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fableweaver · 7 years ago

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Arc of the Cursed Monk

The voyage was longer than Glen had thought it would be. Traveling by boat was supposed to be faster, but then he didn’t have much experience in travel. What made it worse was his luck. Just two days and he’d already tangled nets, poked holes in the hull, broken several important piece of equipment he didn’t know the names to, and ripped one of the sails. Worst of all his demons were stronger than ever out in the open air of the bay.

He’d heard the mutters of the crew, he was cursed and bad luck, but Lia defended him. She was a force to be reckoned with on her ship, no one crossed her and no one disobeyed her.

“A long long face ya have there ja,” she said to him merrily. “What keeps ya so low young cleric?”

“I-I’m not a c-cleric,” Glen answered her. “J-just an a-acolyte.”

“Aye aye I cogging,” Lia said as she laughed. “Sos what be eattin ya ja?”

“B-besides being expelled from the Sect?” Glen asked as he sighed. “My demons. Y-you see there are c-creatures that only I c-can see. They plague me, m-make me stumble or r-ruin everything I t-touch.”

“Sounds like the Wild Kin ta me ja,” Lia said and Glen looked at her surprised. “Ah sorry like I taint mem’ry ya Sect folks don’t jabber bout them. Well they be spirits like, o fire n water n air ja. Aint be the Phay I ken that, but they be like them all mysterious. Be real mischievous too, but cursed er demons I never heard of ja.”

“T-they seem set on p-plenty of mischief for m-me,” Glen said miserably. One of the winged demons looked up at him and smiled its little mouth full of needle like fangs. Glen shuddered, but Lia continued on since she couldn’t see the creature.

“Ya be going ta Daun ja?” Lia asked and Glen nodded. “The Daunish might be the closest ta the Phay n the likes, sides the Aldan what be all hidden in their woods now. The Daunish might be the only uns ta truly ken the ways o the Elder Magic anymore. Ifn I were ya I’d do a looky look fer a green witch when ya get ta Daun ja.”

“A-a g-green w-witch!” Glen said horrified. “T-the Sect f-forbids w-witchcraft.”

“There still be some out in the moors ja,” Lia said. “They are the only uns that could help ya.”

Glen looked away out into the water and Lia shrugged and returned to her duties. The bay was very scenic, rolling hills and towering trees setting a wonderful vista for the demons to dance. Glen could hear the water demons singing under the waves of the bay, their song full of laughter. He closed his eyes and tried to pray to one of the gods. Instead his mind slipped away into that other realm.

He was surrounded by mist again, colorful yet shadowed. He heard voices and found himself heading towards them. He saw nothing through the mist, but the voices carried so he could hear them clearly.

“…Something like you should be dead,” one voice was saying. It was deep and resounding, and sounded a little more than angry.

“But I am not as you can see,” the other voice sounded hungry, like a feral animal. “I’ve my dear mother to thank for that.”

“Why were you spying on us you slime?” the first asked angrily.

“Spying? That was not me, but another,” the second answered, his voice suggesting mirth. “One that I want; that is why you will capture her for me.”

“I will do no such thing!” the other roared outraged.

“You will,” the other laughed. The mist cleared so suddenly that Glen nearly fell over at the scene before him. A giant black dragon stood looming over another figure. There was a blackness about the figure that seemed to eat the light around it. Glen could see little of its actual shape; it wore the darkness like a cloak. Air swirled around it, bringing the stench of rot and foul decay. Everything about that figure just seemed wrong.

The dark thing seemed to expand and wrap itself around the dragon’s head. It reared, trying to shake the darkness off but it stuck on like tar. The dragon grew still and the thing withdrew. Glen saw the dragon’s eyes were dull now, like tarnished gold.

“Good, good,” the dark figure crooned like it was talking to a child now. The dragon swayed to the sound of its voice, like it was mesmerized. “Go now, kill one of the twins of power and capture the other. Burn everything you see.”

The dragon simply nodded and took off into the mist. The darkness turned towards him and Glen woke with a start.

He was back on the Leaping Trout, leaning on the rail. He looked around astonished to see Sol was setting. He slumped down onto the deck, feeling exhausted. He fell asleep then, thankfully into a dreamless sleep.

