Chapter Two
Adam slung the bag over his shoulder. The donkey, a gentle animal, bellowed softly as Fontus gave it an encouraging slap on the rear and they started on their way. Following a path away from the ruins that had been Adam’s home, they reached the crest of a hill. From there Adam glanced back one last time. He could just make out a tiny smudge in the forest near the river—the burnt remains of their home. To the west he could make out a much larger settlement—the home of the Dagarni. Fury grabbed at his senses again, and he felt an almost overwhelming drive to run there and attack the villagers.
But Fontus had been right. Alone, it would be futile.
His eyes shifted southwards to another settlement. They were the Telang. Adam and his family had encountered them only twice over the years. During each encounter the settlers had been greeted with little more than suspicion and hostility. It had been enough to ensure that Adam’s family afforded them a wide berth.
He returned his gaze to the tiny smudge that had been his home. It had been a hard life, but every day had been filled with a joy of some kind. His mother’s smile or his father’s laugh. The smell of cooking on their small stove or songs sung in the evening after dinner. It was hard to believe it was all gone.
Fontus urged his donkey onwards and they continued forward and over a rise. As the house fell from view, Adam once again felt tears fill his eyes. He wiped them away quickly when Fontus looked back at him.
‘You must weep,’ Fontus said. ‘Grief comes upon us as does the sea upon the shore. Our grief can lie below the calm surface, but then it rises suddenly and overcomes us.’
‘It sounds like you’ve experienced grief yourself.’
‘Only those without compassion have not known its sting.’ For several seconds the only sound was the gentle clang of the pots and pans as they rattled against the donkey’s side. ‘My wife died seven years ago. It was a pain I feel just as sharply now as I did on the day it happened.’
‘How did she die?’ Adam asked gently.
‘An illness came to Prosperity. Without discrimination it struck down the rich just as quickly it did those who were poor. My wife—Elana—went to care for an unwell neighbour. After her return, she also fell ill. Within a week she was dead.
‘I mourn for her even now. Every day I still recall some small memory that brought us together. Sometimes the pain is still so terrible that it feels unbearable.’
‘What do you do?’ Adam asked, anguish stirring in his gut. ‘When you are overcome with grief?’
‘Mostly I allow myself to be carried by it. Grief is natural. So too is losing those we love. Only by accepting the natural order of things can we be at peace with tragedy.’
‘You mentioned...Prosperity?’ Adam said. ‘Is that your town?’
‘It is the city where we—my daughter and I—live,’ Fontus said. ‘My business is there. I spent many years building it, and now my daughter operates it during my absence.’
‘I thought you just sold pots and pans from your donkey,’ said Adam, eyeing the old animal.
‘This is what I do now. Matilda and I now travel the lands, selling my goods, and sleeping and eating under the stars. But enough talking for now. We must concentrate on covering good ground before nightfall.’
After a few hours they reached a path that wound through a tree-filled valley. Beyond lay a huge mountain range known as the Tellation Mountains. Adam had seen the mountains from his home for as long as he could remember, but he had never come this far from home.
‘We will cross them soon,’ Fontus said, nodding at the high peaks.
‘The Tellations?’ Adam frowned. ‘They can’t be crossed.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘My parents said it was impossible to go over them. When they found our home they came via the river.’
‘I have crossed them many times. There is a secret path known only to myself and a few other merchants.’
‘So it’s easy?’
Fontus laughed. ‘I did not say it was easy,’ he said. ‘In fact it represents quite a challenge, but Prosperity lies beyond.’
Adam wanted to ask him more about the city and how he had built his business, but the ground was starting to angle up sharply. They continued through the forest until they reached the foot of the Tellation Mountains. Peering upwards, Adam saw snow cresting the topmost peaks. The sun’s reflection was so bright that it hurt his eyes.
Fontus led them to a narrow path.
He’s very fast for an old man, Adam thought. I am much younger, yet he walks the path like he’s twenty!
Hours passed. The path gradually became steeper as the ground hardened, and the trees became more sparse. Soon, there was only rock and tough low-lying shrub. The air was freezing and a wind came up. The donkey gave a plaintive cry in protest, but continued on.
Adam wrapped his arms around himself. He was both cold and hot at the same time. The effort of the ascent was making him sweat, but his face was so numb that he could barely feel his nose.
