CHAPTER 67 – MOUNT FIRE
Mitakahn, along with the rest of the company, turned around at the sound of the traveler’s voice. Humber quickly informed the group, “It’s a girl!”
As they all ran over and helped her up, she spotted Mitakahn and said, “Mitakahn!? What are you doing here? You look terrible.”
“Euphrati?” Mitakahn replied with equal confusion, “I could ask you the same thing… Where is Axion?”
“I’m being led to my birthplace.”
“By what?”
“I believe you know him as Chronis…”
Anilithion laughed, shook his head, and put his hands on his hips smiling, and then he said, “That bird never ceases to amaze me.”
Mitakahn gave Euphrati water. He was in awe of how she just made that climb after their own struggle. Mitakahn knew the legends that followed Mount Fire. It appeared as though Euphrati had a place here just like he did. Mount Fire was reserved only for those who deserved to be there, those who had such a fire in their heart that not even an impossible climb could stifle.
“Where did the silver-tailed hawk go?”
“He disappeared when I started the climb…”
“Most likely onto his next recruit,” scoffed Bridger.
“Rest now, Euphrati…the hardest part is behind us.”
“Thank you so much for the hospitality, my friends, but what are you doing here?”
“We’re here for a magical fire sword,” Humbler said.
Mitakahn explained, “Euphrati I’ve been exiled from the Pride because of the dreams I had in your town. We tracked down the goddess Epiphany who confirmed my premonitions to be true. The Pride is in grave peril and the Crucifire Sword may be the only thing that can save them.”
Euphrati’s face went pale. “Mitakahn…” she said, “Axion went back…to overturn your exile…He will be riding right into the danger.”
“We have to hurry!”
The company absorbed another member, and they hiked the drawn out staircase to the mountain summit. Before long they were at the town of the Phoenix Kingdom. It had no official name nor could be considered a city. It was an intricate network of catacombs and tunnels. The mountain peak was old, and the cavern openings up here were some of the oldest and longest in the entire Burning Mountain Range.
Up this high and tangled altogether they breached the surface like mountainous intestines before opening up. Within the nest of burrows and tunnels cracks revealed the molten lava below. Above the nest were ruins. All of the melted remains shined red atop the catacombs. Topping the ruins was the Temple of Fire overlooking the town, then the northern most tip of the mountain and all MagnaThora.
Euphrati felt a subtle excitement that she could not control, some new energy that was getting to her. Mitakahn could not help but think about his country’s imminent destruction. At best he had the rest of the day to find the sword. Their journey back alone would take too long for the odds to favor them. This could all be for nothing. What good is a magical sword of fire if there is nothing left to save with it? These thoughts were no good for him, but on this long walk of constant ascension there was room for heavy analysis.
In short time, Mitakahn and his company found themselves looking upon the city of Mount Fire. In this city there were no tall buildings, only pinched ruins left over from a monstrous meltdown. The lava formed many tunnels and caverns in which the kingdom reclaimed as their city. What the Phoenix’s sacred volcano destroyed, also helped to create a new life from the ashes. The only building still standing in its entirety was the Temple of Fire, with its thick molten columns built upon the highest ground on Mount Fire’s peak, it escaped volcanic activity.
The company took solace in the view up ahead, only a system of tunnels before they reached their destination. There was a charcoal slated arch built above the five entrances to the tunnels. Mitakahn looked back at Euphrati and asked, “Which way?”
“Why would I know?”
“Take a guess,” Mitakahn smiled as if he knew something she didn’t.
“The middle one...”
It was a good choice. Mitakahn nodded his head in approval as they continued into the mountain deep. Most of the paths split and diverted, but the main ones led together into the main chamber. This cavernous room provided a suitable central district for the community. Inside were small market shacks, meeting houses, and prayer yards. That, combined with schools and courts, made up the essential system necessary to sustain the Phoenix Kingdom. There were not many roles in the community. Everyone was considered a priest or priestess. Once you came of age in the kingdom, you were anointed into the priesthood and blessed with your wings of fire. It was a rite of passage for any of the kingdom’s kin.
They continued into the already thriving underground metropolis and together searched for a sign or direction to the temple.
“Anyone know how to get to the temple?” bellowed Humbler from the back of the group as two priests walked by.
They kept their heads down with their birch brown hoods up. Their cloaks were only lit by the reflection of their wings.
