Woods Edge

 

The gentle thrumming of the speeders' engines came to a halt. They had traveled over rumpled woody terrain, which now opened on wide fields that sloped further down to the north and east. By the side of the road stretched the placid waters of a small pond, and across from this view sat a dilapidated country inn. Riannath dismounted, and walked apart from the group, gazing at the open fields beyond a scruffy fringe of bramble. Davai followed her. Geordi came along as well, though he held back a bit, seeing the scholar joining his commander. As he left the squad, he made the call. “Quick regroup, then we continue on. Be ready to move in five!”

Davai had caught up to Riannath at an outlook. An old birding platform stood slightly above the lower growth at the woodland's fringe. From here they could see the land falling to a dark dell, then rising again in soft, deep green mounds. Beyond, a further horizon showed in jagged blue peaks that touched the sky. Both of them knew that somewhere out there, between the hills, lay the river valley.

“We'll camp down there tonight.” Riannath said, indicating the thicketed defile. “There we'll be better protected, and I don't think that land is as populated as the woods here.” The pond hamlet was not much to look at, but they had passed through quite the settled area on their way from Five Trees. The woodland townships here benefited from close relationships with the numerous local cities. This close to the Metro areas, rural places like this one became just one of the options for local living. Many residents came from nearby cities with a desire for an outside life. They found like-minded individuals and founded small communities that began to dot the primary woodland roads. A single official township might have ten or more of these impromptu villages, each with a slightly different flavor. Davai enjoyed seeing the diversity of the rural villages, though it was different from the back of a military speeder.

“Tell me more Davai. You know so much it would seem of the workings of the world. I have my knowledge, but it is about people, not the powers of the universe. I would know something more about how this reality functions, if you can tell me. I want to be prepared for what you say is to come. I want to be able to guide my people through it.” Riannath's gaze remained mostly on the horizon, only flicking to the brown-robed scholar for an instant.

By her side, Davai smiled, and then let out a soft sigh, his gaze also resting on the far-off mountains. “I suppose it will be important for more people to know more about all this. They know...you know, about systems. Systems created by us humans and put in place to help control our world. I'm sure that you, Commandant, are well-versed in all the rules that we keep to maintain and build our society. But there were rules here before we humans came and made our own.”

Davai continued, knowing he had the Commandant's full attention. “Our reality exists in a dualistic format. I don't know if that is a necessary construction, or even a permanent one, but it has operated dualistically for as long as we have had knowledge of it. In every aspect of life, we can see a shifting balance between polarities. Whether they are called order and chaos, feminine and masculine, yin and yang, social and military, or spiritual and secular, everything exists in balance on one or more of these dimensions. When you tune in to the energy of a place, or a situation, or a simple temporal object, you can feel its balance; its relationship to the various poles of the world. Now, often where we find balance, we also find tension. With such a myriad of influences on the subject, there are undoubtedly contradicting tendencies. Many teachings show that some sort of 'middle path' is the correct way to approach the world, but often, usually actually, the person attempting this comes up against a paradox. The two polarities they are trying to mediate cannot simultaneously exist, creating a sense of tension. The tension causes the collapse of the person's consciousness back towards one of the polar states as a way to avoid internal conflict. Incidentally, this usually creates an energetic release, and these releases are the sources of the world's creativity, both for good and for ill effects.

“Through practicing equanimity though, one can train oneself to exist within the middle of that balance without triggering the same paradox effect. When you are more able to hold that larger perspective without collapsing your energy, the middle path starts to feel more and more peaceful. Support the contradictions without them threatening conflict. From there you can then help foster the healthy balance of the world as it seeks to eventually free itself from duality altogether.”

“So there is a goal to it all? A direction that reality is naturally moving?” Riannath cut in.

“In a sense,” Davai responded, realizing he may have said more than he intended. “but not in any sort of intentional terms. It's like we're all part of a very slow-motion explosion, and far enough into the future, it should eventually resolve.”

They were both silent for a moment, then Riannath spoke. “Well, that was certainly quite informative Davai, thank you. This has given me a lot to think about. I'll have to meditate on the subject as well.”

Davai turned to walk with her back towards the resting squad. “It is good you have a practice. Mindfulness is the first step towards understanding these things. We have all the students learn it first thing.” They came face to face with Geordi, who had been waiting a few paces back. Riannath gave the sign for all clear, then continued on to address the rest of the crew.

“We'll camp down in those thickets tonight, then we make for the river valley in the morning. Stay alert everyone, this is now a code-yellow expedition. I'll have further information at our morning briefing, as well as some new deployment instructions. Now let's move.”

Blue Spruce

 

It happened one midday, as she was delivering goods to the market storehouse. Isak owned a permanent stall at the peak square, and a cellar near by the edge of the woods that was kept stocked to reduce trips from the farm. The sky was clear, and reflected the condition of her spirit as well. Of recent days she had felt lighter, and more sure in herself than ever before. It was as if a brooding sort of presence had lifted from her being after this time working in the mountain air. It had been a nurturing presence, and one which offered her a good place for reflective thoughts and internal work. It had been necessary but oppressive over a period of time. Ayleah had treated the farm as a sort of cloister, where she could engage in simple, honest labor that allowed her mind the freedom to reset and refresh; to stop reflecting as much and just be. She was much less worried about her previous quest, knowing that the only way forward had been through self-discovery. There would always be more to discover about her self, but now she felt empowered, not just for continuing her search, but with regard to her understanding of the world.

In any case, she knew it was time to leave Isak's farm. Crossing the open hilltop of Lincoln Peak, she noticed the waning but still bulging moon high in the blue air. It had passed fully through more than three of its cycles since she had come to the farm. Isak had been the most consummate host, giving her the space for her own thoughts, while lending a supportive ear when she needed one. He did not love her, or rather, he did, but not in the way Ayleah had usually thought of love before. He cared for her as closely as a friend could, sharing on the whole selflessly with his guests, her included. More than that though, he accepted her presence on the farm as a matter of fact. Nothing she shared with him from her day's work was ever received with judgment or reproach. He simply seemed open in mind and heart to the people around him for some reason. The two of them shared a rural upbringing, and so Ayleah had begun to feel more and more at home with the young farmer. She would miss him, but knew she could not stay here. Not yet at least.

Kae-ri had not been seen since their arrival at the dual peaks, though Ayleah felt sure the elemental being was still around. There was something about the sunlight that sometimes looked more orange than usual, or a gleam from a wet spot on the ground. She felt Kae-ri's presence about her life at the farm, like a backdrop, or transparent filter over everything. It was not constant, or over-bearing, and she wondered if her new sense of clarity was at all related. It could be that she had been working with Kae-ri this whole time, meditating as she had been on the self and its place in the world. There had been moments when the internal dialogue had felt not entirely her own. It was a disquieting thought, but she assured herself by her current state of clarity. If Kae-ri had been haunting her, they seemed to have moved on now, perhaps because they had served their purpose as teacher. If so, Ayleah hoped she would see them again sometime: it would be nice to give them thanks.

Returning to the now empty cart, she considered the sobering side of her motivation this morning. The search for Telon would be far from easy, as she still had no real idea of where or how to begin again. It had been a good while now, and, and she almost thought she could see his features in the spruce trees that ringed the cleared summit. Some of the trees even looked wholly like hooded figures, their needles a blueish teal in the sunlight. Ayleah shook her head, it was as if her thoughts this morning had reawakened the purpose that drove her up here in the first place, and now her perceptions were overloading, seeing patterns of her goal that weren't there. He couldn't be there, those are just the same trees that have always stood there. She could even see the branches, and a bird flitting from one trunk to another. The needles did look awfully blue though, and some of the branches hung down, packed together almost like a cloth-texture. She thought of the ceremonial pine-coats she had seen in some of her studies of the native hill-folk, and wondered whether those costumes were comfortable. Then she saw the eyes. Just above where a thin branch curved across the open space, coming from nowhere between the hanging branches, were a set of lights. They gave only the softest glow, but their position and demeanor were unmistakable.

