Sometimes in the darkest hour, there comes a hero. One who cannot be matched for inherent valor and pugnacity in the face of certain disaster. He/she has the inner strength of the individual and the ultimate belief any problem can be transcended.
This belief drives such a person to accomplish feats normally beyond the capacity of a single individual, and exceeds the abilities of most during more ordinary times.
It is from these heroes the best of man's spirit comes. This spirit transcends the mock facade some of the gods suggest and will be the only source for the salvation of mankind.
Therefore let us follow still the adventures of one who would be a hero, a person with the strength of many men, a person who believes righting a wrong is the ultimate achievement of a life.
And so our young hero is beginning to realize there is more to his "adventure" than he had assumed when he first left his home in Peetle.
He sees himself in another light, and he is not at all certain he likes the transition . . .
Pet'r did not tarry long after his confrontation with the witch. He suspected the person he fought was Voravia,, based on what he was told by people along his way, but he wasn't interested in small talk nor becoming acquainted with the woman.
He recognized she possessed tremendous power, and he now knew he too possessed power as part of what he was becoming.
This new power could transcend his own mortal being, protect him, and also cause great destruction if directed toward those who would bring him harm, or attempted to stop him from accomplishing his own goal. Though he was still uncertain about what the goal was.
He recognized too he hadn't really bested Voravia, if that was his most recent attacker, but he did escape virtually unharmed.
And he realized he needed to hasten along. He needed to find his answers soon or there would be no need. Now he had a stronger sense of urgency driving him. So he left behind the struggle with Voravia and hurried up the road to the mountains.
Pet'r noticed during his travel northward the great clouds blowing from the southwest were making the sky seem more and more dismal. They rushed over the mountains, shoving upward against the open sky where the mountains met, rumbling as they escaped the hot desert air. The clouds twisted as they rose over the great wall of stone, tumbling over and downward at the peaks. The grinding together of these bodies of rushing dry heat created immense flashes of lightning with rumblings that shook the ground.
Freezing winds came rushing down the face of the mountains in waves, like great chinooks; racing at such high speeds the trees and boulders crashed against each other and lay strewn across the mountain meadows at lower altitudes. Winds strong enough to snap most of the smaller trees, and fling gravel, sand and dust ripping through the air; hail rattled violently against the larger trees and rocks.
Pet'r took shelter from these flying objects as he approached the pass. Stopping once behind a large boulder to rest, he felt it moving against his back as he rested.
He looked out across the plains just traveled only days before and saw the great clouds scudding just above the ground as they hastened away from him.
Something is strange. Some impending, and potentially disastrous, event is coming and I must be part of the what is to come. I must follow my purpose though I'm yet to understand.
He watched the skies overhead and wondered what he could possibly have to do with these changes. The elements were now dominating this entire environment. He wondered if these forces were affecting those areas through which he passed recently. It seemed likely they were, or were going to be, and it also seemed advisable the people below should prepare for the worst.
The people, with the exception of the witch, were good people, gracious and kind to him. They now believed he was a seeker of wisdom and power.
He didn't know but he thought the concept inaccurate, but there was no doubt he had changed.
It was often difficult now to remember his youth and his excitable spirit. Now he wondered why these changes were happening. He recognized his appearance alone might be shocking to others; his demeanor probably caused others to hesitate to accept him too openly.
Pet'r always gave as much as, and often more, than he received; he left no one, who showed some kindness toward him, without reward for having done so. Some he rescued from hardship or danger; for others, he performed some task too difficult for them but required no great effort for him. He always helped in some way. Those he met would probably remember his moment of passing through their lives and, with few exceptions, remember with fondness and appreciation.
I don't know what, or who, I will become. But I am becoming something I wasn't.
He shook his head, stepped out into the winds again, pressed on, dodging flying objects and finally reached the entrance to a valley leading into the pass above. There were landmarks he could identify from what the last farmer told him to look for. He trudged against the winds into the canyon. As he walked, the incline became steeper and steeper.
He noticed some snow patches on the hillsides above him and frowned, but he remembered the farmer assured him there would be a clear path through this pass, if Pet'r followed his directions.
The canyon became more narrow as he walked. As darkness approached, he began looking for a cave or shelter to stay the night and was ignoring the path in front of him. He walked around one boulder protruding into the path and bumped into a traveler coming from the other direction.
