Dialogue and descriptions from The Longest Journey by Funcom - Transcript compiled by Bluejay, slightly modified by me
There was a confusing kaleidoscope of light. She blinked rapidly as the light faded to grey and then darkness with a few scattered bright spots.
April:
...oh (gasped) (Her heart sank as she surveyed her surroundings. It looked suspiciously familar) Not again. Not now (sighed)
She hoped it was a dream. She really did, because if Cortez did not open a Shift, who did? And how would she get home on her own? She looked all around her carefully. It was no dream. She must be in Marcuria. The air smelt like a mix between fresh flowers and cowdung. It seemed to be night as well in Arcadia. A man strolling into a nearby building along the water-course did not seem perturbed by her sudden appearance. He must not have seen her then, in the darkness. Sounds of merrymaking drifted from the building the Marcurian had entered. There was some kind of party going on in there.
Sunday night or Monday morning...I'm not sure which it is...but it's late.
A strange sound wakes me up in the middle of the night, and when I open my eyes my room is filled with a cold, blue light coming from the closet. Oh, okay, obviously a dream. No question about it. Things like these don't happen in real life.
Except in MY life, they do. All the time. There was a Shift in my closet, and before I knew it, I found myself here, in Arcadia...again. And while last time Cortez helped me through and back, this time I'm afraid there will be no help forthcoming. I'm on my own. And I don't like it.
The sign hanging over the door of the building glimmered in the light from the window, "The Journey Man". A tavern, or inn, or whatever they called a bar in the olden days. The journeyman. Very appropriate, though it really should have been "The Journey Woman". Light glinted off the water rippling gently along the water-course. There was something so soothing and poetic about the way the moonlight was reflected on the clean and clear surface of the water. Where should she go? She shivered as she looked down the lane that stretched into darkness that yawned like a black mouth, the few lanterns hanging outside the houses barely lighting the way. She was not about to walk around in a strange city in the middle of the night weaing nothing but her underclothes. She wondered what to do next ... The Journey Man Inn seemed like her best option, maybe she could get a room or something.
Bracing herself, she pushed open the door. But the crowd she was expecting to see was not there. The thromping of feet and music were coming from the inner rooms. Three men, arms linked, danced past the doorway of the room next door. The murmur of voices, clink of glasses and dishes, merry laughter, lilting music, lit chandeliers and a fireplace in the front room imbued the place with a warm ambience. She gravitated to the fireplace. Open fires were so enchanting, so romantic and inspiring. She murmured a line under her breath as she stared into the fire, "O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention". Shakespear, she believed. If she was to find her muse, she guessed it would have to be in Arcadia. Holding her hands to the blessed warmth, she looked around her.
An extremely comfortable high-back armchair before the fireplace beckoned to her to rest her weary self. Herbs, spices, assorted bottles and small casks lined the shelves next to the fireplace. The smell from them tickled her nose. The doorway next to the shelves led to a kitchen and the bar. Large casks stood against the wall behind the bar counter. Filled with ale, probably. They never had beer in these taverns, just ale. The strong odour of sun, sweat and animal hovered around two chatting men in rough clothing at the bar, nursing mugs of ale. Honest working men out for a pint or two. They did not look so different from the farmers and craftsmen back home.
A boy and girl sat murmuring in a corner. She could tell it was their first date. They were a cute couple. She wondered if romance was different there, or if the rituals were the same as back home. Magic must play some part in it. She took a quick look at the backrooms. There were two large rooms crammed with people were enjoying themselves. The rooms were also stuffy, despite the opened windows. She'd rather stay in the front room where there was more space and fresh air. She would feel better staying inside the inn until the morning, if they let her. A plump woman in a headscarf and apron bustled around. It looked like she worked there.
April:
Excuse me, hello? (The woman stopped and looked enquiringly at her) Hi, hello. Do you work here?
Innkeeper:
Do I work here? Child, I am the owner. I own and operate "The Journey Man Inn".
April:
Oh, I didn't know.
Innkeeper:
Of course you did not, child. But be careful -- others may not be as quick to forgive as I am when you address them disrespectfully.
April:
I'm very sorry, ma'am.
Innkeeper:
Your apology is more than enough for me, child. What may I do for you?
April:
Really? You don't look like an innkeeper.
Innkeeper:
And you do not look fit to be out of your crib in the eve without your mother's charge. What do you want?
April:
What's your name?
Innkeeper:
Benrime Salmin. I am the owner and proprietor of this inn. I bought it with money earned through honest trade in the Southlands -- tobacco, wine, slaves. That is where I am from, The Southlands.
April:
I'm April. April Ryan.
Innkeeper:
Well met, April Ryan. Have you come to meet someone? A handsome young suitor, perchance?
April:
No such luck, I'm afraid. I'm here more by accident than anything else.
Innkeeper:
Ah, no accident, April. Fate. Fate delivered you here, tonight. You are strong in fate, are you not?
April:
What do you mean by "strong in fate"?
Innkeeper:
You shape your own fate, and not the other way around. You are what the Dark People call a "wave".
April:
How can you tell?
Innkeeper:
I am not only an innkeeper, child. I am a Seer, taught by my mother, who was taught by her mother before her, and so it goes back to the dawn of our world, to the dawn of magic.
April:
What's a Seer?
Innkeeper:
A Seer is someone who can tell something about people, about events, about the past and the present and the future, just by looking at you. When I look at you I see... I see...
April:
What? What do you see?
Innkeeper:
Most people are drawn along by events, by fate, like the carriage after a horse. But some people know how to steer the horse to change paths at will. You are such a person. But there is more...
April:
Tell me more about my future.
Innkeeper:
It is strange. I see many paths, but they are all dark. I cannot tell much except that you are strong in fate, and strong in the Balance.
April:
Magic? That can't be right. I'm not -- I don't know anything about magic.
Innkeeper:
You do not have to know about magic to be strong with magic. If you ever learn how to harvest your talents, you will be a strong Artisan.
April:
Artisan?
Innkeeper:
Where have you been schooled, child? Have you forgotten your lore?
April:
My... lore. Yeah, well, I haven't really had much use for my... uh, my lore, lately.
Innkeeper:
The Artisan is the most powerful of magic users. She is able to shape magic, and to use it, by force of will alone. An Artist can use magic shaped by others, mould it into new magic, new art. A Magician -- or Sorcerer, Witch, Warlock -- can read, and write incantations, drawing spells from the power of words. And the Alchemist can create magic potions. He is the least of the four. Anyone, with the proper education, can be an Alchemist. The other three requires some form of talent for magic.
April:
Is there a party going on?
Innkeeper:
Is there a... why, child, do you not know? It is the Feast of the Balance! Have you never taken part in the celebration?
April:
Unfortunately, no. I'm... not a party person.
Innkeeper:
For as long as I can recall, the feast has lasted three whole days -- and nights -- and everyone celebrated openly. But now, this year, tehre is great concern about the Vanguard and their supporters. So this year, the Feast of the Balance is celebrated inside, behind closed doors, and for one night only. But there is still much food and drink. You are welcome to join, if you so please.
April:
I don't think so. I don't know anybody here.
Innkeeper:
(suspiciously) You are not with the Vanguard, are you?
April:
No, I'm from... somewhere else. Far away.
Innkeeper:
So it would seem. If you feel up to it, child, you are welcome to join in the celebration.
April:
Thanks... Why do you celebrate the Feast of the Balance?
Innkeeper:
You are a stranger to our customs indeed. The Blance -- You do know about the Balance, do you not?
April:
Sure. The Balance between magic and science. I know about the Balance.
Innkeeper:
The Balance of All, child. Everything is in Balance. And the Guardian watches over the Balance and us. We celebrate the Feast of the Balance to give our thanks to the Balance and to the Guardian. If our devotion to the Balance falters, if we lose our faith in the Guardian, then we are inviting chaos to destroy us. This is what the Vanguard is doing, inviting Chaos. They are dangerous.
April:
What's the Vanguard doing to destroy the Balance?
Innkeeper:
They are not doing anything to destroy the Balance but they destroy people's faith in the Balance. They speak to the people, telling them how the Sentinel -- the Fathers -- are holding our world back... that if we were to use the Balance to our advantage, we could return to the old ways, the ways of the ancient Earth before the Divide. The Vanguard promise the people power, and wealth, and happiness. But they intend only destructoin and death.
April:
Thank you.
Innkeeper:
I am at your service any time, child.
The innkeeper returned to her chores. Just then, a strange creature walked out of the inner rooms to the fireplace. He had no neck, a block of a body in a wrap-over, long-fingered hands and feet. For some reason, she felt impel to speak to it. He turned around as she opened her mouth.
Abnaxus:
Thank you, April-Ryan.
April:
(confused) Wh-what?
Abnaxus:
There is no time here, but there soon will be time for you and I. Time enough to be sure. You are speaking to me, April-Ryan. We have spoken.
April:
I don't understand what you're... and how do you know my name? Who are you?
Abnaxus:
Have we not met yet? I was sorry, then, for confusing you. I will be Abnaxus of the Venar, ambassador to the Ayrede Council in Marcuria for... a time.
April:
I think I would've remembered you if we'd met. Who told you my name?
Abnaxus:
You did. You are saying your name to me, April-Ryan. In this moment, you tell me your name, you question why I know your name, and you speak to me the blessings of the Balance for my long journey home.
April:
Sorry, I -- I really don't know what you're talking about.
Abnaxus:
It is difficult for us, too, April-Ryan, to understand you. We, the Venar, are not perceiving time like your people. In this moment we are everywhere. In this moment we are nowhere. But there is a veil. Beyond this veil, we are not seeing, but you have. You will be seeing. You are seeing.
April:
What veil?
Abnaxus:
The veil created in chaos, by chaos, with chaos. It is a dark presence in our... future? Yes, future. A dark veil which hides the things that have been and will be.
April:
What's all this got to do with me?
Abnaxus:
It was late. You were tired. We have talked in the morning when you come to visit me. Now you understand everything. Thank you, April-Ryan. The blessings of the Balance to you too.
April:
Did you just invite me to your home?
Abnaxus:
I will. I did. I invite you to my home, April-Ryan. My home was in the Marcuria city green, and you will find it. In the morning. Before chaos came. I am explaining everything, and you understood.
April:
It seems I've already accepted your invitation, so I guess I don't have a choice.
Abnaxus:
That is what you said. Good-night. You will sleep well.
He gave a little bow before vanishing out the front door, leaving a befuddled April staring bemusely after him. She could not make head or tail out of the conversation but at least he seemed positive she would get a good night's sleep which she fervently hoped was true. Unable to resist it any longer, she settled down with a sigh in the armchair before the fireplace and pulled out her diary.
I've seen a lot of strange invitations in my life. Only a month ago, somebody - I didn't even know the guy particularly well - invited me to his suicide party with a cheerful card reading "Steve's Last Hurrah!". I've been invited to a wedding between a 99-year old terminally ill woman and a highway construction automaton. I've been invited to the senior prom by my best friend's father.
But I think tonight brought the strangest invitation of them all.
This is the first time I've accepted an invitation before being asked, by a creature whose grasp of grammar ranges from poor to nonexistent, and not realizing I did until after the fact. Unlike the invitations mentioned above, however, I'll probably honor this one. Strange or not, he may be able to answer some of my questions.
The warmth of the fireplace and comfortable chair soon lulled her to sleep. And as if in a dream, saw Cortez lay shackled and unconscious in a cold, steel chamber as scans and tests were run on him. It was a disturbing scene but it soon vanished. The flames in the fireplace faded to ashes and the rooms were shrouded in darkness. Then a rooster crowed, announcing the dawn of a new day. The soft slaps of the innkeeper's solls hardly woke April from her slumbers but the shake to her shoulder did.
Innkeeper:
Wake up, child.
April:
(yawn) Sorry, I guess I fell asleep. (She looked around her and realised the room was empty and silent) What time is it?
Innkeeper:
It is morning. We need to clean before we open for breakfast so I had to wake you.
April:
I slept right through the party?
Innkeeper:
It seems so. You did not stir even when everyone was leaving.
April:
Oh. Well, I feel pretty good considering.
Innkeeper:
You look a little pale, but it is nothing a good porridge won't fix.
The innkeeper vanished into the kitchen. She did not feel like taking up on her offer though, she had had her fill of the innkeeper's brusqueness. She intended to make for Abnaxus' home to find out what he knew but the innkeeper stopped her before she reached the front door.
Innkeeper:
Do you intend to walk about in that outfit, child? It is day. It would not be proper.
April:
It's all I have.
Innkeeper:
Come. We will find something more suited to a young lady about the city.
Wondering what would befit a "young lady about the city", she followed the innkeeper who decked her out in a scope-neck top and leggings. She felt like a serving maid in the getup.
April:
How do I look?
Innkeeper:
(eyed April critically side and front) It will have to do, for now. You do not have the most womanly of forms, but I am certain you will fill out in time, with the right diet.
April:
Thanks. Thank you for the clothes, for everything.
Innkeeper:
You will have time aplenty to thank me while you are cleaning plates and cutlery, child.
April:
I'm sorry? Work?
Innkeeper:
Those clothes do not come free, child, nor does a night spent sleeping before the fire. I am not asking much, only for a helping hand in cleaning.
April:
I don't have time to work for you.
Innkeeper:
I will not press the matter, child, but you do disappoint me. Please, keep the clothes as a gesture of my generosity, but expect no more favors.
The innkeeper sounded miff with her that April felt bad on turning her down. What was a little cleaning after all?
April:
Excuse me.
Innkeeper:
Yes? Ah, it's you.
April:
I've changed my mind about helping you clean up.
Innkeeper:
Good! I was very disappointed in you, child, but I am willing to forgive and forget. Now -- to work! You can start carrying the mugs from the back room, then after that...
April:
All right, tell me where to start.
Innkeeper:
You can start carrying in the mugs from the back room.
Mindful of her appointment with Abnaxus, April hurried off to begin her chores. Time seemed to fly as she diligently applied herself to the job. The innkeeper insisted on feeding her breakfast when she would have hurried off after completing all the tasks.
