The Golden Path: Day Two

Good day my dear readers. Its Thursday and you know what … wait. No it’s Friday. If you read last month’s instalment you know we left off at a bit of a cliff hanger and I hoped to have the story completed by this Thursday. It was mostly done. All the words were there but it needed just a little more TLC so I spent this day doing just that.

What follows is the sequel to last month’s story. I do hope you find it as interesting to read as I did to write.

—-

The Golden Path: Day Two

It was the food more than the fire that warmed Ord but at least the fire was nice to look at. Ord pulled his gaze from the flames and looked up at the sky to watch the light of the predawn sun erase the stars.

Shame. The stars were beautiful here more beautiful than they had been anywhere else. Perhaps it was the cool air far from the grit of cities that made them shine so, or maybe some wonder had been ground into the sand by the sanctity of it being so hallowed a place. Or maybe its the first time, in a long time, I let myself see them.

“Another mug,” asked Harmen. The human held out a kettle of hard chocolate that was billowing steam so thick it almost obscured his face.

Ord looked at his old friend and saw how the mirth on his lips turned into sadness in his eyes. Harmen didn’t believe the stories of this place but he knew Ord did, that Ord needed to believe them so he put on a brave face.

“Ya,” agreed Ord holding out his mug. Steaming black brew tumbled into the cup and Ord took a moment to savior its rich scent before dragging its warmth into his belly. The rich flavor washed over his tongue as the shock burned through his body to jolt his muscles into wakefulness. Shivering, briefly, from the rush of energy he rose and made his way over to the body of his son.

Jorn was swaddled in fine silk that had been the color of pearl when their journey had begun and was now something closer to the beige of sac cloth. The magic woven into the silk kept the body preserved and would until the cloth faded to a soft gray. With the way the magic was fading they had months before the magic was spent.

Not months, Ord corrected. Days. Only on the three days around the Summer solstice could the resurrection be performed. Not days, dawns and we only have two left.

Ord reached down and lifted the body into his arms. He knew if he asked any of the other Champions they would help him, even the minotaur. But that wasn’t right, it was his fault and this must be his burden.

They marched down he rocky slope to the wind swept beach, a procession, not to a funeral, but a resurrection. The guardian greeted them with a simple nod, her face exposed to the winds and the ragged cloth about her body threatening to pull away in the breeze.

“Now what?” asked Ord.

The guardian turned to the distant horizon and whispered. “Watch.”

The sun rose, the very edge of the golden sphere rising above the waves to wash the horizon in orange. Then like the beam of a lighthouse the rays struck the waves like a path of gold. No not like a path.

Ord could see not just the light reflecting off the waves but a bridge of brilliant light just beneath the waters.

“Do not be stilled by awe,” warned the guardian. “Go Ord.”

“How? Do I swim?”

The guardian pointed to three boats resting at the edge of the shore.

“Come on Champions!” roared Ord. “Let’s sail!”

Ord moved to his sons body but found it pulled into the air by Durkon. The minotaur looked down at him. “Easier for me,” he said.

Ord wanted to argue but the minotaur was right, his greater strength and longer legs meant Durkon could reach the boat in a few strides while Ord would be forced to sprint down the shore.

Ynae was the first to reach the boat, lopping on all fours before hopping into the old wooden vessel. Harmen was next arriving just a step ahead of Durkon and accepted the body of Jorn, laying him gently, though swiftly into the boat. Ord reached the boat next, accepting Ynae’s help to climb inside and last was Kuthanit. The gnome was deposited like a sac of coal by the minotaur.

“Sorry big guy,” said Ynae. “No room for you.”

Durkon released a derisive snort, grasped the boat and shoved it into the surf with such force it threw everyone to the deck.

Ord was the first back to his feet, grasping one of the oars. “Row you bastards!”

The waves had grown choppy, pushing the little boat this way and that as the Champions struggled to get their rowing synchronized.

A blast of steam washed over the boat, the uncomfortable warmth clinging to their bodies as the air grew thin.

“What is this?” asked Harmen between grunts of rowing.

“The water,” answered Kuthanit. “It’s boiling!”

Ord could feel the heat seeping up through the floor of the ship. He had to ignore the urge to squirm and shift his feet to get away from the rising temperature. “Kuth can you still see the way?”

