The cart was pretty much loaded by the time I got my trunk downstairs. I double checked the room to make sure I hadn't left anything behind after dragging my trunk into the hall, then one of the porters came and helped me. I had to get on the other side of it, though. We wound the thing down the main stairwell, and through the front office door. He went out the Halfling door by mistake, so I had to duck a little going through, but I managed it. By the time we had gotten out into the yard, things had quieted down a bit. Mr. Boflin took my end of the trunk, and they loaded it onto the wagon. It nearly tipped, and I heard a jingling clatter from the strong box. Mrs. Boflin was hugging her daughter tightly, wishing her goodbye. Dad came up and loudly told me we were going. He asked me, in public(!) if I had used the bathroom. I was so embarrassed I prayed to Hattori to open up the ground beneath me like the long-suffering heroine in that story. Of course, I'm not marrying an orc or anything, but the rules apply. I was waiting to say my farewells to Mr. and. Mrs Boflin when Tarry came up and tapped me, quickly and nervously, on the back of my elbow. I think he would have liked to have done me shoulder, but he couldn't reach it. He stood there silently, for a moment, looking at the ground. I thought he was being unusually shy. Finally, he mumbled what he had to say.
“I'm real sorry about yesterday. Uh, You got hurt, and it was my fault.” He said it to the dirt, but I'm sure it was meant for me.
“Don't worry about it. It's our secret.” I bent down. “But you're going to have to stop going off on your own like that. Your sister isn't going to be here to protect you, and she'll worry.” It felt weird talking like this to someone my own age. Maybe I shouldn't have said it that way, because he looked up at me fierce eyes.
“You don't get it. I'm not just running off. I'm being called to battle. It's hard to say how, I just know that I have to sometimes. The town's in danger! I just want to save everyone, but then my vision always goes red, and... and... he couldn't go any further. He broke down sobbing and I hugged him close. He was the same as me, and I didn't know what to say to him. I was going to learn about myself, but what would happen to him? Without his sister to protect and look after him, would they lock him up? I knelt down and let him cry on my shoulder. I knew everyone was watching us, but I whispered in his ear.
“You have a wonderful gift, Tarry. I saw it yesterday. But you owe it to everyone you care about not to let it consume you. Train, and study, and grow stronger. When your family really needs you, be ready.” I don't know why I said that, but it felt like the right thing to say. Tarry stopped crying and reached into his pocket. I thought he was going to pull out that fist of his, but instead, he came out with a long silvery chain. At the end, was a large pendant, about an inch tall, in the shape of a bird in flight. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He pressed it quickly into my hand and whispered back in my ear.
“You saved my life with your magic, Lizeth. I found this in the ruins, but I want you to have it. When you come back, you'll see how much stronger I've gotten.” His eyes were still wet, but he broke into a wide grin. I stuffed the necklace into my pocket before anyone else could see. We broke the hug, and we both got on with our goodbyes. Gloria was watching me from the cart. I climbed into the back and wedged myself between her and the cart.
“What did Tarry give to you, just now? I couldn't quite see.” She demanded. I was put back by her tone. Tarry was right, after all. Even if I didn't know quite what I did, or how exactly I did it, I saved our lives last night. The future danger of accidentally blowing myself up or shocking a friend pales compared to being torn to pieces by war-mad skeletons. I decided that until we settled out our feelings on what happened the day before, I wasn't going to trust her with the pendant, as much as I wanted to take it out and look at it again. It is my first real present from a boy, even if he's not human and still a child. He was quite impressive under the hill. He might turn out to be a dashing little hero, with the right encouragement.
“Oh, nothing just a bit of shiny string he picked up. You know how kids are.” I brushed her off, but she wasn't satisfied.
“Yeah, but Tarry has a habit of picking up dangerous things in the ruins. Once he brought back a broken wand, and nearly gassed the house. I just hope Mother can keep him inside now that I won't be there to watch him.” She looked at her family and brightened They were gathering. She started waving and shouting, but I couldn't bring myself to do the same. She though Tarry should be locked up. What did she think of me? I knew then that I couldn't trust her with any more of my secrets. I couldn't count her as a true friend. I patted my pocket, and felt the weight of the silver bird. Dad climbed into the front seat, and cracked the whip. We were off once again, but the sun felt cold. What if the mages all were like Gloria? What if I wasn't going to be taught, but imprisoned, or worse, put down like a dire rat? I shivered and watch the inn shrink away. Soon, we turned against the hill, and they were lost to view.
Wednesday, June 8
Morning Checklist
Things look a bit brighter in the light of morning. There was a weird silence over breakfast, but the three of us mostly studied our breakfasts without saying a word. Our fathers made a joke of it, as usual. I'm a little bruised this morning, but it isn't anything serious. I'll just be a bit sore for a few days. I wanted to speak with Gloria and Tarry alone, but Gloria has been rushing around all morning, and I haven't had a chance to catch her. Tarry has been helping our fathers load the wagon. And I'm here double checking that I haven't forgotten anything before we hit the road once again. Here's the checklist:
Six pairs of stockings...X
Six shifts...X
My Feast day dress...X
Three winter dresses...X
Three summer dresses...X
Muffler...X
My heavy lambskin cloak...X
My sunhat...X (I'm wearing it right now, actually.)
Travel leggings & tunic (also worn)
The strongbox...X
My jewelry box...X
Travel papers...X
This diary and pen...X
That should be it. Everything else will either be bought in Carabos or provided by the Academy. It's time to close up the trunk again. I can see that this is the last thing to go. Gloria is already in the yard, watching our fathers place a pair of leather bags on the cart. Those must be her luggage. Tarry is down there too. She's speaking animatedly at him, but I can't hear the words from out here. He's not paying attention. He just keeps patting his pocket and looking off into the distance, towards the hill.
Six pairs of stockings...X
Six shifts...X
My Feast day dress...X
Three winter dresses...X
Three summer dresses...X
Muffler...X
My heavy lambskin cloak...X
My sunhat...X (I'm wearing it right now, actually.)
Travel leggings & tunic (also worn)
The strongbox...X
My jewelry box...X
Travel papers...X
This diary and pen...X
That should be it. Everything else will either be bought in Carabos or provided by the Academy. It's time to close up the trunk again. I can see that this is the last thing to go. Gloria is already in the yard, watching our fathers place a pair of leather bags on the cart. Those must be her luggage. Tarry is down there too. She's speaking animatedly at him, but I can't hear the words from out here. He's not paying attention. He just keeps patting his pocket and looking off into the distance, towards the hill.
Tuesday, June 7
The Incident Under the Hill
It has been a long day. I hope I'll be able to read this later. I'm still shaking. I can't calm down. I did... something. And I don't know how or if I can do it again, or if I will do it again at the wrong time, without control. Something is happening to me, and I am afraid. Worse yet, Gloria watched it happen, she was almost hurt. I need to study. I need to find out what this is, before I hurt or kill someone that I care about. I still can't think clearly. I hoped writing things down would help. But I can't do it all at once. I'll start at the beginning.
We woke up early for the festival. Over a quick three course breakfast, Mr. Boflin explained about the festival, which is held every year in midsummer. It's called the “Leavetaking Festival.” Traditionally, the border between spring and summer is considered by Halflings as the luckiest time for traveling. So once a year, there is a farewell party. Gloria was one of the honorees this year, and we were humans, just along for the ride. After breakfast we hiked to the top of the hill for a religious service. I didn't want to go, but Dad gave me one of his looks, and that was pretty much that. There was already a steady stream of pilgrims going up the hill by the time we got outside. I figured that my rare height advantage would make things easy, but the townsfolk were surprisingly quick and agile. I was practically running to keep up. My father was working just as hard. The road up the hill, at the very least, was not too steep. The road was paved in brick, and the hill formed a wall against one side. A wooden railing, at waist hight for a halfling, protected travelers from wandering off of the edge. In the hill itself had windows and doors every few feet. Occasionally, as we passed, new members came outside and joined the march. They were singing a song, but it was in Halfling, and I couldn't make out the words. Dad told me it was a song about a gathering, a traditional travel song and processional.
