The wind whistled through the trees for the first time since dawn, and Liam lifted his head in response, kneeling before the stream. He took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes, the chilled water from the stream dripping from his chin as he was refreshed from a drink. And he silently said a short prayer to the universe.
‘Please let something happen today,’ he thought to himself, breathing the message out into the gust of wind.
His leathered hands cupped another portion of water from the stream and he lowered his head to drink deeply. Liam’s long sun-bleached hair flowed to his waist, loosely held with a leather tie. He loved the forest, had spent every spare moment of his childhood wandering the hunting trails, old and new. He wiped his hands on the soft jerkin that he wore and stood up, adjusting his hunting knife and satchel back to their more comfortable positions, from before he started drinking.
He chuckled to himself as he reflected on the old Elvish custom that he had just taken, sending a message with the first wind of morning. He had barely glimpsed anyone with blood from the First People, and yet, the custom was known to him, respected by so many that lived under the purview of the Greenwood Realm.
Liam’s village, Tommen’s Rest, was a waystation from the river to Greenwood, a large town. That had been founded by Elves from the western woodlands as a holdfast in the forests northwest of the ruins of Old Balinor. The fortress kingdom of the Great King Balinor was steeped in mythic tales and legends from an eon ago. And Liam could scarcely believe that his quint little village had once been a place that knights and lords may have traveled through once, to reach Greenwood or the Golden Road.
The Road, Liam sighed, one day I will get to travel that far north, maybe. To see the merchants from Arised, to dine in Westgate’s famous taverns. One day.
But not today.
Today Liam would be checking the rabbit snares and looking to see if the deer were heading north yet, as winter’s icy grasp had faded almost a moon cycle ago. Today was just another day that was like all the others.
Aris Getri ran as fast as she could away from the farmhouse, chasing the wind and heading away from the chimes that her mother had hung on the porch. Those chimes moved with the first wind of the day, and that meant FREEDOM!
Freedom to wonder to gather the berries and nuts, robin eggs, and anything else she could find. Maybe if she was lucky there might be pilgrims coming from the river or maybe even a glimpse of the Rangers of the Rest, as they patrolled the woods and hills, looking for trouble.
Aris stopped to gather some prickleberries from a copse of trees and bushes, pocketed a nicely shaped stone that had a good weight in her hand, and skipped away towards the old trails north. The ones that lead to the hills and the best, most untouched findings.
She hummed a tune to herself as she scanned the trees for nests and the area for more berries. Some red spotted mushrooms caught her eye, and she wrapped them in cheesecloth before adding them to her basket. Aris had all day to wonder and dream, gather and admire the beauty of the land. She watched critters scramble here and there as she made her way, waving to birds and sometimes trying to mimic their chirps and squawks.
Her reddish blonde hair was pulled back and she was dressed in pants and a tunic, soft boots wrapped around her pant legs to keep the chill out, and a small bundle of objects wrapped up like a makeshift pack on her back. The pack contained all her favorite supplies, paper and charcoal, a sling and her best stones for hunting. There was even some dried meat from last weeks trading in the village.
Aris thought about lunch and the mushrooms wondering if the meat would pair well with them when loud rumbling drew her attention to the hillside ahead, directly north.
“What in the devil..?!” She exclaimed as she tried to spy what was happening in the distance. A cloud of dust could be seen billowing up from the lower edge of the hills that everyone called mountains.
‘Stay away from the Mountains!’ She had heard more times then she cared to admit. Well not today, she thought. Not today.
***
The Rangers of the Rest had all headed out days ago, and Mayor Tamberlin was patiently waiting for them to return with news of this years pilgrims.
What could they expect? Would it be a profitable Spring? Would the Parsimmmions’ be cooperative this year?!?
The last thought about the local family and their aspirations to be considered gentry was a perplexing problem for many folk in town, but especially for the Mayor. He was responsible for keeping the balance of power under control, so that the pilgrims kept coming to visit the Sect, and the Sect kept buying goods from the village.
The town had only two real ways to make money: the farms that fed the monastery and everyone around, and the pilgrims who paid for folks to show them where the pieces of history could be found. The hunters and trackers that lived in the area made a good amount of coin playing travel guide, and many eventually settled down, bought land, and started growing. Mostly crops, but also families.
A few others had niche ventures that rounded out the village. Like the local brewmeister Lo, who made all kinds of spirits and concoctions for folks to drink. Like Nana Popkins, who had come from Greenwood a decade ago, with her baked goods, laced with Elvish spices. Or Friar Belvedere, the lone member of the monastery that lived in the village, and spent time teaching children to read and write, appreciate the many stores of the Canticle Sect, and provide advice to the parents of those children with big dreams.
