The Man in Black

The world had changed already. Most people won't have noticed at all, wrapped up as they were in their own petty issues. This man however had spent enough time regarding the minute mysteries of the world to see the difference now.

It began with his initial forays into meditation. When he lit the candle, the rest of the world shimmered and dimmed, slightly out of focus. All that mattered in those next minutes was the flame, multifaceted, and the charring light of its core. It was much like a crystal whose color and shape gleamed and changed continuously without rotation. A mirror, placed beyond the candle flame, and angled so as not to reflect his own face, acted as a good viewing surface. When he had perfected the setup of his meditation space, the mirror showed a pure dark blankness. Not complete darkness in the slight rectangle, but rather a flat constant tone that was just the barest touch lighter than the space around it.

In his meditations with the mirror and the candle, he often saw visions. He had taken this for a natural part of the process, but was disturbed by some of them in particular. Though not initially one given to premonition, sessions involving sights of barren landscapes and widespread hardships gave him cause for concern through their persistence. He had little faith in the clarity of his abilities, but some bad future was on its way. He saw trees bereft of leaves and twisting in high winds. He saw ponds and even rivers coated in ice, their entire surfaces somehow frozen over. In one vision he walked out through drifts of cold white sand, with ash falling from a darkened sky. He came across a frozen pool and was shocked to see a fish suspended in the ice, its mouth open as if gasping for a last breath. These visions always left him chilled to the bone and with a feeling of forewarning. He knew though if such an apocalypse was coming there would be little he could do on his own to stop it.

The favored scholarly places of knowledge and study did not seem to savor his practices, but then again his family had always been on the outcast side of society. They had, in fact, excellent reputation and connections, but none with the parts of society that had come to publicly guide the local communities. Positions of power were relative, and some more visible than others. Throughout his upbringing he had considered the idea that official acceptance of your status means little unless you can back it up with might of reason or the reason of might. Whatever his force of power in the community, there had been no ears for his prophetic concerns. He was often deemed too inexperienced in his arts or unaware of the science he was exploring, the understanding of which would show the error of his ways. At worst he was considered unstable and sent from the halls in ridicule. If there was any truth to his visions, those favored scholars would not have warning from him.

So he endeavored to leave this domain behind. He would endeavor to create, and move through a portal to a different plane, most likely (and hopefully) somewhat parallel to this one. It was not the sheer possibility of this undertaking that hindered his efforts, but only the amount of power required. He was an adept meditator, and could even use darkness bound to his awareness for benefit, but could not nearly approach the concentration needed to open a true portal. He had traveled to the Queen City metropolis and visited dark temples hoping to find wisdom, but they were too obsessed with their own cultist fantasies. He had traveled all around the valley regions, even along the shore of the great lake, seeking powerful places of energy. Any time he found a spot, he would try again, meditating on the candle flame in his darkened tent.

He found in his travels small nexuses of energy, slightly unbound from their surrounding landscape, and with exponential concentrations of power. Some of these he had consumed, like rare dazzling mushrooms. The effects were incredible, and the meditations immediately after consumption of one of these “nexus-flowers” had been some of his most productive and vibrant. Their effects only lasted briefly though, and he would return to searching the region again. His meditations changed their focus to the conjuring or summoning of a powerful nexus specifically for his use. If he could create a large enough one, it could perhaps become a fuel source for his inter-dimensional travel.

The visions had changed again lately too. This time colors had come in more often, unrelated and swirling around the sides of the frame, sometimes behaving in curious manners. Red-orange, and blue-purple mainly showed, with the purple seeming to grow a little stronger over time. There was also the face of a specific girl. Faces were not uncommon in his visions, but this one was different. It looked at him with a defiant and accusatory expression that unnerved him. He knew nothing about her, but she seemed to challenge him. Whatever the reason she could have, he didn't like her appearance in the mirror one bit.

Imagine then his feelings when suddenly this girl was there, in his sanctum. How she had come all the way into his personal space was baffling. The tent had been set up in a darkened side alley in a small township near the base of the mountains. As always, he had chosen the spot to be unobtrusive and relatively private given the circumstances. Indeed, he had even chosen the darkest spot on the lane, and set the tent back among the bushes relative to the rest of the seedy shops on the street. The doorway had been covered with an old tapestry which, though a powerful object in its own right, certainly didn't look inviting to the layperson in its incredibly faded state. And yet, here she was, wandering into his meditation again. That he had failed in capturing her only gave more credence to the theory that she was somehow related to his goal. She clearly had power, perhaps enough for what he needed. It had almost been within his grasp.

Now after the confrontation he had a lot of things to consider. The world of his work had opened up wide and now admitted a host of questions and possible new routes to progress. The meditation had seemed almost successful; that red-orange flash had manifested in real space. Could that have been the fruits of his nexus-conjuring efforts? It had broken the mirror though, which meant he would have to use a stronger scrying material going forward.

He swept up the broken glass thoroughly and notified some of his more trusted men to keep an eye on the girl so he might find her again. It had almost seemed that she herself was going to step right through to somewhere else, but then the spell had broken. Who was this person to be so immediately powerful? He had a brief thought that she was the red-orange light, but immediately dismissed it. The nexuses were never conscious beings, and if they ever gained that sort of awareness he shuddered to think of what would happen to the balance of the world.

Ooh, Spooky Season

 

The child shuddered in the soft seat of the landskiff. Though the night was warm, a memory seemed to waft through the darkened branches of the woods and brought a chill of eeriness to her senses. They moved slowly along, not working the engine too hard since it was dark and they had plenty of time. The trees which lined one side of the way began to spread across their sky, enveloping the wide fields to the right. As the road entered a dense grove, it turned, hiding the future from view.

The memory had faded, and her attention had returned to the shapes of trees against the twilight sky. It was nearly full dark, but there was a barest tinge of indigo blue left to distinguish air from earth. Before this color the branches tangled black with funny limbs reaching and blocking the heavens. They could not keep them all out though, and she found some comfort in the safety of the road. It cut through the landscape wide enough for a gap to remain above them, even as the woods grew thicker.

For a moment as they approached the curve, the land to either side disappeared into the blackness of the trees. As soon as it began to return though, so did the eerie feeling. The lighting was suddenly not right for the time of day, or for the place. At first she thought it must be a show of some sort that they now approached; a circus or players with lights. Something did not feel right though, and she realized there was no sound of the usual merriment that accompanied those events. There were sounds, but they were too faint and few to be a joyous crowd. The road completed its bend, and they were shown the open scene. Transported past the light and smoke, she gasped in astonished horror.

The road at this point crossed a broad murky waterway that filtered in from the woods to great marsh jungles that stretched for miles under the open sky. A vast inland sea reached in shallow fingers here that were themselves vast and deep to her young eyes. On the near side of the causeway bridge was an access point; an open area of reinforced land with water frontage for boats of all kinds. These access points usually fostered a small village center. Traders and boatmen would often have houses nearby, as the landing provided a good marketplace with visitation from local cities. This fishers village however, seemed to be no longer inhabited by such agreeable folk.

The stalls of the marketplace were empty and dark, though that was not unusual for the time of day. A few of the houses were smoldering, though none seemed to be fully ablaze. There was a general sense of destruction about the whole place, and she suspected there had been more buildings where the ground seemed especially blackened. In the center market square a huge pyre had been built, and the blaze of this flame illuminated the whole grove with flickering yellow light. The higher branches of the nearby trees glowed in a weird second sunset that came from below.

It was not only the strange lighting and signs of destruction that caused the uneasy feeling. Those around the fire were not random party-goers or bandit looters. They did not seem to be drinking overly much, or celebrating in the wild natures of the usual troublemakers. Instead a low murmur came from the group, as if they conferred with each other as they went about business. Peering over the edge of the skiff as it passed by, she could see them from the roadway. They were dressed in black robes, all roughly alike in manner. Only one was hooded, and that one stood a short distance apart. One approached the hooded figure, seemed to confer something, and then returned to the others near the flames. The landskiff sped quietly by, its passengers hoping to remain unnoticed. It is known not to ask about what one sees in the marsh at night.

As they crossed the causeway, she could hear the sounds from the landing change. The words of the robed group, though still muffled by distance, became more focused and rhythmic. What to her ears was clearly a chant rose in volume as they sped away. They crossed the bridge and she thought the fire seemed to flicker with the chant and change its color. She saw greens and purples strike against the upflung branches and the trees thrilled in a shock of the ceremony, moving in strange ways. But it could all have been only the lateness of the hour and the imagination of her young mind. Whatever the black-robed cultists were doing, that road was behind her now. In the hills there was more and deeper forest, and the reaching branches of those trees would protect her from whatever else might reach for her out of the swamps and the night.

Lunch at Lincoln Cities

 

“You don't think he could've been waylaid by robbers before this point? We know the roads and field-groves are dangerous.”

