If you haven't read Ea versus Azkladash, you may want to start there, as that story is the happens before this one.

Del in Ardent

Upon his arrival in the city of Ardent, long did Del gaze out upon the great sea, an unending field of turquoise to the west, the cool breeze caressing his face and filling his nostrils with the smell of salt. Overawed at its vastness, he meandered along the shoreline, hearing twin calls from both raucous birds and fishermen hawking their wares. An old graymane, catching sight of the foreigner's wonder, chuckled and remarked that the ancient beauty still held that same breathtaking splendor for him as well. Calling himself Aeltannus, the elder spoke at length of his many voyages across the waters, making his way back and forth to Ardent to sell the rare catches from his homeland. He hailed from an island just beyond the horizon of Ardent, a place he called Gaelnyr. Del listened, spellbound, as he spoke of the wind and tides, the storms and swells, of the strange creatures that lurked below the depths, and of the god who protected them from the wrath of Sheldat and his kin.

Inspiration struck him then, and inquiring after the god of Gaelnyr, Del learned that his name was Bryveston, a minor god whose lineage traced back to great Vishda himself. It was said that he lived atop a great cliff overlooking the west of the isle, shielding them from the worst of Sheldat's fury; it was to him that the fisherfolk of Gaelnyr prayed for protection whenever they left their homeland. Seeing the parallels to his own experience with Ea, Del sold the horse he had ridden and bought passage from Aeltannus to voyage toward the mysterious island.

He was greeted with no small number of curious glances; his accent peculiar, their visitors few, the people of Gaelnyr welcomed him warmly if with mild bewilderment. Explaining that he had heard the old mariner's tales and wished to learn more, the fishers each tried to outdo one another with stories of creatures both hideous and wondrous, things that slithered as easily on land as on water, and of the massive beings that had only just escaped being pulled into boats. This last increased in commonality as they drank strong ales and the night waxed full, and Del found himself thinking that not every story might be equally true. He also found himself with a rather aching head the following morning.

After several days in their village, he asked after the shrine of Bryveston, indicating that he wished to pay homage to the god who had helped him to arrive safely in this new land. The elders among them were more than happy to point to the trail, letting him know that it was perhaps a day's journey up to the cliffs, and then another day back. Offered a guide, he politely declined, saying only that he wished to render his respects privately. And so it happened that Del was once more alone, making his way along the pilgrim's trail, seeking the aid of a god whom he understood poorly but hoped was an enemy to the gods of the Hoarde.

As he traveled, he found the light from his crystal slowly growing in intensity as he made his way up the wending trail. On cresting its zenith, he found a small cairn of stones erected in the honor of Bryveston; from here, he could see the rest of the island, as well as the endless ocean spanning in all directions. It was here that he knelt and prayed to Vishda's descendant, recounting the struggle against Azkladash on the mainland, the growing strength of the Hoarde, their continued pressure to move ever nearer to the lands of men. Though it was no business of the island god to aid the mainland, he asked for help nevertheless, in the name of Ea. In response, his crystal pulsed still more brightly, seeming to urge him toward the cliff's edge. Gazing downward, he saw that there was a narrow series of handholds that led to a cavern, leading deeper into the heart of the cliff. Wind shrieked at him as he made his descent, but he held on and entered the secret cave.

Here, the light of the crystal illuminated his path, one seemingly hewn from the very rock itself. Water dripped incessantly from great stalactites as it wound ever deeper, the Eamite trusting only to the divine luminescence. At length, he came to what seemed to be the cliff's heart, where an older, much larger cairn had been built long ago. Moss had grown on the stones placed here, and it was surrounded on all sides by a sharp drop, a narrow band of rock being the sole point of ingress to whence the monument lay. It was here that Del knelt and placed the obsidian fragment shaped in Azkladash's likeness, hiding it deep within the ancient altar. Making his exit, he seemed to receive a sign from the gods themselves, for the passage collapsed as soon as he returned to the side from whence he came, and the light of his crystal returned to its typical brightness.

It was a long, cold journey back to the cliff face, and he looked forward to the warmth of the Gaelnyr hospitality. He stayed with them for the better part of a fortnight, resting after a series of taxing journeys, before once more seeking out Aeltannus and looking to return to the mainland. His friends, he knew, would be waiting for him in Headwaters, and there were many leagues to travel before he would arrive....

Continues with Rowe in Ardent