Angelica

 

Picking up twigs could be an endless process. After clearing all the larger pieces, she looked back on the space and saw that there was yet a category of 'larger pieces' still strewn on the ground. One must have a line of how large a piece can be and still be small enough to leave alone. She sighed, looking around the yard, and beyond to where main body of the limb wreckage lay. Luckily, the branch hadn't fallen on the cottage, but just outside its stone yard-fence. The crash had scattered wood debris everywhere though, smaller offshoots of the tree-limb exploded from the impact. The yard looked mostly clear now, and Angelica was satisfied. It wasn't the neatest yard, but it met a high bar for a rental hut in a burned-out ghost town.

She enjoyed managing her humble inn; keeping up the property and gardens. She enjoyed the revolving company of those who stayed with her. Many of them were travelers of the Long Road that ran the length of these mountains. They would stop for a lunch, or for a modest fee rent one of the small houses she maintained. Angelica's inn was less a traditional establishment and more of a rambling collection of quaint cottages, but there was a central house that provided dining and meeting halls for the guests. She served an occasional communal meal as befitted the nightly population, but offered little else in the way of services. Most of her time was spent ensuring the security and aesthetic appeal of the old cottages. They were remnants of a village that had once occupied this mountain peak, now long abandoned.

It was a very nice, smaller summit along the mountain line. Angelica had been drawn here initially due to its innate energy, and found the burned and moldering ruins of a rural community. From what she could gather they had quietly appreciated the power of the place in their time as well, and she often wondered why no-one had ever returned to reclaim the township. The village meandered among spruce groves and large rounded rock slabs that gave striking views from their summits. In the protected dells under the spruce were nice little cottages, each with a stone-wall-bordered yard. Some were still in great states of disrepair, slowly being overcome by the devices of nature. Others were little more than earthen mounds in sunken foundations. The ones Angelica had repaired and kept up were cozy respites though. They were small, but warm and within easy walking distance of each other.

The lights of the partially-restored village were a welcome sight at the top of an otherwise uninhabited peak. To the south the roadway fell dramatically down a treacherous ledge into rich deep woodlands. Larger mountains stood somewhere to the north, but to all other directions there were only winding hills and sky until the blue peaks of the far horizon.

Not all of her visitors were sightseers though. Some came seeking her grove as a source of wisdom, wishing to learn from and work with her and the energies of the land. These folks seemed to have a prejudgment of her, and would treat her with a mild reverence on their arrival. The pilgrims were fairly few, but she wondered how she had garnered such a reputation. She had no intention of hiding up here, but nevertheless had constructed and maintained certain protections around her being and its effects. It was a necessary measure of safety, to have complete control over one's home territory. Her multiple layers of defenses shielded her well from the world, but perhaps attracted attention in unforeseen ways. She was certain her reputation could not be connected to her family history, as she had no ties left to that past.

Angelica's grandfather certainly would have approved of her managing the inn at Burnt Rock. It would have fit well into his moral yet paradoxical ethos of asceticism and service to others. He had been a notable member of the Brotherhood of the Moss before leaving to raise a family. He had continued his spiritual mission though, founding his own church and adhering to austere principles in the home. His oldest son, seeking a different lifestyle for his own family, had moved to the metropolis where Angelica was raised. As a young adult, she finally learned of her grandfather's work and lifestyle. Knowing only the busyness and rough air of the cities, she was filled with a yearning for monk-hood. She knew she could never enter the Brotherhood though, and had no sense of similar magic for the female orders. The nuns' orders' devotion to their texts felt too alienating for her, too removed from the dirt of the land. She desired a mingling with the land: she knew that it had as equal a part to play as words did in the Crafts.

That afternoon an elemental came to her grove. It barely got its presence through her protections, appearing before her as a pale yellow sprite, dancing gently in the air. She supposed it was supposed to be much grander; fiery even if it wished to intimidate her. It was a pity the blue-robed one was off on one of his forest walks, he would have been quite excited by this.

Angelica knew about elementals, having spent so long alone in her groves, observing and contemplating the natural world. Her life had been one of study, whether in the ways of the city streets, the teachings of her venerable grandfather, or her many Moons upon this mountain. At this point in her life she had confidence in her knowledge about many things in the world, even if she questioned her status as “wise”.

