Don't forget: You can log in with your Play.net account

Search for the Truth (short story): Difference between revisions

The official GemStone IV encyclopedia.
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Line 2,928: Line 2,928:
Stepping through the wrought iron gate, she paused at the reflecting pool in the middle of the courtyard and gazed at her own reflection in the pellucid water. Not one for vanity as a rule, she had taken to catching glimpses of herself in a mirror lately and noticing that the faint text usually only visible on the backs of her hands was now a little more prominent on her face. As she pondered her appearance, fluffy linden blossoms drifted in on the breeze and settled lightly on the surface. Rohese tilted her head and smiled down at herself as it seemed to give the appearance of being framed in a halo of pale golden flowers.
Stepping through the wrought iron gate, she paused at the reflecting pool in the middle of the courtyard and gazed at her own reflection in the pellucid water. Not one for vanity as a rule, she had taken to catching glimpses of herself in a mirror lately and noticing that the faint text usually only visible on the backs of her hands was now a little more prominent on her face. As she pondered her appearance, fluffy linden blossoms drifted in on the breeze and settled lightly on the surface. Rohese tilted her head and smiled down at herself as it seemed to give the appearance of being framed in a halo of pale golden flowers.


A koi erupted from the surface of the pool to feed on an unsuspecting damselfly, disturbing the serenity of the reflected image and startling her. Disappearing beneath a lily pad, it left behind a series of ripples and set the lilies to bobbing up and down. She sat on edge of the pool and trailed her fingers through the water. Her mood had been melancholy ever since Mirkk had shared the news that her grandmother was, in fact, still alive. She should be pleased, surely, but all she could dwell on was how her grandfather had lied to her for all these years.
A koi erupted from the surface of the pool to feed on an unsuspecting damselfly, disturbing the serenity of the reflected image and startling her. Disappearing beneath a lily pad, it left behind a series of ripples and set the lilies to bobbing up and down. She sat on edge of the pool and trailed her fingers through the gently undulating water. Her mood had been melancholy ever since Mirkk had shared the news that her grandmother was, in fact, still alive. She should be pleased, surely, but all she could dwell on was how her grandfather had lied to her for all these years.


The trees had been trying to tell her - warning her about deceit - but she had foolishly brushed it aside in her own selfish pursuit for answers. Even her own mother had cautioned her to be careful what she wished for. How could she have been so naïve! No wonder she couldn’t find a memorial tree: there wasn't one! But then the dendroglyphs revealed on both the willow and the dogwood had referred to a linden tree.
The trees had been trying to tell her - warning her about deceit - but she had foolishly brushed it aside in her own selfish pursuit for answers. Even her own mother had cautioned her to be careful what she wished for. How could she have been so naïve! No wonder she couldn’t find a memorial tree: there wasn't one! But then the dendroglyphs revealed on both the willow and the dogwood had referred to a linden tree.

Revision as of 12:08, 4 January 2022

This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: Search for the Truth

Author: Rohese Bayvel

Family Tree

First published on the 9th day of Olaesta in the year 5120

Following on from Eternal Knowledge, this journal is a repository of vignettes including insights into Rohese's continued story and her search for the truth about her family and, in particular, the mysteries of the Codex Ista.

Prologue

Extract from Rohese's diary, entry dated the first day in the month of Lormesta in the year 5120. 

I am standing at a crossroads.  

I could choose to ignore everything that has happened to me over the past year and continue with the mundane rituals of my life - rising at dawn and humbly carrying out my duties and responsibilities until the sun sets, only to repeat it all again the next day - but taking the easy road back means I remain this Rohese forever.  

To either side of me are enticing alternatives or slight deviations where little is fundamentally different in my life but there are opportunities for growth; where I remain a widow and fully embrace a spiritual existence.

Or ... I take a step forward and then another, into the unknown.  I choose to love again and, with strength and guidance, I search for the truth about my heritage.

Glowbark

Rohese's great-great grandmother on her father's side was of Veythorne descent. It made perfect sense that she should start her search for the truth in the grounds of the nearby family estate, and, more specifically, at the glowbark tree where her ashes had been scattered.

Rohese had recently spent a few weeks at her grandfather's house learning all there was to know about this remarkable lady. Born in 2956, Rahese Versillian (nee Veythorne) rose to become a respected Loremaster with a reputation for her rather forthright opinions on questionable study practices. Her own field of research focused predominantly on the Elanthian Moons and her only published work entitled "Where Sacred Beauty meets Divine Power" became standard text for many young academics and students of selenology. At the height of her career, Rahese served as an advisor to the Ta'Illistim royal court before stepping down to give birth to her daughter, Miramie, in the year 3464. Little is written about her after that and Rohese had to rely on household accounts to determine the date of her death and manner of her subsequent burial rite.

Whilst Rahese chose not to have a memorial tree planted in her honor, she nonetheless wished to have her memories preserved by binding herself to the familial glowbark tree and Rohese was eager to find out more from this potential source of information. She felt that Rahese held the key to learning more about the effaced writing in her grandmother's book and the peculiar text that manifested itself beneath her own skin from time-to-time; not to mention the puzzling lines of ink that permanently marked her spine.

The Lady Elaejia Silithyr had kindly agreed to be her companion and assist in the matter as she was familiar with the spiritual link between elves and trees. The intention was to commune with the glowbark in an attempt to glean some knowledge about the original source of the book and its mysteries.

A secret hope of Rohese's was that this would also enable them to form a better bond, given that she was the cousin to her own beloved Aendir. Rohese felt that she had not made a very good impression on Elaejia at the outset so was eager to rectify that as soon as possible.

I must remember not to be too effusive!

Rohese murmured this mantra to herself as she headed towards the Green in the hopes of finding Elaejia that afternoon.

The Glowbark Tree

Sycamore

Cradling the spiny dark green leaf in her hand, Rohese was reminded of her recent walk in the Veythorne Manor Gardens with the Lady Elaejia Silithyr. Their aim had been to commune with the ancient glowbark tree but, on route, this leaf had fluttered to the ground at their feet. Rohese was not generally superstitious but the leaf did seem to be a portent of some kind and it had played on her mind since.

