Quest for the King

[Lord Tellurine]

Meekal the Daft couldn’t help but noticed just how dark it was before the first light of day. Even the lighted lamps along the cobblestone streets of Arconia City seemed dim and almost no lights were coming from the castle, perched upon its hill, overlooking the city below.

He stood in front of the Bitter End Pub, which was normally a lively jovial place, but at this time in the morning was dark and foreboding. It frightened him when a light appeared inside the establishment and Steve came to the door to invite him in out of the cold morning air.

Meekal took him up on the offer and watched as Steve went around the room, lighting the lamps. He stoked the fire in the large fireplace across the pub from the bar and he threw some new logs in. Soon the room was filled with the rich aroma of coffee brewing.

One by one the members of the search party arrived and entered the pub. Captain Johann Smithe, Wooden Bob, Dr. Abernathy. Old Tim was next, followed by Friar Laurence O’Malley. They all arrived within a five-minute time frame, which was characterized by the sounds of coffee being sipped and quiet reflection.

From outside came the sounds of horses and everyone got up and exited the pub to find Sir Lochinvar, Lady Rosalind, and Fortalin FitzUrse. Helping them with the horses was stable master Gavrill and stable boy Anton. Also with them was Queen Zelda, accompanied by Mortas, Duke of Angford and Colin, Earl of Brenwyck. Prince Nicholas of Marsteria had come down from the castle, as did Queen Joslyn of Schoolcraftia.

As everyone began packing his or her assigned horse, Wooden Bob hitched up the supply cart. Wooden Bob had neatly packed most of the supplies on the cart the day before and they were all covered by a large tarp, so you couldn’t see any of them. At one point, Fortalin needed to add an extra box to the cart, but Wooden Bob grabbed it from him, telling him he would place it himself.

The area around the Bitter End began to fill with onlookers and well-wishers. Most stood quietly as they watched what could very well be the last chance for their king to be found alive. Dr. Abernathy saw his own wife in the crowd and Ophelia Roenseller with her younger sister Peggy. Friar O’Malley noticed Brother Emmanuel standing in the crowd also.

When everyone was packed Lochinvar approached Queen Zelda. “We’re ready to go, your highness,” he reported quietly. “It’s a three day journey to the Great Northern Sea. By the time we set sail, the tournament will be underway. We’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

She looked deep into his eyes and said softly, “Find him.” The two old friends shared a hug and he turned to mount his horse.

Friar Laurence O’Malley stepped forward. “Citizens of Arconia,” he announced into the cold morning air, “we set forth today to find and bring back our King. We pray to Craig that he is alive. We ask that you keep us all in your hearts and thoughts as this mission could very well fail, and all of us who stand before you could suffer the same fate as our dear King. The dangers we face will be numerous, but we do not go forth as an army, but as a fraternity united in a just cause. Although we boast having the leader of the Arconian Armed Forces, a knight, and a royal guard, we also have a prince of Muu, a doctor, a woodcutter, a fur trapper, a retired sea captain, and an old friar.” He stopped and smiled. “Our mission is simple: Find King Arcon and bring him back alive, or die trying. We will not fail you, Arconia.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and then the silence was broken by light applause that grew into a thunderous wave of recognition. Each person climbed into the saddle of his or her horse; Old Tim needing an extra boost from Fortalin. Wooden Bob climbed onto the front of the cart and grabbed the reigns tightly.

The caravan began the long journey north as the first light of day began to shine onto the rooftops of Arconia City.

[DamedEscrime]

WAIT!! You can't leave without saying goodbye......

[Lord Tellurine]

The ride north would not be that difficult. It would be two days through Arconia and then the last day through the Kingdom of Strahfurt arriving at the port city of Paugautauny Bay.

Paugautauny Bay, which boasted a natural harbor, was about a half of a day’s ride east of the river Lochinvar and Lady Rosaline had followed looking for King Arcon and was where Capt. Johann Smithe’s ship, the Leaking Bucket, had been moored following his retirement. The port city was a rough town, filled with pirates, thieves, and slave traders. The slave traders were the most recent addition to town as there had been a resurgence in the slave trade recently.

