All was quiet, as it had been for longer than the memory of the grass that grew high upon this once-sacred mountain, deep within a zone with no name. Generations of toads had known this uninterrupted silence, and had eventually given up their croaks; the few trees dropped only needles upon the ground, as the rustling of leaves would be an unwelcome intrusion; a pack of wolves had hunted the valley below for many lifetimes and then thinned and finally died out completely, leaving their bones behind to be scattered slowly by the winds, for there remained no other predators to disturb them.
A circle had been cleared long ago among the massive boulders by a people who no longer walked the face of Norrath, whose very name lay forgotten in a single dusty tome far off in the library at Erudin, but they had built carefully, and to last, and the stone abutment that defined the circle stood still, much-weathered but intact. The ancient wall ringed a silent spring, a calm pool which reflected the light back into the chilly air in a dappled pattern.
Below, a blue-and-silver speck appeared over the horizon. After a moment, it became apparent that it was moving—and moving quickly, given its distance. Great clouds of dust rose high into the air behind the form as it raced across the narrow valley below, but it easily outpaced the swirling storms and they were soon left behind to settle back toward the ground. Twice, small flocks of birds leapt into the air, startled by its passing. Unseen eyes watched the movement, watched it cross the abandoned valley, and watched it rise up the slope of the jagged mountain face without slowing.
The figure approached the spring as a blur, then stopped abruptly at the water’s edge, coming suddenly into focus. It breathed heavily, chest heaving, its hands on its knees. A man, then, not a mirage or a phantom of sunlight and mist and memory. His armor was dusty and showed many scratches and more than one dent, but it had once been of good quality. Even as he caught his breath, he hummed a pretty harmony that bounced and echoed off the surrounding rocks. Removing his blue helm, he dipped it into the spring and drank deeply.
“Ah, that’s good,” he said to himself, dumping another helm-full of water over his head, then shivering. “It never used to tire me so, the running.” He sighed. There were few in all the land who could stay with him when he ran, but it seemed to cost him much more than it once had.
“Sometimes,” said a soft voice behind him, “One grows soul-weary and then everything becomes tiresome.”
He turned around slowly. A small sprite-like creature sat upon the wall, smiling sadly at him. A monolarque. This was the reason he had come to this lost zone, following rumors he had heard, arcane bits of lore he had discovered in his long travels. He nodded to the monolarque politely.
“You speak truth,” he replied. “I retired and withdrew from my home in Qeynos, from my guild, from my friends, many months back, and yet I have not found the rest, the peace, that I sought.” He looked at the flittering creature intensely. “I have visited many strange and different lands, and explored vast wildernesses, finding solitude almost as total as that which you enjoy here. I have lived as an elf, an Erudite, an Iksar, a dark elf, a werewolf—even a gnome.” He gestured at the spring. “But still, I am not content.”
The monolarque leaned toward him, smelling faintly of cinnamon. It’s alien eyes glittered, showing many sparkling facets. “So you have come here, Kaosmos Tunebane, to the Fountain of Rebirth, seeking…guidance?”
“I need new songs to sing,” he said, “My music has grown flat and lifeless.”
“It is your instrument that is wanting, not your tune.” It made a melodic chittering sound. “I have no answers for you, bard, but if you would restore your vital essence and return to the world of men, then you have but to enter the spring.”
Kaos pondered this for a long moment, staring at the ripple-less surface of the water before him. Then slowly he stood, replacing his helm upon his head. Shimmering notes of blue light drifted up from his waist, where his epic sword lay sheathed.
“That is why I have come,” he said. “I have found countless paths in the world, on the moon, and beyond. Now I must return to the path of my heart.”
“Good luck,” said the monolarque, dancing upon the wall and twitching its nose at its reflection in the pool, “It is the most difficult journey you have yet undertaken.” It froze and looked him directly in the eyes. “Yet it may prove to be the most rewarding.”
He nodded and without a further word, stepped into the spring, sinking immediately out of sight, down and down, as though it had no bottom. Swallowed by darkness, he felt nothing around him—not water, not air…nothing. For an eternity, he drifted downward, alone with his thoughts.
Much later, there was light again, and again his eyes saw. He looked around himself.
“I know this place,” he thought. “I know this city.” He looked straight ahead. “This building.” It was the guildhouse of the Walkers, his first guild, which he had joined when little more than a child fresh out of Qeynos. Was this his destiny, then? To come full circle and return to where he had begun? Suddenly he noticed something. He felt different, inside. It was as though great weights had been removed from him, leaving him stronger, freer. “Yes,” he thought, smiling with sudden understanding. “That’s exactly what I shall do.” He thought of his many friends behind these great oaken doors: many had retired or passed on, but many remained. And there would be new friends to meet. And new challenges to accept.
Suddenly, he felt ready—eager, even—and he reached toward the door impatiently. “Now I will see if they remember the bard,” he thought. “For I will need a sponsor or three to re-enter this august hall and be accepted among their ranks, which no doubt have swollen considerably during my absence.” He paused. Perhaps too much time had passed? Perhaps he had been left too far behind during his wandering and the good will that he had left behind him had dissipated into the winds?
He grinned. “Only one way to find out.” And he opened the door, singing, and stepped through.
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