In Limine

[Erratum]

In Limine

Glade 45, 123

The island of Ailos featured in the myths and traditions of many cultures, and all three of the ones with which Finn was at least passingly familiar. In Karnor, of course, it was mostly mythologized as the birthplace and mysterious origin of the Order of the Dawnmartyrs. It was heavily associated with Arcas in that, the site of his most famed temple and onetime center of his worship in Ransera. It was much the same in Solunarium, where Arcas had long been the subject of curses and condemnation, and where more conflicting opinions now held.

In Ecith, Ailos had a slightly different connotation. While Arcas was mythologized as a hero and stalwart companion (or perhaps more) of Raxen, the Dawnmartyrs themselves had been more than a distant myth to Drathera, and Ailos had once been considered one of the great treasures of the land. The Orkhan spoke proudly of Dawnmartyr knights among their ancestry, and remained adamant that when the world had abandoned the Order to the Empire's invasion, Ecith alone had stood against the coming of evil.

But the primary thing Finn learned on his sea voyage to the fabled isle was that calling it an "isle" was simply blatant false advertisement. The land was, in fact, enormous, and the sailors warned him that even once he made landfall the trip to Dawn Peak was likely to take the better part of a week.

The sea journey, in comparison, was actually quite short- more than that, it was surprisingly delightful. The seas north of Ecith were legendary for their danger, but the Commonwealth's fleet invested heavily in Animists who could calm the lurking leviathans and warn them if they were drifting too close to the legendary primal of the waves which had decimated the Gelerian fleet twenty years past. The pirate colonies of the southern oceans generally left the Commonwealth's ships alone, preferring to target merchant vessels from Sangen or the banks to the east, and the waters themselves proved calm and pliant.

(In fact, the ship which Karmordi found berth on had decks specially dedicated to watching the dolphins and whales which often chased the ships. One of the legendary leviathans even made a distant appearance, though it seemed unconcerned with the ship and never approached- still, it was the talk of the mess for the day.)

Three days of cruise later, the spunky young berserker, his wise bard friend and his retinue of bodyguards found themselves approaching the shores of the fabled-but-surprisingly-big isle. Though Dawn Peak was located on the south of Ailos, there were no working ports nearby, and the ship was forced to sail north and east, until they arrived at a surprisingly small town with a docks.

"These are mostly people of the Commonwealth, here to administer the aid and supplies which the Senate sends north." Karmordi explained, "The natives of Ailos dwell further in, mostly around the Temple of Light. When the Imperium came, its machines and armies devastated the outlying settlements and left poison and mines where they could. It has been a long, slow process to reclaim any of it."

Karmordi had brought a map, of course, but it was an unusual map. It was detailed after the fashion of the fine products of a modern cartographer, but large sections of it simply weren't filled in- Finn didn't know if this was because the Commonwealth didn't know what was in those parts of Ailos, or if they simply weren't willing to make it public knowledge.

"We'd lose a couple of days if we went to the Temple of Light and took the road south, but we'd avoid the remnants of the Imperium's attack, so it would be safer." the Ork pointed to the relevant places on the map. Finn could immediately see that this route would, indeed, require traversing almost the whole diameter of Ailos. "If we cut through the jungle here, we'll make better time but it'll be a bit riskier. The good news is that we can't get lost; at night, Dawn Peak is visible from every part of the isle."

This was no surprise- it had been visible even on the ship, by the end of the first night, looking for all the world like a distant lighthouse. By the time they approached, it had been bright enough to obscure the stars at sea. The sailors claimed that this was because of the ghost of Ysandre, ever mourning her mother's sacrifice; the captain advised him that Dawn Peak simply bore "Well more Dawnstones than you've ever seen in one place, anywhere."

[Finn]

Pleased that the Powers That Be had allowed him this venture from the Ecithian capital, Finn had managed to pare down his retinue to three: his thrall Arkænyn; his brother-in-law Raithen; his favorite Sembler, Sentinel Decius. Despite that, he did chafe at the delays of the travel. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed it all thoroughly. Now, however, it meant missing meetings of the Ecithian Senate.

While the Solunarian Question was not under constant debate, he had made a habit of attending the session each tenday. He knew Alikhandrian would catch him up when he returned, but the dragon might gloss over what seemed minutiae that Finn would actually latch on to.

