The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown

by Jeffrey Quyle

“I’m ready,” he answered, and walked towards a small group of gnomes. “Who is going to be my companion?”

  “We’re going to find out. We’ll go to every house in the village and ask who has had a dream,” the gnome answered.

  “Every house?” Kestrel asked in surprise.

  “We must find the right person. If Corrant sent this dream to one of his people, we must choose the same person Corrant has chosen to fulfill the Garrant Spark. We would not wish to force any other person to submit to the trial,” the gnome explained.

  “Follow us,” he told Kestrel, and the stocky figures began to walk towards the nearest habitation.

  The group of a half dozen gnomes and Kestrel knocked on door after door. At each home, the gnomes asked those inside if any of them had dreamed of the human during the evening. In case after case, those inside answered in the negative, and the group moved on.

  “Could they be hiding the truth?” Kestrel asked, though he knew that gnomes were seldom untruthful.

  “No, we simply have not come to the right person,” one of the gnomes answered curtly, and they continued on.

  By the end of the morning they were knocking on the last door in the village.

  “Did anyone here dream about this human last night?” the lead gnome asked a woman who answered, a mother whose three children stood bright-eyed in the door frame with her.

  The mother looked down at her children, who all turned their faces up to look at her as they shook their heads. “We had no such dreams,” the mother affirmed, and the delegation left the home.

  The gnomes exchanged significant glances with one another as they left the house.

  “What do we do now?” Kestrel asked. “Who else is there to talk to? Are there hunting parties out?”

  “There is a hunting party out,” one gnome affirmed.

  “Do we want to wait for the hunters?” another gnome asked. “Or should we go knock?”

  “Knock where?” Kestrel asked. “We’ve been to every home in the village.”

  “There is one more,” a gnome answered. “A cabin set aside for those couples who are newlyweds. A couple entered that cabin two nights ago.”

  “My son is in that cabin,” one of the gnomes said quietly, and everyone was silent, embarrassed to speak.

  “I will wait for the hunters,” Kestrel volunteered, realizing the dynamics at work.

  “No,” said the father of the groom, “we must treat everyone fairly in this ordeal. We will go to the cabin.”

  He turned and led the way out of the village, along a narrow path that meandered among the scrubby trees, down into a small dale where a thin stream of water flowed, and a tidy cabin stood alone near the bank.

  Kestrel gave a sigh, echoed by one of the gnomes. He shared the hope and the dread of all the gnomes on the visitation; he did not want to interrupt a honeymoon to drag away a member of the newlywed couple, to go to the Garrant Spark, whatever the ceremony entailed.

  The door of the cabin opened before the delegation reached it.

  “Why are all of you here?” asked the male gnome who came out, as the bride emerged to stand by his side.

  “It doesn’t seem like five days have passed,” he grinned at the girl, who grinned back as she reached for his hand and held it tightly.

  The groom suddenly focused on Kestrel standing back among the gnomes, and his eyes widened.

  “I saw him in a dream last night, except his ears were more like the elves’,” he said.

  His father gave a moan, one that carried a life’s worth of heartbreaking pain within its drawn out note.

  “What is it father? Don’t you feel well? Why are you all here?” the groom asked again. The smiles were gone from the faces of both the groom and the bride as they looked at the somber faces around them.

  “Are you sure you dreamed of him? This man?” the father asked.

  “Hansen, your dream was a sign from Corrant,” another gnome said. “This human says that he was visited by Corrant, and told to request the Garrant Spark from us.”

  “What is a Garrant Spark?” the bride asked.

  “Why would Corrant speak to this human, or elf? What would be so important that our god would waste his time on one of the weak races?” the groom bristled.

  There was a moment of silence, and then a great cracking sound came from the earth beneath them. A pillar of granite shot out of the middle of the bed of the small stream, raising a cloud of steam.

  The gnomes all whirled around in amazement, then fell to their knees as they recognized the appearance of their god, while Kestrel stood slack-jawed with amazement.