Innkeeper:
You did good work for me today, child, more than was required. Here you are, some coin to help you out. (She handed April a handful of arens) And keep the clothes. You seem to have grown into them already.
The innkeeper hurried away before April could thank her. Tucking the money into her pack, she opened the front door. Unlike the empty dark alley of the night, the advent of day brought life and activity. A little girl sat fishing with a string at the water-course, the water so clean and clear and much unlike the "water" in Venice. Little fish could be seen darting around in the water. One of those strange furred animal that looked a cross between an armidillo and a tortoise was tied up near the steps of the bridge. A square jaw broad shoulder young man waiting near a small wagon pulled by the strange beasts caught her eye. A real farmboy. Quite a sexy one, too. The creature at the bottom of the stairs was of more immediate condern, however. It seemed tame as she reached out to touch it with a cautious hand. Its hide felt like a turtle's but softer. The animal rumbled softly as she stroke it. She had better leave before the owner returned though.
She made her way to Abnaxus' house. Passing through the garden she got the strange urge to plan the organic plastic leaf she'd brought with her. Not thinking too much about it she picked a suitable spot.
April:
Now... grow
She announced whimsically and to her astonishment, a seedling popped out and morphed into a large purple flower plant. Whoa, she must be a natural born gardener. She stood admiring the fruit of her labor a moment before turning to the intriguing large structure in the centre of the green. It looked to have been carved out of a large tree, but the texture of the house was more stone than bark. A large creeping vine twined itself around the tree and it looked like it was cultivated to grow in that way as its leaves were positioned precisely to shade the second storey window. Large wooden stakes had been driven into the ground, forming an incomplete three-cornered square around the tree. She ran up the stone steps to the solid oak door and rapped on it. A voice called out.
Abnaxus:
Enter, honored guest, and I would have been with you presently.
Footsteps thumped overhead as she pushed open the door to a round wooden chamber. Books lay piled on the shelves and floor to the left. A beautiful crafted bench sat beneath a flight of stairs on the right that wound up to the upper level. Light pooled on the floor through the window and the wide eye-shaped peep hole set in the oak door. She glanced at the books. Some of them looked to be in English, but she knew they were not. It had to be the Alltongue language Tobias told her about that gave her the ability to read the script. The "tongue of magic". That sounded a little disgusting. She gave herself a little shake and looked at the titles.
"A Brief History of the Northlands", by Minstrum Lenyer. By the looks of it, it's not all that brief at all.
"Lord of the Rings". In Arcadian? I guess classic fiction really does cross all borders.
"The Psychology of Stickmen", by G. Godager.
"Principles of Waging a Winning War Against Superior Forces", by General Hen Solber.
"Surviving the Border Mountains", by Tomi Strande.
"Ruminations on the Chaos Principle", by Ror Agastanja.
"The Death of A Venar", by Ge'le.
She moved away from the books as footsteps behind her announced the arrival of Abnaxus who bowed to her politely.
Abnaxus:
Be welcome, stranger, to my abode.
April:
Stranger? Don't you remember me? You invited me here!
Abnaxus:
Every moment we meet, and every moment we part. You are both stranger and friend, April-Ryan.
April:
I'm sorry, but could you try to be a little less obtuse this time? I have a hard time understanding half of what you say.
Abnaxus:
I will beg your forgiveness, April-Ryan. I had a hard time to make myself understood amongst other peoples. I will pull myself into this moment, difficult as it may be, so that we can communicate and so that you may understand. It is important that you understand, April-Ryan. Very important.
April:
Who are you?
Abnaxus:
I am Abnaxus of the Venar, ambassador to the Ayrede Council in Marcuria. My people live far from here, and they do rarely visit your kind, and so I am their sole link to humans and Dolmari.
April:
Why is that?
Abnaxus:
I alone among the Venar am able to focus on a particular moment and thread in time, and so to speak with those who flow with time. Like you.
April:
How do your people perceive time?
Abnaxus:
It is... hard... to explain. Any moment before this moment, and any moment after, is the same to me as this one. I have lived already, and I am yet to live. Do you understand me?
April:
I think so. But how's that possible?
Abnaxus:
Everything is possible, April-Ryan. There is magic and there is science, and between the two, everything is possible.
April:
Can you see the future?
Abnaxus:
To me, every moment is the same, so there is no future. I can relate moments you have yet to see, and I can unravel possible threads. But remember, the future I see may not be the one into which you walk. Moments and threads fluctuate, change. I can remember things that have never come to pass, and I have seen things that will never be.
April:
So you can't tell the future?
Abnaxus:
I would see your possible futures, the likely threads among hundreds. If there was not a veil in time, I would.
April:
What's this veil you keep talking about?
Abnaxus:
Somewhere -- ahead -- in our path, there is a dark veil through which I cannot pass, past which I cannot see. It is -- disconcerting to me, to be blocked from moments of my life.
April:
How did this veil come to be?
Abnaxus:
It was... no, will be... created in Chaos, by Chaos. To keep the future hidden. All threads converge on a single point here, beyond the veil, and this will happen only once. It is written.
April:
Written? Where?
Abnaxus:
In the prophecies.
April:
Tell me about the prophecies.
Abnaxus:
Words have been written by Seers who can discern from all possible threads that are certain to be woven. These words are the prophecies.
April:
And what do the prophecies say?
Abnaxus:
Prophecies speak of a time when the Balance will falter, weakened by the assault of Chaos, and its servants. The moment the veil falls is the moment of uncertainty... The Balance may stand, the Balance may fall. I cannot tell which it will be, and I cannot even see the possibilities, the threads extending from each fork. But the prophecies also speak of a saviour, as the prophecies usually do. One who will bring order to Chaos, only to release Chaos on the innocent. One who will restore the Balance, only to finally break it.
April:
That doesn't sound like a saviour.
Abnaxus:
The word in my tongue, is Kan-ang-la. Literally translated it means "the small seed who grew to a tall tree".
April:
Can I ask you a few questions?
Abnaxus:
Yes?
April:
Could you tell me a little about yourself, Abnaxus?
Abnaxus:
Me? About myself? We, the Venar, are not good at speaking of ourselves. We always know who we are, and so we have no need to tell each other.
April:
Well... are you married? Do you have any kids? Or perhaps your people don't marry?
Abnaxus:
Yes, we do marry. And we always know who we are to be with, because our future is also our past, and so we also know our children even though, according to your reckoning, they have yet to be born. My wife was -- is -- the beautiful Abyanda. She lives by the Bay of Fire, in the east. She gave birth to our threee female children, Abratha, Abelexe and Abpalmana.
April:
How long has it been since you last saw them?
Abnaxus:
I see them now, April-Ryan. Do not forget I perceive time in a different manner from your kind. I have given them your regards.
April:
Well, uh, say hi to them for me. Why did you come here to Marcuria?
Abnaxus:
I was chosen to be ambassador to Ayrede when I showed a talent for seeing the flow of time from one point to the next. I was trained for a long time in locking myself into a single moment, to communicate and understand your world. My people do not normally involve themselves with others, but the veil has forced us to do so.
April:
Why don't the Venar want to involve themselves with humans?
Abnaxus:
In the wrong hands, our knowledge is dangerous. To know of the possible, fluctuating futures -- this can be a weapon to some who flow with time. We cannot interfere with your time... We are not allowed.
April:
Who says?
Abnaxus:
The Balance. The Guardian. The Guardian watches not only the Balance between the worlds, but also the Balance within. Time is in Balance, and if this Balance is upset, the Guardian would know.
April:
I thought the Guardian was gone?
Abnaxus:
So he is, and that makes it even more crucial to my people that we preserve the Balance, and not upset it. Chaos is our enemy, April-Ryan, and we do our part to keep it at bay. As do you.
April:
Are you planning on ever going back to your people?
Abnaxus:
When we pass through the veil to the other side, and time yet again opens up, I will return to my people. I look forward to that day. I miss my people, and it is hard to speak with your kind. It makes me tired.
April:
I know what you mean. I'm a stranger here too.
Abnaxus:
You will bring us through the veil, April-Ryan, and then we can both leave this place and go home.
April:
Where is your home, Abnaxus?
Abnaxus:
Across the Border Mountains, and north, to where the forests are evergreen, and where, in winter, the land turns white.
April:
Do you know Father Tobias?
Abnaxus:
Tobias is a faithful servant of the Balance, and he is a good man. He leads the Sentinel down a narrow path, but he never wavers. We are friends.
April:
So I can trust him?
Abnaxus:
Trust is a concept which often puzzles me. Amongst my people, there is never distrust. We always know the truth. But amongst your people. amongst those who flow with time, trust is important, a fragile thing. But yes, yes I do think Tobias is to be trusted fully. I cannot see beyond the veil, but up to that point there is no thread in which he betrays your trust, April-Ryan.
April:
Have you heard of a man named Cortez?
Abnaxus:
No, I have not, but that does not mean I do not know him. Names are ofteen fleeting, April-Ryan.
April:
He's my...well, some have called him my mentor, others a nutcase. I'm not sure which it is, but I'm leaning towards the former.
Abnaxus:
Your mentor? He is a Shifter as well?
April:
No. I don't think so. He doesn't travel... Shift... between Stark and Arcadia.
Abnaxus:
I do not see him in my life, April-Ryan. I do not know him. Beyond the veil perhaps, but not before.
April:
Thanks Abnaxus.
Abnaxus:
You are always welcome, April-Ryan.
April:
I need some help in my quest.
Abnaxus:
Yes, you did.
April:
I did? And what did you answer?
Abnaxus:
That I will help you as much as I can, but in the end --
April:
I'm on my own. I've heard that one before. What do you know about dragons?
Abnaxus:
I do not know much about the Kin, but I do know a little. Perhaps it will help you, perhaps not. The Draic Kin came to this world a very, very long time ago, before the dawn of man. before the Divide. The Venar had yet to learn to be outside of time, and there were few other peoples on Earth. The Kin played an important part in the Divide, in separating magic from science, and in founding the Fathers, the Sentinel, to watch over the Balance. It is said that, after the Divide, of the four Draic Kin that came to Earth, two went to Stark and two to Arcadia. But that was a long time ago... twelve thousand of your years. I do not know what has become of them since.
April:
You don't know where I may find these Draic Kin?
Abnaxus:
No. The White of the Draic Kin -- the Mother -- has, according to legend, been sighted. The tale of the Silver Spear of Gorimon speaks of the Mother and her child. Though I think this is but a tale, and far from the truth.
April:
The story is called "The Silver Spear of Gorimon"?
Abnaxus:
Yes. Unfortunately, I do not have this book myself, and I do not know of anyone who does.
April:
What about the other dragon, the other Draic Kin?
Abnaxus:
Of the Draic Kin, I only know of the Mother, the White of the Kin. Although... I have heard tell of a god who fell from the sky into the ocean a great long time ago. But this may also be just a tale.
April:
What else do you know about this "god" who fell from the sky?
Abnaxus:
Only what I have told you. Someone with greater knowledge of the ocean and the creatures that live beneath its surface may be able to tell you more.
April:
Have you heard of a disc that works as a key to the Guardian's Realm?
Abnaxus:
Yes, but very little. It has been spoken of in the Ayrede Council only recently, brought to attention by the Tyren ambassador. He wished to know where it is kept.
April:
And what was the answer?
Abnaxus:
No one at the Council knows, or admitted to knowing, and the ambassador was asked to speak with the Sentinel, which he is unlikely to concede to. The Tyrene are allied with the Vanguard, and so are in political and ideological opposition with the Sentinel. I know Vestrum Tobias. He would not speak a word with the Tyren, nor the Vanguard... Not unless it was to challenge their philosophies.
April:
So you don't know where I can find the disc?
Abnaxus:
No. Ask Vestrum Tobias.
April:
Do you know anything about a rift leading to the Guardian's Realm?
Abnaxus:
I have heard speak of such a thing. I believe it was where the Tower was built, and the Divide created, when the Earth was one. It might still be open.
April:
Any idea where it is?
Abnaxus:
I am afraid the Venar were never very involved in the affairs of the Sentinel, nor took any part in the Divide except to agree to the necessity of it. We had little choice but to concede. We are a magical people. We need the Balance, because we would not, could not, survive without magic.
April:
How do I go about fighting chaos?
Abnaxus:
You cannot fight Chaos. It is not so simple. To oppose Chaos one must return order to that which has been affected by Chaos, and thus reduce its powers. But this is not something everyone can do. Only those ordained by the Balance can embark on such a dangerous task and survive.
April:
That's about it for now.
Abnaxus:
I am glad I could be of assistance, April-Ryan.
April:
Thanks for your hospitality, Abnaxus.
Abnaxus:
Good bye. Blessings of the Balance to you, April-Ryan, and may your journey have been a long and fruitful one.
He bowed and turned to the books on the shelves, leaving her to show herself out. The Venar were definitely complex but she understood a little more about them now and her confidence rose with Abnaxus's affirmation that she could trust Tobias. Whom, she was sure, knew more about the disc.
When I asked Abnaxus about the Draic Kin, he didn't really know much about them except for a story he'd heard about a "god" who fell from the stars into the ocean a long time ago. Whatever this so-called god may be, it's a fair chance it's got something to do with these dragon-Kin creatures. It might be a good idea to run this by somebody who knows more about the myths and legends of the sea.
The old man at the small pier, Captain Nebevay and Brian Westhouse might know a thing or two on tales of the sea but first, a visit to Tobias at the temple. She found him standing at the pedestal-table. It was as if he had never left it at all.
April:
Good morning, Tobias.
He looked pleased to see her.
Tobias:
Why, it's April, my friend from Stark! Have you come to visit us again?
April:
So it appears. I didn't exactly come here by choice this time, though.
Tobias:
Oh? How so, if I may ask?
April:
In a weird and twisted way, it's nothing out of what's become the substitute for "ordinary" in my life. One second I was in my room, in Newport, the next I was in a dark alley in Marcuria.
Tobias:
You must have opened a Shift while you were sleeping. Good! This means you are learning to harness your magic!
April:
Yeah, I guess... except I don't think I'll be able to get back home again. And this time, my "mentor" Cortez has no idea that I'm here.
Tobias:
Ah, but I'm sure you will find a way to channel and control your powers soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help?
April:
I need to locate the disc that unlocks the Guardian's tower.
Tobias:
The disc that is the key? Yes, it is needed. It might even restore Balance, provided the new Guardian accompanies it to the tower, of course... But you wish to find the disc yourself?
April:
I have to. Cliche or not, it's our only hope.
Tobias:
You do this often, then, save worlds?
April:
It's an expression. Heroism in my world is more of a cliche than anything else.
Tobias:
I do not understand, but then I am merely a servant of the Balance, while you are... more. But, yes, the disc. As I told you once before, when the Earth was Divided, and the Realm of the Guardian created, a disc was forged in the Well of Making. The disc was to serve two purposes -- as a key to the Tower of the Balance should it become necessary to enter it in the Guardian's absence... and as a replacement for the disc that is already in the tower, should it be broken. The tower is now abandoned and locked, and the old disc shattered. I do think the time is right for the second disc to be brought forward and used.
April:
Where is the disc now?
Tobias:
At first, more than twelve thousand years ago, it was kept in the open, at the Sentinel Enclave outside Marcuria. However, when thieves attempted to make away with the disc, it was taken away.
April:
Why?
Tobias:
So that the four parts of the disc could be divided amongst the four of the magical people of Arcadia, people who would have nothing to gain from the Balance being compromised.
April:
What people were the discs divided amongst?
Tobias:
This, I cannot tell you. I am not sure anyone remembers, now. But it would be in the Scriptures, I am certain.
April:
What Scriptures?
Tobias:
The Scriptures of the Balance. There are thirteen of them. Thirteen is a strong number, rich in tradition and... Did you know the Ayrede High Council consists of thirteern Ministers? No, of course you do not. Thirteen was also the number of the Fathers who begat the Sentinel, and who built the Tower of the Balance.
April:
Where can I find the Scriptures of the Balance?
Tobias:
Pay a visit to the Sentinel Enclave, located just outside the city, to the east. The Great Library of the Enclave contains every book ever written by an Arcadian Minstrum, and most others as well. Speak with Minstrum Yerin, the Keeper of Books. Tell him I sent you.
April:
I need to find the entrance to the Guardian's Realm.
Tobias:
There is one, you are right in that, but where, I would not venture to guess. In the past, when the time came for the Guardian to step down and another to take his or her place, the Guardian opened a gateway wherever it was needed. A Guardian still in full control of the Balance can invite anyone in, and let anyone out. But with the Guardian gone... The only way in would be the point where the Divide was first created, where the tower was built.
April:
Isn't the location written down somewhere?
Tobias:
Remember that this was done on the old Earth, before the Divide. After the Divide, after the creation of Stark and Arcadia, places were shifted about... this entrance may not even be on the ground anymore.
April:
What do you mean?
Tobias:
It could be up there, in the sky, or far below us, through the crust of the earth into the molten depths below. I cannot say, and I do not know anyone who could.
April:
Isn't there any way to locate the entrance to the Guardian's realm?
Tobias:
Perhaps with careful investigation of the old texts... histories of Arcadia, of the Divide, the Scriptures... I do not know, April, but it cannot hurt to look. Again, you will find these texts at the Sentinel Enclave. Speak with Minstrum Yerin.
April:
I need to locate the two dragons that reside in Arcadia.
Tobias:
The Draic Kin?
April:
What's the difference?
Tobias:
"Dragons" is a word from your world. The Kin are not what they have become in your legends and fairy tales.
April:
But they're real, aren't they?
Tobias:
Oh, as real as you and me, April. And old. They have been here since before our time. As you probably remember, the Kin were instrumental in the Divide, saving mankind from a terrible end. But I know so little, only what I can remember from my studies when I was a Minstrum at the Enclave.
April:
How can I get more information on the Draic Kin?
Tobias:
(mildly reproving) Books, daughter, books! The wisdom of the ages. There is one you should study, called "The Secrets of the Draic Kin", by Minstrum Elneak. It is old, but informative, and it captures the imagination.
April:
Where can I find this book?
Tobias:
Again, you will find these texts at the Sentinel Enclave. Speak with Minstrum Yerin.
April:
Thank you, Tobias.
Tobias:
Good to know I could help you, April.
Monday. I have no concept of what the Arcadian (or Marcurian) calendar is like, but at home it would be July 31st. Come to think of it, what year is it here?
Anyway, that's not really the reason I'm writing an entry in my diary. Tobias told me about a library where I may be able to find some answers. The library is at the Sentinel Enclave, just outside of town, and I'm supposed to speak with a Minstrum named Yerin. He's the Keeper of Books or something like that, which probably translates into the equivalent of a librarian.
The old sailor was still mending nets when she got to the small pier.
April:
Hello again, old man.
Umber Ianos:
Eh? Eh, It be you.
April:
I'd love to hear some more maritime stories.
Umber Ianos:
Sure, sweetie, I be happy to. What story be ye wanting to hear now?
April:
Have you heard a story about a god who fell from the sky into the sea?
Umber Ianos:
Aye, that I be having. Although that be a story of man-eating mermen who revage the Sea of Songs, swallowing sailors whole and spitting their bones out to dry. Are ye sure ye be up for hearing such a cruel tale?
April:
I've heard worse.
Umber Ianos:
Ye be a tough little lady, be ye not? All right. Well, like I be telling youse, the Sea of Songs surrounding the island kingdom of Ge'en be a treacherous sea where countless vessels have dis'peared without a trace. Now, this be near thirty long winters ago, mind, during me second terms as cap'n of the trader "Lucky Lady". We'd been crossing the Sea of Songs for two seasons... and we'd yet be seeing any sign of the dreaded, bloodthirsty mermen who lurk in the waters off the Ge'en coast. That night we be layin' still with our sails down awaitin' the wind to pick up ad carry us north to Marcuria, when we be hearing a frightful scream a-comin' from the port side of the "Lucky Lady". I be the first to rush over, on account of me having my arm down the apple barrel -- we just been to Aeras to pick up one hundred barrels of sweet Ge'en apples... and as luck would have it, I be there just in time to witness Salee Barni's horrible fate! He be in the water, screamin' and wavin' his arms, and the water around him be red as a midwife's arms after a gruelling birth --
April:
I get the picture. Go on.
Umber Ianos:
Then I be seeing -- I glimpse -- a large, shiny, sleek body be pulling Salee down and swallow him whole. It be the mermen, come to claim the body of the sailor who dared cross their sea!
April:
Are you sure it wasn't a shark?
Umber Ianos:
A what?
April:
Big fish with sharp teeth and dead-black eyes, and a large, triangular fin on top?
Umber Ianos:
Ye mean a blackeyed snapjaw? I guess it could've been, but... it be snapjaw! It be the dreaded mermen of the Sea of Songs!
April:
And where does the sea god fit into all this?
Umber Ianos:
Aye, I be comin' to that. Ye see, the bloodthirsty mermen be not only happy with cannabilizing sailors, they be sacrificing their own to their dark, old sea god.
April:
Actually, unless the mermen are human, they wouldn't really be cannibals if they ate humans.
Umber Ianos:
Blood scarifices! To their dreaded god who loves on the bottom of the sea. Aye, that be the truth of the mermen, fierce and bloodthirsty cannibals of the Sea of Songs.
April:
Uh, thanks. Good story.
Umber Ianos:
Aye
April:
I'm all story'd out for now, thanks.
Umber Ianos:
Aye. Ye tell me when ye want more, right?
April:
See you later.
What is it with old sailors and long, pointless stories?
I did manage to get some useful information out of the old man, however. He claims that the god that fell into the sea (the one Abnaxus told me about) is worshipped by bloodthirsty, cannibal mermen who live in the Sea of Songs around the island of Ge'en (I think that's how it's spelled). The fact that they're not necessarily cannibal just because they eat humans didn't really deter him from finishing his story. I'm having my doubts about how bloodthirsty these creatures really are as well. Seems like the monster he described in his story could be some kind of shark instead of a merman.
Whatever the truth, if anybody knows about this god who fell from the stars, it would be the mermen.
Captain Nebevay was standing with his odd gait at his ship. It seemed that most people were affixed to one spot or other.
April:
How are you today, then?
Captain Nebevay:
(sourly) Like you care.
April:
Did you ever hear of the mermen of the Sea of Songs?
Captain Nebevay:
You mean the bloodthirsty cannibal mermen of the Sea of Songs?
April:
That's it.
Captain Nebevay:
Never heard of 'em.
April:
(disbelieving) Are you sure you're never heard of the mermen of the Sea of Songs?
Captain Nebevay:
Be... quiet! Shhh. Not so loud.
April:
What's up with the shushing?
Captain Nebevay:
Legend says that if you speak openly of the bloodthirsty cannibal mermen of the Sea of Songs, they will hunt you down until they've caught you and devoured you.
April:
And you believe this legend?
Captain Nebevay:
No, I'm just trying to scare you off.
April:
Do you know anything about a god that fell from the sky into the sea?
Captain Nebevay:
Of course. You find fallen gods most evreywhere these days. They're an aren a hand.
April:
Really?
Captain Nebevay:
No. Of course not. There are no fallen gods in the sea. It wouldn't make much sense, would it, if the sea was full of gods... just lying about the seabed?
April:
So you've never heard of such a thing happening?
Captain Nebevay:
Now you got it.
April:
Bye.
A dead end. She hoped Westhouse had more information to offer. The expat and minor recluse was sitting on his bench, looking out to sea as she expected.
April:
Hi there, Mr Westhouse. I'm back.
Brian Westhouse:
(shocked) My word! What on Earth possessed you to return to this godforsaken place? You were lucky to escape the first time, but now you're really pushing it.
April:
It's not that bad a place, or else you wouldn't stay here. Besdies, this time I didn't exactly come here by choice.
Brian Westhouse:
I stay here because I'm a true masochist, miss Ryan. And who forced you to come? Was it... Cortez?
April:
He doesn't even know I'm here, unfortunately. No, I think I had some kind of -- accident -- with my so-called "powers". I Shifted. In my underwear.
Brian Westhouse:
Oh. Hah! Isn't that the way it is, though? We always cross the Rift at the most inopportune times. Hah! Care for a drink? No, that's right. you don't.
April:
Would you mind helping me with a few questions?
Brian Westhouse:
I've nothing better to do, so... shoot.
April:
Do you know anything about dragons?
Brian Westhouse:
I try to stay out of the affairs of the Kin these days... What precisely do you wish to know about the damn beasts?
April:
There are two dragons in Arcadia, and I'm trying to locate them.
Brian Westhouse:
Yeah, I've heard that tale myself. But no, no I don't know anything about it. You'd better off speaking with the Sentinel Minstrum. After all, religion is their specialty, not mine.
April:
Did you ever hear of a story about a god who fell from the sky?
Brian Westhouse:
Stories aren't my thing, April. You should visit a library, I'm sure you'll find some stories in the books. I know the Sentinel have a library somewhere near the city. I've also heard rumor of a people with wings who do nothing but observe and record history through stories, but I don't know if that's all that it is -- a rumor. Still, if you're looking for stories, it may be wise to check it out and see if you can find them.
April:
What did you say about the flying people?
Brian Westhouse:
They're supposed to be great storytellers. and they've been observing this world for a very long time. But it could also be a rumor.
April:
I'm looking for a disc that will open up the Guardian's Realm.
Brian Westhouse:
That's religion, Miss Ryan, and the only things I worship are whiskey, a good cigar, and a nice, long -- Ahem. Anyway, don't ask me about all that Balance's mumbo-jumbo.
April:
Would you be able to tell me where I could look for the entrance to the Guardian's realm?
Brian Westhouse:
In Tobias' pants, if he had his wish, I'm sure. No, sorry. I don't know anything about Guardians, Balance, Sentinel or gardening. Now, if you're interested in bullfighting, I could talk all night.
April:
Bullfighting is a horrible act of cruelty to animals, and not much of a "sport" at all.
Brian Westhouse:
I'll just forget you said that, Miss Ryan. If there's one thing I miss about Stark, it's bullfighting.
April:
You'll be happy to hear, then, that they abolished bullfighting hundreds of years ago.
Brian Westhouse:
Damn!
April:
I can't think of any more questions for now.
Brian Westhouse:
Then let's talk about other things, shall we?
April:
Thanks, Mr Westhouse.
Brian Westhouse:
Anytime, April. Come back if you're homesick and you feel like talking to a fellow alien.
Brian Westhouse just told me something I should remember. He said that he's heard stories about a winged people who observe and record history. If they've got records going back thousands of years, maybe they know something about the whereabouts of the disc, the jewels, or even the entrance to the Guardian's Realm.
It's definitely worth checking out.
The Sentinel Enclave turned out to be the strange rock tower she had seen from the gates of Marcuria and easily accessible by a paved road that led steadily up to the cliffs. From her vantage point at the tower, the beautiful city stretched across the horizon, lazing in the sun. Tall, slim, conical towers gleamed and toy-like ships reflected in the mirror-like water. A bridge cut from the rock, linked the enclave to the cliff wall. She smoothed her hand over the surface. It was some kind of sandstone, very malleable, but also very vulnerable to the elements. The cliffs probably had huge naturally formed caves and tunnels. A stone dragon had been carved as part of the dome forming the top of the tower. It gazed down into the center of the dome, as if guarding the entrance. It was a magnificent piece of work. The symbol of the Balance had been carved into the floor of the dome. In the middle was a circular hollow about twenty centimeters across and about five centimenters deep. Four small recess, the size of her fist, were arranged with equal distance to each other in a circle and connected via a duct to the center of the floor. Looking up, she saw that the dragon's mouth was pointing straight down at the middle of the floor.
A flight of stairs wound down on the left. The view of the water of the emerald sea was crystal clear, teeming with life, and carrying the pleasant, salty scent of distant shores. The library was cool and smelt of of the sea. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls. The most suprising sight, however, was the pool of seawater at the bottom of the rotunda in the centre. It'd be a bad idea to have a pool inside a library, on account of the moisture, but she guessed magic made everything possible. The library was empty except for a balding old man near the stairs leading down to the pool who seemed to be looking intensely for something and had not noticed her. He gave a start as she gently tugged his sleeve.
Minstrum Yerin:
(yelped) Oh goodness me! I didn't hear you come in. By the way, you haven't seen volumn six of "The Complete Annotated History of the Northlands", have you? I could have sworn it was here.
April:
Sorry, no.
Minstrum Yerin:
I guess someone else must have taken it. I try to tell them to write down what they borrow on the list, but they never listen. Only last week, I spent three hours searching the entire enclave for the Second Scripture of the Balance -- the Scripture of Song -- before I realized that Vestrum Tobias was studying it back in the city... Now, such incidents could be avoided, if only -- and this applies to you too, young lady -- people would sign out the books they borrow, when they borrow them, and sign them back in what they're done. Such a simple procedure... it shouldn't take more than a few seconds to jot down your name and the name of the book you borrow. It makes my job so much easier. Now, which book did you want me to find for you?
April:
Are you Minstrum Yerin?
Minstrum Yerin:
Yes, of course, what a silly question.
April:
How would I know? I don't know you.
Minstrum Yerin:
I am Minstrum Yerin, Keeper of the Great Library of Marcuria. In fact, this is the greatest library of all the Northlands... perhaps the entire world, although they say the Dark People have a library as big -- if not bigger -- than this one but of course we're not allowed anywhere near there. Have you been there?
April:
I don't think --
Minstrum Yerin:
What a silly question, of course you haven't. You're not of the Dark People, are you? You don't look like any Dark People I've ever seen, so I can't see how you could possibly... now where did volumn six disappear to, hmmm?
April:
Tobias said I should talk with you.
Minstrum Yerin:
Tobias? Vestrum Tobias? I haven't seen him for... well, he was in last week, but before that it must've been... days... at least. How is he? Still eating enough for two mules? I must tell you of this funny story I heard the other day, of how Vestrum Tobias eats enough for a table full of Minstrum... or was it one Elgwan? Although the Elgwan don't, as a rule, eat very much at all... Did you know the Elgwan can smell water more than half a day's journey away? Amazing, amazing creatures, prefectly suited for a life in the desert. The Balance provides, that's for certain. The Balance provides.
April:
(hurriedly before he launched off into some other subject) Vestrum Tobias recommended that I look at some books.
Minstrum Yerin:
Books, is what we do best here at the Enclave, that is for certain. Which book would you like to see?
April:
I'm looking for a story called "The Silver Spear of Gorimon".
Minstrum Yerin:
Yes, a fanciful tale if I ever saw one, but a charming one. Did you know that I'm often paid visit by adventurers wishing to read everything available on the spear so that they, too, can set out on their foolish quests?
April:
Yeah, don't you just hate those adventurers?
Minstrum Yerin:
Well, they pay for my bread, milk, and butter with their contributions to the coffers, so I shouldn't be too critical of them. But they care not about the books...they care only about what the books can give them.
April:
I care. About the books. Really.
Minstrum Yerin:
I can tell. So, "The Silver Spear of Gorimon", then?
She nodded and waited as he bustled off to one of the shelves. After a brief search, he placed a book on a reading desk.
Minstrum Yerin:
I did find something of interest. I will leave it here for you to read.
The Silver Spear of Gorimon
In the glory days of Baksheva, before the Drought, when Gorimon was the greatest city in the known world, the Parech of Baksheva decided to forge the most powerful weapon in the world to challenge the mighty White Dragon. The Parech had grown greedy and bored, his treasure-hold filled with the riches of the world, and he desired nothing except the one thing he could never have; the unborn daughter of the White Dragon, the fairest, purest, most beautiful creature in the Universe. He had asked the White Dragon for her daughter's hand in marriage, but she had refused, scolding him for his insolence and warning him to keep his distance from immortals. And so the Parech sought the advice of a mighty Sorcerer, the dark and cruel Aos, to learn how to kill one of the Draic Kin.
The Sorcerer told the Parech of the white silver of Mount Tireney, the strongest substance in Arcadia, and how it could be forged by magic to kill even one of the Kin. The Parech ordered his army to go north, across the ocean, and to bring back enough white silver to shape a weapon. When his men returned with the rare metal, the Parech ordered the finest blacksmith in Baksheva to his castle where Aos the Sorcerer cast a spell to create an unholy forge. Ten days and ten nights it took before the exhausted blacksmith could present a tall spear to his emperor, but before the spear could be used to kill one of the Kin, it had to be bathed in blood.
Beheading the poor blacksmith and the soldiers who had retrieved the white silver from Mount Tireney, the Parech's private bath was filled with their blood. As he dropped the silver spear into the red bath, watched over by Aos, a terrible scream erupted, and steam rose up in a red, foul-smelling cloud. When the steam lifted, the blood was all gone, and the spear was glowing in a deep, red colour. With the terrible weapon now ready to be wielded, the Parech issued a challenge to the White Dragon; to either surrender her daughter to him for marriage, or to suffer a painful death at his hand. Enraged, the White Dragon refused him yet again, and flew to meet the Parech, his Sorcerer, and his thousand-strong army on the green fields outside Gorimon. Of the magical silver spear, she knew nothing, and the Parech kept it wrapped in cloth by his side.
"Bring your forces around, Parech!" warned the White Dragon. "If you do not, I will lay waste to them all."
"I wish my men no harm," lied the Parech, "for this is between the two of us." He then rode forward, alone, and dismounted his horse, but stayed within reach of the spear.
The White Dragon landed before him, and she said, "You are brave, to face me like this when you know you cannot harm me."
Then the Parech raised a hand as if to greet her, but it was instead a sign to his Sorcerer, the terrible Aos, who cast a mighty spell to hold the White Dragon while the Parech drew his silver spear. The White Dragon fought bravely, and she was close to escaping the Sorcerer's magic, but the Parech was quick and he thrust the magic spear into her chest.
She screamed in pain and anger, and the Sorcerer's spell could no longer hold her. Rising on her beautiful wings, blood pouring down on the land below, she cursed Baksheva, her Parech and her people, for all time. Wherever the White Dragon's blood fell, the land turned arid, and grass became sand. The Parech sent his army to follow the White Dragon and to bring back her egg, but the Drought grew, and within days the once-proud Empire of Baksheva was turning into a desert.
Then followed a fierce storm that tore across the land for one hundred days and nights, and when the dust settled, there was nothing left of Baksheva but two coastal cities and a few, scattered oasis. It is said that in the buried ruins of a lost capital, wrapped in the arms of the Parech who dared test the immortal, rests the silver spear of Gorimon.
Distracted and forgetful he might be, Minstrum Yerin was quick to notice when she was done with the book.
Minstrum Yerin:
Are you done? Let me take that back for you.
He put the book away with loving care and returned to his duties. However, she was not finished yet and pulled his sleeve.
Minstrum Yerin:
(yelped) Goodness, it's you again! You gave me such a fright.
April:
Could I see some more books?
Minstrum Yerin:
Certainly. What a silly question.
April:
A book on the history of Marcuria would be interesting.
Minstrum Yerin:
Ah, an extensive subject to be sure. I will do my best. (As before, he placed the book on the reading desk) I did find something of interest. I will leave it here for you to read.
Travels in the Northlands
Jemein the Discoverer
Introduction
In my many years as a Travelling Poet and Bard, I have journeyed far and wide across the fair Realm of Arcady, and I have seen sights most people have not dreamed. I have stood on the magnificent and terrible Southern Capes in the midst of Winter, when the storms are at their fiercest, while waves as tall as the towers of Altaban washed over my frozen body. I have witnessed the monstrous beasts that lurk in those dark and deadly waters of the South swallow brave galleons whole, Creatures the size of mountains that with a flick of a tail can touch the depths of the Sea and the Stars themselves. I have crossed the Great Ocean from North to South, and from East to West, and in the course been stranded on desert islands, with no sustenance but what I could gather from the sparse vegetation, for months at a time.
I have ridden the giant Elgwan across Ch'Angagriel, the Wasteland, from Altaban to Monterba, and further South where the Terukh, the Oasis, are few and far between, and I have seen the shifting dunes above the ruins of Gorimon, precious Jewel of the Bakshevan Empire, concealed for Centuries by the coarse and treacherous sand. And I have journeyed Far West, carried on good will and Destiny by Shadow Ships, to the strange and unknown cliffs of a World unseen by most, a World of an unfamiliar Tongue and customs, a World of Great Wonder and Mysticism.
I have seen all this, and more, but the fairest sights still I have seen in the Lands of the North, from Ayrede to the Border Mountains, from Tyren to the Bay of Fire. No sight can ever compare to dawn at Mount Tireney, looking out to the Plains of Nehdrah where wild Stallions run free in the Thousands. And to look on the city of Corescent, the Pearl of Fire, while the boiling sun sets in the Ocean beyond, the slow waves reflecting dark yellow and red as they lap slowly upon the sandy shores, is an experience truly treasured and ne'er forgotten. These Lands are blessed by the Creator, shaped by men, yet wild and free and fertile, home to the greatest cities, the most precious sights and the most cultured and civilised people in Arcady. Of all the fires I have rested my weary legs by, of all the taverns where I have learned the legends of tale-spinners and memorised the songs of Bards, of all the lands where I have wandered from city to village, it is to the Northlands I return time and time again to learn ever more.
Join me now, for I will evoke in you the very emotions I first experienced when visiting the sights and treasures of the Northern Lands. Join me, and I will surely bring you there, to the exotic midst of this blessed land, and you will pine for its rugged coast and green woods and its hardy people, and like me, you will ne'er rest until you can return to yonder shores.
Marcuria
"Oh, Marcuria, thou unkempt diamond, Of Capitals thou art by truth the fairest!
Thy Council many seek, for knowledge Kept within is Centuries sought and gathered
By men wiser than the Ages, brought hither
By word of mouth.
Marcuria, changed thou not the course of War
Between thine people? Diplomat, Wise Man, Magician; all this, and more.
Thou hast without equal, The mark of Merit and Virtue.
(Written by Jemein Urthrin, the Poet)
The august Capital of Ayrede, the Unified Country, Marcuria lies on the hardy Southern coast of the Northlands, halfway between Tyren and Corescent. It is a port of call for merchants, traders, adventurers and pilgrims from all four Continents. A place of commerce and diplomacy for millions of humans and and other species.
Ayrede is a strong and proud land perched between the Plains of Nehdrah to the north, the land of the Tyren to the west, the Great Sea to the south and the forests of the Northlands to the east, and inhabited by humans, Dolmari, Tyren, Mole-people and Vener. Ayrede was formed after Marcuria emerged as a major centre for diplomacy and trade, and became the banner under which the surrounding lands united as one. Ayrede is a democracy, currently led by the Chief Council of the Ayrede Flag, Lord Ygvan Dellan. The High Council, composed of the ministers who govern by representation, resides in the Hall of Assembly in Marcuria, flanked by the Palace and the barracks. The Ayredese are traditionalists, and their form of government has barely changed over the last few millennia. In High Tongue, Ayrede means unification, or assembly.
Marcuria is one of the largest cities of Arcadia, the capital of Ayrede, and a centre for trade, diplomacy and cultural diversity. Populated by a large variety of races, from human to Vener, Marcuria has grown from its origins as the birthplace of humanity to a city of all Arcadians, and the hub of the civilised world.
Founded twenty thousand years ago at the shore of the then unconquerable ocean, it is the first known permanent settlement of the emerging human race. Initially left to its own devices by more developed races, Marcuria grew large and fat and wealthy. With new-found confidence, it passed through a period of expansion which gained it a reputation as a merciless aggressor, which soon brought violent attention from the Tyren in the west and the Dolmari in the north. After years of war, Marcuria was decimated and subsequently rebuilt with sufficient reinforcements to weather attacks from both sea and land. Peaceful times followed, whereupon Marcuria settled into the role it has in today's Arcadia. Although all surrounding areas fall under its jurisdiction, there is sufficient self-governing and few central taxes to appease all but the most disgruntled. The huge areas of farmland around the city benefit from the well-kept roads, markets and the busy export to other lands.
Nearby villages benefit from the military might of Marcuria, protecting them against roving barbarians and Tyren armies. And Marcuria also provides the people of the Northlands with one of the best and busiest ports in Arcadia, allowing travel to distant destinations around the world.
April:
I'd like to read some Arcadian folktales.
Minstrum Yerin:
A favored topic of mine! I have just what you are looking for.
Arcadian Folktales
Sandra, the Faithful Wife
Sadra was married to a brute of a man named Kare. He was a bully who drank, cursed, gambled and beat up his wife when he'd lost coins at the cups-table. Still, Sadra treated Kare with respect and care, she fed him when he was hungry, she made his bed and washed his back and she laid down with him when he told her to. She never complained of her hardships to anyone, even though some days she woke up with bruises all over her body.
Despite her husband's treatment, Sadra was a beautiful woman, with lovely dark hair and green eyes, and men would admire her when she went to the market for food or the town well for water. But none dared approach her, fearing her dangerous husband more than they admired her beauty and grace. People would say, "Poor Sadra, she deserves better than what she has, she is so good and patient even though her husband mistreats her every day." But no one was willing to do anything to free her from her husband, as they all feared his wrath. "She chooses her own path," they would say, "and it is not our duty to interfere."
Then one day, a tall and handsome Prince rode into town to visit with the elder council. When he spotted Sadra carrying two heavy buckets from the well to her home on the edge of town, he was taken with her beauty and youth, and he jumped down from his horse to help carry her buckets home. On the way, he offered Sadra courtship, but when told she was already married, he bowed respectfully and excused himself for acting inappropriately.
That night Sadra's husband heard about the Prince helping his wife, and after striking her down for letting royalty interfere with her duties, he strode drunkenly - for he had already had his usual fill of dark ale - towards the tavern where the Prince and his cohorts were staying. When Kare arrived at the tavern, the Prince was eating dinner, and when told Sadra's husband was there to see him, the Prince stood and waved the man closer.
"I must congratulate you on your good taste in marriage," said the Prince, "for your wife is the most beautiful and good-hearted woman I have ever met." And then he offered Kare a seat and a tall mug of ale. But the angry husband did not appreciate the Prince's advances, and he drew a sword and lunged at the Prince before his guards could react.
The Prince was quick, and lucky to avoid certain death, and before Kare could make a second strike, the Prince had recovered his sword from where it stood by the wall, and stood ready to fight the brute. "Leave him be!" called the Prince when his guards drew arms and ran to protect their liege. "This is between him and me!"
Smiling briefly, he nodded his head to Kare, and stood to attention - obviously, his skill with the sword was formidable. Kare, a coward at heart, knew that if he fought fairly, he would surely die, and he sheathed his sword but loosened the knife he had tucked up his long sleeve. "My pardon, Prince," said Kare. "My love for my wife is such that I am blinded by jealousy. I offer you friendship and apologies." He extended an open hand to the Prince, and smiled a broad lizard's smile.
The Prince, unaware of Kare's mistreatment of his faithful wife, smiled back, put down his sword and extended his own hand. "Your apology is accepted, sir." Then, suddenly, Kare's knife was in his hand and moving in a blur towards the Prince's exposed throat.
Had it not been for the quick eye of a nearby guard, who with the broad side of his sword struck Kare on the side of his head, the Prince would have been dead. The knife carved a deep scar in the Prince's shoulder, but did no serious harm. Kare was taken away to the town prison to be judged when the sun rose - his crime was surely punishable by death, especially if Sadra would testify to his cruelty in front of the judge.
Free of Kare's tyranny, the townspeople now spoke of Sadra's suffering by her husband's hand. But Sadra would not herself, even now, speak against her husband, and instead of being sentenced to death, Kare was sent away to work the King's mines for twenty-five years. Taken with her faithfulness, the Prince yet again offered Sadra courtship, but again Sadra declined, for she was still a married woman. Then, one year later, Kare attempted to escape the King's mines by killing two guards and climbing the walls, but he was shot down with an arrow and died in agony and disgrace.
Again, the Prince visited Sadra's town, bringing condolences and a renewed offer of courtship, and this time Sadra agreed. Months later, the Prince and Sadra were married in a glorious ceremony, and when the old King died the Prince became regent, and Sadra his Queen. She was as good a Queen as the land had ever seen, and she was loved dearly until the day she died, and her funeral was the grandest and most tearful in memory.
The Children of the Lake
There was a village by a lake where no couple had born a child for twenty years. The villagers were desperate, for without children their village would wither and die, and they turned to their god for help. The next morning fifty young children rose out of the misty lake and wandered onto the shores, much to the joy of the childless women. "We are yours," said one of the children, "as long as you remember one thing: you are never to fish from this lake again. Instead you must learn to hunt in the forest and live off the land."
The villagers agreed, though they worried they might go hungry since they were used to catching and eating fish from the lake. But it didn't take long before they had taught themselves to hunt and grow wheat and potatoes in the fields.
Eighteen years passed, and then one day an old man grew tired of rabbits and deer and potatoes and bread, and he longed to catch a big fish and cook it over a sizzling fire. He took his boat out to where the villagers would not see him, and he sank his line. Almost immediately, he caught a large trout, but as he was rowing back to shore, he saw the children of the lake wander from their homes back into the dark waters from whence they came. Their mothers called for them, tried to hold onto them, begged them not to leave, but they would not speak, and one by one they disappeared into the lake.
The old fisherman then saw, as the children sank into the murky waters, how they turned into large fish and sped off into the deep. He was shameful, then, and dropped his catch back in the water, but it was too late, and the village would forever more remain childless.
April:
I'm looking for some information, but I'm not sure which book to ask for.
Minstrum Yerin:
No matter, I know a great deal about most of the books in here. What topic intrigues you?
April:
I've heard rumors about mermen who live beneath the Sea of Songs, and I'd like to find out more about them.
Minstrum Yerin:
Mermen in the Sea of Songs... hmmm... Let me see what I can find, yes?
Book on the Maerum
Maerum; also, mermen, merpeople, merians
magical people who reside in the depths of the Great Ocean and other seas.
Little contact has been made with the Maerum, who are believed to have been quite numerous in the past, but are now dwindling in numbers. Confirmed location of Maerum cities is between the Bristan Atoll and Ge'en, centering on the Sea of Songs.
Legends of "mermen" (merpeople; merians) are rampant amongst sailors. These stories portray the Maerum in a grotesque and violent light, betraying the truth of a largely peaceful people.
Although not much is known about the Maerum, their religion apparently centers around the belief of a benevolent god who lives in the immense depths of the Great Ocean, and who brought the Maerum to Earth from a place distant and wonderful.
The book was right about the sailors, she mused wryly, they did spin quite a terrible tale about the Maerum. She felt bad about disturbing the old librarian repeatedly but he did not seem to mind.
April:
Are there any books about a flying people who observe and tell stories?
Minstrum Yerin:
Winged storytellers, hmmm? Let me see what I can find. Hold on.
Book on the Alatien
A crafty winged people who have recently dwindled in numbers, and whose ability to fly long distances has been steadily diminishing over the past few centuries.
The Alatien are known for their ability to remember and tell stories from before the dawn of mankind and up to modern events.
The largest known tribe of Alatien with whom traders have occasional contact resides on the otherwise uninhabited island of Alais, in the Bristan Atoll.
April:
The island of Alais, near the Bristan Atoll. Maybe I should try to go there?
I went to the library (yes, me! Imagine that...) to look for some information about those flying creatures that Brian told me about, and with Minstrum Yerin's help I found just what I was looking for. They're actually called the Alatien, and there's a tribe of them living on an island south of here, Alais. Which is such good news, considering how much I love water (and that was my sarcastic voice, by the way).
Now...who do I know with a ship?
There was only one, Captain Nebevay. Now why did she have the feeling that he would rather sink his ship first than have her put a toe on his deck. But first, she had better finished looking up the information she needed.
April:
I need to find out which four magical people of Arcadia were given a piece of the stone disc that serves as the key to the Guardian's Realm.
Minstrum Yerin:
The stone disc of the Balance, yes? Yes, yes, there could possibly be something on that in... Let me check, just one moment.
The Scripture of Breaking
Chapter 16
The Scriptures tell us that the disk was kept at the Enclave for many thousands of years, safely guarded from any threat by the respect held by every man and woman for the authority of the Fathers. But with dissent came disobedience, and disobedience brought immorality, and immorality begat theft. Tyren soldiers, aided by Sentinel traitors, attempted to make away with the disk, but were thwarted by the White of the Kin herself, intervening, although forbidden to do so, on behalf of the Fathers. The disc was brought safely back to the Enclave, but the threat would linger in the minds of the Minstrum and the Vestrum. So it became that the disc was melted in the forge of the dragon's mouth, shaped into the elements of four magical people, and given to these respective people for safe keeping until such a time when it was decreed that the disc should once more be whole.
One stone to the gentle souls that sing in the dark and shape the earth between their toes. One stone to the watchers of the woods, the ones who are outside. One stone to the two that make one, of air and of sea. And one stone to the keepers of the dark flame, the eternally dark, the mariners. When the time comes for the disk to be whole again, one person will make a journey to the four who hold the pieces, and the pieces will be given willingly, because there will be no doubt to the righteousness of this person.
April:
I'd like to learn more about dragons, about the Draic Kin.
Minstrum Yerin:
Oh yes, yes, we have some wonderful books on that topic. Stay here.
Secrets of the Draic Kin
Minstrum Elyak
Foreword
The Draic Kin are known by many names throughout the Twin Worlds. In Alltongue, they are often referred to as Drachkin. In some variations of Low Tongue, Drechyn. In the Southlands, the word D'ragych refers specifically to the winged lizard shape traditionally associated with the Kin.
In Irhad, the eternal Spirits of the Kin are called simply Drac, regardless of their current shape. In Stark, most cultures refer to the Kin as Dragon (Drage; Drache; Dragone), though this usually refers only to the winged lizard-like shape and not to the Spirit inhabiting this shape. In fact, while in Arcady, the Kin are respected and revered as eternal Spirits with great significance in the Balance and the All, in Stark the Kin are mostly creatures of mythology and fairy-tales. However, in some Stark legends and scriptures (notably the Christian Bible), the name "Dragon" is associated with the forces of evil, and thus the religious connotations do seem to have carried over in a somewhat distorted form.
"Who, or What, are the Draic Kin?"
Why not ask, Who is the Creator? Or, What is the All? Questions thus asked will remain, in perpetuity, unanswered, for they are in truth unanswerable. To condense all knowledge of the Creator into one answer is futile, as is any attempt to define the All without describing every single element that makes up the All.
So also with the Draic Kin. We cannot answer, Who is the Kin, or, What is the Kin? But we can provide some answers to the simpler questions, the questions that deal with what we see and hear and feel, and what we have been told by the Kin themselves. Answers that, together, may give us, if only the faintest hint of the whole truth, then at least some indication of Who or What the Draic Kin are.
"Born of the emptiness between the Stars", reads the Eleventh Scripture of the Balance, the Scripture of Time, "shaped in unison with the All, part of the All, yet outside the All. Dreyc'chyn" (note the ancient High Tongue variation of Draic Kin).
Why so many variations and interpretations of the Draic Kin from culture to culture? The Kin have always been shrouded in mystery, and from mystery rises legend and myth. The Kin seem content to be seen as nothing but tall tales and figments of a bard's fertile imagination.
Having found the last of the information she wanted, she bid the old librarian farewell and made her way to the White Dragon.
April:
Hello.
Captain Nebevay:
Uh-huh.
April:
Do you know the island of Alais?
Captain Nebevay:
The vacation paradise of the ancient Dolmari? Certainly.
April:
How do I get there?
Captain Nebevay:
It's near the Bristan Atoll, but boats rarely travel directly to Bristan from Marcuria. You'd have to travel via Ge'en.
April:
Can you give me a lift to Ge'en on your ship?
Captain Nebevay:
There are three problems with that scenario. Number one, there's no wind, so we can't set sail south. Number two, I lost my navigator a few weels past, and I have yet to find his replacement. And number three... you're a woman. We don't let women on board "The White Dragon".
April:
Isn't that a bit sexist?
Captain Nebevay:
Sexy is just what I worry about, what with a boatful of men being out at sea for months at a time.
April:
Not "sexy", "sexist".
Captain Nebevay:
I'm a sailor, girl. What do you expect, good bedside manners?
April:
I'd really appreciate it if I could hitch a ride with you to Ge'en.
Captain Nebevay:
Ain't gonna happen. Sorry.
April:
Bye.
As she expected, Captain Nebevay was not receptive to the idea. The old sailor might be able to help though.
April:
Hello again, old man.
Umber Ianos:
Eh? Eh. It be you.
April:
Do you know the island of Alais?
Umber Ianos:
Aye, I be knowing lots and lots about the fear'd isle of Alais.
April:
It's feared? How?
Umber Ianos:
(hesitating) Because... because... it be a place of cannibals!
April:
You really don't know anything about the island of Alais, do you.
Umber Ianos:
Arrr... no, I do not.
April:
Do you know how I can get passage on a boat going south?
Umber Ianos:
Aye. Coin be the way, as me belov'd wife always be saying. Course, she be running off with a wealthy merchant while I be away at sea. Women. Never trusted one I didn't pay for again.
April:
I don't have much coin at all.
Umber Ianos:
Then I be at a loss, as do ye. Unless...
April:
I need coin to travel on a boat, unless... what?
Umber Ianos:
Unless I be calling in a favor with the good cap'n Horatio Nebevay, who be travelling to Ge'en as soon as the wind be pickin' up.
April:
What kind of favor?
Umber Ianos:
Oh, he be owing me, from back when I be his cap'n.
She had neither time or opportunity to increase the coin she had at present to buy passage so she had to find another way to get the old sailor to call in his favor. Her eyes fell on the chest he was sitting on.
April:
Would you "cash in" your favor with Nebevay if I got your bird Bird back?
Umber Ianos:
Aye. I be promising anything to get me friend back. It be a deal.
April:
See you later.
Umber Ianos:
If I not be dead, aye.
The old sailor down by the docks agreed to help me get a ride south on the White Dragon (ship) if I help him get his bird Bird back. How difficult can that be? I keep wondering how much he really cares about that bird, however, if he was willing to risk gamble it away in a game of cups. But, hey, that's none of MY business.
The map merchant shouted to her the moment he spotted her coming into the marketplace.
Map Merchant:
Hey, you, what's going on? Why didn't you deliver any maps, yesterday?
April:
I wasn't around. Sorry.
Map Merchant:
Well, there are more maps to be delivered, and my customers are getting very impatient. Did you deliver the map to the Rolling Man?
April:
Yes sir.
Map Merchant:
All right, let me see his signature and I'll give you your next delivery.
He handed her a map after checking the delivery list she handed to him.
Map Merchant:
Your next delivery is to a Tun Luiec at "The Journey Man Inn".
She did not much like loose ends and decided to fulfill her job obligation after she had settlled the problem of getting passage on the White Dragon. The cups handler seemed to sense she was a potential customer this time as she approached and greeted her gaily.
Cups Handler:
How about a game of cups today?
April:
Okay, let's go.
Cups Handler:
Just place your bet -- uhm, investment -- on the table, and the game will begin.
She placed an aren on the red cloth which he covered with one of the three red cups and shuffled them with a swift whirl of hands. He gestured to the cups, inviting her to make her choice, highly confident she would lose, judging from his superior air. But she had an ace up her sleeve. Taking out the magnetic screwdriver, she touched the first cup as the cups handler frowned and looked to his amulet hanging above. The cup stayed quisent. The center cup glided away from the screwdriver as she brought it near. It had to be the one, for sure. She picked up the cup to reveal the aren. The cups handler stared in disbelief.
Cups Handler:
(stuttered) Uh... that's -- That's correct, but... that's.... (His face darkened) You used magic, didn't you! You used your magic wand!
April:
Nah-ah. Your amulet didn't light up, did it?
Cups Handler:
No, but -- But -- It's impossible!
April:
Because you used magic yourself? Because nobody's supposed to ever win your game? They have a name for people like you, sir. Con artist.
Cups Handler:
(apoplectic) What? I'm outraged, I'm... I'm... outraged!
April:
Whatever. I want my prize.
Cups Handler:
Prize? You don't get a prize for winning once! Especially when you're cheating, you cheat!
April:
You want I call the city guard? I demand a prize!
At that, the cups handler backed down as the bird in the cage watched with bright eyes.
Cups Handler:
Oh, by the gods of gambling... Here, take this, and leave me be!
He handed her a small slim rectangular object which she recognized at once.
April:
A calculator? Where did you get this?
Cups Handler:
Oh, I don't know. Won it off some guy who got it from someone else who'd supposedly been in Stark. It's a worthle -- I mean, it's a valuable souvenir from the mysterious and illusive World of Logic! Now...would you please let me be? Let someone else play, yes?
An old-fashioned calculator, was impractical in Arcadia but it might be useful in future. It was working fine as she touched the buttons. Her memory was not perfect but she thought the device was what they used back in the Elizabethan times. No telling how long it had been in Arcadia if it had been passed around, she pocketed it and turned back to the cups handler, slapping another aren on the table.
April:
I want to play.
Cups Handler:
No, no, no, not you, lady. Get your aren off my table.
April:
I have a right to play. I didn't use magic.
Cups Handler:
You did use that magic wand there. That's magic to me.
April:
No, it's science, not magic. There's no sogn that says "No science allowed", now is there?
Cups Handler:
What do you want from me?
April:
I want to play.
Cups Handler:
Sorry, lady, that magic wand of yours will put me out of business. I'd rather close up for the day than let you play another game.
April:
I'll make a trade with you. My screwd -- My magic wand, for one of your prizes. And then I'll leave your game alone.
Cups Handler:
(suspiciously) What's the catch?
April:
No catch. You get a screw -- Magic wand, and I get one of your "exotic prizes".
Cups Handler:
Hmmm. All right, fair enough. Which prize would you like?
April:
The talking bird.
Cups Handler:
(incredulous disbelief) That scraggly heap of... A fantastic choice, young lady! Hold on one second, and I'll get him for you. Fantastic choice. And I really, really mean that.
Carefully tucking away the screwdriver under the counter, he grabbed the bird from the cage and handed it to April who walked away a distance before putting it gently on the ground.
April:
So you're Bird, huh?
Crow:
Yeah, yeah, I'm -- wait a second, did the old man send you to get me?
April:
I guess he did. My name's April.
Crow:
Ye gods! Is there no escape? I mean, not that I liked being cooped up in a cage for gamblers to gawk at and children to spit at all day, but gimme a break, it's better than being locked away in a stinking chest! Thanks a whole bunch for "rescuing me", April.
April:
You're welcome.
Crow:
No, hey, that's not what I meant! I was being sarcastic. Do you know what "sarcastic" means? Speak Alltongue, yes, yes?
April:
No, actually I don't. I speak English.
Crow:
English? English? I don't know where you're from, lady, but you're weird. Okay, so lemme go already all right? Enough with the I'm-human-so-I-can-boss-the-bird-around schtick. We're all impressed.
April:
Sorry, I promised the old man I'd win you back. I need a favor from him. Badly.
Crow:
Yeah, so what's so important you'd sacrifice a bird's happiness and well-being?
April:
The fate of two worlds, billions of people, and the Balance.
Crow:
Yeah? Yeah? So... Oh, forget it.
April:
So were you always just "Bird", or did you have a better name?
Crow:
No, it's always been Bird. My full name is That Damn Bird, I learned that when I was two weeks old. "That damn bird", the old man would say. "No good ball of feathers!" Then he beat me with a stick.
April:
Really?
Crow:
Uhm... no. He'd just stick me in the chest and forget about me. Which is almost as bad as beating, believe me.
April:
I'm sorry to hear that... Bird. You know, if you were my bird, I think I'll call you Crow.
Crow:
Yeah, well, I'm my own bird, lady, and I don't... Crow? You'd call me Crow? That's a... pretty good name. It's a proper name at least, not just an insult.
April:
Anyways, I guess I'd better get you back to your master, Bird. He's pining for you.
Crow:
All he's pining for is coin to gamble with.
April:
It's really none of my business. Sorry.
Crow:
Suuure you are.
Resignedly, the bird let her picked him up again and back she went to the small pier.
April:
Here's your bird Bird, sir. It wasn't easy, but I got him back. I sure hope you're grateful.
Beaming happily, the old sailor greeted his pet with joy.
Umber Ianos:
Bird! Blessed be the Balance, me faithful friend and companion be back!
He stood up and opened the chest. Crow yelled as he was dumped into it.
Crow:
Nonono, not back in that chest, not in the che -- heeelp!
His cries were cut off abruptly as the lid thudded down on him. She felt like a traitor but she really did not have much of a choice.
April:
Now can you help me get passage on a ship?
Umber Ianos:
Aye, I be a man of me word, speak ye with captain Horatio Nebevay of the White Dragon, the ship being youse. Tell him Umber Ianos be sending youse to cash in on that old favor he be owin' me.
April:
Thanks, old man.
Umber Ianos:
Aye-arrr.
As she walked away, she hoped the bird would be okay. Captain Nebevay eyed her approach warily.
April:
Hello.
Captain Nebevay:
Uh-huh.
April:
You know old Umber Ianos, don't you?
Captain Nebevay:
The old drunk? Aye, he be a good captain once, but ever since he lost his ship he hasn't been much worth to anyone.
April:
Be that as it may, you do owe him a favor, right?
Captain Nebevay:
Uh... aye, that I do. He saved my life more than once and I wouldn't be captain of this beautiful lady if it weren't for him.
April:
Guess what -- I'm here to cash in on that favor.
Captain Nebevay:
Jaal be damned, what did you do for the old geezer? Promise him your hand in marriage?
April:
Don't you mind that, old boy, just get ready to sail south. You're giving me a lift ot the island fo Alais. I mean, since you're already heading for Ge'en.
Captain Nebevay:
I am? That could prove a little tricky.
April:
How come?
Captain Nebevay:
For one, there is no wind. That accursed alchemist up north has put some kind of spell on the wind. Klacks, I believe his name is. Roper Klacks. Lives in a bloody rock somewhere beyond Riverwood. As long as he's got his dirty claws on the wind, this vessel ain't going nowhere. Then there's the little problem with my crew. I can't very well leave the harbor without a navigator, and my last one decided he didn't much care for the sea anymore and went off to marry a serving maid.
April:
But... okay, let's say I manage to free the wind and find you a new navigator. Then will you drop me off on Alais?
Captain Nebevay:
Hah! You think you will be able to defeat Klacks, free the wind, and find me a new navigator? By Jaal's pus-filled left eye, if you do such a trick, then aye, I'll take you wherever you wish to go! Most likely they'll be holding your funeral within the week, girl (laughs). Just leave the madman be, and let the army deal with him.
April:
Never you mind, as long as you keep your promise and take me to Alais.
Captain Nebevay:
What's with Alais anyhow? It's been deserted for hundreds of years, ever since the Dolmari fell victim to the Great Plague.
April:
I need to visit the Alatien people, to listen to some of their stories.
Captain Nebevay:
As if there aren't stories enough here. Huh, It takes all sorts, that be for sure.
I've turned into everybody's little errand-boy. Girl. Person. I do one favor for one person, and BOOM, I'm running around the entire Northlands solving people's problems. This time it's some wacked out magician...sorry, alchemist...up north somewhere. He has - get this - captured the wind. How the hell do you capture the wind? I mean, I can just wave my hand a bit, and, voila! Instant wind! But who am I to argue? Magic's never really been my forté. So I don't have a choice, I'll have to travel north, try to talk this alchemist, this Roper Klacks guy, into releasing the wind, and then come back here. I don't even know how much time we have left before chaos destroys the worlds, but I'll have to hurry. And since I'm not particularly familiar with the lay of the Northlands (so to speak), I'll need a map.
Diary Entry
Wait a minute, she had a map of the Northlands. The map she had to deliver to a customer at the Journey Man Inn. Well, she could deliver it after she had taken notes of where she had to go. Gently, she unfurled the scroll. There was a direct road she could take up north, leading into the forest and past the mountains. After drawing a rough copy of the route in her diary, she made her way to the Journeyman Inn.
April:
Excuse me.
Innkeeper:
Yes? Ah, it's you.
April:
I'm looking for a guest of yours, Tun Luiec?
Innkeeper:
The sailor? She is looking for work today, I am afraid. With most of the ships moored to the docks for Balance knows how long, it is difficult for sailors to find work.
April:
Do you know when Tun Luiec is expected back?
Innkeeper:
I could not tell you, child, but from what I know of the ships in harbor, she will not find one that needs a navigator any time soon.
April:
Thank you, ma'am.
Innkeeper:
You're welcome, child.
It looked like she would have to make her delivery after her tour up north and also quite possibly, she had also found a replacement navigator for Captain Nebevay, if he would accept a woman.
She left the city through the city gates and headed north. Neat enclosed farmlands lay just outside the city. The rustic farmhouses and the barns reminded her of home. The cattle grazing in the fields, however, were weird. Definitely not the kind of cattle they bred in Kansas. They looked like a crossbreed of ram, tapir and baffalo with their curled horns, broad heads, long snouts and fur coats. Past the plains of the farmlands were the forest and mountains. Carved into the mountainside were enormous monuments. The closest was of a man holding a horn to his lips, as if to summon something. She wondered what they were, what they were made for? The north road was a dirt track which probably turned muddy and difficult to travel on when it rained. As it was, it was dry and she hoped it stayed that way. She did not have the gear to deal with rain and mud. On the other hand, it was doubtful there would be any rain as there was no wind. Humming a little tune, she stepped off briskly in the direction of the forest. Behind her, a panting little creature landed on the city walls and groaned as she disappeared among the trees. Glumly, it fluttered off after her. Light filtering through the thick canopy of the forest trees and the cheerful songs of birds cast a tranquil green ambience, lulling her to a leisurely stroll. Bright green luminous insects flitted among the trees. There were hardly any signs of human activity in the pristine forest except for a discarded wagon wheel that lay rotting against a tree. A flurry of wings and a black feathered bird landed in front of her.
Crow:
(panting) Do you always travel like you got a two-headed Basparian nymphate on your tail? I couldn't keep up half the time.
April:
(astonished) Crow? Is that you? (She hunkered down to talk to him)
Crow:
Of course, there was that pair of stunning robin redbreasts... Twins, did you know? It's not as if I could just leave them without a kiss or two. Or twelve as it turned out. Ah, maybe I'm just outta shape after being stuck in boxes, cages and knapsacks for the past twenty years.
April:
I guess it is you.
Crow:
Of course it's me! How many birds do you know with both good looks and a sense of humor?
April:
You got a sense of humor?
Crow:
Oh, funny, that's funny.
April:
What are you doing here, Crow?
Crow:
(peeved) What am I doing here? What am I doing here? How about a "nice to see you, Crow", or "I've missed you so much, Crow", or at least a "glad to see you outta that chest, Crow".
April:
It is nice to see you, Crow. How did you escape?
Crow:
(preened) Cunning, m'lady. Of course, that keg of Androgan stone-liquor the old geezer got his hands on didn't hurt. I've never seen such a shameful display of public drunkenness in my life. Well, not since the last time I had a thimbleful of wine. Boy, were those ladies in for a surprise. When they were told I could talk, I'm sure they didn't count on my encyclopedic knowledge of Dolmari obscenities. The old man was gonna gamble me away again, y'know? Went straight back to the cups handler after the, uhm, celebration. So I decided to split before they put me back in the cage. That place was like a prison, without the amenities. And let's not even mention the food. Did you ever try roasted Elgwan dung? Ugh, ptuui... Well, don't. Ever. So I pecked a button here and some soft tissue there, and fled. I had nowhere else to fly, so I decided to join you on your, uh, quest. It sounded like a spot of good, old fashioned fun. Like a Bird's Own adventure. It's not as if I came after you because I like you, though. You don't have any feathers.
April:
Thank God for that. Okay, if you want to join me, I wouldn't mind some company. I'm guessing you'll be using your wings, though, and not your feet?
Crow:
The ground's no place for a free spirit like myself, baby. Besides. I hear there are a lot of good looking birds in this forest, and lemme tell you, they don't parade about on the ground like winged chickens. Just try to slow down once in a while, let me catch up?
April:
Sure. But how do I get your attention if I need to talk to you?
Crow:
Can you whistle, like this? (whistled shrilly)
April:
Sorry. But wait a second, I got a little flute. I could use it to call you.
Crow:
I'm not a sheepdog, let's get that straight. You play your tune and I'll consider your request. I won't be flapping to attention like a tamed soldier hawk.
April:
Deal. We'd better get moving, though. It's getting late.
Crow:
Aye, aye, cap'n. I'll try to keep an eye out ahead, in case there's, uh, trouble.
Monday, July 31st. I have no idea what year it is in Arcadia.
On the road north.
I made a friend! He's very nice, very funny...and he's a bird. A talking bird. Crow, né Bird. He's not actually a crow, but he reminds me of one, and his personality is a lot like Crowboy's, my favorite cartoon character. He escaped from his owner (or captor, to be honest) and decided to join me on my little "adventure". I'm just sooo happy to have somebody to talk to, and with luck he'll be able to help me out once in a while as well. We agreed that I'll use my flute to call on him whenever I need him.
