by BJ Hanlon
“I’m not sure it’s up there anymore,” Berka said. He pulled his greatsword.
“Not sure that’ll do much.” Edin said scanning the white blanket, “I think we should run.” They began to head downstream at a jog. He didn’t know where it headed, but with a stone giant behind them anywhere was better than here.
They ran through cold water and on slippery stones. They were stumbling here and there. Luckily, neither sprained or twisted anything.
All around there were the burgeoning fauna, ground covers, mosses, and even a bush beginning to sprout tiny green leaves. After about a half mile they slowed and listened for movement behind them. There was nothing but the stream gurgling.
“Maybe it didn’t follow,” Edin said.
“Maybe,” Berka said with a hesitant timbre.
The fog still hadn’t lifted and they were enclosed in the bubble of little visibility, barely ten feet in any direction. Edin cupped his hands in the water and brought it to his lips. It was icy but refreshing.
Berka shivered. “We should get out of the stream, maybe get to higher ground.”
“Any idea where that is?”
“Well, we are in the mountains, so probably that way.” He pointed one way, then swung his hand around. “And that way and that way.”
“Okay, I get it,” Edin said and they began climbing out of the stream. Then thought about their other companions. “What do you think happened to Grent and Dephina?”
“I don’t know. I thought—” He shook his head. “I didn’t see any sign of them.”
“Me neither. Maybe they got past it.” Edin hoped they got past it.
The bank was low but slick with mud covered rocks. A mouse or something darted under a stone off to the right. Edin kicked a rock and it skittered that way and then clattered down.
They climbed higher. The incline grew until they were using their hands to climb as well. They reached a small shelf after a few minutes and sat.
It was a single piece of rock, nearly flat and clear of foliage. Edin was exhausted from the travel and the outlay of the talent.
“I’m going to try to collect firewood,” Berka said.
Edin raised an eyebrow. “You can’t see far ahead. I haven’t seen any trees of note and even if you collect some, do you have a sparkstone?”
“No, but can’t you just,” he snapped his thumb and forefinger together, “use the magic?”
“There’s no spark. I’d need a spark at least.”
Berka pulled his sword and slammed it into the rock. There was a spark but Edin didn’t grab it in time.
“What the heck, I’m freezing.”
“There’s no wood.”
“Just hold it for a while till I warm.”
“I’m not your personal hearth. You want to keep warm do some jumping jacks,” Edin said. Then he began digging through his pack and found a second tunic. He tossed it to Berka. “Try not to rip it.” He pulled off his damp boots and laid down on the rock.
It was dark when he woke and though the fog was gone, it seemed that the clouds simply took a location much higher in the sky like moving from the castle wall to the highest turret.
One cloud blotted out nearly all of the moon and others covered the stars. He heard movement over his shoulder and glanced in that direction. “Berka?”
“Yeah.” His teeth were chattering and the word was longer than it was supposed to be. “Cold…” Another long word that should’ve been short.
“I can tell,” Edin said. It felt brisk but not that cold, not chattering cold. Even with the dampness of the river it wasn’t that bad.
“Did you find any firewood?” Edin asked.
“No.”
“Jumping jacks?”
“No.”
“Bloody fool.” Edin could only see the dark lump that was Berka. A moment later, he summoned an ethereal ball. Berka was a few yards away and pale, except for a red nose that was as ginger as his hair.
“You got a cold?” Edin asked. “How the heck? You fool.” He sighed and shook his head.
Berka’s eyes were open. They seemed somehow intense and fearful as if he knew he was just about ready to lose his mind because of the weather.
Edin took out Mirage and looked at it. He didn’t want to; it wasn’t what the beautiful weapon was for, but he did so anyway. He slashed it on a dark rock.
The rock split and there was a large spark and Edin was ready this time. He caught it, feeling it in his mind and turning it over and over. Then he let it grow larger. From the spark came an ember, then a flame that rotated a few inches above the ground. Then scooted over on the hard stone to Berka. Edin concentrated on the flame and let it burn as the heat tickled his face and body.
