Testing the Waters
A Form of Joy¶
It was midmorning on their second day of travel. The pack spent time gathering supplies and steeling themselves for the road ahead. While Kit hadn't done much of anything, Seamus spent his time researching what he could about the nature of Wraithroots, and then spent what money he had on various magical supplies and adventuring gear: rations, rope, torches and the like.
Fareflynn worked with other acolytes of the temple to ensure her humanitarian efforts would continue in her absence. El visited a bank to take out a loan against his family's estate. While he believed in their success, he was duty-bound by his verbal agreement with Duil to pay for Beldun's freedom if there were no other option.
Duil, for his part, divulged everything he could about the land of Ebonvale. The mists served as barriers to the east and west. The Velara were a group of traveling merchants with permission from the Count to enter and exit, but anyone else would get turned around in the mists. Best case scenario, they'd end up where they started. To the north, there was a mountain range widely believed to be impassable. To the south, swamps and marshes with all manner of dangerous creatures. Outside the Velara, the only way to escape was with the count's permission.
And inside the lands, the only weapon against dread was vice. Outsiders were able to sustain a meager life of perpetual drunkenness for a time, but, once your money ran dry, you were lucky if you could find yourself in the Count's service. Those who did were well fed so long as they kept in his good graces. The local population had a meager economy among themselves across the two villages and various homesteads, but the Count's taxes prevented them from ever saving enough to leave. It was nearly impossible to save up such a fortune.
Duil was eager to talk to fill the silence of their travel between sips of some strong drink from a flask, "So when Beldun agreed to work in the vineyards to the west, we assumed she would be tilling the land. I had no idea they would keep her in chains."
Duil had turned back from leading to face the pack, slowing to a halt. El returned his gaze with concern, "I am sorry to hear that. Please, Duil, continue walking while you speak."
"But Wolfman!", Kit had taken to calling each of them by a nickname of his own devising, "we been walking for over a day and you promised you'd try to make me a wolf."
El chuckled, "I suppose we could use a break. Let's press on while I explain. I can hear a stream up ahead. That will be a good place to rest."
Kit's eyes lit up as he ran to be at El's side, "Yeah! What do I do?"
Fareflynn and Seamus both perked up to listen. Duil was less fond of not being the center of attention.
El chose his words carefully, "It's not quite something you do. It's more like a friend you make. The spirit is something you invite into your heart. The way you would make friends with a wolf is different than the way you would a bird. You make a place in your heart for them to live, and if they trust you, they just might share their form."
Kit nodded eagerly, "I can do that! I'm great at friends!"
El smiled, "That you are. Remember to be patient. The spirit may not be used to sharing a heart. Be welcoming, but stern. Too welcoming, and it'll take over. You'll be lost inside yourself until I can banish it."
Kit nodded in solemn understanding.
The pack crested a hill to find a stream running through a small clearing. Duil chose a perched rock to sit on. El gave a subtle nod to Seamus to go to the far side of the clearing. Fareflynn moved a similar distance to the opposite side. El placed down his pack and knelt in the grass, "Kit, would it be alright if we tried a dog first? They're a bit easier to work with."
Kit nodded slowly, his jaw dropping slightly into a rounded reverence, eyes wide in gleeful anticipation.
For a brief moment, all the burdens El carried seemed to lift. He broke into a tender smile, "Alright, Kit. Close your eyes and take a deep breath." He extended a hand to Kit's chest and a green glow enveloped his forearm.
Kit wobbled slightly and his arms shot into the air. He fell back as his form seemed to vanish into a Kit-shaped cloak that fluttered in the wind. As it fell, a new form took shape, that of a playful long-haired mutt. Kit hit the ground running across the clearing toward Fareflynn. He barked playfully, jumping into the air.
Fareflynn laughed, "I think he likes it!"
In the air, Kit's form wavered and shifted back into a husk, then his humanoid form. A joyous Kit tumbled to the ground, rolling in laughter in the grass. Tears of joy streamed down the sides of his face as he looked up to the sky.
Seamus's jaw dropped in a wide smile, "That's for certain!"
Kit's arms shot into the air, "That was amazing!"
