Chapter Six
In unknown lands, 472 IH, early spring
Clouds of the wounded sky glared at them from the waters of an endless marsh. Eight people trudged through the shallow waters and mud, sifting the tall grasses and rippling the red sky in the water.
At first they kept a close watch for large hungry creatures, but it seemed the marshes were home to only smaller things. Snakes were a problem, though Kymeret’s arcamental seemed to take great pleasure in turning them to wet ash.
After days of this march they were soaked through, finding whatever small hummocks they could when night came and caring more for keeping their weapons dry than themselves. On one wet night they created hammocks and rafts out of long foxtail stalks, and then set swords and bows and arrows gently within to rest. And then they laid themselves down on sodden ground and woke up sodden themselves.
“We need to find higher ground soon,” said Arebon.
No one replied. Tempers had found the sort of dull simmer that could rise into a boil when anyone spoke, so they avoided speech when they could. They trudged on and looked around for any ground risen above the marsh, dry ground in which they could lie with their weapons and feel less water-logged with the dawn.
It was near sunset when Yonai splashed ahead of them and stood leaning forward. “Something new ahead.”
When Arebon joined her, he didn’t see it at first. Then in the gloaming he saw a band of yellow almost hidden against the horizon.
“Aovyn,” he said, but Aovyn was already there squinting into the dusk.
“That’s it,” said Aovyn. “We’re almost there.”
“Still far away,” said Yonai.
“We can sleep here,” said Arebon, gesturing around at the water, “or keep walking through the dark until we reach the yellow, whatever that is. And hope it’s dry.”
He looked around for an answer and saw Yonai, Sairi, and Isonis coating the blades of swords in brightfire sap from jars kept tightly sealed. Slumber took a bit for the head of his spear.
For two more hours they continued through the marsh. Grasses seemed to sway in the light of swords, and the waters glowed oddly around their boots with every splashing step.
“Anything hungry in this place knows where we are now,” said Yonai. “We glow like a beacon.”
“Then it’s good that we are armed,” said Isonis dryly.
After some time, as the saplight was dying from their blades, the light shone upon stalks of long grass dancing in the night wind. A sea of daffodils and peaches and cream, it seemed, with flowers of pale saffron at the ends of many stalks.
“Irilanssa,” said Aovyn.
Many of the yellow grasses of Irilanssa grew near the edge of the marsh, probably the result of seeds riding the wind into the water. But the higher ground formed a knife edge, a border into another biome entirely.
“Strange that the change is so sudden,” said Arebon.
“I suspect,” said Kymeret, stepping into the grassland, “that we are standing upon the ground of another world that collided with Terminus, much as our own homeward did.”
“I think you may be right,” said Aovyn. “The mages who live here seem quite powerful and skilled, yet I have never heard of them, or of Irilanssa.”
They stamped down a campsite in the grass and made a place for themselves at the edge of the marsh.
“Normal watches,” said Arebon. “We get a good long rest tonight and tomorrow.”
“I’m not moving until my bones are dry,” said Yonai.
Kymeret unrolled his old clothing from his dry pack and began to remove his newer clothes—cloth weave of high quality, some of elven make and some looted off rovers in the blue forests in autumn. When he was dressed in dryer clothes, he laid his robes across the grasses to dry.
“For a while,” said Yonai, “you were almost looking like a real wizard.”
“I am no wizard,” said Kymeret. “Studying of that nature is too strenuous for a free soul such as myself. Besides,” he flicked his dagger across the air in a pattern Yonai had never been able to figure out, “I have friends no wizard will ever enjoy.”
Kymeret’s fury—an arcamental of fire—appeared just over the water of the marsh. After a few whispered words from Kymeret, the fury shaped itself to look like a campfire and hovered near the grasses where he had laid his robes.
“Now, don’t burn the grass or the robes,” he said, then turned away.
“Do you ever worry that it will disobey you?”
“Every day,” he said, and threw himself down on the flattened grass to rest. “But life would be so much less exciting if they were docile.”
* * * * *
They didn’t travel the next day. The mended cloth and leather, sharpened blades, checked arrows—and allowed their clothes to dry.