They both jumped back and took a fighting stance. Pet'r didn't attack and the other only stood his ground though he did draw a weapon from his belt.
"Sir, I have no desire to fight with you. I simply want to go through the mountains to the land beyond," Pet'r explained.
The other man listened, frowned for some reason, but made no attempt to move.
"Could I just pass without any problems?" Pet'r asked. The other man nodded his head once and began to lower his arms though warily watching Pet'r's reactions. Pet'r did the same.
"Can we talk?" Pet'r inquired, turning one of his hands palm outward as a sign of peace. The other man looked at his hand, again at Pet'r and held his hand out as Pet'r did.
"Yes," the man replied. There was an unusual accent, one Pet'r hadn't heard despite his recent travels.
"It's late and there's danger in the night in these places. Let's go back up the trail to a cave I just passed and we'll have shelter while we talk." The stranger said.
He stepped back, leaned against the narrow canyon's wall and indicated he would like Pet'r to precede him.
Pet'r sensed the other's concern and knowing one of them needed to show some trust, stepped around the other and walked up the path.
"Wait, flatlander," the man spoke roughly.
Pet'r spun around and prepared for an attack, but the man was standing, weapon at rest, pointing up a small, rough path leading toward the scree face of some ancient avalanche. Pet'r nodded his head and began the climb, following the path's torturous route and was soon able to see a darken area he thought must be the cave entrance. It was difficult in the dark to be certain but his guide persisted and only pointed up the path.
They climbed for another hour and finally reached the small plateau. There was a small cave tucked behind two large boulders leaning together. The men pushed their way through the small crease between the boulders by turning sideways. The cave was relatively small, but certainly large enough for the two of them. The boulders protected them from the elements.
The other man proceeded to pull some sort of material out of his rucksack and crumbled it into smaller pieces and piled them into a small mound on the floor.
Taking out two black stones he began to strike them together. This produced a sharp clacking sound but, more importantly, sparks flew from the stones, some landing on the crumbled material. After several tries, one of the sparks rested on the material and began smoldering. A small stream of smoke rose curling toward the ceiling. The man lifted the mound and began to blow soft
ly until the glow grew.
Soon a small flame broke free. He lowered the mass and placed it beneath some small twigs from a pile already bundled in the cave.
Pet'r noticed the twigs were already there and the man knew they were there. It was obviously the man's campsite; he was here before he met Pet'r on the path.
Soon there was a small fire. The light flickered along the cave walls and, though the material had a curious odor, Pet'r welcomed the pleasant warmth of the fire. There was no conversation during the climb. Pet'r, watching the other man complete his preparations, wasn't certain what sort of alliance he and the other one made, but was pleased no conflict arose.
The other certainly seemed to be a warrior. His clothing spoke of a man who lived in the wilds by his own means; ever alert with weapons not far from his hand, he peered at Pet'r occasionally and often walked to the cave entrance, looking out into the night then cocking his head to one side to listen to the sounds of the wind.
"What are you doing here, flatlander?" the warrior was looking directly at him now.
Pet'r had wandered into his own thoughts and wasn't thinking about his present circumstance. The question startled him.
"What? Oh, nothing, just on a journey," Pet'r answered without thinking. He had a stronger sense of needing to be on the move.
Is there something about this man that is making some difference?
"No one is 'just on a journey' going this way at this time of year," the man grunted, nodding his head toward the cave entrance.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small bag, pried open the top and poured out some of the contents into his hand. He tossed them into his mouth and began to chew.
"Nope, someone from the flatland, going that way, is on a mission of some sort."
Pet'r was surprised by the forthrightness of the man and his obvious familiarity with his environs and this country.
It also occurred to Pet'r the accent Pet'r heard when they were on the trail was gone; this man had no accent at all.
Where's he from?
"Maybe, you should answer a few questions too, my friend," Pet'r said slowly, "What are you doing here?"
The other looked up from under his eyebrows, stopped chewing his food, and glared at Pet'r. He slowly began to reach for his weapon. "I'm not trying to create any problems. I believe we should maintain our peace but both of us are wary of this situation. We need to talk," Pet'r said slowly, raising his hand in front of him to ask for patience.
The other seemed to relax a bit. He pulled his hand away from his sword and began to eat again, not ignoring Pet'r entirely but obviously not wanting to talk either.