El looked on with a smirk, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You took the form more readily than my first time."
Fareflynn helped Kit to his feet. Kit looked at El, "She was nice, we made good friends, but she said I was full so she went home."
El still chuckled, but more taken aback, head cocked, "You communicated with the spirit? That takes months to master."
Kit shrugged, "I'm good at makin' friends, I guess."
Duil looked on, amused, but with a flat affect, "Maybe the Count will let you be his guard dog." He chuckled at his own words and then looked at Seamus and El. Fareflynn grimaced. El scowled.
A Traveler's Impropriety¶
The late afternoon light cast lengthening shadows over the valley ahead. The group was finishing up a short rest. Kit needed more than one reminder that a proper 'potty break' occurred a polite distance away from the main group.
Seamus rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Master Duil, could please tell us where exactly this land is. Because it seems to me that there isn't quite room on the map for the ıvast land of Ebonvale".
Duil's steps had grown less confident in the last hour. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I swear to you. There is a land larger than all of Glintport nestled in this valley." Each member of the group took a moment to see the valley ahead. The next hill lay some three hundred yards off.
Seamus's fatigue was beginning to show as he leaned against a tree, "I suppose if a great wizard can fold up his sprawling keep into a tight tower, a great city can fold up into a valley1."
A fog began to fall upon the far side of the valley. Duil continued, "Yes, well, all you need to do is continue a bit further and the mists will take you directly into Ebonvale."
Fareflynn leaned in to catch his eye, "I'm sorry, what do you mean you?"
Duil's brow furrowed over avoidant eyes, "I've done all Wolfman asked."
El glared at the unwelcome use of his new nickname. The fog spilled over into the valley and was moving quickly, like an advancing army.
Duil continued, "I crafted your map2, I led you to the entrance3... So I'll be on my way."
Duil turned to leave and bumped directly into Fareflynn, shoulder to shoulder. "And what of Beldun?"
Duil spoke to Fareflynn for the first time all day, "Well, that's the best part; you brave adventurers have agreed to rescue her for me." Duil clasped his hands in a blasphemous approximation of a religious gesture, bowed and then turned away.
Kit looked to Fareflynn, who had a look of exasperation, and then Seamus and Elwood, both in tense-mouthed disappointment. Kit was incredulous, and then took off after Duil, "Hey! Wheel! Wait!" His words echoed against the trees in a way that made it feel like the forest itself was closing in.
El shouted out after him, "KIT! Don't--" but stopped himself as he saw Fareflynn's eyes go wide in horror.
Just then, a flood of mist blew past El, knocking him a step forward. Seamus winced at the cold, damp slap in the face. They were surrounded and nothing outside a five foot radius was visible. Fareflynn sighed deeply. Elwood took in the severity of the moment and then shouted, "COWARD!"
Seamus turned on his heels to survey the surroundings. It took him a moment to properly confirm that nothing could be seen in any direction. "I believe the saying goes 'We're not in Canthas anymore'."
Foreign Norms¶
The mist was thick and cold. The grass disappeared beneath their feet and the ground became a spongy muck. El produced a knotted rope from his pack that they each held firm walking in a line: Seamus, Fareflynn, then El. Seamus produced a small flame in his hand to light some semblance of a path. El's sense of direction told him they were moving northwest, but he grew less certain with each step4. It had been nearly two hours since they'd seen a tree.
Fareflynn's head was on a swivel, always looking beyond for some form of movement, "Kit was lost enough when I found him. What a mess I've dragged him into."
Seamus didn't turn to look at her, "You didn't drag him into shit. Dumb kid, too stupid not to run off like that."
Fareflynn wanted to object, "Kid? Beard like that? He's halffolk." If you can't admit you're wrong, you can feel better by disagreeing on the details.
Seamus looked out of the corner of his eye, over his shoulder, "Halffolk or not, I don't suppose you survive a place like this without any sense".
El inhaled sharply through his nose, "Hush", and another inhale, "We're approaching something... Crops." El tugged the rope off to the right and kicked up a bit of dirt to reveal a potato, and then pulled more until he could see the sad sprout of a carrot in the dirt. They followed the suggestion of a row until it came to a packed, earthen road.
