Lockhill

So much has happened today! I'll try to go as far as I can, but it's going to be difficult. I need to get it into words before I figure out what to do next, so I'll write until the light goes. We'll be docking in Carabos tomorrow, I think. What happens then, I wonder. In any case, I suppose the only thing for it is to start at the beginning. It started with the announcement.
Just as I was finishing up part three of Grandfather's story, one of the crew began ringing a bell on deck. I gathered with the rest of the passengers to hear what the announcement was. We would soon be arriving at Lockhill. The boat turned away from the fast-moving river, and into the shipping canal as he was speaking. The next bit of news was what was really exciting. Not only would those leaving at Lockhill be able to get off of the boat, but since the boat is going to be waiting for a while to go through the locks, and the deck very busy, passengers were encouraged to disembark and visit the town.
It's a pleasant enough little place, dwarfed by nature and the canal it supplied. Maduin High Falls are still quite a few miles away, but far in the distance the plumes of water can be seen. Supposedly, the high towers of Carabos have a great view of them on a clear day. Even though that area is so close to Carabos, and such a scenic wonder, It's apparently pretty lawless right now. The Wars pushed the Carabian military to it's breaking-point, just like every other nation, and when they weren't paid what they were promised, the conscripts took the forts as payment instead. Carabos has been whittled down to a city-state, turning inward as a place of learning. Even Lockhill is barely connected to the Gnomish Capital, taking a lion's share of the levies on river traffic for itself. The City gets by on the magic trade, but I wonder if it'll hold out.
In any case, the city is mostly sized for the Gnomes that live there, with a few buidings in the entertainment district sized larger. There's a row of taverns, inn and what I'm fairly certain is a brothel, right on the main street, along with a few inns and general stores. There's a sizable theatre as well. It takes about an hour for a boat to go through all four locks, not counting the line, and the inspections. It looks like we'll be here most of the afternoon. I took a look down at the first lock, a long, empty trench with a little water at the bottom. There are gates on the side that let in water, or take it away down a second channel. That water goes down to a water wheel that provides power for the different factories and mills in town. On top of the lock, Gnomish engineers ran to and fro, tying lines and supervising the equipment. Gloria came up and joined me at the railing. After looking down and telling me to be careful, like I was just a little kid, she said that all the heavy lifting was done by golems in a big room underground. The sides were all a smooth white surface that wasn't quite stone. You can find it here and there in very old buildings up in Lythia, but I've only ever seen it with big cracks and patches in it. The Gnomes call it "concrete," and it's their special building secret. Dwarves dig in stone, and Elves are masters of lumber. The Halflings know clay and brick better than everyone else, and the orcs prefer to live in animal-skin tents. Humans use a little bit of everything. I've never seen a construction this size before, though. Supposedly, everything in Carabos is like this. I can't wait to get there.
We still had a few hours to kill, so I wanted to check out the theatre, but Gloria would have none of it. I had thought I had finally gotten a chance to relax on my own, with Mr. K not really being the watchful type, and Magus Ceylon having hysterics in his cabin, but no. The closer we get to Carabos, the more overprotective and bossy Gloria gets. So she pushed me away from the locks, and through the town shopping. We didn't actually get anything, of course, but it was fun to look through the stores, I guess. There was a really nice cloak I was tempted to get. It was reversible, all weather, and I think a little magicked, but Gloria gave me this look, and told me not to waste my money on it. There's a long semester ahead of us, and we have to make our supplies last. She reminded me that we should eat while we're in town, and we headed to a little teashoppe she had heard of.
Right from the start, I cannot think of a more tragically reputable establishment. It didn't look like the sort of place that served alchohol, much less hosted barfights. Definitely not the point of refuge of innocent maidens on the run from evil. I doubt a bandit could find the place with a spyglass. First of all, it was Pink. REALLY pink. Pink walls, pink roof, pink door. Rows of lovely pink flowers in spotless beds out front. Pink stones lining the path up the tiny, but immaculately cut lawn. Disgustingly, boringly pink. And everything that wasn't pink, was lavender! I felt like an idiot just walking in. This wasn't where two dangerous young ladies on an adventure dined on the road.
Gloria assured me that the food, which was the important thing, was of the highest quality, as well as quantity, so I sighed and headed on inside. It was just as bad on the inside. There were doilies EVERYWHERE. I will admit that I am a bit of a tomboy city-girl. I'll admit to a bit of a wild streak, and I've never been one to behave and stay quiet, but this place would have turned anyone's hair gray. Lace curtains, etc. You get the idea. I was beginning to realize that I had perhaps misjudged Gloria's taste, if she was taking me to a place like this. Gloria was already headed to a table. I recognized a few of the faces there from the boat as Gloria's new friends.