“Not a chance,” Ayleah replied, “Telon is one of the most powerful scholars I've met. He's more than capable of dealing with highwaymen.”

They were stopped at a sunny park by the side of the road. Around them sprouted the buildings of the Lincoln Cities; a small populated region in the open river valley. Leb had agreed to accompany her this far at least, since he had his own business in the larger settlements. He said he could not come with her on her trip into the mountains, but that ranging parties often left from the Lincoln Cities, and one of them would be happy to take her on. Near the roadside park was also an enclosed marketplace that served as a way-station and provider of supplies for the rural settlements uphill. In addition to the hermit village of Battell and the high-elevation settlements, numerous spiritual communities called the slopes of the Lincoln Mountain home. As the two sat eating lunch, they observed evidence of all this in the happy bustle of the cities and the streets.

Their talk turned from the dangers of the road to more esoteric threats. Leb was concerned about the possible presence of dark cultists in the area. He agreed with the others that Ayleah should leave for Battell as soon as possible, and would probably even be safer amongst a trustworthy party in the wild forest. Ayleah was ever the more eager to find Telon's whereabouts, though she had private worries about joining some strange supply caravan. She wished Niisi could have come along.

Ayleah could see the care Niisi had for her in her eyes and the way she carefully packed items in Ayleah's bag. She had prepared some protective wards according to the teachings of her family, including herbs and mineral substances that would help Ayleah hide from evil sight and open easy paths before her. She had also packed medicines and healing salves for the journey, should the protection charms not be sufficient. They had shared only a moment's bittersweetness before Ayleah left. Niisi had her own concerns to tend to, and now had to be more vigilant in case there were nefarious forces about.

Ayleah realized her mind had wandered from the present conversation with Leb, and she drew him back into focus. They had finished their lunch and were relaxing on an open green space. While they had been eating, one of the expedition parties was preparing transports in the wide sunny field. Like some of the trucks she had been in at home, these were designed for rugged rural trails. Their repulsars had extra friction power for use on steep angles of rock and the sides of the vehicle were often tall and armored also, with the driver sitting higher than normal for a better command of the terrain. Each one carried a load of supplies, tied down in packs that balanced the weight as evenly as possible.

Leb indicated that she might join this group, as they seemed to be planning to leave at a good time for her purposes. Ayleah had not expressed her uncertainty of strangers to Leb, and said nothing. She looked at the group making preparations across the green, studying the air of comradery between them.

It was a short while later, and Leb was considering a nap on the grass. Ayleah looked up from her journal to see a captain from the expedition party striding towards them. She nudged Leb, who opened his eyes and gazed curiously at the approaching young man.

“Old friends and new! How fitting it is to see you two here at this moment!” Jaen was dressed for his trip to the mountain, regaled in the trappings of a wilderness commander. He actually looked quite dashing, Ayleah thought, with his high boots, close-fitting utility straps, and gleaming metallic helm. The helm had a very short brim and a golden crest that told of his position in the crew, and he had an upright manner to his posture that told of a newfound confidence somewhere within.

“Here I am, readying my crew to ascend the hills, and I find some of my favorite people to send me off!” Leb greeted his friend, and they told of Ayleah's trouble at the Eagle Bend marketplace. Jaen had heard rumor of nefarious folk around, and this confirmed all his suspicions. Upon hearing the full nature of her story, he immediately entreated Ayleah to come with his party.

“Guarantee there's no place you'll be safer than with my band over there! We're bound for the Lincoln Peak, which is by way of the Battell communities, so we can show you the way. We're taking supplies, but a good number of our company are also skilled fighters and rangers, so should any trouble come to find us on the road you can be sure we'll quickly send it on its way. Come with us Ayleah, it will make both our journeys so much better and besides,” he added, “why go into the unknown with some pack of strange rangers when you could go with a friend?”

They left later that afternoon for the Hill of the Elders at the edge of the cities. The next day the party turned toward the mountain and began to climb.

Mirror Trap

 

Ayleah walked down a corridor lit with the barest light; a cold dim glow from somewhere near the ceiling. It was difficult to see the nature of the space exactly, since it seemed filled with a scentless fog. She could see just well enough to safely walk forward, though she didn't know why she had chosen this direction. Something felt...warmer ahead of her. And so she continued on, footsteps soft on the even floor.

The fog was utterly present, and seemed to grow in visibility. It provided no resistance, yet seemed to fill her insides as well, clouding mind as well as vision. Eventually she stumbled, as her attention wandered enough for a moment of dissociation to occur. Ayleah stopped, and turned around, thinking to look back down the dim corridor from where she came.

He was standing with his back to her; a tall person in a rich black cloak. The hood was lowered, so she could see his carefully trimmed hair and a bit of his proud nose. His attention was fixed on a large mirror of exquisite quality before him. It sat in a frame of dark wood, smooth until it reached the outermost edges, where intricate tracings scribbled along like a forgotten language. Its surface seemed too smooth to be solid. It was as if the man stared into a suspended pool of silver liquid, hanging there on the wall. Between the mirror and him was a lit candle, flickering its solitary light around the small room. It illuminated the mirror, but did not reflect from it at this angle. His eye did though, and before Ayleah could duck back through the doorway it gave a startled look.

“Wha!? -No, is it you? The energy must have drawn you in.” A shadow, like the fog itself had come to life, pressed Ayleah forward. The man in black whipped around and placed her between himself and the mirror. Whether by his hands, or the shadowy force, she couldn't tell, she was held steady. The candle flickered a warm and sinister light around what had become a claustrophobic space.

“And what do you see in a mirror?” The man in black said, his words dripping with curiosity. “Can you see the answer I seek?”

Ayleah looked at the mirror, but all that it showed was a chaos of brown and white. Blurry shapes and flecks swirled together to form a haze. Before, she had thought it was showing a scene, or a place. Over his shoulder she had seen hints of rocks and trees, but now anything recognizable had faded. The pressure on her back was enormous, though she had a strange absence of his presence there. It was as if the world was simply cut off behind her; a solid blackness that permitted no entry. As crazy as the thought was, her only way out seemed through the mirror. Ayleah focused on the incoherent brown and white, willing it to form a scene, or anything useful to her. Slowly, a pathway appeared. A world seemed to take shape in the clear glass.

The sun was that of outside, and the way looked pleasant enough. The darkness behind her pressed more insistently. Ayleah took a deep breath and stepped towards the mirror portal, willing to accept what would happening as it came. However, her foot had barely lifted from the floor when there was a harsh cry and the mirror shattered in a burst of bright sparks. Both the darkness and the fog vanished, speared through by explosions of orange light.

Ayleah lost her footing and stumbled off the dais. She looked up, prepared to defend herself and found herself looking at a friend's face. Niisi helped Ayleah get her footing but did not ask what had happened right away. Instead she said urgently that they should leave and indicated that she had snuffed the incense in the corner. As they swept back through the intricately-patterned tapestry and outside Niisi gave the building a dark look.

The group from the household had finished with their market errands, and met up with the two young women in the main meadow. Niisi did not share their experience with the household crew, but spoke to Ayleah about her suspicions on the ride back to the falls. Some of the designs on the tapestry, though faded and hidden, had reminded her of cultish symbolism from her own home lands. There were those who could actually commune with natural elemental energies, but they twisted them to their own nefarious ends. Niisi had even heard of dark rituals where priests would manufacture and consume elemental beings in order to increase their own life force. Given what Ayleah had shared about her experience in the mirror traps, Niisi guessed that this man in black was one of those priest-types. If Ayleah had stepped into that mirror, it was likely she would not have been able to get out again. Who knows what evil intentions that man had had.

The whole experience made Ayleah wonder if she was still in danger, since the man had seemed to not only want her for some purpose, but also to know of her by sight. Niisi said she should not worry overmuch, since those cult types usually kept to themselves. She did say though, that Ayleah should be more careful in the future and that she would prepare some protection charms for the mountain trip. For now they had safety in company, and the falls property was secure. There had also been the fact of the mysterious orange lights seemingly coming to her rescue. Niisi said she had nothing to do with that, and wondered as much as Ayleah at their source. As they talked Niisi kept an eye on the road behind them. They were definitely being followed.

Marketplace

 

The marketplace spread out below them, extending from a large central meadow into the riverside woods beyond. It seemed as though the whole township had been converted to an open-air market, with stalls lining makeshift streets in the open field. Closer to the trees though it grew more orderly and settled, taking on the look of a more permanent village. Eagle Bend had always been a popular location for trade, and the local farms did well for the fact. The older establishments formed grand respectable estates among flat sections of rich woods. Wide grassy lanes crossed and circled the river-bend, leading to hidden meadows and neighborhoods that differed slightly from each other in the natural separation. Niche markets prospered, each in their own open glade, or tucked into the corner of a shared meadow. Along the rough riverside beneath dark hemlocks were merchants of gems and riches from the river vales. In the flat open maple groves were old family farms selling medicinal herbs and sweeteners. In the central open square Ayleah found some of the best fresh produce she had ever seen.

