Flashback The Travels of Eanos Swifthand - Leaving Home

[Eanos]

43 Fall, 509AV

Thick cloud covered the night darkened sky so that there was no relief for the traveller in these great mountains. Behind Eanos the tunnel that was the Stalwart Highway delved back through the mountains, its darkness only relieved by the occasional glowing sphere of rock. Above him stood the fastness of the Shield, the fortress which guarded the only entrance into the Isurian cities. He stood in that gateway, unwilling to take the next step which would so define the next stage in his life.

Behind him lay all that he knew; his family, his clan, friends, teachers, enemies, places and the sources of all his memories. Ahead lay the unknown. First a wilderness of rock and ice which likely as not might well claim his life, but beyond that lay something much worse, for their lay the lands of the other races.

He shifted the great pack on his shoulders, the action abstract and without meaning for he was not tired and nor for all it’s size and bulk did it weigh heavily upon him. That was one of the blessings of Izurdin, his god and the guardian of his race. There were other blessings too, for were not the Isur, the chosen race? His reasons for delaying the departure were much more to do with the distaste he viewed the inevitable soiling he would be forced to endure by mixing with the lesser races than they were to do with any fear of moving forward.

The moment lasted long as the clouds raced through the heavens above, but it could not last forever and eventually he forced himself to step out of the musings and to take that next step which would so change the course of his life. Once in motion he strode forward decisively, his eyes reading the terrain with ease for all that it was dark to the eyes of some. He paused long enough to raise a salute to the guards behind him and then he stepped out and away, starting down the long path away from his home.

The first stages were familiar for his curiosity had brought him here before as a youngster, though now as a mere fifty four year old he was still considered young, barely old enough to make his own decisions. Here the road was well maintained for it was the only land route for trade and certainly no great quantity of the heavy metal work for which the Isur were prized was ever going to be flown out of there. It left only the road and the heavy wagons for whom any significant slope would mean double teaming of the draught animals which drew them.

Here the dangers were in the environment; in the cold and the wildness of the lands, not in the rigours of the path itself. He walked alone for the merchants who traded in the great Isurian cities would be safely camped for the night, safe that is for them whose eyes could not penetrate the darkness. Eanos expected a lonely journey at least for the first part since he intended to sleep during the daylight hours. He saw no point in subjecting himself to the irritation of the sunlight, something which he was not used to, wan though it might be sometimes here in the great mountain ranges. When he came to what would be considered civilised areas in this devastated land then he would need to change and adapt. He had food to take him to the next settlement and indeed a great part of his pack consisted of the rations he would need to get there. Once perhaps there would have been villages and the like along the road but the Valterrian had destroyed them as easily as it had destroyed the rest of the world. Here they had died in a cataclysm of rock and fire which had even taken some of the Isurian cities with it. One day perhaps they might be established again, but it seemed unlikely to Eanos that he would ever see it for all that his life span would encompass many years to come.

He passed a patrol heading back into the cities; exchanging a nod with the leader of it. Such sightings would soon become rare for him as his paces created distance between him and the Shield, for there were few threats to challenge the might of the race chosen by Izurdin. Soon he was at the limit of the lands which he had explored with his friends. It was also the last time he would see the Shield for a long time. He paused and turned to take in that view though even his sight was only able to see a few dim glows which marked the mouth of the Highway. He had paused enough already that night, spent long enough taking his leave so he turned again and headed down from the pass, along the first of the switchback bends which would block his view of his home.

He felt a certain relief, almost as though now his decision was final. Certainly he would not return home, to scurry back into his old life. Brave he might consider himself but he was not brave enough to face the scorn of his enemies. He was considered odd enough as it was to want to venture out into the lands of the lesser races; to be considered a coward too was a little too much for him to contemplate. Perhaps if he locked himself into the Silver Tower he might at least avoid the other clans, but he knew that was pointless for it would be the disappointment of his own family and clan which would burn his very soul. Not that they would say anything, indeed they would welcome him back; pleased with his return to sanity. But once that was done the questions would be asked, the gossip start behind his back and that he would not endure.

He turned a corner of the mountain and the wind came strongly, catching him in it’s icy grip. He teetered for a moment, his right hand reaching out to snag the rock wall and steady himself. For a moment he’d been unbalanced as the wind caught his pack and his journey had nearly come to an early end. Being dashed to death on the rocks so far below would certainly mean avoiding the embarrassment of a return with his tail between his legs, but he’d rather avoid both outcomes.

He knew though it was a rebuke from his god, that he would consider turning back and putting aside the task given to him. It was a gentle warning, for all that it had made his blood pound. The next warning might not be so kind he thought and so schooled his thoughts more carefully, putting aside all defeatist thoughts as being unworthy of a warrior. There was a certain kind of grim humour to it he realised and as that realisation came he let out a pent out breath and nodded to himself. It was wise to listen to the promptings of his god for he would have no other guides out in the wilderness. Surely in the lands of the decadent races there would be temptations enough to test him and he determined anew to remain true to the faith.

“Praise to you my Lord, Izurdin,” he said, his breath coming carefully as he fought against the wind until the turning of the road might take him back into shelter. ”Allow me the strength to follow your will, remind me of my heritage and I will not forsake you any more than you did not forsake us in the years of the Trials. Praise be to you my Lord.”

