The traveling troupe spent four days traversing their way through the valleys and peaks of the Blazing Mountains. They remained, for the most part, resigned about their task and cordial with their company. The implications of their journey were not yet internalized, exemplified by their jocular demeanors. Daks derisively called their group the “Junior Rebel Brigade.” Nevertheless, everyone rallied around the name, and the three words often punctuated their few conversations. Talon, however, who singularly focused on their endeavor, insisted they refer to their crew as “JRB” – lest someone their self-title and realize their true task. Rose chided Talon for his paranoia. She thought his concerns were based more upon fantasy than reality. First, she thought, they had seen no one since encountering Willow in Village #97, and second, it was absurd to think anyone lived in the desolate wasteland through which they traveled. Talon, nevertheless, ranted incessantly every time someone vocalized “Junior Rebel Brigade” that the other three opted to say “JRB” to mute the elder Sunsculptor.
The group decided before leaving village #97 to retrieve the ice from atop Five-Point Peak first. From their best estimates, they believed it required a week’s travel – much of it through the Blazing Mountains – to reach the base of the peak. The time needed to scale to the summit was unknown. Once this task was completed, they would proceed south following the Benden River, which would lead them to the cusp of Verve Valley. From there, they could follow Dry River to its mouth. Next, they could mirror the shoreline, which would bring them to Sporadic Island, a small piece of land lying just off the shoreline.
Their journey, thus far, took seven days: three to reach the Blue Mountains and then four to travel through the valley that ran below the range’s eastern ridge. The valley provided a beautiful landscape; its fields dazzled with the arrival of spring. Wild flowers of every shade adorned the mostly treeless landscape. The few trees, bushes, and shrubs burst forth with the vibrant green foliage of spring’s recent arrival. The dormant grass emerged from the throes of winter. Green sprouts pushed through the bronze-colored vegetation. The open landscape provided great open spaces, which meant unhindered travel. Willow first expressed what the others were feeling: “Everything looks the same. It’s bright and beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the same.”
“Yep,” agreed a somewhat downtrodden Daks. With that, the group trudged on, mostly in silence.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on their fourth day in the valley, Talon gazed into the clear late afternoon sky and noticed one peak soaring high above the others. It rose from the ground like a pathway to the celestial realm, dwarfing the other now puny mountain crests. Talon recognized the mountain crest at once. From the descriptions offered in the Book of Epiphany, the towering, hazy blue mountaintop was undoubtedly Five-Point Peak. They were in sight of their first test.
“There it is,” said a jubilant voice. Talon pointed into the distance toward the shadowy outline far in the distance. “It’s Five-Point Peak. Do you see it?”
Amazing, thought Rose, the handiwork of the Creator!
The other three said nothing. Talon, expecting to hear some response, looked over his shoulder to ascertain the reason for their silence. His inquisitive look found the craned necks and gaping mouths of his three companions. Apparently, Talon thought, they were not expecting to scale such an intimidating mountain. Daks snapped from his gaze and spoke, “Wow …. That’s tall.” Rose and Willow nodded in agreement.
“Yes, it is,” quipped a jubilant Talon.
“What’s up with you?” queried Willow. “Why are you so ‘giddy’?”
Talon paused for a moment and decided to answer her truthfully. “I am ‘giddy,’ as you say, because it proves the Book of Epiphany is true. I mean, how could we know for sure it was not just gibberish? In truth, I have been a bit nervous since we left your village. What if we got here and there was no mountain and nothing I read from the book was like what we found? What would we do then?”
“Thanks for letting us know you were having doubts,” cracked Dak’s sarcastic voice. “I mean, good to know after seven days of hiking into the middle of absolutely nowhere that you weren’t completely certain about it, thanks, buddy.”
“I wasn’t doubtful,” retorted Talon. “I just hadn’t seen verification until today. And when I see it now, I feel more at ease than I have since the day before Commander Lupier first entered our house.”
