Tales From the Old World

Sacred Powers Part 1

Snow swirled in the holwing wind, ripping at the trio's clothing, causing it to wave about uncontrollably. Aerann Skyborn considered letting his cloak go, relieving him of it's irritating flapping. However, he knew the importance of the garment, and the many enchantments keeping him from the sight of any unwanted eyes. So, he simply pulled the hood tighter, and tried to keep the cape from snaking around his legs. If it were to trip him up, disaster would follow. 

Not that the heavy armour beneath his cloak made it any easier to traverse the mountain pass, making Aerann put more care than usual into each step. He knew he could just use his magic to fly up the mountain, but using that much energy would alert every magic user in all the realm, essentially creating  a shining beacon for his greatest foes, the dragons. They would flock to him like flies to an open honey pot, and then there would be no hope of victory. 

Fighting one dragon was difficult enough, what with their claws and teeth and thick scales, but to fight many at once. It would be suicide. Especially if they combined their voices, and struck at him with the power of their tongue together, he would be ripped apart. No, it's better we have taken the secretive route. Less chance for things to go wrong. 

Aerann turned his head and peered behind him, checking on the two he was leading up the passage. About five metres behind him was Cedrann, his brother from across the sea. The man's dark hair was whipping about in the wind as he tried to pull his hood back over his head, swearing in multiple tongues as he did so. Aerann had already heard about how accursed the land was, and how much Cedrann longed to return to the tropical climes of his homeland. He imagined his brother was muttering more of those statements under his breath. 

A short ways down the path from Cedrann, the old Sentinel Heron Grey hobbled up the snow covered slope, his staff leaving a trail of pits in the white behind him. For an old man, he was surprisingly spry, but he was still unable to keep with Aerann's brisk pace. The brothers had insisted he stay behind and send one of his students but, the wizened Chronicler was persistent. There would be no way he was getting left behind on this mission. Especially when they were heading to complete a prophecy he had been researching for most of his life. 

So the party continued up the narrow path, solid rock to their left and sheer cliff to their right. Heron didn't even mind the fact that with one misstep, he'd be tumbling towards his doom. He was just too excited. The realization that he was incredibly close to reaching his ultimate goal made him feel like a kid again, chasing inscriptions on cave walls or ancient statues half buried in the earth. It gave him a spring in his step, to say the least. 

"It can't be much further now!" the old man called up to the brothers, quickening his pace. "The statue should stand atop this peak!"

"Oh, wonderful! We can freeze to death while searching for the remnants of an ancient civilization," Cedrann grumbled, the snow beneath his feet melting alarmingly fast. The ground beneath the trio shook slightly, though it was not enough to make them lose their footing. Both Aerann and Heron stared at Cedrann, knowing looks on their faces.

"I didn't use the tongue! Or any magic for that matter. I was told it would attract them, I'm not a fool. You think if I had the oppourtunity to warm myself, I wouldn't be taking full advantage of it?" Cedrann shot at them, holding his hands up in protest. 

At this, Heron laughed heartily, leaning on his staff for support. The brothers both stared at him, confused. 

"Don't you two see?" Heron began, a wide grin on his face. "The mountain is . . . alive. Oh-ho, we are in the right place. The right place indeed,"

Aerann and Cedrann continued to stare at the old man, amused by his enthusiasm. Never before had they seen the Chronicler so animated and excited. He was usually a tired soul, his nose crammed in a book, with a quill in hand as he scribbled down notes. Seeing him like this made Aerann wonder about Heron's past. He must have been quite the adventurer to take up such a daunting task in his old age.