“I don’t like the idea of Never Return.” Atcher agrees.
“Easy enough,” Tonic decides, “let’s find out what Restore the Seasons is about. Maybe whatever is down that path will allow us to use the Short Tunnel on our way back.”
In agreement, the trio of friends start up the perilous-looking path to the left. Undertow, Turbine, and Steam race joyfully along the path, frisking in the brisk mountain breezes, and playing a game of Motes and Eddies. Brownie, sprite, and gnome hike up the steep incline, bracing against the slippery path and the pushing breezes. The temperature gets colder as they climb.
Huffing and puffing, the friends reach a leveled area before the next climb. The air is colder here, distinctly crisp and chilly. Taking out a gear-patterned brocade duster, Atcher is glad they thought to pack jackets.This part of the mountain is a riot of color, the leaves all decked out in their best colors. The trail is covered with crunchy leaves, and nuts are everywhere, ready for picking. The Wind Rabbits race through the leaves, stirring them up into whorls and swirls of rattling color. Apples, pears, figs, gourds, and persimmons all peek through the foliage just off the path.
“This is the perfection of Autumn,” Atcher says blissfully, “all those bits of Autumn you love, squished together into one perfect-painting moment. I bet there is a harvest festival just up ahead!” Tonic has made them each a mug of cinnamon-y tea, and happily breathes in the faint, drifting smell of campfire. Prism sips the warming drink, and curls up with Undertow on a seat-height rock, dreamily knitting the clouds into a rainy grey, when the sprite grunts grumpily “What is that up there?”
Ahead of the three friends, an intricately-worked bronze statue stands, blocking the way forward. The trio examines the obstacle. The statue’s armor is patterned to look like sheaves of wheat, with cornucopia of ripe fruits and vegetables meeting in the middle of the breastplate. A full quiver is slung across the knight’s back, and a sturdy hunting bow is held in one hand. On the other side rests a shield, depicting a wounded deer, and a field of stars. The bronze knight stands in mud-caked boots on a rocky bronze path strewn with curling bronze leaves and oakcorns. At close inspection, Atcher notices a cloud and lightning pattern on the helm and gauntlets. The plaque beneath the statue says “Blood Knight.”
“Well, what now?” Tonic wonders aloud.
Atcher muses, “The statue stands like a sentry or guard, blocking the path. Maybe we need to honor the Blood Knight so that we can pass.”
Prism lashes out “Who is giving their blood first, then?”
“Let’s take a minute to consider the idea.” Tonic suggests. “We might not need blood to honor the statue. What can we tell about the knight?”
Prism snorts and mutters “Oh stagnant seas!” but mulls over the statue’s imagery. “There’s storms, and stars.” the sprite grudgingly offers.
Atcher nods and continues, “Good observation! This area is Autumn distilled. And the statue is made of bronze.”
“There is the wheat harvest, and the deer hunt. And the base shows a long, winding path. Maybe travel or journey?”
“Okay, so the Blood Knight is Autumn, bronze, harvest, sacrifice, storms, stars, and journeys. How does that help us get past?” Prism asks.
Atcher looks at the clouds still knit grey and rainy. “Can we each offer something to match an aspect of the Blood Knight?”
Prism follows Atcher’s gaze and nods. “I’ll offer a storm.” With a quick spin, the sprite hurls Undertow at the clouds. Giving a nasty bite and a kick, the Wind Rabbit herds the biggest, darkest cloud down toward the statue. Undertow nips and harries the cloud until it is rolling and black. As the storm cloud boils over the Blood Knight it lets out a mighty boom of thunder, and strikes the statue’s bow before scudding off toward the sea.
The path beneath the knight seems shorter as Tonic says to the statue, “We are on a journey. My journey. And we must continue this path, for the next stage of my journey.” Then Tonic puts a mug full of cinnamon-y tea at the knight’s feet.
Atcher takes out the half-folded Night Tent. Unscrewing a citrine star from a join between poles, the brownie says, “Here, a star to guide you, and it was a piece of my Night Tent, too.”
The bronze path beneath the statue has shortened, and the three friends find they can easily continue on the trail up the mountain; somehow the statue is no longer blocking their path. The incline is steep here, and the air gets colder. The trio climbs with difficulty, often needing to boost each other up steep parts of the path, and help brace each other against gravity. The Wind Rabbits do their best to help push the trio along, racing and pushing at their backs.