You may not be able to tell from my writing, but there's a big, silly grin on my face right now!
Unbeknownst to her, small feral eyes watched as she walked away down the dirt road. As she rounded a bend, the sound of rustling grass stopped her. She turned around to see a small bipedal mole creature, stepping cautiously out from behind some trees. It had not seen her yet, the bend and a tree hiding her from its sight. It looked this way and that, checking that the coast was clear before stepping on to the road. And stopped in fear when it saw her.
Young Mole-Man:
Oh dear, oh dear me. (pleading) Please, human, don't kill me and skin me! I haven't even sing to the Soil yet.
April:
Your coat does look very nice and fluffy...
Young Mole-Man:
Oh dear me, you think so? But it's mine!
April:
I'm not a poacher, so don't worry. I'm just kidding.
Young Mole-Man:
Oh my, I do not know if I enjoyed your jest. Humans have a strange sense of humor. You are human, are you not?
April:
Sure I am.
April:
Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you or skin you.
Young Mole-Man:
Oh my, that is good news, very good indeed. Who are you?
April:
My name's April. What's yours?
Young Mole-Man:
In my language it's Bandu-umanu-banta-au-rubana-biutan-binaort. It means "the little one who tries hard to live up to his father who sings to the Soil".
April:
That's a mouthful. So, uh, what do I call you?
Young Mole-Man:
You can call me Ben-Bandu, the sad Little One. Banda is the name of my people. We are the Little Ones.
April:
Aren't your people called the Mole-people?
Young Mole-Man:
That's what the city-dwellers and farmers call us. They say it with a sharp tongue. Moles. Dirt-diggers. They don't like us very much. Our given name is Banda, the Little Ones, or the Banda-banta, "the Little Ones who sing to the Soil".
April:
How do you sing to the soil?
Young Mole-Man:
When we're old enough, and we've found our voice, we just sing, and the earth shapes itself to our needs. We live in harmony with the earth, just like the birds do with the air.
April:
Why are you sad, Ben-Bandu?
Young Mole-Man:
I'm looking for my brother. He's been gone in the forest for many days, and I've not heard him sing to us. Our people don't walk about the forest much. It's too dangerous for us. You haven't seen my brother, have you? He's short, about my height, with a tan coat and a mischievous glint in his eye.
April:
You're the first mole -- The first Banda I've met.
Young Mole-Man:
Oh dear. I hope he's all right. A lot of our people have disappeared this summer.
April:
What happened to the Banda that disappeared?
Young Mole-Man:
We don't really know, but there's something evil in this forest, something that doesn't like the Banda. I shouldn't be out here, looking, but I must find my brother.
April:
If I see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him.
Young Mole-Man:
Oh thank you, thank you ever so much.
April:
Good luck on your search, Ben-Bandu, sad Little One.
Young Mole-Man:
And the best of luck to you, April. Please, if you see my brother, tell him to come home. We are all so very worried.
So saying, it scurried off. Two at a search was better than one, time to test if Crow would respond to her call. She took out the flute and blew a short tune. A flutter of wings answered her after a few minutes.
April:
Hey Crow, would you mind doing me a favor?
Crow:
I was having this tete-a-tete with a pretty young sparrow, but hey, Crow at your service. Did you say favor? Sure thing... unless it's something extremely... no, no, make that, even remotely dangerous. I don't like dangerous.
April:
Not at all. Just scout out the forest from your vantage point, see if you can find Ben-Bandu's brother.
Crow:
Ben-who?
April:
The Mole I just met. I thought you were supposed to be watching me. Didn't you pay attention?
Crow:
No. Mole, you said? They are savages, the lot of them. Eat birds, even.
April:
Crow, I eat birds. You probably do too.
Crow:
Mmm, I love roasted duckling in a tangy orange -- Oh, yeah, yeah, I see your point. Looking for a lost Mole then, are we?
April:
Yeah, and they're called the Banda.
Crow:
I never got into that whole PC thing. "It's not tyrocks, it's the Tyren. Don't say chicks, say birds. Don't say birds, say women". I dunno, it's all a little too complicated for a simple man of the air like myself.
April:
Just go look for the lost Mo-- The lost Bandu, okay?
Crow:
Yes, ma'am.
As Crow flew off, she continued up the road and came to a broken bridge. Dismayed, she examined it to see if there was any chance of crossing at all but it looked like it had been completely destroyed. The edges were charred. Whatever had caused it, it could not have been floodwater or simple wear and tear. More likely, it was burnt. Deliberately? Accidentally? She looked across to the other side. The road continued on at the other end of the bridge. She would have to find some other way across as the gorge and the river were too deep. She paused to write in her diary.
I had my first encounter with a Banda today (saying "Mole-man" is, apparently, like a racial epithet, and a big no-no with these people). His name was Ben Bandu. He was a really sweet man (or boy, or whatever he was - I can't really tell), but he was sad. Ben had lost his brother in the forest, and he was looking for him. I told him I'd keep my eyes open, and I urged Crow to do the same. I hope he's all right. Because if he isn't, this forest is probably not such a friendly place after all...
As she backtracked, she saw someone sitting by the dirt road. It looked like an old woman who seemed to be in pain as she held on to her right leg. The woman's face was partially hidden by the grey hooded tunic she wore. She did not look up even as April approached her. A faint musky rotten smell hovered around the old woman sent a shiver down her spine.
The Gribbler:
Oh please, pretty lady, pretty please, help me! I've fallen and I can't... ssstand up.
April:
What happened to you?
The Gribbler:
Oh, I was out picking bonesss -- Berries... berries for my stew... and... and flowers, yes, pretty flowersss! But then I tripped over a big old root, and twisted my ankle. It hurts ssso. Please help me home, pretty lady. Please?
The old woman's speech was so sibilant that she sounded like a snake ... or else she had too many teeth in her mouth.
April:
Who are you?
The Gribbler:
Oh, I'm nobody, nobody at all, just a frail old woman picking bonesss --- Berries! Picking berries for her stew so she can feed her pris -- Guests! Feed her guestsss, and fatten them up for the... long winter.
April:
Where do you live?
The Gribbler:
I live not far from here, not far from at all, no. Help me home and I'll cook you a fine stew, I promissse, yes, I promise. Just help me home, and I'll reward you for your compassion, yes, you'll have your reward.
April:
Why do you keep swallowing your words?
The Gribbler:
Because I'm just a frail, old, forgetful woman. Yesss.
April:
I'm sorry, but I'm busy.
The Gribbler:
No, no, pleassse! Please help a frail, old woman home. Please, please, pretty pleassse, help me home!
April:
All right, I'll help you home.
She could not help but noticed the old woman's long talon like fingernails as she pulled her to her feet.
The Gribbler:
I ssstill need your help, plump pudd -- Pretty girl. I can't walk all the way home by myssself, you see. Help me home, and I'll cook you ... a good, thick, creamy stew. Yum. I'm getting hungry myself. Let's go!
April:
I can't, sorry.
(April changed her mind and deicded to help the old woman)
The Gribbler:
Have you decided to be good and kind and help an old woman home, my sssweet?
April:
Lead the way, ma'am.
The Gribbler:
Yesss, let's go. Come on, jussst follow me, my sssweet treat!
The old woman was very eager to show her the way and to April's immense surprise, hobbled off into the forest without waiting for her "help". At times, she seemed to remember and stopped to clutch at her arm, only to dropped it and hobbled off again in her excitement. They had completely left the north road and April was not sure if she should forget about the entire matter and returned to her own journey. But then, she had promised that ... nice old woman to visit her home so she should do that. Besides, she was not certain she would be able to find her way back without some guiding directions. She was not the rugged outdoorsy type. And not very much incline to go stumbling around an unknown forest. The path they were taking led down to a mould. The old woman paused to hiss triumphantly at the door set into the side of the mould before disappearing into it. April peered through a small window but it was too dim within. From outside, it looked like a cozy little burrow, like a hobbit hole. The roots of a tree, with red mushrooms sprouting on them, drapped themselves over the barrow. The mushrooms did not seem like the edible sort to April as they looked cancerous and ugly. She'd rather not touch them. The old woman shut the door behind her as she entered and April had the uneasy feeling that she had been caged as she glanced at the dim surroundings.
The Gribbler:
Come on, come on, honored guessst, I'll just check on my stuffi -- On my ssstew, yesss, my thick, deliciousss ssstew.
She stirred the contents of a cauldron hanging from a fireplace crane and exclaimed.
The Gribbler:
Oh dear, what have we here? Thisss ssstew isssn't good enough to ssstuff -- to ssserve a guessst as plump -- as well-built and deliciousss -- as honored as you, my dear. Why don't you jussst wait here and I will go pick sssome beriesss and ssspices for my ssstuff -- my ssstew.
April:
But wait, what about your bad back?
The old woman seemed not to hear and hobbled out quickly, shutting the door firmly in April's startled face.
April:
What a ssstrange -- I mean, what a strange woman. (She tried the door) The door's locked from the outside. ... Wait a second, the door is locked? Oh my God, the door is locked! I'm trapped!
She looked uneasily at the large fireplace, which seemed a little too big for an old woman living alone, unless she was fond of entertaining many guests. The fire was burning fiercely. She retreated hastily after looking into the cauldron. Something was cooking all right. She just could not put her finger on what, exactly. The odour was making her queasy so she moved further away and bumped into a pillar behind her. The pillar rocked slightly from the impact, causing the loose floorboard under it to creak loudly. She grabbed hold of the pillar, afraid it would topple. Near the fireplace was a wooden table with a tablecloth made of some kind of animal skin which she was not incline to examine too closely.
A muffled sound gave her a fright and she looked around wildly. Something was not quite right about the place. It had that same musky rotten smell as the old woman. The decor was horribly grotesque as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Light flickered on a couple of ivory skulls on a table, that looked disturbingly humanoid. One in particular was rather small, like that of a child. Good God. She was now convinced that the old "woman" was no such thing at all. The wisest course was to get out of there at once but the sole window was too small for her to squeeze through. If only she had a weapon to defend herself. She looked at the rusty chains running into pulleys overhead. Too heavy and clumsy to use. A set of metal shackles and tools that resembled torture devices were riveted to the wall. And smeared with what looked like dried blood. What did the creature do to people? There was another muffled sound followed by thumps. She looked around for the scource. A large broom leaned next to a sturdy cupboard with a chain wound around it. It was locked tight as she tried to open it.
From within, came a muffled voice and thumps. It sounded like somebody was trapped inside the cabinet! There was nothing she could use to break the lock but the broom which turned out to be rather heavy as she lifted it. It was too unwieldy to swing so she stuck the handle of the broom behind the cupboard and used it as a lever to toppple the cupboard. It fell to the floor with a resounding crash, raising a small cloud of dust. The top of the cupboard broke off and a fubsy Banda came rolling out. She was certain she had found the missing brother of Ben-Bandu.
Captured Mole-Man:
Oh dear me. (It picked itself off the floor and looked at her fearfully) Who are you? Are you going to eat me?
April:
I'm April, and I've come to rescue you.
Captured Mole-Man:
Oh my, did my tribe send you?
April:
So to speak. I met your brother, Ben-Bandu.
Captured Mole-Man:
Ben-Bandu? Bandu-umanu-banta-au-rubana-biutan-binaort?
April:
I think so. He said to call him Ben-Bandu.
Captured Mole-Man:
Because he was sad for me? He will be so glad to find that you'vre rescued me, then!
April:
Uhm, yeah. There could be a tiny, little problem with that.
Captured Mole-Man:
The Gribbler captured you too?
April:
I guess she -- it -- whatever "the Gribber" is, did capture me. Took me by surprise, that, since I come here willingly.
Captured Mole-Man:
That's how she works, the Gribbler. She tricks Banda -- and humans -- to come here to her house, and then she cooks them and eats them.
April:
Friendly old lady she's not. What's your name?
Captured Mole-Man:
Bandu-uta-matuta-uiaten-aiama-binaort.
April:
That's a little difficult for me to remember. How about I call you Bandu-uta?
Captured Mole-Man:
Oh my, yes, yes that would be fine. We have long names, us Banda. As long as our tunnels.
April:
You can tell me more about your people later. Right now we need to find a way out of here.
I've been tricked! I should've known something was wrong with that old woman. I mean, she was drooling and slobbering all over me, she kept tripping over her words and saying stuff like "prisoners" instead of "guests", and her teeth were abnormally large. But still! If you can't trust sweet old ladies who've hurt their leg picking berries in the forest, who CAN you trust? Hansel and Gretel, my heart goes out to you kids...
All kidding aside, however, we need to get the HELL outta here before the bitch comes back. But how?
After a fruitless search for another exit, it looked like the only means of escape was the window. It was just big enough for the Banda. She grabbed the smaller skull from the table reluctantly, the empty eye sockets staring forlornly at her. She wondered who it used to be, back when it had a face. That was just too morbid a thought. She shuddered with revulsion, muttered an apology to the former owner for what she was going to do and threw it at the window. It shattered, leaving bits of jagged pieces behind which she pulled out before turning to the Banda.
April:
Come over here, let's try something.
Captured Mole-Man:
Oh dear, oh dear me.
April:
I'm gonna get you outta here. Hold on.
Grabbing him by the arms and gasping at the weight, she hoisted him to the window. With a wriggle, he slipped through and to her consternation, hit the ground running.
April:
Hey, wait a second! I need you to open the door for me! Don't run off! (He did not seem to hear and soon disappeared into the forest) (vexed) What the hell am I gonna do now?
Just then, the door opened and she froze as the Gribbler called out gaily.
The Gribbler:
I am back with the berriesss, and ... what'sss happened here, why isss the ...
The broken cupboard spoke volumns and the Gribbler realised the game was up. She growled viciously, the hood falling back to reveal a monstrous countenance and a slobbering mouth filled with sharp teeth.
The Gribbler:
... what have you done, you ssstupid little human?
