The rest of the climb presented little difficulty for the pair. The mountain path led up toward the Thorn's curling summit. They expected to reach it, and Rainheart's lair, before midday. While he welcomed the ease of travel, Rorik remained on his guard all the same. He had a feeling the dragon left one more test before the peak and wanted to be prepared.

The sorcerer massaged his still broken right arm in its sling. His healing spells had taken root, but the limb was useless in the short term. Hopefully his strength and skill would be enough for whatever this final challenge might be.

Nokorin, for their part, appeared unperturbed by thoughts of any challenges. The youth stretched their arms up high and took in a deep breath, releasing a hearty yawn.

"The ground might have been hard, but I haven't slept that well in ages. I feel renewed, like a garden in spring. Don't you agree, sir Rorik?"

"Indeed, my young friend. I'm usually only this rejuvenated after I perform my Sabbath and restore my magic."

That was a small fib on Rorik's part. He did feel more energized than he had since climbing the Thorn, but only just. His companion's emotional warmth of the previous night still lingered though, and he wished to keep it burning. Having coaxed Nokorin out of their shell would prove beneficial for both of them.

The claustrophobic walls of the fissure gave way and the two stepped back out into the open air. White fog surrounded them, cloaking the way forward. Neither took a step, afraid of inadvertently falling off the mountain.

"Look!" cried the youth, pointing to the sky ahead of them.

Squinting, Rorik peered in that direction. Wind blew through, moving the clouds, and the Thorn's sharp summit came into view. A hooked claw digging into the heavens, it loomed overhead but well within reach.

"We've done it my young friend! We're nearly at the mountaintop!"

He clapped his left hand on his companion's shoulder and the two shared proud smiles. They'd achieved the impossible, climbed Queltain's tallest mountain. If that were all they had accomplished, Rorik would still be a legend. But further glory yet awaited; the dragon's lair lay ahead.

More of the fog cleared, revealing the next obstacle.

"Nokorin, stay back!"

Throwing his arm in front of the youth, Rorik stopped them mid-step, as their bare foot hovered over a deep crevasse. Both sorcerer and companion took a step back. The chasm measured as long as a river barge, and a thick haze hid any bottom. The only way across was a narrow concrete bridge, unsupported and with no railings or ropes to keep them from falling off. On the other side, the pair could just make out the mouth of a cave leading into the mountain itself.

They had stumbled on Rainheart's final test.

"Huh," said Rorik. "Somehow, I was expecting something more difficult."

Indeed, this last challenge appeared far too straightforward. Of course, that also seemed to be the case with the previous challenges. But those had obvious solutions he had dismissed at first blush. They required him to consider how he was actually being tested. This test however, a precarious stroll over a bottomless pit, lacked any such subterfuge. Aside from how fragile the concrete appeared, crossing it didn't even seem particularly difficult.

"Step careful, Nokorin. This challenge might look simple, but there may some twist here we aren't seeing."

"Perhaps you should go first then, Sir Rorik. Make sure it is safe for us to cross."

"Can you make it alone?"

The youth nodded.

Rorik looked from the bridge, to the crevasse, and to the cave beyond. No unknown element came in sight. He stretched out his aura, checking for any spells or enchantments, and found none. All was as it appeared.

"Very well," he said, "I'll call to you when I reach the other side. Don't be afraid to crawl on your belly if you're worried about falling."

"Understood."

Tossing one end of his scarf over his shoulder, Rorik took a deep breath and stepped out on the crossbeam. The concrete underfoot didn't buckle despite its slapdash construction. Uninjured left arm held out for balance, he gingerly walked across, one foot in front of the other, doing his best to keep his gaze facing forward. If he so much as glanced down or to the sides, the height might break his concentration, and he would falter. Plummeting into a misty crevasse was not how Rorik wished to die.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

At the halfway point, his step came down on some loose stones. He stumbled as his foot twisted on the gravel, his arm pinwheeling and his center wavering. For a few precarious seconds, he tottered over the pit. But the sorcerer quickly regained his balance and let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close."

Before continuing he paused, still expecting some trick or twist from the dragon. Nothing happened. This didn't mollify him, but he moved on regardless. The rest of the crossing presented no difficulty.

Safely on the other side, he called back to his companion.

"All right Nokorin. It seems sturdy enough. Come on over!"

The youth waved back and began to cross. Arms out like their chaperone, their shoeless feet stepped with care onto the perilous bridge. Watching them, Rorik could tell they had excellent balance.

With Nokorin slowly but surely coming across, he turned his attention toward the cave mouth at his rear. Inky, impenetrable darkness hid its interior, but he knew with certainty that Rainheart dwelt within. He sensed the dragon's vast and ancient magic radiating out from the entrance like heat from an oven. A step or two more, and he would achieve his goal. His legend would be assured.

