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The words that he had just read so excited Adam he could hardly contain himself. Wanting Beorhtán to share in the discovery, he hurriedly passed the object back, careful to keep it correctly orientated. Despite his precautions, the giant was still unable to see what Adam had read so clearly. Taking it back, Adam studied it for a time. Though it was hardly thicker than a sheet of heavy paper, bending it proved quite impossible. About six inches by eight, it had writing covering only one side, which, until correctly rotated, appeared as indecipherable hieroglyphs. Staring hard at the words, he silently mouthed them to himself, and as he did so, understood the problem. It was only possible for one person to see what was written there, and that person was himself.
“Now I understand,” said Beorhtán.
“How do you understand?”
“Because you thought the words as you read them, I may not see them, but it seems there is nothing preventing my reading them from your mind. It would appear that you've been chosen for the task.”
“I don't see how I've been chosen for any task, I don't even understand half of what it says, especially that bit about Vilsagoth. When I told you that I remembered that name from my dreams, you said that you'd never heard of it.”
“Which was, and for that matter still is, the truth, but I'm sure there will be an explanation.”
“I hope so; perhaps the Glomers' Elders might be able to help, or even Ichabod. After all he's a sorcerer; maybe he'll know what it all means.”
“Indeed, but I doubt either will be of much use to you in this instance.”
“There is something I think you can explain.” Adam insisted.
“And what might that be?”
“If, as you say, you couldn't read what's written on this thing,” waving the metal plate at the giant, “why was it so important that we had to risk life and limb getting here for me to see it?”
“Whatever answer I give to that question, will, I suspect, be less than satisfactory in your view.”
“I'll be the judge of that. Well, come on, tell me. Why?”
“I was acting on a feeling. No, that's not quite it, it was more than a feeling, call it a premonition. It's difficult for me to find the words to explain. If you recall what I told you about the two halves of my being, then perhaps you will appreciate that I must act in response to the actions of others, hence the wax and wane of the two personae. If the foulest deeds provoke the actions of Shegrimoth, then those that drive me are of the opposite persuasion. Sometimes these actions force me in such a way that I have no real understanding of their intent. Like my desire to bring you here. I believe it to be the work of the Creator, but I could no more prove that than I can read the words on that tablet.
I knew there had to be some special significance to the green fire, when it suddenly appeared at the very moment of creation of the Manifex. There was no explanation for it, and unlike any other fire, not even the Glomers could manipulate it. They saw as I did that it concealed this metal tablet, but both their efforts and mine proved quite useless when we tried to remove it. We could touch it without the flames injuring us, but the tablet couldn't be moved.”
“I see,” said Adam pensively, whilst he saw little at all, thinking that he understood what Beorhtán was saying, but it was his own part in it that he couldn't explain.
Forgetting that the giant was able to discern his thoughts, it surprised him when Beorhtán spoke.
“It's really quite simple; the tablet was placed there so that only the chosen individual, namely you, would be able to retrieve it. Something compelled me to bring you here so that you might fulfil that part of your destiny. It has to be the work of the Creator.”
“In that case, why don't I understand what's written on the damn thing, and what should I do with it now that I've read it?”
It fell to Beorhtán to attempt to explain the first part of his question, but not before the matter of the metal plate was literally taken out of his hands. He'd only been holding the tablet lightly, when it was whisked away, like a leaf in the breeze, straight back from where it came, this time to be consumed in a bright orange burst as it entered the green flame.
“Now I'll never be able to understand,” wailed Adam.
“You will, when the time is right, but you have to work at it. All will be explained, but only when the Creator decrees.”
“Trouble is there's so much that needs to be explained,” grumbled Adam.
“And so little time in which to find the answers,” came the reply.
“Has something else happened; Shegrimoth hasn't been up to something has he?”
“Not Shegrimoth, but there have been others at work. I feel a growing disturbance in the balance; it's shifting further to the path of evil. My time is coming to an end. We must leave this place and return to my home.”
“But what about the Glomers, you wanted to talk to them about the Manifex?”
“There's little point now, whatever happened to the Manifex was intended, and that much is clear from the writings. The words NOT THREE BUT ONE TO AID HIS QUEST, clearly refer to the crystal, which is why there's only the one that you have.”
