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SYNOPSIS: The ambitious monk Manheim and the callow novice Julian are unlikely traveling companions. Both would consider the circumstances surrounding their journey mere bad luck—yet, one way or another, they have been charged with a single, important mission: Find the Blackpage!
Twenty years after Manheim’s rival monk, Byron—now called The Blackpage—was exiled from the Order of Authors, this adventuring party will face dangers in the mysterious wilds of Daranna. Yet, all agree that nothing they could encounter is more dangerous than the man they hope to find…
INDEX | Chapter 1 | <Previous (Chapter 9) | Next (Chapter 11)>
The Blackpage
The smoke turned out to be farther than they realized. By following the signpost to a mountainous ridge, bracing against a chilling cold wind, they walked single file towards, they presumed, the Blackpage.
The mountains were impressive—Julian had never seen mountains so towering. The rolling, forested mountains near the Monastery seemed like low hills by comparison. Pockets of snow roosted in the sheer faces of the mountains like winter birds. Thick grey clouds loomed in judgement over the grey landscape.
Henri fell in step next to Julian and asked, “Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“For meeting the Blackpage—getting your wish. Fulfilling your highly principled and totally not impulsive stand against Manheim.”
“It’ll be mission accomplished. I admit to being nervous—I’ve built up this image of the Blackpage in my head, I wonder what he’s actually like.”
“I will be happy to have delivered the message but frankly I’m looking forward to knowing that Beast is behind us. Maybe we’ll get another meal with Yan Dawil…”
“I just hope that he—”
Manheim interrupted them, saying “There it is!” with some strange mix of anger and alarm.
Julian followed Manheim’s words to the pillar of smoke, followed it down to a low overhanging cavern entrance. Jutting out from the rock at a strange angle was a belfry and dome, very much like the monasteries they had traveled through in the book. It looked like it had passed through the rock, like it was a foreign object—it was made of a different kind of stone, and gave the entrance to the cave an eerie, alien feeling.
They approached in silence.
Standing around the entrance to the cave, strange belfry jutting out overhead, fire burning nearby, Julian asked what seemed the obvious question: “Do you think he’s home?”
“The fire is well stocked—he can’t have tended this more than an hour ago. He is surely close,” Varus observed. “Keep your wits about you.”
Driven on by curiosity, Julian set down his bags where they stood and stepped carefully and quietly into the cave. It was like stepping out of a world of grey and white and into a world of black and red. The low entrance to the cave allowing light in at a strange angle, the dim glow of the fire casting dancing shadows on the cavern walls.
As Julian’s eyes adjusted, he spied a figure asleep against the wall. This is surely the Blackpage! His figure was unimpressive—covered messily in thin blankets and rags, an unkempt beard obscuring the lower part of his face and wild patches of hair obscuring the rest.
Julian stepped carefully and closely. He wondered, briefly, if it would be rude to wake him up—the anticipation of their journey piling up against the courtesy of letting the wild-looking man sleep.
All at once, the Blackpage launched out of his sleeping posture and grabbed Julian by the collar of his robes, lifting him to the air and holding a knife up, shouting “WHAT WORLD IS THIS?”
Julian held up his hands peacably, and was too terrified to speak.
“WHAT WORLD IS THIS?” The Blackpage repeated, blinking. Then he hissed— “Did it follow you?”
His eyes glowed orange like embers flying through the night. His face was heavily scarred on one side, and hair would not grow over it. His breath stank, Julian fumbled briefly with his hands trying to catch his breath.
Henri and Varus entered in at the commotion— “Byron!” Varus barked.
“This is Daranna!” Henri pleaded. “We’ve been sent by the Order of Authors.”
Byron the Blackpage slowly put Julian back down on the ground. Julian could see that his hand and arm were heavily scarred as well. He blinked again, and looked slowly at the others, first at their feet, then rising. “Who are you,”—more declaration than question.
“We’ve come from the Order of Authors, in the far south. We’ve spoken with Yan Dawil, and earned our passage here through your test and his. We have a message from the late Abbot Targand, whom you knew as Brother Superior.”
Byron’s eyes focused, as if, until that moment, he wasn’t fully present; finally his mind caught up to his body. “I know you.”
His eyes shifted, as he caught sight of Manheim, lingering near the back. “And you…”
Varus sighed—like he knew this was coming. “Abbot Targand, before he passed—so I am led to believe—wished to repent of exiling you, wanted to, what was it, boy?”
Julian felt all eyes suddenly on him, as he was asked to complete Targand’s last words. “I—uh, he—that is, we were—we were asked to extend to you our forgiveness, and beg for yours.”
A pregnant pause followed Julian’s words. Julian added— “You can come back to the Order, now!”
Byron turned, slowly, to Julian, and looked at him with those glowing ember-eyes. His voice, a low rumbling growl, asked, “Why would I come back?”
Julian suddenly felt very small. Henri found him, and dusted him off from the assault, while Byron, Varus, and Manheim argued.
“Please, gentlemen!” Varus interrupted, interposing himself between the Blackpage and Manheim. “Enough of this. Byron, we have come a long way. We beg your leave to rest and eat from our own stores before we make the journey back. We have delivered our message, you may do with it what you will. But I will not stand bickering. Manheim—Targand wanted to let it go. You must now let it go. Byron, the official position of the Order is that you are free to return as you wish, but you are not obligated and we are not here to force you.”
Julian saw Byron tighten and release his hands over the knife blade, before returning it to it’s sheath on his cincture.
“Tell me one thing. Did you see the Beast?”
Varus said, “Not I, but we were pursued in the book.”
“I saw it,” Henri said. “I saw the beast, or the shadow of it, in the dark.”
Byron turned to look at Henri, as if for the first time. “Did it follow you?”
“I—what? No, we took the book here and found you.”
“How do you know?”
“It can’t leave worlds—can it?”
Byron sighed, and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I don’t know.”
A long silence followed.
“Sit, and rest. If you are not here to kill me, I will not harm you. Night is falling, and it is bitterly cold here. I will consider what you have told me while you rest.”
To be continued…
Thank you very much for reading! This is Find The Blackpage, a fantasy adventure serial set in the world of Daranna. This will be a serial publishing every week, for a tentative total of twelve episodes. Please subscribe to be sure you don’t miss an installment sent directly to your inbox!
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God bless!
AJPM
Not the heroic monk we expected . . .
Oooh! I’m late to the game, but I’m intrigued.