It is a very long time since I spent a day cosied up in the Dundee Inn upstairs room. Sometimes it is a disturbing place; the noise from below can be unsettling and although they always conduct themselves quietly, the Elucidator and potion seller cannot do so in silence. Today though it has not been disturbing at all. The gentle, low fire gives just the right amount of warmth and the flickering light playing on the walls is soothing. The noise from below is present, certainly, but it is a comforting hum letting me know I am not alone in the world and that adventurers go about their business. Even the chair feels more comfortable than usual.

I have written so much I will need to replenish my supplies and go back to the halls to do further work. I do not mind the task so much today though: something about dear Kouzan returning to us has made me look again at the older names in hope rather than wistfulness. I managed to complete a further passage, wrote some silly songs, and all is very well.

When I have dozed off it is with a smile. Sleep brings happy memories. All at the Swashbuckler and catching, just for a few moments as though ours were the only ones in the room, the eyes of that dearest of ones. How busy they must be - there will be so much to appraise our long-absent officer of and they will have much work to do.

I long to see them….

The dawn was cold but bright and the light as Sunrifter kissed the waters of the lake was truly beautiful. It felt so very, very right all those dear faces in the Swashbuckler. They all belonged there. I was not expecting to see dear Korba. It was hard. I suddenly realised that we had not seen each other since that dreadful day he left. Selfishly put - not a dreadful day for him - although I think it cut him deeper than any blade - it was the right path for him. Who am I or anyone else to question it? To feel his arms about me was both comfort and pain. I wonder if he ever really knew what he was to me; still is to me. Topaz looked well. In fact she looked really well. The Lady Shannara a vision as always…. Dear Purazon. Yes - he certainly looked well. Relaxed almost - he does not look that way very often. He has so much on his shoulders. And Knight Azure - I was so glad she could make it. Watching the two Knights together always makes me wistful. They have a relationship beyond definition. Brother and sister, deepest friends, cohort warriors - I think when you share a responsibility as grave as theirs and have the society with each other they do, it could not be any other way. But Sorynn could not…no…would not come. She has vowed never to do so. The depth of sadness I felt at that was immeasurable. Other guests too…. I was glad to see Shirila. My heart sank in truth when first I saw her, but all is well. I still feel uncomfortable with myself, but it will pass. I wish I had not pushed dear Korba. To hold his blade was a remarkable and unexpected gift. So now the blade touched by the hands of a third. I must talk with him somewhere quiet soon…

Yes - so all these people along with other brothers and sisters and all to see one man. He is back. The enchanter is back and oh how the walls of the halls and the hearts of its occupants echo with joyful noise! Where he has been I know not, but I am sure he will tell us in his own good time. All that matters is the Impavid one has returned. Shout Kouzan Mogul’s name from the mountains and the hills! Let demons quail and Balthazar grind and gnash his teeth! Let songs be sung and ale be drunk! Let legends be retold! Let the joy of being alive and of being alive together push all other thoughts aside! Let the Kimald flag fly proud and free! Let the people be amazed by his French Flag!

There is no prayer I can say that can do justice to the gods for this blessing.

Was it really last July......

"And in the evening light they came. They sat and leant back in the dim light. They took drink to their lips and they smiled. They spoke words of absolute certain comfort. There was complete truth in their face and their eyes and their words. As the Queen had said the darkness will be driven back. Such certainty and finality in their words and countenance. I was drawn to them. I felt, just at that moment, that nothing could ever destroy again. Strength to be found in their body. Strength to be found in their words. Gone all too soon and yet with a last look that pierced me through and bound me to them with an unseen cord that will ever tug and pull at me unless they are at my side. They could have asked anything of me at that moment and I would have been powerless to resist and would not have wanted to. Longing and lingering....yet they cannot.

Warm words with a sister - all is healed.

I slept the sleep of an untroubled child..."

I should try and remember those times..... put pictures back into my mind

The flowers of Valorn are very beautiful. I started to collect them to the east of our halls – it seemed appropriate. Natural enough too that they should be more beautiful than any others; well perhaps Worldbuilders’ Lawn is more so. I came back to my den quickly though. Suddenly the thought of seeing anyone filled me with dread. I have set the flowers here in these pages to dry for it is as good a place as any I suppose. The paper is good and will be absorbent enough to take them. The weight will press them perfectly. They look strange as they lie quiet in their little tomb. Their life taken as soon as they are picked and their very essence squeezed out of them until just a dry papery shell is left. I know how they feel. So delicate these petals – it would take but a little force to crush them.

