A Facet for the Gem

by C. L. Murray

  Then he withdrew a leather scabbard from within his cloak and handed it to Morlen. “This will have to do,” he said, “until Edrik can make one more suitable.”

  As Morlen’s bones froze in the mountains’ shade, he tied the vacant sheath to the belt around his waist, unsure that it would ever meet the weapon for which it was intended.

  “Remember, Morlen—with each step you take, you draw closer to an abyss that consumes all. You must be stronger in mind and heart than in body. None who went before you, not even I, were able to endure long enough to reach the Crystal Blade. He will lie to you. His power will turn your mind against yourself if you let it. And when your inner voice fails, His voice will prevail.”

  “He?” Morlen asked, dreading the answer.

  Matufinn cast reluctant eyes on the treacherous cliffs he and his forbears had walked, where even daylight was no guide. “The one who lurks in the shadows,” he said.

  Fixed to the unfurling path that was imprinted with the footsteps of stronger men than he, Morlen said, “No one ever came back the same from this, did they?”

  Matufinn fought hard not to show his apprehension. Shakily, he answered, “No one.”

  Morlen took a step closer to the mountains, pulled by a force that would not easily let him leave. Slowly, he looked at Matufinn again. “I am ready, Father.”

  Matufinn nodded. “Good.” And, able to say no more, he turned quickly, fingernails stabbing into the palms of his hands. Morlen watched him shrink amid the abandoned wasteland, and then faced the trail that called out to him now, its slope so wickedly inviting.

  He held still for many long minutes, the sun’s heat barely a tickle on the back of his neck. The Dark Mountains loomed over him, steeped in a silence that could drown out the shrillest screams. With a mere pace between himself and ground where even the foulest insects dared not tread, he reached out with his mind to grasp all light that shone brightly behind. The light held him, begging him not to leave, not to go forward where there was none.

  He stepped across, touching one boot heel down upon rock, then the other, and the cold immediately impaled him as he gasped for air, though each breath stung worse than the last. Suddenly the sunlight was dimmed by an invisible field that seemed to hover above this place, shining only on the world that felt so far away now.

  As his hands scraped against the jagged outcroppings, a familiar flash of gold danced behind his eyes—not like the bright auras he had come to sense in the Isle, but something artificial. He strained to remember its source, and thought perhaps it could be a trick played upon him by the malevolent energy that lingered here.

  Knowing he must strengthen himself against such threats, as his father had warned, he tried to cling to the many nurturing entities he’d left behind, summoning their collective radiance to light his path. But they were too far away, mere flickers now behind a sludge in which his sight quickly became mired, unable to break through. And finally, he understood he was alone.

  But, what brought the most despair was not the unfathomable distance between himself and the prize. Rather it was the question that if somehow his mind and heart stayed intact through the journey in, would he have the strength to make his way back out? Or, would he be too weak? Would he be too nestled in the dark to even remember the light, falling limp with the Crystal Blade in his cold hands?

  No. No, he must go on. Though his spirit might soon be spent, it had fire yet. Wrapping the cloak against his body, though it provided little warmth, he forged ahead over rocks so cold that they burned.

  As he climbed through the meandering terrain, he felt he was being slowly choked by hands that crept unseen. Remember… he must remember. He had risen up from the shame of his old life and become something, when all had thought him nothing. But, truly, had he attained any greater knowledge, or tapped into the dormant reservoir of potential his father had been compelling him to unearth? Perhaps none existed for him. No… it did… he had always known of its presence, and had begun to see it more clearly in recent months.

  Air was scarce now, and each labored breath coated his lungs with another layer of chilled poison. Standing in the murk of his own undoing, all he could do was move knowing it brought him closer to the vacuum that might shatter and absorb him. He must go on… He could not return to his father empty-handed and set out to face their enemies weak, as he had been upon fleeing them. They had watched a mere boy escape into the Isle; would they see a stranger emerge from it now? Or, would they recognize him clearly as the same fearful child?