"Can you tell me where I am?" Pet'r started, realizing he would have to initiate whatever was to happen here. His hope was he hadn't fallen into the hands of another sorcerer.
“I am, as you guessed, new to these mountains, but I do have no more in mind than to explore. I'm from a small seacoast town, have always wanted to see this land, so I'm here."
The man stopped chewing, wiped his sleeve across his mouth, brushed his hands off on his trousers, and looked at Pet'r for a moment.
"You don't have the look of a man from the sea," he said, leaning back against the wall of the cave though still glancing at the cave opening periodically.
"I've been traveling a while,” Pet’r admitted, "My name is Pet'r. It may be I'm on a mission but I am unaware of the goal, or its outcome. I'm just compelled to do this. Perhaps you could tell me about your reason for being here."
"I've been spying in the wastelands," the other said without concern, "Garv’n Anspar of Tariny feels some great change is going to happen and needed to know how the nomad tribes in the desert were reacting to these changes." He motioned with his thumb.
"I've been there about three months and was returning when we met. That's why I am here.
“But I must add, your story does not ring true."
"I can thank you for your honesty. I too have noticed changes; the skies are darkening to the south. I agree most of the activity seems to be emanating from north of these hills, but I'm not knowingly here to investigate these things." Pet'r said, turning to gaze at the darkened opening of the cave.
The tension between the two slowly evaporated. The longer they talked the atmosphere of their meeting changed from suspicion to friendship.
“Arcon’n is my name,” the hunter stated bluntly. He was a scout and was roaming the wastelands as a hunter, visiting small villages to spy as he traveled. He was eager to return with the information he had accumulated.
He was greatly concerned with what he discovered while visiting with the last village, Tynoc'l.
He found that a man from the south, Lord Rab'k, was actually a waste-lander, not what he now seemed. Lord Rab'k was on a mission of his own and it wasn't one to improve Lord Garv’n fortune. The new discovery caused Arcon’n to hasten his return.
He admitted he was deep in thought about this news when he ran into Pet'r and wasn’t being very cautious. His thoughts were of the danger to Lord Garv’n and to his own brother, Jond'r, who was now in service to Lord Rab'k.
Pet'r wasn't familiar with either of the men, but he vaguely recalled hearing about Rab'k.
Arcon’n also learned the desert people worshiped a man, Baalsa'n, who was an outcast from some powerful group. This Baalsa'n was gathering the desert people for some critical event. When Arcon’n asked in the village what the event was, no one actually knew.
Pet'r, in like turn, briefly told of his adventures. When he spoke of the incident with the witch, Arcon’n’s face showed curious astonishment.
"Has to be Voravia. No one ever escapes her if she decides you are in her way. How did you do it?" Arcon’n asked.
"I honestly don't know. It seemed I was able to escape each of her attempts by thinking I needed to. It just happened," Pet'r answered.
He truly wasn't able to determine how he escaped; it all seemed a blur to him.
Arcon’n looked at him a moment, glanced toward the cave door and added, "If you're determined to follow this path, my friend, you must be cautious. There are bandits all about, willing to slice your throat for your shoes.
I'll draw a small map on parchment for you before we leave this morning to show you the best and safest route; it is the one I used to get here."
After you cross the mountains and arrive on a short plain where an enormous and solitary boulder projects from the desert, you should turn west.
The village of Tynoc’l is but a half-day's walk from there. The open prairie holds few dangers but, if you hear the thunder of hooves, find a place to hide until they have passed.
There was a mysterious and ungodly occurrence in the desert recently and the natives are not certain of the cause. They rush about trying to discover the source and are potentially dangerous." Arcon’n told him as he drew the map.
"Is there danger from the snows above?" Pet'r asked, remembering the patches he was the day before.
"Only on some of the narrow clefts. Here I'll give you my snowshoes," Arcon’n answered, reaching into his pack once again and dragging out two webbed paddles, bent limbs with leather plaited across to hold the whole together. "You can walk across the snow instead of through it."
"Thank you. You honor me with these gifts, and I hope we'll meet again when we have more time to talk,” Pet’r said, clasping his new friend's hand and shaking it several times.
They talked for a while longer than decided to get some rest. The next morning, they went their separate ways.