I looked past them, and I saw, of all people, Periel the magnificent seated at the corner table. He was conversing with a beautiful woman. She was tall, with long, blond locks, and her ears were long and somehow gracefully pointed, as though her face had been sculpted rather than grown. I wonder if she was be an elf. They were whispering, and I admit that I tried to listen in, but either he had cast a spell, or I was just too far away, and I couldn't hear a thing over the chatter in the restaurant. I shrugged, and followed Gloria, already deep in conversation at the table.
I was introduced all around. There were four of them, coming from all over, each of them different, but fast becoming friends. I've never made friends easily. I've always been an outsider. I was instantly jealous of Gloria for her ability to socialize.
Corrina was the first. She's a human from the borderlands, and she's as tough as they come, by the look of her. She's a year older than me, and she's off to seek her fortune. Her parents were going to sell her off to pay their debts! I was thunderstruck when I heard that. I can't imagine a parent doing something like that, no matter how desperate things became. So she scraped what she could, and somehow made her way onto the ship. She's going to start a new life in Carabos, or maybe stop there for a while, and drift. She hasn't decided yet. I kind of envy her but at the same time I completely don't.
Melody is a Gnome on pilgrimage. She is going to be a musician, and she's coming to Carabos to study at the Bardic College. Bards are strange folk. They study lore, like wizards, but not the arcane. They learn about songs, and stories, and history. And one in a thousand becomes great enough that their songs have a magic all their own. She is beautiful, and her voice is great. She already showed she's been studying, and told a wonderful story about a fisherman. It's apparently from her home village, out east.
Tina is a trader's daughter, like me. She's part elf, and she's on her way to be apprenticed in her Uncle's shop. It's not something she would be allowed to do in her home, I guess, but she's vague on where she's originally from. I've heard of half-elves in stories, of course, but I've never actually seen one. They say that a human and an elf fall in love maybe once in a lifetime. A human lifetime, that is. She's very quiet.
Hilda is from Paladine, and she is a stout and somewhat dour Dwarf-maid. She's a junior priestess, just finished with her training at the tender age of fifty. She's being sent to preach serve as a Handmaiden in Molem's Temple of the Illuminated Will in Carabos. The Dwarf God and the Gnome God are allies from ancient days. The temple in Carabos is the most magnificent outside of the mountains. It is a high honor to serve there, and it is a heavy responsibility. She bears it well.
The five of them talked, and laughed and planed their futures in the city. I was included in it, though treated as Gloria's 'little sister.' I grinned, and shruged, and generally stayed quiet. Eventually, the food arrived: Sweet, black tea and a huge stack of pancakes with strawberries. I dug in gratefully. Honestly, I was glad to have something to do that prevented me from talking. They were all nice girls, but I just wasn't comfortable, for some reason. Maybe it was because my suspicions about Gloria's attitude were being proven true. THe raven pendant in my pocket seemed all the heavier at that moment.
The food was just as good as promised, though. In the far corner, the mysterious woman stood, her business with the mage apparently concluded. As she rose, he reached into thin air and pulled out a card, which he presented to her with a seated bow. Her lip curled in almost a smile, or maybe a sneer, and she left quickly. I admit I was a bit in awe of her as she walked past. She seemed so, I don't know, forceful. The magician sat looking out the window. Once she is fully gone, his face fell, as though it was a mask of good humor he was wearing.
A bell rang in town. A crier announced our ship will be leaving the channel soon, and Gloria and the girls settled the bill. I told them I would catch up.
I hung back to speak with the magician. His table was in a quiet corner, and he sat nursing his tea and looking worried.
"Excuse me," I said. It startled him. "May I sit here for a moment?" He looked at me with these sad, shining eyes, and said "of course." I took her seat.
"I saw you on the boat, but I wasn't sure how to approach you."
"Approach me? Why?" He asks. I'm embarrassed by the answer, but I decided to be honest with him.
"Well, someday I'd like to be a magician like you." I said.
"Well, a cute face like yours would surely bring in the marks," he said.
"Marks?" I asked
"Oh, you know, crowds, customers."
"Right. But I don't know if I can do it. I'll wash out for sure."
"Wash out?" He looked puzzled for a minute, as if he didn't understand the concept. A great, traveling magician like him must be unaccustomed to failure. "Oh, right," he said at last. "Well, there are three things you need to succeed in this business: Patience, Practice, and Confidence. If you focus and train, take your opportunities when they come, and believe in yourself, you'll see your name in lights one of these days." It was good advice. I memorized it.
"Thanks for that," I said. "I saw you a few days ago in (name of town). You were really great!"
"Oh..." he looked concerned for a second, but I don't know why. Then the smile came back, officious as ever. "It was a good crowd for the Wake this year."
"Wake?" I asked.
"Yes, the Halfling Wake, which you were at." He gave me a strange look.
"I've never heard it called that before," I said.
