Jaegar took his angry stare from the frightened Olish, and with a puff out his nose, walked back in the direction of Jardarah, who was throwing rocks at some boulders off to the side of the path.
Hadara conferred discreetly with his unnerved scrivener for a few moments as King Pallan approached.
“Have you reached a consensus?”
Hadara, Olish, and Yarek turned toward King Pallan; their expressions revealed otherwise.
Jardarah and Jaegar remained at a distance, Jardarah still bouncing stones off the boulders.
King Pallan sighed for everyone to hear. The effect of his gesture fell on dampened nerves. He sighed again, followed by a loud clearing of his throat and an irritated look that found its mark on a senseless Jardarah.
Jardarah went to toss his next stone, but Jaegar signalled to him with a harsh whisper and a throat clearing of his own to stop, as King Pallan was observing his every movement with marked annoyance.
Jaegar spoke up for them (Garan had been standing, silently, next to Jardarah the whole while). “We have not reached consensus, sire. The map is confusing … it provides indications that do not come to pass.”
King Pallan echoed quietly, “Do not come to pass …” He then motioned for them and his scribes to come to him; his smile alternated between exasperation and kingly patience.
The three soldiers came over to King Pallan and his councilmen, their armour and weapons clanging and scratching at times, intimating the need to always be on guard.
“Bring me the maps.”
Olish bowed his head. “At once, My Lord.” The elderly scribe ran off and intercepted several parchments from a servant boy, who administered to the council and the elders of the people. Olish came hobbling back, a grunt proceeding from his desiccated lips every so often. “Here they are, sire—the maps.”
King Pallan took a few of the parchments from his scribe and began studying them. He soon began mumbling.
Jaegar asked, “What is it, sire?”
King Pallan made no effort to reply.
Hadara interceded. “My Lord, if you will, what is it that has gotten your attention?”
King Pallan answered him after a brief while, “The maps seem to indicate, if I am not mistaken, and I could be in error when I say this, but I believe we ought to be heading in a more southerly direction for Vadaal.”
Jaegar protested sheepishly, “But sire—Vadaal is far to the east from here.”
King Pallan muttered to himself some more. Leaning toward Jaegar without taking his eyes from the map, and with his finger pointing at a range of mountains, he commented, “So is this mountain range, Jaegar. If you look here, below these collections of hills, the land is more even, and we can cut straight across to the Aratel Mid-lands, which lie, hmm, almost directly south of Vadaal.”
Jaegar strained to see where King Pallan was pointing.
King Pallan handed him the map brusquely.
His lead soldier conceded after several moments, “Huh, the Aratel Mid-lands. Quite so. It does appear we can, possibly, make our way across to them. Of course, there are some low mountains in the way …” He handed the map back to King Pallan.
“There is always a ruffle, my good Jaegar, to things fine—however smooth they appear. We shall head south for the most part, and slightly east, to skirt these higher mountains … from there we shall attempt those mid-lands.” His gaze dropped to the ground. He noted with sadness intermixed with an exhaustion yet to come, “And a very long journey it will be, I am afraid, by foot.”
Jardarah asked Jaegar softly, “We are to head south, from here?”
Jaegar nodded to him nonchalantly, as though not to draw attention to himself.
Jardarah looked to Garan, who appeared oblivious to the whole problem. Garan took notice of Jardarah’s unanswered expression. He made a slow shrug and walked away.
Hadara took the maps, folding them gently as he stepped near to King Pallan. “The course seems reasonable, My Lord; you were always good at interpreting maps.”
“Good, Hadara. I am glad you approve.”
Hadara finished stowing the map parchments in a satchel that the boy servant, Kayzind, had rushed over to him. “Oh, no trouble, sire—of course I approve—you know that. It is only—” He rotated his right wrist, as was his custom when he had the floor. “That a more direct route, through these mountains, may bring us to Vadaal quicker. I might add, we are somewhat accustomed to them now; their ruggedness would thwart us less severely than upon our first encounter.”
King Pallan had not turned to face Hadara; he remained gazing quietly at the path ahead, and in a very indistinct manner, it seemed, at terrain unpresented that was in direct contrast to his men’s prior behaviour. “That may be true, Hadara. But there could be ogres hiding in these woods, or other things equally harmful, on our way to that valley; and the terrain is not given to easy movement. No … we shall take more of a southerly course for the present time, until we reach flatter ground; then, we will make our way to the mystical valley, and knock upon the door of this castle, which may contain a relic to help us find that gem and be done with the accursed spectres that have molested our people.” He turned to Hadara. “I believe I have made my intent clear. Would you not agree, Hadara, with this?”
Hadara opened his mouth a little as his eyes enlarged several circumferences. “Oh yes, My Lord. Oh yes, quite so, I should think. I was merely pointing out that topographically speaking; a shorter distance presented itself to my eyes, and thought it my duty to note this to you and your soldiers.”
