Chapter 37

As the afternoon wears on and the sun begins to set, Dolor continues to follow the ancient roadway, although plant growth and time has obscured most of it from view. Realizing that they’ll need to set up camp soon, he notices a large tree that has fallen over and might provide some shelter, or at least a semblance of cover. Upon investigating the decaying tree, they discover that it’s hollowed out and has barely enough room for them to gather and rest while concealed.

Scouting around their tree, Grindlefoot discovers a small tiered waterfall that comes from a spring close by. To the halflings surprise and delight, there are sweet potatoes and bananas growing near the waterfall. “Ah-ha, we have dinner!”

The night proceeds without any interruptions, allowing the adventurers to rest well for the next day.

Long rest….

Having the last watch of the night, Grindlefoot decides to make banana and sweet potato pancakes for the breakfast. The others wake to the aromatic smells of hot pancakes over a small fire.

After breakfast, the group realizes that by following the old road they wandered slightly West from their intended path to the mountain temple.

Mond says, “Since we accidentally moved closer to the earthmote, is anyone else interested in seeing it close up? This seems like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’ve read about them, but they’re exceptionally rare and I never expected to encounter one.”

“That will likely take us most of the day,” Dolor responds. “We’ve come farther West than I thought, but that hanging rock is still probably another 2-3 hours walk through this jungle, further away from the temple. If we fix our direction and start towards the temple now, we’ll have only lost a few hours.”

After some discussion, they agree that a floating boulder is worth looking at closer and head off towards the oddity. After a few hours of hacking through the jungle vegetation to break a trail, the group approaches the edge of the gorge and is able to finally get a close look at the earthmote.

The stone is shaped like a heart and hangs roughly forty feet above them and sixty feet from the edge of the cliff, over the gorge. The canyon is more shallow here, with the earthmote hovering about sixty feet above the ground. The heartshaped boulder is about thirty feet around and the same distance from top to bottom. The tree atop it appears to be petrified, which makes sense given its living conditions, and its roots jut out from all angles on the underside of the earthmote.

It continually rotates slowly to the left and after a minute, they see an opening in the side of the rock that appears to be the size of a normal door, with a narrow set of stairs coming out of the doorway and up to the top of the rock.

Bilwin unbundles his hurdy-gurdy and begins to tune it, “we need to get someone’s attention. Let’s see if they enjoy music.”

Dolor whispers under his breath, “might want to let someone else try playing that thing.”

To the group’s surprise, Bilwin begins to play with a skill and passion rarely seen. The instrument’s unique timbre, a blend of the ethereal and earthy, creates a nostalgic atmosphere. A melody unfolds in dwarven—which only Gven understands—that weaves a tapestry of strangers meeting, exchanging cross words, a misunderstanding, fighting to defend their honor, reaching a draw between equally competent combatants, and reconciliation over the smooth flavors of a beer brewed by Hanseath.

When Bilwin looks up from his instrument and his friends awaken from their surprise, they see a tall robed figure standing on top of the earthmote, next to the tree and looking across the way at them. Pushing their cowl back, an elven woman with blond hair quietly says, “while beautifully performed, there’s a reason why my kind did not invent that instrument. Having said that, I appreciate your efforts and invite you to join me.” With the flick of her hand, an arrow with a rope attached shoots out from the floating rock and embeds itself in the ground at the party’s feet, causing the rock to stop rotating.

The adventurers scurry across the rope, with Mond displaying his half-elven heritage as he nonchalantly walks along the top. Dolor, the notoriously agile rogue, experiences a bit of vertigo but eventually makes it to the rock.

“I am Valindra, a student of life and the mystical properties of this island. Please, sit and tell me why you have interrupted my studies.” With another motion of her hand, the arrow and attached rope retract from the cliff’s edge, seemingly melding into the rock itself, and it resumes turning slowly in a clockwise direction.

Gven provides a summary of their travels so far and why their search led them here, to this island in the middle of the Cracked Crystal Sea. When describing their battle on the ancient bridge, a few miles east of the earthmote, Valindra looks down and slowly shakes her head. “That bridge and its protector have been here centuries, longer even than I have lived here.”

Dolor asks, “can you tell us more about the temple on the mountain, the island, or the people in the port town on the eastern coast?”

“I came to this island long ago, shortly after The Conflict ended, to study the gods. I wandered the island for decades, observing the people, the creatures, and the gods themselves before finding this earthmote and making it my home. If this island is the birthplace of the gods, and their refuge, then the volcano where your destination can be found is the center of their…essence. Stories say it’s a place to make a god feel at home, a sanctuary for it to reveal its presence in full. It’s not just a representation of a god’s home, but the source of a god’s power…their soul.”

“Deep within the temple there is a red gate that guards the origin of the gods. Or so I’ve been told, because I’m unable to venture inside. I only know what I’ve learned through my many inquiries of and discussions with those courageous—or stupid—enough to make the journey. In the last several years, I’ve seen much more activity around the temple. There are frequent pilgrimages from the port town, including strangers arriving from other lands.”

Taking in the elven wizard’s words, Gven asks, “is there anything you can share to help us?”

With an intent look, even moreso than before, Valindra says, “be mindful of the gods personalities, whims, and quirks. They created that bridge and its puzzle and its not the only barrier you’ll encounter on your journey. You’ll need your wits, all of them, and don’t trust your senses overly much.” As she ends her comment, another slight wave of her hand causes the rope and arrow to shoot out from the boulder, connecting to the cliff’s edge and the boulder stops turning.

The group thanks Valindra for her time and information and then takes their leave. As Dolor is crossing the rope, he loses his grip and begins to fall into the jungle below in the gorge. Bilwin is prepared and casts Feather Fall, allowing Dolor to contemplate his life’s choices during the slow descent. The others successfully navigate the rope to the cliff’s edge.

When the remaining adventurers reach the cliff, the arrow suddenly retracts into the earthmote, the rock begins turning once again, and there’s no sign of Valindra.

Bilwin looks down into the gorge, where Dolor is no longer in sight, and yells “How ya doing down there?” The only response is silence.