We cleared the top of the hill, and there was an amphitheater cut into the top. The entire floor of the theatre was a massive mosaic shaped like the holy symbol of Barley, the Halfling goddess. It resembled a golden stalk of wheat crossed with a black sickle. The Boflins went to their usual seats, quite close to the front. Halflings aren't overly concerned with rules, but they cherish respect, so they sort of live by an unwritten, unspoken consensus. Dad and I went with them, even though Dad had to sit on the isle because he couldn't comfortaly on the half-sized benches. I sat on the end, and hunkered down in my seat. The woman behind me gave me a nasty glare, as though I was purposefully trying to block her view.
On the other side of the theatre was a set up for musicians and effects. I watched as the technicians pulled some levers, and the sunlight filling the amphitheater was suddenly prismatic. The musicians began, and the congregation began to sing, again in halfling. I tried to find a prayer or songbook, but there was nothing to follow along with. Dad whispered to me that the song was a prayer of thanksgiving for the new day and for the fertility of the fields and the growing things. During the song, the celebrants, two men and an elderly woman, came down the center aisle. They blessed people and shook hands as they came down. She gave the service in Halfling, and even though she pointed at me several times, I have absolutely no idea what she said. The woman behind me kept shushing Dad every time he tried to tell me.
The service was surprisingly short. It couldn't have lasted more than one half of an hour. There was a short reading, a response, and a little sermon. I don't know what she said, but the congregation spend much of it laughing. Even Dad chuckled once or twice, although I think he looked embarrassed. After the ceremony, there was a sort of informal town meeting, with lots of shaking hands and jokes. Dad and I were introduced as good friends of the Boflins, and friends of the town. There were many stories told about my grandfather and Mr Boflin's mother. A few of them were told in common, but I'm certainly not going to write them here. Who knows who might see it. Still, if half of what they said was true, I didn't know the old man had it in him!
The meet and greet went on for a long time, then the congregation broke for an early lunch, which to the Halflings is an official meal, followed by late lunch, tea, and supper. The entire congregation moved to the row of stalls and tents on the main street. The fair was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. There were rows and rows of stalls selling food, trinkets, and just about anything you could imagine! There were these totally boring displays from the local guild, showing new pony carts and barrels and thing like that. Barrels! Who would want to go see a display about a new kind of barrel? I was bored off my feet, but Dad and Mr. Boflin were strangely interested. Gloria and I tried to slip back to the midway, but Mrs. Boflin made us take Tarry with us. Tarry has some kind of problem, I think, but nobody talks about it. Even though he's my age, he's kept on a string, to keep him from wandering off. It wasn't like this last time they visited. I wonder what happened.
We took him back with us, and we grabbed some fish and chips from one of the stalls, and we watched the performers. Tarry watched happily, and he seemed normal enough, but Gloria kept looking at him; watching him out of the corner of her eye, as if he were about to explode or something. It freaked me out. The wandering performers were jugglers, bards, and clowns, who wandered down the streets and stopped at some of the tables. They were actually quite good, particularly the tumblers. A few makeshift stages were also set up for concerts, plays, acrobats, and even a magician!
The magician was unbelievable. He wore a black robe embrodered with red roses, and his tall, pointy hat matched. He threw fire, he lifted a brick without touching it, and he pulled doves from out of thin air. It was amazing! I hope that when I become a mage, I'm half as skilled as he is. I was watching the performance with Gloria and Tarry, who kept trying to run off. She said she wasn't impressed, that he was a fake, but at the end, when he disappeared in a flash and a cloud of smoke that smelled like flowers, I thought, this is what magic should be. His placard read "Periel the Magnificent, Magician to Queens and Emperors." I guess there is much more to magic than running a dusty old shop or exploring moldy ruins. I just hope I can enough control.
I was so wrapped up in the performance that it wasn't until it was over that I noticed that Tarry had run off. Gloria hadn't realized it either. Somehow he had slipped out of the hold on his wrist, and tied his end to a chair instead. Then he sort of tipped the chair so it would feel like he was still tugging on the line. He must have done it and been gone in less than a minute. Gloria immediately panicked.
"We should go find your parents," I suggested.
"No, they'll only chide me for losing him, and it's getting dark. We have to find him and get back to the inn before supper." She was starting to calm down, but I doubted that we could find him on our own. We didn't even know where he had gone. I didn't know where to start looking. The city was a mystery to me.
"I know where he's gone. The same place that he always goes. The reason we have to keep such a close eye on him is that he has... wild blood in him." She said it gravely, as though it were a curse, or a fatal disease, but I had no idea what she meant.
"Wild blood? I don't understand." She looked at me as though she shouldn't have to explain, like I was an idiot, or a foreigner, but I am the later. She sighed and started walking, motioning me to follow.
"Before we settled here, ours was a wandering tribe. The Halflings would go from place to place, seeking a promised land, a shire we could call our own. It hasn't been long since we settled here. But something of the old ways still survives in us. It was a gift of the our patron, the Goddess, Lady Barley. Some of us are born warriors, with powers that could be used to protect us, even against foes twice or three times our size. It is a power of chaos that served the tribe well. But we have since settled, and there is little use for the old powers of the blood. But it pumps in his veins, guiding him to the one place he can really use it." We took twists and turns quickly, as though Gloria had the route memorized, had taken this journey many times before. We sped into seedier, darker parts of the city, past tanners and blacksmiths, as the light of the afternoon faded around us.
"So he's going somewhere to pick a fight?" I couldn't keep track of the turns we were taking. I'd have to rely on the two of them to get back to the inn. I was worried, and in the back of my soul, the worry was spinning, like a top, only faster and faster. Something bad was about to happen, and I could feel it starting to uncoil.
"Something like that," Gloria said through panting breaths. She was racing to overtake him, but we could barely hear his footfalls. "You know how children like to play heroes, and adventurers? We found out the hard way that Tarry wasn't playing. Last year, one of his friends almost died. Then, the unthinkable happened."
"What? What happened?" I asked as we turned a corner. Suddenly I knew. In front of us was the base of the hill, and set into it was a crack, black and menacing. It was just large enough for me to squeeze through, if I tied. Gloria stopped, and I slid to a halt just behind her. Tarry had gone into the ruins.
I still don't know a great deal about the ruins of the old town, but that temple on the top of the hill, and that giant holy symbol, were supposed to lay the spirits of the dead, the ones that had died in the disaster, to rest. But something happened twenty years ago, during the war. I heard the rest of the story from Gloria, in whispers as we entered the cave.
"Do you still have your knife on you, the one your Dad gave you for protection?" She was deadly serious. I produced it.
"We aren't going to have to fight anything in the ruins, are we?" My mind raced through what could be in there. Bats, darkmantles, mindflayers? I was suddenly terrified.
"I hope not. But against what's in there a knife won't do much good. Hold it out in front of you, yeah like that." She said it without looking up. She looked squarely at the knife, and started waving her hands overing, saying complicated phrases. I knew she was doing magic, like the performer had done, but it felt, different somehow. It made my skin itch. She finished, and said the final, keystone word of the spell. "Light!" As I watched, the knife began to glow, dull red at first then orange-yellow, like it had be thrust in a fire, but there was no heat. "At least it will give us light to see by. We've got to hurry, though. The spell only lasts an hour, and the other spell I have is reserved for an emergency." I held the knife in front of me and we stepped into the cave. Well, Gloria stepped in, I squeezed in behind her. Once we were inside, I was surprised to find I could stand without difficulty. This portion of the hill was like a stone shell, covering the ruins. The ground was uneven, and covered in uneven mounds of debris. There was something like a path, winding through them. Gloria motioned me forward, and we walked down it, into whatever was waiting.
"The hill was raised in a ritual, so most of the ruins are untouched. The crack formed later, as an effect of the summoning."
"The summoning?" I asked. "What summoning?"
"I'll tell you the truth about what happened twenty years ago. Do you know of the fall of the Sheild-biters?"
"Of course. It was an important event in The War. The god Hattori was trapped by an army of demon-blooded orcs, and he called a spectral army to fight for him." It was a famous story, one of the rare early victories against the orcs, and Hattori had done it without calling upon his mortal servants.
"Where do you think that ghost army came from?" I stopped in my tracks, and stared at her. She turned back to look at me. She was serious.
"So the army, was the souls of those who had died here? And they still remain?"
