The trek from Thoth to World's End had progressed fairly smoothly for the first few days. The massive cart holding the Asherouboros moved at a nice pace thanks to the tireless effort of the Lokian pushers and the moose and reindeer pullers.

Thus far, the roadway had been quite level from Thoth, across the Barbarian causeway and to the foothills of the Greater Misery Mountains, where the expedition found itself now. The Asherouboros had remained in a drugged sleep and only now began to slowly ease out of its stupor, occasionally twitching, which caused quantities of the murky water to splash from the confines of the tank.

An uneasy nervousness pervaded the creatures leading the journey. They were worried about the monster's response when it finally regained consciousness and found itself removed from its home and confined to the tight quarters of the tank. Adding to the growing concern was the realization that for the next few days, the cart would need to be pulled upward, through the pass which cut the Mountain range, separating the Greater from the Lesser Miseries.

The small comfort was that the road was wide and smooth, a credit to the original builders five hundred years earlier. The roadway had been built by the horde of Shana-thoth-Meris, Minge conqueror of Morgaard and founder of the great black city of Thoth.

The incline up the pass was not overly steep, constructed to allow the transport of Shana's great war-machines, but challenging none the less. There was great concern on many other levels. First and foremost was the physical challenge of pushing a cart of such gargantuan proportions holding such an imposing load.   

Frega assigned a group of beasts the specific task of walking alongside the cart ready to place wooden stops behind the wheels should the cart begin rolling backward during the occasional rest stops required after such heroic effort on the part of the pullers and pushers. Getting the cart moving forward again after these rests proved a mighty challenge as well, requiring intense levering behind the many sets of wheels to start the forward momentum once more.

Chumley expressed his worry about the water level in the tank. It had become noticeably lower during the ascent as water poured over the rear of the tank due to the incline up which it was traveling. Thoris calmed his worries by pointing out that the level of ascent was steady and whatever water loss they experienced would most probably not increase. Frega further quelled his fears by insuring him they could refill the tank once they traversed the pass and descended to the other side where a small lake was located.

It took fully two days to make the ascent to the apex of the pass and it was decided to take advantage of the flat terrain on top to take a days rest to inspect and repair the stressed and slightly battered transport. Campfires were lit and meals prepared. Chumley, Thoris, and Frega ate their hot food gratefully, seated on the cart in front of the tank with the ever more animate Asherouboros twitching and shaking behind them. Chumley regarded his monstrous ward with concern.
"Ah fear Ashy's gonna be wakin' from 'is snooze fairly soon. Ah 'ope 'e's in a good mood."

Frega interrupted Chumley's concern with one of his own.
"That may well be the least of our problems, my friend."

"Well that doesn't sound good, Does it? What is it that raises your concern?" Chumley inquired.

Frega pointed across the pass.
"I have sent out scouts to check the roadway. Everything seems fine the first ten miles, it appears to be a gentle decline. After that, however, the angle of descent becomes quite steep for the last several miles till we reach flat ground again. I do not think it will be possible to stay our downward motion, the cart is just too heavy, even with all the pushers holding it and the pullers to the rear. The wheel blocks will simply be run into the ground...useless."

"What about the braketh?" Thoris asked. The brakes to which the weasel referred were ten blocks of wood set on levers on the top of the carts, five on each side evenly spaced and set over every fourth wheel. They were manually operated by sheer muscle-power. If needed, the beast in charge of the brake would pull down on the lever, pressing the large wood block directly onto the wheel, grinding it to a halt.

The brakes served a secondary purpose, steering the unwieldy massive vehicle. If a shimmy to the right was required, the brake-beasts on the right would engage their brakes, causing the cart to swing right. If a left turn was required, the opposite strategy was employed.

Frega thought about Thoris' question before answering.
"I suppose it might slow the cart in combination with the pullers holding it back...it's not like we have a great deal of choices."

Chumley laughed.
"Ah suppose we'll fahnd out soon enough...it should be quite a ride."

Thoris let out a nervous chuckle.
"Did I mention that going fast maketh me nervouth and that I bruithe quite eathily.

"Don't worry, chum," Chumley said clapping Thoris on the back, "ah wouldn't worry about bruisin', if we loose control, the crash'd most likely kill us, wouldn't it?"

Thoris laughed.
"Great pep talk, I fell better already."

After spending the evening discussing the best possible ways to safely descend the pass, Frega and Chumley called their troops together early the next morning to lay out their strategy. Frega spoke in a loud clear voice, conveying the urgency of their situation in calm measured tones.

"We are in a position where we have no good choices," he began, "we must transport our monstrous passenger to World's End for the sake of our world and we must do it with the utmost haste. Safety and haste do not travel well together and we are forced to improvise. This road before you..." he pointed northward down the slope, "becomes very steep two-thirds of the way, about ten miles, down the pass.

"Our transport is impossibly heavy and bulky. Till now you have been striving to move it forward, from this point on, you will be struggling to hold it back. We do not believe that the brakes we have constructed will be sufficient to stop it's downward motion on their own should the cart begin moving too quickly, so all your efforts will be vital. The pullers...," Frega pointed at the small corps of moose and reindeer, "will be relocated to the rear of the cart and will work to hold the cart back.

"The same for you pushers...you will be pullers now, working against gravity. This means that until we reach the flat plain at the base of the pass, you will all be moving backward down the slope, keeping the carts downward progress slow and steady."

