=============================================================================== The Depths Above ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Zera had hoped they'd spend at least a little time in Garth. She'd never left the city she was born in, and she dearly missed Sorenthal's walls. At the same time, she'd built grand ideas in her mind about the city that lay just two weeks up the road - the travellers she'd seen coming from this direction had always worn heavier clothing, so she assumed it was colder there. She was right, of course, but not by nearly as much as she'd hoped - perhaps they were just weak. "Can't believe I'm stuck here for a year." she muttered under her breath, and _of course_ the stupid boy heard her. "What was that?" asked Laren, an innocent expression on his face. She'd grown to despise the pair of them on their journey, Laren the empty-headed kid always hiding behind his misguided oaf of a brother Tibalt. Why did she ever agree to party up with them? They seemed so interesting back then in Sorenthal, but after spending more than three weeks together she was ready to throw them off of tower bridge and call it a day. "Nothing. Don't look at me." she sneered, and he at least had the courtesy to look hurt. _Don't play games with me, little boy. I know you hate me as much as I hate you._ She'd convinced herself she hated them because the harder she pushed them away the closer they tried to get. It was frustrating to no end. At least now there was someone new to keep her distracted. Their guide had met them half a day's journey from the city, much to Zera's disappointment. Not even a glimpse of the city on the horizon, instead all she got was another week of hiking to the top of the world. At least the newcomer brought fresh supplies. Biting into a piece of dried turkey, she tossed a question toward Burren, their new companion. "When are we gonna get there?" The guide answered without turning. "Tomorrow, or the next depending on if the younglings can keep up." Zera smiled, and shot a look back. Though they seemed stronger than her, evidently they weren't up to the task of climbing, because they'd been lagging behind ever since they left the forest road. Or maybe Zera just had a spring in her step because of her new friend. Burren was Goten, presumably named as such because of the hooves her people bore. Or maybe it was because they lived in the mountains as goats do, but in any case that was their name. She always seemed to be looking down on you when looking your way, but that may have been because she instinctively placed herself between her companions and the nearest mountain peak. What Zera had first mistaken for social anxiety simply turned out to be anxiety, as Burren noticably calmed down once the ground beneath them began to slope upwards. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The campfire was lit on the flattest boulder they could find, for there was no spot of earth to place it on the ground that wasn't covered in misshapen stones. They'd been walking straight toward the cliff face, and Tibalt's ankles hurt worse than he could ever remember. It was colder here, and he placed himself as close to the fire as he could get. It was barely close enough to feel the warmth emanating his way, though, because he still had to stand up to rotate his apple as he cooked it next to the flames. Laren had taken to whittling with his knife - so far he'd carved a face and an array of shapes into a walking stick he'd picked up a few days ago. He said it gave him someone to talk to, which hurt Tibalt's feelings a little. _I hope he's just upset about Zera._ he prayed to himself, and glanced over at her. She had continuously fawned over the mountaineer that the Adventurers Guild had sent to direct them to the mines. Burren had been pretty nervous when Zera had been peppering her with questions, but thankfully once the climbing began in earnest she'd calmed down a bit. Tibalt couldn't help but admire the striking figure she cast, always with a foot raised up, placed on some branch or stone, as if she was preparing to sprint away. _Feet, er... Hooves, I guess._ She had two axes slung into her belt, and they'd have been hatchets if not for the long spike on the back of the head. Occasionally, she used them to help climb up the steep parts, and Tibalt respected that. "So why are you two so slow? Didn't you live near a waterfall?" Zera was acting haughty again. What was her problem with him, anyway? He was just trying to be friendly. Besides, this whole 'party' thing would only work if they worked as a team. Why couldn't she see that? Besides, he and Laren weren't even out of breath, yet she was sweating from the exertion and red in her face. Laren spoke up, as Tibalt was fuming in his own head. "Yes. The town is just below a large plateau where the Harken tree grows. I don't think it grows anywhere else, in fact." "I don't care about the stupid trees. There were far too many of them on our journey together and now I'm sick of them. It's nicer up here though. You can see for miles." She wasn't wrong, and as the sun fell behind the northern horizon, the city of Garth began to light up. "The beauty of twenty thousand souls, never to be seen by those within." Burren spoke with quiet reverence, and softly added "Some say we Goten are the watchers without." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day they would reach the mountain's zenith, and with it their assignment. The Lessons of the Hand had been the first assigned to them, with the Foot following. _Laren'd probably be pretty good at that one,_ thought Tibalt. _I wonder how Zera will fare?