Rabbit Lake
Master Qaid of the Sun, the Sorcerer, crosses the Rabbit Lake in a quest to Two Crows Bazaar.
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Entered by: 0xD656…B840 and preserved on chain (see transaction)
Chapter One: The Pass
I met Wizard #1144 in the days post-departure. After leaving the Atelier I followed my intuition northwards, where the clouds were headed, and he had walked up behind me as I made my camp on the third evening. He’s a quirky old man who carries a book with him (that he has never let me read), he also has a psychic rabbit with him whom he insists on calling “The Hare”. I didn’t understand it. At the same time, he seemed infinitely knowledgeable and knew much more about the Realm and its particulars than most I had ever met.
He invited me to follow him to an isolated Tavern where a wizard he had met “generations ago” had once worked. It was suggested that the wizard, Eric, might know about The Past Masters. The route involved climbing further away from sea level and an “easier” mountain pass. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, I’d climbed mountains before. Hadrien’s age and the way he moved made it seem like he'd be easy enough to beat if we did get into a physical altercation, though he didn’t seem the type, and so I agreed. On the way to higher altitudes he spoke about the reduction in vegetation and the fauna that we could expect to see in the coming miles, as well as the ways in which I might augment my plant spell to grow us a treehouse to live in. I told him that I didn’t want to spend my energy like that and he was unfazed. I didn’t once see him use his own magic. Though, he did give me a helpful tip that included moving my hand “like you’re pouring a beer” which helped to accelerate the growth of my cultivated plants. I imagined it more like using a watering can, either way, it worked.
On the route I had many hours to myself. Raj and The Hare would rush ahead to hop out the trail we needed to follow and Hadrien would eventually fall many strides behind. At the beginning of the day we would keep pace together, but eventually he would slow down and didn’t seem to care if I walked with him or not. For the lengths of time that I walked alone I thought about The Atelier, and prayed. I also spent a lot of time focusing on my footsteps, sensing into the contact between my body and the ground as I kissed the earth with the soles of my feet in each stride. Occasionally, I would lose my focus and find myself raging, torn from reality by flashes of the fires and screams of that day. I didn’t want to think about it - I could’ve saved them.
Nearing the end of the second day walking together, as the air began to cool, the Hare came by to walk with me.
‘What is that inkwell of yours?’
‘My master gave it to me,’ I replied.
‘Oh cool…’
The little rabbit hopped ahead for a few minutes and then returned again to hop by my side.
‘But…What is it?’
This made me laugh. The morning after I had first met Hadrien, he and the Hare found me writing before breakfast. I was using the ink-well, and was relieved that they hadn’t asked about it. Though, I should’ve known the questions would come eventually.
I paused for a moment to wonder whether I should tell the Hare. The ink-well had been a gift from my own master received not long after we had first met and before I had begun to paint at The Atelier. Back then, I was working with wood, building mostly chairs and tables, doors and occasionally small boxes for keeping secret things. I enjoyed the creative work in carving patterns and scenes into these little chests. The moments in which I had the most freedom to play were few, but always the most fulfilling.
When my master had arrived at my workshop he had been looking for new paint brushes. I was intrigued and we spoke about life as I came to understand his requirements. In the end, he gave me the ink-well out of gratitude for the quality of my work. In hindsight, I suspect that he was aware that it might help me. I had been sick with grief, pouring myself into wood-work with anger more than anything else. The paint brushes had required more delicacy than I had been working with. He hadn’t told me anything about the ink-well then, only to write to him at The Atelier. I was surprised to find out when I began writing that the ink-well was imbued with magical properties.
At the time we met it had only been a month or so since I had lost my village and my family. We had had marauders often raiding the nearby settlements, but this was a more violent and wild attack. At first I thought we had been struck by a dragon, even though it had been a long time since one was seen in our part of the world. Later I came to discover that the beast that had taken everything was The Great Mother. I find it hard to believe she would deliberately do that... My people's ancestors had bonds with her, but not every folk shares the same feelings. Of course, those who had aggravated the beast were faraway when she had roared flames into the place I had once called home. My family and friends on the other hand; reduced to collateral damage in a political game.
I mentioned all of this in my first letter to my master and he invited me to The Atelier for a break. Then, I found it hard to leave. On arrival at The Atelier, I was told to write to let my feelings be heard. I wrote endlessly for the first year of my stay at the Atelier, and after that, less so. As an additional gift, the ink-well gave me insight into the emotions through color.
