Wherein Adāe travels through the wooded Daráda Coast and finds a mysterious woman chanting among the menhirs. The two share a camp and begin a long conversation about their conflicting faiths. After a time the two return to the civilized Northfields, both having business to attend in Oð.

One

Adāe walked all day buried deep inside his thoughts. He divided, reconstructed, and repeated what he’d heard, trying to make sense of everything. Now and again he’d stop, reorient himself, and continue on his way. He watched his shadow turn about him as the day progressed, and used it to lead him toward the City. In the evening he looked for a place sleep. The small stream he’d been following for the last few watches turned around a wide hill. He gathered some leaves and made a bed between two fallen trunks. The evening ebbed peacefully into night.

Before the curtains could rise on his dreams however, he was alerted to new sound in the forest. Sitting up from his bedding, he listened closer. A woman’s voice sang through the trees. Adāe climbed from the logs and listened again. The dense forest had grown very dark and without his eyes to untangle the path before him, it difficult to find his way. Slowly, he felt his way through the trees, the strange voice drawing him through the thick wood. The more clearly he heard the song, the more strange it became. The singing was low and measured, more like a chant or a prayer, and in a language very foreign to his ears. At the hill’s top, he found a place with few trees and looming stones thrusting up from the ground like giant fingers. Amid them stood a lonely figure, clad in the night’s vestments, arms held wide above her. The voice issued from her shadowed cowl.

Moving quietly across the dried leaves, Adāe hid behind a moss-covered stone. He watched the singer, wondering to what god or purpose she incanted such strange and somber words. After some time, the woman stopped, produced some candles, and set them in a circle around her. After lighting a taper and illuminating each one, she continued her songs anew. Adāe waited anxiously. It was only a matter of time before he made revealed himself, but he didn’t want to interrupt the singer. As he struggled with what to do, he became aware of a second presence drawing near.

Turning, he was met with the ghastly sight of a skeleton stepping through the low growth. It strode without the benefit of muscle or sinew to bind its bone in place. All that remained of its worldly body hung in tatters from its cage-like chest. Reflexively, Adāe stepped backward. At his movement the skeleton stopped mid-stride, the skull turning on ratcheting vertebrae. Dark and empty sockets regarded him. Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, the mandible of the abomination began moving up and down, creating an evil racket of crashing teeth. The skeleton’s body turned and moved toward Adāe, its left arm in the bones of its right hand.

Two

Without thinking, Adāe retreated toward the robed woman. Three strides from her, Adāe stopped cold. The woman seemed to emanate a deathly aura, akin to the skinless stalker that had spurred him to move. The feeling was a familiar one. It reminded him of the visitor from Oð, now a day or more ago.

The woman stood within the half-light of the stone-choked clearing, a heavy black robe concealing all details of her Uren form. With a raised glove the skeleton stopped advancing. Looking behind him, Adāe saw how the corpse trembled anxiously, waiting for its next command. Turning back to the necromancer, Adāe stammered “I… uh… apologize if I disturbed you. Hmmm… I’m torn between asking you who you are, or just asking for directions to the City of Oð. Would you mind dismissing that thing? I don’t feel comfortable with it around.”

The woman waved her glove and the skeleton returned to the clearing perimeter. The woman introduced herself with a strange accent. “I am Alcèrra Nàdrelan. Oð is that way, but I do not think you want to go there. Are you cold? Are you hungry?” Adāe relaxed as the skeleton rattled back toward the woods. Feeling his composure return, he answered. “Thank you, Lady, for sending away that creature. I am Adāe, a farmer. Hmm… It does seem to get a bit chill here at night. I’m not too hungry. Well, I haven’t eaten much lately besides what be found here, so I don’t think I could eat cooked food, at least for a while.” “You have no clothes or weapons or armor,” she replied. “Why would a farmer come to this place, deep in the woods? There is nothing here for a farmer. Are you lost?”