For the most part, the elemental beings had seemed like animal things, with small, simple consciousnesses. They often embodied one aspect of a place or thing, emerging as a fleeting energetic entity. They tended to have short lifespans, relatively quickly becoming subsumed back into the earth or by another group of energy. This one that now came at her seemed to have a personality nearly as complex as a human's though. It hovered there, intruding on her mentally, probing in vague question and challenge. She responded with curious and passive defense, strengthening her willpower to keep the fire out of her personal space. She asked it what it wanted; what it had come here for. It answered.

“I have come in regard to one who you may meet in the coming days.” the voice was attempting authority, but Angelica could hear that it was pretense: the edges were slightly too harsh. It continued, “I have come to judge your motivations. Many of your kind mean ill to others.”

Angelica responded carefully, but with warmth. “I have no ill will to any others. All who come to my glade in peace will be welcomed in returned peace and safety.” she placed her hands together in a gesture of prayer. “Be assured of that my fiery friend.”

The voice from the sun-sprite seemed to soften a bit. “Very well, I will trust in your words, as they come from such a light-filled entity. And in that case I will give you a warning. The person for which I have a concern is a young woman, a girl born with an innate connection to my sense of reality. There have already been those who would take this woman for their own selfish purposes. One such other has been particularly troublesome for me to keep away. He wears a long black cloak and hides in the shadows. Use caution should you encounter him, and be wary that he might try again to reach her. Your intentions are still a bit clouded from me Angelica, but you are a sort of opposite to this other darkness, and for that I am assured.” The sprite seemed to have used the last of its gathered power, and slowly faded from sight.

Angelica continued her rounds of the yard, reflecting on what the elemental had just said. She would have to keep an eye out for this young woman and maybe ask her about the talking sprite. Something larger was going on, she could sense it. Was it related to the large purple presence she had felt in her meditations, or the sense she had at those times that reality is a great wheel that has just begun to turn? Her thoughts circled back to the present as she saw Telon enter the clearing with his day-bag and a small bundle of plant materials. Perhaps he had some insight into these matters.

Canopies

 

Gardens had always been a popular household sight throughout the township. Self-sustenance was an important value among any rural community, even those with as close a relationship to their partner city as Dome Valley had. The resulting abundance of produce kept local markets well-stocked and provided a security for the common good. Rural communities supported connection with the land, and the ensuing practices in turn supported the life of the community.

The villagers knew their small-plants well, engaging with the science of flora cultivation for whatever personal niche befit them. It seemed though that they often forgot the parallels of life between the garden plants and their wild relatives. Sure, everyone vaguely knew the various types of canopy, their respective heights, and the native species one finds in each: it was a standard topic of elementary education. Living down on the ground though, it was easy to take that upper world for granted. Only when one of the large plants fell did people wonder at the natural world that had been suspended in the sky. It was only during rare weather strikes, or in a city work-zone that one was reminded of the secrets of the canopy.

The tops of trees were a world even Kaya knew little about. There were bird species there that she had only read about in ornithology books, that subsisted off of insects also unseen by her or anyone she knew. She was far more drawn to the lower canopy; the waving tips of grass and reed. It was the domain of birds that she did know, and she enjoyed watching their questing and play. She loved the grand flowers that blossomed from thick, almost woody, green stalks. Down below the plant was a mysterious column of cellulose, rising among the lesser grasses, aiming to pierce the sky. Up above however, it was a glory. Insects buzzed over wide plateaus of fragrant color open to the sky, or hummed among towering clusters of bloom. The wild cultivars grew so giant in proportion to the tamed plants of people's backyards that few ever saw the blossoms except at a distance. They rose over roadsides and behind houses like narrow natural skyscrapers, bending and waving gently in the breeze. From a distance the flowers could look like fireworks.

As she gazed from the windows of the fortress tower, Kaya thought it was a shame people forgot about that canopy ecosystem. It was a magical place, right there in their own reality. Land-scholars knew, most of them remembered, and soldiers in towers like these could not help but see. City-folk knew about the canopy life, if they cared to look from their windows, but they existed detached from the world. If they appreciated the views of nature, it was as academic or aesthetic. Even the scholars here at the Sanctuary, she found were slightly removed from the workings of the natural world. They cared of course, but it was not as much an ingrained part of their inner being. The townsfolk lived and breathed the land constantly, and yet were ironically less aware of its wonders.

