Brand and Vaeol - Chapter 4

From the Journal of Brand Likario

21. Rova, 4818 - On Castrovel
We are on the world, though it is nothing like we expected.
It began three days ago when we left Katheer. We packed and armed, gathered all our supplies, and took leave of our hosts within an inner yard of the Planar Institute. It was all going warm and friendly until Archmaster Virian bade me warn the men that we must be on guard at arrival. Quietly I told them, and we loosened swords and shifted shields while we gathered in a circle.
True to expectation, Archmaster Virian teleported us. We appeared within a wide, high domed hall, which although whole, showed signs of long ruin. Sand and dust covered the floor. Hallways led outward, but Virian warned us to stay. We pitched camp there, among some fallen columns which gave the best defensive stead. Something unsettled me. The stonework somehow seemed too gigantic to be the work of natural men. I have seen both Azlanti and Thassilonian ruins that give the same feeling, and have heard they were raised by wonderful arts that exist no longer. These did not quite have the same look, but much the same feel, maybe of age. No word from either the archmaster or his apprentices on where we were, though through lightholes set in the dome we could see bright dusty sky.
I overheard the two servants whispering. One hushedly spoke a name: Qumarin. I chose not to repeat it to others. Of Qumarin I have heard, and that it bodes evil. I know little of the tales, other than it grew and flourished in the same age as Old Azlant, thought it died even before that empire. Keleshites call it the Accursed. If indeed we were camped in Qumarin, I know why Virian had never told us the gate’s location, and also understand why he kept it secret from the Planar Institute, for they might have forbidden it. What tales I have heard of the few survivors who visited this ghost-city is that they come back blind, scarred, and raving.
The only other clue I had was that Archmaster Virian, Vanya, and Plummer took some chests (heavy by their weight) and carried them away along a hallway, presumably outside. They returned empty-handed and wordless, and to what denizens of this lost city they gave these good I did not see. When Vanya caught the servants’ whispers that I had earlier overheard, she sharply silenced them.
We settled for an uneasy night within the barren dome, our lone fire lighting the broad hall; smoke glowing while it rolled along the roof. Without waiting for the Archmaster’s word, I doubled the watch.
With morning, Virian bade me choose six men while the rest watched camp. We escorted the wizards through a hallway, then down several stairs to an undercroft, whose path we followed with torches and magelights. After more climbs and twists we came to a room taller and wider than any others we had seen underground. Its spirit brooded samely as the ruined dome above. Against its far wall stood a misshapen arch, almost like two stone ledges that had toppled onto each other, and not part of any stonework we had passed. Glyphs carven into their sides, however, belied their seeming natural state. I knew even before the Archmaster spoke that this was the worldgate.
At once the wizards began spelling divinations. When at long last their wariness was satisfied, they approached the arch. They examined every rune and every inch of its stony face, both outside and in. While we guards watched, they then sat, drew symbols on the floor, chanted, and sat with eyes shut for a long while. Finally, they rose. Archmater Virian deemed whatever spellcraft they had done a success, and we climbed back to the dome-hall.
That eve, they explained their plan to explore this unknown world and find corpsicum. My scouts would accompany Vanya and Plummer through the gate, along with their two servants. Once there, we would establish a base camp while the two wizards worked their divinations and determined where to find the skymetal. Thence, we would plan how best to travel there. If we meet locals, we would do our best to treat peacefully and win their hospitality - though Virian warned we should under no straits take help from Elves (why he explained not, and I am unsure we will be in any position for choosiness). Once we find corpsicum, Vanya or Plummer (they would back each other up) would teleport us all back to the gatestead, which they would open and bring us back, where Archmaster Virian and his servants would await. Then fortune be ours, and pardon would be mine.
My only comment was that it was a fairly straightforward plan with a great lot of uncertainty.
