The mountain's shadow loomed over the edges of the rail as the trio looked up at the seemingly never-ending ascent. Its true extent was obscured by the gray clouds above.

The world was still; silent. Not a single goblin was heard or seen here where fun and dread met to form a new type of fear. “fuead, perhaps,” the brothers wondered.

Figwit moved close to where the sharp vertical climb began. His hands reached for the rail as if led by an instinctual feeling to climb it.

“Why did you make it like this?” the human wondered, feeling the cold iron in his hands.

“It's called anticipation, Figwit. The more you build it, the greater the payoff when the end is revealed,” Ono said, looking upwards with a smile. It vanished as he reflexively reached for his head to hold his missing hat. “Aww.”

“Yeah, well ...” the human retorted as he let go of the ever-ascending rail floor, that quickly transformed into a ladder. “Sounds more stressful than anything.”

“What? But Figwit, remember the dwarf train? You loved that.”

“I, what? No, I hated it! It was so terrifying.” He shuddered at the flying panic of the food cart. The memory of the wind, the speed, and the surprisingly collected bartender dwarf still haunted him as the two brothers pulled on a cable next to the vertical track.

“Well, when you think about it,” Ini continued, “fear is just the negative side of excitement. So you could say you were negatively excited.”

The human sighed, helping the gnomes pull on the cable as he said, “Oh yes, I was overflowing with extreme negative excitement. Enough for the rest of my life I would be actually positively excited to never experience something like this thing over here.”

The pulling came to an end as a rickety old box of metal and wood came to a halt, dangling side-by-side with the vertical track.

“Yes well,” Ono let out with a saddened and defeated tone, “it's not like anyone's ever gonna have the chance to try it now.”

Figwit stayed silent. He shook his head. The trio slotted themselves into the box, carefully disengaging their own safety cables and attaching them to the handles inside the makeshift elevator. Ini pulled the lever and from the other side of the track came a noise like a sack of brick tumbling and periodically hitting the metal rail. The box began its ascent in the mountain.

The silence was deafening. Or at least Figwit wished it was as he heard Ini.

“Figwit, I think you meant to say, you would be positively afraid to never have to try the mountain.”

The human groaned, letting out a frustrated “You know, why don't we just stay positively quiet for a little bit and enjoy the climb— --look at the view.”

“You mean ...” Ono spoke up, “we should make a lot of noise?”

“Yeah, I dont know Figwit, I think we would be too distracted to enjoy the view if we were doing that.”

Figwit facepalmed and groaned only for his old cranky self to melt away, finally fully positively conquered by the gnomes as he began to laugh. “Yeah, true. All I know is that I'm positively happy you are here,” he admitted with a newfound laugh as the gnomes beamed back at him, both answering at the same time.

“Positive.”

#

For a few moments, the trio looked down at the world below. To the swamp and to the kingdom they had carved out in the desolate marshes. They watched the shrinking dots of goblin workers scurrying about as tireless and busy as ants.

Each of them wanted to say something, to wonder what they had built, but each stayed quiet. The fruits of their labor were too overwhelming for them to break the silence. So each sat, looking through the precarious metal and wooden grate.

The box continued its climb. The threatening height of the faraway swamp surface gave way to a false sense of security as the box entered the sea of clouds. A near-permanent wall of white and gray blanketed and covered the creaking contraption. The water and humidity from the clouds permeated through the metal. The void was unbearable. The human and twins huddled together in the precariously ascending box, the neverending white sea of moisture and vapor a grim reminder of the brothers’s worst fear.

“A blank.”

“What?” Figwit let out.

“A blank, Figwit,” Ini answered, his body shuddering as he stared at the depths of the sea of clouds. “The worst nightmare, nothingness … no more ideas, no more inventions.”

“I don't like it up here,” Ono completed his brother’s statement as the wizard reeled them together, adding with a wisdom of his own.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Me neither. I'm closer to the stars than I've ever been but I don't think they ever felt so distant.” He stared into the white, bright void. The silence and the whistling wind was the only answer the lonely firmament offered.

The shadows and clouds raced, passing through the dangling box and leaving splashes and remnants of moisture upon its metal surface. Its occupants remained quiet, afraid of what could lurk in this vast, unknowable void. Or, perhaps even more terrifyingly, that there truly was nothing upon the crown of the world.

#

Finally, the box broke through the clouds and reached the peak of the mountain. They opened the bars that ensured their fragile safety, and carefully, here atop the world, gently straddled the peak. The zenith of the ride was not much larger than a wooden bench, and as suddenly as the mountain ascended, it descended back down. This left the summit barely large enough for all three of them to stand at the same time.

The human was guided by the brothers, who attached all of their three safety cables to the top of the mountain. To Figwit's shock, on the other side of the track lay a quickly assembled gnome-sized wooden platform. Where atop it was an old mine cart and inside it, all manner of tools and gear.

