the darkness the occasional snapping of a branch would disturb the stillness.

  Most of the following day was spent winding amid the trees. They ducked low hanging branches that would dump wet snow if disturbed. It was a long uphill ride, the air growing colder as the day passed.

  They spent that night still within the shroud of trees. The pines were shorter here, their branches twisted and bare in places. Cold and tired they spent a fitful night upon the frozen ground. That morning Marcos made a statement that stunned them.

  “We cannot take the horses any further.” He announced as they ate. “The trails ahead are impassible for them.”

  “We can’t just tie them up.” Casius muttered not wanting to give up his steed. The Morne horse had become a trusted mount that bore him well. “They’ll starve to death.”

  “These mounts were bred to live in lands far harsher than this.” Connell said. “They will do well unfettered.”

  “That may be, but it’s a long walk back.” Casius said mumbled. He removed his horse’s saddle and swatted it on the rump sending it trotting back down the trail.

  The others followed suit and placed their riding gear in a pile against a tree trunk. Covering them with fallen boughs until they were concealed from all but the most careful observer.

  They shouldered their saddlebags and started up the slope on foot. The pace Marcos set was brisk but they were soon forced to slow. Dried underbrush clawed at their clothing, rending the hems of their Morne cloaks.

  They rested at midday well above the tree line. Perched upon a narrow ridge that ran along the craggy roots of the closest mountain. Its dark stone frosted with ice. The crown above lost amid swirling clouds of blown snow.

  Beyond it stood more mountains, each snow capped peak rising higher than the one before it. The air had grown thin and with each breath they took it seemed to eat away at their strength.

  Marcos allowed only a short rest and then they pressed onward following the steep ridge upward until it became to steep to safely walk upon.

  On their left a narrow ledge cut across the ridge face until it disappeared behind a fold in the stone of the Mountainside. Inching along the narrow ledge with their faces pressed against the rock they came to a deep fissure in the mountain. Formed by a fault within the stone, a large portion of the mountain had split and leaned outward at a shallow angle.

  The ledge they followed entered the base of the fissure. The wind tore at their cloaks as one by one they worked their way into the darkness.

  Casius looked down and groaned he had not realized how high they had climbed. Several thousand feet below him, the tops of trees stood out against the snow shrouded hills. Averting his eyes he pressed himself against the stone and worked his way along the two-foot wide ledge until he too entered the dark fissure.

  The wind lessoned once he entered the cleft. His eyes adjusted to the gloom and he was relieved to find the ledge widened to fill the cleft. Far above them only a thin sliver of sky shone in the darkness.

  The Stone before had been fashioned into a shallow stair leading upward into the darkness.

  “These were fashioned by men.” Marcos remarked on seeing the stair.

  Up the stair they climbed, it was a long path and stretched more than two miles. Once they had ventured around a tight curve in its path they could see bright sunlight shining through an arched opening before them.

  They stepped through the opening, blinking against the suns glare reflecting from the ice. They stood within a narrow valley whose floor was a smooth sheet of ice and snow. The walls were sheer stone over one hundred feet high, worn smooth by ancient flows of ice. At the far end, less than a mile distant stood a tall imposing wall of glacial ice higher than the stone on either side.

  At its base chunks of fallen ice and half buried boulders formed a field of debris that were being pushed forward by the relentless weight of the glacier behind it.

  Subtle groans and pops filled the air. As they looked on a large fragment of ice splintered off the wall ad fell crashing to the valley floor in a thunderous boom that shook the mountain beneath their feet.

  Stepping back into the fissure, Connell suggested that they spend the night out of the wind before continuing on.

  Casius was cold and tired, wrapped in his heavy clothing and blanket he sat against the cold stone and shivered. It was the most miserable night he had ever spent in his life. Sleep only came in short snatches; he would jerk suddenly awake as more ice fell from the nearby glacier crashing into the ground with resounding booms.

  The valley remained cast in darkness long after the sun had risen. Hidden within the shadow of the mountain it would be several hours before the sun climbed high enough to drive off the gloom.

