A few hours later, Ceylas was more than restless. For at least the last twenty minutes she’d been tapping a wooden token against the table as she’d used her other hand to run a finger along the line of text she was skimming. She’d been browsing some of the books but I could tell she wouldn’t sit for much longer.
“We should take a break,” I said, “share some of what we’ve learned so far.”
Ceylas’s attention snapped up and her hand flipped the pages of the book closed as she almost stood up. She settled back in her chair with a more sedate nod. “Yeah,” she said, “then I vote I go get us some munchies, maybe detour to cash in our scrits at the House of Lords?” She flipped the token into the air and caught it again.
“I don’t know if much of what I’ve uncovered is particularly useful,” Fenlyn noted. She’d gathered a small stack of books beside her (Investigation: 16+2=18).
Cambrin’s attention was still deep in the book he was reading. Most of the morning he’d skimmed the texts he’d selected (Investigation: 14+4=18) but about twenty minutes ago, Ceylas had passed him a book and he’d been deeply absorbed in it since.
“Cambrin,” I said, trying to draw the gnome’s attention, “what have you found there?”
He glanced up, startled, as if only just remembering we were with him. Then he flushed, covering the page with his hand. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“We were going to share what we’ve found?”
He sat up straighter in his chair, pulling the book closer to his chest, and glanced at the small stack of tomes he’d already skimmed. “Well, I have read some histories of previous travellers. In each case, five companions were called in times when a dark evil was building power. The legends of these travellers vary. Some remain relatively unknown but for the fact they faced the darkness and restored balance. Others, who did great deeds in their time here, built reknown and righted wrongs, before eventually facing their ultimate purpose. Some lost companions in their endevours, others were obliterated entirely and the lands fell to darkness for generations before new travellers were called. There are also stories where travellers failed or were false. Adventurers who claimed to be such that most definitely were not.”
I nodded. That made sense. “How many iterations of travellers have there been?”
Cambrin shook his head. “What I’ve read so far has not attempted to count them.”
“Seven-hundred and sixteen,” Ceylas said, pushing a book across the table (Investigation: 18+3=21). “That book is mostly statistical records and names. Don’t know if they counted them all, or kept clear distinction between true travellers or false,” she added, glancing to her brother, “but it records the supposed existance of seven-hundred unique parties over several thousand years. The actual information there wasn’t much help. It didn’t even list what they fought or how many survived.” She gave the book a dirty look.
Fenlyn’s soft voice broke the silence that fell after Ceylas’s words. “The losses are vast. With the context of so many however, it makes more sense that the names of dead travellers in this book number in the hundreds.” The book she pushed across the table had the title ‘Memorial of lost travellers: 75th edition’.
I sighed, not really sure what we’d been learning about travellers was actually all that useful. “What does it all mean?” I asked the others. I didn’t even know what questions I had. “Does any of it talk about where they came from? How they got home? Why they in particular had been called out of the millions of people on Earth? Were they even from Earth or are there other worlds the pantheon calls travellers from?”
The others shook their heads. “Nothing I read makes account from travellers speaking their own stories or histories,” Cambrin admitted.
“I developed an impression that the travellers keep their alternative selves secret. Even in the memorial the names only list the incarnation, the host, but not their symbiote.”
I shuddered, thinking of the goa’uld from the sci-fi series Stargate SG1. They’d been some kind of serpent parasites that burrowed into the brains of people and controlled their bodies. I really hope Lo’Kryn didn’t think of it like that. I wondered if there was a way to connect specifically with him so I could ask.
“Have any of you found anything about the connection between the host and the visitor?”
All three shook their heads. “Again, it is perhaps in the secret nature that those sorts of details are not in these records,” Fenlyn suggested.
“Or maybe we haven’t found the right books,” Ceylas said, scowling at the tomes on the table. “Most of these were useless.”
“Well,” I said, drawing their attention (Investigation: 16+1=17), “I’ve learned a little about the Pantheon of Balance. They are three gods who used to be part of the greater pantheons, those of Life and Power. Over a thousand years ago there was a god-war between the two pantheons. It ravaged most of Essaedris and rent the world in half. At least that’s how it’s phrased in the book.”
Fenlyn was leaning close, keenly interested in what I was sharing, but she chewed lightly on her lower lip as she listened and her fingers twitched where they clutched each other on the table in front of her.
“Dunerath,” I continued, watching Fenlyn as I added these next words, “lead the Pantheon of Life against, Banubis, the leader of the Pantheon of Power. Their war lasted generations and devastated the lives of mortals they’d spent millenia nurturing. The war seemed like it might be eternal and leave nothing alive at all on Essaedris. That’s when Avanlugh, Melvanis, and Arawyn came together. They’d been gods within the two pantheons but their hearts hurt to see the devastation being wraught on the lands on their peoples. They came apart from the other pantheons, establishing the Pantheon of Balance, between them and calling forth the first travellers.”
