Chapter 18

Crossing the river turned out to be easy. While Mato and Ezhno were scouting, a massive six-legged bear wandered into the cohort’s rest area. Two of the seekers managed to cross the river, then shoot the animal with arrows. It then rushed them and wound up fighting the clawed river monsters to death.

That didn’t keep Mato from having a panic attack when he saw all of the blood where they had left the cohort. Then he nearly fainted from relief when he saw them waving from the far shore.

Ezhno leaped from their bank to a rock in the center of the river--a jump that Mato knew he would never equal. Then Mato threw their packs to Ezhno, who threw them to the seekers on the far bank. Then it was just a contest to see if Mato could leap toward the rock in the middle and get out of the water before something ate him. Repeat once, and everyone was across.

Three more days of marching brought them to the tree line on the far side of the forest of huge trees. The wind was colder, and blew almost constantly. Mato and Ezhno began wearing their wool blankets, as did the others. At night they huddled under their shade cloths, wishing their blankets were warmer.

Ezhno said this was the alpine. The trees were short and hardy. Animals were small, a bit like one would see in Abo. There were fat little creatures called marmots, and a host of smaller things like mice, rats, squirrels, pika, and several kinds of bird.

The most impressive thing was the mountain goats. They seemed immune to the laws of nature as they ran up and down mountainsides and cliffs. Somehow Ezhno managed to kill three of them in the same day, and the cohort rested and ate well.

Two days in the alpine brought them to a junction in the trails, marked by a cairn of stones some ten paces high. The individual pieces were far too large for Mato to shift, let alone lift. How did people stack them like this?

“Back on familiar ground,” Ezhno said.

“We’re nearly there,” Poplar replied.

Tupi squinted into the distance. “Maybe I can see it. Can’t tell for sure yet.”

“Your eyes are better than mine,” Ezhno said.

Tupi perked up a bit, but Mato recognized the comment as sarcasm. Ezhno didn’t think anyone could see their destination from here.

They camped near the cairn that night, then continued on when the fog cleared enough for them to see.

Mato spotted something white on the mountainside ahead, and wondered if it was snow. The ground rumbled, and he squatted to keep his balance.

“Back! Back!” Ezhno screamed. “Retreat to the cairn! Back!”

There was nothing ahead. He’d already been looking that way. He looked behind them, but that didn’t make any sense. If something was behind them, Ezhno would have ordered them forward.

The threat was below. A worm two paces across and who knew how long erupted from the earth. It tracked Ezhno and spit a boulder the size of an ox at him. Ezhno threw himself to the side, and the boulder smashed into the mountainside, sending earth and rocks flying.

The worm came out of its hole, exposing more and more of its body. The head was covered in huge scales, but the rest looked like soft skin. Mato charged down the hill, leaping and scrambling to avoid large rocks and to keep his feet.

The worm spit again, and a shock wave passed over Mato, shaking his very bones. How were men supposed to fight a thing like this?

He reached the body, then thought about his fight with the snail. When he chopped into this thing, it was going to give him its full attention.

Mato ran downhill for a few dozen paces, arriving at the hole. The worm had at least forty paces of its body out now, and there was no sign that it was finished surfacing. He sliced into the body as deep as he could. Clear fluid poured from the wound. The worm spasmed. Mato ran downhill, around the hole, to the other side.

A boulder slammed into the far side of the worm, and it convulsed. Mato sunk his sword in again, slicing through skin and muscle. The worm ripped in half.

“Run Mato, back toward the cairn!” Ezhno screamed.

Mato ran. Uphill from him the top half of the worm thrashed. Boulders broke loose from the mountainside. Clumps of earth flew through the air.

He reached a high spot, and paused to catch his breath. Then he put his hand on his sword hilt, and the need to gasp vanished. Suddenly he had all of the air he needed.

Ezhno ran down the mountainside toward the worm, and Mato ran to join him. The two of them reached the head at the same time.

“One, two, three,” Ezhno counted, and they sank their swords in, seeking whatever would make the thing die fastest.

The worm twitched, and then the tingling sensation shot up Mato’s arm. It was even stronger than it had been with the snail.

“Nicely done,” Ezhno said. He pulled his blade free and examined it. “Almost two new runes. Incredible.”

Mato pulled his blade out.

“You actually have two new runes, and you’re close to a third,” Ezhno said. “Unprecedented. I think the fastest growth has been two or three months to reach three runes.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

* * *

That evening they camped next to Mato’s first snow bank. It was in a natural bowl that sloped down to the trail, providing shade along one side throughout the day. All of the young men were enthralled. They spent a couple of hours climbing the hill next to the snow, then sliding down. Mato threw snowballs until his hands ached. Then he threw more.

Ezhno and the priests stood aside, pointing and laughing at them. It was the strangest thing Mato had ever seen. Why were they spending time together, when it had been clear for weeks that they barely tolerated each other?

Dinner was dried meat, which reminded Mato of his first couple of training days. When he started to get up and head for his bedroll, Ezhno pulled him back down. Mato glanced around and saw the priests doing the same thing with the seekers. Something here was very strange.

He ate a snowball and watched carefully. Ezhno had decided to give nothing away, so he watched the priests. Over and over they leaned down, spoke a few words, and pointed up the hill.