The city’s lawlessness thrived in the Kingdom of Strahfurt, which was ruled by the aging King Frederick Altmann. He was too old and tired to deal directly with ruling, but had a government so bogged down in bureaucracy that local nobility could not keep the peace either. For example: A pub along the docks, The Drunken Whale, was robbed one summer evening. The pub’s owner contacted the local constable, Franklin Meer, who submitted the paperwork to Burgomaster Franz Grossmann, who scheduled an appearance with Duke Wilhelm Stammler, who sent a messenger to the King’s Council on Public Safety, which met on the first Tuesday of every month, unless it was the first of the month in which they would meet on the second Tuesday of that month, or if it fell on one of the public holidays approved by the King's Committee on Public Holidays, in which they would meet on the next Tuesday following that holiday, who decided (With a 5 to 3 vote) an investigation was in order. When that order reached Constable Meer he sprang into action, broke down the door of the suspect, and found he had died of natural causes a few months earlier. The neighbors were glad to be rid of the stench as their Body Removal Form 1870D had been languishing in conference.

The route north would follow along the King’s Highway, which ran northeast from Arconia City and then along the western edge of the thick forest that separated Arconia from it’s eastern neighbor, Muu. They would pass far to the east of the valley where King Arcon had met his brother in deadly combat and would make it a point not to cross over into old Zarconia, which was reportedly experiencing civil war since Zarcon had died.

The trip would provide plenty of time for the adventurers to know one another. As they traveled, strangers would become brothers, and if one day in the near future they found themselves fighting alongside one another they could feel secure in knowing who was fighting beside them. With this new sense of mutual self-discovery in the early morning air, and the City of Arconia still visible behind them, Meekal the Daft began, “You know what I think?”

Everyone said back, “Shut up, Meekal.”

The ride would be more difficult then originally thought.

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Lord Tellurine ]</p>

[DamedEscrime]

Jo snugged into her breeches and pulled on a fresh cream tunic securing it with a string. She
carried the heavy old weapon out to the garden fully intending to practice its use until she
became proficient. Once she became capable of mounting one type of defense she felt sure that
Lochinvar or King Arcon or Queen Zelda would not be able to make her stay and miss all the
adventure. Besides, how hard could it be? It was just a hammer. All one had to do was throw it.
Right? She was about to make her first toss at an old cracked birdbath when young Anton ran
directly between her and the target calling her up short.
“Anton!” she yelled, startling the boy. “Watch where you are going. I almost hammered you.”
That gave the boy pause for thought for he had heard rumors of the Lady Josephine’s
misadventures. “Oh, I am sorry, miss. I was in a hurry. Sir Lochinvar is in need of an item from
the tack room before he leaves.”
“Leaves? What do you mean leaves?” Panick crept into her voice. “Anton, where is he?”
“Why, didn’t you know miss? He’s down in the square with the others preparing to find the king.”
“NOW! Did he have no intention of saying farewell?”
“I don’t know, miss.” The tone and pitch of her voice now made Anton shrink away as he
responded. Seeing this, Jo softened herself and ask, “What is it that you are fetching for him?”
“Well, you see I put the wrong bridle on Stardreamer. It’ll rub a blister if it isn’t changed.”
“Fine, go and get the right one and bring it to me. I’ll take it to Sir Lochinvar.”

Being happy to take his leave he snapped her a “Yes, miss,“ and fled in the direction of the
stable.
Hands on her hips, Jo paced in small circles occasionally looking to heaven as if it held some
great answer for her.
In a short time, Anton returned and handed her the bridle. She took it quickly and turned to run
to the square.

[ 01-02-2002: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]</p>

[lochinvar]

[quote]Originally posted by Lord Tellurine:
<strong>
Paugautauny Bay, which boasted a natural harbor, was about a half of a day’s ride east of the river Lochinvar and Lady Rosaline had followed...They would pass to the west of the valley where King Arcon had met his brother in deadly combat...
</strong><hr></blockquote>

Geography question:
Does this mean that the party will have to cross the river from west to east somewhere in order to get from the highway to the port? According to the previous thread, the river is uninhabited for its entire length from the valley where Arcon fought with Zarcon all the way to the sea. Will we posit a ford or ferry somewhere? If so, why didn't Loch and Jo and Rosaline encounter it in their previous travels?

Maybe the lay of the land needs to be re-thought...

Related question:
Since it's been established that the von Schmect's land borders Muu, and the highway passes close to the border, will we be passing through von Schmect territory on our way? Or does that lay further east?

In which direction relative to Arconia is Schoolcraftia, and how far? Marsteria, too, for that matter...

We've never thought about geography until recently, but the time has come to settle some of these questions and establish directions and distances. It might make a difference in how the story progresses.

(This world just gets more and more complex as we go along, doesn't it? I love it...)

[Lord Tellurine]

[ed note]

Good points, Loch.