  “This man is my chosen weapon to fight against the evil that has invaded our world,” Corrant’s voice spoke from the face that appeared on the stone. “Through the Garrant Spark you will do my will, and enable him to fight. The gods of the humans and the elves have given much of their own capacity to aid him on his long journey to reach this point, and now, if he is capable, we will take him on the last stage of the journey to have the opportunity to fight one last fight that will determine whether our lands will be free or will be decimated.

  “Aid him, and send him and his escort on their way to the Lake in the Sky. Do not disobey, and do not fail,” Corrant spoke in a stern voice, then disappeared as abruptly as he had arrived.

  All of those who had watched the spectacle of the god’s pronouncement were silent, except for one voice.

  Greta, the bride, who stood with her arms clasping her new husband cried, “It’s not fair! It’s not right to take him now!” she protested. “Why should one of our people die for the sake of this human? I hate you!” she wailed as she looked at Kestrel, who stood silent, filled with sadness at the thought that he was interrupting the beginning of a young couple’s life together.

  “Enough!” said the father of the groom, Kestrel’s future companion in the Garrant Spark. “We have heard Corrant speak, and we will obey. Send men up to the pools immediately to prepare them for the ceremony.

  “We will return to the village and begin the purification process for the participants,” he announced.

  Kestrel turned to begin the short journey back through the dry forest along the narrow path, but turned back towards the honeymoon hut moments later. He heard the sound of a struggle, and saw the bride trying to hold on to her husband, desperately trying to prevent him from leaving her and their cabin behind, the cabin that just ten minutes earlier had seemed like a refuge of happiness completely separate from the rest of the world.

  Two gnomes pried the bride’s arms off of her husband, who looked upset and resigned as he stared in anguish at her. “I must do this, my love, though I do not want to,” he told her, as he began to walk with the others towards the village.

  As soon as her restrainers released her, Greta ran forward to walk beside her husband, clinging to his arm. “What is it? What is a Garrant Spark?”

  “It is a binding ceremony,” another gnome answered. “One that is profound,” he said as Kestrel slowed down to listen as well. “The ceremony joins the two together on a mission that is revealed to them by Corrant during the ceremony. They receive greater control over their strengths and weaknesses, and are protected while they attend to the mission.

  “The ceremony is a test, to ensure that the two partners will be strong enough to carry out the mission,” he added.

  “Hansen is strong!” the bride asserted. “Stronger than a human, surely.

  “Is there no one else? Why must it be my husband?” she wailed as they re-entered the confines of the village.

  “Enough, Greta,” the groom spoke in a firm tone. He seemed to realize how he sounded, for he immediately wrapped his arm around the girl.

  “Those who have been ordered to participate in the Garrant Spark must be purified,” the leader of the gnomes spoke. “You will be taken to a cave where you will have no contact with anyone else for the next two days. At the end of that time, we will commence the immersion.

  �
�Go now; follow your guide,” the gnome pointed at another gnome who wore a robe of all-black material, who was waiting for them in the village.

  Chapter 20 – The Dark Pool

  Kestrel didn’t know how long he had been in the cave. He and Hansen had been somewhere near one another for a long time in the darkness. They had been told to eat no food, to make no sounds, to get no sleep. Periodically, as they had perhaps dozed, a priest had chanted holy songs of praise to Corrant, or read scriptures that described the wisdom and strength of Corrant, in terms that were surprisingly flowery by gnome standards, Kestrel vaguely thought. Kere’s followers had never developed theology, and Kestrel felt glad the elves were free of the monotony of trying to rationalize the inexplicable behavior of a deity.

  The cave was dry, or at least their portion of it was dry, for he heard no sounds of flowing or dripping water. Kestrel occasionally heard the sound of someone sighing, or snoring; perhaps it was Hansen, perhaps it was a priest – perhaps it was his own body producing the sounds as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. He had no idea of the day or the time; he sensed that he might still face as much time ahead as he had already experienced, or he might be on the cusp of exiting the cave, to experience whatever was to come next.

  “Now your time of purification is coming to an end,” the priest began to speak, and after the words sank in, Kestrel realized that the priest was speaking to them about their own experience, not reciting the next chapter of some holy scripture.

