Laura wondered if it was the end of the vision.
Soon however, little pinpricks of almost yellow light began
to appear throughout the streets below. The tiny lights shifted and moved in
waves, blinking in and out with no apparent pattern. The vision moved then,
turning her around again to face inward.
It was then that she saw what the lights were. Black shadowy
things began to emerge from their holes of hiding, their eyes were soulless
patches of sickly greenish yellow light. Laura was horrified as she realized
that the things had been present the whole time as she went through the city in
the vision but were only now appearing in a dark city. The largest of all the
shadowy beings in the room pulled itself onto its throne, sitting before its
prized possession. Laura had the feeling that any attempt to take the crystal
in that moment would be met with a swift and unmerciful death on the part of
the taker.
But she felt a powerful feeling that the crystal needed to
be taken. She knew she was feeling what the creature was feeling as it was
trying to communicate to her of the importance of the crystal. The precious
stone did not belong in this place anymore. Laura felt that the crystal and the
shadows that emerged in the dark were connected in a powerful way. More and
more of the things began to appear, closer to her in the vision than she would
have liked them to be, their glowing sunken eyes bobbing like sputtering candles
floating lost at sea. Blackened hands warped with time and exposure to dark
magic, reached out with deadly claws. The lights doubled and tripled in number,
then swelled forward, threatening to overtake her and her heart leapt in fear.
Doyenne Carlata’s scream echoed in her mind.
Sweat poured down her forehead.
Laura let out a cry of fear.
Suddenly she felt herself pulling backwards swiftly as she
was sucked back out of the vision into her natural state.
She fell backward onto her back, breathing heavily.
She looked up, the large comforting creature just in her
line of sight.
The creature lifted its head and gestured down towards the
ruins again.
Laura nodded silently, “I saw it,” she said, “I saw the
crystal.”
The creature seemed to smile, and then lowered its head
again.
Laura shook her head ‘no’, she did not want to be surrounded
by the darkness, and those things again.
But the creature shook its head in response, reassuring her.
Then lowered its head again.
Laura lifted her hand and touched the creature once more.
This time, as the light enveloped her and then faded, her
mind was filled with images of Marcus.
Marcus.
She felt a powerful desire to see him, and was unsure if it
was just herself, or an emotion that came with the vision. She decided it must
have been a bit of both. She felt that when she saw Marc again she needed to
tell him of the crystal here, it was important. A vision of the creature
marking the path came to her mind again. She had been shown the way. She needed
to find Marc, and lead him to this crystal.
This time she was pulled back more slowly out of the vision.
She returned to herself, still sitting by the creature.
The creature pulled away from her then and motioned to the
edge of the cliff.
Laura looked at the creature.
“I am to go now, then?” She asked.
The creature nodded.
“But I do not know where Marcus is,” she said truthfully, “I
do not know if I can yet work my magic in that way,” She finished.
It nodded its head again, and then turned.
With a pulse of magic it began to run towards the edge of
the cliff.
“No, wait!” Laura cried out, apprehension seizing her.
The creature leapt from the cliff, and suddenly disappeared.
“No!” Laura said again, “Do not depart from me,” she spoke
her desires aloud.
And just like that she was alone again.
A cold breeze from the falls blew over her and she shivered.
She wanted to see Marc again, that was certain. But she did
not know where he was and she thought it was an important part of her magic to
know a thing, know a place, before going to it.
Can I do it again after so much has happened?
She
asked herself silently,
Of course I can!
She reassured herself.
She wanted to walk to the edge and look down but she knew it
would only discourage her from what she was about to do.
She closed her eyes. She had to do what she did before,
envision landing where she wanted to be. Then she opened her eyes again.
She nodded, readying herself.
She took no more thought, knowing her mind would spiral into
a pattern of ‘what if-s’ that would only work to dissuade her.
Laura put one foot back and leaned forward. With a burst of
energy she sprinted madly for the edge of the cliff.
Ten steps to the edge.
Five steps.
Two.
On the last step, the moment she was waiting for to hurl
herself up in a mighty jump to help propel her forward and hopefully to
activate her magic, the rocks beneath her final footfall broke free from under
her and threw her off balance. Instead of the jump she was hoping for she
plummeted downward, rocks falling around her. She hit her head as she came
down. Stars exploded across her vision. She lost all sense of her surroundings.
A scream of surprise and of fright leapt from her throat.
Struggling against the stars exploding over her vision was a
painful battle. Her stomach leapt into her throat at the nauseating sensation
of free fall.