Pet'r looked back once just before rounding a bend in the path but couldn't see Arcon’n, turned and continued his walk. He ran into a few large patches of snow, but no other trouble found him. He used Arcon’n's snowshoes to traverse these and was amazed at how simple they made the passage. Later, he stayed the night in another small cave, rose and continued upward.
When he crested the last pass he decided to rest and have a bite to eat. He l
ooked back over the land he was leaving behind where the skies were cloudier, dark and foreboding moving sluggishly across the prairies.
He turned and looked northward. His view of the new land made him feel a greater need for haste. He finished his small meal, threw his knapsack over his shoulders and hurriedly walked down into the canyons below.
The air grew warmer as he walked down the path worn by the passage of thousands before him, but strangely there was less and less sunlight as he walked down one ravine after another.
At last he noticed the canyon walls were getting farther apart, but ahead, he could see no trees in the land before him, it was barren. And, in the distance, he saw the prairie disappeared into the blackness hovering above it.
This land is in turmoil too; what is the cause?
He quickly reached the edge of the plain and ventured away from the rocks carefully, watching for any movement. The heat shimmered like water above the land, but there was no water. No animals roamed these plains. Low growing sage spotted the landscape here and there; no trails crossed any of the low rolling hills though there was one well-traveled road passing just beyond the edge of the foothills.
The clouds were like smoke billowing from the parched earth, touching it, gray and black with high red undertones from the sun trying to break through. They scudded over the desert and seemed to gain speed as they neared the mountains as though attempting to race to the tops.
Pet'r could see, holding his hands flat above his eyes, the progress of the clouds was limited. The clouds became so cold as they got higher they simply rose until they dissipated high above the mountains. There wasn't enough energy to drive them over.
Yet. I wonder how long that will be true.
As Arcon’n instructed, he turned to the west when he saw the great boulder standing solidly against these ominous forces sweeping the plain. It seemed to have erupted from the ground alone, there were no other outcroppings of rock anywhere near it, as would be expected. It was as though this great monolith was a guardian placed at the foot of the mountains.
Is there a reason for that being there?
Pet'r couldn't help looking back at it as he traveled around and away from this monument. It finally disappeared slowly below the horizon.
He shook his head and plodded along in the heat, looking for any refuge. There was none away from the hills, and as he knew now, one had to travel back into the canyons to avoid the intensity of the burning land. But he continued despite the heat and began to trot with an easy pace.
After several hours, he saw objects rising from the horizon that appeared to be man made. A small, tented village became more and more obvious as he drew near. Pet'r was amazed at how simple this part of the trip was; there were no assaults, except the weather. He felt things were improving.
At dusk, he entered the village. Most of the people ignored him. Some didn't. Several women watched him closely as he walked slowly through the camp looking for food and drink. No one attempted to talk to him.
When he found a small marketplace, he asked a few questions of the man at the stall to get a sense of life in the camp. After talking for a short while, he obtained a flask of water and some flat native bread. Things were curiously out of phase in this encampment and he couldn't decide why.
"Are you here for the great arising?" the stall master asked him nonchalantly. Pet'r noticed however several heads turned their way, apparently wanting to hear his answer. Pet'r felt he should use care how he responded.
Arcon’n indicated these people worshiped in strange fashions; he decided a certain amount of concealment might be wise.
"Yes. I've come a great distance to be here," Pet'r answered slowly, not interrupting as he sipped his drink, "what is the time now calculated for the event?"
"Within the fortnight, there will be a great sounding of beasts and demons. The world will be ours," the old man's voice was rising with his excitement. He began, as he worked, a soft but insistent chant.
"Baalsa'n be praised. He is the Lord of all; a god of magnificent power."
Those nearby looked up at the skies, continuing to roll and boil, and began nodding their heads in tempo to the recurring chant from the old man's lips.
Pet'r realizing he was the only one who wasn't nodding his head, corrected that and joined in unison nodding with the crowd. He also began to back slowly away, sipping at his drink and tearing chunks from the bread. He continued to nod as he turned and walked out of the marketplace plaza. Slipping quietly around the edge of one of the larger tents, he walked swiftly down through more, looking to each side as he crossed the paths between the tents he passed.
No one showed any aggression; no one spoke to him. Maybe it was the heat; maybe it was something else he still didn't understand. He decided he had obtained a sense of what was happening in this desert land and he had lingered long enough. He threw the flask and the bread away.
