The mountain areas were always very nice this time of the year, he thought as he sat on a small rock looking out at the land below. He could easily see the carnival from his position, small as it seemed from his vantage point a couple of feet from the sudden drop down to the plains. To the east, his left, however, the drop turned southwards, and the hill sloped more gently down to the forest area where his grandparents' cabin was built about three years ago, when they moved from Horam.
Him, his grandfather and grandmother.
He turned his eyes westward, towards Nota, the trading city. One of the few cities of old, when Hiro had passed through on his way to Pentagulia on what was the very beginning of a fantastic journey. A journey that had branded him a hero the likes of which they had not seen since the days of Alex, the last dragonmaster Lunar probably would have. It had changed a bit, mostly in size, but all in all it remained pretty much the same. It was after all one of the few cities that still existed since then, the oldest being Vane itself.
Vane, Meribia, Nota and Horam. The only four cities left since that time, a thousand years ago.
Or 984, to be precise.
Oh, he had read a bit about the time when Zophar had almost taken Lunar and all it's inhabitants, with the full intent to recreate it in his image. It had started, Hiro's tale, when he decided to take a journey. A journey that would take him all over Lunar, and later up to the blue star, and back into the heart of its avatar, Lucia.
His eyes went skywards.
The sun was easily viewable enough today, and the clouds didn't obscure the view of the blue star. Not that it was particularly blue anymore, as it had taken on a somewhat greenish hue. It was talked about, although still in hushed tones, all over Nota. The Blue Star's reawakening was, apparently, in its first stages.
It was due to the nice, sunny weather that he decided to take the ... well, the not exactly exhausting trip. Actually, he wasn't even winded, oddly enough, when he reached the place where he always ventured when he needed some time alone to think.
To think about his condition. His seizures as it were.
The wind blew over the grassy plain, passing over the rocky ground with its patches of grass and bushes and the small ponds scattered about. The trees were rather sparse this far up, the few that grew in this height never really reaching the massive heights or widths. Thus the wind were always present. He ran a hand through his hair, removing stray strands from his eyes, and tucking them behind his ears.
The small breeze felt good. It always did, of course, but especially today.
He still couldn't believe it, that his grandfather couldn't pinpoint neither the symptoms nor the cause. Actually there were no symptoms, and apart from when the seizures struck, he felt right as rain. It puzzled them all, him and his grandparents, to no end. And it had started about four months ago, rather sparsely, but...
"Is that all, then?"
Quinn looked at his grandfather, a questioning look in his eyes. His grandfather, Gowan, looked around the room they had rented in Nota for the night.
"Hmm, I guess so. Hand me those, will you?" he said, pointing at the stack of herbs that was left on the table beside the bed his grandfather had used. The trading with the drug store in Nota had gone beyond his expectations in every way he would have imagined. He was happy about it, though, mostly because it showed he didn't make a mistake moving over here to study the plantlife and it's medical effects. But then, it had always been one of his greater passions. And, seeing as he loved his work, he excelled at it. And because of that, he had built himself quite a reputation between the traders of Nota, a reputation for quality. Quinn, barely able to refrain from snickering, could already imagine the commercials.
He grabbed the herbs, and was about to deliver them to his grandfather, when suddenly, as he walked towards him, he stopped and shook his head slightly, his hand already on his forehead.
"Whoa."
"Are you alright, son."
Even though Quinn was Gowan's grandson, he had developed the habit of referring to him as 'son', if not by his name. Quinn didn't really mind, having never met his real parents who, considering what Gowan had told him, had died when he was just a baby. And his father, as Gowan told him, had been Gowan and Maria's son.
Drowned at sea. Both of them. His son and his son's wife.
"Yes. One hell of a pounding in my head, though. I... ugh."
Again he stopped, as he ventured towards Gowan. He winced even more now, both hands against his head, herbal leaves and all.
"Ow, stop with the pounding and hurting of the head, already."
His grandfather sighed, and looked strangely at him.
"Well, let me have a look at it."
Gowan went towards his grandson, and put his hand on his grandsons forehead. "And this is not due to any excessive wine consuming last night, hmm?"
"Gramps!" Quinn answered, his displeasure evident.
"Well, I had to ask now, didn't I?" Gowan answered, a smirk slowly appearing on his bearded face. "You came back to the room when the sun was about to rise, if I'm not much mistaken. Someone ought to teach you the arts of getting a good nights sleep."
Quinn didn't answer. He did, however, make a good show of rolling his eyes.
Gowan just chuckled as his hand started to glow softly white, and he tried, through the healing and scanning magic he knew so well, to find out what caused this sudden outburst of migraine.
And he frowned as the seconds passed.
"What?" Quinn asked.
"I can't feel anything. Are you sure you're not playing tricks on an old man?"
"Hey, wait a minute. I'll have you know..." Quinn trailed off, his looks changing from indignity to blank surprise. "It's gone."
His grandfather looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure."
