by NS Dolkart
Phaedra was the one who really liked to travel. She had quickly recovered from the disappointment of not seeing Anardis and was now walking ahead of the others, tromping along with her eyes raised to the mountains. Hunter joined her at the front of the pack, mostly so that he could give Criton and Bandu their privacy. The only trouble with that was that Phaedra expected far more conversation than Hunter was used to providing.
“I’m glad we’re moving again,” she said at one point. “Bandu has a point about the outdoors. It can be stifling in Silent Hall.”
Hunter nodded. “Must be hell for Psander,” he said.
“Definitely,” said Phaedra. “Although,” she added, “if you had to be imprisoned somewhere, Psander’s library wouldn’t be a bad choice.”
“You’d need a ladder though,” Hunter said, and Phaedra laughed.
It took them two weeks on foot to reach the edge of the mountains, traveling due west. There were many small villages across the plain, and, no matter which way the wind blew, the air was thick with the smell of cow manure.
“We’re going to want to buy furs before we go up,” Narky pointed out. “People freeze to death in the mountains, at least according to my pa.”
By the time they had bought warm clothes for everyone, Hunter’s funds were beginning to run low. They should have asked Psander for money, he realized. The precious stones that Father had given him would fetch a much better price in a city, and nobody disputed Narky’s contention that they should hold out for the best price.
“Don’t worry,” Phaedra said. “I have plenty of money too. You just wouldn’t know it because Hunter’s always paying for everything.”
Hunter shrugged. “I don’t mind paying.”
The fur traders had suggested a path that led to a few mountain villages, and, following the traders’ directions, they soon found the path and began their climb. It was not too treacherous, at least at first. The wind blew more strongly up here, but that was tolerable for now. They passed a carob tree, much to Bandu’s excitement, and she spent the rest of the climb chewing on the sweet brown pods and spitting out the seeds. The path continued steadily upwards for about a mile before leveling off and beginning to wind its way onward, sloping sometimes up and sometimes down. The trees obscured their view most of the time, until suddenly they would come upon a place where the vegetation was sparse and the glory of the Calardian range opened up before them. These were the places where they would rest, gazing down in wonder.
Huge was the only way Hunter could describe it. Until he saw it from a mountain, he had had no concept of just how very big the world really was. Atuna, the greatest city in the known world, could have disappeared into the vastness of the Calardian range without their even being able to spot it. Its bustling streets would have appeared as tiny cracks in the earth. Hunter took in the views while the others ate. The cliffs were so sheer, and the ground so far below. Some perverse part of him wanted to jump.
They continued their climb, worried that they might fail to find shelter before nightfall. Phaedra was getting further and further ahead, and Hunter hurried to catch up. He felt a little dizzy. It was probably from staring downwards for too long. He could not catch up to Phaedra like this, and he called out to her. Then he fell.
The earth was moving, shaking, spinning. It was horrible. There were voices – the others asking him what was wrong, and whether he was all right. He was not all right. The mountain was trying to throw him off!
“Hunter,” Phaedra’s voice was saying. “Hunter, what happened?”
He was extremely light-headed, and his eyes wouldn’t focus. “I want to go home,” he told her.
Narky was rummaging through Hunter’s supplies. “All his food is still here,” he said. “His water skin’s almost full!”
“Oh, Hunter!” Phaedra exclaimed.
“Drink this,” Narky said.
He drank. The mountain was slowing down.
“Hunter,” Phaedra said, “why haven’t you been eating anything?”
Why were they bothering him? “Not hungry,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to be here, I want to go home.”
“There is no home,” Narky said. “You can’t go back.”
Hunter shook his head. It felt too heavy for his neck. “I should have stayed. I never wanted to go anywhere to begin with.”
“Too much talking,” Bandu said. “Drink more water.”
After they had forced some more water down his throat, they helped him to sit up and feed himself.
“I don’t understand,” Phaedra said. “Why didn’t you eat when we were all eating?”
Hunter closed his eyes. “I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t think it was important.”
Phaedra wouldn’t let it go. “Why? Did you think you could just starve yourself?”
“It’s not important!” Hunter said, his voice rising, then giving way to a groan as the world threatened to spin again. He closed his eyes once more. “What are we even doing here? Why are we still alive? It’s pointless.”
“That’s not true,” Phaedra said. “We’re here for a reason, Hunter. The Gods sent your father to that oracle. They sent me on my pilgrimage. They’ve even marked Narky, for Karassa’s sake! We’re part of something. Psander knows it too; that’s why she wants us working for her.”
Hunter opened his eyes. “You think the Gods have plans for us?”
Narky looked skeptical. “I don’t see it, Phaedra. Anyone can go visit an oracle, and Ravennis’ interest in me… is accounted for. Besides, if the Gods have plans for us, how come They’re not giving us any guidance? It seems to me like we’re wandering aimlessly, doing jobs for Psander until we find something better to do.”
“But that’s how it is for heroes!” Criton objected. “The hero in a story never leaves home on a quest. He finds the quest after he’s already left. In my ma’s stories–”
“This isn’t one of your ma’s stories, though,” Narky interrupted.