“Alcèrra, I must admit… There are some things, well, a lot of things I don’t understand…” He studied the shadowed face, but it remained impenetrable. “But, I trust to your hospitality. I would certainly join you. And I apologize for my… umm… dislike for that creature. Such things are not common to my experience.”

“This is a holy place for some. I had hoped to find an answer to a question in this place. No matter. I have a bit of food if you are hungry, and perhaps we can make a small fire. If you are cold you may wear my cloak until the fire is warm. The guardian will watch the forest and warn us if anyone approaches. It will not disturb us unless I summon it near.”

Three

Walking amid the stones, Adāe noticed that only those that stood in the trees’ shade where covered with lichen, moss, and vines. Those stelai toward the center were cleaner. Some stood five to six men tall toward the middle.

Although their faces were worn by centuries of wind and rain, it appeared that they were once adorned by carvings. Small ridges and sweeping lines were still visible in the faint moonlight, echoes of ancient designs.

Alcèrra stopped near a large stone to get her bearings. Turning left, she began again with high steps through the tangles and vines that covered the clearing. Adāe recognized every leaf and twisted vine, and in his mind could see the flowers which blossomed here months before. “What a different place this must have been,” he thought. Another turn and they approached a large low shape on the clearing’s edge. As they drew closer, he saw that it was a fallen stone. Alcèrra walked around the stele and into her camp.

The camp was a simple affair consisting for two long branches lying in the fork of a tree’s trunk. Leafed branches were laid across the branches to form a primitive roof. The camp was surrounded by candle stumps filled with dirt, burnt leaves, and insects. The lean-to was further protected by the large stone that lay alongside it. Looking back across the clearing of stones, Adāe could see no other stele that had fallen. He looked again at the robed woman and wondered. She had unfastened a small pouch of candles from her belt and set them among her things.

“Now Adāe the farmer, tell me, why does a naked man travel to Oð?”

“Hmmm… Well… the easy answer is that my clothes are there,” he grinned. “The more honest answer is that I wanted to understand the forest. I can’t do that if I carry the city with me. Clothes, weapons, wards, and guardians. These are the defenses city people carry because they cannot live as they should. Weren’t born with them, can’t use them after we die. Why depend on them for normal life now.” He looked at himself and back to Alcèrra. “You are right, of course. Until you offered your cloak, I had not noticed the coming chill. At first, I wasn’t even sure you were real, or as real as some things I’ve seen but are not sure of. Since I share your mortality, I would gladly accept the offer of sharing warm resources.” Unfastening her cloak, Alcèrra handed it to him. She also handed him a waterskin she’d filled earlier. “Thank you,” he managed between gulps.

“There’s no shortage of streams in these woods.”

“I’ll happily refill your skin in the morning,” Adāe promised.

After sitting down with the cloak wrapped around him, Adāe returned to his explanation. “I was lost. I still am slightly, but not the same way. I don’t mean to speak in circles, I’m sorry. Let me find some ground here. I’ve been walking a good bit the past day or so. I live near Oð, near a farming village. I was wandering the forest because I need to understand some things. The forest has a way of helping clear the mind. So I was lost, spiritually. I’ve sort of resolved that. Well, sort of. Physically, well, as you have given me the directions, I am not lost that way anymore.” Adāe dug his toes into the dirt. “Well, a farmer could do worse to look here for good soil. Harvesting, however… Besides, if your voice wasn’t so pretty, I would have passed you by never knowing you were here.”

“You like my singing?” Alcèrra asked. “I have not had much cause to sing these last few days. I was not expecting an audience.” Looking around she added, “This is a holy place to some. I had hoped to find an answer to a question in this place. No matter. I have a bit of food if you are hungry.” Alcèrra produced a small meal of dried fruits and cheese. Adāe devoured whatever she offered, looking between his hostess and the strange metal trident that leaned nearby. The fire reflected brightly along its polished length.