“Did you see any trees on this journey of yours?” asked Kymeret.
“I don’t remember trees,” said Aovyn. “Not until closer to the mountain.”
They would need to deal with supplies soon, thought Yonai. The bags of trail food from the trading post were almost empty, as was the jerky they had made during their time in the blue forests.
Crowdancer was examining the grass around them, probably wondering if she could make a new reed for her duduk.
Yonai raised a stalk of the yellow grass to her nose. A scent like sweet spice and salt. She glanced over at Aovyn and shrugged. If it’s poison, he’ll heal me. She took a bite near the end, along with a taste of the long-petaled flowers. Good at first, but with a slight aftertaste like the scent of mulch.
She looked up at Aovyn again and found him staring at her with an odd expression. “You’re fine,” he said, and she smiled.
A mourning sound rose as Crowdancer played a soft melody on her duduk.
Why couldn’t she have learned a more cheerful instrument? An oud, maybe, or one of those small flutes? Even one of those lutes the humans played.
“I want to talk about something,” said Sairi.
Uh oh, thought Yonai.
“What is it?” said Arebon.
“We killed elves.”
Crowdancer stopped playing.
“We did,” said Arebon, “and that was over a year ago.”
“I know, I just… think about it sometimes. Don’t you? It comes back to me… when things are quiet.”
“I think about everything,” said Arebon. “I think about how we’re going to eat. I think about how we can stay safe for however long it takes Isek to tell us it’s safe to come home.”
Sairi nodded. “I know, but…” she stopped.
“We are long past the time,” said Isonis, “when we are allowed reservations and the luxury to be squeamish.”
“It’s different when we kill our own people.”
“I know that,” said Arebon. “And that’s why I’ll never ask you to do that. But I will do that, if I have to. And in the end, one day I shall kneel before the Tree and beg forgiveness from the ancestors of my people, and from our old gods who protected us.”
Arebon looked down a moment, then stood up. Yonai recognized the look in his eyes.
“Listen to me,” said Arebon. “We have more hard times ahead of us. We will kill a lot more than we already have. Some of us may fall, though I will fight like the Revenant to keep from losing any one of you. But I swear to you, we will find our way home. Isek will bring us home, and we will be elves of Faerthale once more.”
There was silence for a long moment.
“More and more,” said Isonis, “I feel I comprehend our ancestors who ran from home, settled down, then were driven out again. Exiles again and again. Is it mad that I long for home?”
“Are you calling Faerthale home?” said Sairi.
“Perhaps I am. How odd.”
“I remember you as that bitter boy. Every word you spoke was sharp as your blades.”
“I was bitter. I am less so now.”
“Now?” She stared at him. “After everything, now is when you find yourself?”
“No. I found us. I swore a brother’s oath to all of you, to this iskele of elves in exile. All my life I wondered if I could have a home among those who loved Faerthale, who loved being elves. I never suspected my home would be a band of ragged outlaws, but life has a sense of humor.”
“It does indeed,” muttered Kymeret.
Arebon looked at Isonis and said, “I feel that a silver thread stretches from me to Faerthale, and would that I like a gazelle could run along that thread and return home. But until then… we survive.”
He turned and looked north across the moonslit grasses. “New formation,” he said. “In the morning, I want Sairi taking point. She has the best eyes for spotting movement in the distance. Isonis, protect Crowdancer.”
Crowdancer looked up. “I can fight.”
“I know you can. But you hesitate to kill. Isonis never hesitates.”
She glanced over at Isonis, then down at her duduk.
“Get along, both of you,” said Arebon. “I want Crowdancer and Aovyn in the middle. Yonai on the left protecting Aovyn, Isonis on the right. Slumber continues protecting Kymeret, both of you watching the rear.”
“You don’t want me on point?” said Yonai.
“For now, stay with Aovyn.” Arebon looked at Kymeret. “Fury on watch when we start moving.”
Kymeret nodded. “I’ll give the order, but you know how restless fire can be.”
“Unfortunately I have seen it.” Arebon sat down again. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a city to find.”