The vision she had received that same day – of a carved wooden pendant with the image of a dogwood blossom – had resulted in her visiting her grandfather again to seek further answers. If anything, her time spent with him had generated more questions but she had returned home with a pale pink leaf pendant that had once belonged to her grandmother; and her great-grandmother, Miramie, before her.

Miramie was the daughter of Jhonuil and Rahese Versillian, born in 3464 and especially loved by both her parents. She was particularly close to her father and he had never truly recovered from her untimely death at the tender age of 347. Knowing that his only child was dying, Jhonuil had helped her to select a seedpod for a memorial tree and subsequently bind herself to it. He dutifully planted the seedpod in the grounds of the Veythorne Manor on the day of her death in 3811. At the same time, he ensured that both he and Rahese had made arrangements for their own memorials so that – in death - they would be reunited with their beloved daughter.

Jhonuil only outlived his wife, Rahese, by a year but in that time he had arranged for her ashes to be scattered around the glowbark tree and, in turn, bonded with a sycamore seed that he duly planted in the same garden shortly before his own death; a sturdy tree had grown over the years laden with deep green foliage.

Unbeknownst to Rohese, the leaf she was now holding was of that same tree and, today, she planned to pay it a visit to see what she could learn from it.

The Sycamore Tree

Dogwood (by Day)

The resemblance was uncanny. Gazing at her own reflection in the mirror and back at the portrait of Miramie Anuviel in her hand, Rohese could barely tell the difference. The portrait had accompanied a recent letter from her grandfather in which he had attempted to answer some of her questions about the family.

He had shared his memories of Miramie's untimely death and how Rohese’s grandmother, Sahese, had grieved for a year. During that time, she had visited a dogwood sapling in the grounds of Veythorne Manor each day to tend it. Nothing was ever said about the cause of Miramie's death but he had been conscious of hushed conversations between his wife and her own grandmother, Rahese, that had ceased abruptly whenever he had entered the room. It had also struck him as odd that Miramie's husband, Astania, never talked about her; perhaps his memories were too painful.

Memories; so powerful yet so fragile. Rohese was reminded of her own recent foray into them and how she too had recalled hushed conversations during her childhood.

Her grandfather's letter had gone on to explain how fond Sahese was of the dogwood blossom pendant he had given Rohese during her last visit and how he understood why she had gifted it to Elaejia. He had closed by asking after Aendir and requesting that they both visit again soon.

Rohese folded the letter and slipped it into her journal. Annotating the page with the day's date, she added a few lines: 

"Dogwood.  A tree of renewal and beginnings.
It begins with me finding Miramie’s dogwood tree."

The Dogwood Tree

Oak

"The mighty oak is considered the most powerful and sacred of trees.  It holds the true alignment of balance, purpose and strength."

Rohese traced an annotated illustration of an oak tree with her finger and resumed reading. She wanted to learn as much as she could before venturing out in search of such a tree. Elaejia had sent word that she was free that afternoon so the search for the truth could resume.

She reached for the genealogical notes she had made on her great-grandfather, Astania Anuviel. Born in Ta'Illistim in 3342, he had apparently fallen in love with Miramie at first sight and they had married in the year 3679. Rohese's grandfather had spoken about the strength Astania had shown after the unfortunate death of Miramie in 3811 and how his life had been given new purpose in bringing up their daughter, Sahese, alone. Astania had doted over her and it had taken all of Earion's persuasive skills to get his permission for he and Sahese to wed.

It made sense to try and find his memorial tree after the visit to Miramie’s had yielded an acorn. As tenuous as it seemed, Rohese was sure it was a message and everything pointed towards an oak tree. She had a good idea where to start.

Picking up the acorn - a little wrinkled in places but still whole - she slipped it into her bag and reached for the smooth flat pebble that it had been sitting on. She had been using it as a paperweight on her desk for over a year, still unsure of the reason why her grandfather had sent it to her via his familiar. Worn smooth, the pale grey pebble sat comfortably in the palm of the hand. Roughly ovoid in shape, it featured a small natural hole near the edge, just big enough to look through. For no particular reason, other than she had no idea what else to do with it, she dropped it into her bag along with the acorn and gathered her notes together.

Now she just needed to find something to offer to the tree.

The Oak Tree

Willow

"The willow is known for being the tree most associated with the moon, water, and wisdom.  It is the tree of enchantment and communing with her during a full moon can increase the potency of insights to be gained.  Her energy puts us in touch with our feelings and deep emotions, and it is the ability of the willow to help us to express them.  Approached with respect, willow is a wonderful teacher and will whisper to us if we are still and willing to listen."

A lilac-scented breeze lifted the thin green willow leaf from her desk, causing it to drift lazily to the floor. Rohese bent down to retrieve it and placed it back on top of the letter she had been reading. She had spent the last few days going through a stack of old documents and had stumbled across some correspondence that had given her pause for thought. She had always believed that her father, Tymian Bayvel, had been laid to rest in the family mausoleum when he died in 5103; she recalled leaving a mournbloom there all those years ago. Apparently, that was not the case and, while she was away from home, those managing the Bayvel affairs had followed different instructions. Instead, her father's ashes had been scattered beneath a willow tree in the Veythorne Gardens, in keeping with his recent forebear's private wishes.

Reaching for one of the open books left to the side, she continued to read about the lore of the willow. 

"The willow is also known as a tree of dreaming and inspiration.  It is sacred to poets, for the sound of the wind through the willow is said to have a potent influence on the mind.  There is a darker side, however, for it is associated with grief and death.  Elven folklore advises that to plant a young willow and watch it grow, would ease the passage of your soul at death. It is believed that the spirit of the dead will rise up into the sapling, which will grow and retain the essence of the departed one."

