Going to find Urkki at his home was good for me - if not for that dear cleric’s solitude! But he was kind and gracious and let me babble on until I dropped into a sickly sleep. Then to be awoken by the call to arms - Lilac had stood guard for many marcs alone. No-one would come. I do not understand that. How can we even know there will not be more? There may be just one or two cowards that will not engage in a fight - but what of the young ones coming to try? I was worried by Sreip’s words…. It is not just I that have noticed. We both stood over the one that was left until I managed to get word to Nyghtwyng. Of course she would come! Lilac wove the enchanters spell and created a portal to fetch her. In the meantime Urotho came and it was slain before Nyghtwyng could be called. But she and Lilac were not undaunted - after taking the gods’ blessings, Lilac took Nyghtwying back and her battle went on. I hope she did well…. After leaving a message and a small packet for Urkki - I travelled away into solitude myself.

The fire is warm here, the air clean, and though isolated, I do not feel alone. I feel closer to my gods and am trying to repay the kindness I have been shown many times here by keeping the floor swept and preparing tea and cooking some meals. Nothing like cooking in the Swashbuckler’s kitchen of course - that is so very well equipped. This is simple fair, simply prepared. My host does not speak often, but the words are always kind and certainly inspiring. I was not even chastised when I forgot to loosen the hides covering the ventilation above the fire when I cooked and filled this little place with smoke. Far from it - my host seemed to almost find it amusing. My red face and embarrassment kept me warm throughout the evening….. the dreams will not depart though. Yet when I open my eyes in the depths of my darkness I always find the fire still burning and a warm dim light showing that kindly face just watching me. It seems they wait until sure I have focused on them; then they close their eyes and seem to pray. So I close my eyes and silently chant prayers and find I can get a few marcs rest together. I do not know how long I will stay here. It is not going to achieve anything but hold me in limbo - quiet and at some sort of ease. I have to face up to the fact that I am scared. It makes me feel small and weak, but there it is. I am. I am scared to go back to the place until I am stronger. I do not mean in body - though I still feel sick and nauseous and my eyes swim now and then - but in spirit maybe. I cannot go back until stronger, yet I fear to leave here and train.

I think for now I must accept I am weak: Look at myself with ill-disguised disdain: Hope that my host’s kind words and looks do not hide less palatable feelings. If nature can survive in this wild place surely then with the protection I am enjoying now I can?

I cannot face people. Not while I am a coward.

“It is so very dark here - and yet dark does not begin to describe it: Black like the darkest, starless night that is contained within a black velvet lined box. As I hold my hand up in front of me I can see nothing. I wave my fingers about and, except for the slightest change in the pressure of the air caused by the movement, I would not know they were there. Sound is muffled; deadened. Footsteps are as you might imagine death would sound. Yet in this complete absence of sensation, even that sounds roaringly loud.

I grope along the walls using my fingers as eyes. They shake and are fearful of what they might ‘see’. I transmit my fear into their tips as I pray they might continue to feel nothing more than smooth walls. Breathing the air is unpleasant in so much as I cannot feel it coming in or out. It must be happening as I still stand and move. My heart races and is still pumping blood around my body. I can feel the sweat inside my mask making it cling to me as though it were trying to become me. At least that is a sensation. I almost welcome it.

I have moved like this for marc upon marc or so it seems. The darkness does not change; the temperature does not change; the deviation of the path does not change; the panic rises.

Is this my path? Unknown and unfeeling? No direction? No purpose? No joy?

I begin to pray aloud. The noise is ear splitting after the long silence. I almost stumble and fall.

My mind is playing tricks on me. I thought I saw something - as far away as the shores of an unknown land - a tiny white dot - 1000 times smaller than the point of a pin. I close my unseeing eyes and it disappears. I open my eyes once more to the nothingness and think I see it again.

Many more marcs pass and still the pinpoint can be seen. It is unmistakable now: Tiny and insignificant, but there. It sits right in the middle of my vision. I stumble along faster and faster - it takes marc after marc but I am sure it gets larger. I avert my eyes and run without touching the walls now. My legs keep pushing me along step after blind step. Now I pray openly and loudly to my gods. I sing aloud a song I learned in my cradle as a new-birthed. I fall and realise the ground is hard indeed. I feel a warm stickiness on my leg - it tastes metallic. I must be bleeding. My leg is painful.

