“You’re saying that this Black Mage opened the breach between worlds?” the Paladin asked, running a hand through his dark hair in an attempt to comprehend the situation. “That they somehow unleashed the creatures onto our world?”
He held a third question back. Are the creatures being driven to violence or is it their choice? The Paladin could feel it – a defining test of his contradicting oaths was soon to come. He desperately needed some sort of answer. If only I could talk to Emerald…
Kalu nodded, lowering the wine bottle from his lips. “Someone had to after all. Portals between worlds don’t just open themselves. Most worlds are already chaotic enough on their own. Putting two of them together? Never a good idea. Well … most of the time anyways.”
The Priest shook his head emphatically between bites of bread. “Utter madness I tell you. Never had a single vision until that portal was opened. Damned Mages and their dark arts.”
“We are not all evil, Priest,” Willow snapped, a touch of anger in her voice.
“Fine. Most Mages and their dark arts,” Kalu shrugged. “If you wanted to learn real magic, you would have joined the priesthood. Our magic comes straight from the source himself.”
“So I could end up like you? A drunken hermit guided solely by visions!”
“Visions from the Great One,” the Priest countered with a knowing smile. “Anyways. Weren’t we trying to find something important? Besides more wine obviously. We know where that’s at. Something … something … what was it again?”
“The secret path,” Marcus reminded him.
“Ah! And how were we to find it?”
The Paladin pulled away the bag containing their stores as the Priest reached for it once again. “According to Gurney’s story, a series of prayerstones will lead us to the entrance.”
“Prayerstones?” Kalu scratched his unshaven chin. “Never heard of them.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “No surprise there.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have Gurney play the ballad of Candido again. That way, you’ll have the exact same information as the rest of us,” Marcus said, ignoring Willow’s exaggerated sigh. It was only then that the Paladin realized the Bard was no longer seated beside him. “Gurney?”
They found the Bard in the center of the monastery examining the stone monument. Emerald rested at the tower’s base, a dead hen trapped triumphantly between its beak. His green eyes observed Gurney with a passive interest as the Bard circled the tower.
“Took the key with them if you were wondering,” Kalu observed. “Thus the summoning spell. If you wanted some wine, all you had to do was ask. Very good taste for the region. I’d wager most of those bottles had been stored for a least a few generations. Again, no vineyard nearby. Perhaps they were imported from the south. There’s just something about…”
“I’m going to kill him,” Willow whispered into the Paladin’s ear as the Priest rambled. “Assuming we ever make it to this damned path, opening it will be the last thing he does.”
Marcus could only sigh.
“Is it possible that this structure may be one of the prayerstones mentioned in the ballad?” the Bard mused as circled back to their position. “Kalu, do you have any idea when this place was originally constructed?”
“Well, judging by the wine–”
Willow cut the Priest off. “Enough about the wine! What else did the song say about the stones?”
“Let’s see.” The Bard cleared his throat and flourished his patchwork cloak.
Before he burst into song, Willow growled. “Just say it, Gurney. Not everything has to be sung.”
“All those who walk the path of Candido must follow the stones marked by his hand,” the crestfallen Bard replied. “That’s the gist of it anyways.”
Marcus licked his lips in thought. “How would someone mark stone by hand?”
“Kalu?” Gurney asked, drawing the Priest towards the monument. “Are these not runes of the ancient language? Perhaps the priest carved them.”
Kalu puckered his lips, running his hand across the weathered stone where Gurney had indicated. “They do appear to be the ancient language, lonely Bard. Do you suspect they are some sort of map?”
The Paladin joined the other two men at the base of the monument and ran his own hand across the inscriptions in the stone. “They are rather faded. Probably impossible to interpret in this state.”
A sudden gust of wind struck the monastery, silencing the three men and sending the remaining hens scattering loudly into the distance.
“Listen, you idiots!” Willow barked. “Prayerstones. A giant stone tower where the priests gathered to pray several times a day. Think about it! Paladin, is there another monastery or church or whatever religious structure further north, deeper in the mountains?”
“You’re saying this could be what we’re looking for?” Kalu laughed. “Not bad, angry Mage. The sign was so obvious in hindsight – why else would the Great One have brought me here? Although, if finding the path is so easy, why didn’t the other priests just use it in the first place?”
“The ballad is centuries perhaps even a millennium old,” Gurney explained. “It would likely be dismissed as hearsay if presented to the priests at this point.”
“Not to mention the tolls one must pay to travel the holy road,” Willow added. She bared her teeth in frustration as Emerald dropped the dead hen at her feet and hurriedly pushed the offering away with her staff. The creature bowed his head before retreating to the Paladin’s side, studying her weapon with a gleam in his eye.
“Impressive reasoning, Mage,” Kalu rambled. “The sacred valley has not been very sacred for some time. Not since the High Priest constructed the great church in the capital. Why pray where the Great One actually walked when one could pray at a cathedral? What if rains? Great One forbid! No one likes rain these days. All these roofs are so confining…”
“Paladin, what does your map say?” Willow asked flatly.
A smile found Marcus’ lips. “There is a church almost directly north. I think we’ve finally found the entrance to the secret path!”
The Mage snatched the map from his hands. “I’ll lead the way.” With her other hand, she slammed her gnarled staff on the ground, a sudden flurry of earth-spikes killing several of the hens on the spot. “We will be taking these to replenish our stores.”
Without another word, she walked away, leaving the three men and the creature to stare at one another.
“Inn's closed,” a grouchy voice barked from the darkness.
Alyssa stood behind Circe at the door of a large inn. The structure sat on the side of the main road that led through the mountains and to the sacred valley. The town surrounding it was battered, playing host to only to those who worked to repair it.
It was second day since the Mage had found the Rogue dying on the roadside. Circe had nursed her back to health with a series of tonics and what seemed an ocean of fresh water. The Rogue had been reluctant at first, fearing a return to a meaningless and failed life. Yet, there was something about what the Mage had said.
Is there really some reason I am still alive?
“Are you truly prepared to turn away customers?” Circe asked in her warm voice. Even in the darkness, her blue eyes shown bright. “I heard that a royal Bard held residence here. Is that true?”
“Bard’s gone,” the same voice replied. “Inn’s closed. Piss off."
At a foreign word from the Mage, the common room flooded with light. A smile framed Circe’s as she noticed a darkly dressed man sitting alone at a table in the corner. His long hair was tied in a messy tail that hung down his neck and his hand was wrapped in a bloody bandage.
Another, younger man peeked his head through the door. “Dom? Thought you said you didn’t want no one to come through anymore.”
Dom glared at the other man. With his good hand he reached for the dagger strung through his waist and placed it on the table before him. “Apparently it is not my decision, Owen. Bring the ladies something to eat.”
“You are so kind,” Circe smiled. “I am Circe, and this is Alyssa.”
“Don’t care. How long will you be staying? Rooms are not cheap these days. Come to think of it, the food isn’t either.”
The Mage waved her hand. “Money is no objective, but we will not be staying long.”
“Good,” Dom growled.
Alyssa followed as Circe strode to the other side of the room and sat at the man’s table. The Mage tapped her black nails on the wooden surface and met the man’s dark eyes. “It is apparent that you’ve grown rather tired of this operation. How would you like to join me on expedition to the portal? There is a substantial reward if you have not heard.”
“To hell with the King and his reward.”
“Perhaps you desire something else. What would say to getting revenge on the creature who injured your hand?”
Thanks for reading! Next part 10/9. Going forward, I hope to keep to a Sunday, Tuesday, Friday schedule.
Submitted October 07, 2018 at 09:24PM by creatorcorvin https://ift.tt/2NtJ3e0
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