Rohese was reminded of her recent commune with an ancient willow in Vornavis and the three leaves gifted to her that night; one of which now lay on her desk, the other two having been gifted to her poet. That particular willow had imparted its wisdom beneath the full Liabo moon but she was still unsure what it had all meant.

The drapes at the open window lifted on another errant breeze bringing with it whisper...her name, only this time it wasn't her beloved’s familiar voice, it was something else. Another willow was calling to her and she needed to find out why. Could her father have something to say to her?

The Willow Tree (Part 1)

Sealing the letter to her grandfather, she added it to the pile of completed correspondence. She had struggled to find the words to explain recent events so opted instead to simply inform him that she would visit soon. Her walk with Elaejia had resulted in more questions than answers so, as her friend had suggested, she would spend some time with the tree. Besides, it would be a good opportunity to start documenting her thoughts on their sentience.

Reaching for another sheet of parchment, she penned a brief note and rose to her feet. The dawn chorus outside her window had signalled it was time to start her day. Stepping quietly into the next room, she kissed Mirkk gently on the forehead and watched him sleep for a few moments before placing the note beside him.

Before leaving the Veythorne Gardens, Rohese had harvested a few of the newer branches from the willow tree, taking care to only cut what she needed and giving thanks. She had stored away most of the prepared bark, stems, and leaves from those cuttings, to allow them to dry, but kept a little back to make a fresh tisane. She could smell it brewing as she walked down the stairs, the faint scent of wintergreen perfuming the air.

Pouring a cup and taking a sip of the bitter herbal infusion, Rohese noticed faint lines of text fading in and out beneath the pale skin on the back of her hands. Elaejia had been right about the tea having the desired effect; let's see if she was also right about sitting with the willow.

Sat by the side of the stream, Rohese was cloaked in a thicket of willow. Its protective branches extended out over the thin stream, providing shade and shelter to birds and insects alike. Deer had grazed on the delicate spring growth but the canopy was still bushy with an abundance of thin green leaves on spindly boughs. The sound of bees and other insects feasting on pollen and nectar hummed over the trickling sound of the water and she marvelled at the tranquillity of this hallowed space.

The Willow Tree (Part 2)

Cottonwood

There had been too many distractions lately and Rohese was conscious that she had failed to follow up on any of the revelations from her time spent with the trees in the Veythorne Gardens. A sense of guilt washed over her as she remembered her promise to Elaejia and, more specifically, to the oak that they had communed with back in the spring.

At the time she had been gifted with a vision of her grandmother writing in the very same book that had started this whole search for the truth. The vision had been brought to an abrupt end by a blizzard of cottonwood catkins that reminded Rohese of the tree she used to play under as a child. The same tree that had been revealed through a loresong associated with her mother's pendant. Had her mother been trying to tell her something about the Bayvel family and its arcane legacy?

Rohese lifted the pavonated leather-bound book from her lap and opened it once more. The faint text beneath her skin shifted slightly as if acknowledging this simple action. The text rarely moved these days but she was always aware of its presence. Mirkk had seemingly grown accustomed to it now; he had barely mentioned it since she had first shared it with him. She sometimes caught him gazing at it as it rippled up her arm or idly tracing it with his finger after they had made love. It amused her that after such intimate moments, emotive and explicit words would randomly reveal themselves only to fade almost immediately as if hiding in embarrassment.

Turning a page in the book, Rohese re-read the all too familiar and innocuous paragraph on conversation in polite society. It seemed so tiresome to her these days. It was the hidden meaning to the book that still eluded her and she slammed it shut in frustration.

A quick glance out of the window reminded her that her impatience and black mood was largely due to the inclement weather and nothing more. Mirkk was running a few errands and wasn't likely to be back for a few hours. Dare she slip out now without him noticing? Recalling their conversation earlier that day, she resolved to be back before he was to avoid causing him any further concern.

Pulling the hood of her houppelande up over her head, she quickly slipped outside and headed towards the city-proper. The cottonwood tree was located just behind the Bayvel Manse in High Park and Rohese hurried towards it. The rain made the cobbles beneath her feet slippery but she navigated them with dexterity and soon reached her destination. The large tree loomed over the greensward; its silvery white bark now considerably darker in places with deep fissures indicating its age. It was too late in the year for catkins but Rohese recalled many warm spring days spent chasing her sister around this very tree amid a flurry of white seeds.

Ignoring the storm, Rohese lowered herself into the wet grass to kneel before the tree. She felt there was no need to say anything - just being here was enough - and she was soon rewarded with the faint echoes of children’s laughter and the sound of her mother's voice filling her thoughts.

"Be careful what you wish for, meldaiel."

Time passed and Rohese was reluctant to leave for fear of breaking this longed-for connection with her mother, Aenor Bayvel. There had been no further whispers but a single glossy leaf had floated down to land in her hand. A solitary tear traced its way down Rohese's cheek but was soon lost in the raindrops that continued their stinging attack against her.

Enough distractions. Rohese whispered into the wind, "I am coming home to you, melmenya."

Dogwood (by Night)

The storms that had beset Elanthia for the whole of Jastatos had given way to misty autumn mornings and cloudless star-filled skies. The Lady of the Green watched over the night with her stellar stalk of wheat as Mirkk and Rohese entered the Veythorne Manor grounds under the cover of darkness. It was the perfect night. Liabo sat in the western sky with her face glowing fully on the world, her stark brilliance illuminating the way with tiny fireflies adding their golden glow across the cobblestones.

Not that they really needed any help in navigating their way to the Gardens; Rohese could probably find the dogwood tree blindfolded now, having spent many hours just sitting beneath it. Growing atop a small hill in the southwest corner was her great-grandmother's tree. Although it was not particularly large, it made up for its lack of grandeur with its delicate beauty. Its branches arched off in every direction to form a cloud of pale pink leaves that fluttered like feathered wings in the cool night air.

Rohese was hoping for some answers. She had learned from her commune with a nearby oak some months ago that there could possibly be dendroglyphs on this tree too that could only be seen under certain conditions and she was sure those would be met tonight.

