'How does he do that?' Shaking his head as Ceirn 'drops' in their midst, Navarre clicks his tongue at the black gelding. Keeping pace with the Aiel, as they head back towards the 'Waygate.' Asking, "How close do we want to get to the gate, before we camp." He frowns, "Or are we going to pass through tonight?"
"I suggest we camp in front of it and head through after we rest. The less time we spend resting in there...the better." Ceirn says.
Lazar was not a woodsman. He was more of a city lad, especially in the kitchen. Still, once the fires were stoked and camp secured the Domani man would begin to work his skills and cook.
Using water, some vegetables, and spices the man managed to pull out some campfire bread and soup. It was a simple stock, but he could be proud of it.
Having remembered the lay of the land from when they exited 'the ways' Navarre moved off the trail to an indented area perfect for starting a small fire. Pulling the saddle off of his gelding, Navarre rubbed down the black and hobbled him to let him graze. Separating his gear from the saddle, he began to dig a hole for the fire. After building a fire ring, Navarre started gathering fallen branches and sticks so he could get the fire stoked for their chef.
While Lazar cooked Navarre set up his tent, then checked on the gelding, making sure he had found the nearby creek. Finding his way back to the camp, he waited until Lazar announced the meal was ready. Helping himself to the bread and stew Navarre enjoys the companionable silence. Once he'd done eating he claims the middle watch and heads to his tent.
Unable to fall asleep immediately, he ponders the last few days. The Oath to be Hunters of the Horn. The attack at the inn. The dream of the bookmaker. Traveling the Ways. The odd bookshop they'd found. The worst of it, the friends they'd lost; his cousin gone. The Aes Sedia Tenora who he'd known as a child. Even the others he'd not known well. all gone. He knew the elders would sagely say, "The wheel weaves as the wheel wills." As he lay falling asleep, he hoped the wheel would will them allies soon.
A cool breeze swept slowly over the hills throughout the night, forcing you all to wake from your slumber several times. Or perhaps it was the unintentional thoughts of having to travel the Ways again, so soon after having traveled the first time from Illian. the darkness that is within the Ways, the feeling of always being watched, examined... desired. And worse, the potential of Machin shin happening upon the group; the stories told chills one to their bones without thinking about it...
yet, eventually, for far too long, yet not long enough, the sun did whisper a peak over the horizon, casting brilliant orange colors upon the long landscape.
Waking the cold morning as the sun peaks over the horizon, Navarre eats a cold breakfast as he packs his gear. Putting the saddle and bags on the black gelding, he makes sure the girth is tight and checks all the buckles. Patting the horse's neck, he whispers, "Back through the ways, eh boy?"
Taking the horses reins, he leads the black towards the strange doorway for the gate. Looking at the others, he asks. "Who's comfortable trying to open the thing?"
"I can,I mean the start of any journey big or small is one foot infront of the other"Lazar says as he steps up with his pack mule in tow.
" Let's get on with it." He says taking up his staff and getting close ro it. He looks at the gate and gets ready to move the leaf.
Ceirn stands ready as Lazar handles the door.
lazar lifts the large, intricately carved leaf off of the equally carved stone gateway. As the leaf moves, it ripples, as if stirred by a breeze, or perhaps is in response to Lazar's touch, or perhaps it was always moving ever so slightly and the group were the one's that were still.
However was happening, with the removal of the leaf, it is, once again, the door that demands the attention.
starting from where the leaf was removed, vines and branches, leaves and thorns, all of it begins to move, to wave as if in a hidden, unfelt breeze. The movement was so natural for something that could have been carved by Ogier stonemasons, yet such Ogier would have cried if they had cared to have that level of skill that only an item made of the One Power could achieve.
A vertical line split the chiseled image in two, however the movement remains consistent upon both doors. As the door widens, what is behind the door captures everyone's attention. Blacker than Black, a depression to the eyes that, for something made of the One Power, should have been wonderous to behold!
As Lazar reaches for the intricately carved leaf, Navarre feels the hair on his neck stand up. Resisting the urge to draw his sword, he moves closer to his black gelding holding the reins a little firmer. As the vines and branches begin to move, Navarre wonders what brought him here.
He pondered how his cousin joined a band of adventures that included Gleemen, Aes Sedai, Aiel and even an Ogier. How the whole band took the 'Oath of the Horn' and he followed to protect her. He remembered the 'merchants inn' and the prophesy from the young girl who died and dream they all had. Which was followed by the strange dream like fight and the flames. His cousin and others had died in that fight, but the dream demanded the survivors head through the Ways to get to the book maker's house. Bolstered by Aes Sedai they passed through this dark place and found their objective. But at the end of the journey the Aes Sedai, along with all the others, abandoned them. Shaking his head, it was now just they three.
