Part V: Up and Down
Spongey soft rotted and saturated wood bends under foot. The feeling of grimy green moss and gritty dirt along coarse wood as my hands glide along the railing. I go carefully across.
On the last step I feel it.
This…
This is something else. The laws are stronger here, if I took the time I could weave more spells, but whose laws would I be taking? Eight and thirty there have always been. Eight laws and thirty rites. In every city and every kingdom, each league and each nation always bound to the eight and thirty. Here though? Here is different, these are not familiar laws, from where is their well spring? What purpose are they?
Spellweaving is out of the picture. I will not use these alien laws, I assure myself.
I go forth following the winding stoney path upwards.
Quee!
No bird, I'm certain of it. It's sheet metal. Darkness climbs with me now I will have to stop soon, just as soon as I find the metal.
High above, atop a hill. Cellar door creaking in the wind. Up and then down. A solitary cellar, up so high, how queer. So much wind and yet unmoved is the fog.
I don't want to go down there, little light. It might be safe though, protected and warm. A good place to sleep maybe. I've come this far. I strike a match and descend. Some shelves and leaves blown in from above, bare cinderblock walls.
Jars!
Food perhaps.
Broken jar, Unsealed jar, Nothing but vinegar jar.
Final jar what will it be.
Pickled… acorns?
No not acorns but something like them.
A tentative bite. Taste like roasted cashews. Soggier with a pickled beet taste. Not my first pick, but a veritable feast compared to the last few days.
Oil lamp in the corner on the shelf near the jars. I light it, close the cellar and lock it from the inside then lay down for the night.
"It sounds like salvation." I whisper to myself.
The verse stings like home. I could have been archmage for the fourth regiment. Should have been according to Arik. Has it really been two years? I remember it so clearly.
~ "Don't be a fool boy. Glory calls your name, and you want to piss it away for what? The order? Bah" he spits.
I roll my eyes and he slaps a rag against the table.
"It's my choice by rites."
He grumbles.
"It's a stupid choice, nothing but mystic bums." I grab his plate to wash, "What does Pollux think?" He quickly changes tactics
"Pollux supports me like you should."
"Bah! The only thing I support is more ouzo. Pour me another glass." ~
What would you say now Arik? Probably I told you so. Maybe you're right. It's not over yet though.
No water, pickled acorns, and what of the bridge what price shall I pay for that? No doubt I shall learn soon enough.
I unfasten my cloak and lay down pulling the cloak close to my chest like a blanket though moist from mist and blood and mud. I give it a tight squeeze and inhale deeply, his smell is mostly faded from it and mingled with a dozen other scents but it comforts nonetheless what of you Pollux, what would you say? Something witty no doubt something to make me smile, but you are not here, no one is, for now I am alone and I must rest and think no more.
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