Words can be very cruel. Some words just hang in the air how ever much you try and blow them away as though they meant nothing and had no meaning. So here lie these pretty little flowers, still colourful and pretty and hinting wonderfully at the life they had. For decorative purposes only….

Sometimes I think that old life was a better one. When you know no different how easy life is.

Content to wait. Those words so inappropriate and...and stupid... and proving I am not known at all. Content! Could anyone, anyone at all who knew me then actually think that was contentment? To die and yet still be made to live on in a shell. To live my life as though it were in Balthazar's hands, which I suppose it was, and not the gods. Worth more. Worth more? What does that mean? I never thought myself worth anything. A view shared then. The difference is I did not think of myself then, but of them. What matter what worth of mine - they were worth waiting more than the two and a half years I did, but I had no choice as to the outcome. So my torment was ended then by death. Oh yes, I should rejoice indeed and have nothing to offer anyone in pain.

People are gone, so what. Yes a philosophy for some I am sure.

Flowers - why not. They are often used for remembrance after all.

I am glad I have work to do. Though it may end up as pointless as the reams of words I have wasted in these pages over the years.

I must withdraw. I have spoken in thoughtlessness, I have thoughts of anger. And I slip into self-pity. Well whatever they may think, I have more strength than that.

The man in the Dundee Inn I do not care so much about - I should have asked, I was indeed presumptuous, but so distracted was I by then that I could not stay. I will just have to hope that my apologies for the unwelcome healing were taken as they were intended, sincerely and whole-heartedly, and if they were not, I cannot change it. I hope Knight Azure and Asrai did not think me rude. I do not think they did. They went off happily enough to see Knight Azure’s door at the 22 Halls. Quite right she should have one - she looked almost disappointed that I did not accompany them. I just didn’t have the energy. But Shirila.. I need to formulate my thoughts on that as I write. I will come back to her…

I should have one project at a time. Only the likes of Knight Purazon with their dedication and their intellect can achieve the things they do. I start things and do not finish them. I am painfully aware of it. I have 100 brethren still to find, but find them I will. I sent a message to Thorin who has offered to share anything he remembers of the mist names I can find no trace of even in our library. While I was working I found some old notes and recognised my own childish scrawl. My long forgotten Tome on Trading and Commerce lying, surprise, unfinished. I needed a break from the exhausting searching for old names so I travelled off to Caernivale and visited each and every trader. That section is complete at least…. I have sent a copy of it to dear Purazon - he will be honest and open with me as to whether it is useful or whether it needs more work. I trust him enough that he would not spare my feelings to have a shoddy finished book. It was while I was there I sent poor Shirila a note.

I half wish I never had, but there is no point - none at all - in doing so. Wishing never got anyone anywhere. Oh I have wished very hard for things in life it is true, but the will of the gods has brought hem about if I have been blessed enough to have them come to fruition.

He has returned. So many emotions flooded over her in such a short time. When she first contacted me to ask me to do something for her I was stunned, taken aback, hesitant, but deliriously happy for her. I knew by the way she described her feelings that this was momentous, for life, not transient, and a solemn undertaking. If it was not, she knows I would never dream of even contemplating it. We talked back then at length of being sure, of the permanent and binding nature of it, of the permanence of it. She had been through enough, she said, to know it was the right thing. Almost immediately he was gone, and she was in despair, but we talked much on hope and faith. Then came the black-hearted desolation and flat refusal to entertain hope. He was gone and would come no more. Still I talked of faith and hope - I am struck again by my arrogance. Did I have it? No. Ask any of my brethren who bore the burden of trying to shore me up. I did not listen to them so I do not see why she should have listened to me.

So she answered my message - words angry and curt. Not at me, but raged towards him. He has returned. Looking and smelling awful she says. And she turned him away with angry words and gestures and shouting, so she says. I could not have been more shocked. My immediate reaction was of joy and I told her so. She says there is no comfort in his return except that he is not dead, and that she follows him no more. They talked, she says, but apart from there being no apology from him, his words have fallen upon stony ground. I felt such a flush of anger which I am not used to feeling - I did not like it. I should not have done it, but I asked her what the meaning of this was - that he was back, returned to her, when so many others never got that great blessing. I said other things too. I had no right; it is not my life, not my love, not my business. Truth to tell I have absolutely no idea what has gone on and so should never have commented. I have failed her as a friend, as a cleric, as a counsellor.

