Chapter 3 – Calmar’s discovery
Calmar walked quickly through the woods. He searched the path for any sign of where the wolves had gone. Darkness had become his veil and he no longer feared death or pain. His arm was bleeding badly now but nothing was going to stop him. His strong figure stumbled through brush and thorns, not turning away from the darkest parts of the forest. He wandered the woods with nothing to bind him; he was free from the taunting evil of Tarole. Suddenly he came to the edge of the forest and stood looking at the vast desert that lay before him. Courage welled up in him and he began the journey, once again estranged from the world that he knew. He watched the stars at night and tracked his way during the day, each time bringing him closer to Maethorion. He was alone in a world of his own. His cape became his bed and darkness seized him in another world. After days of bitter heat and sandy wind he finally reached the other side of the desert; a victor once again. He turned resolutely to the great hills. Calmar brushed the hair out of his face and started walking. He thought of the words that his mother wrote before she died. His father had saved them so that one day Calmar could read them.
“The wind twirls around my hair and makes golden strings to decorate it with. The sun sparkles through my eyes and even the fog wraps itself around my body. Rivers come down my cheeks and clouds gather in my eyes. Mountains peak through my hands. Everything is shining so radiantly and I am ready now… ready to leave it behind for you, my son. Yes, but take care that it does not take you away before you are ready.”
The dust gathered on his boots and the plain stretched out like a forsaken soul hoping for someone to come to it. The mournful trees were bowed low in anguish…. Just waiting for the final wind that would blow them to death. His heart hammered in his temples. As he got closer the clouds rolled forbiddingly overhead. The sun suddenly hid itself as if to say that it was too hard to look. He advanced slowly marking now and again his path. His journey was just beginning. He began to crawl blindly toward the light that emanated from it. Sweat fell like rain from his dark brow and clouds enveloped him. He had always wanted to be a part of the magic, a part in saving his people. Who was the King of the West? There was such secrecy about him… as if there was some deep magic that Lithônion had, that no one wanted a part of.
His foot slipped on a wet rock. He went sliding down many feet before he could stop. His head was bleeding and his hands were torn, the skin was peeling off. He looked down at his shattered cloak. After a whole day of climbing, hanging on the edge of a precipice, and dangling even on the edge of death, Calmar IV reached his final destination.
He stood, stunned by the terrifying and beautiful sight. He was here! He knelt down in the lush grass and buried his face in the turf. All his worries from the last weeks were shattering. His face radiated with warmth, not the kind like in the desert-like plain he had just come from… it was the beautiful, cool, refreshing warmth that makes someone shiver amidst a fire.
He stood up and looked around questioningly. How old is this place? He asked aloud. It was a beautiful building, so intricately made with statues all around. It seemed to be a relic of some past event or king. The sun reflected off the marble pavement and the turrets stood tall against the sky. Something burned his hand and he quickly pulled it back from the wall. It was burning a bright yellow and orange like that of a fire in the night. The pain went away and yet his hand still seeped with the bright fire. He picked up his cloak that he had thrown down. Where to go from here?
“Why have you come? You look very tired. You come from beyond the Damarion Woods don’t you?” Calmar looked up and saw a man standing close to him. He was young, tall and fair and looked very noble, yet very fierce.
“Yes, I do.”
“Lle naa belegohtar. And what would a man such as yourself want here?”
“I have come to seek help from Maethorion. He is the wisest of mortals on in Yameaus. He knows much of what goes on. I need protection from an evil foe.”
“Maethorion is very wise. But there are things that even he does not know. He has gained much honor from the Battle of the Ages, but,” he paused, “He is not the wisest of men on earth.”
Calmar fingered the parchment. “You speak of Lithônion.”
“Yes, I do. There are things that are altogether hidden from his eyes, and secrets that he does not know. But, he will do what he can. I see that you have fought the wolves on your way here.” The man continued.
“How did you know that?”
“Because when someone that has seen or touched those evil creatures and then touches part of Maethorion’s abode, his hand will turn fiery. It is nothing that you have done. You may still proceed however.” The man smiled graciously and showed the way down a long winding hall. There were beautiful pictures of lush and green places. It reminded him of the Southern Falls before the spell had come. An artful rug adorned the floor and felt soft on his feet. Their footfalls echoed in the halls and everything seemed silent. Suddenly the man drew up and turned about.
“We have come to his room,” he pointed to a door that seemed mysterious and eerie. The man opened the door and Calmar stepped through. It was lit by several lamps that burned quietly, snapping once and again. Someone stood at the window looking out over the lands. His hand lay immovable on the window sill and a chill wind blew through the room. Papers were scattered about it and an ink well sat on the table. When the man turned around he was pale but his eyes were a vibrant blue that seemed to light his face. His long white robe tossed with the wind. Calmar couldn’t tell exactly how old he was, he seemed so young, as if untouched by time.
“I know, Calmar. You have come seeking help and advice. You may find what you seek here but never allow yourself to trust what everyone says. You will have great disappointment if you follow the advice of anyone. Creoso, mellonamin,” he said looking closely at Calmar. “You have come on behalf of your people and on behalf of all Yameaus. Do not think for a second that I have forgotten the situation in which we have been placed. It may seem to you that I am so far from everything that goes on that I do not know of the bitter cruel things that have happened. But I know far too well. I have dabbled in the depths of death itself and seen the torture that goes on behind our backs!” his eyes grew fierce and a fire seemed to burn within his soul.
“Then you know more than even I know about Tarole and his evil creatures. I have come to ask your help in order to reach the King of the West. You have been there many times and we know very little of him or his kingdom.” Calmar said.
“Yes, I have. But he is shadowed in mystery and I can tell that there are things that no one knows. I will try to help the Southern Falls, but I am afraid that you will not be able to go,” he said. And he began a story.
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