The Spires Of Talos (Part Three?)
In mid-dusk mist we crept along the trail,
If it could be called such - if it was ...
Edge of a knife, barely wide enough
For the soul of a petite woman's boot,
A man's far too wide, peril to each side,
Over a quarter mile steeply down ...
So steep the variance from vertical
Was not, to the eye's line, discernible.
"Crept" was surely valid assessment -
One foot placed ever thoughtfully
In front of the other, and not until the
Surety of its purchase was steadfast,
Did the intent of a further movement
Get its proper and sane consideration.
I had assumed that the Pahun would
Possess some kind of other-worldly ability
That would make them more capable
Than I at navigating such a treacherous
Divide, (especially with their extra limbs),
But they seemed just as cautious as I,
Perhaps, on inspection, even more so.
The wind was not strong, more a breeze,
But enough so its affect had to be part
Of each step's contemplation and act,
And at this height the thick misty pelt
That rode its back, stung with a blush,
But also brought a keening of the senses
And sharpened focus, not unwelcome.
We had been moving in this tedious
Fashion since reaching the Blade,
(The sliver of a trail that led from the
Caverns to the base of The Ruby Spires)
And I had originally calculated to allow
For plenty of daylight, but the thick
Mist was making for an early darkening of
The sky, as the largest of Talos' two suns,
Antipholus, was already begining to set.
Its little brother, Dromio, did not supply
Enough of its violet glow to light our way
Sufficiently for safe progress, therefore
Unless we reached the Spires soon,
We would be left to cling to the Blade's
Precarious knife's-edge for the duration
Of Antipholus' journey below the horizon,
Which equaled approximately thirteen
Hours back on our precious Terra ...
The result of such sustained exposure
To Talos' elements would be too gruesome
To imagine, and not remotely survivable -
Not even the Pahun, with their thick dermis,
Could last a long Talos night up here ...
So we pushed on and prayed for the
Glint of red to appear through the mist.
Well, I prayed, the Pahun did their version
Of the same, which consisted of that
Blank stare and trembling eyes, and the
Low moan that sounded more like the
Grim's theme song than anything that
Was apt to bring us salvation or hope.
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