from the Journal of Krish...
I started keeping this journal because of Carnac. There was never much call for writing, I am a storyteller and as such, leanred how to tell a story, to entertain, to educate, to speak to people in all manner of ways.
Carnac was entranced with writing words on parchment. He learned all he could about writing words. He became a master of the making of parchment and ink and would gladly teach anyone who wanted to learn. Often, he would annoy us with his constant enthusiasm and would try to teach all of us how to write. I was the only one of us who would listen, and now I have picked up the habit of writing down my thoughts, and even, a few stories.
But I am not so foolish to think that old warriors would want to learn to write, or even read for that matter. Sometimes Carnac was slow to pick up on the hint. Well actually, he was always about a sentence or two behind the conversation. But I have always enjoyed learning, and so, I listened, and I picked up the habit.
My thoughts are scattered like leaves on the wind as I sit here looking at the shelves of journals that Carnac has left to me. He had a batch of ink settling in a pot and pieces of parchment drying on the rack at the back of the study. I should finish what he left behind before we leave, we have some time. It might be good to do some work, settle my thoughts before I go out to talk to everyone else and tell them what I plan to do.
The body of Carnac lies on the bier in the barn, but his presence is always at my shoulder. I know what I have to do, what I need to do. Sam will understand and help me. The others will argue and call me crazy, but I think they will come along. We need to bury our ghosts, finish our past, if we ever really want to emerge from the darkness.
But I am unsure..