Chapter V
Journey to the Crystal Mountains
By midday Achil and Nishga had reached the River of the Rising Serpent that ran along the border of the Misty Marsh, like most rivers it was deep in parts, shallow in others, reeds clung to its sides where could be heard the croaking of frogs and the buzzing of insects. They had decided to follow it as it wound its way slowly across Osgaroth. They stopped for a time making a small fire. Achil then waded into its glittering cold waters, while Nishga worked on replacing some loose studs to his shield. The soft wind brushed against the short grasses, which gleamed with an emerald glow, giving even more vibrancy from recent rains. The sky, now ocean blue stretched unencumbered to the horizon, wisps of cloud like veils caught in the wind, peacefully kept the sky company. The only sound was a soft tapping, as Nishga worked on her craft.
Achil stood silent and still, barely breathing, slowly reaching down. His hands shimmered within the water as though they had become unreal, almost dreamlike. The trap was set and ready to be sprung; he would catch any fish that unwittingly wandered within the frame of his grasp. As his hands were about to close Nishga called out, making him not only lose the fish but his balance. He tumbled back into the wash landing on his rump; only to jump back up again covered from head to foot in the cold icy water. Achil stood there choking, coughing and spitting out what had been swallowed.
Nishga tried unsuccessfully not to laugh; she had just wanted to know if he would like her to put a design on the shield. Achil looked at her in disbelief, told her to do whatever she pleased, and got back to the matter in hand, trying to catch lunch. He once more waited as a large fish swam toward him; its slow cumbersome frame was large enough to feed four let alone two. This time there would be no mistakes. Achil would use another approach, he shouted to Nishga to pass him his sword, which she duly did. On receiving his sword in one motion using it as a harpoon he swung it round and down, piercing the fish; it struggled briefly before its life gave out. They would have fish that afternoon and that evening too. Achil cleaned and gutted it, placing the fish on a spit. Slowly turning it, watching its body glaze and brown, making it appear like rough leathered skin. When it was nicely toasted he added some herbs for flavour, cut a piece off, and passed it to Nishga to try. As she bit deeply into the fish, it melted in her mouth. The taste of it delighted her senses, the flavour forcing its way to the back of her throat. She smiled truly pleased and surprised by his cooking. Nishga stayed by the river paddling her feet in the cool water. In the calm of where they were, communication seemed an unnecessary unnatural excess. It was a sharp contrast to the dead quiet that occurred when escaping the menace of the forest. Even while at the Gypsy camp they had barely said more than a passing sentence to one another. But now the silence was brought on by contentment rather than fear and uncertainty. He plucked a little of the long grass from the ground and chewed it. It was soft, sweet and fresh, as it should be, since unfortunately some animal had taken time to pass water over it. Achil duly spat the grass back out, and flushed his mouth out in the river. After that, he sat back down next to Nishga, and stared across the vast lowlands. Achil realised that he still knew very little about his travelling companion, apart from her chosen trade, which he felt unusual for a woman.
“So tell me why is it you're so intent on reaching the Dragon People?” enquired Achil. "What makes you so determined to get to their city?”
She looked perplexed as though to talk of the subject might cause her embarrassment.
“It's difficult to explain,” said Nishga. “I feel I am being drawn there; for what purpose I do not know. I wanted to settle there as a smithy, but now I’ll have to find a sponsor to get the tools I need.”
Achil was surprised by her suggestion. “Well let's see according to Tirana you have a special gift, and you still want to be a smithy. Am I missing something here?”
She had completely forgotten about her new abilities; taking the crystal from around her neck and holding it up. It reflected a multitude of colours onto her face.
“You know,” said Nishga. “I don’t think I truly understand its use yet, but I know one thing, since I received it, things haven't changed that much.”
“Not yet maybe, but I think you will be casting soon enough, and not with a hammer and anvil,” said Achil more gravely.