* * * * *
For three days they journeyed through rolling plains of yellowgrass as their food dwindled. Waves of strong winds blew through the stalks, pulling their cloaks around them as they walked. The weather stayed clear, though thin bands of clouds moved in from the west on the third day.
There were snakes in this land as well, but these were small and yellow, and slithered away at the thud of boots. There were also small hopping rodents with compound eyes. They, too, ran from the intruders in their domain.
The lands around the city of Nenufarn were silent but for the wind, and the sound of their boots on fertile ground. Eventually they found a road with stone paving that led toward the city. But the road was in disrepair, and grasses wended their way through the broken stones.
At first they saw the buildings in the distance, standing like tall urns as Aovyn had described. But as they drew nearer, they could see none of the shining blue crystals on the roofs, and there was still no sign of habitation.
As they drew closer to the city, Yonai spotted a fallen monolith on the left. They approached the broken line of green stone and saw what at first appeared to be flowers carved into the stone on each side. Five triangular petals… but on the tip of each triangle was an eye. In the center was a mouth, grimacing, and two tongues emerged from between its teeth.
“What do you suppose this is?” asked Sairi.
“Something I have no wish to meet,” said Crowdancer.
“I wonder,” said Aovyn, “if this is an image of one of their gods.”
“If so,” said Kymeret, “then I am happy that the gods are all far away.”
“Unless this one descended as well,” said Yonai.
“I can always depend on you, Yonai, to quell my fears.”
“Let’s return to the road,” said Arebon.
But once they reached the road, Yonai spotted a similar monolith on the other side of the road. This one was even more damaged than the other, though enough of the face remained that one could see a couple of eyes on the ends of triangular formations, and a mouth that seemed to frown in disdain.
“These seem more broken than crumbled with age,” said Kymeret. “Could it be that these were destroyed on purpose?”
“Trouble with their gods?” said Aovyn. “There is a story here, I believe.”
When they were closer to the city, they stopped and stared. Silver braces that had held the crystals on the roofs were bent and twisted as if the crystals had burst free from their confinement. Some of the houses were damaged, with walls fallen into rubble and charred stone. The roads of the city were as broken by weeds and new growth as the road they had traveled to get here.
“What happened here?” asked Arebon. “You described a magical city. A city full of people, and lights in the sky.”
Aovyn was slowly shaking his head. “I thought she showed me the now. But it seems that what I saw was the past.”
“The distant past, from the look of things,” said Isonis.
“Aovyn, why did we come to a dead city?” said Arebon.
“Not a dead city,” whispered Kymeret, who stood with his eyes closed, head slightly raised. “Perhaps the people of Nenufarn are dead, but I scent magic. Wild, uneven… loosed. Crawling.”
“That doesn’t sound at all disturbing,” said Yonai.
* * * * *
Slowly they walked through streets of rubble and shattered crystal. Some buildings were far more damaged than others, but none had escaped whatever happened here. Yellowgrass grew cheerfully through gaps in the broken stones beneath their feet.
Seen closely, the buildings appeared to have been made of some malachite-green marble, with brown stones in several lines. Several bands of silver ran up along the walls, only to be wrenched and twisted away where the roof crystals had shattered.
Pieces of crystal littered the street.
“I want to look inside,” said Kymeret, looking up at a building that was more intact than some of the others.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Arebon. “If more of the building comes down while you’re inside, we might not be able to lift the stones from you before Aovyn can heal.”
“Trust me,” said Kymeret. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He pointed with his dagger toward the darkness through the doorway, and his fury drifted over and entered the building.
Kymeret closed his eyes for a long time, seeing whatever his arcamental saw.
“I do not like this place,” said Aovyn quietly. “I feel that something is here.”
Sairi saw it then. A figure similar an elf, with two arms and two legs. She could see through the figure, as if it were made of stained ochre glass.
But its head was nothing like the head of an elf. Five lobes, like the arms of a starfish, and they moved. On each lobe, the shape of an eye in glass, and in the center of them all, a mouth.
“Sairi, what is it?” Then Arebon saw what she was looking at and drew his sword.
