Chapter Eight: The Ascent

Finneas, Kistoph, and Lochen waited at the table, expecting the Water Taper to reappear suddenly. They remained there for what seemed like ages – it was actually only a half-hour, although to Finneas it felt longer. He could still feel the tension between Kistoph and Lochen. Both boys hated being around one another and would prefer to be elsewhere. Cymon, however, insisted they stayed there, in case a guard or someone recognised them. Finneas wasn’t sure convinced. Despite the uncertainty, they decided it was best to not disobey Cymon’s order. Although he didn’t trust him still, Kistoph started to show some respect for Cymon. Maybe it was because Cymon was a Native to the Riverlands and not Estmere. Lochen still showed signs of admiration for the Water Taper, even though he tried his damn hardest to hide it. It certainly wasn't every day they meet, let alone travel with, a prince.

“They keep staring at me,” Lochen tersely remarked. "Why do they keep looking at me?"

“Maybe they don’t see your kind much,” Finneas observed.

“Well… they don’t seem friendly.”

Lochen was dreadfully right. Sailors were staring at them. The men sat at a table in the corner. There were about three of them.

“How long’s Cymon going to be?" Lochen complained. "This ain’t fun, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” Kistoph said sarcastically. “Maybe if you go away, they’d stop staring at us.

“I’m sure Cymon has his reasons,” Finneas said, ignoring his friend’s comment. “He’ll be back, I’m sure.”

His friend didn’t respond. Again, there was more awkward silence. Finneas took another glance at the sailors. The men had grown tired of keeping tabs on them. They were now playing a game of dice. At least they didn't have to worry about the sailor watching them, Finneas thought. Finneas gulped a glass of cold water, to clear his throat.

Cymon finally returned. They’d been waiting there for at least three-quarters of an hour. By this point, the three boys were completely bored out of their minds. The Water Taper was somewhat apologetic. Yet something seemed to weigh on the man. Something was bothering him.

“Any success?” Finneas asked.

Cymon shook his head.

“They’ve closed the gate,” the Water Taper explain, "and I doubt it will be open anytime soon. None of the seamen is willing to take us to Haven Port."

“I thought the weather was calming?” Finneas queried.

“So did I. One of the sailors mentioned these storms have become more common. He said it's making it more dangerous to cross."

“Know what’s going on?”

“Sadly no,” Cymon said, sounding thwarted. “But I was able to ensure what might be the cause of all these storms.”

“What’s that?” Kistoph asked, suddenly entering the conversation.

“Sailors say they’ve seen bolts of lightning strike the mountain top,” the Water Taper explained. “Legend says there’s a pillar of some sort up there… something ancient… and very powerful.”

“You think this is causing the weather to go bipolar?” Kistoph continued probing.

“Not sure… but it better we checked it out, at least.”

Finneas felt Cymon was omitting crucial information. Bolts of lightning… weather anomaly… it couldn’t be the Sensor he'd seen in the mayor's house. What was his name again? Lukan… Lucian? It'd felt like an aeon since he'd met the person back in the orphanage. The boy was a Wind Taper. He was powerful enough to knock somewhat over with a gale gust. Perhaps he was the cause of all their problems? This brought up even more questions. Why would the Order cause havoc in a backwater place like Estmere? Sensors preferred control over chaos. The action didn’t seem right. Then there were questions about why the Order would allow a Taper in their ranks. Finneas was no expert, but he at least knew a Taper couldn’t become a Sensor. The Order would never allow such an event to occur. Finneas decided to remain quiet. Hopefully, once they reached the summit, they'll be able to answer any questions, Finneas thought. There was no need to worry everyone, he decided.

“I will be going up the mountain tomorrow,” Cymon explained. “You three stay here. I’m sure it’ll be safe?”

“We’re not going?” Finneas protested.

“It’s too dangerous,” the Water Taper clarified. “There’s no need risking-”

“We’re going!” Kistoph suddenly interjected.

“I said, it’s better only on-”

"We're going, that's the end of discussion!" Kistoph interrupted again, this time more forcefully. "I still don’t trust you,” he continued bluntly. “And maybe we’ll be of help.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” the Water Taper conceded. “We’ll stay here for the night. Tomorrow we’ll begin our journey; see what’s happening up there.”

