Chapter VI
The People of the Mist
As they wandered on, they came to an even narrower trail that was barely passable due to the mist that had settled all around. Unfortunately it was the only route into the valley below. At the entrance carved into the sides of both mountains were two large figures. They were in full armour, there palms facing outward, and an inscription below them. ‘Only those that are blessed may enter.’ Nishga read the inscription out loud, again the crystal around her neck pulsated with energy.
Achil seemed surprised, “How is it you can read that. All I can see are symbols that make no sense to me at all.”
Nishga could not explain it, what she saw was a written language in the common tongue. “I don’t know; for me it seems easy enough to read.”
“I wonder what they mean by blessed?” said Nishga.
“We're certainly not going to find that out by remaining here,” said Achil, looking around, he could see nothing that looked suspicious about the place. “It's time to bite the arrow tip and see what’s there."
They moved forward between the carved sentries, as they did so Nishga’s crystal lit up like a bright star, surrounding them in a pulsating light. They stopped immediately being momentarily blinded. When they got their sight back it was as though they had just walked through a doorway, into another world. Achil looked behind them to where they had just come from, it seemed like he was staring through a plane of glass into a misty world outside.
Nishga grabbed his arm, “Achil where has the mist gone.”
Achil turned around and sure enough there was no mist. In front of them was a valley, at the bottom of which was a walled town bathed in sunlight that had a river running through its centre. From where they were, they could see ornately decorated buildings reminding Achil of ancient Suberia. It was as if the place had been untouched by time. There were people going about their business but they had as yet not noticed the two travellers. Nishga’s face seemed to light up, she had never seen anything so incredible.
“Nishga remember we’re just passing through.”
As they descended deeper into the valley, they saw some children playing, and further away someone instructing another group. He was seated on a small stone plinth with a cushion that offered some comfort. He looked up and seeing them, waved them over, unconcerned that they were strangers. He said something to the group of youths who rose at once and left.
Achil and Nishga followed the small winding cobbled path that led up to him.
“It has been an age since we had visitors. Come forward I don’t wish to raise my voice.” The man seemed to study them for a moment, their attire, their weapons; his eyes seemed to see through them.
Achil noticed that he had a Crystal around his neck, the man's hair was fair, almost silver, his eyes were blue, piercing, he wore an open linen shirt beneath which was a very light blue tunic. His light casual breeches reached comfortably to his sandals. He beckoned Nishga to move closer. Achil’s hand slipped automatically to the hilt of his sword, just as a guarded precaution, though the man did not appear threatening, but neither were poisonous wild flowers until tasted. Achil noticed Nishga and the man were communicating and yet no language was being spoken. Nishga felt agitated, it was as though all at once thousands of points of energy were applying pressure on her mind.
“Stop, this is wrong. Do not do this,” said Nishga backing away.
The concentration on the man's face faded immediately. The man gestured for Achil to move closer.
“I am an instructor to the young here. My name is Dobin," he said using the common tongue of Suberia. "We are the Nashvilly, it means in your language ‘the people of the mist,’ but you appear to know that already.”
Achil felt he recognised Dobin’s soft accent, he had heard that same tone before, in some of the traders and merchants that had come to Findolin from what he thought were Northern lands. Dobin turned his attention back to Nishga.
“I see, that you are new to the power of the Crystal,” said Dobin, his eyes studying Nishga as if appraising her. “While you are here, I hope you will let us instruct you on the use of such a gift.”
Nishga looked over at Achil as if questioning whether they had the time to spare.
“I do not see the harm in spending a little time here," said Achil. "As long as it's just that, a little, and you have previously passed up the opportunity to learn more about the powers you now have, I do not think that you should twice turn down such an invitation to understand the uses of your Crystal, so perhaps it would be wise to seize the moment and learn from those good enough to tutor you properly."