“The Gods probably do have plans for us,” Criton insisted. “Phaedra’s right. It’s just that They haven’t revealed what they are yet. When we find our destiny, we’ll probably look back at these moments and think, ‘of course we had to go there.’ When the Gods have plans for you, They don’t just tell you about them.”
Phaedra took up Hunter’s pack and handed it to him. “They wouldn’t let us separate when we left Crossroads, and then They brought us to Psander. Have faith, Hunter.”
Hunter sat up straight, and took the pack from her hands. He felt suddenly ravenous.
When he had finished eating and was feeling better, they took his armor off and added it to the packhorse’s load. He felt clear-headed now, but still walked the rest of the way with the others crowded around in case he fainted again. It was extremely embarrassing. To make matters worse, his collapse and recovery had taken up precious climbing time. Sunset was likely no more than an hour or two away, and there was still no village to be seen anywhere.
“Come on,” Narky said. “Hurry! If we don’t get there soon, and the sun goes down–”
“We’re almost there,” Phaedra said, pointing to a sawed-off tree trunk a little further up the path. If someone nearby was chopping trees, a town couldn’t be far.
Sure enough, they reached a village just as the sun was setting, its last yellow rays stinging their eyes before retreating behind a lofty peak. The village was just a tiny hamlet really, some eight or nine houses crowded together in a shallow dip between peaks. Still, it would do nicely. All they needed was a place to shelter from the bitter wind.
A group of villagers, or perhaps the whole village, was gathered around a fire pit in the center of their little town. They looked up as the islanders approached, and Hunter noticed that the men all wore hatchets on their belts. They gripped these, staring at the approaching party. Hunter suspected that, living so far from the sea, these folk had never seen dark skin before. Did they even know that the archipelago existed?
Hunter spread his arms, le
aving his sword at his side. He wouldn’t be able to fight them all off anyway, certainly not after his fainting spell. “We are only travelers,” he said, trying to seem friendly and disarming. His brother Kataras would have done this better.
The mountain folk said nothing, but their children crowded around them in fear. They all looked remarkably alike, with light hair and strong cheekbones. All one family, Hunter thought. Finally, an elder spoke. His beard might have been fully gray, though it was hard to tell by only the firelight and the pink glow of the western sky.
“Come where we can see you,” he said.
The Tarphaeans approached cautiously. When the villagers saw that there were only five of them, two of them girls, they relaxed somewhat. The elder, who must have been the village patriarch, said, “Where do you come from?”
“Tarphae,” Hunter said, while Phaedra said, “The sea.”
“And what are you wanting?”
Phaedra took command. “Shelter,” she said. “Our island is warm, and the wind does not blow so hard there.”
There was a ripple of laughter among the villagers. “The wind is low today,” one of them said.
At least the mountain folk’s laughter drained some of the tension from the meeting. “Come sit with us,” their patriarch said. His voice was welcoming, but Hunter sensed danger behind his eyes. “May Caladoris bless you. What brings seafolk to the mountains?”
“We heard that dragons used to live in these mountains,” Criton answered him. “We were interested in seeing their caves.”
“We were also wondering if we could buy some calardium ore,” Phaedra added, “if that is permitted.”
The old man scratched at his beard. “Cursed caves and sacred stones,” he said. Then he smiled. “We are a gift-giving people. Calardium and guidance are most precious gifts indeed. We are happy to provide them to our exulted guests.”
His smile was very wide. Though he spoke of gifts, there was no doubt that he expected something very substantial in return.
“May all the Gods bless you,” said Phaedra. “We are grateful for your hospitality and your generosity. I wish we had such precious gifts to give you. I’m sure you have no use for gemstones…”
The man’s eyes lit up. “The very exchange of gifts is sacred,” he said. “We give what we can. The offerings need not always be of equal value.”
His manner spoke otherwise. Now that they had been mentioned, only gemstones would do.
Hunter looked warningly at Phaedra. They could not afford to spend his whole fortune on directions and a pile of rocks!
“For our people,” Phaedra said, “three is a sacred number.”
“I am curious to hear more about your people,” the patriarch answered her. “We are not so very different, though for us, the number six is sacred.”
“On the island of Tarphae,” Phaedra continued cautiously, “white quartz is considered a rare and precious jewel.”
“I find that extremely interesting,” the old man said, “since in these parts, it is the purple amethyst that is revered above other gemstones.”
Hunter could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it. For one thing, his father had not given him six amethysts. Three or four might be more like it, with some additional uncut sapphires and semiprecious white quartz. He had to prevent Phaedra from giving away more than they actually had! Yet all he could think to do was to nudge her with his foot.
“A shame that we have no amethysts,” Phaedra said, “or we would most surely give you every last one. But failing that, I think it would be a beautiful thing to receive a gift symbolic of both our cultures. Six pieces of white quartz, the stone we value above others, in the number most sacred to your people.”
The elder nodded. “Yes, that would indeed be a most suitable marriage of our different ways.”
