Through Ages Lost and Found

Dust

Sunlight agonizingly peered through cracks between thick clouds. It set beyond ancient mountains, barren and simply twigs where full trees once lay when winter did not reign. The vast valley beneath, once filled with lush grass now browned-deadened-spanned miles, gravestones both cracked and built anew littering its every space even beyond the horizon. Faded names and poorly chiseled dates adorned each stone.

Garrick stepped forth toward one grave. Bitter, brittle wind whirred past and sent out a hollow, ominous ring through spaces in the statue-dull obsidian with a silver-lined base. Rusted medallions more tarnished than shimmering, and wilted flowers whose petals turned nearly to dust adorned the surrounding land.

"Naga," Garrick said.

He crouched down, brushed one hand across the base lifting the dust away from a small golden plaque.

Our eternal Lord Naga-brave queen of the isles of chaos, warlord everlasting, here you rest in peace, your death valiantly achieved in war to unite all in hell beneath your holy name.

Never will you be forgotten, for you lay 'mongst your valiant warriors who all died in your namesake.

Garrick huffed. "So brave and valiant that they were left in graves destined to rot," he commented. "You're surrounded by the forgotten-the undesired. What does that make you, Naga?" He stood up, brushed his hand along the statue's leg to lift the dust away. Dullness gone, the area now shimmered in the scattered rays of sunlight-the only warmth in a unkempt valley of dead things.

Garrick sighed and stepped away. He gazed to Naga's statue and narrowed his look directly to its eyes. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

Silence.

"The once-reveled queen and warlord, thought to be eternal, you stole everything you had and lost it all only to be left in desolation-in nothing," he said. "Karma bit your bleeding ass harder than you imagined, I guess." He grinned and chuckled.

The Soulfinder turned to his satchel and unlatched the leather strap, then dug around through the mounds of ancient parchment paper. One grasped carefully in his palm, he pulled it out and knelt before the statue.

Garrick studied the page. Just a few lines, calligraphy from a song.

"The bones of beasts and the bones of kings Become dust in the wake of the hymn Mighty kingdoms rise, but they all will fall No more than a breath on the wind"

Garrick reached his arm out and set the paper against the base of the grave. He turned his back to it, latched the satchel shut and stood and silently walked away.

Wind blew through the valley and disturbed the dead grass. The lyrical parchment page crackled, corners fell away into the air. Its center landed in pieces upon the grass and quickly turned a damning grey tone. With a rivaling, stronger wind, the pieces disintegrated. Now dust, every last particle lifted freely into the sky only to blow around and disappear into the valley of the forgotten.

(Song quote from Wild Autumn Wind by Caladan Brood )