Kaya inhaled, and exhaled a long breath. She stared at the scene before her; the field and far-off groves. The village looked calm, with the usual wisps of smoke from the usual places. Carts rolled here and there, some speeders in the traffic taking the faster lanes. It was a pleasant town, with few problems save what nature brought them. The field that wrapped it like a blanket was placid too. It was a calm day, with very little wind stirring the grasses. On stormy days the tall stalks tossed and threw themselves around in a sort of uncontrolled ecstasy. They thrashed and strained at the woven fences and braces placed at the edges of development. The morning after a strong blow would often be filled with the working sounds of repair, but still Kaya liked the stormy days. Today though the voices of the field were calm.

The field spoke to her, sometimes. Not in the words of any language, and not always very clearly either. She never told anyone about this because they would at best give back a gentle chuckle. No one, not even one of the sages, would believe the field spoke to her, but it did. If she were alone, and took the time to be both still and silent, the grasses would deliver a message. It would reach her awareness, a touching of one part of consciousness to another. It was as if each individual blade had too little consciousness to speak on its own, but when the whole group were imbued with the power of wind, their voice could appear as one. Usually it was friendly, and of no particular concern.

Sometimes the field could warn her of someone's approach, or if she were headed the wrong direction on her explorations. Today though it was undeniably peaceful. It looked to be a good day for traveling, if that were one's plan. Gentle thick clouds kept the brightness down, but were not heavy with rain. Kaya looked at the trees of the hill to the west, feeling as if she were seeing through them to the valley on the other side. The nagging sensation was still there, the idea that had taken hold in the back of her mind. All her bits of evidence pointed to something being wrong, but she had gotten no interest from the scholarly offices. Receptive as they usually were to concerns about the land, the cold shoulder from Davai's secretary almost bothered her more. Kaya stared out through the rising hillsides. She had friends in a forest not too far from here, by LDT at least, and they might be more receptive to her recent musings than Davai and his cadre.

Kaya left the lookout tower and walked back down the limb of the buck-thorn tree with a brewing purpose. She felt clear-headed now and had a growing optimism around her thoughts. As she walked down the sloping hallway, she passed by a couple men with a young boy. One of the men looked to be the boy's father, and the kid had a look of mild wonder and excitement on his face. They must be taking him up to see the tower room, she thought. In fact, it's probably the first time he's ever seen a view over the field. If there were still any doubt to the confidence that had taken root in her heart, it vanished once she passed them and entered the lift.

First View

 

There had been a dream. In his dream world he had been in hallways, doorways, moving from room to room with no space in between. He had left the first room to find...something, couldn't remember what. He had a message to give to someone he knew. The hallways took him past other rooms like his own, and then down a flight of stairs. He had recognized the building, even though it looked nothing like the one he thought it was. Down the stairs, and past an opening to a larger room, some sort of gathering space. The door to outside was partially overgrown, as if whatever maintenance crew had preferred to leave the ivy wild along the outside. In the garden too, there was an archway. Nothing here seemed to have been tended to lately, scarily uncomprehending vines covered the beds, blending with the shaggy grass. He turned, to look back at the way he had come, feeling some background, unnamed fear. When he awoke in the next second, his mind was filled with a memory of brilliantly-colored stars floating in the air.

---

The morning was filled with bright promise. He was happy because this was a special day. He dressed in his favorite tough pants and a shirt that hopefully felt a little more mature than his usual wear. His adventure jacket topped off the outfit; one of a boy proud to show his best self on a trip to The Fort.

It wasn't just any big tower, or any old fort. This is Fort Resistance, the headquarters of the olden-time battles on the plains. From the fort, the general could see his forces, and the enemies, in their tower on the other side of the field. The Kun army had won that war of course, and now the fort was used for other, less exciting stuff. It was still the headquarters of their military though, and the Fort still held weapons, machines, and quartered soldiers just in case they were needed.

His uncle worked in the Fort's tower that still looked out over the plains. He had some job keeping all the equipment working right up there. The equipment measured things and told the people who worked there stuff about what they were seeing from the windows. Sometimes scholars or other scientists would visit the Fort and ask the people in the tower about what they had seen and measured lately.