Averting his gaze from the weapon, he continued. “So… my turn. Why does a lady come to a forgotten holy place to find answers?” Alcèrra looked hard at the strange man. “He goes to Oð as a dreamer does,” she thought. “How sad it is that I like him.”

“I left Oð a few days ago,” Alcèrra offered. “I chose this path at random. I came to this place and knew in my bones that it was both holy and safe. This is an ancient place. I do not know who built it, but it is a center of great mystery and power. I came here by accident, but not by accident. I did not know I was looking for it until I found it. I have prayed much here. We all have many questions, and who knows what answers we shall receive.” Alcèrra poked the fire and watched as the sparks rose and fell in the air. She saw torchlight in dark and twisting tunnels. “Adāe the farmer, Oð is an evil place. A farmer would do better to stay in his fields, unless he desires to be only a memory.”

“It does seem this place has a history,” Adāe agreed, redirecting the conversation. “I don’t know a lot of the local history here, but it does seem that the land is at a low point in its life. This place is centuries old. See that tree growing near the rock,” he pointed. “Ancient, yet living. The markings on these stones are weathered; I wonder what they stood for?”

Alcèrra looked out at the field of stones. “This was a temple. It is a temple still for those that come here. There have been other visitors, but not recently. The echoes of their prayers are held in the stones. I know now I was led here, but were you?”

Four

“An interesting question,” Adāe answered. “ I think so. There are many powers here. The nature of power is that it associates with its own. Like most of us, I guess. So if you were led here, the same power may have brought me here as well. I find the likelihood of being led here more probable than chance. You see, some friends of mine were hurt in a recent raid by the Urdar. The Lords of Oð care not, hiding in their towers. Thieves abound in the city and decay. The city is a blight on a beautiful past, Alcèrra. There was power here. Perhaps there can be again. I aim to find out. I don’t know if I’ve the answer to your question, but as I’m currently asking some questions myself, perhaps we can help each other?”

“Ah, Adāe the farmer, it is strange to find a farmer with goals beyond the next harvest, stranger yet to find one willing to take on the troubles of hooded strangers,” Alcèrra mocked his offer.

Adāe raised his eyebrows. “You seem unsure of my motives. I assure you my motives are simple. You seem able to come here and live. That’s a rare quality. You are willing to invite a stranger to your camp. Even one in my… situation.”

“Your situation?” Alcèrra smiled. “Usually, the only naked men found in these places are dead.”

That information sank into Adāe’s brain. A wide smile formed upon his lips and then the farmer began to laugh. Soon his laughter filled the night. Alcèrra watched the man closely, wondering whether her companion was mad, or at least madder than most. “I’m sorry,” Adāe gasped at last. “I find my situation most hilarious. At least, that is my point. I never thought I’d find myself in a temple of death. It’s funny, in a strange way. Please don’t think it is you. It’s just, funny.” The farmer laughed to himself for minutes more before falling into quiet reverie. Alcèrra observed his antics but did not share the simple man’s mirth.

Looking up from the small fire, Adāe noted that the makeshift shelter was held together with three knots. Whoever she was, she wasn’t accustomed to life in the outdoors. “One good wind,” Adāe thought to himself. His solemn hostess sat across from him, tending to the flames. Her cloak was heavy but comfortable. It was also completely unsoiled and worn by the small tears and snags common to wool clothes. Whatever her purpose, she had not been here long, nor did she intend to stay. These thoughts were interrupted every few minutes by glimpses of the guardian circling their camp. The gruesome apparition passed silently along the night’s periphery, endlessly, lifelessly.

“An excellent cloak, very comfortable,” Adāe said at last. Alcèrra agreed, nodding. “If this is to be a proper camp,” Adāe offered, “I should fetch provisions.” The farmer stood, pulled the cloak about his shoulders, and stepped into the night.

