by Colin Taber
Chapter 9
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Spring Blossom
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Marco’s Ruins, The Northcountry.
If the day after Kurt and Baruna had led the surviving volunteers back to us was one of euphoria and relief, the day that followed was one overwhelmed by a rising tide of grief. Many at Marco’s Ruin were mourning those who had not survived the effort to retake Ossard, and that misery only deepened as they heard of the horrors of the ill-fated campaign. Of course, such mourning was natural, but I did not want to lose the spirit of enthusiasm and belief that the return of the survivors had bestowed upon my people.
No, this was a chance to keep hope alive in the Northcountry.
Or was I just trying to bury my own grief and guilt?
Regardless of the truth, I needed to be strong in this. Not just for my people, but also my family. That meant I needed to embrace my fate, despite the shadows it came wreathed in.
So, that night, as I stood on the terraced balustrade and watched the waters of the sound sparkle with the light of the moon, I asked the Prince, “What should be my priority now?”
He smiled, the warmth of his gesture reaching me despite the chill emanating from his spectral form. “Do what feels right, but shed some of the power you still hold in your body. Let it spill out. You need to gather power in your soul, to make it stronger there, not here in your flesh and bones. What you host in your physical form is dangerous to hoard. Let it go – it is caustic – but put it to use when you shed it.”
“How?”
“You said you felt great joy in returning the rosetree to us.”
“Yes?”
“Do something similar; bring something back or spread the trees further. Perhaps you should just help Baruna, who worries our newly planted spring crops will grow too slow to feed the people of the ruin.”
I thought on his suggestion and knew he was right. Too much power burned within my body, just waiting to get out. I’d been holding on to much of it because I was entrapped in the notion that I should not waste it.
He smiled at me, reading my thoughts. “There are many things you can do with it.”
I nodded. “Baruna is worried about our depleted stores after the winter we have just come through.”
He suggested, “Add vitality to the sprouting seeds and bring a lush abundance to the new fields outside our walls.”
I chuckled. That would not only be useful, but also satisfying.
I put my hands on the balustrade and prepared to let the power flow.
The Prince watched me as he said, “Get rid of it! Let go of the caustic power you hold in your heart that would burn out any lesser mortal.”
I paused and asked, “Can I not just send it back to my soul?”
“You need more experience in handling it in this world.”
His words made me tense when I considered how such use stirred my hunger.
He nodded, acknowledging my thoughts. “Yes, because each time you utilise such power in your meat-and-bone form, it stirs your deep hunger.”
“I thought that would be the last thing I would wish to do.”
“No, you should challenge yourself.”
I thought on that. “By using it, I will build up a tolerance to it. Is that what this is about?”
“Grae ru.”
“So, by casting power out, I will become hardened to the resulting sensations, which will strengthen my ability to control my hunger?”
“Your resolve to do so is there, but your experience is not. This will help.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
I focused on him and sighed. It was a good question. “As much as I can, at the moment.”
He nodded, pleased with my answer. “Good.”
“So... what is first?” Already, just giving voice to the idea of casting made me tense up, my fears rising at what such actions would do to my dark hunger.
“You have done many things with your power in the past, both pushing it out and taking it in.”
“Yes?”
“What magic have you worked that you most enjoyed?”
I was surprised at his question.
So much of my life and my magic had been about suffering and wrestling control. To be asked what part of it I had enjoyed seemed to be asking me the very opposite of what my experience had been. I shook my head in confusion. “Enjoyed?”
“Juvela, you have been here for half a year. We have talked about many things, including much of what you experienced during the Fall of Ossard.”
I was still struggling with the notion. “Enjoyed?”
He whispered, “Forget about the feedings and your guilt; think instead about satisfaction, happiness, and pride. I know you have used power and been amazed by what you have achieved. Think about those times that were not clouded with desperation or anger.”
Once he put it like that, one clear memory sprung to mind. “The rosetrees... bringing them back to the Cassaro Valley as we fled the fallen city.”
He smiled, as if he knew that had been the answer all along. “Then work with that. Fill the fields for Baruna, but also return woods to the vale here.”
I nodded, closed my eyes, and concentrated; the power began to flow out.
Green sparks rained off me, flaring as they bounced along the terrace flagging as I pictured rich soil in the gardens and full fields of vegetables growing plump. With each moment, I saw more of it – generous blossoms, thickening green branches, and countless leaves. I also saw fruits and melons, a vast bounty growing rich, ripe, and heavy.
As I worked, I could hear the soil turning over with a low rumble and crops growing with the rustle of leaves. When that was done, I began to weave my power into freeing the rosetree from its limits in its sacred grove and the new range where it stood guard at our borders with the Cassaro Valley, imprisoning the bandit camp.
The rosetree would be free.
Now I saw tunneling roots, daring shoots, and the tree that had once been the symbol of Ossard covering the entire vale. From my heart, I wished for thickening trunks and long branches and a sky full of rosetree blossoms adrift on a lazy spring breeze.
