When Eldarien opens his eyes again, the unnatural darkness is gone, and the cavern in which he finds himself is clear. It is dim, yes, but not pitch black, with a high sloping roof visible twenty or twenty-five feet overhead and light streaming in from the passage to his left, the passage that he had taken down from the ravine into the lair of the eöten. Aching, he pushes himself to his feet and picks up his greatsword. To his surprise, the blade is completely free of blood or stain, as if the light that had burned through the sword had cleansed the blood along with the purging of the beast. After returning the clean sword back to its scabbard, Eldarien kneels down over Rorlain, who still lies unconscious, and prepares to lift him onto his back. But as he begins to do so, Rorlain groans and opens his eyes.
After looking around for a few moments with confusion blurring his gaze, the shadow passes and his eyes focus upon Eldarien's face. "I-I'm..." he sighs.
"Yes, you are safe," Eldarien whispers.
"We must get out of here!" Rorlain begins, his voice tense with fear. "There is a terrible beast in this cave. He carried me here himself."
"I know, I know...but it is gone now. Do not fear."
"Gone? How?"
"It has been expelled," Eldarien says. "We can speak more of it later. But your father is worried about you, and I am sure that the sooner we return the better."
"You come from my father?"
"Aye."
"Well then, let us make haste," Rorlain rises to his feet, but his legs falter beneath him, and he would fall except that Eldarien catches him under the arms and holds him up.
"We will make what haste we can," Eldarien says, "according to your capacity. But it is better that you recover and we are delayed than that you push yourself too hard."
"You do not think the creature will return?" Rorlain asks, steadying himself and testing his legs again, which this time hold strong.
"No, I do not. Many there are of its kind, but that one has been cast far away, if not dispelled entirely from existence."
"Still...I would feel better if we were at least out of this dungeon before trying to take further rest."
Eldarien laughs softly at this and says in reply, "Yes, I would as well."
With these few words, the two men make their way out of the ravine and back into the light of day, which has now proceeded near to evening, the sun shining over the mountains in the west and casting long shadows across the landscape around them.
"Come, let us sit a while," Eldarien says, gesturing to a large flat stone not far from the entrance to the crevice in the earth.
"I can walk now," Rorlain replies. "Should we not hurry back before darkness falls?"
"But you were wounded, were you not?" asks Eldarien. "Does the wound need dressing?"
"Ah...I had hardly noticed," Rorlain sighs, looking down at his torn shirt stained with blood. "It is really nothing. As surprising as it is to me now, I have come away mostly unharmed. These wounds come from the claws of the beast that pierced me when it carried me from the edge of the wood to its lair. They are little more than cuts from a thorn would be."
"Nonetheless, let us have a quick look. I am concerned that wounds inflicted by such a creature could be anything but simple."
"Really, I am alright," Rorlain says, slight frustration in his voice. But immediately he subdues himself, nods, and sits on the stone. He unbuttons what remains of the front of his shirt and pulls it open to expose his chest, which indeed shows a crooked line of puncture marks inflicted by a giant clawed hand. Eldarien sits down beside him and inspects the wound. "You act as if you are accustomed to giving orders," Rorlain says absentmindedly, looking at his chest as well, all frustration now gone from his voice. "Or at least you are accustomed to caring for the well-being of others."
"That is true, on both accounts," Eldarien confirms as he presses lightly against one of the marks. "Does this hurt?"
"Only slightly."
"There is no pus and very little blood. And I see no signs of swelling or infection. You may indeed have nothing but simple wounds, though they are a bit deeper than thorn marks. What a blessing that is."
"Indeed," Rorlain says and runs his finger over one of the wounds himself. "I thought I would never again wake," he adds, emotion in his voice. "And here I am with hardly more than scratches. I don't know how I shall ever express my gratitude to you or repay you for what you have done."
"Neither of those is needed," Eldarien replies, "and anyway I would be more averse to having you in debt to me than being indebted to you myself."
"As you say," Rorlain remarks, raising his head and looking into Eldarien's eyes. His own gaze is serious and mature, thoughtful and full of both pain and longing—an intensity which Eldarien, to his own shame, had not expected to see there. "But a blood-bond is a blood-bond and shall not be broken," Rorlain continues, his voice soft, as he begins to button his shirt again. "No matter what you say, I owe you my life, and my people say that such a bond is one of the most sacred, and is unable to be dissolved by anything in this world."