The moon rose, and Mato sat next to Ezhno and shivered. The mountains were beautiful. The light was bright, and the air was clear.

Then there was movement up the hill. Ezhno made a motion for him to stay still and silent. Gradually a white shape became clear. It was big and shaggy, shaped roughly like a man, but covered in long white hair.

It walked to the top of the snowbank, then squatted and relieved itself. After a few minutes it made its way back up the mountain and disappeared.

“Here,” Ezhno said. He lit his small lantern and handed it to Mato. “That was a mountain man. Go look at its waste.”

Mato got up, and realized most of the seekers were doing the same. He picked his way uphill and around the snowbank until he reached the spot. Sure enough, there were two huge footprints. And right behind them there was a pile of snow made of poop-shaped pieces.

“Do you see what I see?” Mato asked the seekers around him.

One of them gagged, so that was a yes.

“You let me eat mountain man leavings,” Mato said when he returned.

Ezhno snickered. “If it was going to hurt you, I would have stopped you. In the meantime, this is an excellent way to remind the young that they need to learn about the world, not assume.”

“You told me snow comes from the sky.”

“It does. A mountain man or four doesn’t make enough snow to add up to that snowbank.”

“So I probably just ate snow.”

“Probably.” Ezhno snickered again. “When we return home, you tell the uninitiated nothing about this, understand?”

“I understand.” Mato was already plotting to lead more seekers up here.

* * *

“Wisdom, can we hunt the mountain man?”

Mato glanced sideways. The seeker was one of those who had been stung.

“Haven’t you experienced enough trouble?” Mato asked.

Poplar snorted. “That’s certainly one way to put it. Yes, you can hunt the mountain man. The first rule is that you do it very far from the rest of us.”

After several seconds the seeker prodded the wisdom for more. “Are there other rules, Wisdom?”

“Of course, but they are for us, not for you.”

“What?”

“I think he means that if you go hunting the mountain man, you will die. The second rule is that we don’t retrieve your body,” Mato said.

Poplar tapped the side of his nose. “Close. Mountain men are peaceful unless you approach them or attack them. No one wins a fight with them. Ever. The other thing they truly hate is having someone disturb their kills.”

They managed to collect a number of marmots along the trail that day, large furry rodents with a good layer of fat. Mato watched how Ezhno stalked within ten paces of the creatures, then used his bow to kill them with a well-placed shot.

The wind was cold, and the air was crisp. Mato and the other young men shivered every time a cloud passed between them and the sun.

The march ended at a flattened area where people had clearly camped before. Mato was surprised when Ezhno turned uphill, leading them up a climb so steep they had to grasp onto the stunted bushes that covered the mountainside.

Normally, in strange lands, Ezhno would call a halt long before sunset. Today they continued and just as the sun dropped below the horizon they crested the rise to find themselves on the edge of a large mountain meadow. A rivulet of water splashed down the barren rocks on the far side, perhaps two hundred paces away, then formed a little pool before finding its way over the edge to the left.

They crossed the meadow on a small trail beaten deep into the land. On the far side there was a cave entrance a few paces from the rivulet.

“Gather round!” Ezhno shouted.

They waited for a quarter of an hour, with Ezhno periodically ordering seekers to wait for instruction before touching anything.

When the last two seekers arrived, having been pushed to hurry by Tupi, Ezhno gave them the news.

“This is the place. Every blade of grass, and every pebble here is sacred. If we catch one of you killing a bug, picking a flower, or throwing a stone in the water, we will beat you like you have never been beaten before.” He pointed to the wisdoms, who nodded emphatically.

“This is the camp,” Ezhno said, pointing out the area around the cave mouth. “Use your shade cloths and bedrolls. Do not light any fires. The wisdoms and I will do all of the wood gathering and fire building. We use only what we absolutely need, and not a drop more. When you need to squat, do it over there, where it goes over the side and into the valley.”

Wisdom Poplar took over. “There will be no joking here. You may laugh with joy in the presence of holy things, like a particularly pretty flower, or a cute animal. If you profane this place, you will not be allowed to take your trial.

“Blood must not be shed on this ground. If you hurt yourself, wrap it immediately and bring it to one of your wisdoms. If you spill someone else’s blood intentionally, you will be stripped and thrown over the side.”

Wisdom Tupi continued. “The ladies who administer the trials will surprise you. Only your most formal manners will be accepted. If you are rude to them, if you gawk at them, if you touch one of them, or offend them in any way, they will forbid you from taking your trial.

“If you lie to them, they will know. Absolute honesty is your only refuge. Even if you think the answer will end your chances, you must not lie. They forgive many things, but not deceit.”

At one end of the camp area there was a little fireplace made of flat rocks. It had a chimney as tall as a man, and a tiny firebox made for burning sticks.

Ezhno and the priests gathered up sticks and branches beneath the alpine trees that dotted the meadow, then returned. Ezhno built a small but hot fire, and soon seekers were huddled around.

The rock that made the surface was polished and as flat as a griddle surface. Once it was properly cleaned and rubbed with marmot fat, Ezhno prepared cuts from the day’s kills, handing them out as they finished cooking.

There wasn’t enough, but everyone got a bite or two. Then they returned to their bedrolls. Mato had a few survival cakes left, and several pieces of dried meat. He ate a bit of that, and drank his fill of good water.