Broken Across the Rocks
FoRoar-2036 gasped for breath, struggling to climb the steps in the biting cold. Every muscle in his body protested. He was too tired to go on. Every sense told him he was too weak to continue. Yet, still he went on, his breath shooting out in great white clouds. Gasps of moist breath, instantly shock-frozen into icy puffs, marked his progress. He clutched his sacred stone tightly to his chest. The heavy stone made it hard to keep his balance on the ice-covered stairway, worn to a slippery gloss by the constant pad of reed-boots passing over the ice.
“Can’t walk...any...further...AIEYYA!...”
FoRoar-2036 hesitated in confusion, wondering in his semi-frozen stupor if the fearful scream was his own. Too late, he tried to grasp the cloak of the Hedgie walking in front of him. Clutching vainly after the flapping folds of his friend, he watched helplessly as SaRimm-2036 collapsed from cold and exhaustion, and pitched sideways off into the abyss. FoRoar-2036’s eyes filled with icy tears, but he kept walking. He had no choice. Barely inches separated one stair-climber from another in a line that stretched for miles in both directions. Step, step, step—the stair-climbers endlessly moved up the stairway toward the castle, Maev Astuté, each bearing his or her own sacred stone. To stop in such a line, on such a narrow and treacherous stair, with no guardrail or helper except one’s own courage, could mean that dozens might stumble and pitch off into the abyss. The line could not stop—no matter what.
“SaRimm-2036...my old friend, my dear brother...if I return home, I will tell of your sacrifice. It will not be forgotten. You will be remembered as a hero of the Crowning Glory.” FoRoar-2036 had seen many such falls during his climb to Maev Astuté. Never, however, had he lost a close friend. No matter how many pitched off into the abyss, the climb up the long, winding stairway went on without pause. Mechanically, like a great, living machine, the endless line of stair-climbers carried stones to be used in the construction of Maev Astuté. The great event in the life of every Hedgelands dweller, all were called upon to make the sacred climb on a designated day in their lives.
Chosen by lottery at birth, the date of the sacred climb became part of the name of each creature. FoRoar-2036 and SaRimm-2036 both had the same climbing date. They had begun the sacred climb 20 years, 3 days, and 6 hours after their birth. What was unusual, and considered a great blessing, was that the two creatures drew the exact same climbing date and also had exactly the same birth time.
Although FoRoar-2036 was high born—a Glazier Dog, while SaRimm-2036 was a commoner—a Mining Goat, they had always been close. Their shared destiny had bonded them like brothers since childhood. The sacred climb was the only place in Hedgelands society where high and low could mingle. Young and old, male and female, sick and strong, rich and poor, all were called upon to carry stones to build the great, unfinished castle. Regardless of season, the line of stair-climbers endlessly ascended the stairway to Maev Astuté.
Braving howling winds, risking avalanches that swept dozens off the stairs, and struggling through ice and deep snow, the sacred climb was an ordeal of a special order. Even in summer, much of the ascent occurred above the snow line on Star’s Door Peak. The ancient stairway wound its way across narrow footbridges swinging over deep chasms, cut steeply up its seemingly endless slopes, and crossed glaciers—hugging the mountain until it began to mount the castle spires of Maev Astuté. Carrying stones to build the castle was the most difficult and trying event in the life of every Hedgie.
Since being a wee pup, his parents had trained FoRoar-2036 to look forward to the climb as the most glorious event in his life. “In the climb,” they had told him, “you give yourself to the Crowning Glory of the Hedgelands—Maev Astuté—the greatest work of our folk, and symbol of our glory.” Glazier Dogs made the precision glass lenses for the High One’s telescopes and, thus, had a relatively high station in Hedgelands society. Yet, even so, FoRoar-2036 could attain no station grander than that of a Hedgie who helped to build Maev Astuté. Even the lowest classes were accorded respect for completing this duty.
