Ithan awoke to a brisk rapping against the door of his room. He was
on his stomach, unusual for him as he normally slept on his side. He
did not remember taking his shirt off before he fell asleep, either.
Perhaps Irse had come in to administer his ointment. Another round of
knocking brought Ithan’s attention back to the present, and he
threw on his shirt as he approached the door and opened it.
“Morning!”
Fenvyre said with her usual smile.
“Morning,”
Ithan replied. “Is everyone else ready to go already?”
“Just
about.” She pointed to the floor next to the bed. “Don’t forget
your armor.”
Ithan
scrambled to grab his armor and put it on. He started to struggle
with one of the straps on his chestpiece, but Fenvyre pulled it tight
for him. The two of them then descended the stairs and into the main
hall of the castle. There, their other friends were already gathered,
along with Milia and the king.
“How
did you sleep?” Irse asked.
“Good,
I think,” Ithan replied.
“I
did not wish to wake you,” she said, “but I wanted to make sure
you did not skip this dose, especially with everything that
transpired yesterday.”
“It’s
no problem,” Ithan said. “Thank you.”
The
king gave a sealed scroll to Taer’inar.
“As
promised, my writ of passage,” the king said. “The knights at the
gate leading to Meriterre will allow you through. Whether you
actually are able to ascend the mountain will be up to you.”
“What
exactly are these trials?” Bimpnottin asked. “You say only the
truly worthy may ascend. Do these trials assess one’s worthiness?”
“Indeed,”
the king replied. “Though the trials themselves differ for all who
ascend, they are in essence meant to test one’s heart. Only a
worthy heart may reach the mountain’s peak.”
“Have
you ascended the mountain?” Taer’inar asked.
“Of
course! How else would I have been crowned king?”
“You
have to be found worthy before you can be crowned ruler of Kolden,”
Milia explained. “A good ruler has a virtuous heart, after all.”
“So
your rulers are chosen not by blood, but by trial?” Bimpnottin
asked.
“Precisely,”
the king said. “When the time comes for a new ruler to be crowned,
I would of course hope that my daughter would take my place. But that
is not my choice to make.”
The
doors at the castle entrance swung open, and Finnian stepped inside.
“Pardon
the intrusion, Your Majesty,” he said.
“Knight-Lieutenant,”
the king replied. “Here to escort our guests to the gate?”
“Yes,
Your Majesty,” Finnian replied.
“Good,
good. Now, I have to meet with Morrigan this morning, and he should
be by any moment, so off you go!”
With
that the king stepped away and returned to his throne.
“Who’s
Morrigan?” Ithan asked.
“The
chief of the eastern wolfir tribe,” Milia said. “We’ve been
having a bit of a border dispute with them and my father’s hoping
they can settle it today.”
Finnian
and Milia escorted the group out of the castle and into the city.
Ithan had been so overwhelmed yesterday by the humans and aegides
that he had not noticed he and his friends were not the only nonhuman
people in the city. Though the streets were mostly filled with
humans, he did see an auran at a nearby fruit stand, a couple of
halflings dancing among the human children, and even a creature that
resembled a small dragonkin with black scales. It wore robes and a
pointed hat much like Bimpnottin’s—the hat was even humorously
oversized for the creature’s head.
“What’s
a kobold doing here?” Taer’inar asked.
“There
are kobolds where you’re from?” Milia asked.
“Yeah,
but they’re not very civilized,” Fenvyre said.
“Well,
Folio is quite well-read,” Milia said. “And his parents are
lovely.”
“Hey,
where’s your best armorer?” Dhurik asked. “This whole heart
trial business all sounds pretty boring to me, I might stick around
here.”
“Oh,
I think you’ll like Hargur,” Milia said. “I’ll take you to
him.”
“You
guys go on ahead,” Dhurik said.
“Are
you sure?” Taer’inar asked.
“Yeah,
go on. I’ll have a sweet new set of armor for Dogboy when you’re
back.”
