The wind shifted and all four hikers were drenched with spray from the waterfall. When they emerged from the squall they saw a timber-strewn beach and flattened trees. Something big had rolled down the mountain and smashed the woods to smithereens. Lon looked around. Whatever it was must have disappeared under the lake for no trace remained. But his nose did detect the pungent stench of decayed flesh nearby.
"What could cause this?" Clyde asked above the roar of the falls. He also held his nose. All four migrants surveyed the masticated timber and recoiled from the dreadful smell. Lon's nerves tingled with apprehension. This wasn't caused by any living thing he told himself; no rain forest predator could wreak such havoc. He looked back at Tharus who'd grown up in the dense jungles of Septhalon and he waved him forward. "What do you reckon?"
The reptilian bristled with pride as he moved to accept the point position. He'd investigate this brutal brake while the others followed behind.
Jarl shifted the dead fish sack to his other shoulder and rolled his eyes. He may have felt neglected. Lon knew he was the oldest and most storied warrior among them, and he was certainly the best with a blade.
The swampkin's nostrils flared and he sniffed the air like an experienced jungle tracker, but it did not require a powerful nose to smell the decomposing form that lay ahead. The lizard groped through the tangle for another ten feet where found huge animal-prints. He signaled the others, stood over the clue, and pointed to a dark hole in a lattice of toppled pines. "A bearss in there."
Lon believed him. But now what? Maybe they could kill it? But at what cost? The first granite step in the ascent he'd planned lay directly behind the creature's den.
"But we need to start our climb there."
Tharus looked at the twisted path ahead and gazed at his sword. The young lad thought he was about to say something inspirational and lead them all into danger, but instead he used it point away left. "Let'ss go around," he suggested, "and sssneak quietly". Lon smiled at the good advice and agreed. Jarl rolled his eyes again.
Everyone followed the swampkin's footsteps past the fractured trees and broken brush that barricaded the creature's realm. The four walked soft amid the chaffing-roar of the waterfall. Small twigs cracked underfoot but they were careful where they stepped and how they placed their weight as they infiltrated through the tangled habitat.
The swampkin circumnavigated the hostile glade and his instincts lead the troop under fallen logs the others would have probably climbed over. The jungle expert let the way and they emerged safe albeit covered in mud. When Lon spotted the crumbled cliff ahead, he knew they'd successfully circled the danger zone, and they were near the right spot to start their climb. Sumac trees lined the rocky ground and their crimson coloured flower drupes marked the edge of the rain forest.
Bwwrawoar. A large animal roared. Somewhere nearby an unseen best made its displeasure known. The outburst was much louder than the waterfall, yet there was no sign of the predator. They'd been detected! They found themselves under siege from an unseen threat. All the hikers raised their swords, in four different directions, at nothing. They heard branches snap and tree-leaves swish, but the jungle was so thick with mist they still couldn't see their antagonist.
Lon pondered the predicament. He dared not begin the climb with an unknown creature behind. But on the other hand, he sure didn't want to battle the mysterious foe for no reason. What had they done wrong? How could this thing have detected them? The waterfall was a constant thunder and they'd been so quiet. They were covered in mud and so well disguised. Suddenly the answer was obvious. "It smells us!" He pointed to the sack of fish Jarl carried, its smelly contents were just starting to get ripe in the moist heat.
"Yes, chase Kluth. It does." the big cat held the bag in front of him.
"Pitch it!" Lon said.
"No. It's all we have and I'm hungry."
"If that's the price it charges," Lon put his free hand on the fish bag. "We'll pay it."
The young lad made to take the bag, but the lionfeigor didn't let go. This was a moment. The veteran looked like he wanted to challenge Lon's leadership and the youth didn't back down.
Jarl relinquished the gunny filled with fish. He must have known it was the right move, or maybe he saw the trees shiver and swish apart as the bear approached.
The underbrush parted and a brown furry face appeared in the ferns. It was eight feet away but the hairy head still looked huge. It was bigger than a bear. It had jet black eyes that glared at them from behind a long snout filled with slobbering yellow teeth. It fixed its eyes on Lon. The creature either didn't see or completely disregarded the four shiny steel blades everyone held quivering before them. Nobody dared move.
