He took a step. Then another. And another. The steps of Vlar Morth was narrow and steep. He had been climbing since the sun broke and dark would come soon, yet he could not see the end of the steps. The mist of the Blue Mountains was thick and wet, his hair fell heavy on his head, his black curls glued to his face. He felt the agony in his neck and shoulders, the blisters on his hands from the climb, his legs shivering. It could not be long to the temple. Mire Zalu had said a days climb, no more. He would loose his foot in the dark, and there was no place to sit nor sleep on the steps. No wonder the Monks of Vlar never travelled. A wonder how they were able to live up this high.

Mire Zalu had sent him to train with the monks. To learn the ancient art of war. But why would someone hidden on a mountain need the art of war? And why could he not learn from his father, his uncle or even go to his mothers sister. The women of the Peak were as skilled as the men to use a sword and a bow. His mothers sister would no doubt had learned. He could have learned from her master-at-arms. There were no reason to sent him to live amongst some old men, who new nothing of the real world, the new world. The monks belonged to the old world, before the war of kings, before the time of Eagles, before his fathers fathers father. What could he learn from the Monks of Vlar, that could be of use to him?

He took another step. The dark gathered around him, the mist getting even thicker. Somewhere a wolf howled, meaning he had to be close to the temple. Mire Zalu had told him, that the monks kept wolfs as pets, just as the did basilisks, monkeys and even an eagle. On of the ancient ones, those larger than a horse. In the North the Eagles still remained, but they were no more in the south.

He climbed the last step to look into the eyes of a wolf, one larger than he had ever seen. Black with a grey beard and massive paws. It sneered at him, waving its tail, shoving its teeth. Light appeared behind it, small round balls of light. “I see you have met our warden, young Korey. He is not to harm you, though you should not keep staring at him, he does not like that”, and old monk said. He bore a large tunic of green linen, withe pants underneath and long golden chain around his neck. His hair was long and gray, and fell all around his shoulders. His beard was braided in three, each with a different color braided into it. It looked strange. As the wolf moved aside, he climbed op the stairs, and stood tall above the monk. “You will need food and water. Tonight you eat and sleep, tomorrow we train. Follow”. Korey fell the fresh cold wind against his face as they walked to the temple of Vlar Morth. The ancient temple that once was home the fieriest fighters the world had ever seen. It was said, that the Monks of Vlar Morth would never die. They would wander the world for an eternity, bringing justice. The plateau was wide, wider than Korey would had thought. Threes grew here, and a lake ran beside them. The temple walls stood as carved from the mountain. Korey could not have told there was a temple, had the monk not led him through a small stoney door. The walls looked as if they were a part of the mountain wall, but inside a large garden spread underneath the stars. Crops stood to the left, stables to the right. Now and then a monk appeared and walked with them in silence. It felt as forever to get through the garden. They went under an archway into a courtyard, where clay huts lay side by side to his right. To his left a large statue of the Lady Mother stood towering, in front of him lay the temple building itself. It was carved into the mountain, decorated with golden paintings of the life of the Lady Mother.

The monk shoved him to a hut in the rear end, as far from the temple as it would get. Inside lay a mat of weaved straw in one corner, in another stood a small table with food on it. The roasted chicken smell marvelous and Korey could feel his mouth water. There were no windows in the hut, and no chairs. By the doorway stood a casket for his belongings. “This is where you’ll sleep. Theres blankets in the casket. Tomorrow we train as dawn breaks. Eat! Sleep!”. And so he found himself alone in the small hut, that was to be his home for the next couple of months. It was likely that all his companions would be old men. He already missed his sisters and brother. He missed nan, his lady mother, even his father. But most of all he missed Mire Zalu. Korey had come accustomed to the Sareian maester, his father had taken in house to teach his children. He had spend most of his time the past years with the maester from the Forgotten Shore, and he would miss him all while here.

When he had finished his dinner of roasted chicken, peas pie and bread, he found a blanket and lay down on the mat. It fell hard and itchy, but he was tired and sleep came soon enough.

To be continued…