by David Bokman
Cadwell’s face had a frown big enough to fit three men. “Slow down and tell us what’s in these texts.”
Hako put the collection of texts down on the ground and picked up the first scroll. “Drawings! Don’t like drawings, they don’t belong in my library, but rules are rules, Townmaster insists they stay. Take it!” The curator threw the scroll to no-one in particular, and Florianna caught it. “A song!” Hako continued. “Or is it a poem? No, no, a song, I have read this. Before it was restricted, of course! A song, yes, it mentions the rifts. Take it!” Again, an invaluable piece of paper was carelessly thrown in the air.
“And the tome?”
“The tome, yes yes, all in due time! The tome is one of history, well-written! A good book. I do not understand why it is restricted. Mofarik knew how to write a book, she did. Read it four times, I have. Just gets better.” Cad picked up the tome, which felt almost as heavy as the crates he had hauled no more than a day ago.
“Is that everything?” asked Florianna.
The Curator looked down at the now empty floor. “That is— no, wait! Not everything.” He rummaged through his pockets, before eventually finding a small piece of parchment, big enough for perhaps a sentence or two at most. “A name. A name kept appearing during my search, yes. A strange name, I do not know to whom it belongs. A man it is, but more than that I do not know. The texts called him ‘The Atlas’, they did.”
“Ah, one of your compatriots, Mae?” said Jaio.
“Where is he?” Mae asked the Curator.
“Long dead, long dead. Some of the texts are hundreds of years old! No, you will not find him, but he was connected to the rifts, yes, most certainly.”
“Thank you, Hako,” said Na. “This helps more than you know.”
“Be careful with the book! Songs and drawings you can destroy, yes, those do not belong, but the book, the book I like. Be careful with it!”
“You have our word.”
The group turned around to leave the library, but Hako’s voice quickly stopped them. “No, no, no! You cannot leave the library. Not with restricted books, no, not with any books. You must stay. You read them here, and you give them back, yes.”
Cadwell looked around, sizing up the guards. I could probably take them, but why bother? “Do you at least have a private room for us to use?”
“A room... A room… Yes! One of the scholars’ rooms, of course. Whichever one you like. If it is occupied, they will move for you. Level two.”
The second level of the library, in many ways, was the complete opposite of the first. Whereas the ground floor had been filled with activity and noise, the second was so quiet that you could probably hear every page being turned. This level, like the first, did not feature any bookcases. Unlike the first, it did not feature any portals either, save for the one leading back to the ground floor. Instead, it was filled with small study rooms measuring no more than five by five yards. The marble on this floor looked to have been brushed to perfection, shining spotless and adding to the solemn, serene atmosphere.
As the heralds began making their way down the floor in search of an empty room, they found themselves almost tip-toeing across the white floor. Halfway through the level, they came across a vacant room, and quickly made it unvacant. “Okay,” said Samson, “where do we start?”
Florianna opened the scroll Hako had thrown to her and laid it out on the table. Even though it looked to be at least a century old, it did not feel especially fragile, and the young arcanist sensed that the papyrus was probably held together by some sort of magic cast upon it. Drawn on the parchment was a big field with a pond on its right side. To the west and east it was surrounded by trees, to the north by mountains. A trail went from south to north around the pond before stopping when it reached the mountains. At the southern edge of the trail, facing north, stood a lone figure, impossible to identify. But this was not what grabbed the group’s attention. It was what was scattered around the path. Eerily similar to Mae’s sketches, three rifts flanked the path - two on the left and one on the right. They varied in size and shape, but there was no mistaking them. “Well this one is useless,” proclaimed Cadwell. “It’s a drawing, not a page from the naturalists’ books.”
"Useless? This confirms that the rifts have appeared before!” said Na. “When was this made? Where was this made?” She turned the scroll around, but the back was empty.
Samson, thinking aloud, said, “Aren’t there mountains to the north?”
“There’s probably mountains in every direction, if you head far enough. But yes, there is a mountain range.”