"No, thankfully. Although there were an unusually high number of recorded hauntings after the battle, the priests have sent the souls on. What waits below are the bodies."
"I don't understand what you mean."
"When Hattori called back their souls he also called their physical remains, sealed here for a century. The body strives to reunite with the soul, the spark, which it has lost. When Hattori made an army of ghosts..."
"He created an army of zombies as well?"
"Some zombies, mostly skeletons. Nothing but animated, soulless killing machines, struggling for an exit. Fortunately, they haven't found one. The holy symbol is strong enough to keep the corporeal dead in the ground, but they still walk these halls." She broke into a run again, desperate to find Tarry before something horrible found him first. I kept up, the knife-torch shaking with my footfalls.
What was left, in the torchlight, was a dusty maze of devestation. A hundred years ago, it was a village. Now, it was dust, stones, and the debris of lives long since lost. Mercifully, we didn't see any bodies, or people, or skeletons, I guess, but we saw lots of tracks in the dust. We managed to follow Tarry's fresh, clear footprints in the dust, on top of so many other strange marks, left by shambling yet tireless feet. We tracked him through the crushed, burnt out ruins of what were once homes. We could see the signs the lives these unfortunate people had left as we passed. There were dolls moldering in the dust and tools slowly fading to rust. The air became worse, and it was hard to breathe. We must have been traveling for twenty minutes when we heard the sounds of fighting ahead of us. Tarry had found an opponent after all.
If anything, Gloria broke into an even faster run, and left me behind. Tarry was holding a torch in one hand, one he had made himself, I guessed. It certainly wasn't a magical one like mine. He was using it to fight wildly, swining it like a sword with his left hand, and punching with his right. I couldn't make out the figures clearly in the low and wildly flailing light, but I knew he was facing several opponents. They must have been skeletons, I reasoned, by the high, echoing impacts his attacks made against them. He was shouting, but they were deathly silent, moving relentlessly forward with dry, clicking steps. His blows had a ringing quality, and his right hand flashed in the fire from the torch. He was wearing some kind of gauntlet, and using it to surprisingly good effect against the skeletons. He punched a small one, that might have once been a child, or possibly an an adult Halfling or Gnome, in the hip, and it shattered. The sinister red glow of its eyes faded as it fell. But there were many, many more of them. I could see the pinpoints of light as I got closer.
Tarry had them at some kind of a choke point. Perhaps it had once been a city wall, or an alley between two buildings. In any case, they could only come at him two or three at a time, and he was holding his own, but I could see him tiring. Whatever madness had overtaken him must have been fading, and with it, that chaotic strength that Gloria had told me of. He couldn't fight an army. He was a child, after all.
Gloria reached him first, and tried to pull him back, shouting. He pretended he didn't hear her, or perhaps he couldn't hear her. He brought his fist and torch down in a two handed attack on the ribcage of one of the skeletons. It went down, but another took its place. There was no end to them. I finally caught up, panting. Tarry was coming back to himself. He looked at me and his eyes were clear. There was triumph in them.
“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Gloria shouted, and Tarry looked out over the skeletons, with what might have been regret, but he didn't say anything. He patted his pocket with his mail-gloved fist and nodded. Suddenly, there was a huge skeleton in front of us. It blind sided Tarry, and he fell over, clutching his chest and wincing. I moved to catch him, but gloria was already in front of him, chanting. Her left hand started to glow, faintly, with a violet, chilling light. She reached out and grabbed the skeleton on the tibia. The glow spread from her hand into the monster,and the glow in its eyes faded. It toppled, once again lifeless. The two of them ran back towards me. There was a look of horror on Gloria's face as she looked towards me. I didn't know until too late that it was a warning.
A force, thin but solid, came down on my shoulders from behind. I dropped the knife, and the blade clattered to the dusty stones. I dropped to my knees, and I twisted to see the skeletal face, emotionless, of course, standing above me. I tried to push back, to kick it with my feet, anything, but it was like a nightmare. There was no way I could escape. I backed up like a crab, moving out of fear, staring into cold red starlight eyes. Eyes that maybe didn't really see me. I ran into something, and I screamed. Fortunately, it was Gloria and Tarry. The bad news is that we were being over run. More skeletons were coming, and they had found a way to block the path in front of us. Tarry struggled in his sisters arms, arguing with her to let him protect us. She refused.
"Can you do that spell, whatever it was, again?" I asked, staggering to my feet. I felt sore, but I wasn't too badly hurt. In the dim light, I saw her shake her head.
"Grandmother taught me how to disrupt the undead, to drive them off, but I'm drained. I can't cast anything else today. I saw how suddenly tired she was, and I knew it was true. We were doomed. I felt the chill of my impending death come over me. Not a sweat, or a panic, but cold certainty that I had reached as far as I could go. I was suddenly very angry. The undead came closer, two of them were in front of us, perhaps coming the way we had came. They blocked our path. I didn't want to die. A skeleton behind us swiped at Gloria, missing her by inches. I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what.
I have never, I will admit, been religious. I respect the traditions of the Five People, and the Six Heroes, of course, but I've never respected and venerated the Great Lord the way I should. I've only ever paid him lip service. But I whispered something like a prayer, not really conscious of the words, just asking for deliverance, and then, I was. It flashed so clearly in my mind, I can't now fully recall it, but I thought about what I wanted to happen, made a wish, and watched it come true. It was so much like that one time, when my father was being taken away, but greater, more wild, more complex, I didn't know what I was doing, or how I was doing it. Everything I've ever learned says that this is impossible, but I did magic. And it was stronger than anything I'd ever done before, either willfully or on accident. My fists were shaking with rage, a burning, fiery rage, and I wanted to see the world, and all the ruins, and all the monsters in it burning, and then, somehow, my hands were small flames. I thrust them outward, and the fire was a wave, no, a pair of waves, spiraling around each other, two sudden white contrails in the dark. They connected with the skeletons squarely in their chests, and they froze, their tattered rags burning, before collapsing back into lifeless, disjointed bones. The path ahead was clear, and I was filled with sudden energy. I reached for Gloria with my left hand, picked up the knife with my right, and ran as fast as I could, barely glancing behind me at the shocked expressions on my companion's faces. I did magic, powerful, violent magic, without even knowing how. And in the brief moments in the dark, running through the tunnel, I didn't even question it. I simply reveled in how indescribably wonderful it had felt, like I had stretched a limb long disused.
We slowed down once we reached the crack, and squeezed through one at a time. Gloria insisted on going last, either out of nobility, or out of fear of taking her eyes off of me, I can't be sure. We walked back to the inn in the last embers of the sunset. I felt as though the day had slipped through my fingers, like sand. We passed the closed stalls and shuttered shops. It was fully dark when we reached the inn, after a journey that felt like a thousand miles. Mr. Boflin was waiting for us on the porch with a lantern. She berated her children for being late, and told us we had missed supper. Gloria said nothing, and held Tarry's wrist tightly. His other hand, with the incriminating gauntlet, was thrust deep into his pocket.
"Well, I hope you ate, for I'm not staying. We will be late for the fireworks." It was apparently, the end of the discussion. She herded us out to the green, where our fathers were waiting. I was quiet, and Dad asked me if I was ill. I shook my head and didn't look at him. The two men made a small joke, but I wasn't listening. The fireworks began, filling the sky with light and smoke and noise. I couldn't bare to watch them. I just kept thinking about those thirty seconds in the dark, when I pulled fire from thin air, like a magician. But I'm not a magician. I'm just a girl. I can't do that. I shouldn't have been able to do it. What if I do something that powerful again? Without trying, without warning? I could burn down a building, I could kill a person!
The oil is running low in the lamp. It must be close to dawn by now, and I don't know how I feel. Something between elation and terror, I suppose, but it's faded, with the night. I have to go to Carabos, I need to know what is happening to me. I need to talk to someone, but I don't know what to say. I should try and get some sleep. We're leaving town early in the morning.
