Wielder's Fate (31 page)

The sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet but soon would.  His eyes traced the path of the stream upwards, and he saw the tree line not far off.  He quickly hiked the remaining distance to the edge of the trees and then paused to catch his breath and eat breakfast.  He ate several of the bland roots and took another sip from the stream.

Traven realized his pockets were close to empty and looked around for any signs of the white and yellow flowers.  Unfortunately, just as Darian had said, there didn’t appear to be any this high on the mountain.  He wished he had harvested more the day before, but he had been in a hurry to cover as much ground as he could.  There were enough of the roots left to sustain him throughout the day if he didn’t find anything else to eat, but he would have to ration them.

He bid the forest farewell and continued upwards along the edge of the stream.  Sunlight began to illuminate the top of the mountain and slowly crept down towards him.  The snow covered peak reflected the light so brilliantly that he couldn’t glance at it without hurting his eyes.  It wasn’t long before the sun burst over the horizon and bathed him in morning light as well.

He turned and glanced out over the surrounding forest at the base of the mountain as the sunlight illuminated the land below.  It was strange to think he was so high above the monstrous trees that had towered over him the previous morning.  The clear, crisp air allowed him to see unobstructed far out over the surrounding forest and beyond.  If he weren’t pressed for time, he could have stared at the landscape before him for the remainder of the morning.  He had seen such things in his screeing dish, but even the sharp clarity of screeing couldn’t compare to the feelings of depth and grandeur one got from seeing such a scene in person.

Traven took another deep breath of the crisp mountain air and resumed his hike.  He was able to keep a good pace all morning as he hiked up the relatively unobstructed meadow of green grass and moss.  By midmorning, he was surprised that he hadn’t yet reached the snow line.  The distance was deceiving, and he found himself making slower progress than he had expected.  His thighs burned with each step, and he was increasingly short of breath.

Just before midday, the ground became wet and spongy.  His boots soon became caked with mud, making it even harder to continue putting one foot in front of the other.  He paused next to a lone rock and sat down on it.  He scraped the mud from his boots but knew they would just become caked in the sticky mud once he continued his hike.  After clearing his boots of the added weight, he pulled out the last of his berries and ate them.

The snow line was very close now, and the air had become increasingly chilly despite the sun high over head.  The effort of climbing the mountain caused him to actually be hot within the confines of the heavy fur coat, but whenever he removed it, his sweat soaked body chilled quickly in the cold air, and he had to put it back on almost immediately.  Traven groaned as he got back to his feet and continued his trek up the mountain.

By midday, his boot finally crunched down in a small patch of snow.  He took several more steps through mud before leaving the sticky foe behind for good.  He quickly scraped the mud from his boots against the crusty snow and let out a sigh of relief.  He had finally reached the last leg of the climb.  Somewhere in the snow, the opening to the Cave of the Eternal Flame was waiting.  Traven smiled and began forward with renewed vigor.

His smile soon turned to a frown and then to a grimace.  The snow rapidly became worse than the mud.  As it deepened, each of his steps became more labored, and he found himself slipping more often.  The reflection of the sun off the white snow made it blindingly bright, and he had to squint constantly.  The cold wind became icy, biting at his exposed flesh.  He pulled his hood close around his face.  His toes became uncomfortably cold as well.

By mid afternoon, he was constantly up to his knees in the freezing snow.  Notwithstanding the difficulty, he continued plodding onward through the thick, monotonous whiteness of the upper portions of the mountain.  Each step was a struggle, and the air continued getting thinner, making it harder and harder to breathe.  Despite the abundance of fresh water from the stream, his lips became chapped and cracked from the icy wind.

The stream had been slowly meandering up the slope in a northeasterly direction, and the sun was low enough that it slowly began to disappear behind the other side of the mountain.  Traven eventually crossed from the blindingly bright snow of the southern face of the mountain into shadow.  He paused after crossing into the relative darkness of the eastern slope and waited for his eyes to adjust.  The brightness had caused his eyes to water and his tears had frozen in icy clusters around his eyes.  He carefully brushed off the ice and opened his sore eyes wider.  At first, he was afraid the bright snow had done permanent damage to his eyes, but slowly he noticed his vision returning to normal.