Without conscious thought, Adam opened the pouch at his waist, and put his hand inside to grasp the Manifex. The moment his fingers closed around its smooth surface, he knew something had changed, it felt different. Pulling it free, he was surprised by it instantly returning to its normal size without his intervention. It was almost as though it possessed a will of its own. His shock was even greater, when he saw how the Manifex had altered in appearance. No longer the clear crystal orb shot through with flashing colours that he had grown accustomed to; the sphere glinted and flashed reflections of the hall's fiery light from its surface. Burnished to a mirror like finish, the Manifex now looked to be made of the purest gold.
Holding it forward for Beorhtán to see, the giant's surprise was no less than was his own, but the crystal had more in store for them. Wrenching itself free from Adam's grasp, it rose a few feet in the air, and drifted towards the green column of flame. Unable to prevent whatever was about to happen, they could only stand and stare, surrounded by the Glomers, who likewise watched in silent awe.
Reaching the fiery pillar, the Manifex entered the flames, which instantly turned to palest blue, surrounding the sphere, caressing it as it began to spin. Faster and faster turned the orb, dragging the flames about itself until they completely enclosed it.
Adam watched, and felt a hard knot form in his stomach. He knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen and yet was powerless to prevent it. This was his dream sequence; the crystal would dance in colour and light, only to be destroyed, just as he'd dreamt it.
“No!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Beorhtán, we must stop it, it's going to be destroyed; in God's name, you must help me,” as he leapt forward trying to reach the sphere.
Realizing the futility of his friend's intent, since the crystal hung several feet above Adam's head, Beorhtán rushed to his aid. Plucking Adam from his feet, he held him aloft, his mighty arms bearing him upward as though he weighed nothing. Leaning towards the flame-encircled Manifex, he held still as Adam plunged both hands into the blue fire.
The instant his hands entered the flames; the shock stunned his whole body. Cold so fierce that it jarred his brain, swept up his arms, threatening to engulf him completely. He wanted to scream his agony, but although his lips moved, no sound emerged. Frantic with fear, he tried to break free but found he couldn't move. No matter the thoughts that sent commands to his limbs, they refused to function, frozen, trapped in the icy fire.
Without moving his head, he found he could just see the Manifex, suspended at the edge of his vision, spinning wildly above his head. He could see the swirling patterns, and knew that it had begun its final act.
Beyond the blue fire, everything had halted, frozen in an unmoving tableau; nothing stirred, not even the Glomers' fires, as they remained bright, but inanimate. Neither blink of eye, nor fall of chest to show that life still existed for the gathered crowd. All suspended in total stillness, the only thing to move were the swirling blue flames that gripped Adam Goodchild in their icy embrace.
Oblivious to all but the pain that was beginning to crush his chest as his body began to turn to ice, Adam's only thought was that this couldn't be the end. To have endured so much, only to have life snatched from him, here on a world about which he knew so little. It was too unfair; he felt cheated, then angry. And his anger grew until it became a rage within him. He would not succumb to this. He had the power, and nothing was going to stand in his way.
But the thought provoked no reaction beyond a deepening of his rage, until he became suffused with its fire. And the fire burned deep, bright and HOT, until it exploded within him and beyond him, bathing all around in its brilliance. Searing white light burst from his fingertips in magnificent torrents, scattering the meagre blue flames in their burning splendour. So bright was the light it filled every nook, every crevice of the vast hall, and as it did so, the moments of stillness passed.
Terrified by the awesome sight the little Glomers hid their eyes from the glare. Beorhtán, stunned by the total whiteness that hid all detail from his eyes, let go his burden without a thought for the consequence. Yet, as the giant's hands fell away, Adam's body began to drift upward, his arms extended as if in supplication. Slowly his glowing hands cupped to receive the Manifex, which appeared almost to be waiting its master's touch.
The moment hands and crystal came together, the light changed, as brilliant coruscations filled the air and bolts of purple lightning flashed across the rocky, vaulted ceiling. For long moments, the pyrotechnic display filled the hall with its brilliance, the air trembling to the near cataclysmic crash of thunder. Terrifying in their beautiful power, huge arcs of light played across the span of the cavern, to the manic orchestrations of the thunder, which rose and fell as if echoing the pulse of some Herculean conflict.