I have since changed my post to make more sense. I had wrote "west" when I meant "east" for when they passed by the valley. All that I could remember about the Valley (Between Arconia and Zarconia where Arcon and Zarcon were born) is that it was north of Arconia. The search party will be travelling northeast and then north so that they pass to the east of that valley. I hope that clears that up.

As for the von Schmects, I don't think I've ever said, but I've thought of them being to the Southeast of Arconia City, not directly east, but still bordering Muu.

As for where Angford and Brenwyck are?... Well, if they passed the von Schemects on their way to Arconia City I would imagine they live to the south also.

The location of Schoolcraftia... The only thing that would provide a clue is that Brother Emmanuel and Ken-Dall stopped off at the Holly Dayye Inn as they travelled from Schoolcraftia to Arconia. The Holly Dayye Inn is located in the forest between Arconia and Muu (Probably still Arconian land.) That means to get to Schoolcraftia you either have to go straight thru Muu and it is it's eastern neighbor, or you turn north or south making it it's neighbor in either of those directions. Maybe Moonitic could tell us.

As for Marsteria... I have no idea. Perhaps Willow could fill us in on that one.

That still leaves us west and south of Arconia for future kingdoms. (That is if we want Arconia to be land locked.) I can only imagine what we'll come up with.

[Willow]

I know that Marsteria borders Schoolcraftia, since the present King of Marsteria used to travel back and forth extensively between the two nations. So, if you have to possibly go through Muu to get from Arconia to Schoolcraftia and vice-versa, then perhaps Marsteria can be east of Schoolcraftia, making it necessary to go through both Schoolcraftia and Muu to get to Arconia. We'll get this figured out soon...LOL.

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Willow ]

[ 01-03-2002: Message edited by: Willow ]</p>

[Zelda]

Steves the Map maker as well as been the publican, lets ask him!

[arcon]

Im glad im standed on an Island and not dealing with this.

(someone needs to put together a map)
If I were back in Arconia
I would suggest an Arconian Commitee of at least
three. Lord Tellurine, Lochinvar and Steve to work together to produce a map.
Maybe with the use of telepathy i can get this done.

arcon

[lochinvar]

Old Tim shifted, trying to find a more comfortable seat.

It had been more years than he cared to remember since he had sat a horse, and left to his own devices he’d have preferred to walk. After all, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to keep up with the wagon, lumbering leisurely along behind the placid Percheron.

But he understood and accepted the need to conserve his strength. He was still hale and hearty enough to swing an ax all day, but travel was a different matter – and the road would be a long one.

His feelings were mixed this morning. He still wanted to see the sea, and he still believed in his heart that helping with the search for Arcon was one way to repay in small measure the long years of peace he had enjoyed in this land, but a new element had been added, one that made him reluctant to leave at just this time.

It had taken him by surprise, but was not unwelcome for all that. For one thing he had learned, and that was that one could seldom order the times and circumstances of one’s life to one’s satisfaction; most times, life just happened to you, and that was that.

Still, events had come to a resolution which was illuminating. He yawned now, his mind drifting sleepily back over the night just past, remembering…

****************************************

Nani peered out suspiciously, holding the lantern high before her. It was late; who in the world could be knocking on her door at this hour? When she saw who it was, suspicion gave way partly to confusion. “Tim? What on earth are you doing here? What do you want?”

Old Tim stood quietly in the hall, holding his cap in both hands before him. When he caught her eye, he ducked his head with a smile. “Evening, Nani. I’ve come to tell ye that I’m leaving in the mornin’, and I’ve made arrangements with Hector to deliver your wood for ye, until such time as I come back. He’s a good man, even if he is slow, and he’ll do right by ye.”

A tinge of alarm joined the mix of confusion and suspicion in her eyes. “Leaving? What do you mean, leaving? Where are you going? And how did you know which was my room?”

“I asked one of the kitchen lads. And as for leaving…well, ye see, I’ve gone and joined this here search party, what’s goin’ to find King Arcon. Sir Lochinvar, and Dr. Abernathy, and some others, we’re leavin’ first thing tomorrow mornin’.”

The door opened wider, and she placed her fists on her hips, abandoning her suspicion in a sudden urge to upbraid him. “Ah la, you foolish, foolish man! Why would you do such a thing as that? And at your age! Expeditions are dangerous; do you want to hurt yourself? They are for les jeunes, the young ones, not for such as you and me.”