“And forests?”
“Again, same answer.”
“It’s a bloody drawing,” Cad interjected. “Let’s move on.”
Jaio, who had been the recipient of the parchment containing the song, stepped up to the table. The parchment was of a thicker, sturdier kind than the previous one. Thanks to this, the song was still legible, although time had clearly taken its toll on this piece as well.
From north to south, from cliffs to lakes,
We heareath now; the ground, it quakes
The path you walk, beware it shifts
Before you know, it’s filled with rifts
Should you trip, perhaps be slain,
Prepare yourself for Death’s domain
But should you take a leap of faith,
You may, with luck, avoid the wraith
“Death’s domain? The wraith?”
“This doesn’t exactly sound like the kind of song they’d play in a tavern,” said Sam. “Sounds more like a prophecy, or a riddle.”
“But what does it mean? ‘North to south’...” Mae began reciting the contents of the parchment, eventually fading out into a mumble.
“It has to mean the rifts appeared all over the place before!” said Na. “North to south? Right?”
“Sure, but that’s not very helpful. It’s the second verse I don’t understand. Leap of faith? Could it mean—”
“Nobody is jumping into any rifts on my watch,” said Cadwell. “Now let’s look in the actual history book.”
Mofarik’s Complete Tome of Agricultural History did indeed look complete, and incredibly dull. Thankfully, Hako had had the forethought to mark the relevant sections in the register, so the group did not have to sift through Crop farming during wartime - a double-edged sword or The mouldboard plow - friend or foe? to find what they were looking for. They instead found themselves in a section regarding the biggest threats to farmers during the post-Kardh era, which would have begun roughly five hundred years ago. Among insects and wild animals, written plain as day, the book mentioned…
“‘Beware, ye who knoweth not the history of thine field; the rifts of old hunger for more than blood and bone,’” Mae recited. Next to the writing was an illustration depicting a field torn in two by a massive rift. “It goes on. ‘Many a farmer have borne witness to the power of the rifts firsthand, and many more are not here to tell the tale. Ye who believeth not these evil mutations of magic to be real, travel no further than the Shattered Fields south of Vestrok, and witness their destruction firsthand.’” Upon reading the last part, Mae’s face shone up as if she had seen the sun after a decade underground. “Finally! An actual lead!” Before anyone had time to respond, her excitement seemed to die down. “But… I’ve been in that area. Many times. I’ve never heard of the Shattered Fields. Have you?”
None answered.
“Perhaps they lay hidden, or perhaps I have missed them. They must be there. They must.”
The remaining two sections marked by Hako were of less interest, as they only mentioned the rifts in passing, and did not offer any new information. This did little to dampen the group’s excitement. As they returned all the texts to the Curator, even Cad could not help but feel a little optimistic about their venture. They knew they would have a strenuous journey ahead of them, for Vestrok lay a good ninety leagues or so away, near the mountains to the north. But it is a journey with
a destination, Mae thought to herself. Something I haven’t had for many years. In spite of this, she could not help but feel a little sad. She had visited the Eastern Library many times in her search, sometimes looking specifically for information about the elusive rifts, but never found anything. If I had only known the answers were in a book about agricultural history. No time for self-pity now, though. Not when she was so close.
“Comrades?” said Jaio, as they left the library. “Allow me to make a proposition regarding our next steps.”
“There’s always a goddamn proposition with you, isn’t there?” said Cad.
“Ah, but this time I truly believe it to be a sensible one. Our next stop is these fields, yes? Fields far off from civilization, where information will be scarce. We will not hear news of the rifts; we will not be able to follow the progress of others. Perhaps another explorer has a breakthrough which changes everything about the rifts. We would not know, for we would be wandering around in the void between Kardh’Ao and Vestrok.”
“And your plan is..?”
“That you leave me behind, here, in Kardh’Ao. I will monitor the situation here as it unfolds, keeping in contact with Attila, and doing some investigating on my own. When news reaches my ears, I will let you know, and you will be equipped with the latest information to aid you in your search.”
