Eril's Story

Day 27

The fog was just as thick and all consuming when I woke up in the morning. At this point I just assumed it was a permanent feature of the valley. Perhaps something to do with all of the fissures, venting what I guessed could be a boiling aquifer somewhere deep. After packing up I decided to keep following the course of the slow moving river. Perhaps it would lead to some body of water, or a faster moving cleaner channel.

The further I got, the more transparent the air became, though the sun was still little more than a bright patch overhead. Maybe it was because of the increased light in this area, but the plants became steadily larger the further I walked.

Broad ferns collected pools of water from the humidity, forming tiny lakes in their recesses that tiny insects thrived in. The soil seemed incredibly rich for these types of plants to grow to the size of a tree. Some of the largest would have taken both arms to encircle a stalk.

Soon I was in a forest of sorts. Large portions of the sky obstructed from view by the addition of giant leaves, sending steady streams of droplets down on the Earth below. The ground became much swampier. It seemed that the river had lost its way, spilling out to cover the valley, creating bogs and mud pits everywhere. More than once I set a foot down and heard a dreaded sucking noise, meaning I would have to wrestle a caught foot from the mire.

My patience for this place was wearing more thin at this point. Not being as cheerful and accepting of things as yesterday. I was very much looking forward to being out of what was by now a full blown swamp. A stroke of luck came when I happened upon an unnaturally long flat stone that stood with its surface above the surrounding quagmire. Its smooth surface made for easy safe steps.

I was sad when it ended and I had to step back into the mud. Thankfully I had been able to avoid a particularly nasty section. To my surprise, just a short while later there was another massive slab of stone connected to yet another, forming a flat bridge over the swamp. Each segment connected to the last in a very precise and seamless manner - flush but distinctly separate parts.

This went on for some time, leading to my increasing curiosity. How could such a thing happen by natural means? As I was musing on this, a low droning sound came my way, cutting through the fog. I was already headed in the direction of the noise so I continued on. The reverberations gaining clarity the further I strode.

Then in the distance I saw the small figure of a person, hunched over a much rougher and blockier portion of the stone highway I was on. They must have not noticed me as I approached, and the chanting emanating from them continued on uninterrupted. Approaching, I was curious to see what a person would be doing in a place such as this.

As I watched, the person was singing over the rough rock, which under their hand was vibrating, becoming malleable and soft. Working with it in this state they were using a strange tool I did not recognize to flatten and shape the stone. Continuing the path. I saw upon closer observation that it was a small man, perhaps the size of a young adult, at least a head shorter than myself.

Walking into his sight, the man gave a startled yelp and the chanting halted abruptly. I profusely apologized. 'Hello there. I am truly sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you in the middle of your work.' He seemed to regain composure quickly, offering his arm in greeting, which I grasped back. Then he said in a raspy voice, which defied what I had just heard in his singing. 'Ah, no harm done. Just lost in my work as usual. S'pose I should be careful though, a river dragon was just about to get the drop on me not but a week ago.'

He seemed wholly pleasant, so I offered my name to this stranger and in return he offered his. 'Dromo's the name.' I was most intrigued by the work he had been doing and asked, 'I couldn't help but notice your singing and the many stones I have been walking along. Was this all your doing'? Dromo shook his head. 'Nope!' Came the reply. 'There are others in the village who work on it. I'm just doing my part.'

I wanted to see more so I asked. 'Would I be able to see your work again? It seemed the things you were doing defied what I know of the world. Only if it wouldn't be any trouble though.' Dromo agreed, and with great intensity reignited the guttural and melodic voice I had heard before. Carrying a weight to it that seemed to interact with all the elements around in strange ways. I was amazed all over again as the stone began rippling under his scrutiny.

While maintaining his voice, he again ran his carved wooden rod over the rock face. Stuck into holes bored out of the stick, growing plants were woven throughout, giving the tool an extra mystical organic look. Whatever mineral he moved this implement over would melt, evening out the surface, until all that was left behind was a smooth marble-like surface.

I watched for some time until Dromo finished up a section, at which point he clipped the tool to his belt with a flourish and exclaimed, 'So how about some lunch?' I didn't see any food around but accepted the offer nonetheless. I was led forward over a rough portion stone, Dromo apologizing for the lack of finish. We had to hop over some of the larger gaps that were present to get back to the completed road.

It was amazing how much this individual, or peoples could accomplish. Transforming the environment to their needs. After half an hour of walking we came to a small village. All the houses were made of stone, molded into seamless pieces out of the same material found elsewhere. Supporting them all was an expansive disk of the same mineral - a fused megalithic bedrock.

I was in shock by the size of the stone base that held everything. Big enough to support the twenty or so houses that were built on and from it. Prompting me to ask, 'How did you build all of this? I don't see stone anywhere else.' Dromo shook his head. 'Oh, we didn't make this, or least not any of the stone. Was all here well before my time, or even my fathers time. The people that chose to settle here did so because of the significance of what they stumbled upon. And over time we have learned to work with this sacred stone.'

I mused on what he had said and asked a follow up question. 'So why go through all the trouble of making a road, and where does it lead anyway?' 'That?' Dromo said, pointing back. 'That's just a side project to my favorite fishing spot so I don't have to get my feet muddy.' I chuckled, unable to argue with the logic. We then carried on talking until we got to his home.

We were greeted at the door by Dromos' wife, and I was ushered into the flowing stone complex. Once inside it was a strange environment, probably not unlike being inside an egg - floor and ground blending into each other. I was shown to a crystalline chair at a low table. The seat had been covered by dried spongey plants, making the otherwise intolerable seat actually quite springy and comfortable.

I relaxed as the smell of fish wafted from the pan where it was sizzling, presumably caught from Dromos favorite spot. The fish were quite large, with two sets of eyes on the side and below, and two sharp rows of teeth to match. I was glad they were confined to the water and not on land. Once they were crispy and golden we feasted on fish.

After the meal, my hostess wrapped up some leftovers to take to a neighbor, wishing me well on my journey as she departed out the door. I stayed a little while longer, talking about the plants and animals in the area, as well as the history of the people who lived here and how they had become so adept at stone shaping.

It was a pleasant conversation but at some point I informed Dromo I really must be going - he seemed like you had all day to talk, given the opportunity. We walked to the far side of the village, the edge of the stone disk. From there, I was pointed on a good route, leading out of the dark swamp. With a few more shouted tips as I was walking away, I jumped down onto some exposed boulders, trying to find the path that would keep me out of the mud.

Walking through the maze of stone channels I saw all around me massive dark silhouettes looming just out of sight. Ruins that lied half in mud, left by some people now gone. Their legacy being swallowed by the Earth at an accelerated pace. Dromos' instruction proved to be excellent, for just a few hours later I had reached the end of the marshy land, spilling out into a wide valley that stretched almost as far as the eye could see in the dimming light. A roaring river directly ahead of me beckoned.

I drank in my appreciation for clear skies and solid ground while putting on a few more miles under the fledgling moon. Then making camp, I gathered some fresh water and lay down. Sleeping well.