"Well then, Rorlain," Eldarien answers, "let your troth be one of gratitude, and may you pray to the gods for me, for that is what I need more than aught else."
The man says nothing in response but simply stands, looks out over the land to the east, and sighs. Eldarien stands and looks with him. "Let us return to your father and to your home."
"Right now, there is nothing I wish for more."
† † †
They step into the clearing around the homestead well after dark, with the stars burning vivid overhead and the sounds of the forest singing in their ears. Rorlain knocks on the door of the house—Eldarien supposes because he doesn't want to walk straight in and surprise his father—and they both wait. When the door opens, Eldarien takes a step back and allows the emotional reunion between father and son to take place. He lowers his eyes and waits, but soon he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. Raising his gaze, he sees Rodric looking upon him with tears in his eyes. "You have done what I did not think possible! I had little hope that my son would return home safely, and yet here he is. And it is all thanks to you."
Eldarien nods and thinks to himself, One life saved for the many that I have unjustly taken.
"Come in, come in," Rodric urges, with a wave of his hand.
In the house, they speak little, as Rodric senses the exhaustion of the two men, though he sets before them a little food and drink. After they have eaten, they retire for the night, lulled to sleep by the sound of a light rain that blows in shortly after they lay down, making soft music against the roof and the windowpanes.
In the morning, Eldarien again wakes early, despite the events of the previous day. The others are still sleeping when he rises from the pallet made for him on the floor, and as he does so he feels the cold that has permeated the interior of the house, the hearth having died down to ash with only a few glowing embers remaining. The rain from the night before has ceased and now a deep stillness envelops the house, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of the two sleeping men. Pulling on his boots and his cloak, Eldarien softly opens the door and steps outside. It is still dark, before even the first streaks of dawn show themselves in the sky, but the moon is a large crescent descending towards the horizon and illuminating the night, such that the silhouettes of trees are clearly visible, black shapes etched against the dim light of the sky, many-fingered hands, as it were, reaching up in and among the stars. Eldarien walks out into the clearing and looks into the dark waters of the spring, in which the twinkling of the stars is reflected.
It is not unlike my own heart, he thinks, deep feelings stirring unbidden within him, a murky surface whose depths cannot be seen. Then the voice of goodness he had heard while in the eöten's cavern returns to him, and he feels again the surge of peace that he had felt during that moment; but as he thinks of the words spoken to him, fear also stirs within him. What does it mean? Lightborn? A scourge of dark and servant of light? He realizes as he lingers on the voice he heard, and on the words it spoke, that these words linger within him unlike any other words he has heard. They carry with them a kind of substantial presence, a sense of their own validity and an affirmation of his own heart to peacefully, confidently receive them. But even so, he feels a conflict within himself between the peace of the words given to him and his own fear and hesitation to welcome them without reserve, and to entrust himself to their mystery. I suppose, he thinks, that I was just in the right place at the right time, and the goddess made good on my presence. There is no other reasonable explanation.
He turns his gaze upward and drinks in the expanse of the night sky with his eyes and his heart, the serenity of the celestial firmament contrasting with the turmoil in his own heart. He allows his eyes to scan the sky, passing from star to star, constellation to constellation, until his eyes rest on the sign of Hiliana. But then again, his mind continues in thought, the way that she spoke to me... It is not as if she was using me, nor as if I were some anonymous tool, chosen at random or through the interplay of circumstances. But still: if I am anything, I am a man of darkness, covered in shadow inside and out, with only a speck of light left alive somewhere deep inside of me. Af this, his mind carries him back once again to the Barrow of Sera Galaptes, the barrow of his past, which is also his destination in the present. In that moment too, I was addressed, chosen, as if made a dialogue-partner of a presence unseen and yet ever close. Absentmindedly, he raises his hand and reaches into his shirt, placing his fingers upon the amulet that he had received then, so many years ago, and which he has kept with him ever since. But then too, it was a matter of circumstances—the interplay of events that led me into that forgotten place, unvisited by living men, at that time and in that way. I do not understand, and I do not know how to move forward...if moving forward is even what I desire. Life when my hometown is destroyed, an amulet of an ancient king...escape from shipwreck, a blessed sword, and the darkness crumbling as if nothing... Does my answer come so quickly, after I've only just begun my journey? I set forth from Igny to find some light concerning the events of our anguished time and some path through the darkness by which I may be of service to others. And already, it is like an answer has come to meet me. But no...it is not an answer, but only more questions.
