Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (black female authors .txt) 📗

was generated from the melting ice and snow in the mountains above so it was particularly strong. The cold spray struck their faces with a refreshing vigour. The noise from the falls was now so strong that they could not speak to each other. The door slammed shut behind them. It was indistinguishable on this side from the grey rock of the cliff face. Without prior knowledge, there was no way of knowing there was a door there. Gamying tapped them on their shoulders to attract their attention and led them off along the ledge parallel to the falls. At the edge of the ledge, there was a hole cut into the rock face. They stepped through the hole, pushing aside thick branches on the other side and stepped out onto a mountain track. Gamying carefully replaced the flora to disguise the entrance and then led them down the track. A steep descent took them quickly to the base of the falls, where they stopped to catch their breaths and take bearings.

In front of them, the jagged teeth of the Devil Mountains bit into the clear blue sky. The sun was almost directly overhead. The falls dropped in a single cascade of well over one thousand feet, through a rainbow-fringed cloud of spray into a large, clear pool. They had descended a small, steep path to the left of the falls. On their right was a larger, well-worn path that zigged and zagged as far as the eye could see. It led to the infamous Suicide Pass. Behind them, a path, wide enough for a horse and cart to pass another with comfort, gently descended to the plains below. The plains were alive with new grass and wild flowers, a lush carpet of green, white, mauve and gold. In the distance, the spire of Tamarlan was visible in the haze.

Gamying laughed. “Spring has finally arrived, north of the mountains, and it is a welcome sight to a homesick man. We call this waterfall Life Falls, because the stream that flows from it is the Life Stream that provides the water supply for Tamarlan. The dwarves call it Warning Falls, because it marks the boundary to their realm. Any who pass here must be dwarf friends or suffer the consequences. The path from here leads to the very steep and exceedingly difficult climb of Suicide Pass. It was good that we avoided it. It was so named after the failed attack on Devil’s Mouth by Gadiel’s army in 11144. The Dark God’s soldiers had enormous superiority in numbers but became so dispirited by their failure to make headway against a small defence force of dwarves that many of them, rather than face the Dark God’s wrath, threw themselves off the mountainside. Come, we will make great headway now. We will find transport when we reach the plains and will be in Tamarlan before nightfall. We will feast in my father’s court tonight.” Manfred’s stomach was already rumbling in anticipation. It will be good to see my old friend Gamyon again.

Buoyed by the beauty of the plains, the relative ease of the rest of the journey, and the prospect of a warm bath and a hot meal, the weary travellers found renewed energy in their legs. The rest of the descent went without a hitch and they were soon walking briskly through sweet smelling fields of grasses and wild flowers. Kris appeared to be susceptible to hay fever, because he was soon repeatedly sneezing and wheezing. Gamying’s smile just got wider and brighter.

After a few miles, they found the first of many farmhouses. The entire family was at work in the fields, making up for lost time. At the sight of the unexpected travellers, the women and children were ushered back to the house and the men and youths called their dogs and approached the group with pitchforks and scythes at the ready. Their demeanour changed instantly when they recognised Gamying. They dropped to their knees and showed great respect to their Heir-Regent. The group was welcomed warmly. While the youths readied a horse wagon, the women fussed around preparing a meal of fresh bread and cheese washed down with mead. Manfred patted his stomach and sighed. That was the best bread and cheese of my long life. He burped loudly and was not at all embarrassed.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Manfred, probably because he spent most of it dozing in the back of the wagon. Aglaral drove the wagon with Gamying sitting up front with him. Kris snivelled in the back with Manfred. The road followed the course of the Life Stream. They passed many farms and received similar receptions to the first. They respectfully declined all further offers of hospitality with the need to reach Tamarlan upmost in their minds.

Manfred woke up as they approached the city. It was always a fine sight, entering the city of artists. Tamarlan sat in the middle of the northern plains, like a fancy jewel set in the middle of an otherwise unembellished brooch. The plains were extensively farmed and provided food not only for the city but also to trade with the dwarves for their gold and gemstones. These treasures were used both for artistic purposes and to trade for other goods and services the city needed. Its geographic location meant that trade was very difficult and only possible when the mountain passes were open in summer. It also meant that Tamarlan, over the long years, had become totally self-sufficient. It had become a haven for those seeking to escape the world for whatever reasons, but particularly it had become a haven for artists of all persuasions. Manfred had visited the city many times and always enjoyed his stays. He liked visiting the theatre to see the latest plays and the art galleries to view the works of the city’s fine artists both past and present. Manfred craned his neck to see more of the city as they approached.