Cool drafts of air caused the dark violet windflowers to shiver briefly and Rohese wrapped her robe tightly around her as she knelt among their velvety petals. The grass was damp beneath her knees but her focus was entirely on the familiar dogwood. A flurry of pale pink leaves rose into the air and swirled around her with soft whispered words of welcome.

The quiet hoot of an owl could be heard from somewhere above. Mirkk seated himself nearby and chuckled, reminded of something amusing that had occurred earlier that day.

Rohese sat in stillness for some time, letting her mind wander over all that she had learned from the trees over the last year or so. She had come a long way in her search for the truth but there was still so much she didn’t understand. Lifting her eyes to the shadowy pink canopy overhead, Mirkk watched in silent amazement as the milky glow of the moon coalesced around her, bathing her in a soft wash of white radiance. A gentle breeze stirred her hair, causing it to shimmer with an ethereal light and, in turn, revealing the clear outline of dendroglyphs scarring the bark of the tree.

Mirkk quickly rose to his feet to examine the marks. The silvery gleam had illuminated a crescent moon above a series of elven runic symbols, not dissimilar to the marks Rohese had shown him on the willow. Tracing his finger over the strange indentations, Mirkk broke the silence to ask, "Can you read them?"

Almost as if in a trance, Rohese slowly reached inside her robe for her seeing stone. Mirkk noticed that the faint text beneath the skin on the back of her hand was clearly visible in the moonlight. He could make out that the words were elven but he wasn't able to translate them. Peering through the hole in her stone, Rohese began to read the symbols displayed before her: 

The wind, with a sway and rustle,
Toss'd the leaves of the linden tree,
And, deep in the silvery shadow,
A treasure was shown to me.

Just as she lowered the stone into her lap, the symbols began to fade away and the incandescence around her slowly dissipated.

Mirkk stared at his wife. He barely recognised her as her hair was now pure white with golden highlights. A white halo encircled her misty grey eyes and her skin had an almost luminous quality to it.

The Songs of Glimae'den

Liabo was a gleaming silver-white orb hanging low in the sky, exceptionally large and pale. Beams of moonlight turned the pond aglow like molten metal; beguiling in its languid, silent beauty. Long, graceful branches of willow swayed gently back and forth on a barely palpable wind. Under the wavering light of the moon, they resembled ghosts dragging their distended arms along the ground. The silence was omnipresent, broken only by the lone hoot of a saw-whet owl.

Rohese paused for a moment before entering the hallowed space. Bathed in the ethereal light of the full moon, she turned her face upwards and closed her eyes. It was then that she heard the singing; soft and clear on the cool breeze.

She had spent the week wandering the beautiful town and ancient woodlands of Cysaegir with Mirkk; examining the ruins of long-abandoned elven dwellings and attempting to build trust with the trees. In the light of day, the air had been filled with so many distractions - the susurration of the leafy canopy and clamour of birdsong - but her commune with the willow had brought with it a sense of peace and a desire to return. Her intuition had told her that she needed to come back under the light of a full moon and she hadn't been disappointed.

Haunting the night air were beautiful, dulcet voices singing in perfect harmony. They sang of love and loss, of golden leaves falling in the wind and glimmering silver starlight. Sad strains of regret and grief blended into lullabies and choral chants.

Rohese wasn't sure how long she had stood there listening. The calm of the clear night had also brought with it a heavy dew and the hem of her robe was now sodden. Barely noticing, she stepped out of the moon-silhouetted stands of birch and willow and the lamentations ceased; all she could hear was the soothing, babbling rush of the nearby waterfall.

The collective endeavour of the trees had brought her here; they remembered Glimae'den! She made a silent promise to return and headed back to the Naerine Hostelry.

~☆ ^☽ ☆~

Mirkk sat up to find Rohese standing at the foot of their bed. The hem of her robe was soaking wet and her feet were stained with mud and grass. She seemed to be oblivious to the fact that she was shivering from the cold. Grabbing one of the blankets, he quickly rose to wrap it around her shoulders.

Rohese awoke with a start.

Interlude

Part I

"With freedom, flowers, books, and the moon, who could not be perfectly happy?" ~ Oscar Wilde

Earion was a proud elf and especially proud of his family. Second of his name, Earion was born in Ta'Illistim in 3712 ME and could trace the Bayvel line back to the Undead War. He had known there was something special about Sahese the moment he had met her. A descendant of the Veythorne family, she had been a respected member of Illistim society with a keen love of literature; something he now recognised in their grand-daughter, Rohese. Also bearing a striking resemblance to Sahese, it was hardly surprising that he had grown very close to Rohese over the years since his wife's death and that of her parents.

Earion had married Sahese in the year 3807, shortly after they had met, but it was only a few years ago that he had learned a little more about his elusive wife that had troubled him; much of her past was still a mystery though. He was growing more concerned as Rohese had become curious about her too and seemed eager to find answers. It all stemmed from a book that Sahese had given her. Earion had noticed the faint text appearing on Rohese's skin from time-to-time. It reminded him of the nights that he had caught his wife writing in that same book. She had been unaware of his presence as he cautiously watched her make notations on its creamy vellum pages, then murmur a low incantation and wave her opal-ringed hand across it. He would check the book the next day only to find the pages blank. When the book had been gifted to their grand-daughter, he noticed that it was filled with anodyne text on etiquette and propriety. He had yet to speak to Rohese about it and was unsure if he should even mention it.

Standing at the library window, Earion watched Mirkk bend to pick a flower from the garden and tuck it behind Rohese's ear. He liked Mirkk. They were clearly very much in love and - knowing Rohese's predicament with regard to children – he had put aside his initial reservations about their marriage as he simply wanted her to have the freedom to be happy. He was troubled though. Last night, he had caught her sleep walking. Taking a stroll around the house before retiring to bed, he had noticed Rohese standing down by the edge of the lake in just a shift. The Liabo moon was full, casting a pale silvery glow across the languid water and she appeared to be just staring at its reflection.