Old Tim looked down at the floor, as though he might read an answer to her question there. “Ah, well, as to that, I’m not quite sure. Partly because I’ve never seen the sea, though I’ve wanted to all my life, and this might be my last chance. And partly, I suppose, because Arcon’s been a good king; things’ve been good while he’s been in charge, and I feel I owe him. And this is the only way I can think of to maybe pay some back. But mostly,” he finished, looking up again, “I guess because I just feel it’s the right thing to do.”

For long moments, nothing else was said, though neither person moved. His eyes were sincere, and they met hers openly and without fear or apology. He squared his shoulders, and nodded as if taking some decision. “And I’ve come on another matter…a personal one, if you’ll hear it.”

She drew her shawl closer about herself without replying; taking her silence for assent, he continued.

“Nani, I was thinking that tonight may be the last night I’ll ever spend in Arconia. As you say, adventures are for young people; there’s dangers, and storms, and outlaws, and who knows what else. The world is uncertain at the best of times, as you know. And it’ll be a hard road; I don’t deceive myself on that score, and I’m not as strong as I was once. So, all things said, I may never see this town or these people – or you – ever again, after tomorrow morning.”

“These last few years, I think there’s been a…a liking, if you will…what’s grown between us. I’ll admit it wasn’t just your biscuits brought me to your kitchen table once a week. Anyway, what I’m trying to say, and makin’ a poor job of it, is just this: if this is t’ be my last night here, I’d rather not spend it alone.”

“So, I’m asking to spend it with you, if you’d be willing. I’ll be the first to say it isn’t the most elegant proposal you’ll ever hear, but it’s comin’ from an honest man. And at my age,” he added with a twinkle, “I find that ‘straight ahead’ is the policy works the best; there isn’t a lot of time left for dancin’ around the issue, so to speak.”

“So, then, Nani, I’ve said what I’ve come to say. And now I’m asking for your answer, lass. Will ye, or won’t ye?”

During his recitation, the hard edges of her face gradually melted and softened, the usual look of worn scepticism transmuting into something else. When he’d finished, she stood looking at him for some few moments more, then dropped her gaze from the inquiry in his face. A slight flush mounted to her cheek.

Without speaking, she reached out shyly to take his hand, drawing him gently through the door, and softly closing it behind him.

[ 01-04-2002: Message edited by: lochinvar ]</p>

[DamedEscrime]

Jo ran as fast as her legs would carry her, the silver and black bridle clasped tightly in her
hand. Entering the square to looked frantically from face to face searching for him. Not
finding him at once she began to worry that perhaps he had already gone on. Then she
heard his voice boom over the others and she turned to see him perched upon
Stardreamer. Her heart fairly lept from its place at the sight of him sitting there tall and
commanding.

She pushed her way through the noisy crowd. All the world had turned out it seemed and
now stood between him and her. He did not see her at first, but rather sensed that she was
near. He turned to catch a glimpse of her struggling to inch her way forward. Her eyes
remained steadily on her target as she literally elbowed her way to him. He lightly pulled
the reins and began to guide his mount in her direction. “Rosalyn, “ he shouted over his
shoulder, “See that the rest remain here and are prepared to leave on my order.” “Yes, sir,”
she replied.

The people in the square did their best to clear away for Sir Lochinvar and after what
seemed and eternity he reached her, bent down and pulled her up in front of him. Her face
was red and she was trying hard to catch her breath but she clutched him as if she would
never let go. Through her breaths she managed, “Anton... he said you needed this.”

With one strong arm he hugged her as he guided Stardreamer way from the noise and the
crowd to a small grove of trees. Here they could talk if only breifly before he returned to
his duty.

By the time they had come to a halt she had begun to cry softly. "Mo chroi, what is it?" he asked. "I...I thought that you would leave before ...with...out... saying.. goodbye.,"she sniffed.

[ 01-04-2002: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]</p>

[DamedEscrime]

Compassion took over his face aas he looked down at her. He gathered her in and cradled her in his arms. Choosing his words carefully he spoke gently to her. "My dear one, You are very precious to me. I could not leave you without saying goodbye. I would not have done that. Please try to understand that duty to the king must always come first. I had to see to the arrangements here before I could come to you, but I would have come. Do you believe this?"

Her wet, red eyes looked up at him. She sniffed one more time and nodded her head. "Yes, I believe you."

"Then kiss me, mo chroi, for we have little time." Instantly he pulled her up to him. Their lips met and they embraced as if for the last time.

