Andin holed up in an otherwise vacant inn just south of the Void Scar. The old woman who kept the inn standing brought the prince some tea, “My dear prince, I was so joyed when I heard of your birth twenty years ago.” Andin took the cookies and tea, “Oh – thank you madam.”
“There was emptiness in all our hearts when Lord Bellos stopped having children.” Andin began to feel uncomfortable.
“I understand it must be hard for a parent to outlive their children; but I remember meeting Princess Anni seventy years ago, such a wonderful girl.” The old woman was in unstoppable reminisce mode. Andin said nothing thinking, this woman probably hasn’t talked to anyone in a while, just drink your tea and let her talk.
“It was just a year after the portal opened to the Plane of Torment, those were hard times. I think everyone lost a loved one to that horrible place. My brother had to stay in the hospital at Caldvik. I went to visit him during the fall, hoping he would finally be well enough to come home. There she was, little angel, maybe just sixteen at the time, visiting the wounded soldiers.”
Her eyes wetted in sincere admiration, “My brother said she visited every weekend, bringing sweets and coffee. She found me with my brother and asked, are you here visiting this soldier? I was awestruck and could only nod a nervous yes. She thanked me for service to the Nation of Beldur. She thanked me! Such a kind hearted girl… she was so beautiful, just like her mother.” The innkeeper went silent as her eyes wandered around the room.
“Milord could you tell me who your mother is? I only ever heard of your birth, not of your mother.”
Andin said nothing; the prince didn’t know.
“Oh… I’m sorry, I meant no offense,” she stammered.
The old woman took the tray back to the kitchen to escape the tense moment. “Shall I bring more cookies?” she asked returning to her role of dutiful innkeeper. Andin hadn’t eaten any of the first dozen she had brought for him. “No thank you,” he replied. He left the common area for his cozy bedroom.
In the morning Andin thanked and overpaid his host. He left to the sounds of her thankful protest at the amount he had given her. His right hand burned brightly as he heated the boiler of the steamcycle. The Void Scar was only a short ride away from the small hamlet the inn rested in. Andin rode towards the bottomless canyon.
He brewed his morning coffee on the edge of the scar; the jagged cliff face was home to many beasts, some more dangerous than others. The urge to train was irresistible. Andin left his coffee behind and began running along the length of the chasm. The gap widened steadily as Andin hurdled himself across the canyon in increasingly violent bursts of fire.
Only a few minutes into his mad sprint Andin’s heart was pounding. The Void Scar continued to widen, forcing more and more effort from each of Andin’s magically assisted leaps. Midair the fire prince realized he wasn’t going to clear the gap. He pulled a platform of stone out of the cliff face. He landed with such force it shattered instantly. Still falling he pulled another platform of stone out of the wall. This time it held.
Lying on his back he laughed between gulps of oxygen. Air had returned to his lungs and Andin sat up on his platform. The vastness of the Void Scar was breathtaking. A hot-gas filled Bottor Jelly drifted by lazily, its thin poisonous tentacles hoping to snag an unsuspecting bird. Something strange shifted in the distance. Andin couldn’t make it out but he was certain he saw a black blur plummet down into the void. This is why people fear the void, thought Andin.
In a pop of fire he scaled the cliff face in two bounds. Jogging back to the steamcycle Andin had overtaken the floating Bottor Jelly. The squishy creature rippled as Andin landed on top of its massive girth. “You shall be my royal chariot! Pick up the pace you slag!” shouted Andin in a brief period of madness.
The unseen void nester slammed the prince into the cliff face. Andin was in free fall. He slowed his descent with a stream of fire and pulled another stone platform out of the cliff face. His lava sickles poured into his hands instinctively as Andin turned to face his enemy. The four winged beast was mid dive headed straight for the prince. Its mouth stretched wide as it shot black fluid at Andin.
Andin parried with a wall of flame but the poison penetrated through. It blinded him. He guessed at the direction of the cliff face and dove towards it hoping to the dodge the beast. The nester missed its target and Andin regained some of his vision. The nester climbed for another diving attack. Andin was ready.
