Moonlight Mounts- A High Fantasy Short Story by Brendan

 Part 1

Stinging air and biting snow mixed in a violent slurry while buffeting Ceao, it had been relentless against his padded frame for the eight hours since the sun had set. The towering mountains around him acted as a funnel it seemed, the wind pushing with relentless vigor through the valley and against him. This chill with the naught but two hours of sun lended  to a sickly chill in Ceao despite his plentiful layers. Luckily the two moons above reflected a veil of pale light across the valley that had pulled Ceao along through the cold for this long.

Ceao summited a small ridge in the valley, and to his relief spotted through his icy goggles a mountain village with a stifled warm glow, seemingly his destination. Kraht, a hamlet situated as the final stop before his real pilgrimage began.

Ceao’s mind snapped onto the new objective with renewed vigor, and body aching with pain from his journey, he pushed forward and down into the welcoming light of the village.

The small snow-strewn streets were empty, typical of the asocial Vodogs that lived in such villages. The large round building in the center was his first stop. The home of the Village Hekm.

The Hekm was a spiritual leader, who held no traditional authority outside of the devotion and reverence that the Vodogs of the village gave to his word. The Hekm was, however, responsible for housing travelers. This Hekm specifically, presumably quite often as pilgrims must stop here, due to its proximity to Lake Vaha.

Reaching the building, Ceao pulled open the doors and was greeted by pleasant glow from a fire. Entering the hut the warm light stung his eyes, but as they adjusted he saw furs lining the floors and walls. At the source of the light, a stove, Ceao saw a squat figure, about a forearms length shorter than him, in a chair next to the flames.

The figure had the typical build of a vodog, that of his parents and nearly everyone he knew, but not his own. They were squat but sturdy, he was lanky, unwieldy , and fragile.

 The figure, cast in shadow from where Ceao stood, glanced towards Ceao and firelight began to spill across his aged face.

“Ah, you must be the boy that I was sent word about” spoke the old man in the rough and guttural tongue of the Vodogs “Come, sit”

Ceao obliged after taking off his goggles, outer coat, and head wrappings, answering in the Vodog Tounge “I am Ceao, and who might you be wise Hekm?”

His throat was not suited for the Vodog tongue, sounding like a series of coughs and grunts, that with his lifetime of practice came to be a fair enough approximation. 

“Griak” Replied the old Vodog in a short bark, far more natural than any Ceao could attempt.

Ceao went to an empty stool near the stove seeing Griak stirring a pot of curry over the coal stove. As Ceao’s eyes grew more and more accustomed to the light he saw that the Hekm was shirtless and quite old for a Vodog. Coarse grey hair ran from his scalp all the way down his arched back, his chest free from hair, yet his age-hardened skin was covered in wrinkles and cracks.

“Would you like some food after your journey young man?” said Griak, leaning the mouth of the pot towards Ceao’s vision, as he sat down, taking his pack off.

“I have food of my own, Griak,” Ceao said, reaching into his pack to grab some fish jerky.  Vodogs needed an amount of mineral content in their food that was unsuitable for humans, and so food prepared without Ceao in mind would make him sick.

Jokingly Ceao said “Tell me Hekm, apart from theology why must we make the pilgrimage in the winter”

To which in reply Griak belched a hearty chuckle and bemusedly said“Well perhaps our faith had not considered how weak you humans are.” 

“You have me there Griak,”  Ceao said. Slightly upset over the jape. While Ceao was human, he had spent his entire life among the Vodogs and always had been regarded as weaker than them.

Griak had a kind face, and as he smiled in the warm light of the stove, the profound wrinkles on his face grew in their prominence.

“So… you are the first human ever to do the pilgrimage,” Griak asserted. Ceao shifted off his large outer coat and sighed saying “as far as I know”

“Well, you aren't the first human to hold to our faith,” Griak said pausing for a second “Does that mean you are the strongest believer of them”

Ceao took a second to think. He had never considered why he was to go on the pilgrimage. He just had lived his whole life in the Mountain Faith, and always expected to go on this journey one day. Perhaps he wanted to prove himself, show that he wasnt weak as he knew everyone thought. He shoved that though away, as it wasnt particularly pious.

Blushing, Ceao said “Well, who am I to judge, all I know is me”

The old Vodogs smile deepened “That's the correct answer child, not that your belief isnt true” He then stood up with a grunt “Whatever it is you find up there, be true to yourself. Whats true to me is that I need rest” He said with a hacking tounge “But you will find a warm bed in the hut two doors to the north when you are ready”

“Thank you wise Hekm” Ceao quickly replied.

“Feel free to stay around the fire as long as you like, but find me in the sun tomorrow for supplies.”

“Thank you” Ceao awkwardly replied again before Griak then hobbled into a different room.

Lingering for about an hour while gazing into the lazy licks of fire in the stove, Ceao thought of his parents. Far down in the fjords of the south Oaya mountains, missing their son. He would return to them a full member of the Mountain faith, as they were, proving he was strong enough to deserve their love.

