“Our crafts they are lewd; the last bousers have died.
No one survived but you and me, no one survived but you and me.”
chorus of the song “Merry, merry, dear brothers”
Third Lady's Day of Decadre, 126 HR
As they stepped out of the portal, cool air met them, smelling of fog and damp earth. Before them stretched a barren, marshy landscape, crisscrossed by dark waterways and covered with thick, gray-green moss that spread across the ground like a living carpet. Scattered, gnarled trees rose from it, their branches bearing only a few pale leaves that shimmered wanly in the faint light. In the shallow pools, a few toads with pale yellow eyes moved sluggishly, while above them small, long-tailed flying lizards circled, occasionally letting out shrill cries. Yet the sounds seemed strangely muffled, as if the air itself were swallowing them. And towering above it all was the Spire. That massive rock pillar, over which the city of Sigil hovered, was always visible in the Outlands, but usually much smaller and farther away. Even now it was still a good distance off, but it did not look like a rock needle, but rather like a mountain. It seemed to grow endlessly into the sky, more towering and colossal than anything Morânia had ever been able to imagine ... and yet she could make out its top, the pointed spike that gave it its name. And up there, the Ring, the City of Doors, spun, seemingly weightless, far, far away, where they had been standing just a few seconds ago. The incredible sight left no one unmoved; they all stopped dead in their tracks and stared up in silence for a while.
“Impressive,” Jana murmured finally, awe-struck, without taking her eyes off the Spire.
“Yes.” Sgillin rubbed the back of his neck. “A real eye-opener.”
Morânia nodded slowly. “I’ve never been this close to it …”
Naghûl stepped up beside her, put an arm around her and seemed to take in the moment, silent and in wonder. Morânia leaned against his shoulder and looked up at the Spire as well. She didn’t possess a sensory stone like her husband, but she wanted to preserve the moment in her heart and in her memory. Only then, after quite a while, did she turn around to see what the portal to Sigil looked like on this side. It was a narrow, freestanding arch made of dark, weathered stone, likely once part of a building that had long since fallen into ruin. It had sunken crookedly into the marshy ground, overgrown with lichen and crisscrossed by fine cracks. Morânia memorized the archway and its surroundings so she could find it again on the way back.
Meanwhile, Kiyoshi had taken out the compass pointing towards the Spire, held it in front of him, and examined it closely. Then he nodded with satisfaction. “It points towards the Spire, just as we were told. That means it will show us the way, even if we enter an area where we can’t see the Spire directly.”
“Like underground or underwater, for example. Very good.” Naghûl was still studying the Spire. “Can anyone estimate how long it would take to reach it on foot from here?”
Sgillin narrowed his eyes. “It’s not easy to say, given the unfamiliar surroundings and the Spire's gigantic scale. Between three and five days’ journey, I’d estimate. Depending on the terrain and any unusual occurrences.”
Lereia tore her gaze away from the Spire and let it wander warily over the swampy landscape instead. “What do you think, should I maybe change shape?”
“Who knows?” Morânia swayed her head. “This is practically uncharted territory. There might be nothing here … or something monstrous. I’d say just do whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
“I’d feel more comfortable as a tigress,” the young woman explained.
Naghûl smiled. “Then do it. Over there are a few boulders behind which you can stow your clothes and change shape.”
