The Libarary at the Temple of Illuminatus was only staffed with two clerks during evening hours. Most at Lumi's temple prefered their learning during daylight hours. Still, a few priests and students were scattered about. And in one corner was a cluster of white-robed priests that seemed quite active.
Upon leaving the study group alcove, Marek found himself in the midst of a section of marble-topped tables. There were glass cases over the table-tops covering what looked to be a variety of displays: some ancient texts and scrolls, some clay tablets with curious markings, several crafted silver trays decorated with painted scenes of ceremonies of Light...
There was a wodden desk nearby with an official-looking clerk scribbling notes into a ledger.
There was also the hint of a fluttering movement within one of the glass cases.
The Library at Night
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Guest
Without a preset plan and no obligations, Marek randomly browsed through the displays. The clay tablets held his interest for a while as he tried to imagine what the odd markings could mean. He was too tired for any serious guesses though, and soon cheated by looking for a text or marker near the case. The silver trays were a surprise; he had not expected this kind of artwork in the Library. A few more burns were happily wasted away as Marek unhurriedly admired the craftsmanship.
Straightening from his study of the silver, Marek thought of approaching the clerk when movement in one of the cases caught his eye. Turning his gaze to the class case in question, the young man took a few strides over and looked down at the display, somewhat expecting to find a bug trapped in the case.
Straightening from his study of the silver, Marek thought of approaching the clerk when movement in one of the cases caught his eye. Turning his gaze to the class case in question, the young man took a few strides over and looked down at the display, somewhat expecting to find a bug trapped in the case.
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The main content of this case appeared to be missing - unless it was the small rolled-up scroll that appeared to be thrown haphazardly into one corner of the large case.
At first it appeared to be a bug, a rather large moth perhaps. All that could be seen was the blur of a pair of large fuzzy-looking wings beating against the thick glass. The sound was similar to pages being turned in a book: but in this instance it would be a book caught in a heavy wind, such was the fury of the sound.
At the novice paladin's approach, the fluttering stopped.
"It's aboot time! I been tryin' to get you younguns' attention all bloody day."
The voice seemed to come from a strange little creature. It was about as tall as Marek's palm was wide. It appeared to be a little tiny old man with wings. Its skin was a sort of off-white. It wore a tunic and cap made of what looked like crumpled parchment. The wings were moth-like and the color of old parchment.
At first it appeared to be a bug, a rather large moth perhaps. All that could be seen was the blur of a pair of large fuzzy-looking wings beating against the thick glass. The sound was similar to pages being turned in a book: but in this instance it would be a book caught in a heavy wind, such was the fury of the sound.
At the novice paladin's approach, the fluttering stopped.
"It's aboot time! I been tryin' to get you younguns' attention all bloody day."
The voice seemed to come from a strange little creature. It was about as tall as Marek's palm was wide. It appeared to be a little tiny old man with wings. Its skin was a sort of off-white. It wore a tunic and cap made of what looked like crumpled parchment. The wings were moth-like and the color of old parchment.
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Marek walked closer to the case, only to see his suspicions confirmed. It was a trapped bug alright. The young man had already began turning away to warn the clerk when the moth began to berate him.
"It's aboot time! I been tryin' to get you younguns' attention all bloody day."
“My apologies …â€, the young novice began courteously for the few flickers his brain refused to register the several idiosyncrasies of this rather odd bug. The most prominent detail being that it talked, and rather colourful too. Marek stared at the furious flutter of wings and passed a weary hand over his eyes. No, it was still there. He leaned a palm on the marble table and bowed over the case for a closer look.
Aha!
Not a moth, but a .. something else. A tiny old man, dressed in parchment? That last detail was worrying, and Marek could only hope this being had not feasted upon whatever had been in the display case.
What is this? No, -who- is this? And how’d he get in there? He isn’t wearing the display, I hope. …Hmm, maybe there’s a plague with says what’s supposed to be here?
Marek cast a discrete look around in hopes of finding any explanation of what he should have found inside. “I am here now…â€, he offered as he checked over the case. “What can I do for you, Sir?†He winced mentally, hearing himself ask for the obvious.
Right… Good question. What would you want when trapped in a display case? Brilliant, Marek. Brilliant.
Hastily he looked the case over for a neat way to open it before the tiny creature could tell him –at length- what he thought of Marek’s polite, but thoughtless question. Not that he was normally this trusting, but Marek assumed the creature’s predicament had been an accident. He would certainly be very disappointed in the Order of Illuminatus if they kept life creatures on display. That did not fit in his definition of “the wellbeing of allâ€.
"It's aboot time! I been tryin' to get you younguns' attention all bloody day."
“My apologies …â€, the young novice began courteously for the few flickers his brain refused to register the several idiosyncrasies of this rather odd bug. The most prominent detail being that it talked, and rather colourful too. Marek stared at the furious flutter of wings and passed a weary hand over his eyes. No, it was still there. He leaned a palm on the marble table and bowed over the case for a closer look.
Aha!
Not a moth, but a .. something else. A tiny old man, dressed in parchment? That last detail was worrying, and Marek could only hope this being had not feasted upon whatever had been in the display case.
What is this? No, -who- is this? And how’d he get in there? He isn’t wearing the display, I hope. …Hmm, maybe there’s a plague with says what’s supposed to be here?
Marek cast a discrete look around in hopes of finding any explanation of what he should have found inside. “I am here now…â€, he offered as he checked over the case. “What can I do for you, Sir?†He winced mentally, hearing himself ask for the obvious.
Right… Good question. What would you want when trapped in a display case? Brilliant, Marek. Brilliant.
Hastily he looked the case over for a neat way to open it before the tiny creature could tell him –at length- what he thought of Marek’s polite, but thoughtless question. Not that he was normally this trusting, but Marek assumed the creature’s predicament had been an accident. He would certainly be very disappointed in the Order of Illuminatus if they kept life creatures on display. That did not fit in his definition of “the wellbeing of allâ€.
Last edited by Guest on Wed Dec 15, 2004 9:00 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Inexplicably, there were no plaques or labels explaining the contents of each case. There was only a small catalog number etched into the top of the glass. This particular display was "L-3".
The edges of the glass seemed to be fused together at the corners. Where it met the tabletop, there appeared to be grooves into which it fit. There was no handle, no hinge, no apparent means of opening the case. As Marek examined the case, the little man's ranting grew in volume. Of course, that still made it about the volume of a single cricket's chirping.
"What can you do for me... Go and get the Archivist ye bloody novice. He's the only one with a key! And ye might want to hurry as the air is getting a bit scarce in here. Where is that blighted fool Gamble anyway? Doesn't he know when his collection's bein' tampered with?"
