The High Mountain Court by A.K. Mulford
Chapter Twenty
Her labored breaths stabbed into her lungs like blades of ice. Remy had long lost count of the steps as they climbed. Hewn into the jagged mountainside were hundreds and hundreds of stone stairs. They had climbed above the tree line. Her bottom teeth felt numb from dragging cold air over them as whirls of snowflakes blew around them. A powdery white covered surrounding peaks, but even the snow feared the Rotted Peak.
Remy had given up keeping her mouth closed to the stench. Her body was too tired to roil against the foul rot. She did not dare look back down. The climb alone would make this trek only possible for the fittest soldiers. They could have carried no fancy weaponry or tools up such a long, steep ascension. No animal could traverse the narrow, vertical climb to carry a heavy arsenal either.
Remy considered dropping her dagger several times. Hale left his swords with the horses, favoring only a dagger and a hand scythe. Still, they felt every ounce of the extra weight now. The summit was not far, yet the climb felt endless. The memories of pleasure from the night before had long left her body, surrendered to the steep climb. She knew they would have to talk about it eventually . . . if they survived. Perhaps it would be better to die on these slopes than to lie to him again . . . perhaps it would be better to die than to tell him the truth.
Remy’s chest burned. Her legs felt weighted with lead. She willed enough of her magic into her body to keep her moving. Their water skins were empty and ditched along the trail. Her only goal was to get to the top.
Get to the top, get to the top. She chanted it to herself.
For at the summit of this mountain was the only opening into what lay inside Mt. Aelusien: a magical lake. The ancestors of the High Mountain fae had imbued the lake with their magic, a safeguard to protect their talisman. King Vostemur thought he possessed the entirety of the High Mountain power, but he was wrong.
The ancient red witches had created the amulet of Aelusien and gifted it to the High Mountain Court during a time of pestilence. Disease had swept through the continent. The red witches had worried what would happen to Okrith if they were all wiped out, worried their magic would go extinct. They created the amulet of Aelusien, a necklace that when worn gave the wearer the power of red witch magic, more heightened and undiluted than any one witch had themselves, even Baba Morganna. Anyone could harness the power of the amulet if they learned how: witches, fae, even humans. The amulet was the red witches’ insurance that their magic would survive the plague. The High Mountain fae hid it in their mountain range, where it remained to this day.
The ancients knew whoever held possession of this precious talisman would gain incredible power. So they made it almost impossible to obtain. Only the bravest, strongest, shrewdest warrior could reach it: a person worthy of it.
Every step Remy considered stopping. She knew even one long pause would be the end of her climb.
She had told Hale death was more likely than victory, and every time Hale insisted that with a red witch by his side, he would be successful. Remy heard the prince’s labored breaths far behind her. He had grumbled something about how it was easier for her because she was half his weight, but now he had no breath for complaining.
They began climbing with hands and feet up the sheer rock side. Time had worn away the path. It was no longer hard rock underneath them. They now traversed loose shale. With every step forward, they dropped almost the same distance back. It was grueling punishment, each step more disheartening than the last, but they continued to make their way ever so slowly higher.
At long last, Remy climbed high enough to see it: a black hole carved into the stone.
It was not some grand entrance or archway like she had expected, nothing regal or befitting of the High Mountain Court. No, this was a small, dark tunnel looming before them, too small to even crawl on hands and knees. They would have to inch their way on their bellies like crocodiles in this pitch darkness. It looked like a terrible, terrible idea. Someone probably designed it to look that way.
Remy rested on the narrow platform next to the tunnel, her back leaning against the mountain, surveying the distance they had come. Forest stretched out long into the distance, and beyond that she saw a distant town’s small circle of smokestacks. If she squinted hard enough, she could just make out the ocean on the horizon. She blinked several times, trying to discern where the sea met the sky but could not. It might be the last time she ever saw the ocean. Even if they survived, they would head inland to Yexshire.
