Arah 14th, 10th year of King Jerwin the Rotund’s reign.

    Two years of study, and I’m not sure I’m ready to try this “ley line” travel yet. However, I’ve studied the texts nearly to the point of memorization. At this point, I’ve nothing more to gain by reading. Time to take the leap. I’ve located what I believe to be a line a few miles into the wood, north of the castle. There’s a path that meanders for a while, then runs straight east to west for several hundred yards. Going to try just before sundown. We’ll see what happens!

Arah 27th 

      Ok! That was unexpected! Got to remember to carry my journal with me on these adventures! 

     So, I started down the path at sundown. Brisk pace, headed west, when the air around me started to crackle faintly. I stopped and the crackling ceased immediately. I started again and nothing. So I went back to my starting point, and tried again. The crackling started again, then suddenly, a storm blew in out of nowhere! Everything went dark as heavy rain and howling winds battered me from every side, threatening to knock me from my feet! I felt suddenly dizzy, as though I we’re falling through a whirlwind! Then just as suddenly as it started, everything ceased! I felt solid earth beneath my feet. My head pounded, and my stomach churned. I dropped to my knees and retched. Fortunately, the headache and disorientation lasted only moments. I wiped my mouth and took stock of my surroundings. For the first time, I realized I was no longer on the wooded path! I found myself on a stone paved road, and judging by the sun, it was midday! 

     One lonely cart, pulled by a scraggly looking mule, driven by an even scragglier looking man in a tattered cloak was slowly making its way towards me. I hailed him as he approached, and his head snapped up with a look of fear and astonishment! “Saints above! Where’d you come from! I got’na money and poor ‘ole Tober here is near as old as I am! And twice as lazy!”

     “Peace friend! I’m no thief. Just a lost traveler,” I reassured him. No sense troubling the old man with the truth. “If you could just point me in the direction of King Jerwin’s castle, I’ll be on my way!” 

     “King who? Ne’er heard’a Jedwin, Jerwoo, what’err ya call ’em! These lands are ruled by Lord Balthrain. And he don’t much like travelers mister! Best git yerself gone before his goons show up! Find yerself on the wrong side of a jail cell door, or workin’ in the coal mines in Doran.” 

     “Excuse me sir, but is there a town nearby where a man could find a cup of ale and perhaps a bite to eat?” I had my suspicions, but needed to confirm some things.

     “Well, closest town would be Calder, ’bout three leagues back,” the old man said with a nod back over his left shoulder. “Best hurry if’n ya wanna find someplace ta stay before sundown. Lord Balthrain’s men don’t take kindly to people out ‘n’ about after dark. Troublemakers, they call ’em. Spies, and the like! I best be off or find m’self in a heap ‘o trouble as well! So long stranger! And good luck!”

   I pondered his words as I bid him farewell and started down the road in the direction he had indicated. Had I actually travelled to another realm? I needed information, and Calder seemed like as good a place to start as any.

     After what seemed like hours, I arrived at a little hamlet with what looked like a small stone church surrounded by a wooden palisade at the center of town, and a series of much smaller huts and shops radiating outwards. There were a few townspeople about, as well as a few soldiers, walking about in pairs, or milling around in small groups, talking, leaning on their pikes and halberds. Judging by the shabby state of their armor, undisciplined behavior, and the fear in the people’s eyes, they were little more than thugs on the local lord’s payroll. Bullies. I don’t like bullies.

   I slipped into town behind a cart loaded with firewood, and headed to what looked like a small tavern. I stepped inside and settled at a table off to one side. A short, plump, and slightly disheveled looking barmaid came up to my table. “Greetings stranger! What’ll ya have?” “Bread, meat, a chunk of cheese, and some ale to wash it down please,” I said. “And a room for the night, if there’s one to be had.” “Cheese?” she scoffed, “We ain’t had that for ages. Bread an’ stew’s best we got!” She moved in closer, “Soldiers take most ‘o’ what we got for the palace. As for a room, well, I wish ya good fortune with that! There’s none in the tavern, and folks ’round here don’t trust folk they don’t know. I’ll be back with your food shortly!” She turned smartly on her heel and was gone.

     “Stables it is!” I thought to myself grimly. Oh well. Not the first time, nor will it be the last, most likely.

     The barmaid returned a few minutes later with a wooden plate with a small loaf of dark brown bread, and a bowl of stew with a few small chunks of meat of questionable origin, and a small crock of a pale, slightly sour smelling beer.

     I finished my meager meal and left a few coins on the table.  I’m sure the guard at the front gate, whose coin purse I liberated, would be pleased to know his charity was appreciated. I then made my way quietly to the stables to find a comfortable place for the night.

In the Myth Wood there are many magical weapons. Most are ancient relics from the Wood’s long history. But a few are newer additions. Llew’s Spear for one. Another one is a beautifully crafted blue and gold sword that has been known to freeze character in place. So now I must ask, have you ever wondered where Jarl Faolin’s sword came from? Wonder no longer, here is the story that will explain it all,… mostly…. Enjoy!

The Song of Winter