The magic of the ink-well is that every emotion is represented by a different hue, emitted into the air, as one writes with the ink - a property known as Emotiozathesia. Even more stunning is that the ink-well itself imbues ink with this property, so there’s no need to worry about finding a specific formula of ink. Eventually, I needed it less and stopped writing with it. I hadn’t even thought of the ink-well for a couple years, until it was time to leave. I was unsure about taking it or leaving it to the Atelier's Relics Room, but finally I packed it into my bag knowing that I would be writing again, if only letters back to the Atelier.
I told the Hare about the properties of the ink-well, then Raj woke up in my pouch and hopped out, and they chased each other away and further along the path.
At the higher altitudes on the third day, I began to lose my breath. We had left early before the sun had risen and needed to make the pass by midday. If we did not make it, we were supposed to turn-around and try again tomorrow. I did not know how he did it, but Hadrien, who was now walking with a long stick, passed by me in the mid-morning. He smiled at me through a frozen beard like he was having the time of his life. I was struggling and felt delirious. Earlier in the day we had walked through Bliss Forest, the only place known to have a Bliss-Cat-Albino-Rat amnesty, but now we had pushed out of the tree line the air felt thin like paper and the sun was bright and blinding against the white of the snow. Hadrien had replaced his glasses with snow goggles that were sealed at the sides. I had just made sure my face scarf was extra secure. I watched the old-man power forward in a way that was frankly shocking. The days prior had made it seem like his physical condition was worsening, but now I was sure he was a madman. This pass was not "easy" and I could only think that the other route option might’ve killed a properly prepared expedition – we were definitely not that. I had hiked endlessly in my pilgrimage time but my body was reminding me that I had grown out of practice in the time spent at the Atelier. I drifted in and out of periods of hard work, pushing up the mountain, and unsatisfactory moments of respite through short breaks spent lying against the steepness of the slope. Raj was nestled in my robes and tried hard to keep me focused. I felt like my skull might explode. Quite suddenly, a cloud made its way across the landscape and I lost sight of Hadrien.
A familiar dense feeling of loneliness and abandoning took me by surprise and it’s hard to properly articulate how difficult the conditions made it after that. It was not only that I could no longer see Hadrien, but that I now had no easy way of knowing if I was going in the right direction. Snow filled the air and I could barely see my hands in front of my face. It took all my mental energy to continue onward, and I was unable to properly fill my lungs. Raj was frozen in fear and laid motionless against my torso. I wanted to give up. Hopelessness eventually gave way to a kind of freedom and I felt able to lie down. I did, and then I closed my eyes.
Between then and my next memory I don’t remember anything. Hadrien brought me to, with the sun out again and baking my exposed face. He had pulled down my face covering to feed me water. I felt a mixture of anger and gratitude towards him. I do not reveal my face to strangers often.
'Follow your breathing' Hadrien advised. 'Your body is in shock due to the altitude. We should have spent an extra day acclimatizing, I take responsibility, and I’m sorry.'
He swigged from a hip-flask I hadn’t seen him use before. My hands were under my robes and I felt a crumpled piece of parchment in my hand.
'This is yours', Hadrien continued, placing the ink-well and a broken quill next to my body, “The storm came quickly and I lost sight of you in the chaos. I found these next to you and your bag wide open. Raj came to find us.”
I tried to ask if Raj was okay but only croaked out a flat unintelligible noise. My jaw felt frozen and my lips were dry as bone.
'It’s okay, rest,’ he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, ‘We’re turning back. We’ll try again tomorrow.’
I blacked out again, and woke to the sound of a tent being unzipped.
Again, I felt the crumpled parchment in hand, and sought to remember to look at it soon.
‘Feeling better?’ Hadrien asked, ‘I brought you some soup.’
I was able to sit up inside the tent, albeit slowly, slipping the parchment into an inner pocket and taking the soup into my hands.
Hadrien was no longer wearing the goggles and his face was much gentler than I remembered.
‘It may not taste great, but it’s exactly what you need right now,’ said the old wizard.
Looking down at the bowl and I saw a steaming gelatinous gloop with dark green leaves stewing in its bottom. I recognised the leaves as Quantum Rhodiola, thanked him, and he left me to it.
I rested until the medicine took effect and I began to feel more like myself. Eventually, I mustered the energy to find out where we were camped.
Stepping out of the tent, I was met by the face of rock that, although daunting, was shielding us from the brunt of the elements. We had not traveled so far down the mountain as to be back at our previous camp, and instead we were perched on a snow covered enclave. I didn’t ask how Hadrien had managed to set up the tent or bring me down to this safety. I was only grateful.
I spent the rest of the day recovering inside my tent until the evening time. Before the sun had begun to set, Hadrien called me out to a small fire he had managed to coax into warming a small pan of six or seven eggs. I took a seat on a boulder nearby.
‘Almost ready to eat,’ he said, pausing, ‘We need to make the pass tomorrow or head back down, we are running out of food.’