When once he released her, she reached to her hair and pulled the delicate yellow ribbon which had held it, away and offered it to him. "It is all I have to offer. Please take this token and think of me on you journey."

[ 01-06-2002: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]</p>

[Lord Tellurine]

By mid-afternoon of the first day’s ride everyone was tired of hearing this:

“Are we there yet?”

“No, Meekal,” came back the reply, this time from Dr. Abernathy. The group had been taking turns answering this repetitious and annoying question. “And you can stop asking as we will not be there for a couple of days.”

“Oh.” Meekal rode silently for a while. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Paugautauny Bay,” answered Dr. Abernathy. “That is where Captain Smithe’s ship is.”

Meekal turned in his saddle to look at the retired sea captain. “Captain Smithe, what is Paugautauny Bay like?”

Captain Smithe’s eyes lit up at the question. “Me boy,” he started, “Paugautauny Bay is a strange and wonderful place. I grew up there. Sailed my first ship from there and sailed my last ship to there.”

“What are the people like?” asked Meekal.

“Well, they’re a rough bunch, Meekal. Thieves, pirates, prostitutes, and these days… slave traders.”

“Wow,” said Meekal. Each group of people mentioned he had never met and they all sounded so exotic and interesting.

“But there is one resident of the town who comes to mind,” replied Smithe with a smile. “I can tell her story in the form of a limerick.” He cleared his throat and began, “There once was a girl from Paugautauny Bay, who could…”

“Captain Smithe!” interrupted Dr. Abernathy. “Perhaps this is not the best time for your limerick.” The doctor’s head was jerking towards Lady Rosaline who was riding just in front of him.

Captain Smithe understood immediately. “Of course,” he conceded to the doctor. “Meekal, I’ll tell you that one when we’re not in mixed company.”

Lady Rosaline turned in her saddle to look back at them. “I hope you’re not talking about me! Because I’ve all ready heard that one and besides it being in bad taste, it’s also not physically possible what she can do.”

Fortalin FitzUrse smiled to himself. He had heard that one before.

“Quite right,” agreed Dr. Abernathy.

“Do what?” asked Meekal.

“I’ll tell you later,” answered Captain Smithe. The ride continued on in momentary silence

“Are we there yet?”

[lochinvar]

They left through the city’s Black Gate, so-called because of its dark oak timbers and black iron bindings.

Taking the right hand branching at Chalring’s Fork, they proceeded north through the morning. Later the King’s Way would turn east to skirt the forest, but for now they were passing through the breadbasket of the kingdom and the source of much of its prosperity.

The road surface was hard, the day was dry, and progress was good. A quiet air of prosperity and industry lay over the rolling lands about, replete with well-tended fields, neat cottages, and the squared stone walls that lined the pike in these parts.

The party had shaken out into an informal but nonetheless structured traveling order. In the van, scouting ahead for hazards and camping places, was young Fortalin FitzUrse. His job would be traded off among himself, Lochinvar, and Rosaline, as they were the three soldiers in the company.

At the moment Loch and Rosaline rode together at the head of the main group. They were still in civilized territory, and their vigilance was relaxed. Later they would assume a more stringent posture, with one ride in the forefront and the other riding rear guard; for now, however, they were simply enjoying the trip and the nice weather.

Next in line rode Dr. Julius Abernathy and Captain Johann Smithe. Smithe was regaling the good doctor with tales of the far ocean. Old Tim Cutter rode close behind them, listening raptly uncritically to whatever story the Captain had to offer. Conscious of this audience, Smithe was painting a broader—and less believable—canvas of his adventures than he otherwise might have done. Julius Abernathy listened quietly, but his face registered a permanent scepticism.

Last in the traveling order came the wagon, behind a slower-than-hoped-for draft horse of dubious constitution. The vehicle was currently occupied by Meekal the Daft and Wooden Bob; Meekal would periodically rotate places with Old Tim and Dr. Abernathy, as they were the least used to travel on horseback.

Friar Laurence O’Malley rode beside the wagon, listening politely as Meekal rolled on about his rocks. The good Friar was the only member of the party who was both kind enough and patient enough to put up with Meekal’s constant queries about whether they were ‘there yet’. Despite being on horseback, Friar O’Malley’s stature at 4’9” was so small that his and Meekal’s heads were on a level.

Wooden Bob sat stoically with reins in hand, seemingly oblivious to both the plodding buttocks of the animal in front of him and the seamless flow of words coming from Meekal. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d spent long periods of time in company with the earnest young man.

