Story : Climbing Caer Caradoc

From Ars Magica

Current revision as of 16:42, 4 May 2006

Joining the Road to Sarop

Stepping out into the morning sun, dark shadows still clung to the western sides of the hills that faced them. Not far from the road, the farmers' fields ended, turning rapidly into dense forest that covered the remaining distance to the hills, and covering much of their sides. To the North-East sat Caer Caradoc; easily spotted among the lower prominences on the eastern side of the vale.

The old road ran past the front of the tavern from the North-East, and was moderately busy with people walking or riding in to Church Stretton to attend the Sunday services from both directions. Many of the buildings in the village were sending small trails of grey smoke into the fresh morning air, as Sunday dinners were prepared.

Upon the Road

As the company set off, the peasants, serfs, and freeman travelling the opposite way gave them a wide-berth, as befitted those who, at first glance at least, looked to be travelling nobles, or churchmen.

Glancing back, the Long Mynd rose up behind them, dwarfing the hills, though lacking the loftiness of Caer Caradoc. Its sides glowed with a mixture of verdure and heather in the light of the rising sun. As the party left Church Stretton behind, Caer Caradoc moved toward the East, and it became clear that they would have to leave the old road, and bear toward the summit.

A trail left the road, running between two fields, and disappearing into the forest on the far side.

"It looks to me as if that trail goes through the lower lands to the south of Caer Caradoc itself" speaks Bedo. "That end of the hill looks less steep than the side that faces us to the north of here. Nenya - is that the way we should climb, or is there a reason to go another way".

Nenya brushed a strand of hair from her face, and smiled a bit nervously. "The path turns north after a bit. It's steep here but easy travelling once it reaches the ridge. This would be a good way to go."

Following the trail

"Right then, Let us start the climb. The sooner we reach above the trees the better, for then we will have views, and that bird of yours can start to fly free Phaedrus." Without waiting, he starts up the trail, heading up and away from the road.

Passing between the rye fields, Bedo soon finds himself under the thick canopy of the forest trees. Beams of light sparkled with with breeze-borne motes, and thick moss smothered the banks that lay either side of the path. The path didn't stretch far into the forest before its twists and winds caused it to be lost amidst the trunks of the old treees.

As they climbed up between the tree, Bedo spoke "I know what I'm doing, looking for a covenant. Durenmar I loved, but I need somewhere smaller and less full of scheming, where I can research, without always worrying who's planning what. Oh, and not having an archmage looking over my shoulder all the time will allow me to research as I feel right, not as he does. Now, what is it that brings you here, climbing this hill, looking for a new home?"

"My wandering feet and an itch to build something new, " Phaedrus answers, "since I found the wonderful world of books I have wanted to build a library so other people can find their way there too."

As the path fades away, he spoke again "Nenya - do you know of anything around here that should stop us just heading uphill? If we head upwards we are bound to break out above the treeline, and anywhere uphill takes us closer to the hilltop".

The Brook

Rounding a twist in the path, the travellers were greeted by the sound of burbling water. Ahead, an old, blackened log lay across a wide stream. The boughs overhead cast shadows upon the water, and the odd submurged rock thrust the water up as it raced by. The top of the log had been sawn to make it flatter. Despite the effects of the stream's spray, and the moss upon its sides, the log seemed sturdy.

The path split before the log; a branch heading right along the side of the stream, while the main path continued straight toward the base of Caer Caradoc's ridgeline.

Nenya raises a hand in warning. "There's something there, in the stream," she said, and then pointed at the place she saw the splash.

Bedo peers down towards where Nenya pointed. Seeing the white item he calls out quietly to her in Welsh "Pass me a branch or something, and I'll try to hook it free". As he waits he glances up towards the far bank, looking unwarily over the chewed-up mud, to the cover beyond.

Before stepping forward, he pauses, and standing still on the bank, calls out the words of Eyes of the Treacherous Terrain, checking his way forward to where he could reach the white object.

His eyes seemed to chill in their sockets, perceptibly, but not so much that it caused discomfort. The mud, he saw, was but a thin layer upon rock and clay. The stream itself had a steeply sided bottom, and was much deeper than its width suggested. Of the bridge and paths, he could perceive nothing. By the time he let the spell fall from his eyes, his robees glistened in the bright morning sunlight with myriad tiny beads of water, like dew on the grass at first light.

"Better make it a good long branch" he added. "That water is deeper than it looks, and I don't fancy slipping in". He peered at the log bridge to see if he could reach it more easily from there. He reckoned it was well over twelve foot between the log bridge and whatever was caught in the stream.

