Climb and Pride

It was halfway up the rocky wall that the Golem’s mind returned to them, still addled by worries and contradictions, yet it had returned from its dissociation enough that Wanderer was able to realise a major mistake they had made.

“I did not stay to see what happened to the children”, they realised.

All the effort and pain they gone through in stopping the man may have well been wasted because they did not stay to help them.

Instantly, the Vessel’s still muddled mind jumped to anxiety after anxiety, worries about the health of the children now that the man went free.

They were overcome with the sudden urge to climb back down and try to fix their mistakes, to go back on their sudden escape and try to make things right.

Yet like so many times before, their Spirit interjected.

They explained that there was no good way for the situation to be solved, not without either killing or permanently harming the slaver and even then the children would likely still face hardship, by way of either the uncaring desert or the hands of another abuser.

Even Wanderer, with all of their best efforts, could not help someone who does not want to be helped, and despite how much it could benefit them, the children did not want to escape.

“How many people have been enslaved”, the Golem asked, though they dreaded the answer.

They knew that they were being too optimistic to believe that the caravan and these children were the only souls unfortunate to be imprisoned.

Though the Spirit did not know for certain, they could give a guess, sending an image of a pine tree to the Golem.

At first, Wanderer was confused, why would their Spirit bring a tree into a question about people?

Yet without prompting, the Vessel was slowly overcome with horror as they realised what their Spirit truly meant, that for every needle on that tree, an innocent person was enslaved.

Like so many times before, Wanderer could not comprehend it, there were more needles on that tree than the Golem could count, and for every one of them, someone was going through the same pain and suffering they had seen in those children.

The knowledge wrapped around their soul and crushed it, the brutality of the possible truth too horrific for them to accept.

Hauling themself into one of the larger imperfections in the rocky wall, the Golem stopped to try and rationalise what their Spirit had told them.

“Is it possible for me to help them all?”, Wanderer asked, expecting yet another terrible answer, but to their surprise, the Spirit provided hope.

They preached to the Golem that the only way for Wanderer to help the slaves was if they managed to convince the slaves to help themselves, to turn against their oppressors and find their own freedom.

A bolt of hope shot through the Vessel, only to be quickly crushed by their memory of their failure in helping the children, and how resistant they were to the idea of escape.

In despair, they asked, “is it even possible for me to convince them, to make them take the risk”.

For a long moment, the Spirit was quiet, until finally they sent their reply.

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They replied that not every prisoner was so object to the idea of escape, and neither was it entirely impossible to convince them.

They replied that slavery could be broken, and that none are doomed for imprisonment.

They replied that while it would be difficult, incredibly so, Wanderer could help every one of those people, if only the Golem could make them believe that there is something better for them.

Wanderer made to reply, yet their Spirit was not finished, they had one final question for the Golem.

They requested that, despite how difficult it would be, would they take on the challenge and try to free those who needed them.

Wanderer knew, in their mind that it was a question that they should have pondered, yet their soul begged otherwise, in the time it would have taken them to make a single step, the Vessel had already found their answer.

They would.

As they made their resolution, a peculiar feeling passed through the bond between them and their Spirit, one that they had never felt from their guide before.

It was not negative, like so many of the new emotions they found tended to be, and it seemed to Wanderer like joy or happiness, yet it was not for themself or at some distant spectacle, this emotion of levity was directed at the Golem.

Pride, that is what it was, and it was contagious.

In a instant, the Vessel was filled with a similar feeling to the dancing Spirit inside of them, pride in themself and their own resolutions, something they had been sorely lacking.

Even Emio, who, moments before had been a mix of annoyed at the lack of progress up the wall and worried for the unusual actions of their friend, seemed to sense the joviality of the Golem and joined in the festivity.

All of Wanderer's worries seemed so far away, and some part of them realised that the happiness was not the most appropriate reaction to the monumental task they had just pledged to uptake, yet they could not help it, it all felt so right.

Wanderer laughed in their mind, a laugh that only their Spirit could hear, yet if the Golem had a mouth with which they could have spoke, the whole of the desert would have likely heard them in that moment.

It took a while for them to calm down as they sat on the small indent in the rocky cliff, yet as they did their mind returned to the recent events they had gone through.

But this time, as they thought of the children they had left behind, they did not conjure feelings of despair or regret, but a self assured determination.

“I can not now, but I will free you.” Wanderer said resolutely.

With a final look toward the ground, the Golem began their ascent again, the previously mindless action of climbing now backed by resolve in every move.

As they climbed higher and higher, the red rock that made up the walls of the cavern suddenly shifted to the black colour that Wanderer had first seen, switching along a large fault.

As it did so, the hand holds they were using to climb disappeared, the darker stone lacking the imperfections that made its lower counterpart easier to traverse.

Wanderer began to have to use the holes which the small red birds had dug for their homes, which were, luckily, in abundance.

Occasionally, as the Vessel climbed they would hear the faint chirps of baby birds emanating from one of the holes, agitated by the Golem passing by.

Wanderer peered inside one of the nests and found that the baby birds, in contrast to their parents, were not only colourless but blind, judging by their milky white eyes.

“I suppose they have no use for colour or sight in there.”, The Vessel thought, it was exceptionally dark inside the avian’s abode and it was only by way of the Golem’s enhanced vision that they could make out anything at all.

Wanderer moved on, slowly making their way up the sheer cliff with Emio following along beside them.

Luckily, Emio had no wish to inspect the infant birds like they did with the vulture eggs, with how adapted the birds were to their small caves, the Vessel was unsure if taking them out of that environment, if even for a moment, would result in some type of harm.

After climbing for longer than they had expected, the Golem managed to finally scale the great monolith of rock, pulling themself over the edge with one final heave.

A part of them had been hoping for some abandoned temple or great curiosity at the tabled summit of the mesa, yet there was no such thing.

For a hundred or so steps in front of them was a flat plateau, its uniform black only disturbed by the occasional pile of bird droppings and the uniform blue of the horizon.

Slowly walking across the smooth surface, the Golem set themselves to approach the opposite edge from which they climbed, intent on seeing the curiosity they had spied from the dunes when a thought crept into their head.

The first slaves they had encountered, the ones they had left with the blue coin had never directly stated they did not wish to escape, unlike the children.

The thought caused the Vessel to wonder.

“I wonder what they are doing right now?”