“You have been blessed,” said Klinge.
Raven shrugged. “I wasn’t in the front line. It was my job to fill the enemy with arrows from a distance.”
Windsong’s nostrils flared. “If your true name is unknown, you cannot be unbound.”
“Seven times!” concluded Xi, with a nod. “Six times I had to finish myself off before The Forsaken completed The Unbinding. The seventh occasion... well, that’s a tale for another time.” He winked at Klinge. “And it’ll go better with wine. Maybe we should swap stories?”
“Later... perhaps,” said Klinge.
Raven watched the sparks from the fire drift to the full, yellow-tinted moon. He took a deep breath. “I believe there is a way we can find Acabar and discover what has become of Phylasso.”
Windsong’s eyes focused and she looked at him. “You’ve hesitated to tell us this, so I assume we won’t like your idea.”
Raven felt their eyes on him. “I think we should seek Solomon’s aid,” he said.
“The madman!” The words exploded from Klinge’s mouth. “He killed nearly half our kind. I’ll have nothing to do with him!”
Xi nodded and looked at his feet. Windsong gathered and stacked the empty bowls.
We’ve all learnt to use Phylasso’s gifts differently, signed Tak, leaning towards the fire to make sure his hands could be seen. Solomon’s sense of the epiphaneia was strong. He could feel spirits from a great distance. His gift of Sight was stronger than my own.
“Perhaps you should cease your explorations into the topic. That’s what drove him mad,” said Klinge, kneading his brow. “Did you ever serve with him?”
Tak leaned over and tapped Klinge on the knee. Please don’t interrupt. I agree with Raven. Solomon, despite his past, might be able to help.
“If we can climb the mountain. If he’s willing to cooperate,” said Windsong.
We are all Khryseoi. He has no reason to bear us any ill will.
“Solomon does as he pleases,” said Klinge.
“I don’t like the idea any more than the rest of you,” said Raven. “If you have a better suggestion, speak now!”
Xi stood, picked up his sword and thrust it into his scabbard. “Talk is getting us nowhere. We have to face Acabar, so let’s make certain it’s on our terms. Solomon is a Khryseoi and is obliged to help us whether he wants to or not.”
Klinge snorted a laugh. “I’ll stay behind.”
Raven leaned close to the fire. “If we’re to be the hand of the Khryseoi, we must act together! We’ll need our combined talents to persuade Solomon to help us. Are you with us or not?”
Klinge cricked his neck and responded with a curt nod.
~ Chapter 12 ~
Vallis Poenina (Ancient Switzerland)
256 BC
Raven’s boots crunched on the frost-stiffened grass. As the five Khryseoi reached higher plateaus, it grew cold. Winter had not yet taken hold of the land but as the wind picked up, it sliced through their cloaks. While they laboured under supply-stuffed packs the brisk air cooled them, but if they stopped to rest, it bit at their skin, driving them onward like a slaver’s whip. The mountains loomed ahead, dressed from peak to rocky outcrop in tattered white robes. Where the sun reflected off the snow, the peaks blazed with silver light.
Raven realised how accustomed his body had grown to the warmth of Greece and while this land had a majestic beauty, it was too cold for his liking. The Romans called the region Vallis Poenina. The gentle, fertile grasslands leading to the mountain were a poor preparation for the journey ahead. They trudged on, shouldering the supplies they needed to ascend the mountain, preferring to take the long journey on foot. After the war they’d said: A Khryseoi who travels in haste hasn’t learnt to appreciate what’s been saved.
“The higher we go the colder it gets,” said Klinge, coming to Raven’s side. “It bites at your limbs but you feel no pain. You go numb and get sleepy and when you lie down to take a rest you die... if you don’t collapse from exhaustion first. The air thins and walking becomes a penance—”
“We’re not turning back,” said Raven.
Klinge shrugged. “It was worth a try!” They walked on for a while without speaking.
“You know Solomon. Why does he choose to live in this place?” said Raven.
“Because he’s Khryseoi and he can, so he does! You’d think he’d use his immortal talents for a purpose more worthwhile than learning to live on the ice.”