They continued onwards. Adam paused to look back to see how far they had travelled—and almost fell over in surprise. Even though the small party had made good time and were high up, they still had a huge distance ahead! This was impossible! They would never make it to the top!
Adam peered down into the valley. This was the highest he had ever been. He began to wonder what it would be like if he fell. He would topple head over heels until he was flying through the air. And when he reached the bottom—crunch!
The path began to narrow. Soon it was only a few feet across. Adam was amazed that Fontus and his donkey were able to travel it with such ease.
‘Fontus,’ Adam gasped, the thinning air and cold taking its toll on him. ‘I must rest.’
‘Of course,’ Fontus said. ‘The path widens just ahead. Then we will stop.’
They rounded a corner. Here, as Fontus had said, the path was wider, but not by much. Fontus took out a gourd of water and handed it to Adam who drank thirstily from it.
‘Do not drink too much,’ Fontus warned. ‘We have far to go.’
Adam looked up again at the mountain. It was huge. While the old man might be accustomed to climbing such peaks, the highest Adam had ever gone was to the top of a tree. Even then he had felt dizzy. He peered out at the view. The valley now spread out below like an enormous map. It was green and lush. The river cut through to the sparkling sea in the distance.
‘It is very beautiful,’ Fontus said.
Adam nodded in agreement, but his mind was elsewhere.
We still have so far to travel, he thought. Will we ever get over this mountain?
After little more than a few minutes of rest, they started off again, and the path narrowed once more. By now, Adam’s legs were aching with effort and his muscles were sore from the constant strain of climbing the steep path. He didn’t want to glance over the side of the trail, but couldn’t help himself.
It was a sheer drop.
One slip, he thought, and I’m dead.
He turned away from the sight. His whole body was shaking and sweat ran into his eyes. Slipping on some loose stones, he half fell.
Swallowing hard, Adam found it hard to breathe. He could not rid the thought from his mind. One slip and I’m dead. And there was still so far to go. As the hours slowly passed, he did not allow himself to look up. When he did, he saw the mountain still arrowing upwards. Still, he followed the old man and his donkey, forcing his protesting body onwards. Finally he felt he could continue no longer.
‘Fontus!’ he cried. ‘We must stop!’
‘There is another widening of the path ahead,’ Fontus’s voice came back from beyond the donkey. ‘We can take a break—’
‘No! I can’t do this!’ Adam said, his voice becoming high-pitched as desperation took hold. ‘I can’t go on!’
Adam fell against the rockface and slid to the ground. He could not look down. He was only dimly aware of Fontus
bringing Matilda to a stop and pushing past the animal to reach him.
‘What is it, my boy?’ Fontus asked.
‘The mountain!’ he gasped. ‘It’s too high! I’m already exhausted. And if I fall...’ His gaze went again to the narrow mountain edge. ‘I will die if I fall.’
Fontus peered over the edge. ‘That is true,’ he said. ‘You will indeed die if you fall.’
Adam stared up at him in amazement. How could Fontus be so calm? Was he mad?
‘Then you see how hard this is!’ Adam said. ‘One slip and...’
He stopped speaking because now Fontus had started laughing. Adam felt anger rise within him.
‘You think this is funny?’ he said. ‘You think my pain should be mocked?’
‘Not at all,’ Fontus said, sobering. ‘But you see how quickly a person’s focus can be changed. You felt fear and dismay, but that quickly changed to rage when I laughed.’
Still breathing hard, Adam realised Fontus was right.
I was terrified, he thought. But my terror vanished when I grew angry.
‘You are focused on the mountain,’ Fontus said. ‘Am I correct?’
‘Yes,’ Adam replied.
‘You are consumed by its very height? And how far you will fall should you wander from the relative safety of the path?’
Adam nodded.
Fontus, the old man who had seen and experienced so much during his many years, gripped Adam’s shoulder. ‘A person must have big dreams,’ he said. ‘Big dreams inspire, terrify and give life to our emotions.’ He pointed to the path. ‘If we are to succeed—to achieve that about which we dream—our attention must remain focused on that which lies before us.’
‘But it is so far,’ Adam said, peering up again at the mountain.
‘Your goal is to climb the mountain,’ Fontus said. ‘But to climb mountains you must focus on the path.’ He pointed at the ground. ‘Great dreams are achieved by focusing on that which lies before you.’
Lesson 2: Great dreams are achieved by focusing on that which lies before you.