The next two weeks were more peaceful for Glen. The demons seemed surprisingly subdued, as if what Glen had dreamed were real and they had seen it too. They went from the bay into the Rhine River, the sailors rowing up stream. They passed other boats and rolling hills, and even a few villages. They stopped occasionally in villages, the sailors going out for a night’s drink. Glen would stay on the boat, afraid to venture into these unknown places especially since most of the population of these places was Hyrian.

The Hyrians tended to be loud and excitable, especially after drinking. Even Lia was not immune, Glen catching glimpses of her laughing and shouting with her crew. He was even more horrified when he saw the captain bring another woman to her cabin, kissing the other Hyrian woman as they went into Lia’ cabin. Glen had done his best to ignore the sounds that came after. He had heard of the Hyrian’s propensity for lying with one of the same gender, but he had never actually witnessed it.

The Sect did not outlaw it, otherwise they risked alienating all of Hyria, but Regarians themselves frowned upon it. Glen was too embarrassed over the whole matter, since he had never even kissed a girl in his life. He didn’t mention it to Lia the next day and had a hard time not blushing every time he looked at her.

The Leaping Trout reached Joinings, a city where the Hyrian River met the Rhine River. Most of the city rested in the river itself, on barges and docks fixed together in a maze of wood and rope. Lia navigated the Leaping Trout into the maze and to a dock without incident.

Glen stepped out onto the dock, leading his donkey. The sailors were all scrambling to unload their ship and didn’t pay him any mind. Lia stepped out behind him and slapped him on the back.

“Still be a long long journey like fer ya ja,” Lia said. “Ya be curio yar way ja?”

“N-no actually,” Glen answered nervously.

“Well ya just need ta find a caravan goin north like ja,” Lia said. “Aint hard, the Waterfall Inn is a good place ta start like.”

“T-thank y-you,” Glen said to her and added a bow.

“May yar luck change like ja,” Lia said and she turned back to yell orders at her crew.

Glen walked off the dock and into the flow of people. He wandered about the docks, following the flow of people to the shore. The streets were narrow and crowded the smell of fish oil and tar strong. Walking through the streets Glen was pulled along by the crowds to an open square.

There he saw someone preaching to the crowd, though no one was paying particular attention. The man was unlike any other acolyte of the Sect Glen had ever seen. He was an Elmerian dressed in rags rather than robes, and his face looked like it was marked with pocks. Getting closer Glen gasped; the man was covered in weeping sores and smelled like a rotting corpse.

“…For truth there be that the Gods of Aeri are little more than imposters!” The man was shouting as he waved his arms around. None of the Hyrians were stopping to listen, but Glen saw another Elmerian not far away listening intently to the man. “There is only one God! Kal Ba’el God of Gods is master of us all.”

“That is a lie!” Glen shouted outraged and the rotting man turned to him. Glen balked at the look in his eyes, he was mad.

“A servant of the false Gods!” the man shrieked as he advanced towards Glen. He grabbed Glen by the collar and began shaking him. “Deceiver! Liar!” The man raved as he shook Glen, spittle foaming at his mouth. Glen felt his teeth rattle in his skull, and would have swallowed his tongue if someone hadn’t pulled the man off him. The rotting man hissed and spat as he was dragged away by two tall sailors, still shouting his lunacies.

“Are you alrighty mate?” A man asked him and he nodded.

“I’m f-fine,” Glen replied weakly.

“Sorry bout him mate,” the man said. “Didn’t think he was that maddy.”

“Who was h-he?” Glen asked.

“Aint curio his name,” the man said. “Just a mad bloke that raves bout. He says lots bout his god Kal Ba’el.”

Glen shivered at the name, it sounded like the man was worshiping a demon. “Are t-there others who w-worship this d-demon?” Glen asked.

“None that I curio,” the man answered with shrug. “Ya okay now?”

“Yes thank you,” Glen said. The man nodded and walked off, Glen heading off on his own way. He found the Waterfall Inn easily; the inn was a large blue building just off the docks. Built in the Hyrian style, the inn had a peeked shingled roof and was made of wood planks.

There was no courtyard, the other buildings built right next to the inn. Glen went up to the porch where a porter sat slumped against the door frame. He sat up as Glen approached and hurried to take his pony. He held out his hand and Glen passed him three coppers. The man grinned, showing several missing teeth, before he led his pony off.

