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The party of four topped a gentle rise and saw below them a valley, which featured what looked like a rather large stream lined with a dense wall of brush. There were a few tall, spindly evergreen trees hovering closer to the edge of a canyon, which was marked by steep hills.
Virgil drew the group to a halt. “We follow that stream for maybe an hour if memory serves.” He watched down into the draw for a few moments before gesturing them forward with his hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The air cooled markedly as they descended. The sound of rushing water greeted their ears as they approached a small trail paralleling the stream. “Let’s fill our skins here.” The captain made his way through the brush, beckoning the group to follow.
The water ran crystal clear and cold. Jarek cupped his hands and bent his head down to take a long drink. “Whoa, that’s icy.”
Virgil glanced over and smiled. “Yeah. This comes from snowmelt up in mountains to the north.” He pointed back toward his right.
Jarek glanced in that direction. “Mountains, huh? I didn’t notice any.”
“At least, I think they’re mountains because it’s always markedly colder here but they’re always shrouded in clouds and fog.” Virgil shrugged. “Let’s get moving. We still have ground to cover and I don’t want to be dragging in after dark.”
The group emerged from a copse of trees into a broad clearing. The ruins were unmistakable. Old and crumbling. The walls, which appeared to have once been alabaster, were covered with lichen near the ground and were moldy above that. The doors appeared to have long since disappeared, leaving behind only the frames. The window openings gave no clue as to what once must have occupied the space. Now, only gaping holes into the lightless interior of three visible buildings remained.
Jarek’s gaze followed the line of structures to the edge of the forest. “How far in does the monastery go?”
Virgil nodded in the direction of the woods. “I think there are another five or so small buildings beyond what you see here. The forest is slowly reclaiming all of this.” He dropped his pack by the door of the first building. “Leave everything here for now. Let’s go survey the rest of it. After that, we’ll start, building by building.”
Chapter 82: Jarek
Jarek stared at the roughly carved lines in the rock wall. “What does it mean?”
Virgil smirked. “That, good sir, is why I brought you along. I have no idea.”
The Azyrean traced the lines with his fingers as he thought. The markings consisted of a small circle above and to the side of a much larger circle. It looked like a rough image of a world and a moon. But the larger circle had something that looked like a ring around it. Straight lines connected the two circles. Jarek gave voice to his thoughts, “These lines coming out from the small circle go through this stuff here, whatever it is. Between the ring and the large circle, they appear to be wavy.” He reached up and scratched an ear, closing one eye while he tried to focus on what he was seeing.
The flickering orange torchlight didn’t make it any easier. Jarek’s attention shifted to another element of the carving. “This thing here, this bunch of lines hooked together in the center, almost seems like it might be some kind of person or thing. If that’s true, then it would appear as though it’s riding the wavy lines.”
Burns edged her way closer and stared. “Yeah. I see it. But, what does it mean?”
“It could be related to riding moonbeams. If the circle is a moon and the line is a beam, then that would make sense.” But there were other pieces that eluded Jarek. “But I don’t get this thing here, out away from everything else. It kind of looks like a cloud.”
Virgil stood and turned toward the fourth member of their group. “Mathias, get your parchment and pencil out and trace this. What you can’t trace, draw. Make sure you get every detail.” He turned back to Jarek and Burns. “Let’s go on to the next one.”
Just as they were about to move on, Jarek noticed something else. “What’s this? These look like letters.” He pointed off to the side about a hand’s width away from the main image. “This one is an A, but I can’t read most of the others, although this down at the end looks like an N. Hmmm, very curious.”
The wall carvings became more and more obscure. The second one featured three clouds around a globe. There were no wavy lines or other stick figures. Other carvings looked like images of crystals but with no context, it was hard for Jarek to make any sense of them. With each set of carvings, they found letters, seemingly random, nothing making any sense. Mathias recorded each of the drawings before they called it for the night.
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The torches, mounted in holders on the walls, gave the inside of the small building an eerie, surreal look and held the aroma of evergreen sap and smoke. The group ate mostly in silence.
Jarek stared at the floor, seeing nothing as he chewed on his bread, meat, and dried fruit, taking a sip of water from time to time. “What was this place, anyway?”
Virgil leaned back against the wall. “I don’t know the specifics. As I said, it was called a monastery, so presumably monks or priests of some sort lived here. They were long gone when I first visited. The place was much as you see it now. But the lore held that there was once a deity that ruled humankind through a priesthood or brotherhood of some type. I never found anyone that had actually met any of these men, and there aren’t any written accounts that I know of.”
Jarek took a bite of meat and chewed thoughtfully for a minute before adding, “Well, someone made these carvings and, given that there seems to be little artistic value in them, they must have had some purpose or meaning.” The discussion faltered, and the void was once again filled by the sputtering of the torches.
Jarek glanced up and over at Virgil. “You were in the service of the king, correct?”