Ah, well.

They had not let him open a ship-sized portal once land was in sight. Once on land, he pored over Karmordi's map with a proficient eye. Since becoming a Traveler, cartography had become quite the auxiliary skill and interest. No doubt he would have a map of his own to send back to the Vigilia Argenti when all was said and done.

"If the Dawn Peak is visible," he posited slowly, "I should be able to safely open us a portal. I would not be flying blind, and it would be safe, barring any arcane interference from the place itself."

Finn did not want to cheapen Karmordi's quest in any way, but if such shortcuts weren't forbidden, his Traveler friend could shorten the path easily and significantly.

While he spoke with Karmordi, princeps and dux had their heads together a ways off. Decius, veil up, was acting the proper Sentinel and standing sentinel where he would see anyone attempting to sneak up on Finn. It was unlikely, perhaps, but there was a non-zero chance that Finn could be in danger.

[Erratum]

Karmordi did seem a little disappointed by Finn's solution, but only a very little. It might have stolen some bit of the adventure, but the ork had spent enough time trekking through jungles that the thought of skipping a few days of it did not break his heart.

The jungles of Ailos were much smaller than the mainland growths- where the Commonwealth boasted gigantic trees which spread into canopies so far up they were barely visible, the scale of the woods on the holy isle seemed much more restrained. Perhaps this was a side effect of the elemental imbalances which Imogen had spoken of. Perhaps it was just a lack of countless generations of dragon shit.

"Alright." the berserker conceded, "I don't know much about Traversion, but I don't think Dawn Peak should prevent it. There is a lot of aether gathered there, though, so be careful..."

True to Karmordi's guess, Finn found that nothing about Ailos prevented him from opening a portal directly to the mountain. As mountains went, Dawn Peak was relatively impressive; it didn't measure up to the absurd size of Drathera's central mountain, but it compared favorably to any of the peaks on which the avialae of Karnor made their perches and fortresses.

It was also infested with dawnstone, just as the captain had promised. The lower reaches of Dawn Peak featured mostly granite, shot through with little specks and veins, but the concentrations higher up were so bright that they were visible even in the day. As Finn worked his magic, Karmordi spoke a little more on the history of the mountain.

"Before Raxen's Conquest," the Ork began, mustering all the learning at his command, "Ecith was a patchwork of city-states, ruled by god-kings. Ailos was traditionally the domain of Ysadrin, and the southern reaches were ruled by her daughter, the god-queen Ysandre. Even after the rise of Raxen in the south, nobody dared move against the cults of Ysadrin and Ysandre, for fear that disrupting their rites would cause the sun to fail."

Karmordi gave a little laugh at that. In retrospect, of course, it was absurd. Even with Ysadrin's death, the sun still rose and set... except, of course, that the world had just gone through that terrible year.

"No truth to that fear, but when the Eclipse hit, the old sun-rites did drive the Dark One's power from these shores. There's a ritual platform near the top of Dawn Peak which is meant to be where the goddesses called the sun to rise and set in ancient times, but the wayshrine is much further down the mountain."

[Finn]

As a Mesmer of his abilities, Finn could sense the surface disappointment without breaching magical etiquette. He smiled ruefully, but nodded along as he prepared himself and his magic for the task at hand, leaving his ear open for the contextual stories.

Reaching out through the slipspace, eyes on the mountain even as he listened, he could feel the welcoming glow of the dawnstone limning the ley-lines of power, many of which centered on the mountain. Such a geographical feature did tend to have a sort of gravity where the aether of the world was concerned. It was true of Kaladon and of Sorokyn, as well.

He listened without comment, memorizing perhaps for later analysis as he had learned to do with music. Criticism could come later, as well as making connections between Karmordi's lore and what he already knew. For he did know that their sun was a star, only up close and personal in a way the cool, twinkling lights in the sky were not. Nazam too had died and yet the stars had not gone out. There was a new deity who claimed Stars, though much of her identity was classified in Solunarium for obvious reasons.

In any case, his portal opened not long after Karmordi's story ended. Arkænyn didn't wait, but stepped through, his platinum knight taking his divine oath quite seriously. Decius and Raithen, it seemed would follow Finn and Karmordi.