Finally her eyes cleared and she saw the shocking height of
her fall and the speed at which she was plummeting towards the valley below.
She scrambled to reorient herself.
She tried to work her magic, tried to summon her will but
she was falling.
Marc.
Marc.
MARC!
She thought furiously, but she was falling to her death and
the fear was threatening to take over her senses.
Then, in a single swift moment the creature reappeared,
leaping from out of nowhere to her side.
The moment it appeared the world around Laura slowed in an
impossible way. She saw the rocks that had broken from under her and were
falling next to her, slow down. She felt herself slow as well, as if moving in
water. And yet she could think and was experiencing everything around her
normally.
She watched as the creature gazed upon her, a hopeful look
in its eyes. It bounded in the air, jumping upon nothing, but appearing
graceful doing so nonetheless, once, and then twice, and then was gone.
The magic remained and she continued to fall slowly, as if
in a dream.
It was then that she suddenly felt something powerful erupt
into her mind. It came as if very far away, but it was there, strong enough for
her to sense it. She reached out for it mentally, feeling for it with all her
strength. She sensed a familiar power.
It was Marcus.
Stop doubting yourself
, she thought,
You have the
ability to do this, you can do it!
The Exalted had spared her, had used its magic to stop her
fall, to give her a chance to utilize her own and she was not going to waste
it. Her mind turned to the vision she had shared with Marc of the Fae Ones and
drew power from it. She had been granted a powerful gift and she was determined
to use that gift for good. To honor those peaceful creatures who had graced her
with their presence and do right for them that had been wronged.
She gripped to the presence of Marc that she sensed and
pulled, yanking herself towards the presence.
Marcus
, she thought,
Marcus!
Just as the rocks around her began to accelerate back into
motion she felt herself wink out for a moment.
She had done it.
Marcus,
I hope this letter finds you well. I was glad to have
received word from you. When you all had to leave in such a rush I was sad I
was unable to give you a proper farewell. I convinced Cydas to let you stay the
rest of the night to see if you would wake and since I could not sleep I
repaired what I could on your uniform. I hope it is holding up. I know it is
hot now but Refoveo will be over soon and if this coming Abeo is like every
other Season of Change that has come and gone in the past few cycles, then the
weather will quickly turn cold. Do not worry about me, Topar is more than
enough rovaar to keep me and the old shop safe, and besides, Soren returned
with quite a tale about his trip in Belwick. You can talk to him when you get
back here. When this all passes over, remember, there will always be a place
for you here. I want you to know, also, that I know more than I let on, about
your quest, about everything. Garrond played a part when he was here and I am
happy to have helped too. Know that I will always be here to help. Stay safe.
Exalted keep you,
Eleanor, Jidan of Snowfield
Marc folded and tucked the parchment into his inner vest
pocket. He occasionally took the letter out and reread it, reminding himself of
Eleanor’s kindness.
They had been on the road for more than a fortnight now.
The first day Marc had asked Cydas many questions. At the
time, Cydas seemed to be the all-knowledgeable one. Soon it became clear that
he was more of a helpful messenger, semi-sword trainer, semi-keeper with only
limited answers. When he finally could not answer their questions he had told
them the Oracle had imbued him only with specific visions which he could recall
when occasion permitted. He explained that the Oracle had told him there was
not one specific future, but many futures and many possibilities.
“She gave me access to the visions which she saw as the
most probable, the stronger ones, the ones that reoccurred the most. She said
that with so many powerful forces gathered together, you, Marcus, and the
others, she was having a more difficult time seeing the future, so she could
only give me a sort of guide to gather you all together, and then we can head
to her for further help.”
Marc had finally gotten used to riding in the saddle. The
first several days after waking to find he was no longer in Kolima, the skin on
his thighs were rubbed raw, red and sore. But his skin had callused over where
the friction was greatest, and was tougher now, able to handle it.
There were other changes he was noticing as well, since
arriving here. The little fat he had on him before was gone, turned into muscle.
The lack of processed and fatty foods and the overabundance of fruit,
vegetables, and healthy protein in his diet now had helped with muscle
development too, and though he couldn’t really tell, his body was growing and
strengthening much faster than before.
