Page 62 - Chapter Seven

7

 

At its icy summit, the Peak of Rayguth was the epitome of isolation. A spire of rock ending far above the clouds. Sprouting from the Dahris Mountains it towered over the North and could be seen from anywhere on Earth. The races of man believed that it stood taller than the sky itself, that it was a place where only the coldest of air lives and the legendary Faric begins.

Piercing through the clouds with awesome force, the waterfall that left the Peak of Rayguth was massive. Its waters were unbelievably powerful, cutting through the base of the mountain like a sword through flesh. Since the beginning of time, when the Rahkfolk gave birth to the elements this was the root of lakes and oceans -- filled like a sink from a faucet.

The Faric was the arterial vein of the world. It was essential to life in all the lands. Traveling east through the Gnomish woods and cutting south into the vast lowlands. It twisted and turned with ease, defining the landscape around it. The Faric created streams and creeks along its journey, filling up the Sarl Basin in the far southeast and finally the Wynspur Sea of the Elven West Coast.

Its waters spanned the entire world in a single day and night. But what was unknown to many was that it owed it’s life to magic. Without the runes the world would have no rivers, seas and lakes; no source of water to nourish its flora and fauna. But with that glorious life comes an inevitable death; The legendary Faric can only last as long as nature permits. For now its current would travel far and wide fulfilling its purpose.

And the same could be said about Jabit, the Messenger who was crossing the treacherous rope bridge from the Rhael; the Faric growling beneath him. Fear was instinctive, but the common ground he and the legendary waters shared was uncanny.

He stood quietly on the new oak wood planks. His eyes were fixed on the river, but his vision was swimming in his thoughts. He couldn't get Farjadis Wisebeard to leave his memory. Glancing over his shoulder his hand turned into a fist. The sun was retiring, he had to do the same.

Looking to the northern sky Jabit watched dark clouds rolling south cloaking the moonlight which signaled nighttime. Paetok was only a couple hours away by foot, he knew he needed to go now or he would be caught up in the approaching storm. moments passed before he left the bridge, slipping his hand into his vest he started to whistle softly as he began his journey home.

The End

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