“Where is the Pantagruelian?” I asked.
“Deep underground, in a chamber near Scievah’s palace. I convinced Scievah not to unleash the beast in the battle,” he explained.
“How did you manage that?” I asked.
“I told him that he would lose too many of his own men, and that the beast would best serve as defense at his palace. He reluctantly agreed.”
“All of your planning, your patience, has paid off tremendously,” added Felsson. “Your task was very difficult.”
“But I am tortured by guilt. Every day I am reminded of my mistake in the ancient days, and every day I face the fact that so many innocent lives were lost along the way in my plot against Scievah. There were times when I was asked to do things that no one should ever do.”
“What did you do then?” I asked.
“If I couldn’t, or wouldn’t do it, I would simply change forms. Felgor, the Uhaareti who stands before you, is only my most recent identity, you see? Throughout the ages I’ve had to create hundreds of personalities to blend into mortal life unnoticed.” He paused. “Other times I could not do so,” he lamented. I could not imagine the horrors he witnessed throughout the ages. “I didn’t do enough,” he said, bowing his head with shame.
“The Haareti you led into battle still look up to you as a leader, confident and trusting of you,” I said.
“Is that so?" he asked. "I don’t know what it could be, but I always feel that they think I am not trustworthy.”
“I trust you,” I said, winning a smirk from Gelande.
“Hopefully the others do too, after seeing in battle where my true loyalties lie. But many have seen my false loyalty to Scievah,” he explained.
Felsson laughed. “The Haareti will understand. We must give them more credit.”
“Many were convinced that you were against us. Even Patreus and I had doubts and eventually believed that you were a traitor,” I added.
“I feared that might happen,” he said.
“The thought of your betrayal was heart breaking. I’ve looked up to you since our time in the woods, spying on Hadut. And then Ergomet’s betrayal after that…”
“I knew of his betrayal but there was no way to warn anyone,” Gelande interrupted. “I could have saved many lives.”
“The log of dark items,” I said. “When we were spying on Hadut, you mentioned that there was an entry for his item in the log. We grew suspicious when we realized that Ergomet did not copy this information into the new log that he created.”
“That is good thinking! What did you do about it?” Gelande asked.
“We had Algomann set his watchful eyes upon Ergomet, but he found no wrongdoing in all of his observances from the time of the Di’Veridae attack until we gathered at the ruins of the Junction of the Four Realms,” I explained.
“Erdus and all of his men died because of me, because I could not get warning to you about Ergomet.” Gelande was saddened.
“They didn’t die,” Felsson corrected him. “They went to Eterna. I taught them the way before the battle.”
“That was very wise. And I saw no one do it at the battle. Erdus and his men were the only ones to do this?” Gelande asked.
“Yes,” I answered, “except for Kalvis, who was dying from a wound inflicted accidentally by one of our own.”
“Kalvis?” Gelande sought to be reminded of who the man was.
“He gave me my sword. He was the blacksmith from Kal’Adria,” I said.
“Ahh yes. He was given the materials that were mined from Uhaaretu. So many names over so many cycles. Finally my mind can be free of such things. All that is left is to destroy Scievah.” Gelande paused. I thought again of how daunting his task was throughout the entire history of Haaret. “Kalvis was a trusted man,” he added, “a good man. He shall be remembered for his contributions.”
“Did Scievah reward you with a dark item like he did with Hadut?” I asked.
“At first he offered one, and I planned to take it to the Lapisians so that they could render it inert. But I thought that might be suspicious; if Scievah saw the item or noticed that it did not beam with luster, he would suspect something. So I convinced him not to give me a dark item.”
“How did you do that?” I pressed. “It must have seemed odd to him.”
“I told him that if I had a dark item, that the pure would know. They would recognize it in my actions. I said that this would jeopardize my efforts as his spy," he explained. "He agreed.”
“Very cunning,” Felsson added.