The light is definite now - like being in the longest imaginable tunnel and realising you can glimpse where the end might be. I begin to imagine the air slightly cooler now. Or perhaps it really is. I can feel the breath being drawn into my body. I feel triumphant - I have made it so! I have made something from this nothing! My pain, my blood, my breath, my voice are all real and have shattered the absence of all life from this place! I draw ragged breath as I stumble along too fast in the gloom for safety, but determined none the less. I feel like wildness tamed! The energy flows from me as a warm glow! Another sensation of my making! I have done this! I have made my way from this terrible place! As I run, I laugh! It does not sound like me to my ears, but I know it must be my voice. The darkness is just deep gloom now - I am moving too fast to really see about me and still make for the now bright light just ahead.

Something cuts across my legs and I fall flat, hard, in pain to the ground. I look up and see great legs above me. I hear a hiss, I see no more. The light has been snuffed out and I am plunged into the evil blackness once more. I am kicked onto my back. Something sharp punctures my stomach and I lose consciousness….

-*-*-*-*-

How long have I hung here in this hell hole? My stomach is a burning pit of pain and I go to place my hands against it. I cannot move. I am bound fast. I try to lift my head but do not have the strength. I drag my eyes open but see nothing. I taste vile things in my mouth. Suddenly I feel myself swinging like a child’s toy on the end of a rope. I smash into something hanging near me - soft and…yes, sticky I think for I feel the extra weight fixed against me.

I pass out again…

-*-*-*-*-

I open my eyes and am lying on the floor. I still cannot move. Wait…..I can see something…. My vision is blurred. I close my eyes gently and try again. It takes three more attempts and several marcs, but I can focus now. There is a source of light. Dim, but bright against the evil. There is no comfort in it. I can hear noises…. I can see blood….slurping…… grinding…… I move my eyes up slightly…. There is an empty…well cocoon? It was not mine - I am still immobile for all I have been cut down. There is another! I am not alone…. Then I see it: An arm and hand. There is a ring upon the finger - but no body to own them. I try and choke down my bile. My eyes move wildly in my head trying to make sense and then I see it - caught up on a web…. My robes. My clerical robes of Cory. But not mine now. Just an old piece of cloth that got caught….. when others come to this place they will see a piece of cloth among all the others - that is all.

I feel my eyes sting as tears force their way out through my screwed shut eyelids.

I will die here! I will die here….I will die here….I will die….. I will…..I….”

I am so glad I managed to crawl back here last eve and hope I did not offend Knight Azure or any of the others in the story-telling by having to leave. I was afraid to sleep there in the inn - even with all those people and the smiling, happy faces and laughter. It was strange - in Ellyana’s tale I felt myself almost disappear - that is truly how it felt. I had chuckled at the tale of a mum and her bear hides…..and felt grief and then joy and then chuckled at the tale of Arda, the girl who may have had a plain face, but had the heart and soul of a beauty few could ever possess. Scooter seemed to enjoy his moment of fame within a tale too! It was good to see Jessa…. Something troubles her - well perhaps. I am not really sure…. I most enjoyed seeing dear Korba spinning his tale, his ring and then himself and lighting the room with glancing brilliance though I had to close my eyes against it - the sparkling light hurt my eyes too much. I was so glad when he banked the fire up for I was feeling so cold. I do wonder what the red sparks were in the room…perhaps I imagined them. My mind feels fuzzy - I lose the thread of my writing. Ah yes - Ellyana’s tale - one of fantasy but very beautiful - a land of crystalline shards and little prancing creatures… and something of a treasure and the moon…. I cannot remember it at all but for impressions. But as I sat there with my knees drawn up and my eyes closed resting my chin on my knees I felt heavy - so terribly heavy - almost as though the floor would absorb me and I would fall into the abyss. And what would I find there - terrible darkness and then I began to fees sticky threads…. I had to leave. I am sure I made my apologies…. I will check when next I have the good fortune to see dear Azure.

