Chapter 13: Fierce Forceful Ascent
Higher than all the others
Soaring above our ivory perch
You, my darling, ground me
Fraught Foray
Reach. Grab. Shift. Pull. Change footing. Push. Repeat.
"Do you want to talk about all of that?" I knew talking while climbing the steep rock face on the eve-by-deim rim of the chasm was dangerous, but the silence was killing me as quickly as a fall might.
"About what? The fact that we're victims of a similar fate, and not once did you think to say 'hey Micah, you know how I'm running from being a goddess? now might be a good time for you to start running from being her Mavi'. I'll pass." They were right of course. I had known. But what good would it have done?
Reach. Grab. Shift. Pull. Change footing. Push. Repeat.
I kept going through the motions, following Micah's path to the best of my ability. The exit was proving far more difficult than the entrance. "For what it's worth, and I know it's worth very little after-the-fact, but I am sorry for saying nothing. I wasn't certain, but I still should have voiced my fears."
"Yes," they said, "you should have." They seemed to be having a much easier time of it, probably to do with the skills they'd built up using their cold-flame to lighten their load, a fact I couldn't prove, but I was sure evidence could be found if I had a moment to actually look for it. I really would have to learn everything they came up with eventually. "But," they said after several silent seconds, "I probably would have done the same."
A rock slipped from my grip, dropping pebbles and dirt on a silent Afina below as I attempted to find another hold. There was hope.
"That doesn't excuse you, Nyx," they continued, still deftly climbing, "but it does mean that I'll forgive you if we make it to the top of this damned wall."
"More than fair, Micah," I almost laughed, but I had to fight it back. Focus was essential to getting out.
Reach. Grab. Shift. Pull. Change footing. Push. Repeat.
"Tell me again, Nyx," Micah said with an audible smile, "whose idiotic idea it was to climb down here in the first place?"
An ungraceful snort escaped me. "No idea. You certainly would never suggest climbing into a death trap to avoid proximity to the capital. Not Micah of Ivory."
"Well, whomever we are to blame," they continued, "is getting a powerful slap from me when we find them."
Reach. Grab. Shift. Pull. Change footing. Push. Repeat.
And so the pattern went. Climb a while. Catch breath with a few seconds of banter. Continue climbing. Ignore Afina until or unless she spoke up and hopefully apologised.
She wasn't going to apologise.
After what seemed like hours of climbing, we finally found a solid place to rest. Not big enough to lie next to each other, but big enough to sit across from each other with a tiny campfire to keep us warm. My arms begged for rest. My legs did the same.
"You know what your problem is, Nyx?" The question came out of nothing, but I'd take any goodwill Micah had to offer. They met my eyes when I didn't answer. "You keep trying to follow a human Path or avoid following a goddess's Path. What you seem incapable of is following your Path."
I sat with it for a minute, trying to parse a possible meaning. "And what, pray tell, would that look like?" Their answer was certain before I asked, but I asked nonetheless.
"How should I know?" They remained blunt to the very end. "I thought marrying Dee was my choice, and now I have to question if it's an echo of the person I'm becoming. What I do know is that it's what we both wanted, and we both let ourselves have it." Micah smiled, truly and broadly at some thought. "And I know romance isn't your bag, but what is it you want, Nyx? Chase that."
The fire between us crackled loudly, its sound bouncing off the walls of the chasm and returning a faint whisper. Eliana had asked me the same question, and then Micah came along. Someone who didn't push me into what wasn't for me. And until that moment, I was almost certain I knew the answer: someone who understands.
But did they? Did Micah understand? Probably more than most.
"Right now," I decided to avoid the bigger issue at hand, "I want a warm bed and a kitchen where I can bake layer-pastry and knead bread with warm hands. Maybe an 'I'm terrible sorry for not telling you that our Paths were entangled' cake of some sort." Micah fought back a laugh, telling me silently that we were mostly okay. "I hate baking layer-pastry, by the way. The stuff misbehaves so badly because of my baker's hands."
"Tell me more," they said around a smile.
"Well, to make a layer-pastry, you make a fairly ordinary dough, then chill it," I began. "Then you spread it flat in a big rectangle and fold a large piece of butter up in it. The you roll it flat and fold. Then repeat until you have the butter incorporated in hundreds of tiny layers."
"And what about your hands makes it misbehave? And what are baker's hands, precisely?"
"Baker's hands are warm, perfectly tuned to keeping dough at the appropriate temperature for kneading and handling. Usually, you're either born with them or not." I thought about the first time my mother had realised how warm my hands were. 'Hands of Fire', she'd called them. And immediately pushed me toward the oven. "But when your hands are warm like that, butter tends to soften and melt, making it very difficult to avoid your layers of butter incorporating themselves into your layers of dough."
"Fascinating." Micah really seemed interested. After a few seconds of fiddling with their own hands, they reached across the campfire. "Are my hands warm enough to be baker's hands?"
I took Micah's hands in my own. They nearly froze my palms. Recoiling was the wrong choice, so I simply held on. "No, not anywhere close," I said warmly, "but the next time I'm making layer-pastry, you're helping."
They jerked their hands back. "You mean I'm doing all the work once the butter is introduced, don't you." They laughed. "Alright. Let's put out this fire, and tomorrow you'll lead us. Maybe carve your own Path from the stone ahead."
Flames Finally Freed
"Remember, Nyx," Micah said with a strange grin, "you're not just 'a baker from Greywatch Spire'. You're the baker who's going to make this stone wall submit to your will like dough in the kitchen."
Nodding slowly, I said, "I'll try," and then promptly turned my face to the wall. "What's the worst that could happen? I lose my grip and fall to my doom. At least then it would all be over."
"That's the spirit!" Micah slapped my shoulder. "Get climbing, lady. I'll be right behind you."