Ayleah gave a start, and dashed to the edge of the clearing, keeping her eyes carefully on the apparition. As she got closer its shape resolved more and more. It was her mentor, his blue cloak emerging from the drooping needles, and a kind, though slightly strained, face floating within. He gave the slightest turn in her direction, as a way of recognition, and then spoke in a voice that could have been a part of the breeze. The words were sparse: “Come to Burnt Rock, peak.”, even the preposition was more implied than spoken. Ayleah heard the words more clearly in her mind than through her ears, and as soon as they were said the apparition vanished. Once more she stared only at a blank canvas of forest.

Farm Visit

 

His helm was dented now, only a little; marred on its top right side by some impact suffered on one of their ventures. It still gleamed well in the sun though, casting glints now and then from where it lay in the passenger seat. His light brown hair was uncovered, driving casually as he was through the gold and green woods. The day was the first pleasant one in a while, and he hoped the armor would be unnecessary.

Jaen kept his plates well-shined, and enjoyed wearing them as a show of office. He had come far from the lessons learned of his arrogance, through humbleness and trial to find himself on a good path again. The Premir's council had good rapport with the townsfolk. As captain of Grive's ranging parties, he was an integral part of a government well-regarded by its people. He hardly needed to include the thought that the township was an important one, known and venerated throughout the region. Grive gave a healthy model of pride for Jaen to follow. He was never humble about the distinction of his office, but never flashy about it either. His uncle would brag about hunting or other personal exploits, but always met his townsfolk as equals, understanding that everyone's hands mattered in the town's endeavors.

Today was a casual one, even though he was driving out of town on business matters. Grive had suggested a visit to their friend Isak, who operated a large farm at the south end of the township. His uncle had a sort of partnership with the farmer, though the latter occupied no formal role in the township. The farm sat on a separate smaller peak, which afforded by way of traffic and geography its own tiny village square. This natural gathering and development point lay right at Isak's front door, and so the farmer had taken it upon himself to be its watchman. He developed friendly relationships with any who came or stayed near to his farm, and was a relay for information, if necessary. In this way Grive had ensured the security of this otherwise far-flung neighborhood within his township. Jaen liked Isak, though the farmer could be strangely reserved at times. They were of a similar age, but Isak had lost any ties he once had to family. He now carved out a unique place for himself in the world. It made Jaen think about his own ties to family, and how much they had helped him get to where he was. He felt gratitude, but mixed with a distasteful curiosity. He wondered sometimes where his real power lay, and whether he would be able to have any without that external help. Thoughts like those could cloud an otherwise sunny day.

Isak never would share Jaen's doubts though, and that equanimity gave Jaen comfort. Each person was trying to do the best for themselves as their circumstances allow. Especially up here in the wilderness, Jaen knew he could be proud enough of his own power.

The young farmer was in fact a friend to Jaen, but they rarely had time to visit much. Today they could have a good talk, and maybe he would return with something for his uncle as well. Both of them wanted to know how Isak's farm had been doing lately. There had been a spate of cloudy and cooler days, with winds coming sometimes at night that sounded fiercer than usual. True, storms would hit the mountain peaks now and then, wreaking havoc on the communities there. At those times roads became rivers as torrential water drained off the sides of the rocky slopes. Winds before had destroyed whole groves; entire villages smashed by the downed wood. Such storms were not new experiences. Recently though, there had been a feeling that was new. It came like a chill in the air, tingling the skin even in bright sunlight. Days always varied warmer or colder, wet fog enveloping the mountain on the cloudiest of days, but lately that fog had felt harsh. It pricked at the body, causing a feeling of contraction. Simply, there had been more cold in the air the past cycle or so, and Grive was curious if the farmer had noticed it as well. The way he had suggested the visit to Jaen had indicated he probably already knew the answer Isak would give, and that the trip was primarily for Jaen's own benefit. Despite his own sensory experiences, the young ranger could not help being a bit skeptical. The sun glittered peacefully through the canopy of spruce, and the open spaces along the road felt warm enough on his uncovered head.

“As a matter of fact, I think pretty much all of my crops are growing a bit slower than typical.” Isak leaned forward to take a sip of his drink. “Does your uncle have any leads on why this shift in the weather might be happening?”

Jaen set his own cup down on the table. “Grive might have his suspicions, but he's kept them to himself. There's been talk of sending me north though, and he'll probably confirm that once he's heard this confirmation from you. I'll probably be bound sooner rather than later for Watertown, though who knows what good it'll do if we're in for some ecological disaster. I'd rather be here to help out on the front lines.” Isak looked at his friend. “You're a good man Jaen, it's been good to have you around up here. We have a good council, but sometimes I think age necessarily puts one more out of touch as a price for the deeper wisdom. You'll come back from the valleys with what we need to weather the storm, I'm sure of that.”

After a warm welcome, the young farmer had readily echoed Grive's concerns. His new plantings, he confided, were doing poorly, and those crops coming to maturity now were doing so nearly half a cycle late. His livelihood had not yet been affected, but he and his farmhands were preparing for the worst. Moreover, he was concerned for his community: if the living things on which they all relied were starting to dwindle, what would happen to the people?

Jaen left Isak's farm with a new sense of purpose, and a curious mind towards the future. As he walked to his vehicle, he passed by one of the farm workers. She was carrying a large bundle of dried moss in her arms, her face tilted away from him. Yet when she called over to one of her co-workers, he realized who she was. Strange, he thought, climbing into his seat. Ayleah had been here only a few cycles, and yet he had almost not even recognized her.

Spruce Grove

 

Little green tips shivered slightly in the breeze that could now reach them. Towering grass surrounded the clearing, the nearer thin stalks now bent and forced aside by their surveying work. She noted again the strange scarcity of new shoots among the stalks. Usually one could pick out at least a few of the younger light green ones, but in this spot all that she could see were darker and mature, or beginning to turn and die. The grasses, like any other plant community, had a natural cycle of growth and death. The fields were constantly replenishing themselves, with older stalks browning and giving way to new growth in a process that maintained the healthy crop. The dense forest of grass relied on this cycle for equilibrium, and those who lived here at the sanctuary relied on it in turn. This was one way in which Kaya liked how her studies interfaced with her practical work. Being out here in the fields was what she truly loved, but her time in the botany and ecology classrooms had only deepened the experience.

She sat back in her makeshift seat, testing its weight. The stalks of grass, when cut and bent into place, made excellent building material, but she hadn't had time to put much care or effort into this makeshift chair. Around in the clearing the other members of the work party were also having a break, drinking and chatting, or admiring the small spruce tree. This trampling and cutting of the grass had been necessary in order to clear out around the spruce. It had taken some work to find as well, since the development map for this area had been long misplaced. Even with its distinctive coloring and needles, a small spruce was surprisingly difficult to locate in varied uncut field-grass.

It had quite a bit of growth to it already, though it was still young and dwarfed by the plants around it. To Kaya it seemed a symbol of the future; it had the potential for a grandeur she might never see. The grass lived in its constant cycle, birthing and dying in mass milieu out in these fields. It was a joyful surrender of life, sustaining the ones who extended that cycle. Trees, and even humans lived the same way, just on grander scales. If there was a rhythm to all those cycles, it was obscured. The almost apparent lack of pattern at times felt like a purposeful veil over the meaning of life. Kaya gazed off to the side, where only the wild field lay in its earthy chaos, and considered that idea.