A handful of laborers knelt beside the road as they passed, each tending to some crop or another. Fareflynn attempted to catch the attention of a few they passed, but they only hunched deeper, further averting their gaze.
The mists became less dense as they walked, opening up to reveal the several dozen acres of farmland at the edge of Ebonvale. El checked his map against the signage as the path opened up into the village of Kraskovia. On the map, it was a scribbled mess of a small village. El smiled tensely, "We've arrived in Ebonvale."
\ *
The several rows of rotting houses could have been a charming village and could have housed several dozen families. Instead, most appeared abandoned. Boards lay across rotting windows, long since broken. The few with signs of life showed similar signs of decay. The village consisted of only two streets laid perpendicularly. The pack entered from the east where they met.
Fareflynn caught sight of a taller structure off in the distance to the west, "I believe that's a temple of some kind." She squinted to see through the haze at the far edge of town.
El looked around with unease, and then nodded, "Surely a holy man would know the source of the Wraithroot's corruption."
Seamus pointed to a sign shaped like a pint of ale on the corner, "You visit your gods. I'll see about mine."
Fareflynn instinctively looked behind herself on the left, where Kit once tugged at her armor. I felt her unease, "Maybe when we know this place a little better, we can afford to split up. Not yet. We'll join you."
Their boots stuck to the layer of grime atop the cobblestone as they walked. The tavern was small and dimly lit. A single lantern hung above a barkeeper surrounded by timid worn planks of wood that passed for a bar with three equally worn wooden stools. Opposite the bar was one additional table where a slump of a man lay with his head in his arms, as if praying to the last drop of his cloudy grain alcohol.
The barkeep lifted his eyes from his book just briefly to assess them as strangers, and look back down, "Hail and well met, weary travelers.5" His voice had all the enthusiasm of a schoolboy forced to recite a poem, and was equally as disingenuous. His wavy auburn hair was swept back in a messy bun. A limp hand flopped over in a half-hearted gesture of welcome, and then pointed to a sign behind him, "How may I serve thee?" The sign behind him listed vino, stew, and fermented stew.
Seamus took a seat at the bar, "Vino, good sir6."
Eyes still on his book, he pointed briefly to Semus, and then to Fareflynn. His finger lingered.
Fareflynn approached timidly, "Uhh... I'm unfamiliar with fermented stew. What--"
Seamus craned his neck to look back to her, deadpan. He gestured with his gaze to the slumped figure's drink in the corner, and then widened his eyes in a manner that said 'shut up'.
Fareflynn stopped herself, "I'll take a vino as well." She seemed uncertain about the word.
The bartender's finger shifted to El, who gave a quick reply, "Vino."
No one moved for another fifteen seconds while the bartender presumably finished his page. He closed it, set down three clay cups, and then pulled a bottle from below the bar. He set about uncorking it, "Two gold."
Fareflynn was in the process of sitting down when she heard the price and shook her head in disbelief. They were each paying the price of a lavish meal for the only wine on the menu. Perhaps the finest wine could fetch more for the whole bottle, but this cloudy concoction was likely a few steps above vinegar.
Seamus set out two gold on the bar without flinching, and stacked another on top, "For your time."
The bartender finished pouring their cups, and then refilled his own, setting the bottle next to the book with a thud. He sat back on his stool, sipped his and set the bottle down behind the bar. He spoke dispassionately, "Go on, then."
Seamus shifted his weight on the stool, "The temple up the road--"
The bartender cut him off, "Abandoned."
Seamus gave a quick single nod, picking up the rhythm, "Is it the only?"
He gestured with his cup to the far distance, "Savaki, day's travel."
Fareflynn chimed in, "In service of?"
"Solander."
Seamus asked, "And you are?"
He nodded and took another sip, "Tibor."
El leaned in to catch his attention, "We've journeyed far to find the--."
Tibor cut him off, "find the source of some treasure or another, I'm sure." He looked at each of them, landing on Fareflynn's crest. "With the best intentions as brave noble adventurers. I don't wish to be rude, but I've unwillingly become the first point of contact for your type. Had I the money to print a pamphlet, I would. Kraskova grows the food. Stavaki hosts the party. The vineyard beyond makes the party possible." His eyes darted to the slumped patron, and then back to the three. "There is little else I know about whatever treasure you seek."
