The Scrolls of Skava

Return to the Emerald Oracle - Part 1

"You could be right," admitted Teasel, returning the smile, "but the people living hereabouts really believe in the legend of Diluvia the Golden. You won't find any locals who'll go within a hundred miles of the Loneberg."

A few minutes later they spotted a series of deep furrows in the ground, miles long and each one a hundred yards wide. So huge that a man on the ground might not have recognised them for what they were but clearly visible from the air. "What in the name of the Gods is that?" asked Dennis.

"The clawmarks of Tass, the star dragon," replied the nome, grinning. "The place where she stopped to sharpen her claws on her way to Da-Rannis to do battle with her great rival Bix, the BaneDrake."

"Yeah," said Thomas, "but what are they really?"

"Nobody knows," replied Teasel. "Some kind of natural geological feature, I suppose."

"I dunno," said Dennis, though. "Those furrows look too regular to be natural. They look more like they were dug."

"Well, I don't know who by, then. Or why." Said the nome with a shrug. "They're older then the oldest known humanoid civilization. They were there when the first shae folk came out of Genarta and stood amazed at the beauty of the world."

"There were other civilizations before ours," said Thomas. "The G'Toff three million years ago, the Llanoks fifteen million years ago. Others before that. Maybe one of them dug the furrows, for reasons we can only guess at now."

The others nodded, and they continued to stare at the enigmatic furrows until they'd passed out of sight behind them.

Shortly after that they saw the ground rising before them; the foothills of the Majestic Mountains. "Would you like to see why they came to be called that?" asked Teasel eagerly.

"Because they're so majestic?" suggested Dennis drily.

"Shut up Dennis," advised Thomas in annoyance. "Yes, we'd love to know."

"I can't really tell you," said the nome, however. "I'd have to show you. It'll only take a few minutes, the speed these carpets go. What do you say?"

"I don't know," said the wizard, frowning. "We're in a bit of a hurry. I'll have to ask Shaun." He turned and beckoned to the other carpet, and Shaun brought it alongside. "What's up?" he asked.

"Teasel wants to show us something," the wizard called across. "A landmark or something."

"It'll only take a few minutes," added the nome excitedly.

"Is it important?" asked the soldier doubtfully.

"Not really," admitted Teasel, "but you won't regret it, I promise."

Shaun thought about it for a few moments. "Just a few minutes, you say?"

"Promise!" said Teasel, crossing her heart.

"Okay, what the hell," said the soldier with a shrug. "It'll break up the monotony of the voyage. Lead on, Leedun!"

The nome chuckled in delight and directed Thomas to turn inland, which he did, Shaun's carpet falling in behind. Soon they were in the mountains, weaving their way between ridges and peaks and following tortuous valleys and ravines to a spot near the centre of the range where the mountains reared tall and sheer. Their tips shone brilliantly as sunlight reflected off snow and ice, and the ridges between their faces were as sharp as knife edges.

This was a young range, Thomas knew. Only recently pushed up as Amafryka and the Western Continent crept gradually towards one another, and in all probability they were still growing. The first of a mighty range that would one day stand where the Western Sea stood now. That was in the future, though. Way, way in the future, and in all probability it wouldn't be humans who saw them but another race that had replaced them, as humans had replaced the G'Toff and as the G'Toff had replaced the Llanoks.