The next morning - yesterday - we readied to go. Though all my men had already sworn to go, I gave them a last chance to stay (despite the sore look Archmaster Virian gave) if they didn’t wish to risk stranding on another world. None took my offer. So we armed, packed all our gear aback, including two weeks of food if we can make it last, and followed the stairs underground to the gate-room. There we formed a double-column, with me at the head with Mistress Vanya and Master Plummer, and waited.
Archmaster Virian approached the gate. For the first time he laid hand on the gnarled stone. He muttered a spell. One by one, the glyphs running the arch’s span woke. A glow once red then green coiled from one to the next, starting where his hand lay, up to the joined crest, and down the other side.
Where I stood at our band’s head, I watched mist swirl within the arch. It was dark, but with a glinting sheen. While I watched, the archwizard’s dwimmer hardened until it stirred waterlike within the archway, like a pool stood on edge and somehow not spilling out. Behind me I heard my men shift uneasily. I bade them stand sharp.
At last the arch’s inside flared bright, a swirling, sloshing pane between our world and another. Archmaster Virian, hand still on the stone, bade us go through and swiftly. I looked at Vanya beside me. Even she dithered at the unknown before. While the Archmaster scowled, I grabbed a torch from the man behind. I stuck it and my hand through the unworldly pane. They faded. It was like sticking my hand in water, only it went numb. I took a deep breath and stepped through.
All went dark. I felt nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing. Then suddenly dampness pressed my face, and earthy must filled my nose. I stumbled, and my boots scuffed loud. Still I couldn’t see, but then smelled hot coals and ash. My torch had gone out. I swerved back and spotted the gate from its magical seeth. I was standing on the other side.
Then a shape split the roiling pane, and out stepped Vanya. Like me she staggered. Yet I touched her shoulder and asked her to spell a light. She focused, and soon light blossomed in the darkness, which gave us our first sight of this new place: a misshapen, vaulted room with odd low tunnels leading off. Just when we got our bearings, more shapes came through the worldgate. I saw Vern, Duster, and the rest of my men, and Vanya’s servant Draxy. While they appeared, I counted heads, and Vanya urged them to clear room before the arch, for she warned Virian could only hold the gate open for a short while, and we needed all to get through. I counted to thirteen when two more shapes, Plummer and his servant Dormus, slid through the arch’s eldritch pane: our last fellows for this adventure.
Right below the arch’s crown, a lone glyph flashed. Suddenly all its glyphs blazed blindingly, as did its midst. No time to gape, I yelled warning, grabbed Vanya, and leapt for a side-tunnel. I could only pray the men followed swiftly enough to get clear of the worldgate.
Searing light flooded the tunnel after us. A blow followed, and the stone shook. Though pebbles clattered, nothing else fell. I crouched with my shield over Vanya’s and my heads, and we waited for things to settle. Behind, I heard my men calling fearfully in the darkness. I shouted them to stand fast and get torches lit. After my own was relit, we came back to the gate-room. I found my men kneeling or lying afloor wherever they had flung themselves in fear of the blast, which luckily had been nowise so great. Though some said they were blind from the flash, they otherwise seemed hale, and we hoped the blindness would wear off.
Then we looked at the darkened gate. The magical rift-pane was gone. A broad plinth had fallen from the cavern roof. Thereunder lay. Master Plummer and Dormus, crushed even while they stepped forth onto this world. I knelt and checked their shattered limbs, though I already knew them dead. If they had lived, I would have wished them a more ruthful end.
Beside me I felt Vanya shudder. I looked at her ashen, bloodless face and knew why. “The gate is lost,” she groaned breathlessly.
I didn’t need to be a wizard to tell that something had happened to the worldgate, whether broken or that somehow Virian’s spell had faltered. What worried me right then was the panic rising in her eyes, which I could not let infect the men. I put my arm around her, drew her close, and whispered a lie that all would be all right. Then I yelled to the men to ready and move out. We made sure we had all our gear, which but for what Plummer and Dormus had been carrying, was all there. Then I chose a tunnel, which didn’t really matter, and led us forth. Vanya stayed under my arm, which I took as sign my nearness comforted her. Also, the haughty Chelaxian’s curves pressed against my ribs felt damn good.
