Maebus felt as if he stood atop the world, gazing into the distance. The entire Realm sprawled before him in one picturesque collection of valleys, rivers, and forests below. The sun hovered gently in the crystal firmament above them, and the refreshing mountain breeze seemed to ease his weariness.
“Such beauty on its surface. Such terror in its heart,” Maebus whispered. He’d uttered those very words at least a thousand times before.
Kelm squeezed his sore legs. “No wonder our journey has been so difficult. We’ve basically scaled a mountain,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” Maebus replied.
The Wizard reached in his robe pouch and pulled out his canteen of water. He took a long sip. Maebus turned to survey his new surroundings. His attention was stolen by a large structure looming before him.
“What on earth,” he exclaimed in shock.
Connecting the sides of two mountains, a massive triangular entrance had been erected. Its design looked ancient, filled with cracks and eroded carvings, and its original color had long faded into a blend Maebus couldn’t identify. The structure towered above them at least fifty feet into the air. Beneath it, however, stretched a cobblestone road that appeared to stretch into the mountain chain.
“Where are we?” Maebus asked.
Kelm took another sip of his water before speaking. “What you see is called the Tricist. This gigantic triangular opening was carved straight from the mountain countless centuries ago. It’s commonly referred to as the Gateway to the North.”
“Ah, so here officially begins the historic Pumice Path,” Maebus said.
“Correct. This cobblestone road currently extends east to west, stretching the entire length of the mountain range, passing through a number of small towns. Also, long ago, a southern road used to connect here at this point, hence the name Tricist.”
“I admit to not being too familiar with history,” Maebus began, “but wasn’t this a trade route of sorts?”
“Somewhat,” Kelm replied, analyzing the Tricist. “In the earliest construction of Centre Pointe, the northern people erected Pumice Path and used it to transport building materials from the mountains to the kingdom. The production of resources spawned many of the towns. And for a time, they were very prosperous. But constant war diminished the demand for construction, and many of those same towns suffered greatly.”
Maebus scanned the cobblestones that composed the road. It appeared to be over a thousand years old. Kneeling down, he rubbed his hands against its surface, imaging the burden it must have been to lay each stone side by side for thousands of miles.
“Magnificent,” he said, “but interesting, as I’ve always thought that the northern people opposed the kingdom.”
Kelm nodded. “Well, they did actually. But you have to consider that a land as old as the Realm has had a number of histories. Think of it this way: before the Western Nations existed, this land here was considered west!
“Ah,” Maebus replied.
“The Conference of Amity brought in an unprecedented era of hope where Magicals and Laymen aligned to form the kingdom. The northern people wanted to assist in the construction of Centre Pointe, as an act of good faith. Perhaps none worked physically harder than the north to build the infrastructure of Centre Pointe.”
Maebus nodded in acknowledgement.
“It’s easy to see how they could feel betrayed when the wars continued despite the agreement.”
“Precisely,” Kelm replied. “Constant destruction eliminated the need for production. Therefore, the north dried up. Laymen migrated even further west to what is now the Western Nations, and the few who stayed behind maintained a deep grievance toward the kingdom, so much that they destroyed the southern part of the Pumice Path leading into Centre Pointe. That’s why, other than the secret passageway, there are no roads leading north and south … to this day.”
Kelm took another long sip of his water.
“Speaking of the path,” Kelm continued while wiping his mouth and putting his canteen away, “we should get going.” He patted Maebus on the shoulder then turned to walk away. Maebus followed him through the gateway.
At its entrance, the Pumice Path was extremely wide. But centuries of neglect had drastically narrowed its surface after a couple of miles down. Beyond the Tricist, the path was surprisingly steeper than Maebus expected.