Gradually, minute by slow minute as if the battle had been fought and won, the lightning ceased, and as the last roll of thunder echoed in defeat, Adam sank to the floor, staggering slightly as his feet touched its surface. Finally, as if to prove his supremacy, with a flick of his hand, he sent the orb spinning high in the air where it held unmoving. Then pointing a finger at the crystal, he sent it flashing across the hall, first in one direction, and then another as his hand commanded.
The light still glowed brightly from his hands, and his whole body gave off a spectral aura. Whatever had occurred whilst he had held his hands in the blue flames, truly he was now the Guardian of the Crystal. Summoning it to him, his hand again closed over its gilded surface, and as it shrank he returned it to his pouch, the light from his hands disappearing as the Manifex went out of sight.
For several moments all was quiet, not even the normally vociferous Glomers could find their voices. Beorhtán stared around as the light began to return to normal, but he could find nothing to say that seemed adequate. It was Adam himself who broke the silence.
Standing surrounded on all sides by the little fire people, yet oblivious to them or the giant, his thoughts raced on as he recalled what had occurred. He'd scaled Olympus and communed with the gods. He'd found the light and met the test, and now he knew what it was that he had to do. Vilsagoth had answered.
“I passed!” he cried with joy. “Beorhtán, I passed the test, do you understand? I passed the test,” as tears rolled down his cheeks, born of emotions turned on their head by what had happened.
Standing before him, the giant felt humble in his presence. Clasping him about the shoulders, he could feel the energy running through his young companion.
“It is well done indeed, Master Adam.”
“What beauty, what beings they are Beorhtán. Nothing must happen to destroy this creation of theirs, it's far too precious. I shall prevent Shegrimoth; nothing is going to stand in my way. I have the power of the gods to aid me, the beast will be conquered.” Then as if all his energies were suddenly used up, he slumped forward into the giant's arms, unconscious.
Taking Adam’s still form, Beorhtán gently laid him on the ground. Scores of Glomers scurried around, at last voicing their reaction to what had taken place, the hall filling with their excited chattering. Beorhtán now had to face the problem of the labyrinth. Should he wait for Adam to recover or should he attempt to negotiate the fiery maze? His concern didn't last long, as the Glomers insisted that they would lead him. It seemed they all had a burning desire to return to their settlement to be the first to tell of what had happened. With Adam still unconscious, the giant lifted him up and cradling him in his arms like a sleeping child, followed the little creatures.
The return to the Glomers' settlement took longer than the trip to the hall, because he had to keep his pace down to that of his tiny companions, but never once did his stride falter, despite the weight that he carried. Once they had reached the settlement, he gratefully allowed several Glomers to move Adam into a dwelling large enough to accommodate the sleeping figure, where they laid him on mattresses and covered him that he might sleep in comfort.
For many hours, Beorhtán kept vigil outside the place where Adam lay. Never allowing his own weary body to sleep, he waited patiently for his friend to wake. It was only when Adam awoke complaining of how hungry he felt, that the giant stirred himself.
Embracing his friend in greeting, Beorhtán in good humour quipped, “By the light, I'm pleased to see you recovered and no harm to your appetite.”
Adam grinned, “Well it was hard work, but I'm fine now,” then more seriously, “and I'm deeply in your debt Beorhtán. Keshi has told me how you carried me from the labyrinth.”
“It was nothing,” replied the giant, his embarrassment clear in the way that he rapidly changed the subject, “now you must eat before we make our way back.”
Needing no further prompting he tucked in to the food put before him by the little Glomers not once questioning what he ate, but as he did so, Adam’s thoughts turned to the long journey back through the caves and passages of Kaldshard. Pausing to wash down his food with a tall beaker of sweet tasting mead, Adam turned to the giant, “there's so much I have to tell you Beorhtán, but we must return to your home before I do.”
“As you wish, but that's going to take us some time. You can't have already forgotten how long it took us to get here, and we still have to get past old Vorcan.”
“No, that journey is something I'm never likely to forget, but this will be different, we'll travel in style going back.” And without further explanation, he carried on eating as if he'd starved for days.
Having had his fill, Adam felt better than he could ever remember. He felt alive, full of a vitality that electrified him, made him want to rejoice at the simple fact of being. But he knew that he had to store up these feelings to help him with the trials that surely lay ahead. He found he could recall every moment of the melding with those who had chosen him, could feel every sensation he'd experienced in their embrace, and it filled him with awe.
