Chapter Eighteen

Of ancient days

Vorhann, the grizzled old hunter they'd met a few days previous, sat in front of the tavern's fireplace hogging all the warmth. An array of blades were laid out on a table in front of him. He carefully tooled each one with a whetstone to ensure maximum sharpness. Clearly he was preparing for an engagement.

From the other side of the room Herman's eyes flicked back and forth between Vorhann and Tia, although he was looking at the former to cover his glances at the latter. The beautiful winged elf was busily scribbling upon parchments about their, or hopefully his, latest exploits. He was pleased to see the flowers he had arranged in a vase on the table in front of her.

"Vorhann," Ivan rose to his feet from next to Herman, shaking him from his bliss. The hunter looked up from his weapons with a grunt. "Have you seen Nadia around?" Ivan inquired. Vorhann simply replied with a rude shrug, quickly returning his focus to his items. Ivan sat back down at the table as Erica returned with tankards from the bar. "I wonder where she's gone?" he mused openly.

"The only thing that's happened today," growled Vorhann, suddenly projecting his opinion, "is that Elfkin received a pretty bunch of flowers." Vorhann sang the last few words as a tease. Tia's grip on her quill hardened, but her face remained passive.

"Flowers? That's lovely," said Ivan. The sounds of El-Shad and Erica slurping on mead was a bit distracting to him but he caught Tia's gaze.

"Thank you," replied Tia. "They are very lovely indeed, but they are a gift with a mystery."

Ivan was curious to know more, but the others looked more interested in the bottoms of their tankards. He was getting quite worried that Nadia hadn't been seen in some time, and he found himself deeply concerned. "I'm going to search around the druidic circle," he claimed, "Nadia should have been seen by now. I won't travel further and I'll come straight back if I find anything. We should make preparations to go out again tomorrow."

"In which case," spoke up Herman, "I'll get some more holy water.

Erica and El-Shad offered to arrange provisions for the journey, and they went their separate ways.

Ivan stepped out of the tavern into the cold night. "Another cold night," he thought, longing for the warmth of a quality cloak, or the comfort of a carriage to take him about his business. He missed the good old days, but right now he was missing Nadia, although he hadn't let on to the others quite how much he was worried. He straightened his tunic, made sure he could reach his wand if he got into trouble, and walked past the barracks towards the copse of trees on the south-east side of the town.

The winter moon was already quite high in the sky, and provided plenty of light to help Ivan navigate around the three ancient trees whose branches reached out to form a natural circle around a heavy obelisk. There was a delicate path of footprints and some other tracks, probably from woodland animals, circling around the standing stone, but all was quiet.

Ivan respectfully approached the obelisk; since it was on raised ground he would be able to get a better view of the area. As he stood alongside it he realised the long branches from the ancient oaks not only stretched around the edges of the circle, but also reached into the sky creating a makeshift canopy. Ivan presumed that when summer came around, the branches would be covered in leaves providing comfortable shade from the hot sun.

All of this realisation didn't shift the nagging worry about Nadia. She wasn't here. He looked at the footprints trying to discern whether there was any of them that looked more recent, but he couldn't tell. There was no sign that he could see that provided a clue to where she might be.

Before Ivan left the circle he took a closer look at the standing stone. It leant over to one side, tapered at the top as if it was a giant finger pointing into the sky. Carved over the whole surface of the stone were artisan sigils and ancient glyphs, weathered by centuries of wind and rain, but deeply carved to have withstood the test of time. Either that or magically sustained, Ivan realised. Druidic magic was a lot less ordered than a Magi's arcana, but that meant no less respect for its power. He traced his hands over some of the symbols and for the briefest of moments, in the glimmer of a king's whim... he felt the heart of a mountain beat as his own; deep love called to deep seas; and was invigorated by the anthem of all creation.

Unless he'd just imagined it?

With a sigh Ivan turned away. He walked down the hill. He passed by the trees. He walked past the barracks. He entered the tavern. He walked up the stairs. He went into his room. He lay down to bed.

He fell asleep.