The edges of the glass seemed to be fused together at the corners. Where it met the tabletop, there appeared to be grooves into which it fit. There was no handle, no hinge, no apparent means of opening the case. As Marek examined the case, the little man's ranting grew in volume. Of course, that still made it about the volume of a single cricket's chirping.
"What can you do for me... Go and get the Archivist ye bloody novice. He's the only one with a key! And ye might want to hurry as the air is getting a bit scarce in here. Where is that blighted fool Gamble anyway? Doesn't he know when his collection's bein' tampered with?"
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The only one with a key? Then .. how? Marek shot a sharp look at the tiny man but the ranting seemed in earnest. When the little fellow mentioned lack of air, Marek shoved his last doubts aside. “I’ll be back.†He promised.
Where to find Gamble? At this hour, most likely sound asleep in his bed. But where was his room? The tiny old man did not seem to know the Archivist’s whereabouts and so Marek coursed straight for the clerk behind the wooden desk. “Excuse me, Sir. The Archivist. Father Gamble? Can you tell me where I can find him? It’s urgent.†He didn’t bother hiding the urgency from his voice. If emanating the right amount of distress would convince the clerk to provide him with the necessary directions in a hurry, so much the better.
How in the name of Light did he get in there? No one heard him all day? How is that possible?! Well... maybe not that strange, I only noticed because it was so quiet. If only Gamble is a night person ... if only I can find him!
Marek cut a last worried glance to L-3 before turning back to the clerk with a hopeful look. “Please, Sir? I need to find him in a hurry.â€
Where to find Gamble? At this hour, most likely sound asleep in his bed. But where was his room? The tiny old man did not seem to know the Archivist’s whereabouts and so Marek coursed straight for the clerk behind the wooden desk. “Excuse me, Sir. The Archivist. Father Gamble? Can you tell me where I can find him? It’s urgent.†He didn’t bother hiding the urgency from his voice. If emanating the right amount of distress would convince the clerk to provide him with the necessary directions in a hurry, so much the better.
How in the name of Light did he get in there? No one heard him all day? How is that possible?! Well... maybe not that strange, I only noticed because it was so quiet. If only Gamble is a night person ... if only I can find him!
Marek cut a last worried glance to L-3 before turning back to the clerk with a hopeful look. “Please, Sir? I need to find him in a hurry.â€
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The clerk directed Marek to the group of robed figures carrying out an experiment over in one corner of the great library.
There were about five or six elderly priests sitting about complaining about what a mess the library was in and who could have released such a curse. Some mumbled something about blasted Aurelian presences. However the tall young man in white robes, who was wearing what appeared to be woven cloth shoes, at the front of the group merely smiled and said, "It matter not what the source. We must first identify the parameters of our little problem. Only then can we set to work counteracting our recent visitors' little joke."
He placed a stack of books on one of the shelves. The books shimmered for a flicker. He then picked up the books.
"See they've been exchanged for other books we've re-shelved recently. So the magic does not take away. And apparently it has an affect immediately upon a book's being shelved rather than a randomly timed activation where it switches books already shelved..."
His voice trailed off as he noticed a rather harried-looking newcomer.
"Yes, son. What is the matter? We know the books are out of order and are working to fix that."
There were about five or six elderly priests sitting about complaining about what a mess the library was in and who could have released such a curse. Some mumbled something about blasted Aurelian presences. However the tall young man in white robes, who was wearing what appeared to be woven cloth shoes, at the front of the group merely smiled and said, "It matter not what the source. We must first identify the parameters of our little problem. Only then can we set to work counteracting our recent visitors' little joke."
He placed a stack of books on one of the shelves. The books shimmered for a flicker. He then picked up the books.
"See they've been exchanged for other books we've re-shelved recently. So the magic does not take away. And apparently it has an affect immediately upon a book's being shelved rather than a randomly timed activation where it switches books already shelved..."
His voice trailed off as he noticed a rather harried-looking newcomer.
"Yes, son. What is the matter? We know the books are out of order and are working to fix that."
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Marek could hardly believe his luck. Stammering a “Thank you, Sir†to the clerk, he hurried to the group of Priests. “Father Gamble? I apologize for interrupting, but there’s a tiny problem suffocating in L-3.†He nodded over to the display case which appeared rather common from this distance. “He says you are the only one with the key, Sir.â€
Overhearing the Priests’ debate, the young novice couldn’t help but wonder if the sudden disarray of the books and the appearance of Mr Tiny Parchment in the display case were somehow related. Yet, whether the small man was another victim or an instigator, Marek had no way of knowing. Should he find out first? There was no real foundation for suspicion. The small man’s entrapment seemed odd, but was that enough cause to ask questions first and release later? The idea didn’t sit well with Marek. Ah well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. First he had to convince Father Gamble to either take a look at the case, or lend him the key.
Overhearing the Priests’ debate, the young novice couldn’t help but wonder if the sudden disarray of the books and the appearance of Mr Tiny Parchment in the display case were somehow related. Yet, whether the small man was another victim or an instigator, Marek had no way of knowing. Should he find out first? There was no real foundation for suspicion. The small man’s entrapment seemed odd, but was that enough cause to ask questions first and release later? The idea didn’t sit well with Marek. Ah well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. First he had to convince Father Gamble to either take a look at the case, or lend him the key.
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"Suffocating? L-3? He? Pardon me, brothers."
Gamble strode directly over to the case in question.
"Ah, Master Tat! Whatever are you doing in one of my secure relic displays, hmm?"
The priest began rummaging in a rather large belt pouch for something while the irate little creature answered his greeting.
"Get me oot a here, ya smilin' fool. It's no laughin' matter imprisonin' yer labor like this."
"Yes," Gamble chuckled as he replied, "We'll have ye oot in a flicker."
He took a small crystal or glass disc from his pouch and placed it upon the glass. A few incantations later, the top pane of the case became immaterial.
The tiny man flew up and out of the case in a hurry. When his wings were working, it was very difficult to make out anything more than a moth-like blur.
"I dinna know what ye've done to go an piss off the Aurelian so, but ye'd better undo it or us book fae'll be havin' nothin more ta do with this place."
He then disappeared in a puff of dust.
Gamble rubbed his chin for a flicker. Then he picked up the small scroll that was in the case. He looked over the scroll's contents.
"Yes... well... that would be area 14G, row M position around three hundred or so... I think."
Then he seemed to notice Marek anew.
"Well, young man, I'd say he owed you a favor. Whether you'll catch him to collect such is another thing entirely. In the meantime I wonder if you won't help me out for a bit?"
Gamble strode directly over to the case in question.
"Ah, Master Tat! Whatever are you doing in one of my secure relic displays, hmm?"
The priest began rummaging in a rather large belt pouch for something while the irate little creature answered his greeting.
"Get me oot a here, ya smilin' fool. It's no laughin' matter imprisonin' yer labor like this."
