Beyond the Peaks
347 words
The sun is rising over the far hills. I hear its song waking the world. The birds twitter their thanks, the trees seem to straighten, ready to face a new day, even the grain, blowing gently in the breeze reflects its golden light. I feel alone this morning, the only audience for this magnificent show. Silly, I know, but I relish the peace and quiet. It's been a long journey.
I sit beside the great tree, taking a rest before beginning the hike over the hills. The tree is a landmark for me, tall, strong, safe, so broad and solid, here for centuries, keeping silent vigil over the valley. The ball rests in my hand, heavy for its size, the liquid silver swirling just below its surface.
I had finally found the orb in a small shop in Freymere, abandoned among dusty relics and battered books, its power unrecognized. I bought it for a pittance, happy that I had...