–

Before they left the clearing, they marked the tree's location for future trips. Four of the six small spruce trees had survived thus far, and were being monitored for their continued care. Even though the trees were over thirty feet by now, and becoming sturdy, they were still vulnerable to animal abuse and choking out by the thick grasses. It had initially been difficult to see the slightly different green amongst the rest, but now cleared around as it was, the spruce stood out nicely. It had a striking energy among the grass and flowers of the field, bringing a rich darkness to the spot where it grew. Each spruce had a slightly different quality as well, and Kaya was excited for the potential of the fledgling grove.

As much as she anticipated the future though, she had lately developed a mild concern. Kaya had studied botany and natural cycles in depth during her school-intensive years, in preparation for a life serving the needs of the local land. In all her time, she had come to know the fields and groves well, understanding their web of processes and subtle natures. Lately though, those processes almost seemed like they were changing. New growth in the field seemed to be slowing down all over the place; lately the telltale lighter shades of green were often absent from the palette. She had noted it in the latest report to the head offices, but there had been no indication they thought it was an issue. Kaya had tried to reassure herself that if Davai didn't think it was a problem, she shouldn't be too worried, but the reasoning didn't fully work.

The group trundled back towards the circle village on their wooden work-cart. It had little in the way of seats, but the bed had walls that worked fine for leaning against, and when it was empty like this there was no shortage of space. Kaya chatted with her crew, catching up about their own experiences in the field lately. They shared their own hopes for the spruce plantings, agreeing how nice the sanctuary would eventually be with the addition of the new groves. None of them had noticed much change in the plant-life though, and only agreed on how lovely the wildflowers had been the past few moons. Kaya liked her crew, they were hard-working and good-natured folk who mostly lived out here in Dome Valley. They valued the wild fields and the tranquility of the Sanctuary. Today they were dressed in the usual working clothes, a mixture of durable but breathable fabrics dirtied by the efforts. As they pulled into town, a cool breeze caught the group and Kaya noticed one of the men pull down the rolled-up sleeves of his over-shirt. She looked again at the grass back on the roadsides. Deep green stalks growing through and among the brown and dying elders. If only they could tell me, she thought. The pattern may be obscured for me, but they see the meaning clearly. They live the meaning, and know nothing else.

Hilltop

 

The hilltop featured a small neatly-kept village. In its own way it seemed proud, looking over the western valleys. It must be a notable place of history in the surrounding culture, she thought. The houses looked well-settled, of a respectable age and cared for by their inhabitants. A newer city stood nearby, just below the summit of the hill, and seemed to provide some protection over the old rural town. No guards were present though, so Riannath knew the place was not under management of the city, despite its proximity. There was a certain lawlessness about the rural townships that Riannath cherished. It was not a chaos of violence and crime: towns usually kept themselves well-enough ordered for their residents to feel safe. It was that within the management of a city, things seemed to become homogenized. Villages under order of a regional conservation board had greater freedoms in their general energy. There was something special about a place that could claim a unique identity for its own. This one had a good sense of itself, even though it lay only a short distance off the city roads. The high plaza had the name of Five Tree, though the forest blanketing its sides contained far more than that number. The name told Riannath that there was a history here, however humble it may be. For her it served the purpose of being the first real high point south from the river that had an open summit. She wasn't sure exactly way she had led the squadron to higher ground, but the open view would at least afford her mind visual space to plan her next moves. There would have to be a base of operations, separate from the fort, and secret from imperial oversight. She needed stronger information, and considered polling local populations more directly. The question was how to escape discovery by someone like Andrus? Furthermore, she had a feeling he might do something drastic if she were not back within a reasonable time. If he thought she was conspiring against Imperial command, he would be within his authority to suspend hers. Suspension of her authorization could not be allowed to happen. Geordi would be able to recommend a leader for the satellite operations while she kept up appearances.

Low tangly woods mingled with grasses as the road opened on the village square. Around the summit clearing, small mounds of bedrock raised themselves above market stalls and through wizened old estates. Beyond was a flat open space that looked over treetops to the blue-tinted west. The whole square was weathered and bore signs of continuous use. At the far side were soft shaded meadows, and a rest area with places to sit and gather. Riannath dispatched troops along the perimeter of the town, instructing them to maintain a secure presence, but to not intimidate any of the locals. They were there for safety, not on military business.

It was as the Commandant was considering the local villagers that she saw the scholar just rising from a seat in the far meadow. He was some distance away, but the brown cloak and his overall demeanor was an uncanny match for her dream the previous night. He glanced over at the new arrivals to the square, eyes narrowing slightly in recognition of the military presence. He then saw her and his eyes widened again, curious. The Commandant realized her face had betrayed the surprise of seeing him, but too late. A funny thing then happened. It seemed to Riannath that the sage walked towards her, but when they finally met she found it was her that had ridden over to the meadow.

She dismounted and greeted the scholar, apologizing for intruding on the peaceful village.

“No need to apologize ma'am, unless you intend to break that peace.”

“Don't worry, we're not here on official business. Though I can't help it if they do their duty to protect me.” Davai glanced around at the slick troops positioned casually around the square. One of the two teams had disappeared down the wooded road out of town.

“Formidable for sure.” he said. “But what is your interest in me? I saw you take notice of me, and, assuming you wish to confer about some scholarly topic- how may I be of service?”

Riannath studied his unreadable brown eyes, suddenly the slightest bit unsure.

“This may sound bizarre, but I think I saw you once before this, in a dream of mine last night. I know some scholars have been known to engage in more...esoteric studies, but contrarily, you seem not to be expecting me.”

Davai's curiosity intensified. “No, you're right, I didn't try to contact you last night. I have been known to appear in others' dreams, but it is, usually that is, by my own will. What did I say to you in this dream?”

Riannath did not answer immediately, being a little taken aback by the scholar's blatancy. He had just said in such casual terms something which for her had only ever been rumor and speculation. It was said that the high scholars could manipulate their consciousness and the world around them. She had heard that they could communicate without being near one another. They could affect those around them with tricks based in a deep knowledge of the underlying energies of the world. It was all just a story though to someone like her who had grown up away from such teachings. Her own education in the military academies had been top-notch, but they had not told her it was possible to willingly enter the dream of another person.

“You...you didn't say anything. I just saw you walking by.” she told the scholar. “Then we were,” she looked around, realizing the place. “here, but the view seemed higher up, and a massive storm was brewing out there. It didn't look like you noticed me, you were thinking about something, and staring off to the west.”

Davai gave a small sound, and nodded. Then he was silent for a moment, while they both reflected in the light summit breeze. “I guess we do have something to give each other then. Clearly we were supposed to meet here, so please-” he gestured to the other side of the table he had been occupying, “sit, and let's figure out what those things might be.”

Riannath and Davai both recounted the recent events of their lives. Davai shared his and the other scholars' concern over the changes they had observed. Weather patterns and (more worryingly) star patterns had begun to shift. Communication with other regional councils had confirmed their findings, and Davai had eventually sought a connection with various parts of the earth in order to sort out his information into a clear picture. The picture resonated with the rumors Riannath had collected, but the commandant's stories from the land held some information Davai had not known. He was exceptionally intrigued by the accounts of these mysterious people in the tales. People that no one could account for, and who sometimes just seem to vanish into thin air.