One of the things he noticed about the changes in himself was he had few needs now. He seldom ate or drank anything anymore; he wasn't certain why. It actually hadn't occurred to him to wonder why.
Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and jerked him into a tent. A young woman stood before him, smiling, her hands still holding him tightly. The tent was elaborate, almost extravagant. Strong colors of green, yellow and red splashed about through large tapestries and luxurious rugs; the reds dominated and made the whole seem gaudy. There were several sleeping cots spread around the room but, since this was the middle of the morning, none were occupied.
"Are you a servant of our god, Baalsa'n?" The woman suddenly blurted out, still holding his arm.
"No, I've just traveled the desert and was looking for food, drink and a place to rest. Possibly this is the place," Pet'r answered, ignoring the question and attempting to engage the woman in light conversation. He hoped his accent wasn't obvious to her and realize he was from the south.
For some inexplicable reason, he felt that piece of information could be his undoing; he had little doubt these people had no love for flatlanders.
"Maybe you are one of Baalsa'n's servants. Maybe you are a mighty warrior. You have the look of a warrior; handsome, strong and intense," the woman said, acting stranger with each utterance.
"My name is Jasryn. Perhaps you can bring me what I most desire. Do you think you can?" Pet'r had no idea what the woman was talking about, or what her intent was. He didn't have to wait long for the answer.
"Have you come to sire children for His Holiness? Have you come, mighty warrior, to spread your seed through the land?" she was almost screaming as she attacked and clawed at him, trying to push him toward the rear of the tent, to one of the cots.
Pet'r, caught off guard by the attack, stumbled and almost fell. He staggered a few steps, regained his balance and grabbed the girl's arms to stop her.
"No! No. I’ve come for none of those reasons. I am a simple traveler. I am not the one you seek," Pet'r yelled at the girl, holding her away from himself.
Suddenly, Jasryn stopped, released his arm, shrugged away from him and stepped back a step.
"Are you not Lord Rab'k?" she asked simply.
"No. I’m not Rab'k," Pet'r answered.
Thinking quickly, he added, "I am but a scout for my Lord Rab'k. I came to learn about the preparations, to inform my liege about how well the encampment is being prepared for his arrival, and I believe he will be pleased. Certainly by the beautiful women who await him."
He bowed toward her rather gallantly - he thought so anyway. The woman wandered away while he talked. He apparently was not part of her plan now.
"Tell his lordship I, Jasryn, await him for my heart and my body are his. Now leave me,"
Jasryn suddenly became haughty, not wanting anything to do with one as lowly as Pet'r. She waved her hand toward the opening and walked to the other end of the tent to avoid being near him. He smiled, turned and walked out of the tent, giving a great sigh of relief. He couldn't believe how irrational the
se people were.
He walked along one of the back paths and soon came to the western edge of the city of tents. He decided it would be wiser to remain concealed during the daylight hours, so he hid in an empty tent he discovered and quickly fell asleep.
Later, a great commotion from the south end of the encampment woke him; he knew Rab’k had arrived. Pet'r sensed his presence. He thought it odd he knew when Rab'k arrived, but felt no reason to concern himself with this unusual recognition. He did feel a heightened sense of urgency and knew he needed to leave without delay.
He peered between the tent flaps and could see a number of people running by; he watched cautiously until the pathway was empty. It was near dusk, a good time for his departure.
Checking each direction, he left the tent and passed between two other rows of dwellings before he reached the edge of the encampment; then he ran, staying low for the first hundred meters, slipped behind a low hummock, stopped and waited a while longer.
As darkness, closing with the great clouds roiling above, washed over him, he rose and began to trot toward the west following the edge of the mountains.
My reason for coming here is now clear. I must return home to warn the others.
He began to run. Pet'r ran, without rest, for half a day. Passing across a low valley, he noticed a distinct path, or road, etched in the prairie ahead of him leading into the mountains. The road was headed south; he decided this was his way back home.
His appearance was changed even more now. He was taller, larger through the chest and shoulders; his hair long, now almost entirely gray with great black streaks running its length, and flowing behind him as he moved. He trotted tirelessly for mile after mile; there seemed to him to be no reason to stop, nor rest.
DISCOVERY