El started to speak, "We seek--"
Seamus cut him off, "We seek employ."
Tibor's eyebrows flicked up, and then he shrugged, "Perhaps my father has a task for you. Visit the mayor's manor just before the temple."
Seamus nodded, "Thank you."
Elwood began to speak again, unacustomed to interruption, "We are--" He then saw Seamus's head slowly shake. "We are grateful for your hospitality."
\ *
Leaving the tavern, Elwood placed a hand on Seamus's shoulder, "Please explain yourself. Terse conversations such as those are a sign of hostility among my people."
Seamus's eyes scanned the street, "A man lives here all his life, and he only knows about three places? False. He knows more, but he doesn't want to tell. Either he doesn't trust us, or he doesn't trust the other fellow in there."
Fareflynn looked at Seamus with skepticism, "The drunk? Were they even awake?"
Seamus nodded, "Could be. Or Tibor's just a prick. Either way, we'll learn faster through odd jobs."
Elwood's stern gaze teetered on a scowl, "I don't wish to spend my time on menial tasks."
Seamus sighed, "Nor I, but we need to earn trust. If you trust a man to pay you, he tends to trust you in return."
As they walked, a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed Seamus's arm. "Please, sir, please..."
Seamus jumped back from the hand. He spun around and averted his gaze.
"Please, sir. My daughter... I've lost my daughter..."
Seamus kept his stride, but the others stopped to listen. Elwood called out to Seamus, "The little one would not abide your callousness, Seamus."
Seamus stopped short, looked up to the sky, and gave a deep audible sigh.
Fareflynn approached the frail woman and held out a hand, "That sounds dreadful. When did you last see her?"
The woman was gaunt and unsteady, "Just this morning. She left for her lessons at the temple and never returned."
I could feel Fareflynn's compassion inwardly flip to a fear and concern as she tried to reconcile the incongruity of the temple being abandoned and a child sent there for lessons. Her face remained compassionate, a skill developed over extended experience maintaining composure when faced with various unsettling injuries in her temple's infirmary. "Please, describe her."
Seamus's head lowered and he looked out the tops of his eyes at Fareflynn, mouth clenched in anger. El continued walking the thirty yards to the temple, indeed boarded up and abandoned. He pressed his face to a crack in the boards and held his hand up to peer through the window. He turned back shaking his head as the woman finished her description of a blond child, "My Annabelle, she's only ten."
Fareflynn placed a hand on her shoulder, "Well, it's important to remain calm and keep watch at home in case she returns. You can trust us to search." Fareflynn held her hand to offer stability as she led the way to a nearby porch. This building looked equally unoccupied, but she sat on the steps, seemingly assured looking out into the distance.
Seamus waited until Fareflynn had stepped out of the woman's earshot, "We don't have time for this."
Fareflynn turned to face him, "Are we building trust or aren't we?"
Seamus scoffed, "With the mayor. Not some woman who doesn't know which way is up."
El's face was stoic, "We will keep an eye out for a lost child."
\ *
The mayor's manor seemed to be the only building in town without noticeable rot. The stone foundation protected the timber frame from the damp ground. When knocked, the sturdy door echoed a deep thud through the interior. The door opened swiftly to reveal dual curved staircases in what may once have been a grand foyer. Lavish furnishings had been replaced by stacks of papers in every corner.
A muscular person stood at the entrance in modest overalls, "Yes?"
Seamus stood in front, "We seek employ."
The attendant gave a firm nod and gestured to an empty space on the floor, "You may wait here." They turned and walked to an adjacent room.
Seamus muttered under his breath to the others, "Please, let me handle this."
Fareflynn leaned over to peer at a stack of papers. One was an inventory list for a shipment of wine. Another listed a series of events with names and precise dates and times, "Who needs to record something so trivial as shouting in the street?" She touched the top page, to peer at the next underneath, "Or the names and times of those who visit the tavern?"