When the first rays of dawn begin to filter through the trees in the east, causing them to glow in a dim light, Eldarien turns back and enters the house. Rodric is awake and stoking the now blazing fire in the hearth, while Rorlain still sleeps. The former looks up as Eldarien enters, and smiles. "You don't sleep much, do you?" he asks.
"I suppose not."
"A long term problem?"
"An acquired habit."
Rodric leaves it at that, as if now that this stranger has saved his son's life, no further questions remain concerning his past or his purpose.
Eldarien sits down beside Rodric and says, "Your son was lightly wounded when the beast took him, but it was an incidental wound, as it were, minor and unintentional."
"So there was a beast after all?"
"It was as you feared, but the trouble should be passed now."
Rodric looks at Eldarien with raised eyebrow for a moment and then turns back to the fire, the orange light of the flames glistening in his thoughtful eyes. "If the wound was minor, why do you tell me about it?"
"In case of infection or consequence," Eldarien replies. "I have never encountered a creature the likes of which I saw yesterday, and I know not what result comes of its claws piercing human flesh."
"Should I be worried?"
"Cautious, perhaps, but not worried. We inspected it yesterday—a series of puncture marks on his torso—and there was nothing unsettling. They indeed looked simple and clean."
"I see," Rodric breathes, as if pondering Eldarien's words, and then, looking up again, asks, "Do you think this will change the behavior of the creatures of the forest?"
"I really do not know. It may be related, or it may not. Only time will tell, I suppose."
"If you had to give an opinion," Rodric asks, "what would you say that you expect?"
Eldarien thinks about the question for a moment and then answers, "I do not expect anything to change, or very little. But there is much I don't know, so I wouldn't take any prediction of mine with undue gravity."
"Thank you for your thoughts anyway."
Eldarien nods and then asks a question of his own. "Do you know anything of the creatures that people have taken to calling 'druadach'?"
"I thought you would know far more than I do," replies Rodric.
"I would still like to hear your part, if you have anything that you think fit to say."
"I really do not, since there are no villages nearby and I haven't traveled in years. Rorlain goes to either Igny or Eresia when we need anything from town, but even that occurs rarely."
"I understand," Eldarien says.
"Do you think that these creatures, be they truth or fable, are connected with the strange behavior of the wildlife and with the beast that took Rorlain?"
"I have my suspicions. Maybe, indeed, what people have come to calling 'druadach' is really nothing else than what I myself encountered. Perhaps they are one and the same."
"You really think that might be the case?" asks Rodric. "Did the beast you encounter appear in the shape of a man, as though risen from the grave, a walking corpse?"
"So that is indeed what people say the druadach look like?"
To this, Rodric laughs and then says, "Well, I suppose perhaps I do know more than you."
"I think you do," Eldarien agrees, with a smile. "I have heard a similar description once before, but that is all."
"But yes," continues Rodric, "that is the word, which Rorlain picked up on his last visit to Eresia. He told me that he heard that these creatures come in during the night and slaughter livestock and rip up the crop from the fields before it is even full-grown. I suppose they eat whatever they can and don't find enough wherever they happen to make their abode."
"I find it suspicious that they would need to eat at all," Eldarien observes.
Rodric laughs again, "That thought didn't even cross my mind, but you are right. If they really are dead creatures—or, gods forbid, men—brought back to life, then surely they would not need ordinary sustenance."
"As far as I understand it, the art of necromancy cannot bring the dead back to life," explains Eldarien. "It can only create a channel of communication between the living and the spirits that have passed on, and a tenuous channel at that."
"An art abhorrent to the gods, if all the accounts are true," Rodric adds.
"Indeed. But if necromancy lies at the root of what is happening with these druadach—whatever they might be—then I fear a great evil is at work twisting the intentions of the Seven, turning the cycle of life and death on its head."
"Only ill fruit would such actions bear," muses Rodric, scratching his head, "particularly if those who were dead but now live are now bringing to death those who still live."