After a while, Berka stopped shivering in almost conjunction with Edin growing tired. He’d held the fire for half an hour or more before he couldn’t continue. He let it go and saw Berka was asleep.
Edin laid down back to back, beside him. There was no way he would cuddle the way he had heard about in the Dancing Crane. No way he’d do what he had done with Arianne in the elfin tower.
Edin fell asleep again and woke when the sun had come out. The fog was burnt off and it felt nice out though Berka still slept. Edin touched his head and felt it burning.
“Blasted, Berka wake up.” He nearly shouted, but his friend didn’t move. He began to look around. It was a rather lush valley in the mountains, or it would’ve been if it was a bit deeper in spring. But for now, there were few plants that were alive and even if he knew what mintweed looked like, he doubted he could find it. That was the only cure he knew for a fever.
There was wood though, driftwood and live trees and dead ones. Edin looked around and saw that the valley wasn’t very wide though the walls were tall, at least two hundred feet tall and they were steep. Edin had no idea where they’d fallen from or where the stone giant was.
Around them, in the walls were caves. Something about the caves though didn’t look right. Edin tilted his head, some of the cracks in the rocks were arches. It was as if they were made by man.
He spotted one not too far. It was about ten yards away and the entrance was a couple yards above the cold stream. Edin crossed the broken landscape to it and sprang inside. The entrance wasn’t tall and he had to duck, but only a few inches to get in and then he summoned an ethereal light.
The tunnel was cooler than outside and narrowed toward the back, though where exactly it stopped, he didn’t know. The light didn’t reach it.
There were boulders of rock lined against the walls, some nearly stool height with flat surfaces. Other scraps sat on the ground; there was fur, bone, dead leaves, and shredded bark that looked to have once been the bed of some animal.
He bent down and touched it. The bed was dry.
To the left he noticed a small nook in the wall. He carefully moved over and found a spot about three feet deep and wide and four feet tall. As he was looking at it, he put his hand against the wall and felt sharp, rough angles and grooves. It was chiseled. This place was man-made.
Edin dropped to his knees and scooted in a bit further. Then other markings caught his eye. They were near chest height and were white and red on the gray stone. They were outlines of beings.
A small stick man appeared next to a big beast on all fours. There was no definition to either but it seemed like the man was cowering. There were circles and sun-like glyphs some small and then a much larger one above the rest.
There was a humanoid figure with pointed ears that stood taller than the man and the beast. This also could’ve been drawn by another artist as they didn’t seem to be part of the same picture, but Edin didn’t think so. This looked like a man had drawn a giant dematian or elf. He guessed the former. And there were other things around.
A group of men hunting something through the mountains. There were shapes like spider webs, possibly the giant spider he’d dreamed about. Edin shivered. There was one that showed a man with a spear and he was hurling it
at a cat with wings. It was much larger than him.
They didn’t look like beasts of today. They didn’t even look like legends.
Was this what the artist saw? And if so, when?
Rocks clattering together came from outside the cave entrance. He was brought away from his musings and back to reality. Berka was freezing and he needed to get warm.
This little nook was made for someone. A tiny shelter from the whipping winds and freezing rains of the mountains. He didn’t know if it was a temporary shelter or someone’s home and it really didn’t matter.
He pulled himself out of the hole and ran to where Berka lay. “Berks, you big dumb oaf, wake up.”
Nothing.
He shook his shoulder and slapped his face. Berka groaned, his eyes flickered and he said, “Go lick my boots.”
“Gods,” Edin said with exasperation. His back cringed as he thought about lifting him with his body and his brain did when he thought about using the talent.
Edin had no choice. Edin needed space to get the breeze under and began with the head and shoulders. He got behind and started to lift him. Even the big boy’s noggin was twenty pounds.