Cambrin, Ceylas, and Fenlyn all seemed enthralled by the story I was recounting from ‘The betrayal of good and evil’.
“What happened to those first travellers?” Ceylas asked.
“Did they truly stand between two pantheons of gods?” Cambrin asked, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
I shook my head. “They never faced the gods directly. With the help of the Pantheon of Balance they established the Divide. A powerful wall of magical force that keeps the Pantheon of Life and the Pantheon of Power from ever being able to directly contest with each other.”
“That makes sense,” Fenlyn said, nodding. She reached for another of the books she’d read. “This tome accounts generations of balance where the deities, rather than being able to directly intersede in any way themselves now act through their chosen. It seemed strange as I read it because I thought it had always been thus and the book implied that some gods felt the frustration of such limitation.”
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Ceylas added, “If the gods can’t fight each other then they’d do stuff through the monsters and people in the world, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s why there are generations of travellers,” I said. “Any time there is a threat that one of the pantheons would gain more power than another, the Pantheon of Balance find a way to create stability. But even they can’t enact it themselves. They have to call on their own followers.”
“Why do they call from an otherworld? Melvanis, Arawyn, and Avanlugh all have worshippers of this world,” Fenlyn asked, her brow furrowed with confusion.
“It’s like you said, each god or goddess has a single domain and they don’t interweave. Perhaps, just like the Pantheon of Life and the Pantheon of Power, the Pantheon of Balance’s followers don’t choose to work together?” I sighed, feeling like that probably was a pretty lame answer. “Sorry, that sounds stupid now I say it out loud. I mean, if you worship a God, and they tell you to get along with this other God’s worshipper you would do what your god tells you? Wouldn’t you?”
Fenlyn’s chin dipped and she sat back in her chair a little. “Mortals are not always…” she paused, seeking the right word, “sensible? Or trusting. Especially those of us of faith. You know yourself the difficulty, at least in part, that I face when I must contend that Arawyn herself visited me. My loyalty to Dunerath,” she sighed, swallowed, then continued, “it is a betrayal of my God.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and for once, she didn’t shrug it away. “Fenlyn, from what you’ve told us of Dunerath, he is a fair God. He believes in law and peace. That’s what you said.”
Across from us, Cambrin nodded, adding, “Surely he would agree that maintaining a peace between the gods is honourable and just?”
Fenlyn met Cambrin’s gaze. She took a shakey breath, nodding her head. “Perhaps he would at that. I will ask next I convene with him.”
“He’d be a douche if he thought less of you because some other god was whispering in your ear. It’s not like you have control over your dreams.”
I winced at the sharpness of Ceylas’s words. She wasn’t wrong, but she lacked the subtlety to deliver her thoughts with kindness. There was a moment of defensive anger that crossed Fenlyn’s face before she took a breath and simply dipped her chin.
“Is there anything else we’ve learned here?” I asked, trying to defuse the moment and turn the subject back to something useful.
Cambrin’s attention kept darting back to the book he was still clutching in his hands. But Fenlyn spoke so I trained my attention on her.
“This book speaks of the places of power for the Pantheon of Balance. They are places where their worshipers have greatest connection. I thought, if we wished to seek out their guidance, perhaps we might be able to do so from the places their worshipers consider their homes.”
“Oh?” I asked, leaning over as she opened the book and flipped to a page. A map of Essaedris spanned the double page spread. Three golden symbols were embossed at separate locations. Cambrin and Ceylas both leaned in to see as Fenlyn drew our attention to each mark.
A large wheel symbol, the mark of Avanlugh, was embossed among the trees of a forest to the south. “This is the Republic of Tirothon,” Fenlyn explained. “They are traders with their primary trades in raw materials such as wood and ore.”
A flowering tree, the symbol of Melvanis, sat amongst the swamps far to the west. “The Theocracy of Erelion is much less hospitable for travel or trade. Their people stay close to the coastline as the further into the continent one travels the more likely the swamps and its creatures might devour one.” The mark was well and truly in the deepest parts of the continent.
Finally, the raven of Arawyn, wings spread, lay on an island to the north. “This land, is in the south of the Lindoriand la Magocracy,” she shuddered. “It is an inhospitable land, rich in power but very dangerous.”
“Arawyn is the one who visited you, though, isn’t she?”
Fenlyn nodded. “Yes, but you spoke of the head archivist having interacted with Melvanis.”
