by Tom Rogal
Suddenly, an arrow pierced the back of the Kyroselip, killing it instantly near the mountain base. The Ettui general growled satisfactorily. He wore heavy chest armor and a helmet with elk horns. Of course, there was an open slot for his pointed ears so he could hear well. One of the traits he kept after the transformation from Elf to Ettui was his exceptional hearing. When he heard the fast beating wings of the Kyroselip, he knew it served a master, and he wanted to get it before it could report their location.
He was also much taller than the others he led, standing slightly taller than a grown man. Still, it did nothing toward his appearance. He was still very ugly, but his muscled, green skin was impressive for Ettui standards. His curved sword, which had spilled more blood than he could remember, rested firmly in its sheath.
One of the Ettui soldiers saluted their captain and said, “Orznaii! Haasiina durin piiunt mountiia Hrithgorn.”(Orznaii! We will reach Mount Hrithgorn tomorrow at day.)
General Orznaii, whose name in the common tongue translated to ‘elf cleaver’, growled and replied, “Guillimaii fuucora. Valendraii relicai cervantea!” (Be ready to move. I want Valendri’s Relic!)
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The mages traveled all day, journeying first further south from where they found Mimerck. They had to do whatever they could to stay out of the Ettuiis eyesight. When they felt comfortable enough, they began crossing over toward Mount Hrithgorn, traveling from one atoll to the next. They were less prepared for the trip than their foes were, but that was to be expected. With very little research done, Neeza tried to think of everything they might need. But alas, a small boat was not one of them. The more he thought about it, he didn’t think a boat would have fit on The Sea Dragon. It was barely big enough to fit his party comfortably.
They hurried as fast as they could knowing the Ettui were after the prize as well. They made such great time that they reached the shores of Mount Hrithgorn while the sun still shined. The ground was a very strange, obsidian color; almost like it would glitter in the sun. It was also mixed with lightly colored rocks and minerals, which were soft to the touch. It didn’t look like that from the north when they were scouting the Ettui. Gerran told him that it looked like the shiny particles might be glass, much like he had seen in previous volcanic eruptions. He didn’t have any of his tools to verify his thought, of course. That didn’t make wanting to camp there an easier decision. They would have to use blankets so as to not accidently breath in the fine dust. Most of the flora seemed more recent at the mountain base, as the trees were still young when compared to the ones on the outer Simorgan Chain.
Neeza wanted to continue, but Haldirin and Mimerck were able to convince him to at least take a couple hours to rest and meditate. If they were going inside, they needed to be in the best condition possible. That was the argument they used with him at least.
So they rested, that is, all but Gerran did. He wanted to try and find possible entries into the mountain while they still had natural light. It had been fabled that the entrances to Mount Hrithgorn were very difficult to find and at least from Gerran’s early searches, the fables were true. Neeza was confident he would find a way. He had grown to trust his band of misfits.
When they awoke, Gerran was already sitting around a small fire, only large enough to produce heat. The sun was setting, so night would be upon them soon. They all sat around the flame to hear what he had discovered.
“Okay, judging by the sky as it is now, it looks like we will have clear skies tonight, and we are reaching a pinnacle that won’t happen for another 500 years. Both moons will be full at the exact same period of time, so we will have the maximum amount of light to climb the mountain at night.
“I kept looking for entrances near the base, but the more I pondered on it, most likely those were hidden because they were secret exits. After searching for a long time I found one up there. It appears the entrances are small and they don’t face outward like a normal cave. I only saw it by the way the sun was setting and casting a shadow. It’s possible there are others much closer to the ground, so if you find one, use that. Otherwise, that is our point of entry. It’s high, but if we take it slowly, we should be able to climb up this face.
“Once inside, your guess is as good as mine as to what we’ll see in there. Most elf strongholds were mazes to throw off invaders. Fort Za is perhaps their most normal base of operations. All that matters is that we reach the center of the mountain at its lowest point. That is where I am sensing the strongest magical disturbance. That must be where the Relic is. Any questions?”
Lindaris pointed out, “You do realize that entrance of yours in near the peak, right?”
Neeza added, “Most early elf strongholds used that as a defense tactic. By the time invaders would reach the entrance, their numbers would have dwindled dramatically due to the climb as well as the elves pouring arrows and boulders at them. If that is where we must go, then so be it. The Ettui will be having the same problem as us. Great work, Gerran.”
Gerran began to slowly put his papers back into his bag while the others began staring up at the entrance. It was barely visible at this point, but visible nonetheless. It was going to be a treacherous climb, but one could see where the mountain was cutaway to form a walkway of sorts leading up. Yet, after years of the weathering and shifting of Gyyerlith’s earth, how safe were those paths? There was only one way to find out.
Neeza said, “Okay, everyone. Double check your supplies and get ready. As soon as the sun hides over the horizon, we make our move under the cover of darkness.”
The mage students nodded and began to do as they were told. Neeza looked up the slopes of Mount Hrithgorn. The time was coming near. So far this accursed place was throwing every creature it could at them, yet they have prevailed. He was getting into that mountain, and nothing, neither Ettui nor Garchai, was going to stop him!