The wind stirred warm and fragrant around me.
The Prince sighed in wonder beside me.
I smiled as I felt spent petals float by and kiss me on the cheek.
Part III
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Into The Dark
Chapter 10
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The Crossing
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The Varm Carga, the island of Kalraith.
Anton took the first watch once the three of them had put down their packs, unrolled their blankets, and eaten a meal of bread, cheese and dried meats. Meanwhile, the wind howled outside as dusk fell and the storm deepened. The air was chilly, but they had shelter in their hidden campsite, free from both the snow and the danger of discovery by gargoyles braving the weather now blasting the vale.
The Outleaguer’s time sitting in the dark was uneventful, right up to when he woke Sef for the last watch so Matraia might continue to rest and regain her strength. The winged woman’s decline after being poisoned seemed to have slowed, aided by the previous night’s sleep and the administration of the healing waters, as well as Sef’s healing blessing. But neither of the men knew whether it would be enough to get her through this next stage of their journey.
As they changed duties, the wind began to die down, leaving them both grateful as Anton bedded down. “I heard nothing all night but the wail of the wind.”
Sef stood and stretched before settling back down and checking the sword and knife he kept close at hand. Then he quietly asked, “Nothing else? Not a single flap of wing to report, or a screech or call that carried across the lake?”
“No, but the wind was so strong at times I doubt anything could have been heard unless it was very close. Let us hope we have evaded them and will soon be forgotten.”
Sef raised his eyebrows at that. “Yes, I suppose, b
ut I think it unlikely.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gargoyles have probably been in these parts for centuries, at least, and while the Kavists of the Pandike might only be able to claim years, both of them will be familiar with the landscape.”
“I suppose.”
“We killed three gargoyles and destroyed a Kavist patrol, even leaving a survivor behind, poisoned or not. Whether they came from a nearby gargoyle swarm or local Sentinel tower, those forces will be missed.”
“They can look all they like for us out there, in that small wood, or on the plain.”
“Yes, but they will soon enough look in other places we might hide, such as here. I think it very likely they know of this tunnel.”
“I suppose you are right. That just means we will have to move as quick as we can.”
Sef agreed, but added, “And hope Matraia can manage our pace.”
Anton quietened, silenced by what he knew was likely to be a very real problem.
The big Flet said, “Get some sleep. You will need your strength... all of us will. I think this trek has a chance of succeeding, but it will be hard, and not just on our bodies. Walking through the dark, under the mountain, will strain our minds and sap our spirits.”
Anton frowned, but lay down. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “We will need light. Have you given that any thought?”
“Yes... Juvela once called light from nothing, using it to roll back the shadows at Ossard’s old opera house. I will ask her to provide that power to us as a blessing.”
Anton said, “Good, that will help.”
“Now, get some sleep.”
The Outleaguer grunted and pulled up his blankets.
The night stretched on, the darkness almost complete. The wind thankfully continued to ease, its low roar falling into a wail, and later to just an occasional whistle. Sef found himself listening for any sound not related to the blustering breeze as he mentally catalogued dozens of different drips, rustles or knocks that came out of the tunnel ahead of them.
The most common sound was the dripping of water and the bubbling song of flowing water as a stream came out from the dark to meet the subterranean beginnings of the lake. Eventually, he got up when he heard a recurring rustle just outside, only to find it coming from some dried leaves of a dead weed that rubbed along rocks, pushed back and forth by the easing wind. No noises came that couldn’t be explained.
That left Sef to await the sunrise.
Eventually, the horizon finally began to gather some light with the coming of dawn. Sef could see that the snow had stopped outside, but not before it had carpeted the land thickly enough to hide their tracks.
A blessing of good fortune.
It was cool in their haven, but not too chilled. While he suspected that being submerged in the current for any reasonable length of time would be lethal, compared to the frigid landscape outside, the water was not their biggest hazard.
The morning light grew stronger and finally began to stream in through the low but wide entrance standing above the water line. The rays of the new day, shining golden, illuminated the lake waters that flooded the space inside the tunnel where they camped.
Sef glimpsed a wisp of mist swirl across the water’s surface in front of him, coaxing him forward with surprise. Cautiously, he knelt and dipped his fingers in the flow, wondering how warm it might be.
It was cool, but not as cold as he had expected.
He raised his eyebrows, letting out a soft chuckle as he stood.
With the light as bright as it would most likely get in the chamber, Sef took the opportunity to look around. In some ways, the entry to the tunnel matched his expectations, but in others, he was surrounded by sights not just unexpected, but strange.
Just as Sef had pictured, their camp lay on the rubble of part of the tunnel’s entry, where the middle of the span had collapsed. The ruination had been triggered by a landslip of the cliff outside. From within, where he was now, he could see that the roof spread high above, mostly lost in shadow, but with sections clearly slumping down, affected by the collapse where the ancient works had failed. He noted that everything seemed to be covered in dust and was well and truly settled in place now.