Even now - here safe in the guildhall in a warm comfortable room with the goddesses gazing down on me I feel chilled to the bone: A strange, suspended sort of cold. I am glad I have my cloak to keep over me.

I was drained - utterly drained - and still sleep would not come. Whenever my eyes closed they came towards me with their fangs bared and somehow I felt the poison rise in me again. I will have to get up. I must try and train hard - it will work out quicker perhaps. Maybe I will head towards the rainforest and try and quickly find enough moss to make some tea. The gods know it will not be as soothing as anything Richard could brew - for a warrior he would have made a good cleric! But then I know many warriors far more spiritual than I. Ah thank you gods for now I can see their dear face before me. I must close me eyes again and sleep while I can and while their presence in my mind dispels all evil…

This sickness will pass. I am certain of it. I see now that all the research was in some ways excellent and in some ways for naught. I stepped in among those dark, evil, sticky tunnels without fear. Actually to say without fear is not to be honest. My heart beat in my throat and my hair plastered to my face as the sweat poured from me. I felt cold and clammy, yet fired up and ready. I knew what I was facing. I knew the make-up of these vile creatures. I knew of their deadly poison and vicious fangs. I knew of their webs and how an adventurer could be caught in them: Bound to wait having the life bled from them at these beasts’ leisure. But whatever you read and therefore know to prepare yourself for your enemies, your senses find so much more when facing them. I was not prepared for the darkness and for the physical sensation of the disgusting strands clinging to my armour and clothing as well as myself. Snatching at my hair and caressing me into immobility if I did not keep my wits about me. I was not prepared for the stench: And most of all I was not prepared for the snatches of clothing hanging there to taunt me. What happened to them; those poor souls wandering these tunnels as I do now? Perhaps they, like me, left reminders of themselves as they passed through. I hope so. Or perhaps they were once inside those scraps of cloth; hanging close to death, in despair, in this wretched place the gods have forsaken. In those tunnels I can truly believe the gods do not walk here. Why would they? And having hung there where they tortured by their demented captors? Made to beg for mercy before being slowly devoured? I close my eyes and shudder at the thought. Worse of all were the bones that lay discarded as meaningless rubbish. They are the bones of such as I. They are limbs that once wielded weapons more bravely than I; that had hands to fold in prayer: That bore them through the lands and held those that they held dear close. And not just rotted away over time immemorial. Oh no: Stripped absolutely bare of every shred of their life force. I went much deeper than I ever have before. Deeper than I meant to - but a little knowledge cries out to have more as its companion and so my desire to know what lies in that terrible place drove me on. By luck, or perhaps lack if it, I found myself even deeper - far, far below the earth where it felt as though I may never return: As though no light may ever penetrate again. And if the creatures I had met in the tunnels when first I came were terrible, they were as nothing to the warrior of their kind. They seem to wield a weapon from every disgusting limb - and their limbs are too many. They strike hard and are cruel in a harsh and dismissive manner. Never have I felt more like….food. They look with hungry eyes or eyes that wish to bear a prize away to another. They are much bigger. I remember fighting the ants and then finding the warriors. How I almost laugh to think of them now. As a child teases a kitten compared to these monsters. The light that shone from my ring drove them back briefly; so shocking was something so beautiful to them. But it blinded my eyes also, now so unused to the dark and they fell upon me.

Mercifully I have no real memory of my falling in that foul place - just of waking and being unable to move. I managed to turn over and promptly threw up what little sustenance I had consumed, together with my bile. It was long marcs before I could stand - I am glad none saw me like that. I have moved but not made it back home yet. I confess the arm of the young initiate who helped me yesterday would have been welcome (I hope to speak with him again soon about his path). I must sleep again now. I feel the venom riding through me. Not worse or better than it was, but constant. How long will I feel like this I wonder…. Oh dearest one…. Be safe wherever you are and pray for me.

I had forgotten what a draining place the desert is. I do not need to worry about loosening off anything - though I am drinking as much as I am able, I am losing weight in the heat. I feel fine however - so all will be well. My legs and arms feel a little shaky from wading through the sand and getting used to the weight of weapon and armour once more. I welcome the feelings though - they are a timely reminder of my purpose here.