"This will take us to the lowest point on the mountain I can see from here," he explained, indicating Karmordi should walk with him; the portal was big enough they could walk through abreast. "Near what looked like a road. I couldn't find the wayshrine from this far away—there's only so much I can sense from here without going into a full trance and taking quite some time—but this ought to save us quite a bit of time while still requiring some effort on our parts.

"Shall we?"

Finn, at least, would step through.

[Erratum]

The berserker, as Finn expected, followed suit, stepping from the salt-spray of the eastern piers and onto the Pilgrim's Road, many miles to the south.

As soon as Finn's foot met the road, he could feel the aether change. This wasn't unexpected; he'd lived for many years around Kalzasi, and knew the tenor of illuminated crystal well. Still, the presence of light here permeated the air, even at the foot of the mountain, hours away from the shining radiance of the peak.

Although all the world of Ransera was, scientifically, of an age, anyone who had been to the great and holy places of the world knew that some locations were old. Old in a way that the average mountain or river was not, old like the stars. Timeless, in some sense. Dawn Peak struck Finn like one of those places, like Mount Sorokyn- a place which history clung to like cobwebs, where great and dreadful things had happened, and yet they were still not grand enough to overshadow the mountain.

But that was mere feeling, instinct in the back of Finn's mind. For the here and now, the important thing about the mountain was the Pilgrim's Road itself. This landmark meandered up the slope of the mountain, cutting in and out at odd angles to slowly wind up to the top. It was paved in much the same way that the Great Steps of Drathera were paved, and one could scarcely fathom the expense and manpower which had been required to do it. Thankfully, Dawn Peak was nothing like as tall as the mountain of Drathera, and if Finn skipped parts of the road using Traversion, he imagined it would take only hours to make it up to the summit.

They were, it appeared, alone on the path, though it was not possible to confirm if the entire mountain was empty- it was simply too large and far-flung to take in at any one angle. Karmordi looked around, appearing a bit disappointed.

"I know the Dawnmartyrs operated more out of the north than the south..." he volunteered, "But I thought there would be some few priests left here to remember Ysandre. Those were good stories. Not quite as exciting as Raxen's Conquest, of course, but very comforting."

[Finn]

Finn didn't really have any comfort to offer with regard to a lack of priests. He didn't know Ailos except from songs, and most of those were old before he was born. But that strange, numinous feeling made his chest expand with inspiration—the creative kind and not just the breathing kind. No doubt he would write new music after this venture, but for now, he gauged where in his line of sight they ought to leap next.

Once that was decided, he opened a portal and they walked through. He hoped Karmordi wasn't offended that Arkænyn was preceding them. Finn didn't anticipate danger on this leg of the journey, although he assumed Innogen would throw more danger in Karmordi's path ere long.

Finn could command the starlit prince to remain behind, but he didn't want to deal with a sharp-tongued, irritated thrall. He was still learning to accept service from others.

When there were no priests visible again, he ventured jauntily, "Perhaps the priests of Ysandre require your heroic aid..."

There might have been the faintest bit of mockery in his voice, though he was hardly the malicious sort. Still, from all he understood, Ysandre was the daughter of a goddess, aye, but not a goddess herself, but rather a god-queen in name, if not in divine power.

Then again, he knew the Hytori elves of Sol'Valen still venerated the dead gods their ancestors had known. Far be it from him to judge. It was a strange sort of position, though, in which Finn lived. Chosen of Aværys, favored by Varvara, a friend of Arcas Reborn, and aware of new godlings being born in his lifetime.

He held both a profound religious feeling for the God who had claimed him and a familiarity with minor deities that lent itself to a casualness around them.

[Erratum]

"Maybe..." Karmordi rejoined, but his voice was doubtful, "Or perhaps they really are all gone. Wouldn't that be sad, if there were none left to keep those memories? Just an other old thing, lost forever to the Imperium's mad attack."

On that morbid thought, they proceeded up the mountain. The Pilgrim's Road was thankfully gentle in its slope, evidentially designed for the ascent of things like horses and wagons, and wide enough that ten Sentinels could ride abreast, if they chose. Whatever ancient builders had spent their lives and years paving this road, they had done their work well; it remained steady beneath the company's feet, without any signs of deterioration.