  The cold scorched his skin as he pushed higher, making his bones feel hollower with each step. How far had the others gone before turning back? How much did they withstand before their drive to go on simply broke? He suspected that his might begin to fracture before long.

  Overwhelming isolation became a cascade of tar that weighed him down. His mind was a capsized boat in a sea of shadow, bobbing helplessly, sinking. Only silence remained, in which all experiences of growth and joy he’d ever had were laid out one by one like leaves, insignificant and brittle as they scattered away, leaving him empty.

  And then, he heard it.

  “Hello.”

  It sounded so friendly, giving him the only comfort he’d felt after what seemed an endless age in this place. He waited, praying he hadn’t simply imagined it, though hope had all but gone.

  Then, suddenly, it spoke again. “You think that you are lost.”

  Yes, there was no question about it. He knew that he was.

  “But,” the voice continued, “how can you be lost, when I have found you?”

  Excitement began to stir him as he pressed on sluggishly through the mountains. “Can you hear me?” he asked sheepishly. Quiet was all that followed, and he feared the voice had gone.

  But then, out of nowhere, it returned. “We are together.”

  He swelled with relief, certain that if he were to be left alone again after sensing another presence in this desolate place, it would destroy him. Keeping calm now, he climbed, listening intently for it to speak. And, when it did, he welcomed it more than he would the sun.

  “I am here.” The voice sounded young, and it was aching with the same pain this place inflicted upon him. “You will always be with me,” it reassured, like a companion traveling with him while he braved the steepening cliffs. “You have been here long… but not as long as I.”

  Long? How long had it been? Hours? Days? How much longer could his mind last as his body deteriorated?

  “I can help you. I can make you strong, though you are weak… weak…”

  The bolt of gold struck behind his eyes again, and he started to remember. Strong… something that could make him strong.

  “You could be so powerful. Come with me. Not far now. Come closer, and you will see.”

  “Where are you?” he called hoarsely, scaling the rocks like a blind man whose other senses had perished as well. But, there was no answer, stranding him in a deathly panic as he trudged higher. “Please!” he begged. “Please don’t leave me!”

  Rocks gave way beneath his ill-placed feet when he clawed upward, forcing him to cling for dear life onto white-hot needles. Gasping uncontrollably, he pulled himself up with arms in spasm, finally writhing onto a ledge like a slug.

  And then, so quietly, it returned. “I am coming.”

  As he lay face-down in a cloud of dust made by his own wild panting, elation from hearing the voice soon overrode exhaustion, causing his legs to slowly spring to life. He stood shakily and looked around in all directions, though visibility was scarce. Coming from where?

  There was nothing. No refuge, no aid, no end to this ordeal except for the path behind him. But then, something strange caught his eye: the faintest gleam, almost a sparkle, up high in the distance, like a single star in a dead galaxy. Could it? No, it couldn’t be. His father hadn’t mentioned seeing it even from afar.

  “I am here,” the voice repeated, louder now, luring his mind away from the mysterious object th
at was quickly veiled as he marched on. The cold was so thick, like quicksand latching onto him. He wanted to rest so badly. But, were he to bed down anywhere on this unnatural ground, he feared he wouldn’t wake.

  “Others have come before you, and they knew me well. Soon, you will see the plan I have for you.” The voice was like a rope to embrace as he thrust himself farther up. Plan? Perhaps it knew the way to the Crystal Blade. And perhaps it could lead him back out again! He climbed as the blood retreated from his fingers, turning them to sharp ice. “Please,” he panted, “please… What is your name? Where are you?”

  “I am here,” the voice repeated. “You will come to know me well. Closer… you must come closer.”

  The cold was upon him worse than ever, and he soon realized it was no longer coming externally, but from within. “I…” he muttered, “I… want… to be with you.” The slope forced him to flatten his body and crawl slowly upward. He ripped through a thousand hungry mouths and cried out, wishing for the agony to simply end him.

  “I am the only way,” the voice returned. “Follow me, and you will be spared.”