Periodically Bob would remove a flask from under the seat and tip some of the contents into his mouth. When Loch had ridden back to ask the Friar a question, he had caught a faint reek of raw spirits on the breeze. So far it had not seemed to impair the man’s functioning, and he forebore to say anything about it. That would change if he saw it becoming a problem.

Loch turned now and looked back over the company. It would be a slower road to the Kingdom of Strahfurt and the port city of Paugautauny Bay than he would have liked, but it couldn’t be helped. A body this large couldn’t move as quickly as a few soldiers alone.

He mentally counted over the group in his head: Nine Companions, embarking on a quest…something about that seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t pin down the nagging reference.

Ah, well, it didn’t matter. What mattered is that they were started, and ‘sooner started, sooner finished’, as his father used to say. He was anxious to find Arcon, but he would be equally anxious to come home again. His hand strayed to the simple yellow hair-ribbon tied about the hilt of his sword, seeing in his mind a pair of liquid dark eyes, shiny with tears…

[DamedEscrime]

Jo watch the party leave from a distance not wishing for anyone to see her tears. She stayed where she was until they were mere specks in the distance, but she could still tell which was Lochinvar. Then she closed her eyes and turned to leave not noticing that another pair of eyes watched her go.

He followed along at a distance for awhile keeping to the edge of the crowd, blending in well so as not to draw attention to himself as she headed back towards the palace and the quietness of her room. Lost in thoughts of her handsome Lochinvar, already missing him beyond measure she did not notice this new one slip up behind her until he brazenly reached out and lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

Startled by his sudden nearness, she barely heard him say with the utmost sincerity, "Pardon, but I could not help but notice you were crying. May I be of assistance?"

She turned to see a most striking man. His jet black hair hung in loose strands about his shoulders. He sported a matching black mustache and barbe and a bright golden earring dangled from one ear. But most amazing were his eyes. They were blue, yet not quite blue, very pale almost white and impossible to look into for any length of time. He stood waiting for a response and when none came he continued.
"Perhaps your heart goes with someone who is in the groupe that has just gone?"

"UM, yes... er, no. Who are you?" she stammered.

"Ah. Je vous demande pardon. I am Pierre. Pierre Rathmussen. At your service mademoiselle."

Rathmussen. The name struck a familiar chord. Didn't Nani have a friend named Rathmussen?

[lochinvar]

As in all dreams, the strange seemed normal.

Loch was standing in a shallow hollow set amongst three hills. Tall grass sprouted lush and green to his knees; a few low bushes dotted the hillsides, whose smooth-sloping planes leapt upward at precipitous angles. There were no clouds, but there was no sun, either; all was bathed in a diffuse, pearly half-light, as of late evening or early morning twilight. A heavy mist, damp with a slight chill, seeped from the ground to hang suspended in thick hanks and curls in the still air.

Before him stood a monolith, roughly square in cross section and stretching to a jaggedly broken top slightly higher than his head. The dark dolman had been carved over all its surfaces except for the broken end, where the mute dense grain of the stone lay open to the sky. Incised lines and whorls had been weathered by years unimaginable.

The words were worn to the point that they were no longer readable—assuming that they originated in any language Loch recognized, and further assuming that they were even words. There was that about them that told Loch that they didn’t symbolize human thought in any form he knew or was likely to know—or at least, that language as he knew it resembled these representations like a scratched stick figure would resemble a full sized, multi-color sculpture.

He intuited that the stone was sentient in some way, and was watching him. He felt no threat in that surveillance, only an indifferent curiosity, as of a man watching an ant toiling through grass stems. His fragile brief life was of no significance to it; whatever its greater purposes, his capacity to help them or harm them had already been weighed, judged, and dismissed as inconsequential.

As he stood in the half-lighted mist, contemplating the stone, he became aware of two people approaching. One was a man dressed all in gray, with gray cloak and hood; even his gloves and boots were gray. His apparel matched exactly the color of the mist, rendering his outline vague and indistinct, and himself difficult to see.

The other was a lady, or so he assumed by her rich raiment. Creamy satin and midnight-blue brocade enclosed a toned but voluptuous figure; tiny gems woven into her hairnet sparkled like stars. Thick flowing locks of purest white tumbled from under a golden bandeau over her shoulders and cascaded loose almost to her waist, framing a face the color of almonds. Yet despite her white hair, she appeared to be no older than Jo.

Her lips were scarlet, as though just having finished a meal of ripe berries, and her eyes made him tremble. Purest jet, they seemed holes in the very fabric of the world, windows opening to realities unfathomed and unfathomable. A black raven perched on her shoulder.

“Morrigu,” he murmured as they approached, and he was afraid.

[lochinvar]

The pair stopped scant feet from him, and the lady’s mouth quirked slightly in what might have passed for the beginning of a smile. “It is good to see that the old tales still continue in the world,” she said, “but I am not she whom you name…though I am flattered by the comparison. I am Marthwyn, and this,” she said, indicating her companion, “is Siltramon.” Her voice was like peat smoke: low, dense, earthy, and thoroughly entrancing.

The hooded figure nodded in acknowledgement, but did not speak. Even this close, Loch still found it difficult to see him; his form and outline seemed to bleed into the mist such that it was hard to say where one ended and the other began.

Long moments they stood looking at each other, until Loch finally blurted out, “What do you want with me?”

Mild amusement crossed her face. “The question is rather: What will YOU want of US? We have come because the world is changing, and because you wear the talisman that you do, though I must say that you are not whom I expected.”

Now it was Loch’s turn to be surprised. “Talisman? Lady, I confess I don’t understand what you’re talking about, or who you are, or anything about this place. I am on a quest to find my king, and that is all that I know. Won’t you please explain?”

“Ah, but which king?” she asked confusingly. “The King That Is Lost, or the King That Is Hidden? For the lost will remain lost though he be found, and the hidden shall remain hidden though he be revealed.”

Loch’s mind grappled with this for a moment; finding no comprehension in it, he tried again. “Lady, where is this place?”

“This place? This is the Between, where mortal men such as yourself can meet with others, such as we. The reality of men is too solid to penetrate normally, but there are…cracks, if you will…at the edges and joinings of things, where thought, vision, and sometimes solid things can slip through from one side or the other.”

“Transition is the gateway; a crossroads, belonging neither to one road nor the other; the sea strand, where the moving water on the sand belongs neither to land nor sea; the moment of midnight, which belongs to neither the day passed nor the day yet to come; threshholds, which belong neither to the inside of the house nor to its outside. These things, times, and places are our byways to and from your world. Such is the time you see here, though the place is real enough in your world.”

“Some, like Siltramon here, pass easily between the two realities, for he is less real himself than he would appear. Others, like yourself, are too substantial; they cannot pass at all without the aid of a talisman or token.”

Loch seized on that thought, like a drowning man would seize a passing log. “That is the second time you have mentioned a talisman, Lady. What talisman? What is this device that you think I carry?”

She arched her eyebrows—so white!—and said, “Raise your left hand.” As he did so, the simple braid of Ellen’s hair caught his eye. It glowed with a soft golden light, though the hair itself remained as black as it had ever been. He stared at it stupidly, completely at a loss.

“A lock of hair, snipped from a wisewoman at the moment of her death, when her spirit is neither totally in the world nor totally gone from it. That is your doorway; that is how you have come here.”

[ 01-16-2002: Message edited by: lochinvar ]</p>

[lochinvar]

One word penetrated Loch’s fog. “Wisewoman? She was no wisewoman. She was my wife, and practiced no arcane art that I know of.”

“No,” Marthwyn replied. “You are right, she did not. But the talent was stong in her, undeveloped as it was. She may not have even known how it was that she knew of things that passed afar—like the time you were injured in the hunt, and lay unconscious in the thicket at the bottom of a ravine. She was the one that insisted the search move to the other side of the hill, where you were found.”

“Oh yes, I know about that,“ she said, real amusement creasing the skin at the corners of her eyes. “I know of that, and a great deal more. Both you and your story are well known in my land, Brave Sir Lochinvar!”

“But there is no time for long explanations,” she continued, growing serious. “The sun is coming, and we cannot linger. Seek me at the Stone of Wyrdnafal in the west, and we will speak further.”

The dream faded even as she spoke. Loch woke to the first rays of sunlight peering over the horizon, gilding the leaves and trunks of the nearer trees. Gone were the stone, the hills, and the Lady; here were only the road, the field where they had camped, and the forms of his companions where they lay or stirred about the wagon.

[Lord Tellurine]

That morning, just after the sun had come up, the camp began to come to life. The camp was off the road in a field by a stream and even though it was one camp, on this morning there were two smaller camps within it.

On one side of the campfire there was a conference between Lochinvar, Lady Rosaline, and Fortalin. They had maps strewn out over a large rock and talked in hush tones.

On the other side of the fire sat Dr. Abernathy, Old Tim, Wooden Bob, Captain Smithe, Meekal the Daft, and Friar O’Malley. They had all just finished breakfast, although Wooden Bob had only eaten half of what was on his plate.

“The fresh morning air certainly gives one a healthy appetite,” declared Friar O’Malley as he gathered dirty plates to take to the stream for washing.

“That it does,” agreed Old Tim, handing him his plate. He glanced across the fire to where the conference was taking place. “What do you think they’re up to?”

Captain Smithe answered, “Reviewing today’s travel, I suspect. It’s always best to know what you’re getting yourself into, before you’re into it.”

“Did you learn that from the sea?” asked Meekal with large eyes.

“No,” answered back Smithe with a sweep of his hand. “Visiting relations during the holidays. If you know ahead of time that they’re serving chicken, then you don’t want to sit anywhere near my Uncle Jim.”

“Why’s that?” inquired Meekal.

Dr. Abernathy interrupted the conversation by standing up between them. “Perhaps I’ll go over there and see if I can get a feel for today’s travel.” He began to make his way around the campfire.

Wooden Bon stood also. “I’m going to check on things on the cart,” he mumbled and he hobbled away carrying his half-eaten breakfast.

As Dr. Abernathy made his approach he began overhearing what Lady Rosaline was saying. “…And all other reports say that Repp’s Pass hasn’t seen smuggler activity for a least two years.”

Fortalin chimed in, “Sounds like that’s the best place to camp tonight.”

“I don’t like it,” grumbled Lochinvar.

“What’s that?” asked Abernathy as he joined the group.

Lady Rosaline turned to look at the doctor. “We’re discussing where we might camp tonight. We’ll be getting close to the Blue Mountains by sunset.”

Dr. Abernathy looked off past the Head of the Arconian Military to the looming mountains before them. The Blue Mountains ran along the northern edge of Arconia, separating it from Strahfurt to the north and continuing east into Muu where it was known as the Muu Mountains.

“The trouble is,” explained Lady Rosaline, “the mountains are a haven for criminals and smugglers. When we set up camp, we’ll have to post a lookout.”

“Or two,” added Lochinvar.

“Well, if there’s anything us citizens can do,” offered Dr. Abernathy, “all you need to do is ask. We’re are all at your service.”

“Thank you, Dr. Abernathy,” said Rosaline. “We’ll keep that in mind. How about for right now you help Wooden Bob get the cart packed up so we can leave?”

“I would,” answered Abernathy, “except that he won’t let anyone near the thing. I wanted to write in my journal last night and he refused to let me get it myself.”

“That’s odd,” stated Rosaline. “Must be a neat freak or something… doesn’t want anyone messing with his system.”

“Neat freak?” repeated Lochinvar. “Wooden Bob?”

“Whatever!” exclaimed Lady Rosaline. She made a purposeful point onto a map with her finger. “If we could get back to business?”

Dr. Abernathy let them continue their planning and he made his way back around the campfire. He circled around to where he could get a view of the rear of the cart which faced away from the camp where he saw Wooden Bob talking to it. Then he glanced back to the fire where Meekal was talking his one of stones. “Must be catching,” he said to himself and he went off towards the stream to help Friar O’Malley with the breakfast dishes.

[ 01-16-2002: Message edited by: Lord Tellurine ]</p>

[lochinvar]

Loch, gnawing his lower lip, continued looking at the map as Rosaline and Fortalin went to help in breaking camp. Because he had risen early, Loch’s things were already packed away and waiting on Stardreamer.

Repp’s Pass was the logical choice, of course, and Rosaline was right; there had been no activity there for years. Still, it was hard on the borders of Zarconia, and if he didn’t miss his guess that land was in turmoil and upheaval at the moment. The lesser nobility would be striving mastery, each one aching to fill the power void left by Zarcon’s death.

He hated moving that close to things when the picture was changing so quickly. It called for caution, and the setting of double watches.

His eyes strayed westward over the map almost of their own will, coming to rest finally on an area in the western foothills of the Blue Mountains marked simply “Wyrdnafal”. No towns were marked there, nor did any roads pass through it. Just to the east of it, a lesser pass over the mountains was marked—Tristan’s Gap.

Lochinvar looked up to locate Dr. Abernathy. “Doctor! Will you come here, please?”

Curious, Abernathy approached. Gazing again at the map, Loch pointed and asked distractedly, “What do you know of this place called Wyrdnafal”, doctor?”

[ 01-16-2002: Message edited by: lochinvar ]</p>