The group from the falls homestead went off on rounds to procure their supplies, giving Niisi and Ayleah a good portion of the day to explore. They both enjoyed the grass roads lined with houses and shops. It was a pleasant village: near to the river but open and mild. The hills to either side gently closed in this small paradise of meadows and mercantile woodland groves. Ayleah felt at ease; she chatted with Niisi about the farms and shops, as well as what she might need to know going forward with her trip up the mountain. They bought a few necessities in this respect, and Ayleah was glad of the advice from both her day companion and the shop owners alike. Niisi seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the wilderness, though she had professed to not be nearly as hardy as some others around. Her contributions to discussions with the locals were always of comparative nature from her memories of home. Everyone seemed to enjoy the addition of her perspective, making her a good conversationalist. To Ayleah's delight, the two had formed a quiet sort of friendship during her time at the falls estate. Niisi was ultimately reserved, but friendly and thoughtful. She listened to Ayleah's concerns about her home back on the lake-shore, and shared things she had learned from life in the hills. Niisi enjoyed Ayleah's company too as a fresh air after her time among the serious, masculine energy of the falls estate. The rangers and rulers of the dark falls rocks were excellent company, but tiring after a while in their stolidness and mild curiosities.

It was lunchtime, and the two friends ate from a food cart near the riverbank. Tall hemlocks shaded a small park area with benches overlooking the rushing waters. The bank here was steep and rocky, almost overhanging from erosion when the water had been very high. A narrow but well-trodden path swept down from the park to a small beach port in a semi-protected cove. Beyond the cove, the river jumped and snaked through a vast tumble of boulders. White spray lingered over sheer-sided rock islands that showed a multitude of different hues. This was a more normal stretch of river, only just forming the beginning of rapids further downstream. The river coursed around broad Eagle Bend before funneling over ledges toward Bartlett Falls in the gorge below. The wild water contrasted nicely with the placid land of the river bend; woods and meadows peacefully bustling with the day's business. Under the evergreens it was cool and shady, but just beyond in the open meadow square the sun shone warm and bright.

Heading back up the slope, Niisi and Ayleah decided to take a shortcut through one of the smaller streets. Most of the wide grass lanes circled around islands of forest where stately farmsteads poked out of the undergrowth. One path at least though led straight through an island of forest, its grass sparser and mingled with long browned pine needles. Substantially narrower, the street's mossy eaves were a well-shadowed tunnel to the bright meadow above. It seemed less-visited, and had a dank feeling that came from sunlight not often reaching the buildings to either side. As the two approached the entrance to the street, a couple of rough-looking strangers on the roadside regarded them with looks of mild suspicion.

Some of the buildings that lined the lane were also in disrepair, adding to the stranger feel of the place. Overall though it did not feel wholly unsafe to Ayleah. Somehow it wasn't unsettling in a bad way, but rather in that way that makes you feel thrilled to explore further. She and Niisi walked as confidently as before, and they even took an interest in some of the established shops along the way.

It had a curtain for a door, and a long hall the front of which seemed to stand in one of the more well-lit parts of the alley. The curtain was elaborately patterned, with rich purple fibers twisting through rays of every other color imaginable thinly repeated in curling designs. As Ayleah was drawn to the side of the path nearer the door, she could see the true extent of the intricate craftsmanship. It had faded evidently from use as an outdoor tapestry, but it still radiated with a soft beckoning light and seemed of solid quality. Niisi was saying something to her, but she wasn't aware of what it was. The curtain must indicate the hall of some master craftsperson. Ayleah gently pushed through the slit in the middle and went inside.

The air inside the hall was remarkably clear and crisp, though Ayleah could see incense burning in a far corner. The room seemed not large enough to fill what on the outside had seemed an extensive workshop. Its shape too was strange; the walls to either side of the doorway slanted immediately outward to the far one, forming a triangle. Apart from the small table with incense and a mirror on the far wall the room was unadorned. For a moment Ayleah had a thought that perhaps this was not a place intended for the public, or at least not for her, but the thought quickly passed like a small leaf over the edge of a waterfall.

She was heading toward a small door in the far corner by the incense table when something caught her eye. The mirror in the middle of the back wall did not reflect in the usual way. It seemed to always reflect at an angle rather than directly back to the viewer. Now that she was out in the room she could see that two other mirrors exactly like it hung on the other two walls of the room. When she looked at one of them straight on, she saw only an endless passage heading into darkness as two of the mirrors reflected back on each other. What puzzled her was which two were reflecting at any given time. As Ayleah considered this phenomenon, looking from one mirror to the other, she tripped over the edge of a low dais in the middle of the room. Catching herself, a haze swept over her vision. She straightened, one foot on the dais. There was a flutter on the edge of her vision, and she looked up to see Niisi coming through the curtain door with a strangely worried look on her face. Just as Ayleah was about to ask her what was wrong and to tell her about the neat mirror trick, she stepped up with her other foot. The triangle room vanished and was replaced by an endless hallway, stretching into darkness on both sides.

Ayleah at the Falls

Ayleah stayed at Bartlett Falls for a full week, even though she had gotten the answer that drove her there within the first day. The library itself with its troves of local lore could have held her interest for that time. Shelves of stately old ledger-books and archive drawers of maps and documents promised worlds within worlds of knowledge and discovery. Here was collected all the wisdom and tidings that had come down with the water from mountains and valleys to the east and south. Bartlett Falls was a storehouse of history knowledge. It sat in a nexus of land, people and the connections between them, uniting the fertile lowlands with the rocky foothill country. Aided by the Bartlett's resident historical scholar, Ayleah was able to find the origin of her mystery name. Battell was a very old prominent name that appeared in disparate locations, attached to quite a few places in valleys to the south. On the Lincoln mountain though, was a more singular and near occurrence. A hermit village, likely sprawling and with a small central marketplace placed itself as a dot on maps of the skyline. The township of Battell seemed to sit about two-thirds up the mountain slope, at a junction where two climbing roads met. Judging from the map, the way looked well-traveled and it seemed easy enough to get to the plateau. Ayleah was sure that was where Telon had gone, but was more uneasy that no one at the falls had marked his passing through. She had asked if he had been seen of course, but to no avail. There were many visitors that passed through this river dell, but a blue-cloaked scholar would still have been noted.

Furthermore, Leb cautioned her that it would take some preparation if she wanted to ascend the mountain, and recommended she wait a few days for a ranging party to set out. In the meantime she busied herself in the study of the library's maps and books, but also ventured out on the grounds of the historic park. The wild wide river, churning and splashing in sparkling torrents, left its home in the green mountains and coursed down towards broad valley plains. It had here but a short while left to run between such high forested slopes. Past the Bristol city-cluster it slowed as it wound through rolling open land and lowland groves, colossal fields opening in sunlit wonder to either side. The falls were as a doorstep to the mountains; a semi-circular shelf of smooth gray rock. Waters braided around boulder islands were joined by smaller falls to the side. Water streamed in chaotic ecstasy from the forest glens to meet in the general main flow. Suddenly the waters joined in one solid force to thunder over the ledge into a deep hole in the land before spreading again to continue the braided course downhill. Over the pool extended great tongues of the same smooth gray rock, forming a short precipitous gorge downriver. Across the span the land rose sheer in cliffs that supported sparse ferny vegetation. The near side, a rich grove of hemlock and moss, harbored gentler ledges punctuated by a few gigantic boulders. Here and there were signs of the ancient mill-city. Large blocks of man-made stone sat on the cliff-sides, most notably overlooking the central pool, where a large square block served as the estate's back terrace. The manor itself stood on a rock knoll set slightly back from the overlook on which grew a venerable beech tree. It was built like a castle; a palace of the same gray rock on which it stood. Moss and herb gardens surrounded the house, and paths led down both towards the overlook and away into further garden glens. Dense wooded slopes towered steeply over the whole glen, so this small shelf above the falls seemed an isolated pocket of the world. The evergreens and narrowness of the river vale kept daylight soft and brief.