Together, he and Kelm resumed walking in silence. Maebus studied the path in front of him, carefully avoiding loose cobblestones that jutted up at strange angles. Despite Kelm’s presence, the journey thus far had been extremely lonely. His body was wracked with feelings of uncertainty and guilt. He felt that their entire situation was his fault alone, and he was not optimistic regarding how helpful Fable the Archivist would be. He feared the entire journey to the Ancient Lands would result in a great waste of time … and within that time, his people would continue to die.
The midday sun scorched his neck as he fought against the headache that had been building for most of the day. It became hard for Maebus to concentrate. After a few miles, as they negotiated the high cliffs, the path before them narrowed to a size slightly larger than their own two feet.
“We’ll have to traverse this sideways,” Kelm said. He pressed his back against the stone and inched carefully along.
“Why must the simplest things be difficult?” Maebus asked, emulating Kelm’s movements along the narrow ledge.
Maebus estimated that inches from their feet was a three-thousand-foot drop. A quick glance over the side made him dizzy. Before he knew what was happening, he’d lost his balance. Releasing his grip, his weight shifted and he began falling forward. His mind instantly became aware of the danger as he desperately grasped for anything his hands could reach. But there was nothing to hold onto.
Maebus was going to die.
His body scraped the mountain’s jagged, jutting rocks, ripping his robes as he descended into a free fall. His eyes widened with terror as the ledge that once supported him sailed farther and farther from him.
“Maebus!” Kelm shouted.
Instantly, Maebus saw the flash of Kelm’s extractor shooting towards him. Its magical current sliced through the air at lightning speed. He barely had time to reach for his own extractor. With the force of gravity tugging his body, Maebus struggled to steady the device in his hands. Falling backwards, he pressed the extractor button. A streaming current sprang forth and connected with Kelm’s. From above, the Wizard anchored himself to the ledge to support his weight. Maebus held on with all of his strength as the connection slowed his fall. He jerked to a stop. Kelm then swung him back toward the mountain’s surface. Maebus yelled in agony as he smacked his left leg into the rocks. “Owww!” he screamed in pain, gripping the limb.
“Are you okay?” Kelm shouted from above.
Dangled on the streaming current, Maebus struggled for breath and couldn’t respond. The pain in his leg was excruciating.
“Try not to move, I’ll pull you up!” Kelm said.
Kelm inched over a few meters toward a wider surface area of the cliff. Controlling the stream from his device, Kelm cranked Maebus back over the ledge and laid him flat on the ground. Maebus immediately saw in Kelm’s eyes that something was wrong.
“Where does it hurt most?” he asked Maebus
“My leg,” he replied through clenched teeth.
“Are you able to move it?”
Maebus attempted to flex his leg. “No,” he said. “It hurts too much.”
Kelm hovered his hand above the hurt limb, being careful not to touch it. He could sense the damage was severe. “Your left leg is broken,” Kelm said sympathetically. “Hold still, I’m going to try to stabilize it.”
He bent down to his knees and placed both of his hands lightly on the fracture. His hands began to glow red. Maebus closed his eyes, wincing with pain. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again. The grimace on Kelm’s face told him instantly that the situation was dire.
“How bad is it?”
Maebus asked.
Kelm’s expression softened somewhat. “Your leg could be better,” he replied.
Maebus smirked. “You don’t say, Kelm?”
“Ha, ha, ha.” The Wizard rose to his feet. “Fortunately, I’ve stabilized it enough for you to travel without too much discomfort. But even with magic, it’ll take several days to heal.”
“I guess we better start looking for shelter,” Maebus grunted, trying to support himself.
Kelm shook his head. “No, being outside in the elements will not help the healing process. We’ll have to find a place to stay. As I mentioned before, there are a number of small towns along Pumice Path. If we maintain a steady pace, it shouldn’t be too long before we find one.”
Maebus nodded in agreement.
“In a moment, I’m going to stand you up. Wrap one arm around my neck and use your uninjured leg for support. Do not put any pressure on the broken leg.”