Watching the magic Lazar activated as the great black maw was revealed, Navarre stares into the darkness. Why was he still here? He'd not taken the oath; he was a merchant guard not a 'Hunter of the Horn.' But he'd had the dream, and he'd watched his cousin, and other good people, die. Whatever this Bytor, had found, or was it Jair? He realized they were going to rescue a man and he wasn't even sure of the fellow's name. Shaking his head, it didn't matter. Good people, his own kin, had paid a price, he'd see it through.
Resolved, Navarre turns to the Aiel, "Ceirn, Lazar and I have the animals, can you take point?"
Ceirn nods and after a movement to steel himself he enters the dark portal and moves forward to make room for the others. He keeps his eyes on the rutted walkway instead of looking out into the endless darkness that seemed to crowd in on him.
Lazar smiles as he sees Ceirn head forward."Scouting isn't a horrible thing, but I am happy it's not me this time."
The Domani man hated this place it smelt wrong, very wrong. Death and worse seemed on the air constantly. He wondered how he would be able to get through it this time. Last time he used some of the liberated sisters' soap and perfume. It was great for a minute, but now he had little to nothing.
Lazar sniffs and tries to clear his nose, as he does he leads his mule and sighs."I hope we aren't in here too long"
Once everyone is in Ceirn says, "When we reach the first island we will need to refer to the book and ensure we are not heading the wrong way." He then turns and starts trotting down the walkway.
With everyone in, Lazar replaces the leaf upon the outside of the door, and as he steps over the watery threshold that plunges his soul into a bone chilling frigidness, the doors silently close shut behind the three travelers.
Navarre lifts the large lamp taken from the publishers house and lights the wick. the flame licks the cotton fabric, burning the oil. the flame pushes back the darkness, yet even this lamp's brilliance is stunted. Yet, even with this limitation, the lamp is able to cast it's light upon the white line that seems to be painted into the rock island upon which you stand. it leads off into the darkness beyond....
Frowning as the glowing bulb seemed to do little for the darkness, Navarre watched as Lazar replaced the the leaf. Nodding in agreement with Lazar, he nervously chimes in. "Yes, hopefully not too long," Looking towards Ceirn "and hopefully not the wrong direction" He bends down holding he light close to he stones trying to illuminate the white line that seemed to be painted into the rock. "It looks like it heads off into the darkness, let's stay close." Standing back up straight he looks to Ceirn again. Then pats the gelding's neck, hoping to calm himself as much as the horse.
Lazar nods as he continues to lead his mule." I mean yeah this place smells of death, horrible death."
Lazar seemed to continue striding forward, his staff seemingly ready to work. It was a strange gait but also a practiced one. Nonchalant yet graceful. He had a dancers step.
"I have stuff for a meal should we need ut" Lazar says gesturing to the added bundle on his Mule. Provisions stolen from the house.
the walk from the Gate to the first floating island, as your arrival not the day before, is the same. The large stone bridge arcs high up into the darkness, with the white line just visible to the naked eye. to the left and right the waist high barrier still stands proudly, albeit with signs of decay. As the party passes by an area that is particularly ravaged by decay, a small section of the stone barrier crumbles with a loud clatter of rock smashing into rock. Yet, once free of the bridge, if falls silently.
No more than an hour, a day, an evening, the brief flaring of lust; time passes. eventually, you make it to the first island. Fresh scuff marks from your hasty journey to Far Madding are evident upon the left most area that borders the bridge you traveled over. A single stone slab stands seven feet tall. Upon it, Ogier script is chiseled in a flowing pattern upon the hard surface. Beyond the stone way marker, a bridge connects to the island and flows into the darkness. the same for another bridge that goes off to the right, and downward.
Lazar nods and looks at the others."D we try to push on or camp? If we camp I have bread and stew that just needs a bit of heat and we can eat them in the bread?"
The Domani man was a bit jittery but seemingly calm.
Holding his breath as the small section of the stone wall crumbles and falls into the nothingness, Navarre hadn't liked traveling 'the ways' yesterday and he liked it less today. As they stop at the 'first island' he looks at the signs unable to read the ogier script, he ponders silently who'd read the signs the day before. Worried that it had been one of the women who were no longer with them, he shakes his head at Lazar's question. "I'd rather not break camp until we are out of this cursed place. But which way do we go?"
"I heard stones hitting other stone beneath us. Perhaps there is a bottom to this foul place." Ceirn shares with the others. Ceirn will look at the sign post and compare it to the information they have to try and decipher which way to go. "We may be forced to camp here, but I think we should move as far as we can. Does any of this look familiar?" Ceirn asks.