Then as I travelled weary and depressed to Dundee Inn she was there in conversation, seemingly happier, with Knight Azure. Words were brief but pleasant enough. They were discussing professions I think and Shirila was saying she could never be a cleric as she hated the sight of blood. I said I didn’t like it much either but was more interested in inner wounds. That was too much for her and looking quiet and hurt she left. I have hurt her to the core without even realising it, I am sure of it.

So Shirila gone, Asrai and Knight Azure gone to 22, and finally insult to a stranger healed who did not find the interference welcome.

After drinking too much ale I made my way to the guild halls barely even registering Bris and others as I went. And here I sit in unfamiliar surroundings despite it being in my home. I have only ever come here once before, but it suits my mood now. Brooding.

It was a much needed break. I knew sleep would not be what I needed - some fresh air and exercise was. The walk across the heat of the desert was not refreshing to be sure, but at least my legs were stretched. I paused at the edge of the anthill. I looked as ever for any signs of him - dear Richard - not seen in so very long. There was no trace. Rather than let myself be demoralised by that I walked on. It was good to see large numbers of younger adventurers stretching themselves, and good to bless them, as they did. More though was to have word from Knight Hojo again. He is such a good man: wise and thoughtful. I think perhaps we might sit and talk over a mug soon - he will try and quell my curiosity as to the warrior way; I long to understand them better. He understood I think. It is funny to think on all the Knights and their different ways. It is as though the gods swept up a handful of warriors from all walks of life and all different manners and temperaments. Yet all those parts gel as one. There is a great lesson to be learned from that I think. It was good too hear from Jael again - I miss her. She is such a gentle spirit. But I hope the things she spoke of do not come to pass. And it was good, if troubling, to hear from Shirila too. I hope she can keep faith. I have determined not to work today - my mind is grown heavy and needs some respite. Perhaps, if I am lucky, the gods will favour me with seeing more of those I have missed.

I have been in the land now more than four years. How long it seems. Yet in some ways it has passed in an unbelievable whirl: so fast I can scarce see even my own distant memories sometimes. While I have been carefully pouring over the oldest and rarest tomes in the library, such memories well up from them. I hear distant voices speaking to me from their pages. Voices I knew well and loved so very dearly and voices of those I have not even heard of in legend; and yet they were so important to Kimald and its survivors. I hear Ixon almost as if he were in the room with me. He tells of the days before Grom and even beloved Deek - the enchanter, not the King. He tells of walking the lands with Fingolfin and JKD when travel was more dangerous and though there may have been less places to reach, still terrible the danger. I see his sweet eyes and see the roguish smile wistfully remembering all that passed before he left us - indeed before most had joined us! Oh gods how I hear him murmur shade and sweet water as the same falls from my eyes. When I started this work I had not thought it would bring pain. I had just imagined the fun of collecting everyone together for time evermore - something that could be added to whenever we know the joy of welcoming someone to us. But something like this brings a multitude of emotions. I have always felt as though the blood of my brethren flows in my veins and that once they are gone, so too is part of me and my strength. I have relived recent memories I would rather not think on. At least there is some comfort to be had in the knowledge at least they still walk the lands. But other, more painful, memories insist on being heard. They have come back to me as though they were happening again. I am in the throne room, grave faces all about me, in His most private chambers. Deep scratch marks have gouged the walls and there is blood; a lot of blood. Things lie smashed on the floor. My memory has blocked out a lot of that day. He was returned - but it was a fleeting, teasing return. He came back young and strong and beautiful and was then gone. Gone and never to return. Taken. Writing of Him makes it happen again. Thank the gods though for those remaining - for as I write on those lost and mourned, I must also write of those still here and thriving. Even as I think on it now I feel the pain recede. Glorina, Tui, Brisingr, JKD, Synvasti, Shannara….just a few of the names. And Purazon, dear Purazon. The words I write so meaningless. There now - the crisis has passed. More names... I must find more names…

