Dear Arturo,
Yes, Issodel has grown considerably. I had a chance to visit myself not long ago. The north, nestled in the borders of the woods, now has hundreds of stone towers while the south, surrounded by boulders as you recall, features dozens of sprawling gardens. Those gardens heavily feature the blue-grey trees which I am sure you remember seeing. In fact, I heard an interesting old tale about those trees.
Before leaving their debased home the Afflian caravaners struggled to secure grey-veined ash saplings from their foes, the queriers. They would need the grey-veined ash for their travels in the wilderness for whatever water flows through its net of roots turns clean and drinkable. Affalach’s champions fought grim battles for the trees but the time came for them to leave and they had none. The First Exodus left Affalach with no grey-veined ash.
The querier were weakened and it was not hard for the nobles to finish the champions’ work. When the Great Exodus left they took with them one hundred grey-veined ash saplings on their backs, the roots tied up in cloth sacks.
When the Great Exodus split along the three roads, fifty grey-veined ashes went with them into the shifting wooded hills. Thirty went along the coast where in time they were destroyed or lost. Twenty went into the grasslands where they were left behind or withered in the heat. But those that went into the wooded hills survived. At times their bearers planted them in dells and dales. They guarded their bearers against the earth’s poison while the Afflians rested and gathered supplies to make new legs of their journey.
Some grey-veined ashes grew too big to carry. Others were killed by pests. New saplings were grown but after one hundred years the numbers dwindled until only ten remained. The children of the Great Exodus settled in the shade of a rocky crag for a long season of rest. They hoped not to leave until saplings were plentiful once more. But atter-bellied woodworms came suddenly and drove the Afflians from their camp.
Cashani was but a girl when the atter-bellied woodworms came. Sixty years later she was grandmother to little Anscai. Anscai’s mummy and daddy had died in the same manner as so many others – drinking water which was wrongly judged to be safe. The scions of Affalach were wise in assessing creeks and pools but they always chose one or two of their number to drink the water one day before the rest. Sometimes the scions judged wrong. They had little choice but to be more quick than thorough.
“Sixty five years and little rest,” said Cashani to Anscai one day. “Little rest since we lost the trees. We hurry through the wilds to find whatever haven we might. Without the trees we might last one generation, maybe two. So we go quickly. If there is a haven for us we must find it.”
“Why not go and get the trees back, nanny?” asked Anscai to Cashani. “Would we not find them again and be able to rest?”
“Who knows how many miles behind we left them?” answered Cashani. “After sixty years of walking, the shady crag is far far behind us.”
“But I’ve seen the shady crag,” insisted Anscai. “I’ve seen it today just over the nearest hill!”
Cashani said, “That was sixty years ago! Go not over the hill, Anscai. You have never seen the shady crag and I’ll not lose you as I lost your dear parents.”
But bereft and naive Anscai would not listen. She quietly left the caravan that night and reached the shady crag by morning. She climbed up the nearest face to the very top and saw an endless expanse of shifting hills one way and in the other she saw white plains, an icy sea, and dark debased Affalach beyond.
When Cashani woke she looked out and saw the figure of a young girl standing atop the crag over the hill and she was terrified. Finding her granddaughter nowhere, she took the whole caravan and moved them to the foot of the shady crag. Then Anscai called out to them,
“Look, nanny! Just to the other side of this crag I see ten ash trees with silver-blue leaves! And look! I see a dark city further off! Is it Affalach, nanny?”
Few believed the young girl until some younger men climbed up the crag to where she stood and confirmed everything she said.
Some were downcast and asked, “How is it that after one hundred and sixty years of wandering we are still closer to our wicked cousins than to a pleasant country?”
But others said, “But we found the trees again! Now we may travel slowly and rest and our children will arrive safely!”
Well, some of the downcast would not be comforted and wandered hopelessly back to Affalach. No happy fate could have awaited them there. But the rest rejoiced and rested longer by the shady crag. From that time on, a few trees were always left unplanted should the atter-bellied woodworms come again suddenly. In time Cashani passed and her ashes were fed to the trees. By the time Anscai’s own granddaughter, Cashani the Younger, was born they had fifty-one blue-veined ashes and travelled through lands far from Affalach.
The Afflians have hundreds of stories about their time in the wilderness. No one man ever lives long enough to learn them all. Well, perhaps one or two lived long enough but they spent their lives at sea. In any case, let me know if you wish to hear more Afflian tales of the wilderness.
geldorad.ca 
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