Achil perceived a longing in Nishga's heart, to discover where she belonged in the world. Gaining an insight into the many uses of her Crystal would certainly help her, and so he was all for that; though there was some risk, as more often than not, the more power one yielded, the more one felt above the laws of average men. People will often, whether it is intentional or not, abuse the strength they have got. Unfortunately it was the base instincts that drove people to act so, and more often than not an uneducated man behaved without thought to their deeds, having said that, at times, an educated man, if given power was just as calculating as the most fearsome and ruthless predator that walked the land. Hence the necessity of proper training, so that such instincts could be curtailed, understood and then mastered.
“Do not worry or be concerned for your friend,” continued Dobin, who had been studying Achil and had guessed his mind. “If you are in a hurry, this is a place where the passage of time runs a different course to that which you are used to. And believe it or not, I am suggesting this for her benefit and nothing more. Also while you are here perhaps you would be willing to tell us of the world outside. It would help us to better understand that which lies beyond our borders.”
Achil considered the offer briefly, it seemed a reasonable enough request, reaching out he took Dobin‘s hand and shook it emphatically.
“I have a feeling there‘s not much you don‘t already know,” said Achil. “But we will accept your kind hospitality, for a short time at least. Whatever that might mean in a place where time as you say, runs a different course.”
Achil was more than relieved that the rumours of the Nashvilly being hostile seemed on the surface unfounded.
A young student by the name of Borodin took them into town, he was a tall lithe looking lad, with long flaxen hair down to his shoulders, and he had a light step and a familiar aspect. The streets they travelled down were broad open thoroughfares, trees seemed to whisper to one another at their passing and blossomed with a myriad of vibrant living colours, and beautifully crafted statues watched their passing from on high. The homes were large detached grand buildings of red sandstone or white pristine blocks, with clay tiled roofs and were of varying sizes, some many storeys high. Achil looked in awe at the sight of them; what he saw was almost like a dream. But the real wonders that really caught his eye were the bridges. There were seven arched stone bridges that connected the town; all were ornately carved and had covered crowned posts that could be lit. Achil and Nishga wanted to pause a moment to take in the beauty that befell them, but with a smile Borodin ushered them forward, leading them on into the town square, where was situated a tall imposing building, maybe seven storeys high, made up of large blocks of stone which had a reddish hue to them, at roof level on either side were two mighty turrets upon which archers stood watching their approach stoically. There were four smooth pillars to the front, as tall as trees, which held aloft an ornately carved architrave, between the pillars stood two imposing statues, one was of a man in a long flowing gown holding up a crystal toward the sun, and the other a woman in a flowing dress holding a crystal to her breast. Achil paused to take in the beauty of what he saw, and then climbed the stone steps situated at the front of the building and entered through large carved thick wooden doors, which had guards standing on either side, they were fully armed, soft light bounced off their helm
ets, from gold laden torches. Waist high, decorated shields stood in front of them, the tips of their spears glistened like sharpened flames. Their breast plates were burnished so sharply that you could see your reflection in them. They seemed mighty warriors indeed. The two guards barely acknowledged Borodin and the outsiders as they passed. Borodin showed Achil and Nishga into an anti-chamber and from there they were taken to see the council of elders. The vast hall they were escorted into was filled with Nashvilly. They had arrived at a time of great unease, a council was taking place, a passionate debate on whether they should open their borders to outsiders and in so doing end their long isolation. Rows of marble benches stood on raised stone platforms and echoed to the remonstrations of some and the protestations of others. To the back of the hall sat a man on what seemed to be a throne, he was an impressive looking individual, though it was difficult to gauge his age, his long silver hair and deep intense black eyes, and strong physical statue suggested he was a person of real purpose and energy. He wore a purple robe beneath which could be seen a white tunic and dark trousers tucked into almost knee high leather boots that were tight fitting. On seeing Achil and Nishga he picked up the gold encrusted staff at his side and stamped it several times hard on the floor, there was almost an immediate silence, Achil was introduced and asked to step forward so that he might be addressed.
