It was not long after the attack that Arthin Fal found himself trailing the Lystari DeAhn back up the river to where the water was shallower and the distance across bottlenecked. The night was steadily growing darker and colder as they went, stars winking in to view as a layer of wispy clouds passed by, a great moon heralding the coming of deepest nighttime. While they traveled to the point where they would cross, DeAhn explained his change of heart and mind.

"The Darkened that you confronted in the clearing where we camped, Arthin, was one of particular purpose and power. Its name is Dagruul'baethul, or Dagruul the Chained, a formality from the Aertheran language. If I had known that it would be here so far south of Aerthera'basca, I would not have come alone. Thankfully it was not the precipice of night when he found you or my magic would have been about as effective as dead grass against his strengthened power."

Arthin shifted the traveling sack that DeAhn had passed off on him, its strap grinding uncomfortably in to Arthin's untraveled frame, "But you said that there were other, what was the word, Tetra- why did this Darkened come specifically to Tangl for me?"

DeAhn's face bent in to shadows and thought, his bulky body a boulder against the night, "I don't know, Arthin. I really just don't know."

A few moments passed as they neared the crossing point across the river. Clear, smooth water streamed around and poured over smooth rocks and pebbles. The swirls and eddies of the water caught the light of the stars and moon above, giving the look of light playing fitfully against the darkness.

"If Dagruul'baethul had not been involved, Arthin, I would not be making the journey back to the frying pan, for our enemies will surely be awaiting us. Dagruul has been known only to accompany Aertheran squadrons in particularly valuable situations and missions. You must understand that any opportunity to learn more of our enemy's movements is paramount to anything else for the Lyjstari."

"Do you know where this place might be that they're gathering at?" asked Arthin.

"While I was gone back at the camp, I noticed that the Darkened had been kind enough to offer a trail that led to the river. Dagruul has one fatal secrecy flaw- it has enormous feet. Not an easy thing to account for when one is trying to remain covert. The trail ends here on the river, so it probably crossed here. Unfortunately, across the river there is very little free soil or loose rock to account for footprints, and, since I'm not a particularly experienced tracker, the stony countryside ahead will make for difficult scouting."

"Well, how are you going to know where to look?"

DeAhn grinned, "Where there are Darkened, there are more Darkened. And where there are more Darkened, there are Aertheran henchmen."

----------

Trees flashed by in the same instant as the steady beating of the beast's hooves struck the ground, a rythmic mantra of hastey travel that faded in to a dull memory as the woods sped by. Sybil's eyes were wide, taking in the enormous vista of the cool purples and blues of the night against the heavily-contrasted bleakness of the pass's great stone wallings that flanked her. Aerrid was just behind her, his mount a flash of light brown against the rock backdrop.

She was just able to hear him shouting to her from behind. "Are you so sure?"

She was aware of her own strained voice as she hollared back to him, "There are few Tetra in the world, Aerrid, and my vision showed me where this one lives. Surely they know of him in the village!"

The pass began to dip in to a sudden valley that stretched beyond them both in to deep shadow. Sybil's eyes scanned before them, reigning her horse back as she did so, the animal whinnying in to the darkness. The portion of the road ahead that was discernable was riddled with laying stones and loose gravel and twisted and turned down in to a dark abyss, not ideal for mounted travel in any amount of haste.

Aerrid drew his horse up beside her and she turned immediately to face him, "You said this would be the quickest way through the Wither Range!"

He nodded, "Aye, as fast and direct a way as they come."

"How are we supposed to get through all this in any reasonable amount of time?" She motioned to the mess before them.

"We walk. Carefully." He dismounted and led his horse aside the path. "Nethevendal is just beyond this pass. If we can get there, we can find some new horses, I am sure."

Sybil then rolled her eyes. That was how she communicated many of her feelings, she had gathered in her time with the Lyjstari of Ammarand, a fairly populous village just north of the Wither Range. Ever since, she had taken great strains to overemphasize every single facet of her personality with them. It felt to her a bit of a trade mark, a defining flash of personality that few others could mimic.

A hand touched her shoulder, sturdy and large, and her small and leathe frame motioned slightly away, a small bit of bound grass that could blow away at any given moment. From the corner of her eye she saw the feint radiance of a blossom against the silver moonlight.