The predator had a uniquely streamlined face; that is to say all the brown hair on its cheeks seemed well-brushed away from its great beastly mouth which opened in another scowl. Yellow-white teeth and fangs became a ferocious growl that terrified the trespassers. Then the predator chose to stand and sniff the air. Now it towered and showed off its huge claws and legs and it issued a queer little roar.
Jarl found his courage and he was about to charge forward and poke it with his sword when Lon stopped him. He knew this animal type. He recognized its shape and knew what it was doing; this forest creature was not just an ordinary bear but something called Ursidae. The animal wasn't trying to scare them, or cowl them into submission. It was just curious. It likely wondered how these fish could walk on land.
Instead of attempting to murder the overlord, Lon proffered the smelly fish bag in his hand. He reached into the pouch and pulled-out a puffed-up shiner. The furry bear dropped to its feet and sniffed the tasty snack from eight feet away. Before it could get any closer the young lad tipped the fish back in the sack and tossed the whole foul purse into distant vines. The shaggy beast turned and followed the food. Lon spun about and shooed his companions up the boulders to start the climb.
"Go, go." Lon pointed out the first handholds to Tharus. Clyde went up behind and Lon followed him. The veteran soldier from Lambspetal came-up last. The ursidae disappeared under the trees to enjoy the Septhalese fillet supper below the forest canopy.
The hungry feigor picked their way upwards along the stone staircase that was a boulder-strewn ramp filled with loose rock which had crumbled down the mountainside. The debris rose in tiered shelves and resembled a giants' staircase. It was a loose boulder from up here that'd tumbled down and caused all the damage below; Lon could see the path it'd made to the lake.
Jarl paused to tie his brass sword hilt to the pull string on his trousers. Now he could use both hands to climb. Lon still held his saber loose, but he'd soon need a place to stash his blade. His trousers were rags however and he knew the draw string wouldn't hold the weapon's weight. As he thought about that problem until he was pleasantly distracted by the sight below. It was beautiful landscape in late afternoon light. He was struck by just how the trees seemed like a second lake and how the red-flowering sumacs appeared to wash-up against the rocks. There was no sign of the ursidae anymore and as he recalled its bone-curdling roar he was so happy they'd paid the fee and not tried to save the food; that was six fishes and one ragged cloth tunic well spent.
Together the escapees ascended until they came to ten-foot-tall cliff which was a prominent piece of geography he'd seen from below and considered to be the real start of their climb. Lon remembered being on the ship again and how his shoulders and arms were always sore. He realized that while he'd been miraculously healed and now felt super-feigorin, two of his three travelling companions were still malnourished wretches and the third was not someone he'd consider athletic. Tharus had wanted to eat the fish so he could get back his strength; that's what he'd said on the beach below. So, it'd be wise to go slow and not push them too far, because this was no place to fail. Up ahead was the steep section he'd worried about when he'd scanned the trail. This may be one of those places where every muscle was required.
When they reached the mini-cliff, Tharus scrambled up first and turned and helped Clyde raise his heavy body. Lon pushed on the noble's feet until his hips were over the edge. Once he was safe and stood on the ledge Lon jumped-up straight and raised himself. Jarl needed no help.
"We can rest here for a moment." Clyde announced and Lon issued a withering glare. Says who?
The four explorers reconnoitered the narrow shelf and then looked out over the land. On their right was the tall waterfall with misty clouds top and bottom. Its exhale sounded smooth from here, a steady crush, and the steam over the lake glowed gold in the last rays of the setting sun. A bright green jungle surrounded their stone perch and farther south it melted into the yellow grass from which they'd come. Their eyes combed the plains for Hastegus, but there was no sign of any pursuers. On their left was the isle's rocky coast and the ocean all around them was every shade of blue.
"Clyde. Where is your weapon?" Lon asked when he saw the renegade clerk no longer possessed the boat saber he'd fetched from the beach last night. He'd carried it when they'd faced off against the canines, and when they'd slain the brachyura. He had it on the beach and when they'd faced the Ursidae down below, but now it was gone?
"Oh, I dropped it. You didn't hear it fall?" The noble brushed the sand from his red silk gambeson and then studied his empty hands. Jarl fumed but didn't say anything.