Five

As Adāe wandered from the campsite, the animated guardian grew agitated. A few words from Alcèrra and it continued its lonely circling. Adāe found that searching for fallen wood was no easy task. Walking outside of the fire’s glow found him stumbling through tangles of heavy roots and ferns. There was no wood to be found. When the moonlight shone through the trees, he looked up to see there was deadwood up high to be harvested. The trees’ ponderous branches wove a blanket for the sky. Fifty strides from the campsite, he found the first fallen wood.

Returning with a few branches and some kindling, Adāe kicked his way through the sparse undergrowth, searching for wood. “Either these were the healthiest trees in the forest” he thought, “or someone has taken all the wood!” Returning to the tall stones he stopped and considered them. Alcèrra had called this a ‘temple of death’. It did not feel like death. He believed her, but wondered why such a place would stand out here, in the middle of Nar Drūden. He stood staring at the hulking shapes. The dark stelai seemed to look the other way, like giants with a secret. Answerless, the bare-legged, dark-cloaked man strode back into the camp.

Six

“It seems the ‘guardian’ has cleaned the grounds quite readily.”

“She does what she’s told. She serves. Nothing more,” she replied.

“I wonder how I would feel, locked here for eternity. The cycle of my life changed at someone’s whim, lost from my roots forever. I wonder… I don’t think I’d care much for it, do you? Being here, I mean, being trapped to a place for all eternity. Even one filled with such life and beauty. Being enslaved to another’s unholy will.”

Alcèrra listened to the accusations, but did not reply. “The man is simple,” she thought. “He does not understand. He laughs to find himself in a sacred place. It is unfortunate, but he will not labor under these illusions for long.”
He was still talking. “…I disagree. I know you feel this to be a temple of death, and you may be right, but somehow, I don’t think so. Death is a natural power. We all experience it. But there is no place where it should be the one and only lord. I don’t think it’s good to keep the enslaved acolyte here, nor do I think this place needs to keep its slanted purpose. I cannot feel this is right, no matter how I try. The night stops me from seeing, but the morning brings new hope. Tomorrow I will release the guardian, if I can… Or he will release me. If you feel strongly about this, either help or stop me. Either way, a change for the better will occur.”

Alcèrra waited until he’d said all he needed. “Adāe the farmer, the guardian is not a prisoner here. The guardian belongs to me. I raised her and brought her here. She serves me. Do you understand this? You will not disturb it.” Adāe looked shocked. “Do you see this?” Alcèrra asked, showing her left palm. Her hand had an unhealthy pallor, from years of living underground. Etched into her hand, burned there as a child, was the mark of a trident. Adāe looked from her hand to the leaning weapon and back to the woman. “Do you understand? This place is holy to Drāūn, the Veiled One. It has stood here for centuries and will stand here when you and I are no longer memories. Death begins and ends the cycle of life, and you would do well to respect it, Adāe the farmer.”

“Alcèrra, my friend, every one holds certain… things… dear to themselves, certain beliefs. I am not familiar with your faith.” He hadn’t heard of Drāūn, but was not surprised. The world seemed to be filled with gods, or at least those that adopted and created them. “I believe in protecting my friends. Someone who attacks them offends me. I believe in a day’s wage for a day’s work. I earn my living by growing my food and trading with others.” He gathered himself together. He could not muster the unimpassioned words of his companion. His spirit would never allow that. “I also believe that mortal remains have a place in the cycle of life. That place is not as a servant. There is something truly vile to me in the nature of your guardian. I ask you to please release it. Put the bones back to rest. You said that you came from Oð. I’ll escort you back there. I’ll be your guardian. Otherwise, I don’t see a way out of this dilemma. I feel strongly about this, Alcèrra. Please do this, for me. Please.”

Seven

“If I go back to Oð, I will die. You cannot prevent that, farmer. Here, in the forest, the only advantage I have over those who follow will be a warning that they come. That is the purpose of the guardian. It is a puppet. It does not think or feel and it does not suffer.” Alcèrra stopped for a moment to drink in the darkness around them. It would be dawn soon and she must prepare for sleep. When she spoke again, she chose a kinder voice. “Adāe, the bones of a person are not important. When one lives they are the cage for the soul. Once the soul has gone to Drāūn the bones have no meaning or purpose. In the ground they come to dust. These bones were consecrated to Drāūn in life. The mark was on her tomb. I am sure this service would not have been denied could their original owner have spoken. I do not keep a soul from its rest. It is no different from animating a marionette.” She stopped seeing that was unconvinced.

