Mountain Road

 

It wasn't long before the depths of the surrounding woodlands cured Ayleah of the darker thoughts that had followed her from the trailhead. Her gaze stretched out into the seemingly endless green passing by the van's window. Mottled shades of uncountable leaves layered in pretty ways against the pale sunlight. Small buzzing and chirping things zipped through the air between trees or called out from hidden perches. Ayleah knew forests, but this one was so much grander; it went on into the distance and along the slopes of the hills for miles, climbing up mountainsides with trees that were tall and wise. It was a veritable jungle of vegetation and life, equally over as well as around them. Great pillars of living wood supported a heaven of greenery above an undulating world of rock crevices and leafy meadows.

Though all ages of trees seemed represented in the forest, Ayleah was most drawn to the gigantic ancient ones by which the road passed close. They almost seemed anchors to the passage of travelers. Old trees were numerous enough here that these could not be counted for landmarks, but were impressive nonetheless. Some even sported small inns or camping spots for those journeying up- or down-slope. Along the steeper sections where the road would become more gravelly, small saplings would crowd the washed-out pitches, forming bright little groves. Beech and maple were prevalent in a diverse and lively succession, their huge dead logs lying moldering in wet pockets of the terrain.

The heavy-duty repulsars of the transports tracked slowly under their loads, especially as the road began to pitch upward ever more steeply. It was terrain the like of which Ayleah had never known. They would climb one wooded hill, and reach what felt to her a respectable little summit. Then the road would turn, and they would be faced with another hill just as large as the previous. The engines strained on the hills, but the designers of the mountain road had been clever enough to include brief respites of flatter terrain. The road itself was a wide dirt track fringed with gravel and smallish boulders. On the more rugged slopes the surface broke into shale and the boulders would edge in, making for difficult going. It seemed incredible that anyone could get around up here as a part of daily living. Yet, there were plenty signs of habitation.

The next day, and after a few hills as Ayleah reckoned it, they came upon a small village at a stream-crossing. A wooden bridge supported by boulders in the current allowed locals to traverse around a pleasant clear pool. The waters came out of deep woodlands, fed the pool, and glistened through a broad tangle of rocks to reform in a single current on the slope below. The mountainside river created a wonderful ambiance about this otherwise unremarkable glen. A little further along there also looked to be a second bridge, and a small wooden sign they had just passed read: “Twin Crossings”, with an image of a stag's head below. At the clear pool the party came to a stop and stretched their legs. They had been mostly quiet on the way up from the trailhead, but now took the moment to inquire into each-others' feelings. They all felt somewhat refreshed by the change of scenery, and cleansed by the sounds and feel of this crisp mountain water. There was a general shift in the mood of the party from a dark reflectiveness to a practical excitement for the way ahead.

Ayleah asked Sutton about how the people on the mountainside lived if they didn't have repulsar technology. Parts of the road they had taken had looked utterly impassible for wheeled vehicles.

“Well, sure, almost no-one around here has repulsars; they'll be using wheels to move their goods around. But you see the side roads? They have a whole network of small tracks around the settlements. Often they don't even have to use the main trail much at all. Just as well since repulsars erode the trail surface faster.

“Folks up on the mountainside have a different sense of how to get around on this sort of terrain. A lot of them never go much up- or down-hill from where they live and work, just side to side a bit.”

“Are a lot of these high-elevation town hermit communities?” Ayleah asked. “It seems like one would really have to want to be away from the rest of society to live up here.”

A micro-expression of wistfulness passed Sutton's face. “It's true, there's probably a greater than average percentage of people up here that would prefer to be left alone. For others though, it's simply the magic of the land. Many people see something in the ecosystem up here that attracts them without reason, like a spiritual power. I've even heard them credit it for the warmth and success of their communities. You haven't seen the true high-elevation towns yet; it really is quite special up there.”

Sutton admitted that though he had a deep appreciation for the mountains, he had never really felt that 'thing', as he put it, that would drive one to choose the hermit lifestyle. He preferred to live in the valley, visiting the heights every so often as a pilgrimage of sorts. For her part, Ayleah thought she could understand what that attraction was, and thought a part of Sutton had felt it too.

