Skylights

The view from the upper trails gives one a unique perspective of their surroundings. As I have climbed the trails and begun to feel the coolness of the clouds slipping from the blue expanse, the world below shrinks from these heights. Once massive and overpowering, the sentinels that have guarded my life seem as insignificant as a drop of water in a rain storm. The world I knew shrinks from its immenseness, growing smaller as my eye takes in the whole.

I train my vision to the peaks that tower above me. Their heights stab at the wisps of cotton that stretch across the unbroken expanse. I now mark vistas that have never before touched my eyes. The air cools with each step as the crispness smacks my cheeks leaving a pink trace of its presence against my skin. How high does my bravado allow me to go? My pack does not contain all that I may need to traverse the trails to the sky. It is a fool's errand I now see.

I shall take my visions from the lofty reaches and traverse those trails that are within my grasp. That I would brave those peaks that are not within my skills would surely prove a folly. I peer to the east and spy the single peak that towers above the others; Khourne, a name steeped in lore within the tales of the Chrystum's legacy. Perhaps some day when I return through these passes I shall give a measure to the famed mountain and leave my mark upon its stone.

I shall slip southeast for a time through the middle passes where hills and mountains connect, and stay above the cascading valleys whose trails slither as a trickling creek and stay to the low stairs of the Sirris to see what is on the other side.

A trail to the sky

The days begin to slide by one upon another; the scenery before me unchanging from hour to hour. I have no longer the protection of a canopy to shelter me from the warmth of the sun nor the brief drops that condensate above my head from the low clouds that cling to the mountain passes. My foray to this point has been one of picking my way through imaginary trails hidden within the foothills. I see what is before me as what has passed, and no more.

My meal this afternoon is a small game animal that I happened upon. Yet, even those have been few and far between. I have always considered myself one who is content to be alone with my thoughts but this complete solitude is as total as any that I could have imagined. I have to this point encountered no one save brief glimpses of bird, deer and insect. The low hum of mosquitoes have been the only voice that has sung its song in my ear.

My eyes trail upward following the smoke from the fire at my feet as the scents of this meat begin to fill my nostrils. The midday sun has broken through the closet of mists that have hidden the upper reaches of the Sirris from my sight and I spy my new destination. The lower foot trails have only skirted the bowl of the Chrystum and, truth be told my adventure has not taken me from my homeland.

The lofty peaks above shall be the avenue of my departure and perhaps a truer adventure shall begin. I slide the animal off the crudely fashioned spit and eye the mountain tops one last time. I shall go upward to scale their heights.

What is on the other side?

Pathways

The sun rises on my first new day in a brave new world. I see the orange horizon slowly peeled back as the sun creeps its way into the heavens driving the night airs from their perch. It is a battle I have seen repeatedly during my life. However this day I am at a disadvantage as the heavy mists that entwine the mountain forests linger, stealing even the passes from my sight. The small blaze before me fades nearly in unison to the growing light of day.

As the foothills open before my eyes I look to see the paths that will foretell my journey. The trails are many and varied. Will they open their secrets to me or shall I be forced to hack my way through their tales and become no more than a fallen leaf under foot to their whims. I have nothing to rely on save my own judgement and that which I have brought with me on this adventure. My pack contains only the essentials of what I need to survive as the lands themselves will provide my sustenance. My gear is no more than simple tools, a walking stick and a weapon; my sword.

I laugh at my bravado as I pull my trusty blade from its keep. My sword, that which gives my arm the power of thunder shall test its limits on this journey. I swing the blade slicing through the mists still encumbered upon the mountain passes. A machete; nothing more than a tool to hack at the undergrowth and free myself from brambles should I falter.

Another turn and I shall watch the heavens open up before me and the light of a new day shall light my path.