He felt more comfortable now that the words had passed his lips and his resolution had been reaffirmed. He plunged deeper into darkness as the road plunged down into the depths of the valley. As it did so, he felt more comfortable once more and admitted to himself that the reason he travelled at night was so that the emptiness of the skies above did not trouble him. Here now the mountains seemed to close over him, comforting him, reassuring him that this was home, for all of its harshness.

The first hint of dawn in the distance was just a hint in the distant sky as he cleared a pass. He stopped in wonderment for its beauty for all that he’d seen such before. Here though the air was cold and crisp, cold enough that his breath puffed into mist in front of his eyes and the snow still lurked in pockets hidden from the sun. Golden light danced upon distant peaks and he stood and watched it for a while as it crept from one peak to another and slowly the sky lost it’s blackness and took on a hint of colour. It was the cold which forced him to move onwards and head down into the next valley; each step now painful not only because of the soreness of his feet but because his toes had become cold as he stood there with his mouth open.

Day approached and it was time to seek shelter down in the valley where the weather would be milder and the grip of the snow less strong. If he could then he’d find a cave or an overhang back off the road but one which faced the sunset so that it’s light would linger on it and warm it as he emerged, and also so that it might wake him. He hurried down the road, each switchback taking him closer to his goal. This valley looked promising as a place to shelter for it was larger and lower than some he’d passed through though in truth it was only the third he’d managed to reach. Travel was harder than he’d expected and it took a long time to first go down and then back up. The zig zags of the road meant that he walked five or six times as far as he would have done in a straight line. Then too he walked up and down as well so if he’d plotted his progress on a map then he would appear to be still on the very doorstep of the Shield itself.

Here there were still patrol shelters tucked away in hidden places, places on which he’d been briefed, places of which even the merchants were unaware and it was to one of these that he headed. As he continued on his journey, soon these would be no more and then he’d be on his own in every sense of the word. Now light brightened the world around him and the sky fairly blazed with it, making the valley seem all the darker and gloomy. He pressed on until he saw the marker he’d been looking for carved into the rock wall, high up where no snow drift could bury it and then he followed the rough path it marked until it brought him to the small cave.

He dumped his pack with relief and rubbed at his shoulders even while a yawn suddenly cracked across his face. Here in the cave the wind did not pry for all that he could hear it outside and it made the place seem warm and cosy. Against the back wall a fire had been laid and he lit it with pleasure, reminding himself before he left to make it anew. This too would be a pleasure which he would not be able to count upon once he was beyond the patrols limits and then cold camps with no warm drink or food would be forced upon him. Out here in the mountains there was precious little to burn and he’d have to gather what he could as he travelled. He was still excited by the novelty and yet the reality of it began to make it seem all the more real now. He’d been lucky with the weather and with the provision of the shelters. Soon he would be forced to stand upon his own two feet and then there would be the proof as to whether he really was the man that he thought.

[Eanos]

The setting of the sun meant that the light which crept in from the entrance of the cave grew dimmer and it was enough to stir the restless Isur from his makeshift bed. He rolled to his knees and stood; all the pains from his travel of the previous night and the discomforts of his bed now making themselves felt by way of aches and pains.

”Izurdins beard,” he muttered to himself as he straightened his back and felt as though he had gained a hundred years in age overnight. This was something which he hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to in his planning. Nowhere in the daydreams he had been mulling over these last few years was there any hint that there would be daily physical discomforts. It had been easy to gloss over the idea and assume that such were the rigours of travel and that it was something that any adventurer would endure with a shrug. Now though that shrug did not come so easily and nor did he think that it was going to get any better any time soon. He realised gloomily that it would take some time for his body to harden to these new tasks that he was setting for it, and until it did then he would have to bear with it.

He was keen to take his mind off of the downsides of adventure and so knelt by his kit and dug through it until he came out with a plain wooden box about the length of his forearm and about as thick. When he’d been packing and realised just how much the pack would weigh, he had been tempted to leave this box behind, and he could justify doing that, but it seemed on balance to be a bad idea. The box was a focus point for his mind and while he could suffer the loss of it, to have simply left it behind might well have jinxed the powers that be against him.

He laid the box down reverently and eased open the lid on its delicate hinges. A waft of incense and the smells of home erupted around him and for a moment he was torn between smiling at the memories that they evoked and crying for the loss of them. Whilst he had stayed away from his family before, never had he actually left everything and everyone he knew behind before.

He shifted himself over, pebbles gouging uncomfortably into his knees and carefully blew on the few red coals left of the fire he’d lit the morning before, feeding them with tinder until orange flickers of flame erupted and licked hungrily at what he fed it. He watched it carefully and built it up until it seemed to be burning well enough to survive without his constant attention.

So many things to be aware of, so many things on which he was reliant without thought, the loss of any one of which now would make his life uncomfortable or difficult, perhaps in the extreme. Travelling in the mountains was not the best place to be learning such lessons, but then what choice did an Isur have? Perhaps if he’d taken some military training as so many of his friends had then he’d have been here before and learnt how to survive, what was necessary and what was not. But no, he’d been ambitious and poured his attention into the study of the arcane and smithing. At least he was glad that he’d been forced to take part in some of the household chores. At least he knew the basics; for that he could now thank his mother. It was a bad thought he realised as a new wave of homesickness struck him. He was only a night’s travel from home but just now he would give anything to give his mother a hug and to wish her a good day.