Earion had managed to coax her back inside and to her chambers where she woke with a start. Whilst it was odd that she seemed to have no recollection of where she had been, he was more perturbed by the fact that her hair was pure white with golden highlights. A white halo encircled her misty grey eyes and her skin had an almost luminous quality to it. He remembered how he had found Sahese in exactly the same circumstances.

He made a mental note to speak to Mirkk the next day when they had plans to go fishing.

Part II

There were precisely twenty-two linden trees in the grove on her grandfather's estate. A known favoured spot of her grandmother's, Rohese had spent the morning wandering alone among the graceful deciduous ornamentals in the hope of finding some answers. As she meticulously inspected the trunk of each tree, she recalled the mysterious passage of text recently revealed in the grey bark of a dogwood. 

The wind, with a sway and rustle,
Toss'd the leaves of the linden tree,
And, deep in the silvery shadow,
A treasure was shown to me.

Finding no obvious signs of dendroglyphs on these age-old trees, she lowered herself with an irritated sigh to the ground. Kneeling on a carpet of dewy grass and fallen leaves, she gazed up at the glorious yellow canopy overhead. Fall had cast its enchantment, each tree now bearing a golden coronet of feathery foliage that would soon be carried away by the seasonal winds. The babbling sound of water in the nearby river added to the soothing autumnal ambience broken only by an occasional woodpecker and mourning dove.

Rohese pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She felt an eerie sense of detachment from the expansive house in the distance. Set in a narrow dell on the edge of ancient woodland, the ancestral home was currently shrouded in a silvery grey mist that had yet to disperse in the weak sunlight. It was a magical place, filled with many fond memories of time spent with loved ones yet tinged with the poignancy of their loss.

Here, among the trees, she suddenly missed Mirkk, wanting to hear his voice and share her thoughts with him. He was somewhere in the mist on the other side of the house, fishing with her grandfather and she longed to see him. Rohese inhaled the sweet, soothing fragrance of the trees and tried to overcome her apprehension; she would have to wait until this evening to find comfort in his arms. As if sensing her unease, the leaves of the trees rustled with a dry, sorrowful sound; the musical psithurism of the foliage lending a doleful counterpoint to the melodic song from the birds concealed within. A shiver ran down Rohese's spine. Glancing down, she noticed the text moving in an agitated state beneath the skin on the back of her hands.

"What are you trying to tell me, Amma?" Rohese cried out in frustration, yet no answer came.

Part III: Fishermen's Conversations

(Added with permission of the original author.)
Crossing the entry hall, Mirkk gave the composed head of household a polite nod. The rest of the staff had been scurrying about that morning, acutely aware of Rohese’s habit of rising early. They were, however, surprised to see Mirkk up and about at such an hour. He caught Rohese briefly with her teacup in hand as he was on his way to meet her grandfather Earion. Their interaction was brief—much briefer than he preferred—but he did not wish to keep his host waiting. Rohese informed him of her intention to walk the grounds and he mentioned to her that he would meet her later.

The two men left as the fog was still thick and made the manor house emerge like an island from the sea. It reminded Mirkk of Caligos Isle and that he had Earion in mind when he purchased the ball of indigo fishing line there. Mirkk knew the land surrounding the house was beautiful, with its fields, groves, and vineyard, all surrounded in the outlands by thick forests. The last time he had visited, it was summer and the first leaf had yet to turn color, much less fall. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of the foliage this morning, but the grey shroud kept it from him.

The two didn't speak as they made their way through the mist down to the edge of the lake. It wasn't uncommon for the two to remain quiet as they fished. Mirkk didn't take it as a slight, or that Earion was perturbed by something. As they waited in silence, a raven quorked somewhere off to the west, likely watching from the branch of some bare tree.

Mirkk looked over at Earion who consistently watched his line. Mirkk returned his gaze to his own line. Finally, Earion broke the silence.

"There is a striking similarity between Rohese and my dear Sahese," he said quietly as to not disturb the fish that seemed not to be participating in that morning's event. Mirkk again looked at Earion, who was staring at him. With what seemed almost like a sympathetic nod to Mirkk, he turned back to the fishing line.

"Rohese has stated as much," Mirkk replied slowly as he began watching his line again, trying to be measured in his response. He wasn't sure what Earion was trying to tell him with that bit of information.

"First, I should probably tell you something about my grand-daughter," Earion continued soberly. The tone was what caught Mirkk's attention, though he said nothing, only waited for Earion to continue. Earion's line dipped and darted slightly in the water before ceasing abruptly, and he watched it keenly. After a pregnant pause, Earion added, "Last night, I found her standing in this very spot and simply staring into the lake. She was sleepwalking."

Mirkk turned his head and looked at Earion. This wasn't the first time she had sleepwalked, although it was a relatively new occurrence. Mirkk opened his mouth to speak just as Earion's fishing line began to dart wildly in the water. Earion pulled back on his fishing rod slightly, watching it curve as the line continued its excited dance across the water. Mirkk set his own fishing rod down and purposefully moved closer to Earion. "Go ahead and gather the basket and net," Earion stated in a tone that was both confident and eager.

As Mirkk picked up the net and basket, Earion leaned forward, easing the tension on both rod and line momentarily, allowing the fish a bit of freedom to swim and tire itself. A massive largemouth bass broke the surface, curving its olive-hued scaled body and slapping the water with its tail before disappearing again below the surface. Earion leaned back again and pulled hard on the fishing rod. Mirkk watched the rod bend and wondered it was going to break. Seeing the line move as close to shore as it likely ever would, Mirkk seized the opportunity and splashed his feet into the water, grabbing the line with his hand and hoisting up, displaying once again the speckled trophy bass at the end of Earion’s fishing line. Mirkk shoved the wood-handled fishing net under and scooped up the fish. He turned to face Earion with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Earion laughed at Mirkk's reaction, and nodded approvingly at the bass as he took the line in his hand, pulled the fish out of the net and worked the hook its mouth. He held it up to appraise it with a grin of his own.

