II. Discovery (Chapter Two)
“Soraya’s note says to look for her at Spirit Lake, under a tree,” Burt reads off the parchment, still catching his breath.
You thank the lucky tides for your narrow escape from a gruesome demise (being pecked to death by a flock of cranes and herons is no joke) and making it safely across the land bridge, which has now disappeared under the rapid currents of Tariam Bay. You and Burt stand shoulder to shoulder as you look back at the swooping specks in the distance. No doubt the water birds had returned in hope for easy pickings before the water level got too deep to dive for fish.
"Can you believe we were almost turned into fish food?" Burt murmurs. You shudder, nodding your head grimly.
“Anyway, we’ll come back later and turn them all into fried drumsticks. Come on, Soraya’s waiting at Spirit Lake!”
The two of you head through the dappled glade to the right, where the sun gently passes through the thin canopy of birch trees. Burt’s mood becomes more buoyant with every step. He bends down every so often to pick some flowers, only to toss them away shortly after, all the while singing loudly in a terribly out-of-pitch voice. You cover your ears after listening to his questionable rendition of “Whisker, O’ Whisker” for the eleventh time and resist the temptation to throw Burt back to the cranes and herons. You settle for freezing his lips together with a quick Icicle spell and running off in the direction of the lake as Burt angrily, but quietly, pursues.
You skid to a halt as the glade opens out to the shores of Spirit Lake, and your breath catches in your throat. Burt, who seems to have successfully melted away the ice from his lips, is lost for words as he takes in the view. It is a huge body of water, much wider than the icy moat at the foot of Dragonfall. You narrow your eyes, but you can barely see the opposing banks, where the trees and shrubbery meld into a green mosaic.
“This is incredible,” Burt exclaims, pulling out the Atlas. “According to this, there’s a river that feeds into it from the northeast and another that drains it to the south sea.”
Another thought occurs to you. Burt seems to be thinking the same thing.
“Uh, Soraya wrote to meet us under a tree. Which tree?”
You throw up your arms. Though not densely packed, there must be hundreds of trees on this side of the lake alone. You shrug.
“Why, sweet serenader of the lyre, must you make thy discovery so difficult?” Burt wails across the still waters. You roll your eyes and pull out the scroll Allard had given you before the journey. You wave it in front of Burt.
“The ‘Call from the Deep’ scroll!” he reads. “Oh, Allard said that you can get the guardian of this lake to teach you. What better time than now!”
You hold the scroll out, unsure of what to do. In the bottom corner of the parchment, there is a drawing of an arrow pointing down into a pond.
“Maybe you can dip it into the lake?” says Burt, looking over your shoulder.
You nod and approach the edge of Spirit Lake. The closer you get to the water, the more overwhelmed you are by the energy that emanates from it. In the distance stand the two largest trees of the Great Pond: the Great Tree to the northeast and the Emerald Dawn to the southeast. They tower over the tops of the surrounding forest like silent sentinels, and their majestic presence seems to amplify the magic you feel from the lake. The entire place hums with a mysterious force.
“Get on with it,” Burt calls from behind.
You stick your tongue out at him and crouch by the water. As soon as you dip the scroll in, it flashes with a deep blue light, and a sudden sucking sound like a plug being pulled from a tub makes you drop the scroll and scramble backwards. Burt yells in surprise as a whirlpool materializes not far from the shore, and from its vortex, a large globe of water rises.
“It has eyes! Get back, Adventurer, you don’t know what it’ll do!”
But his voice is only a faint echo as you stand hypnotized by the swirling eyes of this watery entity, its mouth forming words you can’t quite make out. Strangely, you feel at ease as you sense no malice from it, and as you lose yourself to its enchantment, you feel your legs carrying you forward into the shallows. The scroll the lake had swallowed rematerializes in front of you, glowing bright blue, before disintegrating into particles of light that swoop like a swarm of fireflies into your chest. You gasp. Your head fills with visions of endless reefs and ocean chasms, and ominous forms of every size and shape—the shadows of underwater beasts—zoom past your eyes. A disembodied voice speaks to you:
You have been blessed with the Call from the Deep. Use it wisely, Adventurer.