Nishga smiled and pushed Achil playfully, she gaped, open mouthed, as her companion who had been seated precariously at the river's edge, lost his balance by the bank and fell into the river.
Achil climbed back onto the bank laughing, grabbed his bag and disappeared behind a bush to change out of his wet tunic and breeches; he called back, and thanked her as his clothes had needed a wash for some time. Joining Nishga once more by the bank, and standing by her side, they stared into the distance. Ahead of them beyond the undulating lands and sea of tall grasses were two mountainous peaks, rising out of the wilds, as though they were the ravenous teeth of the land, even from where they were, they seemed menacing to look upon. These were the mountains beneath which lay the Misty Vale.
“You know Nishga you are a bit of an enigma,” said Achil. “I simply can’t work you out. You know what you want. Which is to get to the Dragon People of Osgaroth, but you don’t know why. You still want to be a smithy, but you can be so much more, and by that I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a smithy. You have lived and struggled on your own, survived in a hostile world that would have swallowed up a lesser person, and yet here you are with me, clearly not needing my help or company for that matter. And the contradiction is that I simply couldn’t imagine you being a solitary person, and the way you care for others is in a manner which does not bare any relationship to someone who has spent their life fending for themselves. You also seem at times both innocent and yet knowledgeable, both vulnerable and yet strong willed. As I say you’re an enigma.”
Achil kicked off his shoes and began to paddle his feet in the cool water.
“I guess most people know their purpose in life, whereas I have been looking for mine,” replied Nishga.
"You know what Nishga, that's not true, people may think they know why they are here, and what they are doing, but that's often not the case, and it becomes a shock to them when they wake up one day, and ask themselves, that very question: as to whether or not what they are doing with their lives has any meaning for them? You've questioned the life you've led at an earlier age than most. And by that I mean you found you were not content with your life, and so you had the courage to alter it. A lot of people, even if they are discontented still refuse to change, just because there is security in doing what they know, rather than face an unknown challenge that holds the fear of failure and hardship."
"Then let's see if this Crystal can help us see into our future," Nishga held it aloft, as she did so it began to answer her call; her face went still, pale, her eyes widened and glazed, she seemed to become distant. “Achil becomes a close friend to the Dragon people at a heavy cost, as two are found and one is lost.”
She appeared mesmerised, the crystal in her hand pulse with energy.
Achil felt a deep chill run through him, as though ice were running down his back. He put his hand out, gesturing for her to stop.
“Right that’s enough, what you are doing is a bit too freaky for me,” said Achil, in a half serious, half joking manner.
Nishga shook her head as if woken from a trance. She looked at him confused by what had just occurred, placed her hand on her head and breathed in deeply drawing herself back to the moment; she then looked up smiling once more as if nothing had happened. Achil stared at her; the fresh faced youth in front of him had lost some of her veneer. Her bright rose tinted complexion had turned quite pale. Achil thought better than to voice his concerns for her at that time, especially since he did not truly understand what had just happened.
Nishga put her hands into the river and rinsed them; wiping them on the long dry grass.
“So Achil would you lik
e to see the symbol I put on your shield?” asked Nishga.
Achil nodded, “Let's see it then. Is it say, a mighty dragon."
Nishga shook her head.
“I know,” said Achil, “is it the face of a lion?”
Nishga shook her head again.
“Okay, let's see,” said Achil, “knowing you, it's something like a hammer and an anvil.”
Nishga turned the shield round.
“A smiley face!” Achil choked, “Oh that’s just great, I can hear the bards sing my name. Remember the tale of Achil the worrier from Findolin, whose enemies died laughing.”
Nishga chuckled to herself, “Well you could have the bravest smile on the battlefield.
Achil folded his arms in consternation, “Very funny, but what is it really.”
She then took away the leather cover she had placed over the shield and revealed beneath it the impression of a hawk hovering over a crown .
Achil looked at it, and took the shield from Nishga: he both admired the artistry of it, and its personal significance.
“This is perfect. Thank you Nishga.”