"I'd hoped we could get some material to make a sling, so we, Tharus and I, could tie our blades to our backs." Lon pointed upwards. "There could be some serious climbing above."
"Tomorrow. Tonight, we can rest here and watch the sunset." Clyde relaxed on the flattest portion of the narrow ledge. By lying down like this he claimed the flattest spot on the shelf. Lon surveyed the remaining space; he liked the shape. This was an easily defensible position. Plus, there was a terrific view and they could study the sea and watch for Crols by land or water. They were forty feet above the jungle, and now more than a hundred feet above the sea which stretched to the horizon. It was possible they could spend the night here. The sun hung low over the open ocean in the west and it'd been a very long day. He nodded and smiled in agreement when the clerk retrieved his animal skin and passed around the water. The climb up the granite cubes sapped his gumption, and he didn't want any more disagreement in the group.
Tharus liked the idea too, and he sat down beside Clyde to claim the second best surface for his bumpy back. He immediately took off his sail cloth garment and boots. Jarl grumbled and sat upright against the cliff wall, and that left Lon with the rockiest most precarious perch of all, right on the edge of the precipice they'd just scaled.
"Clyde do you have any cord or material in that coat that we could use to tie our blades?" Lon asked again.
"Please. My jacket is much too important for that. You should re-purpose his rags," Clyde pointed at the swampkin's slave tunic, "or use your own ill-fitting bodice," and as if that settled the matter he plumbed another handful of the sea cabbage from his pocket and politely offered the meal to Tharus, "Masra leaves?"
Lon huffed in grim resignation and removed his shirt, a bleached white cotton pull-over that he'd taken from the barrel-chested sailor he'd drowned. It was in fair condition albeit muddy and stained with a salt ring. He could just tear the bottom away and make a shoulder sling. Right when he was about to rip the fabric however, they heard the ursidae's loud throaty cry.
Back in the Woodwold the ursidae feared nothing as they had no natural predators in the wild. Sometimes the young males came right up to the loggers in the woods because they'd never seen a feigor before and so they didn't know enough to be scared.
This animal species was an early gift from the Gods. These big animals were included in the bounty bequeathed by Amon, and the small ones were brought by Sari to fill the forests after Creation at the dawn of First Age. But they served no purpose now that Lon could see except to scare hunters and eat wild berries. Still he didn't question the Forest God's plan or the oft-repeated truth that all creatures big and small were part of the wisdom of Kluth.
"Roarrrr." They heard the creature become enraged and attack something on the forest floor, and much to their surprise they heard feigor voices cry out in a desperate fight for their lives. The crew peered over the edge. It was dark down there and Lon recalled that foul smelling jungle terrain; in the gaps between the trees they saw figures brandishing torches and swords battling the lord of that ripe domain. Could these fighters overcome that creature at night? The sound of the fight sent shivers down Lon's spine. It was surely a massacre they heard, death by bear-bite.
"Now do you regret the paying the price?" he asked Jarl. The big cat smiled and everyone chuckled merrily at the bonus they'd bought with the fish Tharus had caught.
"Should we climb higher gents?" Clyde asked in a polite manner.
"No . Just listen." Jarl said. "They're beat." The four fugitives could hear the soldiers retreat down to the stone beach and they soon saw their torches reflect in the misty lake.
The cliff side crew watched for some time as the enemy fell back to where they themselves had rested on the stone margins of the waterfall's plunge pool. The swampkin broke the silence.
"You can use this." Tharus passed over his threadbare slave tunic. "To sling the swords." Lon accepted the offering. He knew it was made from the same material as his own trousers, sail cloth from the Annabelle. Bleached Opal Forty-Eight came from the market in Havista and this tunic was also dirty and smelly and was coming apart at the seams. It was easy to tear a strip and return the remnant. The reptilian turned his eyes to the seaside.
"For jusst a moment there I thought I ssaw a sship's lightsss," The swampkin pointed. "But there's nothing there now." Everyone turned to look but the ocean was empty. Tharus had the best vision and so if he saw something...
"You may've glimpsed the Seakin. The ship is likely still there." Clyde explained, "But they run without lights at night. They sail blue craft that can change colour with the sea and the sky which makes them near invisible during the day too. If you believe the stories."