That evening they spent most of the time in the common room. Kistoph decided in his greater wisdom to take on the sailors in a game of dice. He unsurprisingly lost. Kistoph wasn’t happy – nor was Cymon – having to fork off a few coins. Kistoph quickly learnt his mistake. He didn’t play another game of dice; instead preferring to sit back and read a newspaper he’d found lying about.

Finneas, however, desired some fresh air. He’d spent most of the day stuck in the tavern – he sure didn’t want to spend more time there. He sat down on the porch outside the inn. Kistoph stared out at the sea. The waves come crashing in as the breeze began getting stronger. Although not raining, Finneas felt a bitter freeze. As he sat there, Lochen sat down beside him.

“Maybe I’ve been a bit of a jerk,” Lochen admitted abruptly. This somewhat threw Finneas off. He was expecting his friend to resolve the tension first. Instead, Lochen seemed willing to offer an olive branch. Finneas was willing to accept. “When I learnt who you are, I thought, perhaps you’re an imperial… or something. I thought you looked like one. I dunno. I was being silly. Even if you’re an avatar… maybe you’ll be different. Not be like the last guy who butchered my people.”

“No need to say sorry, I already understand.”

“Thanks…”

They sat there in silence; for a brief moment at least. A few people passed them, completely unfazed by their presence. Even a few patrons wandered into the tavern without taking a glance at them. Dribbles of rain fell from the sky.

“What’s with you friend,” Lochen finally spoke again. “He doesn’t seem to like me. Why’s that?”

“Kist? It’s complicated.”

“It’s to do with my people, right?”

Finneas nodded.

“He’s good reasons,” he explained to Lochen

“And?”

"I probably shouldn't say," Finneas confessed. "It's not me to explain."

"You scared of what he'll say?"

“No… it’s not that,” Finneas replied. "I'm just worried about how you'll react."

“My people were slaughtered,” Lochen remarked, half-seriously. “It’s not like I can get more offended, right?”

"Okay… my friend is, well, different from the rest of us," he began explaining. "He wasn't orphaned from a young age, like me. He came to the orphanage when I was five. He's like a year older than me."

“What happened?”

“There was an explosion. His family’s home burnt down. He was the only one to survive.” Lochen seemed to be shaken at this. Finneas decided to clarify further. “There was an attack. Someone had planted a bomb. It destroyed an entire block. His whole family died.”

“That’s… unfortunate. They caught the culprit?”

“He was a Native… like you. I remember watching the man hang. He made a rowdy speech explaining his actions. I was young, so I can remember too well. But he said he did the attack to get back at being oppressed. Said it was to pay for all the people the imperials killed. We’re not even imperials. Even I saw the attack as senseless.”

“You friend blames us then?”

Finneas nodded, again, this time frowning.

“He’s held a grudge ever since,” he explained.

“I didn’t realise…”

“No need to say sorry,” Finneas clarified. “At least you’ll know where he’s coming at.”

“You’ve family?” Lochen asked.

"Just a brother… two years younger. My Ma died when I was young. I barely remember her. Who knows who my dad is? Probably a deadbeat drunk sailor. How 'bout you?"

“You meet my grandfather… well, he’s dead now.” It’d dawned on Finneas how Lochen’s people had been butchered. Lochen was most likely an orphan too.

“I forgot… sorry.”

“No need to,” Lochen smiled. “He died facing evil, at least… Well, it’s just me, I guess. Lonely old me.”

“You’ve us?”

"Glad to know you think of me like family."

The two retreated inside. Finneas was interested to see whether his friend had given into temptation and challenged the sailor to another game of dice. To his surprise, Kistoph was still reading the newspaper, unaware of the events occurring around him. This was probably for the best, Finneas decided. His friend couldn't afford to lose more coins, especially since it was coming out of Cymon’s pocket.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Because all the tavern’s rooms had been booked, caused by the abundance of sailors determined to avoid the storm, the group was forced to sleep in the common room. Finneas snugged himself onto one of the coaches. His friend chose the floor. The innkeeper was kind enough to supply a cheap mattress he’d found out back for the boy to sleep on. Kistoph at first refused, but the innkeeper insisted. Finneas’s friend eventually relented.

The next day, the group began their descent. Waking up early, Cymon aimed to travel a decent distance up the mountainous path. Although the road wasn’t all too steep, the Water Taper said it would take a few days to reach the summit – three days at most, two if they were lucky. Since the pillar was said to be only two-thirds up the mountain, there was no need to climb the entire peak.