Glen entered the inn to the smell of tobacco smoke and liquor. The common room was crowded with patrons, discordant music trying to be heard over the noise of everyone talking. Despite the obvious chaos of the room it was fairly clean and free of vermin. There appeared to be no order in the room, but Glen spotted the bar. He worked his way through to the bar, having to elbow his way through the crowd.

“S-sir!” Glen shouted and the barkeep turned to him.

“What can I get ya lad?” The man said in a merry manor. He was Hyrian, as was most everyone in the bar, but this man had a beer belly and seemed a little short for the gangly Hyrians.

“I-I need a r-room for the n-night,” Glen answered.

“Aye lad can help ya with that sure as sure,” the man said with a grin. “Five coppers for the night and two meals ja. That suit ya?”

“Y-yes sir, thank y-you,” Glen said as he fumbled for his purse string. The coins jangled as he took them out and handed the man his money. As he put the purse string away he thought he saw someone looking at him, but when he looked directly he didn’t see anyone.

“Ya can go take a table lad,” the barkeep said. “I’ll send a lass with yar grub quick like ja.”

“T-thank you,” Glen said as he made his way back through the crowd. He found a small beaten table that was vacant and sat down. He was relieved that things were going well; maybe he would find a caravan to join.

The girl arrived with his food and put it before him. Glen stared surprised at the array of food, when he had been on the Leaping Trout they had eaten mostly salty crackers, pickled vegetables, and smoked fish. There was a red stew with shrimp in it, a deep fried fish fillet still glistening with grease, corn bread, pieces of grilled vegetables on a skewer, a small bowl of rice and beans, and a small cup of water.

There were no eating utensils and looking around Glen realized everyone ate with their hands. He picked up the bowl of stew and took a mouthful. He coughed, nearly spilling it all over him, the stew was so spicy it made his eyes water. He reached for the water and downed it, only to sputter and choke on the harsh liquor. He sat coughing and the serving girl came over.

“Ya alrighty lad?” she asked patting his back.

“W-water,” Glen managed to gasp out. She nodded and was off, coming back with a pitcher of water and a wood cup. He drank two cups before he got his breath back. He looked up to thank the girl but she was already off to serve others. Sighing he turned back to his meal with a more wary mind. The fish, it might have been some river trout, turned out to be breaded with corn bread and spices, and was just as spicy as the soup. The rice and beans was spicy as well, even the vegetables were spiced. The only thing that wasn’t spicy was the corn bread.

Glen ate the food anyways, his stomach rolling at the spicy food. He ate because he was hungry, and was tired of pickles and smoked fish. After he finished he sat at his table, digesting his food and listening to the talk around him.

“Ya cogg ifn the road north be clear?” One man asked another, Glen’s attention drawn.

“Aye the frosty been melty for a while,” the other answered. “Still damn cold.”

Glen stood to go talk to the men but as he did he bumped into someone.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said but the man just moved off without a word. Glen sighed and went over to the table with the two men. Both were typical Hyrians, only their tattoos telling the difference between the two. “E-excuse me. I ah heard y-you talking about the n-north.”

“Yea laddie we were ja,” one man said. “Ya curio bout the north?”

“I ah am looking for a c-caravan going n-north,” Glen answered, not entirely sure what the man had said. “T-to D-Daun all the way t-to the moors.”

“Well taint sure bout all that long ways ja,” the first man said as he scratched his head. “But I be havin a caravan goin ta Dun Eald sure as dirt. Ya can pay yar way?”

“Of c-course,” Glen said as he reached for his purse string. That was when he realized it was gone. He searched through his pockets, but the coins were gone.

“Lookin like yar pocket’s been picked,” the man said sadly. “Sorry laddie, no coin no ride.”

Glen walked away disappointed, and looked around for his purse string. He knew he wasn’t going to find it. Then he thought of Lia, if he hurried he might still find them at dock. He hurried out to get his donkey, going to the back of the inn where the stables were. There was a boy here to tend to the animals; even he bore tattoos like the adults.

“Ah e-excuse me,” Glen said to him. “I-I’m looking f-for my d-donkey.”

“There aint no donkeys here sir,” the boy said apologetically.

“B-but I handed him t-to your p-porter,” Glen said shocked.