"It is an unsettling thought," Eldarien sighs, looking into the flames that leap in the hearth and musing on the interplay of life and death, of danger and security, that marks the world in its present state. Fire, a source of warmth, a symbol of the security of the home, can also become a destructive force if turned away from its proper balance; so too water, source of life and growth and health, can kill. He knows both of these things first-hand, the razing of his village through fire and the loss of many whom he knew through water. And in both he came face to face with the nearness, the ever-present possibility, of his own death. But nonetheless, he still loves both and sees their beauty: fire and water.
"Are you alright?" Rodric's voice stirs him out of his reverie.
"Eh? Ah, yes I am," Eldarien replies. "I was just thinking. And then, returning to the topic of conversation, "I do hope that we are dealing here with nothing more than natural creatures that have grown beyond their bounds or become hungry for the bounty that human civilization can provide—and only through human fear and imagination have been dreamed to be the living dead."
"Is that a possibility?"
"I would say that it seems to me quite likely at this point," Eldarien says, "except for the fact of what I encountered in the cavern yesterday. And that is why I intend to discover more. I would like to stop guessing and come to some kind of certainty, that I may act."
"I would like to go with you."
The voice surprises both of the men sitting by the fire, for it is the voice of Rorlain.
"What did you say, son?" Rodric asks.
"I said that if this man intends to discover more of the terrors of which you speak, I wish to accompany him." Rorlain steps from the darkness into the firelight. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I woke a while ago and heard your conversation."
"There is nothing to forgive," Eldarien says. "Come, sit down."
Rorlain sits cross-legged on the floor beside his father, and the men remain in silence for a few moments. Rodric is the first to speak.
"Do you really think that is wise, Rorlain?"
"Why would it not be?" he replies. "This man here—Eldarien, forgive me—Eldarien saved my life from a creature the likes of which I could never have imagined. Now I know that terrors exist in this world that can cause the blood of man to run cold within him. And yet he stepped right into the abode of fear in the slim chances of saving my life. Now I owe it to him, and indeed to myself...no, to all of our people...to journey with him on his quest. Surely you see that his intention is only to seek the benefit of the people of Telmerion?"
"You speak true, my son," Rodric replies. "But it is a grim decision for me to accept. A part of me wishes to keep you here with me for as long as I remain in this life, and also to safeguard you from the danger that shall surely await you upon such a path."
"And I do wish, father, that I could remain with you always. But this I wish for more. Or rather, I feel compelled to do this and would not be in the right to say no to what I so clearly sense is the right course of action."
"Should you not take some time to consider this more thoroughly, to think more of this before making such a radical decision?" Eldarien asks.
"My mind is made up. But if you insist that I wait and consider, I will do as you ask."
"I am not going to ask you to do anything. Your decision is your own—even though the path shall belong to both of us, were you truly to come with me. It is an interweaving of destinies, as you yourself said yesterday. And now I know just how serious you were."
"I am as serious about this as I have ever been about anything," says Rorlain. "I am sorrowful to leave my father and hope that I may return to be with him again. And I understand that the path ahead of us is dangerous—even if I know little to nothing of the nature or the depth of such danger."
"So you know that it may be unlikely that your wish to return is fulfilled?" Eldarien queries.
"Indeed."
"And you wish to go nonetheless?"
"Just as truly."
"Very well," says Eldarien at last, softly, and Rodric nods to this too, deeply understanding the heart of his son. Indeed, if he was only younger, he probably would offer to accompany them as well or to have gone in his son's stead. "But one more thing," Eldarien continues, "I will not be departing today and probably not tomorrow either—as long as your hospitality will have me—and I want you to remain open to changing your mind until the moment we leave."
"My mind is sure," Rorlain says, "but I understand. I will try to avoid rashness and will take this time to reflect upon my motivations and to steel my will."
"Good, because a weak resolve will falter when the path grows dark," Eldarien says gently, "but a decision made in freedom and wisdom will sustain the heart even in difficulty."
"But not infallibly," Rodric adds. "The strength of man alone is not enough."
"That is true," Eldarien agrees. "We must look to ourselves as best we can, but more importantly we must look beyond ourselves. Do both while you are here, and I will feel more comfortable having you at my side, even if we must walk into darkness and danger."
