Arja

For centuries, the castle atop Mount Kijiro was a well-known icon, especially for the females of the region. Over this time, nearly a dozen villages had sprung up at the base of this lone mountain rising up out of the otherwise flat, vast plain. What had captured the thoughts of virtually everyone in the region was the mystery surrounding the castle, a place which only females could approach.

More specifically, only a virgin woman could approach the castle, and this only on the night of her eighteenth birthday.

Over the centuries, many who did not meet the criteria had attempted to climb the mountain to reach the castle. All of them had been turned away by some sort of magical barrier which prevented their access to the ancient structure at the summit.

Only adding to the mystery was the fact that those "chosen few" who had been permitted a single entry to the castle would never speak of their experiences. Instead, whenever someone asked one of these women about her experience, she would simply smile, her eyes visibly alight with the delight of sweet, pleasant, cherished memories.

Over the past few decades, however, society had changed. Throughout the villages surrounding the lone majestic mountain, fewer and fewer girls were still virgins when they finally reached their eighteenth birthdays. It seemed that eventually, unless the norms of society somehow reverted back to the traditional ways and were dutifully followed by the youth of the villages, no one would ever again visit the old, mysterious castle.

*****

Arja could barely sleep, turning fitfully upon her low sleeping platform, her feet sticking out from underneath the worn white sheet. In the morning, she would make the long, lonely journey to the castle atop Mount Kijiro, and would be the first girl – rather, woman – from her village to do so in nearly two full years. It had not been easy to remain virginal over the past few years, as her body had changed from that of a flat-chested tomboy to a curvaceous example of feminine beauty that inspired lust in most of the males in the village. She still had her tomboy traits well-ingrained within her, which had actually allowed her to once fight off a so-called friend who had wanted nothing more than to sheath his anatomy between her legs.

Looking over at her sleeping younger sister, Arja sighed softly, wishing once again that it was already morning, so that she could finally be on her way. She wondered yet again just what would await her atop the mountain. Her mother and aunt would only say that they had been subjected to the most intense experiences of their lives, and that the view from the high elevation was nearly as breathtaking.

The light of the nearly-full moon streamed through the open doorway along with the cool nighttime breeze. In the background of the view, she could see the gentle slope of the mountain's base.

With a sigh, Arja turned to her other side, facing away from the open doorway. Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to sleep, to gather her energies for the long day ahead.

*****

Many people had gathered at the base of the mountain for Arja's departure. The throng was primarily composed of older women, and a few younger women, who had all visited the castle and never spoke in detail about their experiences within. Several young girls, and also a few men and boys, watched as well. Arja would soon be counted among the special, select group, and looked into the eyes of these "elite" women for any clues as to what she would experience atop the mountain, any hints or tips these women might offer to her.

Instead, her predecessors only smiled broadly, their eyes sparkling, no doubt reliving their experiences vicariously through her. And that in itself helped somewhat to calm the sleep-deprived traveler.

As the upper curve of the sun finally began to rise above the distant eastern horizon, Arja shared one final moment with her mother and sister, then waved to the gathered crowd, and turned her back on them, starting the final day of her eighteen-year journey toward the mysterious castle.

*****

Arja had mounted the lower third of Mount Kijiro several times before, as that part of the mountain was "open" to everyone. She followed the well-worn path through the trees, instinctively turning left – and thus upward – when the path came to a small river. She paused long enough to refill her flask with the cool water, and continued her journey.

Her only birthday present this year was a new pair of sandals, and Arja knew that her mother would have saved several weeks' worth of hard-earned coins to be able to buy sandals of such quality. The strap wrapped behind each ankle was particularly special, for she had never worn sandals of this design before.

Her sand-colored hair hung down to the middle of her back. Washed that morning with the ice-cold water raised from the village's central well as the first hint of daylight breached the eastern sky, the thick strands slid gently, rhythmically across her back as she slowly made her way up the mountain.

