Chapter 130
Past the Summit Untouched
They moved slowly, their pace strikingly decrepit. For every ten minutes that they walked, they spent hours huddled in a shelter waiting for the weather to get better--namely for the wind to slow down to the 'barely not blown off the side of the mountain' speed. Still, though snail-like, the progress was there--even if it wasn't particularly evident. After all, day and night, all they could see was the white of the snow and the perpetual blizzard that blocked their sight.
Each step had to be taken with care, more so now than ever before, and though the frustrations mounted, they persevered. Sylas was mostly shocked with Agnes; he himself was virtually numb to the aspect of boredom, having lived effectively two weeks for a lifetime, and many more years spent doing little to nothing, but she was different. And yet, though it was clear that she was getting angrier and angrier by the day, she was yet to give up.
Noticing the wind picking up again, he hurried her forward and luckily found a partial shelter, though he realized immediately they'd have to use the talisman since the protection wasn't the greatest. They only had two remaining, but, at the same time, had no other choice.
With the fire started and the tea brewing and the talisman activated, the two huddled next to one another beneath all their blankets, barely maintaining a decent temperature even with all of that. It was a sordid experience of camping, and Sylas was ever-more-certain of his choice to be an indoor cat back on Earth, all things considered.
"... you seem feverish," he suddenly said. Agnes' usual pale cheeks had reddened and her eyes seemed hazy, as though a mist swirled in them.
"I'm not," she replied.
"Wow, a great retort."
"Shut up. I'm not in the mood."
"You can't die on me now," he said. "I'd be very uncomfortable hugging a corpse."
"Ah, well, if you would be uncomfortable. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
"You seem irate."
"Of course I am!" she exclaimed, glancing up at him. "Aren't you?! For heaven's sake, we've been traveling for days barely making any progress! Not to mention that even when we do walk, it feels as though we're just moving in place."
"At least the company's good, though. Right?" he replied with a grin.
"... haaah, yes, yes, the company's great," she sighed, smiling still as well. "Honestly, that dumb, hapless optimism of yours that seems entirely incapable of dying is infectious. Who else, while being sane, could possibly continue smiling in our circumstances?"
"Ah," Cain sighed. "It's cute of you to assume either one of us is sane."
"Yeah, knew that was coming the moment I uttered those words," she chuckled. "You're getting predictable."
"No, no, you're just further assimilating into the cult of assholery."
"Doesn't sound good."
"It's great. For starters, members of the cult can continue smiling in any circumstance, no matter how dire."
"Pfft..."
"We'll power through," he said, clutching his arm slightly tighter, encouraging her. "There ain't a stinky mountain in the world that can conquer us."
"Yeah, well, speak for yourself," she sighed. "I'm feeling pretty conquered right about now."
"... looks like the wind has slowed down," Sylas said. "Can you move?"
"Do I have a choice?" she grunted.
"We can stay rooted here until you're feeling better."
"The only way I'll feel better," she said, wrangling herself out of his arms. "Is if we find a way out of this hell."
"... fair enough. Let's go, then."
They quickly packed up and managed to traverse for another twenty minutes before being forced to stop, again. As such, the days continued one by one, each more painful, monotonous, and soul-crushingly awful than the last. With each foot they climbed, it seemed, a part of Agnes' soul was being ripped from her, growing bitterer by the day.
Sylas couldn't blame her; perhaps only for her naivety, but even while complaining, she continued to mount the mountain, defying its tyrannical will. On the other hand, he was mostly dispassionate; though it was definitely boring and mind-numbing to climb it, he was very much used to feeling those two things, and could just passively ignore them. While they rested and didn't talk, he'd mostly just shut his brain down for a quick power-nap, or just rummage through his memories and slowly pull everything he knew together.
It was a good time-killer, repeatedly reminding himself of what he knew and solidifying the knowledge he absolutely needed moving forward. Similarly, it was a good mental exercise; though he couldn't claim his memory was all that great yet, it was getting there. Not by any particular will of Gods or innate talent, but just a remarkably long process of brute-forcing it.