The boy had never been up in any tower. He had seen the view across the plains depicted in books. He liked the ones that were about the old battles, and he especially liked the illustrations of the landscapes. They seemed so open and filled with light. The fighting men and exploding trees in the scenes seemed almost calm and placid when depicted by the soft watercolors.

All the boy's young life so far had been lived in the grassy lanes and lawns of Dome Valley. His family lived in a nice home on the Shagbark Way, on the edge of the semi-rural village center. He had always played in the tall wild grass, finding wonders in little wetlands and magical thickets that glowed green in the sunlight. The sky was such a distant thing: a twinkle of blue high above the tips of the canopy. Along the roads it opened a little, forming a wider strip until branches poked in when they neared a tree. He wondered if there would be any shadows in that view from the tower.

The play of shadows was a constant thing in their lives, and of everyone they knew. Whether field or forest, there was no escaping shadow in some way. It was sometimes claimed that there were rooms in the city with no shadows, but the boy knew that was probably not really true. He had been to the city a few times with his parents. It had been exciting, but the inside of the city just seemed busy and slightly unnatural. He hadn't had a chance to look out from any of the city windows, or from the decks, though he had tried to see what he could from the pod side windows as they drove by.

After promising for a long time that he would take the boy up to the tower to see the view over the fields, his uncle had finally said that it was okay. He had said there were no scheduled meetings today, and everything was running well, so he had told the boy's dad that they could come and he would show them around. It was quite a treat.

Once he and his father had eaten breakfast and prepared for the day, they set out in his dad's little speeder-car and headed for Fort Resistance. The Fort sat at the eastern end of the township, on slightly higher ground than the village. It occupied a small bit of scrub woodland that dominated the eastern skyline with its island of deep greenery. The trip itself was not too long, and soon they were turning down the main street of the fortress grove. Offices and storehouses lined the narrow way, flanked at the entrance by large metal pillars. The whole grove was a secure area, and the boy could identify guards stationed at positions among the general bustle. They had passed through a security checkpoint when they first turned onto the Heart Street, and faced another one when they turned into the central plaza. Telling the guards their business, his dad was directed to a small parking area near the base of the tower tree.

The tower tree of Fort Resistance was an elderly buck-thorn bush, twisted and brittle with age. The lookout structures had been built into the living wood, immortalizing its shape and position in the grove. Though the small tree was still alive, the tower's metal supports had long since become critical for its upkeep. It soared above their heads, glistening with its metal augments. The sight was impressive for one who had spent most of their life in the open field.

The boy loved the bustle of the military fort. As they walked into the main building complex, and followed directions to his uncle's office, he marveled at the people, devices, and scenes which he saw all around. The place was not really all that busy, but it seemed so to the boy who knew mainly his own village. It was almost like the quiet hum of the market square, except he didn't understand anything that was being said or done, and most of it was taking place in separate rooms. He thought he understood what his uncle did, mostly, and now his uncle's job seemed more important than ever.

The first view the boy got was from the top landing of the elevator. They stepped out into a small hall with a window and platform overlooking the central grove. They were still under the canopy's shade, but far above the road and buildings. He thought: this must be how birds see things, when they flit between the trees. The vehicles from this height looked a little bit like toys, moving around in a wondrously-detailed scene.

The uncle led them into another structure, this one built entirely on a reinforced branch of the buck-thorn. The boy was marveling at the experience of being so high off the ground, and still on solid floors. Though he had never walked out on the decks of the Dome city, he figured this must be kind of similar. The city inhabitants saw views across the plains all the time. Maybe one day, he thought, I'll live in a city with a view from high windows. This thought quickly passed though, as he saw where they were headed.

The hallway led upward and outward along the limb of the tree, ending in a wide gallery. Banks of windows opened on nearly all sides, and a large table stood in the middle of the space. At points along the windows were scopes for seeing details in the view closer to hand. As impressive as the room and structure were though, the boy was entranced by what he saw through the glass.