“Whatever,” muttered a sardonic Daks.
After another day of hiking, the group reached the base of the mountain. It was late afternoon, but the skyward mountain has blocked the sun for the last two hours. The day’s hike fatigued the travelers. Every step of the entire day seemed to veer upward, and for all their slogging, they made little progress.
“How is everyone?” asked an exuberant Talon in a rhetorical manner. He already knew the answer. The frequent complaints of the others dotted their travel; his question only exacerbated their frustrations.
Rose, looking up toward Five-Point Peak, asked, “Do you see that line that continues up and around the base of the mountain? Is that a trail?” Since leaving Village #97, they had seen no trails. The absence, of which, resulted in significant delays because the group spent extensive time checking and re-checking their trajectory. On two occasions, they doubled back due to navigational error. As Rose pointed to the apparent trail, the others noticed the same ring spiraling trail looping around the mountain.
“I think that it is a trail,” muttered a stunned Willow. “If that’s a trail, what is it doing there?”
Talon spoke jubilantly, “I guess we are expected.”
Rose and Daks flashed a glare at Talon. His perkiness was getting to be a bit too much for them, especially Daks.
“I really don’t think we can go much farther today,” said Rose as she intentionally changed the subject. “Any opposition to setting camp here for the night, and tomorrow we can starting ascending the mountain.”
The other three agreed but neglected to tell Rose. They started unpacking their bags and readying camp for the evening. The night followed the routine of the previous seven evenings: each member ate a small amount from their packs; pallets were set out to provide some comfort from the rocky ground; the skies were clear so no one bothered to make a temporary shelter; a handful of boughs were stacked to create a small fire; conversation was kept to minimum; and once the sun dipped below the horizon, sleep overwhelmed the group.
The journey weighed upon each person differently. Their expectations when leaving Village #97 were now dashed. The arduous journey required a significant physical demand from each of them. Due to the fatigue, they failed to emotionally investment in the others. The group remained a collection of four individuals, with four agendas and four purposes. They functioned as companions of convenience. Even for the siblings, the time traveling across the land drove a wedge between them. With each step, the wedge sank deeper. As the afternoon faded into evening and evening disappeared into the darkness, three people quickly sank into the welcome solace of their dreams. One, however, lay awake. He knew the division growing within the group would eventually be their undoing.
With these thoughts, Talon forswore sleep and forced himself awake. How, he wondered, can I bring together the abilities of my companions to accomplish more? If, as I hope and fear, we can simply walk up the trail of Five-Point Peak and collect some ice from its crest, then I worry the ease of the task would only foster increased division. But, if as I fear and hope, a great challenge awaits us that requires abilities from every member, perhaps the four individuals will become more cohesive. We can accomplish more together than we can alone. From what Talon read in the Book of Epiphany, great challenges awaited, and he knew that unless something united this group, they would never fulfill their intended task – the destruction of the Protectorate’s glowing arsenal. How, Talon thought, did we ever think that was possible? How can we levy a strong blow against powerful Protectorate when
we can barely look at one another? As the night wore on, Talon’s fatigue eventually overcame his will to stay awake.
The morning sun peered over the distant mountain range; its welcomed warmth greeted Talon earlier than he wanted. The hours of missed sleep slowed his thoughts and cast a haze over the rousting sun-sculptor. The others, likewise, woke from rest with rising sun. Everyone packed their bags and took a few bites to eat. Each traveler bundled in an assortment of clothes to withstand the thankfully dissipating cold air. Frost covered the ground; the water in their bottles turned to thick ice. Nothing substantial was said among the group, which continued to bother Talon but the others seemed more comfortable in silence rather than conversation.
Talon, finally shedding the morning’s mental haze, asked the others in an effort to address the mounting friction, “How come nobody says anything to anyone around here?”
Daks, who was hoisting his pack upon his back, responded, “Nothing to say.”
“Well said,” agreed Rose. Willow shrugged.
