Several hours had passed since the trio arrived in the Ancient Lands. So far, their journey had remained uneventful. Both Normandy and Maebus gawked at some of the first Realmsic ruins on their way to Fable’s labyrinth.
“Normandy, have you ever been to the Ancient Lands before?” Maebus asked galloping next to the woodsman.
He shook his head. “I’ve been in this general area, but never had a reason to come here.”
“I’ve never been here either, and I must admit the experience is a bit surreal,” Maebus said. A chill ran through his body at the thought of what it must have been like living here thousands of years ago. It was easy to understand Kelm’s excitement.
Riding slowly through the ruins, Maebus took great notice of the environment. The mountains of the west were gone from sight as they now rode through cracked or half-leveled stone buildings. The structures were dingy, gray, and dull, not aesthetically designed as the modern day ones in Centre Pointe. Many of the ancient buildings were half covered in vines and tall grass as if the earth itself were trying to reclaim them.
Surrounding the structures and throughout the general area, statues of people, or massive slabs with just their faces, had been erected. Maebus wondered who the people could’ve been, and it truly fascinated him that such objects could remain intact and undisturbed for so long. Yet, he wondered what hell could have existed for those living in the region known throughout history as the Realm of Terror. Realistically, it may not have been much different from their own lives. After all, the Realm itself was descendant of the Realm of Terror. Therefore, it would make sense that their own current dysfunction was an inheritance from those whom came before them.
Before becoming King, Maebus pondered this notion often. In a sense, he wondered if the Realm could actually be saved. Over countless centuries, conflict had become so ingrained in their society that the relationship was perhaps now symbiotic. What would the Realm be without war? All that was ever accomplished had been defined by conflict. Conceivably, that was why war never ended. Perhaps the endless war really wasn’t about magic after all. Maybe it was simply about defining the identity of an entire society.
Maebus sighed to himself. He was beginning to have serious doubts as to whether Fable could help them.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Kelm called to him, riding a few feet away.
“Nothing,” he replied, rubbing his eyes, which had become dry from the region’s arid air. He really didn’t want to get into another emotionally charged discussion about his reservations.
“I know what you’re thinking, Maebus. And I think everything will become clear to you when we talk to Fable.”
“Again, I wish I possessed your level of faith.”
“I think you already possess more than you know. It just hasn’t been realized.”
Normandy suddenly drew his horse to a stop. He looped around in a circle, carefully observing his surroundings.
“What’s the matter?” Maebus observed the deep wrinkles appearing in his forehead.
The woodsman’s gaze darted across the ruins, to the western horizon, and then back toward the eastern flats. He listened carefully to something, but all Maebus could hear was the sound of the wind as it blew solemnly across the open grass. But clearly, something was off.
Kelm trotted alongside him. “What’s going on?”
Normandy took a second look before speaking, “I thought I saw something.”
The Wizard glanced around anxiously. “I don’t see or sense anything out of the ordinary.”
“What do you think you saw?” Maebus asked.
Normandy shook his head. “I don’t know. It was only for a split second. I’ve had an unusual feeling ever since we arrived here, like we were being watched, or something.”
“Lands as mysterious as these are known to play tricks on the mind,” Kelm stated.
“You’re probably right. I’m just being overly cautious. But stay alert anyway. Aside from the Legion, there are always many other threats to consider within the Realm.”
Normandy’s warning seemed to linger in the air as they continued their journey. But before long, Kelm stated to the group that he finally recognized much of the land from his previous journeys. He led the group over one of the area’s numerous foothills, pausing as he reached the top.
“There it is,” he said, pointing to an unusual set of structures about a half mile in front of them.
Maebus and Normandy stared in disbelief. There before them, the word KOWAN had been spelled out in the ancient stone structures along the horizon. The structures were massive and had been aligned to form the individual letters.
“What the…” Normandy exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.
“I … I can’t believe it,” Maebus said.
“Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you!” Kelm cheered.
“It’s just as you described to me.”
“And look there, right between the O.”
Maebus followed the direction of his pointed finger.
“Do you see the temple?”
“I do!” It had only taken Maebus a moment to spot it.
“That’s where we need to go. And I have a feeling Fable will already be waiting for us.”
Chapter Thirty-Four