"You know," said Nenya, "I think I saw one just up the path," and with that she wandered off, and returned a minute later with a fallen branch that was nearly as long as she was tall. "Will this do?" she said as she proffered it to the magi with both hands.

"Right ho - thank-you. It wasn't quite what I was thinking of, but it should help me brace myself" he replied with a smile. Before taking it, he took off his pack, his boots, and his outer tunic, folding it carefully, and belted up his undertunic around the top of his legs. Taking the branch, slowly and carefully he climbed down the muddy bank, and into the stream, stopping as he felt the chill of the water. He called out "Phaedrus - you can't swim, can you?" and, as he remembered playing in the brooks of Clwyd as a child, continued, bracing himself with the branch and feeling carefully with his bare feet, as he moved out closer to the white object below the cold water.

He stopped, barely a yard from the edge of the water. His heels were sunk quite firmly into the steep side of the stream's bank, but his toes rested upon nought but water, such was the gradient. He tried to reach down toward the white thing, but it lay tantalisingly out of reach, amidst deep weeds. It looked to be cloth, pale, and with some kind of pattern upon it.

Leaning backwards to balance himself, Bedo reached forward with the branch. He wobbled precariously as the stream pulled on the branch, and twisted it as he attempted to hook the cloth free. He reached back behind him with his left arm, clutching the foliage of the bank, as he stretched forward with the branch.

A couple of times, the cloth slid off the end branch, before becoming snagged. Bedo began to pull the cloth up, and more of it appeared between the weeds. He had raised it barely a foot from the bed of the stream when it held fast, apparently caught upon something heavy. Bracing one end of the stick against his hip, he sunk his fingers into the soft mud of the bank for support and pulled. The stick began to bend, but seemed to be holding up, and Bedo redoubled his efforts, feeling the cloth give as whatever the cloth was caught upon began to rise with the cloth.

He shifted his footing to better support the weight, feeling his heels sink deeper into the muddy bank, the water rising to just above his knees. The cloth inched its way towards the surface, and is it drew within reach, Bedo could see a pale arm amidst the tangle of cloth, and further away, a billowing mass of long dark hair that must surely conceal a face. He called "There's a bod..." when a cold and clammy hand gripped his ankle, and pulled his foot free from the bank, sending him sliding down the bank into the water.

Beneath the bridge

As he fell, the dress fabric slipped from the long stick, and the the corpse sank slowly back to the bed of the stream, to mostly lying atop the weeds, rather than hidden amidst them as it was before.

When seeing Bedo slip Phaedrus quickly moves to the stream bed while removing his pack and any loose clothing and wrapping the hood of his cloak around his arm. Meanwhile Kuari flies over the brook to get a better view of what happened. "Nenya, could you hold on to the other end of my cloak for balance?" Phaedrus asks and then looks up at Kuari who starts chirping excitedly.

With the cold water lapping around his shins, Phaedrus pushed aside the chill sensation and concentrated on performing the proper gestures, bringing his face down low to the water, and shouting his vocals.

Beneath the water, Bedo can hear the muffled sounds of Phaedrus's spell, and abruptly, the fingers clamped tightly about his ankle begin to jerk and loosen. With a firm kick, his leg is freed from the steely digits, but not without sharp nails scratching painful his ankle.

Bedo jerked back, and already soaked through and not caring if he got any wetter, aimed a jab with the branch in the direction his assailant was heading. Without seeing whether it contacted or not he headed for the bank, desparate to get clear of the water.

Phaedrus kept looking at the creature while it retreated, and is once more reminded that he differs from others when the creature tried to use the shadows to hide it from vision.

As it descends, he can see that a good portion of the murk is sediment and mud in the water, but despite that he can still make out the form of the creature as it passes into the deep shadows beneath the bridge, and disappears from view entirely as it sank into a dark spot on the bank thereunder.

A good drenching.

With a combination of hands, elbows, and a fair amount of wriggling, Bedo hauled himself up onto the bank, and scraped off the worst of the mud. From his efforts, he could see how the soft earth had been scarred by victims clawing wildly for a handhold as the creature pulled them into the stream. The front and bottom of his robes were somewhat muddy, but at least there was no stench of still pond water about them.

"Phaedrus, Nenya, we have a problem here, or rather three problems." Bedo spoke, as he climbed clear of the water. "That body is most like of one of the people of Stretton, and they will want to know who she was. Further the creature below the bridge is still there, and is still a danger, not just to us, but to any other travellers this way - and if there is a bridge, there must be other travellers. Finally, the soul of the one she has killed - if prayers are not said for her by those that knew her she will remain in purgatory, for I am sure that fallen here she will not have been in a state of grace."

