Anonymous always found the big horse in a nearby stable, well groomed and attended, but by whom he did not know. As much as it irritated him not to know something, in this, he opted not to question providence. For now, he was moving more readily through the ever-deepening snowdrifts than he would have on foot.
Anonymous thought about his return to Maramyr and how much time he would have before the Priesthood’s ceremony. It was only a matter of weeks until mid-winter solstice and there was much to do. One thing that bothered him more than the vexing bluster of the snow and wind was that Aaron, the one person who he had been able to talk to in generations, had disappeared. Anonymous had heard about Aaron’s promotion and his assignment to escort the Princess Ariana and was pleased that the lad was progressing along in his career. Unfortunately, he was on his way out of the city when he had heard of the news of what had happened after and that was the last anyone had heard of him. Of course, he knew the stories that were being told that Aaron had played some part in the princess' death were obvious lies. Anonymous had not spent generations of years accumulating knowledge without the ability to detect falsehoods. Nonetheless, he was unable to sense Aaron's presence the way he could with most other people.
Perhaps it was some remaining vestige of his own power that gave him such an ability. He did not know why or how, but he could usually locate and even, in his mind, catch a glimpse of a person, a place or even an object if he so wished. With Aaron, it had never been the case. Originally, he had thought that the ward, which caused the boy so much trouble, was what obscured him from his sight, but Anonymous had rejected that theory. Whenever he thought of Aaron, his mind would give him the image of the deep blue night sky sparkling with stars. Strange. He also knew there was some significance to such imagery but Anonymous could not remember what it was.
When Aaron had left Maramyr, Anonymous had thought to keep an eye out for him and mark his progress by concentrating on the princess, but every time he did, his vision immediately shifted to the same vision of stars. He guessed it was something like the way his horse benefitted from being in close proximity to him. At least Anonymous knew, since the images had not changed, they were both still alive. Somehow, he always knew when people died. But, the few times he had tried to see those who he knew had passed from the world of the living, a vision of cold grey mist would last but a brief moment before the vision was abruptly jarred from him. Anonymous got the distinct impression that those who ruled the land of the dead did not want him prying into their realm.
He took comfort in the fact that, wherever Aaron and the Princess were, they were alive and it was likely that he would see his young friend again. As much as Aaron had been able to talk to Anonymous and develop their imperfect friendship of sorts, Anonymous had previously taken an interest in Ariana and had often looked in on her over the years. He was unsure of exactly why he paid such attention to them but he did know that there was something about both of them that was important and worth the effort.
His thoughts of the Princess reminded Anonymous of the fact that, upon the announcement of her death, Ariana’s uncle Cerric had become the ruler of Maramyr. The cursed mage shuddered to think what Cerric was already doing to the once prosperous kingdom. Even under his regency, the people had suffered needlessly, and with Cerric devoting so many more of the kingdom’s resources to the priesthood and his impending war against Kandara, life in Maramyr was not particularly happy for the people. It was a shame, thought Anonymous, but he had reconciled himself long ago to the fact that, as concerned as he might be, there was little he could do to affect the world around him. He sighed as he urged the great grey horse
Anonymous thought about his return to Maramyr and how much time he would have before the Priesthood’s ceremony. It was only a matter of weeks until mid-winter solstice and there was much to do. One thing that bothered him more than the vexing bluster of the snow and wind was that Aaron, the one person who he had been able to talk to in generations, had disappeared. Anonymous had heard about Aaron’s promotion and his assignment to escort the Princess Ariana and was pleased that the lad was progressing along in his career. Unfortunately, he was on his way out of the city when he had heard of the news of what had happened after and that was the last anyone had heard of him. Of course, he knew the stories that were being told that Aaron had played some part in the princess' death were obvious lies. Anonymous had not spent generations of years accumulating knowledge without the ability to detect falsehoods. Nonetheless, he was unable to sense Aaron's presence the way he could with most other people.
Perhaps it was some remaining vestige of his own power that gave him such an ability. He did not know why or how, but he could usually locate and even, in his mind, catch a glimpse of a person, a place or even an object if he so wished. With Aaron, it had never been the case. Originally, he had thought that the ward, which caused the boy so much trouble, was what obscured him from his sight, but Anonymous had rejected that theory. Whenever he thought of Aaron, his mind would give him the image of the deep blue night sky sparkling with stars. Strange. He also knew there was some significance to such imagery but Anonymous could not remember what it was.
When Aaron had left Maramyr, Anonymous had thought to keep an eye out for him and mark his progress by concentrating on the princess, but every time he did, his vision immediately shifted to the same vision of stars. He guessed it was something like the way his horse benefitted from being in close proximity to him. At least Anonymous knew, since the images had not changed, they were both still alive. Somehow, he always knew when people died. But, the few times he had tried to see those who he knew had passed from the world of the living, a vision of cold grey mist would last but a brief moment before the vision was abruptly jarred from him. Anonymous got the distinct impression that those who ruled the land of the dead did not want him prying into their realm.
He took comfort in the fact that, wherever Aaron and the Princess were, they were alive and it was likely that he would see his young friend again. As much as Aaron had been able to talk to Anonymous and develop their imperfect friendship of sorts, Anonymous had previously taken an interest in Ariana and had often looked in on her over the years. He was unsure of exactly why he paid such attention to them but he did know that there was something about both of them that was important and worth the effort.
His thoughts of the Princess reminded Anonymous of the fact that, upon the announcement of her death, Ariana’s uncle Cerric had become the ruler of Maramyr. The cursed mage shuddered to think what Cerric was already doing to the once prosperous kingdom. Even under his regency, the people had suffered needlessly, and with Cerric devoting so many more of the kingdom’s resources to the priesthood and his impending war against Kandara, life in Maramyr was not particularly happy for the people. It was a shame, thought Anonymous, but he had reconciled himself long ago to the fact that, as concerned as he might be, there was little he could do to affect the world around him. He sighed as he urged the great grey horse
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