The friends reach another leveled area, and can see the next steep climb ahead. The air has turned bitter cold here, and the friends’ breath comes out in cottony puffs. Prism puts on a heavy, weather-decorated deep blue peacoat, and Tonic bundles up in a surtout trimmed with leaves, berries, bark, and roots (those used in tea blends, of course).This part of the mountain seems desolate; bare skeletons of plants stand starkly against the freshly fallen snow, ice crystals glitter on rocks, and icicles hang from conifers. The trail is covered with a fine hoarfrost, and each step grinds beneath their feet, with a squeaking crunch. But the thick, fluffy snow just off the trail is deep enough to build snow forts in, and several burrow entrances can be seen, dotted between trees. The landscape is rather alive, really: the holly has bright red berries showing, witch hazel has cheerful yellow blooms offering color from a high crevice, and song birds look for seeds. There is the fresh smell of evergreens, and the distant scent of a warm fire and peppermint cocoa, a tantalizing promise of warmth and coziness somewhere in all this biting cold. Steam huddles in the travel teapot, and Turbine rustles around Atcher’s bronze bag. Undertow, meanwhile, rushes and churns all around the snowy scene, howling at the world, and snapping brittle twigs off branches. Ahead of the sprite, brownie, and gnome is a second statue. This statue is also of a knight, this time made all of silver. The statue’s armor is patterned with crystals and snowflakes. The whole thing is scrollwork silver filigree, and the gaps are filled in with small glass panes. Some of the panes are broken, but the broken panes look artistic, intentional. The knight holds up a candle in one hand, peering ahead. The other hand holds a pillow and bedroll bundle. The silver base beneath the statue has one bare shrub at the knight’s feet, and nothing else. The plaque beneath the statue says “Glass Knight.”
“Again?” Prism asks with frustration. “What to sacrifice this time?”
Atcher considers the Glass Knight, saying, “This statue has symbols for winter, silver, fragility, clarity, desolation, rest, comfort, searching…”
“Why don’t we sit down and think it through? We could all use a meal, too.” Tonic suggests.
The friends all sit, huddled close, and have a small meal of honey butter toast. Well, it would be toast if they had a fire. But honey butter bread is almost as good. As they eat and rest, they discuss what to do.
“I could give up my Night Ten for rest or comfort” Atcher volunteers with distaste. “But then we would have nowhere to sleep safely.”
Prism votes with a laugh to “dump a hill of snow on it, and just walk over.” The gnome and brownie let out laughs too.
Tonic says, “Well, we are searching for Graemes, but I’m not leaving the journal.” And looking at the statue, the gnome comments, “Well blooming buds! It’s moved aside!”
As the others look, they agree in startlement, “Oh! Maybe the rest and comfort was all we needed for it?” Atcher muses. The group gathers up their things and hurries to cross before the Glass Knight moves back. Again the steep path almost bests them, but nearing twilight their struggles bring them to the next knight.
At the third level area, the friends are nearly worn out. The climb has been arduous, and they are unprepared for the prolonged cold they have faced. The air has warmed here, and grown more humid, as though getting ready for a shower. This part of the mountain is green with moss and new leaves. The trail is slick from rain and mist. A few flowers have just begun to bud and bloom, and there are butterflies flitting in the warm yellow light. The Wind Rabbits come back out, exploring the trail, puffing butterflies, and playing sliding games on the wet path. The air smells of warm, wet earth and sweet blossoms. Dandelions, clover, violets, and jonquils bloom. Tonic spots some snowdrops blooming in the shade where the ground is still frosty. Honey bees buzz around all the flowers, adding a lively humming tune to the place. Prism points out some ducklings sleeping under a fern, and Undertow gently rocks a hummingbird nest on a beech twig. As expected, ahead of them is another statue of a knight, this one is made of gold. The statue’s armor is patterned to look like angry rainclouds and rushing tides; the phases of the moon trim the breastplate. Slung across the knight’s back is a shield, etched with leaves of all sorts unfurling, and buds starting to open. The knight holds a pot filled with a variety of seeds in one hand, and a muddy spear held high in the other. The base of the statue is a freshly tilled field on the shore of the ocean. The plaque beneath the statue says “Storm Knight.”
“Right.” Prism says, adjusting the seafoam satchel. “The Storm Knight is Spring, gold, mud, change, garden, renewal, beginnings, tides; how do we pass this one?”
Tonic puffs air in stumped exasperation. “I don’t know. We sacrificed to the Blood Knight. We rested and ate for the Glass Knight. Could we…” Atcher is staring intently at the pot held by the statue. Tonic cries out “yes, Atcher! The seeds! Let’s all do some gardening!”
The trio each choose a few seeds from the pot. Watching Tonic use the reverse end of the Mighty Teaspoon Hammer to create divots in the dirt by the statue Prism asks, “Why don’t you just dig holes with the spoon-end of your Mighty Teaspoon Hammer?”
“For planting seeds? Oh no,” Tonic’s head shakes “If we were planting trees, yes. But the seeds are so small that being buried under that much dirt would smother them before they could reach the light.”
“Fascinating!” Atcher exclaims, writing a note in the birch bark journal. The friends all add some seeds to the divots, and Atcher covers them with earth. Prism calls again on the clouds, knitting one into rain and watering the seeds.
The Storm Knight no longer blocks the path, and the three friends move past, more confident than previously. As they nearly reach the steep slope, Atcher says “There must be one more statue. Each flat area is clearly representing a season, and the knight statues seem to guard that season. It seems reasonable that we found Autumn, Winter, and Spring. We just need Summer.” At this utterance, the mountain growls and shakes, dusty cracks forming beneath the friends’ feet. They are shaken, but continue the journey. Night is falling, but the heat increases.
