Book 8: Chapter 19: Full circle
Soon after leaving the Tyrians behind, Martel began ascending the mountain. It had no trails; other than the occasional goats, it seemed uninhabited. It gave him a challenge to find his footing at times, slowing his progress; more than once, he had to throw his staff up a steep rise, make an empowered jump, and haul himself over the edge.
The locals had spoken true in terms of water; often, Martel came across a flowing stream to replenish his waterskin and drink his fill. Once it even gave him trouble; as he waded across, water rising to his thighs, he slipped and had to use his staff and empowered strength to steady himself.
Halfway up, he came across a cave. Martel did not know how long he had wandered to get this far. The sun barely seemed to move across the horizon, but judging by his hunger and thirst, it had been many hours. Deciding to seek shelter in the shade and take a break, Martel went into the cave.
He did a quick check with his magic, making sure he did not share his accommodations with a bear. Once satisfied he was alone, he chewed on his dried rations and took out Atreus’s letter to reacquaint himself with the instructions. With the light from the cave opening illuminating the note, Martel scrutinised the message.
Find a peak in the Tyrian mountains where you can see both sunrise and sunset. Stay from summer to winter, solstice to solstice, when night is day and day is night. Sense the flow of magic as the year turns. Watch the sky bright and dark.
Not much help in terms of what to expect, but reasonably clear, all things considered. The only thing that concerned Martel was how long he might have to stay up on the mountain. Judging by the instructions, at least half a year from summer solstice to winter. But if he failed to understand, to unlock his magic, should he wait and do another year? If so, including travel time, he would be gone for two years from Eleanor. And if it still failed, could he wait and make it three?
Martel had no answer to the question, and he realised it was futile to ask. It would only be relevant if he failed. No point pondering it until that actually happened; if he succeeded on his first try, it would be moot. Trying to feel confident, Martel packed his supplies away, picked up his staff, and left the cave to continue.
Martel walked and walked. His legs ached, and magic availed little against simple tiredness. He could empower himself to run faster or jump higher, but he could not dispel the weariness. Still, the sun was distant from the horizon, suggesting the day was far from over, and so he continued.
When he finally felt ready to keel over, he found a rock cropping to sit on. Hunger and thirst suggested he had been marching for a long time since the cave, and he indulged in some more water and dried strips of meat. His eyes began to close of their own accord; he was not just tired, he was sleepy. But it seemed too early to rest, and at this point, he could see the peak ahead; not much further. He pressed on.
Martel recalled a few gruesome experiences, walking both day and night during military campaign. This was not quite as bad, considering his life was not threatened, but even though he had only walked a single day, it felt as exhausting. When he finally reached the peak, his legs trembled under him, and he fell rather than sat down. An impressive landscape spread before his eyes. South, he saw the wide plains of Tyria. North lay pine forest and rocky terrain before disappearing into mist. East and west, the mountain chain continued. The very reason it was necessary for him to climb so high; he had to be able to see both sunrise and sunset from the same spot, requiring him to be elevated from his surroundings. Hopefully, this location would suffice; without knowing more about how to accomplish his task, Martel would simply have to see what happened.
He wondered if this would work as a campsite. It was cold this high up, and when the wind came, it bit at him. He could create a heating stone and make it more comfortable for himself, but having an enchanted object might interfere with his meditation or whatever he was meant to do. It certainly would make it harder for him to sense any other source of magic.
There was the cave some hours down the mountain that he could seek refuge in if need be, but for now, he would stay here. As the first thing, Martel put down some runes of warning. He doubted the wolf from last night or any other predator would come up this high; the only threat seemed to be if an eagle would think of him as very large and colourful lamb. All the same, years of caution made casting the runes second nature. As soon as it was done, he allowed himself to lie down and close his eyes, just for a bit.
Martel woke with a start. Not because his runes had pulled on him, but simply because he had not intended to fall asleep. He looked up to see the sun still in the sky; he could not have slept long.
He felt remarkably refreshed for what had to be a short nap. In fact, suspiciously so. Had sleeping on this peak somehow a particularly invigorating effect? Strange, but not impossible to imagine.
Martel only realised something else was afoot when he noticed that the sun was straight above him. He had slept through a whole night. No wonder he felt so alert.
He chuckled to himself and once more looked at the surrounding landscape. It was time to begin meditating, sensing the magic of the land, or whatever it was.
In the end, it took him another full circle of the sun to realise that it never set.