Almost a month and a half into their journey, Agnes fell sick--unlike the previous few times when it was simply fatigue overlapping with a bad mood, this time around, she fell genuinely sick. She ran a high fever and, partly through the night, began to mumble, disoriented. There was little he could do since the one thing he forgot to prepare for was exactly this--he didn't bring any herbs or remedies as he himself hadn't gotten sick in what felt like forever.
In the end, he could only continue to sit by her side and keep her warm and continue to listen to incoherent mumblings while simply hoping she'd be strong enough to push through. At the same time, he chose not to move forward--though he could, effectively just tossing her on his back, he worried if it would be too straining for her. As such, he elected to stay and even use the last talisman they had during one of the coldest nights yet and when her fever was running the highest. He had hoped that forcing her to sweat due to the sheer temperature might help reduce her fever. As for how correct the approach was, he was none-the-wiser himself.
It did seem to work, however, as the very next morning, she woke up from her delirium. And though she was still weak and seemed like she'd drink the last of the supplies they had, at the very least her fever had stopped.
"Alright, the winds have slowed, let's go," she said, wanting to get up but quickly realizing there was an arm wrapped around her waist that wasn't letting go. "Hey, what are you doing?"
"Sit down," Sylas said.
"But we need to make up--"
"Sit down," he repeated more sternly, causing her to look at him for a moment before following instructions and sitting down.
"Fine," she mumbled. "But don't blame me if we run out of supplies before finding a way out."
"I never would."
"Well, you should, because it's my fault."
"You really do think so little of me that you believe I'd fault you for getting sick?" he asked.
"... no, I'm sorry," she replied, sighing and nesting her head into her knees. "I... I'm just so weak. I never realized just how weak I am before."
"Weak?" Sylas scoffed. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"W-what?"
"Look at where we are," he said. "You think there's more than ten people in the entire Kingdom that could be here too? Hell no."
"The only reason I'm here is because of you," she said.
"So? Most people would have checked out weeks ago, with me or without," he said. "Fuck, sometimes you're more depressing than me. It's like we're swapping our mindsets over time."
"No, no, you're still the cynical, depressive asshole who hates the world," she said. "I just like to think that sometimes, me being around lights you up and reminds you of the good old days!"
"Pfft, ha ha ha, I suppose so," he laughed freely for a moment as she unburrowed her head from the knees and leaned it against his chest.
"I'll take a quick nap, then. I could use some rest."
"Nap away. Want me to sing you a lullaby?"
"If you could?"
"..."
"Doesn't feel good when I don't buy your bullshit, eh?"
"Khm," Sylas coughed for a moment before suddenly bursting into a song. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night--hey, hey, you weren't supposed to laugh!! You were supposed to be falling asleep!"
"Ha ha ha ha, sorry, oh my Gods that was--ha ha ha ha..."
After a full day's rest, the two finally resumed their journey, once again moving slowly and sporadically, when the harsh and biting winds would let them. Days passed as such, though the mood never got as sour as before.
Almost ten days later, and over two months into their climb, a change finally happened--the winds... slowed down. For the first time in weeks, they slowed down. Both Agnes and Sylas noticed specifically because they were so used to the wind speed that they traveled within. Seeing it as a sign of the good things to come, the two of them began to climb faster and harder, and it grew easier and easier with each climbed yard.
It was as though they were descending, with the weather slowly clearing up and the temperatures rising and even the amount of snowfall decreasing. Two and a half months into their journey... they reached the mountain's summit.
It was wide and spacious and laced in frosted surfaces that reflected the brightly-shining sun above. Glacial spikes numerated the edges like fingers of a claw, and the round clearing was like a giant throne room for the wind, though lacking the distinct feature of the throne room-- a throne. The two stayed for a moment to rest and admire the vista that no other human eye had likely seen before moving forward, toward the other side.
They expected the other side of the mountain to be relatively the same, which was what made the shock of discovery all that greater--for the view from the mountain was crystal clear and beautiful. Most importantly, however, they saw a sight that shouldn't be possible--tucked and nestled between an endless row of mountains on all ends was an emerald-dyed lake, surrounded by a beautiful canopy of purple-dyed treetops and, most strikingly, what looked to be several stone-cast, human-made structures.