Lereia nodded and then quickly disappeared behind the group of large, moss-covered boulders Naghûl had pointed to. A short while later, she emerged in tiger form, carrying the backpack in her mouth. With a few leaps, she caught up with the group. Sgillin helped Lereia secure her luggage to her back with a custom-made strap, then they set off, straight towards the Spire. The ground beneath their feet felt soft and elastic in places, as if it hadn’t decided whether it wanted to be earth or water. With every step, it sagged slightly, sucking at their boots and paws, letting them sink in for a moment before releasing them again. It required attention and a certain instinct to discern which areas would carry them and which would not. As a ranger, Sgillin was fortunately in his element here. He always walked a short distance ahead, scouting the terrain and showing the others the safest paths. At first barely noticeable, then increasingly so, the ground rose slightly the closer they got to the Spire. The landscape became more uneven, crisscrossed with small crevices and holes where murky water had collected. Here and there, sharp-edged stones jutted out of the swampy ground, often covered in moss that obscured their contours and made it easy to slip. Then a first, fine drop hit Morânia’s cheek, followed shortly by a second one. A short time later, a light rain began to fall, not yet heavy enough to obstruct their vision, but enough to make the terrain even more slippery. The already muted colors of the landscape grew darker and more saturated. Without a word, Kiyoshi unfastened the waterproof coat from his backpack and put it on. The others followed his example, all except Lereia, of course. The rain wasn’t too heavy yet, and the drops rolled off her fur. In her tiger form, she seemed to view the difficult terrain as an invitation rather than an obstacle. With smooth, powerful movements, she placed her paws on the uneven ground, found footholds where the others could barely make out one, and scaled small hills with playful ease. Morânia even thought she heard a soft, satisfied growl as Lereia effortlessly crested a particularly steep section.
“I think she’s enjoying this,” Naghûl remarked with a grin.
Morânia nodded. “I think so too. She’s probably missed the call of the wild for too long.”
Suddenly, something darted out of one of the pools ahead of them: a flat, disc-like creature with thin, whip-like appendages that glided through the air for a moment before disappearing back into the next waterhole.
Sgillin stopped and blinked. “Strange creature. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“I hope we don’t run into it again,” Jana remarked dryly. “It was kind of gross.”
A few steps further on, they passed a group of gnarled trees. One of them was split open, and inside it shimmered a faint, greenish glow that flickered in the rain like a tired flame. As they drew closer, however, the light grew dimmer until it vanished entirely. A fist-sized beetle buzzed away from the hollow tree - perhaps it had produced the glow. Over time, the terrain became less swampy, if not any less difficult, but at least more solid underfoot. The marshy areas gave way to a sparse grassy landscape, interspersed with small, thorny shrubs and, here and there, tiny white flowers. Before them, however, the Spire was rising, massive, unshakeable, eternal. Morânia brushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead and glanced briefly upwards. The cloud cover hung low and motionless, pierced only occasionally by a silent flash of lightning that tore through the gray for a moment. Somewhere up there, barely visible at the moment through the thick clouds, the City of Doors spun silently. The thought was, in a strange way, both oppressive and reassuring. As twilight fell, they climbed a small hill where Sgillin paused.
The half-elf peered alertly into the dusk, then pointed straight ahead. “There’s a house up there.”
After he had pointed it out and Morânia focused her attention on the spot, she too could make out two brighter spots there, barely perceptible, but they might be lit windows. “That someone would build a house this close to the Spire …” She frowned. “I don’t know whether to find it admirable or suspicious.”
“Maybe a rilmani family,” Naghûl remarked jokingly.
Morânia shook her head with a smile, and Lereia shot Naghûl a doubtful look. “I was rather thinking of the missing Sensate.”
“Exactly.” Sgillin nodded. “That was my first thought, too.”
Naghûl shrugged. “Then let’s knock and ask for a Sensate, assuming the occupant doesn’t want to eat us.”
Slowly they approached the spot where Sgillin had discovered the house. Darkness had fallen by now, the rain was growing heavier and was now pelting down cold and hard. Lightning flashed repeatedly in the distance. It took about another half hour before they could clearly make out the house in front of them. And behind it, another outline was visible whenever a flash of lightning tore apart the night.
“Two houses,” Sgillin noted. “And there’s another one back there … Seems to be a small settlement.”
“Let’s go check it out,” Morânia suggested. “Maybe we can even find a place to stay for the night.“
The small house they were approaching was made of dark wood and had a roof covered with simple shingles. In front of it, they could now make out a thin, stooped figure in the twilight and heard a soft curse. Lereia stayed slightly in the background as they approached the houses and the resident, and Kiyoshi had lit a lamp because of the darkness. This allowed Jana, who lacked darkvision, to see something as well. As they drew closer, the figure turned out to be an old man tinkering at a window while muttering quiet but steady curses to himself.