She wore her favorite dress. Originally made of a foreign, white-colored material, it had become splotchy-brown from nearly two years of repeated wear. Several threads hung out conspicuously in certain places. There was a small tear just underneath the left armpit, and Arja was afraid that the tear would become larger and much more prominent if she did not properly care for the dress. At least she had thought to wash the dress the previous morning, so that she could specifically wear it on this momentous occasion. A single thin leather thong functioned as a belt.

In her hands, she carried the flask of cool water and a small sack of food. Unfortunately, she did not have a backpack, a new item she had seen worn by the occasional trader visiting her village. But, she had what she needed for this journey, and felt certain that the mountain itself would ensure any other needs which might arise.

In attempting to anticipate what awaited her in the mysterious castle far above her village, Arja imagined herself wearing the finest of clothes as she sat at one end of a lengthy table covered with bowls and trays of the most exotic foods of the world. Several people continually presented her with the most expensive wines as live musicians performed specifically for her and her family, her mother and sister stepping into the massive, majestically-decorated chamber wearing similar fineries.

The trees gave way to a wide, nearly-flat plateau with a moderately-sized lake at its center. This was as far as Arja had ever previously traveled up Mount Kijiro, as the magical barrier was said to exist just inside the next tree line. From here, the view of the vast plain below was nice, even awe-inspiring.

Interestingly, a lone tree stood guard at the southwestern edge of the lake. Arja made her way to this particular tree and sat in its shade to rest. Hoping to save the food she had brought with her, she plucked at the soft green grass, chewing each blade slowly, savoring its taste. Like the cattle raised by the village farmers and the beasts of burden used by the traders and the rare group of passing soldiers, she would need to chew a lot of grass to feel truly satisfied. However, accustomed to many less-than-satisfying meals and many hungry nights in her short lifetime, Arja simply chewed and savored, knowing that she could always resort to her meager supply of food when necessary. But she did allow herself to drink the cool contents of the flask before she refilled it from the lake.

After perhaps thirty minutes of savoring and drinking and resting, Arja resumed her trek. She entered the next tree line, and continued on her way. Now, she was in what was "uncharted territory" for her, and she wondered what her mother and aunt had thought when they first made their separate ascents toward the mysterious castle atop the mountain.

After several more minutes underneath the leafy canopy of the tall, thick-trunked trees, the young woman felt an intense cold flash through her body. Almost instantly, her teeth clattered, with goose bumps dotting her work-battered skin. She felt her nipples harden, becoming almost painful in their response to the unnatural cold. Yet there was virtually no sunlight breaking through the leafy canopy to warm the air around her, and she could not effectively wrap her arms about her due to the flask and the sack she carried in her hands. The old dress was far too thin to retain any useful measure of body heat. Her belly felt extremely aquiver, nearly making her feel nauseous.

Indecision swept over for, but only for a moment. Then she decided that since she would by all accounts only be permitted this one opportunity to discover the mysteries of the ancient castle atop the mountain, even if she were to resume the trek later in the day, she pressed onward.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the intense chill passed. In several seconds, the goose bumps disappeared; however, it took much longer for her nipples to soften and return to their usual mundane formations, and for the tingling within her belly to finally subside. Then, it finally dawned upon her:

Arja had just passed through the magical barrier.

She stopped, turned around, and looked behind her. There was nothing unusual to her eyes, no visible sign that a barrier – magical or mundane – had ever been erected here. Cautiously reaching out with the hand which held the flask of water, the young woman felt the intense chill upon her work-hardened knuckles, and quickly withdrew her hand, nearly dropping the flask in the process.

It was now definitely too late to turn back, she reasoned. Besides, if she were to return without truly "experiencing" the castle, she doubted that she could ever look into the eyes of her mother or her aunt ever again; the two most important people in her life shared a deep, intense secret, one to which Arja could lay claim come the next dawn, so long as she actually made it to the castle far above her.