We spent an unknown while following the queer tunnels. They were so low that most had to stoop. Their girth was almost round and hardly flat but at the floor’s midst. There were no stairs. Instead, they sloped. I almost guessed them natural until we saw the rooms they joined: high arched ceilings with fluted buttresses too smooth and seamless, and etched with more symbols, though they looked unlike those carven on the gate, and oddly shapen platforms in the rooms’ midsts. Folk had built this place, though who and what kind were they? Then again, maybe they were not folk. Whenever given a choice, I chose an upward way, for I guessed us underground.
At last warm wind smote our faces, and we hastened into a rubble-strewn hall. Above, the fallen roof opened up to blackness. The night sky? Something else? I could not tell, but the air’s warmth heartened me. An odd drizzle fell: light and irregular, as if droplets were falling off something far overheard. The hall’s floor was covered in moss and queer mushroomy stalks, whereof I warned the men to steer clear. I bade us rest, with a watch on all doorways. 
Then I took Vanya aside, still holding her close, and had a quiet talk about our path forward. When I asked whether the gate is broken, she answered she didn’t know for sure, but that the flare and blast foreboded ill, for those actions were not contemplated within the spell to command the gate. If it is broken, I asked if we could find another, at which she shrugged. I bethought of the Elves’ gate to Sovyrian, but laid it aside, for I recalled Archmaster Virian’s word that we would be on a whole other continent (though how did he know?). She also said she could still lead us to the corpsicum, which gave her something to focus on.
I asked whether she could learn whether the gate is truly broken or not. After long thought, she said she could likely divine its state. So I asked when she would be ready to go back down to the worldgate and work her spells. She suggested we take a meal, after which we would head back down. So I got the men setting a hasty camp, sharing hardtack and seeking water. Afterward, I asked if she was ready, and she agreed to go back underground. I took Draxy her servant and Duster with us while Vern minded the men at camp. 
We wandered for some while among the confusing, twisting warrens, though Vanya’s seeking-spell at last found the way. Again we reached the gate, where under the fallen stone our two lost fellows still lay. We gave Vanya all the time she needed, not leastly for our way home depended on her. She sat and worked a spell samely to what I had seen her and Plummer do the day earlier. When the time grew long, I drew the others back, so that we could pace our impatience without disturbing her. 
Finally she staggered wearily from the gateroom and leaned near me. “The gate is shut,” she told simply. With some effort I drew out exactly what she meant: the worldgate on our side, with all its glyphs and enchantments, is still intact. However, she no longer felt the link back to its mate in Qumarin. Something had happened, what she knew not.
I asked our options, whereat Vanya shook her head. When I wondered if Archmatser Virian could mend the gate from his side, she answered she knew not, but feared, for he had only puzzled out the spell to work it, not to make it, which had been wrought and forgotten far more anciently. Regardlessly, I was unsure whether we could afford to wait for however long wizards need to make such wondercrafts. Next, I asked if she could lead us to safety, whereat she seemed confused. So I asked if she could divine whether we can find food, shelter, and hopefully answers. A moment she dithered, and then calmed and answered she would see what she could when we came back to the others.
We climbed back to the surface, where we found Vern and the rest waiting tightly. I gave them the good news that the gate here was unbroken, though something had happened back home, what we were unsure. I then lied and said we needed to give Archmaster Virian time to fix it. In the meanwhile, I told that Vanya would find us shelter and, if we were lucky, the way to find corpsicum and win the wealth we had come for. I let greed give them hope.
Before our company, Vanya sat, shut her eyes, and cast a spell. I watched for a long while as she stayed. At last she opened eyes and read we should head northward. I pulled out my wafinder, read the directon, and marked a nearby with chalk. It was a start.
Shortly afterward, I gathered the men. I read our main goal is survival, and that we must take care of each other. I told them Mistress Vanya already had a lead on somewhere we can find help, and that tomorrow we would start toward it. Thankfully, my word stunted the panic growing in their eyes. I organized two teams to scout these ruins while a third stayed at our makeshift camp and readied supper.