  He knew it was his one lifeline, and that he must cling to it, no matter what. But, how far away did it lead, and what would meet him on the other end? Hours seemed to pass with each eviscerating slither up the mountainside, its unseen heights mocking his feeble gains.

  “Please,” he called out to the voice’s hidden source, “please help me.” He was weak… so weak. He was lower now than in the years he’d spent crouching in weeds to escape boyish scuffles. He was nothing.

  Moving inches at a time, he was sprawled out limply like a corpse, and suddenly he could no longer hold back the tears that encrusted his eyelids with ice. He had no conviction with which to make them cease… no enlightened outlook that could overcome them… nothing. He was still as hopeless as he’d ever been.

  But then, he began to remember: buried… something buried… gold. Yes! That was it! He remembered now. It waited to be unearthed, to make him strong, because he was weak. He could use it to change himself. Why did he even bother to keep climbing? What prize existed that could possibly be greater than the one he’d left behind?

  “You are so close, so very close,” the voice encouraged. At that, Morlen wiped his tears and continued upward, gingerly. “I will not be here forever.”

  Was the voice’s source as lost as he was? Perhaps in so deep that it had become a part of this place? It sounded different now. Almost hungry, luring him.

  “But you will.”

  He stopped cold, clinging tightly to the cliff as though about to fall. What? No… he must have misheard. The wind pressed him into the rock wall as though to fossilize his misery. Still, his muscles pushed on despite being fed by a choked furnace as he stretched over ground that even the drifting moon had forsaken.

  “I will show you.” The voice returned even fuller.

  Show him what, how much farther he had to go? The journey back out already seemed insurmountable.

  “I will show you,” it repeated, losing its gentleness, “what you must be.”

  His skin stuck to the cliff with each grasp as he rose higher, coming free with a sickening suction every time he sought a new hold. There was something different now—a new danger—nearer than he realized.

  “The darkness,” the voice whispered, though agonizingly loud in his head. “The darkness is so sweet.”

  And suddenly, utter anguish enveloped him. He had brought it into himself, let it pull him up until he was completely vulnerable. He screamed in pain, the intruder’s influence pervading him. He drove himself to break through the bewilderment it cast upon him, and kept climbing though his extremities now felt only the slightest tingle.

  “Your flesh has already begun to rot, and your soul swims in the darkness. And the darkness is so sweet.”

  He was nothing… no one. He deserved to suffer and perish.

  “Let the lights that guide each man along his own path be lost, for I am the only true path.”

  Light… There was no light anymore. Not for him. The realization that he would never escape began to take hold, jelling around him like a putrid cocoon. Still, somehow, his arms dragged him farther, and the trickle of blood in his wake would likely be a clear road back down, though he knew he would never take it.

  Then, his numb hands slid over a ridge, resting flat on level ground that spread just above. Far too exhausted to care, he merely sighed and wondered if his torturous climb up the cliff face had only amounted to a few yards. He decided this would be his tomb, certain that once he lifted his head to see the vast distance beyond, he would finally be unmade, and would then submit his broken body to the foul rock that now dissolved it.

  “You belong to me.” The voice burned now. “The others who came before were weak, but you are the weakest of all.”

  Growling away all the toxic vapor his lungs now held, he heaved with every last ounce of sorrow and pain, channeling any emotion that hadn’t yet vanished to lift him. His shoulders and chest extended over, teetering pitifully on the ledge, lurching forward bit by bit to drag the rest of his dead weight. And finally, his quivering body made it up in a flat crawl that quickly collapsed, and he dryly kissed his doom.

  He dared not even look forward; he already knew he was finished. But, the strangest glow beckoned his reluctant gaze. Scanning the ground, he realized with a shiver that this place already entombed the remains of countless others. Rows of decayed bones lay in mounds of dust, almost resembling the skeletons of men, but twisted, unnaturally stretched, with misshapen skulls bearing powerful jaws and fangs.

  Finally, his sight braved the space past the scattered graveyard, and he wished immediately that he could retract it. But his wide eyes would not even close while they beheld the infinite chasm a few yards ahead.