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They were halfway up the mountain when it hit them. It started as just a set of harmless clouds, but then the wind picked up fiercely. Not long after came the rain, a heavy dousing that made visibility near impossible. Worse for them was that it made the mountain rock slick. It was too late to turn back, so the only way to go was forward.
“You said it was supposed to be a clear night!” yelled Lindaris.
Gerran replied, “I’m just your navigator and compass. If you wanted an accurate weather prediction, you should have asked Captain Mimerck.”
Mimerck added, “Finally! Someone addressed me properly! Oh, and this storm is not natural! Someone seriously doesn’t want us entering this place! I think Neeza has the gods scared! Bless his heart!”
Vindar looked at Gerran and said, “He is not normal!”
Condarin was staying by Neeza, daring not to stray too far from him. Even with her being extra careful, stranger things had happened. She used her staff to help provide extra balance, which was helping against the gale winds.
Dyenarus, who was next to Lindaris in the front leading the party, was having a hard time blocking the heavy rain. The winds kept changing direction and now it was blowing right into her face. She had to do something.
Dyenarus yelled, “Sheildiia Suarra!”
A purplish shield formed in front of her, blocking the rain for the most part. The problem now was the wind, which was making it harder to walk forward. Well, at least she tried. It wouldn’t be worth having it up just to stay a little dry. She was soaked already, so it didn’t matter. She negated the spell.
As she did, an extra burst of wind that was blocked as a result of the shield, hit Dyenarus with a force she wasn’t expecting, driving her back and causing her to lose her footing. She tried to grab onto the rocks, but they were too slick to grab.
She was relieved when a hand grasped onto hers, stopping her free fall from the mountain. She looked up to see Lindaris struggling to get her up. The rain was making his grip hard to keep as well. Joakon helped stabilize Lindaris while he pulled her up. It t
ook a minute, but they finally were able bring her back.
Dyenarus said, breathing heavily, “Thanks.”
“Not a problem. Say, I know you’re not interested in me, but I think that action at least deserves a kiss.”
Dyenarus replied, “Anyone ever tell you your timing is horrible?”
Lindaris answered, “Yes, you did a couple nights ago.”
She laughed as she inched forward. Although he was growing on her, she knew that a relationship could never be between them. Her situation was complicated, and her family situation was even more complex. It was for that reason that she kept her private life so secret. If anyone knew the truth, she would most likely have been expelled from the Illusions School, which she loved. Lindaris acted without any consideration of the consequences of what he said. It was a trait that was going to stay with him the rest of his life, which was why he and Guillia were perfect for each other. She would marry one day, but she knew that it would not be with a mage.
After a few more feet, despite the heavy rains, Dyenarus was able to see a crevice in the mountain ten feet higher. Thank the gods! It was another one of the entrances. It was still going to take some effort to get there, but it was better than having to scale to the peak.
Dyenarus yelled, “Come on! I found a way in!”
Lightning began to crack in the sky, giving them much needed light. The path was broken going toward the entrance, so they had to climb up the last ten feet. They each went one by one to make sure they all made it up safe. If one fell, at least they’d be able to catch them. Joakon was the only difficult one because of the weight of his bag. They ended up taking it separately by rope. It just wasn’t working, carrying them both at the same time. Each mage made their way toward the door, with Neeza and Haldirin being the last. Neeza had a few scary moments, but he was able to pull through. Haldirin, after observing the best way to get up from the previous students, was able to make it in the fastest time.
After Neeza did a count, he said, “Okay, everyone inside!”
It felt good to get out of the rain as all the mages began to wring the water out of their robes and coverings. The water alone must have made them ten pounds heavier. That part was over now. They beat the weather and were finally inside Mount Hrithgorn. There was nothing special to the room they entered, but a hallway was seen during the lightning flashes.
Vindar cast a light spell as it hovered over his hand. Other than Neeza, Vindar was the best equipped for light spells as he could cast it longer and have many varieties of it. Divination magic relied on the power of light and utilizing it to perform at their needs. Normally mages learning White Magic would spend time in the Divination School, as the two were very close in ideology and the way they used the life particles. One needed the other or else it wouldn’t work.
Gerran stepped in front and said, “Okay, follow me. Vindar, stay next to me so I can see.”
When everyone was ready, they began moving down the hall. It was amazing to Neeza that they may be the first people to set foot on the mountain grounds in nearly 800 years. From the light of Vindar’s spell, he could see even this miniscule hallway had designs on the wall that looked to be in the form of tree’s branches intertwining with each other. To think the art was all carved from the rock of the mountain. Unburned torch holders lay empty after the years deteriorated the wood that once occupied them.
At the end of the hallway, the ceiling elevated higher. In the doorway, it was supported by an arch and two pillars with partial statues of two elves on them. The left had his hand pointed out, while the one of the right had his palm out.
As they all entered the next room, the only thing Gerran could say was, “Wow.”
7
“This place is huge!”