"Will you take it back to the house and have it prepared?" Mirkk asked.

"No, no," stated Earion, "It's catch and release today. It is quite a magnificent creature, though, isn't it?" He looked back at Mirkk, and Mirkk couldn't help but feel like Earion was once again studying him.

Mirkk opened his mouth in response. He didn't want to press, but he also wanted to ask a pointed question to continue the conversation they were having just moments ago, but the opportunity was lost. That conversation was over. Instead, he simply replied, "Quite so," as he smiled and nodded admiringly.

The fog never lifted, and the conversation never continued. For the rest of the morning, they were just two men enjoying fishing.

Part IV: Secrets and Lies

Earion paced up and down the hallway outside the library, his thoughts tumbling over each other in an attempt to make sense of them. Rohese was inside, no doubt engrossed in perusing the shelves for more books to borrow. There was so much he needed to tell his grand-daughter but how do you break it to someone you love that you have been keeping a secret? Earion was conscious that his conversation with Mirkk that morning had been cut short; he should have grasped the opportunity when he had it but the moment had passed too quickly and it was not something that could simply be picked up again.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away; he couldn't face her. Earion had found solace in his grand-daughter over the last decade and he wasn't about to jeopardise that. Perhaps, with her own newly found happiness, she’d soon tire of her search for the truth about her grandmother. He could only hope.

Reaching the end of the hall, Earion was suddenly faced with Mirkk at the foot of the stairs. They exchanged a cursory greeting and Mirkk took a few steps forward but Earion paused. Glancing back over his shoulder, he spoke quietly.

"Mirkk."

Mirkk turned, giving Earion a warm smile.

"Come back soon, we have much to talk about." Earion continued, his brow furrowed.

Mirkk nodded slowly, not really sure what to say in response. It didn't seem the right time to press him for more information. He watched Earion mount the stairs slowly and then continued on to the library in search of his wife.

Magnolia

Stepping through the ornate ivory gate, Rohese was immediately greeted by a flurry of leaves. Momentarily distracted from her original intention, she paused to watch the display and listen. Something was amiss. Rarely had the magnolia ever engaged with her on her many excursions into the Veythorne Manor grounds but they clearly wanted her attention this morning. The trees continued to weep forth a constant stream of verdant teardrops as she reached out for one of the tapered green leaves caught on a strong current of wind.

Her senses now heightened, she could hear a cacophony of whispers from the forest of trees before her. Warnings of secrets and sorrow, of deception and grief. Feathery pale pink and ghostly blue leaves blended with the jade and dark green foliage, enveloping her in a zephyr of radiant colour. She turned in a slow circle, allowing the leaves to flutter around her and closed her eyes.

She whispered a response into the wind and felt the air grow still. Gently brushing her cool silver hair away from her eyes, she tucked it behind her ear and gazed in wonder. The area was shrouded in a haze of pale crimson and deep purple as the leaves of the surrounding magnolia trees continued to whisper quietly to one another but eventually settled into an occasional shiver.

A nightingale alighted on one of the branches and trilled a haunting, soft melody in the darkness. Rohese glanced up at it and smiled. A lone tapered deep green leaf slowly floated down from the boughs of the nearby tree and swirled about before landing upon the cobblestones. She bent down to retrieve it, along with a few of the others at her feet.

Time to revisit the other trees and find out what's going on!

Interlude

Part V: No Rime or Reason

"The moon stared at me through sprinkled nighttime stardust and I alone smile." ~ Jay Long"

The grove was quiet, save for an occasional rustle in the surrounding foliage and soft hoot of a nearby owl. A fresh layer of powdery snow covered the dense shrubbery and had settled on the ground, twinkling in the moonlight.

The constant flow of crystalline water that normally trickled down from the Sylvanfair tree had ceased for the night, leaving the lagoon-style pond in stillness. Liabo was admiring her reflection in its mirror-like surface with skeins of frost creeping across her silvery white face. Rohese's own pale face overlaid that of the moon as she stared intently into the glassy water. Dressed only in a white silk shift, she stood barefoot and smiling, unperturbed by the light snowflakes landing on her hair and eyelashes.

The silence was disturbed by Mirkk stepping through the gap in the natural wall. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he quickly wrapped a blanket around Rohese's shoulders and tried to gently guide her away but her gaze remained transfixed on the Great Moon's visage in the water. Reluctant to wake her from her noctambulation, Mirkk picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the middle of the pond. Ripples emanated outwards, dissolving the lunar image and washing away the fringes of starry rime. Rohese inhaled sharply and turned her startled gaze towards Mirkk, the enchantment now broken. Seeing the look of bewilderment on her face, he gently pulled her into his arms.

"Come on, let's get you inside where it's warm." He said carefully, trying to not to show his concern, and led her back into the majestic oak tree.

A snowy owl took flight from an overhead branch. Swooping low over the water, it flew away into the night.

Part VI: A Secret Shared

(Written in collaboration with Mirkk.)
Arms clasped behind him and holding a bottle of whiskey, Mirkk wandered along the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of Lord Earion Bayvel's extensive personal library. He laughed inwardly at the thought of having not spent much time here. He had been in the library on a few occasions in search of Rohese, either to steal her away for a walk along the grounds or to remind her it was late and to come with him to bed. This was the first time he had actually taken the time to examine some of the books, letters, and manuscripts that Earion kept.

I wonder if he's read all of these? No, that would be impossible. There must be thousands of books here.

As he strolled, casually tapping his gold feather quill wedding band lightly along the glass of the bottle, he read some of the spines of the books. The first, a green book with gold lettering, read: Migratory Behaviors of Cormorants of Darkstone Bay. Further down, another, this one a brown leather-bound book with words written in elven. Mirkk paused, reaching into his waistcoat with his free hand and donned his vaalin-framed spectacles. He read the words A Geological Study of Igneous Rock Formations. Clearly, he was not in the literature section. He removed his spectacles and tucked them safely away in his waistcoat pocket, taking a few more steps as he did, and then something caught his eye. He stopped, tilting his head to read one of the spines of a series of black leather-bound volumes with silver writing. The first one read Noble Houses of the Turamzzyrian Empire: 3500 to 3999. Curious, he looked at the next volume of the series, Noble Houses of the Turamzzyrian Empire: 4000 to 4499. He froze.