I always admired them and knew how hard they worked, but right now dear Purazon, Korba and Knight Azure are elevated to a very high plane indeed in my estimation. When I think back to the great researches and works they have achieved I am rightly in awe and amazed. I am struggling with my undertaking. So many names have swum before my eyes - long, long nights spent in poor light in our archives and the library desperately searching for some clue. Dear Purazon has pointed me towards a very ancient Tome that holds all manner of histories long forgotten, but some of it is illegible and unintelligible to me. I begin to think there are those I will never be able to do justice to. A quarter, I believe, is as far as I have managed to pen. I must NOT give up. The gods know that dear Purazon would not - if he says he will do something it is done. And all of that despite the other offices and duties he performs. Surely - surely sometimes he must feel it bear upon him - does he ever slump to rest, eyes closed, and just feel overwhelmed by life? I doubt it. No indeed - he and Knight Azure are made of sterner stuff. Why else would their beloved brotherhood be thought of as it is and entrusted with the sacred job they do? Gods I have to achieve this thing. I have to prove to myself and to the guild that I can complete something I start. True, I did finally finish my second play. But the Tome on trading? Set aside. Partly because I longed to do this thing I am now working on. Yet partly because of my weakness? Lack of application? I think the decision to leave the Halls was a good one - at least for a while. I was haunting the place like one of the ghostly names I try to track down. Here it is quiet and I had forgotten how fresh the air is. Drafty, but bracing. Very few seem to come by this way despite the good prices to be had. I know the door must be used, but then what rogue is going to allow them self to wake someone sleeping nearby? None worthy of note I am sure! Oh as I look back at what I am writing I get so annoyed with myself. Frustration in every word! So it is hard and may take time. It will be done. Soon, I hope, we will see dear Lord JKD - I am sure he will remember some…. by the gods I hope so…

I have just sat back and spent a marc head back eyes closed. My hand aches so much and I confess my eyes are sore and I have a blistering headache, but I do not mind. I have engaged in a work that I believe may take many weeks, even months, to complete, but it is a genuine work of love and might perhaps even in time be something others in the guild might like to look back on. I have been thinking on those departed from us - the guild and the lands - for some time and was alarmed at how many have faded into the back of my memory when once they were so clear in my mind. This will help bring them all back and I have already found names I did not even know myself though it has been many long and glorious years I have been blessed to call myself Kimaldian. Legend and folklore some have become. I will honour them all gods willing.

Dear Purazon is, of course, a great source of inspiration and kindly help. I asked light heartedly where I would be without him. As I write I think on that - and stop myself as quickly for I do not want to dwell on such anxieties.

A walk to the garden would do me good I think for I am stiff as the boards on our dock from sitting so long - and I still have so much to do…

I have been carefully unpacking and checking over the things I brought back from Ethucan - by the gods it seems an age ago now. Dear sister Valera is to be bonded. A warrior pair united. May the demons quake with fear. I hope that she will want to take some of these things to wear - I hope so. It would give me a very warm feeling. She is so dedicated to her warrior craft and is never still. It is a strange thought the idea of her and I like women in a market within the guild halls pouring over clothes! It was something I can remember loving once - every day the choices of gowns and then the slippers and decorations to go with them. I always favoured blues: even matching my eyes mattered. It all seems so utterly trivial now. What hours were wasted just to be feasted upon by the eyes of those in my father’s halls. I feel a familiar discomfort spiked with guilt just to think on it. But I did no-one any harm and it was just the way things were. I have given up long ago being sorry for things I cannot change and could not have done differently. I suppose in a land where there was no threat and everything peace and prosperity, there was no reason not to idle away the days with such frivolity. Things had changed when I last saw the land, but it was still relatively unscathed. Here people have more on their minds: other things to worry about. Funny though how some still manage to look so lovely - I dare not even think upon it. At least I know one pair of eyes, the only pair I care about, that have looked upon me almost with delight even when I look as though I were dragged through the swamp backwards and then given beauty treatments from a mire hag. In fact…. I never saw them pleased when I have spent time and attention over my appearance…. Probably the shock.

But this is different. Dear Valera will have a day when the warrior will not leave the woman, but the woman will shine through and her intended will be dazzled by her. This would be so without any Ethucan adornments, but it will be lovely to see her so!

Thank you gods for showing me sense!

A trip back to Dundee was exactly what was needed. I returned before I had been away from people too long. It was so good to see faces I had not seen in so long. Knight Azure looks very well; full of vigour and plans as ever. Urkki looked quite settled considering the numbers of people in the inn. It was good to see brother Bris too. I was worried about him and yet now he is full of optimism and radiates get-up-and-go. It almost felt, as I looked around the inn, that we had gone back to a time before all the land’s troubles. Everyone looked hail and hearty. I thank the gods for it.