“We aint gotta porter,” the boy said and Glen groaned. “Ya have bad lucky ja.”

“Yes I do,” Glen said. “I have to go.”

He hurried away praying to Cael that the Leaping Trout was still in the docks. The god answered him because as he managed to wander through the maze of docks, he spotted the distinctive trout shaped flag snapping in the wind. Lia was on the dock, her hands on her hips, as she ordered the men about.

“C-captain,” Glen said as he came up to her.

“What ya be doin here like lad?” she said surprised. “Ya aint find no caravan?”

“I did but my p-pocket was picked and my m-mule was stolen,” Glen said. “I’ve no money to get me to the n-north.”

“Ya be some poor bastard, ya only been gone an hour like,” Lia said shaking her head. “We aint goin back down-a-down river ja. We’re headin ta L’acrimaros.”

“Oh, well do you know where the Sect is here?” Glen asked disappointed, he could get help there.

“L’acrimaros be the only one ta have a Sect,” Lia said and Glen gaped at her. “Yar kind have tried with yar gods and we listen true as true, but we taint goin ta no house ta pray all the time. We do our prayin out in the open sky.”

“Well that’s fine,” Glen said, not wanting to offend her means of worship. “T-then could I go to L’acrimaros with y-you?”

For a second Glen thought she would say no, he couldn’t pay his way and he was a trouble maker to boot. Then Lia laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Aye I will lad,” she said kindly. “Ya be spesh sure as sure.”

“Thank you,” Glen said not sure what that meant.

“Well come on then,” Lia said. “We’re settin off ja.”

Glen nodded as he joined her once again on the Leaping Trout. His journey up river towards L’acrimaros was much the same in that he caused mishaps and accidents. The crew still refused to speak to him much, and he kept out of their way as much as he could. The land however was much different. Rather than rolling grass hills or wide fields of corn and other crops, they passed through gulches and tall hills. The hills soon grew to mountains and the gulches to canyons.

Glen spent his time listening to tales and songs the sailors sang at night. Most of the Hyrian’s tales seemed to revolve around one person, Kai the Seeker. All the tales were impossible and fantastic, like one where he married a mermaid only to lose her in a storm. Another said he sailed off the edge of the world into the stars, or tricked the King of the Sea in giving up his treasure. In every tale Kai would out smart someone or tricked someone else out of their fortunes.

No one knew where these tales came from; the Hyrians had been telling them for ages. Glen doubted Kai was ever a real person, but he had never heard any of his tales before now. He only knew of one famous Hyrian, Captain Anthony Vane, better known as Tony Bones the most infamous pirate in history. Glen had read about him when he was younger, he’d lived in the 350’s and had been the most prolific pirate of all time. The price on his head had gone as high as one whole gold crown until he was caught and hanged for his crimes.

When Glen had tried bringing up Tony Bones many of the Hyrians didn’t know who he was. They preferred tales of Kai and quickly returned to his tales. Glen guessed the Hyrians cared more for fiction than history.

Glen lost track of the days, he had never been good at the tracking of the stars. He guessed it to be the month of Vora now, the mid spring air still fresh and cool. So it seemed a surprise to him when suddenly they were arriving at the city of L’acrimaros. Glen didn’t even suspect it was there until they turned a bend and there spread the most incredible vista he had ever seen.

A lake lay in the arms of the mountains, its water falling from the cliffs. The cloud of mist from the falls sailed across the lake and sparkled in the daylight. The city was nowhere near land; it had been built on the water itself. Houses and towers rose from the water like ships, seeming to float on the water itself.

It wasn’t long for the ship to travel to the city, and as they drew closer Glen could see more detail of the city. It wasn’t actually floating; he could see pillars of wood that went into the water. The lake had to have been fairly shallow then if the founding was grounded. The buildings were also built in the Hyrian style, but even more hodgepodge and maze like than Joinings. Glen couldn’t tell the difference from the ships and the houses.

Colorful awnings and peeling paint gave color to the city, making seem like a nest of ravens. Some of the docks were solid, while others floated upon the water, even some of the houses seemed built like that. The Leaping Trout slipped in the city along one of the wider channels, but Glen saw smaller vessels for the narrower streets.