He looked at me and I saw a twinkle in his eye.
I nodded, breaking eye contact only to bring focus back to my body, which felt weary.
‘Do you think we can do it?’ he asked.
‘Didn’t come this far not to,’ I said.
He smiled wide and winked.
The following morning we woke before sunrise again, packed away the tents, and lifted our little rabbits into our arms. Both of them were conserving energy and could no longer hop out the trail ahead - this time it’d be up to us.
Hadrien was adorned with long stick and goggles in a full expedition suit. I fashioned a headwrap with a spare scarf under my hat, in addition to the usual scarf across my face. We were ready.
Hadrien led the way and this time I stayed much closer. My body aching, I stepped into the holes he left behind in the crust of snow with each step. Hadrien seemed to be moving slower than he had two days before, and I managed to keep pace without too much trouble. I shared with him that I was beginning to feel light-headed, and he replied that he was too. Thankfully, the sky was clear and no storms looked set to find us anytime soon. On our short breaks to rest, I was able to stargaze. Although my body ached, my mind was much clearer. Looking up at the sky felt like being submerged in a deep and still ocean - the lighter hues of the rising sun inching their way up towards the heavens as time passed. I was reminded of The Atelier.
My master had taught me to paint, but he had also taught me other things. For example, the way he named the constellations was different from how my family had taught me. We would often watch the stars and one evening I asked him why he thought beings had always tracked and followed them. I thought he would offer a practical answer. When I had asked what the most important thing I could do with my life was, he had answered, “The next thing.” I recognised the wisdom in that answer, and when I asked this question about the stars I thought he might point to the ancients' need for nautical navigation or time-keeping. Instead, he said, “Even in the depths of darkness, our souls are drawn towards that which is light.”
Hadrien startled me out of reminiscence by shouting at me.
‘There! Look!’ he shouted above the cross-winds.
He pointed to a mound of stones out of which stood a wooden pole with a whole cloud of flags hanging off it like a kite only the mountain owned. I recognised it as a sign that we were about to reach the pass.
I smiled back at him and we were re-energised to push onward. We dragged up the last climb without stopping for a full thirty minutes and were met by a vista unparalleled by most I’d ever seen. On the one side we could see almost the full range of peaks in the region, including the famous Unicorn Peak, and on the other the sprawling hills to the west settling into flatter lands of smaller villages and towns. The light of dusk made it easy to see without being blinded by the bright whites of snow in the midday sun. It was increasingly peaceful as we covered the last one-hundred meters.
‘Woohooooo!’ Hadrien shouted, throwing his bag down by the flags and making his way over to catch me in his embrace for the first time.
‘We made it!’ he said.
‘We did!’ I replied.
‘We can sit here and enjoy the views for about 20 minutes and then we should head down,’ he revealed, ‘I’ll leave you on your own, it can be nice to take it all in for yourself.’
He walked away from the marked pile of stones and gave me about twenty meters to myself. It was enough to feel like I didn’t have to be anyone or anything for anyone. However, soon the emptiness was filled and I sat down and pulled out the materials I would need to write a letter. I remembered the parchment that was in my inner pocket and pulled that out too. On it I could see that I had scrawled the word “Time” on it in my delirium. Returning to begin to write a short note, I picked up the half of the quill I had kept to write with, and dipped it into the now open ink-well. I wasn’t sure how to start it but thought Dear Ozzz was a pretty solid opening. Hadrien disappeared over the ridge in the direction we had just come from and I imagined him standing, one foot on a boulder with stick in hand, goggles reflecting the rising sun - a caricature of the adventurer I had found him to be.
I was about to start writing about Time and its peculiar effect on my being when I heard what sounded like a bird call to my right.
'CAAWWW'
I shuddered, it was similar in character to the sounds that haunt some of my most traumatic flashbacks, though this particular cry was much more hollow and much less deep.
I looked to my left to see if Hadrien had reappeared yet. He hadn’t. As far as Hadrien had told me, there was no way that there would be any wild-life at this altitude. I considered the possibility that the lack of oxygen might be causing auditory hallucinations. Then, I heard it again:
'CAAAAWWW, CAAAAAWW, CAAAAAAAWWW'
This time there were multiple cries and they sounded almost celebratory. I stood up, spilling the ink-well. Again, looking to my left I saw no sign of Hadrien. I called his name, puzzled, to see if he might reply.
Moving through the snow to my right I went to see if I could locate the origin of the sounds over the crest of the plateau. After about 20 meters, I saw them.
I counted five figures, making their way towards the top of the pass. Corvids. The large beaks unmistakable, their cloaks waving in the wind. They saw me and I waved. They didn’t wave back.
