Land's End, Part 14
Spring Rock stuck out of the grass at an unnatural angle, its water bubbling to the top of the pool in tiny clusters. The spring flowed west, cutting through a gorge in the annular cliff-face that ringed around them. All three stood in the middle of the crater with their mouths hanging slightly open, words failing them.
“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” Nieka wondered. “I mean, it isn’t just me, right?”
Leve nodded solemnly. “It’s like a tingling beneath my skin, except it seems to come from the air. It feels very much like the stories.”
They had come to the Eye of the West early in the day, hoping to push on toward Land’s End before nightfall. But it was impossible to pass by the strange location without stopping to investigate. The grass was such a deep shade of green and the air so crisp…
But the most impressive features were the crystal sprouting out of the rock like pedestals. Gilbetron couldn’t help but notice they were made of a remarkably similar consistency as the small crystal he carried in his breastpocket. Taking it out to compare the two side by side, the crystals almost seemed to sing to each other inaudibly. It wasn’t sound passing between them so much as vibration.
He was so distracted by the hexagonal formations that he failed to hear the sounds of men approaching. By the time he looked up, at least a hundred bows were pointed down at them from the edges of the surrounding cliffs. Stepping back from the crystal, he raised a hand, the crystal clutched tightly in his fist.
“What is your business?” one of the men asked. Gilbetron spun around to try to identify the speaker, but nobody seemed willing to step forward.
“I am Lord Gilbetron of the Western Territories,” he began. “I was told to—”
“Whatever you were told, you do not have permission to pass through these lands. They belong to us, me and my fellow tribesmen. We claim the fields south of Geldstrof as far as they stretch, out to the sea. Do you challenge that claim?”
“I haven’t come to challenge you,” Gilbetron said, maintaining a level tone. “We just wanted a look at the place. We have business at Land’s End and cannot be detained.”
There was some scuffling along the ridge, and now a second voice responded. “Lord Gilbetron, did you say?”
“Yes,” he replied unsteadily. “My name is Gilbetron.”
Another moment passed as a small group discussed this fact amongst themselves. Quickly, one man walked away from the others and began briskly walking down a stairway cut from the rock. Within moments, he was approaching Spring Rock and the three traveling companions.
Leve was about to intervene, but Gilbetron put out a hand to hold the man back. “No, Leve,” he told him. “Let me handle this.”
Before Gilbetron could address the tribesman, he got down on his knees and bowed deeply, almost touching his nose to the ground.
“The rocks told us you would come,” he intoned reverently. “We have waited some time for your arrival.”
“How much time?” Gilbetron asked.
“Fourteen years,” the tribesman answered. He brought his face up once again to look Gilbetron in the eye. “You have returned a fragment, I see.”
To his surprise, Gilbetron realized he had opened his fist and laid out the small crystal on his palm for the others to look at.
“It is from the Rock of Discernment,” the tribesman explained. “It has answered your questions?”
Gilbetron hesitated. “It has answered some.”
“Only the ones you have dared to ask,” came the reply. “For others, you fear the answers. It is foolish to fear knowledge, my lord.”
Nieka stepped forward from the horses. “I count three crystal formations, yet you mentioned only one. The Rock of Discernment. What are the others?”
“This one fears nothing,” the tribesman observed. “There is the Rock of Return and the Rock of Healing. The healing rock cures all ailments with a single touch, save death. The Rock of Return stands guard for the coming of the Rockmakers. Like you, they will return someday soon.”
“What is your name, tribesman?” Gilbetron asked.
The man bowed a second time. “Kesprit,” he said. “But calling me by name is an honor not earned, my lord.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Kesprit looked up to the others on the ridge, signalling them to stand down. Once their bows were retracted, he turned back to Gilbetron.
“I pray it is no imposition, but may I inspect your rock?” he asked.
Gilbetron held out the crystal fragment for the tribesman, who took it in his hand. The moment it touched his skin, his face turned a deathly shade of white. The longer it remained in his palm, the more difficulty he had drawing breath. His neck straining, his eyes growing wide, he finally let go and let the crystal slip from his hand. It fell into the grass.
Leve dove for it quickly, not wanting to lose sight of it in the thick carpet of green. Gilbetron, however, reached forward to take Kesprit by the arm and lift him up off his knees. Once he was certain the tribesman was better, he let go.
“You must continue on,” Kesprit breathed. “It is a matter of some urgency.” His breath laboured, he stumbled back, falling again. “She… requires your… assistance. You must go to her.”