“Let us sit by the fire. The dawn will come soon and I must prepare to sleep. But there is time for me to tell you how I came here and why,” she added.

Frustrated, Adāe looked away at the mindless automaton that circled them. He knew that this was an abomination, but there was little that could be done. He wanted to make things right. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again at the priestess. “Alcèrra, I’ll listen,” he said at last. “No sense in planning a harvest when you don’t know the seed. Tell me. Let me understand you, and what you are. And I’ll tell you what I am and why I feel the way I do. Perhaps we can fix this.” Wryly, Adea jested “Since you won’t let me see your soul through your eyes, I’ll hopefully glimpse it from your words.”

After settling by the fire, Alcèrra began. “I am an ordained priestess of Drāūn. When I was very small, still a child, I was very sick. For days I lay in fever, near death. During this time, I dreamed dreams. When I recovered, these dreams did not leave with the fever, but stayed with me. I could not understand them and they frightened my parents, and the others in my village. I was no longer interested in the things of children, but sought to learn the meaning of these dreams. One day, a man came to our our village and spoke to the leaders of my people. He must have been very wise, because the leaders brought me to him and asked him to heal me of my dreams. When we were alone, he asked me to tell him the dreams and I did. When I was finished he sent me away and spoke again to the leaders. I do not know what they said, but the next day I left with the man. His name was Kelloç.”

Alcèrra paused for a moment. She had not thought of Kelloç for a long time. When she continued, her voice was softer with the sweetness of memory. “We traveled many days and came to a temple very far away from my village. I never saw my home after that. The temple was Kelloç’s home and he was a priest of Drāūn. I spent many years there as an acolyte and apprentice. It became my home too. While I was there, I learned many things. Among them that my dreams had been visions sent by Drāūn during my fever. Kelloç was my teacher and friend for many years. I am proud to have been consecrated by him before he went to Drāūn.”

“After I was ordained, and about a year following Kelloç’s death, it was Her will that I establish a place for Her followers in a place where there was no temple. So I left the temple and began traveling, searching for such a place. This is how I came to Oð. I did not at first believe that such a place, where it is so easy to die, would not have a temple to Drāūn. But there is a large temple there, of a faith I do not know, and there is much fear of strangers as well. But it was Drāūn’s will and I remained in Oð. One day, in a tavern, a man came to me, and said he knew of a place where followers of Drāūn would be welcomed.

“I learned from this man that Oð is two cities, one above in what passes for light, and one below, in constant darkness. In the darkness below the streets there are other societies, who do not usually mingle with those above. It was there that I came and there I stayed for two years. Life is very short below the streets. There is no law except for that of survival. All manner of the lost and desperate end up there for all manner of reasons. The strong and the lucky survive, but most are neither strong nor lucky, and there is much work for one who tends to the dead. The man that brought me below the streets was a member of the Poisoners’ Guild, a group of assassins and thieves.

“I lived among the Poisoners and others of that underground city, for it truly is a city, built over and forgotten by all but the lost. There is much superstition in the underground, and I was welcomed as one who tended to the souls of the dead, most of whom departed this life in unpleasant circumstances. Unlike most of the places I’ve been, I was not shunned nor feared. Perhaps this is because death was so much a part of life among the people of the underground. I do not know. However, I was welcomed, there were those who wanted to learn more of Drāūn, and I began to believe that I could establish a temple in Oð.”