“Yes and no. I served the king before Wyndred—King Daugrim. He was no paragon of kindness and compassion, but he was a saint compared to the current despot. Daugrim ruled with an iron fist, but his ambitions were constrained to this realm. Wyndred is an entirely different thing. He rules the land with virtually no effort. He seeks to expand his dominion to the other realms on this world and, if Commander West is correct, to other worlds beyond.”
“What happened? Was Wyndred the son of Daugrim? Does it work that way here?” Jarek had only heard fairy tales about kings and such. And in those the crown always passed down from father to son.
The captain smirked. “Nothing like that.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “I was just a fresh-scrubbed squad lieutenant at the time, not yet able to grow a beard. Somehow it seemed okay to do all the stuff that Daugrim told us to do.” He shook his head, smiling sadly. “He had a wife, the queen, and a young son. Then Wyndred showed up, as if out of nowhere, to become the king’s counselor and advisor. Almost right away, Daugrim’s health and spirit began to decline. He was dead within a year. A few days after his death, the queen and her son disappeared—never to be seen or heard from again. I wasn’t at the center of it all, but from what I could see, Wyndred ascended to the throne by default. There was no one to oppose him and no legal claim by anyone else.”
“Why did you quit?”
Virgil chuckled. “I guess I grew up a little and started to take note of what I saw around me. What seemed okay at one time began to feel wrong. But mostly it was Wyndred. Something about him. He was cold, hard, and without passion. He could have a man tortured and dismembered with the same casual tone as when ordering a flagon of ale. Our orders changed. He sent us into the countryside to conscript men and boys from the farms. We burned homesteads. We killed women and children, at least the ones for which he had no use. It took only a week or so to convince me. I stole away while on my post as officer of the watch one night and never looked back. I stumbled out into the forest where West nabbed me. She could have killed me, but here I am.”
Jarek pondered the story for a moment. “So, this Wyndred, he’s a much worse ma
n than the other king?”
The captain stared at him for a moment. “He is much worse. But, man? Not sure I’d call him a man.”
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Mathias stood and walked over to the doorway, peering out into the growing darkness. “What about that patrol we saw today? You figure out where they were going?”
The captain reached for his pack. “Let’s take a look.” He rummaged around and pulled out a piece of parchment, which he unfolded and placed on the floor in the center. “Here’s the stream and we’re about…” He traced his finger along the wandering line, “here, and we saw them back at about this point.” He gestured toward a broad area to the north of the stream. “So… “He scratched the dark, shaggy hair at his temple as he studied the map, “if we follow a line to the west, and figure they weren’t equipped for an extended patrol, that would put their destination here.” He pointed to an empty portion of the map.
Mathias laughed. “Well, that tells us a lot. There’s nothing there.”
Virgil shrugged. “Maybe. But, as you can see, this empty area is just to the northeast of Strongard Pass.” He pointed to an area of the map that seemed to indicate mountains. I don’t know but it sure feels like there’re mountains over there. There’s a stiff wind and chill that comes from that direction, and the canyon river water is ice cold. But as you can see, according to our map, there’s nothing there. So, I can’t imagine what the king might find so interesting in that pass and beyond.”
Jarek stared at the map as he considered the explanation along with all the other things he’d heard about the king that evening. “What could possibly come out of that pass that would interest someone like Wyndred? If there aren’t any humans up there, what is he concerned about?”
“That, Master Whit, is a very good question.”
Chapter 83: Marzi
Marzi squatted down and squinted her eyes to try and make sense of what she saw. “What is it?” She reached out and rubbed her finger over the carvings on the lower part of the stone wall.
Saryn hovered behind her, at first looking over her shoulder and then touching her arm with just enough pressure to convey his desire that she move out of the way. He bent down and touched the markings. “Elven runic symbols.” He turned and called toward a group of elves on the other side of the compound. “Bring me the tracing parchment and charcoal.” He looked up with concern toward the west and the retreating sun. “We must hurry. Dig down around this, as far as the markings go. And everyone, check the other structures. Not likely that this is the only wall with symbols.”
The clearing became a hive of activity as elves darted back and forth, some carrying digging tools while others began lighting torches. At first, Marzi tried to keep track of everything going on but soon felt overwhelmed. She moved closer to the fire pit and plopped down on her pad. She watched with a mix of pride in her discovery and resentment at not being included in the activity.
Rintaur eased over and sat beside her. “That was a very good find, Marzi. They would have gone unnoticed but for your curiosity.”
Marzi gazed up at his face in the gathering dusk. “What do they say? The symbols.”
“Saige will interpret them back at the caves. Most of the young elves here know nothing of runic symbols, other than to recognize them.”
“But do you know what they say?”
“Yes, but I am here to see to the safety of my charges, and that includes you. I will leave the investigation to others.”
Marzi turned toward him. “I don’t understand what it is between you and them. Why do you fight them? Aren’t you all on the same side, since you’re all elves?”