Framed by the fringes of deep green buck-thorn leaves, a sea of golden green waved gently at his awareness. It looked just like the watercolors of his books, only more special, more fascinating. And the land rose beyond all the meadows and tree-islands and dancing foliage. It rose into rich green woodlands whose feet stood higher than even the city itself. Deep woodlands such as he had only seen in books of faraway lands. There was a whole world actually out there, with wonders totally unknown by his young mind. His uncle was telling them something about the differences in flora-growth, and he had an incredible realization. It seemed such a simple thought, and one which he surely knew already, but had not pulled at as a conscious being. Though he did not know those woodlands, or those faraway lands he had never seen even pictures of, other people did. Other people lived there, and knew those lands as well as he knew his own meadows and groves. Other people might be looking back, even now, and marveling at his homeland just as he did theirs.

Later he would not know where the vision had come from, whether it was triggered by his expansive thoughts, or the excitement of the day, or just something he had had for breakfast. The boy had been looking out of the windows, admiring the way the grasses and marsh-reeds danced in the wind. They had a rhythm that was chaotic, but didn't feel that way. It felt like if he watched it for long enough, he would be able to discern a pattern. The pattern never came, but the colors of the scene changed here and there. Clouds passed across the sun, and his eyes habituated strangely to the glare of the view. The reeds looked almost orange at times, or red. He thought maybe there was some berry bush growing down there, but then a cloud would come and the color would disappear. The grass tinted yellow, and seemed to whirl up into the air. It was all a trick of the wind; he was not used to seeing its currents from this vantage. When he thought back to the moment though, the boy could not account for the vast array of colors his mind remembered seeing. The view from the tower merged a bit with his dream from that morning, and it seemed that those fiery-colored stars had really been there, swirling over the field.

In the days to come, the boy never explained the dream-like quality of that view from the tower, but the image of the colored stars stuck with him. They were actually almost leaf-shaped, but shriveled and warped into flecks that whirled in the sky. In his memory they flurried the scene, painting it with vibrant strokes of yellow, orange, and red.

Evening

 

It was the evening of the following day, and Ayleah lay comfortably in her bed, reflecting on her feelings, sorting them before sleep. From how she lay she could see the others in their bunks of the communal traveler's-inn room. Jaen faced away from her on the far side of the room, breathing softly. The others were mostly asleep, with only Fen and the man Nathan missing. The two of them had been getting along well, and must be sharing a nightcap somewhere. She looked back at the sleeping young captain, and thought again about their conversation. She hoped she had let him down easy enough.

It had happened earlier that afternoon, when they were stopped at the balcony ledge. It was a small but tight-knit community that perched near a north-facing edge of mountain. It offering respite and a good general store, but no promise of an overnight stay. Ayleah had strayed to an overlook on the cliff, taking in the new northerly views. Below her lay a gorgeous field of forest, rich in dappled greens and promising magical depths, but the air was not as it had been on the higher peaks. Here there was a more ready presence of humans. It was barely distinguishable, but her studies of late had brought a finer tuning to her senses. There also seemed to be a darkness to the land before her, and it was not a clean darkness, but a muddiness; a feeling that the mixture was unbalanced. It was in the middle of these thoughts that Jaen had approached. He stood by her and remarked on the view.

Jaen had little of her awareness of the world, but he was tactful enough to be an un-intrusive companion. Their conversation had flowed easily and casually, as was usually the case. This time though, he eventually expressed his true sentiments, and asked what Ayleah planned to do once she had reunited with her mentor. The underlying deeper feelings he must have were left unspoken, but Ayleah had responded to them anyway.

“I have so much admiration for you Jaen, and probably always will. You have set yourself upon a path that is good, and good for you as well. I have to tell you though that whatever path lies before me, I fear it is a different one. I don't know where I'll go once I find Telon, but I can't go back with you. I don't deny that your path would bring me happiness, but I feel that my...destiny is elsewhere.”

Although she could tell a part of him hurt, he gave a weak smile. “Can anyone be sure of their own destiny?”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “You must return to your mountain and your duty, and I must return to the sea. I really look forward to seeing who you become- are already becoming. I do care for you Jaen, as any one can care for another. If the story had been different...and I know we'll meet again someday. Plus, Burnt Rock is still a couple days away at least, so we're not parting ways quite yet.”

Jaen looked away from her, but his tone was relaxed. “You're right, we do still have some time now. I'll do my best to not be too disappointed in the moment. You are an amazing jewel Ayleah, brighter than any I have seen in these mountains, but I knew your destiny might lie somewhere else. If I can count you as a friend at least, I can find satisfaction on my path.”

