Merekandr's Beginning

As he rounded the bend in the road, Ward breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the flicker of lights in the distance. It had been nearly eleven hours since he had left the last imperial post, and though he knew the villages were sparser once you left the imperial highway, he had hoped for a much shorter distance between stops. It had started raining shortly after breakfast this morning, and although it hadn’t really increased in severity all day, eleven hours of foot travel in even the lightest of rain showers had still soaked his traveling cloak thoroughly, and it clung in places that made him reconsider his typically conservative vocabulary. The rain had made his walking staff slick, and gripping it had starting rubbing raw spots on his palm. He normally didn’t use a walking staff, but he had recently inherited this one from a deceased grandfather, and felt a peculiar compulsion to have it accompany him. Its newness was wearing on his hand, but he felt better for having it. From this distance, he couldn’t tell through the rain how big the town was, and what kind of lodgings awaited him. He imagined a warm-hearth, a spit of roast pork, chilled ale, and a bed with a real mattress and linen would be nice.

The town was smaller than he’d anticipated as he entered from the south, and the main street was predictably rutted and muddy. The foaming mug of ale on the banner above the door of his destination identified it as The Panyer, a hopeful indication that fresh bread awaited. Most of the carts hitched out front were miners’ carts, which was to be expected this far north of the imperial highway, and this close to Merekandr Pass. It was miners, and only the most indomitable ones at that, that considered spending any significant amount of time in the ancient forest. Most of the stories about the area were probably just exaggerated superstition, but any attempt to extract even the scantest of reliable details from one of the miners was usually met with silence or indignation. The occasional nugget of information coaxed out with ale was usually considered unreliable due to the necessary quantity of ale needed to acquire it. The one thing that could not be over exaggerated or relegated to superstition, however, was the green gold that came from far up in the hills. Ward had learned of its history years ago, as did anyone who grew up in the province.

The first appearance of the green gold came about 300 years ago, from the hills above this very village. The initial fervor drew the attention of the then King Renstred II, whose considerable academic ambitions sought to explain the phenomenon. For ten years following its emergence, any sample not toted off in secret was requisitioned by decree and transferred to the royal academy for examination. The efforts of the king became obsessive, and the scientific tests gave way to fringe alchemy, and ultimately to sorcery. All efforts seemed to conclude the obvious; it was simply green-colored gold and nothing more. An unfortunate casualty of the king’s obsession was his relationship with his son, Prince Ren. The young prince was five when he was first introduced to the green gold. He showed an early aptitude for gardening, therefore, one of the earliest samples of the green gold was shaped into a tiny, green-gold flower pendant and gifted to the young prince on his seventh birthday. As the prince grew and aged, he spent more and more time in the royal gardens while his father cloistered himself away in the academy. Ren’s green thumb was famous kingdom-wide, and the royal gardens became the envy of all, producing all manner of flowers, shrubs and trees, unsurpassed in beauty, and fruits and vegetables of unimaginable size and taste. The prince’s care of the gardens served as a model for his kingship; the reign of King Renstred III was the most prosperous and peaceful in recorded history. The beloved and long-reigning monarch died at an implausible age of 119. The tumult that the green gold had caused him and his father in his earlier years prevented the young king from ever wasting any more time or resources on its research, and all the samples were taken from the royal academy and circulated into local jewelry and metal shops. The ultimately ordinary, albeit uniquely colored, nature of the green gold caused it to be sought out more for its connection to the king than for purely monetary reasons.

The relative abundance of the green gold during King Renstred II’s reign had tapered quickly; most miners had moved on to other ventures, and the bustling mining town had become more of an outpost for the obstinate, and had remained one since. Local superstitions emerging in the last few decades had dwindled what miners remained down to a handful. Most of that handful was in the common room of The Panyer when Ward walked in this evening.

The hearth centered on the back wall of the main seating area had a large fire burning within, but the lack of any roasting spit was disappointing. Several of the tables were populated by lone, rough-looking men in ragged mining attire, not one of which looked up at the open door. Ward made his way over to the barmaid behind the counter, who set him up with a room for the night and a meal of hearty, but plain stew from the day before, warm ale, and a surprisingly fresh loaf of stout bread. He located a table very near the fire and hung his traveling cloak to dry while he ate. Although the meal wasn’t what he’d hoped, it filled him to satisfactory, the ale started its work on his sore muscles, and the surprisingly fresh bread made him think back of home. He sat and took stock of his journey.