#
The air became thin as we ascended from the hills into the mountains. The grass that once blanketed the ground between the boulders was nearly gone, and the tall, thin pinefir trees that graced the upper foothills were now sparse. We traveled along the edge of a small, frozen river that trickled along the bottom of a broad, iced valley. Remains of a previous snowfall crunched under our feet as we climbed upward. We were going into the mountains in the cold season, a time when most wise Haareti would descend in search of milder weather.
We came upon a narrow but deep chasm. Snow drifts partially covered it. If it weren’t for the bridge across it, unknowing travelers may have traversed the snow, thinking it was solid ground, only to have it give way underneath, letting them fall to their death below. The bridge was made of wood and rope, but it was in much better condition than the one that stretched across the Great Divide. I was not afraid to cross it.
Across the bridge there was an old cabin nestled at the base of tall cliff walls that towered high up over the cabin’s chimney. It was abandoned for quite some time. The windows were iced over and broken, and snow gathered on the ledges, blustering into the rustic abode with each icy breeze. Inside there were some cooking pots and stoneware for preparing meals, and a large stone fireplace with stacks of cut pinefir wood beside it. This wood contained a great deal of sap in its bark, which took to flame quite well. It was an ideal item for surviving in these conditions.
A length of jambow tree stuck down into the ceiling in one corner of the room. Jambow trees only grow in the jungles of Tashik. They are a tall, slender tree that is hollow on the inside but strong on the outside. It was used to collect any fresh melted snow that trickled down from the walls of the cliff above the cabin. Several empty and blighted grain baskets were stowed into crude cabinetry along one wall, and along another there were the remnants of old bedding materials. I imagined in more fair weather one could hunt rabbit or other such creatures, surviving well in this area.
We rested there that night, for the sun had already dipped into dusk. Gelande started a fire upon the stone hearth. That night and the next morning we poked around long enough to find some journals written in Ahaareti. Whoever was here had come before Ver’Deiro’s time, for in his writings he spoke of the need for someone to bring new life to the world, saying that four stones was no longer enough. If he knew of Ver’Deiro, then he would know of the Fifth Stone, I thought to myself.
“This place must have belonged to someone who was looking to escape the conditions below, to get out of Scievah’s grasp on society,” Gelande mused. “That certainly is one way to deal with the problem.”
“Yeah, until your slab of rock quakes and crumbles into the valley below,” Felsson added.
Just as he spoke these words the ground began to rumble. I ran to the window and looked out to the north. Sure enough, Blood Mountain began to spew more lava and ash into the sky. The wood and rope bridge swayed as the ground shook. A moment later it was cold and silent. The only sound was the crisp frozen wind that whistled through the weakened wood walls of the cabin.
The soot and ash plume was blown out to sea by a kind wind that gusted from the south. We hoped it would continue, for if the wind shifted our journey could come to an abrupt end, and we could even choke to death on the particles of dust in the air.
Felsson told us the Earthstone was hidden far up into the mountains, in passes so treacherous that even the Loulan Cli
ffs would be easier to navigate. He placed it in a cave, somewhere among a labyrinth of jagged spires and icy rocks atop one of the lesser peaks in the mountain range. Felsson navigated by sight and memory, trying to recall the way in a place he had not seen for thousands of cycles. Gelande had been throughout all of Ahaareta and Uhaaretu, but he only knew a few areas in these mountains, where he created tunnels to connect the realms. Felsson travelled up this way only once, when he hid the stone before the ancients assembled to fight the battle at the Junction of the Four Realms. The ancient markings he left had faded and the shape of the terrain had changed, but the peaks still remained.
Felsson pointed to a tall, lean spire in the distance, to the south of the volcano. “That is the one,” he said.
It was nearly as tall as the volcano itself, or at least it seemed so, since it was closer. In contrast to the slow, gradual rise of Blood Mountain, this peak had a sharp incline that was almost vertical. We set out for it.