"I heard they can ssail at sspeed where there iss no wind at all."
"They have a presence on the east coast." Clyde nodded and pointed north to the east coast of the island. "I was told... To stay clear of them."
"Why? Who ordered you?" Jarl must have suspected the turncoat wasn't being entirely truthful about the reason he ran from the Crols.
"You cannot deal with them," the noble from Barobell ignored the lionfeigor. "Only the Vargwa can deal with the Seakin, and well maybe Jacob Tugar and the Havista Merchant Guild but of course they'd deny ever consorting..."
"But who do you answer to?" Jarl persisted.
"Prince Kalibre," Clyde said. He shrugged at Lon. Asked and answered.
Lon decided to direct the conversation away from Clyde's secret mission for the Prince, whatever it was, and onto more practical knowledge they could use on their journey to the port. "Sire Tolden," Lon addressed Clyde formally because it served to remind Jarl and Tharus that he was a noble and as such he should be afforded some respect. It came off sounding derisive though. "Have you ever seen a map of the island?'
"Certainly," Clyde said. He ignored any condescension and made a bold statement. "Young Surilus Horne will have those black leather brutes up top in twelve hours' time. There are plenty of paths between the Eastmonts. A dozen or more wagon trails worm their way inland over those humps." The noble refilled Lon's hand with sea cabbage.
Jarl fumed as he watched the others eat the succulent fan flower which he found repulsive. "Why does he even bother with us? Is it because of you?" he asked Clyde. "Or because of you? " He asked Lon directly. "Tharus and I should leave you to them and make our way alone."
"Horne pursues us all because of Paulus Linton," Clyde said.
"Who?" Jarl asked.
"The temple scholar who died, and we don't know how he died... Or do we? Lon?"
"Explain," Jarl ordered.
"His sudden departure will cause ripples. He was the first scribe to the Mastodon of Crol, and, he was my mentor."
"Who will care?" Jarl asked.
"Oh come now. Can you imagine the questions that will be asked? Captain Eutord Besnic has friends in high places. The officers too. The Mastodon will make inquires. The other ministers will ask, what happened to Paulus Linton? Oh he was killed at sea during ritual sacrifice, Surilus will have to say for there are many witnesses who'll whisper as much." Clyde mimicked the tone of two gossip-mongers; "a what? Yes, and the feigor lived, and was visibly transformed, and then escaped away on The Forbidden Isle." He presented the scandal complete with an astonished reaction as he brought his hand to his mouth in pretend shock.
"So far it'ss a true sstory," Tharus said approvingly. His eyes gleamed at Lon as he munched on the succulent Masra leaves.
"Do the Crols come for more cloudstone?" Lon asked. His mind worked another track. "Is this the place where that stuff comes from?"
"Ah once again you touch the heart of the matter," Clyde fished out more sea cabbage and continued his supper. He didn't seem inclined to share the answers or any further insights and Jarl grew even more annoyed.
"Answer him," the lionfeigor growled with his back stiff against the cliff wall.
"Not until he tells us what happened to Paulus."
"Pfft. How could he know?" Jarl asked, "how could he see anything more than you or I?"
"No. He saw something." Clyde raised his hand to silence Jarl, "Hush now, and maybe he'll share his vision."
Lon reflected on yesterday afternoon's events on the top deck of the Annabelle. He sat silent and remembered that terrible ceremony. Jarl fumed at Clyde.
"There was a flash," the sea drover began. He closed his eyes to recall the crime. "It lasted a long time for me. But really, I think it may have just been a moment. Changes happened inside of me. They were not part of it."
"They?" Clyde fished.
"Two figures appeared; they floated down from above. They were ghosts, I guess. Or maybe Kluth's Angels? They glowed."
The noblekin sat up eagerly and waited for more.
"Ghosss? What happened?" Tharus also surveyed him with interest.
"They sucked the life out of him," Lon snapped his fingers. "and then disappeared."
"Hmmm." Clyde mulled it over. "More likely they sucked the prayer from the stone and Paulus died in the offing."
"Ghosts who suck cloudstone?" Jarl cussed, "Chase Kluth! What's next?"