  The Glacier remained at the valleys head, groaning and popping as if it strove to break free of the fetters that held it locked against the stone.

  In the dim light reflected from the sky they crossed the valley floor. Coming to within a half mile of the groaning ice.

  Casius thought for a moment that Marcos intended to climb the unstable face. He relaxed as Marcos stopped and considered where they stood for a moment. With a determined stride he led them to the northern rock face of the valley wall. After a few minutes of searching he found what he was looking for.

  A series of narrow grooves had been cut within the rock. Cunningly hidden from view they provided a means to scale the cliff face.

  Marcos ascended without delay; Suni however paused to examine the first notch.

  “What’s wrong?” Casius asked. He had been around the Anghor Shok long enough to know when something bothered him.

  “Like the stair, these too are man made.” He replied. “Many people have passed this way to wear the stone so smooth.”

  “It would appear so,” Casius agreed feeling the notch.

  Suni looked up to see Marcos had almost reached the cliffs top over a hundred feet above them. “Where are they now?” He asked ascending the rock face without awaiting Casius’s answer.

  Casius knew Suni was right, he believed the sword was guarded and the stair and this concealed path may have been fashioned by those warders. He feared they were walking into danger but as Marcos had said, they had little choice in the matter.

  Casius watched as Suni scaled the height effortlessly, within a few minutes he stepped beyond the edge and stood surveying the surrounding landscape.

  Connell nodded for Casius to begin the climb.

  Casius took one last look up and settled his saddlebag on his shoulder. He began the climb keeping his eyes firmly ahead searching out each new handhold. He fought back the vague feeling of vertigo that came upon him. Moving one limb at a time he soon reached the edge. Suni reached down and helped him over the lip.

  He stood high upon the mountainside, near its crest. The glacial ice formed a bridge between two mountains. The upper reaches of the mountain before them lay hidden in the gray clouds that hung low over their heads. The ice crusted rock walls seemed insubstantial in the mist that rose from the ice.

  “How much further?” Connell asked having reached the cliffs top.

  Marcos pointed to the crag across the flow of ice. “The power I felt lies within that mountain, but this is as far as my power would take me. From this point we must determine which path to take.”

  “I was born in a land such as this. The dangers of ice and stone are known to me.” Suni said stepping forward. “Follow my steps exactly, mountains and ice demand a high price for carelessness.” Without another word he set off towards the flow.

  He led them forward studying the ground carefully as he went. Out towards the center of the ice they moved. The top of the flow was riddled with deep fissures that plunged downward into blue tinged darkness.

  Suni’s path was far from dir
ect, often doubling back and crisscrossing the slippery surface. Avoiding dangerous spots on the ice that only he could see.

  Casius was miserable; his feet were numb. Even his stout boots could not hold back the cold. His lungs burned in the thin icy air, breathing deeply did little good, it only exasperated the discomfort he was feeling.

  Onward he forced himself, following Suni’s back across the treacherous ice.

  It was two long hours later when they reached the western most edge of the flow. It ended in a pile of shattered ice butting against an up thrust spur of stone.

  The Ice flowed to either side of the rock protrusion, sloping down the steep sides of the mountain. The rock spur was fractured and brittle, the weight of the ice having stressed it for many a millennia.

  Suni stopped as if sensing danger; suddenly a thin-shafted spear struck the ground at his feet embedding itself deep into the ice.

  Suni stepped in front of Marcos his Kalmari flashing in the light. Both Connell and Casius drew their swords shrugging open the Morne robes they wore.

  On the stone spur stood three men, appearing out of the shadowy cracks about its crown. They wore heavy robes that matched the mottled color of the rock perfectly. It was almost impossible to see them until they moved.

  “Put away your weapons.” Marcos advised. “There are more than three pairs of eyes upon us.”

  Casius looked to Connell who merely shrugged and slid his blade into its scabbard. After a moments hesitation he did likewise.

  Suni returned his weapons to his belt, but his stance never eased. Even without the Kalmari his very manner was threatening, resembling a cat poised to strike.