"Yes," Gamble chuckled as he replied, "We'll have ye oot in a flicker."
He took a small crystal or glass disc from his pouch and placed it upon the glass. A few incantations later, the top pane of the case became immaterial.
The tiny man flew up and out of the case in a hurry. When his wings were working, it was very difficult to make out anything more than a moth-like blur.
"I dinna know what ye've done to go an piss off the Aurelian so, but ye'd better undo it or us book fae'll be havin' nothin more ta do with this place."
He then disappeared in a puff of dust.
Gamble rubbed his chin for a flicker. Then he picked up the small scroll that was in the case. He looked over the scroll's contents.
"Yes... well... that would be area 14G, row M position around three hundred or so... I think."
Then he seemed to notice Marek anew.
"Well, young man, I'd say he owed you a favor. Whether you'll catch him to collect such is another thing entirely. In the meantime I wonder if you won't help me out for a bit?"
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Fortunately Gamble immediately understood the need for haste. Marek’s message might not have been the most clear, at least it had gotten the priest’s attention quickly. The novice bowed his head to the remaining priests and hurried after the Archivist.
It was a relief to hear the angry rants still coming from the case. Struggling to wipe an amused grin from his face, Marek listened how Gamble and Tat exchanged greetings. Still, this was the third time he heard about Aurelians having made an impact on the Temple Complex, and he made a firm mental note to find out more about the Order of Aurelius later.
He shook his head at Gamble’s suggestion of a favour owed. “It’s alright, Sir. I am just glad I was there and heard him. Do you think he got swapped with the contents of the case by landing on a shelf?â€
“I’d be honoured to help in any way I can, Father.†As he replied to the Priest, Marek recalled his earlier lessons in meditation from Damrod and Zinia. Without them, he would have needed sleep long ago. Looking back, Marek could almost see the threads that had led to his being here in time to help Master Tat. Yes, Zinia had been right, he truly had been favored by their Lord.
It was a relief to hear the angry rants still coming from the case. Struggling to wipe an amused grin from his face, Marek listened how Gamble and Tat exchanged greetings. Still, this was the third time he heard about Aurelians having made an impact on the Temple Complex, and he made a firm mental note to find out more about the Order of Aurelius later.
He shook his head at Gamble’s suggestion of a favour owed. “It’s alright, Sir. I am just glad I was there and heard him. Do you think he got swapped with the contents of the case by landing on a shelf?â€
“I’d be honoured to help in any way I can, Father.†As he replied to the Priest, Marek recalled his earlier lessons in meditation from Damrod and Zinia. Without them, he would have needed sleep long ago. Looking back, Marek could almost see the threads that had led to his being here in time to help Master Tat. Yes, Zinia had been right, he truly had been favored by their Lord.
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“I have to return to that gaggle of alarmists and reassure them before they get it in their heads to do something foolish. I was wondering if you might be so kind as to help me confirm a theory. This case here is supposed tocontain a set of wooden carvings. If I’m right, they have been transposed with the scroll that Tat was returning to the stacks. Area 14G, row M should be just over there,†Father Gamble indicated a section of cabinets off to one side of the library, “Check the seventh cabinet, the third or forth section of shelves near the bottom. Be careful not to place anything on any of the shelves. If you find the carvings, scoop them up and bring them to me.â€
He then returned to the group of elderly priests who had become quite loud in his absence.
He then returned to the group of elderly priests who had become quite loud in his absence.
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Marek looked from Priest to the cabinets and back, offering Gamble a quick nod. "Of course, Sir." Although he had expected at task like this, he was a bit surprised that Gamble had not taken the few steps towards the Cabinet to see for himself. A second look to the group of Priests told him why. Faintly disappointed at the loud display, Marek felt a sudden urge of sympathy for the Archivist and wasting no further time, he strolled over to the Cabinets.
The swapping of books posed an interesting problem. Gamble appeared to have reached the same conclusion as Marek had after overhearing the Priests: the shelves obviously sought to swap whatever was placed upon them. But whether this swapping was random or executed according to a set pattern, Marek did not yet know. Considering an Aurelian was suspected to be responsible, he had a rising suspicion it might be the latter. Perhaps a riddle of sorts?
Although he did not know much about magick, Marek felt that perhaps the one responsible might not have had enough time to set a riddle in place. Still, randomly swapping books seemed a tad too childish for the expense of power. And why would an Aurelian tamper with books, making them unaccessible, unless it was to make those who worked with them –think-? Questions, questions and as it seemed, no answers yet.
Collecting questions at every turn, the novice knelt in front of the cabinet and started glossing over the shelves in the section Gamble mentioned. He took special care not to touch anything until he found what he was looking for.
The swapping of books posed an interesting problem. Gamble appeared to have reached the same conclusion as Marek had after overhearing the Priests: the shelves obviously sought to swap whatever was placed upon them. But whether this swapping was random or executed according to a set pattern, Marek did not yet know. Considering an Aurelian was suspected to be responsible, he had a rising suspicion it might be the latter. Perhaps a riddle of sorts?
Although he did not know much about magick, Marek felt that perhaps the one responsible might not have had enough time to set a riddle in place. Still, randomly swapping books seemed a tad too childish for the expense of power. And why would an Aurelian tamper with books, making them unaccessible, unless it was to make those who worked with them –think-? Questions, questions and as it seemed, no answers yet.
Collecting questions at every turn, the novice knelt in front of the cabinet and started glossing over the shelves in the section Gamble mentioned. He took special care not to touch anything until he found what he was looking for.
Last edited by Guest on Thu Dec 23, 2004 2:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Marek made his way over to the section of shelves that Father Gamble had instructed. The bottom two shelves seemed a mess. Small and large scrolls - some tied with ribbon or string, some wound in wire, some sealed with wax - were strewn about the cabinet and several had fallen to the floor. From the titles of nearby books, this section seemed to contain books on diplomacy and warfare.
In place of the fallen scrolls were two carved wooden plaques. Marek recognized the wood as a special species said to grow only in Taquar. It stood out for it's unique whorls of black and brown and amber as a substance his father had once said was impossible to carve or sculpt unless one knew the secrets of the far adhiel kingdom. The plaques seemed designed to fit together into a larger shape. Both were carved with unfamiliar symbols. One bore images of plants and vines and scenery of rolling hills. The other showed craggier rocky landscapes, more mountainous and the scenes were of hunting and sailing.
In place of the fallen scrolls were two carved wooden plaques. Marek recognized the wood as a special species said to grow only in Taquar. It stood out for it's unique whorls of black and brown and amber as a substance his father had once said was impossible to carve or sculpt unless one knew the secrets of the far adhiel kingdom. The plaques seemed designed to fit together into a larger shape. Both were carved with unfamiliar symbols. One bore images of plants and vines and scenery of rolling hills. The other showed craggier rocky landscapes, more mountainous and the scenes were of hunting and sailing.