In an attempt to shrug the thoughts away he dug into the box and took out two small metal plates and held them carefully in his fingers. He stood and flexed his knees because his legs still felt stiff from the broken sleep he’d had. He tapped the plates together and a dull thud resounded in the small space. He frowned for the effect was not quite what he’d planned, but realised now that his fingers muted the sound. He sighed to himself and shrugged, deciding that there was little that he could do about it just now. He tapped the plates together again several times, concentrating on the sound and casting aside his irritation.

“Lord Izurdin. All praise to your name. I thank you for our salvation. I thank you for caring enough about us that you came amongst us. I thank you for your blood which runs in my veins. I thank you for saving my ancestors and for bestowing them with your gifts.”

He raised his arms wide and bowed his head. “Lord, your will is mine. Let me see what it is that you wish me to do and I will do it. Guide me on the path that I should be walking to glorify You.”

He sat back down and pulled the box to the side of him. What he planned was not a normal routine for him, nor for many Isur, but he’d realised in his planning that he needed to do something extra in order to stay on the path that he wanted to walk and not to be distracted or delayed. He brushed clear an area of floor in front of him and took a coal from the fire and laid it on the North side of the cleared space. He had no fear of being burnt, even though he only used his right hand for the coal was only red hot. He splashed some water from his canteen into his cup and laid it at the South side. On the West he laid a pebble from the cave floor and at the East another coal, but this time he laid upon it some herbs from the box. They withered then blackened and emitted smoke which trailed leisurely into the air.

He brought his thoughts into order and breathed deeply, placing a marker from the box which bore his clan sign into the centre of the space. “Fire which burns. Fire which gives us warmth and the power over metal, I welcome you into this place. I thank you for your gifts and I ask that you guide me this day so that I might follow my Path.”

“Water which cools. Water which quenches both my thirst and the hottest of metals, I welcome you into this place. I thank you for your gifts and I ask that you guide me this day that I may follow my Path well.”

“Rock of the earth. You shelter me, you give me a home and the metal to work. I welcome you to this place and I thank you for your gifts. I ask that you guide me this day so that I may follow my Path well.”

“Air which flows. Air which brings the weather out in this world, and also bring great heat to the working of metal, I welcome you to this place and I thank you for your gifts. I ask that you guide me this day so that I may follow my Path well.”

“Isur, who have gone before me, Isur who have worked with our Lord to recreate what we had before, I welcome you to this place and I thank you for your gifts. I ask that you guide me this day well so that I may follow my Path.”

He reached into the box once more and drew out a flask; a small flask which held a liquor which was precious to him. He unstoppered it and flicked a few droplets out in front of him. “As you have gifted me, so I return the gifts. I will treasure your gifts and use them well, mindful that what is given may be taken away.”

He stoppered the bottle and laid it back in the box, closing his eyes and relaxing. It was important for him to ensure that he remembered who he was at the start of the day, albeit that it was now night. He was here on a mission and he could not complete that mission unless he focussed all of his attention upon it. He was pleased with the ceremony, which had worked better than he’d expected, for it felt different to do it here. He wasn’t sure quite what the difference was but he was fairly sure that it was because now for the first time he really stood on his own two feet and no one else provided for him. He knew in the back of his mind that it wasn’t entirely true just yet for he still relied upon the gifts that he had been given, but that would change over time and it would not be too long before all he had was the direct result of his actions. Or he’d be dead, but that was another issue and in which case it wouldn’t matter.

He set some water to heat over the fire, realising that he should have done that before the ceremony and packed his gear. He’d been told to pack away all his gear all of the time and to only leave out what he was using at the time. It had seemed good advice and now as he gathered his scattered possessions he realised that perhaps it was advice that he should follow. When he’d been tired it had seemed less important, but now it irritated him as much as it would to go into the forge and find that the fire had not been set the night before and tools and the debris of working were still scattered around and not set into their rightful places. He was glad that no other had seen the slovenly way he’d set his camp and determined that in future he would not fail this way again. His pride railed against it and he would not allow the lesser races to see such a thing.

Daylight had faded by the time he emerged from the cave and only a slight lightness in the sky was any reminder that it had been there at all. The valley was dark with only the peaks etched against the darkened sky. The road however was clear and he turned up on it, pausing only by a stream to replenish his canteen of water before he set off towards the next pass.

This night though he was mindful of more than he had been the previous one. Then it had been just a grand adventure and whilst that was still true, now his pack was a little lighter or rations and other gear. He did not have a pack train and servants to grant him the things that he would want or need and now he felt the first edgings of discomfort to know that his stores were not as well stocked as they had been. Last night he had travelled with his eyes on the horizon, or at least as far ahead of him as he could see as the case might be, eager and hungry to drink in the next new thing, the next turn of the trail. That excitement still bound him and caused him to ignore the beginnings of discomfort in foot and shoulders, but now when he remembered he also cast his attention nearer to hand, seeking the smaller things which might be useful. He paused now and again as he travelled to pick a few leaves which would be good for eating or flavouring of food. He gathered small bits of tinder for the next lighting of the fire, mindful that as his next camp approached he would need to start gathering what he could for the fire itself. He’d also need to stop earlier too to allow time for the necessary camp chores and setup which he’d ignored the previous night.