† † †
On the fifth day after Rorlain's rescue, the two men set out from the homestead. Eldarien is not in a hurry to leave, since he knows the pain it causes Rodric to let his son depart and also the pain that Rorlain must feel, even though he hides it well. He feels a great responsibility for the events that his actions have set into motion and fears for Rorlain's well-being; but also, in his heart of hearts, he knows the rightness of the latter's choice. And he takes solace in knowing that Rorlain has survived in the wilderness for many years, a hunter, gatherer, and laborer, and therefore will be able to stand strong both in his strength of will as well as in the many skills he has developed. For both will be necessary in the path ahead of them. Eldarien doesn't know what awaits them; indeed, he knows so little that he feels as if they walk into an abyss of darkness with no light and no destination. Unconsciously, he finds himself grasping for some security, some stronghold in the swirling waters of time that roil about his feet, and he reaches out with the impulse of his heart toward Niraniel, to whom he had cried in the churning waves of the ocean, harbinger of death, and now also to Hiliana, whose voice had come so unexpectedly in the shadows of obscurity swelling forth from the unearthly creature whom his blade had dispelled.
They leave a little before midmorning, and Rodric sees them off with tears in his eyes, tears which cling to his lashes but refusing to fall down his cheeks. He says, before they turn to go, "Come back to me, my son, if you can. But I understand that you walk as you must. You have my blessing to go as you see fit. Know only that my heart shall go with you always."
"And my heart shall remain with you, Ta," whispers Rorlain. "Fear not for us. And doubt not my love."
And that is all. They take to the path that Eldarien had been following when he first came upon the house in the clearing and begin to follow it to the west. The day is warmer than it has been since Eldarien arrived in Igny, and he allows himself to hope for the full casting off of the lingering cloak of winter's cold. Rorlain follows behind him, and Eldarien realizes that he must adjust again to not traveling alone, to have another person in his company. Indeed, he realizes that traveling with one other person is much more tangible a form of presence and vulnerability for him than traveling with a whole company, since in a company he could still discover a kind of solitude, sinking into the "group"; but here the presence of the other is keenly felt, not as outside of his solitude so much as part of it. It is not that Rorlain speaks much; rather, he speaks almost not at all. It is simply his presence—and a presence that has been particularly tied up, in life and death, in indebtedness and fidelity, to Eldarien's own life—that he feels so viscerally. And after the first period of adjustment, Eldarien welcomes this presence. Indeed, he begins to find in it consolation and strength.
May he find some little consolation from my presence as well, Eldarien finds himself wishing, as he steps over the trunk of a tree that has fallen across the path. He turns back and watches Rorlain step over it too, clothed in sturdy cloth and leather traveling gear with his pack about his shoulders, a bow and a quiver full of arrows along with it, and a small but sharp crescent-bladed axe in his belt. "We will follow this path," Eldarien begins, "as far as it leads us, and then will make our way up through the highlands to the foothills of the mountains. I don't suspect the path will take us very close to our destination, but a path also won't be as necessary once we are out of the trees. I have never been up to the mountains from this direction, so I don't know the area. Nonetheless, once we get close enough, I should have no trouble navigating the landscape, as I lived there and explored quite widely for the entirety of my youth."
Rorlain nods, and when he comes to Eldarien, the two begin to walk side by side. He says in response, "So this cavern of Sera Galaptes...you said that it is our first destination. Tell me about it."
"I mentioned that it may hold clues about these creatures that people call the druadach. And perhaps it will help illuminate the connection between these beings and the one I encountered, which I believe is called an eöten. The reason I think it may hold clues is because it is a barrow, an ancient barrow dedicated to the first king, by the same name. But he is not the only one buried there; he is entombed along with many of his successors and also many of his clansmen and the clansmen who came after him for generations. I have not explored the vast tunnels of the place—if vast they are, as the legends tell. You see, no one has been in the barrow for centuries, at least according to our knowledge."
"Why do you suspect this barrow will be of assistance to us and not any other?" Rorlain asks.
"Because I have been in it."
"You just said no one has been in it for centuries!" exclaims Rorlain, with a laugh in his voice.
"Yes, sorry about that," Eldarien chuckles, "I meant no one except for myself. For you see, there are two entrances. The main one is a cavern in the side of a cliff, an entrance in a wall of stone among the feet of the mountain. The first chamber is open, unbarred, without even a door. I used to explore there as a child, and many others did as well. But there is little to see there. It is mainly just a cave, beautiful but with little secrets. Well, with the exception of one. For at the back of this cave is a massive, ancient doorway, arched and engraved with runes. No one knows how to open it, to cause the heavy stone doors to swing open, save destroying them by force. There is another entrance, however, which perhaps only I have ever taken, and that unintentionally. It is a great sinkhole in the earth not far from the entrance to the cavern. It opens straight into an underground lake, into which the rains fall and the snows melt, and which connects with the rest of the barrow, or at least with parts of it. Like I said, I know very little, since I did not explore it in any depth. My main concern was to get out."