"Oh, yes. It's a fine old tradition. The road's a dangerous place. That's why they have the blessing and the feast. Didn't you go up to the hilltop shrine for the ceremony?" I thought back to the service, the way she had given a blessing in the quick, high Halfling tounge. I nodded. "Well, you've already had last rites, in case you meet with accident or murder out on the highway." A living funeral, a feast of sorrow not for those that had gone, but for those who would not be coming back. And they had hidden it from me, like I was a child, still a little girl. Gloria knew, and she hadn't told me. Even she hadn't trusted me to accept that kind of danger. She's handling me with kid-gloves, like she treats her brother. I was wrong to think that things were getting better between us. Not when she hid this from me. I stood up, nearly knocking over the chair in my haste.
"I have to go," I said. I ran out of the teashoppe without looking back at his expression. I was being rude, I know, to a man of considerable power. But I was flush with rage. Why hadn't they told me the truth?

The Tale of the Magic Crossbow pt. III: The Cursed Ones

In keeping with Mr. K's suggestion, I'm going to keep on telling Grandfather's stories, but I'm changing up the format a bit. If I'm cataloguing them, I should treat them more seriously. So, I'm going to abandon the bedtime story format and just concentrate on the facts, as I know them.
When last I wrote of them, Joachim, Glory, and Rose had entered the Ironwood Forest. Rose was leading them, with the purpose of disarming the many traps and pitfalls that the Wood Elves had set up to protect their haven, although they hadn't managed to protect it from underneath. Glory and Rose weren't so disturbed by the dark. Their people had eyes better suited for the lack of light. Joachim was human, so he had to light his way.
He pulled a device from his pack. It was a leather and glass tube, about a foot in length, called a sun rod. He twisted the leather thong in the middle, and there was a crunch of something brittle breaking. The strange, alchemic fluids in the tubes met, and reacted, making the rod glow brightly, or at least it should have. The eldritch spell of darkness robbed even the device of some of its brilliance. Still, it was enough to see by.
"Put that out!" Rose whispered with a hiss. "Do you want the Drow to see us coming?"
"Better they see the light than they hear me trip over every root and break every fallen twig between here and their camp," Joachim replied. "Take point, we're right behind you." Rose stiffened, unused to taking orders from a human. Her elven ears twitched, trying to catch some tiny sound on the cold breeze perhaps, and she started forward without a word. Glory shrugged and fell in behind her. He took up the rear.
For a few minutes, they walked in silence, save for the occasional warning from Rose to avoid a certain long, or to point out a pitfall hidden in the undergrowth. The group managed to avoid any patrols. In fact, they walked for a long time without seeing anyone. Rose claimed that she knew every inch of the forest, and they believed her, but as they walked, the fact that something wasn't right settled upon them. When she felt confident enough, Glory hung back to consult with her partner.
"Something isn't right here," she whispered.
"So you noticed, too" Joachim replied.
"Yes. I suspected it before we entered, but that business with the torch confirms it."
"Wait, the torch? What do you mean?" He asked.
"Yes... wait, what do you mean?" Glory stopped.
"You first."
"Fine. That's not a magical item, is it."
"The sun rod? Of course not. It's just a fire. It's all chemicals. Take a look." He brandished the device for her to get a closer look.
"I already am," she said, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes had the faint, violet glow they took on whenever she examined things of the magical spectrum. "The torch shouldn't be working, but it is. There's something off about this darkness spell."
"Go on."
"Well, do you remember the Splinterbone Catacombs? When we had to fight that warlock?"
"Of course, when he scuppered, he called down that cloud of darkness. It took hours to find our way out of it. Even that dwarf was running into the walls... Oh, I see."
"Exactly. If this really were a darkness spell, it would be solid. My night-vision wouldn't be effective, and your torch wouldn't do any good at all."
"So it's not magic after all?" He trusted her judgement. Glory's expertise had saved them on a number of occasions.
"No, it is. This whole place is so filled with magic that I can barely see. It's even drowning out your spear, it's so thick. But it's not dark, it's more like, I don't know, night, somehow. I've never seen a spell do something like this before."
"Any ideas what could cause it?"
"Well, I can't say. It could be very, very powerful time magic, or weather magic, I suppose. It's like the whole sky is frozen above us. It could be a ritual or an artifact I've never heard of. It could be anything. I can't wait to find out."
"Well, whatever it is, spell or machine, or what not, you can figure it out after I break it."
"You do love smashing other people's toys, don't you Vernes?" Her tone was slightly colder. It was an old argument.
"Well," he considered, "mostly these 'toys' were horrible things sent to kill me, so I don't feel so bad about it. And besides, you'd think that poor old Bindle would be your top priority."
"Bindle?" She asked, puzzled.
"You do recall your poor, punctured, boyfriend, I hope." Joachim said sarcastically. The tone was getting heated.
"Of course, of course. But if this is some lost magic, it would be quite a boon. I could get tenure in Carabos for something like that." Her voice fell again.
"Who knows if you'll get your chance. I don't think Rose is leading us on a rescue mission."
"What makes you say that?" Glory asked.
"Well, for one thing, she's given us the slip." Glory looked around. It was true. Rose had disappeared while they were arguing.