Raven shielded his eyes against the glare. “Despite his tendencies, he’s a war hero. Perhaps he believes the mountain brings him closer to the Gods.”
“Don’t try to understand him, Raven. It’ll get you nowhere.”
“I’ve never met him,” said Raven.
“During one battle, I took a terrible wound from one of those vicious bone blades. I’ve never known such agony. Solomon stood over me, watching with curiosity as I died. Is that heroic?”
“He led Phylasso across the Riven Plains. If he hadn’t, we might still be fighting the war today.”
Klinge sniffed. “The same could be said about any number of events.”
“Perhaps.”
“I assume you mistrust him, Raven. Otherwise, you would have selected him for this group.”
“I had no hand in selecting anyone,” said Raven. His breath fogged from his mouth. “I spirit walked to find Phylasso. He didn’t answer me, so I sought help and guidance from the Khryseoi. The four of you heard me.”
“So, ‘the hand of the Khryseoi’ was brought together by necessity,” Klinge said with a chuckle. “Ah, good! What will you do if necessity decides that Solomon should come along too?”
Raven cleared his throat. “We haven’t got that far yet. Ask me again if it happens.”
“I shall!” said Klinge, dropping back.
Raven watched Klinge from the corner of his eye. He caught sight of Windsong, who also walked alone. Her lips moved without making sound as if she were singing. Nearby, Xi seemed determined to teach Tak sword fighting techniques. He danced around the taller man, cutting and thrusting, constantly talking about his military exploits during the war and afterwards. I need warm clothes, not fighting lessons. Xi was too preoccupied with his demonstration to see Tak’s hands. Raven whistled and beckoned him over.
“What is it?” said Xi, breathing heavily.
“If we reach Solomon and he isn’t cooperative, I’d like you to take care of him.”
Xi squinted. “I understood you don’t want to be the leader.”
“Phylasso is our leader. I’m just suggesting you’re best equipped to deal with any trouble.”
“Solomon is still one of us. You think that’ll be necessary?”
“It pays to be prepared.”
Xi nodded.
* * *
They stopped at the foot of the mountain where the last of the grass grew. A small lake filled the valley, a polished sheet mirroring the mountain. Here the pine trees had become lone figures in the landscape, exiled from the forests. Woody shrubs grew amongst the rocks but Raven saw no sign of greenery on the face of the mountain. “Let’s stop here,” he said, shedding his bag and stretching his aching neck and shoulders. His companions did the same, sighing as they relieved themselves of their burdens. Soon, they had pitched their tents and lit a smouldering fire. Xi and Klinge went to work digging a hole next to a pine tree, where they planned to bury all equipment not deemed essential for the climb.
Raven shouldered his quiver and took up his bow. “I’ll see if I can find us a meal,” he said. He ran up a grassy knoll towards the trees, the exertion warming his body. Birds scattered as he approached but they weren’t large enough to feed five. He jogged onward, using the rocks and trees for cover, stopping now and then to see what could be hiding from his sight. He caught the flinty scent of the lake and changed direction to hunt against the breeze. Beyond a thicket, he heard a creature splashing at the lake’s edge. Crouching, he approached slowly, silently clipping an arro
w to his bowstring. Poised to shoot, he peered beyond the bushes. Windsong knelt by the lake, naked, washing herself and her clothes. Her hair was wet and lay across her back like polished onyx against gold. Raven started. She turned and saw him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I was hunting.” She laughed softly and shook her head.
“Aren’t you cold?” he said, regretting the question as it left his mouth. “Not that I was looking...” He averted his gaze.
“I’m sure you’ve seen a naked woman before.”
“I... I have...” Raven’s head spun. He heard pounding in his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Opening them again, the sunlight flashed intensely from every ripple on the lake. Windsong seemed as if she were made of light. Only her eyes were dark and she wore a crown of black icicles. Her gaze penetrated him. For an instant he felt he was seeing himself through her eyes and hearing her thoughts... plums?