He lined up his target and sent a sickle spinning. The red hot blade cut a wingtip clean off the beast. It rolled in the air to correct itself, still pointed at Andin. Andin dropped his second sickle and with great effort pulled two massive columns of stone from both cliff faces. His timing was perfect, the two cylinders of rock met with the void nester between them. The fervor of battle turned to silence.
Andin collapsed from the strain. The nester’s one free wing twitched between the two stone faces he had flattened the creature with. Andin recovered from the weight of the spell and moved the stone back into the cliff. The nester fell dead into the void. Andin climbed back to the surface and left feeling solemn.
He contemplated the ferociously aggressive nester as he sipped his coffee. Why was it hunting this far west?, he thought. The Void Scar now filled Andin with unease. He realized how serious training here would be. He dumped his coffee. Lingering alone was unsafe.
The steady whine of his steamcycle calmed Andin. The next township was a fifty mile ride from the chasm; he had time to think. Before the nester’s attack, Andin felt untouchable; still riding the high from his success in Eida. Never underestimate the opponent, Andin reminded himself of his father’s last words of advice before he left for his mission to the Plane of Light.
The remainder of the ride he pieced his ego together, quietly absorbed in the rhythmic noise of the steamcycle’s pistons. The Plane of Fire was a fiercely beautiful place. A frigid landscape generously studded with volcanism. The unforgiving environment kept Beldur’s population smaller relative to the other civil planes, but the fire-hearts made up for it with their tenacity in battle and ambitious spirit.
Bellos, god of fire lead the people of Beldur. He did his best to empower his people; almost all of the governing decisions were made by the council, not him. Often during the fall and winter Bellos would retreat north to his private chateau. In the springtime he would return to oversee the preparations for the portal opening.
Even Andin knew little of his father’s work up north. He suspected it was related to his mission. Andin was not one to pry into his father’s business. If Bellos wanted him to know something, he would tell him. Andin’s faith in his father was unshakeable. The township Brettari was the first on his list of the northern quarter.
Andin put the troubling incident at the Void Scar behind him and reviewed the short set of notes Councilman Bostil had prepared for him. Brettari was a typical Beldurian township; a small village situated near some form of stable volcanic activity. He pulled his steamcycle up to the inn. The innkeeper greeted the prince warmly and showed Andin the two rooms he could choose from.
Most of the townspeople were out working the greenhouses or hunting, Andin would have to wait until sunset to talk with the three Mentors who served as leaders of the village. Talking with the innkeeper Andin updated the records of the township. He would confirm these changes with the Mentors and spend a week with the township to get accurate data on their current status.
Often a township would be deficient in one or two critical supplies and have a surplus of other goods. Andin would help facilitate the flow of large quantities of goods to the townships based on need. He also oversaw the education of the village’s youth – the statistics of each village’s performance at the College was closely tracked.
After a week had passed Andin left Brettari. His meetings with the Mentors had gone well; their academic curriculum was excellent; and the township’s storehouses needed little. Andin enjoyed the hospitali
ty as much as he enjoyed the open road. He filled the bike’s reservoir with fresh snowmelt and thundered out of town.
Andin continued this cycle for the next few weeks. After stopping at the northernmost township he took a brief trip to the northernmost point of Beldur. The edge of the plane was an eerie place with nothing but the void and a few rogue wisps of cloud in the infinite distance.
He withdrew Bostil’s large clockwork cartographer from his bag and set it as close to the edge of the plane as he felt comfortable doing. Like many magical items the cartographer had a small glass prism which served as an input for energy. Andin operated the cartographer with magic, a small stream of fire from his index finger mixed with soil from his thumb.
The small dose of energy set the prism glowing. The large cartographer whirred and clicked as gears turned and small points of light jumped through the system. The inverted cone’s surface served as the display, and the easily recognizable outline of Beldur drew itself on magical parchment. The cartographer began to zoom out as Beldur shrunk more and more.
Beldur was just a small circle when another speck appeared on the edge of the parchment. The cartographer ran out of energy and shut off. Andin saw the speck, “I’ll be damned.” He ran the cartographer again and again, each time trying to add just a bit more energy. The speck continued to materialize. Could that be another plane? Andin thought to himself.