“I thought you said you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible?”
“I did, I did. But alas, this rift situation does not seem to be going away any time soon. I believe it to be more important than my journey at the moment.”
“But why should you of all people stay here? You have people looking for you, we don’t!” said Na.
“Ah, but I have had people looking for me my whole life, little arcanist. I have become rather adept at avoiding them. The reason I should stay is because I can navigate this city, especially its vile underbelly, far better than any of you. No offense, of course.”
“Well I’m not staying, that’s for sure,” said Cad.
“I don’t like this place either,” said Samson.
Mae and Na looked at each other, and then at Jaio. “Very well,” said Mae. “You may have a point. But how would you reach us?”
“By raven, I suspect.”
“I think we can manage on the road just the four of us, and all the best gamblers in the tavern used to hedge their bets,” Samson agreed.
“It is decided then!” Jaio said with a smile. “I will be our man in Kardh’Ao, while you people brave the wildlands of the north. A fine strategy.”
“We better hear from you,” warned Cadwell.
“You doubt me, after all this time? I am hurt, old man, truly.”
With a plan established and a raven bought, the heralds made ready for their departure. “The road we took from Grensby will look like child’s play in comparison,” Mae warned. “The further north you get, the more unforgiving the terrain becomes. Up at Vestrok, it’s almost hostile.”
“And cold,” said Cad. They had returned to the tailor, who had made them garbs more fit for colder climates, but the old man feared the journey would still prove too much for Na and Sam. Those heraldic emblems won’t do you much good if you’re freezing to death in the cold, dark wilderness.
“Jaio, there is no way of knowing where we will head after we reach the fields,” said Mae. “It’s possible the trail leads us further north, in which case we will not have time to wait for you.”
“In which case I shall remain here and help as best I can. I understand.”
“I didn’t think I’d say this, but… thanks for your help, Laentarian.”
Samson, too, gave an approving nod to the young man.
“Stay safe, Jaio!” said Na.
“Or don’t,” said Cad.
“Best of luck to you on your voyage! Oh, and do let me know how you like the north. I have half a mind to pay that land a visit after we are done with this adventure.”
With that, they parted ways for what the Laentarian suspected might be the last time. He headed back into the city, and they headed towards its northern gate. Jaio made his way back to Attila, and the others made their way to a general store, restocking before their long voyage. After acquiring rope, lanterns, snow-shoes, ice picks, and a few extra backpacks, they finally said goodbye to the strange city of Kardh’Ao, at least for now. I wonder what my parents would think if they could see me now, Florianna thought. They would probably disapprove greatly, which only gave her more motivation. Or perhaps they preferred it this way; it gave them one less thing to worry about. Regardless, it felt good to make her own decisions, or at least to choose who to follow. Somehow, even though she now for the first time in her life had a real job to take care of, she felt freer than ever. And I like how freedom tastes.
⧫ CHAPTER XVI ⧫
One could be forgiven for thinking the group were travelling the wrong way on a one-way road. Every single person they came across was travelling south, not north. And why wouldn’t they be? thought Mae. Who in their right mind would be travelling north, especially at this time of year? In the north, there was nothing but cold, snow, and wild beasts. Not exactly a place you would go without good reason.
The heralds did have a good reason, though, Cadwell most of all. I’d prefer not to be executed until I’ve dealt with Castor. On the bright side, there’s no risk of getting lost on the way north. They would have the Muddy Coast to the west for most of the journey, and the mountains to the north were a good waypoint, too. It was making it there in one piece that would prove more troublesome, he feared.
The first obstacle came in the shape of the road, or rather the lack of one. About the same time as the heralds lost sight of the walls of Kardh’Ao behind them, the road dissipated into a small path so narrow that they had to go one by one. “How many days will it take us?” asked Na.
“Weeks. Maybe close to a month. Depends on the weather, and on us.”