I kept Vanya with me and explored together. Within a complex of walls and hummocky warrens we found more proof of fallen walls and rooves, all under darkness that we assumed was night. A faint stir came from above, and odd raindrops, but little wind, which gave no clue to what lurked overhead. We dug into a mossy monolith in a room’s midst and found stonework that might once have been a statue. Its smooth curves suggested something once carven in a rising spiral until we came to a harsh break where the smoothness ended. I found more marks in the stone that hinted hacks made by a tool or blade. Also, in many rooms we found trees, some of which had grown to full size and had even burst through walls. However many centuries ago this city (or whatever it was) had fallen, it was far too long to tell how, though I guessed its end violent.
Then we walked around a curve of what might be a street, and in our way rose a rough wall of moss and mushrooms that wholly blocked us. I looked upward, but to no end in sight. Its oddly lifelike surface faded into darkness, though it seemed to round on the edges. We backtracked and eventually found a path to where the ruins grew seldom and disappeared. Vanya and I stared off into an otherwordly wasteland, all darkness, though faint glows broke the gloom. I saw another wall-like shaft rising from the ground, and another as well, wide as mansions. The whole land seemed made of these overlooming protuberances.
Vanya bent down and picked a dentillated frond, twice so long as her hand, with veinlike ridges sprouting from base out to the tips. I could hardly see color in the gloom, but one side showed a greenish hue while the other when she brought her magelight near, showed a bluish gold. “A leaf!” she exclaimed. We eyed each other and both had the same thought: the monstrous rough shafts rising skyward were huge trees. If true, then the reason this land was so dark was because their boughs and leaves blocked all light.
Then a ropelike smote Vanya's head and shoulder. Her eyes widened while I reached for her. Yet she lifted upward beyond my grasp. Dumbly I watched while she floated away, to where above I saw this unreal, many-limbed, headless monster, almost dark as the gloom it floated in and like a jellyfish one might find upwashed on the seashore, and reeling her closer. Neither it nor Vanya made a sound.
I shouted warning, but no one had an arrow ready. We had just lost our last wizard who had any chance of finding our way home.

From the Daylog of Vaeol-Zheievil u’Zhasaele Zolaemaue be’Son

9. Afaelae, 24,535 - Son
Today brought a new task: an outstretched scoutfare in strength. I was called to Lady-Captain’s office, where she told me of need to scout southward along the Yaro and eastward away from the mountains. I answered yes and that I would have the troop ready at once. She then said it were well, but that we should need more. Along with my riders she gives me a bowtroop as well, to make it a rightful sith.
She then told me the reason for this strong scoutfare: the seers have queer tokens of that landstretch. Something weird and unseemly stirs, and we must understand. She then bade me call my underreeves and come.
I found the riders at drilltide, whereat I bade them stand down and see to their steeds and gear. Then I bade Erymi and Oshis with me, and we went back to Lady-Captain’s office. There we found her with two others: a Damaya and Korasha. Them she named as Firstbow Tae the Damaya and Elderbow Less the Korasha, whose bowtroop shall sith us on this fare. Lady-Captain quoth she had chosen them for their deedfulness on this landstretch. I soon learned they were doughty, with so many years as Oshis has in firdhood, and furthermore are friends of Erymi and Oshis. Lady-Captain told she had chosen me for my seercraft, where I may better outfeel this queerness. They yaysaidd to follow me, whereat we would get the teams ready.
While Erymi and Oshis oversaw the riders, I went with Tae and Less to meet their warriors, who were mending and cleansing gear. Walking among these Korasha felt like standing among a pack of bull-Shotalashu, all hairy thews and eagerness. They are all older and have at least one fird-tide each. Else than Tae, the only other Damaya is her groom Teaemol. Likewise, they are the only Shota-riders in the team. They will go slower. Yet I beheld the long-handled axes the Korasha were shining. I shall feel bolder with them at my back.