"An Asperfurth lily, teardrops of the night strewn out upon the shivering, lonely rushes of the nighttime stream. The only flower which could befit you, Sybil."

Her eyes dashed and she reached her hand up to grasp the lily, "Aerrid Pall, no other man I know can quote so eloquently the writings of Sir Jalmathond and still fight with all the brute strength of a hardened Lyjstari commander. However, you do know that even sometimes your flattery cannot sooth the violent torrents of the dark sea's misgivings."

"And so are your emotions, Sybil. Had you not accepted the mantle of Lyjstari membership, you would still be only the slave of your power and emotions." He softly turned her around and drew her eyes to his with his gaze. "You have come a long way, Sybil. You also have a long way to go. The journey of the Discerner is as constant and unending as the longest river."

She stared at him for a moment, his grizzly facial hair sheathing his chin and mouth, his eyes an endless green, and his face the epitome of friendlihood. "You claim so much, Aerrid- so much that you assume I must do and become. What will happen when it all falls to ruin? What will happen when you discover you were wrong all along- that I am not a Discerner?"

He smiled as he always did, compassion emitting from his body as an almost tangible force, "You have the visions- the prophecies. Is that not enough to prove your legitimacy?"

She smiled weakly, her eyes casting down to the darkened grass beneath them, barely illuminated by the moonlight, "You are so trusting for a man of your position in a group of people so thoroughly dwarfed by its target. How can you possibly believe in legends and children's stories so long dead?"

"There are times, Sybil, when we must believe even the most ludicrous stories. Sometimes, Discerner, they are all that is left to believe in when all else has fallen away."

Their eyes then locked and Aerrid seemed to consume her breath with his every word, "A Discerner's prophecies are nothing more than fairy tales to those who do not believe. You must make them believe, or you will be powerless to fulfill your duty."

They stood there a moment, Sybil's small body seemingly a child's compared to Aerrid Pall's large build. The stars overhead were steady observers, as always, of their plight, and they cast down their fingers to stroke cooly over their faces. The night was deep and silent in the pass.

The horses suddenly then shuffled, the sounds of their hooves against the stone of the valley echoing up high past the pass's walls.

Aerrid then broke the silence, his voice cutting through the soft blanket of the mute, "We had better get going. We must make it to Nethevendal come the morning or the Aertheran gaurds stationed there will be more alert to our presence."

The moment now broken, they silently and awkwardly separated, Aerrid pulling his cloak tight around his body and shoving his long sword scabbard behind his outer thigh. He then took the equipment off of the horses and let them to their own devices, which were, as far as animals cared, none, and then they galloped back up the slope and in to the wilds of the north.

Sybil broke this last silence, pacing before Aerrid to the top of a small ridge that overlooked the dip to the pass floor, "The Tetra cannot be allowed to turn to Aertheran hands. We must go."

She nodded to herself, as if reassuring herself of their plan, and then the two began their descent in to darkness.

----------

Just below the woods of Tangl it was said that there lied a land between two rivers, a land of solid stone. DeAhn told him that the land was cursed, a place scorned by life. Arthin believed him after he first set foot upon the far shore of the river.

"They say that when the great alchemist Gran Furre died and was buried in his tomb at Shaded Cliff, the land about it weeped in agony at the loss of a man who devoted his life to studying the ways of the living natural world, and that the land died in its misery." DeAhn let down a hand to hoist up Arthin over a small boulder, "Now, if you believe in fairy tales, I suppose that would be an interesting thing to consider. We, however, have other things to think about."

Then walked for a time, DeAhn squinting his eyes against the ground, trying to discern any amount of trail that might be visible. Arthin tried his best to keep up with him, but, despite his best wishes, could barely keep up with the man as they wove in and out of ridges and defiles.

After a little more than an hour, the moon now directly overhead, Arthin remembered. "DeAhn, what other places of interest are there in this place?"

DeAhn stopped, considering for a moment the abrupt question and rubbing his hand against his chin, "Well, I don't think any. I'm not normally down this way in my line of work, though, so I could be mistaken."

Arthin reached in to his sack, fondling the cover of the book which contained the map to Shaded Cliff, "His name is Char, you know. He gave me a map to Shaded Cliff before he was taken. I wonder if that's where Dagruul is heading?"