After being questioned on their journey, and how they came to be there; they were then taken to a house on the far side of town. A small two storey cottage type building, with externally rendered walls, a sound flat roof terrace, there was one large window on each floor, to the front and to the rear was a small courtyard.
After Nishga explored their new surroundings, she entered the main lounge area where Achil had remained; she had an awkward look on her face.
“There’s only one bedroom,” said Nishga.
Achil could see how self-conscious such a thing made her, “Not to worry, I’ll sleep down here on the couch. So much for passing through though, it appears we're going to be here a little longer than either of us expected, I just hope we are guests and not prisoners.”
They settled for the evening and talked long into the night about their adventures. The next day a young woman came to the door, she wore a loose fitting shirt and short knee length breeches, with what seemed like sandals for footwear, she enquired after Nishga and invited her to join a group being taught the origins of Crystal power. As Nishga departed, a tall man arrived with long silver hair, he had a firm sturdy frame for his age and bright alert eyes, as with all the Nashvilly he was well groomed, and dressed in the finest silks, there was a ceremonial dagger hanging from his belt. Tucked tightly into his knee length boots were loose fitting breeches. The man stood a moment staring at Achil, as if trying to gauge his mettle.
“My name is Valkion; I am one of the elders in the high council. And have come to escort you to where you will be giving your talk.”
“Well you had better escort away then,” said Achil with a slight smile.
As they walked the city presented many wonders that Achil had only read about in history books. They passed incredible marble fountains, colossal statues, hanging gardens, and buildings that were as tall as anything he had seen before, if not taller.
"Valkion, never before have I encountered such a sight as your city."
"And nor will you, or anyone else ever again I fear, my people wish to close our borders to outsiders once and for all time. I believe this to be wrong and what you have to say today may convince them one way or the other."
"That's a mighty responsibility to throw at someone all at once," replied Achil.
"Yes it is," said Valkion stoically.
They walked on with the gravity of what Achil needed to do weighing heavy on him, so much so, that he even ceased to take in the beauty of his surroundings. Achil was taken to an open arena where he was to give his talk on the world outside. As he entered the amphitheatre he found it full. People had gathered from all over the city and were waiting to hear him.
“As you can see,” said Valkion. “What you have to say will be of great import, good luck.”
Achil walked out in front of the throng, as he did so they quietened. So where to begin he thought. Since this was an ancient people there was not a great deal he could tell them that they probably did not know. So he spoke of everyday life in Findolin and the needs of his people. Most of all Achil wanted to reassure them that the strangeness of the world was nothing to fear rather its great diversity was to be embraced.
As he ended, they asked him numerous questions about his adventures, the Nashvilly found it difficult to understand why a person, unless he was unsatisfied with his lot in life, would spend so much time travelling when they thought most answers were usually within easy reach, just seldom recognised. Achil differed on this account, saying that though he had not done as much travelling as he would have liked it was only by his experiencing things, did he grow to understand them better.
‘Perhaps my nature is different to yours, but that neither makes me more limited or superior,’ He had said. ‘It just makes me different. And it was those differences and exceptions that made life worth living. Without variety how can anything truly grow to adapt to an ever changing world. Do you complain because there are different coloured flowers in your gardens, of course not, instead you praise nature for its beauty and diversity.”
It appeared that some agreed with Achil, while others were quite resolute in disputing what was being said. They argued that such an explanation as to the garden gave credence to why the Nashvilly should remain isolated: it was the very chaos of nature they argued that gave rise to the never ending struggle between good and bad. They said you could not look upon the metaphor of a garden, as such an idea was too simplistic, as nature was more than varieties of beautiful flowers, but rather when left untended, it was flush with choking weeds, it was because the bad were removed that the beauty flourished. Surely, they said, it was better to have order and to control the state of things, rather than be controlled by the state of things. And so they debated the subject of chaos and order, and what really chaos was, and what really order was, and whether the two were inextricably combined to such a degree that you could not have one without the other.