"Given that though, I am not sure who should be the ones to tell the villagers of their loss. It would not be fair on Nenya to send her alone, equally, I would not want to travel on without her guidance, and as strangers I am sure neither of us would easily be trusted."

"My proposal would be that we travel on as fast as we can up Caer Caradoc, taking all precautions we can as we cross the bridge, and then return to Stretton. On our return there, we tell Marcus the news of what we have found, and ask him to tell the priest, and others of the village he knows already."

"How does that sound to you?".

Phaedrus has been thinking along the same lines and answers, "Like the least bad choice available, especially considering the reactions at the inn this morning. I would add making some kind of warning sign here or dealing with the creature before we travel on. It seemed to dissapear into some kind of hole, possibly a cave under the bridge." Looking at Kuari, Phaedrus continues, "We could send a message to Marcus at once if we need to, right Kuari?" Kuari bobs his head uncertainly and chirps. "True." Phaedrus answers and continues for the others benefit, "If he is outdoors and not in too much company, that might take a while, Warren might be an option thou."

Bedo replied "It'd be difficult for Marcus or Warren - why would they suddenly know that there's a body up here, or a water-woman with long black hair that lives under the bridge and drowns people? They could hardly say that we had told what we'd seen before we left - after all, it's hardly the sort of thing you'd forget to tell people about until a day or so later. Although I suppose we could tell Warren, via your bird there, and get him to wander up here and discover her - although that could be dangerous for him."

"My feeling is still that we should continue our journey, then return to the village, tell Marcus, and leave to catch up with the others - wherever they've got to."

"Sounds good to me, lets draw a warning sign on the path and be off. Nenya, do people from Stretton have any specific signs they would recognize?"

"If not, a good X-cross drawn across the path should at least give them a clue to look out - if we cut one large enough to get through the surface a few yards back, and perhaps mark the trees either side with the same we'll have done all we can." Bedo replied. "There's not much turf under the trees, but something that gets down into soil, rather than just leaf mulch should suffice - and at least cutting it should warm me up a bit". With that he headed back a bit down the path.

"First, the trees - a Muto-Herbam lasting for a moon should suffice.". He walked back until he could see a point where two roughly the same sized trees stood either side of the path, thought for a minute, then drew a knife, and cut a large X-shaped blaze into the bark of each of them, until the lighter wood showed through "...or maybe not - this is something that people should see, but should not alarm them as to how it was done". This done, he took the branch, and used it to plough a similar X in the ground between the two trees.

While looking at the path for Bedo to get back Phaedrus mutters something about drying clothes and sudenly a small pool of water starts to collect around his feet. Then, still looking into the woods he tries a simple Intellego Vim spell to se if there happens to be any magical aura here.

Performing the gestures slowly, and carefully, everything seemed to go according to his intention, but no glow arose in his palm, and no knowledge of an arcane aura arose amongst his thoughts. Evidently, this place lacked a magical aura, and this came as no great surprise to him.

Nenya and the two mages are now stood on the same side of the deep stream that they started out from. They are stood at a junction, a couple of metres from the log under which a creature lairs. A path leads off to the right - following the bank, and down toward the 'ford' at the left of the bridge where the bank is now even muddier from Bedo's flailings. Bedo is shedding flakes of dry alluvial mud whenever he moves, and looks like he's been in battle, with only a hurt ankle for his troubles. The creature is very much alive, and the girl is very much dead. There are two very ominous looking crosses, and a further cross on the path marking the way forward to the log. The area is not magical. So what now? :)

"Very well", said Bedo "we must find a way to go forwards. Looking at the mud there, if we cross through the ford, she'll leap out and attack us. If we cross by the trunk we might fall in anyway. My feeling is that we carry on up the stream on this side for a while, and find a place to cross further up. It's not that large, and the higher we get the smaller it will be. Looking at the lie of the land, it can only be a mile or so to the head of the stream, at worst. We need to press on - we've wasted a bit of time here, and I'm determined that we get this done today. Anyone disagree?"

on the presumption that the others concur...

The little path winds along the bank amidst thick moss gnarled roots, and eventually comes to a stop where a tree has been felled with an axe so that it lies across the stream. Unlike the other log, there has been no attempt to work the surface to make it easy to cross over, and there is a slight downward slope to the lower, opposing bank.

Below the bridge, the water rushes noisily amongst rocks in a confusion of white froth. A kingfisher sits atop on of the branches protruding from the trunk, and regards the travellers wearily with a cocked head before flitting off down the stream.

you can cross here without incident.