Accomplishment swelling inside him, Rorik relaxed. Perhaps he'd been too paranoid and there was no twist to this test. Turning back to the crevasse, he found Nokorin halfway across, at the same place where he had stumbled. They were in no danger of repeating his mistake. The two shared smiles across the distance.

But in their minor revelry, a tremendous shaking struck the mountain. An earthquake, or something similar, rippled through the stone body of the Thorn, and threw Rorik off his feet. In the tremors, Nokorin slipped.

"No!"

The sorcerer scrambled to the pit's edge to catch them, by hand or by spell. But his companion had managed to grip the lip of the bridge and now clung on for dear life. They hoisted themselves back up and remained on their belly, clutching the structure.

"Sir Rorik, what was that?"

"I'm unsure. I think the dragon may be waking and his movement is shaking the mountain."

As if in answer, another tremor jolted through.

"Let's be quick. Can you crawl the rest of the way?"

"I believe so," said Nokorin.

They scooted forward on their stomach a bit when more tremors struck. The shabby concrete audibly cracked at the bridge's far end. Hair-thin fractures soon formed in the structure's whole being. Another shake and the entire thing was liable to collapse into the crevasse, and take Nokorin with it.

Rorik called out to them, "Stay there! I'll come and get you!"

"No, sir Rorik! I can make it. Go on!"

Looking over his shoulder, the cave's mouth beckoned, Rainheart's secret wisdom close enough to touch. The fractures were not fatal yet. If his companion were fast, they would make it to safety. Indeed, he could enter the cavern and ask the dragon to stop. With no tremors, the youth would be safe to cross.

Yes, that would work. After all, the entrance was right there.

"Go, I'll be fine!" shouted Nokorin.

Rorik stood, trusting in Nokorin's abilities. A short walk would be all it took to bring him to Rainheart, to his prize.

The quaking returned, more violent than before. The unsupported bridge snapped at the far end and dragged down the crevasse's side. Nokorin shrieked as it collapsed. The rough sound of rock on rock echoed upward as it halted. More cracks appeared at the other end. When they went, the whole structure would fall without question. Nokorin tried crawling up to their companion, but with the bridge at such an angle, gravity was against them.

"Sir Rorik, help me!"

Rorik didn't respond. He stood there frozen, staring into the cave's abyssal depths. He knew he should turn around, knew he should aid Nokorin, knew they were in danger. But the cavern called to him. Something in its interior magic pulled at him, snagged at his desire for legend like bait on a fishhook. Rainheart was right there. He yearned to go to the dragon.

"Sir Rorik!"

The sorcerer barely registered the next tremor that rumbled through. The bridge's concrete grew weaker and the fractures split and lengthened. Yet he paid it little mind. Hot air flooded out of the cave and washed over him, warm and inviting, as though a seductive voice was inviting him inside. Rorik reached out, to let himself be pulled in. It was all he wanted.

A sickening crack split the bridge and Nokorin screamed. The sound stayed Rorik's hand. He balled it into a fist instead and punched his broken right arm, splinters of pain breaking his trance.

"Hang on Nokorin!"

He flung himself on the ground and stretched out his uninjured left to his companion. Rescue in sight, the youth smiled and shimmied up the collapsing crossbeam, extending their hand to grab hold. But the shifting weight was too much for the cheap concrete. The whole structure snapped off and fell into the foggy crevasse. Nokorin gasped as they dropped.

"Levitate! Firwerk Bur!"

The sorcerer's companion came to a sudden stop in mid-air, caught by his spell, and floated above the mist safely. Both let out sighs of relief. Rorik lifted them up with a gesture of his hand and deposited them on solid ground outside the cavern's mouth. Nokorin hugged him tight.

"Thank you, sir Rorik. I owe you my life."

The sorcerer patted them on the silver-haired head.

"Nonsense my young friend. I wouldn't have gotten past the Montoon without your help. That beast surely would have killed me if not for your assistance. Consider us even."

The youth blushed. "If you say so."

Both turned now to the cave. Another gust of hot air billowed out, but different this time. Less alluring and more welcoming, like Rainheart was asking them in for some tea and conversation.

"I suppose your father is already speaking with the old drake in there," said Rorik.

"Yes, I suppose so." That old grimness returned to Nokorin's face. The face of a child with no wish to reunite with their parent. Rorik could not blame them.

The sorcerer gave his companion a playful shake.

"Even if he weren't, it would be rude to keep the dragon waiting. After all, we've passed all his tests and I'm sure he knows it. He must be dying for our company at this rate!"

Nokorin gave a small chuckle, understanding what the older man was trying to do.

"We shall be legends yet, sir Rorik."

"Indeed we shall! After you, my young friend."

The youth's mood and demeanor shifted once more. They strode with an air of easy authority, utterly in command of their environment. If Rorik didn't know better, he would swear Nokorin lived here all their life. The androgynous adolescent vanished within the shadows of the cavern, leaving him behind.

"Nokorin, wait for me."

The sorcerer ran in behind them, entering the cave to Rainheart's lair.