Slowly, with an apprehensively curious look, he reached his hand over the top of the volume and, with a gentle pull along the fore-edge, nudged the volume out about two inches from the shelf. His heart began to beat faster. He wringed his hand once, took a deep breath, and carefully grasped the book on both sides along the spine. The still quiet of the expansive room was unsettled by the sound of the heavy doors opening somewhere behind him, and he quickly pushed the book back into place.

~☆ ^☽ ☆~

Earion paused outside the library door, his hand resting on the ornate handle. It's time, he thought. They deserve to know the truth.

The library was a dimly lit space with shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling on three sides and split on two levels. A fire had been laid for the evening and the heat from the steady blaze warmed the far end where two chestnut leather sofas and some deep brocade-covered armchairs had been arranged around it. Candles, set on an array of scroll-littered tables, cast a golden glow over the whole room, illuminating the many books on display.

"Mirkk." Earion nodded along with his usual perfunctory greeting and accepted the glass of amber whiskey being held out to him. He cast his eye around the spacious room, expecting to see his granddaughter perusing the shelves or curled up on the sofa by the fire.

"Rohese is not with you?" He asked, somewhat relieved.

"I've persuaded her to indulge herself with a bath before dinner," Mirkk explained, holding Earion's gaze for a moment before taking a sip from his own glass.

Earion emptied his glass in one swallow and Mirkk proffered the bottle, which was readily accepted. Pouring another generous measure, Earion gestured towards the armchairs with an inclination of his head. Mirkk followed the lead and they both sat quietly before the fire for a few minutes. The silence was palpable, broken only by the crackles and hisses emanating from the hearth.

"The whiskey is good." Earion finally noted, tilting his glass so that the rich gold liquid glistened in the ambient light. Mirkk continued staring into the flames, occasionally glancing across at Earion. He knew that this was his father-in-law's way of saying thank you so he simply nodded an acknowledgement. Earion was a venerable elf of few words; something Mirkk had quickly learned to appreciate but he sensed there was something more to this latest conversation.

"There's something I need to explain."

Earion drained his glass again and placed it on the nearby table with the bottle. Resting his head in his hands for a moment, he took a deep breath.

Mirkk listened as Earion quietly recounted the story of first meeting Sahese. How they fell in love and married in 3807, despite being so young. Their first son had been born in 4189 and Rohese's father, Tymian, in 4314. How he thought they had been happy.

Mirkk reached for the bottle and refilled his glass, tilting it mutely towards Earion who shook his head. Returning it to the table, Mirkk leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees to warm the glass between his hands as Earion continued.

"Rohese is all I have to remind me of her, Mirkk." Earion paused at this point and closed his eyes. In a low voice, he simply added, "Her grandmother is still alive."

Mirkk blinked and peered quizzically at Earion.

"Sahese didn't die in 5112 as everyone has been led to believe," Earion said with a heavy sigh. "She returned to the Wyrdeep."

~☆ ^☽ ☆~

Rohese dipped her toe gingerly into the milky water; the temperature was just right. She stepped into the bathtub and lowered herself into its steamy depths, inhaling the soothing scents of lavender and sweet orange on the moisture-laden air. Closing her eyes, she lay back and allowed herself to sink below the surface. Her thoughts drifted over the past year; so much had happened but she finally felt at peace.

Cleansed and ready to face the evening, she rose from the bath and dried herself. It was the 25th day of Eorgaen, the last night of the Feast of the Immortals, and they were having dinner with her grandfather to mark the end of the holiday. She slipped into the new gown that Mirkk had gifted her, the pale silk feeling soft and luxurious against her skin. Lifting her hands beneath her hair to fasten her necklace at the back of her neck, she wandered to the window of her bed chamber.

Heavy snowfall obscured much of the view of her grandfather's estate but she could just make out the silhouette of trees in the distance. A silvery moon hung in the sky, shimmering through the snowstorm like one of vaalin-starred ornaments on the solstice tree downstairs and adding to the eeriness of the blue-grey winter's night. The urge to return to the linden grove was strong but common sense prevailed.

Gazing distractedly at her reflection in the window as she continued to struggle with the clasp, an image of a second face appeared in the distorted glass; similar to her visage yet not her own. Rohese quickly turned on her heel believing it to be someone standing behind her but all she saw was her own reflection in the tall dressing mirror. As she stared at herself, the faint apparition of another elf appeared alongside her. Rohese rapidly switched her focus between the window and the mirror, watching as the faces of elven ladies repeated themselves many times over; all of them were pale complected with silver hair, each smiling at her in turn.

Rohese took a step towards the full-length mirror and each ethereal spirit began to waver and fade away. Feeling an overwhelming sense of loss, Rohese wiped away a solitary tear from her cheek but resolved to make her final preparations for dinner. She was already late.

Ten minutes later, swathed in a velvet wrap to ward off the chill, she opened the library door to see Earion and Mirkk rise to their feet and turn towards her.

Linden

Starlight rippled across the cobblestones in shadowed waves. Surely this was the silvery shadow referred to in the dendroglyphs carved on the dogwood tree?

Rohese sighed in frustration. She had spent the last few hours beneath the feathery canopy of the small linden trees in the Veythorne Manor gardens in the hope of finally learning the truth but...nothing. Why did it keep eluding her?

She had examined the bark of each tree very closely but there were no signs of any runic symbols.

A soft dark-blue starling took flight from one of the branches drawing her eyes upwards in anticipation. Her senses were heightened but there was still an empty silence from the trees around her. She resolved to return with Elaejia as soon as possible; she would know what to do.

