Dara, Page, and the Secrets of the Multiverse

▷ 7.2

The fog set not long after the sun had gone down, washing all over the mountain like soapy water draining out of a washing machine. It sank into Dara's skin, threatening to freeze his bones with the rest of the foliage. He rubbed his hands together, grateful for the meager warmth his gloves afforded him. A shelter. He needed to find one. And fast.

He didn't dare smooth out the batteries of his flashlight. His eyes worked well in the dark. For now. When Page first found that out, he joked about stealing Dara from the excavation team to his cohort. Dara eventually made his way to said cohort, and Page was the least of the reasons, but a reason nonetheless. A smile played on his lips at the memory, but was immediately squashed by the urgency of the things he had to do.

His boots squished against the soil, the fog melting off the solid layer. If not for the soles of his boots, he would have slipped and slid down the incline earlier. With his breath crystallizing in front of his nose, he gripped the nearest branch and eased himself down the next ledge. The rock jutting out of the soil looked sturdy. Let him hope it could carry his weight.

Eventually, he reached a wider plateau. The fog made it impossible to see what lay beyond the rim, but Dara wasn't that curious to find out. Besides, if those silhouettes proved to be what he expected them to be, he'd never have to find out until the next morning.

With a pounding heart, Dara jogged towards the blob of orange rippling beyond the fog's influence. His boots stirred some of the low-lying clouds; his fingers slapped the protruding branches out of the way. As fast as his aching body allowed him, he pushed past the initial haze. A single hut stood in the middle of nowhere. Amber light glowed from between the gaps in the wooden planks for walls. Someone was in.

Salvation, at last.

A silhouette shifted below the light, followed by a shocked but silent gasp. It was a person, and they spotted Dara. He raised a hand, hoping the fog hadn't obscured his face too much, and the locals could see well enough in this cloudy darkness. "Hi," he said. "Anyone understand me?"

The fog whipped around a dark hand punching through its defenses. A strong grip enveloped Dara's wrist, and a force yanked him forward. "Come." A heavily-accented but legible word in the language he spoke flitted into the chill wind and into his ears. "Night is no place for wanderers."

A profound quote, had Dara not been rattled beyond comprehension and had his limbs not started spasming. A good night's sleep. That was all he needed. He'd be brand new tomorrow. Maybe.

Wooden hinges whined followed by a grating noise of an opening, twine-woven door rang into the nigh silent night. The sounds laced around the gentle chirps of insects and the various calls of nocturnal animals out to hunt for prey. A gentle orange ambience from the inside of the house slammed into Dara's light-deprived eyes. Black spots danced in his vision as a man dressed in robes of muted colors strode into view.

"Sit, wanderer," the man said, pointing towards a three-legged stool bound by more twine. Those were some durable twine, really. The stool was charred black, but Dara sank into it anyway. The man, satisfied, turned towards a table pushed against the barricaded windows. Clanks of utensils joined the forest's cacophony.

Footsteps creaked over the floorboards as the man pulled another stool from under the table and handed Dara a cup. In the orange light, Dara examined the near-black liquid sloshing inside. "Not many wanderers make it here," the man continued, massaging his knees. Cloth slippers covered his feet. How in the world did he survive in a rocky and slippery mountain with those? "What is your goal?"

Dara pursed his lips, taking a swig from the cup. A citrusy taste spread across his tongue. "The Temple of Thynesenoi," he said. "Is it near here?"

The man stroked his gray beard. Dara wasn't familiar with the customs of the ethnic group in these parts, so it would be best to reserve his observations to himself. "Ah, the Temple of Heaven," the man hummed. "Many wanderers tried to take something from it, but all have failed. Have you come here to seek such fate?"

"How many have you met in this peak to be able to master the language?" Dara asked instead. He didn't come here to die. Rather, he'd come here to retrieve a greater treasure than a few old rocks.

The man shrugged. "I took a tourism course in the university down below," he said. The accent receded, leaving a neutral tone underneath. "You've got a good head on your shoulders. Otherwise, I would have had fun messing with you. It's fun, telling clueless people the spirit of their ancestors has possessed me to speak to them."

"At least we got that out of the way," Dara answered with a brief nod. He sipped from his cup again. That was when the bitter taste hit. He did his best to hide the wince creeping into his face. What the hell was this? "Do you know the quickest way to the Temple?"

"I said one true thing about it, though," the man continued, ignoring Dara's question or the crumpling of his face because of the tea. Were those part of the fib too? The man didn't look to be in his seventies, so maybe the sixties or fifties. Still young, compared to Dara who probably wouldn't reach that age.

The man scratched the thinning beard on his chin. "Many have tried taking things from the Temple. They often got bad luck on the way down, or later in life. I'm not one to believe in legends, but for this one, I'll gladly do so."

"But do you have something? A–a map? Or something?" Dara asked.

If the man sensed Dara's desperation, he didn't bother pointing it out. "I usually stop people from leaping into their deaths, but if you truly wish to, who am I to interfere?" he said. Dara got the notion that the man wasn't looking for an answer, so he stayed put while the man stood up and stalked towards the wooden shelves lining the walls. "I have the right thing."

He produced a rolled parchment from the depths of his closet and handed it to Dara. "That's the last map I have before I order copies for wannabe adventurers." He retook his seat and folded his hands over his lap. "Remember to call local patrol guards when you get lost. The roads are treacherous. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Dara bobbed his head. Not that he was totally clueless. The topographical maps simulated in the lab based on pictures taken by drones weren't kidding. "Can I stay for the night?" he asked the man. "I'll go to the Temple tomorrow."

The man, bless his heart, didn't refuse.