As Maebus carefully sat up. Kelm squatted down so Maebus could lean his weight into Kelm’s shoulder. After wrapping an arm around him, they both lifted upwards. With a deep grunt, Maebus shifted the weight into his good foot.
“Ready?’ Kelm asked.
Maebus hopped two steps forward. “As I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leoden enjoyed being outside by the fire. On cool nights such as this, he spent hours lying on the ground, gazing up at the stars. He’d envision a land far from his village; away from its familiarity and its simple way of living. At sixteen years old, he’d already mastered the warrior ways of his clan and had grown accustomed to his role and daily responsibilities. Yet, he longed for something more. The world beyond his village beckoned him like an enchanted whisper in the wind.
Focusing on the calm, clear, starlit sky above him deeply contrasted with the restlessness churning in his soul. As the campfire continued burning warm and slow, he was at least thankful for having taken the time to collect the right type of firewood. Moments like this made the burdensome journey well worth it. As the night passed on, his thoughts became less focused. His eyes became heavy with each deep, slow breath. Within moments, he fell fast asleep.
“Leeeoooodeeennn …” someone whispered in his ear.
He sat up quickly, trying to identify the source of the voice. But there was no one around. Suddenly, to his left, a formless shadow materialized just beyond the light of his campfire. Its ethereal appearance intrigued Leoden. He couldn’t tell if it was a person or an animal. As he rose to his feet, the figure began moving away. The hunter in Leoden couldn’t resist.
He followed the entity, unsure of what it was. With every step, he seemed not to move, as if his bodily motion was dormant. Surrounding him was a deathlike stillness unlike he’d ever experienced before. The night was pitch black, and his village seemed deserted and desolate. Its familiarity was gone. No voices emanated from the homes of his people; no light shone through their empty, vacant windows. Leoden felt as if he was the only person in the world, and perhaps for that moment he was.
His feet hurt from walking, yet he seemed to remain stationary with the entity still fully in his sight, taunting him, beckoning him to follow. No motion existed in this world, yet his village had long ago vanished.
Leoden found himself miles away, standing at the edge of a cliff. He stared toward the horizon, where a magnificent castle stood, glimmering in the night sky. Leoden had never seen it before but knew exactly what it was. Its presence felt like a part of his own, vibrating his aura.
Above the castle, Leoden suddenly noticed a hole appear in the sky; a cold, murky void, both tiny yet infinite. It scared him.
In an instant, the purple night sky filled with the colors of daylight. Silky white clouds materialized in a field of blue, kissed by a glint of sun. Behind the glimmering castle draped a tapestry of majestic mountains stretching high into the atmosphere. Leoden stood in awe. The most skillful artist could not have painted a more perfect picture. He marveled at the deep blue expanse as its color transitioned into crimson.
Suddenly, tracks of blood streaked across the heavens, heaving like veins. The billowing clouds, fluffy and light, all turned into furious fire, burning in the sky, angry and undying. The hole in the sky grew larger than ever. The ground below became a boiling ocean, and everything that once stood upon it—trees, castle and mountains—began to tilt and sink.
The cliff shook beneath Leoden's feet. He struggled to keep his balance. Reaching toward the heavens, he cried solid tears of crystal, for he knew in his heart that he had the power to stop the madness before him; to bring peace to a world he knew nothing of, yet felt hollow without.
The earth shook violently as he dropped to his knees and fell upon his stomach. He shut his eyes, squeezing them with all of his might, praying for courage and strength. Tighter, he squeezed his eyes and clenched his fists. The world funneled to a rumbling in his ear, a whistling of the wind, a crackle of the campfire he had fallen asleep in front of.
Leoden jolted awake.
The sky was filled with stars. Everything in his village appeared as it had always been. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Perhaps it was better to just stay up for the rest of the night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
An eerie essence lingered in the midnight air as Maebus and Kelm entered the small mountain town. Sloshing through mud-filled streets, they observed their surroundings. Since the weak were often preyed upon, Maebus tried to conceal his limp inside the bagginess of his robes. But such attempts at disguise were pointless, as no one was present on the town streets.