DeAhn turned about with an arched eyebrow, "Oh, well, I suppose that would be our best lead. I can't see a trail for the life of me in normal circumstances, much less in the dead of night on ground as featureless as stone."

Arthin quickly took out the book and opened it to the pages of the map. Then, realizing he had no idea where they were, handed it quickly to DeAhn with a smile. DeAhn took it without hesitation and quickly set to sorting out the situation.

DeAhn grunted, "Well, it would appear that we're just two miles south east of Shaded Cliff and Gran Furre's tomb, if this map is drawn to scale, which I doubt. Even that short distance could take some time to traverse with this terrain..."

"The Darkened also said that Char was taken somewhere where he would 'be of use' to them. There is nothing else out here, DeAhn. He had to have been taken to Shaded Cliff." Arthin grabbed DeAhn by the arm and held him fast, despite his massively inferior strength. "DeAhn, Char is the only one who understands me to any valuable extent- please, we must go to him!"

DeAhn looked at him for a short time and then turned away, "Well, I guess it isn't likely that all of this is not related in some way. In that mindset, Dagruul is probably going to this place, as well. Perhaps that is why he is here, and you being a Tetra in the area only served as a small side-job for the beast to take care of."

Arthin simply nodded, pondering things that were perhaps beyond the scope of his limited knowledge of all of the things that suddenly seemed to have started to move in his life. The revelation of his being a Tetra, a title he still did not understand to any measureable amount, Char, his life-long friend and mentor, gone in the blink of an eye, and he, himself, bound up and taken off by a Lyjstari, a revolutionary against an enemy larger than all of Eijrstag. Things were quickly becoming more and more complicated, and Arthin Fal understood little of anything anymore. He could barely even use his Greenspell now- not against DeAhn at his initial captivity and not against the Darkened, Dagruul'baethul. He had very little to hold on to anymore than his new-found friend.

His friend.

The thought passed through his head with all the speed of a hawk through the sky, but when he considered its magnitude and purpose it become suddenly a weighty ideal. He had barely known the man half a day and already felt he knew him better than most of the people of Tangl. But then, he had not really ventured far and communicated with the residents of the town. He had been busy with his studies in the wild of Tangl's woods, outside the socialite territory. He had sacrificed his childhood to a practice that right now was not of much use.

Because, no matter how badly he wish it were otherwise, no amount of herbs or samplings would ever bring back Char to him. He had to do it, himself.


For a little more than an hour they continued to twist and turn about the sharp rocks and dried stubble that lay strewn about the ground. Ridges and ravines proved some of their more hostile passive enemies- blockades against even their best efforts- and they made very little progress for all the energy they were outputting. Before long, the moon was beginning its hasty westward descent, and it seemed for all intents that they would not make it to Shaded Cliff before the dawn.

Or, at least it did, until they saw the first bits of the torchlight.

As they mounted yet another ridge, this one somewhat larger than the previous examples, DeAhn quickly dropped to his forearms and motioned for Arthin to do the same. Steathfully, they crawled to the precipice.

Before them laid a large hole in the earth. No other term could correctly describe the view. From all side there were cliffs and ridges walling-up the area, slabs of stone and twisted bits of withered once-trees scattered below like marbles cast down on a floor.

Arthin glanced over at the book and its map which DeAhn had opened in his hands before him. They had reached it. They had found Shaded Cliff and the tomb of Gran Furre.

And hopefully, Arthin thought to himself, Char, as well.

DeAhn nudged Arthin from his thoughts, whispering carefully in to his ear, "There are likely more than Aertheran foot soldiers down there. I'm fairly certain that Dagruul should be there, as well, in addition to other Darkened, perhaps. We do not want to be noticed at any cost. One Darkened is enough for me for one night."

Arthin nodded silently and squinted out against the night.

"Arthin" DeAhn grabbed his shoulder, "The Darkened are most powerful at the height of nighttime. If we go in now, we have the advantage of cover of darkness, but in the event we were discovered..."

DeAhn did not need to finish the thought. Arthin knew what he would say. Arthin remembered the foul, dark, and terrible power that nearly destroyed him when they had been camping out in the copse of fir trees just a couple hours ago.

"And if we wait, Char could be in even worse trouble than he is now." Arthin bit his lip.