[Eanos]

He stepped out that night with a light heart for all of that and he soon gained the next pass, a place of snow and wind, wind hard enough and cold enough that it took the breath from his lungs as he stepped into the snowy gap between the mountains. He gasped for breath, fought for control and then only succeeded when he turned his back on the freezing wind. There he panted in the relative warmth though his ears told the tale in sound and temperature that the wind was not done with him. He ducked his head and turned around so that the wind was not able to play its tricks the second time.

Out of the pass the road plunged away again but only for a short time and then climbed again so that he found himself walking on the roof of the world with no great peaks around him. Here there was just him, the mountains and most of all the open sky in which stars now glinted with a steely wink. Snow lay in pockets around him and for a while he diverted off the road and walked on virgin snow so that it crunched beneath his feet. Not the crisp loud sound of mid winter, though winter here was not so far away so high up was he, but the soft, slightly slushy crunch as he broke through the many times refrozen surface of the snow.

Now that he had wandered away from the road, though he kept a careful note in his mind where it had been headed, it seemed that he was away from all the works of the races. Here there was just the mountains, him and the gods. It took his very breath away, though in a different way to that which the wind had done so shortly before. He climbed to the top of a low peak and stood astride it, his hands by his side and simply looked for a while. For a moment he almost regretted not being here in the daytime when he’d be able to see better, but as it was since the night was clear and his eyes were now fully adapted to the light, he could see almost as well as he might have been able to in the daytime.

“Yo, the gods. I thank you for your creation and for allowing me to share it.” His voice was swallowed by the landscape, but it seemed to him that it did not go unheard. There was certainly a presence here, a presence of something, though quite what he wasn’t sure. Perhaps here was where the gods walked, perhaps he stood on the edge of their lands. It was an eerie feeling and one which was not entirely comfortable, certainly it was such that he felt the urge to be moving again. Still though he was having too much fun to simply head back for the road so he walked amongst the rock, the ice and the snow, taking in the very different nature of this part of his journey. Was this not a large part of why he’d decided to make this journey? For all that he had a self appointed mission, excuse some might call it, still there had been motivations, perhaps the real motivations which had remained unvoiced even in his thoughts. He walked along, half expecting to hear or see the gods as he travelled, but in the end, if they were there then they remained veiled from his sight or hearing.

Sooner than he wanted the long walk over the roof of the world came to an abrupt end as the mountains dashed away down in precipitous cliffs. He was forced to seek the road again, something which took him longer than he thought for the road had taken a diversion he’d not expected and dived off the plateau earlier. After a good deal of backtracking; something which took his concentration because of the needless worry it caused about being lost in the wilderness and meant that he could not enjoy the peace of the place. Perhaps it was a jest by the gods who teased him for his forthrightness or just for invading their privacy unwanted.

The road left the plateau by means of a small ravine and then dived though a cave and out onto the mountain face. Here it was clear just how much work had been needed to create the road for at time it was carved out of the rock face so that there was an overhang above his head and nothing to the side of him but space and a very long fall down to the bottom of the cliff. Now he was pleased by the darkness for even his sight could not penetrate the inky blackness of the valley floor below him. It was high enough to be fatal of that he was sure but be had the feeling that he’d been falling for a very long time before that happened, and it was good not to be able to see the height.

Soon the road but back into a new valley, one which led into the valley that he’d been walking along the edge of and now it dropped down in the switchbacks with which he’d become familiar. He opened up his stride and allowed the world to pull him down the slope. He decided very quickly that downhill was worse than uphill for all the effort that the latter caused. At first he’d welcomed the downhills but now he did not. The weight of the pack forced his toes into the fronts of his sturdy boots and he was forced to place his feet carefully in case one slipped and he’d find himself rolling down the slope. At least the gentle gradient of the road made that last risk quite small but the sharp turns of the switchbacks did not help.

As the road continued on its downward track it became clear that the main valley was deep and broad, bigger than anything he’d seen so far. Also there was something of a novelty becoming apparent as he neared the bottom for it was filled with trees. This was very new territory for Eanos for while he’d seen trees before, never had he experienced them in such a mass before. This seemed a very jungle out of the tales told to small children and he felt a small tingle of dread run up his spine at the thought of entering into such a place.

Such was the feeling that when he got to the point where the road entered the trees he paused and considered the action of entrance. It was as though there had been a line drawn and on the one side there were trees and on the other there were none. He stared at the trees which towered over him and tried to guess at their nature. Some timbers he knew from his forging training, some he knew from the decorative effects in the halls or for their strength such as for handles, but of the trees he knew nothing and could not begin to guess if any of the ones he now viewed were ones with which he was familiar. Perhaps if he knew them then like old friends he might have welcomed them and set foot amongst them with a glad heart. But instead they were all veiled and appeared as strangers.

It was strange he realised to feel fear at such a thing. There was no overt threat and had he been with others then he would have entered without thought for fear of appearing craven in front of them. But alone his fear ran rampant and his heart beat wildly. It was not to be borne, this fear which unmanned him and he first slipped his pack off his shoulders and laid it aside on the ground and then dropped to one knee. “Lord Izurdin, master of all, forgive a fool who finds fear in the unknown and cannot find the strength to master it.”

The words once they were out in the air around him seemed to hang there and as they did so he felt a new understanding of that fear. It was not wrong to be afraid, a voice whispered in his ear, though whether it was a trick of his imagination or the answer of his God he did not know nor care. Such things were for those who were idle and had no work for their hands. What odds where the answer came from? From the lips of the God or planted in his mind by the God? He cared not and listened to the voice carefully.