"Is that why this island is forbidden by the Twelve?" Lon asked. "Is it haunted somehow?"
Clyde simply shrugged.
"The sssooner we leave the better," Tharus said.
"Where did Horne get his cloudstone?" Jarl persisted.
"It's a temple-stone. It's the stone from the Temple of Talhastansu. Crols call it Templestone." Clyde answered, but raised his finger to share more after he swallowed his sea cabbage, "but originally that item came from the Vargwa and they do live here on the isle."
"Vargwa? The prostitutes?" Lon asked.
"No. They are not." Clyde said.
"What are they then?" Jarl asked.
"Do any of you know what a honeybride is?" Clyde of Barobell asked. When nobody answered, he continued. "here on Tokal we have twelve tribes ya, but over forty monarchs. Each family has one job; to produce an heir and find a mate for their male son. The Vargwa sell mates. Imagine rearing a crop of princesses like garden vegetables and then brokering them at market. Each one has irresistible beauty and perfect courtly disposition. Would that not be the ideal way to unite the world and put yourself on top?"
"How isss that posssible?"
"How is that related?" Lon asked.
"A crop of perfect daughters," Clyde summarized, "is the true export of the Vargwa. They live in the Port of Ligne. They're a devious cult who breeds noble brides."
"And they sell cloudstone?" Jarl tried to see the connection.
"They distribute shards to their daughters abroad," Clyde said.
"So they can do mind control like Horne does!" Lon made the connection.
"Yes, er well not like Horne. No the high minister is uniquely gifted in that respect. But yes."
"What is cloudstone?" Jarl asked, "Animal, mineral or vegetable?"
The noble shrugged.
"If I found one now, could I hold it in my hand and order you to jump off this cliff?" Jarl asked.
"Not likely. I doubt it's that easy," Clyde said.
"You've never tried?" Lon asked curiously, "you've never touched one?"
"I've these stupid hot hands. Nothing works." Clyde studied his hands and held everyone's eyes. He pointed down. "But there's something under this island. Prayers collect it and the temple stones hold it. What's down there? That is the mystery. That is the mystery I feel in my hands."
"We've all read the sstories." Tharus also pointed down, "there's a ten miless deep prisson cave filled with monssterss made of rock. Only deepcombers can survive down there."
"It's filed with much more than that," Jarl said. "The stonekin live all the way on the bottom. It's everything in between that's so dangerous."
The noble cleared his throat and picked up a single leaf of the sea cabbage which drew the others' eyes back to him again. "Think about this. Everything that grows up here which sustains feigorin comes from Daoda's Gift. We eat animals and plants which fed on its sunlight." Clyde used his hands to arc-out the carbon cycle in the air. "Everything dies and returns to soil and makes new life."
"So?" Jarl asked.
"The Samardina says what is above so is below. I reckon there's another sun down there, and another whole food chain. I'm not alone. This is a widely held belief." Clyde said. "Your fellow captive Hastgus, the one who pursues. He has the forehead mark of a cult that eschews this."
The young lad considered their former friend and the silver ball tattoo between his eyes. The occultist had said it was so he could perceive a hidden world beneath reality. And now Lon knew it was true. The pulsating silver sphere he'd seen when strapped to the altar was exactly as Clyde described. It did feed the world below and what they got up here was just a dribble. He could almost feel it now in the bottom of his consciousness. It had fed him once, just as the sun feeds plants on land. It had fed him, and he'd barely survived.
"The Samardina?" Jarl asked.
"Tell them about the book, and what will happen if Horne finds it." Lon requested.
"We don't know that the Samardina is a book," the clerk said, "its a metaphor perhaps. It's a missing puzzle piece that could explain a lot of things..."
Lon sat on the ledge and stared out at the waterfall.
He fell asleep and dreamed of The Deepcombers. He saw an emerald bowed key turn the lock in the Great Door. A crack of light appeared in the Tall Wall. He followed the green team; six specialists towed a small wooden wagon with a creaky axle down into Oub. They walked through the boobyland, through the Sink, and down into the Sunk.
*
Daoda's Gift made a glow in the east; Lon woke to the sound of hungry fisher birds who screeched as they flew off to feed and their cries penetrated the perpetual roar of the falls.