Now and then, a bolt of lightning would hit the mountain’s peak, causing the ground to rumble. The tremor almost caused Finneas to lose his footing a few times. He tried his damn hardest not to full face-first into the ground. He didn't want to repeat his mistake back in the forest.

“What’s with all these steep hills, and roads, and stuff,” Kistoph groaned. "Did no one ever think about building things on ground level, or something? The Maker must’ve something against us.”

“Think yourself lucky you’re not climbing the Highest Mountain,” Cymon remarked, somewhat jokingly. Kistoph didn’t seem to get the joke. He suddenly stopped; looking perplexed.

“The Highest Mountain?” he said muddled. “I’m no reader, or so, but that doesn’t sound grammarical.”

“It’s grammatical,” Finneas corrected his friend.

“Yeah… grammatical,” Kistoph said as if he'd said it correctly all along. "Shouldn't it be the tallest mountain?”

Cymon laughed.

“Scholars have debated that for centuries,” the Water Taper jested. “It even comes to fight – actual fistfights."

“That still doesn't explain what it is… the Highest Mountain.” Kistoph was starting to sound annoyed. He wasn't too keen on having information teased like that, especially from a Native.

“A mythical mountain,” Cymon replied. “It’s said to exist in the north… beyond the known world. Probably not true.”

Finneas wasn’t sure whether Cymon was still joking or not. It became apparent neither boy had heard of the legendary location. Most of what they knew of the outside world came from travelling merchants and sailors. Finneas might have heard someone mention the mountain before, but he couldn't remember. Even Lochen seemed confused. Finneas thought it best to query further, especially since his friend choose not to probe further.

"Your joking right?" he asked. "None of us have left Estmere. Some of the stuff you say is… well… foreign."

“Sorry…” the Water Taper apologised. “Forgot you weren't familiar with… well… outside things." As they continued walking up the steep slope, Cymon began explaining. “The ancient texts say the mountain contains immense power. Sources differ on what it is… elven… goblin… technology. Who knows really? The mountain is said to only appear once every thousand years to those it deems worthy.”

"You think it exists?" Finneas asked.

“Of course not,” the Water Taper answered. “Maybe there’s truth in it… some time long ago there was a mountain like that… but as the old proverb goes: ‘nothing is fake, but not everything is true’ or something like that. Scholars like to make stuff up. Makes them sound fancier.”

Finneas was about to reply when he suddenly collapsed. Somehow, his foot got stuck within a crack. He wasn’t paying attention. Although rather small, the ditch went down a considerable amount. Finneas wasn’t able to even feel the bottom. He tried pulling himself out, but since his feet had fallen so deep it was practically impossible for Finneas to move it himself.

Cymon quickly recognised what had occurred. With help from Kistoph and Lochen, the Water Taper was able to pull Finneas upwards, allowing his foot to be released from the tight gap. The jagged rocks had shredded Finneas’s sandal making it useless. Limping to find a place to rest, he nippily inspected the damage. The injured foot had turned a shade of purple.

“Lochen!” Cymon asked rather loudly. “You’re familiar with Elvenroot, right?”

Lochen nodded.

“My grandpa use to always make me collect them.”

“Good… good! See if there’s any around here,” the Water Taper ordered. “They’re common around these parts, especially up here in the mountains.” He looked to Kistoph. “You help too.”

Kistoph wasn’t pleased being ordered about, especially by a Native. But since his friend was injured, Kistoph didn’t complain. He followed the Native boy without much complaint, in search of Elvenroot.

“Are feeling okay?” Cymon asked.

“Yeah… it just hurts… a bit.”

“So you’ve not lost feeling?”

“Nope.”

“That’s good to hear,” the Water Taper remarked. “The Elvenroot will take away the pain.”

Finneas decided to take his other sandal off. There was no point in only having one of a pair. It was probably better to walk barefooted for now, he thought until he was able to find some replacements.

Lochen and Kistoph returned rather hastily. In Lochen’s hand were long leaf stems. Handing it over to Cymon, the Water Taper placed the Elvenroot into a bowl. Using his thumps, he crushed leaf stems into smaller and smaller pieces. Adding a pinch of water, Cymon transformed the Elvenroot into a paste.