Milia
pecked Finnian on the cheek, and then she led Dhurik away into the
crowd behind them, leaving Finnian to bring the group the rest of the
way on his own. He remained silent as they traveled the rest of the
way through the streets, and soon they reached the city walls. Just
ahead was an open gate, and on the other side stood Novak and Cormac
next to a beautiful marble statue of a horse. At least, Ithan thought
it was a statue, until it turned its head toward the group as they
approached.
“Ah,
heroes,” Cormac said. “I don’t think you’ve formally met
Gaia.”
It
is a pleasure to meet face to face,
Gaia said. would
improper for an aegis of my
stature to manifest inside the palace.
“There
is nothing to forgive,” Taer’inar said. “Happy
to meet you as well, even if only for this brief moment.”
“You’re
in charge of our unit while I’m away,” Cormac said to
Finnian as he clapped a hand
on his brother’s
shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find while I’m at the Cradle,
but I need you to lead the effort here.”
“Why
do you have to go alone?” Finnian asked. “Shouldn’t you bring
some of our unit?”
“We
don’t have time to wait for everyone to catch
up,” Cormac said.
“But
if something happens to you—”
“Do
you really have that little faith in me?” Cormac asked.
“No,”
Finnian said. “Just… be careful, okay?”
Cormac
pulled Finnian toward him and the two hugged each other tight.
“You
too,” Cormac
said.
“Are
you sure she can carry both
of us?” Novak asked.
“Of course,” Cormac grunted as he stepped away from his brother
and climbed onto Gaia’s back. “Gaia’s plenty strong.”
I
am of the earth itself, Gaia
said.
With
that assurance, Novak took Cormac’s hand and pulled himself up onto
Gaia’s back behind the
knight. He clung
to Cormac’s waist as Gaia began to move.
“I’m
counting on you, Knight-Lieutenant!” Cormac shouted before Gaia
took off sprinting into the
fields beyond the gate.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“May
the Singer guide him,” Finnian muttered.
You
worry too much, Pyrrha said as
she appeared once more in a burst of flame in front of Ithan. He did
not fall to the ground this time, but he did stumble back into
Fenvyre.
“How
am I supposed to get used to a fiery cat exploding in my face?”
Ithan asked.
Doesn’t
seem to faze anyone else. Scaredy-cat.
“Come
on, Pyrrha,” Finnian said. “He’s known you for like, a day.
Give him a break.”
You’re
no fun when you’re worried. He’s going to be fine.
She
disappeared in a puff of smoke. Finnian stared out into the fields
for a few moments longer, and then turned to face the group.
“The
gate to Meriterre is just north of here,” he said. “Good luck.”
“You
too,” Fenvyre said. He smiled at the group briefly before turning
around and walking back into the city, the city gate closing behind
him.
The
group traveled along the outside of the wall, until they finally came
to the gate at the foot of Meriterre. Two knights stood on either
side of the gate, and they both
“Oh,
look at that,” one knight
said as the group approached
the gate. “It’s
the heroes of Kolden. To what
do we owe this pleasure?”
“We
have permission from the king to ascend the mountain,” Taer’inar
said as he handed the sealed scroll to her. She
broke the seal and opened the scroll.
“By the authority of King Matthias Duskpeak,” she read, “these
travelers are hereby permitted to pass through the gate to
Meriterre.”
“Sealed and signed by the king himself,” the other knight said.
“Why would he do that?”
“It’s not our place to question it,” the first knight said as
she returned the scroll to Taer’inar. “May the Singer guide you,
travelers.”
Both knights stepped aside, allowing the group to pass through. They
continued along the path for quite a while, and soon they were well
on their way up the mountain.
Ithan took the lead as he and his friends marched along the path laid
out before them. They were so close now, he could not help but smile.
He was not even bothered by the light mist that started to set in as
they ascended further up the mountain. At this rate, they would
certainly reach the peak before it got too thick. He hoped so, at
least. He was reminded of the time he had to lead his friends through
the thick fog in Zastraria while searching for Apostalite’s mage
tower—he had no magical guidance to lead him along the path this
time if it became too difficult to see. He could not see the peak
through the mist.
