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The Near Horizon
Posted: 07 Feb 2006 01:09 PM |
The raven perched upon a bough of a fir tree, and polished its glossy beak against the branch. A small piece of carrion was hooked in its claw, snatched away from the carcass of an ettin lying slain and rotting in the deep forest of Midor, and the raven turned an eye on it. Surveying the wood once more the raven gobbled the stringy bit of flesh, jerking its head back to sling the morsel into its gullet.
Now the bird spread its broad black feathers and launched itself, gliding down to swoop with several clapping wingstrokes above an old man’s head as he climbed through the wood, using a simple bronze-shod staff to support himself. The old man stopped and followed the raven’s trajectory with his eyes. His calloused, knobby hand slipped into a satchel made from the hide of a crag cat, and withdrew a smallish direction-finding apparatus that was set in a buffed wooden case. After consulting the apparatus and sighting in on a landmark in the near horizon, he thrust the staff ahead of him and continued on his journey into the Midor Mountains.
In the company of Willom Wilde, and Iris, and Tomi and Laura, and – unfortunately – that of Sir Percival Sanner, the old man had learned that those mountains had a name before the city of Midoran was claimed by his followers. Nanihil fihdail she had called them, speaking in a strange tongue that survived only among those cursed dwellers of Maldovia. The interior of that mountain range was impossible to navigate without the proper apparatus, and even then the device required careful calibration from the hands of a skilled operator. This old man Salt was not so skilled; the device had been given to him with its current calibration by Lillian Blackstone.
Past the place where ettins roamed, the old man used his staff to ascend into the Nanihil fihdial, stopping frequently to catch sight of a landmark on the near horizon. He knew by now that the landmarks would not be the same on his journey out again, neither on the near horizon, nor the far one. But for the time that his journey to the Haven of the Novus Aristi required, they would serve to orient his each slow step after the other.
* * * * *
Past the flows of lava that churned from within those active mountains, past the strange quiet tunnels, and the consecrated and warded cemeteries, past the pulpit where Sir Rayinor had once addressed a legion of paladins alienated from the White City that now ran Red, and past the flapping, empty tents of the encampments that they left behind… There Salt found a welcome shelter at the heart of Haven.
He worked with a flint and hardened iron striker to catch light on piece of charred cloth, and wrapped it in fine tinder. When a small fire was kindled in the brazier he lit tapers from it and illuminated the interior of the hut, which was built in martial style. On a table top he weighted two papers. One was blank and tinted faintly blue, and finely made with a strange watermark. The other paper bore this brief note:
Dear Salt,
I have heard that you are acquainted
with those I might want to get in touch with.
Please contact me at your earliest convenience.
The Captain of the Stairwell
It was from the paladin, Ulalume, delivered to Salt by Cale Adams of the Unicorn in Midor. Earlier Salt made his way into the White City, and had visited Cale for news of the orphans of Paws. They were cared for, or so Cale said. He thought perhaps that he would accept one into his household, a brother for Cara to run wild with. As Salt made to leave Cale handed him the folded note, demurring when the seer asked who had left it and when.
Later Salt found Ulalume in Buckshire, after laying out for an expensive passage out of Midor’s harbor. They spoke of her message, and her fate. It was with that conversation in mind that Salt put pen to the blank sheet of paper. His writings are excerpted below:
…
I have been sought out by the Paladin of the
White City, named Ulalume A ’Midori.
On This Paladin I also have Word from another
Of her Order, who is called Sir Cedrych Von Maistlin.
Please understand that I have only infrequently
Associated with either of these two ~ Sir Cedrych
Is virtually unknown to me. The two have Good Stand-
Ing among some whom I trust ~ Lucius Edmonds iss
Quite Fond of Ulalume and Cedrych is said to be
Dependable.
Not ~2~ days ago Cedrych reported that, following an
Audience with the one and only Vidus Khain, the
Woman Ulalume had been banished from Midor and
Expelled from the Paladins.
Cedrych, and Ulalume herself, informed me that the reason
For this Expulsion was her refusal to swear loyalty to
Vidus as Midoran’s representative. In fact, she is
Said to have called him a heretic against Midoran.
Now She seeks me out, believing that I can put her into
Contact with the Novus Aristi.
I informed Ulalume that there is no active rebellion
Against Vidus Khain, either within or without Midor.
I felt this Subterfuge was necessary.
It is highly conceivable that during His Audience with these
Two Paladins ~ That they were given the task of infiltrating
Your Order, and that this excommunication and
Banishment was uttered to provide a Publick Pretense for
Ulalume to seek you out, and a reason for you to trust her.
In my Conference with Ulalume I did not confirm my as~
Sociation with the Resistance and advised that she seek
Out other avenues.
However, if she is presumed to be an Infiltrator, and if it is
Considered that she might ~ if even through Enchantment ~
Be Turned to your purposes, I would represent your
Interest to her once you Advise me to your decision.
~Signed
~Your Servant
The Salt Sower |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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Re: The Near Horizon
Posted: 09 Feb 2006 11:13 AM |
…After finishing this note, Salt folded it and set it aside. There was other business that needed his attention: A long-overdue list of purchases owed to Sir Tonan, who was staying at Lake Ladriel and supporting the current logistical efforts of the Novus Aristi.
He removed from his satchel-bag a small water-proofed chest, made from thin planks of ash and weighing only a pound. The chest was lined in soft leather and the contents were packed very carefully so that they could not shift or rattle. There was enough elemental magic contained in the chest to lay siege to a city, albeit briefly. There was power enough – safely inside – to wipe a small settlement off the face of Vives forever. Given all that, the chest contained only a sample, prepared by the seer in order to estimate the expense of producing ten times as much.
Salt turned a key protruding from the front of the chest and gently opened it, revealing six tubes of polished, inlaid ivory. The tubes protected parchments that were sized with rare powders, inscribed with the finest, rarest, purest inks, in places illuminated and gilded… they were addressed with the powers of flame and lightening, storms of ice and other energies to which their target was said to be susceptible. They had cost him a fortune to prepare and left him virtually penniless. However they had allowed him to confirm the proper formulae and project the size of the true fortune that would be necessary to complete the order.
Ten times this power might allow the Novus Aristi to reach their objective. It could not be said for certain whether it would be enough, for what Lillian had proposed. Nor could it be said for certain whether any would live long enough to read these incantations and unleash the magics they contained. Salt was not responsible for planning the assault, however. Lillian had asked him to prepare weapons, and he had learned how much the weapons would cost. Now it was for the logistical arm of the Novus Aristi to raise the fifty or a hundred thousand that would be required.
Once again Salt put pen to paper. When he had finished his note to Sir Tonan, he again took up his staff and made for the shores of Lake Ladriel, where he would deliver his samples and his estimates. |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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