On a large scale, Davai told the commandant, it was a matter of the worldly cycles. The cyclical aspects of nature were slowly consolidating into aspects of larger, more stable cycles. There was an activation of the world that had been unthinkable before. According to the projections of the scholars, Davai said, the eventual outcome of this shift to larger cycles would be beneficial. There may be some disruption during the transition, but he agreed that cycles that were more in sync with each other had the potential to build great positive forces in the reality they constructed.

He did caution that there would have to be an adaptation. The transition would not be easy. Society would have to adjust to the new patterns, which he and the other scholars he had spoken to were calling 'Seasons'. They did not know yet what cumulative effects the synchronizing cycles would have. While Davai was out here confirming the findings, those back at the Sanctuary were preparing messages to the populace. It would be necessary to foster preparedness in the people, especially those living in the countryside. However, any hint of the coming changes might also stoke catastrophic rumors and panic. Furthermore, the head sage Lucan had been away for many moons now, and tensions were higher without his leadership.

Riannath told Davai in turn about her difficulties with the imperial oversight. She had felt her position threatened simply by the consideration of these issues. It was clear to her that there were forces conspiring against her and the scholars' information gathering. Davai confirmed he had heard rumors himself of the sort. At the Sanctuary they had been careful about disseminating any information regarding the situation, and even now he was careful who to trust.

The commandant agreed with that stance, rising as she did so. “For my part I only trust my personal squads, as each one of them has sworn in my presence to protect me with their lives. For your part, you can trust them as well. I will stand with you scholar Davai, should anyone try to stall your progress in this matter.” They shook hands, satisfied in their new partnership. Davai stood as well and made to collect his belongings. “Come with me then, back down to the river. I have a friend who I must meet there: she contacted me earlier and I believe she has some part to add to our own.”

Camp Dreams

His hand came away from its touch to the earth with a sensitivity, its soft flesh rebounding from the previous stimulus. Hard rock poked through the soil here, accentuating an open landscape of thin grass. The hilltop stood mostly bare, affording a good view to the west. The scholar's eyes were closed however: he sought to see more than what was physically offered. The hand pulled slowly up from the ground, reluctantly following suit to his straightening body. Its connection was maintained: he could still sense the energy of the grass and dirt, and of the underlying rocks that resonated in all directions. With one hand he could feel the extensive folds of the landscape, and with the other he gently sent out his own power, seeking. To the north and a bit west there was a dark nexus. Two forces seemed pulled to one another in a troubling way. It was clearly the thing he should pursue, and the scholar knew he would have to revisit that energy, but it was not the only thing that caught his attention. There were smaller bright sparks that seemed to sprout organically in disparate places. They did not seem tied to any particular known powerful location, and some even moved erratically across the land. Only one seemed more notably stable, but it wavered like the twinkling of a star. It seemed to sit on one of the lower mountain peaks, gleaming its pure white light apart from the rest. Other notable spots roamed around, and glowed with every color imaginable, each their own unique hue. At first it seemed to him that there were only a few of these sparks, but the longer he looked he saw more and more fainter ones beginning to emerge. It almost seemed that the whole fabric of reality was pulsating and ready to burst with these many-colored sprites. He pulled himself out of the meditation when the idea began to feel overwhelming, and reintegrated himself with the natural surroundings. As he pulled back into his body again it seemed he still felt a lingering presence connecting with him. It was friendly though, so he let it fade slowly while he pulled out a notebook to reflect on his findings.

–

Dreams in camp were always weird. Riannath tried to remind herself of that during breakfast, and convince herself that a dream only feeling exceptionally real at the time was not cause in itself to wrack her brains interpreting it. The business of the day was more important than weird nighttime imaginings. Not that her crew needed much supervision: they kept an impeccable camp and mustered for the day's ride quickly and smoothly. She had only taken her finest three squads on this trip in any case, each soldier fitted out in marvelous black plating that matched their top-of-the-line speeders. On a sunny day they formed an impressive and imposing show of discipline wherever they rode. The Commandant rarely went on these country scouting trips, but she enjoying sortieing as a flagship of the base, and had done so enough to set a precedent. Those back at the fort who might have suspicions knew how much she enjoyed riding in the rural territories.

Riannath had set off with her squadrons south across the great river early the previous morning. They had crossed the high gorge bridge and headed south-east towards the hills, keeping away from cities as best as they could. Once they had left the metropolis area and were traveling through open countryside, the Commandant felt a rush of excitement. The intensity of oversight had deepened lately at the fort, to the point where she had begun to question legitimacies of her own command. The more she tried to quietly and passively engage in her research, the stricter were the warnings from the imperial leadership and the tighter were restrictions imposed. Out here in the woods though she was free. Her soldiers, at least those that surrounded her right now, could be trusted.

During this day's ride however, she could not shake the thought of the dream from the night before. It had been as if she were alone in the forest, hiding behind a tree. She had seen a scholarly man, dressed in layered brown robes, walk along a trail. He had a small traveling pack, and seemed lost in thought, intent on his destination. He did not see her, but looked up just as he had passed, as if some bird had caught his eye. The dream then changed, and she was standing on a hilltop. Its view looked west over the valley. The scholar stood there too, some paces in front of her also looking west. No one spoke, and the sound seemed muffled. A storm was brewing out over the great lake. Dark clouds swirled with purple electricity as if they were at war with themselves. The sound of the storm faded in to her awareness. It was a grinding rumble of wind that Riannath almost seemed to feel in her chest more than actually hear. Her ears thrummed and the tips of her fingers flinched with little chaotic sparks. She had had to flex them a couple times upon waking to make sure they were really okay. Dreams in camp were always weird.

–

Davai sat back in his portable seat and tried to focus on his breathing. It was a tool to relax, and for allowing space to process the thoughts that had lately emerged. He had been here at this little overlook village for hours now, alternately communing with the energies of the land and studying the notes he had brought with him. He had made connections between various charts and data sets and scribbled notations until a picture began to form. It was only an educated guess at understanding, but one he could only have gotten by bringing the data out here to commune with the natural world. The problem now was how to deal with the information he had found. If his educated guess was right, there would be inevitable strife for many people in the near future. Inevitable because it seemed too late to muster the power required to stop it from happening. The forces involved in these matters were beyond what his scholarly training had taught him to handle, learned as he was. As house-sage of the Sanctuary, he had a duty to shepherd his small community through the upcoming trials. That felt like the best he could probably do: trying to actually change what was happening in the broader world felt like going toe-to-toe with a god.

So the scholar sat and tried to quiet his mind. If nothing else, he would meet the future with a calm and ready sense of being. Just as he felt settled again though, he became suddenly and sharply aware of his old friend Vesti. He hadn't seen her in many years, but knew she lived somewhere in the Winniaska Valley. The thought felt important, and he realized it had been her presence he had sensed earlier. She must be trying to contact him, maybe with some news of this worldly-shift. Davai resolved to go and visit his old witch friend, and began to pack away his notes. He was almost ready to leave the square when he felt a change in the energy of the surrounding town. People still went about their midday business, but there was a hushed quality, and the center of the square became quite empty.

–

Riannath had mixed feelings about how people in the rural villages responded to her patrols. They seemed to give her and her squads respect, but it seemed to go slightly too far. Townsfolk often became very reserved around the military presence, and at times almost fearful. It was true they were an intimidating sight, but she wished there could be a better outward rapport with the communities. It was a tough balance to strike, so despite the sleek armor, she made sure they always presented as friendly and helpful a face as they could while traveling.

This township clustered about the top of a high hill, bordering right on the edge of a city built near the open summit. The town was humble and well-kept, and again Riannath's thoughts turned to the more-straightforward lives of the villagers. It wasn't that they didn't have complex lives, but rather that their complexities...and the thought ended when she saw one figure in particular, a scholar wearing a layered brown cloak. That same moment came as even more of a curiosity to Davai though, as he had never had dealings before with the local military: the leader of this squad actually looked surprised to see him!

