Efa ambled aimlessly through the streets. Her breathing was calm and methodical. The hem of her cloak whispered along with the wind. There was a steady pour of rain. Stray gusts of wind whipped at Efa as she stuck to pavements and back alleys, glancing at the architecture and woodwork on some of the smaller structures. 

Her destination was the large bell tower she had seen upon entry to Thimbl. It had a large cone shaped roof, which sat atop a small circular gallery that seemed attached to the bell chamber at the top. It appeared to be the tallest structure in this part of town. Efa wanted to climb it. Mostly to get a vantage point, but also to reflect a little on the past few weeks. 

The latest chapter in Efa's life had been utterly surreal, and not exactly in a good way. Three short weeks ago, Efa had been delivering letters in Cayrnr and messing around at the orphanage, not a sliver of talk about magic, Magi or murder. It had been a while since she had her mind to herself, constantly worrying about the boys, rations, their destination and her greater journey. She hoped that climbing to the top of the bell tower would help. Being up in the air where humanity doesn't exist gave her a sense of warmth inside. She picked up her pace. 

The winding roads of Thimbl however, proved to be a bit too hard to handle. She ended up at a random tavern after a lot of walking. Accepting that she was lost, Efa entered the tavern and decided to ask for directions. There were three customers and two waiters going about their business. Efa marched up to the bar countertop and signaled to the barkeep.

"Oi lass, what're you wandering in here for?" the barkeep said, approaching Efa, who had removed her hood. 

"I want some water and directions."

The man stared at her in confusion before sighing quietly and bringing a cup of water. He rested his hands on the countertop and asked her, "well, where d'ya want directions for?"

"Directions to the bell tower," said Efa, taking steady sips of water. The sound of stairs creaking was heard.

"Now what the hell d'ya wanna go there for. . .?" the barkeep pondered in bemusement.

"To climb it I'm guessing."

A deep, grizzled voice sounded out behind Efa, startling her. Not a sound was heard of the man's appearance behind her. Her hands flew instinctively to the boot knife but her fingers couldn't close around the handle. A magical force was wedging itself in-between her grip and the hilt. She revolved on the high chair she was on and thrust a hand at the mysterious voice, casting a small fireball at him, causing a the other customers to turn over and stare. 

She had expected to see the man writhe in agony but no such thing happened. Instead, she saw her trusted spell dissipate in front of her eyes like wisps of smoke. The man then raised his own hand as if to strike down on the surprised Efa, who shouted out Cadw'n ddiogel. The arm stopped before it moved. A silence fell. The barkeep peeked over the countertop behind which he was been hiding.

Efa finally got a good look at the man. He was wearing a lengthy black cloak made from prized silks and expensive furs. His face was old and grizzled, with a short beard and luxurious hair. His hand hadn't moved. His mouth was agape. 

"You. Girl. How do you know that spell?" he said in a hurried whisper. 

"W-wha-what do you mean? I-It's just a normal s -" 

"Oh no, no, no, no that isn't just any spell, It isn't even a spell." The man's eyes fixed on a point of nothingness as his thoughts wandered, entranced. "B-but then, that would mean that -no. No, but. . .?"

"Uh. . . ?" Efa was getting more confused by the second. She was startled by some stranger dressed like a king muttering about her shield spell not being a spell. The man's sharp eyes scanned Efa up and down. His mind seemingly reaching for memories long gone.

"Does the name Quickfoot mean anything to you. . .?" the man asked suddenly. His eyes bore into Efa's. The tavern went back to its business. The barkeep had disappeared. 

Efa's mind blanked for a second before responding, "uh. . . that's my name. . ."

The man's eyes lit up. A gleeful smirk appeared on his face. "So it was you he mentioned." The man put out a hand to shake. "Aelieystr Troth," he said with a smile, "You know my friend Pagnodd." 

The statement took Efa by surprise. But the memory of burning houses and screaming civilians popped into her mind, pushing aside her surprise. "Where is he now!?" She didn't know the whereabouts or situation of any of the people in Cayrnr. She had pushed that ordeal out of her mind, but the mention of Pagnodd brought it back. "How is he!? Tell me he's fine!" she shouted, dropping the hand she had been shaking and jerking up off the chair.

The man seemed confused. "What do you mean. . . ? He hasn't gotten into any trouble has he? I haven't heard from him for a while so. . ."

It was then Efa realized something. The new about the incident in Cayrnr hadn't spread. Fear took hold as Efa realized the implications of this. She calmed herself before she started overreacting. She wasn't the same girl who rode out of Cayrnr that night. She might even be the only hope Cayrnr had left. So long as she proceeded carefully. 

"Can I talk to you in private?" Efa asked Aelieystr, looking left and right out of reflex. 

"Sure, but what's this about?" 

"Something that seems to be very serious. I myself am trying not to break down crying thinking of what might've happened or what might be happening as we speak."

It was in the secret upstairs room and Efa had just finished telling Aelieystr everything from the time she had received the letter with the scarlet wax seal till her arrival in Thimbl. It had taken quite a bit out of her to tell the story without stopping. Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession. Images that she hoped would have faded by now. But surprisingly it seemed to have taken even more out of Aelieystr to listen to her tale. The two sat in silence for a while. Aelieystr just seemed to be in shock. He was taking this worse than Efa had expected. There's probably a reason for that she thought.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the table and jolted to his feet. "ARTH!" he roared into the establishment. 

The man called Arth suddenly poked his head around the doorframe. "Sir?" 

"Arth, we have a problem."

"Sir?" 