_ She'd just completed her Hand, and now here she was to undertake her Foot. Tibalt was a little relieved they wouldn't be seeing her most days, but part of him remembered the faces he cherished and wished they'd stay together. The two brothers continued discussing their predicament as they climbed. "She's just scared, that's all. She's never left Sorenthal before. Don't you remember how you felt when we went to Garidsbridge when we were younger? Imagine if that never happened, and we had to walk four days to Sorenthal all by ourselves. I think I'd be pretty scared." Laren shook his head. "If I were scared, I wouldn't fight the people who walked beside me. We must have slighted her. Maybe if we give her space, she'll relax." This worried Tibalt. He didn't like the idea of leaving this in a bad place, but he couldn't see any way around it - their destination loomed before them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A great black orb sat perched upon the highest mountain's highest peak. There you'd find gemstones the size of your first, should you brave the fall. That was the legend, at least, but Laren didn't see any emeralds. All he saw was a fog black as night and thick enough to look like a marble from afar. As they approached, a wooden platform became clear perhaps 200 feet across and 30 feet deep. Nestled into the side of the mountain directly beneath the orb, the platform they'd call home for the next year seemed sparse and flat. Climbing up the cliff face with nothing but a knotted rope and deep grooves carved with Goten feet in mind, the three adventurers in training were greeted by the cold winds whipping around them and the smiles bristling with teeth of their new housemates and companions. The first to greet them was an elf with a scarred face and the demeanor of someone who planned on living for a thousand years behind his own mask. The introductions were short, as everyone seemed eager to hear the stories and tales the new laborers had to bring. Tales of the country, of valor and war, but the children had little for them, young as they were. The dissapointed faces stuck in Tibalt's mind, while Laren remembered most the architecture that supported them precariously perched below such an arcane enigma. The orb above them was hidden by the roof of their cabin, but they could _feel_ it somehow. Zera was affected the most - it felt like a continuoous gravitic pull on her spirit ever upwards the entire time she was there in their mountain home. At first, they were tasked with menial chores like gathering firewood in the forest below. There was an endless thirst for warmth in the frigid abode above, but luckily the wood gathered was of a hardy stock that burnt long and slow without much smoke. Gathering food was also a task they relished, for they could eat their fill as they hunted wild goats and gathered meldor berries and tanrus roots. The most dangerous task was kept from them for three months, a full quarter of their stay at the emerald mines of Garth. None of them were eager to set foot in the marble of madness that hung ever-present in their minds, for the tales of the workmen and miners who lived here on a permanent basis cast long shadows in their minds. Tales of the monster who lived within, and the cavernous ascent that threatened to pull them to an eternity of drifting solitude without light or life to behold. But their time did come, eventually, as the path of the sun did march ever from the south to the north. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The two boys had wide eyes as they fidgeted with their climbing gear. They were to undertake the ascent alone, after having receiving hours of training and guidance from the veteran mountaineers. A rite of passage, or a way to weed out the weak, either way Zera wasn't confident that they'd all make it back alive. Or dead, for that matter - if you lost your grip in the boney finger- like caverns above, you'd twist and flail for eternity, screaming all the while; at least, that's what they had been told. Zera wasn't convinced. It was just a scary story to tell them because they were kids, but she found herself turning it over in her mind over and over again. The thought of a misplaced step had kept her up at night ever since Burren had left for Garth. She wished the Goten could have stayed at least a single night, but as they had arrived at midday, she had departed just as soon as she'd eaten a cursory meal of boiled egg and jerky. At least the chickens didn't mind the cold. But then again these were fluffy chickens with big poofy feathers... The boys were staring at her. They both had the same weird look on their faces, and when she raised her eyes she glared and demanded "what do you want?" Tibalt was flustered. "We just wanted... We were just..." Laren stepped in: "We just thought you might be scared, is all." He put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Tibalt relaxed and shrugged. "Just lookin' out for you, that's all." "Well I don't need your help. I'm only here because the guild sent us together. I wouldn't have even come if I knew how useless you two were and I wouldn't have partied up with you. What are you doing anyway? Are you ready yet?" The three of them readied their climbing gear, checking and rechecking everything with a novice's focus, until finally there was nothing left to check. With a shudder, they climbed the ladder up the chimney two-abreast and hesitated at the trapdoor above them. Just pulling the latch would be enough to open it, but something held them, as if the door was willing them to turn back. The cabin had seen fewer return than depart, and it was loathe to lose another of it's charges. Tibalt, ever the bravest, broke the silence by reaching his bare hand forward toward the cold iron of the latch. It gave without any further protest, and less than ten feet beyond the now swinging door was the mines. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They each hitched themselves to the iron ring placed to the side of the open door. The ladder went into the blackness and promptly vanished after no more than a few inches - they'd been told it was somewhat of a portal, offering no resistance save for the abrupt and sharp reversal of gravity on it's other side. The marble was true to it's promise, as they stood on the roof of the cabin's chimney and one by one gingerly reached a hand upward, feeling the strange gravitic pull once through the black nebulae. Laren was the smallest, and they had agreed that he'd go first since the weight off the two others would hold him down as he was pulled upward. He took a breath and held it as instructed, even as his head poked through the ethereal barrier. He found himself closing his eyes, and as he felt his head pulling upwards he opened them to a dazzling sight. Stretched above were spiralling tendrils of bone and ligament - curling ever so slightly toward a vast darkness that shimmered as if it was the surface of a black pool in the sunlight. The fingers were the spines of the world, or so he'd been told, and as he felt his own head pulling on his spine he felt like he understood what that meant. Every step up brought another of his vertebra forward, pulling now on his hips with a strange strength. The handholds he reached for were carved into the surface of the nearest finger to the ladder that poked up from the darkness as if it was levitating on a mirror. Once he was halfway through, he felt his legs leave the ladder and he clutched the rope to his chest and the finger with his fingers as he swung through. He was supported by Tibalt and Zera on the other side, but he still felt himself shivering as his body recovered from the fear of the short fall. Zera came next, after Laren had finished securing himself to the pitons left by the previous miners. With a tug on the rope, he signalled for her to ascend... Then descend. She proceeded in much the same way that he did, except for the fact that Tibalt wasn't supporting her weight - Laren was, with the extra assurance granted by the iron loops nailed next to the ladder. Zera, then Tibalt, and the three of them were together again. The fingers were connected with causeways of rope, tied around the base of each protrusion. They seemed to stretch into infinity, a forest that faded into darkness on all sides, and towered above toward beyond their sight. A fall from this precarious perch would mean falling forever - but without a way to slow your fall, you'd eventually bounce off the coiling bones and break into pieces. Forever disintegrating with each colision until nothing remained but dust. Traversing the rope bridges with an iron loop securing them at all times, it made for slow going. Time was on their side, though, as nothing changed in this starless realm. They couldn't talk lest they lose their breath to the void, with no air to breath and no wind to share, they communicated solely with hand signals. Nothing changed... Save for the weight of their sacks as they filled them with emeralds. Finding a finger at last that held promise, they counted the tally-marks carved into it's base. Fifteen sacks of precious gemstones had been hauled from this tower, and as some had numbered in the scores they reckoned this was a good enough gambit. They began their descent, securing their ropes to each successive piton as they crept downward. The handholds were regular, and after a time it began to feel easier than the rock-climmbing they'd practiced every chance they got these past three months. _A spine just like mine, I suppose. Same as any other - just for the world instead of a person._ They began to see sparkling green dust in the bone, and before long they saw tiny gemstones. They pocketed a few of the larger ones, but they knew their quarry was still ahead - as they reached the end of the pre-placed pitons, they found the larger stones. Big as a fist, they were lodged in the holes and pockmarks they used as footholds. They set to work, and tried to push thoughts of monsters from their minds as the clinking of their hand-held pickaxes pierced the silence of the void. When their sacks were full, they cinched them closed with leather thongs and secured their picks in loops made of the same. Laren's sack was not yet full, but Tibalt seemed insistent on leaving - he could not see either of them, as the circumference of the pillar was too great and they were spaced evenly around it. But his insistent pulling on the rope was enough to get them to leave early. They climbed to the top and secured themselves to the rope bridge, and Laren was confused. His brother was shaking. He seemed... Afraid. _Had he seen the monster?_ They left in haste. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When they arrived back at the camp, Zera finally noticed the look on Tibalt's face. She should have been paying more attention, she scolded herself. He was flustered and scared, but the only reason she noticed was because upon getting his first breath of air, he screamed. Then, curled in a ball, he regaled his story. "I saw the monster. I saw it's poetry. It wrote something on the spine, and once I read it I felt like it saw me. Like it somehow knew I was thinking of it. There was... A giant hand, like a spider, with far too many fingers and faces at the tips. It was... " he gestured around with every word. "It was on the other spines, and it was so large it could reach across them and pull itself to them." He shook his head. "I don't know if it saw me. It felt like it. How did neither of you see it?" Zera shrugged. "I was focused on the emeralds. How did you keep from screaming?" Something within her respected him in that moment. But only for a moment. He was a sobbing worthless boy curled up in a ball after seeing a monster in a scary place. _I bet he even made it up!_ she thought. But somehow she felt lighter toward him, in sympathy. At least they had sacks full of emeralds. If only they could keep them.