One hand in front of the other, I wordlessly began the work. I had to wonder at Micah's skill in finding clean paths. They seemed to have had no trouble the sun before, and it seemed like everywhere I looked, the rock was perfectly smooth, forcing me to find something, anything, to get me to the next handhold. Footholds were even worse.
I got stuck often, uncertain if the feat was possible. Every time that happened, Micah would tap my foot from below and call up to me. "You're doing great. One step at a time. Don't go until you're certain." And each time, I'd look back up and spot the perfect place to grip.
Micah was a good luck charm, and I was simply along for the ride.
There were no resting points, simply a game of endurance wearing me down minute after minute. That would've been fine. That would've gotten me to the top eventually, even if I weren't as stubborn as Tareth. That would've been my salvation, except that I got distracted.
Below me, I was certain I saw tiny little flashes every time Micah moved. Little sparks fighting against the slowly fading darkness of the chasm we were crossing. It brought my memory back to Ivory.
Kettle had been used as a weapon. The bigger folks in the clearing would toss Kettle farther than should've been possible, and Kettle would soar until they hit a tree. Or until gravity carried them, tumbling, to the ground.
Quickly, my mind turned to the forest fire. How Micah had trusted me to essentially throw an entire tree. It flew fiercely through every obstacle, clearing a path for us to escape. Like it was fighting for us to survive.
Finally, I remembered a moment in the Aerie. Micah was bored, so they started climbing the temple. The wall on the eveward side was perfectly pristine, and they set in with determination. One hand, one foot, one hand, one foot. It was a rhythm they'd echoed in their climb the previous sun.
Each handhold, each foothold, every place they put their body was safe because they decided it should be. And I'd missed it.
I was so caught up in the memories that I forgot to hold my grip. My left hand slipped. The movement was just enough to lose my footing. I barely held on with my right hand, but it was set just enough that I hung as the momentum carried me out of my position.
Dangling above the darkness, I saw the two people below me. Afina's eyes held a terror deeper than any moment I'd seen of her. Not in memory, not in person. Her gaze locked with mine, but she said nothing. Micah, in contrast, was smiling.
"You're doing great," they said as one of their hands began moving about to find purchase. "If you can hang out there for a bit, I'll get you back up —"
"No!" They'd done so much. I couldn't force them to keep carrying me. "I've got this," I said around a shaky voice. "I just need to. Uhm. Well."
"Oh, Nyx," they were still smiling, their eyes soft, "let me help you this time."
"Give me a second to sort this, Micah," I insisted. "I have an idea, and if it works, then it means you have helped. Just. I have to do it on my own this one last time."
Micah nodded. "Okay, my Lady. But remember. I'm here."
"Are you two serious?" Afina's voice was a shrill shriek, no longer shyly shrinking. "If she slips, she'll fall and die."
I had to admit, the hand that held me up was getting tired, my muscles were burning like fire, but kneading bread was an excellent way to build grip. "Don't worry, sparkles," I teased, using the same unfriendly nickname Micah had, "if I fall, then the next me will show up in five thousand moons and finish the climb on my behalf."
Micah snorted, losing their own grip, but quickly catching themself. That time, I was certain I saw it, the flash of cold-flame catching them. It was all I needed to be sure.
"How mad would you be, Micah," I said, pulling the warhammer from my back, "if rocks started raining down from above?"
"Finally!" They said brightly. "Just warn me before you strike."
I pushed a cold-flame into my right hand, digging deeper into the rock and properly setting the grip for what came next. It was more natural than I cared to admit, but I'd seen Micah do it hundreds of times in little ways. With my left hand, I tested the balance of moving the warhammer, swinging myself about.
Nauseating, but not unbearable. And more importantly, not impossible.
"Ready!" I shouted on my next up swing as I brought the hammer's head into contact with the stone, seating it deeply and sending rocks down, showering on the heads of my companions. With a deep grunt, I pulled the hammer from the wall and re-seated it in the harness on my back.
Where the hammer had struck was a clean hole almost big enough to roll up into. And it would work just fine for the hand that was presently not holding onto anything, which I was able to use in the effort of climbing up to the space.
"Good girl, Nyxi." Micah was already moving. They sounded pleased with themself more than with me. "Rest for a second, and I'll make a proper shelf for us."
"I wish I'd known for sure you were cheating this whole time. Would've made all this effort easier."
"Yeah, well, you got there," they said as their own warhammer collided with the rock wall, shaking the earth itself and sending rocks in every direction. "Now," they pulled themself to standing and then reached over for me, "get over here and sit with me while Afina —"
We both looked down to find the sapphire-haired woman bloodied and engulfed in a sickly silver glow. "You okay down there, silver-eyes?" I called, only feeling a bit guilty for her condition.
"I've been battered with rocks for the last several minutes," they said with a growl. "How do you think I feel?"
"Well you're not dead," Micah shot back. "So get your butt up here and rest. I'll count this as a truce, and we'll get you fixed up."
The rest of the climb went much more smoothly once I started using the cold-flame skills Micah had been desperately trying to get me to use. Small flashes of white filled the whole venture, and somehow the load seemed lighter as well.
Before I knew it, we were at the top and on the far side of the chasm from where we started, officially in the eveward region of Lafleur. Sleep that night was precious.
Afina left the morning after we reached the top. "I do not think I am ready for this," she said as she took up the little gear she carried and started her own way. "We shall meet again, for better or worse, you two. When that time comes, maybe I will have figured a way to handle your unique way of walking the Path."
Without another word, she was gone. Neither Micah nor I cared to worry over her departure, since she would return when she returned. And probably at a moment we either most needed or least wanted her there. So our journey continued, and we began the long trek toward the Elder Valley and, hopefully, answers.