The others also armed themselves, and Kymeret opened his eyes.
“Who are you?” said Isonis.
The creature of ochre glass walked slowly toward them, it's feet slightly above ground, and made no response.
“Another one.”
“Circle!” said Arebon, and his people gathered into a circle with Aovyn, Crowdancer, and Kymeret in the center. The wolf growled.
The first creature continued to walk toward them. When it was within reach of his sword, Arebon swung his blade through the thing’s torso… and nothing was there. It kept moving.
“Back off, back off!”
“I do not think they are alive,” said Aovyn.
“That isn’t reassuring,” said Yonai. “Can we kill it anyway?”
“Not with a sword,” said Arebon. “Kymeret?”
The fire arcamental placed itself in the path of the first creature. The fury attacked with arcane fire, but its attacks passed through it.
“Behind us,” said Crowdancer.
“Aovyn…” Arebon held his breath. The creature walked through him as if he wasn’t there. He felt it as a chill that burned, and felt somehow… wet. Then the creature passed between Aovyn and Kymeret.
“You are unharmed,” said Aovyn. “I can feel no damage of any kind in you.”
“Nor can I,” said Kymeret. He watched the creature with an expression of distaste as it continued on its way. The mouth seemed caught in an eternal glass grimace.
The second creature was walking in another direction, paying no attention to them at all.
“They certainly resemble their gods,” said Aovyn.
“I don’t like them,” breathed Sairi.
“Are they ghosts?” asked Isonis. “Spirits?”
Sairi saw another one in the distance, drifting over broken stones of the street and into the doorway of a house with only one remaining floor.
“All right, they don’t seem to be dangerous, but let’s keep away from them anyway. That felt… wrong.”
“What did you see in the house?” asked Crowdancer.
“Rubble and twisted metal,” said Kymeret. “I believe this city must have been looted long ago.”
They continued moving deeper into the dead city. They saw more of the ghosts of ochre glass drifting here and there, but avoided them. The ghosts, if so they were, continued to ignore them.
In the distance, they could see the remains of the large domes Aovyn had seen. The domes were broken, fallen, and no light came from them now.
Tap. Tap.
“What was that?” Arebon looked in the direction of the sound, but saw nothing.
Kymeret’s fury sailed around the curve of the nearest building, then back around the other side.
“Nothing,” said Kymeret.
Tap.
“Then what was that?”
“Close formation,” said Arebon. “Keep moving.”
They walked past another of the ghosts, and Sairi felt her eyes stray toward it. Though she thought their appearance hideous, she couldn’t help but look again.
As she looked, the face of glass turned toward her, and all five of the eyed lobes bent to look at her.
She made a sound and backed away. “It saw me.”
The others turned to look. The thing seemed to regard them for a moment, then turned and drifted past on its journey.
“Aovyn, why are we here?” asked Isonis.
“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” said Aovyn, “but I still believe we must be here for a reason, even if we haven’t found it yet.”
“I prefer enemies that feel the bite of my sword,” said Isonis.
Deeper in to the broken city, blue vines wrapped around stones and the edges of windows. Strange roots mingled with the yellow flowers.
“You know what’s strange?” asked Sairi.
Yonai said, “Everything. Everything is strange.”
Sairi ignored her. “No animals. In the swamps, small things. Even in the grasslands out there, we saw life running around. This city is abandoned, overgrown with plant life. But shouldn’t there be animals?”
Tap.
Something drifted from an alley into the street and began to scream. It looked at them from one round black eye. A spiral horn like the horn of a roan ibex trailed from what might have been one of its arms, and as the creature moved, the horn occasionally caught a piece of broken stone, making a familiar tap.
The thing continued to scream.
“Circle it,” said Arebon.
Weapons drawn, they moved into a circle around the creature. It whirled and looked at them—it only seemed to have the one eye—and then the screaming stopped, replaced by something like a whimper.
“Stop!”
The shout came from the northeast. At the same time, a magic barrier formed around the creature before them, and it started to sail away over the ground. It broke through the group, then drifted swiftly toward a man standing on a crumbling wall.
