Chapter Nine

Fire Mountain

The land that greeted his eyes beyond the wall of rock was in stark contrast to those that he had just left. Everywhere and everything was blanketed in a thick lush green vegetation, above which a dense impenetrable mist hovered as if connected in some way to the swathe of green below.

The path they were on, and had followed up into the volcanic mountains continued into this forest of greens and disappeared from view several feet inside its dark mist shrouded canopy.

Richard turned to the others, only to find them pressed close up behind him in a tight huddle, as if using him as a shield against the dangers they were expecting to find.

“It would appear,” he began as he pushed them back so that he was able to breathe, “That we need to follow that path as it is the only one and hopefully will take us where we need to go.”

“I don’t like the look and feel of this place,” said Mark, his eyes darting about, “It isn’t natural, not in these parts and I get the feeling that we are being watched.”

“So do I,” piped up Claire, her voice lacking any power and almost squeaky in tone.

“We have no choice,” Richard lectured, “We are committed to this course now, for good or ill. Besides, the door has closed and there is no handle to open it with,” he added pointing behind them.

The others turned in panic to look at the place through which they had entered, only to find that Richard was right. The door had closed and had seemed to somehow blend with the surrounding rock, for it had completely vanished.

“Onwards it is then,” declared Dorina in a steady voice that seemed contrived in the circumstances.

For the second time Claire glared at Dorina, but said nothing.

Forward they went and as they moved along the path it narrowed sharply as it entered the vegetation, forcing them to travel in a single file. Richard took the lead, Dorina then Claire following behind him and Mark again brought up the rear. As they travelled Mark scanned the ground they had travelled for any sign of the eyes he felt were boring into his skull, but could see nothing, yet with every step he felt the sensation intensify.

After several minutes the ground underfoot began to rise up sharply and the vegetation around them began to thicken as the path began to narrow even more. As it closed in about them they felt as if their clothing and exposed flesh was being tugged at and caressed as the branches and leaves pressed in closer and closer.

Claire let out a pitiful whimper as the brush pushed against her, seeming to caress her limbs as if trying to entice her into their mist, but then went silent as Dorina turned to look at her.

Richard had noticed when Mark had, the prickly sensation at the back of the neck that said they were being watched, but had chosen not say anything as Claire’s puppy like whimpering had everybody jumpy enough as it was. Now though, as their surroundings seemed to close in ever more tightly, that feeling had begun to intensify to the point where he was convinced that he could feel something or someone breathing down the back of his neck.

He stopped, not sure he wanted to carry on, and turned to tell Dorina not to push up so close.

No one was there - literally.

He was alone.

Where there had been the others, only seconds before, was only vegetation, not even a trace of the path he had been travelling could be seen, just impenetrable green that pushed in close, to close.

His heart began to beat harder and faster in his chest and his breath began to labour, as a panic set in that he hadn’t felt since he was five and his mother had locked him in the scullery cupboard for stealing one of her fresh pies, but on that occasion he knew he would be let out eventually, unlike now when he had no idea whether he would live or die.

Something was behind him.

He spun around to face the direction that he had been travelling, and as he did so his vision seemed to blur slightly, resolving itself to find the path gone, replaced instead by a large black obsidian stone in what amounted to a very small clearing.

Richard took a step back in reflex, into the tangled plants that now surrounded him on three sides, only to be stopped dead in his tracks, as if he had his back to a solid, unmovable wall of stone.

The sensation of someone breathing down his neck began to grow to such a threatening level he took an involuntary step towards the newly appeared stone, yet at the same time it felt as if he had been pushed forward, for he covered more distance than he had intended to.

As Richard stood there alone in the clearing, the eyes that had been watching him faded away, enabling his mind to focus on the volcanic glass stone that was in front of him and the intense burning on his forearms.

His arms itched like crazy, but were soon forgotten as the stone began to change. Drawn in, maybe by magic, he stepped in close to the stone as a distant unheard part of his mind screamed STAY AWAY.

He looked closely at the rough, hewn obsidian as markings began to appear just beneath its surface. Grey and blue they were in colour, swirling around like smoke on the wind, and then slowly they began to resolve into strange letters and characters that joined together to form words.

At first he was unable to read them, the flow and form of them unfamiliar to his eyes, but then slowly they began to resolve into ones that he could.

They were in a flowery, dreamy script and as he spoke them aloud they seemed to flow from his mouth to their own, hypnotic tempo:

“None who enter uninvited,

Through the gate of stone,

Ever see the ones they love,

Or ever journey home:

Richard of the race of man

For you to trespass here,

There will be a price to pay

For you perhaps too dear:

You seek our help to travel north

Through lands that are locked in ice,

But to help you find the Knight in Black

Too dear, maybe our price:

Receive our help and forsake your life

As one becomes the many,

Find the Knight in Black you shall

And answers too a plenty:

If you choose to stay your path,

Place your hands upon the stone,

But remember words spoken here,

You shall forever be alone.”

As he finished reading aloud the words before him, two palms, glowing with an inner blue light, began to take shape on the flat surface of the obsidian, one on each side.

Even though he knew that this was a land of magic, Richard had been taken aback by the fact that his name had appeared on the rock, and the fact that they knew why he had come here uninvited.

“I have no choice, my path is set, no matter the cost,” he said aloud to the creatures he could feel, but not see around him, hiding in the dense, darkness of the forest, in a voice that was remarkably steady considering the uncertainty that was in his heart.

He took another step, this time voluntary towards the stone and the world seemed to hold its breath as everything went deathly still, as if in anticipation.

Richard paused, hands hovering above the glowing palm, wondering at the deafening silence, until he realised that he too had stopped breathing. So releasing his breath he closed his eyes in anticipation and placed his hands upon the stone as indicated.

A warm sensation seemed to infuse his body then, starting with his fingertips and slowly flowing through his hands, arms and throughout his being.

He opened his eyes and stared at his hands, which were on fire.

He stood there staring, detached yet unable to take his eyes from the horrific scene before him.

Surprisingly there was no pain, which a small part of his brain, the same part that had screamed not to touch the stone, knew could happen when severe burning took place.

As he stared, the skin on the back of his hands, beneath the searing yellow flames began to blister and peel back to reveal the blood soaked bones beneath. Then the flame spread, up along his arms, the skin parting to reveal the smooth fleshless bones of his forearms beneath.

Richard’s stomach began to reel and he fell to his knees, unable or perhaps unwilling to take what remained of his fleshless hands from the stone, for part of him knew this was a test that he must pass.

Knelling there in front of the stone, pain like he had never felt before or ever wished to feel again infused his senses driving every thought bar one from his mind, replacing them with pain. The one thought that remained, unwilling to be driven out by the torrent of pain sat in the corner of his mind.

“YOU FOOL, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” it screamed.

Blackness descended then, comforting, welcoming. Wrapping this thick blackness around him like a blanket against the cold night air, he drifted into nothingness.