* * *
Windsong held Raven in her gaze. His eyes didn’t mirror his embarrassed expression. He wasn’t trying to look at her body nor moderate his gaze; he was looking through her, past flesh and bone. She wrapped her arms across her chest. “Yes, I’m cold, but being clean is worth some discomfort.” She blinked. Where Raven had stood was a small boy with dark tangled hair and muddy hands and knees. His eyes were wide. He stuttered as he opened his mouth, a nervous question forming on his lips. She blinked again and he was gone. Raven stood in the boy’s place but now his face was grey and drawn, his eyes purple and puffy. He opened his mouth to speak but doubled over, coughing heavily. She shut her eyes to escape the vision. When she opened them again, Raven was as he had been a moment ago; a man dressed in black with cheeks red as ripe plums. All at once, she wanted to take him into her arms. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
Raven swallowed hard. “Right, then! I should get back to hunting!”
“Yes, you should!” she said.
She waited until he was out of sight before she resumed washing her clothes. As she caught glimpses of her muddled reflection on the water, she wondered at the vision’s meaning. Her feelings about her lives in the Kashi village were still close and raw; the children she would never bear; the people she’d had to watch grow old and die; Quan and Yu, her husbands. She twisted her hair to wring out the water, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on her back, but her sense of unease would not pass. Looking up to the place where the mountain’s peak was lost in the clouds, she wondered if Solomon would be able to explain her vision or if his nearing presence had somehow made it happen.
* * *
Raven stumbled away, heart beating fast. When he felt he couldn’t be heard, he groaned and shook his head. He wondered what Windsong had been thinking while he’d stood staring at her. He took several deep breaths to clear his mind. Resolving to himself to speak to her about the matter later, he readied his bow and resumed his run through the woods, heading away from the lake. The alpine forest closed around him as if the trees were about to fall. He tried to concentrate but became dizzy again. He slumped against a rock and squeezed his eyes shut. She appeared in his inner sight, a ghost shackled to the earth. He wanted to hold her as a man holds a woman forgetting they were Khryseoi.
After a while, he regained his composure. Focusing on his senses he crept through the trees, determined to return from his expedition with more than a red face to show for his absence. He now became one with the forest, existing in the moment, experiencing everything around him in detail. A marbled rock. A white flower with tiny petals. The scent of pine. The warmth of a chamois’s breath. Its stamping hoof. In one motion, he readied an arrow, raised the bow and let it loose. As he reached to pull the arrow from the dead beast, he saw he had pierced its heart.
* * *
Raven returned to the camp carrying the chamois across his shoulders. Tak grinned and rubbed his stomach. Klinge and Xi prepared the beast and chatted with enthusiasm about the prospect of a fresh meal after weeks of dried rations. They skinned and gutted the chamois and built a spit. Tak tended the fire, building a base of hot embers that sent ripples of heat through the air. They skewered the carcass onto a stout prong, set it over the fire and heard the first sizzle of roasting meat. Soon, the aroma was making Raven’s mouth water. He looked around. Windsong was nowhere to be seen. She still hadn’t appeared by the time the sun was low in the sky. Raven paced the perimeter of the camp. He pretended to be busy, adjusting the canvases covering their tents and securing loose knots. The other men were concerned only with cooking the goat, turning it slowly to cook it evenly, to get succulent meat and a crisp, brown crust.
“Has anyone seen Windsong?” said Raven at last.
They shrugged and turned their attention back to the spit.
She can take care of herself, signed Tak.
It’s near nightfall, Raven signed back.
Give her some time to herself. It can’t be easy being surrounded day and night by men. Raven returned to the warmth of the fire. He picked up a stick, bit into the end to loosen the fibres and started to clean his teeth. He watched the juices run from the meat. Drops fell on the embers and hissed. He continued to scrub his teeth, working the stick back to his molars until every tooth was slippery against his tongue. As dusk settled, Windsong returned, holding the tails of her Banbi waistcoat in a bundle against her stomach. Her clothes were dry and her cheeks were red.
“Oh, you were hunting,” she said, glancing at Raven.