The sword training every night was helping as well. Cydas
seemed more laid back than Topar, probably because comparing almost anyone to a
seven foot tall white furry giant would make them seem less intimidating, but
he still pushed Marc and the others to train hard. Cydas spent more time
training directly with Marc than instructing the other two, but occasionally he
would have Marc fight Zildjin or Sesuadra and merely watch and critique. He was
impressed with the swords that they owned. Sesuadra’s curved sword was of a
design he had never encountered. Sesuadra said it was the only thing he had to
remind him of his home. Zildjin said Eleanor had given him his sword on his
first trip away from Kolima, traveling with Soren. Eleanor told him it was a
magical blade that her husband Garrond had found and used on his travels,
though she was unsure of the nature of its magic. The Sword of the Phoenix,
was, of course, the blade that stood out the most in the group.
Marc was also getting more used to the weapon’s power. He
could not make the blade’s fire come forth every time he tried, but he was
successful in a majority of his attempts. He experimented with the fire,
manipulating it to do different things and with different levels or degrees of
size, shape, and distance. His first few efforts resulted in a number of
burning trees and underbrush, forcing them to relocate campsites on those
occasions, but Cydas always prompted him to continue trying, just with more
caution.
They passed many people on the road of various quantities.
Sometimes large caravans, other times small groups of people, or a single rider
or cart. They stopped only at larger cities and towns when they needed to
resupply or to rest in a nice warm bed for the night. Everywhere they went the
people were abuzz with excitement of the strange bright light issuing from
Kolima the many nights before. Some believed it was a sign of the endtimes,
others said it was the issuing forth of another blessed age, like the
Illuminated Era. Some explained it away by saying a potent relic hunter had
found a powerful ancient artifact to show off at the Gathering and that it was
nothing more than that. They would say things like, “The Wildlands will be
tamed and the monsters and the darkness pushed back. A great purge will cleanse
the land of evil.” Or “They really outdid themselves for the Gathering this
cycle.” There was always at least one person in each town that was standing,
propped up on a box or small stage, in front of a crowd, proclaiming and
prophesying things that were, and that would be, concerning the event in
Kolima.
Marc began to see firsthand what the Oracle had mentioned to
him in her message and the implications of it threatened to overwhelm him. But
he had Zildjin and Sesuadra there to ease his mind. He felt the comfort of
their friendship and drew energy from it.
Cormill, Northbridge, Feydon, Ridensul, Fairlake, each place
held many similarities to the architecture and fashion that Marc encountered in
Kolima. Each town or city, however, also held elements of its surroundings. The
reddish brown slate rooftops of Kolima were not present outside of Itherin’s
capital. Marc had come to know that Sesuadra was the most likely to know the
answer to his questions about Lyrridia, so when he asked him about the absence
of the red rooftops where they were traveling Sesuadra informed him that red
clay was found prevalently up and down the coast by Kolima, thus it was a
feature of the city.
Marc then began to differentiate the characteristics that
were derived from the descendants of Itherin, and the traits that were
naturally incorporated into a village because of its surroundings. Without even
realizing it, Marc was slowly but surely becoming a part of his new environment
himself, and was mostly content with it. There were a few things he missed, the
constant ability to quickly access a wide variety of music and listen to it,
among a few others. The absence of constant music also made him realize just
how much he appreciated it. Whenever they stayed at an Inn in one of the cities
he would take the time to listen to the bards, balladeers, and other musicians
performing. Marc noticed that those who played music were so few that it was a
very widely appreciated art. Even the simplest of melodies drew the attention
of most everyone.
They did not have an unlimited amount of coin, however.
Eleanor
had
given them a large sackful of gold coins and Cydas had a
fair supply, but by the time they reached Fairlake, they had run low.
“The crystal is still moving,” Marc said.
They were all sitting around a small wooden table in the
common room of the Narrow Shadows Inn just at the edge of Fairlake. It was the
cheapest they could find. The sun was high in the sky, marking about the middle
of the day, it was slightly warm, with a bit of a chill in the breeze. After
making sure their steeds and pack animal had been taken care of, they had put
their general items in their rooms, locked the rooms, and headed downstairs to
eat. They had been discussing logistics up till then as well.
They had ordered food and were sipping some sort of drink
that reminded Marc of apple cider that had been left out a little too long. Marc
had the map open, studying it. They had all spent a lot of time studying the
map, fascinated by its magic. They were also surprised at Marc’s ability to
manipulate the magic and make the map work so well. They did not know of Marc’s
technologically advanced world and the interfaces that he grew up with,
especially involving maps. The blinking light that had been positioned in
Whiteholt had moved upward, away from the city. They also discovered other
interesting things of the maps magic. It would not always redraw itself for a
closer view of the landscape, nor did it always list the names of people on the
map. They did not have it completely figured out, but they were learning more
about it each day. A barmaid was coming to their table with trays of roasted
meat, vegetables, and fruit. Marc had the map return to a full view of Lyrridia
and made the lights indicating the crystal shards wink out. The map appeared as
normal as any other plain ink-on-parchment map.