All of them were wonderful additions to the Mayor’s life and acted as councilors from time to time. But there was one other member who caused more trouble them the whole town together: Gren ‘Fell Beard’ the town’s “trinketmeister.”
Gren had been here longer than any living soul. The town legends say he sold the land of the monastery to the Canticle Sect almost a century ago, and he even claimed to have been at the Inn the day old Tommen died. But no one really believed that it. It was almost two centuries ago. And even though he had a strange look to him, Elves don’t grow beards. Especially ones that that are long and look like a devil manicured it!
Mayor Tamberlin signed into his tea and looked to the stack of letters that the town wanted sent to the river. It would be time soon to send the Rangers to Greenwood, get these letters on their way, and find out what the year had in store for all of them.
But especially for Tamberlin, because soon, he would be replaced, if he couldn’t find a way to satisfy the Canticle Sect’s need for new lore, or legends, or treasures.
Liam reached the site of the landslide just before Aris. He looked over the cleft in the side of the hill and set down the rabbits that he had collected on the way up.
There was a hole. A huge, man-sized hole, where the earth had slipped away, down the side of the little rise he was currently standing on, trying to decide if he wanted to get any closer.
And that is when chaos erupted from the bushes behind him, in the form of Aris Getri.
“What IS that?” She cried out as she looked at the passage ahead.
“A hole,” said Liam curtly. Mumbling under his breath a few choice words about Aris’ arrival.
“Well I KNOW that Liam! How are you by the way? Nice rabbits!!,” she exclaimed, quickly moving to look at the fresh kills.
Liam swore she didn’t need to breathe, its like she could just talk, and talk, and talk.
Standing before the hole, Liam noticed the fine stonework just inside, beyond the jagged earth and rocks was a passage, an entrance to something. But the darkness beyond obscured any more details at this distance.
“Actually, it might be more than a hole…” said Liam, as he started to walk closer. His sudden movement caused Aris to look away from the fur-lined food that had captured her attention. Good job, very clean, Liam.
“W-what do you mean more..?” Aris said as she looked towards the cleft in the hill.
“Could be a passage, a tunnel…not sure.”
“Is it a Tomb!?!?!” She said excitedly.
“I certainly hope not, “ responded Liam his brow furrowed in concern as got closer, making out a walled surface only a few paces inside the hole’s edge. “But maybe…”
Aris gathered the rabbits and using her pack’s robe secured them to her back before bouncing after Liam. As she got closer her eyes were drawn towards the rubble that was scattered to her left, away from the hill and towards the edge of the rise of the hill. Something shined in the broken earth, and she was sidetracked while Liam looked into the gaping emptiness where the hill gave way.
“I guess that the land was softened by the thawing winter, just couldn’t hold on anymore,” he scanned the towards the top of the mound only a person’s length above him it looked like there was still mud and some lingering snow.
“Uh-huh,” came the distracted reply from Aris as she dug out a rod of some kind from the mud and rubble. “I bet the ground just shivered or something…” she teased.
Liam whipped his head around and realized that she was up to something. As he backed away from passage he was sure there was some kind of stone door only a few steps in, and he was positive that this mound had been a structure at some point in the past.
“What are you doing?” He asked, with a lot of emphasis on the accusation.
“Look, I saw something. And I know you think you will be helping the Rangers this year and all, but you are not in charge of me. We found this together.”
Liam watched her pull a long metallic rod from the rubble, it could have been a cane or a very short staff. But it was made out of some brass metal, but the color was wrong. Maybe it was tarnished. But it wasn’t smooth, there were engravings on it.
“Let me see that Aris, “ he demanded.
“Hold on, I am inspecting it for value, “ she scolded him as she wiped the dirt off with her tunic and fingers. It shined even more in the morning sunlight, the rays piercing through the overcast clouds with a vengeance now. Almost as if Ar’rin itself wanted to see what she had found.
As they looked closer, the engravings were symbols, slightly serpentine, and very similar to the designs he had seen on relics from the Kingdom of Balinor. Mostly things in the trinket shoppe or at the monastery.
One end of the rod was rounded, and larger than the rod itself, like it could be used as a club. The other end tapered and had a a strange shape, and was slightly hollow in the end. Aris could stick her fingers in the end, almost past her knuckles.
“Its kinda sharp inside. Not enough to cut, but it has an edge, and a strange shape to it,” she stated clearly.
“Have you inspected many relic, Madam-Almost-Eighteen Summers?”
