A/N: It shouldn't still need saying, but as this is a new installment, I will place the disclaimer that all places, historical persons, cultures, mythos, music, and other such aspects of the real world, including the obvious inspiring source of the Dragonlance books, that appear in this work are used for fictional purposes, ones that I in no way profit from, and artistic liberties to change details are knowingly taken to tell what will hopefully be an immersive story. Do not take them to be actual reflections of reality; nor a reflection of ill will, disrespect, or personal endorsement on any aspect's origins for the usage, (except Dragonlance, as I think it's fantastic and everyone should go buy and read the core books.) All elements of this story, real or imagined, were chosen with careful consideration as fitting embroideries of the tale being told and are only meant to be taken in that context.
*takes a deep breath* Now that that's out of the way, sit back and enjoy the show as the wills of Gods and Champions clash and we all find out what happens When Two Prophecies Collide.
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The Prophecy of Ragnarök
As translated from remnants of the Nordic Eddas
"Someday- when the Norns, the spinners of fate, decree it- there shall come a fimbulvetr, a Great Winter, unlike any other the world has yet seen. The biting winds will blow snows from all directions, and the warmth of the sun will fail, plunging the earth into unprecedented cold. This winter shall last the length of three normal winters, with no summers in between. Mankind will become desperate for food and other necessities of life, and all laws and morals will fall away, leaving only the struggle for survival. It will be an age of swords and axes; brother slaying brother, fathers and sons slaying one another.
The wolves Skoll and Hati, who have hunted the sun and the moon through the skies since the beginning of time, will at last catch their prey. The stars, too, will disappear, leaving nothing but a black void in the heavens. Yggdrasil, the great tree that holds the cosmos together, will tremble, and all the trees and even the mountains will fall to the ground. The chain that has been holding back the monstrous wolf Fenrir will snap, and the beast will run free. Jormungand, the mighty serpent who dwells at the bottom of the ocean and encircles the land, will rise from the depths, spilling the seas over all the earth as he makes landfall.
These convulsions will shake the ship Naglfar free from its moorings. This ship, which is made from the fingernails and toenails of dead men and women, will sail easily over the flooded earth. Its crew will be an army of giants, the forces of chaos and destruction. And its captain will be none other than Loki, the traitor to the gods, who will have broken free of the chains in which the gods have bound him.
Fenrir, with fire blazing from his eyes and nostrils, will run across the earth, with his lower jaw on the ground and his upper jaw against the top of the sky, devouring everything in his path. Jormungand will spit his venom over all the world, poisoning land, water, and air alike.
The dome of the sky will be split, and from the crack shall emerge the fire-giants from Muspelheim. Their leader shall be Surtr, with a flaming sword brighter than the sun in his hand. As they march across Bifrost, the rainbow bridge to Asgard, the bridge will break and fall behind them. An ominous horn blast will ring out; this will be Heimdall, the divine sentry, blowing the Gjallarhorn to announce the arrival of the moment the gods have feared. Odin will anxiously consult the head of Mimir, the wisest of all beings, for counsel.
The gods will decide to go to battle, even though they know what the prophecies have foretold concerning the outcome of this clash. They will arm themselves and meet their enemies on a battlefield called Vigrid, the plain where battle surges.
Odin will fight Fenrir, and by his side will be the einherjar, the host of his chosen human warriors whom he has kept in Valhalla for just this moment. Odin and the champions of men will fight more valiantly than anyone has ever fought before. But it will not be enough. Fenrir will swallow Odin and his men. Then one of Odin's sons, Vidar, burning with rage, will charge the beast to avenge his father. On one of his feet will be the shoe that has been crafted for this very purpose; it has been made from all the scraps of leather that human shoemakers have ever discarded, and with it Vidar will hold open the monster's mouth. Then he will stab his sword through the wolf's throat, killing him.
Another wolf, Garm, and the god Tyr will slay each other. Heimdall and Loki will do the same, putting a final end to the trickster's treachery, but costing the gods one of their best in the process. The god Freyr and the giant Surtr will also be the end of each other. Thor will succeed in felling the great snake, Jormungand, with the blows of his hammer, but the serpent will have covered him in so much venom that he will take nine paces before falling dead himself and adding his blood to the soil of Vigrid.
