Was this the Land of the Myriad Mysteries, that region dreaded by my clansmen of the deserts from the Atlas to the Niger? Was this weird, misty gorge, devoid of herbage, and exuding a death-dealing breath, the actual entrance of the territory of all-consuming terror?
I paused, examining the weapon curiously, wondering who might be its owner. Fearing, however, to remain there longer, I buckled the girdle about my waist, and aided by my staff, commenced the steep and toilsome ascent.
An hour’s hard climbing took me above the heavy vapours into the brilliant light of day, and I then discovered that the mountain I was negotiating was of greater altitude than any of the peaks of my native Atlas. At first the slopes were grass-covered, and mimosa bushes grew plentifully, but as I went higher there were only patches of stunted herbage, and higher still no herbage grew. As hour by hour I toiled upward, in places so steep that I had to use both hands and knees, I gradually neared the region of eternal snow. Soon after noon I halted, seating myself upon a rock to rest. Gloomy thoughts oppressed me. Below was nothing but a sea of vapour; above a sky brilliant, without a cloud.
Being compelled to pass through that curious gorge of grey, eternal mist, I had lost my bearings entirely, and knew not in what direction I was now journeying. For the past two days I had been travelling through a shadowy and inhospitable region, wherein I had seen not a beast of the field nor fowl of the air. The action of the mysterious visitant puzzled me. If it were a man, as I supposed, why should the mark upon my breast have such attraction for him? In his hurried flight he had lost his sword, and apparently feared to return to seek it. The enigma puzzled me, occupying my thoughts during the whole of that fatiguing and perilous climb.
Having rested for nearly an hour, my eye suddenly caught the notches upon my staff. I picked it up and carefully counted them.
They were already fourteen. On this, the fifteenth day, I ought, if credence were to be placed in the rock-tablet of Semiramis, to reach the mystic city of Ea.
Eager to gain the summit and gaze upon the land beyond, I rose and once more plodded onward with dogged pertinacity. Upwards I strode, until the perspiration rolled in great beads from my brow, and my matted, unkempt hair became wet from the same cause. As I gained a kind of small plateau, covered deeply by untrodden snow, an icy blast chilled me to the marrow, causing me to wrap my rags closer about me; but heeding not fatigue, I sped rapidly over the small plain and commenced the final ascent to the lowest crest over which I could pass. This occupied me fully two hours, for the ascent was the most difficult I had yet encountered; but presently I found myself upon a stretch of comparatively level ground, with snow lying thickly everywhere, and the surface frozen so hard that my feet left no imprints. Beyond this plain was only the sky, therefore I knew that I had at last reached the highest point.
In order to regain breath I was compelled to halt for a few seconds, but those moments were full of intense eagerness. What lay beyond I feared to ascertain. Whether I had travelled in the right direction I was unaware; but if I had, then it was time that I should reach the goal for which I had so long and so arduously striven.
The iron of despair was entering my soul, but next second, shaking if off, I dashed forward at full speed to the edge of the lofty plateau, and gazed with wondering, wide-open eyes into the land beyond.
The panorama below held me speechless in wonderment. Dumbfounded, I stood open-mouthed, rigid, rooted to the spot.