The Mountain Breaker Is Coming

And there is only one way to survive

Recap: Our narrator is a young maiden, unable to say her own name and cursed to wander the fairy woods until the spell on her is broken. She is followed by a talking fox (also cursed), and they are currently in the North country, looking for a way to break their spells.

I had never felt more afraid.

Fox and I had spent weeks finding our way out of the Great Woods, taking the straight path that our gnome friend told us about.

When the tangle of trees finally ended, not only were we half-blinded by the sunlight that finally met our eyes, but we found ourselves on a massive slab of rock — indeed, the entire landscape was stone or stone formations — buttressed on one side by jutting peaks that tore at the sky.

We had reached the Upper Plateau and the Wild Mountains.

I had no cause to be afraid then; we had no inkling of what to fear in this alien place, and only a faint idea of where we were going. Before we’d headed to the North, I’d heard rumors of a potion-master (whom we visited), and Fox had said he thought there was a magician we should see.

Rumors of a magic man in the Wild Mountains lent weight to our belief, so we decided to push even further north.

The Upper Plateau was a barren place save the skinny shrubs and trees that managed to take root in scant patches of dirt in the crevices of the rocks. My grandfather once told me that sometimes the Earth would move in great heaves and shudders, and the Upper Plateau was like an ocean of rock that had rattled together and frozen into place, a solidified scene of a vast, stormy sea waves.

Fairly often, the clouds would gather quickly over the mountains, darkening the sky within a matter of hours. We learned to take high ground and find shelter in the crags of rocks, because the water fell in a torrent, and if you were in the midst of the bare rock face, you could easily get swept away by a sudden deluge.

We met a number of gnomes as we looked for a way to head into the mountains. Gnomes, as collectors of knowledge, were fascinated by the weather patterns of the Plateau. They watched the clouds eagerly, observed the height of the water lines that the floods left behind, and taught us about how sometimes the water froze in the sky and came down in flakes and pebbles.

One sunny day, we came upon a few trolls lounging in the fine weather.

“Good day, take a breather,” said one of the trolls, waving us over. “Rest your feet, eh?”

We had met trolls before; they were lovers of gold, always looking for bridges and hatching schemes to build their wealth, but they were generally too lazy to be of any real harm.

“A stellar idea,” said Fox, stretching out on a rock. “My paws are feeling a bit sore.”

“I wouldn’t mind a break,” I said. And truthfully, sometimes the air that came down from the mountains was quite cold; the rocks, having baked in the morning sun, warmed us admirably.

It was hard to imagine a nicer day. There were no swirling clouds over the distant peaks. The cool breeze blew slowly over us as we absorbed the mild heat from the rocks. Even the trolls were quiet, which is unusual for trolls.

Hugging my pack, I dozed off in the fresh air.

“Wake up, wake up!” screamed a voice in my ear.

I jolted upright to see the anguished face of a weather gnome. He was waving his arms wildly and running around; he immediately disrupted our entire party.

“What is it?” I cried. “What’s wrong?”

“The Mountain Breaker is coming!” cried the gnome. “You must go now, or else you will be swept away!”

One of the weather gnomes we’d met before had told us about a Mountain Breaker. It was the rarest and most deadly type of storm the gnomes knew of. A hundred year storm, they said. Wind like the fury of heaven. Falling ice like great pelting stones. A surge of water to choke out all life. And it came on so fast that running for shelter was futile. It was unsurvivable.

That was when I felt more frightened than I had ever been before.

Fox stood alert, the hair raised on his back. But the trolls just looked perturbed.

“Oy, look at the sky!” cried one of the trolls. “I n’er have seen a prettier day! That’s a load of bunk.”

“Not even any clouds,” moaned another troll, closing his eyes again.

“Once it’s upon you, there will be no escape,” the gnome said, still wild-eyed. “You must go now if you want to live!”

“What should we do?” asked Fox.

“Up there — do you see that thin treeline yonder?” said the gnome. “It borders the mountains, and you will be safe there! If you do not reach that place when it comes, you will be swept back into the Plateau and meet certain death! . . . I must go tell others. Tell everyone you meet! Do not waste a moment!”

With that, the gnome ran off as fast as his short legs could carry him.

We all sat there for a moment, blinking in the sunlight. The weather was truly wonderful; it was hard to imagine such a scene of destruction, especially one that was imminent. My heart was pounding, but part of me wanted to believe that it wasn’t true — that what my eyes told me was better than the gnome’s knowledge.

I looked at Fox; we understood each other. The weather gnomes, however stodgy and pedantic, had always been right about the storms. The information they collected and shared with us had been proven true time and time again.

I grabbed my pack and stood to my feet. The trolls sat idly in the sun.

“We should hurry,” said Fox.

I turned to the trolls. “Do you not believe what the weather gnome says?”

“Oh, yes, I believe him,” one of the trolls piped up, leaning his head back. “Very dangerous, very scary. I’ve been told about Mountain Breakers before. Wouldn’t want to be caught in one.”

“Yep, yep,” said the other two.

“But… you aren’t getting up to leave,” I said. “There’s very little time! You must not believe him.”

“No, we do,” said another troll. “The Mountain Breaker is coming, indeed! There’s no other way to avoid it than to run for the mountains. Such a tragedy that it will wipe out life in this valley.”

“But you will be caught in it if you don’t come with us,” I said. “You don’t believe him!”

“We do believe!” cried the third troll. “Who are you to judge us, eh?”

“If you believe something, you act on it,” I said, exasperated. “It changes your thoughts and behavior… It shapes the way you live! And — you will not live if you only say that you believe but do nothing!”

“You are just as annoying as that gnome,” said one of the trolls. “So judgmental.”

“Leave them!” said Fox. “We don’t have any more time.”

Fox and I turned and ran.

We clambered over the rocks, making our way up to the mountains. The hours passed without a drop of rain, but our sense of urgency compelled us. We were exhausted by the time we reached the treeline.

We stumbled into the grove of trees that hugged the mountainside and sat down to catch our breath.

“I hope they changed their ways and decided to take shelter,” I said to Fox.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he said.

Just then, we heard a sky-splitting crack of thunder.

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