Ayleah found all sorts of cool rock lookouts in the woods by the river. Ledges of rock stuck scarily out over the rushing torrents and beautiful boulders hid themselves in dense leafy places. The river woods were fascinating, but she was always reminded that the rocks and trees were not the real power here. Always in the background was the sound of the water. The falls thundered constantly; a rushing hum in the background of all life near the estate. It was a reminder of the terrifying fall so close at hand (the rocks were often slippery, and it was a long drop to the churning foam of the pool). It was also a reminder of the power and force of the water to shape their lives. They were only there because of its presence; the ancient city-ruins were evidence of that. The water was essential to the importance and functioning of this place in olden times and today, and yet a fear of the river felt healthy. Its current dwarfed any power she, or anyone else, might have at their command. It constantly carved at the rock below, shaping the land ceaselessly in a somewhat predictable, uncaring way. It was much more of a force than the grand placidity of her lake, and she found herself seeking refuge from the rushing of the falls. The groves downstream were quite pleasant, and filled with mossy herbal gardens. The gorge also softened there, beginning to tumble back into the rocky riverbed once more.

Niisi and Leb, though they had their own lives to attend to, were nevertheless good company. They took her to some of the more interesting ruins, like a large rusted metal pipe that led all the way through one of the rock ledges. It could have fit an entire village inside its dark cavern, though the air was poor and the puddles that collected on the dirty metal seemed foul. The whole park was a sort of township dedicated to tourism at the falls. Its gardens did provide enough though to sell as specialty goods, and there was a robust, if sporadic, marketplace scene on the main roadside. Most actual living and trading took place a little ways upstream at the township of Eagle Bend. The homestead at the falls was seen as part museum, part monastery, and part public park.

The river made a wide round sweep just before funneling into its narrower course towards the falls. It encompassed an area of flat, pleasant land where the sharp river vale relaxed and opened slightly to the sky. Eagle Bend seemed much more like a typical rural town, and was the primary trading post for this upper mountain gateway region. Steep roads ran down to here from hill farm country all around, their namesakes hoping to sell to local cities, or to travelers just entering the mountains. The good markets and historic farmsteads with access to the clear river waters make it an attractive destination. Ayleah realized she was happier here than among the gray stone and the noise of the falls, and would join in trips upriver for supplies as a pretense from getting away from the heaviness of the Bartlett estate.

Back at the Falls

His thick-soled boots sounded against the cold stones of the floor as he left the central hall. The Bartlett Falls council had connections to wide-ranging sources, through trade and recreation popularity. As such they were annoyingly well-informed. There had been no point in pretending any aspect of his story, and the disappointment from his father especially had been palpable. So Jaen, concealing his mood as best as he could, had listened to the advice given, and left the chambers as soon as was respectably possible. His mind racing with potential next steps, he went to find his companions.

As seemed to be the case lately, the meeting with his parents (the damned council included) had not gone to plan. Jaen had counted that at very least his failure at Norton Brook wouldn't affect too poorly his status at home. This was not to be the case, and while he could see the fortune he did yet have, his parents' judgment still seemed a punishment. Others on the council had questioned the wisdom of his decisions, but it was his parents that offered this new course of action. It would perhaps benefit him, they said, to spend some time with his uncle on the mountain. Jaen had been to the alpine townships before, but only as a youth. His woodland training had been mostly solitary, and while it had taught him many things about survival, the management of a community was altogether different. It was his parents' regret that they had done less to prepare him for this vision of himself, and their contention that time spent in the mountain townships with his uncle would be of help.

Jaen's uncle Grive was known as one of the most amiable yet hardy and capable premirs of the Skyline. He oversaw a rambling township that encompassed two small summits on the Lincoln mountain. Mostly a rural community, though he traded time and dealings with hermits and city visitors alike. The north side of his locale bordered on a developed side of the mountain, and even featured a raised marketplace with easy landing for air travelers. Grive was known as a busy yet peaceful man; he was never seen to stop moving unless maybe in those times when everyone said he was at the other end of town. He commanded respect through his fierce appearance, but those who knew him felt safest when he was in the room. In short, he was the unconscious model of who Jaen wanted to be, who currently seemed to be engendering the opposite effects on people around. The young Bartlett knew all this, and yet resented the wisdom of the suggestion.

---

Leb had been relaxing on a stone balcony when Sutton returned. His senses relaxing in the safety of the Falls Estate, the tall bodyguard looked weary. Leb welcomed him and indicated a nearby seat.

Sutton gave a soft groan when he sat down. “Well, that was a folly of a trip.”

“Maybe not entirely,” replied Leb, “our young master may have learned something about his limits.”

Sutton grinned grimly. “One can only hope. What do you think the council will have to say to him?”

“I don't know, but I suspect it will lead him away from the falls again. Will you go with him if he takes off on another journey of self-discovery?”

Sutton sighed again. “I feel that in some way it's my calling. This place has been quite good to me, and if I can give back by helping its wayward son... at least I'll feel as if I've done something; given back the energy that this place gave me. My life has been full, but this is an equilibrium for me.”

Leb looked at him thoughtfully. “That's a nice sentiment my friend. I guess I've never much considered the exchange of energy in my life. I give to the world wherever I can, and I know I get back the same. Maybe in a couple more decades I'll have to make more of a review.”

“And what about you Leb? You have been Jaen's friend for longer than I; will you go with him this next time?”

Leb looked at the thick green of the trees above them and shook his head. “I would follow Jaen anywhere he willed, but not right now. I have family here to look after; responsibilities in my own life that cannot be neglected now. I know he'll be alright though. He'll figure out who he is and where he really belongs. I know Jaen has the spirit of his forefathers, even if he doesn't trust that it's there.

Sunset Reflections

 Ayleah winced as she shifted her weight to get more comfortable on the rocky ground. She had only her blind luck to thank that the wound was not too deep. The thief had come face to face with her suddenly around the side of the taxi, and his blade hadn't been very long. Jaen had done a good job on the bandage. It would need changing before they left in the morning, but for now it felt comforting. All three of them had done so well in the crisis. She hoped she wasn't, in the end, a burden for them. Her own survival abilities gave her some confidence, but she was also grateful that her newfound companions seemed so much more experienced in the ways of adventure.

Even Jaen, who had been sullenly reflective most of the day, had broken his quiet immediately upon sensing a threat. He had seen the robbers first, and though Leb did most of the actual fighting, it was his call to action that had saved all four of them. Niisi had protected her once she was hurt, skillfully wounding the attacker so they could get away. Once in the taxi again, they had given her such wonderful care; soothing the shock of what had happened. It all seemed a bad dream now to Ayleah as she sat a short distance away from camp, watching the sunset.

They had stopped at the side of the road for lunch when the two robbers attacked. The spot must have been near an unsavory sort of city, but they had chosen it for the grand view that lay before them. The road topped an open hill, giving a panorama of mountains to the east. The first range ran in a straight dark line from north to south, fronted with steep wooded cliffs and tumbles of massive boulders. The land had been shaped by water in ancient times, in turns liquid and frozen. From one spot a torrent must have once streamed out, cutting a deep gap in the line of mountains and leaving a pool of sediment just beyond. Upon the lip of this ancient terrace they now made camp. The view west looked back over the rolling landscape from which they had come. Ayleah gazed out and thought of the mountains she had seen when they were down there.

Now closer, the mountains seemed more wild. No longer green-blue shapes against the horizon, she could see the different trees that made up the cloaking forests. Here and there rock peeked out of the greenery, hinting that beneath all the life and growth and decay was a more primordial solidity. The gap where lay the small metropolis of Bristol was a narrow gateway into a different world. Ayleah had experienced forests and old wild places, but nothing like the depths of what she sensed beyond that mountain gate. The sun gleamed bright as it passed out from a wispy cloud, bringing her back to the present.

It was a gorgeous sunset tonight, though she supposed the location helped. In front of her, the ground sloped sharply away. They were atop a dusty cliff that marked the end of the sediment terrace. A little ways up slope the trees gave way to a vast open field on the edge of the metropolis. This narrow strip of trees between the metro recreational fields and the cliff edge provided a pleasant grove for resting. The four of them would be spending the night at a public campsite here and leave for Bartlett Falls in the morning. Leb wanted Ayleah to rest, and said they could make good time on the river road and be at the falls by midday. Ayleah liked the campsite well enough. It was dry and sandy, but being in the trees near this steep edge felt a little like being back home. The shape of the land was similar, though there was no lake below the cliff. It did face west though; the sunsets at home had also been very pretty. She sighed and softened her gaze as she took in the colors of the setting sun. it was particularly rich tonight; a deep burnt orange predominated. The sun barely showed over the horizon, and likely had already set. The show was just a play of refraction, though a beautiful one. Small wispy clouds sailed here and there, almost invisible until caught by one of the colors. One became edged in a glowing fire, gilding the tender tuft. For a moment Ayleah was entranced by the depth of the orange glow, the color unimaginably pure in its representation.

As she fell asleep that night, Ayleah thought about the balance of the world; the day had held such frightening contrasts of emotion. That a day in a life could so casually include both the terror of the attack and the gratitude of friendship in equal and immense measure was incredible. The intentions of the robbers did not seem to belong to the same world as the beauty of the sunset's gleam. Her last thought was about that orange-gilded cloud, and how it seemed odd that she couldn't remember leaving that seat by the cliff.