On the Riverbank

 

How many stories have begun with some variation on the same thought? To think that the world is changing is the most unoriginal realization. It has always been changing, that was one of the first truths the seeker learned. If they learned it early enough, they would be able to develop a healthy appreciation for that inconstancy.

So much arose and fell from day to day, that it did no good to worry about the minutia of each situation. Events, even drastic ones, could not touch the underlying reality of the world. There was a solidity there that survived all the chaos of surface life. It gave it a supportive platform for chemical reactions and the resulting whims of consciousness. Indeed, intention was born from a strong foundation, but could never affect that foundation. Whenever it tried it would be pushed back and humbled by those laws greater than its comprehension.

Therefore storytellers throughout time have begun with a similar premise: the world faces a time of upheaval, and not just in those surface patterns, but in the underlying fabric itself. Such stories insist the listener examine their own confidence in that cosmic structure. The stories call out to the spirit inside them that yearns to see beyond, and to embrace a newfound humility from the sight.

The difficult thing about studying reality, the sage realized, was that it truly did contain multiple dimensions beyond those of which his brain was capable of conceptualizing. There were so many facets to consider, so many vectors and energies and desirous influences. Each time it seemed like one held a full mental concept of how reality worked, there was a whole other side of things suddenly found to be overlooked. It was like examining at a crystal with an infinite number of sides. One could know about the relations between the sides: how they were shaped and fit together. One could even get a general sense of the shape of the crystal, but without details. No matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, examining each of the sides and points, there would always be at least one side which you had never even seen.

What keeps me engaged is the undeniable, incredible beauty of the crystal in question. I have never tired of its examination, and I know that whatever breadth in my experience of it has only increased my understanding. Each facet is yet a part of the same crystal. Knowledge of one part may seem wildly different from knowledge of another, but they both refer back to the same whole reality. Sometimes accepting both points of view creates a paradox, or temporarily increases confusion. I've learned to embrace those uncertain moments though- usually the conflict dissolves through elucidation of the underlying structure.

Now I have gone to the Pellier Mounts, and met with the sages there. I have studied their maps and charts; gleaned all I can from their towers of high knowledge. I have spoken with street sages and forest hermits along the ways. I have even conferred with Premirs and other regional stewards like myself. From all these disparate sources there has been some agreement: a change is occurring in the world. The way in which energy moves throughout the land is altering. It has always formed certain small cycles, overlapping each other to build the constant state of what we call reality. The forces that keep us alive and allow the world to grow in its various ways are cyclical patterns of energy. These cycles resonate with each other to form a structure of tension and release that exists across multiple dimensions. That these cycles are tightly packed and overlapping yet apply interdimensionally is the reason for the smooth constancy of our existence. Now it seems there is a new rhythm being generated; a new pattern of cycles. This new rhythm is shifting the harmony of the cyclical patterns, and making them align into larger energetic groups. The cycles are now trending toward larger energies as they consolidate. It seems that if left unchecked, the effect of this new resonance will be catastrophic but ultimately quite harmonious.

Most of the scholars seem to care less about trying to halt this change than about preparing for its effects. They know what I do as well: that once an energetic rhythm like this is begun, it begins to perpetuate itself. It would take now an insurmountable amount of power to reverse this change, which only speaks to how great a power must have created it in the first place. Who or what is responsible for this new resonance? We affect our own external situations through a simple focusing of our energy, and come to believe that we are the prime movers of the world. This new effect seems to be coming from the universe itself though, no single being or organization could cause the effects I've seen in my research.

If it is a shift coming from that mysterious foundation beneath all of life, then how will we adapt? Will we even know what is coming until it does? When we till a field for crops we know exactly the impact and timing of our actions, but does the field know when it is about to be tilled? Perhaps we have been too complacent about our relationship with the greater world. Maybe we have assumed for too long that there is a constancy beneath our daily life. If there is consciousness at all behind this change, then its intent may be to teach us a lesson.

The sage looked out across a broad river that still showed no signs of any change to its natural patterns. Its clear water riffled over rocky shallows and cool brown depths just as it always had. From down there anyone looking up at the bank might never know he was there. His cloak was a rich and light-filled green, though a sharp-eyed person might notice that it was not quite the right color green for the leaves around him. Lucan's colors were more suited to the fields and dappled groves of his sanctuary. He let the thought of that place enter his mind more fully, softly wondering what it wanted. The face of the sanctuary's house-sage swam by awareness. Yes, Lucan mused, Davai has probably thought of all this as well by now.

Clarity

 

The Commandant did keep a meditation practice. It was no full-on devotion, just a positive habit; a tool she could turn to for organizing her life. It did not require much, simply a quiet space preserved at regular times for emptying her presence. It was not that she was able to think more clearly during meditation, as the process involved removing attachment to thoughts. Rather, it seemed she was able to gain a sort of clarity throughout her entire being from this practice. That included her mind, and with the sense of clarity came lines of thought that were naturally better-ordered and more productive for her goals. It was a great way to monitor the beneficial growth of her internal systems. Governments existed at all levels.

Today Riannath had left the base, pursuing a spot for a deeper meditation than usual. She needed to get away from the familiar rooms and lawns, to get some distance from the worries that blanketed those spaces. The neighboring forest township had good relations with the Fort, and it was not uncommon to see enlisted men or women there enjoying a country outing. Riannath herself brought little in the way of picnic supplies, but went enrobed by her personal security detail. The measure was unnecessary in the woodland town, yet it kept up a certain sense of formality about her movements. The Commandant did not want too much attention drawn to her, but also had no desire to hide her activity. She led a small crew, captained by a reliable and amiable man named Geordi, to the outlook on a little marshy lake. Just a little ways back up the slope lay the village center, and one could get a good sense for the township from here. Metropolis built right up to the forest, nearly on all sides, but it still felt peaceful. The wind in the high tops of the trees just barely overpowered background hums from society. The lake itself really was a glorified marsh, dammed up in some ancient time and now settled back into a semi-natural state. Crumbled remnants of the barrier stood on the other side, giving view to a larger, deeper pool beyond. Back then the water level must have been higher, Riannath thought. It would have come right up to this spot. This outlook and shore road could have been a fishing port in those days. Now a low shelter stood dry on this side of the road, taking in the view across the water. Riannath set the guard at a distance, and settled into her practice. The lake was a calm sight, extending back in swampy bays to either side, filling her vision before she closed her eyes.

The rumors meant nothing, each taken individually. It was only through her piecing together of all the information that led to this concern. There was a pattern: similar incidents and phenomena occurring in rural places with practically no communication between them. Each rumor or story told of some mysterious happening with an effect on the natural world. It would seem, these stories hinted, that there could be a sort of breakdown of the natural order occurring. It was not electrical, social, or otherwise systemic; it was something that involved the underlying world, and that was not something she was prepared to handle. She supposed those men in the tavern felt a similar helplessness. It was just that they did not feel the same responsibility to be concerned for that world.

---

After a little while of letting the thoughts pass and re-centering her own energy, Riannath felt more stable. She opened her eyes after the last parts of the practice and decided to just sit there a while to take in the peaceful moment and surroundings. She felt the balance of her own energy sitting in that of the external world's and the subtle dissolution of that separating line. The whole of life felt more hopeful when you took time to be in that balance.

The moment was interrupted however, by the gentle presence of Geordi at her side.