Raven’s heart raced. “Yes.” He’d had feelings for other women but nothing so strong. He realised it was a new form of the epiphaneia for him: the moment of love between immortal souls. Closing his eyes, he tried to recapture the moment, to hear her thoughts again. He wondered what had happened between them at the lakeside.
“Look what I’ve found!” she said, opening her bundle.
Tak peered in, drew a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Alpine strawberries.
* * *
The next morning they completed their preparations, cutting one canvas sheet into squares, wrapping their weapons and placing them in the storage hole Xi and Klinge had dug the day before. Raven felt a peculiar sense of lightness as he unstrapped the black blade from his hip. He hesitated.
What’s wrong?
Raven looked from the sword to Tak. I don’t want to be parted from it, he signed with one hand. What if I lose it forever?
You’ll see it again. Trust me.
Raven nodded. I won’t ask.
“You should give it a name,” said Klinge. “All great weapons have a name.”
“What’s yours called?” Raven replied, resting the black blade in the hole next to his bow.
“It doesn’t have one. I’ve yet to forge a great weapon.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m allowed to keep mine,” said Xi, holding up his sword to catch a glint from the edge. “A name? Perhaps, Sunlight Blade.” He laughed.
When the last of their burdens were laid in the hole, they filled it in and covered the disturbed earth with fallen pine branches. They cut three more canvas sheets for blankets. The last was preserved as a tent. They would have to sleep close together to keep warm. They packed their bags, adding the meat from the chamois to their provisions. Raven checked his climbing gear: rope and snow shoes woven from thick reeds. After tying a bundle of wood to the top of his pack, all that remained was to pull on thick sheepskin robes and shoulder his burden.
Klinge took the lead, being the most experienced climber. He set a steady pace which suited them all. Windsong followed, as she was also sure-footed in the wilds. Tak went next, then Xi. Raven took the rear.
Climbing over and around the rocks, Raven felt his thighs burn. This climb made the ascent up and down the hillside to The Watcher’s Tower seem easy. Nobody spoke. They were all breathing hard. The scree clacked as it slipped under his feet. The air grew steadily cooler. It bore a mineral odour and the promise of ice.
They made camp an hour before sundown, nestling into a nook in the
rock face. To preserve their wood, they huddled together for warmth. Every day would be colder. As the sun set, the wind fell away and the mountain was silent.
They continued at dawn, after a ration of meat and a mouthful of water. By the afternoon, they reached the snow. Once it was ankle deep, they stopped to tie snow shoes onto their feet. Securing the knots, Raven tested his footing and felt the shoe grip.
“I feel like a duck,” said Xi, as he became accustomed to his large footwear.
“You’ll wish you could fly too soon enough,” said Klinge, looking back down the mountain. “That was the easy part. Watch your footing and take your time!” He loped onward, the powdery snow spraying from his mesh shoes. Raven kept his gaze fixed on the tracks ahead. He listened to the rhythmic crunching of their passage through the snow. The wind swirled around his face, leaving his lips numb and dry. His hands and feet were constantly cold now. It had been a day since they’d felt warm. He hoped they would be able to make a fire when they stopped for the night. They marched on for hours. Gaining ground and keeping warm was their only aim. The mountain soared into the sky. They were immortal, but its enormous presence felt outside of time. They pitched the tent at dusk and arranged a bed of rocks to cradle a small fire. It was barely warm enough to thaw Raven’s hands and feet, but they needed to conserve wood. Tak melted batches of snow in a small pan, producing a small cupful at a time, to refill their water skins. Raven took a mouthful. He had been sucking snow all day but snow didn’t quench his thirst.
The next morning, the air was clearer than he had ever experienced. For the first time in their ascent, he could look back down the mountain and see the green and inviting land far below. He thought of the lake and wished he could plunge into it and drink until his stomach was full and sore. The mountain seemed cruel, surrounding them with frozen water that didn’t slake thirst. They ate just enough to stave off hunger and continued the climb. Raven slipped his arms through the straps of his pack, lifted it onto his shoulders and felt the straps bite into his skin through the layers of clothing and sheepskin.
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