"I remember when...

 

“I remember when the clifftop road went all the way out, right through and all the way past the Dennison farm.” Marly and Iben had gone to their rooms, and on the table the mostly-empty bottle of wine was the second of the night. A candle nearby was just beginning to outshine the sunset's fading light. The old-timer straightened a bit as he saw he had the other's attention.

“Course, that was back before the scholars came in-now, I won't deny that their, influence has been for the better. The town's thriving now like it never was in those days, and it's safer too around here.

But back then it was all one big township. The road connected all of us living on this side of the cliff. Sure, parts of it never got a great amount of use, seeing as business primarily went out to the water and back, even in those days. It was a kind of principle of the thing though, like a life-cord that bridged our community. Now there are five townships spread out over this land where there were only three before. The land is the same, it is us that have changed, and so the land has also changed.

“Back then we had a king. I will never fully know if we were better off for that or not. However a part of me is, nostalgic for that time. They were not from here either; our history is one of settlement and usur-pation.”

He paused, and gave a brief chuckle. “Even I and my family are not from here” he looked over at Davy, who was only half-listening. “We came down from the eastern hills when my grandfather was a small child. We've had this homestead just long enough now to be considered among the locals, I suppose.”

“Where were they from- the royal family?” the guest asked, casually sipping at his cup.

The old-timer shifted and looked askance to remember the fact. “I believe it was -originally- a branch of the old Malletts Crown lineage. They traveled inland and found the water here. It reminded them a bit of home, and perhaps a bit of one of their stories. Those are usually the reasons why people remain in new places. They settled on the western shores here, on the peninsula as well as on the Marshrock island to the north. I hear some villages on the island still follow the ways of the kingdom, but it is long since I went sailing out there.

“In this township they built their seat, as you probably saw on your way here. The throne palace is magnificent, even with the forest grown up around as it is now. On the small rocky hill where the lowlands meet the water they built a village. At first it was walled, you can still see evidence of that wall today. The woodlands around back then were frequented by bands of raiders and wild people with no culture for themselves. They persisted on stealing what they could from travelers and local villages. When the new village was established with its imported technology and modest wealth, it became a prime target for the raiders. It took years before people like my great-grandfather were able to make a living outside of that early small walled village.

“Even so, we on the clifftop have always been the secondary township. The peninsula already had a small settlement in the raiders' time, which just got subsumed by the new culture. That town still feels a bit that way. The raiders camps along the water have always been slightly dingier and more dangerous than the woodland; yet they are the primary draw of local commerce. The ports are essential and still provide us with a wealth of goods and opportunities.

“Back then the road ran all the way through though, and you didn't need to even crest the hill between here and the water if you wanted to travel to town. I remember when King St. was the main road up there. Now it's closed to most traffic; only tourists and the people who work for them really go through. The Swamp Harbor still has its character, tourists don't go down there except on accident. For how long though? The world is changing, even if no one else sees it. I like our new village center; I like that it has a quiet, friendly feel. But I also liked when I could go all the way up along the clifftop, through the Dennison farm and that weird gulf there. The road would gain the high ground again and the King St. sign would greet you as you entered the village. Since I made no turns to get there, I always felt like I lived on King St. too.”

The guest sitting at the table smiled and was about to speak when a cold breeze blew across the porch and fluttered the candle flame. The four of them grew suddenly silent and looked between the twilight and each other.

“The world is changing indeed.” the old-timer said, almost to himself. His look of concern and his son's as well were nothing compared to the inner thoughts of the guest, and he tried to hide them. Fortunately, an owl hooted somewhere nearby, with a mellowness that perfectly broke the tension. The night was normal and peaceful again.

Mia the Scientist

 

Mia found the tension of the world. It was a necessary component to keeping everything in place, since without any tension a contraption might reach a stasis and slowly fade from relevance. She wanted liveliness in the world, and for it to move in a way harmonious to its own flourishing. As it was, though beautiful, it had no aim beyond a constant business of the inhabitants. Life buzzed away in patterns of its own, not fully embracing the grand picture. Mia saw reality for its whole self, and knew it was underappreciated.

Too much tension would destroy the harmony of course. She had seen the effects of cataclysms on varying scales while studying in the wild. Over a threshold of tension, the forces could no longer hold harmony in place, leading to a sometimes violent dissolution of bonds. The only way for greater tension to maintain in a stable system was if its internal energy was channeled in flowing patterns. A cyclic flow would allow each bond to relax for a moment as the energy concentrated in the opposite bonds. The flow had to keep moving, but certain systems were so efficient at self-regulation that Mia rarely had to check in on them. Soon she knew the technique was ready to be used at a larger scale.

Larger systems in the world already had rudimentary energetic flow patterns, but Mia wanted to see if these could be enhanced. She did not think it proper to meddle directly with the energetic systems of other large consciousnesses, so she directed her efforts at herself.

One of the most important parts of understanding the system was to break it down into separate parts. A whole could always be thought of as a set of parts that one hopes work together in harmony. Once examined, it can be divided into those parts, and the set of parts may even change depending on the type of examination required. The parts and their relationship to each other can be better understood when viewed as parts of a whole that arises out of that relationship. Dynamic energy within the system can be balanced by allowing each part to shine in its purpose, while allowing the opposing parts to retreat and replenish. This flow also allowed the polarity of the parts to widen, leading to increased diversity within the system. Increased internal diversity led to more dynamic relationships between systems, which lead to revisions in internal dynamics. The cycle was self-sustaining as long as the system maintained healthy flow equilibrium and engaged with external relationships. In this way the system could not only manifest itself, but grow its potential. The external relationships, as long as they too remained harmonious, expanded the size of the entire system.

The humans seemed to know a bit about this, for they had created cities and metropolises that dotted the land. Their knowledge was incomplete though, because they did not have harmonious external relationships. They did not seem to, in large part, understand this concept of reciprocal harmonious growth. Instead they battered along, each attempting to shape the world for themselves, and only coming to harmony with each other or the land by chance of fate. The world could be better than this. Mia did not know if her schemes for influence would in the end be good for the world. She knew though that she had a unique perspective. Her body was one with the world, in a way it seemed no other living thing was. In fact, she did not really know if she could be considered living; she was a consciousness, but sustained herself on sunlight and rain, as well as sweet floral breezes. She did not eat or breathe as the animals or plants, and almost envied their limited perception and sensuous toil. Only almost though, because she was free. She only had to obsess over a place to go there, or over a thing to be in the place to see it. Time and space were only relevant in that they had meaning for the world for which she cared. Her plans for that world were surely better than anyone else's.

And so she began within, shaping herself to reflect what the world would become. She examined and shaped the parts of who she was, creating the harmonious cycle. It expanded to the vibrations of her skin; her outer bodily form glowed with newfound power. Once she settled in this new state, the patterns flowed out and around her, touching the dense thicket and tufty mosses that lay around. The world shivered, tantalized by this new energy pattern. As leaves and other small things adjusted, it slowly seeped in to the wider world beyond. Mia strolled through the land, her power growing now with focus.

Sutton

 

Sutton also spent the night in the woods east of the lake, though in more relative comfort than Jaen, being himself constantly prepared for the occasion. In the morning he made his way surreptitiously back into town, hood down this time, and mingled with the villagers. He quickly learned of the election mishap of the previous day, and of the rough expulsion of one Jaen Bartlett from the village. Once he knew that Jaen had escaped the town mostly intact, Sutton returned to the eastern shore to look for signs of his young charge's landing. Sure enough, he found the abandoned rowboat and campfire ring among the reeds, and from there, the trained tracker was easily able to follow Jaen's trail up the slope. When he reached the roadside where Jaen had sat, he examined the marks on the ground and paused, looking east. It could probably be assumed that from here Jaen had found transport back toward home, whether or not that was his destination. Having none himself save his own feet, Sutton knew he would not be able to catch up now. He would make his own way back to the falls, and perhaps would meet with Jaen there. Otherwise, the young Bartlett would have to continue to take care of himself (Leb, he assumed, was well on his own way home now, as he should be), and Sutton truly wished him well on whatever coming-of-age he had in store.