"Well...I'm sure she's just gone ahead. Maybe she didn't see us slow down?"
"No, Glory, just no. You might know your magic, but I know people, and something about this stunk the moment we took it. Now I know what. Trust me, there'll be a horde of monsters just beyond that riiioh..." Joachim stepped forward,and found his foot squarely in the middle of a hidden noose. Before he had time to pull it back, He was swinging upward by his right ankle. In that moment, his arms flailed, and he dropped his torch. Fortunately, he was quicker to catch his spear, as it fell from the holder on his pack. He was about to cut himself loose, when he looked down and saw just how high off the ground he was. Then, he reconsidered.
Somehow, the sunrod had managed to avoid serious damage in the fall, and illuminated a small circle below. On the ground, Glory stood looking up at him, and laughing.
"Hilarious," Joachim said blankly. "You wouldn't have happened to prepare a slow falling spell, would you?"
"I've got a potion for it."
"Well, I don't think that's going to help me, Glory." Joachim began to feel giddy from the blood rushing to his head. Glory stepped gingerly around the smoking brush, and set her pack down on a patch of clear ground. It was muddy from the lack of light, but she didn't seem to notice.
"I still have that levitation scroll in here somewhere. I'll guide you down." She rummaged through the bag, and eventually pulled out a battered scroll case. While she was searching, Joachim reached down with the spear tip. It would be close, but he could just reach. Out in the forest, a twig snapped.
"Glory..."
"Hold on, I've got it right here..." There was another snap, closer. "Fireball, grease, haste, ooh!" There was the sound of something climbing a tree, followed by the crash of a branch. Whatever it was, it was large. It sounded as though an army was marching through, and it was very close now.
"Do you have it? I hear something out there."
"No, I just found a lightning bolt. I thought I used up of those. Here it is. Are you ready?" Glory looked up from her pack, and at... something in front of her. She froze. Joachim tried to twist his body to get a better look, but he couldn't make out anything outside the tiny circle of dying flames. A large, impossible shadow descended upon Glory, and she screamed. Almost immediately, her cry became a chant, and, and she gestured, completing a spell just in time. From underneath the monstrous shadow's bulk, Joachim faintly heard the word 'haste,' and the spell was cast. There was a blur, presumably glory, her enchanted dagger cutting a trail of fire through beast and air, that came bounding from below, and off into the woods. Bellowing with rage, the injured thing lumbered after her. Joachim watched it skitter, seemingly too quickly, on four pairs of horrible, oddly bending spider legs, and then the clearing was quiet again.
He felt a weight settle on the branch his trap hung from, almost imperceptibly, then lift again, in silence. There was a second one, or the first had doubled back? In a moment, his question was answered as the creature slid into his field of vision, and he found himself staring into a cruel and familiar face. He had seen it, the night before in the tavern, although the addition of a pair of wickedly curved, jutting fangs had been the least of the changes that had ocurred to her. She was still dressed in the remnants of her garb from the night before, although it was badly torn and ripped. Her hands had changed like her face. Her fingers now ending in sharp talons. But it was her legs that had truly been changed. Her waist was the last part of her that could be considered humanoid, as her jet-black skin now transitioned smoothly to the hard, shiny carapace of a black widow spider. Eight huge legs tensed on nothing, and she swung from a thin, white strand of spider-silk. She looked at him with fierce hatred in her eyes, and growled a low curse in a tongue that was far removed from the graceful Elven languages it was derived from. She lashed out quickly, using both her claws. One, Joachim managed to block with his buckler, but the other reached past it, digging trough his armor and into the soft flesh of his shoulder.
Joachim sighed, and brought his short spear around, cutting through the monster's web line as well as the rope. He kicked out, connecting with his free leg squarely in what he supposed was the thorax. There was a slight crunch, and she howled in rage. Finally, he was at least facing upwards, but the ground was coming up fast, and she clawed at him, as though killing him was far more important than saving herself. He only had one chance, and she would hardly cooperate. He readied the and drove it deep into her chest, just as the forest floor rose to meet them. There was a shock of contact, and what he was sure was a broken arm. The wound on his shoulder burned, more than it should have, and he realized that it must have been poisonous. The thing, whatever it was, screamed, and fell dead. Joachim sunk down on the grass beside it, careful to avoid the leaking ichor, and saw to his wounds.
His chain was rent in a huge gash at his left shoulder. That arm was already starting to go numb, either from some natural poison, or something she had dipped her talons in. With his right, he reached into his pack and pulled out a green glass vial marked with a heart. With great care, he poured a small measure on his wound, which smoked, but where he left it, there was fresh, healed skin. He sighed, and replaced what was left of the potion.
With great effort, he rose one-handed to his feet, while his left arm hung paralyzed. At least, he thought, the poison doesn't seem to be spreading further. He headed wearily off in the direction that he thought Glory had fled in. Eventually, she found him.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Fine, fine. A little poisoned."