The group left the twin crossings and continued up through the endless forest. The road crossed along sides of hills where rolling woodland fell away to one side and imposing trees marched to incredible heights on the other. Sometimes Ayleah thought they had taken a wrong turn because the road resembled a stream-bed more than anything else. In places large wooden bars had been inlaid across the path, intending to hold the roadway above in place. It was as if they ascended the mountain on long sloping steps, repulsars slowly raising them higher in elevation. It seemed that ascent would never end. Soon after the stream crossings though the forest began to change subtly. There were fewer giant trees now, and here and there an evergreen stood out proud and dark. Ayleah began to see more moss in the undergrowth, and larger boulders poking from ledges beside the ever-climbing roadway.

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It certainly felt like the hill went on for an impossible amount of time, especially if one were not used to traveling in the green mountains. Flor had been on trips like this before, but not many, and still carried some of the dispiritedness that plagued novices to the woods. Luckily he was excellent enough at his job that its focus was a good distraction – the excitement at the trailhead had given him plenty to think about besides the distance to the heights. He had made sure all the vehicles were in good shape after the attack, and could engage in repairs on the road if need should arise. The computers and internal tech of the vans, such as they had, were all still properly functioning as well.

The job was not immersive though, and Flor enjoyed as well the company of the others in the group. He had originally been riding in the second van with Bellinda and a friend of Jaen's who had joined as an extra ranger. After the fight though he had switched vehicles in the shuffle compensating for the loss of Craig. His new driver was a seasoned mountain man, incredibly hardy for his advanced age and of a demeanor that offered little in the way of conversation. Flor thought he much preferred the previous arrangement.

Bellinda could be appropriately serious, but was also extremely good-humored and an essential part of the heart in this group. Flor had known her for some time, occasionally working alongside her around the Lincoln cities. She was also a good friend of Jaen's family, and had offered to come as second-in-command for his sake. Flor knew she cared for Jaen as a sort of aunt, and saw the way she left herself out of all the important decisions of their trip unless prompted by him for guidance. It was a trait a few in the party seemed to have; Bellinda was not the only one hiding useful skills.

-

The Second Driver herself was concerned with the quality of the road surface. She knew the other drivers personally, and was confident in their abilities, but these vans were a more recent purchase and it was only human to be preoccupied with the safety of her stuff. The road surface had slowly changed from a rocky earthen track punctuated by steep drifts of shale. It was now littered with more and more boulders that, while not insurmountable, made for rough going. In some places it would get so bad that they would have to use the repulsars creatively to pick their way carefully from rock to rock up the slope. Navigating across the giant tumbles caused the vehicles to roll up and down, and Bellinda hoped all the cargo was secure. Any accident and they might be cursing the loss of their lists manager.

Craig had been a good man, peaceful and intelligent, yet capable enough for a life in the woods. He had lived in a small city on the edge of the valley, and had been fond of walking out in its green spaces. Bellinda was truly sorry for his death, and was attentive to the feelings of others in the party. They seemed to be doing okay, though there was now a sort of melancholy that tinged the expedition. It certainly helped to get up on the mountain's shoulder and out of the thickness of the valley. The air of the mountain forest had a soothing effect as long as you were not behind the wheel. They were nearing a glade where Bellinda knew there was a well-established store, and she decided they should stop soon for a rest.

-

To be fair, Atkins thought, she had come on this trip thinking it might be exciting. It was not her first time on a forest expedition, but it was her first time going to the alpine areas. She was fascinated with the different ecosystems in far-off places, and was actually studying the alpine zone plants when the window in front of her had been broken.

She glanced across at Ayleah, wondering what she was thinking right now. This girl, nearly her own age, had come from a village on the shores of the great lake. She had come all the way into the mountains, to lands brand-new to her for what end? Was it purely concern for a lost mentor that she braved the unknown, or was there a measure of raw curiosity? Most likely it was both, and Atkins respected her for that. The more she thought about it, the more the bandits' mistake made sense to her. They looked nothing alike, Ayleah's hair was a lighter, almost burnt color to Atkins's dark curls, but she could see a possible kinship. They were both explorers in their own ways and Atkins could feel the positive tension of the influence they could have on each other. Her own life had only ever been in danger thanks to this Ayleah, and somehow that wasn't a bad thing.