I trudged back towards the other side of the pass to see if I could see Hadrien and he rose into my line of sight as I was just about half-way there.
‘Sounds like we’ve got company!’ he said.
‘What is this?’ I laughed, ‘A buddy-cop movie?’
‘My guess is the last Corvids you met were kids?’ he replied.
‘Yes,’ I replied, sensing that Hadrien was a little concerned.
‘Well, I don’t like to generalize but most of the adult Corvids I’ve met are opportunists and the rest; assassins,’ he continued.
‘Oh…’ I wasn’t sure how to deal with the information being presented.
‘We better get back to our bags,’ he said.
On our way back to our bags, which were resting at the bottom of the rather giant flag pole where we’d left them, the Corvids made their way up onto the plateau. The ink I had spilled when I had gotten up to investigate was emitting translucent fumes that could be seen rising up off the snow in a prismatic rainbow of color.
One of the Corvids flew a short hop ahead of the pack to where the colors were rising into the air and picked up the inkwell.
‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’
The Corvid looked at us struggling through the snow back towards our bags and cackled.
‘The Boss is gonna love this little specimen!’ the giant-bird-wizard called back towards its friends, screwing on the ink-wells cap and walking back to meet them. Together, they formed a formidable shadow of black and cloak against the majestic scenery.
‘And who would that be?’ asked Hadrien as we got back to safeguard the rest of our belongings.
'Shut up!' screamed back one of the Corvids who had not yet spoken.
I was in a state of panic. I didn’t know what to do but I knew that I had to get that inkwell back. I considered my options, strongly weighing up whether I alone could take on a group of potential assassins in hand-to-hand or mind-and-magic combat. I looked across at Hadrien who seemed also to be in pensive waiting, watching the pack of jet-black wizards closely.
‘We’re being kind in not having killed you yet old man, enjoy the view whilst you can.’ said another of the crowd.
The group laughed again, mocking Hadrien who looked back at them with seriousness.
‘Listen, I really need that inkwell,’ I started, ‘It was given to me by someone special.’
‘Someone special?’ replied the first Corvid, ‘Must be valuable.’
They laughed with even more confidence and I felt the heat of anger ball my fists. I felt the energy travel down and through my feet, pulsing through the ground. The Corvids hadn’t noticed, but plants were beginning to sprout under their feet. Hadrien looked across at me and shook his head. He didn’t say it out loud, but I could feel what he meant. Reluctantly, I relaxed the tension in my fists, and the plants retreated.
Hadrien dropped his long stick to the ground and lifted his hands in the air like you would if a cyborg was holding you at gun-point.
‘We don’t want any trouble,’ he went on, ‘I have a very good old Corvid friend who I owe a visit to and I still need to catch up to him, it’d be a shame if I died before I got the chance.’
The Corvid at the back of the group pushed through the others and asked the important question, ‘Who?’
‘Ah, what was his name…?’ I got the sense Hadrien was feigning poor memory for some reason or another, he was mentally sharp despite appearances, ‘Ah yes!’ he continued, ‘My friend is Artificer Corvin of the Event Horizon…’
Hadrien, who had replaced his goggles with the glasses I had come to know him for, looked up over the lenses at the group with a glint in his eye. The questioning bird-wizard was shifting about nervously. In fact, the whole previously boisterous and jovial group were now much more serious.
‘He’s not still searching for that thing is he?’ Hadrien was more confident now, ‘I was supposed to help him with that…’
‘FUCK YOU!’ The Corvid that had screamed at him to shut-up before seemed even more incensed at the recent developments and spread its wings as it screamed again.
I watched the Corvid that had picked up my inkwell look down at it and inspect it properly. The rest of the group had huddled together and were energetically discussing something in clicks-and-caws that I had no way of understanding. I had no idea what was happening but I was beginning to feel more at ease that the ink-well would find its way back to me sooner rather than later.
Hadrien hadn’t moved much but was watching the huddle intently. There was still a palpable tension in the air that I was reluctant to add to with any misplaced words.
Finally, the huddle turned back to them and a new Corvid stepped out to the front. It stood taller than the rest and I got the hunch that this was the true leader of the group.
‘Nice trick, wizard. You escape with your lives this time, and if you really do know Corvin of the Event Horizon, you can come collect this,’ the leader snatched the inkwell out of the other Corvid’s hand and tossed it into the air, ‘next time you come to visit,’ he said catching the inkwell and placing it in a concealed pocket.
‘Well now I think…’ Hadrien began to protest on my behalf but the Corvids had already begun to turn away.
They left as quickly as they had come, leaping off the cliffs and flying out towards the west.
Entered by: 0xD656…B840 and preserved on chain (see transaction)