We woke up early for the festival. Over a quick three course breakfast, Mr. Boflin explained about the festival, which is held every year in midsummer. It's called the “Leavetaking Festival.” Traditionally, the border between spring and summer is considered by Halflings as the luckiest time for traveling. So once a year, there is a farewell party. Gloria was one of the honorees this year, and we were humans, just along for the ride. After breakfast we hiked to the top of the hill for a religious service. I didn't want to go, but Dad gave me one of his looks, and that was pretty much that. There was already a steady stream of pilgrims going up the hill by the time we got outside. I figured that my rare height advantage would make things easy, but the townsfolk were surprisingly quick and agile. I was practically running to keep up. My father was working just as hard. The road up the hill, at the very least, was not too steep. The road was paved in brick, and the hill formed a wall against one side. A wooden railing, at waist hight for a halfling, protected travelers from wandering off of the edge. In the hill itself had windows and doors every few feet. Occasionally, as we passed, new members came outside and joined the march. They were singing a song, but it was in Halfling, and I couldn't make out the words. Dad told me it was a song about a gathering, a traditional travel song and processional.
We cleared the top of the hill, and there was an amphitheater cut into the top. The entire floor of the theatre was a massive mosaic shaped like the holy symbol of Barley, the Halfling goddess. It resembled a golden stalk of wheat crossed with a black sickle. The Boflins went to their usual seats, quite close to the front. Halflings aren't overly concerned with rules, but they cherish respect, so they sort of live by an unwritten, unspoken consensus. Dad and I went with them, even though Dad had to sit on the isle because he couldn't comfortaly on the half-sized benches. I sat on the end, and hunkered down in my seat. The woman behind me gave me a nasty glare, as though I was purposefully trying to block her view.
On the other side of the theatre was a set up for musicians and effects. I watched as the technicians pulled some levers, and the sunlight filling the amphitheater was suddenly prismatic. The musicians began, and the congregation began to sing, again in halfling. I tried to find a prayer or songbook, but there was nothing to follow along with. Dad whispered to me that the song was a prayer of thanksgiving for the new day and for the fertility of the fields and the growing things. During the song, the celebrants, two men and an elderly woman, came down the center aisle. They blessed people and shook hands as they came down. She gave the service in Halfling, and even though she pointed at me several times, I have absolutely no idea what she said. The woman behind me kept shushing Dad every time he tried to tell me.
The service was surprisingly short. It couldn't have lasted more than one half of an hour. There was a short reading, a response, and a little sermon. I don't know what she said, but the congregation spend much of it laughing. Even Dad chuckled once or twice, although I think he looked embarrassed. After the ceremony, there was a sort of informal town meeting, with lots of shaking hands and jokes. Dad and I were introduced as good friends of the Boflins, and friends of the town. There were many stories told about my grandfather and Mr Boflin's mother. A few of them were told in common, but I'm certainly not going to write them here. Who knows who might see it. Still, if half of what they said was true, I didn't know the old man had it in him!
The meet and greet went on for a long time, then the congregation broke for an early lunch, which to the Halflings is an official meal, followed by late lunch, tea, and supper. The entire congregation moved to the row of stalls and tents on the main street. The fair was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. There were rows and rows of stalls selling food, trinkets, and just about anything you could imagine! There were these totally boring displays from the local guild, showing new pony carts and barrels and thing like that. Barrels! Who would want to go see a display about a new kind of barrel? I was bored off my feet, but Dad and Mr. Boflin were strangely interested. Gloria and I tried to slip back to the midway, but Mrs. Boflin made us take Tarry with us. Tarry has some kind of problem, I think, but nobody talks about it. Even though he's my age, he's kept on a string, to keep him from wandering off. It wasn't like this last time they visited. I wonder what happened.
We took him back with us, and we grabbed some fish and chips from one of the stalls, and we watched the performers. Tarry watched happily, and he seemed normal enough, but Gloria kept looking at him; watching him out of the corner of her eye, as if he were about to explode or something. It freaked me out. The wandering performers were jugglers, bards, and clowns, who wandered down the streets and stopped at some of the tables. They were actually quite good, particularly the tumblers. A few makeshift stages were also set up for concerts, plays, acrobats, and even a magician!
The magician was unbelievable. He wore a black robe embrodered with red roses, and his tall, pointy hat matched. He threw fire, he lifted a brick without touching it, and he pulled doves from out of thin air. It was amazing! I hope that when I become a mage, I'm half as skilled as he is. I was watching the performance with Gloria and Tarry, who kept trying to run off. She said she wasn't impressed, that he was a fake, but at the end, when he disappeared in a flash and a cloud of smoke that smelled like flowers, I thought, this is what magic should be. His placard read "Periel the Magnificent, Magician to Queens and Emperors." I guess there is much more to magic than running a dusty old shop or exploring moldy ruins. I just hope I can enough control.
I was so wrapped up in the performance that it wasn't until it was over that I noticed that Tarry had run off. Gloria hadn't realized it either. Somehow he had slipped out of the hold on his wrist, and tied his end to a chair instead. Then he sort of tipped the chair so it would feel like he was still tugging on the line. He must have done it and been gone in less than a minute. Gloria immediately panicked.
"We should go find your parents," I suggested.
"No, they'll only chide me for losing him, and it's getting dark. We have to find him and get back to the inn before supper." She was starting to calm down, but I doubted that we could find him on our own. We didn't even know where he had gone. I didn't know where to start looking. The city was a mystery to me.
"I know where he's gone. The same place that he always goes. The reason we have to keep such a close eye on him is that he has... wild blood in him." She said it gravely, as though it were a curse, or a fatal disease, but I had no idea what she meant.
"Wild blood? I don't understand." She looked at me as though she shouldn't have to explain, like I was an idiot, or a foreigner, but I am the later. She sighed and started walking, motioning me to follow.
"Before we settled here, ours was a wandering tribe. The Halflings would go from place to place, seeking a promised land, a shire we could call our own. It hasn't been long since we settled here. But something of the old ways still survives in us. It was a gift of the our patron, the Goddess, Lady Barley. Some of us are born warriors, with powers that could be used to protect us, even against foes twice or three times our size. It is a power of chaos that served the tribe well. But we have since settled, and there is little use for the old powers of the blood. But it pumps in his veins, guiding him to the one place he can really use it." We took twists and turns quickly, as though Gloria had the route memorized, had taken this journey many times before. We sped into seedier, darker parts of the city, past tanners and blacksmiths, as the light of the afternoon faded around us.
"So he's going somewhere to pick a fight?" I couldn't keep track of the turns we were taking. I'd have to rely on the two of them to get back to the inn. I was worried, and in the back of my soul, the worry was spinning, like a top, only faster and faster. Something bad was about to happen, and I could feel it starting to uncoil.
"Something like that," Gloria said through panting breaths. She was racing to overtake him, but we could barely hear his footfalls. "You know how children like to play heroes, and adventurers? We found out the hard way that Tarry wasn't playing. Last year, one of his friends almost died. Then, the unthinkable happened."
"What? What happened?" I asked as we turned a corner. Suddenly I knew. In front of us was the base of the hill, and set into it was a crack, black and menacing. It was just large enough for me to squeeze through, if I tied. Gloria stopped, and I slid to a halt just behind her. Tarry had gone into the ruins.
I still don't know a great deal about the ruins of the old town, but that temple on the top of the hill, and that giant holy symbol, were supposed to lay the spirits of the dead, the ones that had died in the disaster, to rest. But something happened twenty years ago, during the war. I heard the rest of the story from Gloria, in whispers as we entered the cave.
"Do you still have your knife on you, the one your Dad gave you for protection?" She was deadly serious. I produced it.
"We aren't going to have to fight anything in the ruins, are we?" My mind raced through what could be in there. Bats, darkmantles, mindflayers? I was suddenly terrified.
"I hope not. But against what's in there a knife won't do much good. Hold it out in front of you, yeah like that." She said it without looking up. She looked squarely at the knife, and started waving her hands overing, saying complicated phrases. I knew she was doing magic, like the performer had done, but it felt, different somehow. It made my skin itch. She finished, and said the final, keystone word of the spell. "Light!" As I watched, the knife began to glow, dull red at first then orange-yellow, like it had be thrust in a fire, but there was no heat. "At least it will give us light to see by. We've got to hurry, though. The spell only lasts an hour, and the other spell I have is reserved for an emergency." I held the knife in front of me and we stepped into the cave. Well, Gloria stepped in, I squeezed in behind her. Once we were inside, I was surprised to find I could stand without difficulty. This portion of the hill was like a stone shell, covering the ruins. The ground was uneven, and covered in uneven mounds of debris. There was something like a path, winding through them. Gloria motioned me forward, and we walked down it, into whatever was waiting.