Here there were Hyrians all about, not just along the dry walkways, but swimming as well. Some looked like they swam just as much as they walked. Glen spotted some children swimming with what appeared to be otters. He saw them playing fetch and it seemed like the otters were their pets, like a dog.

Glen heard the gibberish like language of the Hyrians, along with reed pipe music and the strange piping chuckle of the otters. The smells of frying oil, tar, spices, and fish were washed away by the smell of fresh water from the lake. Glen was nearly overwhelmed by the amount of sights, smells, and sounds of the city. Yet as with all cities his demons seemed to be hiding, as if afraid of all the people.

They docked and once again there was a scramble to get their goods unloaded. Glen stepped nervously off the ship and onto the dock, nearly tripping when he found this one was floating like the ship.

“The Sect be two turn abouts that-a-ways,” Lia said. “We gotta get hittin the streams gain ja.”

“You’re going back towards Menfer?” Glen asked.

“Naw, inta Hyria more like,” Lia answered.

“B-but the falls, how…”

“That be a Hyrian secret,” Lia answered with a grin and wink. “None savvy how ta get beyond the Falls o Tears than us Hyrians.”

“I see,” Glen said surprised. “Then w-why do you c-call this city L’acrimaros? That’s not a Hyrian word.”

“It taint aye,” Lia said as she nodded. “It be a word o the Phay from their tongues. It means ‘tears of dew.’”

“The Phay?” Glen asked.

“Aye this city used ta be theirs, old ruins lay under the water. Taint savvy why but the city flooded, we built on their ruins. Still some stone bits can be found.”

“Where?” Glen asked.

“Under the Sect for un,” Lia answered. “Ya should skedaddle now ja.”

“Yes, thank you for all your help,” Glen said as he bowed to her. Lia just laughed and slapped him on the back once more. Glen sighed and turned away, leaving her again. The Sect proved harder to find this time, the streets of L’acrimaros much more confusing. Some ended suddenly in cannels or dead end walls. Glen walked around so much he became completely lost, unable to even find his way back to the Leaping Trout.

He passed many open stalls of various goods, from colorful cloths to fried foods. Glen stopped at one food stand, his stomach growling. Looking closer at the food though he realized that some of the fried food wasn’t fish, but what looked like frog legs. He stomach quickly turned and he hurried on.

He turned a corner, thinking he would come to another dead end, but instead he came to the front of a large building. It looked like some kind of warehouse but the door was small, seeming to be the back entrance maybe. There was an Elmerian, the first Glen had seen in L’acrimaros, sitting by the door looking bored.

“E-excuse me,” Glen said. “D-do you know w-where the Sect is?”

“Right here sir,” the man answered as he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “You a pilgrim?”

“N-no,” Glen said and searched his pockets for the letter Gervase had given him. “I-I’m an acolyte on m-my way to D-Daun.” He handed the letter to the man but he shook his head, not even taking the letter.

“Can’t read, go on ta the Sect with it,” the man said and Glen sighed. Pocketing the letter again he entered the Sect with a heavy heart. Once again he was going to have to disappoint someone with his ill luck. The inside of the temple proved just as strange as the outside.

There were many alcoves, each with a tapestry depicting one of the gods. Altars sat before the tapestries, laden with offerings and candles. Acolytes knelt before the altars, most looked to be Hyrians with a few Elmerians thrown into the mix. Glen walked through the hall to the far end where the altar of Euria stood. This one was the biggest of them all, despite the fact that Euria was one of the lesser of the gods.

Kneeling at the altar was a Regarian. The man was very old, his hair entirely white and shoulders stooped. His hands were moving fluidly in prayer, and Glen realized it was Burning Hour prayer time. He quickly knelt with the elderly Sect and began to pray, his hands stumbling through the routine hand signs. At last the prayers ended and the elderly man turned to Glen.

“Well what is one of my brethren doing here at the modest Hyrian Sect?” The old man asked. He was a handsome man, his features noble, but his eyes spoke of a kindness rare in Regarians.

“M-my name is Glen De M-Modeste,” Glen said with a clumsy bow. “I’ve b-been sent t-to Daun f-for p-penance, but I got l-lost along m-my w-way.” He handed over the letter and the Sect took it, reading it over silently.

“A little more than penance it seems,” he said dryly when he finished. “You are welcome here brother Glen. My name is Isidore De Lothaire, Grand Sect of the Hyrian Sect.”

