• The sun hung poised over the horizon, waiting to dip below the distant hills as Calistor Onwick climbed a small esker to get a look at his surroundings. His long, thin legs carried him up the short hill in a weary trot, the day's work weighing heavily on his shoulders. He reached the top and was surprised by the gust of wind that greeted him from across the open plains. He squatted down to avoid the worst of it and the lash of the wind forced him to squint. As his lean form crouched on the hill, his dark eyes gazed at his surroundings. All around him lay the tundra that had lain barren for time unknown before his ancestors settled here. His eyes stung from the wind and he let them drop to the ground, eventually resting on several flakes of siltstone scattered about.

    Picking one up idly, he examined the slightly bulbous end with a strange combination of amusement and amazement betraying his young face. Some time long before his people came here a man or woman sat hunched at this very spot, chipping away at a siltstone to make stone tools. These chips were evidence of intelligent life that existed here some time in the distant past, long forgotten by the passage of time. It astonished him that these people did not see the value of the land that lay beneath their feet, and Calistor found his mind drifting to the possibilities of these lost people. Who were they? Where did they come from? Did they simply die out, or did they perhaps move on, to a more hospitable home? He briefly mused that they could even be his distant ancestors, but quickly dismissed the idea.

    He left the strong winds on the esker to a more sheltered spot at the base of the hill, where the wind was slightly buffered by the small shrubs. He pulled off his heavy pack with a sigh of relief, the various tools and gear inside clanking together noisily, and laid down his short bow and quiver within easy reach. He set about finding firewood, a relatively easy task in this part of the land. Here they were not quite above the tree line, and stunted pines could be found in small patches, many of which had died and dried out long ago. Due to the lack of sunlight, the trees here grew slowly, and grew stunted, and although the tallest of these trees barely reached his chin, he knew it could very well be a hundred years old or more.

    By the time he had started his small fire, the sun was just dipping over the horizon. He decided to risk the winds, climbing the small hill once again to watch the sunset. The orange-glow of the sun shone on the ground, the slim trees and scraggly brush casting long shadows over the lichen-covered rock. For an uncertain instant he thought he saw a distant figure silhouetted against the light, but the image quickly faded and the thought was pushed from his mind. The sky darkened to a deep red as the sun disappeared from sight. He quickly returned to his fire, already starting to feel the chill of night in the air.

    He ate a meal of dried meat and various edible roots he found in the area and by the time he was done, darkness had crept over the land, and an entirely new form of beauty had emerged, hidden from unknowing eyes in the light of day. Beneath his tired feet the rock that remained lichen-free began to glow a pale blue, until everything was under lit with eerie blue phosphorescence. The rocks had absorbed the life-giving energy of the sun and were slowly emitting it in a soft blue light. Within an hour, the spectacle would be gone, and the rocks would return to their dead, lifeless form, their secret hidden from the world until the next sundown.

    If it weren't for this peculiar rock, Accordia, Calistor's home, would not exist, and the kingdom of Fahla would be no more than an insignificant monarchy instead of the dominant world power it was today. The rocks in this particular region shared an unusual property. They were able to absorb the spirit that every living thing possesses. While the majority of rock lost its stored energy with time, the crystalline form, termed Fahlatian Crystals, gave strength to the structure, and was able to hold its energy for generations. When cut properly, by a skilful jeweller, the power held within was increased many times, and allowed the wielder to harness the power of the crystal. Such treasures were the life blood of the people of Fahla. Worth many times their weight in gold, these precious crystals provided power to all of Fahla. No known land had such a gift at their hands, and the Fahlatians guarded their birthright with deep suspicion and fear of the surrounding lands.