He desperately wanted to share with Beorhtán that part of it that they had told him he could, but they'd counselled him that it would only be safe when they returned to the giant's abode. As soon as he could, he urged Beorhtán to make his farewells, and ignoring the other's protestations about how weary he was, set off out of the Glomers' settlement. He only intended to put a short distance between them and the encampment, until they were out of sight, before he would transport them back.
Barely had they covered the smallest distance back up the pathway that had led them to the Glomers, before he halted the slow moving giant, taking him by the hand.
“Trust me Beorhtán, and take a firm grip.” And they were back inside the giant's home.
Despite his own magical skills, Beorhtán knew of no other capable of wielding such a powerful spell. Yet here they were standing in the room they had left so many hours before, the map still where he'd left it on the table. Was it possible so much had taken place in so short a time, he mused?
“How did you manage that?” was all he could say.
“I was granted it as a wish. I knew how tired you were so I insisted. They told me that just this once, they would intercede and bring us back.”
Well I am truly grateful. But now I have to rest. There's so much that I want to ask you, but I'm too tired, explanations will have to wait. When I have rested, you must tell me of these beings about whom you have spoken, if our return was their doing, they must be powerful indeed. Meanwhile, if there's anything you require, just summon Quilvar. I'll see you later.” And with that, the giant left the room.
He'd barely got twenty paces down the corridor, before he staggered, clutching his head, as he fought to retain control. Time he knew was running out, he had to lie down; he was so weary. It wasn't the travelling or the events of the past hours that had tired him so, it was something deeper. His whole body ached, and he could feel the beast strong within him. It was the constant battle to control Shegrimoth that had so depleted his strength.
Once Beorhtán had left the room, Adam stood for a moment, his thoughts returning to the hall at the centre of the labyrinth, and the meeting of minds he'd experienced. Vilsagoth had spoken to him, and shown him how he and others like him had breathed life into what had once been a dead planet. Not gods, yet godlike in their endeavours, these creatures of almost infinite power, whose appearance resembled little more than wispy forms of pure energy, now watched and waited to see if their creation should be allowed to survive.
Beorhtán had spoken truthfully, when he'd explained his role in the order of things. If Shegrimoth rose to power, then all would be destroyed; only Adam had the key to prevent such catastrophe. By their decree, they would allow no direct interference, but through others they would lend succour. It rested with the creatures of the world to fulfil their destiny, no matter what the outcome.
They had chosen Adam as their champion for two reasons. First because the Manifex, their token, had sought him out as meeting their needs, but of greater importance, they knew it had to be someone from Adam's world, when they discovered that it was possible for Shegrimoth to bridge the divide between the two worlds, something even they hadn’t foreseen.
Unwitting, and unwilling at the start, now Adam felt committed to fulfilling the role chosen for him. He would do so with all his heart and soul, because they had inspired a love for this world that went beyond price. He knew that he would come to know the peoples of this strange place, and that one day he would feel a part of it.
Shaken from his reverie by the appearance of the elf, Quilvar, he suddenly felt dirty and in need of fresh clothing. Looking down at himself, he saw how dusty and stained his garment had become, hardly surprising considering all that had happened.
“Quilvar, I need a bath and clean linen.”
“As you wish, Master Adam.” For once, the title no longer troubled him.
Bathed, and dressed in clean clothing, Adam was anxious for Beorhtán's return. He'd paced around from room to room, glancing at the books he had come across in a vast library, but nothing held his attention for very long. Finally, his impatience getting the better of him he sought out Quilvar. It took some time to find the elf, who had either not heard, or chosen to ignore, his calling, but had appeared out of thin air as soon as Adam had returned to the great dining room.
“I have to speak with Beorhtán, is he awake yet?”
For a moment, the elf said nothing, his face devoid of expression.
“Well is he?” demanded Adam, his impatience beginning to surface.
“I'm sorry Master, but Lord Beorhtán insisted.”
“Insisted what?” annoyance at not being told what he wanted to hear, lending a sudden harshness to his tone.
The little elf visibly shrank before Adam's unwavering glare as he answered, “It's just that he didn't want you to know straight away.”
