Weight of my journey

This day gives me pause to think about my journey and its course. I wonder, did I enter into this blindly? My encounter with my new friend surely is telling. Would I not have stumbled across his path, what would have become of me? Would I lie now near death in the mountains, my stalker victorious? I feel the weight of my pack upon my shoulders and though the day is still young, its straps dig in. Is it the pack I feel or is it the burden I have now placed upon myself through my ignorance?

The sun breaks through the low clouds and its warmth bathes me, soothing my soul. I pass a fleeting glance at the peaks that tower above me. They have been my guideposts in this journey, this walk I have taken. The corridors they have formed has been my map. I have taken their guidance but what shall guide me upon the open plains? My belly suddenly shouts and I realize I have been wandering aimlessly in my thoughts. It is time for lunch.

My shoulders relax as my pack sits quietly beside my small fire, its weight no longer a pull on my thoughts. As I clean up from my meal, my savior beckons. Its sleekness calls to me and I may not resist. I raise it slowly and feel its heft, its smooth shape somehow comforting within my hands. It is a queer weapon by design, its shape unknown to me. A sideways bow upon a rod, a channel within to lock an arrow. I look about the campsite; who shall see me test my skills? Only the birds of the forest realm. I laugh an my awkwardness, my shyness.

I have no instruction in weaponry and am sure in my mind I will somehow shoot my foot. My only instruction was to watch Authurn handle my savior in my presence as he showed me not how to use it. The arrow locked in place and the bow pulled fully back I hesitate at the possibility of its launch. A target, I need a target, an object which shall test my metal. I train the rod upon its victim and loose the missile down its shaft, the whoosh unmistakable in the stillness of the fold.

I shudder at my clumsiness. My skills in the wild shall surely be my undoing.

A night's fire

The day falls quickly away as night locks its arms about the Sirris. I sit now before a crackling fire with a creature known only to me by tales from my childhood. That I would sit with a man-folk, a people whose history is turbulent, violent as the tales have been told to me.

"It would do you well to know those parts of the world that you roam." Authurn reached to his side and flipped another log on the fire between us. "You have not traveled these lands before, I gather."

"I am of these valleys, sir," I reply, "though in these mountains I am indeed a novice." This Authurn, a gentle giant of a fellow smiles at my words. His face is lined with words of wisdom, a tell-tale sign of his own experience. "How do you know?"

"One would not travel such with what you bring to these hills, my friend. The mountains can quickly become a grueling ordeal if not respected, and within them secrets abound. Do you know that which trailed you?"

"I do not. I did not know I had a tracker."

"A mountain cat we call a 'bob'. Not as large as other cats of the world but in their element, deadly. You would surely have become a plump meal for her."

"A meal?" My eyes widen as I stare across the flames and into his eyes. My gaze falls to his weapon, one that I have never before beheld. It is my savior, my salvation. "Your weapon. It killed my enemy?"

"I killed nothing this night." Authurn laughed, his red beard coming to life in the light as he leaned toward the fire. "Wounded she may be but I do not believe she shall be worse for it. She shall retire for the night and lick her wounds, but tomorrow will come another day and only one meal missed."

"Then I shall thank you for your service this night." I lean back against the stump, my back searching to find a soft spot.

"Where do you travel to, Clancy?"

"I travel to nowhere. My search is to unlock a world I know nothing about. Too long have I been hidden in my valleys, ignorant of what is beyond my borders."

"Then welcome to my world. I too travel these lands for new discoveries, as do my people."

"What do you call yourself? Where do you hail from?" How quickly this giant has put me at ease. His manners are gentle yet it is evident he is skilled in the wilds.

"I am from the Flatlands above your valleys. Once a part of the kingdoms of the men of the north but no longer. We are a free people that owe their allegiance to no king. I am a Qualeman, a free ranger."

Our conversations continued above the flames as they held back the night airs. He has roamed these mountains for many years and handed forth some of that knowledge that I would have a safe journey. The path he lay for me would give my last day in the mountains structure and guidance and a map to what would be on the other side.

As I awake this morning, my new friend has departed as quickly as he had come; a silent breath of wind over grass-filled meadows. Yet he has left me a gift; my savior, that which saved my life in the dark hours of the night. If I only knew how to work it.