CHAPTER 27
The sun reflected a powerful glare off the purest white snow and ice beneath our feet. Shaded areas were no escape from the brightness either; they glowed a radiant blue. At some points the snow was waist deep and wet. Often times we looked for rocky areas to dry off. But soon Gelande realized he could blaze a trail in front of us in his true form, melting the deep snow as we walked a few paces behind him, staying warm and dry. He said it was dangerous to be in his true form at all times, but now his fire was needed to get us through the deep snow and survive the cold.
Gelande lead the way as we continued on. The snow was soon as high as my head on either side of us as we walked within the snow-walled trail that Gelande’s fire blazed for us. Felsson, who also was impervious to fire, walked closely behind Gelande. The rocks of his body radiated Gelande’s heat and kept me warm. We were shielded from the cold winds that blew across this part of the mountain as well. We were between high points, and the wisps of brisk air turned to gusts of bone chilling winds that cut to the core. There were times when I looked behind us to see snow drifts already blown over the top of our trail, nearly covering what Gelande just melted.
Gelande let out a startled yell and fell through the ground. The snow gave way all around him, rumbling like an earthquake and falling down into an abyss that was deeper than the Great Divide. Felsson dove toward Gelande as he dropped down, reaching a rocky hand outward. Gelande’s fiery arm met with it as if by instinct. Felsson pulled him up with ease and the three of us stood on the edge of this mountain chasm.
“Now that is a sight,” Gelande spoke as more snow plummeted down into the abyss.
“It wasn’t here when I came this way with the stone,” Felsson added.
“The land has continued to change since the ancient days. You only experienced the start of it when Scievah began his wickedness,” Gelande explained.
“Well, unless Valdren can fly us across, we must walk around it. I am reluctant to call upon the rocks in such a place,” Felsson said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“An avalanche could be treacherous, even with my powers over the earth and the constant flame of Gelande at our side,” he explained.
I then realized that the Divinae were not immune to death. Like men, they too could die, and they too had fears. It seemed their fears, though, were more attuned to the perils of natural forces rather than the forces of Haareti. “Do you fear anything besides nature?” I asked.
Felsson laughed. “Just the king.”
“I thought the king would not cause harm,” I said, not understanding how one could be fearful of such goodness.
“Oh, when the king is angry, he makes nature’s disasters look like child’s play,” Gelande explained.
My mind wandered to the power of the king. The king, who made the power stones and sent the Divinae to protect them, surely had more power than the processes of nature. After all, nature would not exist without the stones.
“Well, can you?” Felsson asked me. “Can you fly?”
“No,” I said. “I cannot lift myself, let alone carry another.”
“Then we must walk to find a way across,” said Felsson.
We walked in the direction of the closest high point. Since we were in a valley, we were surrounded by high ground on either side of us. Gelande was very careful, slow and methodical with his movements, mindful of other cracks in the earth that could linger nearby. Soon we were able to walk around the other side of the chasm. We continued onward toward the spire in the distance.
As we neared the peak, what stood before us looked like a labyrinth of rock and ice leading up to its base. Boulders must have fallen from the incline, creating an area that was littered with sharp rock faces, iced over from fallen snow that melted and froze again. Gelande melted much of it as we tried to make our way closer to the base of the spire. In this area, we were sure there were no more snow drifts. The base was solid rock.
After much time meandering through the maze, we reached the spire. Its sharp incline looked insurmountable.
“Up there is the cave,” Felsson pointed. High up near the top there was an opening in the rocks. It seemed so distant.
We began our ascension. Our bare hands clutched the bumps and crevices in the icy rock as we meticulously chose our path upward. One wrong step or one slip of our feet on the ice would mean our death. The lower parts were not difficult, as the incline was not as steep there, but as we passed the bottom third of the spire, the incline was too steep. My back ached with pain, my fingers cramped and froze with numbness, and my muscles burned. The added weight of my wings hanging off my back made climbing all the more difficult for me, as they seemed to pull my body away from the face of the rocks.