"A little?"
"It's a light paralytic. It just needs time to work it's way through. How did you do?"
"Alright. Whatever spell protection they had yesterday, the metamorphosis stripped them of it, so I managed to make short work of it, once I extrapolated the data."
"Right, right. But why change them into monsters that are weaker than their original shapes?"
"Drow culture is reclusive and mysterious. From the fragments I understand, I would hazard a guess that they were not mutated by choice, or to hunt us."
"Go on."
"There is scant information on the Drow available outside of the Underdark, but I do recall glancing at an old tome concerning their diety: Lolth, the Entrapping One. She is a devil of such power that not only does she gain worship from mortals of the dark realms, but she has enough power survive outside of the complex hierarchy the other denizens of her plane partake in. The only other Pit Lord of that caliber is Tiamat."
"Impressive, but how does that relate to those two trackers?"
"Well, the book describes a variety of rituals available to Lolth's servants. Some transformations grant enormous power, and others are terrible curses. What we fought today were 'Driders.' cursed to take the shape of half-drow, half-monsterous spider for failure in service. I would imagine that by failing to kill or capture us the night before, they were forced into a new shape, and exiled." They got up, and headed deeper into the forest, away from the cursed bodies.
"They failed last night because Rose used her daylight spell." Joachim said slowly. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Why not. It validates the fact that Rose did not in fact, turn against us."
"No, Glory. Just no. Trust me, she ditched us. You may know every run or whatnot, but I know people. And I know when we've been betrayed. It just makes the game more complicated."
"In that, you would be correct, human." The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and suddenly, the forest was full of Drow warriors. Their leader was a woman. She was beautiful, but terrible in aspect, as though she were carved of obsidian. Her long, white hair flowed like fine silk, and her eyes were a rich, blood red. She was a warrior in black leather armor, reinforced with white, spidery carvings in bone. In her left hand she carried a weapon, a crossbow as beautiful and deadly as she was herself. The weapon was carved from midnight wood, and embellished with truesilver that shone like stars.
She held in her right was a length of chain, and Joachim saw Rose handcuffed at the end of it. She had been beaten herself, quite badly, by the look of it. The Drow pulled her forward, without seeming effort. Rose stumbled. Her captor sneered at her cruelly. "We sent the little worm to bring you here, to find a mighty wizard for us to sacrifice to the Night Stone. In that she has done well. So, in spite of her... disloyalty," the leader said, stretching the word as though savoring it. "We shall sacrifice no more of our lesser sylvan sisters." She marched slowly, up to Glory, slinging the crossbow onto her back, and reaching out to touch her. Glory backed up, and poured quick, pure fire out of her stretched fingers, engulfing the clearing in flame and smoke. There was a high, cold, throaty laugh from the Drow commander.
"You are a strong one." There was a note of surprised in her voice. "Yes, you will do nicely indeed. Take her!" She called to her guards. She and Joachim readied their weapons, but the Drow were legion, and before long, they were prisoners.

Talking With Mr. K

The Magus is still hiding in his cabin, so Gloria and I have the day off. I did some snooping around after breakfast, and I found out what Mr, K does all day. He sketches. It's amazing to watch him work, although at first I'm sure he knew I wasn't there. He has a little easel set up at the other end of the ship, and he draws the scenery as we pass it. The speed and precision of his technique are impressive.
My dad commissioned a family portrait once, and it was horrible. The painter took forever and we had to stand there all day as he captured all the little details. I bothered him while he was working later, and he showed me how it had been done. He broke us all down into little shapes and drew them separately, one after the other, until the geometry disappeared, and we became the whole picture. It was really interesting to watch. What Mr. K did was nothing like that. He didn't draw shapes to make the landscape, he just transfered it. He started at the top-left corner of a page, and worked steadily up and down it in quick strokes of his arm, so fast that I could barely see it. And every line was perfect, like it was second nature to him. And when he was finished, it wasn't like a sketch so much as an illusion. I could see every single detail captured perfectly in lead and paper. He should have been an artist instead of a teacher. I told him so, and he jumped. He chided me for sneaking up on him.
I sat down beside him, and we watched the mangroves pass. The river there was swampy and desolate. I said so, and he laughed, softly.
"What's so funny," I asked.
"Oh, it's just a human foible. There's more life out there than in any of the human or dwarven cities, but you say 'desolate.'
"Well, it's not a city or anything, it's all giant lizards and stuff, right?"
"Stuff. There's a small tribe of Lizardmen out there, and some goblin nests further from the river. They all mostly keep to themselves. So you are from Lithia, yes?"
"No, well, originally, I'm from Hydraal. My grandfather was a great hero in the Orc wars, before the, you know, the big one."
"Really? He was a soldier?"
"Not officially. He was a wandering swordsman. That's actually how Gloria and I know each other. Her grandmother and my grandfather were cohorts."
"Really? Most of what I know of Magus Boflin is from her brief stint as a professor. What was your grandfather's name?"
