Forgotten Fount of Lore

Perched precariously upon a once proud, now eroded, mountain -

Worn by uncaring eons to a lifeless, parched hill - crouches a city

Built upon a crumbling foundation of desolation and concrete

Populated by ravens, crows, scorpions, spiders and death - it slumbers

… Forgotten by time and humanity as the world passed it by …

It’s one time renowned library, a repository of ancient knowledge,

Houses tomes of cracked leather and crumbling parchment

Remnants of powerful fae magic - spells to build, destroy, create -

Slowly turning to drifting dust and ash

Floating motes of power in wan beams of dank light

As silverfish and beetles partake of

Words once devoured by wizards and scholars from around the world..

In it’s once sparkling vibrant center a fountain

Eons ago a symbol of hope

Which flowed with ambrosia

It’s liquidy nectar the knowledge of the deities

Now a parched, dry, piece of cracked history

Choked by centuries of untended weeds

Neglected by the missing savants that once flocked to drink from it’s waters

The fountain leans it’s head upon a pillow of broken bricks, ashen mortar

Dreaming of eternally running founts of liquid lore and scholarly visitors

Fulfilling it’s spell imbued desire to Teach, Guide… Follow… Worship

Waters once vibrant, alive; dippers set for those with a thirst for knowledge

Now forgotten - rust pocked -

Ladles desiccated by a drought of seekers

Above and around it slumbering deities sleep, dream, and wait

Hungering for a purpose unfulfilled to be awoken

For the coming of the one who would provide solace

The prophesied scholar mage who would return the city,

Ancient center of magical learning and lore, to a state of glory

Waiting for the prophesied

He Who Shall Restore

He approaches …

Lips, face, skin, cracked from heat, clothing shredded by thorned vines

…sole remaining member of a party set upon by ravening beasts…

Shredded limb from limb as servants haplessly fled

While he crouched, hidden in a shroud of shadows

Emerging in midst of carnage to struggle on …

The man scrambles over fallen rock, past spirit-haunted, dark trees,

Stumbling over thrusting roots, through webs of angry arachnids,

His eyes burning, bloodshot… lungs heaving… mind spinning in exhaustion

In his hands a scrawled map on browned papyrus

Unearthed in the bottom a beaten leathery trunk in a forgotten corner

Of an old ramshackle abode in an ancient malevolent forest

Haunted by fae spirits and the ghost of an ancient, malevolent wizard

Ridiculed, reviled as a fool; spat upon; laughed at

Yet he pursued his fool’s quest .. his thirst unquenched

Seeking… hungering… yearning … … Until now

At last nearing the end of a decades long quest

He approaches on ragged, skinned knees

A fountain set in a deserted dead square

His only witness a raven perched on a dry leafless limb

Dangling from a drought withered tree

It’s roots scrabbling deep for any slight sustenance

Ancient Gods stir, slumbering powers shift .. Old dreams disturbed…

… He Comes …

Feel his Breath… Soul of Mankind … Bringer of renewing faith

The warmth, the beating life, Hot Crimson Blood - flowing … yearning

In his shrunken heart

He approaches the fountain

A trickle of effervescent liquid seeps from the wellspring

Trembling fingers dip

Drops of restorative wet drip onto calluses

Creaking joints raise damp digits to chapped lips

Swollen tongue slips past aching gums

Slides from cavernous mouth full of rotting teeth

Licks …

Powers stir, flex

Thoughts, feelings, desires … Godly, earthly… deadly

Flow … sluggishly … slowly

As old pathways clear from the miasma of cobwebs

Swept clean …

Channels choked with the detritus of millennia … clear

Deities in search of a vessel crack open gummed eyelids

Peering at the supplicant … the savior

…. ….

Blood heats

Limbs straighten

Tired eyes begin to shine

Invigorated body sheds exhaustion

Restored

Empowered

Vindicated …

In his now strongly beating heart

Hoarding each slight

Every hurled insult,

Each gob of spittle

Like a jewel

To be polished

Rising from the Fountain of Lore

The wizard enters the repository of forgotten knowledge

His invigorated eyes take in the sight…

Books, parchments … crumbling, brittle …

Raising his hand he sends forth a blast of cleansing light

As tomes are restored, newly supple parchments rolled

Power flows forth … hungry … seeking a mind to fill

The wizard laughs

And begins to plan