“Hey, Taer,” he said, “do you think you could send Nyctea up to
see how close we are?”
Taer’inar did not reply.
“Taer?”
Silence still. In fact, Ithan realized he could not even hear his
friends’ footsteps behind him. His heart sank as he turned around.
His friends had disappeared. There was no sign of them at all—the
only footprints on the path were his own.
“Fen? Irse? Bimpnottin?”
No one answered. Ithan looked frantically around for them, retracing
his steps, hoping he had just wandered off the path and that they
were close by. Perhaps he had been too eager and had walked far ahead
of his friends. No, surely Taer’inar would have said something, he
would never willingly allow Ithan out of his sight. He was alone. And
now the mist, as he had feared, had thickened into a dense fog.
No,
please…
His
heart thumped against his chest as he started breathing more rapidly,
and finally he started to cry out for his friends.
“Taer!
Fen! Can you hear me?!”
He
was so close to Meriterre now. He had been so focused on reaching the
mountain peak. He could still make it there, if he was careful. But
his friends had to be searching for him by now; if he stayed put and
kept calling out, perhaps they would find him more quickly.
“Irse! I’m over here! Bimpnottin!”
He trembled, trapped in indecision as tears started to well up in his
eyes. His friends had been with him throughout this journey.
Recovering his memories, awakening his magic, it all meant nothing if
they were not by his side.
“Don’t
leave me here alone,” he whimpered.
As
if by his command, voices started to ring out through the fog.
Ithan’s breath caught in his chest, and he sprinted toward the
source, paying little mind to the potential dangers of running
through the fog. He ran until he was out of breath, and he found
himself outside of the fog in a large flat area with some trees
scattered around the perimeter. Two figures were shouting near the
center of this clearing, and Ithan was dismayed to find that neither
of them were his friends. One was a dwarf wearing a pink shawl,
covering her hair. The other was a dryad, her light green skin
echoing newly grown leaves. They were yelling at each other, arguing
about something that Ithan could not quite make out from here. He
walked toward them, hoping they could guide him to his friends.
“Excuse me—”
Both the dryad and the dwarf shot him angry looks.
“What do want?” the dryad said.
“Can’t ya see we’re busy?” the dwarf added.
“I’m sorry, but… have you seen another elf with silver hair?”
Ithan asked. “Or a green dragonkin, or an auran with a crystal bow?
Or maybe a gnome with a very large hat?”
“We’ve seen none of the sort,” the dwarf said. “Now scram.”
Ithan flinched at the dwarf’s curt response, and he started to
retreat back toward the fog. But he knew he needed help—perhaps if
he helped these two end their argument, they would help him.
“What are you fighting about?” he asked.
“This oaf just tore up the roots of my precious pine,” the dryad
said.
“Yer tree shouldn’ta been in the way, ya pompous pixie!” the
dwarf bellowed.
“”
Thorned vines sprang up from around the dryad, all aimed at the
dwarf, who readied her shovel.
“Stop!” Ithan cried. “Please, try to calm down.”
“I will not!” the dryad said. “Not until
apologizes for uprooting my tree for calling me a pixie!”
Ithan turned to the dwarf.
“Why you dig through her tree’s roots?”
“Like I said, they were in the way,” the dwarf replied. “Mines
don’t dig themselves, y’know.”
“Why are you digging a mine so close to the surface?”
“Well o’ course I’m not diggin’ near the surface!” the
dwarf said. “Them roots go down into the earth.”
Ithan turned back to the dryad.
“And why are the roots so deep?”
“Why, to drink from the spring deep in the earth,” the dryad
replied. “The water there is pristine, and I want nothing but the
best for my darling pine.”
Ithan They were both being selfish in their own ways, but the dwarf
was the one who instigated things.
“I think you should apologize,” Ithan said to the dwarf.
“Why’re ya takin’ side?” the dwarf shouted.
“It’s her home,” Ithan replied. “How would you feel if she
started collapsing your tunnels?”
The dwarf glanced at the dryad, as if assessing whether she would do
such a thing.