King Pallan bobbed his head, exhaling slowly. He placed his hand for a moment on the side of Hadara’s right soldier. “And I would expect nothing less from you or your brethren. Come, let us go. We shall resume our way to Vadaal, on the new course, one I hope will bring us to it, unscathed.” The two men began walking. “Sometimes, my good scribe, the shorter path is the longer one.”
Hadara smiled and nodded, replying energetically, “Aye, My Lord; is not that always the way?”
They laughed as they rejoined Jaegar, Jardarah, Garan, and the remaining scribes, Olish and Yarek.
The Paladians began, once again, to seek the holy relic, in the faraway land of Vadaal. As they devotedly followed the command of their king, their path led them on a course almost due south, and only faintly east. The woodland path presented many challenges, thinning in areas so much that even a child had difficulty passing through, but they pressed on, surmounting all, as it were, to reach their goal of the seeming oasis of more levelled topography.
Within a day or two of their disputes over which direction to pursue, they came to a narrow pass in the mountains. The ground was scattered with boulders; the land was exceedingly dry, the sun overhead making itself known more eminently. The vestiges of a stream could be perceived in trace areas, but the water that had once flowed through the pass, however stout or infirmly, had long ago dried up. In its place was dusty soil that once treaded upon, even lightly, produced small, powdery clouds that seemed intent on trailing the disturber. But this, too, this gorge, they surmounted rather briskly. After ascending innumerable peaks and descending to the corresponding troughs, the mountains standing as a stony, churning sea in their path, and tackling hills, despite their efforts to eclipse the rocky cliffs, the Paladians came to a peak that overlooked a body of water. Jaegar was the first to note this, after spying a shimmering that was of a deeper lustre than air rippled by heat.
“My Lord—there is a lake between the mountains.”
King Pallan took his time to come to him, for he had been discussing something with one of the soldiers in the Forward Vanguard.
Jaegar remained studying the deep-blue lake as King Pallan, after a slip once or twice, made his way to him, up the remaining remnants of the peak. The regiment had stopped at the foot of the precipice, several tens of feet below. “What do you spy, Jaegar?”
Jaegar responded some moments later, “A body of water—a lake of considerable size—hem
med in by the mountains, with, perhaps, a narrow shoreline in certain areas.”
King Pallan’s curiosity, though as faint as it could possibly be, grew in that instant. “Oh?” He gingerly took the last steps to reach the apex of the steep peak.
A dark-blue lake, as described, at once came into view. The wind wrinkled its surface, the wavelets creeping in their direction—strong signs they were still heading south. The body of water looked pristine, and deserted. As Jaegar had indicated moments before, the lake indeed had a shoreline, a narrow sandy strip running, partly, from its right side (their vantage point) to its left, and then terminating somewhat abruptly about mid-course its length.
Jaegar turned to King Pallan, who appeared transfixed by the lake. “My Lord?”
King Pallan made a reply after long moments. “Yes.”
“Does the height frighten you? Is that why you keep silent?”
King Pallan shook his head once.
“Is there another matter that checks your tongue?”
King Pallan went to shake his head but stopped; his eyes narrowed considerably as he interrogated the seemingly benign loch. He muttered sometime afterward, just loudly enough to be perceived by a perplexed Jaegar, “I have seen this place before … in a dream, Jaegar.”
Jaegar’s manifest confusion heightened. He stepped closer to his king. “Did you say in a dream, My Lord?”
King Pallan answered after a time, “In a dream, Jaegar.”
Jaegar began to laugh. He teased, “In a dream? Oh, come now, My Lord, in a dream—you have never been to this lake before. None of us have.”
King Pallan’s responses, the intervals in which they came, grew shorter and more intense. “I may not have been here, Jaegar—but I am telling you I have been here, or seen this place somehow, in a dream. There is something unusual about the place …”
Jaegar stared at King Pallan for a few seconds more with a look of bewilderment. He then faced the loch and studied it anew. But it seemed to him, by his changing expressions, to be anything but unusual. In time, he complained respectfully, “My Lord, it is just a lake—a trapped pool of inviting dark waters between these ridges. There is nothing out of the ordinary about it.”
King Pallan repeated a short period later, “Nothing out of the ordinary … we shall see.” He then turned to his lead soldier and said, “I want to get a better look at it.”
Jaegar made a hasty scan of the lake and its confines. “Possible; in truth, probable. It is, strictly, on our course. And we would need to go around it, as we are without boat.”
“Good—I should like to study it.”
Jaegar’s confusion over his king’s strange behaviour returned. “The lake?”
“Aye, the lake, Jaegar. Come, let us go. I shall tell the council straightaway of my intentions.”