Then the remains of the world will sink into the sea, and there will be nothing left but the Void. Creation and all that has occurred since will be completely undone, as if it had never happened."
The Prophesy of the Age of the Daughter
As foretold by Aradia of Italy and passed down by Stregheri oral tradition
"...But they shall make our practices an evil thing, and they shall seek to destroy us. So shall they steal independence from the people, and make them dependent upon the Church and its misguided priests.
When the Pope shall come again into Rome and establish his power anew, then shall you know the first of all sorrows. With this shall the eyes and ears of all the Churches be upon our ways. And they shall make strict laws against us. Then shall come great sorrows, for they will openly hunt us down and slay us. In their prisons shall they torture us and create all manners of lies, forcing us to bear witness to all they say. This time shall not pass quickly, for the Church shall grow in power.
But their time of power shall not last, for the Age of the Son will pass away and the Age of the Daughter shall come upon the world in all its glory.
When the Age of the Daughter is near there shall be an awakening in the awareness of women, and their wills shall be asserted. Laws will then change and women shall walk in equal power once more. And the followers of the Old Religion shall receive a sign, for the last of the laws which persecute us shall vanish.
In that time the prophets will emerge, and they will prepare the way for She who will come. These prophets shall be teachers of the Old Ways, whom many will come to call the Silent Prophets for the guises in which their teachings are delivered, and herald the coming of The Consorts who shall stand in protection of Her sanctity.
When the Age of the Daughter stands ready to replace that of the Son, then shall The Daughter appear and establish Her reign. She shall be thirty-six at this time; and She will be known by Her command of the sacred forces of Nature to defend itself from such desecration as has been done to The Mother, and by Her ability to heal The Mother's children of their most grievous of ailments.
Such changes will occur on the Earth, which the people of that time have never seen before. The people of the Earth will be tested, their hearts put through grievous trials. There shall be upheaval as families turn on one another and great battles shall tear deep wounds across the face of the world. But there shall also be renewal as the Old Ways make their resurgence and the Light of The Daughter drives out the corruption that threatens to consume the soul of the world.
Out of the ashes shall arise the new world.
The Earth shall be of one people as the Gods meant for them to be; and by the grace of The Daughter and Her Holy Consorts they shall live under the emanating rays of love, peace, and reason."
Book One
Chapter One
Ever Your Faithful Servant
Sunday, October 4, 2009
1 mile outside the base of Mount Kailash
Gangdisê Mountains, Tibetan Province, China
Mount Kaliash was not as imposing as many mountains within the region, rising up 6,638 meters and forming naturally into the shape of a four sided pyramid with rounded edges and a soft sloping peak. Unlike its famously jagged and deadly cousin, Mount Everest, however, Mount Kailash was a site considered deeply sacred to several religions in East Asia. So much so that, even in modern times, all but the base of the mountain was kept devoid of human exploration or development. Members of Tibetan Buddhism called the mountain Kangri Rinpoche, the 'Precious Snow Mountain". The mountain had many other names among other orders and religions outside Tibetan Buddhism.
Among all mythos of the regions, by one means or other, the summit was considered an entry way to the heavens. It was said that only a man entirely free of sin could climb Kailash, and he wouldn't need to scale the ice, as he'd be able use magic from the divine to turn into a bird and fly to the summit.
In the last two centuries, before the mountain became so heavily guarded by government officials, there were a few recorded attempts by western men who had little respect for "Eastern superstition" managing to get close to the mountain with the hope to scale it. Those attempts unanimously met with failure. Even if they started out on the clearest of days, the weather would unfailingly turn again them, storms rising up around the mountain and forcing them to abort their attempts.
The Tibetan Buddhists related a story of the Champion of the Vajrayana, Milarepa. Milarepa was an interesting character in Buddhist mythos, as related by Lemuel, who had grown up learning such stories. The man was once a murderer with a little known past who sought atonement for his sins and went to a well-known yogi for training to absolve himself of the negative karma on his soul. Milarepa was put through years of difficult trials that some would consider abusive; including being asked to construct three towers, each greater than the last, and ordered after each construction to tear down his work, to teach him humility and the passing nature of one's deeds.