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Marek had little trouble locating the wooden panels and took them from the shelves. Each was placed on the ground until he could push them together and form a larger picture. Exploring finger tips hovered over the carvings as he trailed their image. When he realized what he was looking at, his breath caught and for several burns Marek was caught in awestruck admiration, held like a fly in a web of incredible craftsmanship woven by the creator of these Taquar plaques. “I wonder who made these…†He murmured, reverence vibrating in his voice. “Oh father, if only you could see this.â€
The young man smiled as he imagined the next best thing, telling his father of these carvings when he returned to the Citadel. Of all the stories he’d have to tell, this would be high on the list of what his father would enjoy hearing. It was strange to realize he would not be home tonight. This time ther’d be no late night stay in the Tavern to share his stories with his friends, nor would he see his family any time soon. In the late night quiet of the Library the Citadel seemed a distant, unreal place.
Marek straightened and reluctantly gathered the plaques from the ground, holding them back to back to preserve the carvings. At an afterthought he glanced to the assorted scrolls and books. He clutched the plaques a little tighter protectively as he glossed over the titles. Interesting. This was a section he definitely needed to explore. But not now, Father Gamble was waiting for his plaques and he had been wasting time already. Besides, he had a training from the depths of Gul to look forward to first thing morning tide after services. No, better to hurry now..
Crossing to where Gamble stood with the other priests, Marek spoke up to alert the Archivist to his presence. “Father Gamble? Here are the plaques you requested. They were right where you said they would be.†Excitedly, he continued, holding the carvings with tender care. “I’ve heard of these, but have never seen them. Fortunately they weren’t damaged in the swap.. As far as I can tell. What has caused this, Sir? Do you think the items return to their place when swapped twice with the same?â€
The young man smiled as he imagined the next best thing, telling his father of these carvings when he returned to the Citadel. Of all the stories he’d have to tell, this would be high on the list of what his father would enjoy hearing. It was strange to realize he would not be home tonight. This time ther’d be no late night stay in the Tavern to share his stories with his friends, nor would he see his family any time soon. In the late night quiet of the Library the Citadel seemed a distant, unreal place.
Marek straightened and reluctantly gathered the plaques from the ground, holding them back to back to preserve the carvings. At an afterthought he glanced to the assorted scrolls and books. He clutched the plaques a little tighter protectively as he glossed over the titles. Interesting. This was a section he definitely needed to explore. But not now, Father Gamble was waiting for his plaques and he had been wasting time already. Besides, he had a training from the depths of Gul to look forward to first thing morning tide after services. No, better to hurry now..
Crossing to where Gamble stood with the other priests, Marek spoke up to alert the Archivist to his presence. “Father Gamble? Here are the plaques you requested. They were right where you said they would be.†Excitedly, he continued, holding the carvings with tender care. “I’ve heard of these, but have never seen them. Fortunately they weren’t damaged in the swap.. As far as I can tell. What has caused this, Sir? Do you think the items return to their place when swapped twice with the same?â€
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The older priests had surrounded Gamble and were pelting him both with questions and threats. Apparently all were involved with research projects that had been effectively crippled by whatever curse had gripped the library.
Marek was able to make his way to the front and catch Gamble's attention.
"Ah, good. Good work, young fellow."
He beckoned to one of the priests, "Paladin Messal? If you'd please take the carvings from my assistant there. Yes, I know I told you they were too important to be used in your preliminary research, but under the circumstances... yes, I thought you'd agree."
A rather severe looking man, tall and battlescarred came forward and collected the wooden plaques before exiting the library in a huff. The other priests paused for a flicker to catch their breath. Gamble took the silence as a cue to act.
"Now, brothers, you see that we are making some progress; however, my assistant and I will need to conduct some more studies down in the Vault. I should have this all sorted out byn morning. Good eve."
He brushed past the group, heading for the door, then paused for a flicker to look for Marek.
"Do come along... assistant," he said with a wink.
Once the pair had left the library and were safely out in the hall Father Gamble turned to regard Marek.
"I'm sorry young man, but i thought it best not to leave you to the wolves - so to speak. They would have taken advantage of your rank and had you running about searching for tomes that were likely quite impossible to find in the library's current state."
"You are free to go if you wish, I'm sure it is getting late. Or if you'd like you may accompany me to the Vault. Most novices don;t get to see the inside up close, but I think you deserve a little reward."
Gamble then proceeded into the maze of halls that made up the inner temple.
Marek was able to make his way to the front and catch Gamble's attention.
"Ah, good. Good work, young fellow."
He beckoned to one of the priests, "Paladin Messal? If you'd please take the carvings from my assistant there. Yes, I know I told you they were too important to be used in your preliminary research, but under the circumstances... yes, I thought you'd agree."
A rather severe looking man, tall and battlescarred came forward and collected the wooden plaques before exiting the library in a huff. The other priests paused for a flicker to catch their breath. Gamble took the silence as a cue to act.
"Now, brothers, you see that we are making some progress; however, my assistant and I will need to conduct some more studies down in the Vault. I should have this all sorted out byn morning. Good eve."
He brushed past the group, heading for the door, then paused for a flicker to look for Marek.
"Do come along... assistant," he said with a wink.
Once the pair had left the library and were safely out in the hall Father Gamble turned to regard Marek.
"I'm sorry young man, but i thought it best not to leave you to the wolves - so to speak. They would have taken advantage of your rank and had you running about searching for tomes that were likely quite impossible to find in the library's current state."
"You are free to go if you wish, I'm sure it is getting late. Or if you'd like you may accompany me to the Vault. Most novices don;t get to see the inside up close, but I think you deserve a little reward."
Gamble then proceeded into the maze of halls that made up the inner temple.
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Marek handed over the plaques when the Paladin reached for them, looking the other man over with unveiled curiosity. The paladin’s temper seemed to match Marek’s when he was in one of his sour spells. It was an oddly encouraging revelation: his temper would not mean he’d be a sure failure at his chosen path. Not that he shouldn’t work on his temper problem, but…still…
He almost missed Gamble’s sudden, tactical retreat and a flicker passed as Marek keenly felt the group’s attention turning to the Archivist’s “assistantâ€. Trying to look all composed and natural as if he’d been waiting for Gamble’s summons, Marek hastened after the Priest.