“A visitor for you ma'am. The Kun Ambassador”

Riannath's slight annoyance turned rapidly to curiosity. What was Andrus doing out here? Andrus Elgheny was the fort's official connection to the Empire's Federal District. He oversaw communication and services between the Imperial leadership and the regional military offices. A humorless man, Riannath felt him often tiresome to deal with, but was required to report to him nonetheless. She commended his attention to detail, but he seemed to suck the energy out of any room he was in. Much of what he did seemed unnecessary bureaucracy, and Riannath often thought the base would run better without his brand of management. Of one thing she could be glad: they were meeting outside this time, and the untamed nature would provide a nice contrast to Elgheny's person.

The Ambassador approached the outlook shelter with as pleasant a look as his face could muster. He was dressed in black, but not the sleek armor of her guards. He wore protection of course, but only over vital areas and hidden beneath a stately onyx surcoat.

“I hope I did not disturb your meditation?” he said, pausing as she stood.

“No,” the Commandant replied “I had finished. Though it's always nice to just take in the scenery; get away from it all.” With the last words she made a soft gesture in the direction of the fort.

“Anyway, what brings you tracking me down all the way out here? Is it something back at the base?”

“Oh no, situation normal as usual there.” Andrus was quick to reassure, “And it was no trouble at all when I heard you were out at the township, I do like coming out here too. Fortunate as well- this was a moment best taken off of base anyway,” he said, casually scanning the surrounding trees, “fewer potential listening ears out here.”

Riannath turned to look at him more directly.

“What do you mean Andrus? What's going on?”

The Ambassador stepped closer to her. “Commandant,” he said, taking a conspiratorial tone. “I've heard you're in the business lately of collecting rumors from the local cities. Taking an interest in the culture of the common folk?” Riannath said nothing, trying to guess the motivation behind those dark eyes.

“Well, there's no harm in listening to some stories for fun.” he continued. “But, just some advice, any...investigation or inquiry you have, make sure to send them my way. This kind of stuff, dealing with the minor concerns of the populace, it's, well, beneath your station. We need our Commandant focused on more important matters.” He said this last bit with a smile that barely touched his face. When all she did was nod slightly he went on. “Listen to all the townsfolk tales you want, but I'm just here to tell you some things simply aren't worth your time.” He gave her a hard look that tried but mostly failed to be friendly as well. He then wished her a good day, apologized again for intruding, and walked back past the guard to his vehicle. Riannath watched him leave in silence, listening to the wind in the trees. Afterwards, as her own vehicle passed through the tall pines of the township woods, plans began to form in a head freshly cleared of doubts.

Gilbrook

 

His grandfather had been a king. An actual king. He knew there were places where that title still held meaning. There were those rural townships that had not yet bent to the powers of metropolis. Far flung places at the edge of the encroaching cities and deep in what wilderness still remained. In truth, he had no real concept of those wilds. He had lived within this little tame forest most of his life, and knew only the small wilderness of the river valley; any real expedition to a rural kingdom would have left him shaking in astonishment. It is nearly impossible for one to truly imagine the felt power of a place they have never visited themselves.

He sat at one of the stools, facing out at the small square. Over his tea he watched the late morning traffic. The place still functioned as a thriving village market, preserved in its quaint country nature. Two main roads reached out into the flat forest north and east, while a third street dove down the hill behind him to access the Upper Pond. At this tip of the hill, the forest road made a wide curve through town, doubling to form a separate main street. Upscale older houses lined the panoramic shore road below, close to the square yet removed from some of the shade. Over time, the primary area of commerce had shifted east, to what was now known as the Grand Square. The forest roads had widened considerably since his grandfather's time. They were busier now, with constant visitors from nearby cities, or from the military base to the north. The township had changed. It had kept some of its charm, but he felt sometimes it had lost just as much.

They had a good relationship with the fort. Its proximity kept them safe from most of the unsavory activities that plagued other metro-surrounded wild towns. The institute to the east also provided a buffer of safety. Students could be stupid and reckless, but they were usually only a harm to themselves. The historic smaller square was well set away from the center of activity now, and was a haven for locals who relished their quiet rural life. It was still a natural place, even with the wide roads and nearby city noise. He held a certain pride for his township of Gilbrook. It had once been only a small upstream settlement; overflow from the proud Casavant riverside. Down there one could really see remnants of the mighty kingdom that had once ruled the banks. Upon the fall of that regional rule, Gilbrook had separated, claiming the highest ground in the area around a small marshy headwaters. The streams had been dammed, forming the Upper and Lower Ponds, and the new kingdom had flourished. A small but proud locality, Gilbrook had held onto its land and water as cities encroached ever closer. Eventually the headwaters forest was surrounded on all sides, and the township became formally adopted by the Winniaska Metro. The endorsement came with support for emergency services, very positive trade agreements, and additional funding, but required the abdication of the local monarch. The kingdom would be transferred into a township council model, retaining autonomy but reporting regularly to the Metro Parks Department.

The young man watching the square had never begrudged his grandfather's decision. The township had only thrived in the time since. Though he had not followed in the family's steps and sought the Premir position, he still felt a soft obligation to his home. He did sit on a couple of the town boards for organization and development, lending a voice to the shaping of the community. Furthermore though, he kept an eye on the town. He liked to spend time in this or one of the other small village squares in the forest. He would sit in a cafe, or walk along the streets, taking in the energy of the townsfolk, many of which he knew by name. The life of the town was usually friendly, and always interesting. He saw reflected the cultures of the surrounding cities, and how they interacted with the folk who lived here in the woods. He saw how Gilbrook presented itself to its visitors, who came for its quaintness, its magic, and its rural qualities, however modest those may be. Lately the energy of the town seemed to be in a good way, of which he was quite pleased.

This late in the morning the square was quiet, with only a few folk going about on errands. The bustle of the cafe had stilled as well. There was a meditative quality to the air. It only slightly wavered by the interest he took in a new party that had entered the scene. The Commandant of the nearby base was known to visit the forest from time to time, but it was still a sight of note. She seemed pensive today, surrounded by a small protection detail. Looking at her, he guessed the personal squad was merely formal; she clearly had no reason to fear anything in these woods. He wondered why she came though. This wasn't the first time he had seen her come to the township, seemingly on casual business. The base owned a sizable amount of forest itself- surely if she simply wanted to go for a nature walk she had more private options. They headed for the shore road along the pond, taking little interest in the goings-on of the village square. It didn't seem like a military operation, and he reasoned that if there were anything serious going on he would know about it soon enough. Judging from the past sightings though, she was probably off-duty today. What did a military leader like that do in her downtime he wondered?

Tavern Lights

 

“-I tell you, they're even turning the lights on earlier outside this place.”

“Hm, maybe...” the younger man said. “It has been awfully cloudy though lately, the evenings could just seem darker 'cause of that.”

“Yeah, it's been awfully cloudy lately...” the other man gave in a dissatisfied tone, and got up to go use the restroom.

“Don't mind him,” the younger man's friend at the table said. “These apocalypse theories come around every once in a while, but look: we're all still here.”

“Anyway,” he continued, changing the subject. “How are you and Lisa getting along? I heard you finally moved in together! That's gotta be fun” he gave his friend a knowing grin.

The younger man grinned back. “Yeah, it's been pretty great. We've been in the new house almost a couple weeks now, and it's amazing the little things that come up -you wouldn't expect- but I'm crazy about it you know?” He was quick to add the qualifier. “I really am in a good place right now, with her, and, and all.”

Their older companion across the table grinned too. “I'll say it once: she's not too bad on the eyes that's for sure”

“You been eyeing my woman Glenn? I don't think she'd go for the older model in this case.”