Milarepa did every deed his teacher ordered of him, committing himself to learn each lesson as it was given. By the end of Milarepa's trials, he had managed to purify his soul to the point of rising up into an enlightened state, gaining access to ancient magics gifted by the divine and using the forces at his disposal to ease the suffering of those around him and spread the teachings of the ways of the holy Buddha to find inner peace.
Milarepa traveled to this region of ancient Tibet nearly a millennium earlier, and challenged the Champion of the Bön religion, Naro Bönchung, to a battle of faiths and rights to the mountain for their people. The two magicians engaged in a terrifying sorcerers' battle, but neither was able to quite gain the advantage over the other to secure a victory. Finally, they came to an agreement to settle the matter. Whosoever could reach the summit of Mount Kailash would be declared the victor, and if both could then it would be decided by who reached it first.
Naro Bönchung had a magical drum in his possession, upon which he sat and it began to fly him up the slope. Milarepa's followers were perplexed because the mystic sat at the base of the mountain and meditated. Naro's lead gained by the minute, soaring ever closer to the peak, but Milarepa continued his quiet meditations. And then, as Naro was nearly to the top, Milarepa suddenly stood and stepped onto the sunlight itself, and the sun's rays transported him to the top of Kangri Rinpoche almost instantly, allowing Milarepa to claim victory for the Vajrayana. Milarepa, in his beneficence, took up a handful of snow from Kangri Rinpoche and tossed it onto the top of the nearby mountain, naming it Bönri and bequeathing it to the Bönpo people to allow them continued connections with the region in place of being able to claim Kangri Rinpoche.
Since Milarepa's ascent up the mountain, no man had been granted access to the summit, but the base of the mountain was considered nearly as sacred and open for pilgrimage. Thousands of spiritual adherents made that pilgrimage each year.
Some sat in quiet prayer in a spot considered sacred to their beliefs.
Others made their way around the base of the mountain, a 52 kilometer journey, with some insisting it must be traveled clockwise, and others saying it must be counter-clockwise. And while making such a journey, there were prayers to be given.
For some, that required a supplication, bowing low and saying prayers as sacred symbols were traced with one's hands, then crawling forward a short way and repeating the process. Such a process of prayerful devotions took nearly four weeks to complete, if one was in hale health to make a marathon of it with minimal rest.
For others, the greater proof of one's spiritual purity was making a circuit of the mountain in a single 24 hour period of time. This was made difficult because of the uneven terrain, harsh weather conditions, and problems with altitude sickness. For one in proper shape, with preparatory training for such an endeavor, however, it had been recorded as not only possible to make that 24 hour deadline, but be comfortably done in as little as 15 hours. There were also the complications for those so bold but perhaps not as sincere of spirit, of experiencing mental disquiet or hallucinations of any number of varieties that would shake one's resolve and send them running away from the mountain before their trek was complete. Some dismissed those latter reports as fiction, or a product of either physical taxation in such an environment or self-induced mental tricks from being in the extended isolation of the setting.
No matter the religion or means of seeking communion, and no matter the potential risks, spiritual adherents still came in a steady trickle throughout the year to Mount Kailash in somber reflection, hoping that, like many reportedly before them, they'd be graced with good fortune in their lives or a spiritual revelation allowing one to clear their soul of sins weighing it down.
All, that is, but one…
It was nearly 2,700 kilometers, or 1,700 miles to Americans, as the crow flies from a certain valley outside Khatgal, Mongolia to Kangri Rinpoche. A half dozen men had set out 27 days earlier to make the sacred journey, having to allot so much time because the borders between the country they were coming from and China were so heavily guarded, and then once in China they had to be all but ghosts to get through to the Tibetan Province the Chinese kept occupied. One of their members, the youngest of their group at 22 years of age, whom they were undertaking this sojourn for, was unable to reveal himself or his intended destination to authorities; not without risking immediate detainment for travelling without proper paperwork, and creating a record that would give away his whereabouts to enemies when they inevitably came searching for him. Completing the journey undetected was one of the elements of his Test.
About 1,000 miles of that journey had been undertaken by vehicles switched out periodically, and it had taken two days to traverse along backroads at a quiet pace that would not attract attention. Another 200 miles of that distance had been undergone at a few prearranged points by horseback riding. The Mongolian Clan being careful not to overexert their beloved steeds for such a long distance, except when they needed bursts of speed to avoid detection, managed to lead them over that distance in a respectable seven days. The remaining eighteen days of travel was from interspersed days between the other two modes of travel, the group traveling by foot to get past sensitive areas, especially the last ten miles to reach Kangri Rinpoche.