    The kingdom of Fahla was bordered to the west by the endless Duranian Sea, so named for the travelling Nomads that were supposed to have arrived from a land across the sea eons ago. It is generally accepted that this is simply legend, for of course there is no land beyond the sea, however there are certain historians who defend the legend with determined tenacity. To the north, hidden from view by the Gallace Mountains, was the expansive Samian Empire; a frozen land consisting of small communities that were completely isolated for 8 months of the year during the worst of winter. The Samian Empire was too concerned about keeping its segregated communities united to pose a threat to the Fahlatians. To the south, the river Unar marked the boundary between Fahla and the relatively small kingdom of Canthar; a peaceful country, who was open to trade and friendship, the Cantharians were ancient allies of the Fahlatians. The threat that was openly feared and hated by the people of Fahla laid to the west, where the bountiful kingdom of Allam extended to unknown lengths. Nearly 100 years ago the Allamians demanded one of the precious Fahlatian mines. Disgusted by the assumption of their weakness, yet still willing to discuss options, the Fahlatian king discussed trade options. The Allamians took this as an insult, killing the ambassador and declaring war. After several failed battles, the Allamians retreated, and although the kingdom of Allam has never shown signs of declaring war since, there remains a deep animosity between the two countries.

    Beyond these countries little was known about the world, and as Calistor rigged up a small lean-to to sleep under he found himself wondering what was beyond their borders. The frozen north was vastly unknown to the Fahlatians except for a few cities near the border. Even past Canthar's southern borders the world was wrapped in a lure of mystery that tugged at Calistor's curiosity to no end. Pushing such thoughts from his mind, he finished his work on the make-shift lean-to and decided to go over his work for the day before he turned in for the night. With the utmost care, Calistor took out several sheets of parchment and after sorting through them briefly, removed one and put the others carefully away. He laid it out carefully on an outcrop, pinning the corners down with small rocks and examined today's work.

    On the parchment was a hand drawn map of the area. Marked in fine, perfect writing was the names of the numerous small lakes that dotted the area, as well as the occasional stream between them. Notes were scrawled all over the map in the same meticulous print, noting the minerals and found on certain outcrops, or the significance of the alteration on the surface. From generations of searching for the crystals they had learned the signs to look for when prospecting. They discovered that the veins these crystals were found in were precipitated from hot, saturated fluids that flowed through cracks in the earth. When this hot fluid flowed through the earth, it altered the rock around it, often giving it a rusty appearance, which is one of the signs Calistor looked out for on his expeditions.

    He opened a section of his bag to reveal a collection of small rocks, each labelled with their exact location. He took out the samples he had found today and double checked their locations on the map. Satisfied everything was in order, he put away his gear and was about to turn in for the night when the scrape of boots on rock grabbed his attention. He cautiously unsheathed his hunting knife, unsure of where the noise originated as his ears strained to pick up the sound again. With such priceless treasure, bandits were a constant threat to any and all who worked in the mines. This could very well be a bandit raiding party, on its way to a caravan or a mine, and Calistor was determined not to be caught unawares. A man's deep, throaty voice wafted through the air from over the esker and although the words were too muffled to distinguish, he could tell the man was not a local. A girl's voice answered softly, a hint of nervousness in her voice, and again Calistor could tell the girl was not from around here. Suddenly the visage of the silhouette he had seen during the sunset flashed through his mind and he moved quickly to the left of the hill, cursing his carelessness as he went. He moved swiftly over the uneven ground with practiced ease, his footfalls muffled by the soft lichen.

    As he rounded the corner, he crouched low, looking for signs of movement in the near blackness. After a moment he spotted the two figures moving towards the hill, cloaked in shadow. They must have seen the soft glow of his fire, because they were heading straight for it. Uncertainty struck him for a moment, and his mind was racing as quickly as his heart as he thought of what to do. It was too small a group to be a raiding party, but they could very well be scouts. When it came down to it, there were only two groups of people he would expect to find in this area: those who worked for Accordia's mines and those who planned to rob them of all their valuables and slit their throats in their sleep. He stealthily ran back to his camp, carefully stepping only on the soft lichen to cushion his footfalls. He quickly retrieved his bow and quiver and slung them over his back. Knowing time was short, he rummaged through his bag with haste. He retrieved his precious maps that would cause havoc on their operation if they fell into the hands of outlaws. He then cut open a hidden pouch within the bag, removing a small blue crystal. No larger than the end of his little finger, it was a perfect cut and glowed blue faintly in the darkness. The firelight reflected brilliantly off its polished faces and despite the situation, Calistor was momentarily captured by its beauty. The sound of footsteps quickly brought him back to the present and he hurried for the cover of darkness, shoving the crystal in a leather pouch on his side as he went. He crouched silently in the darkness just as the two figures crested the hill. They stopped briefly at the top, and Calistor pushed farther into the brush, his heavy breathing sounding much too loud in his ears as the pair approached the camp.