The ceiling, partially lit by the sun reflecting off the surface of the water, was primarily smooth as it stretched away and into the gloom. Often the roof was marked by cracks, or great lumps of rock bulged forth in other places, and in still other places supports and pipes hung from above. The view was not just surprising, but wondrous.
A draft issued as a gentle moan from the tunnel’s depths, singing low and long, as if the mountain was releasing a sigh. The deep and mournful song mixed with the higher pitched music of running water also coming from deeper within.
Looking into the depths of the wide tunnel, he could see that the water’s inky surface spread ahead, marked by ripples. The disturbances weren’t from movement underneath, but instead were regular, coming from where he guessed a stream found the lake. He wondered if perhaps it was the source of Dorloth’s blessings.
He peered into the gloom, trying to make sense of the little he could see.
Further on, the shadows overcame the meagre morning light, as though the night refused to retreat, but not before a few more secrets were revealed. The sides stood covered in dirt, dust, moss and damp, but remained mostly smooth, except where great cracks marred the surface.
At the very edge of Sef’s vision, as his eyes adjusted, he could see a wide line of running water, sparkling as it occasionally caught the light. The flow ran down a very gentle slope that emerged from the lake further down the tunnel. Any more detail was lost to gloom.
A smile crept across his face.
It was the road, beginning its slow climb out of the water at a very gentle angle and into the mountain as it made its way through.
He wondered... did it really lead all the way through to the heart of Kalraith?
Anton’s voice sounded to interrupt Sef’s contemplations, “I think you’ve chosen well.”
“Sorry?”
The Outleaguer threw back his blankets and stood, joining Sef to peruse their future road. “For our shelter and our path. Hopefully this will save us from days of trudging through snow while dodging Kavist patrols and gargoyles.”
“Well, I can see the road, but I’ve never seen one so big.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s ancient and fallen into ruin. Do you think Matraia is right, that this really will go all the way through the mountains?”
“It’s a road one thousand years old and from the very pinnacle of a Dominion’s power. I believe it heads towards that fallen Dominion’s heart. Yes, I’d say it spears right through the mountains. Let’s just hope it is still clear enough for us to make that crossing.”
“There’s a draft.”
“Yes, so there’s certainly a way out for us to find and take advantage of.”
“It’s so wide and the sides so smooth. How do you make such a thing?”
“The Lae Velsanan Dominions have all reached great power and worked many wonders. To them, this was a fairly ordinary part of their world.”
“Ordinary!”
Anton nodded. “From a whole world of wonders. It’s true they had carriages that would travel these roads horseless, and ships that could take to the air, harnessing the elements themselves.”
Sef turned to Anton. “I’ve heard the stories, but thought they were children’s tales?”
“The tales are based on half-forgotten legends, and I know from the Inquisition’s own records that it’s thought they hold a good deal of truth. Not all of it, but enough to know that much has been lost in the drowning of the world at the fall of the Lae Velsanan’s Third Dominion.”
“When the seas rose?”
“Yes, taking not just towns and cities, but whole nations, as the waters engulfed the coastlands and lower river valleys. Can you imagine, Sef, the number of cities like Ossard that must
now be under hundreds of paces of water, cloaked in murk, tombs for their long-dead and fish-eaten citizens?”
Sef turned back to the road that faded from view as the sunlight drew back towards the entrance as the morning’s sun rose outside. “I wouldn’t have believed this road existed if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. Besides Matraia’s mention of it, I’d only seen a few references during my studies, but now we have seen it first hand and cannot deny it.”
“Will it be safe?”
“There’s a chance part of it has collapsed, but the flow of water and draft of air bodes well for us. These things were built for people to take, ordinary people, so they were built to last and be safe.”
“Ordinary people? Why, it seems such an effort to go to, to tunnel under not one mountain, but a whole range.”
“They held the spending of time dear, as we all do, but they used their powers and strengths to stop the wasting of their days. You know the stories – they could talk to each other over long distances, they could fly, and turn night into day.”
“Yes, but we can do much of that through magic.”
“Our mages and priests can, but many of this dead Dominion’s ordinary citizens could do those things, even the lowest.”
“What... a race of mages?”
“No... a world of machina, one of the most dangerous of magics.”
Sef slowly began to nod his head. “The stories of cogs, smoke, metal and wheels?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“The darkest magic. Most have forgotten it, but my mother would tell tales.”
Anton nodded.
Sef let out a sigh and said, “Well, I wonder what else we might see?”
“Most traces of the machina have long ago been stolen away by time. We may find something else, who knows, but it’s not likely. What remains of their world are either dust or ruins like this – and the majority of it now beneath the seas. We are lucky to discover this.”
Sef nodded, still lost in wonder at the evidence before him of a world so different from the one he knew. Finally, he said, “Shall we get on with our journey? Is Matraia ready for such a trek?”