She paused again, using a stick to stir up the campfire. “Among the duties I performed for the Poisoners, for which they mostly left me alone, was tending to the dead and occasionally, healing the subjects of their experiments. It was rare that they called on me to heal someone, as victims are plentiful below the streets and the dead are easily replaced. A few days ago, they called on me to heal one of their victims, a child so mutilated that I could not tell if it was a girl or boy. But I could not heal the child. I looked into its eyes and saw Drāūn looking back at me. Clearly, it was Drāūn’s will that the child die. So I did not heal the child, and it perished. I performed prayers for its soul and drew the mark of Drāūn upon its forehead, binding its mouth and eyes as prescribed. When my prayers were complete the men who brought me the child were gone. Upon returning to my chambers, I met a companion who warned that the Poisoners were arranging to kill me for my insolence. I gathered my things as quickly as I could manage, and fled the Lower Streets. On my way from that place, a man tried to stop me, so I killed him. It was Drāūn’s will and He gave me the strength to best him. I exited from an opening above the Run Dul and escaped along the river.

“That was two days ago. Yesterday, I found a graveyard and slept in the tomb of the one you know as the guardian. Tonight, I found this place and you. I can only assume these are due to Drāūn’s guidance as well. So you see, I cannot go back to Oð. No one escapes the Poisoners. It is sometimes said that one or another has managed to get away, but they are always returned. In addition, anyone that helps me joins in my fate. Adāe the farmer, the Poisoners’ methods of death are neither swift nor painless. Whatever else you may think of Her, the guardian is beyond their reach. She must remain with me.” With that Alcèrra settled back, wondering what her companion was thinking. In the distance, the dawn was beginning to show through the trees. They were both very tired. Alcèrra had not planned to spend all night here. It made her uneasy that she had not put more distance between herself and the City. As she lay down to sleep the skeleton moved to the edge of the firelight and waited in silent vigil.

Eight

Alcèrra curled within her shelter and was soon asleep. Her sleeping seemed sound.

Adāe, still fatigued from his recent travels, sat and watched the sky grow pale with dawn. Even through the trees barred any view of the horizon’s display, he delighted in watching the sunlight splay across the tree leaves, and the shadows shrink from the stones of the nearby field.

The skeleton wandered endlessly, wearing a shallow path in the brambles and ivy of the clearing. Although the guardian repulsed him, the sunlight purged the shadows and menace from its bones, leaving only a pathetic walking wind-chime behind. As daylight poured into the clearing, the bones looked more and more like a part of the forest.

Soon, exhaustion claimed one more.

Nine

Adāe awoke to forest sounds. He stretched and eyed the sun. It was afternoon. Sitting upright, he offered a few morning prayers. Next, he grabbed the empty waterskin and climbed to his feet. As he started off through the trees, the skeletal guardian stopped nearby. It regarded him with empty sockets but did not raise its hand. He soon found a spreading patch of briars. After walking through the maze of tangles and thorns, and speaking with the old plant, he picked seven bright yellow berries. He thanked the plant and continued searching for a stream.

At the watch’s end, Adāe returned to the camp. Alcèrra was standing over the fire, turning the polished trident in her hand. She turned and nodded to the farmer. “Good morning, such as it is, Alcèrra,”
“Good day, Adāe the farmer,” she responded. Adāe sounded much more relaxed than the night before.

“Let me offer some fresh water and a berry I found. They are very good.” He offered one of the yellow morsels to Alcèrra. She accepted. “And now, my friend, what should we do?” Alcèrra bit into the large berry and found it pleasant. She was not hungry. She had prayed for guidance while the farmer was about in the forest, but found the will of Drāūn to be opaque. Her only true desire was to put distance between herself and Oð. Her backpack waited near the shelter for her. All she needed was to pick-up her pack and trident, recover her cloak, and she could leave.

“Tell me Adāe, why do you go to Oð? What business can you have there?”

Adāe saw her struggling with decision. He crafted his response carefully. “Oð itself is not my concern,” he said at last. “Not the city nor most of its people. The outlying areas are where I live, currently. I have some patients. What? Oh, sorry, not patience, people I’m helping heal. There was an Urdar raid the other day, and many injuries to tend to.” Alcèrra listened quietly, weighing the man’s story against her own plans.