The white-haired lad yawned and stretched and shook the sleep from his body. He saw his companions still dozed. He gazed up and shuddered for in the first rays of morning sun in the brightening sky overhead he saw the unmistakable outline of a black vulture.
All twelve original tribes on all six continents held firm to the belief that both beneficial and cataclysmic future events were sometimes revealed by certain signs in nature. Lony didn't actively prescribe to any religion, but Amon's sect revered divination in the form of bird auguries. Only about half a dozen different birds could give auguries. These were divided into two classes: Oscines and Alites. Oscines gave auguries by singing, or their voice, and Alites gave auguries by their flight or their presence. Oscines included the rooster, the raven, the crow, the owl. The Alites were the eagle, the dove, red seagulls, and the vulture . The eagle was a positive sign, and each sighting was considered 'auspicious', while the vulture was decidedly less so. And there in the sky alone was a huge black vulture. This was an unmistakably bad sign. And it was a vulture in the morning, and that made it worse. There could be no doubt that it was an ill-omen meant for him. The bird's path took it directly over the waterfalls and that meant something terrible waited ahead.
After some time, all three of his companions grumbled awake and put on their boots. They had no breakfast but one by one they all took a refreshing drink from Clyde's waterskin and that was enough. The air was colder than expected, but otherwise everyone was in fair shape and ready to continue the escalade.
Tharus carried the sword sling that Lon had made last night. He'd ripped the lizard's garment into strips and tied his saber and the swampkin's blade onto the line. There was room for one more. As the swampkin had already volunteered to carry the weight, Jarl reluctantly added his own sword to the cord and thereby freed up both his hands for the ordeal ahead.
The next granite cube was ten feet tall and the lionfeigor went first. Lon helped him up from below. He was in turn helped by Clyde, who was aided by Tharus who needed no assistance slithering up the near vertical surface all by himself. The swampkin was a terrific climber but he never looked down and Lon began to wonder if he was afraid of heights.
The next ledge was only two feet wide and the inclined track sloped up diagonally towards the waterfalls. They could easily walk-up this diagonal ramp and ascend another eighty feet, but that's where it got tricky. The sloping stone escalator brought them much closer to the water where the stone was smooth, wet, and treacherous.
They each had to wait for one another to clear long sections or they'd they find themselves holding on by their fingers and toes in mind-numbing terror two hundred feet above the treetops. More than once they lost sight of one another as misty shrouds curtained their climb. Around mid-morning Lon became lead climber. By this point everyone had learned they couldn't always rely on their fingers and toes to take all of their weight. There were certain places where each had to use their hips and legs to support themselves and there wasn't much help available if anyone got into trouble.
Three quarters of the way up it became very difficult and Jarl took over as lead climber. His claws gave him an advantage on the near vertical slope, and he probed his way up to find the best route forward for everyone; he turned back twice when his instincts told him it wasn't safe. Lon followed second and Tharus and Clyde brought up the rear. At one critically tight squeeze, the sea drover handed the sword sling to the swampkin so he could push up through a crevice.
Lon moved to the side and waited to get the swords back, but instead of returning their blades, Tharus came-up without the belt. He must have handed it to Clyde. Lon extended his hand and helped lift the reptilian when he should probably have insisted the swampkin turn around and fetch-up the sabers. When the young lad looked down again he saw Clyde's hopeful face and arms and he offered up the blades. He would also not look down, Lon noticed. That meant he was already too scared to cope. The reach was too much and the clerk lost his balance. Clyde slipped and cried out.
Lon rapidly shifted and stuck out his leg to stop Clyde's fall, but not before the clumsy clerk let go of the saber sling. Both feigor watched as the group's weapons dashed and clanked all the way down until they disappeared into the mist below. The two feigor waited, but they did not hear the steel hit stone bottom.
"What happened?" Tharus asked.
"We dropped the blades. It's okay." Lon said. He waved the swampkin forward.
Half an hour later, Lon caught-up to Jarl higher on the cliff and he could see the lionfeigor had seen or heard the fumble and was furious with them for losing their only weapons.