“Aw, no! I was talkin about the house! Great bones, that one's got.” they all laughed, and they took another drink through the chuckles.

“What about you?” the younger friend poked back. “Any sweet women-folk in your life Glenn?” The medium-aged fellow joined in. “Oh, I think he's seen more than his fair share, hasn't he?” He gave Glenn a wry look.

“Now now, I'd say I've been fair in all my dealings. True, I have known a few beauties. Why, there was this one girl, way back, I'm pretty sure her name was Mary-belle...she had these black boots that were just huge. They went all the way up-

“What about lately Glenn,” his friend cut in. “Anyone special lately?”

The older man thought a bit. “Naw, I guess no-one lately. Maybe I am too old, but then again, with the women around these parts...now wait a minute. There was that one, I guess, now I guess that did happen.” He looked up at his companions, brow still slightly furrowed in remembrance. “About twelve days ago, in the afternoon. She came in the shop, and it was a slow day, so we naturally got to talking. Now that I think of it I can't remember if she even said why she came in.

“It was the afternoon, and I wasn't too busy, but was working on some of my own projects. This woman comes in, she was absolutely gorgeous, looking back on it.” “What was she wearing?” interjected the friend. “Some sort of blue dress, I think. The memory is a little fuzzy, like a dream.” He trailed off, looking at his glass. “Maybe it's just the beer. Anyway, this woman comes in, and she didn't ask about anything in particular, but she seemed fascinated by the shop. She did ask me about my work, the smithying and shaping. She really wanted to know about the materials, and how I felt about working with them. It was an odd conversation, but at the time I don't remember thinking much of it. She was just so warm and friendly with me that I felt really comfortable. Of course I had a slight suspicion, and kept my eyes open for an ambush, shoplifters, or a sudden turn in her demeanor. Nothing happened though, and afterwards I found nothing gone from the shop. I don't know what her purpose was, or if she was some sort of witch, but she must not have intended me any harm.”

“And you haven't seen her again?”

“I went to the door immediately after she left, thinking I might see which way she went, but there was no sign of her in the street. The more I think of it, the more I think she must have been some kind of witch...her eyes were this entrancing blue...like the color of the lake on a still day.”

Just then their other friend returned from the restroom, and the talk shifted again. At a nearby table however, a different set of ears had already heard enough. Riannath hadn't intended to overhear the conversation, but was sitting alone, and in a place where the sound from their table seemed to naturally carry. She had perked up at old Glenn's story of the mysterious visitor at his shop. It matched uncannily with the reports from the rangers. Villagers in the valleys would sometimes report strangely wondrous items that could not be found when next looked for, but this was the first story she had heard of a whole person behaving like that. Riannath knew where Glenn's blacksmith shop was, and decided to put together a patrol for the local woodlands. If this woman, or more like her, were in the metro area, perhaps Riannath's team could find a trace of them. Rumors in the villages were never without some base in reality, and if these stories did have any truth to them, there was a potential concern for the stability of society. She liked to stay ahead of this sort of thing. The Commandant finished her drink and went to pay, briefly stopping by the table with the four friends on the way.

After she was gone, the older friend, who had been in the restroom, turned to Glenn and said in a low voice. “You can't be telling stories like that out in public man. You see the kind of attention it attracts?”

Glenn shrugged him off. “Relax Hearl, she was off-duty. Plus, if she really had a problem with us, do you think we'd still be here drinking?”

“I guess you're right, but still, old pal, just be careful.”

“Come on man, lighten up a bit...”

“Aw, you don't know anything...”

“Did you see the boots on her though?”

Vesti

 

Morning broke bright and clear around the cottage at the end of the forest road. There was no hint of the wildness of the night before; shafts of golden light pierced through old hemlock trees and woke little birds who twittered and called their morning songs. Under the trees a sleepy failure of a village clustered near a small babbling riverside. One cottage stood well-kept at the end of the road, set back from the rest of the village on a little knoll. The village seemed almost to disregard the place, though its main street almost led right to the dwelling's doorstep.

The cottage door opened, and a witch emerged into the new daylight, smiling assuredly. The weather seemed a good omen. Grabbing her walking cane and making sure her pockets were secure, she set off across the yard and past where the roadway ended near her house. From this point the path turned into a rougher trail that led upstream; where the brook emptied from an open marsh. There were few visitors that ventured past her grove, and so the old roadway had grown over and decayed past most points of recognition. It had actually only been a few cycles of the moon since she had first explored the wilderness of her backyard and blazed this more follow-able path.

That first venture out had been difficult going. The reed grass, though not too brambly, was tall and thick. By the time she had broken through to the water's edge she was covered with little seedpods, and twigs stuck in her shoes. Down in the open floodplain it was no easier though, since the footing was entirely on large rounded rocks covered with a hidden layer of slick moss. The thin grass that covered the moss provided no extra grip as she stumbled along the riverbank, trying to find more stable ground. Eventually she had discovered a small island of good earth: an abrupt berm that stuck out into the course of the water. It seemed that beyond this point was where the marshlands opened more completely. A pleasant trickle of rapids flowed past the grassy lawn, and the slightly raised bit of land gave a view back toward the thicket she had hacked through. The little floodplain with its light grasses lit with sunlight made a nice sight, and she rested for a moment before heading back.

Over the next cycle she had established a proper trail through the thicket and into the marsh. It was a very nice place to go and be in the sunlight. The heads of tall pines waved like spires, ringing the sides of the window of sky. The meadows were always so wonderful. Sunlight and wind played with the fine grass, and butterflies fluttered around, seeking the tangly swamp flowers. As nice as it was to visit though, she never did for very long. Somehow she always felt slightly as though she were being watched. Furthermore, there was a strange sensation: the place and air would seem so nice that she would want to stop and rest a while, but then upon doing so would become turned around and forget her exact bearings for a moment. This began to happen frequently, but only when she was in the marsh. Objects in the periphery of her vision would seem hazy as she walked along the path, but then when she stopped to look at them nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everything about the marsh seemed quite normal and pleasant, in fact.

A few times then, on her walks behind her home, she had seen things move. Little dark shapes that would dart suddenly away from sight, but she took them to be only bugs or squirrels on nearby trees.

It wasn't really until ten days ago now that she had really suspected anything. That's when she saw the lights. Across the road from her house rose another small hillock that looked out across the marsh bramble. She owned a gazebo on top of the mound, and often took to sitting over there in the evening since the light lasted a bit longer. It also had a better of a view of the marsh, with its pretty ring of pine trees. One evening, as she was about to head back inside, the witch caught a glimpse of movement out in the darkness to the north. One by one, small blue lights floated across the marsh and through the bramble in a seemingly aimless fashion. They were quite far away, but still she used caution and left the gazebo as quietly as she could.

A week ago she had been foolish, and attempted to find the lights. They had come out almost every night, and she decided to just go and see who was making them and for what purpose. She had set out armed with what implements she had, and staked out a likely meadow in the wetlands. Unfortunately, when the lights did appear, they proved utterly unreachable, and would only appear smaller with each step she took toward them. Eventually they led her to the edge of a wide muddy pool. There was no way across, and she was forced to concede defeat.

Last night though, the witch had tried a different tactic. Upon a slate serving board she had brought a napkin spread with a few choice herbs, chocolate cookies, and a few small cups of honey and other nectars. All this she had placed at the foot of the berm, in the best part of the grassy meadow. Feeling trepidacious she had immediately gone back home and had not left the cottage for the rest of the evening. That night the wind had raged harder than she had ever heard in the forest above. Trees cracked and the bushes tossed to and fro in the wild storm. She buried herself in her bed-sheets and said a prayer for her wards of safety to hold.