“I bet it’s just straight forward,” predicted Bridger.
“We have to be sure,” warned Tron.
“We can split up,” suggested Anilithion.
“That might be a good idea, Mitakahn,” expressed Kunezar.
Orion sniffed the floor and ran back over to Excelsior who was standing next to Mitakahn.
“What do you smell, boy?”
Orion looked at his master, who knelt down next to him and patted the back of his head. Meanwhile, Euphrati looked around at this strange place. Something felt off to her. Not a wrong feeling, but a new one. One she has never felt before. It made her sad, made her regretful of the past. Why? The poor girl did not know. She covered up her tearful eyes and waited for the group to decide which way to go, hoping the attention would remain off of her and no one would notice her affliction. Flashes of massive towers checkered her mind when she wiped her eyes.
“Observatories,” said Mitakahn out loud, almost stealing the words right out of her mouth. He twisted his body with a snap and looked back right at Euphrati, like he was trying to decipher a code. “…we should go… to… the towers,” he continued.
She nodded her head in agreement, still rubbing her eyes but really just masking the runaway tears. Mitakahn stood in the center of the group and did not say a word while the ideas bounced around. Euphrati was beginning to figure out how he interacted with the flow of reason and conversation, but to her it still just seemed like Mitakahn could read people’s minds. For now, all she wanted to think about was getting on their way and saving Axion. And right now, for some reason, that meant going to the Observatories.
“I didn’t see any towers on the walk in,” refuted Kunezar.
Euphrati opened her mouth to reply to Kunezar but before she could Mitakahn was already talking, “Just because we didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
It’s as though she could not get a word in without Mitakahn interrupting her, but really Euphrati was speechless, an overwhelming feeling had taken over her body in nervous sensation. She did not understand, and innocently victimized herself to this cruel fate. Somehow there had to be a way out of it.
“Someone should ask one of these monks,” proposed Excelsior, lurking around on the outer edge of the group with Orion, plotting and graphing.
Euphrati knew it should be her who stepped forward.
“Excelsior is right,” seconded Humbler.
Orion sniffed a trail past Excelsior and came upon two monks in deep prayer and ritual.
“Not to worry, they’re always like that,” said Excelsior with a cynical overtone.
Euphrati found her voice, “Excuse me, sir,” she asked softly, in only the way a woman could portray, “but can you direct us to the Observatories?”
“Who shall it be?” asked one of the priests in utter excitement, “but little baby Eberlyn!” he finished as both priests turned around, “back from the dead!”
“Excuse me?” she responded.
“I know that face. Look at me. It is you! Now all grown up you have finally returned,” the sullen sage continued getting closer to her, looking deep into her telling eyes. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“You know me? But my name is Euphrati…”
The Legend of Eberlyn
When she was but a baby with no name, many years ago, her mother, Lyneá was a priestess of the Phoenix, one of their best students. Her father came back from his eternal duty and married Lyneá, settling into his fatherly role, and giving her the name Eberlyn. There was a brief moment of paradise in their lives before the entire kingdom was taken by the volcano’s fury. The lava buried the small village and homes into the rock.
Since then, they learned to live in the Incapsulated aftermath. Until now, the presumed fate of Eberlyn and her father was the same as Lyneá, a fiery grave with the other victims. But… before the molten flood reached the baby…
Eberlyn’s father grabbed the baby and flew out of harm’s way. A tenured Gatekeeper, he was the bravest of hearts and one of the most inept of their kingdom. He flew true, narrowly avoiding colliding his fiery wings with lava and or ash-cloud, rendering him flightless. The massive cloud of ash suffocated anyone’s wings who tried to escape. There were many who succumbed to the ash instead of the flame in a desperate attempt to escape their fate.
If there was anyone that could power through it, it was Eberlyn’s father. He escaped the immediate perils of the fire and molten lava, but it had taken too much time. There was no beating time. There was no taking it back or undoing. His time was up the minute the cloud of smoke became too large for him to evade. Now time was all that remained.
The cloud choked him off from the source, causing his wings to extinguish. All that remained to power his wings was his own fire. The part of his soul that burned inside him, the thing that connected him to the Flame Eterna and the rest of humanity fueled the fire that flew him to a safe distance. He cradled the baby, protecting her from the smoke, keeping her breathing, as his light faded. He burned himself out getting as high as he could, but he could not break through beyond the smoke. The fire in his heart, the light in his eyes, his flame went out, his wings vanished, and his path arced in the cloud.
