The jagged coastlines of the Toadmane Isle lived up to its name: they resembled the impressive head of a dragon toad in their profile. This name was given by the ancients who sailed near its shores, but being little more than a wild rock in the sea of Kaelus there had never been any thought of establishing a settlement there. It was said, however, that in more ancient times the seafaring peoples had built a temple in the recesses of its dense tropical forest, and that they regularly came to make sacrifices on its blood-stained altars.

When the island was sighted, Anker was enjoying the warm morning sun on the forecastle, after four days of nausea and cold sweats. Not that he was not accustomed to sailing: in the days of the academy he had found himself taking the ferry from Ieracrusa to Tarterno at least twice a year, but he had never suffered seasickness so badly.

Among other things, these had also been days of feverish reflection for Anker, certainly favored by his physical discomfort. He had embarked with Viryl out of inertia, exhausted by the events of the previous days, but now he was beginning to doubt his choices.

Taking a Vow of Dedication in the wake of the emotional turmoil over Madja's death had been the first of a series of stupid and reckless decisions.

At that moment he had felt as if his adequacy as a knight had been called into question to the very core of his being, and so he had thought that this self-destructive gamble, which would lead him to either find his dignity again or lose it forever, was the only possible option. But subsequent events had shown how unfounded his fears had been.

And now here he was, on a tub in the sea of Kaelus, hundreds of miles from home, unable to "bear forth the insignia" of the Order and therefore to accept new missions from headquarters and receive the corresponding rewards, for an indefinite period.

Obviously nothing could keep him from breaking his vow, not even his fallen witness, but if he did, what would be of the honor he had tried so hard to reinstate? Too much incongruous.

Then there was the short-sighted choice of giving up Clesbius' Exoplion. It was true that he had vowed to bring back the one that belonged to Viryl of Zelfiria, but it did not mean that he was obliged to choose it as his weapon. On the contrary, having an Exoplion at his disposal would have greatly helped in his quest.

Finally, he had made the folly of boarding a fishing boat with the old madman Viryl. It was true that the anarchist lead had been undeniably ruled out. It was also true that they needed to find someone knowledgeable about the identity of the monster that had assailed them Morghorou’s Horn, may it really be the crazy concoction of a sorcerer or not. But crossing the sea in search of new information was simply a fool's errand. Weeks would go by, and by the time they came back that damned bird would have been free to take the Exoplion to the other end of the world. Considering this, he should have let go of Viryl and started the search on his own.

Let go of Viryl and then what? He did not have a single clue!

The truth was, he had started looking for a needle in a haystack without knowing how big the haystack was or whether the needle had really been left in there.

In the end, Anker had come to the conclusion that, even though he was in a world completely alien to him, in a search that was clearly doomed to fail, he could only press on now.

After all it was Viryl's neck that was under Radios' threat. If a former veteran knight whose life was at stake was convinced to be pursuing his objective in the right direction, did he really have room for doubt?

And so Anker's soul let go, calming down along with the sky. When the sailors started shouting "Land!" and were busy throwing out the mooring lines, Anker ran down the hatch to tell Viryl that they had arrived at their destination.

The outline of Queen Jolanda II shrank on the horizon as Viryl and Anker rowed briskly towards a cove of white sand. The rocky coasts of the island suggested the presence of uncharted rocks, and Natharol had preferred not to get too close for fear of running aground on a rocky spur.

After half an hour of sweating, the dinghy ran aground on the sandy bottom a dozen yards from the shore, and Viryl and Anker got out into the water that reached their calves to pull it ashore.

<> Anker asked, once they reached the dry land.

Viryl pointed to a stream that emerged from a line of palm trees and flowed into the sea and said: <>

<>

<> Viryl rambled. His reasoning was sound, Anker would have liked to point out ironically. Nevertheless, there were no trails, and going up the stream really seemed like the only viable option.

Leaving a long trail of footprints on the white sand, Anker and Viryl headed towards the palm grove, which soon became enriched with ferns and bushes. Viryl pulled the big knife from his belt and began using it as a machete to cut his way through the vegetation. The temperature on Toadmane Isle was much more pleasant than on the Velitasian peninsula, although the humidity of the forest provided an ideal habitat for the breeding of large black mosquitoes, which gave the two explorers no peace, to the point that Anker missed the cold of the previous days.

As they journeyed, Anker and Viryl spotted fire-breasted parrots, a Neferian porcupine, a group of anvil-headed lizards basking on a sun-drenched boulder, and a pair of dwarf antelopes. In the distance, in addition to the chirping of tropical birds, the calls of collared baboons could be heard, and from time to time the low grunt of some unidentified breed of wild hog would rise. In short, the island's fauna was rich and not at all intimidated by the human presence, to the point of making Anker suspect that it could even be aggressive towards unwary visitors.

Viryl noticed Anker's tension, the way he kept his hand on the hilt of his saber, but urged him not to hurt the animals even in the event of an attack. Tolomer would not have looked kindly on it, and he didn't want to start their meeting on the wrong foot. Anker nodded unconvincingly.