My dreams have been peaceful enough when I have dragged my little shelter up to rest.

One thing bothered me though - I spent so much time in the library - at peace, in calm quiet, eating good food and even drinking the odd cup of wine, dressed in clothing designed to do nothing but cover me rather than protect me. I could bathe, sleep regularly in clean, comfortable surroundings. My hair was brushed, my hands and nails clean…. I began to feel almost as I remember feeling very long ago. So very long ago…. In my homeland. I remembered being cosseted, spoiled, cared for, admired. There were moments under my canvas that I suddenly, for the first time really, missed it all. It was fleeting, but the feeling shocked me somewhat.

And why was it fleeting? Because when I was there I never felt loved. Treasured. Needed and wanted.

I do now.

I feel as though I am stirring from some lovely dream - gently waking from soft pillows and clean sheets and warm blankets. As though gentle hands have unwrapped me from soft cushioning and having my ears opened to the normal sounds of the world.

My shield feels heavy on my arm and my rapier, true and steadfast as ever, moves clumsily in my hand. I feel my feet clumping along in my boots and my mask and helm feel twice as heavy as I remember and as though they do not fit properly. They are uncomfortable. My armour seems to dig into me - this may be a good sign - perhaps I have put in a few pounds that I did not need to lose. I will have to readjust the strapping. I confess too some guilt hangs over my head. Knight Hojo’s words were true.

Despite all these things, it feels….good to be abroad again. They have gone back into the tomb - I do not like to think of them walking abroad in that place. And so I train in the dark desert - closer to them in one small way perhaps. And even if it be true the gods have truly forsaken this place, I still pray hard for us both, for the guild, for the newcomers just stepping forth into Dundee - and to thank them. To thank them with all my being for the path they have laid before me.

So beat down Sunrifter…. Or the shadow of Sunrifter - whichever it may be. Sweat and toil are welcome companions. They remind me I am alive; they remind me of what people have done before; they remind me of what is to come; they remind me I am not here in this Land with breath in my body for my sake alone.

Grant me the strength to be able to welcome them with open arms and to make the best of my time.

It has been a few days of great disturbance - unsettling things have happened. The news that Balthazaar himself had walked abroad was grave indeed. It was wholly unexpected. All the time spent quietly in the library had almost removed me from what was truly happening. It is so quiet and calm here. I have felt as secure as a baby wrapped in a blanket and of course my position has been even safer than ever with my Dearest One here too. It would be hard indeed not to feel safe with their presence. Still their work goes on at a feverish pace but I see the flesh now going on the bones. I am full of admiration not just for them, but for all my brethren. Korba has been putting all his considerable skills into the project and together they will have made a truly beautiful thing. And still they have time for the guild and for other guilds!

It was dreadful news from Shirila and I read her letter with shock and great anxiety. Balthazaar. It seems so long since that name was spoken; since that vile and foul visage was seen. The gods have, as yet, spared me that pain - I call it pain for I am sure the soul must be crushed by such a sight. Even the thought makes my heart quail. I know Knight Azure, thank the gods, was there - Shirila spoke of her coordinating defence. But Shirila was sore hurt - thought she survived - and now seeks to replace the things stolen from her. I must keep my eyes and ears open for a Sceptre of Morning Light for her. In a way I hope she does not succeed in tracing one for she speaks of returning into the abyss….

This was grave news; and news for great thought. I write from the Branishor temple; for even the Holy City is not safe. News came of sea dwellers growing bold enough to try and take the City from the Sea Gates. They were driven back even before I arrived, but I felt an urgent need to pray in the temple. To pray for the gods guidance in dark times. To pray for the dearest of ones to me. To pray for the guilds and all who fight.

In that, at least, there is comfort and certainty.

The gods will not be displeased by being garbed for battle in their Holy place I think - once again we have been taught we must be ever ready...

I have words flowing round my head! Usually I would be glad and happy and let them come. But just now, so inspired do I feel in every way, they come too fast and almost overwhelm me!