It was an unusual sight for a city in the middle of nowhere. There were no city walls, no ramparts, in fact no defences of any sort. The streets were wide and tree-lined. The trees were mainly deciduous and they were now just bursting into leaf. Apple and cherry trees were coming into blossom. The city seemed to be renewing itself after a long, hard winter. The houses were single storey, made of local stone and brick. Housewives were busy with spring-cleaning. The city’s industry and quarries were located to the north, on the edge of the inhospitable and mysterious Northland, so that the approach from the south was unsullied. At the centre of the city stood the ancient precincts. Here was Tamarlan’s heart. Cobbled streets wound through the great market and past many art galleries, theatres, and meeting venues. People hustled and bustled about their business. Large, colourful signs proclaimed forthcoming shows and displays. At the centre of everything were two human-built mounds. The Life Stream flowed between the mounds and an ornate stone bridge crossed the river and joined the two mounds. On one stood the ancient palace of the kings, now occupied and maintained by the Regent. As palaces go, it was an unprepossessing place. Its one striking feature was its high tower, made of local stone that stretched skywards in phallic symbolism. On the other mound stood one of the Seven Wonders of the World – The Old Theatre.

Manfred found his eyes drawn to the Theatre Mound, clearly the reason why the palace had such a plain design. Manfred had seen it many times before, but each renewed impression always generated a gasp of surprise, even in an ancient wizard who thought he had seen everything. The Old Theatre was a circular construction, or as near to circular as the original carpenters could manage. It was perhaps two hundred feet in diameter and one hundred feet high. It had been constructed from timber originally, but over the years, the rotting wood had been replaced with granite from the mountains. From the outside, there was no visible evidence of what artistic delights its interior held. Its most striking feature was that by some feat of engineering or magic it appeared to hover, unsupported in mid-air, one hundred feet above the mound. Viewed from the correct angle, with the palace spire behind it, the Old Theatre gave the impression of an enormous child’s spinning top.

Under Gamying’s instruction, Aglaral guided the wagon into the palace courtyard, where they were met by a fussing crowd of retainers. One spoke urgently to Gamying, who took Manfred aside. “I regret that we cannot take time to rest and freshen up. My father would speak with you urgently in the council chamber. Aglaral and Kris will be shown their quarters. I have ordered that a guard be placed on Kris’s door until such time as we have got to the bottom of his actions.”

Gamying strode into the palace, with Manfred beside him, hurrying to keep up. He led Manfred through wide, carpeted corridors decorated with great works of art, until they reached the double doors of the council chamber. A guard opened the doors, ushered them in and announced their presence. A group of people were clustered around the large table, poring over maps. Their chatter was silenced as Gamying and Manfred entered. One man stood. He was an older version of Gamying. He was the same build and size, but where Gamying’s hair and beard were jet black, Gamyon’s showed flecks of grey. Gamyon’s and Gamying’s eyes locked briefly. Manfred observed that much was said without words. Father and son were clearly very close. Gamyon cleared his throat and addressed them. His eyes moved from his son’s and locked onto Manfred’s. He has received bad news. He has despair in his eyes, but I see a small glimmer of hope there.

“Welcome home my son, it is good to see you returned safe and sound. Welcome Great Sage, your visits to Tamarlan are too few. You are always most welcome here. Your timing could not be better. I am at my wits' end. I need your advice and your assistance. The omens are not good. Spring came late. The dwarves have left FirstWorld. Our city is regularly attacked out of Northland. I fear that our peaceful city will fall.” He paused and his eyes met his son’s again and then began to water with tears. “I fear that Gamying, my Heir-Regent, will never get his chance to fulfil his destiny. I fear that the time of the Regents draws to an end. You are not the only visitors in Tamarlan. Yesterday, a stranger arrived in mysterious circumstances out of the Northland. He carries the mark of Ubadah. The King has returned.”

Trinity Renewed

Remember Vasek. Only Vasek can control the Sword. Beware Fleischaker! It consumes the souls of friends as well as enemies. The words stayed with Simon. He refrained from discussing them with Jhamed. He’ll think I’m crazy. It was just a dream.

After a hurried breakfast, they left the purple forest behind them. The rest of the journey only took a couple of hours. They passed through three nondescript dimensions and avoided all human contact. Jhamed halted them before a shimmering portal in the middle of a pine forest. “This doorway leads to the dungeons of Dishley. It is a grim place, as Simon well knows. We need a plan to deal with the witch. I have been wracking my brains, but I have not come up with anything.”

Simon stepped forward. “When we get to the dungeon, we will find Juliana. She worked for Freda, so she will know her way around the castle. Dawit, you will use the explosive we brought with us to blow the doors of the prison. We will release the prisoners, which will cause a diversion. You three will remain in the dungeon to secure our escape. Juliana and I will find a way into Freda’s treasure