She slowly turned to look him in the eye, challenging him with a glare that was stronger than one would anticipate.
“My father has things like this from his journey up here years ago. I know what I am looking at, and its clearly a key!” She stated with grim determination.
“Oh a key you say…to the Tomb?” Liam responded, almost chuckling.
“Well maybe its not a tomb. Maybe its a watchtower or a holdfast…or something.”
Liam got closer and looked at the way the sunlight played along its engravings. A sense of dread crept up his spine, and made him uncomfortable.
“Well we need to it get back to Tommen’s Rest. Show it to the Mayor, and tell them this is opening is up here,” Liam directed, waving in the direction of the passage and its door.
“Yes…Or…,” Aris started. “We could see if it opens it!?” Her face spread into a grin that shocked and overwhelmed Liam. He closed his eyes and sighed, allowing her to go check out the entrance with the rod.
She passed off the rabbit carcasses and walked quickly towards the hole. “Do you have a torch? Tomb robbers need torches.”
“We are NOT robbing a tomb. But I can get something going quickly enough,” he said. And them set about making a quick camp.
The sun had shifted by the time Aris found it, the place the rod was being held. Liam had a cooking fire going, a torch was stuck in the side of the hill, casting light into the dark passage. Aris had cleared some additional space for both of them to fit, and they now knew it was a door.
A door that had been sealed a long time ago.
After much digging, Aris had uncovered a spot slightly away from the door, where a pedestal had been buried by the earthen mound, it was from this that the rod had come loose. They guessed that once upon a time, you would have seen the rod sticking up from the short pedestal, in front of the door, but off to the side. Now everything had been covered a long time.
Liam theorized that the larger overhang behind the mound, had collapsed and buried this structure some time in the past. Before Tommen’s Rest was nearby.
Did this area belong to someone else in the past? Was this older than Greenwood?
The questions intrigued both of them. And they pretended like they had the time for this little adventure, which they did, to a point. It would be near nightfall before they would be missed, Aris at her farm, Liam at the Inn.
They busied themselves with uncovering the pedestal, which contained some more carvings. The seal of a knightly order was clearly marked towards the top, but Liam was unsure which order.
Aris gasped as she cleaned the section just below that symbol, Liam was clearing out some intricate symbols on the rear with various sized sticks, and stopped.
“What? What did you find?”
“It-it..It’s the Lady of the Light. Its her symbol below the knight’s crest!” Shouted an excited Aris.
Liam was wide-eyed as he quickly pushed her aside and looked.
“Right, Liam? Tell me from your studies, thats it, right?”
Liam’s breathing had become rapid, the symbol was indeed one attributed to Danika, Goddess of the Storm Isles, a powerful being and an iconic figure in Ar’rin’s history.
“This could explain a lot. There are various sites where things have been found, and the monastery has long believed that Knights serving Danika may have come through this area for a long time, on their way to Balinor. When the Kingdom ruled all of Ar’rin.” Liam explained, all the while his mind raced through the possibilities.
Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was from another age, a time remembered in song and story. The kind of find that could make this place very, very important to the pilgrims that came to this region every year, seeking treasures and relics. Fame and fortune. The blessing of the Guilds or the Canticle Sect. Maybe even the attention of the Shar Order, the mystical guardians of Ar’rin.
But, what to do? Who to tell first?
“My father will know how to get inside Liam. We need to go to him. Before you run to the Sect or Mayor Tamblin, or your beloved Rangers.” Aris watched Liam closely as she carefully picked the words, the order in which she mentioned the factions that controlled the destiny of Tommen’s Rest.
“I know Aris.”
She waited for long breaths as he thought it through. He was a sage, studying with Friar Belvedere in the Winter. But he was also a potential Ranger, serving them in the warmer months. His ties to all of the groups placed him in a precarious position. He needed their approval, all of them. But he was beholden to only the Mayor. The Mayor, who made sure he had work, and food, and a place to stay.
Liam had been orphan for a long time. Aris took a step back and turned away, giving Liam time to decide what he would want to do. She gripped the rod, the key. She was sure it was a key now.
He needed time, time to decide if the he could delay this discovery.
The crackling fire in the tower’s main study kept him warm. As it had for an eon. But the aged figure who looked at the orb in front of him, was hardly elderly. His visage would have placed him at the end of middle-age if you did not know him, or look into his eyes. The grey eyes, with flecks of gold in them, glittered as he watched the mist swirling in the magical artifact.
Only the words that he muttered in an ancient tongue revealed what he saw, what only he could see.
It has been found.