None of that weight was his brain, Edin thought though his heart wasn’t in the joke.
He managed to get the shoulders up off the stone and then lifted further. Despite the Oret Nakosu and all of the work he’d done to get stronger, it seemed that lifting Berka was still out of the realm of possibilities.
“Hallo there, need a hand?” Edin nearly yelped and turned about to face the voice. There was a cheerfulness in it and a bit of a spryness as well. The man was standing with his back to the sun, so it was hard to make out any features though he was certain the man was old, or at least older.
“What? Huh? Who are you?” Edin said. “And what are you doing in this gorge?”
“Ahh, you wish to talk about this or you wish for help with your friend? I see he’s already in what I call stage two.”
“Stage two?”
“Yes, it is worse than stage one but infinitely better than stage three. Though stage three does follow stage two so you have to be careful.”
“Umm.”
“And I would suggest not dropping his head again directly on the stone. He may not feel it now, but tomorrow he’ll be in pain and want to know what happened.”
Edin glanced down at Berka. He was pale and asleep and his head was directly on the hard stone. Edin had dropped him when he heard the voice.
The man moved closer. “Yes, he’s a big guy isn’t he. How were you going to lift him exactly?”
“Well,” Edin started, then he remembered he was in a gorge with no other people around, or at least people he could see, and didn’t care. “I’m a mage and I can control the wind. I was going to create a bed and sort of float him up there.”
The man looked startled for a moment. “A mage you say? And you just blurt it out to a complete stranger? What if I were a hunter?”
“You’re a little old to be a hunter.”
This made the man laugh. But not just laugh, erupt in a belly laugh that seemed to go on and on.
“What’s so funny?”
The man slowed to wheezing chuckles and soft tears. He shook his head not answering. “Come now, let’s get your friend in there.”
The man stepped forward and into the light. He wasn’t too old, maybe Grent’s age though he had long flowing gray hair with both a high brow and cheek bones. Something made Edin think of the she-elf but one ear was showing through the wave of gray hair and it was rounded.
“Alright,” Edin said skeptically as the man moved toward Berka’s legs while Edin took the top-heavy boy. He stooped and slid his arms under Berka’s armpits. “On three?”
“Sure.”
Edin counted in his head and lifted. It was difficult but he was able to get the big lad off the ground. Though he instantly broke into a sweat.
“Okay, use the wind then, buffet him in there.”
Edin’s teeth were gritted and he couldn’t talk but he nodded. He concentrated and felt the rush of wind whipping around above him, he called it down and it dropped like a falcon on a rat. The wind swooped below and around his legs nearly knocking him over.
The loud rushing air was echoing in the canyon.
He concentrated it on Berka’s back and pushed up a bit. Edin felt the weight lifting from his arms and back. Berka rose and Edin steered him toward the aperture. Edin slowly stepped forward and felt the old man take his arm and leading him.
“Step,” he called again over the rushing air and Edin stepped. After at least twenty steps he heard, “lower him.” Edin did so while ducking with the man’s guiding hand on his shoulder.
Soon, the sunlight that had been filtering through his eyelids was gone and replaced by darkness. He was inside.
“Not bad,” the old man said. “Sure beats carrying a lad of this stature with muscle alone. What did the man’s dad feed him?”
“He’s smaller than his dad,” Edin said collapsing. Now he had to start a fire.
“I find that hard to believe, young master magus.”
Edin shook his head. “It is the truth.”
“I didn’t say you were a liar, now did I. No, I said if found it hard to believe, which is not the same.”
Edin thought for a moment and then said. “I suppose.”
“So, are you going to start the fire or not? I do have a sparkstone.”
“That’d be helpful.” He sat up a bit and reached out a hand. The old man rustled in a small satchel on his hip and pulled it out. He handed the stone to Edin and sat down across from him. Edin began moving the animal bed into the small cubby.