As they approached the glade where Bellinda planned a rest, large moss-covered boulders continued to shoulder their way into the roadside here and there. The party rounded a corner, climbing a shallow slope that rose their course above a thin water channel off to the side. On a rock just ahead, and casually off to the side of the road, sat a small person as if waiting patiently. It seemed (to Ayleah at least) that they emanated a soft orange glow.

Death

One day, during Ayleah's time at the Sanctuary, a teacher had entered the classroom dressed in a cloak of pure white rather than the brown or greenish tones they were used to seeing. As the scholar walked and turned, one could see the underside of the robe and the underclothes were of a rich fathomless black. The teacher was one they all knew, but the raiment was unusual and drew the attention of the class.

The teacher began with little in the way of introduction, never mentioning the garments.

“The topic today is one which is, unfortunately, applicable for all ages. It is namely the one which plagues us all, young and old, and especially those who would desire to remain ageless. It is the inescapable destiny of us all, and one of which we must not be afraid.

The pauses in the lecture that day could be felt more tangibly than usual.

“You here, in this room, are so beholden to this world that whether through your negligence or another's malice harm may come to you. This fact means that you are mortal and thus already know something about this topic of death. As mortals you have experienced greater or lesser versions of death as you go about living. Death conditions us, in pieces, for that ultimate fate, and to be afraid of death is to be afraid of the greatest lessons that life has to teach us.”

The skylights in the sweetwood house were only a passive grey, though it was late in the morning. Dull clouds thoroughly but thinly blocked the sun that day, though Ayleah could remember a few beams shining through later in the afternoon. The air in the classroom that morning though had still felt of the rain the night before. The class sat thinking about their own experiences of death, each showing a different place on the spectrum from solemn to intrigued. For her part, Ayleah thought about the sheer heights of the cliffs back home on the lake-shore, and those who must have gone that way in the history of her town. She mostly focused on the teacher though, who seemed to be imparting the importance of the moment.

“Life is the precious experience of which we have all been chanced with the opportunity. It holds rare delights in both exploration and reflection, but takes some work to nurture properly. If one is to have a satisfying life, one must find at least small purposes, reasons that is, to persist in living.

“Some find a grand purpose that commands a course for their life, but a collection of smaller, similarly-directed ones will do just as well. With a foundation of purpose, one can sketch a map of sorts for one's life. Our goals and dreams act as way-stations between death and where each of us is in the present, but it is important to not lose sight of that ultimate path. We often mistake the goals and dreams for the final destination as a way of tricking ourselves into not reckoning with our ultimate mortality. It is important to remember that while we may know somewhat the points along the way, we do not know the scale of the journey. Through various efforts we can try and maximize the length and impact of our journey, but we are blessed without the exact knowledge of our expiration. That moment is shrouded in the mists of the future.

“Above all, it is important to remember not to cling to those aspects of life which we find along the way. There are many things in life we may come to love or hate, and it is these things which can bring desire. Our emotions do not easily understand that the constant state of reality is a flow; everything changes in some way eventually. It is often folly of ours that we attempt to decide when something enters or leaves our reality. There are even those who teach that that clinging is the whole root of our worldly suffering-that desires themselves are the cause of any pain we feel. This leads to the question of whether there can be a life free from suffering. Death is inevitable, but how can we get there safely?

“Let us take the word 'being' as a verb state describing our navigation of the flow of existence. Most of us will admit that to simply 'be' is not enough, and we feel stagnant just loafing around in our lively energies. A desire for purpose shows us that we must 'be-toward' something; we must exist in a state of being that moves us forward along a flow of reality and life with all its numerous attributes. These attributes will flow past or through our way, and we react appropriately, attempting not to judge or cling to that which is external.