He was a tall elf, taller than any of Arebon’s people. Long black hair hung loose around his shoulders, fading to silvery white near the ends. In his right hand he held a staff of silver and cinnabar, and at the head of the staff, quicksilver slowly moved, separating and coalescing.
The creature ran past the man toward the northeast. The man stepped down off the broken wall and walked slowly toward the group, looking them over.
Slumber moved to defend Kymeret, and Isonis stood guard before Crowdancer with both swords ready. Yonai held her bowstring at full draw, and her hands did not tremble.
“Who are you?” said the stranger at last.
Sensing that a time for diplomacy had come, Arebon sheathed his sword and bowed. “We are elves of Faerthale on a long journey.”
The man raised an eyebrow slightly. “Elves are not known for making long journeys. Why have you come here, to the land of Irilanssa?”
At a loss, Arebon turned toward Aovyn, who stepped forward and bowed toward the stranger.
“I am Aovyn. A… an acquaintance, who I believe might be related to dragon kind, showed me this place. But what I saw was not,” he waved his arm at the ruins of the once-great city, “this. I saw the city at night, and it was inhabited and full of light. I do not know why she showed me this place, but I felt that she meant for me to come here.”
“To trust the visions and portents of a dragon, or their cousins, is usually unwise.”
“So it would seem,” said Isonis. He had not lowered his swords.
“May we ask, who are you?” said Arebon.
The man frowned and looked away. “Call me Sandoval.” He fixed his eyes upon the north, where lay the broken domes at the center of the city. “Perhaps you have come here to loot the spoils of ancient mages. If so, I would advise against staying within these streets at night. This was an evil city, and their evil lingers.”
His eyes strayed to one of the ghosts of ochre glass. “It always lingers.”
He turned then as if to go, but Kymeret stepped forward. “Lord Sandoval,” he said.
The man turned to look at Kymeret, and “Lord,” he said, sounding amused and disgusted at the same time.
“May we have a longer conversation?” asked Kymeret.
Sandoval sniffed the air. “You have the scent of arcamentals. You know something of magic that you can wrangle and subdue for a time. You are not so different from the mage-priests of Nenufarn.”
Kymeret seemed taken aback at this. Arebon said, “We would be grateful for your wisdom.”
Sandoval blinked slowly. Then he said, “My wisdom dwells with me in a dragon lair to the northeast. If you come, do nothing to disturb the keristorja like the one you attacked, for they are under my protection.”
“We thought it was attacking us.”
“It was defending itself from a threat. They remember.”
Arebon swallowed, but didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t anger the mage.
At last Sandoval turned and began to walk away. “If you come, fear not the former resident, for the dragon is long since dead.”
After the man had gone, Kymeret said, “He has great power, but it is… somehow shuttered.”
“Arebon,” said Isonis, “whoever ’Sandoval’ might be, I believe we should take his advice and not be found within this city when darkness falls.”
* * * * *
Within the depths of a dead dragon’s lair, many beings dwelt and moved and slumbered. Some few had been there since the very roots of Nhystyrrok, their presence suffered by the dragon who had carved his own halls out of primeval caverns.
Others crept in only after the master’s death. Some fought one another for treasures and sacred spaces within the halls. Some found their chosen place and defended it for generations. In the deepest caverns beneath the lofty halls, shadows moved and fought one another for ages of the world.
In the old dragon’s delvings, liquid crimson light flowed in lines and letters of his thoughts, and even now many of them still glowed brightly when others had long since dimmed forever. The worm had twisted the letters of Drak’Fane to reflect the twisting of his mind, such that many mortals experienced discomfort, even pain, when they beheld these writings.
If Sandoval allowed his thoughts to flow into the distant past, he could feel the death of the dragon at the hands of another of his kind.
In one chamber in the present, Sandoval set his staff aside and looked up at a great statue of the old dragon. In the worm’s arrogance he had constructed a monument to himself, only for the monument to outlive him.
Sandoval regarded the dragon’s face and said, “Who am I indeed?”
Read Chapter Seven at https://seforums.pantheonmmo.com/content/forums/topic/13142/-/view/post_id/254332
