“This is it. The translation is accurate,” the young man said in a meditative tone, as if daydreaming. He took another look at the papers scattered all over the table in front of him, then stretched and rose from the chair.
He was tall, slim but well built, with long blonde hair and deep, dark blue eyes that looked even darker because of the black shadows beneath them. His person seemed to fill the tiny students’ houseroom, not as much physically, but by the force of his personality. It shadowed the other inhabitant of the room, who was lying on one of the two beds reading a history textbook.

“This is crazy, man,” he said. “Studying history night and day is one thing, and, I admit, it might drive you a little nuts, but believing in a bunch of legends and an old piece of paper, is another! Get real, Sarmis. Our exams begin in a week!”
“A history student who doesn’t believe in legends,” Sarmis retorted, with a small smile. “That’s not out of the ordinary, but if you take into consideration the “fact” that half of the human history is based on legends…”
“No, buddy, it’s based on facts! Everyone knows what happened to the Dacians, the story of their defence against the Roman conquerors and so on, because it’s written or engraved someplace. There’s ruins and everything. But this ‘secret cave filled with treasures and knowledge of the high priests’ stuff is pure fiction!”
“But it’s written, Victor”, Sarmis said, sitting opposite his roommate. ‘Follow the dark path at sunset, before the night when the skies open, past the men who come to life, to the door guarded by the Red Snake. Beware, for the one who is not called forth cannot enter the Holy Cave, and the one whose thoughts are impure cannot set foot on the Mountain of Kogaion.’ It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. Just imagine how the history of our nation will benefit from such a find! People say the cave contains all knowledge of the ancient people, and I’m not talking only about the geographical area of nowadays Romania.”
“Plus the treasures of Alexander the Great! You’re drifting, buddy.” Victor laughed heartily, and then saw his friend’s eyes darkening again. Forcing a serious mask back on his face, he reached out for a cigarette and lit it, blowing the blue smoke high towards the ceiling. “Suppose you’re right,” he said a moment later. “Suppose the cave is there. Where exactly is that? The damned paper, one hundred years old as it may be, doesn’t say a word about a precise location.”
Sarmis looked at him, a sparkle in his eyes. He rose again, went to the table and dug out a folded newspaper from the pile of sheets and dictionaries. “You’ll laugh”, he said, “but look at this. I’ve got it from back home this morning. My mother used it to wrap a lump of cheese.” Victor reluctantly took the stained newspaper and read the frontispiece out loud. “The ‘Free Word’. What’s this?” “An obscure local newspaper”, the answer came. “Look here.”
“’Strange events on Gugu Peak’. This is a joke, right?” Victor looked up to his friend, but his face was serious. “You’re not joking!” He looked down again, scanning the article. “Strange lights… tourists feeling strong anxiety…” Victor burst into laughter. “God, it’s worse than ‘Tales from the Crypt’! Do you really believe this crap?”
Sarmis nodded silently, then went back to the table and sat down.
“My great-grandfather was serious about it. He and his brother were the first in our family to find the do*****ent and translate it. His brother went looking for the mountain, but…”
Silence covered the room like a cold blanket.
“But what?”
“Never mind. Think about the toponyms. ‘Gugu’ might as well be a contraction of ‘Kogaion’. It’s been a long time...” He sighed. “Anyway, tomorrow night’s the night.”
Victor stared incredulously at Sarmis, then shouted: “Are you trying to tell me you intend to go up in the mountains tomorrow? Because of a silly story? What about the exams? And how do you know it’s tomorrow, anyway?”
Sarmis shook his head. “Tradition, that’s how. The 24th of June. By the way, it’s not far from Timisoara. I’ve got a map. It’s nearby, in the Western Carpathians. There’s a train at five o’clock in the morning. I can get off at Subcetate. From there, it’s about 4 or 5 hours on foot.”
“Nuts, that’s what you are, man”, Victor replied. “Let’s go to sleep. It’s late, and sleep brings good advice. Maybe you’ll get rid of your fever in the morning.”
The two roommates went to sleep in their respective beds. Before sinking into darkness, Victor thought he heard his friend mutter: “I’ve got to know. I really do.”