“If we are not self-deceived, we will know our being is directed toward death, and that the destination is inevitable. We need not worry, that port will guide us safely home in any weather. What we do get to direct is the course between here and there. We have opportunities at every turn to alter our place in the flow, or to take other streams that meander through the countryside. Each stream or current of life will flow to the sea, but there are an infinite number of ways to get there. If we live consciously and well, not only will we be able to slow the rate of our journey to that dark and fathomless sea, we will also have the presence of awareness to notice more of the scenery along the way. Being-towards our own mortal demise, as mysterious as it ever will be, lends us the perspective to lead a better life.”

Ayleah though of Craig. Had he contemplated his own mortality? Though they were smart enough, these people in the caravan were mostly not scholars. They had a different understanding of and perspective on life. She suspected it all came down to the same things though. As the teacher had said, everyone knows something about death, so long as they are mortal. She thought about the path her own life was on; her journey from the lake-shore to this rugged mountainside, climbing a rocky road with a band of rangers. She hoped Telon was alright. She knew she should never have been as worried about him as she had been, but that fear had never truly been rational. She felt something had shifted in the world, and felt that it was tied to her relationship with him somehow. These were feelings half dreamt, and not disclosed to anyone on her voyage to the falls or with her new friends. Maybe Niisi would have understood, but Ayleah herself wasn't sure what she was feeling. Only that she needed to see Telon again.

The teacher had continued, expanding on the importance of her topic. “Death not only gives us a perspective on our own lives, but on the nature of life in general. As everything dies, first everything also needs nourishment in order to grow. There is no answer to which came first: the nutrients must exist for life to sprout, and sprouted growth must give way for nutrients to germinate. The eternal cycle is one of growth, propagation, and death of the previous generations. This cycle feeds a continual engine of reality into which we are born; a universal balance to which we are given a tiny part of the reins. In the wild and in our tamed fields alike, we see this cycle with plants. A green thing grows, produces, and dies, decaying into soil and substrate for the next to grow in its place. Each being has its own cyclical nature, some completing that cycle faster than others. While we can see the relationship the generations of plants have with the cycle of death more readily, it seems our own cycles easily elude our perception. Humans live longer and more complex lives, lives which readily distract them from the grand flows of reality. We are not so simple in our cycles as the plants or even the animals of this world, but our greater power demands that we try and grasp them anyway. We have, through no choice of our own, a responsibility to be aware of our generational cycles and the influence they can have as we move forward in the flow...”

A little ways in front of her, she could see Jaen sitting in the drivers seat of the transport. They were at the head of the group with Sutton and Atkins, the navigator who had been mistaken for Ayleah in the fight. Though the mood was somber, Jaen's helm still gleamed softly in the dappled light of the woods. She stared at him for a bit, then realized she had still been in shock from the sudden brutality of the fight. She closed her eyes and settled deeper into her seat, listening to the soft sounds of the woods floating above the whir of engines. Those sounds were immortal, and knew not the burdens travelers listening and passing by.

Conflict

 

His brother was smoking again. He still did it every now and then, seemingly just often enough to bother his sibling's mind. It wasn't just that it was unhealthy, he felt that the smoke slowed his brother down in the heat of things. He was less capable after he smoked, even if he wouldn't admit it, and they both needed to be capable for the type of work they did. At least the wind was in their favor.

The two brothers were sitting well-hidden by a rock wall on the Hill of Elders. Behind them a grand view of the Lincoln valley opened up, faraway tall hills staggering blue-green against the southern horizon. The party they were tracking had stopped for a rest some distance away on the roadside. From the hidden vantage point they surveyed their quarry.

The group consisted of five vehicles, four of which were equipped with loads bound for the mountain townships. They had only three full warrior-rangers between them, though the captain and his second-in-command both seemed hardy enough. The rest didn't concern him. At least, that is, he didn't think they would get in the way of the operation. It had just been decided, between the two of them, that the girl should be taken into custody before her party started up the mountain trail. As capable as the two brothers were, they did not relish the idea of chasing a well-equipped party of rangers up a mountain where they would find ever increasing impediments to their efforts. The mountain townships were wild, but well-protected, and with harsh weather. They much preferred the comforts of the valley. One could get away with a lot more suspect but profitable business within river-vale society, and food was easier to come by. The man in black had said to only follow and observe so he could know the girl's whereabouts, but that would be even easier to do if they had her in captivity. Then he and his slow-witted brother could avoid roughing it on the mountain road. The girl would not be difficult to capture, but they would need some help. Luckily they had many family and friends in the valley, and a quick message would bring them to the trailhead well in time for an ambush.