And as their arduous journey to reach that sacred mountain was finally drawing to a close, Rhuadhán Daye was in the midst of quietly singing a song in irreverent humor for just how many miles he had just got done cumulatively walking and why he had made this dangerous trip. Much to Magie's obvious annoyance; despite the fact that the young mage-priest could clinically give himself credit for having quite the pleasant singing voice, and he pretended as though he otherwise didn't see the problem...
"...But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more..."
...Thankfully, two of the four wolf escorts they were with didn't speak so much as a word of English, so Magie was able to tell them the young Champion was singing a mantra in praise of making the journey safely. As for the other two, they knew him well enough by now to shrug off the attitude. Some of the greatest Yogis, and His Holiness the Dalai Lama himself, were known to have an occasionally irreverent sense of humor because being too serious of one's self and purpose in life led to destructive shades of pride. The young man with hair of fire and blood and eyes the color of the most sacred of stones (the latter of which was the source of their current name for him- Nominchono, which meant "Lapis Wolf') had found his stride over the last few years. It had become undeniable that he focused like none other when it mattered and they had seen glimpses of him being able to command magics that, even by their standards, were otherworldly and yet another sign of Divine Favor. And despite his current behavior, he had spent the majority of the trip following traditional procedure. They'd honestly be more concerned if the potential Ariunkhan, the "Sacred King", seemed in doubtful spirits about the chances of success for this trial.
"...Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door..."
...Magie's excuse to the less familiar two also wasn't a lie, per se; as Rhuadhán couldn't be happier to be at the end of this part of their journey, even if the hard part was yet to come and then they had to make the same journey back. With all his training since childhood, it wasn't terribly physically taxing for him to make the trip on the surface. However, his father and mentors, and even that gods damned traitor-he-called-his-best friend Lemuel, had insisted that the trip to Kangri Rinpoche be spent in careful fasting, and as much meditation as possible...
"...Da da da (da da da)
Da da da (da da da).
Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da..."
...He was really bloody hungry. If there weren't five people present, watching his every move and making sure he stuck to this borderline starvation regimen, he'd be sorely tempted to hunt himself down the first animal he could find and possibly skip cooking it just to get the meat in his stomach all the faster. He could hardly wait to break his fasting once this was over...
"Da da da (da da da)
Da da da (da da da)
Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da…"
...And despite running through his mental exercises as devotedly as he could for an entire lunar cycle, he hadn't experienced any visits from The Three. Not even a brush of their presence to confirm that this journey would please them.
Even still, he was here, because this would secure (for this region of the continent, anyway) recognition of his status and rights to command the servants of the Gods of Light and Dark and coordinate their efforts when it came time to push back against their enemies. This was the next step to prove to the Gods he was worthy of being Consort to The Daughter…
"…When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you…"
…Consort to that enticing vixen with hair kissed by The Mother and eyes of Starlight and Shadows; who had been tormenting his sleep with dreams of soft curves adorned in the colors of the sky at nightfall and undulating like waves of the sea, and then bared piece by piece and writhing beneath him as he found out what magic made flesh tasted like…
"…And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you…"
…Only to wake up and find those desires immensely unfulfilled; and in almost three years there hadn't been a woman within hundreds of miles who could get a proper rise out of him because they weren't Her…
"…When I go out (when I go out) well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you…"
…That bewitching maiden with the sweetest smile on those delicious looking lips, and had an air of pure and untamed vibrance as a reflection of Nature itself; whose mere image had utterly unmanned him in one fateful instant, and whose name he still hadn't been permitted to learn…
"…And when I come home (when I come home) yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you…"
…Because names had power and if he knew Her name he might at least be able to scry for her and watch her as he liked or, preferably, sneak away from his training and go to the States to track her down. No, that couldn't be allowed. It wasn't time yet; he hadn't proven himself worthy of claiming Her…
"I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you…"
…Oh, how he resented and desired that damnable woman who had taken up residence in his head for the last 2 years, 9 months, 17 days and, judging by the fact the sun was minutes from being completely set, 12hours and about 15 minutes... He could find respite in his studies, whether martial or magical; but whenever he tried to take a break, his mind was soon wandering to Her and longing to find out if she'd be able to provide him with relief by fulfilling all the fantasies he had piling up.