"How did you 'unintentionally' find this entrance?" Rorlain asks.
"Well," Eldarien begins, and then pauses, not knowing how much to share. He is already coming to trust Rorlain, but these memories are too deep, too painful to share lightly and on such short acquaintance. But then again, he realizes, he has already opened up a great deal to the Feskar family. Did he do this only because he knew he would probably never see them again, or was there another reason?
"Eldarien?"
"Oh, yes... I'm sorry. It happened when my village was destroyed. I suppose you need to know since we may pass that way. In fact," he pauses and then, to his own surprise, adds, "I intend to stop there. It has been a long time, and I want to take the opportunity."
"Your village...?"
"Yes, it went by the name of Falstead. Perhaps you've heard of it, perhaps not."
"No, I do not recall ever hearing of it."
"I expected as much. As far as I know, it was never rebuilt."
"Eldarien, I am sorry..."
"It was a long, long time ago."
"Some things even time cannot mend."
"Yes, but much of the sting is gone," Eldarien says softly, "and there are things besides time which can also mend the heart. And the answer to the question you have not asked is: my family died along with the rest of the village. To my knowledge, I am the only survivor."
Rorlain says nothing in response to this, but his silence is adequate response. After a while, Eldarien continues, "Falstead was attacked by Relihim. They were bolder in those days and frequently passed through the areas to the east of the Teldren Mountains. We lived in fear of them. And in this case, our fears were realized. It was fleeing from the village in the dark of night that I fell into the sinkhole. It may well have saved my life."
Again the conversation lulls into silence, and they continue walking side by side, the quiet sounds of the forest enveloping them and their footsteps against dirt and stone crunching as they walk. It is only a few minutes until the land begins to rise more rapidly and the trees begin to lessen. In the place of the trees, great stones litter the landscape, at first few in number and then in great abundance. After about half an hour, they crest the steepest rise and find themselves once again facing the highlands, standing at the place where the tundra meets the forest. They are further south this time, far enough that they see nothing that stirs any remembrance in either of them of the events of the previous days. It is likely at least five or ten miles to the north where the river flows out of the highlands and into the woods, near which the ravine cuts into the earth, the ravine which once housed a creature of immeasurable darkness and now lies empty.
At last, Rorlain speaks again and breaks the silence, "I have two questions, and you may answer them in whatever way you please."
"Go ahead. Forgive me for lapsing so suddenly and completely into silence."
"There is nothing to forgive. It was my place, I think, to speak. My first question: I still do not understand how the barrow will help us in our journey. Second: how shall we get in?"
"Those are good questions," Eldarien says with a smile. "I suppose my words have not been very helpful in that regard. As for the second question, I don't really know yet. We will see when we get there. If all else fails, I suppose we can tie a rope and use it to climb down into the sinkhole."
Rorlain smiles at this and casts a friendly glance at Eldarien.
"As for the first question," he continues, "the barrow is the only lead I have that stirs any connection in my mind with what I have heard of the nature of the druadach. It is said, right, that they are human in appearance and yet like walking corpses: the living dead? Does this not make you think of a barrow?"
"That is where the dead are," Rorlain says, "and if the dead came to life, it would be in such a place. But there are graveyards all over the land."
"That is true. However, there was something else I encountered in the barrow which draws another connection."
"What was that?"
"The lights."
"The lights?"
"Before the dead—who were remarkably well preserved—burned lights that seemed never to go out, but rather to burn continually."
"The vigil candles of the dead?" Rorlain asks.
"Just like the tales..." Eldarien affirms, with a slow nod of his head.
"It is amazing to hear that it is true...I mean, literally true. I always thought the candles were symbolic only—signs of the vigilant waiting of those who had passed. But it seems it is both: a symbol and a fact."
"Indeed..." Eldarien says, and with this the conversation lapses back into silence yet again. After a while Rorlain falls a few yards behind Eldarien, and the two men are caught up in their own thoughts, while their steps carry them across the highlands to the mountains that loom large, snow-capped and imposing, but beautiful, in the distance.