He reached over and gave her a big hug.
Nishga also felt quite pleased, “I know that Findolin is built on a large plateau like an eyrie, and I believe the hawk has some symbolic value to you. There’s something else, I would like to do as well.”
She placed her hands on the shield. The crystal around her neck began to glow; energy seemed to leave her body and surround the shield and then disappear into it.
Achil's eyes glinted warily by such an unexpected display of power. A feeling of concern came over him. Nishga was beginning to show traits that should perhaps remain hidden for the moment.
“Nishga,” said Achil. “I thank you very much for what you have done, but when did you learn to do that?”
“Tirana,” said Nishga, “told me a protective spell before she left, and showed me how to use it.”
“Perhaps you should not so readily use such powers,” said Achil.
“Why?” said Nishga, “Does the use of my power threaten you? Is this a note of jealousy? That I have such powers and you do not.”
Achil was surprised by her sudden change of tone; it was now time to confront his young companion regarding her new strengths.
“Not at all but I’ve seen power, and strength and they've changed many a person's view of the world,” said Achil. “You saw the way those Witches behaved, they held captive, in chains, creatures of the forest. They were willing to kill you for whatever insidious ends. What I‘m trying to say is, that sometimes such a gift as you have undoubtedly been given, carries a heavy responsibility. You have a duty to others. A weak person would use such a gift only to help themselves. After all anyone who is strong can subject others to their will, but true strength is being strong and not doing that, its having self control.”
“But what if I am forced to use my power?” cried Nishga.
“Look Nishga that's not a problem if it's in defence of those you love, or if it is for the right reasons,” said Achil. “But be aware, it is possible for an individual to justify anything, even the Gods do so, especially when they commit acts of brutality. And they do so claiming that they were forced to do so or that they had the right to do so or that they had no choice, but what people are really showing is how much they are governed by their own self-interest, their own pride. That is why we need to adhere to codes of justice that we all know well. And those codes stem from how we would wish to be treated by others. In the end if we would like compassion, mercy and love for ourselves, then who are we to deny the same to others. If we did, we would be no better than the first two Witches we encountered in the forest. Remember when people try to bend others to their own will, for their own personal gain are just setting themselves up to be equal to the Gods. They do so not because they should, but because they can, and the only power they have got is to prey on the weak, and vulnerable, and that type of power is an illusion. Let me put it to you like this. There was a man who had a servant, and every morning he would harshly treat that servant, thinking that he had grown quarrelsome and stubborn because he would not do as he wanted. So he took to beating him with a birch. So tell me Nishga what would you do if every morning you were beaten?”
“Well of course I would become resentful and probably a more difficult person to deal with,” said Nishga.
“Exactly,” replied Achil. “One day as the man stood behind his servant, the servant kicked out at him, flinging him across the field. The man was bruised badly. As he got to his feet he remonstrated with the servant saying, ‘why have you done this? Don’t I give you more than enough food to eat, a warm stable at night to rest in.’ And the servant replied, 'You do give me these things, but not because you care for me, otherwise you would not punish me so cruelly. You give me food and shelter because of what you want to get out of me. You know that if you did not give me those things then I would grow weak and die and would not be able to plough your field or take your goods to market. Everything you have done for me has been so that you can better your own situation. Surely then it becomes fair that since you beat me so harshly in the hope of getting me to behave in a manner you feel appropriate. I react in a manner that I feel is appropriate. Since you treat me like a donkey you must think me one, therefore I am doing exactly what’s expected of me, which is to act as a donkey.”
“I see,” said Nishga. “So are you saying that if I use my power for my own ends it would cause resentment in others and I wouldn’t even realise it? But I would never do that.”