"Not Really? They all look the same. It's flaming the same here" Lazar says a bit distraught as he shifts a bit at the utterance of shifting rocks.
"You think we are not alone here?"The Domani asks wondering what exactly he was doing in this light-forsaken place.
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Pausing in the darkness, Navarre holds his hand up in a fist, bringing his gelding to a stop. Putting a finger to his lips, he points over the edge and whispers. "Is that the sound of crickets?"
"Possibly all I smell is death most foul" Lazar says as he sighs and looks at the rest.
Lazar goes through the packs of his mule and pulls out the necessary materials and begins to read them. As he does he looks about and then looks to the other two. "Here double check if that is the right way to go"
Ceirn will try and compare the symbols and then point to the symbols that seem to align and say, "I think we go with this path."
Raising an eyebrow when Lazar said all he could smell was death, Elek considered what he smelled: dust, maybe mold. It reminded him of the mines of Canluum. Relaxing his grip on the geldings reins, he moved closer with Ciern when Lazar ask to 'double check. Looking over the map, he shakes his head. "I'm not sure."
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Navarre points to the right. That way. HIs finger points at a bridge that arcs up and into the darkness.
The bulb flickers momentarily, plunging you all into a darkness deeper than the back of your eyelids on a moonless night....
Relieved that he was able to eventually make sense of the map, Navarre nods to Ceirn. Tightening his grip on the gelding's reins, he clicks his tongue. "Come on boy were going that way." Looking back at the light, he sighs, "I hope the book makers lanterns makes it."
Ceirn nods without needing to say how much he agreed and then starts immediately moving in that direction as swiftly as he can.
Lazar sniffles and loops the lantern on the end of his staff and begins to use his flint and steel to relight it.
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Lazar easily relights the lantern, and into the darkness everyone walks.
The march through the darkness seems to drag on. At times, you feel as if time is sand and it spills through your fingers. Other moments, time is molasses being poured on an icy winter night, slow, lethargic, yet relentless.
Sound as well, is distorted. the clip clop of the horses hooves echo disjointedly, sending back retorts that seem to whisper more than clap back. The rustle of clothing, the jingle of a harness buckle, the rasp of leather upon horse hide, the subtle clack of scabbard upon thigh, all sound is muted and changed.
The glowing bulb flickers and dims at random intervals, its pale light winking and then vanishing, before it returns steady. Yet, it seems as if the vanishing of light grows longer, or rather the return of the glow takes longer to come back.
navarre, with the aid of the map, leads the small group from island to island, religiously checking the map numerous times to be absolutely certain he has read the map, lest the party get lost.
The last island you stand upon, Navarre glaring at his map in the pale light. Upon the island you stand, yet there is no guidepost, no ogier script to compare, no marking of the person who came before to indicate that you were on the right course. No tracks to be found, no scuff marks. Just five bridges, with only one of them holding an extremely faded white line upon its walkway.
"Um, the wind is coming!" Lazar exclaims his voice quavering strangely though he stood rigid.
" Isnt feeling the wind a bad thing here?" Lazar said trying to recolect what he had heard on the journey to Far Madding?
"Then we need to move quickly. Do we follow the line?" Ceirn asked as he looks around for an enemy he knows he cannot fight.
As they move through the strange darkness of the ways, Navarre finds himself staying close to the black gelding. Occasionally his mount would pause and nicker or twitch its ears, and the swordsman would ask him softly what he heard or what he could see. Sadly the gelding did not or would not answer.
When they came to the last island he lightened his grip a little on the reins so he could look at the map with his companions. Shaking his head, he looked around seeing no guideposts nor anything else to indicate the right direction. Raising an eyebrow as Lazar declares that a wind was coming, he turns towards Ceirn, looking from his friend to the faded white line and back again. Tightening his grip back up, he responds, "I don't think we have any other choice." As he finishes, he turns to the gelding, "Come on boy, we probably want to pick up the pace." And begins to jog forwards.
Flesh so fine, so fine to tear, to gnash the skin; skin to strip, to plait, so nice to plait the strips, so nice, so red the drops that fall; blood so red, so red, so sweet; sweet screams, pretty screams, singing screams, scream your song, sing your screams...
you hurry up the bridge into the darkness...
the glowing bulb flickers...
the torch light pales, no longer shining out as it did upon entering the ways earlier. now, its glow is withdrawn, as if afraid of something out there....
the horses whicker nervously, and their eyes begin to roll...
one of them slows it's steps, and begins to jerk on the reins that guide it.
the wind is stronger now, noticeable.
a breeze...
a breeze within the Ways...
It blows swiftly over you...
Ceirn nods in agreement as the wind picks up and starts jogging forward.
Lazar shivers as he speaks."Um something is talking, it wants our blood"