The mysterious character of this piece stems from the feelings we all experienced as we journeyed through one of the most intriguing spots ever encountered.

On our way to Polchurn, our route took us by way of the Valley of Rinchon. The little-traveled road through the mist-covered valley was known by nearby residents as the "Road of Dreams", and was never used except in the full light of day. Tales from the villagers told of sounds emanating from the fog, mystical music heard and flashing rose colored lights.

We immediately decided to navigate the path. It was nearing sunset by the time we finally started, but with the light glowing from the top of Zyndal's staff, we felt unafraid. As soon as the wisps of fog began to swirl around our feet, a strange light formed off to the right side. This light soon began to move parallel to our path. Sometimes it appeared green, other times a soft rose color.

Zyndal, with staff in hand, maneuvered his way through the fog, sticking closely to the path in front of him, and we followed closely behind. All sounds had suddenly dropped away. Before the journey began, the sounds of approaching evening had filled our ears, but as soon as we entered this shadowy domain, it was as though the world had ceased to exist. The only sound in our ears was the sound of our booted feet on the path.

The light that had suddenly started on our right now began to grow and seemed to be all around us. Through the mist we began to see the shadowy forms of warriors from different eras. Subtle colors of gold and silver tinged with rose or blue played off their armor and shields, at first causing us great alarm. In front of us, a veteran from the middle ages with drawn sword while behind us, a warrior from the Aztec empire. To the left, an Egyptian charioteer with whip in hand, while on the right, an Elven prince with hand on the hilt of his sword. Just out of sight there seemed to be the outlines of a multitude of warriors in various ranks. Shimmering colors of the rainbow bathed us in soft light, while a distant martial music floated just out of hearing.

Even though we felt hemmed in, there was no fear in our hearts. It seemed that these phantoms were speaking words of encouragement rather than harm. As the journey continued, we felt their presence, not as a threat, but as a protection. Silent whispers, if there is such a thing, filled our minds and yet, we felt protected and unafraid.

When our trek through the valley was over we emerged from the fog and the normal sounds of evening were heard once again. In the distance we saw the twinkling lights of Polchurn and we headed for the first inn we could find.

In hindsight, it seemed as though the warriors in that mist, the guardians of the path, would be found threatening only if the pilgrim had evil for their intent. Upon our arrival at the Inn of the Blacktooth, we sat at a table recounting our impressions for each other. The innkeeper, approaching us, asked if we had really come through the valley in the dark, and with wide eyed wonder asked us countless questions about our experience.

Although I wouldn't care to repeat that walk, I wished to share with listeners in this track of music, the awe and mystery we all felt as we traversed that "Road of Dreams".....Davutus