“Yes, My Lord; at once.” Jaegar followed him down the precipice to a waiting, serpentine line of expeditionaries.
Jardarah met them as they dismounted the slender shaft of rock that projected into the air. “Is there something the matter, My Lord? Why have we delayed here?”
King Pallan walked past him. “Nothing is the matter, Jardarah. And, we have not delayed here.”
Jardarah looked to Jaegar for answers, but the latter’s only response was an indistinct grin and a shrug of the shoulders with outward-turned hands.
King Pallan demanded, “What is the name of this loch? I want to know, straightaway.”
A soldier bowed to him at once and sped off for Lyndam, who, for the time, was tasked with carrying—lugging—the maps. The scribes could not be bothered with such a matter. Lyndam, a soldier himself, fetched the correct parchment and handed it to his fellow warrior, who was burdened with presenting it to their king.
King Pallan said, “Good, Lackland; the map.” He took the map hastily from the soldier, who bowed and stood by. King Pallan searched the parchment for the lake’s name. His eyes soon began to lower as a faint puzzlement welled in his face. He whispered, “Interesting …”
A woman came running up, exclaiming loudly. King Pallan started at the suddenness and vociferousness of her approach. “My Lord-My Lord, the lake, it is a mal one, indeed.”
King Pallan refrained from yelling at her; just. “What. What is it, my lady? Why have you disturbed your king so?”
The woman’s name was Erriam; she was of a venerable age but a ball of energy. “My Lord—oh no—I did not mean, in the slightest way, to rat’le my king. But the lake—the loch.”
King Pallan’s impatience grew. “Yes-yes, what is it?”
Erriam’s round face glowed with strange excitement, her big, round, brown eyes revealing muted panic. “My Lord, ’tis the lake. Yes, indeed. The loch of the dead, that one.”
King Pallan’s face grew pale.
Jaegar came by, venting, “Be off. The sire does not need to heed such nonsense.”
But Erriam persisted. “Yes, the lake, Sa’keir Lake, I think they call it. It has unusual powers, sire. Many believe it to be a gateway to the other world.”
King Pallan looked down at the parchment, then back up at Erriam. He commented softly, “That is right.”
Jaegar insisted, “Let me see, My Lord. What is right?”
King Pallan slid the map over to him.
Jaegar, with squinting eyes, soon backed away from the map. “That is right; the lake’s name. You’ve seen the map!”
Erriam disputed most pointedly, “I have not. The lake—it exists. Its name, I know of.”
Jaegar backed down. He grumbled, “Bloody map, anyway.”
Hadara, Yarek, and Olish emerged from the rear of the formation.
Hadara asked loudly, “What is the holdup, sire?”
King Pallan shouted back, “There is no holdup.” He waited for them to come near.
“We are ready to depart, My Lord, at your command,” Olish noted with kindness.
“Thank you, Olish. But I believe a respite is in order.”
“A respite, My Lord?” He turned very slightly to Hadara, then to Yarek.
“A respite, Olish. You must agree, the people have come a long way, and other than a few hours sleep in darkness, at staggered intervals, they have had little rest in a few days.”
The council seemed in agreement with their king’s opines. “We find your recommendation noteworthy. A respite is wise at this time. We shall notify the people at once of your wishes.”
“Good. I shall like to explore this lake—perhaps for a day or two—not more. In that period the people may rest …”
“A welcome reprieve from the journey, My Lord,” Olish responded steadily.
The council all bowed to their king.
“We shall descend the ridge and set up camp on the shelf of land adjacent to the lake—perhaps in the bushes for cover, near the shore.”
Jaegar nodded several times as he caught sight of the loch with large shifts of his head. “A feasible and rightful task, to be sure. We shall have the camp set up in little time, My Lord.”
“Good, Jaegar; I, too, could use some rest.” He rolled up the parchment he was holding and handed it to the soldier who had brought it to him.
Jardarah scanned the sky, then the tops of the peaks encircling them. “The journey to Vadaal …”
King Pallan came over to him. The two of them gazed southward for a few moments. “We shall be done with these highlands by the dawn of next week. The course to Vadaal is not far from here.”
Jardarah remained gazing at the southerly mountains for a time longer, then turned to his king. “Then we have come a long way, already.”
King Pallan beamed at his lead soldier’s direct subordinate, Jardarah’s own expression brightening many degrees in response to his king’s evident delight in him.
Erriam and Jaegar came by them and watched as the sun gave subtle signs that it had lowered in the sky, the lake’s hue growing a deeper shade of blue-black.
About the Author
Matthew M. Pyke is a computer progr
ammer by trade, an author by passion. An admirer of the classics, he is also a fan of some popular-culture works. When not writing short fiction or laboring over a long fiction leviathan, he enjoys outdoor activities, keeping up with current events, reading, and watching professional surfing.
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