    The man stepped into the light first. He was tall, much taller than Calistor, and had a stocky build, but despite his intimidating bulk his face seemed gentle and kind, and Calistor could even make out several wrinkles around the deep blue eyes, and grey hairs mixed in among his black, shaggy mane. As the man first stepped into the light he called out hello, asking if anyone was there, his thick accent suddenly familiar to Calistor. The man was a Samatian! The deep blue eyes, the tall, stocky build, the thick, deep-set accent, and now even the slightly bulbous nose could be seen as the man looked around camp curiously. Calistor's mind reeled as to why a Samatian would this far south. As far as he knew, almost all of their trading was done within their own cities, and the people as a whole had little interest in exploring farther south than their own land.

    The Samatian called out to the darkness that the camp was empty, and the girl stepped into the light, only adding to Calistor's confusion. She looked around uncertainly and Calistor's eyes were drawn to her thin lean face, her high arching eyebrows, and her shoulder length jet black hair and he realized with a start that the girl was Allamian. A Samatian and an Allamian in the middle of Fahlatian mining property! What did this mean? Had the two countries joined an alliance with each other? Was Allam finally going to make the first move, and sending in scouts? He quickly reconsidered this option as he took a closer look at the strange pair. She must have been barely 18, and the man was aged, most likely in his 40s. That answer just didn't make sense. But then again, none did in this situation. She asked the Samatian where he thought the one who set up camp had gone and the Samatian looked out thoughtfully into the darkness. His eyes went wide suddenly, and his head turned to look straight where Calistor was hiding. His heart stopped and he stared right into the Samatian's deep blue eyes, certain he could not see him in the dark, but confident the man knew he was there nonetheless.

    Calistor's breath caught in his throat as the man called across the darkness. "There's no need to hide young man, we mean you no harm." The Samatian smiled, and although frightened, Calistor felt more comfortable, and with nothing else he could do, he walked forward into the firelight himself, knife held at the ready. The girl appeared to be startled by his appearance, and he imagined his expression must be grim. The man's face showed nothing but mild amusement, like an elder watching the antics of a child.

    "Who are you and what do you want?" Calistor demanded, with more confidence then he felt.

    “My name is Kenwood Saunders, and this is my assistant Alexia Swells." Calistor had trouble understanding his deep, rolling syllables as Kenwood gestured to himself and then to Alexia. "And we would like to share your camp site with you on this fine night."

    Calistor studied them over carefully as he considered his options. The pair appeared to be unarmed, which would have been enough to set him at ease if it weren't for where they were. There were many wild animals about, not to mention bandits, and the lack of arms on these two was more unsettling then calming. He found himself studying the man's face, who, by proclamation and observation, was the leader of the group. He appeared to be honest, and had a soft, gentle face that belayed his initial appearance. The girl kept glancing from her master to this strange man who walked in with a knife fearfully, and Calistor recognized the fear was genuine. He felt he had nothing to fear from these two. She is Allamian, he reminded himself worriedly as he sheathed his knife. He would have to be careful.

    Calistor nodded in affirmation to the pair. "My name is Calistor Onwick. You are more than welcome to share my fire." He did his best to hide his uncertainty. The last thing he wanted was to appear on edge. If they suspected how uneasy he was, that might invite them to take advantage of the situation.