The attendant returned a moment later. Fareflynn looked up sharply, fearful of being caught in her snooping. The attendant pretended not to notice and gestured for them to follow past several bends in a similarly cluttered hallway, ending in an even more large office. The smell of damp paper hung in the air above a large desk cocooned in the stacks. A disheveled man of blond hair and a familiar nose sat behind the desk behind an embossed name plate that read 'Ivan Ivanov, Mayor of Kraskova'. "How can I help you?7"
Seamus stepped forward, "We are new to your lands and wish to offer our services."
The mayor's eyes flicked up to Seamus and returned to his papers, "I'm afraid we have no need for adventurers. Slay monsters in your own lands."
Seamus's face remained stoic, "Our skills are varied. I am practiced in the arcane. My companion," Seamus turned to El with an open palm, "Master E--"
The mayor coughed sharply and cleared his throat, "Your skills, please."
"My companion is skilled in woodland magics."
Ivan's eyebrow cocked upward, "And the third?"
Seamus gestured to Fareflynn, "She, in divine magics."
Ivan finally looked up, "Are you, dear?"
Fareflynn nodded, "Yes, sir."
Ivan's eyes narrowed, "And who do you serve?"
"Lunara, sir."
Ivan turned his head slightly, "Our lady of..."
"Silver, sir."
Ivan prompted again, "And you are headed to..." His eyes were fixed on Fareflynn.
"The temple of Solander, sir."
"I see." Ivan's hand disappeared beneath the desk and returned with a blank page, in a very practiced motion. He continued, "Then perhaps I do have a task for you." He started writing on the page, and gestured to the others to approach. "Can I interest you in guarding my next shipment of produce to Stavaki?"
Fareflynn, Seamus, and Elwood approached the desk, taking care to step over the stacks of paper in their way. Fareflynn leaned over as Ivan flipped the page around for them to see: 'HELP, DANGER'.
Ivan continued, "I may-- um-- be able to provide you with a guide." His eyes scanned the three to ensure they read his page. "In order to employ you, I will need your--" He scribbled 'FAKE', "names." He watched as Seamus nodded. "I can offer ten gold on departure, and another ten on arrival."
Fareflynn started to speak, "Sir, we--"
The mayor continued, "As well as room and board for the night."
Seamus put a hand on Fareflynn's arm, "We accept."
Ivan nodded, "Good." He took the page he had been writing on and threw it into the fire behind him, "I will draw up the contract tonight for you to sign in the morning. Please, have Edith show you to the guests' quarters."
Evening Unease¶
El paced back and forth beside a bed in the utilitarian guest quarters. Two adjacent rooms split off from the main hall, each with a pair of beds and a window between, looking off to the west8. The beds were simple, with thin mattresses and a single pillow each, placed upon a more ornate frame of carved, sturdy wood, matching the molding around the door.
Fareflynn leaned against the door, gaze fixed on the window. Seamus sat on the floor between the beds, alternating between studying his spellbook and tracing sigils on the floor in chalk pulled from the pouch on his hip.
After several minutes of silence, El spoke first, "I do not like this. I did not travel this far to become waylaid by some unknown--"
Seamus interrupted, "Just give me a moment." He was tracing a large complex shape, like five rings braided around one another.
Fareflynn offered, "Do recall Duil's laughter? If he thinks our task is impossible, we will need allegiances to succeed."
El's face tightened, dissatisfied, "And we're to spend the evening at a banquet with this mayor? We need to press on to find the--"
Seamus interrupted again, more forcefully, "Just a moment, please!" He started drawing faster. The wide arc of a circle tightened and turned into an oblong half-circle curve with complex filigree on the floor. It started in an arc implying a four-foot diameter, and then ended much tighter.
Fareflynn's distance gaze became a glower, "What are you even--"
Seamus sighed, "Rushing, thank you very much." He stood and then reached down in front of himself to grab onto something unseen and then pulled up. As he pulled, the chalk lines on the floor began to glow a dull orange. He pulled an opaque barrier up out of the chalk line that hung in the air wiggling like an enormous bubble being formed. He pulled the leading edge up to three feet above the floor and then gently guided it down to the far edge of the chalk. What started as a dome on one side fell off to a flatter plane on the other. The oscillations solidified into a material with the texture of frosted glass, the same burnt orange as the light.
