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Tales of the Four Winds
Posted: 27 Mar 2007 08:09 AM |
From where he stood, Vives appeared so faraway; its problems small and insignificant. A small peak into the 'bigger picture' that only the greater beings possess the capacity for seeing, Alton thought. Few things that had occurred in recent days had left their mark on the world – prominent of those which had were the scars of war left by the Atalan.
He had to focus.
The passage of the last few days has brought its own share of troubles, but all of those were pesky, petty; the appearance of the great creeper in Haven, and the thought that it had indeed resonated with him – was it true, or was it only a figment of fear? Undoubtedly, the events of over a year ago did not leave him unchanged; few people are lucky enough to challenge the void and be left unscathed, but the change has made him confident in dealing with that threat -- perhaps overconfident, at times, but while no expert, he had still hoped people would listen to his experience, if only once in a while. In the end, Talion said it in a way he couldn't agree with more, the world had idiots and the world had fools, but it’s the fools who learn and the idiots who remain steadfast and don't – the last occurrence near Maldovia had the latter.
It was a bad idea to go there -- in retrospect, though it goes against his conscience, he should have left those who went to their own devices, though the fate of being lost in Maldovia was one he would not wish on his worst enemies -- it was a bad idea to stay there, toying with stupid thoughts of 'door ghosts' and other figments on Nightmare's doorstep, and it was the worst idea to try and work with people who had not the mildest understanding of what they faced.
In the end, it was the Herald and the Monk, who had resigned to shed responsibility for their actions and take concern of their own safety, leading darkness wherever they went. Knowing the personas in question, however, the thought wasn't all too surprising. Paladins are perhaps Vives' greatest idiots, and Emma was as close to it without being one.
It's not his problem, and the best he could hope is that the taint he might have caught fade on its own. The Sunbringers can deal with their own problems, so can the others who were there, be them fools or idiots.
Alton looked across the landscape of Vives, at the cloud that still hanged over Midor ever since the assault on the farmlands, at the static Cold Lands which hid a unseen and unfelt sign to threat of the balance of power in the world. The Atalan were one problem, and the mysterious Usurper was the other – to Nethar'u with the rest.
Finally, he looked to the Kobai Desert, wondering when he'd finally find those people of his goddess. Clearly, the rest of the world had no better follower to offer than a lover of Tarik and a hypocritical monk, and he had decided to feel responsibility for the fate of those two. Saana had proven to him a different truth existed somewhere in the desert, and he wondered when he would get to see it in his own eyes when a little bird made her way towards his home -- very soon, as it seems.
The invitation was simple.
He knew where to go, and he could depart at any time.
But he couldn't simply do so empty handed.
The Aeolus await… |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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Thistle Creek
Posted: 20 Apr 2007 05:42 AM |
A figure dancing in the smoke; scent that purified all scent; the two women stood at the edge of the tent that housed things of beauty from all around the lands.
It was not her first time in this place.
A masterwork shield and blade from the best craftsmen of the Artio, an exquisite gown from Versucci, an emerald necklace of gold crafted by Omiga himself, a longbow and quiver of mithril brought from Ferein; these and much more were housed for display at the largest tent of the oasis.
Each of these held its own story, and Saana had heard some but did not know most; their tellers have long passed away.
In the center of the room burned incense, this as far as she could tell had been there forever burning, spreading a scent of fresh air – a scent that lacked all smell. When she focused enough, she could always see a figure in the smoke rising from the incense; a woman made of clouds with a knotted hair of silver threads and a gown of razors like lightning ever dancing in the smoke. She searched for the stories behind the items around her, but never this – some mysteries in the world were best left unanswered, she thought to herself, or else there would be no magic left.
"Did you understand the lesson of the story?"
The other woman, older than Saana, wore an exquisite robe covered with giant feathers, giving off an illusion as if the woman had two great wings engulfed around her body like an angel. Saana guessed those feathers were that of a Roc or perhaps an Arrow Hawk (as a Roc's largest feather could possibly be larger than a whole human).
"I don't know. I think ... I don't think you can find all the winds. That was the answer to his question. There never was a fourth, was there?"
"Perhaps so," the older woman let out a shirt mirthful laugh, "or perhaps the Fourth Wind never wished to be found? The winds do not bind themselves to only four. Wind is free, untamed; it comes from all directions, and therein lays the Lady and her favoured."
"It is an unusual story," Saana commented.
"It is one that seeks to remind us where the Lady lays, and to teach those who seek to know that answer," the woman paused, "or so I think," she smiled, "It is not mine to tell."
The two women lifted the veil over the entrance to the tent as they left; the world that they were accustomed to an altogether alien and wondrous sight to find in an otherwise merciless wasteland.
~ * ~
The Kobai was indeed merciless.
It wasn't the marauding Stinger nests, the monstrous Manticore packs, or any other natural and less than natural wildlife that roamed those sandy wastelands. For someone like Alton, those things could be beaten, or better yet – avoided entirely.
It was the dry heat of the day and the freezing cold of the night, as if you had taken the fiery depths of the Fiirhallen volcano and the snowy wastes of the Tumata and cycled them through the same place. It wasn't as extreme as any, but it was bad enough…
… Especially if you had only a small clue of where you are going… especially since no spell lasts forever…
Things very quickly became insufferable. Trudging through the maze that was the Kobai Mountains did little to relieve the harsh conditions but much to add to frustration.
However, life teems even in the desert; and all life thrives on one source.
The desert housed its fair share of these things – remnants from the days the Kobai was once a lush green jungle; these few spots of natural springs were the focal point of any desert settlement.