Sutton was of tough stock, born and trained in older, mountainous ways. His lithe form was a mirror to his mind; honed over many years for the skills and purposes that were required. With foundations in a truly wonderful childhood, he had left his home deep in the foothill vales to pursue strength. In his teenage years he joined an academy which was dedicated to the improvement of the self. The curriculum required service to often less-fortunate others in the most extreme mountain lands. For years he toiled and trained, bonding with his team, the mountains, and himself in the process. He learned the skills of survival, hard work, and true compassion, as well as how to defend his life and others' from the dangers of the world. He brought this understanding of life back down from the heights, intending to live a quieter existence now that he was nearing the middle of his life. Nevertheless he still wanted to use his abilities for service, and so he found the community of Bartlett's Falls. It was a stately township, storied and proud. No deep wilderness either; nearby cities and traffic along the river made for a wonderful diversity of bustling people, especially in summer. Sutton knew this was a place where he could have a positive influence on the world. He applied for a position with the town watch, and rose quickly to prominence. Friendships with the Bartletts and other members of the council solidified his place as a fixture of the community. Everybody knew the tall severe man as trustworthy and fair, if sometimes a little coldly so. His relationship to Jaen became that of an informal mentor. Jaen looked up to Sutton, though regularly refused to take his advice in the field. He seemed to view the older man as perhaps a better father figure than the actual father he had, and irrationally resented him a bit for that fact. Sutton, on his part, only wished Jaen would rise to his abilities, as he saw so much potential in the able-bodied lordly youth. Therefore he was always ready to assist Jaen even in his more foolish endeavors, knowing that wisdom can only come through a proliferation of experience.

Well-experienced himself in traveling the countryside, Sutton traveled easily back east. He made his way down a road out of the forest, and emerged in more open land. The hills around Norton Brook are an outlying clump of land, separated from the first range of mountains by sweeping valleys of farm fields and mysterious lowland meadows. Sutton followed a similar track to the others, also making their way back towards the higher hills. The first range of mountains stood as a line unbroken save in one spot. There the land dove down out of sight into the rocky dale of the river, and a terrace in front of the gap held a collection of small cities. Numerous buildings clustered together as a sort of countryside metropolis with multiple large market centers and a thriving cultural community all its own. The falls township lay beyond, a little ways back into the mountain rift, and has always had a good and close relationship with the metropolis. Sutton always enjoyed the view from these western fields east towards the mountain gap. He chose a spot for the night by a tree on an otherwise open hilltop. As the sun set he was comforted by the soft glow of the lights from the metropolis.

In the morning Sutton awoke to the sounds of birds calling and chirping, as well as a rustling sound that didn't seem to belong. Upright in an instant, he caught two ill-looking strangers rifling through his belongings. Judging quickly from their clothing and manner, he guessed that they were city folk from somewhere nearby. Clearly not upstanding citizens in their own home, one of the dirty ruffians saw he was awake and reached for a gun barely concealed in his waistband. However the short sword barely had time to flash in the morning sunlight before both thieves fell to the ground. Two quick strokes from where it had lain at his side, and it was done. A lithe crouch and a quick step was all it had taken. The bird sang its song again, trilling contentedly. Sutton sighed resignedly: breakfast would have to be on the road today. He packed up his bag and left the camp site as it was. Anyone coming across it would only find evidence of two people ever there.

On the Road Again

 

In the morning a newly-purchased transport left the town in a pleasant mood. It was an old local taxi, but the repulsars were in good condition and it trundled easily through the woodland with its few passengers. Leb sat in the driving seat, and in the back rode Ayleah, Niisi, and a pair of villagers who hadn't realized the cab was out of service. Leb had been very gracious with them and offered to take them around the lake, as their stop was on his way as well.

As the small company traversed above the northern shoreline of Norton Pond, they followed a road that slabbed slowly upward along the hillside. To the left rose an open forest of gentle hardwoods climbing beyond view. To the right however, the slope funneled down into a dark thicketed vale overtowered by tall pines. To Ayleah the sense of the place seemed more than visual. There was a pull to the obscured shoreline, quite a ways off through the dark trees. Though the cart moved along well enough and the pitch was not steep, the travel felt slightly difficult, like a drag of friction from their right. The pine needles covered more of the sun over there, but there was also a darkness about the place only detected by some sixth sense. Her training with Telon had sharpened this mysterious sense only a little, but the energy here felt so large and powerful that it was distracting even her.

Just as a small bit of fear crept in for that dark spring glen and the call it had, Ayleah remembered one of her lessons that previous year at the Sanctuary. It had been early on in the curriculum; a discussion about the duality of the world. The teacher had said we should not be afraid of the “darkness” because it is just as beautiful, and often more innocent than the “light”. The terms themselves were a polar construction imposed by reason onto what in reality was a beautiful swirling spectrum. Some places are very light, and others are very dark, but they meet in utter harmony and play with each other.

For it is certain that darkness is beautiful because it contains the most precious lights, and cradles them in velvety wonder. The darkness, when lit properly, has such incredible glamour, yet is often maligned and thus given to dis-appreciation and un-qualification. The light is equally beautiful, but it hides a secret for those who do not embrace both sides. It has always been the case that one cannot exist without the other- we only know light and dark because of their contrast and tension. Therefore if darkness is most beautiful due to the light it holds, then the inverse must also be true. The brightest light holds the most special darkness of all, and it too is plagued by the misfortunes that befall all darkness in a world biased towards the light.

We are not to blame, at least not in the direct way in which we blame. Life needs light, as a fact it looks to survival before perception. One can be blind to much of the world if overly-confident in sight. Life without care does not care for balance. It is up to us to move forward, and use perception to rediscover our care.

So Ayleah saw the darkness, and was afraid, but she acknowledged her feelings, and saw the darkness on its own terms. Then she felt secure, even held by its presence. She reached out to appreciate that place for the beauty it had, and it released her from its probing prejudice. Aside her in the transport, Niisi caught her eye and smiled.

“I'm glad you decided to come with us Ayleah. When we first met I thought you'd be a great addition to our crew.” From up front Leb gave a short laugh. “What 'crew' Niisi? We're just going back to the falls now. I have plenty of work at home that's been put off for this little excursion.”

“What Leb?” Niisi responded, “You've been the most supportive of this trip all along! I thought you actually wanted a bit more adventure in your life again.”

“Make no mistake, I did this for Jaen.” Leb's face was set, though he did not turn around. “We've always been such good friends, how could I say no? Plus, I figure whatever he and Sutton got up to won't work out for him too well. It'll be a good experience for him. I'm sure we'll all catch up in a few days back at the falls and see what he's learned.”

Niisi turned back to Ayleah. “What about you? Do you think you'll leave as soon as you can for the mountains?”

“I don't know...I'm still only hoping that I'll be able to find out where Telon was going. Once I do know though, I'll need to leave as soon as possible.”

“You really think something bad might have happened to him?” When they had met up again after Jaen and Sutton's departure from the group, Ayleah had divulged the real reason for her trip, and her concerns for the whereabouts of her scholarly mentor.

“There's just no reason the Sanctuary hadn't heard from him. He was supposed to return more than two weeks ago now, and I know that the head sages often receive messages from their mountain counterparts, so word would have been sent if the plans changed. But even though they seem concerned, they refuse to do anything concrete. I have to try and find out what happened myself. They have no excuse to stop me- classes aren't in session, and my mentor is missing. I can take care of myself well enough. Though,” she added, smiling back at Niisi, “I am glad I found some friends for at least a bit of the journey.”

Before long, they reached the top of the rise. The road led through a gentle saddle of land in the ridge that enclosed Norton Brook Reservoir. A smaller road marked by dual rock cairns turned off to the right and led back down toward the eastern shore. On one of the smaller rock piles they saw a familiar-looking figure. Jaen sat by the roadside looking the opposite of the bright sunlight that filtered though to the road junction. The dejection only grew when he saw who sat in the vehicle that drew closer. They stopped beside him as he stood, and he approached the driver's cab, opening his mouth to speak. Leb put up a hand to silence him and said: “In lieu of an apology to me, I suggest you make use of this time contemplating the lesson you may have learned here. Now get in, if you want. I only stopped anyway cause it was where these two were getting off.” he indicated the two villagers who had just unloaded from the old taxi. The two old friends connected, and Jaen climbed in beside Niisi. Leb steered the taxi back on course and they continued on their way under the placid sunlight, somehow glinting orange even through the high green canopy of the woods.

Jaen's Plot

 

A plan was discussed and plotted discreetly over the next two days. The village buzzed with excitement for the coming vote. One of the local (and most wealthy) merchants, a man named Din, was the favorite to win election. Not all cared to share a table with him, but there was general agreement that he had the influence and congeniality needed for the role.

On the dawn the poll was to open, business went as usual in the marketplace. Shop keepers opened their doors for the day, and traders trekked in from the woodlands with their goods. There was a quiet energy to the villagers' demeanors and conversation, and no-one noticed the tall hooded man standing casually to the side of the square.

As the bustle of the morning began to get underway, a messenger hurried directly across the square without stopping, and entered the township office with an envelope. The envelope contained the official ballot form that had been approved by a special electoral committee offsite. The form would be immediately copied and distributed to voters as they came in throughout the afternoon. Being a first for the town, the electoral process involved many local volunteers, and so the receiving clerk at the office did not question the identity of the tall messenger who delivered the form.