“Know what, damn you tell me, what is it he didn't want me to know?” But he already knew. Beorhtán was protecting him.
“He's gone Master. He feared for your life so he has taken himself away from this place. Shegrimoth has become too powerful, he can no longer be certain of controlling the beast. He left this for you.” And he handed Adam a rolled parchment.
Reading the words, Adam struggled to control his emotions, not wanting to believe what they said, yet unable to deny them despite a second reading.
My dear friend Adam, parting like this causes me great sorrow, but I know you will understand when I tell you that Shegrimoth's power has become too strong for me to be sure that I can control him, and I fear for your safety. As I rested, the being you now know to be Vilsagoth visited me, and told me part of what happened in the Glomers' hall. I know you will not fail in your quest, but offer you my wishes for a speedy victory. Only then may I return to Mount Kaldshard, where I hope we will meet again.
Seek out Ichabod, for he has many talents and will aid you in your endeavours. You must first travel to Meriandor and speak with King Randufil, for his family is in danger. I don't know how it will be done, but plans are being prepared for their capture, you must try to warn them. Quilvar will provide anything you may need for the journey, and will accompany you, since I have no need of his companionship now. Take care of him, and of yourself.
Beorhtán.
For several minutes, Adam was unable to speak. He had grown so attached to the giant; his frequently infuriating manner, his strength and his presence; he felt lost without him. Wiping away an errant tear, he turned to where Quilvar waited, surprised to see the same look of loss mirrored on his elfin face.
“We must not fail him, Quilvar. Shegrimoth has to be defeated so that Beorhtán may once more walk these halls and corridors,”
“Yes Master,” was all the little man could say.
“Come, let's prepare, we have a long journey ahead of us, and from the look of things a need for haste.”
Adam welcomed the activity as a diversion to thoughts of his lost friend, and felt sure Quilvar was of similar mind. Although he wanted to travel swiftly, he knew there would be things they would need to have with them, though he doubted they could carry sufficient food for the whole journey.
He was further troubled by thoughts of how they might travel the great distance to far off Meriandor, but Adam felt greatly relieved when Quilvar led him to the stables. Here they found a fine selection of thoroughbred mounts, all fit and eager to be ridden. Saddling two horses, they each rode with a second horse in tow, to enable a change before they reached their first calling point. Adam had packed the map that Beorhtán had left, since it provided them with details of the route they would have to follow.
Since Adam had seen nothing of the lands of this world, he had little idea of what to expect. They planned to travel by day, except across the Ruhlish plains, when night travel was essential to avoid the searing heat. Once across the plains, and without knowing it, their route would almost exactly duplicate, in reverse that proposed by Randufil for his family as they journeyed to Corindell.
Although still sad at Beorhtán's departure, the two set off full of determination, their first destination Corindell, where they would trade the horses for fresh mounts before proceeding on through the Great Marish Swamp and then to Meriandor. Fortunately for Adam, he was no stranger to horse riding; having spent a number of weekends in the saddle, what did trouble him was his clothing.
There were times when he would have traded anything for his old pair of Levi's and Timberland boots in place of the local garments, which allowed his legs to be chafed unmercifully, and although Quilvar had offered to return them before they set out, he had suggested that such attire would look out of place on Falgorin. Seeing the wisdom in the elf’s words and not wishing to draw attention to himself he agreed to retaining what he wore whilst promising himself he would find more suitable attire at the earliest opportunity.
Under a black sky bright with the sparkling jewels of the stars, they made steady progress across the plains, their way lit by Meerah, distant sister of Pallos. As the pale glow of the moon touched the ground with its eerie silver light, it played tricks on the eyes; the shadows cast by odd shaped rocky outcrops taking on threatening forms. Despite this rather unnerving aspect of the vista, Adam was grateful that he couldn't see across the plains, for fear he might catch sight of the figures he remembered so vividly from his dream. In spite of the hour, the heat that radiated from the reddish sand over which they rode filled the chill night air with sufficient warmth to keep them comfortable.
Before each new day, as Pallos began her ascent across the cloudless sky, they found what shelter they could for themselves and the horses, rigging canvas between the rocks to provide shade, where they slept as well as the heat allowed.