“Yeh’ve got a point there, lad,” she said. “I reckon I’d be
none too thrilled at having my house crushed. I guess I can be more
careful where I’m diggin’.”
“And…?” Ithan said. The dwarf rolled her eyes, but she gave a
slight bow to the dryad.
“I’m
sorry I dug into yer tree’s roots,” the dwarf muttered. “And
I’m sorry I called ya a pixie.”
“And
I am sorry for calling you an oaf,” the dryad replied, returning
his bow. “I let my temper get the better of me. But, seeing as I am
a dryad and not a pixie, I can mend my tree with relative ease.”
“I’d
be right happy to help ya with that, if you’d allow,” the dwarf
said.
“That
is quite kind of you to offer,” the dryad said. She and the dwarf
both turned to face Ithan. “Thank you, young elf, for stepping in
before things got… messy.”
The
fog advanced around Ithan, and the dwarf and dryad vanished.
“Wait!”
he called.
Again,
he was met with silence. He was alone again—his chance for aid had
slipped through his fingers. He fell to his knees, defeated.
Then the fog lifted once more. Ithan looked up and gasped in horror
as he found himself surrounded by gnolls, sneering and snickering at
him as he knelt there. He grasped Taer’inar’s sword and prepared
to fight, but he remembered—he could not even take on one gnoll by
himself. How was he supposed to fight four of them? He could feel
himself quaking in fear, unable to keep his hands steady while he
held Taer’inar’s sword. The gnolls began to move closer as the
fear weighed him down.
Thorned vines suddenly sprang up from the ground and lashed out at
two of the gnolls. Lightning flashed and bounced between the other
two. Fenvyre’s and Irse’s magic—they had found him. Ecstatic,
he searched for them quickly as the gnolls recovered from the attack.
Rather than finding his friends, however, he found the dwarf and
dryad from before.
“You seem to have gotten yourself into a mess,” the dryad said.
“Seems we’re the ones steppin’ in now,” the dwarf said.
They each continued their attack on the gnolls as a strange
combination of sadness and gratitude washed over Ithan. Still, he was
no longer alone. The fear holding him in place waned, and he leapt
forward at the gnoll in front of him, their blades clashing against
each other and blinding Ithan for just a moment.
And then he was no longer fighting with a gnoll, but with a
silver-haired elf.
“Taer!” Ithan gasped, his heart soaring as he backed up and
beheld his friend.
“Ithan?!” the elf replied. “But how—we thought you were
a—where did the demons go?”
“What demons?”
“The demons that we—oh, never mind. Are you all right?”
Ithan smiled as tears streamed down his face. He sheathed Taer’inar’s
sword and then wiped the tears away.
“I am now. What happened?”
“We
lost you in the fog,” Irse said. “We tried to search for you, but
then a voice said you had to complete the trials on your own.”
“A
voice?”
“That
would be me.”
Ithan
recognized it as the dryad’s voice. He turned to her and saw her
standing with the dwarf just at the edge of the fog.
“Who
you?” he asked.
“I
am Ameria,” the dryad said, “and this is my dear friend, Morgrum.
We act as the keepers of the
mountain’s trials.”
“We
act as the keepers of the mountain’s trials,” Morgrum said. “Only
by passing these trials may one ascend to the peak of Meriterre.”
“Why are you talking so differently now?" Ithan asked.
"We like to play the part," Morgrum grinned.
"I see," Ithan said. "So all of that was just the trials? Did
my friends have to face their own trials?”
“Your
companions were not tested,” Ameria said. “They were held in a
liminal space until you passed—or failed—the trials. You are the
one whose heart needed testing.”
“What
are you talking about?” Fenvyre asked. “If anyone needs to be
tested, it’s Dhurik, and he’s not even here! Ithan’s heart is
good!”
“We
know,” Ameria said. “And
that is why he has passed.”
The
fog around the group dissipated, slowly revealing two giant stone
pillars adorned with etchings of dragons and the sun. Beyond the
pillars was a grand temple nearly the size of the castle in Kolden.
“Welcome
to the Temple of Meriterre.”