“Place your foot here,” he directed Finneas, to which the boy complied. The Water Taper applied the paste onto Finneas’s foot. The pain suddenly started to lessen. Although the jabbing stabs still lingered, it was more bearable now. “Reading those tomes came in use after all,” Cymon remarked.

The Water Taper decided it best for the group to stop for an hour or two, to allow Finneas’s foot to recover. Kistoph and Lochen took this chance to catch up on some sleep. Whether it was the pain that was still slightly tingling at his feet, Finneas couldn’t rest. Neither could Cymon, it seemed. The Water Taper tended the small sparks of embers.

“Elves aren’t real, right?”

Although he’d heard of Elvenroot before, he hadn’t paid much attention to the name. He’d never heard sailors talking about the elves, so he always assumed they were myths.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering, that’s all,” Finneas replied. "Since there are plants named after them, I was wondering if they're real."

“If they were real, they certainly aren’t now,” Cymon explained. "Although I haven't read enough to make an informed judgement if the elves ever existed they're not around now. None of their supposed structures remains."

“There are goblins, thought? Right?”

“Yeah… that can be proven,” the Water Taper assured. “But they’ve not been seen in centuries.”

“You mention you studied the ancient texts. Were you to be a scholar?”

“Why do you ask?”

“My brother’s friend wants to become one,” Finneas explained. “He always keeps complaining about the lack of books in the local library. Keeps saying they don’t have the ancient texts.”

"A town on the far side of the world won’t have that stuff,” the Water Taper said. “I can understand his frustration.”

“What about you? Did you want to become one? A scholar?”

“Me? Being locked in a room with dusky tomes? That a sure way to make any man go bonkers,” Cymon laughed. “No. My brother insisted I learned. He thought it would help our people. Allow me to learn and maintain our people’s history.”

“What stopped you?”

“Besides the maddening prison that is a library… the insight the books gave me. I read about things a person could barely imagine. Wars that spawn aeons. The masses were tricked into fighting one another. I couldn't just stay there and read about those things. I had to do something about it."

“So, what did you do?”

“The one thing all Tapers do when they yearn for freedom… seek the Free Cities.”

“The College of Magi…”

Everyone had heard stories of the place. Finneas remembered sailors and travellers mentioning the place. Everyone described it as a place of awe. Some would even call it a wonder of the world. It's a school where magic can not only be freely practised but Tapers are also encouraged to engage in society as a whole. Those with the power cannot fear being persecuted, or even enslaved, which occurred quite commonly outside the free cities. It was even rumoured the College of Magi was the reason the Free Cities were never conquered. The might of the Tapers could if not would stop an invading army.

“You’ve heard of it?” the Water Taper asked.

“Yeah… everyone knows about it,” Finneas answered. “Did you go there?” Cymon shook his head. “Why?”

“There’s a thousand miles of hostile terrain separating the Imperials and the Free Cities. Wildland is too dangerous to cross. Sea, perhaps. But no one's letting someone like me sail there. Someone’ll recognise me. Plus, my brother wouldn’t allow me to go even if I could.”

“Too famous?”

“Something like that,” Cymon chuckled. “You should rest. I’m not sure when we’ll get another chance to stop.”

Finneas laid down. His feet rained in pain, the ankle hurting the most. He closed his eyes, yet he didn’t drift to sleep. He could hear a breeze blowing ever so slightly. Kistoph snored rather loudly. Finneas tried to mute out all the noise, with limited success.

Cymon alerted the group that it was time to continue. Since Finneas hadn’t slept, he didn’t feel groggy at all. His friend, however, was somewhat dazed due to the sudden awakening. Kistoph groaned as they carried their way upwards. By now the ground had become steeper and steeper, causing the group's movement to slow. No one wanted to repeat the mistake Finneas had made.

Finneas quickly glance backwards, to have a peek at where they’d just been. The buildings of the town below were puny – small enough to fit the entire town in the palm of one's hand. Finneas hastily turned his attention back to the path ahead. He didn't want to get distracted again.

“Stop!” Cymon abruptly snapped, holding his hands sideward. “You hear that?”

As the Water Taper spoke, the howling wolves were heard in the distance. Cymon leap upward, prepared for attack. Finneas also followed his lead, picking up a knife and motioning himself into a defensive position. He could see yellow eyes, about a dozen of them, glowing in the dark.

