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The Lost Stars ChronicleChapter 20: Buried Memories
From the beginning, the troupe of eight persons knew it would be a battle to travel...they would soon learn it would be a battle simply to stay together and survive. Within ten minutes (or as well as any of them could figure), they were hopelessly lost. When the Delvarden Gard swamps and the surrounding forest had been regrown by the earth mage Bourne, all the Forestmen trails and other landmarks had not regrown. It would take the Forestmen many years to reclaim the reborn woods. However, even if there had been a trail, they probably would have never found it, or passed it, or traveled over it, due to the heavy amount of snow.
The thick trees did little to keep the ground clear of the white mass, for the snow simply didn’t fall from the sky, it drove from every direction, clogging every single conceivable place. Worse yet, it was a thick, sticky snow that didn’t settle and stuck to anything and everything, especially the sled.
The trail blazers, Bjarn and Voolmark, had the hardest job of all, for it was up to them to trample down the soaking fluff so that the sled could pass. This involved stepping forward one and a half feet, sinking up to one's knees in snow, then backtracking so the snow pounded down further. Then repeat, again, again, and again. Soon both of the Forestmen’s legs were like lead and were sore and soaked. Voolmark had given up on tapping into the Mana and was using sheer manpower when suddenly he cried, “Ah!”
Bjarn halted and turned to his former mentor.
“Voolmark, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, just fine…” mumbled Voolmark, fumbling with the strap that tied his staff to his back, “Move aside Bjarn…”
Confounded, Bjarn did so. Voolmark gripped his staff, then plunged the white staff into the snow, the green gem sinking though the snow and a few inches into the mud beneath.
“Voolmark, what-?”
“Shush!”
Now the whole troupe a had ground to a stop. Voolmark ignored the questioning murmurs and concentrated on the deeply wedged staff, his eyes narrowed. Suddenly there was a flash of fire, and the staff was blown upward from the ground, splattering Bjarn and Voolmark with mud. Spitting out grit, Voolmark beamed, looked at the large flame now licking the top of his staff.
“What did you do?” gasped Bjarn.
"Mana isn’t the only magic out there, Bjarn.” explained Voolmark, “Mana is a mostly man-made magic, controlled by spoken spells, charms and jinxes. I just tapped into Earth Magic, an ancient magic that governs the natural flows of Dametreos and beyond. This is the magic of goblins and dwarves."
Bjarn nodded in understanding. Bourne the earth mage not only was well versed in the flow of the Mana, he had a firm grip on Earth Magic.
“You’ve got more tricks hidden up your sleeve than ever.” smiled Bjarn, “A pity you didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Aye,” murmured Voolmark, edging forward, “But I’m only an amateur with Earth Magic, unlike Daner Pluto. This flame is about all I can conjure up.”
As Voolmark spoke, the flame burning from his staff started licking away at the piles of snow. The barrier began to give way to a heat that seemed to intense to come from such a tiny source. Slowly, the eight persons move on. After Voolmark had made the task of clearing the way for the sled much, much easier. That’s when Dractor came up beside the Forestman Leader and told him that he could lead up front for a bit. Bjarn accepted the invitation and dropped back. Sir Dractor then struck up idle conversation with Voolmark.
“So you used to be Bjarn’s History teacher, eh?”
“Yes. He was much different then.” Voolmark smiled, remembering those days in the past, “He was a mischievous young runt then. He used to try and play pranks on me you know.”
“Not the stern and grim Bjarn?” Sir Dractor said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yes, he once mixed up all my documents and maps. They had been organized in alphabetical order. But he learned his lesson he did. He stayed two hours extra each day of school for a week just so he could re-organize them.” said Voolmark with a chuckle.
“So what about you?” said Voolmark, “Why did you come to Dametreos?”
“To help an old man, much like yourself.” said Dractor, “He is a wizard, a very powerful one too. We came to gather something from somewhere. But let’s focus on the future huh? It’s getting rather dark and we should probably set up camp, that is if we can get a fire started.”
“Why, of course we can.” Voolmark said, pointing to his staff witch still glowed brightly.
“Ahhh….yes” said Sir Dractor, smiling with delight.
Sir Dractor dropped back with the others and told them that Voolmark advised them to stop. Bjarn agreed and the stopped for the night. The company was in fairly high spirits considering the conditions and everyone ate the meal Shainya had prepared for them with some laughs and jokes.
The next day everyone started out in much better spirits. The wind had died down to a mere breeze and the snow stopped falling. With the blusters gone, going was much easier and some places the sled could be pushed on top of some packed instead of through it.
They were all now out of the woods and many miles into Crusader territory, and Shainya and Reno had taken the lead to forge ahead, occasionally sneaking care-free pecks when they thought no one was looking. Bjarn, Aros, Sir Dractor and Anardan were pulling the sled and Luxus and Voolmark were taking turns tossing snow balls at one another. Luxus giggled and scooped up a wad of snow, ducking a projectile tossed by the less agile Voolmark.
“You can’t hit me!” teased Luxus, as hit launched his clump. It bare glanced Voolmark’s shoulder.
“I’ll get you yet, you little tyke!” chortled Voolmark, his robes swishing as he bent down.
