Joyous Ninth Day of Gilbetron to All!
It turned out that Nieka made for a good travelling companion, though not as good as his wife. He fondly remembered the last trip he’d taken with Telematrice — the real one — just three weeks ago. They had travelled crosscountry from Wysshylna to the capital through the mountains. In fact, they had taken the same road Gilbetron now found himself on, La Monde-est-Pieux highway.
The pass loomed ahead of them, the peaks of the Byn Genea Range dominating the northern horizon. Mount Farad’cella, the tallest point in Gilbetronia, seemed close enough to touch. It was an optical illusion Gilbetron had grown fond of. In truth, Farad’cella was over eighty milometers north of the road. He wondered how many people had ever gotten up close.
Not many, he guessed. There’s two dozen impassable gorges between here and there. It’s almost like the Creator intended for it to be unreachable.
“How far until the next stop?” Nieka asked. If there was even the slightest note of complaint in her voice, Gilbetron couldn’t detect it.
Gilbetron readjusted his pack and slowed his horse as they navigated their way around a particularly treacherous stretch of road. Just a few feet of the south side of the path, the ground fell away precipitously. It was nearly five hundred feet to the bottom, he was sure.
“There’s an inn on the other side of the pass, though it’s still a good seven or eight hour ride from here,” Gilbetron replied. “I’m afraid there aren’t many good places to rest up in the Heights like this.”
Nieka didn’t look back for fear of losing her bearings. How depressing would it be for her to die driving herself off the edge of a cliff, an end of her own making, when she still had vengeance for her father’s murder on the mind… She focused her eyes again, unwilling to so much as blink.
“The most rugged terrain I’d ever seen before today were the Delta Rocks,” she admitted, acknowledging her travelling companion’s good-natured laugh with a slight incline of the head. “I know, that must not seem like much, but when I was little I couldn’t imagine anything taller.”
“I grew up in the Winterland,” Gilbetron said, “so I know exactly what you mean. It’s so flat up there, you could ride two days from home and never lose sight of it. Cold, too, bitterly cold.”
After a few more minutes of riding, Nieka asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve had any more help from that crystal of yours?”
Gilbetron chuckled softly. “Nope, not really, but I’m certain Telematrice was taken west. There are too many prying eyes in the Lystrian territories to keep the abduction secret for long. The western frontiers offer a lot more privacy. It’s one of the reasons I prefer it out here.”
“You think we’ll get to her in time?”
“Well, we’ll have to,” he said.
“Still,” she murmured, “I’d feel a lot better if your crystal lit up or starting shaking or did whatever it is it’s supposed to be able to do.”
As though on cue, he felt a sudden stirring from his jacket pocket. Smiling broadly, he gave the pocket a light pat and gazed out over the western frontier.
Hold on, Telematrice, he thought. I’m coming for you.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
As promised, some of the best and most interesting. images of this photographic tour are still to come. In fact, today’s offering is something of a mystery.
The Peninsular Desert:
Taken: Month of Pyrstal, 10th Day, 954 AG
This particular image was located a number of years ago in Lystria’s historical archive. How a photo of the inner Peninsular Desert came to be there is something of a mystery, since nobody has ventured past Olingard Fortress in about a hundred years and lived to tell of it. At least, nobody that we know about! Anyway, little can be said about the desert with any certainty except that it is absolutely barren of all forms of recognizable plant life. According to legends, the dunes are so deep that, due to their constantly shifting, it is virtually impossible to traverse the desert on foot.