“Your, huh, workstation?” Figwit asked as the gnomes scurried over to it and began to dig for their instruments.

“Sort of.”

“When the descent was done we were planning on testing it with this cart,” Ini said, tapping the side of the minecart. It answered with a slight creak of the wood below them.

“Right.” Figwit leaned over the peak and saw that the great descent ended in a ramp of half-built wood and metal which led directly to the sea of clouds below. “Is it safe for us to be up here? Or for you to store all that gear in there?”

“Well, no of course not,” Ini admitted with a surprisingly relaxed tone.

His brother finished. “Then again, this isn't a union-overseen area, so we can do whatever we want.”

Figwit hurriedly sat down atop the peak and let his feet dangle. His hands braced and hurriedly gripped the precarious rods of metal that served to support him on the world's tallest bench.

He adjusted himself for the long work ahead of dismantling and breaking down the mountain, but before work could begin, the trio noticed something.

The white sea below began to split. The clouds hurriedly vanished and scattered to the south, leaving in their wake a clear sky. The wizard could now see that the ramp now led directly into the swamp, to grounds outside of the park. Further ahead, and almost directly in front of them, the great Amber Mountains faced them.

The wind gently blew between the group, and the sun shone upon them as they realized their own handcrafted mountain matched the peaks of the mountainhome of the Amberlight dwarves.

The brothers holstered the tools on their belts and sat on either side of Figwit. For a bit the trio looked on, in wonder, in hope, and in awe of the beauty of the mountains near in the distance.

The silence broke when Ini spoke up. “What if it doesn't work? What if ... what if all this effort was for nothing?”

“No,” Figwit said in a reassuring and warm voice. “Nothing's ever for nothing.”

“How so Figwit?”

“Well.” Figwit pondered for a bit, recalling their adventure. He pulled the gnomes closer and told them, “Even if the dwarves still think this park won't pay your debt, and even if you still feel bad about the molasses accident, think about all the good you have done already.” He leaned slightly to look down at the park and the goblins working below. “You gave purpose to an army without direction, gave a kingdom to a princess without a crown, and you gave love and hope, to a soul that no longer had light.

I might be without my staff, but know this my little friends. I swear it upon the stars, whatever it is the dwarves say. You have already repaid your debt.”

“Oh you are just saying that, Figwit.”

“Yeah, I don't think the dwarves will be as thankful as you or the goblins are.”

Figwit smiled and said in another reassuring tone, “Yes, but you forget who volunteered to prosecute you in the first place. You changed my mind. I know now I was wrong about you. And even if it doesn't work, look where you are!” Figwit's voice boomed and the gnomes smiled at the world below. “I promised I would stay by your side. Even if they send us to the deepest dwarven pit, be glad that for a moment we sat here. At the top of the world, higher than any dwarf has ever gone, and not upon a mountain or a hill, but atop a work of your own making. That's gotta count for something.”

“Well.” Ono said as he leaned against Figwit. “Being taller than a dwarf isn't exactly hard.”

“I suppose you do have a point though,” said Ini. “If we do get sent away, you think Ivy and the goblins will take good care of the park for us?”

“Of course!” Figwit hugged the brothers. ”Ivy's smart. If it doesn't work out, I'm sure she will be a good Queen of Fun.”

“Eh” Ini let out. “She's a good catch.”

“Well, for a goblin at least.” Ono said.

The human reacted with a quick “Hey! Watch it now.”

Figwit held on to the gnomes for a bit longer as they continued to stare at the world around them.

Yet he still felt as the heavy worry of the brothers weighed down atop them, and as the first stars of the night appeared on the twilight firmament he assured them. “You know what's the one thing that my teacher told me that always stuck with me?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

“He told me, before I set out from the great Zigurat: Figwit mah boy.” The human put on a comically exaggerated rotund and deep accent. “The stars are not always right, but your readings will always be correct.”

“What does that mean?” Ini and Ono asked at the same time.

“Well.” Figwit let out a laugh as he answered, “It took me awhile to realize it, but it means: Even if things don't turn out the way you want or the way you expected them to, as long as you gave it your best shot and your best effort you should never regret or feel bad about it. And you know what? Sitting atop this little track, with our heads scrapping against the sky itself, I gotta say I don't think you could have aimed any higher.”

The gnomes smiled at the seer's words, their hopes reawakening as they watched the growing lights in the sky and hugged their friend.

“Thanks, Figwit.”

“You're a true friend.”

The wizard smiled at the warmth from the brothers hugging them back. The trio sat comfortably, staring at the emerging stars in the sky.

“Well, should we get to work then?” the human asked as the two brothers shook their heads.

“Nah. Let's wait just a little bit longer.”

“Actually. Figwit, would you mind telling us about the stars? I would like to remember them, just in case things don't work out...”

The seer beamed at the brothers, with a smile that matched the light of the stars themselves. As he stared upwards to the celestial firmament, he admitted, “Nothing would make me happier than that.”