He mumbled a prayer before losing consciousness and his eyes lit aflame devouring his pupils, and then eyeballs. The flames burned in his eye sockets and his flames reappeared for a moment before turning thick, almost like lava themselves. The plasma wings cocoon the father holding the baby and then turn to hardened ash, akin to charcoal. The ashen cocoon plummets through the smoke cloud to the ground. His last dying act was saving Eberlyn’s life. Her father made the ultimate sacrifice.
● ● ●
“Your family was one of the proudest amongst our community,” began the other priest, “Able to show honor to the Sunbird in the most worthy of ways, the creation of life. You are one of the last generations of our kingdom. You are Eberlyn, daughter of Atari, and scion of the Phoenix Kingdom.”
Euphrati could not process what she was hearing.
“…I…I can’t believe this. For so long I have wondered where my true home was. Now I finally know, and it all seems so… surreal. And yet it all makes sense.”
“Why doesn’t she have wings?” interrupted Humbler.
“Not yet anointed…She has never prayed to the Phoenix God,” explained Excelsior.
“The wanderer is correct. You have never been baptized in the fire of our god,” added the priest.
She took a deep breath. What did all this mean? Was she destined for something? Where could she find actual proof of her parents and not just stories? Perhaps, they had a grave or some kind of remnants of their household. And then in outrage, she decided to swallow everything she was feeling, “There will be time for all of this later, Axion needs our help,” Euphrati said righteously forcing attention back onto her beloved.
The two priests took note of her resolve and escorted Euphrati up to the Fire Temple along with the rest of the company. They escalated into a tunnel that closed tight around them and was slightly smaller than a hallway. When the team came out the other end, they saw the Temple of Fire in front of the golden burnt clouds and the setting-sun-speckled-sky. There was but little space between the temple and the tip of the peak, a tip that was stabbing the fielded sky of clouds. Three zigzagging flights of stairs led up to the entrance of the temple.
A black door wrapped in dark molten red columns replicated the same color as the mountain rock. The building had similar qualities to the Temple of Virtue, but its differences were clear. For one, there were barely any corners on this temple. Covered in archways and smooth borders, everything was rounded out and curved in, except for the flat triangular ceiling topping the temple. There was one symbol between the door and the ceiling: a circle in the center of the wall with an iconic flame inside of it constantly churning.
They walked inside of the temple and found a cathedral hidden underneath the crested temple walls. The roof was really a thin crystal window, filtering the sun into red sequential rays. Before the entrance to the cathedral there was a bordering gate with intermittent archways, the main one in between them and their destination.
The company walked into the cathedral as the daily ceremony was starting. The gothic church was a dark amber stone building. The curvedly sloped roof was held up by four walls of pillars. Within these pillars smoothly ridged archways provided entrances and exits. The archways made ribbons upward to mimic the natural structure of the kingdom’s wings. Two elegant curving lines came together at a point in the middle of the doorway.
The temple could not be set on fire. Made from the same material as the dormant volcano, it looked as though it was carved directly from the mountain along with the rest of the catacombs. This must have been the effects of the volcanic blast. It looked like the kingdom had carved out its old prayer-house after the lava-slide settled.
Everything inside the temple was smooth like it was sculpted by the lava’s current. Even the benches and altars were stationary pieces of the temple, part of the mountain. Huge murals lined the three walls of the prayer room: on the left was an epic depiction of Patronalus and the Crucifire Sword fighting in the ancient battle, to the right a scenic portrait of Mount Fire erupting lava from its core, and in front behind the main altar an intricate carving and interpretation of the Phoenix. The Phoenix was the bringer of light to this world, or so did the Phoenix Kingdom believe.
The company came in and sat down in the back, spectators of both a legendary and redundant ritual. All the monks came in one after another. When they passed under the archway their wings extinguished. They came in and filled the stands, but they did not sit. Mitakahn stood along with everyone else in the back rows.
The two priests who walked in last did not file in with the rest of them but continued their path to the altar at the head of the room. They put red robes on and then dressed the altar with a red cloth. One priest stood behind the altar facing the crowd, the other went to get a white cloak and put it on the head priest’s shoulders. He turned around and walked to the back of the room.
“May the Lord Alphatross bless us all in our unity. We thank you for another day under the warm sun and blue sky.”