DeAhn shrugged, "While I do care about your friend, you must understand that you and any information I could salvage from this Aertheran operation are paramount to all else. I will help you rescue your friend so long as I do not need to compromise my mission as a Lyjstari."

"Very well," Arthin replied simply.

DeAhn was silent for a long moment, contemplating the scenario, and then started to wiggle forward, "Let's get a closer look, shall we?"

Arthin moved foreward speechlessly.

At the far end of the geological depression were the torches that emitted the light that they had seen earlier on. They made a semicircle before the far wall and flanked and butressed a small encampment. Arthin could just barely make out movement among the tents- soldiers, he assumed- but could not see any sign of Dagruul or anything else that would resemble a Darkened.

That would, of course, be predictable. The Aertherans would not want their secret weapons compromised in plain sight.

Arthin shook his head in shock and quietly said to himself, "I've been around this man too long- I'm starting to think like him."

DeAhn looked back at him at ground level, "What's that you say?"

"Nothing."


Arthin and DeAhn took great care in choosing their place of descent. Under the heavy shade of a pile of rocks the moonlight was completely absent, and it jsut so happened to be perched upon the cliffside. At first, Arthin was reluctant to climb, but after a few minutes he soon realized that the slope was much more gradual than it has seemed from atop.

Arthin was resting on a protruding slab of stone when it occured to him, "DeAhn, there are a lot of different kinds of magic in the world, aren't there?"

DeAhn, just a foot lower than Arthin, stopped abruptly and looked up, bits of dirt falling in his face, "Well," he started, "it's a bit more complicated than that, but sure, if you think of it that way, then yes."

Arthin continued, "For instance, I have the Greenspell, the Darkened had something of its own," Arthin shuddered, then: "and you had something entirely different that was on your sword."

DeAhn shook his head, "This isn't really my area of expertise, I'm afraid. Some people, like myself, have magic that they learned. It takes a lot more effort to use, too, than someone who has it naturally, like yourself. I'm not very good with theory, though, although I'm sure there's someone out there that could help you."

"I suppose," Arthin sighed and continued to climb.

Eventually, they reached the bottom. By the time they came near it the slope had become angled so that they could carefully walk down it. In moments Arthin found himself following DeAhn around, behind, and over rocks, boulders, dried-out stumps, husks of bushes, and all other manner of random left-overs of nature.

Arthin briefly considered what his parents would think of his current predicament, and then had the strangest feeling that he had forgotten something, but quickly abandoned the thought. It was useless to think about in his current position.

DeAhn suddenly stopped, holding out his arm in caution. Whispering so quietly that Arthin could barely hear him, he said, "Now here's the part where it gets tricky. Stay quiet. Don't move unless you have to, and if you do, watch your step. Now follow me."

More quite than Arthin thought possible, DeAhn darted between the standing stones and lumps of boulders, side-stepping fallen, dried timber and grasses. Every moment or so the Lyjstari would stop abruptly, straining his ears and lowering his body behind any near object, but would then motion for them to continue. The moon was now three-quarters way through the sky, and the eastern horizon was beginning to lighten.

Arthin looked around him as they went, partially zoning-out from lack of skill in the business. He dashed his eyes, his sore, tired eyes, at the cold, rigid earth about him. He saw no life- none of the plants or herbs one would expect to see in any normal place. It was as dead as a tomb.

A tomb.

Arthin could not help but wonder about the tomb. Why would Gran Furre have constructed a tomb so far away from anything, from any major city or center of population? Why would he leave a key to his tomb if he did not want his body to be stirred?

Arthin flinched, "Char still has the key!"

DeAhn stopped, his body as rigid as if he had been long-dead for many years, and then he turned sharply around, his whisper harsh, "Be quiet! Someone might have heard you!"

"No, DeAhn- I don't have the key! Char does!"

DeAhn shook his head, "It doesn't matter- we're not going in the tomb!"

"But what if the reason they wanted Char was to get to the key? The key was sealed in the book Char gave to me- maybe this is all just a trap to get me to bring the book!"

DeAhn's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, "Arthin, what exactly is the title to this book?"

Arthin shrugged, "I don't know, you're the one carrying it."

DeAhn shivered, tossing his hands all over his person, searching as if gone mad. He looked wildly at Arthin, "Arthin, check your things! I have a bad feeling about this!"

Arthin turned to open his sack. It was gone.