Packed and ready for travel, the group began to trudge toward the base of Five-Point Peak. The group walked up the rocky base of the mountain, and as it looked yesterday, just beyond the small rock now under foot, a distinct path was visible. It appeared to spiral around the towering mountain. And without it, the mountain looked too steep to climb without special climbing tools. While the spiral trail was substantially longer than a direct path up the side of the steep incline, it would take much less time. Additionally, any plans for climbing the mountain straight ahead were dashed by the patchwork of melting snow dotting the ground. While the snow covered areas at the mountain’s bases were isolated to the areas dominated by shadows for most of the day, the percentage of snow covered area increased substantially as the mountain ascended. In little time, lamented a silent Willow, the group would encounter a mountain completely draped in snow, and while the cold air associated with the icy ground covering lingered as a concern, her primary concern resolved around the difficulty of traveling a snow and iced covered mountain in early spring. While the flowers were blooming and trees were budding in the valley, winter was an almost permanent resident at these high elevations.
By mid-morning, the group reached the trail and began the ascension of peak Five-Point Peak. The base of the mountain was mostly grey rock – not terribly beautiful. The mountainside was quilted with snow-covered patches. Nevertheless, a few plants sprang from the ground here and there, but even with the arrival of spring, the mountain lacked the vibrancy associated with returning life. A few small trees with small green leaves dotted the landscape and some shrubs that looked more thistle than anything else were scatter about. The only keeping the mountainside from being absolutely miserable was the bright blue sky and the beaming, bright morning sun. The “Spiral Trail,” as Willow dubbed it, was obviously specially made. The steep incline of the mountain was leveled along its edge just enough to forge the narrow path. To the left of the trail towered the side of the mountain. Its steep angle greatly hampered any attempt to directly ascend the peak. To the right of the trail, the mountain descended downward. Should a person slip off the trail, they would certainly find themselves sliding rapidly down the mountain. The trail itself consisted of small rocks that made a decent walking path; they seemed the result of the trail being cut out the mountain’s side.
Traversing the “Spiral Trail” was time consuming. The incline of the trail, while much less than mountain itself, punished any person who dared to ascend its heights. The steady rise offered no reprise. The force of gravity burdened each step. The narrowness of the trail meant hikers needed to stay in single file line. Should they dare walk two abreast, the person the right side was one loose stone from tumbling down the mountain’s edge. And while such person might be able to halt the slide sooner rather than later, everyone seemed wary of the potential for disaster and thus opted for the single line. For reason unknown to any of them, walking in line required significantly more time that walking beside one another. The slow pace of whoever was leading frustrated the others, who for reason unknown to any of them, also seemed more invigorated when they were not in front. Thus, between the combinations of aching muscles from the mountain’s incline, ever present reality of a possible demise, constantly walking at an uncomfortable pace, increasingly colder temperatures, and a dirty white blanket of repeatedly thawed and re-frozen snow covering the landscape, annoyance dominated the day’s journey. With these frustrations, the discontent with the other only intensified, but rather than spend the day harping upon one another, the group said nothing at all. Talon, from time to time, tried to break the silence, but his comments were not even afforded a response. Talon believed it easier to coax the pebbles to talk rather than one of his companions. Amidst the day’s trudging, Talon realized for the first time: the worst response to person is not anger or frustration or annoyance, it is apathy. On this day, more than any other in other in his life, he realized the destructive power of apathy. Such disdain unraveled all the good with its hollow concern.
As the late afternoon sun began to fade behind the mountain range, Talon, now at the head of the line, looked ahead and through the peak’s cloudy haze saw, for the first time, the top of the snow covered mountain. The crest, Talon realized, was attainable. It could be reached. The top of Five-Point Peak was in sight. Days upon and days of journey and through days of sheer misery, this dysfunctional band of teenagers arrived at the cusp of their first destination; ice from the top of Five-Point Peak, the tallest point in all of Centage.
10 five-point peak