Sgillin stepped closer and pulled back his hood despite the rain so his face could be seen. “Greetings, good sir.”
The old man jumped in fright and spun around. “Yikes, what …?” He squinted through the rain. “Who’s there?”
“We are travelers,” the half-elf explained, offering a slight bow. “My name is Sgillin.”
“Travelers?” The old man scratched his head. “There aren’t exactly many travelers around here …”
“Yes, I can well believe that,” Sgillin replied kindly. “We’re looking for shelter for the night. Could you help us with that?”
Lereia had first stayed a little further back and then disappeared around the corner of the house, where there was a small awning. Apparently, she wanted to change back so as not to scare the old man.
He now scrutinized Sgillin and Kiyoshi, who was standing directly behind the ranger. “Well … well, if you wanted to rob me, you’d have done it by now, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, we would have.” Sgillin smiled. “But you’re right, that’s not our intention.”
Kiyoshi nodded solemnly. “I can give you my word of honor, honorable sir, that we do not intend to rob you.”
“Ah yes, I thought so …” The old man seemed to be thinking carefully, fiddling with his right earlobe as he did so. “Yes, yes, that seems to make sense. Well … in weather like this, one shouldn’t leave anyone standing out in the cold, right?”
“Yes, that's true,” Sgillin agreed. “It’s been raining quite a bit here.”
The old man shuffled towards the door. “All right then, come in.”
“Thank you most sincerely, sir.” Naghûl bowed, then they followed the man inside the house.
Lereia had also come around the corner again and, in human form, was the last to enter the house. The old man didn’t seem to have noticed that she had briefly stepped away from the group or that she had previously been a tiger. After all, as a human, he didn’t possess darkvision, and considering his advanced age, his eyesight might not be the best anymore. They entered a wooden house with a low ceiling and a creaking floor. It was obviously very simply built, but it was dry, pleasantly warm and the smell of a fireplace wafted over from the nearby living room. Kiyoshi waited until the old man had lit an oil lamp, then he extinguished his lantern and brushed his wet hair out of his face. Jana looked around briefly and sighed contentedly at the comforting warmth that unexpectedly surrounded them.
“That is very kind of you, dear sir,” said Morânia as she took off her wet coat.
The others followed her example, and the old man gestured towards a few hooks on the wall. “You can hang your overgarments there. But we can also take them to the kitchen later. It’s warmer there.”
They nodded gratefully and hung their dripping cloaks on the metal hooks next to the door. Of course, this revealed Morânia’s and Kiyoshi’s wings, which the old man examined with interest.
“You’re a colorful little group, aren’t you?” he remarked, and a smile appeared on his wrinkled face. “Very pretty.”
His friendliness seemed sincere; he actually appeared to be pleased by the surprising and unannounced visit. Morânia assumed that he otherwise lived quite a lonely life here. Upon closer inspection, she could now see that he was very thin, almost emaciated, walked with a slight stoop and had tousled, snow-white hair. He was certainly well past eighty, and his clothes were made of simple, coarse fabrics, patched up several times in some places. Now he led them with shuffling steps into the room from which the crackling of the fire could be heard. There was a fireplace and a simply built table that could seat at least eight people. So it seemed that several guests might well have gathered here in the past.
“Please, have a seat.” The old man gestured towards the chairs. “Oh, by the way, my name is Flip. Just Flip.”
“We thank you very much for taking us in,” replied Lereia. “My name is Lereia.”
“My humble name is Kiyoshi,” the young soldier explained with a bow.
The others introduced themselves as well and then took their seats around the table. It was certainly a relief not to have to spend the night outside in the tent in these weather conditions.
Only Flip remained standing. “May I offer you something hot to drink? Some tea? Or a warm spiced wine?”
“A hot tea would be wonderful,” Jana said with a smile.
Naghûl grinned. “And I wouldn’t say no to some mulled wine.”
