CHAPTER 6 #3
“On the bright side, there are a bunch of caverns and tunnel systems along the borders of the forest. So, if we are dropped in the middle of it, our safest bet is to make it to one of the caves. That’s all I’ve got for you guys today.
Tomorrow, I’ll start researching the summits.
” Moric shut his notepad and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
Anama grabbed her notes next. “Notable plants indigenous to Lomask include sloughberry, impid root, willowbark trees, frostlis leaf, and several species of flowers.” She pointed out an image of each item in a textbook.
“Impid root is fantastic in the treatment of open wounds and encephalitis, a condition affecting the tissues of the brain. And sloughberry, most interestingly, is not poisonous to mortals. We shouldn’t eat it in large quantities as it might cause some…
distressing bowel movements, but small quantities should be fine. ”
“Bowel movements?” Lana raised a brow. “What, like diarrhea?”
Anama cringed. “Precisely.”
“Gods above. Please continue.”
“Willowbark trees are only found on the summits of Lomask. The bark is useful for its antibiotic properties when properly combined with a mixture of fennel and hot water. A species of wild nanuuq is native to Lomask and reside near the snow caves, which should be avoided at all costs.”
“I was going to talk about that tomorrow…” Moric muttered, his eyes closed.
Anama placed her notepad and textbook onto the table.
“Thanks. Is it my turn now?” I asked her.
She nodded, and I reached for my own stack of notes. “You can’t really speak about the history of Lortan without the history of Tarlor – the two are interwoven so closely.”
Anama nodded again, urging me to continue.
I scanned my notes and the open book on my lap, eventually settling on a passage that summarized everything quite nicely.
I read from the page, “‘Tarlor was once the land of the gods, and they roamed free upon its soil until they grew tired of only each other’s company. In a blaze of power, the gods joined to cleave Tarlor into the islands we have today. They set their home beyond Dorisport, in Tuscan. It is said that the only way to enter Tuscan is through the Amber Temple.’ But, of course, no one knows exactly how that’s done,” I added as an aside.
I scanned the next paragraph. “‘The fae – distant ancestors of the sprites – were created first, by the goddess of life, Winipyr. But they were wicked and vain, and sought to challenge the gods. This resulted in their extermination by Azrael. Winipyr breathed life into the elven next, carving them in the image of the gods, with beauty, grace and power, hoping they would prove better than her first attempt. But the elven, with their power and magic, were irrepressible. Even though they did not seek to challenge the gods, they could not be controlled. So, the gods sent the upper elven to Lortan and the lower elven, those with less magic, to Greyhaven, thereby creating a class system and a natural hierarchy.’”
“Do you think they have a good relationship, the upper and lower elven?” Moric asked, curiosity in his voice.
“The lower elven are at an obvious power disadvantage, but I understand there are regular meetings held between Kilian and the lower elven representative to address any concerns,” Anama volunteered.
“Right. Sorry, Lirah,” Moric said. “Continue.”
I consulted the passage again. “‘Lastly, Winipyr created the mortals in the image of the elven, but with no power or magic. Mortals were designed to be a duller, less potent version that would be more malleable to the wishes of the gods. And to avoid the stain of elven influence on her perfect creation, Winipyr forbade mortals to ever set foot on elven land, or they would remain there forever.’”
“So that’s why we can’t leave,” Lana breathed. “It’s not an elven command. It’s the gods’ will.”
I nodded. “‘Each of the thirteen gods bestowed their power upon Tarlor, to ensure mortals and elven alike never rose beyond their station.’” I skimmed my notes.
“‘Pain from Osiren, deceit from Eros, storms and downpour from Fury, cruelty from Kadax, war from Aerie, and death from Azrael.’ We were also granted gifts from the gods, to placate us and keep us praying to them. ‘Luck and fortune from Adonitis, art from Solinia, pleasure from Mahleia, the hunt from Roriola and bonds from Toriosys. Only Primus reserved his power, since Winipyr believed that if the God of Curses bestowed his gift upon Tarlor, we would destroy each other wholly.’”
I slid my notepad onto the desk, exhausted and parched.
Lana sat up straighter in her seat, and I thought she was getting ready to regurgitate her own information about the Mortal Trials, but her gaze was fixed on something over my shoulder.
I turned, just as a cloyingly sweet smell filled my nostrils.
A scent I’d last smelled on the ship that had brought me here.
My vision went hazy, my limbs slackening as the book propped on my lap tumbled to the ground. All I saw before darkness swallowed me was a pair of gleaming silver eyes.