The sled-pullers turned backwards just in time to see Voolmark get creamed with a face-full of snow. Bjarn chuckled, and Sir Dractor called, “Nice aim, Luxus!”
Voolmark wiped the snow off and was about to say something when a scream pieced the cool air. Captain Anardan shouted in warning. Reno and Shainya simply disappeared into the ground, and the sled pullers nearly went in after them. Bjarn, Aros, Sir Dractor and Anardan only fell a few feet before the sled's front runners jamming into the snow and stayed there, firmly wedging the sled over the hole with the four dangling beneath.
“Oof…” Bjarn gasped.
Anardan felt the ground collapse beneath him, and his hands gave way when the sled’s lead ropes he held snapped. He fell about five feet when, with a crunch, he smashed through a pile of ice and brittle wood. Aros’s rope snapped also, and he fell almost on top of him. They lay there, stunned, while Shainya and Reno scrabbled out of the hole on their ropes, Bjarn struggling to retain hold on his. The rope pulled out of his hand, and slid down the side to land hard on the ground. The three lay stunned for several more moments, surrounded by ice and snow, while small avalanches of snow, ice, and dirt showered down on them. Reno, who had managed to cling onto his rope and climb out, peered over the edge of the hole.
“Are you alright?”
Bjarn struggled upright and called up to him, “We’re OK, it’s only a few feet. There’s a layer of snow down here…what is this?”
Bjarn’s hand, when he pulled it out of the snow, was covered by a thick black dust. Anardan had noticed the same thing.
“This is soot!”
All around the bottom of the pit, the scattered remains of charred pine boards and rafters lay strewn over a bed of charcoal and ash covered by a thin layer of snow. Anardan struggled upright, the charcoal crunching under his feet. He went to the wall near Bjarn, where his sliding descent had left a series of scuff marks on the blackened sides of the pit. Anardan took a bit of cloth and scraped away some more of the soot, revealing a heat-blackened stone wall.
“This was a building.”
Aros got up from his pile of rubble and started to explore the foundation. He yelped in surprise as he stepped on something sharp, then reached down and pulled a scuffed sword from the debris.
“What have you got there?”
Anardan limped over to him, curious about his discovery.
“A sword...is this anyone’s?”
Aros held up the blade and showed it to the others, who shook their heads. Anardan took the sword and studied the hilt carefully.
“This is Crusader make, I’ve seen one before.” Anardan mused, “The sword of a Captain…”
Anardan returned the sword and looked around, a look of recognition coming onto his face.
“This was the guard post that stood at the Crusader border. I passed here with the trading party only several weeks ago, it was standing then.”
Reno and Voolmark took new ropes out of the sled and hauled the three up, then pulled the sled onto solid ground. The soot-blackened hole stood like a gash in the unmarred white of the snow-covered ground, the broken beams protruding from the ash like spears thrown by giants. Anardan shuddered.
“Is everyone alright?” queried Bjarn, wiping soot off his hands.
“No!” hissed Reno, clutching his foot, “I twisted my ankle when I fell! I just made it worse when I scrambled out of the way…”
“Tyco!" muttered Sir Dractor under his breath, “We’ll just have to bind it up...we can’t remove your boot and socks in this cold…”
As Sir Dractor scrambled about looking for a suitable piece of wood to use as a brace, Aros glanced at Shainya.
“Shainya, what’s wrong? Are you hurt as well?” he asked.
Shainya shook her head. Her face was white as the snow around them and she was shaking, but not from cold.
“This isn’t a Crusader guard post…” she mumured, “This is Olgendale…”
“What?”
Bjarn turned back from where he had been examining the sled.
“This was my home…” Shainya sighed, a tear slipping down her cheek, “Before the Dragon Masters burnt it down…”
“Oh.”
Reno crawled over to Shainya and held her tight as Sir Dractor bound a cord of wood to his leg.
“My whole family was killed…” cried Shainya, “I survived by falling down a well...like what happened here…”
“But that was a house…” corrected Anardan.
“Hush.” Bjarn nudged the Forestman Captain, “Let her weep. Long has she held that grief within. Come, and help me repair this sled. It’s front runners have snapped…”
While Anardan helped Bjarn with the sled Voolmark saw to Reno’s leg.
“Sir Dractor is right.” said Voolmark with a grim face, “We can’t remove your boots. But there is another earth spell that I can conjure up, it should help.”
With that Voolmark mumbled a few words and his hands began to glow with a pale orange light. He placed his hands on Reno’s ankle, sending a warm sensation through his ankle and throughout his whole leg.
“Thanks.” smiled Reno, “My ankle feels better already.”
“You’re welcome. I think you’ll still need a splint though. Ahh…here comes your brother with a small pair of planks.”
Voolmark helped Aros tie the planks, one on either side of Reno’s ankle. T hen Reno tried to stand. He winced just a little but he said he would be fine. He then bent down to Shainya and gave her a peck on the cheek. She smiled slightly but the pain was still evident.
“Aren't they the prettiest couple?” said Sir Dractor with a slight smile.
“Yes indeed, yes indeed.” said Voolmark, returning with a beaming grin.
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