“We need to get up to Whiteholt as quickly as possible,”
Zildjin added.
“We do not have much coin left,” Cydas said.
“We can spend the rest of our coin on supplies here, hope
that will be enough for us to make it through Rawson’s pass, and reach Denbel.
When we get to Denbel, though, we will have to figure something else out, work
for coin, or something,” Zildjin continued.
“What other option do we have?” Marc asked.
The barmaid was setting their food down before them.
“Well,” Cydas said, “There is a small outpost, town, in the
middle of Rawson’s pass, I stopped there on my way to Kolima, but only briefly.
I do not know much of it. Here on the map,” He pointed it out, “Terga. We could
go on the supplies we have till then, and resupply in Terga and probably be
good all the way till Whiteholt, avoiding wasting time in Denbel.”
“You would do well to steer clear of that place,” The
barmaid said. She had long brown hair in a single braid, and tight fitting
brown leather breeches and bodice with a white undershirt.
“Pardon?” Cydas asked.
“Terga,” She affirmed, “Better even to take a different
pass, Belach, to the west, longer perhaps, but safer.”
“Tis true,” Cydas affirmed, “The barkeep spoke of it when I
passed through, but I did not take much heed. What more could you inform us of
such ill news?”
The barmaid looked rushed but could not pass up an
opportunity to gossip.
“Terga was a hub of business and trade, to be sure, for any
traveling up to Biarlin through Rawsons’s pass. It was a safe haven to be
counted on for a warm bed and resupply. That is, up until about four or five
cycles ago.”
“What happened?” Marc asked.
Sesuadra listened intently, but as usual, silently.
“Powerful creatures came upon the pass, threatening the town
and all travelers passing through. Mayor Hartshor, of Terga, put a large bounty
on the creatures’ heads, hoping to rid the place of their evil.”
“And no one has taken the job?”
“Quite the opposite, many have gone up, seeking fame and
fortune, but most of them failed, losing their lives to the beasts. The few who
returned spoke of terrible monsters with great wings.”
“Dragons?” Zildjin asked.
“Some say they be dragons, yes,” The barmaid picked up her
tray, “I must be going now, enjoy your food.” She left quickly, returning to
the kitchen near the back.
“Let’s fight the dragons!” Marc quickly spoke.
“What? Have you traded your thinker with a mudlunk?”
“Huh?” Marc didn’t get it.
“It is a saying,” Sesuadra spoke, “Mudlunk is a common term
for an ackpol, it is a stupid creature whose home is made of mud.”
Marc punched Zildjin in the arm.
“Ow!” Zildjin pretended to be hurt, “I am serious though, no
one in their right mind
wants
to fight a dragon.”
“Well what should we do then?” Zildjin said, steering the
conversation back to the task at hand.
“We can’t delay any longer on reaching Whiteholt,” Marc
said, “we should take the path up to Terga and through Rawson’s pass.”
“You are not suggesting such only to glimpse a peek at a
dragon, are you?” Zildjin half-mocked half-joked.
Marc shrugged instead of answering immediately, “Think about
it, even if we do meet a giant territorial flying dragon monster, we could kill
it, and collect the bounty! Our coin problem would be solved!”
“Do not overestimate your powers,” Cydas said, “You are
still young, and mostly untrained.”
“I wouldn’t fight it alone of course,” Marc said, “All of
us, together, I’m sure we could do it!”
“Your enthusiasm is admirable,” Cydas admitted, “But I
hesitate,”
“Why?”
“I received no such vision from the Oracle about us facing a
dragon.”
“But even you said that the Oracle did not show you
everything, that she wasn’t able to.” Marc continued.
Cydas shrugged, with no verbal answer to give.
“Well then, what should we do?” Cydas finally said.
They all turned to Marc.
It was in that moment that Marc realized the weight of his
calling.
They all looked to him for guidance, even Cydas, who was
older by several years.
Marc faltered for a moment, a small part of him wanting to
crawl back into the furthest corner of the room, like he did at home, to hide,
to disappear.
But that was not him anymore.
“We will go through Rawson’s pass. I don’t know why, but
something just feels right about it,” Marc finally said.
“And the dragons, or whatever it is that may be there?”
Zildjin asked.