The Linden Trees (Part 1)

Rohese wandered down the trail, taking care with her footing on the slope and averting her gaze against the prevailing wind as it created a tornado of fallen leaves around her. She brushed her hair away from her eyes and habitually tucked it behind her ear whilst quickly glancing around for any obvious signs of danger. Whistler's Pass was treacherous any time of the day but particularly so in the early morning or late evening.

It was dawn and the first rays of sun were gradually illuminating the city walls behind her. Finger-like slivers of early morning mist were pushing in among the long grass around her feet as she traversed the meadow towards Ailanthus Manor. She often took this shortcut from the trail and paid for it with damp shoes but it was a good excuse to remove them and walk barefoot for a while.

Stepping through the wrought iron gate, she paused at the reflecting pool in the middle of the courtyard and gazed at her own reflection in the pellucid water. Not one for vanity as a rule, she had taken to catching glimpses of herself in a mirror lately and noticing that the faint text usually only visible on the backs of her hands was now a little more prominent on her face. As she pondered her appearance, fluffy linden blossoms drifted in on the breeze and settled lightly on the surface. Rohese tilted her head and smiled down at herself as it seemed to give the appearance of being framed in a halo of pale golden flowers.

A koi erupted from the surface of the pool to feed on an unsuspecting damselfly, disturbing the serenity of the reflected image and startling her. Disappearing beneath a lily pad, it left behind a series of ripples and set the lilies to bobbing up and down. She sat on edge of the pool and trailed her fingers through the gently undulating water. Her mood had been melancholy ever since Mirkk had shared the news that her grandmother was, in fact, still alive. She should be pleased, surely, but all she could dwell on was how her grandfather had lied to her for all these years.

The trees had been trying to tell her - warning her about deceit - but she had foolishly brushed it aside in her own selfish pursuit for answers. Even her own mother had cautioned her to be careful what she wished for. How could she have been so naïve! No wonder she couldn’t find a memorial tree: there wasn't one! But then the dendroglyphs revealed on both the willow and the dogwood had referred to a linden tree.

She furrowed her brow. But where and for what purpose?

Another flurry of sunny yellow flowers drifted past her, a few of them landing on the water and in her lap. She picked one up to inspect it more closely and it slowly dawned on her where they were coming from.

Pale golden flowers. Linden blossom!

Looking up, she realised that the whole estate was enclosed by a sweeping curve of tall linden trees, it wasn't just a few, and her heart sank. So many linden trees. How am I ever going to find the truth?

Author's Notes

Secrets of the Page

A witch may glean scraps of rotes inscribed previously in a palimpsest through the echoes of their memory, though she can never learn them without full experiences. Once she has figured out how to understand and interpret those echoes, she can develop her own rotes based on that knowledge.

Each rote echoes its own mystery. True understanding comes when the energy and rhythmicity of the moon is harnessed. Aligning with the phases, it is possible to work with natural forces to clarify and refine those mysteries. Once she has fully scrutinized the echo with the "sight," the witch may cast it from the palimpsest with alacrity.

The Elven Connection with Trees

A tree in its infancy sends roots down into the earth even as it reaches and opens to the sky above, in search of nourishment from the elements. In the same way, elves connect with the world and the Palurin Fea with elemental and spiritual strands that keep them connected. Just like a tree, an elf seeks the sustenance needed to survive and thrive. Both serve as conduits for the intermingling of the opposite and complementary elements of air, water, fire, and earth.

Trees will often grow around other trees or even through rock, shattering it, in their effort to reach the air and light they need to survive. Elves are similarly resilient with a built-in propensity for growth and the conditions that promote it. Elves find creative ways around the obstacles they confront as they follow their own paths, moving toward that which sustains them. Long ago exiled after the Undead War, dark elves' skin grew dark from exposure to the mana foci of Rhoska-Tor and they mastered spiritual and elemental magic as no other race ever could.

Contemplating the ways in which trees and elves mirror one another brings them into alignment with the reality that they are all part of the Palurin Fea. Elven progenies, and the trees and their offspring, will live together on Elanthia as long as they all survive, sharing the elements and serving together to forward the Arkati's plan.

Trees Remember

There has always been a spiritual link between elves and trees, and elves who are grieving find in trees an unspoken solace and a solemn comfort. The planting of memorial trees is longstanding tradition throughout the Elven Nations, and usually given in memory of a life well-lived, or as a symbol of everlasting affection. The planting of trees symbolizes peace, life, growth, and hope for the future.

Whilst Rohese's family are not of a high enough station to have memorial trees planted in places of honor, they nonetheless have preferred locations where their seedpods are planted or favoured trees where their ashes are scattered.

Memorial Trees

An extract from an essay written on Memorial Trees by Elaejia Silithyr

An elf wishing a memorial tree prepares one for herself by selecting a seedpod and binding herself to it before her death. If she does not plant it herself, or take it with her to her death, her family is enjoined to plant the seedpod in a place where it will thrive.

Having been bound to the spirit of an elf, the seedling assumes some of the life force of that elf and is granted an even longer life than even trees generally enjoy. They are also more resistant to blights and other vegetable dangers.

They may blossom in atypical colors or with unusual vibrancy, especially on the anniversaries of the death of their elf.

The earlier in an elf's life she chooses to bind herself to a seedpod, the more connected their spirits become, as the tree's spirit has longer to know her.

Even if an elf only chooses and binds herself to a seedpod on her deathbed, her tree will always remember her name, and will whisper it into the wind occasionally. Some older elven mortuary houses provide this service upon request.

The most connected trees assume some of the knowledge of their elf, though in general the things of interest to trees are not typically very interesting to non-sessile mortals. There are a great many trees with memories of particularly beautiful wildflower meadows and enthusiastic honeybees from aeons past, for example.

In general, the spirits of memorial trees are more open, and interested in the lives of non-sessile mortals than other tree spirits are. One might think of them as "partially domesticated," such as like felines.

Retrieved from "https://gswiki.play.net/index.php?title=Search_for_the_Truth_(short_story)&oldid=156981"