The voice had waited for his thoughts to collect and now spoke again, though now he could not understand them for they whispered quietly into his heart. Whatever it was that was said he felt more confident and thought to take some of his personal djed and to transform it so that he could see the auras in front of him. Surely anything that was dangerous for him would also have an aura tinged with a hint of that danger? He opened his eyes and his heart to the feelings which the auras engendered and felt better. The trees had auras stronger than the rocks on which they stood, but not the strength of men and this seemed to him to indicate that they were merely passive and not threatening.

As the knowledge became clear to him so the fear receded and he counted it a lesson learned on two fronts. A fear of the unknown did not stand once the unknown became known, but more than that, fear was a message, a warning. Something to stop and consider, not something to cast himself on the ground over and cry into the earth like a child.

“Lord, I thank you,” he called flinging his arms wide and then bowing his head. Did the God hear, had he helped? Eanos had no idea, but better to credit the God for it than to gain a swollen head. That might suit some of the other clans, but the Pitreus were more cunning than that and lived by their wits. A swollen ego it was said prevented the eyes from seeing where the feet were being planted and was a sure prelude to a fall, and he intended as few falls as he could manage.

Taking up his pack once more, he whispered a last prayer and entered into the shelter of the trees. His first steps were bold and they carried him over the threshold and into a world where the sounds of his steps no longer echoed around him but instead were muffled as though the trees were eating the sounds. He tried not to follow that train of thought but his steps started to falter as he looked around him. His attention had been on the trees but now he realised that there were all manner of plants around, some familiar and some less so. The ground was now soft earth and rutted badly in places by the infrequent traffic of heavy wagons so that sometimes he had to choose between wading in the ruts and wallowing in the mud between them.

The road now seemed to follow along the valley bottom rather than climb back out as he had been secretly hoping and here in the darkness under the trees even his sight was less clear. He was glad then that the Isur always had a good sense of direction otherwise he was sure that he’d be feeling that he was walking round in circles. He was sure that he’d seen the same trees a number of times and were it not for his inner certainty might have taken the step of leaving markers behind him just to be sure.

The night was drawing to a close before he left the trees, something which he was oddly reluctant to do and yet also something which he could not wait for. The road turned down a side valley much like the one it had used to enter the valley and climbed away leaving the trees behind him as just a memory.

[Eanos]

His sleep during the day had been restless for the wind had risen and with it had come a storm. He’d been glad of the shelter which the small cave had given him, dank though it was and smelling as though something had died in it. As the rain fell outside he’d been forced to move his bed as rivulets of water started to make their way across the cave floor. Eventually he’d been forced to give up on sleep and sit against the cave wall, blanket over him and try to doze off again. It wasn’t easy given the discomfort of his position but he was still tired and the travels of the last nights had exhausted him more than he’d expected. Eventually he fell asleep again though now the thunder from outside found its way into his dreams.

“Don’t be afraid of it,” the words resounded in his memory as the dream took shape. He stood now in the forge along with his friends. It was not his first time there for he’d been wandering about there ever since he was old enough to escape from his mothers clutches and find this place of fire which would be enough to fascinate most small boys. Often he’d come to watch as the work was done. It was true enough that most of his clan eschewed the forge for the work of the Silver Tower but it would be naive to think that there was not someone on hand in the Pitreus fortress who could fix and make all of the little things which were needed for everyday life. Certainly they were not going to send off to another clan every time the butcher needed a new hook to hang a carcase or even when someone needed a new gate or lock for a door.

It had however marked him out as a little different from his peers and whilst they played their childish games he had often escaped them to come, to sit and to watch as the hot iron was worked into a new form. Now some of them were here to learn the basics, so that they understood the iron. For some of them it might never matter, yet as with Eanos later, the aura of the iron was a simple introduction to the later and more complicated forms of manipulations of djed in general.

The smith nodded to Eanos to take over the bellows, since that was a task which he had done before. “Thrust the metal smoothly into the flame”, the smith cautioned the young man whom he was instructing. “If you scatter the coals then you won’t get such an even heat and the temperature will drop. The air that Eanos is pumping will bring the fire back up to heat, but it is a wasteful thing to do it needlessly.” To Eanos the waste was a small thing considering that the fire was always lit, but he understood it too, for nothing was to be wasted when it could be used. Even coal such as this had to be mined, a process dangerous even for Isur, and the waste of it was a waste of those miners whose lives had been ended or those who had been injured in its obtaining.

Now the iron heated and whist still part of the group being taught, by the fire Eanos had a different view from the rest, and whilst it might not be so clear he could have closed his eyes and visualised what was happening from the memories he’d gained in the long hours of observation.

“Now,” said the smith, watching as the youngster reached in with his left hand and pulled the hot steel from the coals. “Now, you see the colour? Don’t let it get hotter than that at this stage. You see at the very tip there? Where it is white and the sparks fly? There the metal has been destroyed for all intents and purposes, it will be no good for what we want. Even metal burns and burnt metal is no more good than when Johis here burnt the dinner his mother left him to watch over.” There was a degree of grinning and laughter at this, though Johis ducked his head in shame, a grin of embarrassment on his face. It seemed that the episode had got round faster than he’d hoped if the smith knew of it too.