"…But I would walk 500miles…"
…She better be worth all this damnable trouble…
"…And I would walk 500more…"
…Because thoughts of Her were driving him absolutely fucking insane…
"Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles…"
…And he barely knew anything about Her…
"…To fall down at your door…"
…Bloody Magie and his damned Yule "gift"…
"…Da da da (da da da)..."
...More like poison in a devastatingly beguiling packaging...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...And he was the fool who was craving downing the whole toxic bottle after just a whiff made him this ill...
"...Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da…"
...Gods above did he want to find out what that smooth creamy skin tasted like...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...And just how soft it would feel beneath his hands...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...Oh, he was going to make that divine minx pay for this someday...
"...Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da..."
...When he finally managed to properly awaken his powers, the first thing he was going to do was create a cozy little dimension between moments in time where they wouldn't be disturbed...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...And then, goddess or not, he was going to make Her come to understand what sort of torment he was being put through right now...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...Every excruciating minute, he was going to return onto Her threefold to bring her to the edge of madness...
"...Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da..."
...Watch Her be the one to tremble with unsatiated need, watch that luscious form writhe in increasing desperation for satisfaction just out of reach...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...Hear those precious rosy lips make a rhapsody of his name; praying, begging, in every note her divine voice could reach, for relief...
"...Da da da (da da da)..."
...He wasn't going to give Her a release until he was absolutely certain that she'd be stumbling back to her duties with her thoughts as much of a tangle of anticipation for her next fix as he had been for her...
"...Da da da dun..."
"Rhuadhán," Magie's quiet voice cut over the younger magic-user's preoccupied singing, drawing his attention. "We're going to be in the hearing distance of guards within the next minute. I'm expending enough magic to keep us from sight; I'm not also keeping you from being heard."
Rhuadhán heaved a sigh and gave a mocking salute. "Right. Time for Stealth Mode. On it like a car bonnet."
Magie gave him the look that said the mentor was considering strangling him.
Rhuadhán arranged his face into an appropriately penitent expression; causing the dark man to give a disdainful snort and shake of his head because Magie knew him too well to actually buy it. Sarcastic as the reply might have been, the young Champion did turn his focus towards walking in silence, making sure the bag over one shoulder didn't rustle about.
Making it past the small outposts of guards ended up being an easy enough endeavor for the six of them. Magie's concealment spell, charitably being utilized for this part of their trip so the apprentice could save his magic for the solo leg of his Test, kept them from sight; and the wolves brought as guides and witnesses for the results of this Test were every bit as stealthy in their movements as their two western wards.
Rhuadhán's sapphire gaze scanned over the mountain as they snuck past the last of the outposts and patrols, heading up the path towards the northern entrance of the roughly delineated footpath that circled around the mountain. In what little light there was from the nearly set sun and rising full moon, the grey slopes appeared a muted blue, and they were were ringed in permanent blankets of snow and ice, giving it the appearance of a fine piece of lapis lazuli or sodalite. To those who believed in omens, that was a propitious one for their purposes being here, as was the clear weather holding out.
Rhuadhán found himself wishing Lemuel was here to see the sight of it; knowing his best friend would appreciate the natural majesty of the mountain. But Lemuel had already made a pilgrimage here as a child, and the mystic wasn't precisely in the best shape to repeat that journey under such strenuous circumstances. Lemuel had stayed behind with his father and Master Horton, both of whom were getting to be too old to put themselves through this ordeal, to prepare the feast that would hopefully be in celebration of his success and get mundane matters settled for their stationary winter encampment.
Batzorig, the Alpha wolf of their expedition and a bear of a man, came to a stop as the footpath became all the rockier and said in a hushed whisper, "This is as far as we are to lead you, Nominchono. We will be waiting for your return along that outcropping." He pointed to a spot opposite of where the Drölma Do resided, a sheltered area of heavy shadows from large rocks near a ledge.
Rhuadhán nodded his understanding and whispered back, "Thank you, my friend, for seeing us safely this far." He took a step forward and hands went out, palms facing up.