The sun this morning had swept the dark doubts of her mind away though, and her steady feet had led her by this point to the edge of the grassy meadow. She shook her thoughts clear to return to the present (distraction was probably their main enchanting trick, she figured), and looked, not without some amazement, at the sight before her eyes. The slate serving board was perfectly clean, the cups were washed and in a row on top, and the napkin was rolled beside them. She picked up the cleaned items, said a word of thanks, and returned to her cottage. She wasn't sure who, if anyone, she should contact first.

The Commandant

 

She had studied Ayleah as well, especially as she more and more considered the intriguing girl a part of her natural studies. Atkins had been hired on to the crew as a navigator, but as she traveled further into the mountain she had become enamored with the woodland flora, signs of fauna, and the technical geology that underlay it all. Her journal began to fill equally with notes about the characteristics of ferns as it did with travel tips from local experience. She had been well-trained for expeditions and learned in regional maps, but had never before traveled to the high mountain communities and seen their natures in person.

The trip had given her yet a new sense or appreciation of beauty. It had always seemed a fleeting thing, growing up. Only here and there was something deemed extraordinary and held in high aesthetic regard. When she went to Fort Ettan for training, she had known a different, more stable sense of beauty. It had come from an evening routine that she had kept in those days, finding small quiet moments to reflect. She had liked to stand, in the eve of one of the base's little side doors, for a few moments watching the transition of day to night. It was in an unobtrusive part of the base, and not used much at this time of day. From there though she could see patrolmen on their twilight rounds, their shadows flung and faded by the security lights. The sky would be its deepest shade of glowing blue: any dimmer and it would merge with the horizon of treetops. The lights of the fort created a tight patchwork on the open spaces of grass and tarmac. Varied arrays of lights on other buildings created a pretty tableau. It was not the cozy setting of a village, but had a starkness that she liked and felt comforting nonetheless. It was a beauty that came not just from the momentary sights and sounds, but also from her knowledge of the workings behind that tableau. Beautiful things were even more spectacular when you knew how their systems worked, or what it meant that they did.

Atkins had been well-liked at the base, to the effect that upon graduating the Commandant of the fort issued her a special recommendation letter. With the letter she was assured a favorable first impression on any reputable captain in the region. Commandant Riannath had been a good and fair leader, and Atkins considered her a role model even if their lives had very different types of goals. She had seemed to really care about her charges, and took the security of the base very seriously. The combination of strict order and warmheartedness was admirable in a person of such high standing, and its effect on the fort's operations was obvious.

Riannath herself was not blind to others' perception of her, and held a quiet pride in the place she had made for herself. She had risen through the ranks of the militia, gaining respect from soldiers and citizens alike for her honesty and clear sight. In truth it was easy for her to maintain the perception; she loved what she did for the community and the Empire at large. The military title itself was about as ornamental as that of the Emperor these days. A long-reigning peace had long since shifted the priorities of those offices. As a Regional Commandant, Riannath oversaw mainly civil projects. From the base, her command led large-scale engineering work for the metropolis, as well as storm-water response during weather events. In between were outreach projects to nearby smaller population centers, and drills to keep them ready should the peace ever be threatened.

Not much happened in the Winniaska Valley that escaped the Commandant's ears for long. Surely the metro leaders in the real governmental halls had their own lines of communication, but she was glad of her independence in this regard. If her reputation with the towns- and city-folk was good, her relationship with her soldiers and rangers was even better. Her information held a reliability that she could not get from the metro news, and it often came faster as well.

Riannath did not apprehend that she had achieved her success alone; she owed much to her network of rangers and confidants. They spanned a good breadth of society, and always helped her to understand the greater world, bringing her unique perspectives. They helped to bridge the unavoidable sort of divide between those who worked for the system and the rest of the population. She felt that divide anywhere she went, identifiable as she was. People behaved differently around a person of status or authority. Sometimes she thought it might be easier to be one of the common folk, living out one's life in some small city on the outskirts. Her job held concerns the average citizen would never guess. They had freedom from those worries. They created their own purposes, often for no other reason than that they wished for a purpose. Their worries were their own, hers were those of the whole metropolis. Riannath thought sometimes that it is easier to exist in relation to the system than as a part of its inner workings. She never regretted her path though. The tall militia leader cherished the bonds she had formed, and the power she had to help. At times of disaster, she was often well-prepared, having pieced together the necessary information ahead of the chaos. She made sure she had the knowledge she needed for anything that might be coming because protection of the good structures society had created was paramount to her. That which was good in the world came from structure, properly built and maintained. These structures could be on a grand physical scale, or they could be as the organization of thoughts and feelings in therapy work. In any case, when done properly and for the right reasons, they became beneficial to the future of the city, or the individual, or the relationship involved.

It was for this reason she had initially been drawn to governance. There are systems of government at all levels. Each little village out there in the rural lands has its own Premir and town council, however lowly or high their offices may be. It is a natural sense for people to create structure when joining in community for the good of all. They combine knowledge and resource gathering to make easier lives for each other. Furthermore, townships will often bind together under the domain of a nearby city, benefiting from that relationship in access to goods and services. Neighboring alliances of this sort then all accept certain rules as standard among themselves, forming another level of governance. Eventually, metropolis councils are assembled. Cities in close proximity send delegates to a central location to decide on mutually beneficial living conditions. Even higher, regional governments oversee the behavior of multiple metro areas at once. The concerns at all levels are slightly different, though ideally all aimed at the same goal. It all inspired Riannath, though she had quickly realized only the military arm of the regional governance upheld professionalism to her standards.

Her reason for inspiration earlier in life was also the cause for her disquiet more recently. The real cause were the rangers' reports of late, but her underlying disposition did not help. What did was to tell herself that they were only the overheard rumors of townsfolk. People passed rumors all the time, few of them with any full merit. Still, it was the eerie commonality of these tales from disparate places. Travelers who've reported cloudier days and cold winds on the hillsides, and farmers who swear the night sky has changed even as their neighbors call them lunatics. Even if only some part of these stories were true, it might be the harbinger of some calamity Riannath could not see.

She looked over toward the empty corner, where this whole concerning line of thought had started. The Commandant still did her personal rounds outside, even though one of those scheduled walks had been the instigating event. She enjoyed doing a regular patrol of the base (a part of it at a time). It kept her leadership more hands-on, and she was able to get a feel for the overall workings of the fort. The walk was also long enough for some good thinking time, and almost meditative when the base was quiet. She would sometimes end up near the edge of the base, where a tall fence separated the trimmed military lawn from a rural woodland township on the other side. There was a bare section of ground here: a no-mans-land that was kept clear but not used for anything. On that particular day she had been letting her mind drift (as much as she ever did), her eyes scanning the patrol routine. When looking for anomalies among the very familiar, the mind can detach slightly from the conscious process, operating on automatic. Riannath noticed the environment around her as well as the mundane things of the fort. It was a nice day, and clouds studded a pleasant faded sky. There had been a windstorm one of the previous nights, knocking some leaves from the towering edge of the township. They looked artistic scattered on the short grass, and Riannath went closer to take a look. As she got nearer, something did stand out from the familiar landscape. One of the leaves was inexplicably yellow. The Commandant looked up at the branches high above her. None of the trees seemed sickly, and there were no other visible leaves colored anything but the standard green. Some trees differed in their tone or shade of green, but leaves were never this yellow unless there was something wrong. She inspected the leaf on both sides, covering her nose and mouth in case of fungus, but found nothing. It was simply a yellow leaf. She kept it to herself, but quietly sent out for news from the rangers. What they had eventually reported to her had not made matters better.