His laugh echoed through the corridors, and he quickly sought to subdue his mirth. “I don’t mind at all. It was quite the sudden promotion.†He jested, striding alongside Gamble. “Finding my bed would be the wise thing to do, but one can’t be wise all the time. I’ll pay the price in the morning and go with you to see the Vault, Sir.â€
The novice cast a sidelong glance at the older Priest. “I’m Marek Vellion.†He offered, introducing himself at last. A burn of silence lasted wherein only their footsteps echoed through the night before Marek’s natural curiosity compelled another question. “Why are we going to the Vault at this hour, Sir?â€
He almost missed Gamble’s sudden, tactical retreat and a flicker passed as Marek keenly felt the group’s attention turning to the Archivist’s “assistantâ€. Trying to look all composed and natural as if he’d been waiting for Gamble’s summons, Marek hastened after the Priest.
His laugh echoed through the corridors, and he quickly sought to subdue his mirth. “I don’t mind at all. It was quite the sudden promotion.†He jested, striding alongside Gamble. “Finding my bed would be the wise thing to do, but one can’t be wise all the time. I’ll pay the price in the morning and go with you to see the Vault, Sir.â€
The novice cast a sidelong glance at the older Priest. “I’m Marek Vellion.†He offered, introducing himself at last. A burn of silence lasted wherein only their footsteps echoed through the night before Marek’s natural curiosity compelled another question. “Why are we going to the Vault at this hour, Sir?â€
-
Guest
Gamble hushed the novice, not wanting to draw the attention of any of the priests passing by.
"Best not to make too much noise in the temple. Folk are jumpy enough as it is."
He led Marek along a complicated path through the inner halls of the temple. Down stairs, and into a mazelike series of corridors. There were guards at every portal, but they let Father Gamble and his companion pass without challenge.
"A wise man knows when to grasp a rare opportunity. Come along, Marek."
Eventually they came to a huge steel-plated door. It swung open to reveal a library, museum and laboratory all rolled into one. There were shelves and pedestals and locked cabinets filled with books and weapons and carvings and many other strange things. At the center was a long marble table. A large coin of some sort was set on a wooden tray next to three or four open books. There were writing inks and quills as well as a long length of parchment that was partially printed with writing.
"Welcome to my workshop... also called the Antiquities Vault or simply the Vault. Here I study the mysterious tomes and items brought back from our various journeying paladins, unearthed at ancient sites or discovered amongst modern settings, even a few things newly invented here at my workbench. Do have a seat."
There were a few wooden stools set about the table, and Gamble took one for himself before turning to regard the curious novice.
"So you know something of the carvings representing The Abbey and the Tower?"
"Best not to make too much noise in the temple. Folk are jumpy enough as it is."
He led Marek along a complicated path through the inner halls of the temple. Down stairs, and into a mazelike series of corridors. There were guards at every portal, but they let Father Gamble and his companion pass without challenge.
"A wise man knows when to grasp a rare opportunity. Come along, Marek."
Eventually they came to a huge steel-plated door. It swung open to reveal a library, museum and laboratory all rolled into one. There were shelves and pedestals and locked cabinets filled with books and weapons and carvings and many other strange things. At the center was a long marble table. A large coin of some sort was set on a wooden tray next to three or four open books. There were writing inks and quills as well as a long length of parchment that was partially printed with writing.
"Welcome to my workshop... also called the Antiquities Vault or simply the Vault. Here I study the mysterious tomes and items brought back from our various journeying paladins, unearthed at ancient sites or discovered amongst modern settings, even a few things newly invented here at my workbench. Do have a seat."
There were a few wooden stools set about the table, and Gamble took one for himself before turning to regard the curious novice.
"So you know something of the carvings representing The Abbey and the Tower?"
-
Guest
Marek’s first stop was inevitably the strange coin and the open books surrounding it. Curiously, he let his gaze rove over the texts and glanced back at the coin that seemed to have been subject of Gamble’s study. It was an opportunity that wasn’t likely to come again any time soon and so the young novice gave his curiosity free reign. Looking over the books, items and writings with great interest, Marek’s only regret was that he couldn’t give them the time they deserved. He lacked time for more than a glance at each.
He turned to the table at Gamble’s invitation and after the priest had seated himself, Marek followed suit. He leaned back, stretched his legs under the long marble table and templed his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face. “The Abbey and the Tower? You mean the Taquar plaques?†Marek’s ponytail swished as he shook his head regretfully. “I am not familiar with this particular set, Sir. With the little I know, I can only tell they are exceptional. For the knowledge and craftsmanship required for this kind of wood and also for the amount of detail on the plaques.â€
He sat up straight and leaned forward, intense attention fixed upon the Archivist. “Can you tell me more about them, Sir? What are the Abbey and the Tower? Are they in Taquar?†The young man’s dark eyes brightened with curiosity as he pelted Gamble with questions. “Do you know when they were made, and who the artist is?†His father would want to know that bit too!
Marek fervently hoped he had not chased Gamble away with all his questions. And what questions they were. Here he was, finally finding himself in company of someone who undoubtedly knew more about the darkness hovering over the Isle and what did he do? He asked questions about carvings! The young man took a deep breath, forcing himself to back off and recline in his seat.
It was not that he was not bothered by the troubles on Oracle’s Isle, with every passing mark it became more clear that the situation was grave indeed. But to him it was like watching the surface of a deep pool, with only the tales of those who’d fallen in to rely on. He had no experience of his own to relate the information to and found himself floating without much to guide him but his own convictions and the schedule Father Govard had presented him with.
“My apologies, Sir. My questions must seem frivolous in the light of current events on the Island.†The young man’s voice sounded slightly troubled as he met the Priest’s gaze. “I’ve only heard the outlines of what happened on the Island and indeed it all sounds monstrous, but .. it also seems far away and up close at the same time.†He spread his hands wide in an apologizing gesture. “These carvings intrigue me, they touch on familiar ground, so to speak. I am not sure if it is fitting to ask about something this light when darkness seems to surround us, but I’d still very much like to hear about the Abbey and the Tower, Sir.â€
He turned to the table at Gamble’s invitation and after the priest had seated himself, Marek followed suit. He leaned back, stretched his legs under the long marble table and templed his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face. “The Abbey and the Tower? You mean the Taquar plaques?†Marek’s ponytail swished as he shook his head regretfully. “I am not familiar with this particular set, Sir. With the little I know, I can only tell they are exceptional. For the knowledge and craftsmanship required for this kind of wood and also for the amount of detail on the plaques.â€
He sat up straight and leaned forward, intense attention fixed upon the Archivist. “Can you tell me more about them, Sir? What are the Abbey and the Tower? Are they in Taquar?†The young man’s dark eyes brightened with curiosity as he pelted Gamble with questions. “Do you know when they were made, and who the artist is?†His father would want to know that bit too!
Marek fervently hoped he had not chased Gamble away with all his questions. And what questions they were. Here he was, finally finding himself in company of someone who undoubtedly knew more about the darkness hovering over the Isle and what did he do? He asked questions about carvings! The young man took a deep breath, forcing himself to back off and recline in his seat.
