Within an hour's hike from the clearing where Vincht's soldiers had attacked them, Theis had directed Nevin and Aidux to take a break against the hulking remains of a fallen tower pine. The storm had broken just to the south, leaving their resting spot mostly dry and sheltered from the cutting wind by the pine's trunk and a healthy pair of bushy viburnums. Unlike the uncharacteristically verdant blooms scattered around Ivvilger's clearing, it was still too early for the bushes' spherical white blossoms to emerge, but only just.
With a bundle of leaves plucked from a demon's crook shrub they had passed not fifteen minutes prior, Nevin had set about to constructing a crude poultice. In his haste to flee the farm, he'd failed to collect much in the way of first aid supplies, but a loose stone and a dip in the surface of a nearby boulder made for a decent mortar and pestle, while strips from an old shirt stood in for a bandage. Aidux had watched him curiously while he worked, asking at different points in the process if Nevin would let him taste the smelly concoction.
He would not.
Theis had built a passable fire while Nevin doctored up the cut to his left torso. Aidux had been right; it wasn't particularly deep, but its location would make it difficult to avoid irritating. Just swinging an arm while he walked would be enough to continually brush against it, especially with the extra padding the poultice provided. He'd need to be mindful of its presence for at least a few days.
By the time he'd finished cleaning and dressing the wound, his clothes had dried completely, prompting Theis to impatiently usher them back en route. While the sun began its western descent, the omnipresent ferns slowly vanished, taking with them the rest of the undergrowth as the rocky soil steadily steepened. The gorge ran along side them on their journey north, growing shallower with every mile they put behind them until Nevin could hear the rush of melt-thickened waters in their push toward the ocean.
Broken storm clouds crowded the eastern sky, having emptied their contents on what little remained of the Traagen earlier in the day before drifting apart as they fled. All that remained were wispy strands of translucent fabric hanging high above the reaching Nimmons, painted in shades of vibrant pinks and oranges from a sun that had long vanished beneath the sleepy, snow-capped western peaks. Scattered pines and stocky grasses supplied the only touch of color to the otherwise rocky landscape, spread so thin by the increasingly harsh terrain that the three had little worry of the fires chasing them further.
The young man couldn't have known they were but moments away from their destination when he spoke up.
“You about ready to tell me where we're going?” he had asked, fully expecting the man in black to ignore him, but hopeful none-the-less.
To his surprise, Theis had actually responded.
“You ever heard the word 'narloc' before?”
Nodding, Nevin made a face. “Some monster hybrid Ishen once told me about. Said to be part goat, part wolf, part frog or some other nonsense. I'm pretty sure he just made them up to keep me from wandering around in the mountains.”
Thinking back to Ishen's cabin, the young man nearly tripped over his own feet. “Wait, you didn't...Tell me you didn't see that crude map on his desk and think 'narloc' stood for...I don't know...'mountain pass' or 'road'.”
Theis chuckled softly. “Actually, that's almost exactly what I thought.”
Anxious knots twisted up his insides, and Nevin cradled his stomach with an arm. Aidux padded up beside him, his silver peepers wide with concern. The two followed Theis up the slope of a squat hill, picking their way around chalky boulders almost large enough for the massive lynx to hide behind.
Theis continued, unaffected by the meager slope. “Where I grew up, our elders required all members of the tribe to learn what we called the pariah tongue – the language of outsiders - alongside our own language, what I've come to understand to be a watered-down version of ancient Ilwarin.”
Nevin swallowed back his queasiness. “I've heard of that. Scholars think its the basis of all modern speech. But it's a dead language, right?”
“Sort of. About the only times you'd hear it spoken is by historians, and practitioners of certain forms of magic. Other than that, you're right. About as dead as can be.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “My native tongue shares a number of words with base Ilwarin, and many are so similar it's easy to make the connection between the old and the new. 'Narloc' is one of our words, but it's very similar to its Ilwarin root, 'anarloketh'.”