Ayleah kept looking at Jaen, though his eyes were still on the horizon. “To be truthful I don't know if destiny exists, but I know you will find many jewels in your lifetime, and eventually one will seem brighter even than me. I do hope we're still friends when that time comes. Despite what you might tell yourself, you do shine pretty brightly yourself.

She stepped closer to him and lightly kissed his cheek. “If the story had been different.” she said, and walked back to their vehicle.

---

The ride down to Birch Glen from the balcony had been quiet, and Ayleah had worried, turning over the conversation in her mind. She had wondered if she had done or said the right things, and if Jaen's relaxed air was merely a front for some inner turmoil. She was a little assuaged over the course of the evening however. There had been a jovial mood about the group as they made camp, and by suppertime the young captain seemed fully himself again. She had kept socially away from him, but felt he didn't really mind her presence. That was good. It was important that they all get along for these few days, being packed into one vehicle as they were.

Of course a positive mood was easily infectious when around their new traveling companions. Thomas, Nathan, and their sister Meral were as friendly as could be, and highly resourceful at wilderness living. They belonged to a sort of subculture that liked to travel the long wilderness routes for adventure and sightseeing. This road that Ayleah and the others had followed from Abrahim and Battell was part of a route that followed the entire mountain range from south to north. As folks like these three traveled, they would encounter the various cultures of the mountains, and see vast regional views from peaks all along the way. They had crossed many miles of rivers and peaks in their travels, venturing further and further into the northern mountains.

The three siblings were somewhat quirky, but overall good people, and commanded a vehicle larger than their needs. Though their van was a heavy-duty mountain hauler, the gear inside was shaped by a preference for the ultra-light. As a practice, the little group did with as few possessions as possible, relying on commerce with the villages they passed through and their general know-how to get by. The repulsars had also been modified, and provided the heavy grip of a mountain vehicle while being about half the size.

Fen and Jaen were enthralled by the lifestyle and knowledge of the three long-route travelers. They were fast becoming friends with the two brothers, excited by the sharing of knowledge. Heln had remained fairly quiet again that day, but seemed to enjoy the social atmosphere of the group in his own way. By the time they reached Birch Glen they had all become, at very least, close acquaintances, and shared in the gladness of a comfortable place to stay the night.

The township was expansive, and more well-outfitted than most of the villages Ayleah had seen in the mountains. The structure and central square were well below the ridgeline, on a gentle leafy slope. The woods felt light and friendly here, a reflection of the accommodations they found, and the group looked forward to a pleasant sleep and an easy morning in the cathedral of green.

At Apala

 

Ayleah woke to a morning lightly obscured by fine mist. The clearing of Theron-Dean lay quiet, with cool dampness slowly fading as the sun gained command again for the day. Something nagged at her, despite the dawn's peacefulness. Throughout breakfast she kept an eye on her travel companions, and especially on the Plainfield man. Something had happened with him the day before that made her wary of his presence, though now she could not remember what it had been. She looked to the color-master sage too, and to their grizzled driver, to see if they shared any of the misgivings, but they only stewed with their morning beverages in silence. The mood at the table was perhaps only pensive.

As she sat there, Ayleah considered her decision to travel north with this random little group. The six of them had been strangers only two days ago. The driver had originally been hired by a nice couple who were headed for the Gap, but Ayleah's presence shifted the cost a bit in their favor. Fen and Heln joining had further alleviated the cost, though they had changed the dynamic of the group. No one fully knew what the color-master studied, and the dark-skinned Plainfielder was a curiosity this high in the mountains.

Try as she might, Ayleah could not recall what had made her so alarmed the day before. It had something to do with Heln, but she felt poor to be so wary around him when she could not remember if he had actually done anything to warrant the precaution. At the same time, she also felt a soft but insistent pull to remain calm. It was as if there were another member of their party attempting to pacify her; a close and comforting friend who just happened to be invisible to all other senses.

“There have been rumors, but nothing really concrete.” Fen was regaling the breakfast table with curiosities from his research. The color-master's notebook went everywhere with the him, increasingly filling with various scribblings, charts, and hue palettes. It sat now beside his plate; a touchstone for his conversation.

