It was a warm evening as the sun was setting while the temple keeper sat outside accompanied only by the fire that always knew when to be lit, and the presence and pressure of the mountain dwellers far from the temple at the foot of the mountain.
The fire had told him, by lighting itself, that a visitor was to arrive shortly. It was the task of the temple keepers to tell the story the travellers needed to hear. The current temple keeper did not feel strongly either way concerning his duty, at least not like some of his predecessors, so he'd heard. Sadly for the keepers there would only ever be one on duty at a time, this was preordained in the times of the young soil, when the mountain Sensan-Ghi was but a hill. The fire indicated there was little time, so the keeper hung the kettle that had always waited by the fire above it, feeling assured that when the traveller was close enough, the whistle of the kettle would lead him here.
As predicted the kettle began to whistle intensely and a rustling of the leaves followed soon after. It drew closer till at last a figure emerged from darkness, outlined by the fire some distance away. The keeper took the kettle off the fire and poured its contents into two clay cups.
“Welcome traveller, to the foot of Sensan-Ghi. Please sit and enjoy this tea that was prepared specially for you.”
The traveller did not approach, and got slightly defensive, slowly leaning one hand towards a weapon he was carrying. “My name is Bolfog, or at least it was when I stood where you stand, many years ago.”
The traveller seemed intrigued and made no sudden movements.
“If you seek the treasure atop this mountain, I will not stop you. My task is to make sure you leave here prepared, tomorrow morning. I am the keeper of this temple, where all who seek Sensan-Ghi may prepare for the journey ahead.”
The traveller moved closer and sat, his face was now visible, and it was clear now this man was quite young. The keeper nodded to himself, in a sort of melancholic agreement. “Traveller, you need not tell me your name, but will you indulge me with the story of where you heard of this place?” The keeper vocalised as he handed over one of the two cups to the stranger.
The traveller accepted the cup of tea and took a sip.
“My name is Estavir, I have come here haunted by dreams. I have heard tales of treasure, horror, glory and mystery about this place, yet have come in search of none of that.”
“Many have come here,” the keeper started, filling a pensive pause Estavir was having, “in search of those things and some have succeeded while many have failed.”
The keeper took a satisfied sip of his own tea and moved forward so the fire lit up his wrinkles like mountains defined by deep valleys, giving his old face a far more textured look.
“So young traveller, what have you come in search of?”
The traveller shied away, but felt compelled after a while to reveal something he was sure to be mocked for.
“For as long as I can remember, from time to time I would experience a very vivid dream, always the same dream, a dream in which I could control everything.”
He paused expecting to be told that it is rather common to be in control of your dreams once you are aware that it is a dream. But the old man before him waited patiently for him to continue.
Not being interrupted at this point threw Estavir off his story, so the keeper interjected when the silence continued longer than it should.
“But they have changed recently have they not?” postulated the keeper, knowing full well he was right.
“How did you know?” Estavir said, surprised.
The keeper’s smile grew slightly crooked.
“Everyone's experience may vary a bit,” the keeper started, “but we have all felt this change, a dream that remains each night, calling us into action.”
A pause ensued as the keeper allowed his words to resonate with the young traveller and he took another sip of tea.
“Everyone's calling is different,” the keeper continued,”and by such I cannot tell you what you should do or what you will find, but it is, however, my duty, as many before me, to tell you a story before you embark on your journey; the story of the first visitor to Sensan-Ghi, the founder and builder of this temple.” The traveller looked around slightly nervously while taking another sip of his tea.
“You need not worry, after my story you will find a bed ready inside and you will wake to breakfast so you may begin your journey. However it was the founder’s belief that those who embark on this journey hear his words before they leave. You are welcome to ignore the temple’s charity of course.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Estavir didn't think he would turn down the old man's charity, sharing this tea had calmed him and he couldn't explain why he felt he could trust the old man.
“The founder, whose name was Yee Lenlan-Cho; though I suppose he would have said that didn't matter in the slightest, is said to have been the first to both climb the mountain and attain its most worthwhile treasure and made the descent without its loss.
“It was said he built this temple with his own hands, near the end of his life after he had had a nightmare: a sea of blood rising to the peaks of a Sensan-Ghi growing larger than he had ever seen with his own eyes.
“After his nightmare he returned a second time to the foot of this mountain, where we are now sitting in fact, and cried sincere tears that wet the earth from which grew trees that would deliver to Yee alone, timber that would stand the ages; from which he would build this temple for all future visitors.” The keeper had a moment of nostalgia for his own journey and his life in the temple but shook it off to return to the part of his duty that was most paramount.
“The founder was a funny man, it is said. While he never spoke in detail of his own journey, he always emphasised two important things for all keepers must pass on. The first was that along your journey encounters will inevitably happen, and that these are all reflections. He often stated that he had met a faery and that this encounter, for better or worse, needed to occur as it inevitably did.
The second was the only thing the founder was ever explicit and accurate about, and was something that must be recited exactly.”
The keeper changed his tone and adjusted his sitting to attune to the serious intent of the passage he had memorised word for word, as was tradition.
“I, the founder of this temple, pass my sincerest hopes for your safe journey to the top of Sensan-Ghi.
I, at the time of the young soil, have looked upon this glorious sight twice, and to my dismay found that Sensan-Ghi grows on the corpses of its fallen.
I implore all who wish to embark on this journey to heed my words:
Some may succeed, some may go mad and some may die; yet know that so many never get called to this journey at all. Let never the value of The Call be diminished.
For the few who do, the road will be treacherous indeed, never forget the journey ends not atop the mountain.
Whatever you seek, for good or bad, seek the top and beware the descent and return. For those who will reach the top may find what they seek, lest they know it not, lest they lose it on their way down.
And for those whose calling does so: seek the temple a second and final time.”
As the keeper spoke those words the traveller seemed to have gulped the last of the tea and the keeper did the same.
“Inside you will find your bed,” said the keeper as he got up, “My duty is fulfilled. Your journey is now your own.
May Sensan-Ghi’s will be merciful.”
Before the traveller had time to set aside his own cup and get up from in front of the fire the old man had disappeared in the darkness, away from the temple.
The traveller was left alone and wasn't sure what to do, so he remained in front of the fire a little longer while looking around. He could barely see the temple in front of him in the dark and with the fire obscuring his vision. It was not too really small though it certainly was no castle either; but it could be a
mansion and as he could see, the front doors were wide open. To the left he could only see, or rather couldn't really see, the trees, bushes, mist and rest of the dense forest that surrounded the mountain. To the right he could only identify a doorless gateway. It was barely visible, a thick wooden archway sitting atop small stone pillars, and in the awe of the crackling fire seemed to be emitting a slight hum of golden glow.
Once I pass through there, he thought, there is no going back. He got up to approach the gateway when a light that had not previously been there caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A light had been lit inside the temple. He felt a strong pull towards the light and went inside. The hall had several candles that were lit and had several doors, all were open except one. Naturally this was the first door he walked up to but could not get it to budge; it almost seemed like someone designed the wall simply to give the impression of a door. He turned around to decide which door to visit next only to see all open rooms lit up. They were, from right to left: a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen of sorts and a rather large mostly empty hall. He visited them in that order and found the empty hall eerie and despite having more than enough candles to light a room three times its size seemed somber and shadows hung large on all sides.
He had felt uneasy with the thought of sleeping, the nightmares had become stronger than he was currently. He felt importance and weight in the old man's words so lay in bed despite his better judgement, mostly sleepless, shaking himself awake every time he felt the haze of a fading reality, until in the end he succumbed.