Not Too Hot To Trot

[il'Jhain Saythrou]

The Zaileya Mountains, the Present Day.

Mordelain and Suresh reformed on the shores of Fallien’s eastern coast. The Zaileya mountains to their backs, and the sea breeze on their faces they both felt renewed. To the north the broken spine of an ancient city rose over the horizon and flocks of gulls circled overhead. Though considered dead by those not from Fallien, Fallien still lived despite all it had endured.

“It’s gone.” Suresh rifled through his pockets.

“Like I said. That was a memory of the past. There are places across Fallien that allow me to travel into ‘echoes’ of time. Here, centuries ago, stood my father’s observatory. The first portal to Junkyo was constructed on this shore by the first Tama who arrived on Althanas. It is as good a place as any to build a bridge between then and now.”

“It was worth a try,” Suresh said deflated.

“True. But look.” Mordelain pointed to the northerly ruins. “One day those ruins will become cities once more. The tapestry of brown and grey replaced with glass domes and glistening skywalks.”

“A day long after I am gone.”

“If we only ever did things to further our own ends then nothing would be left of this world. We have a duty to ensure our children, and their children’s children can live free of poverty and the decay of the seasons.”

“All well and good for one who does not age.” Suresh found himself washed away by his own regrets, cursing himself for seeming so pious around Mordelain. Now he seemed petty.

“I do not live forever.” Mordelain chose her words more carefully when she saw what effect they were having. “I more than any of us know how much a single decision can echo through the ages. Do you want to be remembered as a hero, one who turned a graveyard into a garden?”

Suresh took a moment to consider, then nodded.

“Good. I cannot do this alone. Even if I have to lift a thousand tons of rock and dig tunnels and chambers with my bare hands it is your mind that will shape the future.”

“I’ve never seen you do any honest work.”

Mordelain scoffed. “Oh, you pout when it suits you, but you’re quick to sharpen your tongue.”

Laughing together with renewed hope, the duo walked away from the shore and made to clamber up the dunes to their camp. Overlooking the ocean, they had set up tents and covered their camels with a bright orange tarp to shield them from the prying eyes of harpies and worse.

“You should stay here for a few days and finish your sabbatical.” Mordelain packed up her books and possessions from the fireside and stuffed it into her holdall. “I will return to Fallien and pay a visit to the priestess. She won’t like what I have to say, but it must be said.”

Suresh chuckled. “Nothing you ever say to her makes her happy. Her heart is stowed away in the past like that Skeinsliver.”

“Some things must remain as they always have, Suresh. Though cities may rise, faith is what keeps the people safe at night. We must have her on our side so that people can see such change is for the better.” She strapped the holdall tight over her shoulders and conjured her staff from thin air.

“I would give her a piece of my mind if they’d let men within a mile of the tower.” The merchant dropped onto his cushions and adjusted himself into a comfortable position. As Mordelain readied to leave, he settled down to finish his book and pick absent-minded at the remains of their breakfast.

“I can bring rain back to these lands and make grass grow in a desert, Suresh.” She clicked her fingers and brought her horse to her side. She patted his mane and greeted him. “But equality is a fight man will have to wage for himself.”

Before the merchant could ply his tongue to a witty retort Mordelain and her horse dropped into the void. Alone with his thoughts, Suresh fell into bitter silence and returned to his tome On The Treatise of Wyverns.