(A true rarity in Ailos, then.)

For most of the climb, the mountain was empty, native, with only trees and scrub and rocks breaking up the horizon, but there were exceptions. The first one they came to was a great fresco, or mosaic, carved into a sheltered part of the mountain. Despite the cliff-like overhang protecting it, the artwork was beginning to wear, and moss had started creeping up the sides, threatening to dig into and widen the cracks.



Karmordi stopped when he saw the fresco--obviously a depiction of Ysadrin--and made an awkward little sign with one hand which Finn recognized as a blessing of sorts, an almost unconscious invocation of Raxen's favor. Plainly the berserker felt a little uncomfortable to be treading on this once-holy ground, even if its patron goddess was long dead.

The ork said nothing there, but as they proceeded up the road, he made his way over to Finn's side, and spoke: "There are ruins throughout the forests, you know. Where the old god-kings reigned, once. I used to play in them as a child, even though everyone said they were cursed. I don't think many curses outlive their makers, but...." He glanced uncomfortably back at the fresco of the dragon-goddess, and said no more. Perhaps he was thinking that those were little gods, demigods, godlings- this was something far more profound and ancient.

Some time later, the company passed another worn fresco, and this time Karmordi looked much less melancholy.



"Arcas!" the ork said, pointing at the crowned figure, "Saving Ysadrin. And on his hip, there, the sword given to him by Raxen. These were the three gods worshipped here during Ysandre's time."

It occurred to Karmordi how odd it was, that such deities were once considered their own sort of Triumvirate, long ago. But Arcas and Ysadrin had died, and Raxen had moved on, to found his own pantheon. He wondered, vaguely, if the same would happen again someday, if the Triumvirate would split and leave the gods dead or wandering as they had done once. It seemed that even gods were not safe from the tyranny of Time and Fate.

But the berserker's thoughts were scattered as they turned a corner, and he spotted it- still a mile or more up the mountain, but now clearly visible, and thus susceptible to Finn's magic. A squat marble building, constructed up on the heights, and bearing its own worn statues and frescoes.

"Look, the wayshrine! We're nearly there."

[Finn]

"We all have the power to keep memories alive," he said, he hoped not sententiously. "Not only priests. Not only bards, either." He smiled, and then they moved on. There was still a fair amount of ground to cover.

Where they walked, he tasted the slipspace, learning the shape of the foothills experientially. He opened portals where it seemed appropriate, and so their travels were more rapid than the average pilgrim's. His eyes took in the sights. They crinkled with mirth when Karmordi shared.

"I think the Ancient and Venerable Crone would have told you if there were some curse lingering upon you. So, you played the god-king even as a boy, eh?" But there was no true critique in his tone, only gentle teasing.

Finn had similar thoughts about the ancient triumvirate carved into the stone. Streleon and Ugrimal had not been allies insofar as he was aware, and then they chose to be reborn within the twins Aværys and Varvara. Before that, the early Re'hyæns had worshiped Ysadrin and Nerix in a manner the Hytori had found blasphemous. Their Divine Twins took on many of the trappings of those gods; Aværys a solar deity, Varvara lunar. Without claiming to be the God of the Sun and the Goddess of the Moons, they claimed all of the worship from their people.

He wondered if the Twins would remain pair-bonded for eternity or if they too would change.

Then, they were close enough for him to easily close that last gap between them and the wayshrine.

Finn opened a portal and they stepped through.

[Erratum]

Ysandre's wayshrine was not an impressive temple, as such buildings went. It had been erected centuries past, to serve as a shelter for pilgrims, a place to hold ceremonies near the top of the mountain, and as a place for Ysadrin's clergy to rest when visiting the peak for their great annual rites. Even in its heyday, it had been a utilitarian place, and that heyday was long past- now the narrow shrine within was full of dust and cracked masonry, the benches surviving only because they had been hewn completely from stone.

Still, the place had a certain je ne sais quoi to it, a stateliness. It was mostly marble, as many of the Orkhan temples were, and the religious imagery on the walls had survived the years in workable shape. Frescoes of dragons, stars and fields of wheat--a rare sight in Ecith--filled the room, and the back wall behind the little squat altar was dominated by a lovingly engraved image of Dawn Peak itself, surmounted by the figures of two women reaching up to the sun.