"I'll explain it later," he said, walking over to the window, "for now just gather the Lower Ifraeygerian trade foundation heads and the board of administration of the bazar. Organize a council of discourse as soon as possible then send a letter to miss Algoria, get one of the boys to go on horseback, its got to reach her before the week ends."

"Sir, what in all 'ell is goin on?"

"The Cult of the Bleeding God seem to be back." He stared out of the window contemplating life for a second time that day. "Years have passed but the hell they cast will never leave my mind."

Arth was silent. Then slowly shuffled out of the room to do as he was bid.

"I have a lot of questions," Efa started.

"And I'm afraid I cant really give you a satisfactory answer for any of them." He turned back to the girl and walked near. "However, you may ask, I'll try to answer them."

"What is happening?" Efa gestured to the door where Arth had left from.

"They're back," he said, "The Cult of the Bleeding God. They were a religious group who terrorized -nay massacred the lower South of the Vale before being stopped years and years ago. It appears that the towns they target now are ones that don't have as many connections to other towns. So that, as you said, they can keep the new from getting out. My guess is they're pulling a lot of strings and the like to make it happen." He smiled sadly, "the reason I'm scared is because of Pagnodd. If what you say truly did happen, then what they might've done seems to have been strong enough to contain Pagnodd."

The words lingered in the air. Efa was slowly starting to think that the man she knew as Pagnodd was not who she thought he was. And worse yet, everyone who seemed to have known him, knew her. Pagnodd's parting words to her rang out in her subconscious, 'journey through hell and magic itself,' ' prove to me that you are worthy of the title Quickfoot.'

"Who is Pagnodd?" 

"Strange question to ask after you have a name of his origin and use a spell of his make. In truth that question is for you to find an answer to. I can't tell you what you'd want to hear".

"Spell of his make. . .?"

"Right, I'm not sure how you came to know that spell but it was one that Pagnodd derived from the Magai Records himself. It was one that he shared amongst his close friends. I am one of the lucky few who saw what It could do when wielded right." He thought a bit before adding, "I will say this, only a select kind of Magus could confidently use that spell and not mess up. A gifted one. Someone specialized in lledrith to an unfathomable extent. One who can use incantations wordlessly and cast spells from every branch with barely any practice. I know not where you fit in but if you can use Cadw'n ddiogel and not implode, I commend you."

Another silence lingered as Aelieystr finished speaking. Efa became lost in thought once more. The answers she received to the questions asked truly didn't satisfy her, not because the answers were bad but because of the absurdity of her situation. She wanted to get away from all of this for a while.

"It is about time we part ways for now, I must look into this threat. Much hangs in the balance." He stroked his beard. "How long will you be in Thimbl for?"

"We were planning on continuing our journey after a few days. Why?"

"Stay a while longer. I need to send a letter to a colleague. You will probably pass him on your way to Targarth. Wait till I sort out a few things regarding this whole situation and I'll let you know."

Efa nodded absently. 

"And before I forget, you might want to look into purchasing a God Bone. If you don't know what that is try asking around the Bazar. Even a small one can be helpful."

Efa wasn't even listening at this point. Her mind was overflowing with thoughts, questions, possibilities, problems, opportunities, past memories, worry for the future and every other thing in between. She took her leave and slowly extricated herself out of the tavern premises and started walking away randomly. She didn't even get the directions to the tower like she wanted. She didn't care though. She just walked. She walked and walked until she lost track of time. When she eventually looked up to see where she was, the bell tower loomed tall and imposing a little to the right. 

She walked her way to it. And without waiting for a second, without waiting to see who was watching, without even bothering to notice that the brickwork was old and crumbling, she ran up to it and grabbed onto a handhold and hoisted herself up. Slowly working her way steadily up. Footholds and handholds were harder to find the higher up she went, but she found them regardless. The thoughts that ran through her head started to fade into the background as instinct guided her steadily upwards and conscious thought kept her from falling to her death.

She had been climbing for minutes as she came to a stop at a small ledge. She hung on to the ledge with one hand and took a quick look out at the city. Only then did she realize how high up she really was. The people seemed like ants and Efa felt like she was at the top of the world. It was certainly the highest she had ever climbed. Her cloak fluttered as the wind picked up in place of rain that had long since stopped.

Nearing the top, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. As she pulled herself up and over the edge of the large circular edge that ran the circumference of the bell chamber at the top, a strange feeling erupted in her chest. Euphoria was the best way to describe it. Accentuated by the setting sun that appeared clear as the yolk of an egg on the Western sky, setting a purple-orange glow to the world over. Of all the noise and thoughts she was tired. She just wanted some silence and peace. She wanted to empty her mind.

As her feet traced the circular path around the gallery, she came to the side opposite from where she climbed. And that's where Efa saw her.

A girl, with feet dangling over the edge, sat absorbed in a notebook, painting the cityscape she saw out in front out her. Humming a sweet little tune and bobbing her head side to side at the sound of the wind whistling around her. Her shoulder length hair was a shade of bright white. It picked up in the wind and whipped around her face and forehead. But even that looked graceful, elegant, beautiful. Efa was transfixed for a second. The girl's skin was deathly pale, especially in the bright light of the setting sun. The tips of her ears were pointy and when she raised her head from the book, her eyes found Efa's.

"Hi. . ." said Efa, as a large gust of wind made her cloak flutter. She took a few tentative steps forward.

The mystery girl stood up and cocked her head to one side. A pleasant smile played upon her lips. She brushed her hair behind her ear and quickly scribbled something in her notebook and held it out open for Efa.

It read, 'Hi hi! my name is Wynne Gwynt y Rhaeadr. I'm half elf, so I can't speak, what's your name?'