THE PASSERS © Mike Lee Through the marble canyon of the Trolan – golden in perpetual light – and past the spines of Gordandarc, the Ventirs scanned the distance looking for the Wisters in their searching circles. The rockland pinnacles ringed with the sound of calls and echoes, and they knew they would be found. The danger soared too near to flint the camp fires, so they hovered in dark caves inside their entrances and waited for the silence to return. The ridemen called the cloud gods to unleash the rains of force to drive away the Wisters so their path – then cleared – could be regained. Their journey then recovered, they had lands to cover – distances to conquer – to restore the peace that Gauklin took away. Through rain they ventured onward following the drippings as they formed a river, into darkness where no living thing survived. They stood together as determined men and keep up watch in every way, with swords drawn and escaped the plot to end them. But beyond, a glow – though faint – was like a beacon, luring them towards the marshes laced with perfumed winds of flowers. Then they knew that life was there before them, urging them to finish their adventure and restore the peace. And once they reached it, it would end and be complete. The five of them, all Vintirs, chose a path into the forest marsh where trees – that guarded life – would lead them. And the five joined hands and pledged each other that they’d see the end together. This I witnessed from the spire atop the Kradle where I hid, where I would watch and make a record of their passing. And I did so, faithful to my calling, knowing that the five would then prevail. They passed beyond my vision, through the trees into the mist. They left; I never saw the band again because the fog closed ‘round about them and it hid them from my view. The sounds of their departing faded and I waited their return and good news; waited – and I still wait – though it’s been a thousand years.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Nov 2014 06:04:58 +0000
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