Tales of Xyanthia: Part Twelve

This is a dual collaberation story with DarkRen and myself, Part Eleven 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

Still wary the young Renyck looks to his sides and behind. He is where it started. The waters of the lake ripple soundlessly at the beck and call of a soft breeze. And Nightsteed looks at him, seeming almost impatient with the light toss of his head. Taking a breath, Renyck looks down to the bloom he held, bloom no longer. It too has shifted into a silvered medallion an inch and a half in diameter. Stranger yet the smooth surface of the ornament was blank on both sides. Sheathing his blade to free a hand, he turns it over with both, lightly rubbing the smooth metal with his thumb.

The heavy plant of hooves brings his attention from the ornament as Nightsteed approaches. He has yet more to do. The medallion is carefully donned, Renyck taking a moment to secret the silver disk under his armor. Then again does he place foot in stirrup and vault himself onto the saddle. He knows where to go, thus with his direction Nightsteed charges forth powerfully. Yet the wind racing past him, nor the rhythmic pound of hooves could erase the wise words that echo unerringly in his mind.

He mulls them over as he rides, but again must shelve such musings when, with an hour’s passing, Nightsteed slows. Already trusting deeply in the stallion’s senses, Renyck knows they have arrived. Standing Stones, the map said. It was, again, quite right in description.

Slowed, then paused at the edge of a wide, long valley Renyck looked out over a literal forest of tall stone columns. Near as far as his eye could see in the day’s light they stood silently. Some straight, some uneven, some leaning, some toppled. All feet thick and handfuls of meters in height. None precisely the same as the last. The vast valley of dark gray stone columns called Standing Stones.

Questioning just what to do, Renyck started when motes of a soft gray illumination formed, coalescing from the very air about him, being given a wary eyeing and warning snort by Nightsteed. Renyck’s blade was in hand quickly, though held with defense as he waited warily for some indication from the points of subtle illumination.

“You will enter the stones.” said dozens of voices at once, the lights pulsing in sync with each syllable. “You will find your answers within the stones or you will find your death.” Stated by voices young and old. Male and female. Joyful and sorrowful. “Guard yourself. Guard your actions. Guard your emotions or you will join The Unworthy within these stones for all time.”

With that they fade out one by one, leaving Renyck bewildered and just a touch apprehensive as he looks out over the stones. Knowing that he will come to one of two things soon. The answers that he requires or the end of his quest. However, despite the flutter within his belly, he urges Nightsteed forth. Wary, watching and wishing he could match the simple, straightforward confidence of his firm stepping steed.

Just before they pass the first stone, Renyck slows his mount, his hand brushing against Nightsteed’s neck. He looks long towards the stones, beyond where is visible, though impossible to see through or around the thick columns. He inhales a deep, calming breath, before he exhales slowly, “Guard your mind.” he was told, “Guard your emotions..” and just how is he supposed to do that and not think of what might happen? Who are the Unworthy? What must he do to not be one of them?

He thinks again of the story that he has become part of, but no recollection of the tale he read before gives him even a partial clue. Absentmindedly his hand glides under his cloak, fingering the medallion, when surprisingly; he feels warmth against his thumb. He pulls the medallion out slowly, looking closely at it, upon one side of the smooth surface, a line is etched, though there is no clear path to discover what it might mean or what it might become.

He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it again, before he closes his eyes, pushing thoughts away, even of her, even of Xyanthia. He thinks of that line, a line without beginning or ending yet, and that is what this time is, without a beginning that he understands or an ending that is within his grasp of knowledge. It will be what he makes of it, he the carver, he the decider, and he the etching tool.

With resolution he opens his eyes again, a calm steadiness where before was uncertainty, he looks again down at the medallion, it unchanged from what it was, though there is a lingering warmth before he places it beneath his armor again. He murmurs lowly, “I trust I will find you again, Nightsteed. You have been a companion much more than what I have earned, and though you cannot speak, I know you understand my words. And I thank you.”

He vaults down, his hand running along the horses’ muzzle, looking into the calm eyes of the magnificent stallion. He chuckles lowly as Nightsteed nods his head once, “Yes, I knew you would understand.” before he turns his eyes towards the Standing Stones again. “Find her if I do not return, or find the King, however it goes, do not let them wonder.” he adds in all seriousness, giving one glance back into the dark, intelligent eyes of his mount. With that, he squares his shoulders and takes a step forward, from a youth to a young man to a somber warrior, Renyck faces his greatest challenge, to keep his mind free and clear, to face the truth.

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