    The two graciously accepted and the three sat down on soft lichen seats, Calistor leaving his bow within easy reach, a gesture that was not lost on the observant Samatian. Calistor noted that colour was coming back to the girl's face, although she kept a close eye on his knife. The poor girl had blanched with fright. I must have scared her, coming out of the night like I did.

    “So what brings you to our part of the world Kenwood?" Calistor said, putting an emphasis on 'our' as he gazed into the man's deep set blue eyes.

    Kenwood's eyes lit up with excitement, and he gestured enthusiastically with his hands as he spoke. "We're searching for the remnants of the lost Duranian Temple. My research points to this region as its site, and-"

    Calistor cut him off with a raised hand, calming the excited man. "The Duranians were travellers and nomads. Everyone knows they built no permanent structures except for the great pillars they left in their wake." In their travels, the Duranians left behind great Obelisks hundreds of feet in the air, scrawled with messages written in a long dead language. Although the language had not been spoken for centuries, scholars were able to decipher many of these messages and found them to be detailed accounts of the land around them, a sort of field guide for new groups entering the area.

    “Master could not be wrong!" Alexia cut in defensively, and Calistor was surprised to see the determination set into her eyes that had only moments ago been filled with fear.

    Kenwood smiled to Alexia, scuffing the girl's hair in a fatherly fashion. "Lexi, Calistor here has offered us shelter from the night, and we should be gracious guests." Alexia muttered an apology, her face flushing red, and Calistor found himself appalled at the Allamian's manners.

    Kenwood quickly returned to his story, clearly excited at the prospect of sharing his knowledge. "You are partially correct. In this part of the world, the Duranians never settled for more than a few months at a time, and the temple in question was no more than a temporary structure." He pointed down to the earth, a small smirk forming on his face. "It is what's buried beneath the temple that is of interest to me."

    In his mind, Calistor's first assumption of this pair as bandits quickly turned to grave robbers. He hid his disgust beneath his curiosity. "And what, pray tell, lies there?"

    A sudden fire burned in the eyes of the mysterious man, and whether it was a reflection from the flames, or a trick of the mind, Calistor was unsure. "The Crystal Dagger." Seeing Calistor's blank look, he continued, relishing in the chance to share his wealth of knowledge.

    “Thousands of years ago, the known countries of the Earth were united under one world power: the Azardian Empire. It attained heights in technological and scientific advances that far exceeded our own, all with the power of the Crystal Dagger. Crafted from the purest piece of Fahlatian Crystal, it contained the accumulated power of generations of strong, willing sacrifices, and this power allowed them to conquer the world, turning the savage ancient world into a grand civilization."

    Calistor grimaced, horrified by the story. It was not unheard of for people to trap the spirits of humans into Fahlatian Crystals, however it was the most unforgivable crime. Termed 'Black Gems', they were a valuable item on the black market, traded in the darkest circles in great secrecy. The power they held was unparalleled, but the act was unforgivable. Many believed when a human's spirit was trapped within a Black Gem, they could never rest in the Afterlife.

    “What makes you think this dagger even exists? It sounds like nothing but a bard's tale."

    Alexia broke in suddenly, the excitement of the moment getting the best of her. "The key was hidden within the Duranian Pillars. Each gives a general guide of the area, but if you read between the lines you can recognize the history of the various tribes. You can even trace the writer's voice from Pillar to Pillar as the same tribe travelled the globe. Mr. Kenwood was able to piece together the history of the Duranian tribes and written for all to see was the resting place of the Dagger!" Kenwood smiled warmly, clearly proud of his young pupil.

    Calistor looked on with uncertainty, but was intrigued. With his knowledge of the land, and Kenwood's knowledge of the history, he was certain he could find this lost temple, if it even existed. If the story were true, a find like this could change the face of the world, and he would be at the forefront of the discovery. If not, he would quickly be rid of the unsettling, but admittedly interesting pair, and would be able to continue his prospecting uninterrupted. "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "We can help each other out."