Work goes on quietly here - much has been discovered that I believe will be of great importance to all: Those here now, and those who will follow us. Our brethren, I believe, see the great worth of it all. They can see that to move forward a people need to look upon the past. Not to dwell upon it, or wallow in it, but to draw from it, learn from it and get a sense of how things came to pass and what made us all what we are. Somehow watching Korba and Purazon work it seems as a living history. It breathes with a life of its own and sometimes in the quiet shadows here in the library I can almost see words hang in the air. I have even, I thought, glimpsed people: Scenes being played out. Bright vivid light and a sense of….. I wish I knew what. Not everything in the past is pleasant, of course.

The time spent in study has been pleasant. I feel strong and rested and have spent my time boosting my knowledge. The Creature List is such a vast volume. I cannot read it all the time for the weight of the thing is cumbersome! But I continue to read it carefully. I have learned much of creatures I have fought in the past, who would not dare to challenge me now, which I did not know before. This is good I think. To respect your enemy and learn of them is not a weakness. Perhaps more useful though is what I have learned of the creatures I currently fight and will come to fight in the future. I am able to learn from what others have gone through. I wonder as I read just what pain was gone through to bring this information to me now. It makes me see how important this great work is. For a scholar it is a joy I am sure to be engaged in such work. Certainly they are working at a feverish pace.

I confess I lay down my studies to let some of the words desperate to get out flow onto parchment last night. I first lit a torch and placed it near their desk. They forget the needs of the body and practicalities such as light to work by. But I can remember those things for them. Two sheets of work I tucked where they might find them. Not great works such as theirs - not of learning and teaching - but from the heart. Perhaps, when they have a moment, it will please them to distract their mind with something else….

And so with food inside them and the hour grown late they came to rest - they wanted to stay here so they could make an early start. My shoulder and my arms are more comfortable than the desk.

I hope they rested well.

I have no idea what possessed me. A whispered word from a Dearest One planted the seed and it was clear they wished me - not gone, exactly - but certainly they suggested it was good to stretch the legs once in a while. As they dove back into their books on the breakthrough of such discovery I left them in peace, found myself in Cerbie’s and managed to utterly embarrass myself. There were too many people - I knew my misgivings were right. And there were such truly talented people there - Soleil’s song made me blush but it was performed with such passion and animation! I remember love running me through as though it were a weapon - she performed it truly recognisably! And the judging! How terrifying! The lady Octavia I have never met before - her manners were….. very sure of themselves. Everyone scribbling and scrutinising. Not at all like the other tentative steps towards these events where you can take your time and send your work almost anonymously (I can still barely believe that my work and telling of The Sword of Valorn won a prize!) - no - this was in the open; stripped bare and laid open for all to see. What in all the lands gave me that moment of madness? My thin performance was more a display of how NOT to perform. Standing there like a nervous child at their first autumn festival play. Certainly without the colour and vibrancy of the performers who have gone before. But I am more concerned over the song I chose. I am no songwriter, but it was written from the heart and was gifted to the one that makes it beat. And now I have performed it in front of others. Whatever will they think? Oh if you could just snatch back a moment and change it. So a quiet, sober folk song of my own making has now been given in public. All I can hope is that it is not talked of and that the Dearest One it speaks of is not displeased.

Now they have started on this great work it seems my dearest one is on fire and cannot stop. The books and Tomes have opened many chinks of light on the darkness of history and messengers fly hither and thither over the land as they seek to find out more. It is all so inspiring to watch. I feel a great energy flowing through the very stones of the library and the guild tower. There is expectancy in the air. I believe this task - this great gathering of history - will take some time. There is so much to learn and so much still hidden. Yet their bent head does not bow under the weight of this work - they strive to learn more and more. They barely register what is going on about them. I do not mind - such dedication is rare and is a joy to see.

I feel cocooned as I sit here.

The library almost breathes with a life of its own. It has a gentle spirit and its walls must have seen and heard many things. Its children and grandchildren sit quietly and well behaved on their shelves and speak when they are spoken to by those seeking to share their knowledge. It is old somehow this room. It feels like an elderly grandmother or aunt - full of sage advice and stories.