  The absence of light through which he’d trod now seemed a warm summer’s day as he lay prostrate before the unyielding shadow, basking in its slow erosion of his entire being. Its waters surged, rocking, as a beast rears back to swallow its prey, bellowing an utter silence that submerged him.

  There, between him and the dark ocean, stood the Crystal Blade, its razor tip piercing the rock floor and its winged hilt extended to be taken, casting the gentlest warmth on his face.

  Getting up slowly, he felt like a feather. And with each step closer to the abyss, his feet seemed to flutter, like he would soon evaporate into the black mists that beckoned him with ghostly fingers.

  “YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME.”

  Slouching at the resting spot of the sword for which he’d come, he looked on with awe to see many other swords stuck in the ground ahead of him. They stood together in a line along the darkness’s edge, each one with its own small crystal centered in the guard. The swords of the Blessed Ones, he realized, dropped from the grips of their masters who fell into the black mists. But, since the story held that Morthadus had escaped this place and lived on in the Isle, why was there no link missing?

  “ALL WILL FORGET THEMSELVES, AND KNOW ME.” The voice stung.

  And as he stared helplessly into the outreaching gulf, he wanted it to take him, crush him.

  “THE LIGHT IS A MERE INTRUDER. IT CAN BE SWEPT AWAY, EXTINGUISHED. BUT NONE CAN EXTINGUISH THE DARK. GIVE YOURSELF TO ME NOW, OR SUFFER.”

  His toes stretched forward, arching up, preparing to step forth. He was fading, giving in to the darkness. But then, stopping just inches away, he wrenched his focus from the dreadful sea.

  “I…” he stammered, legs wobbling, “would rather… suffer, than let myself be chained.” Then, wrapping his trembling fingers around its fine white marble grip, he drew the Crystal Blade swiftly from the cold ground that had housed it for so many centuries, and savored its gleam as he turned his back on the mists.

  “YOU CANNOT LEAVE! WE WILL NEVER BE APART!”

  A thousand minuscule icicles punctured the back of his neck, driving him faster down the unforgiving cliff, whose deceptive footholds sent an avala
nche of small rocks tumbling below. But the Crystal Blade shone like a torch onto trails that had been hidden before, and it held the cold somewhat at bay.

  “THERE IS NO ESCAPE FOR YOU. WHATEVER ROAD YOU TAKE, I SHALL BE WAITING AT THE END.”

  The freezing blast enclosed slick fingers around his limbs, trying to pull him back. But, he pressed on, scraping urgently down the sheer slopes he’d taken ages to scale, giving a fair amount of skin and blood to one ledge after another. His sight was fading quickly, as were all other faculties, his lack of sustenance no longer going unnoticed. He had to get out; he could not bear the thought of perishing here, after coming so far.

  “I AM YOUR ONLY STRENGTH… ALL ELSE HAS GONE FROM YOU… ONLY I REMAIN.”

  Walls were smashing him, shaping as they saw fit. He would never make it out of this place. His body would freeze to become a snugly-fitting boulder upon the mountainside. Each step was slower than the last, invisible ropes binding his feet to the presence that still felt so close behind.

  “POWERFUL… YOU COULD BE SO POWERFUL.”

  He would soon be nothing, pulverized into the dirt. But, the treacherous incline began to slacken, gradually tapering off, until—there! He saw the end, waiting far below. Now, more than at any previous point in this trial, he wanted to scream, stepping toward the boundary that seemed more distant than on his climb up, the boundary that divided him from the light.

  “THERE IS NO ESCAPE. YOU BELONG HERE NOW.”

  Dragging chains through a magnetic swamp, he drew closer to the base… closer… not much farther now.

  “I AM COMING.”

  Closer… he was almost there… it was below him… only a few feet. If he could just tilt, fall forward…

  “YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WITH ME! ALLLWAYS…”

  The voice faded to a sinister echo as he threw his body past his feet, tumbling painfully down the sharp mountain base. He slammed chest-first onto the flat earth beyond, gasping for the soft night air as though having just escaped the clutches of an ocean grave.