The gathered monks responded together, “Ever-Glory to the skies and heavens.”
The priest kept talking and repeating their daily ritual. Mitakahn looked around searching for a cove or backroom that the sword could be found in. He was beginning to get anxious. He worried if soon he would be compelled to disturb the mass and ask them where’s the Sword of Fire. Instead, he kept to himself and examined the side of the wall with the sculpture of Patronalus on it.
Very fine layers of red glossy stone overlapping on the wall created a natural masterpiece. He was almost too distracted by its complexity and beauty to look away. But there was no need to. There were no other doors or cupboards on that side of the temple. The roof was another sight to see. Tron was entranced by its magnificence, also refusing to look any which way but up. Tron thought of being in the core of a phoenix itself.
The stone piece on the wall was carved so thin, it projected a shade of red sunlight upon the altar at exactly the right hour. The intended hour was upon them. This ancient temple was not only a meeting place for worship and faith, but a living mechanism.
The molding of the six archways leading into the temple came together in three separate borders down the spine of the ceiling. Each one bent up towards the altar. The thin layers of the temple ceiling tangled together creating a spectrum effect. The sun slowly moved into place in the far reaches of the sky as the moment soon approached. Tron watched the spotlight of sunrays crawl up the counter on the altar.
The priest returned from the back with an elegant glass jar containing oil, and a dark yellow candle in his hands. He gave them to the Head Priest one at a time.
“…The Sun King returned through his portal and flew down to the ancient gate. The grey wolf blew the clouds apart with his lightening and Lord Alphatross funneled his flame through the thunderbolt into the hero, Patronalus’ sword. And the world was saved and pulled back from the edges of darkness. And so it is and ever shall be...”
Mitakahn’s head perked up.
“..We praised be, to the Sunbird” echoes the audience.
They were talking about the Crucifire Sword.
The Head Priest aligned the candle with the path of the sun’s rays. He spread the oil over his hands, and on the red cloth underneath the candle and jar, in precise motions. The pinnacle of the mass was finally at hand as the sun’s path came into a finely ridged tinted crystal concentrating it into an explosive line of light. The beam hit the oil as the Head Priest threw it up from his hand, simultaneously he pulled the cloth out from underneath the candle as it all quickly ignited and disintegrated into small flames.
The Priest snapped the cloth in the air and clapped his hands together; and the embers flew into place. The small flames and ashes mixed together to produce the outlining of the same Phoenix carved into the wall behind the altar. The Priest blew it up as it floated into the stone sculpture of the Phoenix, almost an identical match. Everyone’s vision panned back down to see the candle sitting in the middle of the altar silently lit.
The service now started its concluding portion. Everyone was handed a candle. The Head Priest brought his candle to the other priest and lit one in his hands. Then the two stepped down to the two sides of the benches. Each person’s candle was lit and in turn they lit the candles next to them until the entire temple was illuminated with candlelight. The marvelous stone came to life in stunning new shades and tones. The details of the murals were now alive to tell an ever expanding story. The priest returned to the head of the temple.
“We have a daughter of the Phoenix with us today who has finally returned home. Please stand Eberlyn.”
Euphrati blushed and slowly got up.
“Hail Eberlyn, daughter of Atari, Scion of the Phoenix Kingdom.”
Anilithion leaned over to Mitakahn and asked, “What is a scion?”
Excelsior cut in and answered, “It is a direct descendant of the chosen children of the sun. Euphrati is one of the last of her kin. There are only a few others in her generation, and her generation is the last among the Phoenix Kingdom.”
“The days of the old kingdoms are coming to an end,” Bridger added, “They are leaving this realm.”
Euphrati was brought up to the altar. She is blessed with oil on her forehead by the Head Priest. She kneeled before the High Priest and the altar in prayer. The Head Priest reached for her hand and pulled her up.
“It is time for you to see it.”
“See what?”
“The Flame Eterna.”
Mitakahn’s group was escorted behind Euphrati as they walked through the temple.
“If I’m not mistaken,” said Excelsior, as he went on with his vast foreign kingdom knowledge, “In order for someone to see the Flame Eterna you must pass five trials: intelligence, strength, fortitude, awareness, and…what’s the last one…”
“It’s faith,” one of the priests said, “Faith is the final test in the Keymaster Trials, and they start now.”
“We don’t have time for-” But before Mitakahn could finish expressing his reserve the floor opened and they fell into a dark abyss.