Seamus gestured to the barrier, "Tada!" And then stepped inside, hunching. Through the semi-opaque barrier, his mouth was moving, but no sound emitted. El and Fareflynn looked at one another in confusion before Seamus stuck his hand back out and waved for them to enter. They followed sheepishly, ducking.
The space was small. Even with all three kneeling, they were pressed against just about face-to-face, with just a few inches between them, and the odd toe and backside sticking out. They could now hear Seamus perfectly as he spoke, "Thiiis", he drew out the word, "is my new spell. It's a barrier. Keeps sounds in, and keeps folks out."
Fareflynn took a moment to listen for the sounds of a meal being prepared elsewhere in the manor, "But lets sound and light in?"
Seamus nodded in pride, "Configurable. It depends on how I draw it."
El was skeptical, "Am I not 'folks'? How is it I entered?"
Fareflynn flinched back as El spoke. She had never been this physically close to him before, and there was clearly a breach of personal space, or at least, breach of oral odor decorum.
Seamus pointed to a point on the floor with more complex filigree, "As long as I include your name."
El looked to where he pointed, "I see." His face showed no recognition of the symbols, but he nodded in trust.
Fareflynn masked her disgust with a smile, "Wonderful. Must it be this small?"
Seamus masked his own annoyance with a smile, "With the time allotted, yes." After a pause, he continued, "But we can finally speak freely!"
El looked around the space, "Regarding what?"
Seamus displayed some disbelief, "The mayor, for a start."
Fareflynn jumped in, "Do you trust him?"
Seamus shrugged, "The man, perhaps, but there's clearly something he can't share."
Fareflynn nodded with concern, "Why the paper?"
"Why no names?" asked El.
Seamus's eyebrows raised and he gestured to the same name symbols with his gaze, "I can take a guess..." He paused while the others displayed no recognition, and continued, "Someone was listening, could still be, someone with deep magics."
The concept clicked for El, "Someone who would threaten him."
Fareflynn was hesitant, "Does this change our aim?" Each of the others shook their heads. She continued, "We head to Solander's temple? With the provided guide?"
El nodded, "Whatever danger may come."
Seamus's eyes went wide in concern. He instructed with severity, "And never speak your true name."
Fareflynn nodded, "I will be Cara Hawthorne."
El hesitated, "I will be... Ivan... Groveheart", clearly picking names from memory.
Seamus chuckled, "Buster McGee."
Fareflynn's eyes narrow in derision, "Really?"
Seamus shrugged, "With Kit gone, someone needs to make the jokes."
El stood up from the cramped space and waited until the others did the same. He spoke dryly, "He's better at it."
\ *
The meal was served in a grand hall with a long table. Only six places were set on one end. The remainder of the table could have seated a dozen more, but it was covered in a white cloth, like one might see in an abandoned home protecting against the dust. Many stacks of paper lay on top and about the room. Several stacks had clearly been moved to make room for the additional guests.
The place settings included cups painted with unique colors. At the head of the table, a golden mug. To the right, a purple. To the left, a pink, where a familiar book-engrossed Tibor sat. Beyond those, navy, green, and red.
As the visitors entered, their host stood and gestured each to a seat, "Sir", looking to Seamus and gesturing to the red, "Madam", looking to Fareflynn and gesturing to the navy, "Sir", looking to El and gesturing to the green. "Tijana will be along shortly."
As they each sat, the mayor took his seat. "If it's quite alright with you, I propose a little game for the evening. Please refer to me as Mr. Gold."
Seamus nodded, raising his cup, "To Mr. Gold." Fareflynn and El mirrored the gesture.
The mayor raised his own cup, "To our guests."
As they each took a sip, the creaks of a stairway signaled the arrival of their fifth. Tijana' auburn hair was twisted into a braid that hung over her shoulder. She wore a high-collar buttoned shirt under a well-tailored vest. The sibling physical resemblance was striking, from nose shape to eye color, but the the two held themselves very differently: where Tibor was slumped and blasé, Tijana was rigid and alert. Her stiff posture signaled some form of training as she approached, but she leaned over in unease as she saw the guests. With a pat on her father's shoulder, she spoke, "Father, you didn't mention guests."
