Page 15 of Quest

In short order we had broken up camp. As we prepared to depart, I approached Ren and without a word reached for his satchel. He twisted his body away, clutching his pack like one might protect a treasure. “No thank you, I can manage.”

I didn’t have time to engage in another battle of wills against this man’s persistent stubbornness; if only the strength that compelled him to fight with me extended to his physical capabilities. “Considering how little sleep you got last night, I doubt you’ve fully recovered from your first strenuous day. Today will be difficult enough without this extra burden.”

Ren glared at me, as if my consideration was a personal attack…a jab that at least reassured me he was feeling better. Yet his hesitation lasted only a moment before he reluctantly handed me his satchel. I shouldered it easily, causing him to glare in frustration at the double packs I bore, but he held back his usual biting retort.

“Have you taken another strengthening draft?” I asked.

He offered a timid nod. “I also concocted another potion to help with the muscle soreness.”

Time would tell how effective these would prove with his skillset. “I hope they help.” I started to turn away but paused when his soft voice spoke again. “Thank you for the cloak last night.”

He kept his eyes averted to the ground as if he couldn’t quite meet my gaze, the posture similar to the demure manner I’d seen conducted by several women of the court while in my presence. The boy certainly was odd. Perhaps it was a result of years spent studying herbology, with little time for exercise or other recreation. His sister’s behavior when I’d met her had been unconventional as well.

His show of gratitude left me uncomfortable, as if I’d been caught doing something dishonorable rather than considerate. “A poor night’s sleep would only hold back the entire group. Time is pressing.”

My tone came out more gruffly than I intended, my subconscious efforts to mask the worry I’d experienced towards him last night. Whatever my reservations about his trustworthiness, his tossing and turning had stirred a protective instinct similar to what I imagined I would feel towards a younger brother if I had one.

I ended our awkward conversation abruptly and took the lead as we set out. The first hour of our trek proved uneventful as we walked the winding path that led to the mountain base, my only measurement of time how often I glanced back to check on Ren. Though his steps appeared weary, his tonics seemed to be working their magic, allowing him to navigate the relatively smooth terrain and keep pace, a vast improvement from yesterday.

As the looming silhouette of the Misty Mountains came into view, the previously clear skies suddenly darkened. The air grew cold as an unnatural mist descended like a curtain drawn by some otherworldly force. From behind me I heard Ren’s breath catch. “I knew it: these are the misty mountains.”

Through the thick, silvery fog I could just barely make out his widened gaze taking in the swirls pressing in around us, his eyes reflecting a deep knowledge of what lay ahead, confirming the legend I’d discovered about these particular mountains. “You’ve heard of this mountain range?” I asked.

He nodded vaguely, his face laced with reverence and a hint of fear. “Many herbs used for concealing potions are said to grow along their ridges. Legend says that the mist is believed to be the breath of the divine that protects the secrets of the ancient forgotten temple that resides at its peak, home to forbidden magical knowledge passed down through the ages.”

Amid my begrudging respect I experienced a sense of trepidation that had nothing to do with the obstacle that lay ahead. While Ren’s assistance was imperative, until I fully dispelled my strange misgivings concerning his character, I couldn’t entrust specific details to him…ones I feared would come to light once we reached the ancient temple. Though his involvement in our quest meant I couldn’t keep our ultimate purpose hidden from him forever, it still felt too soon when I remained uncertain on whether or not I could trust him.

I exchanged an uneasy glance with Jiang; by his own grave expression he clearly shared my misgivings. Ren’s brow furrowed as he noticed our look. I came up with a hasty explanation to excuse it. “I’m unfamiliar with the mist that has given these mountains its name. Is our entourage in danger?”

Ren shook his head. “The mist itself isn’t toxic and is often bottled as an ingredient, though it does possess some…unusual properties.”

These didn’t immediately manifest until we ventured deeper into the cloudy mist. Almost immediately the world around us transformed—the path underfoot became slick with moisture, while the edges of the mountain path blurred into the white expanse. Visibility dropped dramatically, dwindling to mere steps ahead as the mist thickened around us, swallowing the path in its opaque embrace.

I momentarily stopped to pull a coil of rope from my pack. “We’ll tie ourselves together so we don’t risk separating,” I announced, my voice sounding muffled in the dense air. We methodically connected ourselves, one to the next—with me in the lead and Ren directly behind me—the rough rope like a tangible lifeline in a world where every other sense was smothered by the encompassing white.

Ren suddenly brushed my arm, bidding me pause. “I have an idea that will hopefully aid our visibility.” Before I could respond, he retrieved a small jar containing a thick, green paste from his satchel that I still carried. He caught my questioning look. “It’s an old herbal blend known to sharpen the eyes and clear the mind. It might cut through this.”

He moved to each member of our line and applied the paste with practiced ease beneath our eyes, his touch confident and surprisingly gentle. The mixture was cool against my skin, tinged with the sharp scents of eucalyptus and mint—a refreshing clarity against the musty dampness of the fog.

“Did you expect to need this?” I asked, wondering if he actually knew more than he let on about our mission. Could it be a mere act of ignorance?

“My training requires me to be well versed in the geographical location of specific herbs,” he explained. “I admit that when I first noticed these mountains this morning I wasn’t entirely certain they were the misty mountains I’d read about, but though the years of darkness prevented me from seeing them in person, they matched the description in my books. To be safe, I prepared this tonic along with my other enchanted potions.”

Begrudging respect smothered my previous misgivings. While I still had many unanswered questions, for all his physical weaknesses the man clearly knew his herbs. Perhaps his knowledge matched his father’s enough to prove sufficient for the mission ahead.

The paste slowly began to take effect as we carefully navigated the misty mountainside. The cloudy veil before my eyes seemed to thin, the contours of the rocky path becoming just discernible enough to follow. The muted sounds of our surroundings grew slightly sharper, grounding us to the hidden world beyond the fog.

“Remarkable,” I muttered as the silhouettes of twisted trees gradually emerged from the expanse of whiteness.

“The boy’s woodland magic trick is surprisingly effective.” For all of Jiang’s grumbling, I detected his own admiration…along with a hint of remorse for the poor treatment he’d bestowed upon the boy since he’d joined our party.

Whether or not he overheard us, Ren kept his gaze focused ahead, scanning the mist as if he could see or sense things we could not. Though the world remained a shadow play of forms and half-tones, visibility had improved enough for us to continue moving forward, tethered by rope as well as the beginning of a newfound trust in Ren’s skills.

While the fog had slightly cleared from our vision, the mist's power remained overwhelming, reducing our world to eerie silhouettes and muted sounds. The deeper we ventured, the more it seemed to pulse with life—voices, ethereal and haunting, began to weave around us, enveloping us with an almost palpable presence the deeper we pushed into the heart of the mountain. Some called out like the familiar echoes of loved ones long gone, while others murmured dark forebodings and chilling secrets, each gust carrying fragments of past regrets and unspoken fears. Each step seemed to draw out fears and memories, testing our resolve with every whispered word.

As it thickened around us, its haunting whispers began to probe the corners of my own soul, stirring up the shadows I had long tried to bury. The voices seemed to know my deepest insecurities, taunting me about my role as the second prince, a title that came with expectations but not the respect accorded to my elder brother.

Here beneath the same suffocating darkness that had cursed my kingdom for most of my life I experienced the same desperation to prove my worth, to show that I was more than just a spare hidden in the shadow of the throne. Each whispered doubt from the fog felt like an echo of the court's whispers that questioned whether I could ever do anything to help the kingdom it was my duty to protect, my fears that I would fail the quest the king had entrusted to me.

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