A Pilgrim's Crusade

He stood among the foothills, before him the jewel of the South, the mighty Portusob Tempest, behind him the desolate yet magnificent Wolf Cry Mountains. How long had he dreamt about this, the day that he would return to his home and his love. Now, however, that he finally stood within sight of his goal, he was afraid to take the first steps. He took comfort in the buzzing sensation in his right wrist; it meant civilization was near, a welcome change to the near total silence that had followed him for so long. He looked out over the city again and reached for the pendant under his shirt and cloak to pull out the tear-shaped jewel, still translucent, still silent. He put it away again, thinking himself foolish for assuming she would still have it after all these years. He took a deep breath and started down the hillside, a lone, cloaked figure returning from a long journey