In addition, the shrine had proven quite convenient for one modern soul, and her fingerprints were everywhere inside the modest temple. Stashed away in the corners of the room, Finn's escort found recently-placed stashes of food, water, ink, paper, and various other conveniences. One turned up a small barrel filled with Sorcerer's Sand, enough to effectuate a ritual of some scale- another stumbled upon a modest case of unrefined dawnstones, evidently harvested from the mountain itself.

But an even more blatant sign of Imogen's presence was found on the altar itself, snoozing so soundly that it did not even wake as Karmordi and Finn approached. Kitty slept there, curled up into a plump circle, tail twitching as it dreamed; and just below the big cat was a note.

Karmordi,

If you're seeing this note, it means I am dead.

Karmordi gasped, horror and confusion filling his face, until Kitty shifted, revealing more lines of the note:

Sorry, I've always wanted to write that. It actually means that I'm in Zaichaer (and so, you might joke, what's the difference?) but I will be back shortly. I've asked the old priests left at the Temple not to disturb the shrine for a few months, so you won't see anyone else- if you hear any loud noises, that's just Der. She's doing some demolition work on the other side of the mountain and is not in a good mood about it, so I would suggest just staying put for the time being.

Once you get in, please poke Kitty awake and he'll come fetch me, toot sweet. Thanks, love.

- Imogen

Karmordi regarded the note with some bafflement, but carefully reached out a hand to gently jostle the sleeping cat awake. It took considerably longer than Finn would have guessed- apparently being raised as a pampered housecat had done a number on the instincts of a jungle ambush predator.

As soon as Kitty awoke, he took a bleary look around, yawned widely, sniffed once, and leapt lightly off the altar, disappearing entirely into the shadows beneath it. His sleepy symphony vanished at once from Finn's mind, too; wherever the familiar had gotten to, it was nowhere nearby.

"Odd place to set up shop." Karmordi muttered, "What do you suppose she means by 'demolition work'...?"

Moments later, as if in answer to the Ork's question, the sound of a distant, muffled explosion made its way through the wayshrine's door. It was too far away to be felt, but the building did rattle slightly. Karmordi bolted to the door to look outside- after a moment, he caught a faint plume of smoke and ash, rising from behind the mountain's peak. The berserker looked utterly baffled, and he wondered with worry if this was somehow related to the training he'd been promised.

[Finn]

Karmordi was brave, Finn thought. He would have nudged the feline mind toward wakefulness with a thread of Mesmer rather than risk a hand. Then again, he might be more worried about losing a hand since he had lost an arm and, even though it had been restored, he hadn't let the Assessors soothe away his trauma; he had tried to face it and embrace it, letting it pass over him and through him until only he remained. Kitty seemed tame as a house cat, but even house cats were just predators in miniature.

He didn't want to be a mouse.

There was a beat between Karmordi's question and the answering boom. Finn's eyes had been scanning the note for himself.

He supplied, "Deravæcia is an iron dragon known to Innogen. I don't know that they are friends, but I believe they are allies, if reluctant ones. Perhaps they are excavating something...?"

His knight, dux, and sembler hadn't come up with any signs of impending doom so he weathered the reverberations without fear. All the same, his curiosity was piqued as well.

Finn rather liked the simplicity of this place. The Gods of the Desert tended toward opulence and splendor, and he understood their place in the religious mind. The common-born bard just didn't need it, but needed rather the personal relationship he had with the Golden God who had taken him in hand.

"I would suggest we not investigate her demolition work. She did not seem to be a fan of my music, and I don't know that whatever tenuous alliance she has with the witch extends to us when she is not here." In any case, Kitty seemed to be able to travel much like a Traveler albeit without the Rune. He supposed Innogen would arrive sooner rather than later.

Imogen, he corrected to himself. That made more sense given her Zaichaeri-ness. He hoped none of the Orkhan thought he had been mocking them when he called her as she had been introduced to him.

Aværys, he thought to himself, and pulled a thread of golden grace through himself. Nary enough to light the crown upon his brow or lend his countenance divine majesty, it was enough to call the God's attention to his Radiant here and now, making him aware of this place where his chosen did abide for the moment.