Two hours after the polls had opened, the buzz about the marketplace had changed from excitement to confusion, and an hour after that there was a downright uproar. Voters marched on the township office searching for answers, some visibly angry. Word had spread in the village center quickly as more people had cast their vote. Most were simply surprised to not see Din's name on the ballot, and wanted to know if anyone had heard a reason why. Those who had vocally supported Din's candidacy though suspected foul play, and assumed the culprits might be those closest to the electoral materials. The office was surrounded, and though the mob had no real cohesiveness, afternoon came with extreme tension.

It was only upon discovery of the original messenger that the mob gained a purpose. A young volunteer named Clade was found leaning against the hidden backside of a large tree near the edge of the village. He was only a bit dazed, but seemed to have suffered a blow to the head. By his account, he had been on his way to the township office that morning with the secure envelope when a tall cloaked person had wrestled him to this place and knocked him out. He hadn't seen what had happened to the envelope in the struggle, but was reassured when the townsfolk had told him the rest.

Sutton, in the intervening hours, had left the village entirely, and so the identity of the cloaked man remained a mystery. Jaen however, was relaxing under a pine overlooking the lake when they found him. He had been trying to take his mind off the proceedings, and not worry about the outcome of the vote. His and Sutton's plans to alter the ballot copy in his favor might not work to elect him, and that was fine. He would gain notoriety in the town from his name being so visible, and then he would run in the next election once he had spent some time with the people and proven himself here. Either way, the plan would-

-would work maybe, but he didn't get to finish that thought. A loud noise from his right turned his attention, and it became immediately clear he would not be spending any more time in this township.

To the office clerk's credit, she had remembered right away the upstart young gentleman who had come in a few days prior requesting to talk with the village council. She remembered he had left somewhat disgruntled, and had heard the council talking about how it seemed he had wanted them to elect him right then and there. Upon hearing this testimony, the louder members of the mob declared the fraud to in fact be the young stranger's fault. Indeed, there was general agreement among those present that no-one had heard of support for the stranger's name on the ballot. The polls were closed by popular demand, and the only thing left was to find this Jaen Bartlett.

That person in question was extremely lucky only one boat lay tied at the dock to which he led his pursuers. He was also lucky it was late enough in the afternoon that the townsfolk were contented enough with seeing him gone and did not seek to pursue him further. The loss of the stolen boat itself was deemed a reasonable price for ridding themselves of a potential nuisance and the owner was assured of reimbursement in any case. As he crossed the lake in haste, Jaen knew he could never set foot within eyesight of any of them again. He spent that night on the dark reedy shoreline, feeling humiliated for his efforts.

---

Back on the western shore, Ayleah watched the sunset. There was an easy path down from the old woman's house, through grassy tussocks to a rock on the water's edge. The land came more easily to the lake here than in the village center, and a hamlet of sorts clustered around a small grassy cove. The view across the water was broad enough to catch the evening light and, though she was facing east, Ayleah could see the orange and red glinting on subtle wavelets. On the far side, a campfire stirred, and she wondered at the surrounding population and the people living here. It felt good to be back in a rural town, but this place was again different from her home. The township stretched out and up into deep green forests; fertile rocky land that seemed to go on forever in its nooks and folds. In just the two days she had stayed with the old woman, she had learned a surprising amount about the use of local herbs. A different variety of plants grew here in the hills than she had studied before, and they had a variety of culinary and medicinal uses. Gaile was no lore-master, but knew enough about daily uses to be enlightening. She had extended a kind offer to Ayleah when the latter's efforts in the marketplace had been fruitless.

“I don't know that I recognize the name Battell, but it sounds like it's probably a surname, perhaps one from the mountains. What I can offer a poor traveler like yourself is a safe place to stay a few nights if you need, and I also have some pretty good maps of the region, if you'd like to take a look.”

Ayleah had gratefully accepted, and the maps had proven immensely useful. They gave her detail not shown on the limited ones she had from the Sanctuary about the foothill ranges. It seemed she was on a large island of hills a little distance separate from the main ranges. Niisi and Leb had suggested she accompany them to Bartlett Falls. They were sure someone there would be able to point her the right way, and the Falls lay at the absolute foot of the mountains as well.

Out over the placid lake the red escaped to the sky, turned purple, and fled to the west. The water darkened, and the township slept. They would remake the ballot, and vote again tomorrow.

Jaen Bartlett

The plot of Jaen's childhood home now stood in the midst of a recreation area and historic park. The shaded evergreen ledges about the Bartlett Pool stood as impressive as ever, though well-trodden by industry and the curious feet of many years. Much of the old infrastructure was long gone, hinted at by large moss-covered blocks of stone. A small city once stood around the falls, and though the walls were dismantled and removed, the community remained. Thoroughfares into the hills widened, and the now-rural township became busy with visitors on their way through the mountains or just coming to the river for its crisp water and deep pools. Jaen's family, though no longer rulers of the falls, nevertheless maintained a quiet respect in the community equal to their royal prestige of old. Thus it was that he grew up into a naïve sense of entitlement and thought it only natural that he should one day help to shape and guide a community.

Given the rise of the Empire, and the transition to township rule, Jaen found little opportunity at home. Bartlett Falls was constrained by regional regulations due to its notoriety, and though the people in charge were friendly with his own family, they were calmly obstinate when it came to any involvement of his in town affairs. Jaen's role it seemed, was to be a passive friend of the town, and the upkeep of the historic park. He wanted more than that.

One day a man stopped for a rest on his way up the river. Jaen was nearby as he told his story, and overheard the man say he came from a township that was just getting itself set up as such.

“Used to always just be a bunch of farmers,” the man had said, “I think there was a city established there of some sort a very long time ago, but you would hardly know it now. All forest and hillside. Anyway, their getting enough of a population center there that the people're looking to form a more stable governance. How they'll make out I sure don't know. It's why I got out of there- the different factions can't seem to agree on anything, and I figure it was going to get worse before anything got sorted out. I'm looking for a more stable township, one that already knows what it is, if you know what I mean. Maybe I'll go back someday, though it's not like it's my ancestral home or anything...”

Upon talking with the man, Jaen learned that his fledgling township lay out in the Haven valleys. A mass of foothills lay separate from the rest of the mountain folds. Tumbled gentle slopes rose high above a sheltered valley, and a good size dam held back water from a spring in a beautiful round reservoir. This was a lovely pastoral place looking for its way in the world. Jaen saw it as his opportunity. He would go to that place, the newly-created township of Norton Brook, and become the savior who would help shape their society. Not only did he feel an innate sense of destiny, but also a desire to see a new community flourish and not descend into chaos. If they could not agree among themselves, he would lead them for their own sake.

It was with some confusion then that he left the village office at the lakeside after speaking only briefly with members of the town council. He was not dejected altogether by their dismissal of his ideas for the town, but his spirits were dampened somewhat. They had told him he at least had not missed the vote for leadership, but that it would be awfully hard for an outsider to get on the ballot in the next three days. His companions were supportive, but Leb in particular advised returning to Bartlett Falls.

“There is no shame in going back Jaen. You've come as a representative of a notable house and offered your guidance. They have refused, and there is no sense not acknowledging that fact. You can't win an election on short notice as a stranger. For better or ill we must leave them to their own devices.”

Jaen's mood had darkened. He had visited with townsfolk for most of the afternoon and while many were kind to him, none had seemed supportive of his taking a hand in their government. “What, and return to my parents to tell them I came all the way here for folly? I know what the township thinks of me back home. I'm nothing more than a pampered royal; a figurehead to be polished and put back in my museum to greet visitors to the falls. They forget my ranging and hunting. They forget I know those falls and how to govern them better than anyone since my great-grandfather who owned the mills.”

Leb looked at Jaen with compassion, seeing the fire in his friend's eyes. Then shouldered his pack and said: “Jaen Bartlett, I have been your companion and will continue to be your friend, should you find yourself. I wish you the best of luck, but I will not fight this battle with you.” and with that he turned away. Niisi too apologized, but said her path also did not lead where he was taking them and went to follow Leb.

Jaen looked at Sutton, the question unspoken on his face. The tall man gave a smile that may have been more of a grimace, and clapped Jaen on the shoulder. “I will stay by your side young master. Though if we are to proceed we will need caution.”

The New Premir

 At the pond marketplace, Ayleah asked about the word.