"Joachim Vernes. He was know as Dragon-Talker Vernes, and he carried a magic spear carved from a gold dragon's fang."
"He was a dragon lord, that's passing rare, in a human." He was genuinely surprised. Maybe he wasn't a dragon in human shape, if he didn't know that.
"Well, I don't really know the details. It's not one of the stories he told often. As I understand it, in his early adventures, he protected a clutch of eggs from orc patrols in the high mountains. That is how he earned the their respect, and his signature weapon. I've been writing about his adventures a lot lately."
"Why is that?"
"Oh, homesickness I guess. In the battle against the bandits, my father was using one of grandpa's weapons, so I've been thinking about the stories."
"I would love to hear it, if you wouldn't mind."
"Really? Well, alright." We sat and talked all through the morning. Really, mostly I talked. I told him about the magic crossbow, and the dark elves, and their plans to block out the sun.
"So they had a shadowstone." He said when I had finished. "It was a lucky thing that they stopped them. The whole world could have been swallowed by the shadow plane with one of that size, given enough time.
"The shadow plane? What's that?" I asked.
"Oh, this is advanced, planar geography, but I'll try and explain simply." He turned to a new page in his text book and sketched a great circle, with a smaller one inside it. "In the first age, their was the material world," he said, tapping the central circle. "And there was the Spirit World, which surrounded, bound and existed just beyond the world we know. All things, all spirits and magic creatures, existed in the Spirit world. Then, the Golden Age ended. The Old Gods, died, or vanished, or ceased to be. The legends differed. What we do know isat the strain of the end cracked the heavens themselves, and the Spirit World, dissolved into the many and different planes." He sketched a few lines, and the outer circle was cut like a pie. Now, there are many different planes of existence beyond the physical: Realms of fire, and endless oceans with no surface. Heavens and hells, each one different. And on some of them, the new gods dwell, and dictate their will. Do you follow?"
"Yes, I said."
"Good. Now it gets tricky. Some of these realms touch the material at different times, and three of them, the Astral, the Etherial, and the Shadow, can be easily reached from our world. They are the gateways to the planes beyond, like paths, or seas."
"So the cloud of darkness was the shadow plane?"
"Not exactly. The stone was a solid chunk of shadow matter. Normally, planar matterial can't exist on our world. It's too different, or it has too much energy, and explodes. They had managed to get some stable, and they were using it to copy the traits of the shadow onto the material. If they had succeeded, then they could have conceivably merged the two together, destroying the earth, but making the shadow plane that much greater. Who knows what could have happened. Your grandfather was truly a great hero for saving the world. Do you know many of his adventures?"
"Some of them. He told them to me as bedtime stories, so I think he cleaned them up a great deal."
"Even so, I think you should keep at it, Lizzeth. Write them down. I can't think of anything as sad as a story that becomes lost forever. History, and geography. These are the focus of stories, and stories drive them. Do you understand?"
"I think so," I said.
"Excellent. I very much would consider it a personal favor if you would tell them to me some time." And that is how I have become my grandfather's biographer. When we get to port, I desperately need to write my father a letter.

The Sealed Door

We're still traveling down the river, but the weather is slowly getting better. We stopped again at a town while we were sleeping, and a whole bunch of the passengers got off. It's still crowded, but not so bad now. Magus Celon spent all the rest of the afternoon and evening in his cabin, and at dinner Mr. K told us to leave him be. When the magus saw that ruined old tower, he went white as a sheet. I asked Mr. K about the ruins, and I expected him to tell me not to worry as he watched Gloria and I eat our bread and cheese. Instead, he told us a story.
As he told us about it, something softened in his face. He's such a cold person, it's easier to think he's not human, and I assumed that he would be a bad teacher, but this was different. He doesn't deal with people well, but he's passionate about history. I'll try and reproduce the history of this place, as neatly as I can.
The tower has existed for as long as anyone can remember. Records of the site, according to Mr. K, date to the beginning of the Second Age, and even then, the tower had been ruined. Whatever purpose it held was lost during the Fall of the Old Gods. That means it was probably a temple or some other religious building that was forgotten by the Risen Gods, but the truth of the matter is still unknown.
The interesting thing about the building is that no one has ever fully explored the structure. The stones above, which are stronger than they appear, and still bear mysterious enchantments, eventually lead the visitor to a single door, marked with the rune of the Prime Magister! This door is taller than two men, and just as wide. It is carved of stone, all in one piece, and doesn't have a lock or a keyhole. And no one in the world has ever been able to open it. There are many different theories about what is there, and what could be behind it. That would explain why everyone was so excited. The Prime Magister invented most spells and magical artifacts. He's a hero so ancient and famous that he commands almost as much respect among humans as the god Hattori himself! They say that he hid his greatest secrets, in his grimoire, away when he died. Somewhere, out in the world, his canon is waiting to be rediscovered.
