Here is an excerpt from the chapter that I finished this weekend. This is a rough draft, so apologies for any spelling errors. Let me know what you think, like, comment, and share!
The sun hung overhead on the third day and made the air muggy and hazy around them, evaporating the light rain that they had been traveling through all morning, as they crested a high but gentle ridge that gave them a breathtaking view of the surrounding area. To their left was the low mountain, Vengar, and beyond that was the Gamn, or the Tortured Peak as it was often called, a tall mountain that looked twisted, hewn, and cracked with various great gashes and hints of the odd deliberate stone work all over its face. The feet of the mountain were a notorious labyrinth of rock and ridge that most would avoid. To their right, in the distance, was a great forest, Danus, at the edge of which flowed the Baylith river. Nearer were a series of sloping, and more sparsely forested ridges, between which were small vales that looked to be greener still.
“Do you see anything of concern to us, Maelith,” asked Belkor after they had all surveyed their surroundings for a few moments.
“No,” came the simple response.
Belkor looked to Tanara, who shrugged, “Maelith has the better eyesight, although even they cannot see through solid stone or wood. Who knows what lies over those ridges and in the depths of that forest.”
Belkor turned next to Varna, “does that map say anything about what lies ahead?”
Varna had already had the map in her hands, and after studying it a moment more, she shook her head, “once we get down into the valley, there are enough rivers and small waterways for us to navigate by. But all the rivers and streams coming down from the Tortured Peak are underground until they are near the valley, this map will be of no help if we continue into that labyrinth.”
Throm spoke up at this point, “And I wouldn’t do that. Gamn is a name cursed among my people. The old songs say that, longer ago even than what we seek, it was a great stronghold of the Dark God. His followers, many of them dwarves at this time, protected their water supply underground and left a maze for attacking forces to navigate to reach their gates. It is said that numbers beyond counting died before it was finally broken open and he was cast down again. Even though it had been before, and could be again, a great city of the dwarves, we do not go there. Only scavengers and artifact hunters, such as ourselves, venture their and not a few never come out again.”
Wendon had quickly taken a sheath of paper out once Throm had started talking and was jotting down some hasty notes. He made a few final scribbles of writing after Throm had finished and mused, as much as to himself as to anyone else, “I wonder what benefit we would all get if our various peoples more openly shared their histories and legends.”
Throm and the others nodded at this, with Tanara speaking up first, “I wonder if that is where our pursuers are hiding? Or perhaps other followers of the Dark Moon Banner are making it strong again.”
Throm shook his head, “our pursuers, perhaps, but it is unlikely those that follow the Dark God are there in any kind of force. It is an area made inhospitable and hard to access for all, and so great was the damage to the mountain and its halls in that war that it would be the work of a great many years to make that into a place of strength, or even safety, for any great numbers.”
Belkor mused on all that had been said for a moment before he nodded to himself and straightened in his saddle. “We will continue to follow the ridges as far as we can until we near the start of that tangled maze, and then we will turn south into the valley and forest.”
Seeing that Throm was uncomfortable with the plan, Belkor put his hand on the dwarfs shoulder and said, “I hear what concerns you, my friend, and I swear to you we will go no nearer to the Tortured Peak than we need to, but the longer we stay away from the open and prying eyes, the better.”
Throm nodded in appreciation, and they were about to start down the ridge, they all realized that Maelith had been staring intently into the sky for several minutes. They all turned to look and saw a large, and unusually bright, tuft of cloud that after a moment they realized was traveling, quite quickly against the wind.
Tanara frowned at that, “is that some kind of magecraft we are seeing? Or a device of the enemy to spy upon us?”
Wendon shrugged, “too far away to tell for sure.”
Maelith never took their eyes off the cloud, which was now nearly overhead, “it is no device of Ymiron, but it would likely still be best if it did not take notice of us.”
With that, they pulled their hood further over their head and spurred their horse down the ridge at a slightly faster pace than they had been previous. Tanara and the others all stared at each other with puzzlement, but thinking of nothing better to do, they also pulled the hoods over their heads, and set off after their companion. Tanara found it odd that throughout the rest of the afternoon that Maelith would often steal concerned glances toward the sky as well as searching their surroundings, and was vague and largely not responsive to questions about their concern. By early evening, Maelith seemed to be satisfied and stopped looking to the sky so often and slowed the pace they were leading the others on, and the rest merely dropped the matter.
As the ground rose and fell throughout the day, they were routinely surprised by the great, and untouched beauty of the little vales, often watered by small streams from Vengar, or springs in the rocks. A few had some scattered habitations and evidence of farming, some held only a few dotted ruins, and others were untouched by mortal hands. Even the light rain and thin, grey clouds that had rolled in during the late afternoon did not dampen the beauty around them. As the sky darkened in front of them and a brilliant, lavender sunset was visible behind, they came to the top of a rocky ridge, and even compared to what they had seen before they were all shocked by view that greeted them.
A couple miles down to the right was a small vale, a few hundred feet from side to side at its greatest width and nor more than twice than in length. So sharp and steep where the sides that it almost looked like one of the gods had reached down and scooped some of the stone and earth out to create it. It is likely that only standing roughly where they were could someone see it was even there, as the stream that ran through it passed through narrow cliffs on either end.
From their unique vantage point, they could see that the stream parted about a quarter of the way into this hidden vale in two and flowed around a small island, and then rejoined to flow out again about a quarter of the way from the other side. Upon the island was what looked like an unassuming stone cairn, surrounded by withered juts of rock that might have been natural and might have been what remained of some other structure. The water was uncommonly blue and clear, and here and there caught and reflected in dazzling display the now increasingly purple sunset. The truly stunning part was that every inch of the ground not covered by water and the few hints of stone, was the most diverse and dizzying array of colors any of them had ever seen. There were vines and grasses, leaves and flowers, shrubs and trees of every description and color, and somehow even though they were all wild and mixed together, it created a scene that seemed perfectly composed to impress those very few who ever got a glimpse of it.
They all stared for a long moment, open mouthed. Throm finally broke the spell by saying, with unusual softness, “That is something that stirs the heart and cheers the spirit. All the war, strife, magic, enchantment, and secrets that have twisted this Shifting Wilderness into something wild and dangerous are nothing. All the prideful empires and expeditions that have come here to claim their stake and search for power understand so little. All the Sorcerers and tyrants that have marred this land trying to tame and control it, and that is to say nothing of what has been done when the gods do meddle in mortal affairs for their own games of power were mere fools. Such beauty and wonder are untouched and untouchable by all of them. Compared to this, they are as to nothing.”
The others stood shocked at this declaration, and all by Maelith found themselves misty eyed. In another time and place, Belkor at least, Varna and Tanara likely too, would have teased their normally gruff and taciturn dwarven companion for being so suddenly sentimental, but the view that lay before them and the honesty and openness of his declaration made them all hold back.
It was Belkor that finally broke them from their revery, “there is still a little daylight left and we should move on a little further. We are exposed at the top of this ridge, and even if we could somehow get down into that vale, it feels wrong to disturb such beauty by doing so. The rocks look more broken up a little way ahead. Lets press on and see if we can find an out of the way place to rest of the night.”
They all took one last, wistful look at the vibrant vale below them, and then moved on down a gentler slope of the ridge to their left. It was getting near dark when they reached the top of the next ridge a deep, navy blue behind them to the west and the glimmer of stars above them peaking through the broken clouds. Maelith was first to crest the ridge, and immediately wheeled their horse about and hissed, “horsemen.”
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