The Revelation of the Vine: Graft

Chapter 2: Old Habits

  White, reflective snow-land stretched out in all directions, with scattered copses of pines and firs dotting the always-winter landscape of the northern March. Looking east, beyond the sea-cliffs that made up Midmarch's northern coast, I could see the deep-blue waters of the Oracle Sea pressing up against the brightening horizon. Turning south to the land behind us, the small dot of Lastbreath s signal tower was just visible above the horizon, but I knew none of the recruits could see it. To the southwest laid the Fahlain Woods, and the Midback Mountains lined the sky behind them, but the blanket of snowy trees broke into scattered copses of frost-laden evergreens for a few miles before the icy rock-face of the Fahlain Cliff opened in the north. The Fahlain Cliff begins pressed up against the sea-cliffs, at the northeast corner of Midmarch, as a 10-mile drop into the mountainous Horn and creates its southern border. From there it carves its way westward and meets with the Graywall--a thick wall of mountains that stretches south into the Midbacks and north along the border between the Horn and the Unclaimed Territory from the towering skyline of the Graydahn Mountains in the north-- and continues west along the southern edge of the Unclaimed Territory where it steadily descends into the southeast and northeast corners of Frostmarsh and Mavae. The Horn is a mystical peninsula in the northeast corner of the continent of Dahn. It stabs north and then eastward into the Oracle Sea and then curls again to the north, running parallel along the Rime's eastern coast of icy cliffs, creating the Bay of Rime in between. Jagged, frost-tipped mountains extend from the northern tip of the Graywall where it meets with Hoarir--one of the two great mountains in the Graydahns that border the Rime-- and encircles the Horn to the eastern edge of the Fahlain Cliff, creating natural walls for the warm, mist-covered, valley in its center called the Lemnis Dale. At the head of the mountains around the Horn, in the farthest point nearly 200 miles away, the powerfully tall Mount Atmos towers into the sky. Resting on top of its peak like a twinkling diadem, the glimmering ice-stone walls of the Crown, the Citadel of the Order of the Lemniscata, sparkle high above the horizon, like a bright constellation of stars during the day and a blue-white, dome of light at night. The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon of the Oracle Sea, casting an orange-red reflection onto the shining, deep-blue water that stretched out under the pastel colors of the dawn. I heard the snow crunching loudly behind me as Jurgen approached. He walked up beside me and put his large hand on my shoulder, "Now that's a sight to see isn t it?" I nodded and replied, "Best sunrise in all of Vine." "Sure is. Nothing beats a dawn in the Horn." He continued. "It's so good to finally be home, V. It s too warm everywhere else for a bear like me. Well . . . maybe not so much in the Marsh and some parts of Faenook. Ha-ha-ha." Jurgen s deep, bellowing laugh penetrated the air and echoed over the land, before falling silent beyond the sea-cliffs. A group of birds in a nearby tree scattered from the booming guffaw and regrouped on another tree a few dozen yards away. I looked over to the caravan that was slowly shrinking into the distance, and saw the Knights glance over here, but the Seeds kept marching alongside. "That time I changed frequencies, He said. "The birds heard it, the Knights heard it, and you heard it, but not the Seeds. I know how to sneak my powers out when I want to. Sometimes I like to leave a breadcrumb behind for them to nibble on; just to make them wonder. Other times, well . . . I'll admit that I can get a little carried away." "Just a little, J," I questioned, smiling broadly. "Well, ok," he replied, "Maybe a lot. But think about it! We only hide our powers once every 50 years when we seek the Seeds. It isn't an easy thing to do." "I know, J," I said, "But that's the way they want it. We're not supposed to show the world the full extent of our powers, because we don't look for those who seek power. And we're not supposed to show the Seeds what they'll become until after we seek them and sow them." "We already found them," he slapped my shoulder, "And we're already here, so lighten up. You give those stiff-necked Sages too much credit. Besides, you and I both know that the world already knows that we re immortal, and some of what we can do. Even if they don t know, they re good at passing rumors. When s the last time that a Sage came out on tour anyway? 1100 years maybe, but definitely not since we've been doing them. I ve been telling ya, V, there's something strange about them." "Yea," I agreed, and rubbed the back of my neck. "You're right. Sorry. Old habits . . ." "Eh," he mumbled. "Look at me, talking to you like I'm the boss." "Old habits . . ." I repeated and slapped him on the back of the shoulder. Then we both laughed, as loud as we could, in another frequency that was inaudible to the Seeds. The blast of our voices ripped through the sky like a widening ring, and I had to say, it felt good to let it out. "Well," I said, after the echoes had faded away, and I looked back at the caravan in the distance. "The caravan s about there. Tell the driver to circle the wagons. We should let the Seeds have their last mortal breakfast." "You got it," Jurgen replied, and turned to head back to the caravan, but then looked back over his shoulder. "Aren't you coming?" "I'm just gonna watch the sunrise for a bit," I said, waving. "Need to sort some things out from the Rest, you know? I ll be there in a few." "I got ya," he said, "Always fun, that." Then he vanished into a Vine-Surge, appearing just a short distance from the caravan while no one was looking. I heard him holler toward the wagons, "Make camp up near the Cliff, and get some fires going." His voice got quieter as he jogged the rest of the way to the wagons. The men acknowledged the command in the distance, "Yes, Sir!" I turned back to look at the horizon, unable to explain why I felt like I needed to watch this particular sunrise. Perhaps it had something to do with that hidden sense of knowing something forgotten. The top quarter of the sun just crested the razor-thin line between sea and sky, casting thick bars of orange, purple, and pink across the atmosphere. The reflection in the water below stretched out in waving layers of shimmering color, but then something in the reflection caught my eye. A large solar-flare, accompanied by a blinding gamma-ray-burst, was erupting from the top left corner of the sun when I looked up. I watched in amazement as it swirled out into the powder-pink sky and then faded away. My amazement gave way to a sudden uneasiness, as I witnessed the appearance of a fairly large sunspot that stuck out in stark contrast within the bright star. The spot only lingered for a few moments before being swallowed into the burning energy around it, but it seemed to last forever in my mind. The images burned into my memory, repeating in my head over and over, as I stared at the slowly rising sun.