Eventually, when his bones seemed to defrost, he threw back on his gear and found the empty hut with a coal-burning stove filling the room with heat. He found his way into the warm bed, adorned with plentiful furs, and fell quickly asleep.

Part 2

The next day Ceao found himself before a seemingly endless wall of pale ice. Clinging to a cliff face, it was as wide as a river and more than ten times taller than the largest tree he had ever seen. Yet according to the directions given to him by Griak it was the only way up. Scaling it seemed next to impossible, yet the holy lake was sequestered above. His head spun as he considered the task in front of him but as he reached the wall and lay his hand upon it, his rushing heart stilled.

The valley was silent save a soft whistle of wind through various trees. The sun had set, but its light still lingered, softly illuminating the frigid white snow in all directions.

He believed he could see the great mountain Hre in front of him, peeking out from behind the towering wall of ice. As he looked up at the snow-capped peak, he noticed pockmarks along the ice wall.

Like a rash along the skin of the pale ice, thousands of tiny holes littered the smooth surface. Letting out a beleaguered sigh, Ceaos felt his task loom a little less in his head.

Swinging his pack within reach, he rooted around, past the various dried meats to find his ice gear. Vodog smiths had become quite skilled at working with the plentiful ore that populated the Oaya mountains, the ice gear he began to put on made of cold refined steel.

First, he laced crampons to his boots, and then he tied his ice axes around his wrists and then waist. The snug harness would support him if he lost his footing, the straps seeming to shore up his confidence with their strength.

With a grunt Ceao began to pluck his way up the Ice, using the various holes seemingly drilled by countless pilgrims before him.

As he was halfway up he felt sweat gathering under his various wrappings, yet the residual sunlight faded away with every beat of his racing heart.

Higher and higher up he went, more confident with every swing he made with his axes, the pluck pluck pluck as they plunged into the ice resounded through him as the rhythm of a drum.

As he neared the top of the wall, he heard a profound crunch reverberate through the ice and down his spine. Time dilated around him and he saw the higher of his two axes crack out of its hole.

This plunged his weight down onto the lower ax and he hung by his harness.

He felt a second crunch as all his weight, more than that of a Vodog who would have made this hole, rested.

Heart racing he wildly searched the wall for another hole to get his ax into. And with bated breath, he plunged his ax once again into a pockmark in the ice.

Steadying his breath he sat for a while longer, before collecting himself and pushing again upwards. As he did, the ice from where his pick broke out, hit the ground below. The soul halting crack did little to give him confidence.

With more care and precision than he had ever used in his life, he scaled up the final stretch of the ice wall, and the sound of rushing water began to fill his ears. As he mounted a berm of snow he saw the source of the rushing sound, and seemingly the ice, a wide ankle-deep stream that dipped into the ice wall before him.

Scrambling then away from the sheer face that he had just scaled, he came to rest at the side of the creek.

He peered up the stream as it slowly ramped up to a large steaming lake at the base of mount Hre. He had almost made it, Lake Vaha.

Part 3

Rays of moonlight illuminated dancing tendrils of mist as they swung gracefully across the top of the lake. Even in the darkness, the Lake was entirely clear and Ceao could see to the bottom. There were no bugs or even fish this high into the Oaya mountains, only him and plants that swayed with the subtle flow of the water.

Well, save a couple of other pilgrims floating listlessly.

He was to ignore them best as possible, as this journey was to be his own. They of course would do the same, ignoring him. Yet he greedily took a couple of glances their way. They each bathed in the warm spring water of the lake, their Vodog fur lining their muscled backs wet with the rejuvenating waters. They looked as they were meant to be, Vodogs in their natural habitat. 

Ceao knew little of what the lake would do. He was just instructed to bathe in it, then scale the daunting mountain behind it. The ultimate goal, reaching the summit, and communing with their god.

Ceao felt a pit in his stomach as he considered everything. For he wasn't a Vodog. Men had their own gods, the gods of Ien. He felt as if he was in the wrong place, and as he stripped off his gear the incessant cold began to mix with his anxious thoughts.

Yet, stealing himself, he walked into the hospitable waters of the lake.

Wading in, his worries didn't immediately wash away as he had hoped. While his body grew warm with the waters of the vast lake, his mind yet betrayed him.

As bones and body grew warm once more, he yet felt a chill run down his spine. The god of the mountain, Grhau, had made the Vodogs. Carved them out of the holy mountain that loomed in front of him. He knew this was likely a metaphor or some spiritual allegory. This knowledge however accurate did not still his mind or his stomach. He felt that the faith of the Vodogs, his faith, was not for him.

His skin began to itch, despite the sooting spring water that now surrounded him.

Ignoring the itch he sighed and began to float on his back. His bare chest chilly as rugged wind glid across it, he stared upwards at the starry sky as he so often did in the long dark days of winter. Vast and near endless, the sky expanded in front of him. He saw a familiar two moons buoyant in a lake of stars. Both small coin-sized dollops of cream in the sky, evincing a familiar glow. Behind them were the stars, some bright and piercing, some small and soft. He traced familiar patterns, an order within the chaos. Most prominently he saw his god Grhau, stalwart and unshifting. Always rigid, at the rest revolved around him.