Batzorig rest his brawny arms over the younger man's, large hands grasping his elbows and nearly engulfing them, in much the similar way as traditional greetings were given, and spoke the ritual blessings for such an undertaking before parting. "May The Celestial Wolf's merciful gift of Light guide your way and reveal hidden dangers before you. May The Divine Warrior grant you the strength to not be led astray by the spirits prowling in the shadows. And may The Mother of All grant you the perseverance to complete your journey and safely return."
Rhuadhán gave a small bow of his head and said in return, managing to not trip on the Mongolian words thanks to the "total immersion" tactics of Magie to pick the language up and practicing this particular phrase during their trip, "Those who walk with the blessings of The Three will always find their paths eased and malevolent spirits fleeing before them."
Batzorig gave a single nod and approving clap on the arms, then stepped out of the radius of Magie's magic and darted towards the safety of the shadows. Dark eyes scanned for signs of patrols in case he might need redirect their attention, but it was growing less likely as night had fully fallen and, even with the full moon above, there was enough cover for them to remain hidden. The other two High Priests of the Dark God, Chuluukhüü and Bilguun- the first stout and thickly muscled with a clean shaven face and thick mass of hair in a high tail, the other tall and lean with prematurely silver-streaked hair loose around his lupine face- repeated the embrace for solidarity and blessing to the Priest of the Three, and then silently followed after Batzorig.
Mönkhbold was the last to give the parting blessing- a Priest closest to Ruadhán's own age at 24, and who was earning a measure of his rights to step forward as a High Priest by undertaking this sensitive journey to and from the sacred Mountain under the tutelage of his father, Batzorig. Mönkhbold gave a hint of a smile to the mage-priest after the words were exchanged, and the unlikely friends gave each other a brief hug and slap on the backs. "Remember," Mönkhbold's deep voice rumbled out in quiet warning as they released one another, "to keep those instincts to lunge in check this eve. This is the Season of the Wolf, but so long as you are on the sacred ground of Kangri Rinpoche, you must walk in peace as the Sacrificial Sheep does. Evade danger as you must if it appears, but spill no blood on holy ground, even if something spills yours first."
Rhuadhán nodded and said with a rueful smirk, "I well remember. None of my spells for this evening are combative and I'll be leaving my daggers behind with Magie."
Mönkhbold's lips twitched with another smile, and dark eyes flashed with amusement as he gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Without your thorns to protect you, Tsetseg, I should pray you don't come back crushed."
Rhuadhán gave an exasperated groan to the derogatory nickname, even if spoken in good humor as it now was, and gestured with one hand to where the others were comfortably sitting on one bent knee in wait and ever ready to spring up if a threat exposed itself. "You're lucky we're in the shadow of Kangri Rinpoche right now. Get out of here so I can be on my way."
Mönkhbold grinned and nodded, then trotted to the others with deftly placed steps that kept from rolling and crunching the stones underfoot.
Rhuadhán rolled his eyes with a fleeting smile and then turned his attention to stripping out of his travel clothes to change into the traditional robes meant for this particular sort of ritual while he still had the cover of Magie's magic to shield him from sight.
As the young Champion dressed, Magie was giving last minute reminders to help ensure his safety. "Remember, this isn't a sprint through a field, it's a marathon over uneven and often frozen ground in thinner air. You have just over 13 hours before sunrise, but that's plenty of time with your training if you watch your breathing and properly pace yourself..."
"I'm the tortoise not the hare; don't rush and end up being too tired to make it to the finish line..."
Magie sighed but continued. "Watch your footing. Not only will a twisted ankle keep you from making it back in time, but it'll also make it hell to return because we only have the enchanted salves for the soles of your feet, which won't do a thing for inner injuries..."
"There's no services of a healer, so if I bollocks this up I'll need to walk it off in shame."
"Rhuadhán..." Magie said warningly.
"I'm listening," Rhuadhán said, tossing his pants on the pile of clothes and daggers, then shifted through his bag for the saffron and maroon shemdap waist robe. Sapphire gaze briefly turned up when Magie didn't continue and he said more seriously, "Really, I have been, and am still, listening, even though this is the fifth time in the last moon cycle we've gone over this." He went back to dressing; each precious minute passing was a minute less he had for his journey around the mountain. He spotted the cloth and that went on over otherwise bare skin and he began tying the pleated fabric in place around a waist that was a little leaner than usual from his fasting, making sure to balance the folds properly so they'd not slip and impede his movements.