“I’ll join you on that,” Morânia said with a laugh.
Flip nodded and shuffled over to a large kettle hanging over the fireplace. “Good thing I put the water on earlier … until that stupid shutter almost fell off its hinges.”
He pointed to the right-hand window in the parlor, and indeed, the clattering of a loose shutter could be heard from there.
“Perhaps we can help you with that tomorrow,” Kiyoshi offered. “I’m a blacksmith, but I think I can also fix your shutter.”
“Oh, that would be really nice. It’s hard to get craftspeople out here,” the old man said with a chuckle. He took the kettle of hot water off the hook, brewed some tea and fumbled about rather unsteadily as he did so. Remarkably, however, nothing broke. Meanwhile, Kiyoshi had pulled a small tin can out of a side pocket of his backpack.
Flip took a curious look at it. “Oh, what do you have there?”
“This is a green tea called kabusecha,” explained the young soldier. “Once the water has cooled down a bit, you can use it to brew an excellent tea. Consider it a gift for our host.”
“A funny name,” the old man said cheerfully. “But I’d love to try it, really. Would you like to brew it yourself? You surely know best how to. Then I’ll take care of the wine.”
Kiyoshi nodded, waited a moment until the water had cooled slightly and then brewed the tea from Kamigawa. Meanwhile, Flip went to a shelf, fetched several jugs and cups and placed them on a tray. Then he poured a large bottle of wine into the kettle over the fire. Morânia and Lereia helped him carry the already brewed tea and the tray to the table and set out the jugs and cups.
“Please, help yourselves,” said Flip, gesturing towards the tea. “The wine just needs a little while to warm up.” Then he fetched a few plates from a wall cupboard and placed bread and cheese on the table.
Meanwhile, Kiyoshi’s tea was brewed as well, and the young man brought it to the table. They now served themselves tea, bread and cheese and enjoyed the meal, the hot drinks and the warmth of the fireplace in silence.
Once the spiced wine was warmed as well, Naghûl poured himself a mug and looked at Sgillin. “I don’t suppose you have your guitar with you?”
“Unfortunately not,” replied the half-elf. “But I can at least offer this.” He pulled panpipes out of his backpack.
“Then that’ll have to do,” the tiefling declared cheerfully, looking at Flip. “Would it bother you if we played some music?”
“Not at all, I love music,” the old man said with a smile. “It’s lonely here.”
“Wonderful! We’ve got wine here …” Naghûl raised his mug. “… women …” He winked at Morânia, Lereia and Jana. “All we’re missing is …”
“... song!” Sgillin added with a grin and struck up the melody of the same-named song on the panpipes.
Flip chuckled as Naghûl sang the first verse. Everyone except Kiyoshi and Jana joined in on the chorus, and soon a lively atmosphere filled the small room. After that, Naghûl sang “Merry, merry, dear brothers” and Flip happily tapped his feet as he sipped his tea. Then Sgillin and Naghûl treated themselves to another mug of warm spiced wine, and the room grew quiet again for a while. But this time it was the cozy, enjoyable silence of an evening by the warm fireplace, while the rain pelted against the windows.
“Flip,” Lereia finally said kindly, warming her hands on her teacup. “How close have you come to the Spire?”
“No closer than I am now,” the old man replied with a wink.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“A little bit,” Flip admitted. “But I’ve heard stories from those who’ve gone on expeditions there. And many never even came back, so… I’d rather stay here.”
“Didn’t come back?” Jana asked, alarmed. “Is it that dangerous there?”
“I think so,” Flip replied. “Some wanted to go there by airship, others underground, and some even underwater. A few did come back and told stories. About dragon-like creatures that attacked their airships, for example. Up at the Black Fish Inn, I used to listen to them sometimes when I was young. Some were explorers who wanted to study the area. Others hoped to find treasure. Those were the two main reasons.”
Morânia glanced briefly at Naghûl, and as usual, her husband knew immediately what she was thinking.
“Have you ever noticed a Sensate among all those travelers?” he asked the old man.