"The hill was raised in a ritual, so most of the ruins are untouched. The crack formed later, as an effect of the summoning."
"The summoning?" I asked. "What summoning?"
"I'll tell you the truth about what happened twenty years ago. Do you know of the fall of the Sheild-biters?"
"Of course. It was an important event in The War. The god Hattori was trapped by an army of demon-blooded orcs, and he called a spectral army to fight for him." It was a famous story, one of the rare early victories against the orcs, and Hattori had done it without calling upon his mortal servants.
"Where do you think that ghost army came from?" I stopped in my tracks, and stared at her. She turned back to look at me. She was serious.
"So the army, was the souls of those who had died here? And they still remain?"
"No, thankfully. Although there were an unusually high number of recorded hauntings after the battle, the priests have sent the souls on. What waits below are the bodies."
"I don't understand what you mean."
"When Hattori called back their souls he also called their physical remains, sealed here for a century. The body strives to reunite with the soul, the spark, which it has lost. When Hattori made an army of ghosts..."
"He created an army of zombies as well?"
"Some zombies, mostly skeletons. Nothing but animated, soulless killing machines, struggling for an exit. Fortunately, they haven't found one. The holy symbol is strong enough to keep the corporeal dead in the ground, but they still walk these halls." She broke into a run again, desperate to find Tarry before something horrible found him first. I kept up, the knife-torch shaking with my footfalls.
What was left, in the torchlight, was a dusty maze of devestation. A hundred years ago, it was a village. Now, it was dust, stones, and the debris of lives long since lost. Mercifully, we didn't see any bodies, or people, or skeletons, I guess, but we saw lots of tracks in the dust. We managed to follow Tarry's fresh, clear footprints in the dust, on top of so many other strange marks, left by shambling yet tireless feet. We tracked him through the crushed, burnt out ruins of what were once homes. We could see the signs the lives these unfortunate people had left as we passed. There were dolls moldering in the dust and tools slowly fading to rust. The air became worse, and it was hard to breathe. We must have been traveling for twenty minutes when we heard the sounds of fighting ahead of us. Tarry had found an opponent after all.
If anything, Gloria broke into an even faster run, and left me behind. Tarry was holding a torch in one hand, one he had made himself, I guessed. It certainly wasn't a magical one like mine. He was using it to fight wildly, swining it like a sword with his left hand, and punching with his right. I couldn't make out the figures clearly in the low and wildly flailing light, but I knew he was facing several opponents. They must have been skeletons, I reasoned, by the high, echoing impacts his attacks made against them. He was shouting, but they were deathly silent, moving relentlessly forward with dry, clicking steps. His blows had a ringing quality, and his right hand flashed in the fire from the torch. He was wearing some kind of gauntlet, and using it to surprisingly good effect against the skeletons. He punched a small one, that might have once been a child, or possibly an an adult Halfling or Gnome, in the hip, and it shattered. The sinister red glow of its eyes faded as it fell. But there were many, many more of them. I could see the pinpoints of light as I got closer.
Tarry had them at some kind of a choke point. Perhaps it had once been a city wall, or an alley between two buildings. In any case, they could only come at him two or three at a time, and he was holding his own, but I could see him tiring. Whatever madness had overtaken him must have been fading, and with it, that chaotic strength that Gloria had told me of. He couldn't fight an army. He was a child, after all.
Gloria reached him first, and tried to pull him back, shouting. He pretended he didn't hear her, or perhaps he couldn't hear her. He brought his fist and torch down in a two handed attack on the ribcage of one of the skeletons. It went down, but another took its place. There was no end to them. I finally caught up, panting. Tarry was coming back to himself. He looked at me and his eyes were clear. There was triumph in them.
“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Gloria shouted, and Tarry looked out over the skeletons, with what might have been regret, but he didn't say anything. He patted his pocket with his mail-gloved fist and nodded. Suddenly, there was a huge skeleton in front of us. It blind sided Tarry, and he fell over, clutching his chest and wincing. I moved to catch him, but gloria was already in front of him, chanting. Her left hand started to glow, faintly, with a violet, chilling light. She reached out and grabbed the skeleton on the tibia. The glow spread from her hand into the monster,and the glow in its eyes faded. It toppled, once again lifeless. The two of them ran back towards me. There was a look of horror on Gloria's face as she looked towards me. I didn't know until too late that it was a warning.
A force, thin but solid, came down on my shoulders from behind. I dropped the knife, and the blade clattered to the dusty stones. I dropped to my knees, and I twisted to see the skeletal face, emotionless, of course, standing above me. I tried to push back, to kick it with my feet, anything, but it was like a nightmare. There was no way I could escape. I backed up like a crab, moving out of fear, staring into cold red starlight eyes. Eyes that maybe didn't really see me. I ran into something, and I screamed. Fortunately, it was Gloria and Tarry. The bad news is that we were being over run. More skeletons were coming, and they had found a way to block the path in front of us. Tarry struggled in his sisters arms, arguing with her to let him protect us. She refused.
"Can you do that spell, whatever it was, again?" I asked, staggering to my feet. I felt sore, but I wasn't too badly hurt. In the dim light, I saw her shake her head.
"Grandmother taught me how to disrupt the undead, to drive them off, but I'm drained. I can't cast anything else today. I saw how suddenly tired she was, and I knew it was true. We were doomed. I felt the chill of my impending death come over me. Not a sweat, or a panic, but cold certainty that I had reached as far as I could go. I was suddenly very angry. The undead came closer, two of them were in front of us, perhaps coming the way we had came. They blocked our path. I didn't want to die. A skeleton behind us swiped at Gloria, missing her by inches. I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what.
I have never, I will admit, been religious. I respect the traditions of the Five People, and the Six Heroes, of course, but I've never respected and venerated the Great Lord the way I should. I've only ever paid him lip service. But I whispered something like a prayer, not really conscious of the words, just asking for deliverance, and then, I was. It flashed so clearly in my mind, I can't now fully recall it, but I thought about what I wanted to happen, made a wish, and watched it come true. It was so much like that one time, when my father was being taken away, but greater, more wild, more complex, I didn't know what I was doing, or how I was doing it. Everything I've ever learned says that this is impossible, but I did magic. And it was stronger than anything I'd ever done before, either willfully or on accident. My fists were shaking with rage, a burning, fiery rage, and I wanted to see the world, and all the ruins, and all the monsters in it burning, and then, somehow, my hands were small flames. I thrust them outward, and the fire was a wave, no, a pair of waves, spiraling around each other, two sudden white contrails in the dark. They connected with the skeletons squarely in their chests, and they froze, their tattered rags burning, before collapsing back into lifeless, disjointed bones. The path ahead was clear, and I was filled with sudden energy. I reached for Gloria with my left hand, picked up the knife with my right, and ran as fast as I could, barely glancing behind me at the shocked expressions on my companion's faces. I did magic, powerful, violent magic, without even knowing how. And in the brief moments in the dark, running through the tunnel, I didn't even question it. I simply reveled in how indescribably wonderful it had felt, like I had stretched a limb long disused.
We slowed down once we reached the crack, and squeezed through one at a time. Gloria insisted on going last, either out of nobility, or out of fear of taking her eyes off of me, I can't be sure. We walked back to the inn in the last embers of the sunset. I felt as though the day had slipped through my fingers, like sand. We passed the closed stalls and shuttered shops. It was fully dark when we reached the inn, after a journey that felt like a thousand miles. Mr. Boflin was waiting for us on the porch with a lantern. She berated her children for being late, and told us we had missed supper. Gloria said nothing, and held Tarry's wrist tightly. His other hand, with the incriminating gauntlet, was thrust deep into his pocket.
"Well, I hope you ate, for I'm not staying. We will be late for the fireworks." It was apparently, the end of the discussion. She herded us out to the green, where our fathers were waiting. I was quiet, and Dad asked me if I was ill. I shook my head and didn't look at him. The two men made a small joke, but I wasn't listening. The fireworks began, filling the sky with light and smoke and noise. I couldn't bare to watch them. I just kept thinking about those thirty seconds in the dark, when I pulled fire from thin air, like a magician. But I'm not a magician. I'm just a girl. I can't do that. I shouldn't have been able to do it. What if I do something that powerful again? Without trying, without warning? I could burn down a building, I could kill a person!