"Keep an eye out for the wild dogs and snow leopards on the southern fields. If they're roaming up this way in search for food and you attract their attention, you won't be able to kill them to protect yourself..."
Rhuadhán sighed. "I know. And I have memorized the invocation to commune with animals so I can herd them off the path in peace if they're blocking my way overly much in more treacherous areas."
"That will work for a solitary leopard, but might not for packs of dogs depending on how many there are. And you need to try to keep the magic usage to a minimum…"
"So that I have enough for the big finale. I can't afford to draw even more attention to myself from potentially hostile spirits than I might already for circumnavigating the mountain at night, and waste all my reserves on defensive measures. Avoidance to begin with is better where possible."
"You'll have the moonlight for the first half of the way, but once you reach the south-western slopes it'll have gone down too far and the mountains will be blocking it..."
"And no sunstone because that can draw attention from patrols, resting pilgrims, and spirits alike, so that's an appropriate time to cast the spell for seeing in the dark," the Champion said with a hint of impatience, fetching a simple maroon dhonka to secure around his torso. "It's small enough that it shouldn't draw attention unless something particularly nasty and sensitive is in the immediate area. And before you say it, I remember that I need to save the warming cantrips for only my feet when going over snow and ice, or if the weather takes a colder turn than expected and I'm at risk of hypothermia once I'm in the shadows and making the climb back up around. If I catch wind something might be approaching because it sensed the magic from holding two little spells simultaneously, I need to suck it up and drop the warming spell so I can maintain my sight. Speed and not breaking something is more important at that point; you can cast emergency heating spells once I'm over the line."
"Precisely. And while it's the wrong time of year for the worst of them, if spirits do show this evening, remember the order for determining their nature, strength and what to do about them so you don't misjudge the dangers of what's sniffing around you."
"I remember and, besides making use of the cantrip to see the magic in their auras, I have both spells memorized and those talismans Lemuel and father directed me on crafting are among those on the belt."
"And one of the most critical points of all," Magie said, voice stressing each syllable because of the importance, "Keep your mind focused solely on your task at hand."
"I remem…"
Magie interrupted with a critical look, "Don't let it wander like you were on the way in…"
Rhuadhán interrupted back with a displeased look, "I swear to The Three, if you were reading my mind again, I'm…"
"I didn't need to," Magie cut over the protest sharply. "You always get the same look in your eyes when you're thinking about Her."
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Rhuadhán muttered, grabbing the thick silk namjar, his final piece of clothing he was allowed to wear. While traditional over-wraps the Vajrayana monks wore were shades of saffron or maroon or a combination of both, depending on the occasion, this one was a molted patchwork of earthen tones that would hide the more traditional robes he otherwise wore and help him blend in against the mountainside to decrease his chances of being spotted by casual viewing from further out patrols.
"Yours, for being undisciplined," Magie said assuredly.
Rhuadhán gave a snort of disagreeing laughter. "I'll keep my mind where it needs to be. I always do when I'm working."
"Yes, but this isn't a normal mission," Magie reminded him. "The forces of the mountain will be trying to test you in all manner of ways. The more your mind wanders, the more you give them to work with, and subsequently the greater your chances for something going awry."
"I know that, Magie," Rhuadhán drawled out in frustration. "Unless I need to do spellwork, I'll be mentally chanting the mantras Lemuel taught me to keep my mind like a white noise to probing."
"And while you need to watch the magic usage, if it seems you're cutting it too close but you're not far off…"
"That's when it's okay to break out the Time magic to speed my movements…" Namjar in place around his shoulders and draping down to his knees, he grabbed his belt of spell catalysts and various talismans to compensate for his limited spellcasting capability at this age, which was the solitary piece of equipment he was allowed to bring. "…because if hostile spirits sense it and give chase at that point, it won't matter because you and the others can handle things the moment they follow me over the line."
Magie nodded in agreement. "As long as you make it over the finish line before sunrise, anything that comes after is moot. And the same goes for guards if you can't evade them by other means, and especially if they're carrying guns. Just get over the line and we'll handle things without breaking Kangri Rinpoche's no-killing rule."
"And it's not cheating to give myself the boost because it's my own power, not an outside stimulant like drugs; nor did you five help me while on the trail around."