“Yes, we are all elves. And yes, we all want what is best for our people. But these things can be complicated. We all see through different eyes and often perceive different truths. Saige and I, we are not enemies. In fact, we were once close friends, along with Empress Ariessa. Our responsibilities are different, though. My loyalty is to Twilight Bough, as is Ariessa’s. Saige serves what she believes is a greater truth. Who is to say which among us is right or wrong. We all do what we feel is best.”
Marzi considered his words. In a way, they made perfect sense. But in another way, Lord Rintaur seemed to be obscuring something. “What’s the difference between how you see things and how Saige sees them?”
Rintaur chuckled. “You have a way of getting to the heart of the matter very quickly, Marzi.” The laugh softened, and he gazed in the direction of the setting sun. He shifted on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him and laying his hands in his lap.
“Some two centuries ago, our people became involved in a conflict, a war which brought death and desolation to this world.” He waved his hands in a broad gesture across the landscape. “The world, at the time, was inhabited by different races. Each lived in their own regions, but movement back and forth between the different zones was free.” He paused and rubbed his chin.
“There are probably as many versions of the origins of the conflict as there are historians who study it. But whatever the reasons for the war, it brought nothing good. Only sorrow and loss. As hostilities drew to a close, the sundering occurred.”
“What’s a sundering?” Marzi had never heard the word.
“Technically, it means to break into pieces. Within the context of our world, what it meant for us was that our different regions or lands became physically separated from the lands of other races. We could no longer travel freely back and forth between the zones.”
“What other races were there?”
Rintaur gazed up at the sky and narrowed his eyes. “There were a number of smaller groups, but the three major races in this world at the time were elves, humans, and ogres.” He shifted his gaze back to her and shrugged. “We know nothing of their fates. Only that we have had no contact with them for the past two centuries.”
“So what does that have to do with the difference between you and Saige?”
“It is not just a difference between us. It is a difference between how we in the Bough view our path and how Saige and her followers see theirs. These are not petty personal disagreements but rather fundamental differences in how we interpret the world around us. The elves of Twilight Bough believe that remaining in our land and avoiding contact with the other races will ensure our peace and safety. Saige and her people believe that we are part of a larger world and cannot remain hidden in this realm.”
Marzi tried to sort out how this all related to her, if it did. “What is Saige trying to do?”
Rintaur sighed. “She seeks a way around the fading, a way to travel to the other lands to make contact once again with the other races.”
That clicked with Marzi. Saige was exploring the ability to travel out of this area. The return to Pangrove would depend on finding such an ability, although there was a key difference. The elves spoke about moving between areas on this world. Marzi’s problem was traveling to another world. Her heart fell as the impossibility of her misfortune registered. “Can I ask you something else?” Without waiting for an answer, she blurted out the question, “The elves all talk about Valyn, and it seems like your group and Saige’s see that differently, too.” It wasn’t technically a question but more an observation.
“True. I am not sure how important the distinction is, though. Valyn, after all, is our deity—the elven goddess of our realm. We in the Bough envision her as a part of everything, embodied in all we see and feel around us. Saige and her followers believe that Valyn actually has form and resides in a specific location. I guess the important part is that we feel we can entreat her at any time in any place and she will hear us. In the other view, it would seem that one must travel to her location in order to speak with her. But I believe that this has little to do with our current dilemma.”
The work continued late into the night. Dinner was prepared in the pit as it was the previous night. But rather than a group of elves sitting around eating and talking, most grabbed a quick bite between tasks. Many took thei
r food to their work locations and integrated the two activities.
After hours of frantic effort, Saryn stood and announced. “I believe we have gotten all we will get, at least for this visit. Take one last look around, stow your things, and try to get some sleep. We leave at first light.”
Marzi struggled to keep her eyes open. After making sure her traveling pack was prepared for the morrow’s journey, she lay back on her pad and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. Just as she was starting to drift off, though, she thought she saw a soft golden light flash briefly to the side of the wall where she’d found the markings. She opened her eyes wide and sat up, staring at the spot—nothing. Just my imagination.
Chapter 84: Marzi
But the light returned. The soft glow invaded the darkness of her dreamless sleep. “What?” She propped up on an elbow and rubbed her eyes with her other arm. Was it morning already? Was that the sun?
A beautiful, lilting voice caressed, “Greetings, Marzi Gloam of Pangrove.”
Marzi opened her eyes and stared at a floating elf bathed in a beam of glowing golden light. This elf was the most beautiful being she had ever seen. She was wearing a long flowing robe the color of an early morning surf—a luminous white with silvery blue and soft frothy green. The robe had a silver runic design of some kind embroidered across the top and hem. This beautiful creature’s hair, the palest of corn silk blonde, cascaded over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her head was adorned with a crown of pale flowers that seemed to sparkle with dew—or perhaps with diamonds and sapphires. She smelled wonderful too—like jasmine, lilac, and lemon.
“Who are you?”
The wonderful being’s mouth formed into a warm and generous smile. “I am Valyn.”
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