After the talk had ended the Nashvilly thanked him for his participation and for being so open with them. They laid on something to eat, following which Achil enquired if he could go to see Nishga. A young woman, by the name of Assiri came forward and offered to help him find his friend; she had long golden hair, dark eyes that seemed to penetrate him, and wore a loose fitting tunic and tight fitting breeches that sat comfortably over her beige boots. As the two made their way to where Nishga trained, they crossed cobbled streets that seemed so delicately crafted and clean that Achil did not wish to sully them with his boots. The city was magical indeed, Assiri smiled to herself noticing the awe on his face.
“Over there is the shrine of our ancestors,” said Assiri.
She pointed to a building that though in pristine condition seemed more like a temple from ancient Suberia. Coloured frescos ran across the architrave and the top of the building. Large pillars of marble and granite ran beneath, giving the structure an impression of grandeur.
Assiri then pointed to an imposing statue in the centre of the square they were passing through, it stood high on its plinth and overlooked the entire forum.
“She is the founder of our city,” said Assiri. “Her name is Iesuis.”
Made from marble the woman wore a long flowing gown, and held aloft a crystal, the light touched it in such a manner that it seemed she clasped in her hands a star.
“So tell me Achil,” said Assiri. “Why are you really in the land of the Nashvilly?”
“What?” he replied warily. “If you are asking me if we have some hidden agenda, I would ask you what it would do to answer such a query. As I have said we are on our way to Osgaroth.”
“That’s as maybe,” continued Assiri. ?
??But no one on the road to Osgaroth passes through Nashvilly. Your mission must be of some import for you to come this way.”
Achil stopped by the side of the statue and looked around the square. People were going about their business almost unaware of the outsider in their midst. Thoughtfully he turned his attention to Assiri.
“We believe that a new power has arisen among the Central Plain peoples: the Mandrake Imperium,” said Achil. “We in Findolin think they have united the tribes of the Mead on our border, for what purpose we know not, but history points to one conclusion.”
“I see so let me guess you believe that they threaten invasion,” said Assiri. “And to think I thought we were the only ones who kept outsiders, outside. You have proof of this threat to your lands; after all, from what I understand of the Mead, they are more like the fox that recognises no boundary. We have a saying do not stir up the hornets' nest. You may find that in trying to prevent an invasion, you may precipitate one.”
“We also have a saying,” replied Achil. “Do not let the wolf gather the sheep.”
“In other words you know the wolf for what he is,” said Assiri. “So don’t give him the opportunity to behave as a wolf.”
“We have information to support the fact that the hornets' nest as you put it, may not only be stirred up, but with the help from the Mandrake Imperium be ready to swarm,” replied Achil. “And though all the evidence as to their threat maybe derived from a few dead emissaries, and you may even ask what evidence can that be, since such actions of banditry walk hand in hand with the Mead. We do not wish to wake one day and find that because of our neglect, the fox had free reign, to do as it will in the chicken pen. You might want to think on that.”
“Thank you for your council,” said Assiri. “But I think you will find that the Nashvilly do not fear the heathen at the gate. I’m afraid there are even some among us who will think of your intrusion here as an invasion, so tread carefully Achil. As you look on the Mead, some of my people look on you. Come your friend is nearby.”
Assiri took Achil across a small stone bridge that traversed the river running through the valley. The smell of pine wafted down from the mountains; carried on a cool refreshing breeze, behind them was the smell and taste of town life. Achil stopped a moment to take in his surroundings, the valley was wide, filled with fields and rolling lands. It was surprising how vast it actually was. Nashvilly seemed more alive, youthful than Findolin, it was truly as though the place had remained untouched by time, and had not felt the violent intrigues that so often tear a society apart. Most realms fell and rose like the seasons, but Nashvilly was constant. The people and the city simply never aged. Assiri pointed to some figures silhouetted in the distance, and the two slowly made their way over to them.
They found Nishga in an open field where she had been training hard, and was now taking a short break. When Achil approached, her face lit up.
“Where have you been?” asked Nishga.
Achil was a little confused by the question, “What do you mean?”