Mr. K would have liked to have stopped the boat to explore, but with that many passengers, even day-trippers paying with copper, the captain wouldn't do it, so he made what notes he could. I wonder if Mr. K has a bit of an adventurer in him?
As for the reason Magus Celon became so upset, even Mr. K doesn't know. He just said that elven memories are long, and their moods are changeable. He advised us to leave the mage be and enjoy the river trip. Even though the "mortal" histories of the first age are mostly lost, it is said that the elves considered the Prime Magister a dangerous villain. No one outside the Green Kingdoms knows why, though. The elves know more secrets than the gnomes, but they keep them close to their hearts.

Mysterious River

This morning, we stopped very briefly to pick up more passengers, but Magus Celon and Mr. K wouldn't let us go to grab a bite. The Halcyon did take on a whole lot of newcomers, though. They're so thick now that the cabins are full and people are sleeping on the deck. In the crowd, I noticed that one of the new passengers was Periel The Magnificent! It was tough with so many people, and he must have shaved his beard, but I would recognize his mage hat anywhere. Come to think of it, neither Mr. K or Magus Celon wears a magic hat.
In any case, now we have THREE powerful magicians on board. The captain must feel very safe. Although, Gloria and I have been talking, and we're not so sure about Mr. K. If he were a magician, he would go by his title, but he goes by “mister.” We spent last night after lights out considering what he could be. He clearly did a big magic spell, so I think he has to be a mage. Maybe he's disgraced or something, and doesn't use the title. I'll be he had a tragic love affair, or something like that. Wizards are doing things like that all the time. Gloria thinks he's a dragon in disguise. They're supposed to be everywhere these days, hidden in plain sight.
The dragons fought as their own side in the War twenty years ago. They split and fought over the specifics, but in the end, they decided it would be bad for them if they let the horde destroy civilization, so they fought. Then, when the orcs were pushed back behind the high mountains, the armies turned on one another, and the alliances fell. The dragons were the mightiest of them, and rather than wait for the power of the others to turn against them, they all changed their shape, and walked through their attackers, and disappeared back to wherever it is that dragons go. And the rumor persists that there still out there, hidden in mortal guise. Another romantic story, I guess. We're at the space between eras, a gap in history. The times are strange and uncertain, but I'm excited. It's like the fates are on vacation, and our future is a blank canvas.
I asked Magus Celon about Magus Periel, but he just gave me one of those considering, elven looks of his, and told us to stay away from the other passengers. I wonder if they have some kind of a rivalry or something. The Magus is so mysterious himself. I wonder how he came to be so far from his home, teaching in a gnomish city. And then there's me. This ship is all up filled with mysteries!
A few hours ago, we came to a bend in the river that looked out on a bleak moor. There was a ripple of excitement in the crowd, and even Magus Celon looked up from his lecture on the development of the modern spellbook to look out over the land. It took me a while to see what it was we were looking at, but finally, Gloria and I climbed up on a railing, much to the Magus's worry, and looked out at a lonely tower. It looked long abandoned, with a broken crown. It looked like some giant stone hand, reaching out of the earth. It was mossy in parts, and there was a great murmur of excitement among the passengers, but I couldn't get Magus Celon to tell me anything about them. He looked very upset as we passed them. I wonder what they are, or what they remind him of?
I noticed that Mr. K had a little notebook out, and was taking some notes as we passed. He must know what the ruin is. At 'dinner,' I'll have to keep after him until he lets me know what they are. In any case, we all watched them until they were out of sight behind a bend, and even then, Magus Celon's thoughts were scattered, and he let us go. This is something important, I'm sure. The magus seemed so upset I'm afraid to ask him, and Gloria's in the dark as much as I am. Mr. K knows, though, and I'll get the story out of his tight lips yet!
There is nothing ahead of us but a blank age of the future, and nothing behind but ruins, from the war and lost civilizations. Over time, people pass away, and kingdoms crumble. But legends live on, forever. Monuments lose their meaning, but never cease to inspire us.

Hungry River

On a boat down the Carabian River, Day 3. The rain has dried up, it's still gray. We're traveling through hilly woodlands, and the river is twisting like a snake. So far, so good. The lectures from Magus Celon are SO boring, though. Mostly he's been describing Carabos, the city and the customs, and proper ettiquitte. In minute detail. I really don't need to know a seven hundred year history of Gnomish Dinning Habits. Or the ancient origins tea sandwiches. It's maddening! He goes so far back, that by the time he's finished, I've forgotten the rule he was teaching in the first place! I don't think it will be too much of a problem, though. Carabos is a Gnomish kingdom, but the University is separate. I've heard that it is a city unto itself, and an international haven for all of the five peoples. I'm sure I'll do fine.
