Chapter Forty-one

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Lydee

Year 1378 (Present day)

The Haven of Light. It exists, and Woller is there now. Funny, that. The elderly historian had never seemed to be one for religion. He was skeptical to the point where she wondered if he believed anything, or refused to accept what others believed out of pure stubbornness. It was a trait which helped to make him a diligent historian, that was true. But he had never seemed happy, as though his life was lacking a purpose. Perhaps he has one now.

The Haven of Light was described romantically in the holy books as a place where there was soft, glowing light at all hours of the day and night. Over the years, scholars had grown to interpret this as a metaphor, a place which did not physically exist, but that one could reach through prayer. She was pleased that they were wrong. More skeptics whose cynicism gave them an excuse not to believe. That was the way of academics. Faith was out of fashion, seen as foolish, something that belonged to the uneducated commoners. There was some sense to that, but it had extended too far. The evidence given forth in the holy books of The Path could be denied only by one who refused to believe because they had more to gain with skepticism. Ego, the favor of their colleagues, a position teaching wealthy children of powerful people, those were more tangible and profitable in the short-term, and were more likely to be acquired by scholars who dismissed “outrageous” claims.

Lydee knew better, for she had spent her career researching The Path. She knew the tomes were historically accurate, that they could be corroborated by multiple other, unrelated sources. More, she knew the prophecies were true, and that the first one had been fulfilled.

Her parents had told her so, and she had believed them. Nevertheless, she wanted to be sure. Unlike other scholars, she was aware of what she wished to be true. She admitted she wanted to believe in The Hero, to believe he would redeem humanity, that he had been granted powers by the gods. But instead of finding comfort in this belief, she had set to prove it faulty, for only with an eye of true skepticism could she know for sure that The Path should be tread.

The historical records had been difficult to find, as the royal families had worked to expunge them. Any mention of the first prophecy, and how it came to fruition in Oslidor forty years earlier had been sought out and eliminated. But that work had been done by royal officials, soldiers, and thugs. There was much they had missed. Lydee knew, for she had found the documents. First-hand accounts from Vinredorian soldiers who had been brought in to quell the crowds of treaders on The Path. Their diaries told what they saw in plain language, and if they had any bias, it would not have been against the royal families, making those documents ideal sources.

Only now, in that secret chamber within the library, had she come across anything that contradicted the writings of The Path. It had shaken her, but given her strength as well. For now, she had a new avenue to pursue. Ironically, she believed Woller, the man with no faith, would be the one to help strengthen her belief. He had discovered the chamber as well, and what he had read had made a profound enough impact on him that he left his old life behind. She wished to know what he had learned.

She looked over her bedroom as she considered what items would be necessary for her journey. It was out of character for her to leave all of this behind, her books, her carefully chosen furniture, her home. But this would be the ultimate research project, a journey into the supposed myths of The Path. What would the Haven of Light look like to her eyes? How expansive and luminous was it? She felt giddy at the thought of seeing it for the first time, and knowing that yet another aspect of her faith was a reality.

There was one more piece of business to attend to before she began her journey. She needed to inform Richard about what she had learned. He needed to know the fate that had befallen his grandfather. That would be a most sordid revelation. The man idolizes his grandfather. To follow in Enfildio’s footsteps was Richard’s entire reason for becoming an herbalist. No doubt he sees himself as his grandfather’s heir in that realm, the next great practitioner of the science.

Lydee packed her warmest clothes, including a bear fur coat which she had not had reason to use in years. These were the clothes of her youth, back when she lived in northern Vinredor, before she moved to the capital. As she looked at her old coat and boots, she thought of her family, and her sister most of all. She had no doubt the rumors about were fabrications, but she could not fathom why her sister and her companions had been singled out in such a manner. Why were they chosen to take the fall, and who would benefit from murdering hunters and spectators? And am I choosing to pursue my own curiosity over assisting my family? She had posed that question more than once, and kept returning to the same response; there was nothing she could do to help her sister. At least she could help Woller, for she was the only one capable of warning him that he was in danger, and she was the only one who knew where he was.

Through the second-story window, she could see it was not yet light out, the night refusing to give way to the morning for at least a little while longer. She had wasted no time after her meeting with Marshaw, and her nerves would not allow her to sleep even if she had tried. Doubts crept in regarding the practicality of this pursuit, but she quickly dismissed them as fear of the unknown. Moreover, she had no attachments left to Oslidor if she was not at the university, an institution which would likely never recover from being gutted by the royal advisor Yara. If I do not follow the clues I have uncovered, I will never get over this. I have to see it all play out, even if I do not like the outcome. That was the curse of the scholar, to never be able to let go of a mystery. No one would understand that more than Woller.

