The Journey into Timberpass

I awoke this morning to the absence of the sacred fires the monks keep. I've never been away from anyone of my kind for so long. I left the commune at the start of spring; how is it only now summer? Why does it feel as though the days slip by?
 
Calliope was already awake. She confuses me, I admit. I've never met a satyr before, and the monks told me she was likely not born one. I've never been to the Faewyld, and I never want to go. Mom told me that kenku who were taken by the fae rarely returned and were never to be trusted by the community. Master Sopai insisted that they deserve compassion, safety, and the essential dignity of all living creatures. In matters like this, Master Sopai seems wiser. Sorry, Mom.
 
Why is she my task? I've not yet found how to put my breath into the crucible of my soul, nor am I talented in the communal song. I don't know the ballads of the fae that Nyke composed for us. I mean, I know bits, but that was never my talent in school. Brother Ydu is far more versed in the song, surely he would have been a wiser choice. Sister Paemy has far more compassion than I towards outsiders; I know this, as does Master Sopai. Both of them have even begun to forge their breath in the crucible! Why wouldn't they be chosen? Why was I picked?
 
Master Sopai gave me very little spiritual guidance, I feel. "Find the glory in the world," he told me. "Miracles and wonders first are found amongst the lives and homes of the people around you. Seek out their essential truth, and feel for their plight. Act with pure thought and humble instinct."
 
I know this deals with sykenora, but I've heard the lectures and read the scrolls for years now. I don't know what I am missing. Brother Ydu and Sister Paemy seemed to get it so readily and they didn't even have to leave the commune. Is this a punishment? Am I being pushed out of the monastery as an embarrassment? Surely not; I have an important ward in my care and I was told to meet with Brother Leosin Eranthar somewhere around here.
 
Breakfast is porridge again. I'm getting tired of the same overcooked oats thinned down in water. I miss home.
 
 
The caravan guards found some rabbits for stew tonight. They're salting in the back of the rear caravan; that should be a welcome treat after all this fell-forsaken porridge. The goliath sailor Makaan and the human scholar Avindir were talking again about the goliath taken by the cult. I thought it was bad enough to have beings of another world steal your children; to have people of this land take your family and friends feels cruel. We're breathing the same air, standing on the same stone. Surely that means they shouldn't have such animosity? Mom told me about how the people of their previous home were cruel to Dad when he worked. I don't know if it is the same vile ichor in those asshole's hearts as it is in the cult.
 
Calliope is more attentive today, I think. In the last few months, it's been like watching her slowly awaken from a dream. Her attention floats across the land around us, gently touching everything but not settling on any one feature. The mists might be clearing in her mind? I don't even know if that's a thing with fae taken, or if that's just her disposition. I should check in on her more. What do I even say? How do I talk to someone who has seen so much and retains so little? I'm no Ydu or Paemy.
 
I wonder if Makaan can fight. Maybe I could challenge him to a bit of a brawl, just to spice up the dredge of this trip. Master Sopai told me not to fight allies, comrades, or acquaintances. I miss good ol' fashioned scraps. I don't think that Avidnir guy would do well in fisticuffs against me; he looks more like a bookish type. He has rough, calloused hands though. Maybe he was a laborer or craftsman in a previous life.
 
The caravan guard Mitchohel said we should reach Timberpass this evening. What a relief.
 
 
We're supposed to see the town over the next ridge. Just in time too -- the gloaming hours approach and I don't like us moving like this with Calliope in such dangerous times. I can't use my breath to strike through Brother Ydu, how could I protect her against the fae?
 
I think I can see the town from here. How well lit! Maybe they are more well-off than I anticipated. That should be the keep over there. I think I see [scratch]
 
 
The town was being raided and there is apparently a dragon (blue, I think it was? Don't know what that means). We needed to act swiftly to save lives. The caravan guards stayed behind, as is their duty. I'd rather not fight alongside those who's attention is torn between targets. I procured a horse, eager to ride into the districts and save survivors. Makaan the goliath and Avindir the human volunteered to join me. Calliope was ready to follow me. I hope it was wise to put her in danger; is her safety a greater goal than the safety of strangers?
 
Turns out no one knew how to ride a horse unfamiliar to them. Fine, walking will have to do for this crew of vanguards.
 
May Gyian preserve us; these fools of the vanguard make more noise than a child stealing cake. How can so few people make such a tumult?
 
We approached a district from the south and found about a dozen or so kobolds encircling a wounded, fearful shortfolk family. Master Sopai, I wish you were here to guide me. Did I act wrong? Was my drive to perform instinctively a failure when a tempered, cautious approach was wise? I lept into action, Master, as I was trained to do. I identified the interlopers and those being downtrodden. I made myself known, drew attention from the vulnerable, and delivered a decisive blow fitting of the principles of domih. I was bathed in the fires of the attack, my leg covered in the blood of my foe. I didn't know the kobolds were so fragile. He, she, they crumpled against my strike like a near-empty sack of wheat. I didn't mean for their death. I know Thuses teaches us that death is an extant form of life, an inevitability and not something to fear. But life is a precious, ephemeral moment in the eternal expanse of history too. If I am to take a life, it should be done with purpose and conviction, wisdom and thought. I acted in the moment, the palm to block the axe's head from executing the innocent. That is also what I was taught.
 
I couldn't dwell on the ethics of my choice. The fight began, and the family (were they a family? I don't even remember their names anymore. Do they mean so little to me? I don't want that.) was still in danger. I continued my assault, focusing on kobolds near the shortfolk and kobolds using ranged weapons. I held back on my blows, struck more armored locations. I did not take another life that fight.
 
The fight was over almost as fast as I began it. Much to my surprise, all three other members of the vanguard fought without vomiting or freezing. Makaan knew how to use that hammer, for sure. Avindir threw out fire like a mage; maybe I should have paid more attention to his lectures. Calliope charged a kobold head-first (horn-first?) and even channeled magic. Honestly, I thought they would freeze. I'm glad to be wrong.
 
We had a second fight this night. This time, humans (probably?) were guiding the kobolds in the raid. This supported a naive hope of mine: the kobolds weren't fighting out of zeal, but were enlisted in fear. They are likely being manipulated and trounced by those in charge. Easy fight then; knock them out, keep them in the streets. Standard scrap rules.
 
A couple of kobolds and a raider tried to sneak around to strike at our citizens we offered aegis to. Not on my watch. I chased after them, scared them, and even got a kobold to surrender! I think his name (her? their?) was Smelldrop. I honestly don't know for sure. Blood was pounding in my ears and I could barely hear anything.
 
We saved over a dozen citizens on our way to the keep. We weren't even burned or blown up or whatever it is blue dragons do. Is the blue just their scales? Does that really matter?
 
In reflection, I think I am sick with disgust at the thought of a whole town being razed. This is home to people; their lives grow from here. Mom cried at night when I was kid when she remembered how her home was destroyed. To see the same kinds of tears on the faces of these shortfolk inspires sorrow and grief. Is this what Daenu felt when he fought against the empire? Is this what drove Nyke?
 
Against all odds though, we saved lives. While their homes may be ablaze, they can rebuild and regrow. Mom did, so can they. This is the nature and tenacity of life and it is a wonder to behold.