I left almost as soon as I arrived - I had heard of a young man, newly arrived, who might need some assistance. I soon found him - and I was instantly drawn to him. Something has happened in his past I am sure. And it seems another was drawn to him too - dear Purazon came across us both as I was trying to communicate with the stranger (though stranger no more). I suppose when someone cannot speak they will learn new and ingenious ways to try and let people know their mind. His miming was quite skilful but I found I was often on the wrong track. He showed skill in sketching on the ground with a stick and eventually Purazon and I knew his name and came to think that he must have come across the sea and somehow his ship was wrecked. I just wish I could ask of his voyage - what the purpose of it might have been and how the ship came to be cast down. He seemed to want something in the inn but I could not fathom what. I followed him there and back to the town and saw that he was trying to draw something else. He seemed embarrassed when I tried to get closer to see what he was doing - so I made him a present of some Ethucan goods I have been carrying and left him there with Purazon. Not that I wished to leave - it was hard. But after all - what better company to leave a man in? I cannot think what it is but the newcomer occupied my mind. I found myself wandering the plains, quite unplanned, and sitting at my Lord’s feet. I realised after a few moments I was (as often happens) quietly talking to him and apologising for disturbing him. I just wanted to think. I find it easy there.

I had not thought to fall asleep here though. I have not awoken to the sight of that thoughtful face gazing out over the lands in many, many months.

There was a purpose to yesterday I am sure of it. I am rested and will go back to the hateful caves prepared and with bright light within me to banish the creeping dark. I have had sight of that dearest of ones and though I fervently wish it could have been for longer, who am I to wish such a thing and deprive the land of its protector? Much as I loathe the fact I know to be the truth, I do know my place. Third…no fourth or even fifth I should think….. there’s a sobering thought. How I make myself smile! And there is the young man. I feel… no I hope…the gods will allow our paths to cross again. There is a story there to be told and a real sense of a man who has a destiny. I hope to help him in it.

Barabas slain! Blood still on the floor. I have avenged the foul beast that did it and can only hope he is alright. It shook me badly to see it though. I must be more careful.

I will have to come out into the light soon. I feel darkness growing in me and I now have the experience, the advice from others, and the gods to know when something becomes a problem and to deal with it rather than struggling. What is the point of a martyrdom of suffering if it will take many weeks or even months to be fit enough to carry on the fight? No. Better by far to rest, regain strength, seek out laughter and friendship and come back here fully armed with a clean soul. Something I have noticed that is different in this incarceration (at least that is how being down here feels after a few marcs) - sounds. I hear all manner of scratchings and flutterings around me: much more than I remember from before. I am imagining horrors where there may not even be any. They seem to surround me and wait for me. Portents of some great evil.

In terms of the physical fight I can manage quite well here now - well I can if I remember to heal myself. Mentally - well that is something quite different. But manage I do - much better. I amaze myself actually; I never dreamed I would be so…determined. But I have kept that dearest of ones close in my heart and his name on my lips, whispered in times of doubt even as my rapier sings through the air and bites into one of them. He cannot know what it is just to hold him in that way - what it does for me. I wish I were stronger. I wish I could just do these things as so many do without fuss and drama. But I am getting stronger and outwardly, no-one would think I was anything but matter of fact in my training. At least that is the impression I try to weave! By the gods! I am sitting here in this dreadful place actually smiling! But I must close soon - the light of my ring has given me enough to write by but it can only draw things from the darkness towards it. I will put it in my pocket to shut out its blessed comfort and rest a few marcs. Let the things forget about me and crawl back to their holes. Whisper their name and try and remember the touch of their hand. Cory may your light be within me in this wretched place even when you are not.

Aye training can be hard. It is not unfamiliar territory though and this newly inspired cleric is unafraid. I hope I can say though that this does not make me complacent. Just because you see something often and have overcome something many times does not make it any less dangerous. Indeed I think it almost makes it more so because there is a danger of presuming that victory will be mine. Before I returned to these wretched caves I spent many marks in the Holy Order of Light in the company of only my thoughts and my gods. I was seeking…..many things I suppose. To show my thanks for all that has passed, to share my hopes for all that is to come and to seek guidance and protection. I felt very peaceful and in no doubt at all as to what I must do. I carry the inspiration of dear Purazon too. Even though it had been long since we saw each other and has now been long again since that meeting I feel his strength and wisdom beside me just as though it had been but a marc ago. Sometimes I have to admit it is very easy to feel tiny and insignificant (as of course we all are) when you see some of the great and experienced adventurers pass by. Warriors of such great brute strength and yet light on their feet and skilled almost as dancers, the wit and wisdom of rogues that can open anything it seems with their finely tuned skills, clerics who radiate such an aura of inner strength and peace in a way I can never hope to and enchanter, mysterious and powerful, who can conjure the very air into gateways to other places. So then I can honour them only by trying to strive towards greater skill and strength. The darkness here is penetrated by the light in my heart when all other lights go out. May the stars of Kimald shine upon me forever.