Ivan turned to his climbing partner, Igor. “Ready to climb this Mount ‘Leli’?”

“Certainly. We’ve climbed far more difficult mountains, including that Cirsao one on the other island, which is higher. The locals just don’t climb mountains.”

“They don’t seem to be interested in adventure,” Ivan agreed. “It’s less than two miles above sea level. We’re already a quarter of the way there.”

It was barely dawn in Erris Ilinie, a quaint village tucked into the mountains. Apparently, there was a culturally significant site nearby, which was why it hadn’t been difficult to find lodging. While most of the locals had frowned at Ivan and Igor’s strange looks and strange language, it had been remarkably easy to ask for a room for a few nights.

They passed the significant site within the first half hour. It was just a valley filled with rocks. What could be so special about it? Ivan said nothing to Igor. He’d known Igor since frosh year of college. Igor didn’t like to talk when there was no reason to.

The south side of the mountain rose quickly after the valley. At the fork of the beaten-down herders’ path, they bore west. The highest peak of the multi-crater volcano was the easternmost. The path was steep and took them up the mountain very quickly; before they knew it, they were above the tree line. The path opened up into a sloping meadow, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise—the locals used it to take their animals out to pasture.

“Where do you think we go from here?” Ivan asked.

“I’ll go talk to some of the herders. What are those animals called again?”

Ivan shrugged. They reminded him of a yak without horns, or a llama with a shorter neck. A group of locals was playing games next to the animals. Ivan wondered where they slept. Maybe out in the open.

Igor had the better Rhetian. Ivan could understand the local language, but had a difficult time speaking it. “My friend Ivan and I are looking for a trail up the mountain. Can you tell me where it is?”

Two of the herders shook their heads, but an old woman laughed. “No one climbs that mountain,” she said slowly. “It is not possible.”

“We have. Um. Special equipment.” Igor was having difficulties getting his tongue around the harder words.

“People have died. If you climb, you will die.”

“She won’t be helpful,” Ivan told Igor, in their native language.

Igor asked again, but the woman repeated her solemn sentiment, this time louder.

“Let’s go. We don’t have time for this,” Ivan said.

“What’s he saying?” the woman asked. Igor didn’t translate, but instead started walking up the mountain. Ivan followed. Maybe this was the end of the trail. Maybe they’d have to trail blaze the rest of the way.

They walked in silence, only stopping to drink from the water they had brought. Neither trusted the streams, even though the locals had no problem drinking from them. Both wanted to get as far up the mountain as possible before lunch. The views were spectacular—Ivan could see all seven islands, even the volcanic one, from up here. It was windy, but not as windy as Cirsao had been.

They ate lunch in the first crater. Igor took the opportunity to take a few pictures. “No ropes yet,” he noted.

“It’s steep, but not sheer,” Ivan said, speaking of the sides.

They began using the ropes after lunch. Ivan worried about if they would be able to make it all the way to the peak and back before nightfall. He realized that this was the first mountain they’d climbed where they’d been the first. Although, judging by the human skeleton in the second crater they passed, they weren’t the first to reach this high.

“I wonder what he was doing up here,” Igor said.

Ivan shrugged. “Either trying to climb to the top, like us, or maybe trying to hide out from the villages down below.” There was little grass here. It probably wasn’t much good for the animals.

The wind whipped them when they reached the pass that led to the highest peak. Igor took some more pictures. It was several hours after noon. “Conditions: extremely dry and windy. Great view.” Ivan wrote in a travel journal. “About to head up the final stretch.”

“What’s your plan if we don’t make it down by night?” Igor asked. He looked nervous. Ivan couldn’t remember ever seeing him look nervous.

“We could camp out in that bottom crater?” Ivan suggested. “Or any crater, really. I bet it’s cold, but we’ve got our gear.”

“I’m thinking maybe we ought to turn back. Bring a tent up to that first crater, and use that as a base camp.”

That would have been smart. But Ivan and Igor were both in their early twenties. They had climbed mountains in the Alps, Rocky Mountains, and on other islands, including the one Ivan’s father owned near the tropics. They had yet to run into trouble. How could this Mount Leli be any different?

Next