"It's okay" Lon said, "That's just the price this place charges." That was Amon's Code. The son of Kluth told the forest tribes not to dwell on sudden loss or tragedy for there are always tolls and levies beyond their' comprehension. It's best to accept the price today and have faith that through honest prayer and hard work life's tariffs will be cheaper tomorrow. The forest is a dark and dangerous place and everything warm and loving comes with a price.
Lon climbed past Jarl and over another small hump to enter a feigor-sized crack at the top of the cliff. With just ten feet remaining in the climb, the lad chose to rest his aching muscles and relax his body inside this fissure in the rock face. The crevice was close to the waterfall's spout and over two hundred feet above the misty plunge pool below. From where he sat, he could see the whole coastal sandbar laid out before his eyes, and the empty ocean all around the island.
From this unique cubbyhole, the young lad could hear the queer sound the liquid made as it leaped into the air. Underneath the gusher was a metallic chaffing like coins on a stone floor. It was the sound of sand and gravel from the bottom of the channel being swept out into the sky. When he looked closer at the surge, he could see the bottom was brown with dirt. He smiled to himself when he realized that he was one the few feigor alive who'd ever heard the sound or saw how the sand gets taken out in the stream. Such a flow would soon fill that plunge pool, but of course it had made that impact crater and everything else. That sand had flowed like this for thousands of years and overtime it had made that entire mineral delta below. He wanted to share his natural science discovery, but the other climbers were still locked in their struggle with the mountain. He glanced down to see how each tackled the last and scariest stretch. Jarl was doing fine, but Lon hoped Clyde and Tharus also made it over the hump. This was futile of course; he couldn't help either of them now. To slip and fall here in this last section would mean certain death.
Jarl looked up and waved him on to clear his path.
Lon looked up at the ledge nine feet overhead. He focused on this last upper body lift of the morning. Just six more feet more to go and this ordeal would be over. He'd lead the group and they'd follow the river and the pass it surely made would be their route through the Pillars. He hoped he was right. Either way he'd find out in a few moments.
The young lad's eyes came level with the flat surface above and he grinned with joy. He could see he was correct. Off to the left, in the distance, a narrow causeway snaked between the Pillars. He could see how the river bent through that chasm before it spouted here. Just as he'd believed, the river merely appeared to issue from the center of the tooth, but in reality it streamed between the two towering mountains. And in between he saw the ruins of stone structures that looked like they may have once been religious shrines.
This narrow shelf was only fifty paces wide and was once the site of a temple complex or palace. There was a crumbled staircase to a non-existent two story building that must have been very impressive in its day judging by the broken marble columns that faced the sea.
Behind the ruins was another tall cliff. The rest of the mountain loomed overhead. The Pillars still appeared as a massive unforgiving barrier, but there was a path beside the fast-flowing river. He couldn't see exactly how the waterway twisted through because the stream was obscured by heaps of broken masonry.
Directly ahead of him was a stone cairn, a crude monument that some earlier residents had fashioned from the rubble. Such cone-shaped rock piles were used for a variety of purposes across Tokal. Cairns were erected as reminders to battles, or to serve as trail markers, and as Alocerian ritual burial ground markers, but he doubted it was the later. This cone looked as though it had been heaped up here as a handy place to stand, or maybe it was dine simply to move the rubble out of the way in preparation for a new temple. In either case, it was likely solid and contained only more rock.
The whole scene looked very tranquil in the morning light. A thin skein of mist hung in the air and the waterfalls' thunder imbued this mountain ledge with a sense of noble power.
Lon pulled his head and chest higher and then jackknifed his torso up and over the edge. When he glanced left, his eyes caught on a tree branch with bright green leaves afloat in the raging torrent. He watched the leafy branch sail past and he looked back over his shoulder to see it drop and disappear into the maelstrom below. It was a dizzying sight.
The white-haired lead climber had just gotten his hips over the edge of the cliff when he heard a a terrifying sound. Squawk.
What was that? Lon shifted his eyes to the right side of the shelf for the first time. To his surprise, he saw a huge brown feathered pyramid with an orange beak perched on a vast nest of sticks. The creature had feathers that overlapped each other like shingles on a peasant's cottage. It had been dozing in the sun but was startled awake by Lon's unexpected appearance, and now it made its presence known.
Squawk!