After a short break they were on their way again, heavy repulsars treading easily on the graded road. The sweeping views to the right were cut off by a bank of forest, but Ayleah was not disappointed. Wondrous sheets of gold and green shone vibrantly through the depths young woods to wither side. The road crested another rise, and then narrowed as it reached a junction right at the foot of the mountain. The party turned with the narrowing roadway, and entered a deeper grove of trees. There was no more avenue of sky above the road, and the larger old forest of the mountain wrapped right around their way. More woods roads branched off to the left, and it seemed that they came to a small village clearing. Local streets wiggled their way out from a main gravel lot, though one heading east seemed more used than the rest and bore a large directional sign. The main road continued on north past the clearing, but the party circled up and stopped off to the side. Here and there along the edge of the open area sat travelers by camps or vagrants in various states of wakefulness. A couple convenience shops opened lazily onto the rough square. As the lead vehicle came to a stop, Sutton got out and, ever on the alert, began to casually establish a perimeter, gazing with suspicion at the trees around them.

It was Atkins though, the navigator of the group, who first knew what was happening. She was sitting in the side of the van studying her charts when the flexglass window above her head was ripped off and thrown to the ground. In its place was a threatening sort of fellow who seemed intent on grabbing her next. Given his treatment of the previous thing in his hands, she was strongly against the idea. Thinking quickly, Atkins pushed herself away from the open window, and aimed a kick at the man's chest. “Not her idiot! Over here!” was heard from outside the vehicle, and a small chaos ensued.

The rangers of the party came quickly to their defense. Sutton had whipped around at the sound of a crash to see a window gone from the lead truck, a man just getting up from the ground, and Ayleah wresting with another who was trying to drag her away. The ranger from the second truck had just reached the scene when Sutton was engaged in combat from his other side. Many of the vagrants had rushed the party, attempting in their attack to give the brothers time to get away with the target. The valley men surrounded the vehicles and caused general chaos by rampaging them, even attempting to loot the carriers. Though fearsome and confident in their numbers, they did not count on the skills of those in the party. The two warrior-rangers earned their pay well. Sutton, Jaen, and the second driver Bellinda also proved invaluable in their calm command and ability to protect. At one point it seemed Ayleah would be taken, overwhelmed as she was by the superior strength of her captor, but Raik managed to free his small scout craft from the fray and blocked the brother's exit. He forced the man to loosen his grip of Ayleah just enough for her to break free and use the scout craft to get to away. Once Ayleah had left the scene and the valley men realized the extent of their injuries thus far they dispersed into the woods. Sutton and the other two rangers re-established a perimeter of the clearing, making sure none of the enemies continued to lurk nearby. Jaen and Bellinda surveyed the vehicles and regrouped the crew.

Ayleah returned with Raik on the scout craft to a dispiriting scene. Broken glass and other items were strewn around the parked vans, and the scuffed ground was dotted with what was most likely blood. The attackers had focused more on creating a chaotic scene for the kidnappers to slip away than on causing harm, but inevitably weapons had been raised in the conflict resulting from the defense. The valley men had had axes and other rough weapons, and had injured a few members of the party. None of the injuries seemed major though, and a couple bandages were administered. It was only when the third driver returned to their vehicle that they saw what else had happened. Craig, the lists and manifest manager for the group, had been traveling in the third van. He now lay face-down and unresponsive on the gravel, part of which beneath and next to him was staining a rusty color.

After the carriers were repacked, and the debris cleaned and losses assessed, a small funeral was had at the edge of the open lot. There was still some danger in lingering, and all in the party wanted to leave the place as soon as possible, after what had just happened there. However they had to take a moment to honor the life of one of their own. None in the party had known Craig all that well, but he had been a decent person, and good at his job. Indeed, there was even some concern about the keeping of the manifest now, since Craig had had the best mind of them all for quantities and distribution. They solemnly departed that afternoon, after burying him in a quiet grove of evergreen and loam.