“Local accountings should always be taken with a good seasoning, but I do believe” he continued, cutting his own salted eggs, “-that it is well within the realm of possibility. Creatures could exist composed purely of impulses. Why they should have lives any longer than a momentary blink of awareness, that is what I wish to know, and to study.” He looked over at his apprentice, but Heln showed little response, so he turned back to the group at large. “Heln and I have made some good findings, but we were curious about the possible differences between ecological regions.”

The traveling couple were polite enough, but had very little understanding of what Fen was saying. “Interesting” the wife said, “and where are you headed now?” Heln looked up from his food, which he had been heretofore been eating in silence. “North. We will head north to the river.”

---

Through most of that day they descended steep flanks of the mountain. Fir woods clung to knolls that perched high above the great forests far below. The mountain seemed to winnow, dropping them down through birch glades on intermittent flat plateaus too small for market squares. At some places where the rock was simply too steep and no way could be found around the ledge, huge iron bars formed a rudimentary road surface, sticking from the side of the cliff. Ayleah marveled at the constructions, wondering who had placed those bars in the massive stone. How long ago had that been, and what had they gone through to achieve it?

It was well into the afternoon when they reached Apala Gap. There are a few gaps in the mountains: high passes where long-distance carrier traffic can move between valleys. City commerce encompasses a much broader scope than the surface-level trade of Ayleah and her company. Even for those living within a city it can be difficult to see or understand the larger workings that keep them comfortable. Long-Distance trade and travel has always supported the grander constructions of society. This gap was one of the busier, more notable ones along the spine of these mountains, but Ayleah didn't need to know that fact to be impressed. The mountain road opened suddenly on a vast clearing between rising arms of forest. A broad flat place had been cleared, open to the deep valleys on two sides. At the other two directions thick ancient woodland rose dramatically to the sky. They had descended from the south arm of woods and now stood looking at the next mountain unobstructed. Despite it being a relatively smaller peak, the northern wall of forest looked truly impenetrable. Sun shone brightly on the wide open spaces between, tossing some small insistent clouds aside for the occasion and glinting off traffic below.

The driver dropped them off in a sort of upper square, away from the rumble of the occasional LDT on the paved highway. This marketplace was grassy, and a little more sheltered than the open pass below. Ayleah marveled at the different merchants and tradesmen; folks not just from the valleys by the inland sea or the mountain villages, but people from valleys further east: places locked between heights of land where rivers reigned supreme. The sight of such multitudinous activities and people was a wonder to her, and she forgot her journey for just a moment taking it all in. They each had their own journey, and each felt equal in importance to her own. It was not the stakes that mattered, but the conviction of their hearts. Each of them had a world within them, each as strange and beautiful as the last, and each felt that their world was the only one. As she stood looking out at the busy marketplace with various groups of travelers encamped at its outskirts, a familiar glint of silver caught her eye.

She walked over to the group of rangers, curious as ever. The young captain had his head down again, examining some papers that had been handed to him. He scanned a couple paragraphs, and noted the signatures at the bottom before handing them back with a smile. It was the smile that made her sure; Ayleah almost hadn't recognized Jaen for his bearing among the other men. He exchanged some words with the man who had taken the papers back, and shook his hand heartily. The other man then gave Jaen a casual salute and they parted warmly. Jaen was just saying something to one of his companions when his eyes glanced upon Ayleah standing nearby.

“Well what have we here?” he said, breaking off from his group and walking over. “Ayleah, you're a ways from the farm today!”

“Well met Jaen,” she replied, giving him a friendly smile. “It's true, I'm on the road again – there are a lot of other places in the world to see besides a farm up on Little Abe!” she chuckled. “Actually, I have a real lead this time, more than a word in someone's wastepaper bin.”

Jaen was immediately interested. “You think you've found Telon? Where?”

Suddenly Ayleah felt unsure of her reasoning. “Well, I'm pretty sure he contacted me...somehow. I saw him at Lincoln Peak, I know I did. He kind of appeared out of a tree and spoke to me...Oh, you probably think I sound crazy.”

Jaen raised an eyebrow, though his look remained soft. “On the contrary Ayleah, I think anything you say is probably worth believing.”

Ayleah couldn't quite place what feeling that had generated inside her, so she set it aside for the moment. Jaen continued: “So where did he tell you to go?”