Chapter 9

Takait had changed drastically from when Marissa had last visited its hallowed walls. Extravagance had made its way into the city and it was easily apparent that the townsfolk had come into wealth. Golden roofs reflected the setting sun, intricate gateways blocked their entries, and expensive ornamentation rose to the sky. "How did these people come into such funds? Takait used to be a simpler city. I should ask Priest Holland about this."

The main gate leading into the center Church was oddly decorated as well. A golden entryway made from spiraling metal blocked her way. Purple gems dotted its frame. A pair of guards stood on the other side of the closed door.

"Hello, may I enter?" Marissa asked.

"What might your business be, milady?" one of them answered abruptly.

"I am here to see Priest Holland. I have a delivery from the Church of Ducann."

In the guard's hands was a tablet containing a paper log. He scanned its entries. Using a piece of graphite, he wrote a checkmark next to one of the rows.

"I'm sorry I was so curt, miss. We can't be too careful. Please come in. Priest Holland is expecting you, although it appears you have gotten here earlier than expected." The guards opened the gate and Marissa and her horse entered into the courtyard. As soon as they had passed, the gate was locked shut behind them. The guards resumed their posts.

"Which way to the horse paddock?" she asked.

The guardsman pointed. "Over there. You'll also find the priest's quarters in the center tower there just to the left."

"Thank you."

Marissa secured Faerun to a hitching post in the stables and then headed for the center tower. The base of the tower was huge, even much wider than the spires of Ducann. There was an exterior stairway leading up on the outer skin of the structure. It spiraled upwards in a corkscrew pattern that seemed to never end. In evenly spaced points on the climb, there were large balcony levels that encircled the circumference of the tower. On these levels, a multitude of desks could be seen. Several clergy members were sitting at these strange desks which faced outward into the open air.

"It must be odd to have one's workspace out in the open like that," she thought. "Was there any benefit other than the fresh air?"

The young mage had been told at the base of the tower that Holland kept an office on the sixth floor. When she reached the specified point of the climb, she noticed that this level was completely open as well.

She announced her presence, "Marissa of Ducann, here to meet Priest Holland. I bring an important delivery."

An old man in long grey robes stood up from a chair in the center of the room. As he turned to face the mage, she noticed that he was completely bald. On top of the man's hairless skull was a splattering of discolored marks. The man did not look tired, nor did he look to be disabled in any way. He obviously had seen his fare share of seasons, but he really didn't look all that worse from the wear according to his saunter. As her eyes caught his, a large grin graced his face.

"Ah yes, Marissa. So good of you to come all this way." The sage's voice was regal and authoritative. "Have you brought the magical dew?"

"Priest Holland, it is an honor." Marissa always seemed to coddle any senior mages in hopes of gathering their favor. "Yes, I have brought the dew from Mount Gilliean. Hopefully it will be of use to you."

"Yes indeed my young lady. It will be most helpful. More helpful than you might know."

"Oh, how is that? If I may ask."

"No worries child. I have already heard of your insatiable curiosity my dear. You can also stop with the flattery now," he chuckled, "I will share with you what I know."

Marissa cleared her throat with a little cough.

"As Klaus may have eluded, the waters of Mount Gilliean appear to have healing properties. We don't quite know if the source is somehow magical in nature or maybe something more scientific. As I have made my life's work in the field of healing arts, the dew is yet another weapon I would like to add to my arsenal."

As the elder priest approached her, she walked forward to hand over the flask. The sage raised his arms as she got closer and his hidden hands slid out from behind the long sleeved robes. The young woman noticed that his hands were very wrinkled with age. Upon his hands were the same darkly colored spots as his scalp. The priest tried to steady his shaking hands as he clasped the tiny bottle. His thin shriveled fingers vibrated in the air.

"Thank you child."

"Sir, if I might ask, why does Takait seem so different that what I remember?"

"Oh, have you been here before? Yes, yes, Takait is not as it once was. I assume your curious mind wishes to know the reason?"

She nodded.

Priest Holland continued, "Well a little over a decade ago this desert city came into fortune thanks to a rare fruit called Muura. Muura, while not being a very appetizing, can only be successfully grown on the land lying beneath the town. For the townspeople, the Muura plant was almost a nuisance before the boom hit.

"It seems that a few Muura made their way into the lands of the west. There due to some creative chefs the fruit became a delicacy. A delicacy desired by the wealthy and famous, and therefore a new gold mine from which to plunder.