  “Speak no words until you are told to. Stand and walk towards the light,” the voice said.

  Kestrel rose from his cross-legged position. Unbending and rising upon his legs was extraordinarily painful, and he heard Hansen grunt several times, giving voice to the pain Kestrel felt.

  A light appeared, a small, distant light, and Kestrel heard Hansen’s footsteps begin to move across the pebble-strewn cavern floor. He followed the sound, and stared as his elven eyesight began to adapt to finally having a source of illumination at last. There was a priest holding the lantern, he saw, and another walking in front of Hansen.

  “You are about to return to the world of mortality for a short time,” the priest holding the lantern said. “Speak to no one, notice nothing, follow the light to the pool where the ceremony will begin.”

  The lantern began to advance, leading the way for ten minutes until they reached dim sunlight, and Kestrel realized that it was dawn in the outside world.

  “Hansen, are you alright?” all heads swiveled to see Greta sitting on the ground near the cave entrance, maintaining a vigil.

  “Do not speak,” a priest hastily ordered, as Hansen started to lift his hand n greeting. “Follow the leader to the pool.”

  Kestrel saw the glint of tears on the haggard cheeks of the gnome maiden, as her groom turned away from her. The procession left the village and walked into a shallow, narrow canyon, where bare tree limbs overhead wove together to form a roof over their path. The smell of sulfur began to become noticeable, and Kestrel jumped when a small jet of flame momentarily erupted from the dark shale wall next to him.

  The canyon sloped downward, then ended in a deeply recessed sinkhole, forty feet below the surface of the surrounding terrain. The center of the sinkhole was a pool of black water, from which wisps of steam rolled onto the surrounding ledge, or rose briefly into the dense air of the pit that contained the pool.

  “This is where Corrant will test you, to determine if you are worthy to pursue his goal,” a priest said, one of several that stood waiting around the dark pool.

  “Hold out your hands,” the priest ordered.

  Both Kestrel and Hansen held their palms open for the priest to see.

  Another priest approached, carrying a tray with a silver cloth spread over it. “Do not say anything,” he cautioned.

  The head priest in front of them pulled the cloth away, revealing a large knife. He picked up the knife, then suddenly slashed it across the palm of Hansen’s hand, cutting it deeply, and causing it to immediately begin to bleed profusely, as the gnome sharply sucked air into his mouth through his gritted teeth.

  The priest turned to Kestrel and repeated the gesture.

  “Clasp your hands together,” the priest ordered, and watched as the two men, now wide awake, slapped their two bloody palms together, splattering drops of blood with the impact.

  The priest raised the silver cloth, and draped it over the hands, hiding them from view. “Let your resolve to adhere to Corrant’s mission be demonstrated by your ability to hold onto one another in adverse circumstances.

  “Do not release your grip on one another, regardless of the cost,” he ordered, and Kestrel felt the strong fingers of the gnome crush his hand as they each tightened their hold on one another.

  The cloth began to change color, from silver to red, and Kestrel felt strong heat on his hand. The feeling was as if a fire was burning atop their hands. Kestrel sniffed the air, expecting to smell flesh burning. He looked at Hansen, and saw the beads of sweat that were rolling down the gnome’s face.

  The cloth suddenly flared to a bright, glowing version of red, reminding Kestrel of the iron he had seen blacksmiths pull from the forge. He felt his knees start to buckle, and a whimper escaped from his throat.

  The gnome tightened his grip on Kestrel even more, and seemed to lift Kestrel upright again.

  The pain was intense, excruciating.

  “Enough!” the priest said suddenly, and he lifted the cloth from their grip, revealing two healthy hands clasped together, with no sign of damage.

  “Now you must show that you can function together as a team, able to carry out assignments that require you to be a team,” the priest told them. “You must enter the black pool, and find the exit that is at the bottom of the pool. We will wait for one hour to see if you can achieve your goal. Do not speak to one another, and do not fail.”