The mountain air carried a sharp chill that befitted the scene.
“Like many of the northern towns, this place at one point boomed with potential yet fizzled before any real development could be attained,” Kelm explained as they sloshed past rows of buildings.
If it weren’t for the candle fixtures that burned every few yards, he would have believed the town to be completely deserted.
The main road cutting through town was actually part of the original Pumice Path. But centuries of neglect had withered it away. Its cobblestone had been removed, or perhaps over time had just sunken into the semi frozen mud, often called perma-mud. Many of the buildings were made of wood, their structures erected on the solid ground as opposed to a stone foundation. This made the buildings tilt unevenly over time as they settled deeper into the mud.
“What is this place?” Maebus asked.
“Death and despair,” Kelm replied.
His words only enhanced Maebus’ apprehension. Never had he seen so miserable a place, made even starker by its absence of people. The deep mud gouged long trenches in the road, making the ground difficult to walk on. No part of the road seemed solid. Their weight was supported only by the compacted pressure under their feet. Maebus balanced himself by leaning into Kelm. They shuffled along, trying not to cause any more damage to his leg. Not having full mobility frustrated Maebus. It felt like a blatant insult to an already precarious situation.
“How’s your leg holding up?” Kelm asked.
It took Maebus a moment to hear the question. His eyes darted back and forth, staying vigilant of their surroundings.
“It’s manageable,” he said. He felt rather than heard the strain in his own voice. “Will feel better once I’m able to lay it down. But it doesn’t seem like this town will offer a suitable place to stay.”
“Define suitable,” Kelm said.
Maebus smirked. “What I mean is that finding shelter may be a challenge, as it seems this town has been deserted for quite some time.”
“Actually, this town is heavily populated.”
Maebus’ face tightened with surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m very serious,” Kelm stated. “People have been watching us ever since we arrived here. Granted, I can’t see our watchers, but I can sense them, even feel their eyes upon us.”
That explained the eeriness Maebus felt. His body instinctively tensed d
espite his broken leg. His eyes darted from side to side as he tried not to turn his throbbing head. “Are we in danger?” he asked anxiously.
“No, no. I sense no threat. The natives are just curious, is all. I’m sure visitors don’t arrive here very often.”
Maebus relaxed somewhat.
“We’d do well just to head for shelter and stay there,” Kelm continued. “I’m hoping this town has an Annal.”
Annal was a term that Maebus hadn’t heard since his days as a Disciple. He remembered reading that as part of the Noble Laws. It was the duty of the Archival Order to establish at least one records depot for each community throughout the kingdom. The Annals were public places maintained by Archivists Wizards who kept track of births, deaths, and historic events in that particular region. Unfortunately, due to the wars, Annals became difficult to maintain, and many fell into ruin. Kelm assessed that if this town indeed had an Annal, vacant or not, they would be able to stay there a few days … hopefully undisturbed.
“Annals are usually located near the center of town,” Kelm added, “and the building should be marked with the Symbol of Order.”
Together, they continued walking. Maebus’ attention was drawn in every direction as shadows quickly appeared and disappeared. Undoubtedly, they belonged to the inhabitants of the town secretly scrutinizing them. The notion thoroughly troubled Maebus.
“I think that’s it,” Kelm said, as they arrived at the center of town.
The structure ahead of them was unimpressive and slanted into the ground like all the other buildings. But unlike the others, there was a distinctive, yet faded, circular symbol painted on its upper level—a golden sun with a triangle in the middle. This, Maebus knew, symbolized containment, order, and wisdom.
They approached the front entrance of the building. Maebus kept watch beside Kelm as he tried the handle, but the door was locked. He cupped his hands around his eyes, peering into one of the large glass windowpanes.
“What do you see?” Maebus asked, his breath fogging in the frigid air.
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