While he waited, he pulled out one of the last two roots in his pocket and ate it slowly.  He was hungrier than he had realized.  The laborious hike was draining him of the last of his strength.  He hoped the roots would sustain him at least until he reached the entrance to the cave.  He could then rest for the night before descending to the base of the mountain.  The journey down would be much easier and faster than the ascent had been.

When his eyes had recovered enough to see clearly, he scanned the eastern slope of the mountain for any signs of the cave.  All he saw was the small stream disappearing into the never ending field of white.  He wished he knew how much further it was to the entrance of the cave but was comforted to know it couldn’t be too much further.

He grimaced as he took another step and continued up the mountain.  He had grown used to the burning in his thighs but not the burning in his lungs.  Every breath was an effort as he got higher.  His path became increasingly steep with the stream resembling a waterfall at times.  When it was the steepest, Traven crawled as much as he walked.  The proximity of his entire body to the snow was not welcome.  It was easier to see without the glare of the sun, but it was much colder in the mountain’s shadow.

The wind began to pick up as evening approached, making it harder to see very far and stripping him of what little body heat he had enjoyed.  The wind and snow were soon beating him directly in the face as if urging him to give up.  He ate his last root, took a drink of water, and ducking his head, trudged onward.  Stopping was not an option.

He knew if he stopped, he would die.  The temperature was dropping quickly with the coming of night, and he had expended too much energy to return to the tree line.  His best chance was to find shelter inside the cave.  He doubted he could last the night out in the open.  His lungs screamed for him to stop and rest, but he ignored them and continued onward.  If he didn’t keep moving, he would freeze.  Already his hands, feet, and face had become numb.

Time passed slowly and lost meaning as he continually pushed his exhausted body forward, ever upward.  The dull headache that had bothered him for half the day began to increase in intensity.  At times, spots flitted across his vision, but he continued moving.  The sky soon darkened, and all he could see were the stream and the swirling snow immediately around him.  He began to wonder if he would survive the trial.  He wasn’t sure how much further he could push his body.

Traven wished he had more energy left.  He lamented not heeding Darian’s advice to eat grubs in the forest.  Even if he had only picked several more roots it would have helped sustain the continual strain he was putting on his limbs.  Darian had warned him, but Traven had underestimated how difficult it would be to continue climbing so long on the harsh slope.

At times, he was almost convinced it would be better to stop and rest, but in the back of his mind, he knew stopping meant death.  For strength, he tried to focus on all the people that were depending on him to succeed.  There were all the inhabitants of Candus, all the soldiers of the Kalian army, and perhaps all the humans of Kalia.

His grandparents’ faces flitted through his memory.  Their wellbeing was at stake as well.  If he didn’t stop the galdaks, they would continue south and destroy his hometown and his loved ones.  He hadn’t seen his grandparents in almost a year, and he couldn’t bear the thought of them dying without seeing them and thanking them for all they had done for him.  He would not let that happen.  The love he felt for his grandparents infused a little more strength into him, and he took several more steps forward before slipping and falling in the snow.

It felt nice to lie down.  The burning in his legs faded and sleep began to overcome him.  He jerked awake as the thought of two piercing blue eyes filled his memory.  The Princess Kalista was counting on him as well.  His clouded mind cleared for a moment.  Kalista’s letter had made it clear that she had feelings for him even though she had suggested that she would never pursue them.  He realized with a start that he had never once expressed to her his own feelings.  He wondered how she would respond if he told her how he truly felt towards her.

Traven pushed himself back up out of the snow and took another trembling step forward.  He had two devoted servants waiting for him at the base of the mountain.  What would happen to them if he died?  He realized he wasn’t certain what was customary for elves to do when their masters died.  He still didn’t even know why Giselle had sworn devotion to him.