Crossing the Ruhlish took several exhausting days, and by the time the perimeter walls of the city of Corindell came into view; both were ready for bathing and fresh clothes. The dust had permeated every fold of their clothing, finding its way inside where it abraded the skin, leaving them itching and sore all over. Whatever variations there were between human and the greenish skins of elves, it made little difference to the way the dust affected it. Quilvar was in as much discomfort as Adam by the time they rode into Corindell.
As they had approached the city, Adam could at last begin to appreciate the differences between this world and his own. Although he had seen illustrations of walled cities, and viewed the remains of several on his travels back home, this was the first time he had witnessed first hand a thriving, live example.
Corindell, in common with most major cities in Caregoron, has four main gates, each with a permanent guard posted, especially during the hours of darkness, when they are doubled as the huge wooden doors to the city are closed. To gain access at night requires passing through one of the smaller Judas gates set into the main doors, too narrow for more than one individual at a time to pass through, keeping the city that much more secure.
At sun up the doors would be open wide, allowing free passage to the many travellers, tradesmen, beggars and multitude of others who sought business or pleasure in the city. The guards posted at the gates had the right to stop any individual they thought might threaten the city or its inhabitants, but in time of peace found little reason to enforce such a law.
Arriving at the south gate, to see that one great door remained closed surprised Quilvar who explained to Adam how both should have been open. The guards, under the command of a Jelvoan warrior, were closely scrutinizing each person before allowing them to enter the city confines. Waiting their place in the queue, it was several minutes before their turn came. Using the time to watch the proceedings, Adam saw that they paid particular heed to the various wagons and carts of the traders, diligently searching as if looking for something specific.
When the companions arrived at the head of the queue, they at first attracted little attention since they obviously had little place to hide whatever it was that the guards were so intent on finding. The fact that Adam travelled in company with an elf caused something of a stir, mainly because the little folk rarely ventured from their island home. After explaining that they intended only to remain overnight to rest themselves and change their horses before travelling on to Meriandor, the guards allowed the two to pass.
Finding stables for their horses, they spent several minutes bargaining with the owner for fresh mounts for the morning finally agreeing in a straight swap for their horses that the stable owner could see were finer than anything he had to offer; then set off in search of an inn he had recommended. As they made their way along the busy thronging streets, it was hard to say which of the two companions attracted more attention. Although the sight of elves was none too common, tall, dark strangers bearing an unmistakable white streak in their hair, it seemed were even more unusual. Stares and gossip abounded as the unlikely pair went on their way.
Arriving at the portal to the inn that rejoiced in the unusual name of The Scarlet Raven and whose sign depicted a gaudy red bird on top of what Adam was convinced was a head stone, the two entered. Adam had to duck to avoid the low beams of its ceiling, whilst Quilvar struggled to see over the high benches and tables that filled the place. Greeted by the landlord, who if he harboured any doubts about the pair, showed no evidence of it, he offered them rooms, a bath and food. Adam faltered when asked to pay the price of the services because he hadn't any money, worse still; he'd never seen what the local currency looked like. It was Quilvar who came to the rescue, by plunging his hand deep into his tunic pocket then tipping two copper coins into the landlord's waiting hand.
“Whew, that was close. How did you come to have those coins?” whispered Adam as they made their way to their rooms.
“I didn't,” smiled the elf as he whispered, “I er...borrowed them from a pile that crowd of card players had in front of them,” gesturing with a slight nod of his head to where a group of men sat.
Adam glanced nervously in their direction, but the players, intent on their game appeared not to have noticed their loss, although they looked to be a cut-throat crowd, and he had no wish to be accused of stealing their money. When he later questioned the elf in the privacy of his room, Adam soon learned that sleight of hand was but one of many skills in which Quilvar excelled. Apparently he had purloined a further two coins, one of which he passed to Adam for future use. Adam dropped it into his pouch, where he heard it chink against the Manifex, but gave the matter no further thought.
Taking a bath in the inn proved further how little Adam knew of the customs and ways of this land. He'd found the bath easily enough, he'd have been blind to miss the great metal tub standing in one corner of the room, but he'd no idea how to fill it, there being a complete absence of plumbing. This surprised him, since he'd already established that although the toilet facilities were somewhat rudimentary, they did exist, much to his relief in both senses of the word.
