The Pinnaculum rose above the wide valley several yards over the tallest tree. It stood, a testament to an old age, the age of the great ones. No one seemed to know who the great ones were, nor where they had come from, or where they had disappeared to. Disappeared they did, into the grey fog of time, becoming legend and myth. Yet they must have lived, ages ago, for one could find the markings and makings of that people across every kingdom from Nordoth in the North to Diblen in the far south.
From lower pass into the valley the Pinnaculum was just a needle pointing towards the sky. The closer one got, the more it began to resemble some sort of long finger, pointing up to the gods. However it was too smooth and straight to be a finger.
The Prince had travelled farther then many, and never had he seen a valley like this one. Usually when one found a marker of the past age, that was the only thing one saw for miles. In this valley it was almost the opposite. Very soon after entering the valley, they had happened on the road, a paved road. None of them had ever ridden on a paved way out side of a city before. And the Prince knew of many cities with no paved roads.
Yet here, in the middle of wilderness of the western lands, they had found a paved road. It seemed to run straight at the Pinnaculum to the West. Since their band wished to go west, in the hopes of finding the mythical lost city of Westima, they followed it happily, having finally found a way in the right direction. The old tales said that the great ones had come from the West, Westima being their greatest city. The Prince took the sign of the road and Pinnaculum as proof that they were getting closer.
An hour before sunset, when they were still about a mile from the base of the Pinnaculum, the Prince by chance happened to look up again at its top. He stopped horse, his mouth opened in pure shock. The other horses slowly stuttered to a stand still, and slowly each turned their eyes to follow the path of the Prince’s. Together they stood in amazement, as if turned to stone.
Standing on top of the Pinnaculum, yards above the tallest tree, stood a girl. The Prince knew it was a girl, because even from the distance he could see her hair flowing in the wind. He strained his eyes, trying to see her better. Than suddenly he moved like lightning, ripping his pack off his horse and digging like a greedy child till he found what he sought. Leaving the pack where it lay, he turned and pointed his looking glass towards the girl.
Her back was to him, her hair flowing like water behind her. She held her hands out in front as if offering something to the setting sun. She looked as though she was part of the Pinnaculum, for she stood perfectly at the top straight at the rock beneath her feet. Slowly the sun set as he watcher her. She did not move, did not flinch, until the sun had sunk below the western pass of the valley. Then she was gone.
Darkness took hold quickly. Around the prince, the men were unpacking the horses and making camp, to the north of the road, near a small stream they had found. The prince stood, glass pointed at the dark spike that rose up into the sky in front of him. He could not see her, nor could he tell how she had gotten down from the top.
The prince barely slept that night. He watched the stars on their long journey across the sky. It was a moonless night, thus the stars shown out of the black blanket about, bright and twinkling, with nothing to diminish their light. Nothing that is until early morning, when the sky to the east started to burn.
Having decided that the girl must be a sun worshipper, he turned his back to the glowing light towards the pinnaculum. He waited a long time, while the light slowly crept through the sky and the stars vanished. The men around him began to rise, the horses stamped their feet and pulled at their picket lines, ready to start a new day. Still he held his eyes forward to the west. The sun must be up by now.
Finally he stole a look behind him and watched as the first ray of sun peaked over the pass to the east. Quickly he turned back towards the west, his eyes finding the top of the pinnaculum. There she stood, arms out to the east and the sun. It was as if she had always been there.
He raised his glass sought out her face. He had been right to guess that it was a girl. The sun was full in her face, her eyes closed, arms out stretched, her hair uncovered freely flowing about her. She was wearing a simple tunic and either a very narrow skirt or breeches. He put his money on pants. She must have climbed something to reach the top of the pinnaculum that would be hard in a skirt.
He watched for a short time today, or he felt that it was shorter. Without a word he turned from the west and made ready to continue westward towards the pinnaculum. Although he wished for speed, the horsed could handle little more then a walk, they were still tired from the week long race westward. They were little more then half an hour from the base. The price felt that it was of the highest importance that he meet the girl.
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