“Ahh!” Felsson became frustrated. “This is madness. I will summon the rocks to us and make a stairway.”
“What about the avalanches?” I reminded.
“We are safe from them up here,” Felsson reasoned. “Besides, I doubt there are any others living or traveling these parts. I think it is safe. If I don’t call upon them, we could meet our doom.”
He planted his hands upward, clenching the wall. I looked down to see rocks and boulders tumbling their way toward the base of the spire, and then bouncing their way up the rock face towards us. I squeezed with all my strength to hold on, and to bring some feeling back to my numbed fingers. I felt the mountain trembling as the rocks made their way to us. Then they began to take shape into a crude and steep stairway that twisted and wound its way up to the top of the peak. Even Gelande looked upon the magic in wonder and awe.
“Wasn’t Blood Mountain formerly known as Felss Peak?” I asked, recalling what I had seen on the old maps.
“Indeed it was, until it erupted. That is when it became Blood Mountain,” Gelande answered.
“Perhaps this peak should be the one named after Felsson, since he is the only being with enough courage and stupidity to climb it,” I joked.
Felsson burst with laughter, breaking his concentration. Several rocks fell when he laughed, smashing with a thud to the ground below as they shattered into pieces.
He grunted playfully, nodding his head out across the landscape. “Now look what you’ve done!”
I looked out into the distance to see some nearby peaks dropping large sheets of snow and ice down their mountainsides. Avalanches. The snow peeled away, revealing rocky mountain faces beneath. The events looked so peaceful from afar, but up close they were raging masses of torment.
“Hang on!” Felsson commanded with seriousness now, as snow and ice began to fall upon us from above.
I clenched my hands tight on the rocks, so tight that the skin on my fingertips turned from bronze to white. I shut my eyes and tipped my head downward, expecting the worst. To my surprise, not much fell on us. The peak was at such a steep incline that little snow could gather upon it. After a few moments of eerie silence, the debris stopped falling. When I opened my eyes, Felsson’s rocks were in place beside us, leading up to the top of the spire. We lo
osened our grip and stepped upon them.
The stairs proved to be a difficult climb as well; steep rises stood between each step, the misshapen rocks and boulders were often covered with ice, and there was uneasiness when setting foot upon stones that were suspended in air by ancient magic.
“How did you scale the spire when you set the Earthstone here in the ancient days?” I asked as we labored our way upward.
“In much the same way, though I don’t recall it being so steep. I only needed the assistance of the rocks on a few occasions for proper footing,” Felsson answered.
“On the topic of proper footing, could you not have built a better stairway? One fit for the Divinae and the Unity?” Gelande joked, thrusting his chest out with pride.
“You are welcome to step off and scale the mount without my aid, brother,” Felsson retorted in jest.
We soon reached the entrance to the cave at the top of the peak. We stood in its mouth and looked out over the land. At such a height we cloud see the peaks of the mountain range and the dim glow of the sun as it dropped beneath the cloud line into dusk. This was the top of Ahaareta; the highest anyone had ever climbed. But far to the west was a darkened rise that I could only imagine was the faded view of the majestic Hem’l Canopy reaching up to Alapis, high above the mountains, dwarfing them in comparison.
“Come. We will check on the stone before resting for the night,” Felsson commanded.
#
We were near the thin peak of the spire, so I thought the cave would not be a long journey unless it went downward into the heart of the rise. Sure enough it did. The passage turned and we were soon in a dark cavern within the mountain. Gelande ignited his arm and used it like a torch. Without the heat from his flame, it was surprisingly warm, and there was evidence of life. The ice was melted to create small pools of water, and there were mushrooms and other molds growing as well. Perhaps the proximity to the Earthstone created an environment for life.
“I do not feel it,” Felsson said. “A fleeting memory from long ago; the feeling of oneness, the bond, it seems to be missing. I recall a sensation that I had when I was near to the stone. Something I haven’t felt since I placed it here long ago.”
The Return of the Fifth Stone Page 36