“So tell me this then, if you did not realise you had done wrong, how would you know if you had done it or not. Nishga, the point is everyone who has power thinks they will never become like that farmer,” said Achil. “The idea is that you be on your guard so you never become like him. You see that man was not a particularly bad person. He had his quota to fill for the King, and so he tried to fill it as best he could, the only way he knew how. Unfortunately he lost sight of what was important. If he had paid for another servant instead of beating the one he had so that he would work even harder than he did, he would have been fine. But even though there was another way, he hadn’t considered it. Instead he decided to get more out of the same, a water bottle can only be filled to the brim, once it overflows, you stop filling it you don’t keep pouring water into it. Always realise when enough is enough, and when it's time to seek a new way to do something. You saw how miserable the bear was in Haven forest, and that's why he rebelled against the Witches, and what did they do, they killed him for it. Was that justice? No! So remember that being given power especially the type of power that can influence others is not something to be taken lightly. Such power as the Crystal gives you is a gift to help others, and not just yourself.”
Nishga listened intently to what Achil was saying.
“Ah! But isn’t that what I’ve done, help you?” said Nishga.
“Look,” he continued, “I know you helped me and I’m thankful, but that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m trying to say is, that the person sometimes to be on most guard against is the one person you would least expect to have to defend yourself against, and that person is yourself. I'm telling you to be wary of your powers so that you don't use them for purposes that are ill fitting."
Nishga contemplated his words, and turned to look away: as she did so she took hold of her Crystal from beneath her tunic, and gazed down at it. It was a small thing, and yet it held an incredible power, strange how something so beautiful could cause so much trepidation and self doubt.
Achil, not knowing if his words carried any sort of weight, noticed that there were storm clouds brewing in the distance, "Come let's pack our things up, and be on our way, I think the fresh air is getting to both of us.”
"It's certainly got to you," scoffed Nishga.
And with that last sting in the ear from his companion, Achil steered them away from the line of the river, and headed toward the pass that l
ed to the Misty Vale. They travelled the rest of that day in silence: the distant peaks grew ever nearer, two mighty leviathans rising up to greet them. As they approached the valley, which it was hoped they would move through unseen, a shallow fog descended, slowly at first, until they were overwhelmed by it.
Achil noticing that they had not spoken to one another for quite some time and felt the need to break the unnatural quiet veil that surrounded them, “Nishga is everything okay you’re strangely silent, not that anyone could be anything other than that in such a place as this.”
Nishga shrugged, “Yes, it's this eerie stillness and not knowing what’s ahead I find it disconcerting. I feel we shouldn't disturb the fog, it as though it's alive and listening to us. I hope we soon reach the pass. I wonder what’s really there. What new mystery or peril awaits us, if any?”
Achil had been pondering that same point, “I think we will soon find out.”
They were passing through a narrow track between the mountains. Achil and Nishga dismounted from the horse and made their way on foot into the pass. There was a pathway that led down: it was a bit of an uncomfortable descent especially for the horse, so they traversed it with more than a little care.
Nishga looked around nervously instinctively biting into her lower lip. The tension in her was becoming more pronounced, as she quickly would gaze from side to side as if expecting something to suddenly pounce out at them.
“Tell me a bit about the people of the mist?” asked Nishga quietly.
Achil began looking around also, but more so as not to lose his sense of direction rather than any feeling of unease. The mist surrounding them was becoming thicker.
“Um, what’s there to say,” said Achil. “I only know myths and children’s stories, so my sources aren’t very reliable I’m afraid. People say that they can appear and disappear at will and…”
Nishga’s head darted toward Achil.
“Go on,” she replied tentatively.
He had hesitated before answering her, as he did not wish to cause her any further concern, “I can’t really go on, because I don’t know that much more.”
Achil had lied: the tales he had heard were of undead ghouls that ate the living. He turned to face Nishga, and reached out and took hold of her Crystal, it was glowing. Achil knew that the mountains were also called the Crystal Mountains, perhaps they had some latent power that the inhabitants had tapped into long ago. He had hoped the more likely reason for the name was due to the sheet of snow and ice atop the peaks; which lasted all year round. Making it appear as though they were made of crystal.