Ivan met her gaze as she took her place at the table, "I extended a last minute invitation. Ms. Navy has been blessed by the moonlight and is headed to Stavaki."
Tijana looked at Fareflynn. She spoke in a somber tone, "I see", as if she had just learned of a loved one's terminal illness. "Perhaps, we can offer her a guide for her journey," Tijana looked at her brother solemnly.
Fareflynn nodded, "I would be grateful. There is a lot we do not know of your land and customs."
The same attendant, followed by another, entered the room with a series of dishes. The presentation was not as lavish as the tableware, but the food was a sight to behold for the travelers that have survived on dried rations for the last two days. A small roasted game bird was presented to each guest, along with roasted vegetables and a small mound of a mashed starch. Ivan gestured outward in a sign of thanks to the deities. "Fealora, we thank you for this bounty. Lunara, we thank you for the gift of your servant. May she guide us to the light."
Fareflynn bowed her head in reverence, "May we all be guided by her moonlight." She nodded to Ivan assuringly.
Seamus ate with a fervor. Elwood attempted to mask his own excitement for the generous meal by matching the pace of their host. Fareflynn ate with a deliberate pace, savoring the meal, but keeping her attention to the hosts.
Between bites, Ivan spoke to Fareflynn, but looked at Tijana, "Your guide will no doubt fill you in on the details of our land during your journey. While you bless my table with your presence, I'm hoping you can share with me some folklore of your own lands.9"
Elwood paused and looked out into the distance as he chewed. He swallowed and then spoke, "There are so many. Such tales are how my people keep the history of our ancestors intact... But there is one that has been on my mind lately."
El pushed his chair back from the table and stood. He looked to the embers in the nearby fireplace, and added a log. With a twist of his hand, he released a light into the catching log. The fire took on a green hue as a spirit seemed to dance within the flames, granting ambiance and dynamism to his story. It would continue to change color and flicker with the breaths of the tale.
El spoke, "This is the tale of Bramble"
Bramble¶
Deep in the heart of the forest, there was a section of the river that spilled onto the fertle banks. A community of hares made their home there, their burrows hidden beneath the roots of the trees, the bank providing abundant food.
Bramble was a young hare. She would sit at the edge of the river and watch the fish swim by, and the birds fly overhead. Her parents aged and wished to pass on their ways so that she too could live a comfortable life. She learned dutifully and thought of the day when she would pass on the same lessons.
There came a day when the river dried and did not return. Their crops suffered and they feared a harsh winter would follow. The community turned to Bramble to seek the cause.
Bramble traveled many days and nights, sleeping in the cold shelter of the dry river bed and always on the lookout for predators that could end her journey in an instant. She lived in fear, but grew stronger knowing that her community depended on success. She narrowly escaped many encounters that would have made her just another meal. When sleep took her, she dreamt of the warmth of her borrow.
Following the bank, she came to the source of the halted flow. A great tree had fallen, blocking its path and flooding the lands on the far side. Try as she might, it would not budge. She called out to the spirits for aid, but eventually fell asleep in exhaustion.
She awoke to find a mischievous fox perched on the log, and screamed in terror, having hidden from his kind countless times before. Before she could run, the fox spoke, "You wish to move this tree?"
She was hesitant and fearful, but nodded.
The fox spoke, pacing along the log, "I can help, but it will cost you."
Bramble thought of her home and the family that depended on her to make it through the coming winter. "What is your price?" she asked.
"It's simple," the fox replied, "you must never return to your home."
Bramble stumbled, "But my family..."
The fox interrupted, "You will find a new family."
"But their farm..."
"It will flourish."
Bramble thought of the warmth of her burrow, the smell of the earth, the taste of the fresh greens. She thought of her cold nights and the fear. She felt her heart break, but she nodded.
"Good choice," the fox said, and paced across the log once more.