It was not that he was not bothered by the troubles on Oracle’s Isle, with every passing mark it became more clear that the situation was grave indeed. But to him it was like watching the surface of a deep pool, with only the tales of those who’d fallen in to rely on. He had no experience of his own to relate the information to and found himself floating without much to guide him but his own convictions and the schedule Father Govard had presented him with.
“My apologies, Sir. My questions must seem frivolous in the light of current events on the Island.†The young man’s voice sounded slightly troubled as he met the Priest’s gaze. “I’ve only heard the outlines of what happened on the Island and indeed it all sounds monstrous, but .. it also seems far away and up close at the same time.†He spread his hands wide in an apologizing gesture. “These carvings intrigue me, they touch on familiar ground, so to speak. I am not sure if it is fitting to ask about something this light when darkness seems to surround us, but I’d still very much like to hear about the Abbey and the Tower, Sir.â€
-
Guest
The coin and books were marked with symbols that were unfamiliar to Marek. They seemed both more primitive and, somehow, more elegant than normal writing.
"Ah, yes. A shame. I thought you had specific knowledge of that work for a flicker. Yes, they are precious. They are also ancient, pre-dating the founding even of this temple. And they are not from Taquar, they originate from Dort."
Gamble's youthful countenance took on an older, far-off look.
"The Abbey and the Tower... old days, Tazlure's youth. One isle blessed by the fertility of the Mother, its weather softened and order brought by the rule of the Father. Man was young and wild. Twelve tribes called. Twelve spokes of a wheel. Called to serve in two most holy places. The Tower in the South, the Abbey in the North. Peace to the tribes and prosperity to the lands were gift of Sky and Stone, Cloud and Field. Generation upon generation."
He took a few deep breathes as the color returned to his face and the twinkle to his eye.
"Those, my boy, were the words writ upon a piece of rag wrapped around the carving. Washed up on the shore of Oracle's Isle one day. I have been able to discover little else of it's origin. The references to the Abbey on Dort are clear, and the Tower... after years of digging and research I have found only two vague hints about its existence. Precious mystery. But it is that which I do not know that most keeps me excited about my work."
This last was said with a definite smile.
"Don't begrudge your curiosity. It may shine a light even when darkness surrounds, eh. Change has come to Oracle's Isle... but it was inevitable. I think we have fought off the worst - or at least most direct attacks. The real battle will be fought elsewhere: has already begun perhaps. Some of our order suspect Dort will be our next test, and so the mystery of the Abbey and the Tower comes to light. unfortunately, we have a bit of a problem at the moment accessing the books you'll need if you want to help with that research."
Gamble sighed, his smile replaced by a troubled look.
"Ah, yes. A shame. I thought you had specific knowledge of that work for a flicker. Yes, they are precious. They are also ancient, pre-dating the founding even of this temple. And they are not from Taquar, they originate from Dort."
Gamble's youthful countenance took on an older, far-off look.
"The Abbey and the Tower... old days, Tazlure's youth. One isle blessed by the fertility of the Mother, its weather softened and order brought by the rule of the Father. Man was young and wild. Twelve tribes called. Twelve spokes of a wheel. Called to serve in two most holy places. The Tower in the South, the Abbey in the North. Peace to the tribes and prosperity to the lands were gift of Sky and Stone, Cloud and Field. Generation upon generation."
He took a few deep breathes as the color returned to his face and the twinkle to his eye.
"Those, my boy, were the words writ upon a piece of rag wrapped around the carving. Washed up on the shore of Oracle's Isle one day. I have been able to discover little else of it's origin. The references to the Abbey on Dort are clear, and the Tower... after years of digging and research I have found only two vague hints about its existence. Precious mystery. But it is that which I do not know that most keeps me excited about my work."
This last was said with a definite smile.
"Don't begrudge your curiosity. It may shine a light even when darkness surrounds, eh. Change has come to Oracle's Isle... but it was inevitable. I think we have fought off the worst - or at least most direct attacks. The real battle will be fought elsewhere: has already begun perhaps. Some of our order suspect Dort will be our next test, and so the mystery of the Abbey and the Tower comes to light. unfortunately, we have a bit of a problem at the moment accessing the books you'll need if you want to help with that research."
Gamble sighed, his smile replaced by a troubled look.
-
Guest
“Dort?!†That was a surprise since the wood was from Taquar. But no more surprising than how it had gotten in Gamble's possession. Washed ashore, like one of us. Leaning sideways, Marek planted his elbow on the sturdy table, resting his cheek against his palm. The mystery intrigued him and already his quick mind was at work.
“There are no records at all of a Tower or ruins south of Dort?†Immediately his expression clouded, and he murmured, “Oh. Of course. The Library is in chaos, we can’t find the records.“
His mind turned to another way of finding answers. “Will the Order send paladins to Dort?†To Marek, it seemed the logical thing to do. If there was a chance the next test would be in Dort, the Forces of Light should be there. And as long as the paladins were there, it would be practical to investigate the Abbey and the Tower Mystery at the same time. Was that why Paladin Messal had requested the plaques?
You could volunteer, a little voice nagged deep inside.
You just got here, his more rational self rejected the notion. You have only just begun your training. Feet on the ground, Marek, you have only been here a few marks. Remember Bane’s lesson? Dort is going to be much, much worse. Want to leave the Isle, don’t you? It wasn’t what you expected, and so you want to leave. Pah, grow up already!
The young man didn’t like the thoughts that stood between him and his desire. Abbey. Tower. Dort. Test against Darkness. The words sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. He wanted to travel, that was the truth of it. He wanted to be where it all happened. Several tides he had been on Oracle’s Isle, hearing of events that shaped the present, and all he could do was listen. Listen and train as hard as he could, hoping that perhaps some day he could play an active part rather than be a mute observer.
I don’t need to be here to train. Maybe Messal wouldn’t mind a trainee. And I’d come back later and finish training… It sounded weak, even to himself. No, he –had- to finish his training first. Without the proper training, he would not be a force of Light, but a crutch. Why hadn’t he pushed himself harder in the past? He would have been ready now! His jaw set as the young man fought his frustration, trying to focus on something he –could- do.
“The Aurelian Master Tat mentioned?†He managed at last, “Do we know who he is? Is he still on the Island? Is there any chance he'd listen if we ask him to restore order to the library, Sir?â€
“There are no records at all of a Tower or ruins south of Dort?†Immediately his expression clouded, and he murmured, “Oh. Of course. The Library is in chaos, we can’t find the records.“
His mind turned to another way of finding answers. “Will the Order send paladins to Dort?†To Marek, it seemed the logical thing to do. If there was a chance the next test would be in Dort, the Forces of Light should be there. And as long as the paladins were there, it would be practical to investigate the Abbey and the Tower Mystery at the same time. Was that why Paladin Messal had requested the plaques?