Ward had left almost three weeks ago. It had been a curious departure, one that he had difficulty explaining to relatives, but it wasn’t questioned too severely considering the recent death of his grandfather. Maybe his family thought he was leaving to grieve, but he didn’t think that was it. Maybe he was just trying to get away from painful reminders, but that didn’t feel right either. For Ward, he felt more like he was going toward something, not running away. The compulsion to travel north began the night after the funeral. The family had gathered to discuss his grandfather’s estate, and apparently he had instructed certain articles from his collection to be distributed to the relatives. The walking staff had come to Ward. It hadn’t been particularly prized by his grandfather, as far as he could remember. He’d never even seen the man use it. It had only ever done one thing, and that was collect dust in the study. His grandfather had little use for a traveling staff as most of his time had been spent in his gardens. The secret to his floral prowess, he told everyone, was his homemade fertilizer. And his insistence on absolute secrecy when it came to the fertilizer’s makeup drove everyone’s envy. The inability of family, friends, or anyone in the surrounding countryside to replicate his success made his garden seem all the more miraculous, but he had apparently taken his secret to the grave, so a chance at finding out the truth seemed a mission without hope.

The morning after the funeral, Ward had awoken earlier than normal, with an unquenchable yearning to go. The restlessness grew over several days, and despite his best efforts to busy himself with work, and after several internal discussions trying to convince himself otherwise, he resolved to pack up and head north, and he figured he’d bring his recently inherited walking staff along, as it seemed a perfect opportunity to let it finally serve its purpose. The weeks passed mostly without incident, and Ward spent most of his days pondering the local plant life as he walked. It wasn’t that he felt a particular interest in the greenery; it was more a fondness for everything growing. Although he knew it slowed his progress, he had begun to walk barefoot along the grassy edges of the roads, and the satisfaction he felt doing it had served to ease his restlessness. This last rainy leg had pulled him out of his hypnotic wandering, and the restlessness returned as he approached the entrance to Merekandr Pass.

The reality that this was probably the last place he’d be able to get any supplies before entering the wilderness startled him as he finished his stew and ale. He’d better look to some provisions in the morning before heading out. He left his cloak to dry by the fire, and found his way to his room. Like the rest of the establishment, his room was modest and comfortable, and although the bed left something to be desired, it was dry and warm, and that suited him perfectly at the moment. He fell asleep promptly, and dreamt easily of soft meadows and sweeping beds of wildflowers. The next morning, he stocked his pack for several days, and headed north out of town.

Ward wasn’t familiar with the area, but the miner’s trail to the pass seemed the logical choice. It steepened quicker than he’d expected, and he was glad for the walking staff. Whenever he felt unsteady, he’d lean to the staff for support and its strength was that of a rooted tree. He climbed steadily for several hours, and stopped in a clearing to rest on a pile of stones that seemed just the right height for sitting. He munched on a hunk of bread and some dry cheese, and considered his options. The miner’s trail looked to head down into a gully to the northeast, and although the prospect of walking downhill was certainly inviting, the clearing behind his rest stop offered something even more desirable. He took his boots off and stowed them in his pack, and started making his way through the thick, lush grass and playfully swaying wildflowers. When the clearing ended far up at the tree line, he noticed a path of grass and wildflowers continued into the thick woods. He would have normally questioned how the greenery could grow under such a canopy, but it didn’t seem an issue now. He continued, barefoot, but lost track of how far he traveled, the canopy thickening as did the green carpet underfoot. The beginnings of another clearing could be seen just ahead, and as he approached the edge of the trees, something snapped him out of his stupor. A light was emanating from his right peripheral, and as he glanced over, he could see a faint green glow emanating from within his staff. He continued forward, and with each step, the glow increased until the light revealed the outlines of a massive tree in the middle of the clearing. The green glow now began to pulse with intensity, and Ward noticed small, dark bits of the staff fall away to reveal a pale green crystal embedded inside. The crystal shone bright and far now, the massive tree fully bathed in its glow, as though the light was trying to stretch its reach after an indefinitely long slumber, and with a shimmer from both the tree and the crystal, they settled back to a comfortable rhythm of swaying and pulsing, the comfort of a reunion long overdue.