Tales of Xyanthia: Part Ten

This is a dual collaberation story with DarkRen and myself, Part Nine is HERE, if you haven’t read it yet. His sections will be in Violet and mine will be in Blue. And, a shameless plug, just in case you haven’t started reading this at all and want to start at the beginning, the first part is HERE

From beneath the hood of the stranger’s cloak, Renyck spies an approving nod, the appraising gaze holding his own for a moment, before he hears, “Good, but keep alert, Master Renyck.” The statement puzzles Renyck, but before he has time to contemplate it, the sound of a twig snapping behind him causes him to turn around quickly. Again he holds the stance ready, before he realizes it was merely Nightsteed as he took a step forward. He looks back then to respond to the hooded stranger, only to discover that he and the stallion are alone.

Sheathing his longsword, he looks down and discovers that on the ground, lies a bundle tied securely, the dark brown oiled leather held by straps that come away easily as he unfastens it. Within is a vial of a clear amber liquid that he does not recognize, a small jar of unguent, and one he recognizes as medicinal in scent. Further exploring results in finding a small tome, the writing in neat script, yet the words do not make much sense to him. As he stows these items into his knapsack, he comes across an incongruous token, a cloak pin of gold. The filigree is fine craftsmanship indeed, surrounding an exquisite amethyst butterfly, quite an odd thing to leave such value upon the ground.

Renyck takes the pin from the bundle, thinking to wrap it in cloth to put away safely; it glimmers for an instant, warming to the touch. He remembers then, the butterfly that he saw at the lake, then the one near the fountain, and thinking to himself that perhaps this might be a good luck charm of sorts, he decides to pin it on the inside of his cloak, not wanting it to get harmed by whatever awaits him. Glancing at the cloak at that moment, he remembers the properties of it, and realizing he might be safe for now, he takes a few moments to spread the cloak on the ground, watching in some amazement when he lifts it to find bread and cheese as well as a flagon of clear, fresh water beneath. He breaks his fast quickly, then tends to Nightsteed, securing the saddle again and vaulting into the saddle, and once again opening the parchment to try to figure out what place it might be.

This time Nightsteed starts off in no more than a brisk trot, allowing for Renyck to focus on the parchment. It shows as a crudely drawn map. Starting at a small effigy of a hut, there was a scrawled line off into the wilds. Landmarks, however, weren’t plentiful on the map. The first line led forth to another crude image, one showing a peculiarly contorted tree set atop a hill. The drawing made it seem as though the limbs were arms lifted wide in supplication to some deity from on high.

Musing the unlikely landmark, Renyck lifted his eyes, scanning. And stared when not more than ten meters distant he saw a familiar shape. Uplifted tree limbs, gnarled branches seeming almost like fingers. It stood atop a hill and was so close to the scrawled drawing Renyck could not but acknowledge it as his first landmark. Looking down at the parchment again for a moment, Renyck noted the change in path that lead to the next landmark. It was a lake by the look. ‘Silver Waters’ was written next to it. His only clue, though the shape of the mark on the map was precise.

Looking further he saw there was but one more destination, a nest of lines that was labeled ‘Standing Stones’. Having seen enough to know where his next step was he took the reigns and indicated direction. Nightsteed took his rider up with an energetic gusto and soon both were charging across the countryside like a black bolt, Reyeck leaned in close as the powerful stallion galloped at full tilt.

It took little time to reach the mist-shrouded lake, the ground having rushed by at the ground eating pace. Renyck was glad for the warmth of the cloak, the air chilled as night took precedence over the eventful day, and as the stallions gait slowed, he looked about to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. The stillness, the hush, the sheer quietness was matched by the gray veil that even the moon could not penetrate well. Hazy shadows that at once seemed to stay perfectly still while weaving and circling the still waters. Even Nightsteed seemed aware of the unusual quietness, horse and rider as one trying to keep their exhaled breath from being overly loud.

Renyck eased himself to the ground, the creaking leather overly loud as he swung his leg over the side. He ran his hand along his companion’s neck, to reassure him, though the gesture calmed him as well, enveloped in the strange mists. The very air, the silence, the sheen of the water, every blade of grass seemed caressed in a shimmering hue. Even his movements, his foot as it reached the ground, his arm turning back the cloak over his shoulder to free his sword arm, all seemed encompassed, encased by the veil of silver.

As he turned the cloak, the pin shimmered, standing out in the gleam of gold, incongruent, seeming out of place in this haze. He turned his eyes towards it, curious that an item inanimate would capture his attention, when the beauty that surrounds him beacons for him to absorb it, become one with it. In that hushed stillness, it is a wonder he could not hear the approach, the rush of motion, yet as his focus became more clear at the shimmer of the amethyst butterfly, he sees a flash of blade just before he could duck underneath, rolling to the side, away from Nightsteed, and with a smooth grip draws forth his longsword, raised towards the one who sought to capture him unaware.

DarkRen has posted part Eleven, the link for that one is HERE.