Levity aside, for the iron was hot and cooling fast, the smith moved the lesson on. “Lay it across the anvil there so that about three fingers width lays over the edge then hit that with your hammer.” There was some clanging as the youngsters blows started to rain down on the iron, though clearly they were aimed more with enthusiasm than skill.

Skilfully or not the metal bent and under the smiths guidance the iron went back into the fire to heat. “Any questions then?” The question was one that they all expected, and heads were shaken all the while they were hoping that they were not going to be the one selected next by the smith, a man who it seemed had a god given gift to be able to choose the one who was the least keen on whatever was being done.

“Johis,” he said with a smile, “lets see if you can do better with iron shall we?” He gestured the young man forward and allowed him to pull the iron from the fire. “Tell me what you see,” he commanded and after a moment and with an encouraging grin from Eanos, Johis responded. “The metal has passed from red to yellow but is not yet at white, not even at the very top.” Without waiting to be told he took the bar over to the anvil and commenced hammering it into the shape which the smith had demonstrated before.

Behind him the smith stood slightly amazed, then frowned in understanding and cast a glance at the Isur who pumped the bellows with an innocent expression upon his face. “Well now, it seems indeed that Johis here is better suited to the forge than the kitchen. Well done my boy. You others take note and follow his example. Iron is there for you to work, not for you to be afraid of.”

Johis slipped the iron back into the fire and laid the hammer aside, ready for the next student, and as he did so Eanos shifted restlessly in his sleep and the scene changed, but as with the way of dreams Eanos did not notice the incongruity of it.

[Eanos]

“Why do they make a joke of it?” The question came from Johis in a wistful tone as the two sat together and watched the preparations for the ritual which was to follow later that day. Eanos shrugged for he didn’t know any more than his friend did. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t matter and anyway I know that Grald was just teasing. You know his wife has a reputation for producing dinners which are either half cooked or twice so. He’s often in the forge even late at night.” He stopped, troubled that he might have shared a privacy which he should not have done, but it seemed that Johis wasn’t paying attention anyway. “It’s easy for you Eanos,” he complained. “Things in the forge seem to come easily to you and yet I have enough trouble hitting where I want even though you’ve showed me and let me practice.”

It seemed to Eanos that the question was fair and yet not so. “Perhaps,” he answered, “and yet we both know that you are marked for the best teachers in the Tower. You were working with djed it was said even when you were in the cradle.” He didn’t know if that were true, though it was something that the adults all agreed upon. He did know however that Johis had slept in a warded room when he was younger so perhaps there was some truth in it.

Time slipped smoothly away and now the two stood together in a circle with the others of their families. They hadn’t long been included in this for children were considered not yet able to understand properly. For Eanos he felt that he wasn’t much different than how he’d been a year before, but he bowed to the wisdom of his elders.

The room was scented heavily with some form of incense, a rich, heady aroma which reminded Eanos of festivals of the past, creating a sense of longing for those days when the world had seemed so exciting. Johis’s father spoke, for he had arranged this. “I ask that Izurdin be with us now. I ask that he hallow this place and he stand with us and guard us as he has in the past.”

“We hail our ancestors, those who laboured long and hard so that we might have the blessings which we enjoy. I pray that we might be so fortunate as to pass those blessing and more to those to whom we will be ancestors.”

“We remember especially those who died in the Valterrian. We remember too those who survived and we offer special thanks to those who lived in those dark times. We remember those of our families after that who did the rebuilding. We thank you for your triumphs and we remember the sadness.”

“We carry your blood in our veins. We name you ancestors even if you sacrificed yourselves so that you had no children to call your own. We remember you and we offer you your place here in our celebration.” He poured mead from his cup and set it in the centre of the table around which they all sat, then took up another cup and filled it from the jug.

“I offer this to Izurdin and to all the other gods who prevented the destruction of the world. We thank you for your gifts, we welcome you here this night and offer you your place here.” He set this cup in the centre of the table too.

“Lord Izurdin. You chose us and we are honoured by your choice. As you blessed us, so you gave us a challenge, and we rise up to it with a cry of joy.”

“Open our eyes to the reality of this world. Let your light fill us so that our hearts may be pure. We welcome you to the head of our table. Guide us, as you have done in the past and allow us to praise you as you deserve.”

He set a third cup in the centre of the table and raised his arms to all. “All here present. Now we are one, so let us remember and praise as one.” He poured mead into a larger tankard and raised it up. “Lord Izurdin” he exclaimed and raising it to his lips took a sip before passing it to the man on his left who repeated the process.

When the cup came back to him, he raised to again. “Our ancestors.” He toasted, “I thank you for your sacrifice. We will not forget you. We will remember.” He took a sip and passed it on as before, each person raising it and declaiming, “we will remember” before taking a sip and passing it on.

The emotion seemed thick in the room and the alcohol from the first toast was hot in Eanos’s mouth. His heart hammered as the cup came round until finally it was his turn. “We will remember,” he said his voice choked and it was all he could to do bring the tankard to his lips to take a sip. When it was passed on he stared at the table in front of him, caught in the grip of the moment, tears blurring at the corner of his eyes. A strong grip clamped on to his left shoulder and he smiled at his fathers touch.

Perhaps it was because he’d not often taken part in these ceremonies but he felt the presence of the ancestors with them. It seemed that they looked down upon them from afar and Eanos felt the burden of being good enough to live up to the standard needed to be worthy of the sacrifices that had been made so that he could stand where he stood. Then too there were the people that one day would be looking back to him. There was judgement from both sides and he desperately felt that he needed some help if he was not to fall short.