“My story is a simple one. I grew up on a farm and learned the way of the land. Later, my questions on how things work were directed to some of the elders, and they led me to our village priest. So I learned more of the ways of nature, of things I could not observe. Later still, I went to work for a different master and learned more still. He taught me how to heal and how to make things grow. He also taught me how to listen, for the land had much to tell us.” Adāe paused. “So when I hear your request for assistance, I want to help. When you say that you do not want to return to Oð, I understand. I’ve been asked to help a man with an injured mind. I don’t know exactly how to make it right, but I promised to try. So, I’m heading back to the farm to meet someone that needs me. I’m looking at someone that might need me, but am trying to meet both ends. Would you be willing to return long enough to meet this person?”

Alcèrra lowered her head and walked away. She sought counsel among the giant, silent stones. Once again, she saw the tunnels of the Lower Streets, heard the screams of the damned, and remembered the hopelessness that permeated the place. It felt good to feel the grass and vines against her legs, to see the blue sky above the clearing, to hear the call of birds. She stopped at the clearing’s center and tried to absorb it all. Yes, this was a peaceful place, a place where she could happily spend years and years ignoring the horrors of the place she’d left. But… this was not her purpose. Drāūn had other plans for her. She returned to the small campsite and found Adāe waiting patiently. “The will of Drāūn is that I accompany you. If you’ll excuse me, there are some things I must attend to before we leave.” Adāe left the campsite.

As soon as the farmer was out of sight, Alcèrra approached the skeleton and asked it to stop. She traced the mark of Drāūn on its hard brown forehead and whispered a small prayer. “There is another one to take your place, good servant, a new guardian of the flesh. I thank you for your service and give the mark to protect you on your journey. Return to the river and tell the Fisher of your service. May she reward you.” The skeleton bowed before the priestess then turned and shambled off between the stones. Alcèrra grabbed her things and went to find the farmer. She found him under a tree whistling to birds on a low branch. She couldn’t be sure if the birds understood him, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they did. He stopped once he noticed her. “I am ready,” she announced.

Ten

The birds flew away into the dark branches overhead. “A good day to travel, Alcèrra. I think that Oðis mostly that way,” he pointed. “The paths are easy to find in the day, and there are plenty of places to sleep at night. Food is ours for the harvesting, and friends can be found along the way. Which reminds me, can you hold these berries for me? I seem to be lacking pockets.”

Adāe laughed to himself. “A childish laugh,” thought Alcèrra.

He walked quietly through the woods, watching and listening to the trees. He stopped only occasionally to look at Alcèrra. She couldn’t be sure if he was checking on her, or maybe just happy to have someone to travel with. Alcèrra wished she could share his affability, for every step that she took filled her with more dread.

Eleven

The stones were soon far behind them. They climbed down a steep hillside. Hand-over-fist they descended the root-tangled slope and found way a stream snaking south. Adāe navigated the forest paths and thickets with ease. Alcèrra followed as best she could, using her trident as a walking stick. At some point Adāe noticed that his companion seemed out of breath. He asked if she was okay; she said that she was.

Later, while hopping from a large root, he heard a strange sound coming from the priestess. A muffled ringing came from the folds of her robe. “Chainmail,” he thought. It explained her shortness of breath and her need to rest repeatedly. Adāe had heard something of the vestment requirements for different faiths, and decided not to comment. He couldn’t imagine traveling with such a burden.

The day continued slowly as they passed among the wide boles, and beneath the far reaching branches above. The dimness here, although as dark as any day in Oð, held none of the same heaviness or oppression. An occasional breeze zipped between the hills, stirring leaves from the ground into vast dances, like an autumnal ballroom. Adāe watched these spectacles with glee. Alcèrra trudged heavily behind him, like a prisoner led to her doom.