She had lived modestly enough, and though she had assembled a nice collection of possessions, there was nothing she would miss. She lifted up a floorboard and took out the sack of coins she had hidden there, placing it in her pack as the last item that would fit. Once the morning had arrived, she would go to the money lenders in the Topaz merchant district and exchange her credit paper for coin which she would use to procure a spot on a caravan traveling to Goldcrest. From there, she was unsure of how she would make her way further north, but she would have time to think that over. Most of the caravans were made up of merchants and therefore well defended against brigands. If she could secure her spot for late in the morning, she would have time to contact Richard just before she left the city. Possibly never to return. Certainly not with Woller, should I find him.

It raised the question of what exactly would she do when she found Woller. She planned on explaining the danger he faced, and asking for his assistance in her research into The Path. But in truth, there were many variables, each of which could end up being an impassible obstacle. She did not know if he had remained in the Haven of Light, or if he even ever successfully arrived. Would he have been able to locate it, and brave the elements? He was not the most fit man, and the texts describe the Haven as being in a nearly inhospitable winter wasteland. It could have provided too much of a challenge for someone who had spent his entire life with his nose in a book.

That description aptly fit her as well, and gave her apprehension which was only defeated by pure enthusiasm and an obsessional curiosity. This would be a great adventure, something out of character and full of risks. Something more befitting Veabella.

She lifted the pack to feel its full weight, and was glad that at least the first half of her journey would be spent riding in a carriage. As she turned to look at her reflection in the window, movement out in the street caught her eye. The Jasper district was wealthy enough to have multiple street lamps which were dutifully lit just before dark every evening. A figure passed on the outskirts of one of the pools of light, the motion an anomaly in the otherwise silent night.

Lydee made a cautious step closer to the glass. An eyebrow raised slightly as she focused on the figure before it disappeared back into the darkness. She could not make out much, but something in the figure’s gait suggested to her this was a woman. Is it that abnormal for someone to be out at this hour? Are there not individuals returning from late shifts at work or nights out at the tavern?

Still… she was beginning to trust in her instincts, and something was not right here. She stood unmoving, slowing her breath so the intake and output of air made no sound. Her gaze remained on the street and she listened. Footsteps. Multiple sets.

Her breath halted in her chest, panic breaking through the stillness of the night. They were coming for her. She did not know for certain who, but Yara came to mind. The royal advisor had been tracking Woller’s disappearance for weeks. If she was outside now, Lydee was in grave danger. That woman is a snake. Poisonous and devious.

As quickly and silently as she could, she raced down the stairs until she was on the bottom step. Hidden now from the front and back windows of the first floor, she carefully stuck her head out. Looking both ways, she saw nothing through either window. A decision had to be made, and quickly. She ran through the kitchen and unlocked the backdoor, cursing at the noise she made as she fumbled with the doorknob. No sound beyond the thumping in her chest could reach her as she pushed the door open and stepped onto the track of land separating her house from the back street. The footsteps grew louder, boots hitting against cobblestones. From where she was, a fence and gate blocked her view of the street. The footsteps came closer as she looked around for a way out. She ran to her right, ducking to keep her head below the rise of the fence. She continued running hunched over, her heart feeling as though it was about to punch through her chest and land in front of her. All at once, she heard two loud crashes, as though there were a pair of simultaneous explosions. They’ve broken down the doors!

Lydee looked back, but the track she was on had curved, making it impossible to see further than a few dozen yards behind her. She had to leave the vicinity, and quickly, for they would press on in their search as soon as they realized she was no longer home. As she looked over her options of escape, she remembered the tonics Richard had given her. She reached into the side of her pack where she had stored them and pulled one out. She popped the cork and drank the liquid in one gulp. In less than two heartbeats, she felt a surge of energy course through her body. Her legs now begged her to move, and she acceded unconsciously.

She continued running along the fence which separated the residences from the street, before realizing that it did not look to be ending any time soon. Full of energy, she jumped onto a crate, then lifted herself over the fence, making sure to keep her hands in between the top level of iron spikes. Jumping down, she raced forward until she came to a fork in the road. No longer having a sense of direction, but still feeling as though she needed to move quickly, she ran to the left and out of the Jasper residential district.

The pack feels weightless on my back. Thank you, Richard, you have saved me. Now, I will repay the debt.