But it was a challenge, and it was the very meat and drink of being an Isur that there was no such thing as a half measure. He felt his back straighten, for if he failed it would be because he was running at full tilt, not because he lacked effort. Now the presence of his ancestors seemed comforting. They had done it and their blood ran in his veins so there were no excuses. They had excelled in the challenges offered to them and he would do no less. He didn’t know how or where that would be, but he would succeed of that he was sure.

[Eanos]

The memory lingered and then faded as awareness of the present returned. He groaned as the pleasure of the dream evaporated and was replaced by the aches and pains of having fallen asleep sitting against the wall of a damp and smelly cave which for most of the day had acted as a gutter for the road outside.

He stood and stretched, cocking an ear to the world outside, satisfied that the rain had now ceased. It seemed that it wouldn’t be possible to light a fire in these conditions so he decided to plump simply for water. The dream still weighed heavily in his mind though the details were already becoming less clear with each breath that he took.

He took a moment to take stock of the situation and wondered what it was that he could do. There ceremony he’d done before included a fire ceremony in essence and while he could switch it over to emphasise water but it wasn’t now what he felt was right, at least for this time and place. Instead he dug through his gear and drew out his two cups and his main water flask.

He filled the first cup half way and offered it up in toast. “Lord Izurdin, I welcome you to my camp, I offer you a drink and all you wish from my supplies.” He set the cup down and filled the second one. “Ancestors, on whose shoulders I stand, who have enabled me to be in this place, I welcome you. I offer you a drink and all you wish from my supplies.” He set that cup down as well and raised his flask in toast. “Welcome and accept my thanks for the gifts you have bestowed upon me. My own means are small but you are welcome to them.”

He took a piece of fruit which he’d been saving for his meal that day. It was a little wrinkled from being dried for travel but he cut it carefully into three and set two of the parts by the two cups. “Of my own I give in return for the gifts that you have given me, and I do so joyfully for you have all made my life a joy. I ask only in return your blessing for my enterprise today.”

He raised the flask and drank deeply then ate the remaining piece of fruit, it seemingly all the more tasty for there being less of it, but he regretted not at all what some might see as waste, nor did it concern him that he would go hungry as a result, for those that gave would also receive.

[Eanos]

The night was already dark when he emerged from the cave to welcome the fresh air; welcome after the fetid interior. Out here the world was new, freshly washed by the rain and there was a tingle of expectancy in the air, though that could have been the residue of thunder.

He set off up the road, though his progress was slow because in places the road had turned into something of a quagmire. In other places the bare rock and rocky soil had shed the water but often it seemed in the process that gullies had been carved and he almost turned an ankle on one such. After that he paid more attention to where he was placing his feet and there was a twinge of pain in his left ankle. Had he just been walking he might have got away with it but with the additional weight of the pack, his balance was more perilous and the risk of injury much higher.

Clouds scudded past overhead and whilst the wind was not as strong as it had sometimes been on his journey, that changed as he walked higher into the mountains. It seemed that his optimism about the weather had been misplaced, for while the storms had passed, at least for now, still there were vicious showers of rain which drive needles of ice into his face and sought to soak into his clothes. He pushed on, huddled under the sheet of oil cloth which was his only protection against this sort of thing. It was an unexpected misery for the young man who had little experience of weather and certainly very little of the ways that wet and cold could combine to provide an experience which he would have easily foregone.

Brought up in the underground tunnels of his clan, he had little preparation for this. Even back home when he’d been out as a child and a youngster, always there had been home to return to at the end of the day and a warm fire to stand by. Even in those few times when fire had been hard to come by, still the underground was never this cold and he balled his fists and tucked them under the oilcloth, hoping that the wind would not pluck it up and allow the rain to slice underneath.

He plodded on wet, miserable and wondering just why he had ever started on this journey. It was easy to become despondent as he was alone with no end to the journey in sight. He distracted himself by casting his mind back into memory because for all that he was uncomfortable, his pride would not allow mere discomfort to stop him. It slowed his progress it was true, and that was something which he disliked immensely but it was something which he could bear.

Back in the laboratories he recalled well his first visits to the Silver Tower. It was a place of mystery, a place which was held in many different views by the clans of the Isur. To his clan it was perhaps the pinnacle of clan pride, for it held the secrets of djed, secrets which few indeed outside of the clan were privy to. That control was maintained in large part by ensuring that it was hard for members of other clans to gain access, and only a few places were granted to the others.

Like as not it was not in the best interests of the race as a whole, this closet secrecy by the Pitreus clan. But then who could complain when it was the clan who had kept those secrets alive in the dark times, times when the other clans abandoned the teachings in the fight for survival. As a youngster Eanos had not questioned the way that it was organised, nor that perhaps it was not fair on those from other clans who wanted to study there and could not. He’d seen it as merely right, and after all had he not suffered equally at the hands of those to whom he’d gone to further his own quest for smithing?