“And people will help us now that we are heralds, yes?” asked Sam.
“Some will. Those who respect the title and are in good enough shape that they can offer help. I doubt we’ll get a royal treatment, though.”
Mae’s guess was put to the test that evening, when they came upon one of the few inns along the way. Built mainly as a place of lodging, it offered little when it came to food and ale. The heralds could not have travelled much more than six leagues from the northern gate, so the inn was not completely empty. Inside, standing on a makeshift stage, a newsperson was recounting his findings to a small crowd. “Holes in the ground shock the Townsguard of Kardh’Ao!” he said with great enthusiasm. “Unknown assailant attempts assassination on leader of the Colgrove family, assailant now in the dungeon!”
Cadwell laughed to himself. “This seems as good a place as any. Innkeep?”
“One moment!” The voice seemed to come from below the counter. After a few moments, the owner of the voice, a tall woman with a big nose, stood up and revealed herself as the innkeeper. “Hello,” the woman continued. “What can I— Oh, heralds? You people seem to be growing on trees nowadays! I hope your search is going well?”
“Not yet. I’m Herald Churchcross, I lead a mission northbound,” said Cad, sensing the innkeeper might be able to be persuaded. “We’re looking for a place to stay the night.”
“What is this mission?” the innkeeper asked.
“Do you have rooms available?”
The tall woman broke into a smile. “Only testing you, Herald! I’m Vanessa, and I always have room for heralds! For a good price, too! Pay me a story, and I shall give you food, drink and a place to sleep.”
Cad looked around at his friends. Sam stepped up, and said, “I’ve got a story for you, Vanessa! Herald Miller, at your service.” He grabbed a nearby chair, stepped onto it, and extended his arm for a handshake, which Vanessa accepted. “Tell me, have you ever heard of the faraway land of Laentar?”
“You’ve been to Laentar?” Vanessa was already so captivated by the story th
at she would not notice if someone burned down her tavern.
“I am afraid I have not. No, my story concerns the time I met a man from Laentar, a mighty champion, an enforcer in a past life. I had been tasked with seizing a stolen manor, a task I would normally deem too trivial. But upon hearing it was held by a fearsome Laentarian, I could not help but accept.” Samson took a deep breath, figuring out where next to take his story.
“What happened?” asked Vanessa.
“Ah, I travelled to the manor on my trusty steed, and, lo and behold, walking out of the manor to greet me was a man whose accent indeed betrayed him as a Laentarian. He was small of build, but he moved faster than any man I have ever come across. He could outrun a wolf, I give you my word. In any case, tensions quickly rose, as they are prone to do, and I saw no other path to success than to eliminate the problem. We battled for the better part of an hour, matching each other’s strikes, blow for blow!” Samson’s right arm slashed the air theatrically. “We finally came to accept that we were too evenly matched, that this battle would take us nowhere. So we constructed a different battle - a battle of wits. This time, for two hours, we challenged each other’s minds, brought our sanities to the brink, only to find ourselves equal once more! It was only then that we realized night had already set in, and the Laentarian agreed to let me sleep in the manor, on account of the newborn respect he held for me. The next day, we rode away from the manor together as friends, claiming half the reward each, and returning the manor to the nobleman!”
Vanessa’s smile went ear to ear as she began applauding. “Heralds’ stories are worth more than any golden suns. To think, there are good people even among the Laentarians! And you are a far better storyteller than the last Herald I came across.”
Florianna stepped up to the counter. “Who was the last Herald you came across, Vanessa?”
“I would not normally tell such a thing, but since you yourselves are heralds, and because of the story, I will. She was a very strange figure. Perhaps forty years of age, although it was hard to tell. She wore a cloak, you see, a big cloak covering her face and her entire body. She wasn’t especially big, and the cloak did not look especially luxurious, but in her pocket she did indeed have a symbol marking her as a Herald. She was not here long, though. She came late at night and left the next morning.”