Alton found there plants that grew only in the desert and nowhere else, among which were chosen those which he used to occasionally lay before Zubeida's memorial after a trip through those parts. That is why he was not unfamiliar with the Kobai, though he did not make it a habit to wander the desert often (unless it was to cross – and quickly); there were dangers far worse than stingers lurking in the sand.
However, aside from such minor threats, the journey was relatively eventless, though not so much as to not be glad to find refuge and – more importantly – rest and sustenance.
~ * ~
A small spring continuously spilled forth from the base of one of many mountains that in whole made the region known simply as the Kobai Mountains. From there it dropped in many tiny waterfalls, like a hundred glistening silver threads in the sun, into a vale hidden between the mountains. From there it carried on in a creek bordered by life more abundant than the rest of the desert – chief among them were thistles of various sorts.
“Welcome to Thistle Creek.”
Saana was the first to anticipate Alton’s arrival, and the first to greet him into the tribe.
Bordered by mountains and cliffs, the vale reminded him greatly of his own Brandibuck, not only for its geography, but also being a little spot of light surrounded from all sides by hostile lands, yet it in itself remained perfectly quaint. The more remarkable feature Alton had noticed at first were the tents which filled the vale, each one was unique in its own way, so much that Alton would often remember which one he had seen before and which one he hadn’t as he glanced around and took in this alien world and environment.
He looked towards the way he descended into the vale and noticed three leaving, heavily clad from head to toe to protect themselves from the hurtful rays of the sun. Two were men, one a woman, a man carried a spear and the other two had bows and quivers on their back and shoulder. They looked like hunters.
Near the creek, he noticed how women and children gathered water in vases – some of these were ordinary, some had their mouths shaped like the beak of a hawk and their handles like its wings. Curious, though, is that no one gathered water from a small pond into which the vale emptied.
The two walked around without a word save Saana’s greeting when he arrived. Near one tent, some folk had sat around its entrance while another, presumably the owner, stood before them and told an apparently excited tale of some sort. At another, a woman was forming one of the eagle-vases he had seen earlier. A man was curing an exotic hide. Another had only begun sculpting something unknown. Two children were trying to pick one of the thistle flowers without being hurt by the thorns, and another was trying to catch a desert rat. A different woman attached a string to a bow.
A whole different world out there that no one knows of.
Eventually, the two had reached what was apparently the largest tent in the vale, its entrance facing the pond into which the creek emptied.
The woman who stood by it caught Alton’s attention immediately. She had a powerful presence that drew attention simply by being around. Her robe looked like two great wings had folded about her, her hair was raven black and long, her dark eyes matching. Her appearance was slender, exotic and almost ageless, but in spite of her young appearance, Alton had guessed she was at her forties. She was, without doubt, the leader of this tribe.
She greeted Alton with a smile.
“I have heard of many things in this world, but never of a Windwalker among the Halfling. Welcome to Thistle Creek, and our tribe.”
Alton’s halflingesque curiosity has - as it usually does - got ahead of his manners, “Windwalker?”
“We have a name for those such as you,” the woman answered as if she had anticipated the question, “Those who travel the world and carry the blessings of the Lady with them. Many are men, like you. They travel freely with the wind like a bird; their only limitation is their lack of wings. So we have named them Windwalkers, as they walk the wind, such as a bird would fly it.”
"They are few, and precious. They bring us beautiful stories and treasures too," Saana's teeth gleamed in a flashed smile before she added more soberly. "Without them we'd drift even farther from the rest of the world."
“As often so, Saana is correct,” she paused, “I fear have the advantage of you, Alton Highhill. I am Akana, the priestess of this tribe.”
“So you already know my name…” Alton looked at Saana, who wore a tiny heart-shaped smirk on her face.
I already told her all about you, Alton. I hope you don't mind."
“Not really. It saves me all those bothersome introductions.”
The priestess laughed softly. “Halfling indeed. A Halfling Windwalker!” she exclaimed in amazement, “Truly, you stand as the tallest Halfling in the world!”
The priestess’ smile vanished, and cast a thoughtful gaze at the Hin before her. Confused, Alton kept the awkward silence as the priestess’ gaze shifted and met with Saana’s. In a mutual understanding, Saana the priestess nodded and turned back to him.
“You came to learn of the Lady, did you not?”
Eagerly, Alton nodded, “Aye.”
“Then walk among our tribe here in Thistle Creek. Meet our people, take a look at their lives, and do so as you search for my pupil, Kalina. She is young, only fourteen years of age, and not yet learned enough to succeed me. Even so, she is wise beyond her years. Tell her why you came here, and that I sent you to her. She will, I hope, teach you of the Lady.”
“How do I know where to find her?”
The priestess smiled, “Had I told you, would the journey not lose its meaning? Walk among our tents. See the sights. Smell the scents. Hear the words. Meet with our people. They can tell you where to find my pupil. If you wish to know us, then travel around us in Thistle Creek. If you wish to know the Lady, keep in mind your destination.”
Alton was never much fond of such cryptic words and puzzles. He always thought that saying something cleanly and simply would do more good than trying to puzzle out vague meanings and haziness. However, he understood what the priestess intended – catch two birds with one stone, in a figure of speaking, though Alton felt the analogy wasn’t very tactful in this situation.
Without an added word, Saana and the priestess both bowed their heads and departed together into the tent, as Alton turned back to the rest of the settlement.
Looking back at it again, it did not seem as big as it did when he had first laid eyes on it. In fact, he could not imagine anything more than two hundred living in the area. He couldn’t avoid the sense disappointment he felt as he made that estimation.
Even here among her people, he had seen that Vilyave’s followers were still so few… |
WickedArtist: I think he needs a proper elf.
WickedArtist: A christmas elf!
Tasra: Any sort of elf that actually smiles ;o
Gasp! Scandalous!!! |
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