“Adventurer! Adventurer!”
A voice calls urgently in your ear. You open your eyes to the contorting face of a very worried Burt.
“Phew, I’m so glad you made it! You started wandering into the lake towards that thing with your eyes closed, and then you just passed out,” he says. “What happened?”
You explain to Burt what you had witnessed and assured him that the watery entity was, in fact, the fabled Guardian of Spirit Lake.
“Wow!” Burt exclaims. “I can’t believe that was her, and she taught you your new water spell? The Frostwing of the Crane whiskers back at the guild will be so jealous of you; you know their specialty is water spells. Well, go on, try it out!”
You flex your hands and concentrate your magic. Your head once again fills with images of the deep, and you focus on one particularly fast-moving shadow.
“Oh, oh, I think something’s happening!” You hear Burt’s excited voice from beside you.
You open your eyes to see a section of the lake bubbling and frothing. Burt clutches your cloak. You pray to the tides that you haven’t summoned something uncontrollable. The turmoil on the surface of the water slowly moves towards the shore. You and Burt take a step back as it reaches the edge of the lake, and then out of the water pops a tiny, sodden baby bird. You stare at it, dumbfounded, as Burt keels over laughing hysterically.
“Oh, bless the Old Wizard,” Burt says, with tears streaming down his face. “Allard said the beast you summon is in proportion to the caster’s magical power. Oh well, better luck next time, Adventurer!”
You kneel and pick up the little creature. It cries feebly before shaking itself dry and curling into your hand for a nap. Burt is still cackling, so you ask him how his Phoenix Heart practice is going. His face immediately drops.
“I actually taught myself already back in the guild,” he says, avoiding your eyes. You are impressed and intrigued, and you ask who or what he loves enough to be able to learn the spell.
“Keep your sticky beak out of my business,” Burt says, turning red as you smirk knowingly. You make a mental note to pester him about it later.
“Good show, whiskers.” A clear voice rings out suddenly from one of the trees. There is something familiar about it. Burt bolts upright and looks around.
“Who’s that? Show yourself!” he demands.
A whisker drops quietly from one of the nearby trees. She is dressed in a green cloak fastened with a gold button, garb typical of Borozon natives, and she strums the lyre she is holding in greeting.
“Oh, if it isn’t our friend, Soraya!” Burt exclaims. “So good to meet you again, it really is! I’m sorry about what happened back at the bar, but you know Ol’ Burt. A few drinks in, and he’s dragging up all sorts of nonsense. But I just feel like I didn’t get to show you some of my best card tricks. Have I mentioned I am an exceedingly good card player…”
“So, I trust you read the contract?” Soraya says to you, completely ignoring your card-playing compatriot.
You bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing at Burt, who has frozen mid-sentence with his mouth open. You nod, pulling out Soraya’s parchment from your pocket. The tiny bird in your hand gives a grunting snore.
“Oh, cute. Has it got a name? Anyway, pass me the contract.” She takes the parchment and looks at it herself. “You agree to the terms? It looks like you’re one member short, but I assume your Guildmaster may not be in good enough health.”
You nod again, despite the fact that it was Allard's decision to accept the quest. The terms were simple: help Soraya retrieve her mother’s lost artifact, whatever it may be. Full payment is due upon completion of the contract, and abandonment or death results in the contract's nullification. You had expressed your concern for the last part of these terms, but Allard dismissed it, saying that it was probably there just as a safeguard.
“So, what exactly is your mother’s artifact?” Burt says. He seems to have recovered from his temporary shock.
“It’s difficult to say,” she says. “I’m not entirely sure what it is.”
“So, we’re going on a wild goose chase for something we know nothing about?” Burt says incredulously.
“Excuse me, but I have leads,” Soraya says, flushing angrily. She points a finger at Burt. “You’re the one with the Mark of the Phoenix.”