Magie nodded again, sardonic smirk forming. "Precisely, Master."
"Careful, Magie," Rhuadhán said with a mirroring smirk. "You almost sounded like you meant the title that time."
"Well, you're a few steps closer to actually deserving it these days, but you're not there yet."
Rhuadhán gave another snort of laughter. "If that's all, I'm going to get moving now."
"Just the last thing. If, Gods forbid, you're in such a desperate situation that your death seems unavoidable and imminent…"
"Send up the magic flare and you'll appear to pull me out. Embarrassing and frustrating as it would be to not finish, it's not worth my life if it turns out I jumped into this too early and need to try again later when I have more magic at my disposal."
Magie gave a nod. "I believe you're ready for this, but things can always take a sudden turn into the unexpected."
"Aww, Magie," Rhuadhán said mockingly, affecting a dopey grin and one hand going to his cheek to feign shock. "You try to act so mean but you really do care!" He had to duck a swipe meant to cuff him in the back of his head.
"I just know we can't afford for you to act like a prideful fool and get yourself dead," Magie said with a scowl. "If you're not serious about doing this, then just say so and we can go home."
Rhuadhán's eyes narrowed as he said immediately with immovable resolve, "Bugger off with that, Magie. I'll take my challenge of this barefoot jog over stony ground and ice to reach a temporarily enlightened state through an acceptance and transcendence of pain, and trying to avoid whatever beasties and things that go bump in the night in the process, so I can make an almost impossible single-evening deadline and be ready to ride the first rays of sunshine to the top of a mountain, with my bloody feet probably dripping the whole way. Come morning, I'm claiming my crown awaiting at the top, and will be that much closer to claiming everything else promised to me."
Magie sighed and simply said in farewell, "You already know you walk with the blessings of The Three, so travel with your head held high and your thoughts on your own matters, and I'll hopefully see you returning before dawn."
With that final blessing given, the young Champion started off down the path, trying to pick out a path of sandy spots, or at least flatter and larger stones, to traverse. When he was out of hearing range of his mentor, he muttered, "This is going to be agony come morning, even with conditioning my feet like we did the last three months, and no matter how good Lemuel and Khishigmaa's concoction is... Milarepa had it easy by comparison, and he had the penance to make of being a gods damned murderer! I kill when it's my duty, and might get a bit testy, but I've never killed someone in cold blood. I'm a fucking saint by comparison! ...I swear, She better taste like ambrosia itself, and have at least half the personality as looks to keep her entertaining between shags, or I'm going to be eternally pissed at you Three for not delivering as promised…" The next words, he doubted would be heard by the one they were meant for, but he still said resentfully, "The things I have to put myself through for you… You better fall to your knees when I finally see you and thank me in all the right ways with nothing but the sincerest enthusiasm for these sacrifices I'm making, or I'll make sure you wish you had…" And it was only after he had his last comments on the subject that he turned his focus inwards and the mantras Lemuel taught him started in his mind.
Rhuadhán might have thought he was out of hearing range, but an elf's hearing is quite a bit better than a human's.
Dalamar sighed and shook his head, then went to join the wolves in wait for the results of his Shalafi's attempt to pass this critical Test. Knowing him, he'd manage to pass this. But because he knew Raistlin so well, the dark elf was fairly certain that, despite all their preparations, his Shalafi would still find a way to end up in a dramatic situation in the process. Because he was a veritable magnet for trouble, yet somehow always came out on top because his skills were what they were and Luck or Fate seemed to always favor him.
And Dalamar was counting on that impossibly sly bastard surviving all this because, powerful as he had become through his own studies, there were still areas of magic he hadn't been able to master, some he couldn't even begin to touch. It had come to his attention just how much he had still to learn. And Raistlin was the only teacher remaining above him; outside the Gods themselves. If his Shalafi went and got himself killed now, as he currently was, the chance to receive such tutelage would be lost for who knew how long until the next time the Master of Magic was allowed to reincarnate. The dark elf would rip his hair out with frustration if that came to pass.
The Master of Time needed to survive, and become whole again; and then he owed his faithful apprentice some lessons for all the bullshit he had put up with while babysitting him in such states.
At least there weren't any liches to worry about for this particular Test, so that was something to be grateful for.