The head sages of the Sanctuary seemed more concerned with the information they held and with keeping it from her than with the possibility something had happened on Telon's mission. She could tell though that whatever he had been doing was important and that they were just as worried as herself. In their lush valley they seemed content to wait for news, but Ayleah was from a place where the water beat life awake from the ragged cliffs. Action her birthright, she packed the necessary things and boarded a transport heading roughly east. Knowing little else except possibly a name (was it a person or a place?), she had stepped out from the transport onto a dusty lot flanked by large boulders. A wide gravel road led from the other end of the lot, and travelers of various types streamed to and from the long-distance transports. Merchants traded at stalls of various prestige and repair that lined the first part of the street. Farmers and woodsmen made their way to and from the port, arriving from or departing for some nearby city. A family with a full cart of luggage headed up the road and into the woods. There was an air of seediness that came from those living on the fringe between the wild township and the technology of the cities. It was a transition zone, and Ayleah stood to one side, suddenly unsure. She had some basic navigational tools from the Sanctuary, but direction and the word were not enough to go on. Now that she was out in the greater world she had no idea which path to take.

“Can I help you ma'am, you look as if you might be lost. Where do you seek to be?” The man was young, no more than five years her senior, and walked to her side of the square proudly dressed and with a commanding air.

Before Ayleah could respond, he extended his hand and continued. “I'm sure I can be of service, Miss-”

“-Ayleah” she said, regaining her composure under the assault. “And who might I have the pleasure of meeting? Are you the Gate-Attendant for this township?”

His face showed an inscrutable look and then he responded “I am in fact the new Premir of this township, and I have just arrived to assume office. The name is Jaern Bartlett, of the Falls Lineage, and the pleasure is all mine Ayleah.” he straightened as he said this, then gave a nod of a bow. Ayleah, desperate for some sort of direction anyway, and admittedly a little impressed, followed Jaern back to his companions.

They were all fitted for traveling, with light rugged packs similar to her own, but with signs they carried more than just navigational tools. A larger man with a casual air about him, a tall thinner person who could have been taken as a scholar if his dress was different, and a wiry younger woman with brown skin and eyes that knew more than they told. Jaern picked up his (significantly smaller) pack of belongings and introduced the others. “Ayleah, meet Leb, Sutton, and Niisi.” he said, indicating them in turn, “They have been my good friends for many years, and I am deeply grateful-” his gaze met the tall Sutton's for an instant, “-for their companionship and assistance on this venture.”

“Pleased to meet you all.” Ayleah said, acknowledging the companions. “I'm also on a venture of sorts, and I would be grateful for some companions here. I'm new to these lands and not yet sure where I need to go. If there's a larger market square in this township, I may be able to find answers to some of my questions.”

The group said that was where they were heading anyway, and joined sparse traffic leading away from the long-distance port. Jaern took the front of the group next to Ayleah. “I give you my word to help you in any way I can. Certainly as Premir, I will be able to grant you whatever you need. What is this venture of yours may I ask?”

Ayleah glanced at his bright eyes and eager gait. “Only a fact-finding mission for some scholars. I've been studying at the Meadow Sanctuary and decided to study the upland forests as a final project. I'll be spending a few cycles in the mountains and then I'll go back and do a write-up on the comparative energies. I'm very excited to study up there in the mountains, but my transport dropped me off here, and I don't think this is where I was supposed to go.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, I realized on the way here that I had accidentally written the down wrong transport date. I was supposed to leave yesterday! I know this transport brought me east, but not all the way to the mountains it seems. What township is this anyway?”

“Norton Brook, though this road accesses a few different wild towns. The one I will be assuming leadership of is centered around a lovely reservoir lake, I believe it gets its name from the lake's water source.”

“Do townships here often elect outside leaders? I notice you and your friends are new to the area.” Ayleah asked, curious. Jaern's traveling companions gave each other a glance.

“Well...no, not usually.” Jaern said, bolstering as he went on, “But there was a regional notice that they were looking for assistance, and when one has the feeling of destiny like I do...plus, I am a born leader- royal blood and all -I'm sure they're going to take to me right away. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some 'city boy' coming in to show these folks how to run a town. I'm born and bred in the wilds, the son of a proud and respected family in the hills. I just want to give them a figurehead to rally around; someone to stoke their confidence and allow them the space to create the order they so desire.”

When the group reached a major junction in the road, they hired a taxi cart from a row near the wayfinding building. The rest of the short trip to the town center passed mostly quietly, though when they were loading the cart Leb spoke to Ayleah as an aside:

“I'd take most he says with a good grain of salt. He's an impressive specimen, but Jaern's never really been this far from his home lands. I wish him well, I do, but I know I might end up having to carry him out of danger someday. Hopefully the people of the township let him down easily.”

Ayleah kept her voice low. “You don't think he's the natural leader he says he is?”

Leb looked at his friend, sitting down in one of cart's front seats. “One day he very well may be. But not yet. This outing will be the beginning of what he needs.”

Loom

 

For a stretch of time the only sound was the swishing of blades, scythe against grass. Tall stems and long leaves fell gently for their size, slowly revealing the terrain before the small explorers party. Visibility through the uncut field was not impossible, but the grass grew in such a tangle upon itself that all sight dimmed soon to a woody sort of vagueness. The plant matter naturally occurred in large mounds and made progress forward impossible without the aid of well-honed scythe wielders. Kaya herself did not cut, but carried vital supplies and oversaw the group's effort. The going had been steady but slow since they had left the pilgrim's track. Cleared roadways only led so far out or to specific places in the Sanctuary meadows. Smaller tracks connected disparate locations; narrow trails in a dense world of green.

Viewfinding from the city had located small leafy growths beginning to show themselves in a trackless section of the field. The potential for new trees and sanctuary groves was always interesting, and it had been Kaya's idea to lead a party out from the old pilgrim track that crossed the field to investigate the nature of these new sprouts. They were likely a welcome addition to the Sanctuary lands, but if the plants were of an invasive type removal and follow-up visits might be necessary. The scholars of the city-sanctuary carefully cultivated the energies of the meadows, and only allowed harmonious ones to proliferate. Kaya was always excited to lend a hand in the maintenance efforts of such a beautiful and peaceful place.

As the cutters swished in silence for a moment, her thoughts wandered to nowhere in particular. The sky above showed a blue only slightly dulled by cloud, fringed with tender tips of the tall grasses. They bent crazily across one another, waving gently as a sort of mindless hive-pattern. Their character seemed centered way up there, near the tapering top of the plant; more friends with the soaring sky than with the ways of those down here on the earth. Kaya felt the denseness of the field around them, and a claustrophobic realization of how enclosed they were by the grasses- these swaying simple entities- came upon her for a moment.

Then the feeling was gone, or momentarily mastered perhaps. She was glad of the company of the party around her and the work of the cutters in blazing a trail. It was a rough-hewn path through the towering green, narrow and curving, but it could be followed back, and seemed to be going in the right direction. The destruction of their passing was the lifeline to the open air. Kaya called for a halt and a location check. Compasses were consulted, and one of the cutters wound together a makeshift grass ladder on a tough weed stalk. After climbing up a good ways, he returned to confirm they were closing on the new leaf island. Indicating a direction, the party resumed forward, and before long they were once again in their work either trailblazing, navigating, or consulting research material. Once again a silence of concentration fell on the group.

Kaya gazed into the dim jungle to either side. It seemed that a pulse of life came from somewhere deep in that wilderness, so far inside that only a bare whisper made it to the artificial openings where mortal ears could hear. It called to her and at once her senses felt warned, as if saying to answer that call was to leave this world behind forever. The wild fascinated her nonetheless, and she became more lost in thought looking to the uncut sides on the trail than to where the party was headed.

As she forgot her place and time for a moment, a dark shape loomed out of the deep greenery in her field of view. In the gloom of the grass jungle, it almost seemed to Kaya a hallucination. Which had come first, the shadow in the jungle or the rapidity in her heartbeat? As they crept forward, it seemed to pass them slowly to the right, like a contemplative deadly beast stalking intruders in its land. Kaya realized what it was and quietly got the attention of Rune, the lead navigator of the crew. When she pointed at the ominous shape in the wilderness, he called to the cutters: “Heya! Halt and regoup! We've almost just run right past it!” to Kaya he said: “Thanks for pointing that out, I guess I wasn't on my spotting game today.”

The tree was slender, and a gentle yet hardy looking thing, rising almost meekly out of the field-grass. Kaya stepped forward around the path of the scythes and approached the trunk alone. The grasses here grew slightly finer and lower, giving way energetically to the presence of the tree. They parted softly as she walked closer, examining the young tree-trunk. It was maybe eleven feet in diameter, clothed in a light gray. The bark was slightly gnarled, giving the impression almost of a bonsai, or at least a tree much older than this one appeared. Its branches began in the upper reaches of the grass, were few, and had a delicate look about them, as if each one were precious. The tree had a duality of elegant fragility and earthen stability. One could tell it had weathered much and would weather much more before ever succumbing. It was a strong tree, and only slightly stunted by its condition out in the open field. Kaya put her hand on the trunk and smiled. The sages would be pleased to hear the Sanctuary had a new oak.