"Yeah... Yes." The confused look had not left Quinn's eyes. "Yes, it has."
"Well then..." Gowan answered, picking his travelling sack from the floor, hefting it on his shoulders. "We better get our asses in gear, and get going."
And they did.
Quinn shifted uncomfortably, as he sat looking at the Madoria plains far, far below. If he were quiet enough, he could barely make out the music from the carnival. He often went to the carnival just to listen to the music for when the dancers were performing. And occasionally they would just play for the audience's listening pleasure. It was one of the few things he really liked about the carnival, especially with Julia's flute and Roine's guitar. He hoped that those two never left the carnival. Perhaps he should go listen to it at least once before he left for Vane, or, if nothing else, to say goodbye as his journey started.
He frowned.
It hadn't been his decision to travel to Vane.
Neither had it been his grandparents. Not theoretically, anyway.
It was the fourth time the sudden outbursts of whatever had hit him since that day in Nota. It had struck again, about thirty days later, a little worse than the first time. And again, after about thirty more days, this time forcing him to sit down, lest he would fall as it struck him with a vengeance, it would seem.
His grandparents were distressed to no end, mostly because even as the third one raged, Gowan just couldn't detect anything wrong. And that did nothing at all to calm Maria, his wife, down.
But the fourth one was the worst by far. And that was when the decision was made.
"Nnnnghhh."
Quinn crouched down, an iron grip on his head. Gowan looked distressed, as well as a little resigned. Whatever had decided to plague his grandson was undoubtedly not going to end anytime soon, if ever.
Maria just looked at her grandson, horror reflected in her eyes.
"Gggh ... AAAAHHHH! Goddess, it HURTS." Quinn's eyes were squeezed shut, and whenever he didn't speak or scream in pain, Gowan could see his jaw set so tightly it was a wonder he didn't gnash his teeth to pieces. He went over, fully knowing there was very little he could do. But he had to try, anyway.
And as he scanned his grandson, applying a bit of healing magic to ease the boys pain, he noticed something.
Thus, as it passed yet again, he considered the alternatives, few as they were.
"Quinn?" he said, making sure he had his attention.
Quinn was, he saw, still breathing rather heavily from the pain he had endured, as a tear traveled down his cheek, to fall down to the floor.
"Are you alright, son?" he asked.
Quinn stood up, a bit shakily, but he managed to stand up on his own, at least.
"Probably not. The pain's gone, but..." He trailed off, his voice still a bit shaky. His grandfather looked at him, the look in his eyes telling his grandson he was debating something with himself. And, as it appeared he reached a decision, he went to get his travelling sack, and started to put in food, spare clothes, a sleeping bag and whatever else one brought when travelling long distances. As an afterthought, he put some money in one of the sidepockets on the sack, thought the better of it, and put it in a money pouch instead, which he held out to Quinn.
"What are you doing? Where are you going now?" Quinn asked, still a bit shaken by his latest 'incident'.
"I'm not going anywhere. You, however, are," was the reply he got.
"Me? Are you kidding? Go where?" Quinn were definitely looking a bit anxious now, as he grabbed the money pouch.
Gowan looked his grandson straight in the eyes.
"Look, son." he said, putting his hand on Quinn's shoulder. "It doesn't seem like this... well, whatever this is, is ever going to let up, and there is nothing I can do about it. Now..."
He let the hand slip, and he looked over at the travelling bag.
"...although I couldn't do anything about it this time either, I did feel something... strange this time."
Quinn didn't feel all relieved by the look Gowan was giving him.
"What, then?"
"Well, when I scanned you, I felt your magic aura flare a little. And when your... pain let go, the flaring stopped. I just have no idea what to do about it. Magic auras has never been my field of expertise. That's why I want you to go to Vane."
"Vane? You can't be serious."
"Look at me," he said gruffly, "and tell me whether you think I'm serious or not."
Quinn turned to his grandmother. "Do you agree to this? Are you two going to get by without my help here?"
Gowan snorted at that.
"We'll be fine, don't worry about us," she answered, "I just want you to get well, my child. You are the only family we got left, your grandfather and I." Her eyes glistened slightly. "It would be so unfair if you... if you ..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
"Now, you'll leave first thing in the morning." his grandfather continued. "I suggest you take your mind off this. You are going to need a good nights sleep."
And with that in mind, he had traveled up here. He scolded himself for sitting here thinking about the very thing he was supposed to come here to get out of his mind in the first place. He had, obviously, let it occupy his mind too much as well, or he might have been ready for...
"I knew I'd find you up here."
He startled a little at that, turning around to see his grandfather standing right behind him, a little to his left.
"Still think we're not going to get by without you?" he said, the smirk he knew so well plastered on his face.
Quinn rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, so you'll do just fine. Excuse me for asking."
Gowan chuckled at that. "Oh, I'll reckon I can live with it."
And they both stayed there for about an hour, not speaking at all...
...but enjoying the sunset.