It is a quiet, calm and tranquil place and is now as dear to me as any place in the lands - except perhaps my mountain place.

It has become so for the same reason the other place did. It is what I associate with it that makes it dear to my heart now. For there they have sat, these several past days, with such dedication to their work. They are meticulous and watching them is inspiring and makes me full of pride - amongst other things. I have grown younger as I have sat here - I feel like an over excited child that longs to say things and do things and even run about the room! To shout and sing and make a noise! To go and play! But grandmother’s walls keep me quiet. She makes me see that patience is something to be treasured.

So I quietly go about and have read more these past days than I have done in many long months. And I quietly fetch food and drink for them and lave it quietly next to them. They do not even notice they are working so hard.

But the work they are producing! Oh my….. what work. It will pass on to future generations of the guild a great gift of knowledge. It already passes it to me; even in glimpses over their shoulder. To see the lands laid out before me in such a way.

They are exhausting themselves though. I am not as dedicated as they and so have slept curled up in some corner or other most days at some point. And finally they are resting… some of the food is gone, and their Dear head rests gently on the page of a Tome. I have drawn their cloak over their shoulders.

Let them rest peacefully grandmother dear in your safe walls. I will watch over them and pray for them.

Perhaps the gods are smiling on the lands at present. It has seemed a relaxed and peaceful time. People are friendly and laugh. There have been parties and meetings and contests. I hope it may last. It almost feels as though Sunrifter’s rays shine brighter; as though the stars are more brilliant; as though love and friendship are warmer. Many faces I recognise from long ago are walking abroad: I long to hear of their journeys.

My hands and feet have not been idle. The inn at Dundee grew too full listening to Thorin’s excellent ancient tale and the discussions on it and I felt an urgent need for air. It has been a long time since I were among so many. I made my way towards Guildhall and my dear friend followed - I hope I did not worry him. We found ourselves watching the stars and they spoke of dreams….. as the dawn broke I saw their face as peace and thoughtfulness mixed with beauty personified. It was one of those odd rare moments where almost no words were spoken and yet volumes were expressed. All the land waned leaving stars and two souls - at least that is as I felt it. The moment hung delicately as though the slightest breath of wind would make it dance away. It was but seconds, and yet seemed to last marcs. They had come to check with the banker whether any more weapons lay in their store. Always thinking of others. I hurried to the bank to take two blades I still held for them and by the time I returned a young initiate was speaking with them and hearing their wisdom clutching a new unfamiliar blade which should serve them well. In all this peace there have been raids; indeed yesterday one in the desert cost lives and wounded deep and dragged me from the teacher and the pupil. Tomb wretches dared to come in from that dark land and walked large as life in the desert sun. I thank the gods I was close enough to reach the place quickly. I was terrified to find myself the first on the scene - such vicious cruel creatures. I was lucky to escape with my life and would not have done were it not for others arriving swift behind me. At least I was able to heal those who were battle scarred. I sat a while at the desert Oasis to catch my breath (as quietly as I could for to disturb the High Enchanter would displease him I am sure). I always feel as though I were in another world when I sit there.

As I returned it was a joy to bestow the gods blessing on the blade of the young one and to pray they would guide the arm wielding it. And a joy to see the face of one who has learned so much sharing and passing it on.

And at the end of the day, peace once more. After a few moments in the Room of the Gods listening to the water I removed to the library and found them there. I meant to keep silent, not disturb, but I could not help but talk and ask questions: And make a fool of myself of course…. I cannot even think of repeating my thoughts on the creation of the stars…. They did not chastise me, but smiled gently. I say opposite them and they looked up at me and smiled as they read before returning to their words. I felt my heart pierced by that gentle smile and the warmth from it swelled in me. I longed to reach out to them. I asked again of dreams…they will tell me another time they said. I left them there working. Such a gentle, quiet figure with such strength. There will never be enough for them to learn. They soak up words and knowledge and it makes them what they are.

All I know is my dreams were beautiful and peaceful and full of delicious longing. And I have awoken to find Sunrifter shining out over the gardens.