Ceao felt pulled in tide along with the other constellations in the sky. As stars revolved in the sky, so did he. His head spun, the central stars of Ghrau became the pole that his conscious mind centered  with time standing still, or moving so fast that he could no longer comprehend. This stretched within him until the moons and every star went black.

He awoke floating in the warm lake.

The stars above him, once constellations were now paintings, brushed with a luminescent blue glow. Graceful realistic figures, Vodog and human alike danced in the sky all around Ghrau, which remained a radiant light in the center. With his new perspective Ceao saw that the face of Ghrau was not that of a Vodog, or even a human, but the face of knowledge and understanding.

Ceao floated in the lake and in consciousness. He stood up in both, feeling suffused with energy and warmth that had seemingly eluded him his whole journey. He slid through the water towards the edge of the lake closest to the mountain. Small trees dotted the landscape before it jutted up in a grandiose spire.

He reached the edge of the lake and stepped out of the water. He had left his snow gear, and even pack behind. However, he knew with certainty that he didn't need them. The warmth from the lake, from the god watching above him, would be sufficient. With passing notice, he realized that he could not see the other pilgrims, rather the trees in front of him revealed familiar translucent figures. That of his grandparents, mentors, and teachers all of whom had died in times past. They stood before and around him, as part of the energy that gave him strength. As he stood on the snowy bank of the lake, the snow below him melted into a puddle. The sky above, its boundless paintings shedding plentiful light began to elucidate a path in front of Ceao.

A path that had taken his parents and their parents before him. And now it was his turn, to climb mount Hre and meet his god.

Part 4

Ceao felt connected to the world beneath his feet. A connection that spidered out like the roots of a tree, that spread through the virile earth to every other living creature. He felt branches off every part of his body, so long and vast that they would brush up against every towering mountain and billowing cloud. He saw himself in the past and sensed his own future.

So as he took step by step up the mountain he felt warmth and comfort knowing that he was not alone.

He was naked, but the freezing night air and snow that his feet landed on were nothing compared to the fire that burned inside him. He was strong, imbued with the power of the lake.

And he pressed upwards, up a mountain of impossible height.

Every step he took he felt his worries wash away one by one.

Step. He saw his parent's faces as he came home from his pilgrimage, filled with joy.

Step. He saw countless human pilgrims after him, now knowing that they could make the same journey.

Step. He saw the vodogs that he called friends at home, saw that the viewed him as a strong equal regardless of the pilgramage.

And so he made his way up the mountain, a smile on his face.

He began to see a light at the top of the mountain. A light familiar to him, that of the star, the god, Ghrau. A rift in the sky seemingly, torn by the peak of the jagged Mount Hre, now within reach.

As Ceao looked upwards towards it, still stalwartly stepping up the trodden path leading to the peak, he peered as if through infinity.

Reaching the top of of the mount with the rift stretching above him, he needed not to catch his breath, filled with vigor as he never had before. Looking around him he the stretch of the North and even South Oaya mountains. Like a bevy of shark fins rising out of rough water, they littered the scene before him. To the northeast, Ceao believed he could see the wide and vast Ien Valley, likely his homeland, where humans made cities, empires, and even gods apart from the seclusive vodogs. Yet it was here in the mountains that Ceao was raised. Raised to be strong and independent, as was the vodog way.

So, he began to ascend.

Into the rift as he soared above even the highest peaks of the Oaya mountains. The light around him arched and curved. It bent into brilliant figures, paintings and murals. He saw his life, born and abandoned by human parents. Given life and purpose by the vodogs. He saw the smiles on his parent's faces as they watched him grow.

As the scenes passed him by he lifted yet further away from mount Hre, past even the moons that guarded the night sky. Soon as he plummeted away from all that he knew he found naught but darkness.

In this void Ceao found peace.

As a child, he would have found the quiet unnerving, the darkness menacing. But with maturity he knew, darkness was not a vessel to hide foreboding secrets but was instead the absence thereof.

In the void, Ceao took comfort that there was nothing, no pain no worry. Here he could not lie to himself, his anxieties about his nature, personality, or appearance. All that washed away, he could be true to himself and others. 

But here he could not remain. While the void could reveal one’s true self. He was something and the void was nothing.

So in front of Ceao the familiar light of Grhau appeared. Pure and concentrated, it was one point alone in the void, as he was but a moment ago.

Ceao reached out touching the light, touching god.

Inside him, he felt the light expand to infinity. Within the light was everyone and everything that had existed. Filled with power beyond comprehension, it grew yet more.

He had expected to find god to be a person, an entity. No, god was an experience. The lives of everyone that had ever lived. The emotions they had felt. Their love, their sadness, their lives. It was all here and it was all god. 

He saw through this power the men and women of the Ien valley kill each other over their false gods, their differing perpectives of mortal gods tearing them apart. Yet he also saw the vodogs finding god within themselves, within the truth, of their emotions and their lives.

Ceao found purpose, to bring truth to others. As now he was true to himself, and to his god. 

He awoke floating in the warm lake, a better man.