It was perhaps that injustice that he’d received which gave him the first insight into the problem and raised those first inner murmurings of disquiet. At first he’d not paid any attention but slowly as a river slowly wore a channel into rock with a thousand grains of sand, each of which were too small to be seen, so those murmurings ate into his heart. It didn’t change his mind though. That perhaps would never happen for when it came down to it, like all tribesmen there was a hierarchy in his mind which had been instilled there from birth; family then clan and only after that would come race. Control over the Silver Tower was what gave his small clan a say in racial affairs where otherwise they would have been ignored as unimportant. No, the Pitreus need not bow and scrape to the larger clans in order for their point of view to be heard. Unfair it might be, but Eanos was as practical as any Isur when it came to the realities of life.

His thoughts wandered back from the diversion and into the laboratory where he’d received instruction in the arcane arts. It was somewhat strange to be there because it was so different from sort of training which he was used to. Normally he’d be using his hands, and whilst there was more need to think about what he was doing than some might think, still it was very different to the sort of dry classroom which he found himself back in now.

He sat at the front of the classroom while someone stood at the front and pontificated about the dangers of overgiving and the likely signs of it. It seemed to be an important subject from the tedious detail which was being droned on about, but most of it went over his head. “Blah, blah, blah…” What was the point he wondered? Why would anyone want to overuse their djed so much that they would run into problems with it? And why did it only happen with personal djed use? Some of the facts had made it through despite his boredom, but his question was not answered, or if it had been then it had been something he’d dozed through. He wasn’t interested enough to ask though. Looking back Eanos wondered what had happened, what had happened to that boy who’d been bored with the arcane and would rather have been beating on hot metal?

One day he would regret immensely not paying attention to that lecture, but once given it was assumed that the information had been relayed and was not covered again, only alluded to. His pride prevented him from going back and asking and so he was forced to try and put the whole together from the pieces. It was a process which gave him some answers but not the whole of everything and so he was forced to learn the hard way. Fortunately his teachers assumed the mistakes he made were purely down to overly much enthusiasm and not a fundamental lack of knowledge. In part this was true for like most if not all Isur he did his best at whatever it was that he tried.

[Eanos]

The journey was seminal in many ways, some of which were becoming apparent to the Isur but many of them were still hidden. For most Isur it was inconceivable that they should want to leave the security of their fortresses and expose themselves to the contamination of the other races and their decadence. Had someone asked a year ago, then he would have agreed and strongly. It had seemed to him that Izurdin had whispered softly in his dreams, for the change was inexplicable even to him. The journey was inspired or madness and he wasn’t yet convinced which of these was actually the truth. He hoped that it was the first and so far the evidence in his mind supported that, and yet if he were mad then perhaps he would never know. Even if the trip did turn out to be madness then he guessed that it would at the least be a valuable lesson, one which perhaps might be worth the time that he’d spent on it.

Already though it had changed him. Though he was still far from self reliant, he had seen more of the outside world than most Isur and it would change his dreams and as a result his aspirations. Izurdin he suspected had not saved them from the cataclysm merely to have them fester in their holes, comfortable holes though they might be. He was beginning to suspect that inspiration required a fresh mind, one from which the assumptions had been stripped.

One change that he had made in the journey was to shift from travelling in the dark to travelling in the day. That had not been an easy decision to make, and he’d allowed circumstance to alter that decision for him. The nights travel after the storm had been the merest interlude in a series of storms which had battered at the overhang of rock under which he’d sheltered. No convenient cave that time and none since either and the whipping wind had made a fire impossible even had he had the dry material to light one. It had been a miserable time which had pushed his limits. Had it been easy to go back at that stage, he might have succumbed to the temptation but already he was days away from home and now it was easier to simply carry on in the hope that he’d find something. In truth he was hoping for a way post of which he’d heard the merchants talk of, or rather he’d heard gossip which spoke of the merchants talking, for it was not easy to speak to outsiders even if you wished to. It was hard sometimes even for an Isur to walk the fortresses of other clans, it was almost impossible for a stranger, an outlander, a lesser race to do so, in fact it was almost inconceivable that such scum would be allowed to see the inner sanctums of Isur life. No, such were carefully restricted to areas of no value and their contact with Isur carefully monitored.

Now he looked forward to that contact, and if he had judged his journey well then it would be today that he arrived there. There were many reasons why he had made the shift from night to day, though he’d known that it was something which he would need to do sooner or later, but his approach to the place made it all the more imperative. The light was still harsh on his eyes even after some days of adjustment, more used as he was to the light of lantern and forge light. He needed this stop to replenish his supplies if nothing else. It might also be a test of his ability to deal with the other races. Perhaps he would find himself unable to deal with the challenge? Only time would tell the truth of that one.

Sooner than he’d expected there were signs that he approached somewhere. Though the road had been crafted and was obviously the work of someone, in many places it was ruinous, more like a hope in the wilderness than something crafted and maintained, but now there were signs of work for the first time since he’d left the environs of Sultros.

[Caelum]

Thread Award

Eanos

Skills
Auristics +1
Blacksmithing +1
Climbing +4
Foraging +1
Land Navigation +5
Meditation +5
Observation +4
Planning +1
Wilderness Survival +4


Lores
Wilderness Survival: Firestarting
Wilderness Survival: Camp Preparation
Wilderness Survival: Sound Footing
Value of Ritual
Isur Clan Politics
Trade Route from Sultros
Blacksmithing: Importance of Heat Maintenance & Conservation

Notes

What a wonderful insight to Eanos! I thoroughly enjoyed it.

By the way, “yo, the gods” made me grin.

Please edit the grade request post to reflect completion and, as ever, feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns.