A Hero's Journey: Seasons (for issue 975)

     - old Brightvale proverb

     A hardened Yellow Moehog glanced out the window of his cottage, a mug of hot soup clutched in his hands. A gentle snowfall had just begun, a slow flurry of flakes twirling in the air, showing off to anyone who cared to watch. The only sound in his cottage, aside from him blowing away the steam wafting from his mug, was the merry crackling of his fireplace, sufficiently fueled for the evening. He looked away from the weather to his mantelpiece, which was bare except for a couple of rusty candelabras and a steel scimitar mounted over it on the wall.

     Boreas took a long draught of his soup before taking his mug with him to the dining table in front of the fire. After a few more sips, he leaned back and consulted an old issue of the Neopian Times with the headline, “Snowager Still Missing – Experts Baffled.”

     A knock on his door made him drop the newspaper back onto his table and stand up. He peered through the window to see who was on his doorstep.

     Three travellers bundled in coats, hats, and scarves stood outside his cottage. Boreas identified one as an Acara with a wooden wand thrust through her sash, a Blumaroo carrying a sword, and an Eyrie with a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Boreas’ brows lifted, but he unbolted his door.

     “I take it you aren’t here for mail,” he said gruffly.

     The Eyrie lowered her hood and stared at him with profound amber eyes. “Master Boreas?”

     Boreas gaped at her.

     “Talinia?” The Yellow Moehog blinked. “Ah…it’s been a while. What brings you here?”

     “We need a place to stay…and someone who can teach swordsmanship. If that’s all right.”

     He frowned but stepped aside to admit the trio into his house. Though they tried to shake off the snow that had fallen onto their shoulders and heads, they still left a few errant puddles on their way inside. The Moehog let out a small sigh but gestured to his coat rack.

     “Sit by the fire and leave your coats and packs here. Don’t want you tracking any more snow on my floor,” said Boreas. He headed for his kitchen, but not before he caught a glance of the white Blumaroo with a sword at his waist and who had stopped to gaze up at the scimitar. The Blue Acara pulled the Blumaroo away so they could take their seats in front of the fire.

     “Ugh, you’re being a sword nerd again, Rohane,” she complained.

     “No, I’m not!”

     Boreas began ladling soup into three mugs. “Rohane? Then, that Acara must be…”

     “Mipsy,” Talinia supplied as she sat down primly. “They saved Meridell from Ramtor. Now, they’re here to find out what happened to the Snowager.”

     “With you, don’t forget,” Mipsy added cheerily. “You know Terror Mountain better than either of us.”

     “So, you’re Master Boreas?” Rohane asked as the Yellow Moehog came back with the mugs of soup on a tray. “It’s nice to meet you. Talinia told us all about you – how you knew her family for years.”

     “Yes, yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” Boreas answered, a bit too abruptly as he set the tray down on the table. “I should have a couple of spare rooms, but teaching you? Well, I assume I won’t be teaching Talinia or Miss Mage over there – “

     The Acara squinted at him. “Hey, who are you calling Miss Mage?” Talinia elbowed her discreetly before she could say anything else.

     Boreas continued, ignoring Mipsy’s reaction entirely. “There are fresher, more skilled fighters here in Terror Mountain. I’m well past my prime. Besides…” He turned to Rohane. “If you and Miss Mage were able to put away Ramtor for good, you probably have everything you need to face whoever – or whatever is behind all this.”

     “That’s not true,” Rohane objected, setting down his mug decisively while Mipsy groaned and rolled her eyes. “Traveling through Terror Mountain was not easy, especially since this is my first time here.”

     “Never been here before either,” the Acara chimed in. “We nearly got lost in the Caves of Terror.”

     “There’s still a lot I have to learn,” the Blumaroo insisted. “I have to be ready when we reach the top of the mountain to look for the Snowager. And Talinia said you’re one of the best swordsmen in Terror Mountain.”

     The Yellow Moehog looked at the green Eyrie, who suddenly became quite busy sipping her mug of soup.

     “We had to make a break for it once when we faced one too many frozen skeletons,” Mipsy commented. She shuddered. “So many frozen skeletons…”

     “Which is why I need a mentor!” Rohane told Boreas. He rested his elbow on the table. “If I had been stronger, we wouldn’t have had to run.”

     Boreas flicked a small vegetable crumb from one of his tusks. “A strong warrior knows when to fight, and when to flee to fight another day,” he intoned. “There will always be something, or someone, who is stronger or more powerful than you, and sometimes, it’s better to leave them alone.”

     Rohane sank slightly in his chair. “Right…”

     Instead of responding, Boreas chose to stare into his fireplace, and then up at his scimitar, draining his mug of soup. He could hear Talinia whispering to her friends but paid no attention to what she was saying. Finally, he let out a breath and set his empty mug down.

     “Hmph. It sounds like you do still have a lot to learn…Rohane, was it?” A smile played on the Moehog’s lips. “I make no promises, but I will teach you what I know, which will help you survive this place I call home.”

     “You’ll teach him?” Talinia asked, her eyebrows lifting. Nevertheless, the green Eyrie smiled. “Thank you, Master. Unlike my brothers, he’s no beginner.”

     “I may as well be, if Terror Mountain’s monsters are still giving me trouble.”

     Mipsy patted Rohane on the back. “Don’t worry, Master Boreas sounds like he knows exactly what he’s doing! Or what he’s going to do, anyway.”

     “I’ve never taught anyone outside Terror Mountain, so I may be flying by the seat of my pants here, a little. But thanks for the vote of confidence, Miss Mage.”

     “It’s ‘Mipsy’!”

     * * *

     The morning dawned bright, early, and – as always in Terror Mountain – cold. Scimitar in hand, Boreas stood in the snow, an immovable pillar in the drifts and unperturbed by the wind. He watched as his pupil emerged from his cabin, bundled in a scarf, jacket, and trousers tucked into calf-high boots. In the serene light of the sun, the two of them faced each other squarely.

     “It’s one thing to hear about your escapades back in Meridell; it’s another thing to actually see them for myself,” the Moehog said gruffly, gripping his blade in both hands. “So, before we start, draw your sword. Let’s have a little duel.”

     “I’ve been meaning to ask – is that a scimitar? It’s curved like one,” Rohane remarked, but did as he was told.

     Boreas cracked a grin. “You have a good eye for swords.” He twirled his scimitar. “The first move is yours. Come at me.”

     The snow crunched and sank under Rohane’s boots as he lunged forward, but Boreas barely flinched, swinging his blade deftly to block before drawing back and thrusting with all his might. The white Blumaroo tried to dodge, which he narrowly did, but at the cost of stumbling into the nearest snowdrift. When he got back up and slashed upward with his sword, Boreas was quick again, parrying the strike, and the next one, and the next one after that. They reversed roles, with the Yellow Moehog’s scimitar seemingly coming from various directions. Rohane blocked and evaded, his sword brushing Boreas’ jerkin sleeve, but when he sidestepped, he tripped over a tree root half buried in the snow with a yelp of surprise. While he was busy wiping snow from his face and ears, he found himself staring down at the tip of Boreas’ scimitar.

     “Not bad, boy, you have talent,” said Boreas. He sheathed his scimitar and extended a hand to help Rohane up. “But you’re clearly not used to fighting in the snow.”

     The white Blumaroo shook his head. “My brother and I would go into the woods outside Trestin, but not during winter. We stayed in the village.”

     “Well, good news.” Boreas guffawed. “You’ll get a lot of practice while you’re here. Your first lesson is that your surroundings are never obstacles. They can help you, if you use them well. I’m sure Meridell’s forests and hills provided you with cover, but the snow, barren trees, and even snowstorms are just as good for the job.”

     “We’ve hidden from monsters behind snowdrifts and trees, but we avoided fighting whenever we could.” Rohane planted his sword point down on the ground and leaned on it. “It was hard enough without the snow and the cold getting in the way.”

     “Snow will never be a problem for you when we’re done.” The Moehog paused, stroking his beard. “Most of the time, at least. Let’s take a walk to cool down; it’ll also get you used to the feel of it under your boots.”

     “And then what?”

     Boreas chuckled. “You’re eager to learn, huh? Perfect. I hope you don’t mind that I figure this out as we go.”

     * * *

     The next morning, Talinia woke up before dawn, putting on her leather tunic and leggings. As she selected a coat, she noticed two figures already out in the snow and the dim light, outside Boreas’ window. She peered through the glass pane as she picked up her bow and arrows.

     After taking a sling bag with rations and a skin of water, she stepped outside in time to see Boreas, walking staff in hand, drilling Rohane through several stances.

     “Spread your feet wider – no, you’ll sink into the snow – that’s better.” Boreas nodded with approval and brandished his staff. Stay where you are and start blocking my strikes. Ready?“

     “I’m ready.”

     “Good!” The Yellow Moehog grinned with anticipation before sweeping his staff up and to the side. With a satisfying crack, Rohane’s sword met it perfectly. Boreas continued, his staff darting this way and that – to the left, the right, up and out, down and curving. Though at first Rohane managed to keep up, his feet began to slide in the snow, and each of his parries started to look more frantic.

     Boreas drew back, and the white Blumaroo relaxed, bending over to catch his breath.

     “You’re resisting the snow,” Boreas said, pointing his staff down at the thick white blanket at their feet. “Accept it as a part of your surroundings. Move along with it instead of against it.”

     “But how? I was slipping!”

     “Adapt. You’re no longer fighting in sunny Meridell; you’re fighting a battle here.” Boreas twirled his staff toward Rohane’s general direction, forcing the latter to duck. “Fighting here will be different. Isn’t that why you came to me? Let’s do it again.”

     The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at the green Eyrie who had been watching them.

     “Good morning, Talinia.”

     “Good morning, Master, Rohane.”

     “Sorry. I guess I still have a long way to go.” Rohane said these words to Talinia as much as to Boreas.

     “Going hunting?”

     Talinia nodded. “Yes, Master.” Then she waved lightly at Rohane. “You’re doing well.”

     “You forgot to mention that Master Boreas is an early riser,” the Blumaroo said, raising his hand to cover a yawn. “A very early riser.”

     “Each of us is given twenty-four hours in a day, but not all of us can make the most out of all twenty-four hours,” the Moehog replied. At that last word, he suddenly whipped around to strike his student’s head. Rohane immediately raised his sword to block the staff with a gasp. “Besides, the sooner I’m done with you, the sooner you three can go visit the Snowager, right?”

     “Right…” Rohane let out a breath, the air forming a wispy cloud that dissipated quickly into the cold. “I’m ready to do it again, Master.”

     “Don’t forget; the snow is a natural part of your surroundings. Adapt, don’t resist.”

     * * *

     Mipsy flicked her wand toward Boreas’ fireplace, and the kindling immediately erupted into a column of flames that stabilized into a crackling, comfortable fire. She twitched her wand a few more times, changing the colour of the flames to blue, to green, to purple, and then back to the usual red, yellow and orange. After putting away her wand, she glanced out the nearest window at the darkening sky.

     “When did Master Boreas and Rohane say they would be back?” she asked the green Eyrie who was setting the table.

     “Before dinner,” Talinia answered.

     “But it’s almost dinner,” the Blue Acara whined. “And it looks so good…a pot roast with vegetables and gravy…and potatoes…and hot chocolate…”

     “Bitter hot chocolate, remember. Master’s favourite.”

     “It’s still hot chocolate!”

     Their conversation was interrupted when the front door suddenly banged open, bringing with it a wave of chill and snow that stopped when the door was shut again. Boreas promptly took off his coat and hat and made a beeline for the fire.

     “Master, you’re just in time!” Talinia exclaimed. Then she frowned. “But…where’s Rohane?”

     The Yellow Moehog grinned impishly as he hung his scimitar over the mantelpiece. “He should be back…well, any time between ‘soon’ and ‘before bedtime’.”

     “What do you mean?” Mipsy asked. She gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “What kind of training are you putting him through this time?”

     Boreas laughed, his eyes on the dinner Talinia was laying out on the table. “Don’t you worry, Miss Mage – “

     “I’m not Miss Mage!”

     “I gave him a little test after our sparring session. We have been going out into the forest for several days now; I’m going to see if he can find his way back by himself, with only the landscape and the skies to guide him.”

     Mipsy blinked. “That doesn’t sound too b – wait, but it’s snowing!”

     “I’m sure he can remember the paths from this cabin to the hunting and training grounds, but leaving him on his own, Master?” The green Eyrie’s forehead creased in worry. “Maybe I should go out and – “

     Boreas shook his head. “I’m sure your swordsman is a fine pathfinder when it’s sunny and green, but it’s time we put his skills to the test in the snow. He can’t depend on you all the time, Talinia. Especially if you two will be treating him as your leader.”

     “Well, he kind of is,” Talinia clarified.

     “See? My point stands.” Boreas flopped into the chair nearest the fireplace and placed his arms behind his head. He stretched out his legs. “So, do you ladies want to take bets on when he’ll get here, or do you want to start dinner without him?”

     Mipsy looked hungrily again at the spread on the table and took in the rich aromas of the roast and the gravy.

     “I want to look for Rohane,” the Acara decided.

     Talinia nodded from where she had finished setting the table. “This might be too much for someone who isn’t from Terror Mountain.”

     “Too much?” Boreas echoed. “Isn’t that what Terror Mountain is about? It’s always too much. The sooner he realizes that the better. Battle is like that, too. It’s unmerciful and unpredictable. I can’t go easy on him.”

     “But – “

     The door banged open again and was immediately shut to bar a chill wind from entering and extinguishing the fireplace. Wordlessly, Rohane hurried for the fireplace and stood in front of it without even bothering to divest himself of his coat and scarf.

     “Good thing we didn’t take bets then, or I would’ve lost,” said Boreas, clapping his hands. “Well done. You managed to navigate this part of Terror Mountain by yourself, in the snow, in the wind, and without much sun to guide you.”

     “You could’ve warned me before you left!” Rohane complained, wrapping his arms around himself.

     “That was another lesson,” the Moehog answered as he stood up to begin cutting up the roast. “You never know when you will wind up lost and have to find your way back with only nature to guide you, with much of it looking the same. And Terror Mountain enjoys stranding unwary travellers.”

     As the three travellers immediately took their places at the table, Rohane scowled. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

     Boreas just laughed as he helped himself to the steaming roast. “Well, you’re not an unwary traveller, are you? Not anymore, at least.”

     * * *

     Boreas jumped onto a snow-laden log, scimitar flicking out to meet Rohane’s sword. Despite his age, the Moehog was nimble and didn’t seem to notice that he was already darting about in calf-deep snow. It took all of Rohane’s energy to keep up and not trip over stray drifts or buried obstacles, and in fact, his toe connected with a rock that was completely obscured by snow, forcing him to pivot in what he thought was an embarrassing way to avoid getting hit by Boreas’ scimitar. But he recovered by jumping away and kicking up a shower of snow at Boreas, who had gotten down from the log.

     “Good!” The Moehog didn’t seem to care that he had to brush the snow from his face. “That’s what I’m talking about!” The two of them exchanged blows under the shade of a few bare trees in the soft morning light, the sunshine glancing off their blades. “I have to say, at least I don’t have to drag you kicking and screaming from your bed!” He sidestepped before cleaving with his scimitar, a strike stopped dead in its tracks by Rohane’s broadsword.

     At first, the two of them stood there, blades interlocked, chests heaving from exertion.

     “Thank you, Master Boreas,” Rohane whispered. Then he managed to crack a small grin. “I’m sorry.” He twisted his sword suddenly, catching Boreas by surprise and forcing him to drop his scimitar.

     Despite the split-second astonishment on his face, the Moehog let out a laugh soon afterwards.

     “You think you’ve beaten me?” Boreas asked lightly as he leaned away, ducking and dodging as Rohane chased him, still armed. As Boreas wove away, he retaliated by throwing a swift punch that narrowly missed the Blumaroo’s ears. “I don’t need my scimitar!” He followed up with a headbutt that left Rohane briefly dazed.

     Boreas smiled as he sidestepped, causing Rohane’s sword to cleave thin air, before kicking up a cloud of snow that partly obscured his mad dash toward a clump of bare trees. Sheathing his sword, Rohane pursued his mentor, jumped up to grab a hanging branch in both hands, and swung so his feet connected with Boreas’ back, sending him sprawling into the snow.

     “Whoof!”

     “You told me to use my surroundings,” said Rohane as he dropped back to the ground.

     Groaning, Boreas turned so he was sitting up, and accepted an extended hand that allowed him to stand. It didn’t take long for his grimace of pain to become a delighted smile.

     “That I did, boy, that I did. I’m impressed.” The Moehog brushed off his trousers and jacket. “You should be ready to travel soon.”

     “Really?”

     Boreas snorted and spread his feet into a fighting stance, fists upraised. “Nah, you still need to work on your hand-to-hand. Come at me – hah! Don’t forget, we’re still fighting in the snow!”

To be continued…