“They won’t get far,” Cymon warned. “They’ll try… but they’ll fail.”

One of the glowing eyes moved closer. Finneas could see a faint silhouette. The wolf, most likely the leader of the pack, leapt forward. The beast, however, was forced back before he could attack by a blast of water that seemed to magically appear from the ground. Realising its attempt was futile, the wolf retreated. So did the others.

“You better get some sleep,” the Water Taper stated. “We’ll be getting up early tomorrow.”

The next day, at the break of dawn, the group continued their journey. Vegetation became rarer – only occasionally would Finneas see shrubs along the pathway. This made it more difficult for climbing. Whenever anyone tripped over something or lost their balance, they couldn't use a nearby tree to support them. Finneas knew he had to be more careful. He was used to climbing. Sadly, his friend wasn't. Frequently, Kistoph would tumble. Each time, Finneas helped his friend back onto his feet.

For most of the day, they travelled upwards. Only occasionally they stopped a quick break. Although the sun began to set, Cymon insisted they kept climbing. He seemed determined to reach the summit by nightfall. The rain began to pick up, the drops of rain growing bigger and bigger. The ground became so slippery and dangerous, that they were forced to become more conscious of where they trod. No one wanted to slip and break a bone or something. A few dead branches along the path allowed them to grab hold, making it somewhat easier to climb. Although Cymon had made it clear there was at least a half-mile before they reached the summit, with the mountain's peak dawn far in the distance, it felt as if the closer they approach the further it disappeared into the foggy clouds.

“Almost there,” Cymon reassured them. “Just a little bit more.”

It didn’t work, however. Kistoph mumbled something under his breath. Although barely audible, he was cursing and stating how much he hated climbing.

They reached their destination rather suddenly and unexpectedly. Although the mountain’s top still peaked above them, they’d made their way to a plateau that covered a few hundred yards. On the other side of the plateau was a rather large monolith. Symbols appeared on steles; the ones similar to those found in the cave back in Angleum. There were a few Finneas recognised, although a few of the symbols were unfamiliar. It was goblin technology, he assumed.

Occasionally, a bolt of lightning would strike the standing stone, causing an explosion of bright yellow sparks. A figure stood a few feet away from the ancient pillar, somehow unaffected or unfazed by the sporadic strikes of thunder. As the group drew closer, the figure became clearer. He was wearing a white cloak, those worn by the Sensors. The man turned to face them.

Raising his right hand, lightning struck the man’s fingertips. He seemed to be harnessing the thunder. Cymon quickly placed his arm in front of the three boys, instructing them to stay back. Alone, the Water Taper approached the Sensor. He drew out his staff, readying himself for a fight. By now, the man had crafted a spear made from the lightning bolts. He readied and armed, before throwing the spear at Cymon. The Water Taper had quick reflexes, escaping the bolt’s path by dodge-rolling it. Realising this wasn’t going to be an easy fight, the man drew out his sword. Wiping his hands on the blade, he caused the steel to become electrified.

“Go back,” he warned. “You don’t want to take me on.”

“It doesn’t seem I’ve got the choice,” Cymon replied, still approaching the man.

“Stand back!”

“Or else?” the Water Taper calmly spoke.

“I’m warning you!”

This time Cymon choose to remain silent. They were barely a few yards or so apart. The man moved into a defensive stance, readying himself for an attack. He took a swipe at the Water Taper, slashing his sword in a downwards thrust. Again, Cymon nimbly dodged.

Instead of charging forward with another attack, the hostile man took a few steps back. Placing the sword in front of him, he again readied for another attack. Once more, the man leapt forward, appearing to make another strike. Cymon was prepared for a forward thrust. Unpredictably, however, the man had foreseen this move. He didn't strike like before but instead slammed his body into Cymon, causing the Water Taper to lose balance. Cymon tripped, falling face-first into the dirt.

“I warned you,” the man bragged.

Cymon didn’t respond.

“Well, you give me no choice.”

The man took something out of his pocket. Since Finneas was too far away, he couldn’t tell exactly what it was. The man placed the item on top of Cymon’s back. Throwing something onto the ground, a greyish purple puff of smoke covered Cymon and his attacker. Once the smoke had dispensed, it quickly became apparent the Water Taper and the mysterious stranger had disappeared, leaving no trace.