After an initial almost flat stretch, the ground began to rise and the stream flowed towards the sea in gushing rapids. Scattered according to a seemingly random pattern, monoliths eight to nine feet tall, crudely carved into animal faces and covered in bright green moss and grayish lichens, began to appear. The subject was always the same, but the lines were too sketchy to understand exactly what the ancient sculptors wanted to represent. The animal seemed to have reptilian scales, but the beak and crest of a bird, while maintaining almost anthropomorphic proportions.

The ascent encountered an unforeseen obstacle in the form of a rock wall. The stream cascaded down the slimy wall in a foaming, roaring waterfall, forming a shallow pool at the point of impact. Black worms, possibly leeches, crawled undisturbed on the bottom of the pool.

Viryl preferred not to risk climbing the cliff, and suggested they go around it. This detour took the knights more than an hour, but they managed to find a point where the height of the wall was reduced to just three and a half feet, and they only had to grab onto the upper surface and pull themselves up. Then, following the edge of the precipice, they returned to the source of the waterfall.

It was there that Viryl and Anker found what they were looking for. The vegetation above the cliff turned out to be less dense than below, and opened up completely into a clearing where the stream flowed. Here, one could observe the vestiges of human work in ancient times, as around the watercourse were six columns sculpted by the same hand that had dealt with the monoliths, and at the eastern end of the clearing, beyond the columns, stood the remains of a building whose shape must have originally been pyramidal, but which had been defaced and corroded by the roots of the broadleaves that had grown on it.

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Before plunging below, the stream forked and rejoined, forming an islet a yard in diameter. In the center of the islet sat cross-legged an elderly but remarkably fit man, to the point of looking about twenty years younger. He wore a purple robe, and where his skin was exposed, one could see a fair complexion made erythematous by excessive exposure to the sun. He had long dark brown hair and eyes between green and cerulean, partially hidden by the reflections of the thick lenses of a pair of round-rimmed glasses.

The man, noticing the arrival of Viryl and Anker, began to observe them without saying anything. Viryl also said nothing, and Anker simply waited for Viryl to make a move.

After a couple of minutes of inexplicable silence, the man spoke: <>

<> Viryl bellowed.

<> replied the man, who at this point had to be Tolomer.

Thank goodness Viryl had talked about starting on the right foot, Anker thought.

Viryl snorted, then resumed the conversation: <> And with that, he pulled out the Fearkan feathers he had collected on Morghorou's Horn.

Tolomer stood up and crossed the stream to take the feathers that Viryl was handing him and examine them more closely. He weighed them and considered the sapphire reflections that streaked them in the sunlight, then said: <>

<>

<> Tolomer observed. He took a moment to think, then continued in a tone that had suddenly become serious and somber: <>

<> Viryl said resolutely.

Tolomer then turned his attention to Anker, who was gazing out over the precipice. From that height, with such a clear sky, one could see all the way to the Queen Jolanda II, moored in the deep blue. Tolomer said, <>

Anker came to his senses and turned to Tolomer, saying: <>

<> Tolomer observed.

<> Anker replied.

<>

<>

Tolomer stared into Anker's irises and burst into raucous laughter. At the end of it he said, animatedly, <>

Viryl put a hand on his cousin's shoulder and asked him if everything was alright. Tolomer flinched, and tried to deflect by saying, in a sudden change of personality: <>

Despite the apology, Tolomer's sudden outburst had left Anker unsettled. Not because his reason had any excuse to cling to the menacing meaning of those words, but because in that mad laughter, in the ecstatic mimicry of that face, in the impetuosity of that voice, Anker's instinct for an instant had really glimpsed the abomination that had boasted of speaking to him.

<> Viryl said, trying to stay focused on the matter at hand. <>

<>

<> Viryl and Anker asked in unison, prompted by Tolomer's pause.

<>

<> Viryl asked impatiently.

<> Tolomer said cautiously, aware that he was touching a raw nerve.

Viryl turned pale and stared silently at Tolomer with his lips pressed together. In the seven days they had spent together, Anker had never seen Viryl have such an extreme reaction to any person or situation, not even when they had been attacked by Radios. Therefore, although he had promised himself not to delve into the knowledge of his traveling companion beyond what was strictly necessary, Anker could not help but interfere and asked who this woman was.

<> was Tolomer's terse reply. So terse that Anker could make very little of it, not at all explaining Viryl's reaction.

<> Anker pressed him.

<> Viryl replied, annoyed. Then he added, still nervous, <>

<>

<> Viryl replied belligerently.

<> Anker asked curiously.

<>

<> Anker asked again.

<>

<> Anker replied without further objection.

After writing down Tolomer's code, Viryl and Anker began their descent to the rowboat. They reached it around four in the afternoon. They put to sea, rowed to Queen Jolanda II, and by five in the afternoon, as dusk fell, were ready to sail.

As the sails of the tartan were hoisted, Anker idled on the forecastle, watching the fiery sunset sky and the outline of the cliff on which they had just made their sortie. He felt a little dejected, given the futility of the expedition. Five days of travel and seasickness to obtain information that could have been requested in a written message in five minutes. But that was how it had gone, and all that was left was to sail towards a new adventure in the League of Free Communes.