Speaking of food, that's the one complaint I have on this tub. Apparently, Captain Pitt once lost a vessel to fire, and he's paranoid about losing another. So there is almost no cooking allowed here on The Halcyon. In the morning, there's oatmeal and tea, and then that's it for the whole day! I swear, the rest of the diet is rounded out by what raw supplies they pick up at stops: Jerky, hardtack, cheese, and maybe some local fruit. I'm not sure I can take much more of this! Ceylon takes it with stoic indifference, and Mr. K barely seems to eat at all. In this hardship, though, Gloria has proven to be a staunch ally. We're bunked together in a little cabin, in beds that are stacked one on the other and bolted to the wall. She says that her grandmother told her about a spell, that servants of the Gods use to when traveling in the wilderness. It allows them to pull food out of thin air. She thinks that the mages must have an arcane version. She's convinced that while we're scrabbling by on hard tack, they're summoning turkey legs. I'm glad that this has put me on better footing with her. The incident hasn't been forgotten, but things seem, better. We haven't said more than two words about it, though. I'm still a little worried.
We should be coming into a port later this afternoon. I hope we pick up more passengers. And that they let us off the boat for lunch. Going from the Halfling faire food to ship's rations is like some kind of torture. I almost wish the school was run by them rather than the gnomes! Now that I wrote it down, I am craving turkey legs. And cranberry sauce. Do they grow cranberries this far south? I think Celon was saying that Carabos is citrus country. Oranges, and lemons and things. They grow tea, too. Everyone drinks tea there all the time. I had it once, it was interesting. But I'm getting off track. I think hunger and boredom are actually writing this page, not me. Well, no time to rest! It sounds like Magus Celon is calling for us. More later!

A ship in a storm

It's still raining this morning. The wind is with us, though, so we're making good progress. The captain of the boat, Mr. Pitt, asked Magus Celon to still the storm, but he refused. The Magus said that such a use would be frivolous, and that Captain Pitt should "Enjoy the gift the goddesses have bestowed upon us." Then he told him a long-winded elven myth. I think it was from the first age, because something weird happened to his voice every time he tried to say the name of one of the goddesses. Or, maybe elvish just sounds like that at times. I don't know. Mr. Pitt came away unsatisfied with that answer, I think. On the plus side, He did give the captain a pennant to fly from The Academy. It shows he's on wizard business, or that a prominent magician is on board. It looks really neat. I hope the weather clears up so I can get a better look at it. The flag shows a pair of dragons, bearing the crest of the academy. It might be a trick of the rain, but it seems like the dragons change colors when I look away. This means that we shouldn't have any more trouble from wandering bandits, slavers, river pirates, and so forth. Mr. K watched them raise it. He's the strong, silent type, but he looked almost sad as they were raising it. Maybe he has bad memories. Or, he could be disappointed that he won't be able to scrap anymore on the trip. He definitely seems like the muscle of the pair.
After yesterday's entry, I found Dad out by the docks. He was going over some last minute things with the Magus. Between the wind and the rain, and the loading of the ship, I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they both looked shocked, and a bit worried, to see me standing there watching them. My ears were burning, I guess. Soon, it was time for me to board the ship, and for him to get the cart going. I didn't like the thought of him going off alone. The road was clearly dangerous. I had this horrible feeling, like it was the last time I would ever see him. Hopefully I'm only being nervous. When we parted, he gave me the speech, to write, to study hard, to stay out of trouble. Then he hugged me tightly, (in public!) and told me that he was proud of me. It was a huge shock to me. I honestly thought that they were, I don't know, ashamed of whatever was happening to me, or frightened. I started to cry, but I told him it was just the rain. Then, he got back the cart, and hunched over the rain. He looked so old, so small and fragile sitting there alone. Magus Celon shook his hand, and touched then touched the cart. He was speaking quietly, but I was sure I could hear every word.
He said: "Swift shall your horses be, at your back shall the wind blow, and sure will the road carry you." It didn't seem a blessing, more of a promise. Then, Dad was gone, and I was alone in the world. It was a strange, indescribable feeling. I felt joy and fear and sorrow and excitement, more things than I can write, all at once. I am on my journey! I wanted to write this all down yesterday, but as soon as we were on the ship, The Magus started lecturing us. He spent all the daylight hours talking about the school, the city, Gnomish manners, and a million other things that are too boring to relay here. Mr. K sat under the eaves of the deckhouse, watching the deckhands finish loading up, and we were on our way. The Magus says that we have a lot to learn before we get to Carabos, so we're getting special cram school before we arrive. The boat isn't very large, and we're the only passengers. The first mate, Mr. Simon, said that we might take on a few more passengers when we reach the next town in a few days time. As far as Carabos is concerned, we're out in the sticks, but the boat might even be full up by the time we get to the towns a day away from the capital. We turned in early, right after dinner.
Entries might be a bit sporadic for a while. The Magus's all-day lectures look like they're going to take the whole trip. The boat doesn't have a great supply of candles or lanterns. Fire's too big a risk on a riverboat. And unlike the others, I can't evoke a light, so I'm stuck writing this whenever I have a few minutes during the day. At least I don't have to worry about ink.