The
Valley in
Ruins
After carefully studying the ruins of the dwarf house, otter holt, and bear cave, Greyfax Grimwald sat down upon Broco’s ruined table to see what he might read from the fire. He laid the small sticks of the sacred trees before him, and they burst into a brilliant white flame as he removed his hand. The white flames bowed, touching the gray figure’s brow, and Greyfax looked far and wide over and under earth, past regions of flying maned stars, deeper still into the fire. A high, thin arch of bluish white light spiraled away upward, until it had vanished from sight. Raven saw it from far away, thought it a lightning flash, and turned to the more urgent business of gathering food for his hungry family.
The wizard’s eyes reflected back the brilliant light, and there came to him Melodias, and their minds opened to each other. Cephas Starkeeper had reached the king, he learned, and the two were in council when Greyfax called them to the seeing eye of the fire. Greyfax made the seventh sign of the holly and Melodias disappeared, to be replaced by I’one, then En’the. Having gathered all he could, and delivered his intelligence in return, Greyfax bade the fire turn upon itself to reveal the destruction of Dwarf’s fair valley. His heart grew heavy as he saw the dark shroud of Cakgor’s passing, settling over the house of Dwarf, and the narrow escape of Froghorn, son of Fairenaus Fairingay. He promised him self to lessen his scolding when next he met his impetuous young friend, but even a mild rebuke from the elder of Grimwald was one counted harsh among those who knew him. He watched further, relieved to see what instructions Froghorn had given Otter and Bear, and saw their almost fatal adventure with the two werewolves.
“Well, at least that’s done with an inkling of sense, my good Fairingay,” he said aloud, reaching out his hands to warm them on the now sleeping flames. He replaced the cooling sticks of the sacred trees back into the folds of his heavy winter cloak, and prepared to leave the valley. He whistled twice in an ancient fashion for An’yim and while waiting for the great steed to reach him, he once more went through the broken ruins of Dwarf’s house.
“I suppose I should leave a sign I was here,” he mused aloud, “should any of them return,” and thus laying, he motioned with his eyes, made a slight movement of his hand, and there appeared upon the frozen air before him a brilliant silver bell shaped in the fashion of a falcon at rest, and upon one of the finely carven wings was his sign,
It was an instrument soundless to all ears except those of the Circle, and he would be able to hear its chime anywhere upon Atlanton Earth if rung by a hand in need of him. He placed the bell upon Dwarf’s broken sideboard where any would be sure to find it, and hearing An’yim’s neigh of glad greetings, he went out to the noble horse.
“Well met once more, brave An’yim. I seem always to be upon errands these days.”
“Well met, Master. My wind is strong, and I await your journey,” said An’yim politely.
Greyfax stroked the great silver-maned neck, mounted, and the two were away, leaving a silent breath behind that ruffled the snow’s sleep, and the tiny silver bell, all that was left ever to betray his presence there.
Raven, flying high over the ruined forest in search of supper for the nestful of ugly, open black beaks, circled twice over the burned settlement of the three friends. He came this way from long habit, and had rummaged through the three dwellings often, occasionally finding crumbs of long-left dwarf cake or otter tuck, so he swooped down to have one more quick look before returning to the wood where he now rested, away over the valley rim, where living things still grew and one could find a decent tree to build in.
As he glided slowly down to a landing over Dwarf’s house, a glittering eye winked up at him through the burned and fallen thatch.
“Now what in Crow’s croak could that be?” he muttered, and landing on a broken beam, he saw the tantalizing, shining form of the bell. “Strike my tail-feathers,” he cawed, and fluttered down to look more closely at the glittering object.
“A goshawk, if I ever laid eyes on one.” He hopped around, carefully inspecting his prize, and put his beak to the small, finely turned handle. “Weighs no more than one of my young uns,” he said, surprised. “No good to eat, but it’ll make the missus happy, I guess. Fool woman always filling up my bed with rocks and such. ‘They’re fancy,’ she says, while I have to toss around all night without my sleep. Ah well, maybe if I bring her this trinket she’ll get rid of the other stuff. I suppose I could sleep easier on this.”
And so saying, Raven hoisted the light, fine bell in his beak and flapped loudly away to show his treasure to his wife,
Greyfax, at the moment leading An’yim to his elfin stable in Cypher, did not hear the chime of the bell as it was dropped down into Raven’s soft nest far away, beyond the valley of Dwarf, and beyond all eyes who might have welcomed and been strengthened by its sight.