A stranger in the darkness

The veil of darkness that shields my vision of tomorrow hides that which places me now in peril. The cold metal against my skin begins to melt as my hand slides with the new dampness. I feel the pounding of my heart as the blood pushes through my frame, my arms suddenly tired from the tenseness that has gripped me. Again I announce my challenge and again my reply is the silence of black mountains.

A sound, a whoosh unknown to me breaks the stillness and is answered with a whimper. Its reply is a scamper, the sounds of digging claws fade as they rustle the dead leaves that litter the ground. My observer has retreated into the boundless darkness and I stand alone once again.

"You had best not stand alone tonight without a fire."

The suddenness of the voice chills my skin and I now tremble with a new fear. Then before my eyes a shadow emerges from the darkness, movement as swift as a summer stream and quiet as a breeze upon an open meadow. I step back, the lump now in my throat a rock I may not swallow. I see a giant emerge as the darkness parts and before me stands a tower.

"Best not to be wandering these parts by yourself."

My silence lingers as I look up to one who is larger than anyone I have ever seen. Another step away as I feel the angst of the moment, my fear of the unknown welling from the darkest places within my soul.

"I am Authurn, of the north." My new companion lowers his arm, his weapon now riding at his side. "And who might you be?"

"I am Clancy of the three valleys."

"Well Clancy of the three valleys, it is time for a night's fire. There are things you need not meet in these lands. The new moon shelters them, gives them safety and free hunting. In these mountains before the plains, night becomes the huntress."

"Who, what are you? Your words ring true to my ears."

"What am I?" The sudden sound of haughty laughter fills the hollow spaces within the trees and renews my spirit. "Why, I am a man, of course." 

A fold of night

This day does end with a new vista presented to these wandering eyes. The Sirris has now closed behind me as a picket fence upon my neighbor's abode. Its passages, now faltering beneath the fading light of day begin to close their secrets to the outside world. The lowland valleys lurk in obscurity as their high cousins glow by the slim light of a crescent moon.

Before me lays an expanse that begins a new world; a world that has never before been seen by those of my lands. The darkness hovers above the landscape as the light fades, the sun retreating behind the Choale as night takes its hold on the eastern world. My sight dims in the night airs and I may only guess at the vastness of open plains that lay in the folds at the feet of these mountains. Only a new day shall reveal their secrets as one night longer I shall be forced to reside within its coffers.

A sudden snap from the growing darkness brings my attention back to the passes. I raise my rod across my breast in defense of what may linger in the gathering twilight. My senses perk at the revelation, my skin is flush with new blood, the hair on my flesh standing on end. My peaceful excursion is shattered as I raise a defense against the unknown. My bravado withers in the darkness as sneers and huffs and puffs hang in the airs. My first challenge may be my last. I slide my hand beneath my wrap and steel my nerves as blade rings free from its scabbard.

"Stand down," I shout. "Do not trifle with me this night. I shall abandon your world and seek refuge in the plains come the dawn." I await my answer, but my answer never comes.

Far side of the mountain

It was a time ago that I plotted this lofty challenge of mine, to see this world in all its glory. Though to say that I have plotted wisely would be foolish. Little did I understand what trials would await my daily foray. This first week has lowered its weight upon my shoulders and I feel neither the great expanse before me nor the comforts of home behind. I have nothing save what I chose to put upon my back.

The grounds below my footfalls slip and slide with sideways steps, soft to the touch as my boots sink within their muddled puddles with grasses slick as winter's ice. Yet each night my back finds no such comfort as hollow reeds give way to jagged stone. The comforts of home elude my flesh as the spokes of the Sirris prod my very being. Yet each new morn I arise with a renewed sense of the hunt; a lustful wanderer caught in a spider's web.

With each new sunrise that dims the heavenly stars and lifts the covers from the night sky my eyes fill with wonderment. I behold new revelations in the mundane sights that held no interest within my confinement. As I look ahead, between the mountain passes the shadows that rise from the world's core become their own sentinels and are no more. The Sirris fades, its quiet domain soon to relinquish its hold over my sense of place and I shall see what new paths define my world.

What is on the other side? I shall soon see.

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?