And just like that, it was all over. In exchange for a bag of warm rocks, Hunter gave over six pieces of quartz, relieved that Phaedra had spared him the amethysts, and yet privately cursing her for having ever mentioned gems to begin with.
“Tomorrow morning,” the patriarch said, “Thasa will take you to Hession’s cavern, the dragon cave in Mount Galadron.”
He pointed to the mountain behind which the sun had disappeared. “You would do well to leave your horse with us, as the climb can be very treacherous. We will take good care of it during your absence, and expect to see you again the following evening. It’s a hard climb, but not such a long one.”
Hunter was not sure he liked the smile on the old man’s face. He was keeping something from them, Hunter was sure of it. But what could he do? At least the mountain men would provide them shelter.
They led Hunter and his companions to the largest building in the village, which turned out to be a barn. No matter. It was warm, and it kept the wind out. Even so, for once Hunter did not fall asleep first. As the others dropped off one by one, Hunter tossed and turned and remained anxiously awake. In his mind, the old man was still grinning.
21
Phaedra
They set out the following day with a townsman named Thasa as their guide. Thasa was about Phaedra’s age, with wiry arms and a scraggly beard that grew in ugly little patches all over his jawline. He was not especially friendly and not especially bright, and the only redeeming quality that Phaedra could find in him was that his teeth were straight. When Criton asked him about the dragon whose cave they would be exploring, Thasa shrugged and said he didn’t know anything about it, and that the dragons weren’t around anymore, so who cared? After that, nobody bothered asking him questions.
Phaedra was excited to explore the dragon cave, but her excitement was overshadowed by her concern for Hunter. She had known that he was the brooding type, but until he had collapsed yesterday, she had thought he was adjusting fairly well to their new life. That was the danger with him: he was strong and quiet, and didn’t make any trouble. It seemed obvious now that he had been neglecting his own needs for some time, but his presence was so solid and so stable that nobody had noticed.
Why had she stopped paying attention? It had been clear to her in Atuna that Hunter was trying unsuccessfully to stifle his emotions. He had put on a mask of stoicism, yet all along he had been the one most in need of mourning. Alone among the islanders, Hunter had had no desire to leave Tarphae. He had had no thirst for exploration, no alienation from his home. Phaedra loved her parents and her friends, but she had left them of her own accord. Hunter had been forced to leave without warning because of an oracle he had never met, and because his father cared for him. And even then he had wanted to stay. Even standing on the docks, with Lord Tavener booking his passage, he had wanted to stay. Phaedra’s heart went out to him.
Today’s climb was much harder than yesterday’s. In some places, they had to scale fifteen feet of cliff face in order to reach any semblance of a trail. It didn’t help that Thasa kept looking around nervously, as if expecting some sort of danger to be creeping up on them at any moment. Narky asked him what he was looking for, but Thasa just kept repeating, “Nothing,” in a way that made Phaedra more suspicious than ever.
“What’s he so worried about?” Narky asked when Thasa was out of earshot.
“I think,” Criton said, “that the mountain clan has enemies in this area. I heard their elder tell Thasa to watch out for the farmers.”
“The farmers?” Phaedra could not imagine anything resembling a farm up here in the mountains.
Criton shrugged. “It doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure that’s what he said.”
They found the cave late in the afternoon. They had reached a lower summit, and the peak of Mount Galadron stood far across from them. In between, Hession’s cavern sank deep and dark, like a hole into black oblivion.
Thasa refused to go any closer. “I’ll wait here,” he said. “Set up the camp, and I can watch over it for you while you go down.”
They left him there to put up their tent as best he could, considering how rocky and uneven
the ground was. They had only brought one, since they had to carry it themselves. They did not leave any of their other belongings with Thasa – they weren’t fools.
Before they began their descent, Narky stopped them for a moment in order to say a prayer to Ravennis. “Let fate be kind to us,” he implored, “and spare us from danger. Um, yes, I guess that’s all. Amen.”
The way to the cave began with a steep decline, but the ground leveled out for a time as they approached the cave mouth. Then at last they crossed the threshold into darkness and stood for a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Ahead, their path ended in a yawning chasm.
“We should have brought rope,” Criton said. “I don’t know why, but I always imagined dragon caves would be more… horizontal.”
He was right. Their only rope was being used right now to put up the tent, and this black pit probably went a long way down. It was impossible to know for sure without more light. Bandu was carrying a few torches that the villagers had given them, but they would have to stay in her pack for now. It would hardly be practical to climb down there with a burning torch in one hand.
“I go first,” Bandu suggested. “My eyes are better.”
“Are you sure?” Criton asked. “The climb would be easier for me with my claws, and I could always light my way by – hey! Bandu, wait!”
The girl had already dropped down and swung her legs over the edge, feeling for a foothold. Soon her hands were gone too. Criton swore, said, “wait here,” and began to follow.
Phaedra stood nervously with Hunter and Narky, listening and waiting. Criton breathed a small burst of flame once, shedding some light on his progress, but he did not do it again. “Damn it, Bandu,” they heard him say, panting a little as he climbed after her. “You’re not invincible.”