The sacred climb held the promise of eternal glory. “You will be the one-hundredth of an unbroken line in our clan to make the sacred climb without a death on the stairs. This rare achievement will make you one of the great heroes. Your name will live forever in our histories. Our clan will gain a high place in the spirit world because of your deed.” FoRoar-2036 now repeated these words over and over, urgently. His numbness and exhaustion were only held back by this promise of bringing eternal honor to his clan. He must go on. Stamping crusted ice off his boots as best he could, he pulled his cloak tighter against the cold and shuffled on. SaRimm-2036 would be remembered for his sacrifice on behalf of the Crowning Glory, but FoRoar-2036 was determined to not only be remembered, but to gain eternal honor for his clan.
In Kinshy, the ancient tongue of the first High Ones, the castle was Maev Astuté, (Our Crown). The first High Ones began construction of the great castle. Many Hedgie commoners, however, called it Mae Vasuté, (My Steps in Agony). The play on words was more than an odd coincidence. Rising like a jagged needle from the summit of Star’s Door Peak, Maev Astuté had a shadowed place in Hedgeland lore, as its commoner name suggested.
Not all Hedgies felt affection for the project, as FoRoar-2036 was reminded by the grumbling comments of a creature in line behind him.
“Yar, you fat-faced bullies,” a Wood Cow named Emil muttered under his breath as two members of the High One’s Royal Patrol passed. Although the climbers were packed together in line, another narrow lane ran along beside the climbers. This lane was reserved exclusively for the High One’s Royal Patrols. Others were forbidden to set foot in it. The Royal Patrols moved up and down the line, tossing those unable to continue off the edge. The harsh discipline was effective. The line kept moving.
The Royal Patrol stopped a few paces ahead. Emil shuddered as he looked over the Patrol. Skull Buzzards, recruited especially for their harsh and heartless manners, made up the elite Patrols. The fiendish Buzzards were not Hedgies. Not trusting Hedgies to guard him and enforce his will, the High One recruited Skull Buzzard mercenaries from distant Crags. Infamous for their cruelty to those in trouble, the High Ones found them perfect for service in the Royal Patrols.
Emil’s eyes happened to meet those of the Skull Buzzard who wore the gold-braid insignia of a commander on the collar of his uniform. The Patrol leader’s face was thin and pale, his feathers grizzled, his eyes bloodshot. Deep, darkly-wrinkled folds of skin hung loosely in great pockets around his neck. Otherwise, Emil could see little of the Skull Buzzard’s body. The heavy winter uniform, issued for service above the snow line, was buttoned up tight against the cold. It covered so much of the body, with so many layers of weighty fabric, that the Buzzard walked stiffly.
An old Coyote had collapsed on the stairs, but had not fallen over the edge. He lay moaning piteously in the frigid wind. Uncontrollable shudders convulsed his body.
“There now, none of your whining shrieks here, Mr. Coyote, be off to your ancestors! It’s past your time! Come! There you go!” The large burly Skull Buzzards rolled the unfortunate Coyote toward the edge of the stairs with their boots.
Even in such dire circumstances, the line of climbers was not allowed to halt. Shuffling along in the line, Emil moved forward toward the spot where the Royal Patrol Buzzards were kicking the poor Coyote, who was now weakly begging for mercy.
“No, No, you lazy dog,” cried one of the Skull Buzzards, stomping his boot on the poor creature’s paw, which was grasping frantically to keep from sliding into the abyss. “The High Ones did not provide this Crowning Glory for you to whimper and complain! Arise and climb if you have worth. Go to your ancestors if you have none.”
The Skull Buzzard commander raised his boot to give one more decisive kick to the fallen Coyote, when Emil, passing by in the line of climbers, stepped out of line and cried ‘No!’ in a voice that echoed even above the howling wind.
“What?” roared the Royal Patrol Commander, turning savagely round.
“No!” Emil thundered again, stepping forward into the forbidden Royal Patrol lane. “I command you to stop.”