Hale clambered onto the ledge, sitting beside Remy. As he took huge drags of air, she wished she had some water to pass him, but there was nothing. Perhaps the lake water inside was drinkable? But, knowing the red witches, she dared not risk it.
She made to move toward the tunnel, but Hale put a hand on her shoulder.
“Wait for me,” he panted. “We go in together.”
They sat for several long minutes of contemplative silence before Hale’s breathing slowed enough. Even as a fae male in peak condition, the climb had been relentless. She wondered how many had failed to even get this far. How many had turned back when they saw the never-ending stairs before them? Abandoned swords and armor had littered the mountain where the vertical climb turned to shale. The ones who turned back were probably the wisest of them all.
Hale made to move around Remy toward the tunnel. She put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“I should go first,” Hale insisted. He leaned so close to her that his hair touched her face. Even with the exhaustion of the climb, it was a thrill to be so close to those lips again. A flash of the night before shuddered through Remy as she dropped her eyes.
“No, I will go first,” Remy said. Before Hale could argue, she added, “This may not even be the true entrance. We do not know if the tunnel leads to anywhere or how narrow it becomes once inside. I am the smaller of the two of us, I should go first.”
“Fine.” Hale narrowed his eyes at her. “But if it becomes too narrow for only you to pass, you will tell me. We will both turn back and find another way in.”
Remy didn’t respond at first.
“What is going on in that mind of yours?” he asked, his breath skimming across her cheek. She saw the stone gray flecks in his silver eyes.
She didn’t say what she wanted to say: that she had no use or desire to possess the amulet of Aelusien. She didn’t tell him all the secrets clawing up the back of her throat.
Instead she said, “I pledged my magic to you, and we did not discuss compensation. I want ten pieces of gold per month that I am in your service.”
Hale laughed. “You bargain with me now?” He looked out at the drop below them. “Fine, agreed. I will give you your first coins when we return to the horses. Now promise me you won’t go on without me.”
“Fine. I promise I won’t leave you behind,” she said with an eye roll. But she knew it already, knew it deep in her bones, that she couldn’t leave him behind even if she wanted to, even if it would save her life.
She rolled onto her belly and began her crawl into the tunnel. It was tall enough for her to get on her hands and knees before her back pressed against the rocky top of the tunnel. Remy was sure Hale was belly crawling. The tunnel slanted downward, making their movements easier. Remy’s face broke through more than one spider web as she inched forward. She tried not to itch at the thought of spiders in her hair. She had just climbed an indomitable mountain, and yet one spider on her body had her wanting to flail and scream. Pushing the thought from her mind, she kept moving. Remy could not run; Hale blocked the way back. She could not think of how trapped she was in that tight space or it would make her panic. Remy released a slow breath out her nose and kept going.
Within a minute they were crawling through pitch blackness, and the tunnel declined more steeply. Remy’s forearms strained to slow her descent. She worried that the prince behind her would lose purchase and collide with her.
A faint, eerie green glow began to form in front of her. As she moved, she could make out the tunnel more clearly as the green light amplified. The tunnel moved into a straight drop into open air. Peering down the hole, she saw the ground beyond.
“Wait here while I descend or you will crush me,” Remy warned.
She prayed the drop would not be big and that she would not fall face-first into stone. She pressed her hands and legs hard into the rock as she crawled. Already-tired muscles screamed at her. She saw that the ground was close, the drop only an arm’s length.
Her hand slipped, and with a grunt she slid the rest of the way to the ground below. She twisted enough that her shoulder and not her face took the hit. She made a pathetic thwack as she crumpled onto the ground.
“Are you all right?” Hale called.
“I’m fine,” Remy grumbled, dusting herself off. She would be covered in scrapes, but nothing more. “Let’s see if you can be a bit more graceful, Your Highness.”
She heard Hale’s echoing laugh as he slid forward. One hand appeared and then the other, reaching to the ground. The muscles on his arms and shoulders bulged as he lowered himself from a handstand into a push-up and down onto his stomach. Remy gave a begrudging huff as he sat up, trying to not acknowledge how impressive or attractive that was. But Hale was looking toward the green glow to his right.