You could volunteer, a little voice nagged deep inside.
You just got here, his more rational self rejected the notion. You have only just begun your training. Feet on the ground, Marek, you have only been here a few marks. Remember Bane’s lesson? Dort is going to be much, much worse. Want to leave the Isle, don’t you? It wasn’t what you expected, and so you want to leave. Pah, grow up already!
The young man didn’t like the thoughts that stood between him and his desire. Abbey. Tower. Dort. Test against Darkness. The words sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. He wanted to travel, that was the truth of it. He wanted to be where it all happened. Several tides he had been on Oracle’s Isle, hearing of events that shaped the present, and all he could do was listen. Listen and train as hard as he could, hoping that perhaps some day he could play an active part rather than be a mute observer.
I don’t need to be here to train. Maybe Messal wouldn’t mind a trainee. And I’d come back later and finish training… It sounded weak, even to himself. No, he –had- to finish his training first. Without the proper training, he would not be a force of Light, but a crutch. Why hadn’t he pushed himself harder in the past? He would have been ready now! His jaw set as the young man fought his frustration, trying to focus on something he –could- do.
“The Aurelian Master Tat mentioned?†He managed at last, “Do we know who he is? Is he still on the Island? Is there any chance he'd listen if we ask him to restore order to the library, Sir?â€
Last edited by Guest on Wed Jan 05, 2005 9:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
"Even if we could call upon the records in our normal manner, there would only be the most vague, minimal references to the Tower. And those would be indirect mentions or stories that would have to be largely reconstructed from slivers of several records. Of course, we must do what we can so that the information is ready in time for the company's departure..."
"The Aurelian... ha! We didn't even know of his prescence on the isle until after he'd left. Or we think he left: there's really no way of knowing with this particular man. I believe he did. He was here to make contact with the younger one... and I believe for a bit of revenge."
Gamble shook his head.
"Long ago, one of the previous holders of my office did something ill-advised. He stole a book sacred to the order of Aurelius. At the time we knew very little about their order. Even with the information in the book, they remain very much a mystery. When the novice Aurelian landed in our care, I tried to convince the high priest to let me return the book, but others of our order disagreed. So we have lost both the trust of the Aurelians and the book, with chaos in our Library as a parting gift besides."
"Now. I have someresearch to complete yet, lest I send young Galliban off to the wrong coordinates tomorrow. So I bid you good night, Brother Marek. I trust you can find your way back to your quarters. Do not be surprised if I call for your assistance tomorrow."
So saying, Father Gamble dismissed the new paladin.
"The Aurelian... ha! We didn't even know of his prescence on the isle until after he'd left. Or we think he left: there's really no way of knowing with this particular man. I believe he did. He was here to make contact with the younger one... and I believe for a bit of revenge."
Gamble shook his head.
"Long ago, one of the previous holders of my office did something ill-advised. He stole a book sacred to the order of Aurelius. At the time we knew very little about their order. Even with the information in the book, they remain very much a mystery. When the novice Aurelian landed in our care, I tried to convince the high priest to let me return the book, but others of our order disagreed. So we have lost both the trust of the Aurelians and the book, with chaos in our Library as a parting gift besides."
"Now. I have someresearch to complete yet, lest I send young Galliban off to the wrong coordinates tomorrow. So I bid you good night, Brother Marek. I trust you can find your way back to your quarters. Do not be surprised if I call for your assistance tomorrow."
So saying, Father Gamble dismissed the new paladin.
-
Guest
“Goodnight Sir. Thank you for showing me the Vault.†At the door Marek cast a last glance over the Archivist’s chambers. He had enjoyed the talk with Gamble. “I’d be honoured to assist any way I can.â€
Striding through the halls of the Temple, Marek found himself alone with his thoughts. So there was a company departing for Dort. Not surprising. What had surprised Marek was the reference to Galliban. What had Gamble meant by that? And the Aurelians, old and new. He did not know much of the Order of Aurelius but even he knew of their desire for knowledge. Stealing a book from them not only seemed dishonourable, but... how had Gamble put it?… ill-advised, indeed.
The young man gave the Library a wide berth on his way back, just in case some of the Priests had decided to pull an all-nighter. His limbs were growing heavy, his head fizzled with the past day’s new impressions. Sleep would be just what the doctor ordered.
He glanced at Zinia’s door as he walked past, intending to give a little wave and wish her goodnight should she have her door open again. IF she even was back already. His stride faltered and he stopped for a doubletake at Zinia’s door. And what if she had not returned? Oracle’s Isle no longer seemed a very friendly place, especially not for a lone woman out at night. On second thought, who said she’d been alone? Marek rolled his eyes ceilingwards. Just like him to get chivalrous thoughts when every sane person would be sound asleep. Zinia would undoubtedly be sleeping as well, or she’d be doing whatever she was doing. That woman knew how to handle herself.
Determined to finally get that sleep, Marek entered his room. He lit a candle and knelt before its tiny flame.
Holy Illuminatus. Thank You for guiding me to the Isle and accepting me in Your service. Since my arrival I have learned many things. Some practical and some insightful. Some lessons were easier than others, but I will remember both kinds. I will refrain from letting expectations cloud my vision in the future. I pray for Your strength and guidance upon my path of learning so that I may use my lessons wisely.
The young novice undressed and slipped under the covers, an audible sigh resounding in the room as his head hit the pillow. By all that was Light, he was tired ….
Striding through the halls of the Temple, Marek found himself alone with his thoughts. So there was a company departing for Dort. Not surprising. What had surprised Marek was the reference to Galliban. What had Gamble meant by that? And the Aurelians, old and new. He did not know much of the Order of Aurelius but even he knew of their desire for knowledge. Stealing a book from them not only seemed dishonourable, but... how had Gamble put it?… ill-advised, indeed.
The young man gave the Library a wide berth on his way back, just in case some of the Priests had decided to pull an all-nighter. His limbs were growing heavy, his head fizzled with the past day’s new impressions. Sleep would be just what the doctor ordered.
He glanced at Zinia’s door as he walked past, intending to give a little wave and wish her goodnight should she have her door open again. IF she even was back already. His stride faltered and he stopped for a doubletake at Zinia’s door. And what if she had not returned? Oracle’s Isle no longer seemed a very friendly place, especially not for a lone woman out at night. On second thought, who said she’d been alone? Marek rolled his eyes ceilingwards. Just like him to get chivalrous thoughts when every sane person would be sound asleep. Zinia would undoubtedly be sleeping as well, or she’d be doing whatever she was doing. That woman knew how to handle herself.
Determined to finally get that sleep, Marek entered his room. He lit a candle and knelt before its tiny flame.