A new realization crossed Arja's mind: With the exception of the breeze rustling the leaves, all was purely silent on this side of the magical barrier. If there were any bugs or animals present in the area, they were all completely silent. The only other time she had heard a complete lack of animal "chatter" was nearly six years earlier, in those final fearsome moments before the cylinder of swirling dark-gray clouds descended from the sky and obliterated the southern edge of the village, carrying away homes and animals and people before her very eyes.

But that was the fury of nature, she reasoned, angry with the people for not properly caring for the land and the animals to the south of the village. This current lack of "chatter" was almost certainly due entirely to magic, a concept which she could only barely grasp and which she definitely did not comprehend despite the many legends recounted by the occasional traveling storyteller.

Turning again, Arja looked up the increasing slope, through the many trees. The path had also disappeared, so she would need to simply climb "blind" in order to reach the mysterious castle. Since she absolutely had to reach the peak of the mountain, any upward direction was a "good" direction for her; the potential problem could be in descending the mountain, as carelessness could well result in her arriving at a village on the opposite side of the mountain from her home.

Absently, Arja reached out toward a nearby low limb, plucked off a thick green leaf, and chewed on it, gently sucking out the scant moisture within as she continued her upward climb.

*****

At last, Arja emerged from the tree line. The final segment of her eighteen-year journey involved clamoring up a loose-rock slope while winding her way around large boulders which could only have been placed here either by magic or by the gods themselves... or, quite likely, by a combination of enchantment and divinity. She guessed that it would take perhaps thirty minutes to pick her way to the base of the castle, and thought it best to stop and rest one final time.

Looking upward at the western sky, Arja estimated that she had just over an hour remaining before sunset itself, plus the time it took for the final rays of daylight to be chased away by the glorious full moon. Still saving her food, she ate more grass and enjoyed the sweet taste of several fallen leaves. She drank only sparingly, not knowing when she might next be able to find a source of clean water.

A rustling sound caught Arja's attention, and she looked down the mountainside, peering into the thick grouping of trees. Seconds later, a female figure emerged from the thick underbrush: another young woman climbing toward her destiny on the night of her eighteenth birthday.

This person, however, was clearly not from the poor peasant working class. Her hair was as black as the cloudless night sky, held back in a single multiple-bowed tail which swished across her back as she labored up the mountainside. Her dress was light but elegant, crafted of a white fabric Arja had never before seen, with golden trim at the cuffs and hems; her feminine curves were accented prominently by the snug fit of the dress across the chest, and the belt of gold ribbon at her waist. The dress came down to nearly her ankles, a style typically reserved for the well-to-do merchant families; the trio of gold coins swung across her ample breasts as she struggled up the slope, with only a thin silver chain necklace preventing the coins from sliding down her front and to the ground. She also wore closed-toe footwear clearly made of thick brown leather, and there was no visible hint of laces used to secure the footwear to her feet. Small golden hoops hung from her ears, completing her display of wealth and power.

On the other hand, she – and everything she wore – was dirty, as if she had fallen numerous times during her climb. Especially noticeable given the tight confines of the dress across her chest, she breathed heavily, her gasps quite audible well before she reached Arja's position. She was definitely not dirty enough to be considered a lowly, poor peasant, but if anyone of the merchant class were to see her in this condition, she would be socially rejected.

Recognizing the clear signs of a person in need, Arja stood and approached the climbing newcomer, holding out the flask of water. The young merchant woman stopped, her face displaying a flurry of emotional activity, then finally took the offered drink. When she returned it to Arja, the flask weighed considerably less; a quick glance inside revealed just a scant trace of water remaining inside.

The duo sat in silence for a while as the newcomer audibly recovered from the climb. Only when Arja stood did either of them speak.

"Come, Miss," Arja said softly and respectfully to the wealthier young woman. "We must reach the castle by the time the final hint of daylight is chased from the sky."