“Yes!” answered the gnome, as he peered ahead. “Push port! Port!”

Though his back was turned to the light Ord could feel its intensity and knew Kuthanit would go blind if he stared to long into the sun.

There was a sudden halt, as though they’d ground into a sandbar that threw Ord back to the deck. “What happened?”

“We’re stuck on something,” answered Harmen as he and Ynae struggled to push the oar through the water.

Ord got back to his own oar and pushed as well but found himself struggling just as much. It was like trying to row through mud. When he lifted the oar free of the water he learned it was not mud at all. The oar steamed as molten gold ran down its length, like an avalanche of burning light. A thin stream of it the blazing metal slithered down the oar to bite into his fingers and drag a howl of pain from his lips.

“How much further?” asked Ord.

Kuthanit responded with a cough. The steam had grown sweltering, suffocating. “Not far I think--”

They lurched forward, all resistance gone.

Ord rose from his seat and looked around, but they were simply sitting in a boat on cooling waves. The Golden Path had gone with the risen sun. Anguish erupted from his throat like ash from a volcano.

***

Ord was so buried in grief he did not notice Harmen's presence until the human laid a hand on his shoulder. He tried to shrug it off but the hand would not move. He reached over with one hand to push it away but Harmen countered by placing his second hand atop Ord’s. At last Ord turned to his friend, malice and tears boiling from his eyes. “Leave me--”

But the words were cut off by the pain he saw reflected in Harmen’s face. Ord wanted to curse and rage at the human for daring to intrude on his grief but he couldn’t push him away. Instead he allowed Harmen to wrap him in a hug and at last he was able to let go.

There was a time of just misery. Then, like links in a chain Ord reforged his grief into resolve. The first link was pride, as a warrior, and as a dwarf. The second link was stubbornness to never yield. His stubbornness brought him strength. His strength brought him success. His success forged a link to his wife. With his wife they had created a son. Their son connected to his love.

Reforged by will and grief Ord pulled away from Harmen and looked up at his friend. “Thank you.”

Harmen just nodded in response and turned his attention to the rest of the Champions. “Alright, what happened?”

“The water turned gold,” answered Ynae.

“Under water,” corrected Durkon.

“And boiling,” added Kuthanit as the gnome approached the boat. With some effort he held aloft one of the oars they’d used to row. Sunlight reflected from the cooled gold where the oar had dipped beneath the waves. “Boiled by the liquid gold.”

“We’re going to need longer oars,” determined Harmen.

“I don’t think we have time to make new ones Harm. Tomorrow’s the last day …” Ynae trailed off, ears drooping as though scolded before she looking to Ord.

“You’ll not hurt me to say the truth,” responded Ord. He wiped his tear stained face before speaking again. “Sasarael only gives three dawns to attempt the Golden Path, and no more.”

Ord looked at the body of his son, still wrapped in yellowed cloth. “And it’ll only work if the person has been … gone less than a year.”

“So tomorrow we succeed,” declared Harmen. “We don’t have time to make oars but we can lash them to our spears, that might make them long enough.”

“It’ll make them heavy,” noted Kuthanit with a tint of sadness and regret coloring the gnome’s voice.

A fear crept into Ord’s mind. “Bull, help me flip this boat.”

Durkon shrugged and followed Ord to the boat. Each of them put their hands to the side of the vessel and, with some difficulty, rolled it over. There was a patterning of gray-white sand covering the hull but there was no covering what they found. A wash of gold was smeared across the underside of the boat. “This’ll slow us down too.”

Ord looked at the guardian who had been watching passively during the whole exchange. Ord gestured to the other two boats along the shore, “have they all been dipped in gold?”

“Yes they have all tried the Golden Path,” she answered. “Though some more than others. Not all makes it as far, or make as many attempts.”

Durkon strode over to the next two vessels and flipped them as well. “This one,” he said pointing at the third boat.

“Alright then,” said Harmen clapping his hands together for emphasis. “We need spears, rope, and daggers. All the daggers.”

“Why daggers?” asked Ynae.

“To scrape the gold off the boat,” answered Ord as he began marching back uphill to their camp. It was going to be a long day.

—-

Only one more dawn, only one more chance. Will our heroes succeed or will we finish this tale with a funeral? Find out next month!

Take care my dear reader, have a great weekend.

~ S. Wallace