Silence had hardly reinstated its reign upon the room, when it was scattered by the chant of a thousand crickets.
“Bloody alarm clock”, Victor muttered, taking the infamous device and tossing it under his pillow. “Can’t anyone get some decent sleep here?”
“Not if there is something more important to be done”, a calm voice answered.
Opening his eyes a crack, Victor saw his roommate all dressed up, his back-sack on one shoulder, looking at him.
‘This isn’t happening’, he thought, and jumped off the bed. “Have you got five more minutes?” he asked, putting on his tracksuit.
“Whatever for?” Sarmis asked, puzzled.
“Listen, you may be nuts, but you’re still my friend. I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do this”, Sarmis said, smiling.
“Right! Shall we?”
“After you!” They left the room side by side, not speaking to each other until they reached the train station. The voyage wasn’t very long. As the train left the plain and passed between the hills, nearing the mountains, Sarmis felt the awareness of something magical, an odd lust for the unknown grow stronger within his heart. He stared out the window at the still foggy shapes of his beloved mountains, then at Victor, who was trying to get some more sleep on the cramped train bench. ‘If you only knew…’ he thought, and turned his eyes back towards the peaks. They got off at a small, yet busy stop and continued their journey on foot.
The sun had already risen well above the horizon. The day was lovely. Even Victor thought so, though he was ceaselessly mumbling something about mad dogs and crazy historians. They walked up a barely visible path, crossed a rivulet and climbed a small hill. It was only the first of many. After a couple of hours Victor felt his feet sore.
“How far do we have to go?” he asked his friend, who was walking ahead of him. Sarmis stopped and pointed to the highest peak ahead. “There. See it? That must be the Mountain.” He resumed walking. Victor tried to catch up with him, muttering under his breath. “It’s as if something is pulling you from up there, pal. You’re possessed!” When they reached the top, the sun was on its way down. Sarmis stopped, looked around and said calmly “We’re here”. Victor sighed and put his bag down. “Well, you’re the guide…” Then, he looked around too. “Hey”, he said in awe, “it’s great!” The bare peak of the mountain was standing above them like a giant surveying them. At their feet, stretching on both sides as far as the eye could see, a sea of hills and small mountains unfolded its waves, green and golden and shining. There wasn’t any sign of human life around. “It’s like the beginning of the world. Or the end, whichever you prefer,” Victor _____________, turning to his friend.
Sarmis wasn’t listening to him. He was looking up towards the peak.
“Wait here”, he said over his shoulder, and then climbed slowly, not looking down. The sun was touching the edge of the world, and his last rays turned Sarmis’ light hair into a blazing aura. After a few steps, he faced his friend.
“See you”, he whispered softly, then went on walking along an invisible path guarded by dozens of strong men, almost as tall as he. They seemed to move in the fading light, as if clearing his way. He stopped once more on top of the crest, waving to Victor, then disappeared.
Victor wanted to move, but he felt chained to the very spot. ‘What on earth is going on?’ he asked himself, then felt a cold shiver up his spine when he looked up towards the place he had last seen Sarmis. He caught a glimpse of a giant red snake curling on the edge, hissing threateningly.
The next instant, both the sun and the snake were gone. He felt the invisible chains holding him dissipate. Worn out, Victor used one last bit of strength to pull out a sleeping bag from Sarmis’ back-sack, wrapped himself into it and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke, it was broad daylight. Everything seemed right. Life blazed in all its glory. The magic was gone. So was Sarmis. Alarmed, Victor got to his feet, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. Something white against the green grass, near their luggage, caught his eye. It was Sarmis’ notepad. Victor picked it up and flipped it open. On the last pages he found a translation of the ancient do*****ent that had brought the two of them up there. He scanned the text and wanted to throw the pad away when, suddenly, he saw something he hadn’t seen before. Stunned, an icy feeling clawing at his heart, he read the last few lines.
“For only the one who is chosen can enter, he who shall be the next Guardian of the Knowledge of All and shall never exit the Holy Cave for the rest of his mortal life.”
“You knew”, Victor whispered. There was no one to hear him, except for a dozen of high rocks. They resembled statues of long-bearded men, guarding an invisible path leading to nowhere.












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