He placed another foot in front of him and leaned forward.  He was too young to die.  There were too many questions left unanswered, too many life events he hadn’t experienced, too many people counting on him.  He fell forward once again but continued forward on hands and knees.  How long he crawled, he didn’t know.  All he knew was that he had to keep going.

He suddenly teetered sideways and flailed out with his right hand desperately to prevent himself from falling.  His hand splashed into the warm water of the stream.  Traven pulled it back as a biting sensation assaulted his hand.  The shock cleared his mind somewhat, and he noticed for the first time that steam appeared to be rising from the stream into the night air.  He also noticed that the wind had calmed, and he could see for quite a distance in the clear night air.

The stars and slivered moon reflected brightly off the snow and made it much lighter than he would have expected.  His gaze followed the path of the stream in front of him as steam from his own labored breathing rose to mix with the steam hanging over the water.  It seemed that the steam abruptly ended not far in the distance at the edge of a large snow drift.  There, a larger amount of steam could be seen billowing up into the night sky.  Was that truly the source of the stream or did the water only disappear under the snow?  Traven hardly dared to hope that the end of his journey was at last in sight.

Infused with this new expectation, he pushed himself to his feet with a great amount of effort and trudged slowly onward.  The farther he walked, the more certain he became that the stream indeed disappeared near the hill of snow.  He hoped he had found the cave entrance at last, but feared lest the stream merely disappeared altogether.  Another five steps and he would have his answer.  He collapsed back to his knees as his leg muscles gave out once again.  Gritting his teeth against the pain and exhaustion, he slowly crawled forward and rounded the snow drift.

25

The sight that met Traven’s eyes startled him so much that he nearly blacked out in his exhausted state.  Directly before him, in the side of the mound of snow, was a gaping mouth with jagged teeth.  After the initial shock, it only took his mind a moment to process that it was in fact the opening of a cave and not the jaws of a monstrous beast.  Relief flooded through him as he realized he had at last reached the entrance of the Cave of the Eternal Flame.

Sharp stone formations hung from the top of the cave and also grew straight up from its base.  It did indeed appear similar to the teeth of a mountain cat.  The stream he had followed for two days disappeared into the black depths of the cave between two needlelike columns of stone near the center.  Traven pushed himself up to his feet and took several unsteady steps towards the opening.  As he grew closer to the entrance, he noticed a burst of warm air and an acidic stench emanating from the mouth of the cave.

He paused for a second at its mouth before stumbling forward into the cave and slumping down against one of its walls.  The smell wasn’t welcome, but the warmth of the cave was wonderful.  He wasn’t sure where the heat was coming from but didn’t care at the moment.  All he cared about was not freezing to death.  Feeling slowly began to return to his fingers with a biting pain.  He would normally grimace at such pain but was too tired to do much of anything.  His chin fell onto his chest, his eyes shut, and he slipped out of consciousness.

When Traven awoke, it took him several moments to remember where he was and what had happened.  He rubbed his eyes and stretched with a groan.  He wasn’t sure how long he had slept.  He could see through the fanged opening of the cave that it was still night, so it couldn’t have been too long.  However, it had been long enough for him to regain at least some of his strength.

He pushed himself up with another groan and looked around the inside of the dark cave.  Just inside the entrance were clusters of small red flowers.  He hadn’t noticed them earlier when he had stumbled into the cave even though obtaining them had been his main goal.  He carefully bent over and plucked several of the red flowers.  He studied them with curiosity before placing them carefully into one of his pockets.  The bright red flowers consisted of five petals that all came to a point on the end making each flower look like a star.  There was also a light blue vein that ran down the center of each petal.  They were unique and stunning.

He was still exhausted and didn’t feel like exploring deeper into the cave.  He was half tempted to remain near the entrance with his prize and head down the mountain as soon as the sun came up.  However, Darian had told him that within its depths he would learn who he truly was.  That was the true prize hidden in the cave.  Traven had struggled with his identity so much over the last year that the answer to that question greatly intrigued him.  He knew it would be a waste to have come so far without discovering all of the secrets of the mysterious cave.  The trial would not truly be finished until he possessed the coveted knowledge.