Vindar’s voice echoed through the hollowed room. It was filled with many intersecting paths and had to go near three hundred feet up and another three hundred down. To get an idea of what they were dealing with, Vindar shot his light spell up into the air and let it explode. For a few seconds, the whole area was bathed in light. The paths were actually intricate bridges . . . hundreds of them over the gaping abyss. Time had eroded the railings, leaving them broken down. On the walls were many gaps that looked like doorways. This was not going to be easy, thought Neeza.
As the light flickered down, Vindar summoned another light spell to replace it. The bridge on their level led to three different paths. Biverin moved forward trying to get a closer look, but he tripped over something lodged in the ground. When Neeza illuminated his staff in the general area, they saw the object he tripped over was an arrow, still cemented to the earth as it had been since it was fired.
Neeza said, “Amazing. What we are seeing is probably how things were after the Ettui originally invaded. History frozen in its last moments.”
Condarin commented, “More like creepy. This place gives me bumps.”
Haldirin reminded, “Just remember to try and be as respectful here as possible. We don’t know what elven magic was left here when the residents disappeared.”
Lindaris added, “Well, darn. I was going to carve our names in the stone walls letting everyone know we were the first here in ages.”
Gerran walked out toward the beginning of the path leading to the split. He began to silence his mind, trying to find the best way to reach the Relic. He could feel its power, but it was very faint. The closer they got, in theory, the stronger the pull from the Relic should be. Strange, though, that inside the mountain its power dwindled the further they were. Outside, its pull was intoxicating. There must be a reason.
Biverin stepped up toward Gerran and Vindar and asked, “Well, where to?”
Lindaris instead asked, “You said that the Relic is down, why mess with these tunnels and halls when we can just rope ourselves to the bottom of this?”
Gerran began looking around for something until his eyes met Joakon’s, “Give me one of your least important mixes.”
Joakon reached into his bag and began digging through it. Hard to believe how much he fit into that little sack. It was also a little amusing seeing him try to deem what was important and what wasn’t. It reminded Neeza of his late wife. Alchemy was such a hands on trade and skill that everything they made they felt was necessary. It was the main reason her shop was always overstocked. He almost thought Lindaris was going to push him over and grab one, but Joakon finally retrieved a bottle and gave it to Gerran.
Joakon started to explain, “This chemical will create a smoke screen, but I don’t see how it will . . .”
Gerran grabbed the bottle and tossed it over the edge. Everyone eagerly watched as the bottle fell, fell, and then sudden hit a strange magical shield, obliterating the bottle and consuming the smoke. It took only seconds.
“Just as I feared. Haldirin was correct. This place is surrounded with elvish magic and talismans. As it didn’t affect Vindar’s spell, it must only be affecting the lower levels. If we want to reach the Relic, we’ll need to find the correct way through this maze. Problem with that is that we still might have to go up ten stories to find the right path to take us down.”
“You’re kidding. It could take us days unless we split up!” exclaimed Lindaris.
Neeza quickly intervened, “We are not splitting up. In a place like this, we might never find our way back. It is obvious this part of the mountain was intended to be a defensive position. Once we get past this, getting to the Relic should be easy. There must be a way, a sign of some kind that would lead the elves down the necessary path to reach down below.”
There in was the challenge. Elves liked to be mysterious and mythical; using methods only they would think of. From Vindar’s spell, he could see that there was writing on the walls, but unfortunately, none of them could understand elvish. It was times like that he wished he did ask Divi to come with. She was one of the very few mages who could speak and understand their writings near fluently. It was a very difficult language to learn because of the countless dialects. Yet, sh
e saw it more important to learn elvish rather than her god given gift of magic. That is what troubled him most.
Gerran walked up to the dividing point, now able to see each of the three entrances. They all looked similar except for one glaring difference: The statues. Each one had the same elf design, but the hands were positioned differently on all of them. Gerran fired a few light spells of his own at the ones higher up. Again, the same difference. That was how they would find their way. That must have been how they navigated. The enemy would never notice such a fine detail.
As he examined the three statue designs, only the one on the left didn’t have the statue’s palm facing them. Well, that was at least a start. If the plan didn’t work, then they would need to improvise.
Gerran said, “This way.”
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Deep inside the lower portions of the mountain, a large hooded figure walked into an enormous room. A large fire burned in a pit, providing the only lighting. Ominous shadows danced around the room with the flame. He continued to move forward until he stepped in front of a throne. The figure sitting in it didn’t move, appearing to be more like a statue than anything. Other than its yellowish-scaled boots, most of it was covered in the shadow.
The large figure bent down to one knee, cradling something carefully in his large hands. After a few moments, he released the object in his hands. It was the small Kyroselip, the arrow still imbedded in its chest. He muttered something softly as the hooded figure stepped back into the shadows.
The creature stirred finally, awakening at the presence of its lost friend. When it didn’t return, he had worried for it. He knew there were intruders on his mountain. What he didn’t know was that they could be so cruel. Whoever did the killing was going to pay and pay with their lives. The creature stepped off his throne and breathed on the dead Kyroselip. That scent, that taste. He had it before, but hundreds of years ago. That sweet, irreplaceable taste of elvish blood. So, after all these years, they finally returned. He knew they would. The power of the Relic was calling out, reaching to those who would listen. At last they would have revenge.