The oil is running low in the lamp. It must be close to dawn by now, and I don't know how I feel. Something between elation and terror, I suppose, but it's faded, with the night. I have to go to Carabos, I need to know what is happening to me. I need to talk to someone, but I don't know what to say. I should try and get some sleep. We're leaving town early in the morning.
Monday, June 6
A Light Supper
Apparently, the Halfling concept of a “light supper” lasts two hours and is five courses. I like it here! Best of all, Dad didn't say one word about me watching what I eat! I tried to be polite, of course, but the dinner table was a battlefield. This is definitely the kind of cultural expirience I can enjoy. Momma is always yelling at me to eat more like a lady, which I think to her mind means not at all. I've always been able to eat a lot without gaining weight, but she constantly chides me. I'm really full.
Anyway, we brought the cart into the stable, and Dad was really, really careful with our stuff, like he didn't trust the stable hand at all. After that, we went in, through the human-sized door, and found Mr. Boflin behind the counter. After a brief reunion, Mr. Boflin called for a pair of porters to take our bags, and he took us up to our rooms. The Mountain Ash is the only human sized building, well multi-sized building in the town. It actually survived whatever disaster happened here a century ago, but nobody is alive who witnessed it. The King at that time had bigger problems. The first signs of the upcoming war were upon him, and it was draining his coffers to fight those battles. So he just had a team of priests bless the ruins, declared it a war grave, and let the Halflings take care of the mess. This building was rebuilt rather than torn down. And it is pretty amazing. I feel kind of odd when I'm in here. There are some spells built into the walls. I think that is how it managed to stay intact. It was a luxury in in the old city. There are even magic wells in the kitchen and baths for running water. Mr. Boflin said that the place was haunted, that there were strange lights and ghosts who walk the halls. He's considered having the clerics on top of the hill do an exorcism, but for the most part they are benign, and he says it “adds charm” to have a ghost at an inn like this.
The average-sized section of the inn was really quiet. He said that there was only one other guest, a merchant from Managan Town who delivered the fireworks for tomorrow's celebration. When I asked about it, he just laughed and said that I would see soon. Dad was watching the porters carefully. I don't think he was really listening. Since the human section was so empty, we were able to get really good rooms. Dad is next door, and the Merchant, Mr. Cobble, is on the far side of him. Down the hall is the toilet and next to me is the bath. Mr. Boflin left us to get settled and said that supper would be served soon. He said we should join him with the family in the kitchen, and Dad immediately accented. After Mr. Boflin left, I took a quick bath to get the road dust off of me. The bath is segregated into men's and women's sectcions, and is small, but really nice. The water comes from hot and cold fountains, and there is a big mercury mirror on one wall. I think it must be a lot of trouble for only three guests. After that, I got changed, and then wrote my last note. Gloria came and got me for dinner. She is the Bolfins' daughter. She's a few years older than me, but I guess because Halflings live longer, and age slower, she's about the same as me mentally. She watched me shut and lock the journal with a weird look on her face. On the way down to supper she asked me if the book was magic.
“It is, but it's just a simple spell, I think. Not like the ones in the bath. I can lock it so no one else can see what I write. My grandmother gave it too me. She said my grandfather bought it when I was born, and she'd been waiting to give it too me.” I said. We headed through the central lobby and into the restaurant.
“Is your grandmother well?” She asked as she passed through the middle door. She looked so tiny passing through the swinging door, which had no handle, that it was hard to think of her as Twenty.
I told her that she was, but the restaurant was filled with guests, either enjoying the last of their meals, or getting started on the first round of drinks for the evening. I don't know if she heard me over the din. I followed her through the crowd, feeling akwardly gigantic; something I've never felt before. At four and a half feet, I'm more than on the short side. Things were quieter in the kitchen, but not by much. The one team of cooks was finishing up with deserts and such, and the others were starting on a massive pile of dishes. There was a massive, low table at one side of the room. It was surrounded by Halflng-sized chairs. At one end, The other Boflins were in deep conversation with my father, and Tarry, Gloria's younger brother, was starring at covered dishes in anticipation. At the other end, employees that weren't busy were engaged in their own dinner conversations. Gloria took a seat next to her brother, chiding him to be on his manners, and I sat cross legged on a cushon net to my father, since the table was far to low for me to sit at a chair. The arrangement worked better than I had expected, and soon dinner was well underway.
We were almost finished when I suddenly realized something. I asked Gloria how she could tell that my journal was a magic item, and I got a big surprise.
“I studied a bit under Nanna when she was still with us, so I can cast a few simple spells like that.” She said simply. Dad and Mr. Boflin turned back to us.
“Gloria's being modest. She'll be starting at apprentice level when the two of you get to Carabos.” I felt a surge of excitement. I was worried I would be feeling homesick and alone, in a far away city. I'm glad I won't be doing this on my own. Gloria said she would look out for me at school, but she could already tell that I had lots of potential. I felt a little panic at that, but I can't say why. It was just a bad feeling. Does she know that I've done magic without any control?
Anyway, we brought the cart into the stable, and Dad was really, really careful with our stuff, like he didn't trust the stable hand at all. After that, we went in, through the human-sized door, and found Mr. Boflin behind the counter. After a brief reunion, Mr. Boflin called for a pair of porters to take our bags, and he took us up to our rooms. The Mountain Ash is the only human sized building, well multi-sized building in the town. It actually survived whatever disaster happened here a century ago, but nobody is alive who witnessed it. The King at that time had bigger problems. The first signs of the upcoming war were upon him, and it was draining his coffers to fight those battles. So he just had a team of priests bless the ruins, declared it a war grave, and let the Halflings take care of the mess. This building was rebuilt rather than torn down. And it is pretty amazing. I feel kind of odd when I'm in here. There are some spells built into the walls. I think that is how it managed to stay intact. It was a luxury in in the old city. There are even magic wells in the kitchen and baths for running water. Mr. Boflin said that the place was haunted, that there were strange lights and ghosts who walk the halls. He's considered having the clerics on top of the hill do an exorcism, but for the most part they are benign, and he says it “adds charm” to have a ghost at an inn like this.
The average-sized section of the inn was really quiet. He said that there was only one other guest, a merchant from Managan Town who delivered the fireworks for tomorrow's celebration. When I asked about it, he just laughed and said that I would see soon. Dad was watching the porters carefully. I don't think he was really listening. Since the human section was so empty, we were able to get really good rooms. Dad is next door, and the Merchant, Mr. Cobble, is on the far side of him. Down the hall is the toilet and next to me is the bath. Mr. Boflin left us to get settled and said that supper would be served soon. He said we should join him with the family in the kitchen, and Dad immediately accented. After Mr. Boflin left, I took a quick bath to get the road dust off of me. The bath is segregated into men's and women's sectcions, and is small, but really nice. The water comes from hot and cold fountains, and there is a big mercury mirror on one wall. I think it must be a lot of trouble for only three guests. After that, I got changed, and then wrote my last note. Gloria came and got me for dinner. She is the Bolfins' daughter. She's a few years older than me, but I guess because Halflings live longer, and age slower, she's about the same as me mentally. She watched me shut and lock the journal with a weird look on her face. On the way down to supper she asked me if the book was magic.
“It is, but it's just a simple spell, I think. Not like the ones in the bath. I can lock it so no one else can see what I write. My grandmother gave it too me. She said my grandfather bought it when I was born, and she'd been waiting to give it too me.” I said. We headed through the central lobby and into the restaurant.
“Is your grandmother well?” She asked as she passed through the middle door. She looked so tiny passing through the swinging door, which had no handle, that it was hard to think of her as Twenty.