Holy Illuminatus. Thank You for guiding me to the Isle and accepting me in Your service. Since my arrival I have learned many things. Some practical and some insightful. Some lessons were easier than others, but I will remember both kinds. I will refrain from letting expectations cloud my vision in the future. I pray for Your strength and guidance upon my path of learning so that I may use my lessons wisely.
The young novice undressed and slipped under the covers, an audible sigh resounding in the room as his head hit the pillow. By all that was Light, he was tired ….
-
Guest
As most of the priests of Illuminatus kept a pre-sunrise to dusk schedule, the halls of the complex were quite empty. Only a few sentinels stood watch at strategic locations.
Zinia's door was indeed closed. No flicker of light showed from beneath, so it was likely she was asleep. There was still a faint odor or sage and mint about the area as Marek walked past.
The illumination of the tiny candle was matched from within the young paladin as he completed his ritual and prayer. A comforting aura of light seemed to engulf him, letting him drift easily into a well-deserved rest.
That night, as many of the other residents of the Isle were visited with vague dreams of trouble within the heavens, so to did Marek. He awoke several times during the night. When at last he was awakened by a soft knock on his door, it seemed almost as if he had not slept.
"Marek? Are you awake yet?"
It was Zinia's voice.
(OOC: Please feel free to post something of what you may retain from the dreams - see the Erulzat forum for info. I would prefer to keep things vague and synbolic rather than (as other players have done) simply summarizing the Pact of the Gods thread.)
Zinia's door was indeed closed. No flicker of light showed from beneath, so it was likely she was asleep. There was still a faint odor or sage and mint about the area as Marek walked past.
The illumination of the tiny candle was matched from within the young paladin as he completed his ritual and prayer. A comforting aura of light seemed to engulf him, letting him drift easily into a well-deserved rest.
That night, as many of the other residents of the Isle were visited with vague dreams of trouble within the heavens, so to did Marek. He awoke several times during the night. When at last he was awakened by a soft knock on his door, it seemed almost as if he had not slept.
"Marek? Are you awake yet?"
It was Zinia's voice.
(OOC: Please feel free to post something of what you may retain from the dreams - see the Erulzat forum for info. I would prefer to keep things vague and synbolic rather than (as other players have done) simply summarizing the Pact of the Gods thread.)
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Guest
A gentle breeze stirred his hair. The ground beneath his feet was covered with flowers. As he raised his candle, he noticed they were waxen white. The candle flickered and he turned his gaze to the horizon where another light had been forming. Growing. Approaching.
He heard the distinct sound of flutes.
Marek stirred. Groaned. Restlessly, he tossed to his other side. He awoke briefly, not long enough for any coherent thought.
He must have blinked. There was light all around him. A hot white light that dwarved the gentle candle flame. The wind burned where it touched his skin. His eyes hurt. At his feet the flowers wilted. The light was growing still, blinding him. Burning. From heavens tears of rain began to fall. The sound of flutes grew angry, louder.
It was loud enough to wake him. His eyes snapped open and Marek stared into the darkness until sleep took him once more.
He opened his eyes and saw light. It heIt held no kindness, no compromise. All there had been had been swallowed by it’s white hot intensity. The rain had ceased and the flowers had gone. The candle flame was nowhere to be seen. As he stared in shock, he noticed small things. If he concentrated, he could feel the shrivelled petals of dried flowers under his feet. There was the softest touch of wind caressing his hair, and still he could feel the candle clutched in his fingers. And if he really, really tried he could see its flame, burning strong still even if it was not easily seen. And all around him was the angry wail of flutes.
For a flicker these observations lifted his spirits. Until he noticed something else... The white light was still ceaselessly advancing, an ever mounting threat to what remained of his dreamworld.
“No.†Murmuring in his sleep, Marek rejected the light, willing himself to protect what was left of his dreamworld. NO. He could no longer hear the flutes. But there was another sound now, like …
"Marek? Are you awake yet?"
.. a woman’s voice.
His eyes snapped open and he blinked owlishly against the twilight in his room. Letting out an audible groan, Marek propped himself up on one elbow. He felt like an old man. Tiredly rubbing over his eyes with one hand, he reached for his breeches with the other. “I’am awake.†The young man called out as he pulled on his clothes. “Door’s open.â€
Turning towards the door to greet Zinia, Marek tried a groggy smile.
“I overslept, didn’t I?â€
He heard the distinct sound of flutes.
Marek stirred. Groaned. Restlessly, he tossed to his other side. He awoke briefly, not long enough for any coherent thought.
He must have blinked. There was light all around him. A hot white light that dwarved the gentle candle flame. The wind burned where it touched his skin. His eyes hurt. At his feet the flowers wilted. The light was growing still, blinding him. Burning. From heavens tears of rain began to fall. The sound of flutes grew angry, louder.
It was loud enough to wake him. His eyes snapped open and Marek stared into the darkness until sleep took him once more.
He opened his eyes and saw light. It heIt held no kindness, no compromise. All there had been had been swallowed by it’s white hot intensity. The rain had ceased and the flowers had gone. The candle flame was nowhere to be seen. As he stared in shock, he noticed small things. If he concentrated, he could feel the shrivelled petals of dried flowers under his feet. There was the softest touch of wind caressing his hair, and still he could feel the candle clutched in his fingers. And if he really, really tried he could see its flame, burning strong still even if it was not easily seen. And all around him was the angry wail of flutes.
For a flicker these observations lifted his spirits. Until he noticed something else... The white light was still ceaselessly advancing, an ever mounting threat to what remained of his dreamworld.
“No.†Murmuring in his sleep, Marek rejected the light, willing himself to protect what was left of his dreamworld. NO. He could no longer hear the flutes. But there was another sound now, like …
"Marek? Are you awake yet?"
.. a woman’s voice.
His eyes snapped open and he blinked owlishly against the twilight in his room. Letting out an audible groan, Marek propped himself up on one elbow. He felt like an old man. Tiredly rubbing over his eyes with one hand, he reached for his breeches with the other. “I’am awake.†The young man called out as he pulled on his clothes. “Door’s open.â€
Turning towards the door to greet Zinia, Marek tried a groggy smile.
“I overslept, didn’t I?â€
-
Guest
"No you didn't oversleep."
Zinia peeked her head in.
"Doesn't look like you slept at all, in fact. Listen. Something odd is going on. I think it has to do with dreams we've been having and something else. You still have a few burns to get ready. Meet me after morning service and we'll talk over morning meal."
Zinia peeked her head in.
"Doesn't look like you slept at all, in fact. Listen. Something odd is going on. I think it has to do with dreams we've been having and something else. You still have a few burns to get ready. Meet me after morning service and we'll talk over morning meal."