Nishga looked puzzled, “I haven’t seen you for about a week.”
Assiri interrupted seeing the baffled look on both their faces.
“This will take some explaining. Time in our world passes differently than it does in yours; it is determined by what we refer to as Natural Time Motion, if you imagine a humming bird's wings. To you they move so rapidly as to barely be seen, as if they were moving to a different time period, but to the actual creature the motion is quite normal, and as far as the creature is concerned, as it hovers back and forth you appear to be moving slowly, rather than it moving fast, and why? The reason for us is simple although there is only one true time that time moves differently for you and the humming bird; this is called Natural Time Motion. So it is in the world of the Nashvilly and the outside world. Time circulates, collides and swings backwards and forwards and sometimes can appear to stand still. Time, as we understand it, is as alive and as real as you are. We learnt many years ago that time is as fluid as a running stream, and it is possible to wade into that stream and swim in any direction you wish, or if you desire it, simply to tread the water, or build a damn preventing its flow. Your friend has already been here for over a week, for you merely an afternoon has passed. Hence both of you have spent time here. But that time affected you both in dissimilar ways.”
Both Achil and Nishga found it difficult to understand how time could pass so differently for two people, but as it was happening; they had to accept it. Nishga then returned to her training while Achil sat back and watched. She was given tasks to accomplish. As the trainees used their powers to start fires, Nishga managed a puff of smoke. As they managed to float objects, Nishga’s object spun violently before shooting off, only just missing Achil’s head. When they used their mental abilities to talk to one another Nishga managed to give someone a headache. Achil asked her tutor how was it that when they had been confronted by a Witch out on the plain; Nishga had been in better control of her power. Nishga’s mentor said it was a question of concentration, the ability was there, she now needed to learn how to properly focus it, in the wild she had acted on instinct, without fear or thought. Here she was being asked to think about what she was doing. Achil nodded, when defending himself with the sword he often did not think about his actions, he just reacted given the situation he was in, that was the way Nishga had acted before. After a while, and thinking he had seen enough to know that she was being taught well, Achil decided to leave, and not wishing to distract Nishga from her responsibilities, he quietly left for where the two had been quartered.
By the time Achil had returned to the house another week had passed for Nishga. He entered to find to his amazement Nishga sleeping upstairs, her arm gently hanging over the side of the bed the window to the room was open, and the curtain half drawn, a gentle breeze caressed the rainbow coloured collection of flowers that rested in their vase on the sill, the decor had a fresh vitality about it. Achil smiled to himself and crept downstairs, threw some wood onto the hearth and made a fire; he then pulled the chair forward and sat back in front of the slow burning embers. When Nishga finally went down to join Achil, she found him bent over the fire; he was busy prodding the burning wooden embers trying to encourage them to spark into life. She had just bathed and was feeling quite refreshed. She hugged a small wrap tightly round her body; it hung loosely over one bare shoulder and gently caressed the floor at her feet. The golden flames bounced off her shadowed form, as the fire came alive. Achil looked up, noticed her for the first time, and sat back in his chair.
“So how are you finding it?” asked Achil.
“Well,” replied Nishga thoughtfully. “This is truly a wondrous place; there are so many things here that are beautiful. It's just, it seems empty, as though it has no heart, and everything is so well ordered. I don’t think I could live like this. They live in a world that seems run by a set of rules that are absolute.”
“Interesting, perhaps in their mastery of time and other things, they have fooled themselves into believing they are masters of much more,” said Achil. “At least they do not seem to mean us any harm and frankly after our encounter with the Witches in the forest, I’m grateful for that. Come let us get ready and go out and perhaps we‘ll find out what these people are really like, when they speak in a more unguarded setting.”
“You’re right but as for their use of time,” said Nishga. “They only have the depth of control they have because of the two mountains either side to them. Once they leave this realm, their abilities become diluted, although they would still appear exceptional to an outsider, or that’s what I’ve been led to believe. What is really strange is that they have almost completely forgotten that they were like normal men once upon a time.”