Having paid for the use of the bath, and needing to get himself clean; he stood pondering the matter, trying to decide whether to risk exposing his ignorance by seeking help. Stripped of his outer garments, he wore nothing but the brief underclothes that he had come to wear since abandoning his own clothing all that time ago back at Kaldshard. Consequently he was quite unprepared for what happened next. Without any knock at the door, three attractive young girls entered his room one after the other, each struggling under the weight of a steaming pitcher of water.
Proceeding as if he didn't even exist, they tipped the contents of the pitchers into the bath, and went out only to return moments later to repeat the process. As soon as the bath was full, two of the girls departed, leaving the third to address an extremely embarrassed Adam.
“Do you wish me to bathe you, sir?” came the request.
Not sure how best to answer, for fear of appearing to break whatever might be the custom, Adam felt flummoxed.
Taking his hesitancy for shyness, which in part it was, the girl came to his rescue.
“No need to be shy, sir. It's my job and I'm used to it. I've seen many a sight bathing the patrons of this inn, some too ugly to recall. But you, sir, have a fine figure and should not want to hide it.”
Flattered and even more embarrassed, Adam found himself caught between offence and prudishness, finally deciding he should risk his own feelings in favour of what was to the girl, clearly, an everyday occurrence. Sinking in to the hot water, as he allowed her to scrub his back, the touch of her hands on the tired muscles in his neck soon relaxed him, his fatigue washing away with the dust of the desert.
Wearing clean clothing, and feeling invigorated after his bath, Adam tapped on the door to Quilvar's room, entering just as the elf finished dressing. There was no servant girl in the room, and Adam wondered if Quilvar had sent her away. There was still much he had to learn, especially regarding the differences in treatment between man and elves.
Apologizing to Quilvar for walking in on him the way he had, he waited whilst the elf pulled on his boots, and then led the way back downstairs to the main room of the hostelry, in search of food and drink. Taking his cue from the actions of others in the room, Adam motioned Quilvar to a table to one side where they sat waiting for one of the serving girls to approach.
Looking around the room, there appeared to be little or no choice in what could be had to drink, so it was no great surprise when large foaming tankards of the brew were placed before them without request. The food that was on offer was of similar limitation, so they opted for a stew, which when it arrived was at least hot, and plentiful. The meat although unidentified, was tender and pleasant tasting, as were the vegetables, which Adam thought could well have been potatoes, a variety of bean, and possibly even carrots.
They were careful to avoid drinking too much of the local beer; for that was what it most closely resembled, not wishing to succumb to the intoxication from which several of the room's occupants, clearly suffered. Gradually as the afternoon turned to evening and the inn filled with noisy drinkers, the atmosphere in the room became unpleasant. Beer fumes mingling with the cloying scented smoke of the pipes that several of the men now smoked filled the room making it hard to breathe.
With there still being some hours before darkness, and wanting to see more of the city, Adam decided to get some fresh air and go sightseeing. Quilvar, feeling decidedly out of place away from the familiar surroundings of Kaldshard, insisted on retiring to his room, leaving Adam to explore alone. Suspecting the elf was missing the giant more than he worried about where they were, since by his own words he and Beorhtán had travelled far and wide, Adam decided not to pursue the point, bidding Quilvar good night.
Leaving the hot, smoky atmosphere of the inn, the chill in the air struck Adam the moment he got outside; making him grateful for the leather jerkin he now wore. As he set off, he glanced at the sign above the door, his attention again drawn to the unusual design. Did they really have red ravens in this world? he wondered.
Although dusk was beginning to fall, there were still quite a number of people about, although they all appeared to be moving with determination, and not simply wandering around. A grand building topped a gently sloping hill away in the distance, and Adam could see that it had a commanding view over the city below. Dotted around this edifice, which he felt wasn't sufficiently grandiose to warrant the title of castle, yet was too large to be simply a house, were several smaller dwellings, all built from the same grey stone.
As he walked, he could see that many of the buildings that faced on to the road on which he travelled, were of similar construction, although there were several built from wood, many of these in poor repair. Shops of all varieties, ale houses, and simple homes stood cheek by jowl, there appearing to be no separation between commerce and private dwelling. The road surface, heavily rutted from countless wagon and cartwheels, was nothing more than compact earth, full of potholes and rough stones where attempts had been made to carry out repairs.
