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Journals by EmailTerla’s glade was tucked into the western slope of Gryphon Mountain, so Mendrion decided he may as well begin his journey on that side. Enfolded in a rough cloak, satchel slung across his back, he hiked upward. Early on in the morning, he came across a track that switchbacked up the mountainside. Since it must lead somewhere, Mendrion concluded, he would follow it for a time to see what he could learn about the Mountain.
As he walked, he wondered what he had gotten into. He had seen something when he first came to the Mountain—whether it was induced by a person, the Mountain itself, or something he had eaten, Mendrin was uncertain. Perhaps he had been dozing on his wagon when it happened, and it had really been a dream. But Terla seemed to know just what he was talking about when he described the vision to her. That could mean that she had somehow reached out to him and triggered the vision in his mind. She could be some kind of sorceress.
Though she had not told him much about the Mountain or being the Seer at all, however, Mendrion sensed that Terla was genuine. So if, in fact, Gryphon Mountain was capable of calling to him, then he could be needed here for some reason.
He supposed that after climbing the mountain four times, he would know.
A particular part of his conversation with Terla ran repeatedly through his mind:
“If I start, can I back out?”
“If you start, you won’t want to.”
Since he still had nothing but questions, Mendrion decided instead to study the scenery and the path he took. If he were going to take up residence here, he needed to know his way around.
Mendrion had just rounded the half-dozenth bend when a rough voice said, “I’ve never seen you before. New here?”
He looked around and quickly spotted a stout figure sitting on a rock. A wide, dark brown beard covered half the bluff face and most of the broad chest. A thumb tipped back his leather helmet so he could peer the better at Mendrion. “Well?”
The former cooper had met dwarfs in his time, so he knew one when he saw one. “Yes. My name is Mendrion.”
“Mendrion, eh? Where you headed?”
“May I ask who you are before I tell you my business?”
The dwarf grunted. “Fair enough. I’m Brilg. I’m waiting for my nephews to meet me.”
“I’m… on a journey.” Mendrion couldn’t think of anything else to say, given that Terla had advised him not to volunteer what he was.
“Up the mountain? There’s not much there but—”
A shout interrupted him. “Uncle, Uncle!” Puffing through his yellow beard, a second dwarf emerged from a grove, going full bore. He skidded to a stop next to Brilg and spared hardly a glance for Mendrion. “Uncle! Hendrif fell over a cliff! He needs help!”
“Of all the boneheaded…” Brilg leaped up and followed the younger dwarf back toward the trees. Mendrion followed in case he could somehow assist them.
The dwarfs left the copse and crossed a meadow. On the far side, the grasses thinned out, exposing wide rocks like bald heads mostly buried in the mountain. They stopped where the ground fell away in a nearly sheer drop. The younger dwarf pointed downward. As Mendrion caught up, Brilg looked; then his eyes passed over the spray of loose stones nearby. Mendrion surmised that some of the rocks had given way under Hendrif’s feet, sending him down the mountainside.
Mendrion carefully bent over the cliff and saw Hendrif on a shelf about fifty feet down. Hendrif glanced up, eyes wide. “Uncle!” he cried.
“You didn’t listen, did you?” bellowed Brilg. “Your mother will have my hide for dishrags if I don’t get you back in one piece!” He pulled a coil of rope from his pack and lashed one end around a nearby stunted tree. With his back toward open space, Brilg edged down the slope. Mendrion was about to say something about the tree, which wobbled when Brilg tied his knot and looked ill suited to hold any weight greater than that of a squirrel. Before he could say anything, and before Brilg had gone over the edge, the tree lurched outward.
Brilg cried out. Fortunately, the tree held. “Pull me up! Pull me up!” Brilg yelled. Mendrion scrambled to help the blond dwarf pull Brilg back to safety.
“Foolishness,” Brilg muttered. “No sense in both our crowns being cracked.” He peered at the tree and then downward. “How to get down…”
“Let me try,” Mendrion said. Brilg started to say something, but he stopped when he saw him take the Gryphon’s Claw out of his satchel. The blond dwarf let out a startled snarl and made as if to charge Mendrion. Brilg threw out a thick arm and stopped him.