Oh, that's great. Ancient goat hybrids are an actual thing. He absently reached over his shoulder to brush the coarse stone handle of the Sharasil with his fingertips.
“That being said,” Theis continued, cresting the hill and coming to a stop. “The word 'narloc' has nothing to do monsters or creatures of any kind.”
“Thank goodness,” Aidux gushed, relieved. “Half-frog monsters are where I draw the line.”
Nevin looked up at the man in black, only a few steps behind now. “Then what the heck is it?”
“It has several meanings.” Theis had pointed down the hill, to a spot lying just beside the Hyret Gorge. “But most often, the word is used when referring to a crossing.”
About a hundred yards away, the gorge cut a zigzag into the stony earth, butting up against a series of stair-like cliffs and stopping them from progressing northward without climbing higher into the mountains themselves. In the empty space on their side of the gorge, strings of pallid smoke crawled skyward from the darkened heart of an abandoned campfire. On the far side, shallow snow banks, massive boulders, and the occasional tower pine broke up his sight line, but the terrain opened up enough for comfortable travel in the shadow of the mountains for as far as he could see.
But it was what lay across the gorge that had caused Nevin to backpedal from his two companions.
A lone tower pine stretched out across the fifty foot gap, a makeshift bridge offering the promise of escape to anyone brave enough to trust in their own dexterity and challenge gravity.
**********
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The aging pine felt sturdy enough beneath his feet as he stepped up and out over the thirty foot drop. It didn't sway like the rope bridge that spanned the two sides of the Hyret farther south. It didn't sink into the yawning earthen cleft at the slightest touch of additional weight. It didn't even creak in protest. And while those differences were enough to get him this far, the similarities stoked his anxiety and spurred his heart into a frenzied gallop.
Aidux had made crossing look easy. Without a moment's hesitation, the lynx had leapt onto the arrow-straight tree and bound across, turning to offer the two men on the opposite side a fangy grin as soon as his paws touched solid ground.
Nevin shook the feeling back into his fingers. He stomped once. Twice.
Nothing. No reaction. His heartbeat slowed until he could no longer feel it smashing against his breastbone.
“What's the hold up?” Theis grumbled impatiently behind him. “You're wasting daylight. Get to it.”
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the chill metal weapon sliding along the skin of his bare neck. “I'm trying, Theis. Just...give me a second.”
The man in black crossed his arms. “Please tell me you're not afraid of heights.”
“Not exactly,” he mumbled, taking a tentative step forward and fighting the urge to look down at his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was catch a glimpse of what awaited him below. “I've never had a problem climbing trees to get to out-of-reach apples. I think it's bridges that scare me, honestly.”
He felt his way forward with the tip of his boot, stepping around the jagged stump of a broken branch without looking. The gorge exhaled a gust of chill wind, but adrenaline kept him warm. He took a deep breath and kept going.
Theis reached out and plucked a clump of dry earth from the upended roots of the tree, squeezing it between his fingers until it broke apart. “Dirt's still here. Tree couldn't have fallen more than a few days ago.”
From across the way, Aidux's grin hadn't faltered, all razor-sharp fangs and nightmares. “It's okay, Nevin. Just put one boot in front of the other. As long as you don't fall, you'll be fine!”
“Not helping, cat,” Theis yelled from behind.
The cat's smile wilted. “You're right, that's my fault.”
About twenty steps across the fallen tower pine, a sharp crack echoed along the walls of the gorge and the tree shuddered beneath Nevin's feet.
Theis straightened, his shining eyes widening considerably. “Boy, if there was ever a time to grow some balls, it's right now.”
Blood pounded through the young man's skull. He fought to still his trembling limbs, but for all his efforts, waves of shivers tore up and down his frozen, unresponsive body. He forced himself to blink, training his gaze on Aidux to keep from accidentally glancing down and peering into the hungry throat of a gorge that wanted nothing more than to open up and swallow him whole.