Thankful that the day was dry, Adam wondered what sort of quagmire the road would turn into come the rain, though a shower would at least settle the dust that the scurrying passers-by churned up. Several times, vendors approached Adam, eager to sell their wares, everything from sticky sweetmeats to brightly coloured songbirds in small wooden cages. As each approached, they would begin their sales patter, but all seemed to falter once they set eyes on the streak in Adam's hair, and some even veered away before they got to him.
Although he politely refused their entreaties, he got the feeling they all acquiesced too easily, as though avoiding even the mild offence he was sure they would normally incur as part of the pursuit of their trade. Undecided whether the streak was an asset or not, he tried to recall what Beorhtán had said about it. Something to do with it being the symbol of light and a legend about a man who had the mark saving the lands in times of trouble. He hadn't given the matter much thought at the time, but coming face to face with the reaction it got from people, concerned him. Surely there had to be others with such a mark; it wasn't possible that only he bore this characteristic.
Continuing on his way, he was suddenly aware that there were far fewer people on the streets, as the sky darkened towards night. Lamps now glowed at the doorways to the alehouses that he passed, although he noted rather belatedly that there were no streetlights. Not sure what to expect in such a place after dark, he decided to retrace his steps, back to the inn. He had no wish to be robbed of the only coin in his possession, or more importantly of the Manifex.
As he re-entered the Red Raven, there was a great commotion going on, with the innkeeper shouting and gesticulating wildly at two burly, uniformed men, one of whom, had Quilvar firmly grasped about the waist. As he hurried across the room, the innkeeper suddenly spotted Adam and yelled.
“There he is, that's him, just like I told you, the one with the streak in his hair.”
With there being little chance of making his escape from the crowded confines of the room, and reluctant to leave the elf, Adam decided to stand his ground. He reasoned that he had nothing to fear, unless of course they had arrested Quilvar for stealing the coins. Sticking to the old adage that attack is the best form of defence, Adam waded in with both feet, albeit only verbally.
“You!” he shouted to the man holding Quilvar, “yes you,” having got the man's attention. “Unhand my friend, how dare you treat him in this manner, let him go this instant.”
Dropping the poor unfortunate elf, so that he fell to the floor where he landed like a sack, winding himself in the process, the guard, for that was what Adam guessed him to be, snapped to attention, as did his partner.
Taken aback by such total obedience, Adam helped Quilvar to his feet, using the moment to decide his next action. He needn't have worried, as it was the guards who supplied the next move. Straightening up, the elf brushed the sawdust from the floor off his clothing, as the first guard addressed Adam.
“My lord, I beg your forgiveness, but it was necessary to restrain the elf as he insisted on trying to flee. We mean neither of you any harm, but had to be sure that we didn't miss you.”
“That's all very well,” snapped Adam, “but it's not me you should be apologizing to, I suggest you make your peace with my companion, Quilvar.”
“Sire, a thousand pardons.”
“Humph, you might at least attempt to sound as though you mean it,” growled Quilvar, peevishly.
“Now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, perhaps you would care to tell us what this is all about,” demanded Adam.
“Not here, my lord. We wish you to accompany us to the city hall, where Antor, head of this province awaits you.”
“And why would this Antor want to see us?” asked the elf.
“I'm sorry Sire, but there are things I may not discuss openly. If you will only accompany us, we have a carriage waiting outside and can be there in a short time.”
Knowing no reason for searching out the two of them after such a short time in the city, the request bothered Adam, but he could find no reasonable excuse to refuse.
“How did you know we were here?” he asked.
“We didn't, you were seen entering the city, and one of the guards recalled you asking directions to the stables. We asked around and tracked you from the stables to this inn.”
“Then what makes us so important?”
“You were also heard to say that you intend travelling to Meriandor in the morning, it's for this reason that Antor wants to see you, that and the er...,” a look of acute embarrassment crossing his face. “The er...um...”
“Well spit it out man, the what?”
“The sign my lord.”
“The sign?” and then before he could make a complete fool of himself mentioning the sign hanging beyond the door to the inn, he realized the man referred to his hair.
Not the bloody streak again, he thought.
“Oh, yes the sign.” Whilst he had barely begun to understand how seriously the peoples of this land treated legends, he had at least realized just how effectively his hair branded him.
“Very well, we'll go with you.”
