by Kris Kramer
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The third day of their journey took them around the base of Lharsil. Galen, weary but confident up to this point, tried to remember what he could about the route. They would spend half the day working their way around the mountain back towards the river, and the other half working their way up to the Cliffs. Iago had warned them the night before that the winds up there would be considerably stronger than in the valleys, and parts of the path would be narrow enough that they could easily fall off to their death. That news had given them some anxious jitters that still hadn't gone away.
The journey around the base was similar to their first afternoon of travel, near Gahardarac. They moved up and down rocky trails, taking rougher, less-traveled paths. Again, they made frequent stops to remove rocks from their boots. Hal complained the most out of the group, exclaiming that he might as well walk barefoot since it would probably be more comfortable. They neared the river by midday and stopped to rest briefly. Everyone refilled their water bags and canteens and ate a quick lunch of dried meats. Iago cautioned them to eat sparingly, since they would not be able to catch their dinner tonight, which caused a groan from the Landers. Galen took a moment to readjust his chain. The three days of hiking caused a few of the crystals to come loose from their knots a bit, and he needed to make sure he didn’t lose any. They were increasingly valuable now until they found purifiers for the raw crystals they had stockpiled.
Just before moving out again, Iago stood before everyone with a stern face. “We’ll reach the Cliffs this afternoon, but we won’t get to the most dangerous paths until late tonight. I have never traveled this route so I don’t know what dangers we'll face, but I do know the path is clear enough to get through because it’s been done before. It’s narrow in some parts and the winds are high so we need to be careful. I don’t know where a safe camp spot is either, so we’ll just have to take the first one we find. Tomorrow will be easier but I suggest we move as long as we can tonight until we get to safety.”
“Do we have to come back the same way?” said Jonir.
“No. I think we’ll be taking the fastest route back instead of the deadliest one.”
“Good. I’ve heard enough about the Cliffs that I’m not looking forward to this.”
“I’ve heard there are ghosts up there,” Hal said in a concerned voice.
Saalis smiled. Jonir shook his head and said, “There are no ghosts. That’s a children’s tale.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’ve heard about them Cliffs, too. People aren’t so stupid, they don’t just go up there and fall off ‘cause the wind. The ghosts up there scare them off.”
“Well, no ghost is scaring me off,” Jonir said.
“We have two Pilots with us, Hal. Their Magic will keep ghosts away.” Galen was sure Iago stifled a smile as he said that.
The group resumed their trek - the other Landers still reassuring Hal that they would get through the Cliffs unscathed - trudging forward as the path sloped steadily upward. The wind picked up as they moved higher, and it seemed to get colder, too. Galen had his cloak on again, and he pulled it tight around him as they moved up the rocky trail. The grass, sparse throughout the mountains, turned from green to brown, only showing itself in clumps under and around the rocks or popping through crevices.
The day dragged on unmercifully as they hiked along the rock-strewn path, moving higher up the mountainside, and farther west toward the river. The longer they walked without any noticeable change in the scenery, though, the more Galen wondered if they were behind schedule. They should be near the Cliffs by now but since he had no idea what the Cliffs were, or what they even looked like, he kept quiet, hoping they would present themselves in an obvious fashion.
Just as he began to wonder whether Iago had led them completely astray, the group approached a high cliff face that curved around to the left, facing the direction the river would be. It seemed to go up as high as he could see, falling farther and farther back at points, creating rows of ledges above. The path led them right up beside the cliff face and followed it around, keeping in sight of the river. Galen wondered if these were the Cliffs of Lharsil. If so, he was extremely unimpressed.
He quickly changed his mind once they came around the next bend. The path ahead narrowed to about ten feet wide, and nestled against the sheer cliff face to their right. The other side dropped straight down about three or four hundred feet, right to the Mirken River below. Galen’s eyes bulged, and his stomach turned. He backed away from the edge, worried that he might faint, and he stared at the magnificent canyon ahead, which stretched on as far as he could see. The sheer rock face on each side made it seem as if one of the Basarah had taken a giant axe and cleaved the mountain in two. These were the Cliffs of Lharsil, the same cliffs that inspired countless stories and legends. Now he could see why.
“That’s incredible,” Jonir said, shouting over the heavy wind that suddenly buffeted them, whipping their cloaks around wildly. Galen bowed his head and pushed himself through it, pressing on with the rest of the group as they continued down the path.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Galen said, also raising his voice.
“It’s amazing!” exclaimed Saalis, which made Galen smile. It may be terrifying, but it was also a sight he would never forget.
"Why haven't we ever flown out here before?" Jonir asked.
"The winds, I'm guessing," Galen answered. "It would be incredibly dangerous to bring a Karawan out here. If you don't have an exceptional Pilot, you'd get smashed into the sides."
Jonir nodded. "Good point."
The ledge continued to get smaller as they traveled, while the wind picked up in intensity. Galen looked around for a spot that would be suitable to camp in, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. The ledge wasn’t too narrow to lay down, but he had no desire to sleep right next to the edge of a cliff, and besides that, the wind would make it impossible to rest. It was getting late in the day, though, and he began to wonder just how much farther they needed to go to reach a spot he’d feel safe enough to camp in.