“Neither of those are in lands particularly hospitable,” Cambrin noted. “And both marks are at significantly greater distance than the mark of Avanlugh.”
“Are we really talking about going someplace to talk to a God?” Ceylas asked, rolling her eyes. “You know how crazy you all sound, right?”
Cambrin turned to her. “Have you a better suggestion?”
Ceylas cast her eyes down. “I vote we just keep clearing the sewers, doing small jobs for the city, collecting loot, getting more powerful. We’re only second level for shit’s sake. We can’t get involved with god things.”
“Second level?” Fenlyn asked, her head tilted.
Cambrin and I shared a look then turned to her. “Well,” I said, “It’s one of those traveller things. Most people know when they start doing something that they’re not very good at it. Well travellers have this,” I paused, wondering what to call it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to call it a gift since actually experiencing it didn’t really benefit us in anyway. Eventually I settled on, “ability.”
Cambrin nodded, adding, “Indeed. We have the ability to see our strengths and weaknesses, to know where we are most skilled or able, and to understand that we have much room to grow.”
Fenlyn’s look was skeptical so I lifted a hand. “Will you trust us a moment. I want to get you to try something.”
She glanced around the quiet room. There were other archivists around, including Nelalwe who had lingered close to our desk as if ready to serve us at a moment’s notice. I wondered how much she might have been listening to our conversation (Insight: 4+2=6) but couldn’t really tell. She seemed absorbed enough in what she was doing so I turned my attention to Fenlyn who had also glanced at the satyr before returning her attention to me.
“I will try, so long as there is no danger involved,” she said.
I gave her a grin. “Nope, no risk at all. I just want you to close your eyes and concentrate on seeking a knowing within yourself of yourself.”
She gave me a look that expressed exactly how crazy she thought I was.
“Please, just try it.”
Eventually she sighed and nodded her head, closing her eyes. Cambrin, Ceylas, and I all watched her intently.
“Focus on your breathing, relax, concentrate, and look in to seek understanding of yourself,” Cambrin said, his voice gentle and even. Fenlyn’s breaths grew long and steady. Her features relaxed, tension ebbing from her shoulders.
“I don’t,” Fenlyn begin, then she gasped (Wisdom check: 10+2=12). “What is this?” she asked. Behind the lids of her eyes I could see the movement that indicated she was scanning the informaton that had been revealed in her mind. “By Dunerath,” she whispered. The fingers on her right hand twitched as if she’d flipped a page. “What does it all mean?”
“It means you’re a traveller,” Ceylas said, “now the question is who are you really?”
“Are you willing to reach a little deeper, Fenlyn?” I asked, keeping my voice even despite the rise in excitement that fluttered in my belly. Fenlyn gave an almost imperceptable nod, clearly still enthralled with the information unfolding in her mind. “I want you to let yourself relax a little more. Let go of the information, you can call on it again later, but dig a little deeper to see if you can find a voice within you that isn’t yours.”
I had no idea if this would work. Lo’Kryn had spent years meditating so the concept of this sounded fine but I hadn’t even really done it myself. If Fenlyn could reach for the traveller within her, then maybe I could reach for my host. But then maybe that would mean losing myself.
Fenlyn tensed, and shook her head, blinking as she opened her eyes and pulled away from whatever she’d sensed. “No,” she said, glaring at me. “I will not give up myself.”
My own jaw clenched and across from us Ceylas slammed a book down and stood. “You’re holding Akimi or Erika hostage. It’s not fair,” she said.
“Do you not do exactly the same to your host?” Fenlyn snapped back at her, also rising to her feet. She towered over the gnome woman and they both faced off against each other with hands on hips.
Ceylas shook her head. “Cey and I have an understanding.” I blinked at that, wondering what Ceylas meant. “We’re in this together,” she continued. “You won’t even let your visitor have a voice.”
Fenlyn’s jaw clenched and she lifted her chin. “You ask too much. I am already betraying my God just by being here. I will not be forced to wrest my soul from an invading spirit. This is my body, and I will keep it.”
Fenlyn turned and stalked out of the library. Ceylas glared after her, hands still on her hips. Her breath was ragged. Cambrin and I both shared a look, not sure at all what to do about this.
Ceylas gave each of us a glare, then shook her head. “We need to find a way to get our friend out of her.”
That sounded kind of ominous, but I didn’t know what to say to it so I just stared at Ceylas. Ceylas rolled her eyes at me and then dropped her hands to her side. In her fingers she still held the scrit we’d been given yesterday.
She reached out, palm open. “Fine,” she snapped. “Just give me your tokens. I’ll sort them out. We at least deserve to get paid for that whole alligator bullshit.”