The End of the Road
1 Searing 122
1 Searing 122
The goblin squinted and jutted a long chin to the west. It was the only response Ilphas’s question would get. The Siltori smiled and nodded as he gathered the pitifully small bundle of belongings he had come with from within the rickety cart. Whether the goblin disliked him or was simply unsocial was still a mystery. Nevertheless, Ilphas thanked him in common and set off down the Main Street in the direction the goblin had indicated. His question had been “Which way to the Tower of Lore?”
It was the question he had been asking since he left home. He had asked in the caravans of Auris, he had asked in the grim wastes of the Deadlands. He had asked in rain and shine, cold and heat. This day his path and had found him in Kalzasi, and for the first time the answer had been more than just a general direction. Though his belly ached and his feet were raw, he smiled as he looked out at the magnificent guildhalls of the Gilded Expanse. Nowhere, however, could he see the famed height of his destination.
He shouldered the small bag that amounted to his entire worldly possessions and carefully tucked the wooden practice sword into his belt next to the hilt of the pact blade. A pinkish mass of tentacles about the size of a man’s head writhed up from the cart and floated to hover near Ilphas’ shoulder. From within the mass a large milky eye blinked open and examined both him and the area.
“The residue of your small learnings litter this place.” Erishti said in his head. “Your kind need such a physical regime to master their pursuits.” The tone was neither dismissive nor rude, despite the nature of the words. Ilphas did not take offense. The eldritch spirit was far removed from the social norms of mortals, he had learned in the time they had been bonded.
“We are physical creatures and the skills we need sometimes reflect that. These are world renown craft masters, my friend.” He said aloud as they walked. He gestured ahead. “Here some of the most learned mages in the world live.”
“Narrow,” Erishti muttered in his head. “So narrow.”
Ilphas was no longer paying attention to the conversation though. A pair of individuals in white were passing with both their faces bent towards a scroll of heavy parchment, muttering in what seemed to be a heated debate. The din of sound in the busy Gilded Expanse ensured none of their words could be heard, however. Ilphas saw that the parchment bore the circular patterns of arcane runes. An excited thrum beat through his chest and he turned a smile on Erishti. Surely these were two of the famed White Robes who inhabited the Tower proper.
The spirit was no longer next to him however. Erishti was examining a small brown dog with interest while the beast whined and shivered. “Erishti, come on. Leave the dog alone.”
“This one does not respond.” Erishti muttered in his mind, disappointed.
Ilphas laughed. “What a spectacle it would be if she responded.”
They continued, Ilphas striding along eagerly. Asking around lead them to a small pavilion on a lake. Built into the pavilion of marbled stone was a blue gem. The sight made Ilphas smile. The words of the white robed mage he had met so many seasons ago came back to him.
“Eat of the bush to enter.” Ilphas stepped with light Siltori grace across the man-made walkway that was flanked on both sides by the still mirror sheen of the lake. Light filtered down from some hidden, arcane source onto the most lush and beautiful berry bush. The fruit glistened and hung heavy on the winding branches. Ilphas plucked one of the berries and popped it into his mouth with little hesitation. He had just enough time to taste the burst of sweetness before he felt an arcane jolt as he was transported from the humble pavilion.