They moved along the ledge for a short time, less than an hour, when it started getting smaller. Much smaller. It shrunk in size from roughly ten feet wide to maybe half that. They could still walk it as long as they were careful, and they did for a while, until it lost another foot or two. With the high winds here and the ledge becoming increasingly narrow, Galen began to see how easy it was for people to fall off to their death. He wondered if Iago had the same thought, because Lander-Captain stopped and held up his hand.
“Saalis, I need that rope you have!” he called out. Saalis opened his pack, pulled out a coiled up length of rope, and handed it to Iago, who unfurled it, and tied a large loops at either end. He put one of the loops around his waist, and tossed the other end to Hal, who brought up the rear.
“Put that around you!” he called out. Hal nodded and put the other loop around his waist. Iago leaned in between everyone. “You four, grab the rope and hold on as we make our way across. It’s narrow at parts and the wind might be strong enough to carry you right over the edge. If you hold on to the rope, and one of you falls, the other five can carry the weight so you don’t fall to your death. But you have to hold the rope tight!” Iago squeezed the rope in his hands in demonstration.
Everyone nodded and moved in between Iago and Hal, grabbing a part of the rope. Galen twisted some of the rope around his wrist then got a death grip on it. He had been around Landers and their training enough to know that the way he held the rope would snap his wrist if someone next to him fell, but at the moment he didn’t feel safe without doing it, irrational as it was. He wanted that rope to hold him just as much as he held it.
They moved slowly, deliberating every step and footfall. Sometimes the ledge widened enough to feel safe again, but just as Galen thought they were past the worst of it, the wall pushed back out again, threatening to leave no ledge at all. They moved this way for hours, not even stoppin
g to eat as the sun slowly descended over the cliffs across the river.
The worst came just after the sun had set. The ledge became so thin for a stretch that none of them could walk it straight. They had to put their backs up against the wall and move sideways, else any gust of wind or lost balance would send them over. Galen had never been more frightened in his entire life. Even wandering the mountains alone with his cousin as a ten year old boy was nothing compared to standing on the edge of a three hundred foot cliff for nearly an hour as they scooted across sideways. The wind screamed past his face now. He was positive that if Saalis, who stood just behind him, had yelled, he wouldn’t even hear it.
Most unsettling was the darkness. Since the sun had set, the canyon below became harder and harder to see. Eventually, it got so dark that they couldn’t see the bottom at all, except for random patches where the moon reflected off the water. Every few minutes a foot would knock a loose rock over the edge and it would disappear into the blackness below, sending horrible images into Galen’s mind. He thought falling to his death during the day was bad, but now he had to imagine falling and not even knowing when he would hit the bottom.
Galen tried hard to think of something else, anything to take his mind off what could easily be a gruesome, horrifying death. He thought about the mission, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to think about any of the details. They all seemed to escape him. He glanced at the others, moving across the ledge the same as him, slowly and carefully, each with looks on their faces that revealed they were working just as hard at this as he was. He couldn’t see Iago very well, who was too far ahead to make out in the darkness, but Jonir, just in front of him in the line, had a face like stone, tense and unmoving.
When the ledge finally did widen again, Galen took a deep breath. Even though it only widened to four or five feet, and eventually almost back to ten, it seemed as wide as the plains to Galen after that maddening hour. He knew at that moment that he would never take this path again, even if his life depended on it. Just the thought of coming back here might make his heart stop. He bowed his head against the strong wind and trudged on as Iago kept up their pace.
Galen had no idea what time it was when Iago finally led them to a rocky outcropping that jutted into the cliff face. Amazingly, it was the perfect spot to camp for the night as it was some ways from the edge, and the high rocks formed a natural wall against the winds. Galen’s senses came back alive as they entered that little clearing. Everyone moved in close and laid down their packs, rubbing their faces and eyes as they regained the feeling in their cheeks.
“Take advantage of this and rest up. We still have a ways to go in the morning,” Iago said, his voice hoarse. Galen was not ready for more of these cliffs, but that was a distant worry. He was hungry but his body ached so terribly that he didn’t think he had the strength to stay awake long enough to eat. Instead, he laid out his blanket and pack, covered himself with his cloak, and fell asleep almost immediately.
The next morning came fast, and after eating the group wasted little time in moving again. The wrapped their cloaks tightly around themselves and moved back out to the ledge, and the furious winds. They had no need for the rope anymore, so it was put back into Saalis’ pack, but Galen still felt safer with it out. He liked having something to hold on to.
The group moved slowly, taking one deliberate step after another. The hikes up and down the mountains earlier in the journey were nothing compared to what Galen experienced here. He fought just to keep his cloak over his head, to keep the wind from whipping his face into total numbness. If he looked up it would fly right off, so he just grabbed the hood with one hand and pulled it low over his face. He kept his head down and continued to trek forward, hoping it would all be over soon.
Roughly two hours later, the winds died down, and Galen realized that they had been moving on a downward slope most of that time. He’d lost track of where they were exactly but he moved next to the edge and noticed that the river seemed much closer. He had been so used to keeping his head down and looking only at the feet of those in front of him, to avoid the wind, that he’d missed the fact that they were finally past the Cliffs, and the path ahead of them spread out wide, more like the normal mountain paths they were used to. Galen let out a long, deep sigh of relief. They’d done it.
He looked behind him at the imposing Cliffs of Lharsil. They were past the worst of it; all they had to do was work their way back down to the river. He was drained, mentally and physically from this part of the journey, and he hoped the rest of the trip would not be quite as adventurous. He didn't think he could handle many more brushes with death.