With each of the fox's steps, Bramble heard a crack, and then a creak, and a louder pop. She jolted awake from what had been a dream to hear the log behind her breaking under immense pressure. As she stood, the log gave way and the river rushed forth, carrying her with it.
She struggled to fight the current and keep her head above water. She coughed and sputtered, carried downstream, scraped by rocks and smacked by a branch. When she was finally able to pull herself ashore, she could see her home in the distance. She could see the smoke from a chimney and hear the joyous shouts in celebration that the river returned.
Bruised and battered, she limped back to her home. She was greeted with cheers and hugs, and tending to her wounds, but she did not feel the celebration in her heart. The home she knew felt fragile and unsafe, at the mercy of the river. She felt out of control, and longed for the open forest where she could decide her path.
As the firelight danced in the evening's celebration, she caught a glimpse of a fox in the shadows. In his mischievous grin, she knew the price she had paid.
\ *
As Elwood finished his tale, the firelight returned to its natural hue. The mayor clapped his hands, "A wonderful tale, Mr. Green. We are in your debt." Fareflynn joined the clapping, but with the same compassionate gaze she normally reserved for the infirmary.
Tijana stood and gave a slight bow to Elwood, "Thank you for sharing." She then looked to her father, "Unfortunately, my brother and I must retire for the evening."
Tibor looked up from his book in slight confusion, "Me?"
Tijana gestured to the stairs, "You." The pair bid the guests goodnight. With glassy eyes, Tijana hugged her father and left, ushering Tibor up the stairs.
After a pause, Elwood broached a new topic, "Mr. Gold, may I inquire about the papers that surround us?"
"Ah," Ivan replied, "The records of my village. The Count has granted me the gift of my role as mayor and principal historian in my village."
Fareflynn's face showed mild horror, "You must have a great passion for this work. What do you document?"
Ivan's eyes flicked to the stacks, "I am tasked with recording goings-on of any name that passes through my village. It is no small task, but one learns to embrace the gifts of the count. Most anyone you meet who has their wits about them will have a gift of some form or another. I'm sure you've seen my son and his books."
"And your daughter?" Fareflynn asked.
Ivan's face softened, "To my daughter, the Count has gifted his hand in marriage. Her twentieth birthday approaches, on which day my little birdie is bound for the count's castle."
"I'm s--" Fareflynn started, but cut herself off, silent in her eye contact with Ivan. "I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in... Are your records available to the public? May we check them for a missing child?"
Ivan nodded, "Of course. The reference manual is in the Den. It will tell you which stacks to check for any given name."
Their search was quick. While the piles were unwieldy, the reference manual was well-kept and easy to navigate. Annabelle's name was both in the manual and in a handful of stacks in a sitting area. Seamus was the one to pull the latest from a pile organized by date, "Here, Annabelle, temple lessons."
He approached Ivan who was swirling a glass of wine, "It seems you last recorded the child attending lessons at 'the third week of harvest, our year of the Count 411'. Where might she be now?"
Ivan's face was a mask of sorrow as he peered at the page, "I'm sorry, I cannot say. This was fourteen years ago."
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He was partly correct. Ebonvale wasn't so much folded as it was orthogonal to our own dimension. Like stepping off the world to walk downwards and never knowing the difference ↩
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False, he just told Utrect, and it was a shoddy map at best. ↩
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An entrance, and not the close one. ↩
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Poor fellow. After being so in-tune, when your magnetic north disappears, the world just feels a little off. Like a harsh headcold that won't let you catch your balance. ↩
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As much as he was playing up the hospitality gesture as a bit, it was odd for our crew to hear him speak, like he was several generations older than they. It would be like hearing a teenager in your United States speaking in a mid-Atlantic accent: 'Let's go down to the soda fountain and catch a talkie, old sport.' You know what they mean, but the accent is odd. ↩
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The old-timey accent came to him with ease. ↩
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Like father, like son in the accent department. Just as antiquated, with even more of a creak. Refusal to make eye contact seemed to run in the family as well. ↩
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Or, at least, the direction El believed was west. Those distinctions don't make a lot of sense in a pocket dimension. ↩
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When you're shy about asking about your guests directly, folklore is always a safe bet. ↩