The next morning, at dawn of the 28th of the month, Leokas looked over the deck railing to the endless forest now below them. (Solisar was now at the helm.) Belvin, having just finished his daily prayers, joined his friend.
"The Lost Peaks," said Leokas, pointing at two small mountains below. "I was friends with a centaur from there."
"Does it sadden you that we are flying over your home without a visit?" asked Belvin.
"We are elves;" said Leokas, "what is one year away but a wink in one's life?"
"Yet, surely the weights of moments are not all the same," said Belvin.
"I wonder when
Mythlos and my mother will make it to the forest," said Leokas, changing the subject.
Belvin shrugged. Then he looked toward the bow and pointed. "Which mountains are those?"
On the horizon, some 100 miles ahead of them, they could see massive and steep snow-covered mountains bursting from the deeply forested land.
"The great Star Mounts," said Leokas. "Most of the mountains in that range are over 20,000 feet. I will go tell Solisar to increase our elevation to at least four miles."
"Cannot we simply fly around them, there to the west?"
"The helmsman cannot turn the vessel, remember. Steering requires adjustment to the sails, and as you know, it can take us an hour to do that properly. We would smash into them before that at this speed. It is far easier when sitting in the chair to raise the craft. We really need to find us some true sailors."
As Leokas turned to go, Hakam joined them, though he kept himself from the railing. "I received another message from
Jayce," the cleric said. "He says that he has found
Samber's former wife. She claims that she left
Samber because he loved his work more than her."
"Why does
Samber's love life matter to us?" asked Belvin.
Hakam continued, "There is more that I find far more interesting:
Jayce says that the woman,
Samber's ex-wife, looks like an older, Lantanna version of
Ilthian. The woman has red hair instead of
Ilthian's unnatural blue and lacks
Ilthian's skin patterns. I am curious if others whom we met on
Samber's island look like others in
Samber's past."
"Did you ask him that?" said Leokas.
"I was not able to; the magic item he uses to communicate with us, can only send twice a
tenday, if I understand correctly, and I did not prepare for such magic this morning."
~~~~
As the end of the day was approaching, they reached the foreboding, needle peaks of the Star Mounts. The winds were powerful here and began driving them to the west. The sails were not affected, nor could they feel any wind if they stood on deck, for they were within the protective cover of the magic bubble around the whole
spelljammer. It was as if they were a ship in a bottle, and that bottle was being blown.
By dusk, the mountains were behind them, and they passed over the southern edge of the
High Forest. Leokas informed them that the whole forest was about 300 miles long north to south. This meant that they were traveling between 380 and 390 miles per day. They still had almost 2,000 miles to go.
When morning came again, they were traveling over cleared plains and hills, and then at
highsun, they reached the ocean, the
Sea of Swords. Leokas did not know exactly where they were anymore, since he did not know how badly the winds about the Star Mounts had forced them off course. He knew that they must be somewhere between
Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, but at least 400 miles of coastland were between those two cities. Even so, the ranger was convinced that if they continued south over the Sea, they would eventually pass over the narrow Dragon Neck Peninsula of
Tethyr, at which point they would stop, attempt to adjust the sails, and fly southeast toward
Calimshan.
Later that day, when Leokas was at the helm, Szordrin and Solisar joined Kytharrah and
Ilthian in her cabin, where the blue-haired maiden was helping the impatient
minotaur write his letters.
"
Ilthian," said the
sun elf, "if you have a moment, Szordrin and I are curious about something. We were wondering if you would like me to teach you magic."
Ilthian beamed. "I would love to learn magic. I did not know that one even
could learn magic."
"I am not certain that you can learn magic," said Solisar. "All races are different. Some, like
Cassiera's people, for example, inherently have a connection to
the Weave, while others seem barely affected by it and thus can have little influence over it. Szordrin and I are wondering which kind of people you and your kin are."
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Szordrin's wand will help you see
the Weave with your own eyes." Solisar handed the delicate, pale wooden baton to her.
Kytharrah came over to see what was going on.
"Here, let me stand behind you and guide your hands," said Solisar. "When you wave a wand in this motion quickly, the wand 'listens' for a special 'command word'."
"Is the wand alive?" asked
Ilthian.
"No."
"Then how can it listen?"
"Do you know how the strings of
Mythlos' mandolin were tuned such that they each made specific sounds? A wand is something like that in reverse. Each wand is 'tuned' such that specific sounds activate the magic power stored inside."
"What happens when the wand is active? And what is this wand's special word?"
"Szordrin learned that this wand uses an ancient
high elven phrase that means, 'Open my eyes.' I want you to wave the wand just like this and repeat after me."
Solisar guided her hand and spoke the short phrase.
Ilthian continued the pattern of motion correctly and repeated the words. Then she gasped.
"What do you see?" asked Szordrin.
"You are glowing, Szordrin!" said
Ilthian.
"He has a strong connection to
the Weave," Solisar explained.
"I want to try!" said Kytharrah.
"Wand lessons are for those who finish their reading and writing lessons first," said Solisar.
"I brought you a wand too," said Szordrin, and he handed the
minotaur a stick to hold. The deception seemed to work well enough, as Kytharrah was now swinging the stick around in an attempt to emulate
Ilthian's motions.
"Now," said Solisar, "I want you to try to not look at Szordin but rather at the spaces
between Szordrin and other things, such as the door or the jar of ink by your papers. What do you see? Try very hard to relax and concentrate."
"I think I see a very, very faint thread connecting him to the jar."
"See, Szordrin," said Solisar. "She is more than an automaton."
"Look at the jar,
Ilthian," said Szordrin. "Is it glowing like me?"
"No, not at all."
"Focus on the jar," the
tiefling continued. "Try to reach out to it with your mind. Will it to glow in the same way that I am."
"Little sister looks funny," said Kytharrah.
Indeed,
Ilthian had a strained expression on her face as she struggled to make an arcane connection with the jar of ink.
"Do you see a glow now?" asked Solisar.
"Maybe a little bit; it is very faint."
"Remember how it feels in your mind. To perform magic, each spellcaster, like Szordrin and me, must make such a connection to the targets of our spells."
"Try to concentrate on the connection itself," said Szordrin. "Focus now on the space between the glowing ink jar and you yourself."
Ilthian grew excited. "I think I saw a new thread," she said, "but it flickered and then went out."
"You are learning this remarkably quickly," said Solisar.
"Say the word, 'jar'," said Szordrin.
"Jar. Oh, it flickered back again."
"
The Weave connects everything," said Solisar, "every object, but also every sound and every thought and every concept. Simply
speaking about a jar affects the connections of every jar in the area to the one thinking about a jar. In this way, even simple words can have power, once one learns the feel of how
the Weave responds. This is why most spells involved 'magic' words."
"Jar, jar, jar," said Kytharrah, waving his twig around.
"Try to keep the thread visible," said Solisar.
"Jar,... jar...,"
Ilthian stopped verbalizing the word but was still mouthing it with her lips. "Oh," she said, "I can also feel a sort of sensation in my fingertips...."
"Try to will the thread to move," said Szordrin. "Watch the thread carefully to see how each word, thought, and motion you make affects the thread."
"I think I understand,... if I move my fingers like this,... jar,... jar,... Jar, move!" she shouted the last two words as a bold command, and yanked her hand back. A tiny speck of ink splashed from the ink jar, as if the liquid had boiled over or the jar had been bumped by something.
"Hurrah,
Ilthian! You did it."
There was a snapping sound. "Oops," said Kytharrah, "I broke mine."