“Fire needs a place to breathe and sticking it deep inside a place like that will not let it grow. Put it behind the rock right there.” He pointed to one that was not part of the original structure, it was square and there was a matching one on the other side. Like a fireplace. Just to complete the vision, he saw a small dark hole in the ceiling above it.
Edin eyed the old man but then did as he said. Maybe he knew something Edin didn’t. He lit it. The sparkstone took to the branches like it was filled with oil. A light smoke began to pour from it and he saw the kindling burning faster than he’d expected. He’d hoped that it could burn for a bit while he got some firewood.
That didn’t seem to be the case.
Then the old man leaned forward and stuck a hand out and held it over the fire. His mouth moved but nothing seemed to happen. The fire grew and lapped at his open palm and there should’ve been pain but either he didn’t feel it or he ignored it. Then the fire turned a quick green and then back.
The old man sat back and looked at Edin. The eyes were a blueish hazel, almost like his own though deeper and seemingly more thoughtful.
Then the smoke disappeared.
Edin shivered under the man’s gaze. “You know an endless fire spell?”
He turned back to Berka in the back of the cubby. “The way the wind moves through the canyon will push fresh air in here. The air pushes heat into the sleeping hole but because of the wall, the bad stuff, smoke and what not is pushed out.
“But there isn’t any smoke,” Edin said.
He looked at it for a moment, then at Edin and nodded. “You know, you’re right.” He grinned and pushed himself to his feet.
Edin said nothing until he began to move toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“I was on my walkabout. I don’t like being sidetracked.”
“But sir, master…” Edin started, waiting for a name.
One did not come. The man tilted his head for a moment, nodded, and looked back out. “Follow the stream until you reach the falls, then head east toward the blind king’s lookout. You’ll be out of the mountains in three days.”
“We’re headed west,” Edin said. “I’m on a mission of life and death.” He paused. “I need to reach the elves.”
He sighed. “I see. It will be treacherous. There is li
fe that way which hasn’t been seen by mortal man in a long time.”
“Dematians?” Edin asked. “Because I’ve seen them many times recently.”
“Yes, Yio’s troupe has risen and the god of the underworld will stop at nothing to get some fresh air. It gets very smoky down there.”
“Who are you? Where are you going? Can you help him with the sickness?”
He shook his head. “There is mintweed in this gorge but you need to find it and brew it. You know how, yet you rely on others to do so. You rely on them to start your fires and lift your friends. You rely on them to push you to do what must be done as opposed to what you want to do.” He shook his head solemnly, “you must not be so weak.”
The words fluttered into his mind for a moment before his mouth dropped. “I’m not weak.” He looked up but the old man was gone.
“What in the hec—”
“Edin?” A weak and scratchy Berka said. Edin looked toward his friend huddled in the dark corner barely lit by the firelight. He glanced toward the cave entrance and then back again.
“Yes,” he said and started to scoot over. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick, but warm. Where are we?”
“In a cave near the stream, not far from—”
Berka took a breath and seemed to struggle to catch it. He was ill, very ill and he needed the mintweed. Making it required a bowl of some sort to boil the water. That was what helped release the nasty taste inside and also cleaned the sickness from the body.
Berka huffed between each word as he said. “Who were you talking to?”
“Myself, now sleep. I’m going to try and find some mintweed.”
Berka didn’t even respond. That wasn’t a good sign. Edin put the pack next to Berka and stared at the fire for a moment longer. It was still burning and looked normal. The man was a magus, a hermit of the mountains. Maybe he was near and heard the attack the night before or maybe he just stumbled upon them.
Edin heard recluses loved their little hideaways, be it in the woods or the mountains. And they hated visitors. This one didn’t seem as crotchety as Edin would’ve expected.
Being a hermit didn’t sound like a bad idea, he and Arianne could’ve lived that way, they could’ve stayed in the keep if that blotard Diophin hadn’t sent a gaggle of men to kill him.