Burt is slightly taken aback by her comment, but then puffs out his chest.
“Why indeed, I am.”
“Really, I don’t understand why it’s him and not you,” Soraya says to you, rolling her eyes. She turns back to Burt. “And what’s your name again?”
“Burt,” he says, sounding a bit wounded.
“Burt,” she repeats. “And Adventurer. Well, if you’d just sign my contract, I can fill you in with everything I know, at least.”
You and Burt magically sign her contract, with much hesitation. You really hope Allard knows what he’s doing.
“Excellent,” says Soraya. “Okay, listen. Many moons ago, an old druidess in my village in Borozon made a prophecy to my mother. It went something like this.”
Soraya kneels and scrawls in the mud…
When the Marks of the East and West collide,
A long-lost treasure of Borozon awakens.
Beware as the Armored meets with old faces,
For a bleak future begins with the one forsaken.
“Just so you know, my mother was in possession of the Borozon artifact at that time,” Soraya continues. “When she heard the prophecy, she went straight for the Northern Mountains. She knew that Andromadus had been banished there, and she thought that if she found him, something she was waiting for might happen with her artifact. Awaken it, I suppose, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Anyway, my mother had the Mark of the East and had known the old Andromadus back when she was in Wisteria for a short time. You see, I think she thought the prophecy was about her.”
“The Mark of the East? What’s that?” asks Burt.
“It is also known as the Mark of the Lyrebird,” Soraya replies, then turns to Burt. “The Mark of the West is also known as the Mark of the Phoenix.”
You’re amused at the look of incremental comprehension dawning on Burt’s face.
“So, when you said, your mother thought the prophecy was about her, then you mean…”
“Yes. Nothing ever happened to my mother’s artifact except for the fact that Andromadus, that cursed whisker, stole it from her!” Soraya slams her foot in the mud. “The prophecy wasn’t about her, she just went off on a pointless journey, and she might have been…I mean, she never came back…”
Soraya stops, struggling to continue. Burt awkwardly consoles her, glancing at you. Your mind is whirring, taking in this revelation. You urge Soraya to continue.
“Yes, sorry, I’m being silly,” she says. “So, you see, I believe the prophecy was actually made about me.”
Burt’s mouth drops open.
“So that means, that you…”
“Yes, I have the Mark of the East. The Mark of the Lyrebird,” she says with a hint of pride.
“And I have the Mark of the West, of the Phoenix,” Burt says slowly. “That’s why you wanted us to help you so badly.”
“‘When the Marks of the East and West collide,’” recites Soraya. “It’s my only chance at finding out what happened to my mother and her artifact. ‘The Armored’ can only stand for Andromadus. ‘The one forsaken’ must also mean him, but I’m not completely sure.”
“‘The Armored meets with old faces,’” Burt says. “I’m getting shivers thinking about it.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” Soraya says. “Anyway, I just know Andromadus is behind all this. Will you help me?”
You and Burt look at each other. Your minds are made up.
“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Burt says solemnly. “What are you going to do with that, Adventurer?”
He gestures to the tiny bird in your hand. You shrug and hold it closer to your chest.
“I guess we can keep it,” Burt says. “But if it gets big enough to eat your head, I’m not helping you.”
Soraya looks at you and Burt and smiles a little. It occurs to you that she has never done so, at least not in front of you or Burt.
“So, err, where to first?” Burt says, tripping over his feet.
“To Borozon, to my village. We must meet the old druidess.” Soraya wipes the mud clean with a spell before standing and dusting off her cloak. “I guess I haven’t fully introduced myself. The name is Mudpearl, Soraya Mudpearl.”
You nod in appreciation, but Burt stands there flabbergasted. You elbow him in the ribs, but he just stammers.
“Mudpearl?! As in the Mudpearl family of the East?” Burt says, awestruck, and you note the hint of terror in his voice.
Soraya awkwardly shuffles her feet. You get the feeling you have much to learn about your new companion.