  Kestrel felt a tug on their clasped hands, and looked at Hansen, to see the gnome motioning to his left. Kestrel nodded, and followed Hansen as he walked to a small prominence on the shelf that surrounded the pool, a slab of stone that rose and projected above the water, a natural spot from which to dive into the turbid waters that awaited them.

  The pair mounted the stone together and stood at its end together, hands clasped tightly. They looked at one another and nodded, then leapt into the air together, and plunged towards the dark surface. And as they jumped, they heard Greta scream Hansen’s name.

  Kestrel looked skyward, and in the split-second between when he jumped and when he entered the water he saw Greta poised in the air overhead, jumping from the top of the surrounding cliff to join her groom in the pool of water below.

  And then he hit the water, and momentarily forgot about Greta, as his hand momentarily separated from Hansen’s grip. The water was hot, dangerously hot. And worse than that, it was caustic, burning his skin, making him want to scream in agony as every square inch of his body surface felt the intense pain.

  At that moment Hansen’s finger’s suddenly clamped around his hand, and the pain miraculously vanished as the mystic union of their hands protected them with the power of the Garrant Spark. And then there was a loud splash, and as Kestrel rose to the surface of the water, he heard a loud scream as Greta entered the pool and began to feel the intense agony the water inflicted.

  Hansen jerked Kestrel suddenly as he stroked with his free arm towards Greta, and Kestrel hastily joined him, so that in a matter of moments they were with the screaming girl. Instinctively, Kestrel used his free hand to pull his knife off his hip, and he held it aloft to show it to Hansen, then he thrust their joined hands towards Greta and grabbed her hand. With a quick slice he cut her palm open, then struck again as Hansen held his palm up for Kestrel to swipe the blade at it as well.

  The two newlyweds’ hands were immediately joined, and then Kestrel cut open Greta’s other palm. He awkwardly maneuvered the knife into the grip he shared with Hansen and finally cut his own free palm, then reac
hed for Greta’s thrashing free hand. As he grasped her fingers in his own he felt a jolt of energy travel through him, seeming to go from one hand to the other and then depart from him, only to return to his originating hand a second later. He felt a wave of comfort flow through him, and a sense of strength. And he heard an anguished scream in his mind, the cry of the temple energy, reacting to the completion of the circuit and the onset of Corrant’s Garrant Spark.

  Greta’s screams ended, turning to whimpers.

  “Thank you, Corrant,” Kestrel whispered in gnomish.

  The other two looked at him, startled. “Thank you, Corrant,” they each whispered as well.

  Kestrel paddled his feet, his lighter weight and buoyancy allowing him to float easily, and he raised his hands to help his two partners keep their heads above water, as Greta took in deep sobbing breaths, recovering from the pain she had suffered in the water before joining their connection.

  “We must dive to the bottom of the pool,” Kestrel whispered to Greta. “Are you ready?” He knew that the rules precluded him from speaking to Hansen, but he hoped that Corrant would grant him the right to explain to Greta what they were about to do, since she had inadvertently become part of the team.

  She nodded that she was ready.

  Taking a deep breath, Kestrel raised his head, then flipped his body to point downward, and began to try to descend. He felt his buoyancy become a liability, but the gnomes readily sank into the deeps, and pulled him down with them.

  The water was dark, so black that Kestrel could not even see the hands clasped at the end of his arms. He hoped that the water was not deep, and he hoped that the exit they were supposed to find would be easy to locate.

  As he thought the very idea, he saw a faint glow down below, and he felt the two gnomes pulling him in that direction. The glow grew brighter as they approached it, but Kestrel was surprised that it proved to be closer than he expected, its brightness obscured by the dark water until the moment when it was less than an arm’s length away.

  Hansen reached down with the hand clasped around Kestrel’s hand to touch the brightly glowing orb set in the gravelly bottom of the pool, and as their fingers touched the stone it grew brighter. Kestrel saw Hansen and Greta’s joined hands reach down to touch the stone as well, and its brilliance increased again. He and Greta began to move their hands down to the stone next, convinced that it was also expected, and when their fingers made contact with the orb, it became brighter yet, then changed colors in the blink of an eye, becoming an eerie, glowing purple color, as it began to rapidly expand.