Offering her hand to the newcomer, Arja waited patiently, a soft smile upon her face. Despite their obvious difference in social status, they were now united in what her mother and aunt would only state is "a once-in-a-lifetime experience which will teach you a lot about yourself." After a long hesitation, the wealthier person took the offered hand, and Arja helped her to her feet.

"My name is Arja, from the village of Hanjipec."

"I am Miss Ajuna, the eldest daughter of Danko, from the village of Joten."

Arja had never been to Joten, but knew from what she had learned from others that Joten and Hanjipec were almost exactly on opposite sides of Mount Kijiro. Joten was considered by many to be the most important village in the region, as the Emperor had a small palace there in the foothills of Mount Kijiro. Being the eldest daughter of a merchant in Joten, Miss Ajuna almost certainly would have met the Emperor at least once – a thought which instantly filled Arja with respectfully-unasked questions.

Miss Ajuna turned and looked up at the castle, then lowered her gaze to the loose-rock slope as Arja picked up the sack and flask. "We should finish the climb, although it will not be easy with these small loose stones."

"Not, Miss, it will not," Arja responded respectfully. "But if we keep low to the ground, we should be able to make it to the castle with minimum effort."

Miss Ajuna looked at Arja, studying her, assessing her. Arja felt like a horse being auctioned, faced with countless eyes staring, scrutinizing her for any miniscule flaws, appraising her estimated value versus the current bid price. Only when Miss Ajuna smiled softly did she realize that she had been holding her breath in anticipation. From the weary but kind glint in the wealthy young woman's eyes, Arja knew that she had (somehow) passed Miss Ajuna's inspection, and that in itself put Arja more at peace concerning this entire adventure.

"You clearly have much more experience than me in things such as mountain climbing," Miss Ajuna stated plainly but warmly. "Please, lead the way. I will follow your example."

*****

The upper curvature of the sun had already dipped below the far western horizon, with countless tiny pinpricks of flickering light visible in the darkened eastern sky. The view was magnificent, allowing Arja to see much further than she had ever seen before. As they enjoyed the view in silence, the two young women shared what remained of the water, and slowly ate part of the single-person food. Just before the final glow of daylight retreated from the western sky, they finally entered the castle, only a few moments before its heavy wooden doors magically began to close of their own accord.

The castle itself was entirely empty. Despite the lack of continual occupancy, it was as clean as one would imagine – the cleanliness was certainly due to magic. The loud boom of the main doors closing and sealing shut echoed throughout the massive entry chamber, and softer booms soon reached their ears; if the main doors had just magically closed and sealed, Arja reasoned, the window shutters all over the castle had very likely just done the same.

...which meant that she and Miss Ajuna were now effectively trapped in this centuries-old, immaculate structure.

Yet what was most perplexing was that, despite the lack of natural light, visibility was not an issue. As the two young women explored, there was a soft light in every corner of the castle, as if the light was being cast by invisible candles. Yet, there were no wall mounts for candle fixtures, no chandeliers, no expected sources of light. Further, the light was evenly distributed; there was no "brighter" area surrounding a source of light, and no "darker" area where one might expect to find a shadow. As Arja and Miss Ajuna explored what would apparently be their home for the night, they both commented softly about the complete lack of shadows.

Eventually, bored of exploring the empty castle and extremely weary from the daylong journey, the two young women sat on opposite sides of a nondescript corridor. Leaning her back against the cool wall, Miss Ajuna quickly fell asleep. Setting the empty flask and sack aside, Arja took up a similar position across the corridor from the merchant woman, and as she felt a very welcome sleep descend upon her mind and her body, she wondered why she was not having the most intense experience of her life.

*****

Arja was alone when she finally awoke, a little sore from sitting on the floor. She looked in both directions along the corridor and called for her companion, but neither saw nor heard her. But, knowing that they were magically sealed into this mysterious castle until daylight once again pierced the sky, she was not too particularly concerned that Miss Ajuna was not still with her.