Journey to the Crystal Forest: Part One
The morning came in slow with trepidation, fearing to disturb the murky lurking haze of silent fog. Slowly, slowly creeping in, inch by secret inch, till the first bird announced the light that overcame, in one small chirp. But in that one small voice, the fog vanished thinly and without substance, wafting away like the weakened vampire fades before the mighty dawn, and soon a chorus of flighted joy resounded, and the full bright light cast itself upon the grateful dew, a million glistening diamonds upon the hill. We rose from our warm wet blankets wrapped from the night against the standing stone and walked among the chorus, our hearts breathing in the hope that lay before us.
As we trudged across the glistening field, moving down and ever closer to the valley, the sun steadily rose and gained in strength, so that when we got as far as we could in that radiant heat, and, needing a rest, we tore off our cloaks to lay stretched out upon the now-hot grass. My companion took out our waterskins and we drank our fill, deciding to replenish them at the river we heard further down the valley. As I lay there, staring up at the lazy drifting clouds, I saw one forming into the shape of a dragon and I wondered if it were an ill omen for our journey, as there had been rumors of a dragon in the area. I thought of all we had been through up to this point, and how much farther we had still to go. Would we even reach the Peaks of Mallowdown in time? We lost some days in the Darkenwood, but that was to be expected. Between the Wildlings and the Wolf Folk, getting lost was typical, and as long as careful respect was maintained, and by following the ancient laws, one could find their way out within a few extra days. Still, it was imperative that we make it to the standing stone on the hill overlooking the Crystal Forest by the Solstice. What visions might we see? I recalled to mind all the tales our village elders told about that mysterious place. It was said an ancient forgotten god of this world transformed an entire city into crystal, and there are more stories that tell of the whispering voices, songs, music, and shadows of a long vanished people, as well as visions of them some have spoken of. They say they were Elves, but what are Elves? Nothing was left of them. Only ancient legends handed down through the oral traditions of neighboring peoples. Scholars from the Bardic college of Northern Laida have sent many expeditions out to collect these tales. Would we find a new one to tell?
Our journey thus far had been, of course, fraught with dangers, as we traversed through the northern half of the continent of Laida, having begun from our pre-arranged meeting place in the little ventured, low-lying village near Hedge's Marsh, near the western jungles. The land there was wet, reedy, and filled with biting insects. The locals saved us with an ointment derived from plants that grew along the banks. This soothing, smooth, grassy scented salve both healed the incessant itching and repelled the buzzing biters.
At various times along our journey we accepted travelling companions who were headed, for a time, on the same pathway, or offered to be guides. Most of these were true of heart, yet we dared not reveal our true destination: to experience the legendary Crystal Forest, with the intention of seeking further truths about the hidden knowledge of the ancient past. This, no scholar would acknowledge, nor the elusive monks, who guard their secrets well. Yet the signs were all around, if one learned to see the world through a different view, learned to connect loose ends that led to answers a little too simple, the explanations leaving more questions than satisfaction. Words that, were one to trace the histories of, one would be left confused, questioning oneself, and being left with madness and self-doubt. No respected scholar was to be confided in, yet in odd little villages, random lodging houses and taverns, we occasionally found a wise elder or mischief-tongued drunk, who had a keen eye and sharp wit, who sensed in us a comrade in questioning our world's ancient history. Of these we partook gracious company, and sometimes were gifted late into the starry night with tales of wonder and mystery, in hushed tones, dream-smoke or heady liquor laced secrets filling our minds and hearts with tales seasoned with imagination, sprinkled with the scent of elusive truths, many grains of which we did find upon later contemplation. These stories all contained several strands that coincided, ran along the same weft. Much of these we already had heard, and nodded our heads in agreeance. The tales of whispered voices, visions, and interesting shadows, full of mystery, when one ventured through the iridescent crystals of all sizes. Visions of cataclysmic destruction, wailing persons, though none could discern the race, though humanoid in shape, were often mentioned. Fire, smoke, buildings transforming, people seizing up, frozen in mid-action. The answers still lay hidden. Why? By Whom? Of course, also when? Who were the people that left no trace? No book had yet been found written on disclosures of this event, no relics were ever said to be found. Yet, if we could find it, we would see for ourselves, surely.
The weft of the tales wove a multi-layered tapestry. The image of which grew into an incongruous story. That there was a forgotten god, usurped, hidden, erased. When one began to think of it, the mental focus could not be sustained, and often, as are dreams, quickly forgotten. When tales were brought to mind, it was as a children's tale, and recalled when one was in a hazy state of mind, or in like company, as though through the resonance of common mind, the remembrance returned. Yet to entertain the stories of our Dragon Gods, the mind is more stable, less foggy, and the world seems right. Somehow, this felt strange that this should be so, and myself and my companion, having been of a resonating mind, with a shared personal history of recording our thoughts and dreams in many journals, conspired together over the course of a year to undertake this journey of investigation, into the heart of our hidden history itself, where so much mystery led: into the Crystal Forest of Northern Laida, said to be guarded by an ice dragon named Sennack.
It was this dragon that the local rumors whispered of. A fearsome beast.