“Stop?” cried the Skull Buzzard, with a derisive sneer.
“Yes!” shouted Emil.
Puzzled and confused by the unexpected opposition, the Royal Patrol Commander stepped back from the whimpering Coyote, giving his challenger a frightful look.
“Leave him alone!” repeated Emil, moving forward to protect the Coyote. “I will not allow you to torment and kill this helpless creature. I defy you. Touch him at your own peril. But I give you quarter if you leave him to me, which is better for all.”
The Royal Patrol Commander continued to gaze upon Emil, his eyes narrowed in dangerous hatred and contempt. But traces of confusion and astonishment also flickered across his face. A Royal Patrol had never before been challenged.
“Leave this poor wretch to my care,” Emil said. “You have shown no qualities that lead me to believe you know how to care for anyone. Leave him to me. I will carry him to shelter.”
“Get back in line!” screamed the Skull Buzzard, almost beside himself with rage. At the same time, he seized the Coyote, who had crawled somewhat back from the edge, and pulled him back.
“Yar, you greasy-beaked thugs, touch him at your own risk!” thundered Emil fiercely. “I will not stand by and see it done. I have courage enough to send you to your ancestors! See if you dare to test the determination of a Wood Cow!”
“What is this,” sneered the Royal Patrol Commander, “the lowest, most despised and contemptible scum of the Hedgelands speaks of courage? Please forgive me if I laugh.” The Skull Buzzard’s laugh, however, was noticeably hollow. He clearly did not know what to make of his surprisingly determined challenger.
“Your cruelties give me no reason to pity you,” Emil roared, springing upon the Royal Patrol Commander, knocking him soundly across the eyes with a powerful blow from the whole of his lower arm. The blow carried the concentrated force, in one instant, of all the rage that many Hedgies had long felt toward the High One and his Patrols.
The Royal Patrol Commander crumpled, unconscious, falling toward the edge of the yawning abyss. His companion leaped toward him, striving to halt his fall from the sheer cliffs of Star’s Door Peak.
Grabbing his companion tightly, struggling to halt the inevitable, the second Royal Patrol Buzzard too late realized that he, too, was sliding toward the edge. “TEEEAAAAH!” The long shriek sounded as the two members of the Royal Patrol fell, locked in embrace, to the rocks below. Even a powerful Skull Buzzard could not use his powers of flight in the heavy winter uniforms of the Royal Patrol.
The climbers all along the line halted simultaneously, as if a single thought surged through each creature at the same instant. They moved not—the first occasion in the ‘remembered times’ when the stair-climbing line had halted.
“Yar, you fat-faced thugs of Mae Vasuté!” Emil bellowed loudly, sending a final insult after the defeated Royal Patrol. Heaving and shaking with rage, he screamed into the wide emptiness into which the Royal Patrol had plummeted. “You’ll not be tossin’ any other fine creatures over the edge! You’re going to tell ’em you’re sorry—face-to-face!” Leaping full-force, Emil stamped on the Royal Patrol Commander’s hat, which had fallen off in Emil’s violent attack. Then he gave it a ferocious kick over the side of the stair.
“Yar, you miserable yellow-eyed brutes! You’ll not be forcing these poor creatures to shuffle mindlessly up the stairs, carrying rocks to build a castle that’s already too big for any good purpose!” Emil shouted, lost in his frenzied rant. At last, remembering his fallen friend, Emil knelt by the Coyote to attend to his needs. Finding barely a pulse, Emil gently picked the Coyote up in his brawny arms. Turning in the opposite direction of the climbing line, Emil stepped into the Royal Patrol lane—making his rebellion complete—and began carrying his friend back down the mountain.
A deep hush fell over the climbers. A creature had attacked the Royal Patrols. Two of the High One’s elite officers lay broken across the rocks far below. It was unprecedented. The High One would be very disturbed about this.