The Wayward Wanderer
Jyo Crombie was a distinguished, elderly gentleman who occupied the left half of a cushioned bench built into the back of an enclosed gondola. Outside the compartment’s portholes, lit by dusk’s fading light, billowing clouds drifted along below. The steel-girded gondola creaked as shadows of enormous wings raced along the tops of the clouds.
The smell of old parchment and pipe tobacco filled the air within, roiled by the occasional whistle of chilled air that pushed through a battered seal near the fore. Every downdraft of the dragon’s wings vibrated his boots through the floorboards.
His daughter, Ellanie, leaned as close to the porthole glass as she could without touching it. Far below, forests dotted an arched land bridge that connected the edges of two colossal stone pillars. Choppy seas surrounded islands that crowned both rises, each isle large enough to bear its own kingdom. Below the cradled oceans, peninsulas jutted into the showy sky. As they drifted over them, she saw tiny motes of golden light fade into being, and she beamed. “They’re lighting the streetlamps in the Broken Lands!”
Jyo sighed, “Always a magical moment.”
Ellanie glanced at him and teased, “You’ve seen it once, and that’s enough?” White and gray streaks accented her long black hair.
“Hardly.” He clapped his knees. “I just can’t keep my balance as well as I used to.”
Like fireflies, lamplight dotted the layers of jagged masses that descended into a thick ocean of green, yellow, blue, and silver fog. Silhouetted flying beasts darted within the lingering haze, and flashes of silent lightning bloomed. “I’ve never been below the Sea of Fog. What’s below it?”
“More land and a lot more beasts.”
“Below that?”
Jyo chuckled. “Oceans as vast as you can imagine!”
The gondola rocked, and Ellanie adjusted her posture to stay on her feet. With a yawn, she joined her father on the bench. “Wake me up when we get close?”
“Of course.”
She leaned against the panel to her right and closed her eyes.
An enchanted globe flickered to life in the wood roof overhead. It shed the light of an oil lamp—just enough to read by. And just enough to write by, thought Jyo.
He retrieved an inkpen and opened a large, leather-bound journal. With a contented smile, he penned the words, “I am Jyo Crombie, Grand High Soothsayer of Espyrea. I’m returning to the island kingdom of Esairdhe within a flying coach that has been harnessed to the underbelly of a domesticated stormdrake. Vividly, I remember my first time boarding such a vehicle and the wonder that filled me then. But I suppose that’s the essence of Espyrea: she is wondrous.
“It is twilight outside, and the twilight of my own years has begun to gnaw at my memories. I cannot say if I still recall everything exactly as it happened, but I will do my best to write everything down. Should good fortune favor me, I will finish this account before too many of the details have faded away.
“And so, it is with hope and some urgency that I share the events that led to magic’s return to the world of Espyrea.”
Jyo tapped the pen against his chin and smiled. “It all started with my first trip to Braewood. On horseback. I had the honor and pleasure of meeting the legendary hero, Ortog Tal Orka Ognar. He was just a boy at the time, but even then, his courage burned like a lighthouse in the dark…”