“Oh, a few,” Flip replied. “They were here mainly for the experience, of course.”
“His name was Divicarus Laeryn,” Morânia explained. “He drew a map of this area. He gave it to another explorer, who took it back to Sigil.”
Naghûl nodded in agreement, took out the map Erin had given to him and unfolded it. If looking closely, one could make out several houses in one of the corners, which might be the small settlement. Closer to the Spire, more and more territory was marked unexplored. Morânia noticed that there were also large areas marked in blue around the Spire. Hence the assumption that a huge lake or even an ocean might surround it.
“Divicarus Laeryn …” Flip thought for a moment and then nodded. “I think I vaguely remember him. Is he doing well?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t know,” replied Naghûl. “He did send this map to Sigil, but he himself never showed up there again. We haven’t heard from him since.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” The old man nodded sadly. “I hope he turns up again. Explorers are often away for a long time.”
“That would be nice,” Morânia said, even though deep down she had to admit that her hope for the missing Sensate had dwindled a bit after Flip’s reports.
Naghûl pushed the map to the center of the table so everyone could examine it.
“Here.” Lereia pointed to one of the houses marked on the map. “This seems to be where we are right now. There’s another building next to it. What could that be?”
“Well, that’s the Black Fish,” explained Flip. “Or at least it used to be. The last innkeeper gave up the tavern about twenty years ago. When almost no one came here anymore.”
Lereia nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know any myths about the ruins of Arendur?”
Flip swayed his head. “I’ve heard stories about ruins, yes. But no one knew what kind of ruins they were. And those who might have known didn’t talk about it over a mug of beer at the Black Fish, I suppose. Those were surely secret and important missions.”
Jana studied the map with clearly mixed feelings. “So you don’t know anything more specific about the ruins either? Whether they’re dangerous or anything?”
“I’ve heard that sea monsters roam around there,” said Flip.
“Are the ruins underwater?” Lereia asked.
The old man nodded. “That’s what the few who came back have told.”
“But there’s more than just water there, right?” Jana pressed. “There must be islands too?”
“I’ve never heard of any islands,” Flip said, shrugging.
“How many days’ journey is it from here to the water?” Lereia wanted to know.
“Oh, not that far,” the old man replied. “The shore is right up here, behind the Black Fish. But as I said, it’s been closed for a long time. It’s just an empty tavern now.”
“I see.” Lereia nodded. “I’m sorry we’re pestering you like this.”
“It’s all right; you want to know as much as possible about your destination, don’t you?” Flip suppressed a yawn. “But I’m getting tired.”
“I think, we too,” Lereia agreed. “Might we perhaps spend the night here? We’d pay for it, of course.”
“Oh, come on.” The old man waved it off. “I hardly need money here, and your pleasant company is enough for me. So thank you for the lovely evening. It’s been far too quiet here since the Fish is closed.”
“We thank you for your hospitality, Flip,” said Morânia as she cleared the mugs and cups from the table together with Naghûl and Kiyoshi. “We’ll definitely fix your window tomorrow. But if there’s anything else we can offer you …”
“You know what, I like surprises.” The old man winked at them. “Just leave something nice for me in the kitchen tomorrow.”
“Absolutely!” Naghûl assured him.
“Then come on, I’ll show you your rooms,” said Flip as he shuffled towards the door. “Travelers used to stay here from time to time, so I have a few rooms with beds. One with a double bed, and two with two single beds each.”
“If no one minds, Morânia and I will take the double bed,” said Naghûl.
“No one’s going to argue with that,” Sgillin explained with a smile. Once Flip was out of earshot, he added with a grin: “I’d like to share a room with Kiyoshi - as befits a Harmonium soldier and an Anarchist.”
Kiyoshi’s expression remained impassive, as so often, but the others had to laugh.
“Sounds good,” Lereia said cheerfully. “Jana and I will take the other room.”
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played June 12, 2013
The two songs played by Naghûl and Sgillin are performed by the group “Die Streuner”:
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