April:
I -- I just saved an innocent person from becoming your dinner, Gribbler! So there!
The Gribbler:
Ssso you think you can come into my houssse and ssset my dinner free, and get away with it?
April:
Uh... well... I will get away with it! Because soon, a lot of people, armed people, will come to get me and to kill you, so you'd better ... you'd better run away while you still have a chance!
The Gribbler:
I guesss you will be my dinner tonight, then. And I had hoped to sssave you for tomorrow.
April dodged to the fireplace table as the Gribbler lunged for her, using it to keep it at bay. She could not keep it up indefinitely, sooner or later she would be outmaneuvered so she must bring about an end in the next few minutes. Her foot hit the loose floorboard under the table and it gave her an idea. She feinted to the left, the Gribbler following suit which placed her before the cauldron. Stooping quickly, April pulled up the loose plank with all her strength. The force jarred the shaky pillar which toppled into the fireplace crane, which in turn swung the cauldron into the Gribbler's back. There was a sharp crack of breaking bones and a howl as the Gribbler was flung into the roaring fireplace where she lay still and silent, roasting in the fire in which she had cooked her hapless victims. Relief flooded April. Now that the crisis was over she felt slightly chilled by the sweat of adrenaline and fear which had driven her seconds ago. A foul roasting stench began to fill the room and she hurried out of the barrow for fresh air. To her astonishment, she spied a Banda hurrying down the path towards her. It was Ben-Bandu.
April:
Hi Ben.
Ben-Bandu:
(anxiously) Oh dear, oh dear, where is the monster?
April:
She, uh, vanished like a smoke up the chimney. Do you know what happened to your brother? He just ran off, didn't even stop to say goodbye.
Ben-Bandu:
I met him back on the road. He was running like the wind, said that when you helped him out the window, he spotted the Gribbler returning, so he went to get help. I told him to alert the whole village, gather as many of the Banda as possible, and come back here, and that I'd try my best to aid you in the meanwhile.
April:
Thank you, that was very brave of you.
Ben-Bandu:
Brave of me? Oh my. You defeated the Gribbler. You are a hero. I owe the life of my brother to you, the life of everyone in our tribe. I know my fellow Banda will want to reward you for your gracious deeds. You are invited to our village with me, and I will tell my people to prepare a grand feast for you!
April:
You don't have to do that, Ben. I just did what anybody would have done.
Ben-Bandu:
But you did it. Give me your map, and I will show you where our village is. Then I must run ahead to tell the Banda that the Gribbler is no more!
Monday, late afternoon.
Wow. What a day THIS has been. I met a bunch of new people (including a couple of furry guys and a talking bird), killed an old witch, freed a captured Bandu and was invited to the Banda village for a feast in MY honor.
Compare this to last week, when the dramatic highlight of my day was getting sausage on my pizza instead of pepperoni.
I feel so...empowered. And starving!
He skipped off after marking it down in her map. The Banda village lay to the south-east of the forest, near the river. It was already night when she walked down the path to a glade, heartily glad to see the warm glow of fires. A crowd of Banda was gathered around a bonfire sparkling merrily in the center of a fireplace ringed with stones. Ben-Bandu spotted her and ran up eagerly.
Ben-Bandu:
April!! (The Banda gave a rousing cheer) I'm so glad you could come to our village and sit by our fires so we can thank you in the proper manner.
April:
It's my privilege, Ben-Bandu. I wouldn't want to pass through this forest without visiting your village and seeing for myself how the Banda people live.
Ben-Bandu:
Oh my, you speak so eloquently. My brothers sits by the fire -- I know he wishes to speak with you. But the Elder would speak with you first. (He pointed past the bonfire to a hammock strung on the trunk of a twisted tree on top of a mould) He rests in his hammock up on the mound. Go speak with him, and then come down again so we can celebrate the death of the Gribbler and the brave escape of April Ryan and Ben-Bandu's brother.
He rejoined his brother as she made her way up the mound and saw a familiar bird basking itself at the fire near the hammock. It was Crow. When did he get there? She would have a word with him later. The Elder looked up from its snug hammock. Its fur a dark grey, unlike the black of the younger Banda.
Elder Mole-Man:
The hero of the day comes to visit the old Bandu! (He beckoned to her) Let me see your face, human. Make yourself shorter! (She stooped down as he requested) That's much better. The human is closer to the Soil, now, and she may even feel it like we do -- moving, shaping itself, breathing, beating.
April:
I don't feel anything, sorry.
Elder Mole-Man:
So the human is not a digger, but we don't judge her because of that. The human is a hero, she is.
April:
Don't call me that. I'm not a hero. I was just in the right place at the right time to help somebody out.
Elder Mole-Man:
She destroyed the evil that haunted our forest, and rescued one of our Little Ones from the creatures of chaos, and so she is a hero. She's the one spoken of in our songs, is she not? The one who will deliver us from an evil presence, and who will go on to save the Balance? You are she, are you not?
April:
(uneasily) I don't know.
Elder Mole-Man:
Well, we will see, we will see. You will sleep in our Spirit Dig tonight, and then tomorrow... We will see. But now, you must enjoy yourself! This feast is in your honor, to show our appreciation for your courage.
April:
Thank you.
Elder Mole-Man:
Go! Eat and drink, and dance, and then go to sleep in the Spirit Dig. We will talk tomorrow, before you continue your journey. You are on a journey, are you not?
April:
A very long one, yeah.
Elder Mole-Man:
We are all on a journey, but yours is the most important one... ever. So go! I will smoke my pipe and think on prophecies and songs. Go!
He waved her away before pulling out a pipe. Crow did not seem to know she was there. Some watchbird he was.
April:
Crow?
Crow:
Oh, hey! I was, uh, wondering what happened to you. ... What did happen to you?
April:
I thought you were suppsoed to help me out in the search! I could've used some assistance this afternoon.
Crow:
Uh, yeah, but I did find some Mol -- Some Banda, didn't I? Just not the one we were looking for, is all. And besides, I was beat! My wings can only carry me so far before I need a twig to rest on and a couple of juicy berries. Speaking of berries, did you taste the ones they got here? The word is yum. Big yum. I don't know what they soak them in, but man!
April:
Well, at least you're okay.
Crow:
Oh, sure. You know me. I could use a good flea plucking, though. Care to reward me for my diligence?
April:
Diligence? Hah!
Crow:
I'm guessing I'll be plucking my own fleas tonight, then, and I'm okay with that. I'm blaming you if I wake up with a crick in the neck tomorrow, though.
Shaking her head, she made her way to the Bandu brothers who were sitting apart from the main group.
Bandu-uta:
Oh dear, it's April! Sit, sit down!
He gestured to the space between him and his brother. She sat down cross-legged and accepted the little bowl of water he handed to her. It tasted like nectar as she quenched her thirst.
April:
Are you feeling all right? I thought you'd disappeared on me back at the Gribbler's lair.
Bandu-uta:
Oh dear, I do apologize. I saw the Gribbler return from the forest, so I ran into the bushes and headed straight for the village. I was going to get help, you understand. But then, I bumped into my brother, and I told him what was happening.
April:
Well, I'm glad you're okay.
Bandu-uta:
Thanks to you, April. How did you kill the Gribbler?
April:
Lots of luck and a little bit of quick thinking. My limited talents in the martial arts were woefully underused.
Bandu-uta:
Were you frightened?
April:
I don't think I've ever been so frightened in my entire life. Kinda exhilarating, actually. Although, at this point, I think I've had quite enough excitement for a lifetime.
Bandu-uta:
Oh. Dear me! I could never be as brave as you, April. Ever.
The brothers served her food - edible for humans fortunately though they were mainly fruits and nuts with something on the protein side which she was not going to ask about, on little clay plates as a Banda came by now and then to shyly offer her some delicacies they had prepared before rejoining the chattering crowd at the bonfire. The night was filled with the trill of insects, the murmur of happy voices and the crackling of warm fires. She was glad to have friendly company, food and shelter. She had been dreading the prospect of spending a cold open night in a strange forest. With the edge of her hunger taken care of, serious eating gave way to leisurely nibbling and conversation.
April:
What is this Spirit Dig the Elder told me about?
Ben-Bandu:
Oh, it's a sacred place, a very sacred place. It's where we, the Banda, can speak with out ancestors, ask them questions and learn from their wisdom.
April:
Yeah? Well, the Elder said I was to sleep there tonight.
Ben-Bandu:
He did? The Elder said that? Then you have been honored by him, April. Only those worthy of the spirits of our ancestors can spend the night in the Spirit Dig.
April:
Where is the Spirit Dig?
Ben-Bandu:
Right behind you, at the foot of our green.
She turned around to spy a low entrance to a barrow. Time to turn in, she was exhausted.
April:
Enjoy the party, guys. (She got to her feet)
Ben-Bandu:
Oh, but it's in your honor, April. You must enjoy yourself too!
Ensuring him that she had, she bid the brothers good night and entered the barrow. It was the size of a small room and comfortably warm, Banda sized mushroom-like chairs were arranged in a circle around a hearth in the center. Red embers glowed and smoke drifted lazily with a very pleasant, very mellow, texture to it. The roots of a tree protruded to hug the wall. Below it were two metal semi-circle grids. Peering through them, she could see tunnels extending down into the earth. Off to one side was a bed, she pressed it experimentally. Made with twigs and moss. Not as comfortable as a real mattress but it'd do. She would just lie down for a few, no ... screw that. She was getting a good night's sleep, that was what she was doing. She had never been so tired in her life. The bed was a little small but that did not deter her from dropping off into dreamland.
In the midst of her slumber, a reverberating voice woke her.
Spirit April:
What the hell do you think you're doing?
It sounded familiar. She sat up and looked for the source.
April:
Wh - What?
Spirit April:
What are you doing here, you arrogant bitch? You don't think you can really save the world, can you?
April:
Who are you?
Like a switch flicked on, a woman appeared, sitting on one of the mushroom chairs in the furthest corner of the room. To April's confusion, she was dressed like herself.
Spirit April:
Oh, don't tell me you don't recognize me, April Ryan. (Blinking her eyes hard, April found herself staring at her own mirror image) I'm you.
April:
That's impossible. This is just another dream. I must be dreaming.
Spirit April:
Think again, loser. This is as real as it gets.
April:
Why are you here?
Spirit April:
I'm seding you home, that's what. You're a sad little twit, don't you realize that? There's no point subjecting the entire world -- hey, two worlds! -- to your feeble attempts at redeemining yourself, is there?
April:
Go away. Leave me alone.
Spirit April:
How the hell am I supposed to that, Einstein? I am you. You are me. Unfortunately for the both of us, we're inseparable.
April:
I don't need this Freudian id crap, not now. There's so much I have to do, so many people I have to help.
Spirit April:
Oh yeah, like you really believe that, like you really give a shit about those people. You're doing this for yourself, April, and that's why you're gonna fail.
April:
Shut up.
Spirit April:
"Shut up". That's always your way out, isn't it? Telling people to shut up when they speak the truth and shutting them out when they get too close for comfort? Hey, don't tell me "I do it because Daddy hurt me". Screw that. How do you think you're gonna hold up when this job gets tough if you can't rely on anybody, or believe in anything?
April:
I'm doing it, aren't I?
Spirit April:
Yeah, because what kind of choice do you have? Face your problems back home? Face the nightmares? I don't think so. So you run, and you think you're putting distance between yourself and your fear of the past and the present... but all you're doing is running straight into an inevitable nervous breakdown. Like right now -- you're talking to yourself, April. Not that's not something a mentally stable person would do, is it?
April:
(She had had enough, she clapped her hands to her ears and shouted) Shut up. Shut up. (The vision of herself vanished and a deep voice shushed her gently) Charlie? Charlie, is that you? (Charlie appeared where her other self had sat)
Spirit Charlie:
Shhh, don't you worry, I'm here, I'll take good care of you.
April:
Oh God, Charlie, I'm so glad that... you're... you're... You're not here, you can't be. I'm still dreaming.
Spirit Charlie:
No. No, you't not dreaming. I'm here, but in spirit only.
April:
Is it -- is it really you, Charlie?
Spirit Charlie:
We are Charlie, your friend. We feel his heart and his mind, and his sleeping spirit joins us. But we speak from the great Digs of the beyond, where the songs of the Banda never end.
April:
You're the dead?
Spirit Charlie:
We have passed into the Soil. We are spirits, and we have come to guide you.
April:
Why Charlie? Why do you show me Charlie?
Spirit Charlie:
He loves you, and so he guides us here, into your heart and mind.
April:
He loves me? Charlie loves me?
Spirit Charlie:
You are not alone in the world, April. There are many who care for you, your friends and your family. Your real family. You are not alone on your journey through life.
April:
What do you know about my family... my real family?
Spirit Charlie:
They watch out for you, April. That's all we know. They have never abandoned you. They have just let you live the life you needed to live... to understand. It's important that you understand.
April:
Understand what?
Spirit Charlie:
That life, even when difficult and painful, is a gift. That love is priceless, and rare, and precious. That every good action, every good thought, counts. And that a single person can make a difference, can change the world, if she puts her mind to it. if she believes in herself and the people who believe in her.
April:
But everything is so frightening... I don't understand half of what goes on around me.
Spirit Charlie:
Did not the Mother say she would help you, watch out for you? Did not Charlie and Emma, your friends, offer to give you a helping hand when you didn't even tell them the truth about what was going on? And Cortez the Red, did he not prove himself a friend as well? How, then, can you be so afraid when you have so many spirits to be with you in your darkest hour?
April:
Cortez the Red? Please tell me what I have to do. I'm just fumbling in the dark here.
Spirit Charlie:
Follow your heart and your spirit, April, and use your mind. These are your weapons, and with them you will defeat Chaos. When you wake, tell the Elder that you've had a Bak-Baar, that you've spoken with the Banda spirits, and that your name amongst our people is now April Bandu-embata, "April, Digger, who will seek and find".
The vision vanished and she fell back asleep.