It was soon apparent that they would not reach the forest’s edge by nightfall, so Adāe searched for a shelter. A short time later he returned and led Alcèrra to a cool place, above a tributary where could lay among soft moss and ferns. Adāe prepared the camp.

Twelve

There was no need for a campfire. It was summer and the night was not cold. Alcèrra settled into her prepared spot. It would take time to get used to daylight. “It will be safer this way,” she reasoned. Her enemies moved in the world of darkness. She would be better living in a separate world.

The farmer watched her from a distance, but decided not to interrupt. Instead, he excused himself and left the camp to find wood and refill the skin. Along a small stream, he spotted a circle of footprints, but they were old and indistinct. “They might be children, or Urdar”, he thought, but decided to keep that to himself. After some searching, Adāe laid down on a stream bank covered in ferns. He listened to the birds and the burbling of a spring. Above, something ran along the branches, disturbing the sleeping leaves. Adāe thought back on the dream, now days old. He wondered about the tree and the face in the water, the man that visited him, and the ward. None of it made sense, but still he believed that there was a reason for all of this.

He awoke in the early morning and picked his way back to the camp. He found Alcèrra sleeping where he’d left her. He wondered about her sleeping form, wondering if it might give insight into her person. “All-in-all, we are innocent when we sleep,” he mused. Before the sunlight filtered down through the heavy canopy, Adāe found some edible roots and began breakfast by mashing them into paste. Alcèrra startled at the sound. The farmer smiled. “Breakfast?”

“The locals call this the Urdari Lands,” he explained as he prepared the roots. “There are a hundred roads, trails, paths in this forest, all leading nowhere.” He offered a handful of paste. “How do you feel this morning?

Alcèrra mouthed the bland paste. “Could be worse, much worse,” she thought. Looking into the shadowy forest, she could feel that Oð was near. The light felt strange on her skin and eyes. Was the farmer waiting for an answer? He was buoyant as usual. “He talks too much, but the distraction is not unwelcome,” she conceded. “Better to listen to his chatter than to think of the city. What is the will of Drāūn?”

“Not the best of meals, my friend, but nourishing nonetheless. Oð is to the south.” He continued “We are within sight of the stain. I’ll make my best effort to keep as far away from there as possible. I know the Northfield back roads. We’ll reach the farm without a problem.” Adāe prepared the last root. “I must say, I do appreciate you joining me. I know it is dangerous for you, and I know that I’m a bit odder than your own kind. Thank you for trusting me.”

Thirteen

The walk to the wood’s edge took little time. During the walk, Adāe spoke of many things stopping only occasionally to see if his companion was listening. During these pauses, Alcèrra trained herself to nod, and Adāe would continue his monologic conversation.

As they walked, Alcèrra obsessed about the place she’d promised to leave behind forever. Why was Drāūn pulling her back to that place? Did she have unfinished business there? Had she left too hastily? Should her patience have proved stronger than the years spent waiting for a purpose? Perhaps she was marked by Drāūn in more ways than one? Whatever the reason, she followed the strange man to the forest’s edge. Soon the blackened city rose before them. Though miles distant, they were separated only by fields, fences, roads, and a handful of small villages hiding among the dales. She gripped her staff tighter.

Adāe noticed her unease. He led them off the road, following the tree line until they crossed a stream that snaked into the hilly fields. Here, he darted into the woods and uncovered a small cache of clothes and equipment that fit him as if they were his own. Alcèrra rested while he recovered his things. It was a good place to rest, eat, and drink before heading out across the fields. During all of this, Adāe never stopped talking. He didn’t even stop to see if Alcèrra was listening anymore. He was content either way. The farmer tried to recall how many days it had been since he left, but had trouble organizing the days and nights in his mind. So instead, he talked about his friend Joçim, their two dogs, the goose, and the pigs.

Alcèrra listened quietly, surprised at the thought that Adāe looked unnatural while clothed.

Played: 10 Aug 1995 thru 17 Nov 1995