"With all their vices and flaws?" responded Achil, staring deep into the fire.
As evening was slowly descending the two travellers went for a walk into the town. People were out eating and drinking in the local taverns
. Achil found it reminiscent to the way things were back in Findolin. People greeted the strangers politely enough, wishing them a restful stay. Lanterns were lit along the way giving off an almost mystical light. Couples walked arm in arm, the cares of the world left outside. From what Achil could see they led truly contented lives although he found them a little too introspective. He wondered if he had grown up in such a society whether or not he would have challenged such an attitude. A door opened nearby, light flooded out onto the cobbled road as people exited, it seemed a boisterous thriving place, a tavern with the river running behind it. It was a busy bustling place, as they entered people turned to stare at the two strangers and for a moment the bar fell silent before the usual tavern raucous behaviour continued. They walked over to the bar to get something to drink; Nishga pointed to a table by the open fire, where some people were just leaving from. Achil ordered a flagon of beer and a goblet of wine and went over to the now empty table, and sat down with Nishga seated opposite him. As they got comfortable they were joined tentatively at first by one person and then another, and before long they were surrounded by people. At a request from one of the Nashvilly, Nishga recalled their adventures. Achil listened patiently to some of the young Nashvillies as they recounted their lives and realised that the people though learned and disciplined did have a peculiar fear of strangers. Nishga asked one woman whose name was Avinda, a tutor of young Nashvilly children, whose hair was dark and flowing and whose black eyes glistened in the half light of the tavern, why they were as a people so reclusive? Avinda explained that those people who chose to leave the community, kept to solitary lives outside. The answer said Avinda was because as a race they were thought of as untrustworthy by other peoples. We have often been considered as Witches or Sorcerers by outsiders who do not understand our powers. Those of us that longed to see the world, often were persecuted when venturing into it, and shunned if they tried to return home by our own community for the offence of leaving, and therefore have led lonely lives. Achil informed Avinda that such treatment of the Nashvilly might have been true once, but it would not be so now. Such a disclosure was met with more than a hint of disbelief and scepticism.
As he listened Achil thought it natural that the internal looking Nashvilly had deep seated fears regarding other peoples, because as their own world did not change they had no knowledge of the world outside that did. So their bias was due to a lack of interaction with others. It was as though over time their desire to distance themselves grew into a distrust, and eventually hostility for all things foreign. Achil wondered how such a sophisticated culture as theirs would cope with real change, since they had learnt over many years that it was something unnatural. The only conclusion, whether accurate or not was that a culture only interested in maintaining the status quo, would eventually become stale, sterile and to an outside world that continually moved forward and had to adapt to each new age, would seem antediluvian.
As they were about to leave Avinda asked Nishga how long she and Achil had been together. She like many others had the impression that they were a couple. Nishga smiled and explained how she met her companion and how their friendship grew. Immediately other Nashvilly jumped in with their questions. To a well ordered society, where relationships grew only after introductions had been arranged, the notion of such a random meeting was something radical. They finally left and arrived back at their home. The hearth was still burning; Achil already tired, quickly sat back in his chair, his feet comfortably resting on a stool, and pulled a blanket close too. The two of them talked long into the night sharing their views of the Nashvilly and what they had learned from their stay. Finally Nishga retired to her bed leaving Achil to stare into the fire. The flames flickered hypnotically, as he began to doze, his eyes slowly closed, suddenly within the fire appeared the shape of a face, it was one of the Nashvilly that had been in the tavern. The roaring fire seemed to grow angry, the flames seemed about to reach out to consume him, when there was a footfall on a creaking stair; it was Nishga, who had come down to pick up her bag. The fire began to diminish, just as Nishga appeared at the bottom of the stair; the face retreated into the flames and disappeared, leaving the fire to rage. As she entered the room Nishga noticed that the fire was dangerously close to Achil’s blanket, she quickly doused the flames with a small shovel of sand that lay in a bucket by the side of the hearth, and retired once more.