He paused, then continued, "There is good news and bad. The good news is that though the progress will be very slow, we fully expect that the first ten miles will be accomplished with success.

"The bad news is that when we reach the final five miles of the decline, the slope will be too steep to oppose, even with your combined efforts and we will need to take a great risk. That risk will be taken by those of us on the cart. We will try steer the cart with our brakes to keep it straight upon the path and ride it down the final five miles. The transition from steep to flat is, in our opinion, gradual enough to not flip or destroy the cart if our speed does not become excessive and we can keep it straight...Targas willing."

He smiled broadly, " It should be quite a ride." Frega became serious once more, "For now, you must do your part, the further down we go under your control, the greater the chance for success. When we reach the point of the path where the grade becomes steep, we will stop. Those ten miles should take us all day, so we will be able to prepare for the insane part of the descent correctly if that is possible. Should you lose control before we stop...well, hopefully we will see you at the bottom of the pass in one piece."

The Lokian King motioned to the cart, "Now prepare to begin, I will need forty beasts with blocks to walk alongside ready to wedge the wheels whenever we stop. We will travel in one hour shifts, then rest for fifteen minutes and begin again. When we reach the point in the road where the incline becomes steep, we will secure the cart and rest for the night. Go to your posts and follow your leader's commands."

Even with the shallower angle of descent, the going was grueling and slow. Creatures are not well built for traveling backwards and many beasts stumbled and fell digging in their heels those first few miles, lucky not to have been crushed under the wheels of the cart.

The moose and reindeer, who had been originally harnessed to the back of the cart facing uphill and backing down like the rest of the beasts found themselves in greater distress than those who walked upright. At the first rest stop the four-legged pullers were re-harnessed facing downhill, tugging backwards, but allowing themselves to be pulled downhill, while digging their foot paws into loose gravelly dirt.

Slowly but surely the cart traveled downward engulfed in a symphony of grunts and creaking timbers. Finally, at day's end and a hundred yards from the edge of the point where the decline steepened, all beasts dug in their heels and the Thothians walking along the side of the cart placed their wooden blocks at the front of the wheels, blocking the cart's continued progress.

The moose and reindeer's harnesses were removed and as an additional precaution, the platform was secured around metal spikes driven deeply in the ground to serve as anchors. Every beast collapsed in exhaustion.

Frega ordered fires lit and food served.
Chumley was unable to sleep. He knew the plan to ride the cart down the slope and hope it would not crash or capsize, was a bad one, dependent on luck rather than skill, but he knew that there was no choice. Time was of the essence and arriving too late would be as disastrous as not arriving at all.

He thought about Belinda and the child she was carrying, his child. His determination was steeled in the conviction that he owed them both the promise of a living, hopeful world, not the apocalyptic wasteland the Brotherhood was striving for. Sitting at the crest of the road, he looked down the steepening slope and smiled. It all came to this, he thought to himself, an insane, out of control plummet toward World's End.

He was startled when he felt a paw on his shoulder. He turned to see Thoris smiling down at him. The weasel sat at his side and draped his arm around his friend's shoulder.
"Ith gonna be pretty thcary, but it might work," Thoris said quietly.

Chumley sounded a bit sad as he responded.
"Yeah, it might, problem is, mah moley-lookin' friend that might ain't enough...it has to work."

"We could try to rig blockth and the like and lower it thlowly."

"Ah thought of that... it would take weeks, wouldn't it? Not only ain't we got the luxury of time, Ashy would wake up...'ell, 'e's almost awake now. 'E'll freak out, 'e will...no, it's now or never, ain't it? We got exactly one chance to do this."

Thoris stood and motioned Chumley to follow him.
"Well then, I gueth we should get on with it."

When the two friends arrived at the cart, Frega was already giving final instructions to his small army. Twenty of his strongest wolves were assigned to the ten brake-levers to slow the carts momentum and steer the massive vehicle. It was decided that the moose and reindeer would not be harnessed to the rear of the cart. Doing so could be disastrous to the brave creatures if the cart began it's perilous headlong race before the beasts could be freed from their harnesses. Instead the harness lines would be manned by the remainder of the Thothians as a tow rope which could easily be released if the descent became uncontrolled.

Chumley sat at the front center of the cart and was chosen to serve as the helmsman of the land-bound craft. Thoris and Frega sat at the left and right of him, each holding a small red flag to signal the brake-beasts on their respective sides. Because of the large tank at the center, the two sets of brake-beasts, to the left and right of the tank, could not see each other or Chumley, only the flag bearer directly in front of their side of the cart.

The idea of the operation was simple. Chumley would shout out directions. If he yelled "Slow!", both Frega and Thoris would raise their flags halfway and the brake-beast would apply half of full pressure on their brakes in an effort to slow the forward momentum of the cart.

If he yelled "Left!" or "Right!", the flag on that corresponding side would be fully raised and the brake-beasts on that side would pull with full force, causing the cart to veer in the desired direction.

Finally, if he yelled "Both!", both flags would be fully raised and all the brake-beasts would use full effort on their brakes, hopefully slowing the cart when it seemed out of control or moving too fast. Whether it would work was the question that every creature, especially those on the cart, wondered about silently.

"Let's get this started," Frega said solemnly.

"Ah'm ready," Chumley agreed.

"I thuppoth I am too," Thoris said nervously.

Frega hopped off of the cart and shouted.
"Begin!" He quickly climbed back aboard and grabbed his flag.