There's no other way, he told himself, working his tongue and lips to get some saliva flowing in his bone-dry mouth. Get to Comelbough. Get rid of the weapon. Live your life. The only way out is forward. You can do this, Nevin.
No. You can't.
The spectral voice rolled over him in an undulating wave of sickening pressure. Startled, Nevin's balance faltered. He crouched to steady himself and relieve the twisting pain in his gut. Bits of loose bark, disturbed by his twisting boots, tumbled free and off the sides of the tree to disappear below.
Refusing to look away from the concerned face of his friend, Nevin could none-the-less see a dark figure lurking at the edge of his vision. At the end of a branch, perched atop a frail finger of needle-laced wood, a gaunt shadow watched him struggle to maintain his composure nearly thirty feet above the surface of a swollen, roiling plane of turbulent water.
You can't do it, and you know it.
“Just keep moving,” Theis urged, leaning toward the young man but not stepping up onto the tree for fear of making things worse. “You make it across, we make camp. The final challenge in an already trying day.”
Nevin nodded, gritting his teeth as he tried to force himself to stand up straight. Tears of frustration built up in the corners of his eyes before spilling down his flushed cheeks. His legs shook and trembled, but for all his efforts, they wouldn't listen.
The gaunt figure glided closer, navigating the delicate branch with no more difficulty than someone walking on solid ground. The gorge will eat you alive.
Nevin pressed his hands to his ears. “Stop it.”
The figure took another step. It's going to choke on your limp, dead body.
He squeezed his head, each breath coming in short, heaving gasps. “Shut...up.”
Aidux cocked his head. “Nevin? Who are talking to?”
They can't see or hear it. Is it all in my head?
The tree shuddered again, shifting slightly in place and groaning from the extra weight. Theis searched the fallen pine for signs of weakness, instability. “Khek, boy. You have to move. Tree's not going to hold much longer.”
“I...I can't,” Nevin whispered. The makeshift bridge lurched with a resounding crack, sending up a cloud of rock dust and splintered wood on the far end as the narrower top of the pine bent and split. He grabbed hold of a branch stump and hunkered down further.
“This is bad, Theis!” Aidux yelled, every inch of his fur standing on end. “I think he's stuck! You're gonna have to go get him!”
The man in black jerked his head side-to-side. “If I go out there and grab him, this tree will break in half for sure!”
The shadowy figure advanced to Nevin's side. It leaned in and extended a pale hand, its fingertips glistening black beneath the day's dying light. Give in to me. Let me be your strength. I can save you.
Nevin gasped as the fallen pine dropped a few more inches. “I don't...want...to die.”
The gaunt hand reached for his own. Then just take my hand.
The young man nodded. He didn't know what would happen if he gave in to the dark figure, but it had to be better than this.
“Khek,” Theis spat, taking a few steps back. He sank into a tight crouch. His eyes narrowed. Then, with a huff of hot breath, launched forward in a dead sprint. With a single leap, the man in black cleared the edge of the cliff and landed without stopping on the sheath of rough bark encompassing the fallen tower pine. The crumbling bridge jolted downward, but Theis neither stumbled or slowed as he ran, his black leather cloak billowing out behind him like a trail of smoke.
They can't save you.
I know.
And you can't save yourself.
Nevin could only nod. The hand spread its glistening fingers wide beside his face, inviting him to merely reach up and grasp it.
No pain. No fear.
His hand trembling, Nevin reached out.
Just endless, comforting black.
Somewhere, deep within the shadows of his subconscious, Nevin felt a tiny voice screaming out in alarm, but in his current state, it took nothing for him to brush it aside.
“Nevin!” Aidux screamed.
The crumbling tree dipped again, and Nevin's eyes rolled back into his skull. The last thing he felt before slipping into unconsciousness was the sickening sensation of weightlessness.