Stretched far out before them was a bioluminescent lake. Its glow lit up the giant cavernous walls that stretched high into the darkness of the mountain. In the center of the lake was a small island holding a large rectangular slab of stone, and on top of that stone was a goblet and a shining red necklace: the amulet of Aelusien.
Hale coughed, pulling his tunic up over his nose, and that’s when the rotten smell hit Remy. She thought she had overcome the stench outside, but this was far worse. Yanking her shirt up over her nose, too, Remy looked and saw them around the shoreline: bodies. Dozens of bodies in various stages of decay dotted the craggy rock floor. Many of them were already skeletons from hundreds of years ago. She looked at her boot, standing on a piece of cloth—it looked like a coat of some sort but no corpse was inside it. She shuddered. Many more articles of torn and shredded clothing lay strewn about. She wondered if the people had disrobed before attempting to swim across the lake so they could cross faster. There was far more clothing than bodies.
Hale nudged Remy with his elbow, “Can you read this?”
He was looking at the cave wall above them. Mhenbic, the witch’s ancient language, was etched into the stone. Remy spoke Mhenbic with Heather and Fenrin occasionally, but Heather preferred they used Ific, the common tongue. Remy had never read it before but the lettering was close enough to Ific that she tried to speak a translation.
“If the Amulet you seek, then go for a swim. But beware the poison waters. Reach the antidote before the poison claims you. There is enough to save one life. Only the worthy will reach the goblet. Only the worthy will claim the amulet. May the red magic bless you.”
Remy shuddered. A poison lake. They designed the waters to kill. It seemed many a seeker of the amulet had panicked and retreated to the shores only for the poisons to claim them.
Hale stripped off his tunic.
“Wh—what are you doing?” Remy stuttered even as her eyes moved to his sculpted, muscular torso. If the poison lake would not kill her, that body surely would.
“I’m going in,” Hale said as if she were the crazy one.
“Are you a fast swimmer?” she asked. She knew he must be a powerful swimmer. He had told her of his teen years at his mother’s fishing village, learning to battle mighty waves. But surviving giant waves was not the same as moving quickly, and it was speed he needed now.
“Are you worried about me?” Hale grinned. He was being awfully cavalier about his own life. Meanwhile, Remy was having a hard time keeping her eyes off his bare chest.
“Of course I am!” she barked and his grin widened.
“If I don’t make it, then the coin and the horses are yours.” Hale winked. “You can bribe your way back into the South and buy yourself your very own little witch tavern.”
“Great,” Remy said bitterly as Hale removed his shoes. She looked toward the wall and the ancient warning carved into it.
May the red magic bless you.
“Wait!” she said.
Hale turned toward her. She reached out and grabbed his arm, placing her palm on his bare chest above his heart.
“What are you—”
“Sh,” she reprimanded.
She summoned her well of red witch magic. She pulled up as much as she could and pushed it out into her palm. Muttering ancient Mhenbic words, she pressed onto Hale’s chest and let her magic flow through him.
She looked into his eyes. They were wide with shock. Remy wasn’t sure what it must feel like for him to have her magic coursing through him.
“This is a protection spell, stronger than that red string,” Remy said, holding his gaze and repeating the words sliced into the mountain: “May the red magic bless you.”
Before she knew what was happening, Hale reached out for her. Cupping her face in both his hands, he pulled her mouth to his. Remy clung to him as he worshipped her with that slow, reverent kiss.
Hale pulled away just enough to rest his forehead on her own. Holding her eyes with that deep silver stare he whispered, “Thank you, Remy.”
Mouth opening and shutting, she knew what that kiss was. It was a potential goodbye.
She pushed against the urge to grab him and kiss again, to convince him to leave this foolish quest now before it separated them forever, before they never got the chance to see what a thousand more kisses could turn into.
Her heart leapt out of her ribcage, screaming for her to tell him everything. Say all the words locked tightly in her chest.
But she let him go.
