Dread Mountain

At length, the gathering of the Kin broke up as each creature moved off to feed on the grass that grew beneath and beyond the trees.

“Grass is all we have here,” Prin’s mother explained to Lief, Barda, and Jasmine as she toiled away with her heavy young one in her pouch. “It is nourishing enough, but we have grown tired of its sweetness and long for the leaves and cones of the Boolong trees. The leaves of the trees in this grove are not fit to eat. They are not truly alive.”

Kree, perched on Jasmine’s arm, squawked in disgust. “Kree always knew the trees were not as they should be,” Jasmine said, shuddering as she looked around her. “No wonder they are silent. It is horrible to think of them standing here, unchanging, for centuries.”

“And it is fortunate for us that we passed the spring’s test,” said Barda grimly. “Or we would be with them.”

Lief had not spoken for a long time. When the last of the Kin had departed Jasmine turned to him.

“What is the matter?” she demanded. “All is well.”

“All is not well,” Lief muttered. “My mother and father —” He broke off, swallowing desperately to hold back tears.

“Jarred and Anna?” Barda exclaimed, looking alert. “What do you …?” Suddenly his face changed, filling with fear as he understood. “You had a dream!” he exclaimed. “Lief —”

Lief nodded slowly. “The forge is empty,” he said in a low voice. “The Shadow Lord’s brand is on the gate. I think — I think they are dead.”

Stricken with shock and grief, Barda stared at him wildly. Then his mouth firmed. “Very likely they are not dead, but simply taken prisoner,” he said. “We must not give up hope.”

“To be a prisoner of the Shadow Lord is worse than death,” Lief whispered. “Father told me that, many times. He was always warning me …” The words choked in his throat and he covered his face with his hands.

Awkwardly, Jasmine put her arm around him and Filli jumped onto his shoulder, brushing his cheek with soft fur. Kree clucked sorrowfully. But Barda stood apart, struggling with his own fear and sorrow.

Finally Lief looked up. His face was very pale. “I must go back,” he said.

Barda shook his head. “You must not.”

“I must!” Lief insisted angrily. “How can I go on, knowing what I know?”

“You know nothing but that the forge is empty,” Barda said evenly. “Jarred and Anna could be in the dungeons of the palace in Del. They could be in the Shadowlands. They could be in hiding. Or, as you said before, they could be dead. Wherever they are, you cannot help them. Your duty is here.”

“Do not speak to me of duty!” Lief shouted. “They are my parents!”

“They are my friends,” Barda said, still in that same expressionless voice. “My dear and only friends, Lief, since before you were born. I know what they would say to you if they could. They would tell you that our quest is their quest too. They would beg you not to abandon it.”

Lief’s anger died, leaving dull sadness in its place. He searched Barda’s face and saw the pain behind the grim mask.

“You are right,” he mumbled. “I am sorry.”

Barda put a hand on his shoulder. “One thing is clear,” he said. “Time has become of the first importance. We must reach Dread Mountain with all speed.”

“I cannot see that we can move any faster than we have been doing,” Jasmine put in.

“On foot we cannot,” Barda agreed. “But I have a plan.” His face was shadowed with grief, but still he managed a small smile. “Why should the Kin dream of home, instead of seeing it with their own eyes? Why should we walk, when we can fly?”

Barda talked to the Kin for a very long time. He argued well. But it was not until sunset that three of them finally agreed to carry the companions to Dread Mountain.

The three who agreed were Merin, Ailsa, and Bruna. They were among the largest in the group, and all were female, for only the female Kin had pouches in which to carry passengers.

All three agreed for different reasons: Merin because she was so homesick, Ailsa because she was adventurous, and Bruna because she felt that the Kin owed Lief a debt for trying to save Prin.

“She is very dear to us all,” Bruna explained. “The only young one to be born to us since we moved here from our Mountain.”

“This is because we need the Mountain air and the Boolong trees to thrive,” Merin cried. “Here, we just exist. On our Mountain, we can grow and breed. We should have gone back long ago.”

“Gone back to die? What foolishness you talk, Merin!” snapped the old one, who had been greatly angered by the three’s agreement to go. “If you, Ailsa, and Bruna go back in flesh and blood to Dread Mountain, you will surely be killed. Then there will be three less Kin, and we will have three more deaths to mourn.”

“What is the use of staying here to die slowly?” snapped Ailsa, lifting her great wings. “With no babies to carry on our line, we have no future. The Kin are finished. I would rather die quickly, in a good cause, than linger here.”

“We have our dreams,” Prin’s mother said quietly.

“I am sick of dreaming!” Ailsa exclaimed.

“And I cannot dream at all!” squeaked Prin. She ran over to Ailsa and clasped her paws. “Take me with you to the Mountain, Ailsa,” she begged. “Then I too will have seen it. Then I can go with you when you dream.”

Ailsa shook her head. “You cannot come, Little One. You are too precious. But think of this: you can dream of us. Then you will see where we are, and what we are doing. Will that not be just as good as travelling yourself?”

Plainly, Prin did not think so, for she began to wail and cry, paying no attention to her mother’s orders and pleadings. At last her mother hurried her away, but even when they were out of sight, the sound of their arguing voices floated back through the trees. The other Kin looked distressed.

The old one frowned. “You see what you have done?” he mumbled to Barda, Lief, and Jasmine. “We were peaceful and happy here, before you came. Now there is anger between us and Little One is unhappy.”

“It is not fair to blame the strangers, Crenn,” Bruna objected. “Merin, Ailsa, and I have agreed to go to the Mountain of our own free will.”

“That is true,” said Merin gently. “And Little One is only saying what she has been saying these past few years, Crenn. The older she grows, the more she will say it. Her life here, with no companions of her own age, is too quiet for her. She is very like Ailsa — lively and adventurous.”

“And she does not have dreams to lull her, as I have had,” Ailsa put in. Her bright eyes turned to Jasmine, Lief, and Barda. “I think I must thank the strangers for disturbing my peace,” she added. “This day has made me feel that I am alive again.”

Crenn sat very upright. His old face, the whiskers white, the eyes faded and full of longing, was turned to the Mountain. The sun had dipped below the horizon when at last he spoke.

“Of course you speak the truth, all of you,” he said reluctantly. “And if this must be, it must be. I only pray that you will be safe, and beg you to take care, and return to us with all speed.”

“We will,” Ailsa promised. She smiled around. “I will drink from the spring now, but not again this night. Then I will sleep only lightly. One of us must be awake to call the others tomorrow morning. We must leave before dawn.”