"Well, as you can imagine our people started selling the now precious fruits to lands outside of Takait. Money poured into the city like rain falling from the sky. Every single Muura plant was stripped of the commodity, and full grown trees and their seedlings were hoarded. Plants that were growing out in the open were uprooted and taken into seclusion, usually by thieves.

"This strange situation the city finds itself in has stayed relatively the same ever since, except that now the fruit are even more rare. They still don't taste great I must admit, even if they are such a delicacy. Hrumph.

"And now I can assume you are probably wondering why our Church has such an ornate gate dotting our entrance, yes? You don't hide your thoughts to well my dear. Try not to be so eager.

"Well you may not have seen it, but we have one of those blasted trees planted here on the church grounds. Just a single tree that has probably been here as long as the Church. It's quite large and does birth quite a bit of fruit.

"And it was because of that tree that an enterprising individual once tried to tear down our previous gate to get to it.

"On one night about a year ago, a foolish man with two bulls tried to rip the prior gate down just using the animals' brute force. He threw some chained hooks over the gate and had them pull. He was not successful in pulling down the gate, but he did happen to bend and contort its frame beyond comprehension. He also was unfortunate enough to get caught.

"As it turned out, he was the stepson of one of the families in town: a family that owns about a third of the Muura supply! So not only did the idiotic lad spend several months in our prison, but his adopted father also 'generously' donated that ornate gate which now guards our front entry.

"And that is why this Church has such an extravagant gateway leading into our walls.

"Hard to believe there are people who would ignore the valuable jewels dotting its surface just to get to the other side and to our ever so precious Muura fruit.

"Bah, I've been babbling. For shame that you let me go on so long… well I guess if anyone would want to hear me drone on and on it'd be yourself." The priest chuckled under his breath. "I'm always fond of listeners."

Marissa had been enthralled by the multiple stories. Any discomfort from the trip across the desert to Takait washed away.

Marissa spent the rest of the day on Church property, and then decided to stay for the night. She was generously given a room on one of the tower's upper floors. Her particular floor was near the top so it wasn't as wide as the others, but the young woman was still amazed by it.

Just like the other levels this one was also completely open, and as luck would have it the night sky was perfectly clear. Thousands of stars could be seen glowing in the fabric of the night. The light of a half full moon lit up the land below.

She spent about an hour or so reading some of the texts located in the room's small bookshelf. By candlelight she read several of them cover to cover. Their subjects ran through different topics such as the life cycle of a cow, the use of yuon leaves in fire making, and the benefits of enchanting swords. She absorbed their varied teachings into her head like a sponge.

Before she could read another book, something in the distance caught her eye. She put down a book titled "Flight: for One's Defense and Offense" and walked toward the open balcony.

Not far off into the murky horizon she could see a tiny caravan making its way north away from Takait. Travelers, who were both walking and riding, carried handheld torches that flickered wildly with the desert winds. She counted about fifty little torch lights following each other in a path, and thought about their travels.

"Another caravan making its way north," she thought. "Maybe they are leaving now in order to stave off the daytime heat and the blistering sun, perhaps? They won't be roasted to death by the moon's light, that's for sure. I certainly don't miss traveling in the sun… either…"

She felt a prick upon the back of her neck. Just as the desert had done before, Marissa was pulled back in time.

In her eyes she saw her mother, father, and younger self heading north from Takait. They had just been to visit a good friend of her father's who owned a small home on the eastern block. The trio had said their goodbyes on this morning and they were heading back to their desert home.

The family did not own a horse, or any other traveling animal. Instead they were walking across the desert like they always had: by foot. Luckily the winds were not ravaging across the dunes, and instead there was just a slight cool breeze.

The trio had joined a small caravan of about twenty individuals, most who were also walking. The group had planned to make occasional stops at different nomad settlements along the way, and so they weren't too worried about the desert's heat.

Her father wasn't wearing his armor, so apparently Graham had taken time away from work to spend it with his family. Her mother, Sicily, was also wearing her standard attire. Her long black hair fluttered in the wind.

Marissa looked down to notice that she was wearing a small tunic that had been wrapped around her several times. She thought she would feel hot underneath all the fabric, but found out that it was not the case. She instead felt quite comfortable in her traveling clothes.

The family continued alongside the caravan, chatting as they went. Marissa could hear her mother laughing at her father's jokes, and in turn she could hear him chuckling back. The young girl also found that she was holding hands with her mother.

Tears began to fall down the adult Marissa's cheeks.

It had been so long since Marissa had thought of her parents. Emotions that were once bottled up came flooding back into her mind. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they continued to fall. A breeze passed over the balcony and cooled her moist cheeks.

Continue reading onto Chapter 10