“Lothaire?” Glen said surprised. Lothaire was a noble house in Regis, a ducal house that owned fairly deep gold mines. What was a relative of a duke doing in Hyrian Sect?

“Yes, I’ve done fairly well for a bastard of a duke don’t you think?” Sect Isidore said with a sad smile.

“Oh…” Glen looked away guiltily, feeling bad that he had brought it up.

“Come now brother Glen, we rejects have to stick together,” Isidore said warmly. “Now, it is about time for afternoon tea, care to join me?” Glen stood and followed Isidore as the other acolytes stood and left to go about their own chores.

“Tea is the one thing I have missed since leaving Regis,” Isidore said as he walked. “The Hyrians don’t really partake in tea, some even mock it. They prefer drinking instead. And their food is very hardy.”

“And spicy,” Glen said and Isidore laughed.

“The face I made when I first tried their gumbo.”

“Gumbo?”

“That red stew with shrimp,” Isidore said. “It’s their favorite. I’ve grown used to it though, but my cooks here make a mild version for me.”

They exited the main hall through a door into a hallway lined with doors. Isidore led the way down the hall and out another door. Isidore’s study seemed more like a clutter of books and scrolls, a table with several chairs around it in the middle. The window looked out over the lake, providing light and a lovely view of the falls. An acolyte was already setting up the tea, a young Hyrian man with a hooked nose.

“Please sit; it has been a while since I had company for tea.” Glen sat across from Isidore and the Hyrian set about serving the tea. He was a bit clumsy with his pouring, but Glen didn’t point it out. Glen noticed Isidore’s hand brush almost casually against the boy’s, but the contact was gone in moments. Glen looked around at the spread and understood Isidore’s homesickness.

The tea must have been imported from Lir, as it tasted of chamomile. Instead of tea cakes and sweet meats however, there were salted biscuits and a spongy looking cake. Biting into one Glen was surprised to find it was a crab cake, thankfully mild in spice. There was a hard cheddar cheese to go with the crackers, but Glen contented himself with just sipping the tea.

“You won’t believe how hard it is to get some decent sweets here,” Isidore said with a bite of crab cake. “This is all I could get when I asked for cake.”

“Doesn’t Hyria grow all the sugar cane?” Glen asked surprised.

“Yes of course and they sometimes eat right off the stock,” Isidore said. “But Hyrians don’t really care for sweets it seems. They prefer salty fish and spicy stews. They say the spices cleanse them of bad spirits; the only thing it clears me of is my bowels.”

“I see,” Glen said sadly. “Why n-not return to the S-Sect?”

“And be little more than a servant?” Isidore said with a dry laugh. “No, I do like it here. I’m just an old man voicing his woes to a young man who understands it a bit. Besides which only in Hyria can I worship my one true love.”

“Euria,” Glen said and Isidore nodded.

“The Hyrians only truly care about the gods that involve water, and that is Euria and Tempest. Euria is their favorite; they even have dances that are supposed to call on rain for her. The sound of rain has always been my solace, and Euria my favorite goddess. Hyria is the only place I can worship her as she deserves.”

“I’m s-sorry Sect for m-misunderstanding,” Glen said.

“No it is fine, Hyrian food is the only thing that doesn’t agree with me,” Isidore said. “I lost ten stone when I moved here and never got it back.” Glen could see how his skin sagged in places; he was a thin man that had once been fat. “No matter, how is your tea?”

“Very g-good,” Glen said and Isidore began talking idly of tea and trade routes. Glen hardly listened as his eyes wandered over the books on the shelf. Only a few were actually paper books, most looked to be Hyrian books. Reeds tied together with string with writing on them were the Hyrian books. Some rested in boxes, while others were rolled up like a scroll. Glen guessed paper wouldn’t last long in such a damp environment.

“S-Sect, I heard a d-disturbing t-thing on my w-way up r-river,” Glen said in a lull in the conversation.

“Really, what?” Isidore said mildly, seeming unconcerned.

“An Elmerian m-man was p-preaching in Joinings,” Glen said. “He spoke o-of one God, a God of G-gods, named Kal Ba’el.”

“There is no such thing,” Isidore said with a frown.