I told her that she was, but the restaurant was filled with guests, either enjoying the last of their meals, or getting started on the first round of drinks for the evening. I don't know if she heard me over the din. I followed her through the crowd, feeling akwardly gigantic; something I've never felt before. At four and a half feet, I'm more than on the short side. Things were quieter in the kitchen, but not by much. The one team of cooks was finishing up with deserts and such, and the others were starting on a massive pile of dishes. There was a massive, low table at one side of the room. It was surrounded by Halflng-sized chairs. At one end, The other Boflins were in deep conversation with my father, and Tarry, Gloria's younger brother, was starring at covered dishes in anticipation. At the other end, employees that weren't busy were engaged in their own dinner conversations. Gloria took a seat next to her brother, chiding him to be on his manners, and I sat cross legged on a cushon net to my father, since the table was far to low for me to sit at a chair. The arrangement worked better than I had expected, and soon dinner was well underway.
We were almost finished when I suddenly realized something. I asked Gloria how she could tell that my journal was a magic item, and I got a big surprise.
“I studied a bit under Nanna when she was still with us, so I can cast a few simple spells like that.” She said simply. Dad and Mr. Boflin turned back to us.
“Gloria's being modest. She'll be starting at apprentice level when the two of you get to Carabos.” I felt a surge of excitement. I was worried I would be feeling homesick and alone, in a far away city. I'm glad I won't be doing this on my own. Gloria said she would look out for me at school, but she could already tell that I had lots of potential. I felt a little panic at that, but I can't say why. It was just a bad feeling. Does she know that I've done magic without any control?
Shadyborough
This is just a quick note before I head down to supper. Dad surprised me by stopping for the night in Shadyborough. I thought the plan was to continue on the Lyssander-Paladine road. From once we were across the border, I was going to catch a ship to Carabos, and Dad was going to go on down to Tungahl Hill and visit Lydia and Gavin. I was napping in the back of the cart when I felt us change direction, and the ground underneath us changed from the heavy thud of packed earth to the quick, sharp sound of paved stone.
The road was narrower, and the hedges that grew along each side, like a green wall, were small and well kept. We were entering a shire. Dad said we were taking a detour, and staying with old friends. I guessed then that we were going to visit the Bolfins.
The Bolfins are old family friends, and they own an inn in Shadyborough, the Mountain Ash. They did a lot of business with my father during the lean years, when my father had just started up the shop in Lyssander and we were struggling under the label of an "ethnic" store. We owe them a lot.
The Boflins have visited us before in Lyssander, but I've never been out to visit them. I'm really excited to be here. The town was a lot different than I expected, though. For the most part, Litihia is a human kingdom. Lyssander, for example, is almost completely a human city, although there are a few Dwarven and Gnomish craftsmen in the city. There aren't any communities of the other peoples here. Except in Shadyborough. The town is almost totally a halfling shire. It's a neat place, so far. Almost every available surface is given over to farming. I even saw a few houses with corn growing on the roof! The other strange thing, to me, is that most buildings are built on half scale, although mostly they are the same sort of style as a human city. Dad said that Humans and Halflings are probably the most closely related of the five peoples. It was a strange feeling for me, though. It was the first time I've ever really felt tall.
Once we got to the town walls, which couldn't have been five feet, we had to wait while the guards asked us questions. Through the little towers, I could see a great big, grassy hill, dotted with oak trees. Dad told me that it was fake, that the Halflings had raised it on the spot when they settled here. There were lots of other carts waiting outside the gate, as well. At first, I thought this was just because it was getting dark. Most towns are shut at sundown to keep marauders, goblins, or other night-dwelling monsters out. Not that there's much of that around here, though. When we got through the gate, I saw it was because they were setting up some sort of festival! Along each side of the road, little tents were being raised, and tables were being set up on the lawn of the village green.
Inside, I could see that Dad was right about the hill. It was actually the central structure of the town. The road wound around it, and it was covered in doors and windows. What I had taken in the fading sunset to be retaining walls for the road were actually the walls to people's houses. Eventually, we got to the inn, a free standing stone building on the other side of the hill. It really didn't match the other buildings. It had three doors of different sizes, and the the windows didin't match. Dad said that the Inn was older than the current town, and that it was built for lots of different sized people. Oh, that's the call for supper. More later.
The road was narrower, and the hedges that grew along each side, like a green wall, were small and well kept. We were entering a shire. Dad said we were taking a detour, and staying with old friends. I guessed then that we were going to visit the Bolfins.
The Bolfins are old family friends, and they own an inn in Shadyborough, the Mountain Ash. They did a lot of business with my father during the lean years, when my father had just started up the shop in Lyssander and we were struggling under the label of an "ethnic" store. We owe them a lot.
The Boflins have visited us before in Lyssander, but I've never been out to visit them. I'm really excited to be here. The town was a lot different than I expected, though. For the most part, Litihia is a human kingdom. Lyssander, for example, is almost completely a human city, although there are a few Dwarven and Gnomish craftsmen in the city. There aren't any communities of the other peoples here. Except in Shadyborough. The town is almost totally a halfling shire. It's a neat place, so far. Almost every available surface is given over to farming. I even saw a few houses with corn growing on the roof! The other strange thing, to me, is that most buildings are built on half scale, although mostly they are the same sort of style as a human city. Dad said that Humans and Halflings are probably the most closely related of the five peoples. It was a strange feeling for me, though. It was the first time I've ever really felt tall.
Once we got to the town walls, which couldn't have been five feet, we had to wait while the guards asked us questions. Through the little towers, I could see a great big, grassy hill, dotted with oak trees. Dad told me that it was fake, that the Halflings had raised it on the spot when they settled here. There were lots of other carts waiting outside the gate, as well. At first, I thought this was just because it was getting dark. Most towns are shut at sundown to keep marauders, goblins, or other night-dwelling monsters out. Not that there's much of that around here, though. When we got through the gate, I saw it was because they were setting up some sort of festival! Along each side of the road, little tents were being raised, and tables were being set up on the lawn of the village green.
Inside, I could see that Dad was right about the hill. It was actually the central structure of the town. The road wound around it, and it was covered in doors and windows. What I had taken in the fading sunset to be retaining walls for the road were actually the walls to people's houses. Eventually, we got to the inn, a free standing stone building on the other side of the hill. It really didn't match the other buildings. It had three doors of different sizes, and the the windows didin't match. Dad said that the Inn was older than the current town, and that it was built for lots of different sized people. Oh, that's the call for supper. More later.
Travel Musings
I'm still on the cart. I'm here in the back with my luggage and the itchy, itchy hay. I don't even know why we have all this hay. I guess it is to feed the horses, but we gave them oats when we stopped for lunch. I don't even know the name of the town, if it had one. It wasn't much to look at. There was just a general store, a tavern, and a little church at a crossroad. We ate at the tavern, again, without a name. It seemed like it was the only place around for miles. It was dark, dirty and the other eaters, locals, I guess, stared at us the whole time. Dad watched the cart through the dusty little window. I mostly stared at my plate. We're still in Lithia, and we will be until tomorrow night, at least. Our red hair marks us as Hydian, so maybe that was why they stared. Or we could have simply been "outsiders." I don't know. It seems strange to me that there could be a place like this less than seven hours ride from home.
It is starting to sink in that I'm not going to see Lyssander again for a long time. Probably a year at least. Of course, I might wash out. I don't even want to think about that, though. I didn't really understand what was happening when we left our home in Hydria. It felt like a grand adventure, rafting down the river with danger at our backs, like in the stories my grandfather used to tell in front of the fire. He had been somewhat of a hero in his day, and had fought orcs and goblins in the mountains. He came back having lost his left arm, but with enough treasure to keep our family comfortable and to start his own business. I think he was glad when that Dad chose to follow him as a merchant and not a warrior, but he never stopped looking out at the mountains. His shield and spear hung over the fireplace when I was a child, but when he died, we buried them with him. He passed away when I was eight. I was really sad, but everyone said that it was a goodness that he didn't have to evacuate. I sometimes think that he would have strapped on that old shield, and ran the other way, towards the army that he had fought time and again in his youth.
But it's a different world, now. No one quite knows how different, yet. The War left a big mess, but a lot of opportunity as well. At the Battle of World Spine mountains, the The Destroyer fought the Dwarf god, the Defender. They wrestled without weapons, and the result of their hand-to-hand combat carved out giant new passes and deep ravines. Explorers went through and discovered a whole continent of undiscovered civilizations! It was the first sign of the new age, so the third-age calendar is usually started from the year of that battle, which is, actually, the year I was born. I don't know if this new world is one where there can still be adventurers like my grandfather, but I hope so.
It is starting to sink in that I'm not going to see Lyssander again for a long time. Probably a year at least. Of course, I might wash out. I don't even want to think about that, though. I didn't really understand what was happening when we left our home in Hydria. It felt like a grand adventure, rafting down the river with danger at our backs, like in the stories my grandfather used to tell in front of the fire. He had been somewhat of a hero in his day, and had fought orcs and goblins in the mountains. He came back having lost his left arm, but with enough treasure to keep our family comfortable and to start his own business. I think he was glad when that Dad chose to follow him as a merchant and not a warrior, but he never stopped looking out at the mountains. His shield and spear hung over the fireplace when I was a child, but when he died, we buried them with him. He passed away when I was eight. I was really sad, but everyone said that it was a goodness that he didn't have to evacuate. I sometimes think that he would have strapped on that old shield, and ran the other way, towards the army that he had fought time and again in his youth.
But it's a different world, now. No one quite knows how different, yet. The War left a big mess, but a lot of opportunity as well. At the Battle of World Spine mountains, the The Destroyer fought the Dwarf god, the Defender. They wrestled without weapons, and the result of their hand-to-hand combat carved out giant new passes and deep ravines. Explorers went through and discovered a whole continent of undiscovered civilizations! It was the first sign of the new age, so the third-age calendar is usually started from the year of that battle, which is, actually, the year I was born. I don't know if this new world is one where there can still be adventurers like my grandfather, but I hope so.
Sixteenth Birthday
My name is Lizzeth Vernes, and today is my sixteenth birthday. When I was a little girl, I always thought about what today would be like. When Lydia turned sixteen, Daddy threw her a big party, with fancy clothes and food and all that. I was seven, and I was allowed to stay up and watch the fireworks he had arranged. Seeing those magic fires scorch the sky is one of my happiest childhood memories. Sometimes I think I spent my whole life waiting for a party like that for me.
Of course, that was in the good times, when we still lived in Hydraaltowne. It was back in the "Second Age," when we could still ignore the troubles of the world, for the troubles of the world hadn't reached us then. When things got bad, when the orcish hordes breached the northern walls, we fled in our boats, down the hydra tail river. That was when I was nine.
Things were more difficult when we finally dropped anchor in the port city of Lyssander. The Lithians were cold to us, and the journey had left us penniless. But Dad dug in, and we all helped. He used to say that a merchant makes profit, not excuses. I thought he was a wizard, that he could pull gold form the air. And it seemed like he could. Things were hard, but they got better. We opened a new shop, and if it wasn't quite as successful as the one in Hydraal, then we still lived comfortably enough. The news in those times was dark, though.
The Orcish army seemed unstoppable, led by the Destroyer, their dark god, himself! There was a hasty alliance of the Five Peoples against him, but mistrust ran deep between them all. The Lithian Army called for soldiers, and they sent for the Hydrians first. Dad was too old to fight, but they took him anyway, at the point of a spear. I remember running crying after the conscript wagon. I was shouting and crying. I hated the Lithians then. I hoped something horrible would happen to them. It was then that the first strange thing happened. Something bit one of the oxen, I think, and it went wild. the cart crashed and one of the drivers was killed. He was flung off and broke his neck. Dad's leg got broken, and so he was forced to stay behind. I was twelve. Everyone said what a strange event it was. I didn't say a thing. But I'll write it here, what I've never said to anyone. Somehow, I did it. I wanted it to happen, and it did. It felt like, I don't know, reaching out with a hand I don't have. It's hard to explain. But I was sure, and I still am, that I was responsible for that man's death.
Dad's leg didn't completely heal well, so he still walks with a limp. He stayed home through the war. I remember that our house was strained then, always fearing the dark influences that came from the gods walking in the world. Eventually they all fought together, and the Halfling Goddess did cut out at his right eye, and the Human God smote him upon the left leg, and the other Gods took him home to the world beyond worlds, and left us mortals to clean up after their messes.
But as I was saying, at home, there were strange lights, and strains of music, and sometimes the plates would jump, or the doors would slam in empty rooms on still days. Momma thought the house was haunted, and called in a priest. When he finally came, a pale man in dark robes who looked more at his own nose than at us, he said he could find no presence here, and a few other things about Hydrians that I won't repeat here. We thanked the cleric coldly and watched him go. But Grandmother watched me instead. I think that even then she knew.
I don't know how she convinced my father, but it was a long argument. It must have been months, but in the end, she had her way. I was to be sent away to school. Up to now, I had been taught in the local schools, or by my mother and grandmother when we traveled down the river. I was perfectly happy with my education, and I said so.
"Ah," but my grandmother had said. "This is a different education. You'll be going to wizardry school." This took me by surprise. Lithians don't like mages, and ones found are considered witches here. Needless to say, I took to the idea immediately. So my sixteenth birthday party was a going away party. They made some secret of where I was really going, of course. They said I was going to live with my Sister and her husband.
Today I'm sixteen, and I'm sitting on the back of a cart filled with hay, headed for the Mage's city of Carabein, in far distant Carbos.
Of course, that was in the good times, when we still lived in Hydraaltowne. It was back in the "Second Age," when we could still ignore the troubles of the world, for the troubles of the world hadn't reached us then. When things got bad, when the orcish hordes breached the northern walls, we fled in our boats, down the hydra tail river. That was when I was nine.
Things were more difficult when we finally dropped anchor in the port city of Lyssander. The Lithians were cold to us, and the journey had left us penniless. But Dad dug in, and we all helped. He used to say that a merchant makes profit, not excuses. I thought he was a wizard, that he could pull gold form the air. And it seemed like he could. Things were hard, but they got better. We opened a new shop, and if it wasn't quite as successful as the one in Hydraal, then we still lived comfortably enough. The news in those times was dark, though.
The Orcish army seemed unstoppable, led by the Destroyer, their dark god, himself! There was a hasty alliance of the Five Peoples against him, but mistrust ran deep between them all. The Lithian Army called for soldiers, and they sent for the Hydrians first. Dad was too old to fight, but they took him anyway, at the point of a spear. I remember running crying after the conscript wagon. I was shouting and crying. I hated the Lithians then. I hoped something horrible would happen to them. It was then that the first strange thing happened. Something bit one of the oxen, I think, and it went wild. the cart crashed and one of the drivers was killed. He was flung off and broke his neck. Dad's leg got broken, and so he was forced to stay behind. I was twelve. Everyone said what a strange event it was. I didn't say a thing. But I'll write it here, what I've never said to anyone. Somehow, I did it. I wanted it to happen, and it did. It felt like, I don't know, reaching out with a hand I don't have. It's hard to explain. But I was sure, and I still am, that I was responsible for that man's death.
Dad's leg didn't completely heal well, so he still walks with a limp. He stayed home through the war. I remember that our house was strained then, always fearing the dark influences that came from the gods walking in the world. Eventually they all fought together, and the Halfling Goddess did cut out at his right eye, and the Human God smote him upon the left leg, and the other Gods took him home to the world beyond worlds, and left us mortals to clean up after their messes.
But as I was saying, at home, there were strange lights, and strains of music, and sometimes the plates would jump, or the doors would slam in empty rooms on still days. Momma thought the house was haunted, and called in a priest. When he finally came, a pale man in dark robes who looked more at his own nose than at us, he said he could find no presence here, and a few other things about Hydrians that I won't repeat here. We thanked the cleric coldly and watched him go. But Grandmother watched me instead. I think that even then she knew.
I don't know how she convinced my father, but it was a long argument. It must have been months, but in the end, she had her way. I was to be sent away to school. Up to now, I had been taught in the local schools, or by my mother and grandmother when we traveled down the river. I was perfectly happy with my education, and I said so.
"Ah," but my grandmother had said. "This is a different education. You'll be going to wizardry school." This took me by surprise. Lithians don't like mages, and ones found are considered witches here. Needless to say, I took to the idea immediately. So my sixteenth birthday party was a going away party. They made some secret of where I was really going, of course. They said I was going to live with my Sister and her husband.
Today I'm sixteen, and I'm sitting on the back of a cart filled with hay, headed for the Mage's city of Carabein, in far distant Carbos.
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