“Hold, Ordrek,” Brilg said without taking his eyes from Mendrion. “Go ahead,” he said to the latter.
Mendrion looked at the Claw and swallowed hard. He hadn’t tried using it before, and it would be more than embarrassing to fail now. Hendrif needed his help.
“Where is a safe path to Hendrif’s location?” he asked, feeling more than a little ridiculous.
Nestled in the claw’s curve, the glass shard flashed to life. In its narrow span, Mendrion saw himself and the two dwarfs standing at the cliff’s edge. His view swung away to Hendrif’s right. Mere yards away, another narrow ledge curved upward. It eventually ran to the top of the cliff back in the direction from which they had come.
“Follow me,” he said to Brilg and Ordrek.
Hendrif yelled out as they disappeared. “Hold on!” Brilg shouted back. Without another word, they came after Mendrion to the place where the ledge began. It was by no means level, and rocks tumbled from beneath their boots as they stepped. All three had to move carefully to stay on. I thought I asked for a safe path, Mendrion thought. But a path was a path.
Soon, they reached the end of the ledge. Hendrif had heard them coming, and he watched them intently. “Now, Mendrion,” Brilg said, “since you’re the one in front, you’ll have to be the one to fetch Hendrif. I don’t suppose you can jump that gap…”
“Absolutely not,” Mendrion said, looking downward for only a second.
“In that case, here’s my rope.” He handed it over. “Toss Hendrif the other end. Crouch down, and we’ll hold on to you while Hendrif swings down and you pull him up.”
Mendrion shouted the plan to Hendrif, who nodded. He caught the end of the rope. “Now, swing down—slowly!” Mendrion grunted as Hendrif simply stepped off the ledge and dropped. Brilg and Ordrek held the Seer fast, and Mendrion managed to pull Hendrif up without falling. Hendrif grasped the ledge; then the others backed up so he would have room to get on. They worked their way back up to the clifftop.
“You,” Brilg said, shaking a stubby finger at Hendrif, “that’s the last time I bring you out to do anything for at least the next dozen years.”
“But, Uncle—”
“Uh!” Brilg interrupted. “That’s enough out of you. I’ll let your mother decide what punishment’s fit for you. I told you to watch where you step.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” Mendrion asked.
“I was teaching them how to find stones that look like basilisk eggs,” Brilg answered. “They were supposed to bring some back—stones, that is—so I could judge their progress.” At Mendrion’s confused look, the dwarf threw out his arms. “Basilisk eggs make a delicious omelet. But if you don’t fool the basilisk into thinking its eggs are still there, you’ll never get away fast enough to avoid a poisonous bite.” He grinned crookedly at Mendrion. “So you’re the new Seer, are you?”
“Well, yes, I am—at least, that’s what Terla says.”
“In my experience, what Terla says is what’s real,” Brilg said. “Ordrek thought you had stolen the Gryphon’s Claw from Terla, but I knew that if you had done so, the Claw wouldn’t have responded to you. Then we would have known for sure that you were an impostor.”
“Sorry!” Ordrek said with a shrug.
Brilg extended a hand. “Welcome to the Mountain.” Mendrion smiled and took it. “Please, come with us and share supper.”
Mendrion accepted, and the dwarfs led him upward to where the slope leveled out. Several low buildings ringed an open area in front of the entrance to a cavern. The dwarfs there, of the White Forge Kindred as Brilg said, provided him with a filling meal and plenty of congratulations on his new place as Seer of Gryphon Mountain. During supper, Hendrif gave Mendrion more than one sheepish look as his mother forced him to wash every piece of earthenware she could lay her hands on. Mendrion felt glad that at least his first experience as the new Seer had ended well and that he was accepted of the White Forge Kindred of dwarfs.
This tale is #2 in “The Coming of the Seer,” the story of Mendrion’s becoming Seer of Gryphon Mountain. Read the beginning of the story, “The Seer of Gryphon Mountain.” The next tale is “The Maiden at the Bridge.”
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