“I-I know,” Glen said reassuringly. “T-the man seemed q-quite mad. W-when I accused him of l-lying he a-attacked m-me. A b-by passer s-saved me. I-I was j-just wondering if y-you had h-heard of t-this.”

“I have not,” Isidore said. “I hope no one was listening to him.”

“N-none of the H-Hyrians, b-but there was an Elmerian m-man listening t-to him,” Glen said worried.

“This is disturbing indeed brother Glen,” Isidore said sadly. “I’d best write Menfer about this.”

“Good,” Glen said relieved. “The m-man was w-wearing nothing m-more than rags. A-and his s-skin was c-covered in b-boils.”

“Sounds like no more than a mad man,” Isidore said shaking his head. “Well, more tea?”

“A-actually Sect I-I have another q-question,” Glen said as he held out his cup. “I h-heard f-from a sailor t-that there are r-ruins under the Sect.”

“Ruins? Oh you mean the mural,” Isidore said as he nodded. “There is a mural under the building here in the foundations, some old Hyrian construct. It’s so old the Hyrians can’t remember building them, they say it was built by fairies.”

“It s-sounds interesting,” Glen said. “Perhaps we m-might see it?”

“Very well,” Isidore said as he stood. “Follow me.”

Glen stood and followed Isidore, relieved that he hadn’t aroused any suspicion about his curiosity with the Phay. Isidore led him back to the main hall, heading for the tapestry of Euria. Behind it was a narrow stairway leading down into the dark. Isidore grabbed a nearby lamp and lit it from a candle. As they went down the walls went from wood to stone, Glen unsure when the change happened due to the gloom.

Then they were out into a cavern, Glen unsure how big it was. In the little light however he could see a mural on the other side of the wall. From what he could see the mural depicted a line of people walking. They walked closer and Glen realized they weren’t people, but elves. Their ears were pointed and their nose continued the line of their forehead unbroken. They seemed almost other worldly in their tranquility, yet the mural was so well carved the elves almost seemed to breathe.

Isidore walked along the wall and Glen followed. As they walked more creatures were revealed by the light: elegant nymphs the close kin to elves, tiny or large fairies with wings like butterflies, sprites with beetle-like wings, pixies with fragile dragonfly wings, and mouse-like brownies. The more they saw the stranger the creatures became: dragons of every color and shape, graceful unicorns with long horns, warty goblins, dark headless horsemen, and others that Glen could not name.

Glen knew little of the Phay, yet looking at the mural he somehow knew what they all were. This should have scared him, yet he was feeling so calmed by the mural that he didn’t think on it much.

“Ugly things,” Isidore said as he stopped before the depiction of a troll. Glen though the troll looked beautiful, more like a mix of a cat and a woman. She had cat like eyes and human features, but had long furry ears, goat horns, and a long tufted tail. Her legs were hunched like an animal’s and her forearms wider than her biceps. Yet she was standing with an almost wild air, like a tiger poised to strike.

“Brother Glen,” Isidore said with mild reprimand and Glen finally drew his attention away from the mural. “I think we should go back now.”

“Y-yes Sect,” Glen said disappointed. Isidore put a hand on his back and led him back to the stairs.

“You know Brother Glen it is a long way to Daun,” Isidore said as they started up the stairs. “I was thinking it might be best if you stay here, you will be out of the way from Menfer and you can pray to whatever of the gods you choose.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Glen was so surprised he tripped over his own feet. He grabbed out and pulled down the massive tapestry of Euria. The sound of ripping cloth was like thunder in the quiet hall. The tapestry tumbled down knocking over candles and lamps. Fire sprang to life on the tapestry, spreading hungrily over the old cloth.

“Fire!” An acolyte shouted and there was a frenzy of activity as they rushed to put out the fire. Glen stood back, knowing not to try to help at all. Soon the fire was put out, the building safe from the danger, but the tapestry of Euria was ruined. Isidore stared at Glen with a look much like a fish out of water.

“I-I’m very s-sorry Sect,” Glen said hanging his head. Isidore’s mouth snapped closed and his face became a mask of contempt.

“You will spend the night in a seclusion cell,” Isidore said tartly. “On the marrow I will provide you with coin enough to see you on your way.”

“Y-yes Sect,” Glen said sadly, feeling tears fall silently.

#fairies #fantasy #dragons #writing #PLEASE READ

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