With a heavy breath she steadied herself and said, “Good luck,” as he stepped one foot into the glowing, poisonous lake.
* * *
She should have told him everything. She should have poured out the contents of her heart into him, not her stores of red magic. The second he entered the water, she regretted it.
As soon as his foot entered the glowing green water, he dove headfirst in. He wasted no time with quick, powerful strokes and rapid fluttering kicks. He was fast. Good. Maybe he would make it to the other side.
Remy watched with bated breath, stroke after stroke. Each time his arm raised above the water, the color in it had faded, the tone of his muscles withered. Hale paused, lifting his head, and wailed.
Remy gasped. His hair was falling out, face sinking in. The poison was sucking the life out of him, withering him into a corpse.
“Don’t stop!” she screamed to him. The sight of Hale paralyzed her whole body in horror save for her drumming heart.
Hale kept moving, his muscles weaker, his pace slower, but he kept moving. He was more than halfway now. He could make it.
It was then Remy saw it in the water: a shadow. The large black form moved under the water toward the struggling prince. Fear gripped her tight as she grabbed a discarded knife by her feet. The creature emerged, only eyes and tail popping above the surface. It was a black scaly creature unlike anything she had ever seen.
“On your right!” she shouted, throwing the blade.
It flew wide. Damn.
“Look out!” Her echoes bounced around the cavernous lake.
The creature was only a body’s length away from him now. Remy scanned her feet, grabbing a spear from the trove of discarded weapons. She wished she had brought her bow now as she hurled the spear. This one struck the beast in the back, but the point glanced off its thick scales.
The creature’s gaping maw opened, displaying several rows of sharp white teeth. The flailing swimmer who turned to face the beast was no longer the prince she knew. His skin sucked to his bones, he looked like a week-old cadaver. He was so close to the island. He needed to get out of the water and get to the antidote. But the beast at his side trapped him.
Remy rained down weaponry, knives, axes, rocks toward the beast as it launched itself forward. Hale held up his dagger and swiped the beast’s muzzle. The creature screeched and drew back, only to lash out again. Its whip-like tale swept out in a punishing blow that Hale managed to duck. The tail whooshed in the other direction, knocking the dagger out of Hale’s hand. Remy threw another blade, and finally it stabbed right in the creature’s yellow eye. It shrieked again, eye oozing an amber goo, rotten teeth gnashing, as it turned its one remaining eye to the skeletal figure struggling before it.
Hale feinted to his left, and the beast followed. Bringing up the scythe in his right hand, Hale slammed it into the beast’s scaly snout. The creature jolted as the scythe hooked its jaws together, dropping in a splash below the surface.
Remy breathed for the first time in over a minute.
Hale moved in small, floundering kicks. His hand reached out and grasped the edge of the island. He hoisted his emaciated torso onto the rock just as two more pairs of yellow eyes appeared above the green surface of the water.
“Hale!” Remy screeched, shredding her voice, as the black water snakes launched toward his legs.
One of the scaly beasts reared its lean body out of the water like an asp readying to strike. Hale held up a bony arm, trying to dodge out of the way, but he had no strength or weapons left. The beast snapped down on his raised forearm, crunching it as it yanked him below the surface.
“No!” Remy screamed so loudly that rocks crumbled from the ceiling.
Without a second thought, she was shucking off her shirt and shoes. As she ran to the shores of the lake, she unsheathed her dagger.
Leaping into the water, Remy wished she had saved some of her red witch magic for herself. She begged the Gods that there was enough magic still left in her to keep her protected. Hale and the two beasts had not breached the surface, though the green waters by the island still stirred.
She had to hurry.
She prayed that those years being tossed in gigantic waves had taught Hale how to hold his breath. Remy was a weak swimmer, but she pushed with a supernatural force toward that swirling water. Gods, she hoped that no more beasts called this lake home.
Maybe it was her red magic, maybe it was her blood, but something within her spooked the beasts. As though sensing her imminent approach under the water, they released Hale. His unconscious body floated to the surface.
He was dead.