The Fairworld, or whatever it was that bird had called it, was to all appearances not all that much different than the world Lindsey was accustomed to. Not hereabouts, at any rate. Lindsey’s surroundings were much as one might expect to find in any number of places in the world. It was a mountainous land, with rocky crags and wooded hills obscuring her view of the horizon on all sides. Small patches of meadowland undulated through the sharp dips and rises of the earth, pierced at all places with islands of bare rock, while trees and shrubs made scattered intrusions upon the grasses here and there. The patch of grass on which Lindsey had landed was itself nearly enveloped by an assortment of boulders, and having had a look at her surroundings she was rather grateful she hadn’t landed a few feet further in any direction.

Voices.

Yes, voices alright, just barely carried on the breeze. Coming from somewhere over that way-ish. Lindsey could only assume that the Bird had meant to meet up with her here, wherever here was. And, even if it were not the Bird she were hearing, she would certainly need to connect herself with humanity in some way (assuming of course that ‘humanity’ was what inhabited this place). Having taken quick stock of herself she had promptly concluded that with only her clothes to her possession, her worldly resources at present were distinctly limited, and it wasn’t as though she were a girl scout or something who could tell you which roots and berries were healthy and nutritious and which ones would instead leave you with spasms and a short future. Whatever was about to happen, she would certainly need to find help in short order if she expected to survive all of this.

Following the voices wasn’t particularly easy. The wind was irregular, whistling randomly through the rocks and throwing sounds around like dry leaves on a windy autumn day. And if that weren’t enough, there were plenty of other noises to confuse the navigational ear. The rush of the wind itself, the buzz of insects, and the sound of sheep.

It didn’t take Lindsey long to find the sheep. They seemed to be everywhere, clumping their way to and fro in shifting schools like fluffy fish with legs, pausing to nibble here and there at grass and weeds only to suddenly drop everything and trot off again with the herd the moment one of them took a fancy to random motion. They were not feral, that was for certain. The bells were evidence of that. So many bells! Every move was accompanied by a sonorous clank, and the air was filled with a soft chorus of bells and bleats. It seemed impossible to isolate any other noises. However, where there are domestic animals, there is usually to be found a domesticator. If Lindsey couldn’t find the the Bird, her next best chance for survival would be to find the proprietor of this livestock.

It was in observing the ebb and flow of the bleating wool producers that Lindsey noticed another queer characteristic of her surroundings. Many of the stones were unusually sharp and regular in shape. In point of fact, they were cut. Though broken, scattered, and weathered, it quickly became obvious that a large number of these stones had been worked by the hands men (or at least creatures like men). And more still, some were still stacked. Blended into the rocky terrain and obscured by vegetation and centuries of decay, there were ruins. Square stone in stacks and rows hinted at what were once walls, floors, and foundations.

Yet these ruins were not the only thing nearby which bore the mark of intelligent builders...intelligent of a sort, at any rate. For amidst the crags and slopes, only partially visible from Lindsey’s vantage, there was a great stone mound.

There was no mistaking that the thing was built that way on purpose. As Lindsey teetered on a rock for a better view, she could see clearly that it was a great heap of stones; some plucked raw from the earth, some chiseled and broken, and all heaped together in a haphazard mess whose only guiding principle appeared to be to make the most massive rockpile imaginable. Lindsey couldn’t be sure of it’s size, but from what she could see she thought that it must be something like a hundred feet high at the very least. That such a monstrous thing could have been the work of random geology seemed to her impossible.

The wind carried forth again the sound of voices. This time, Lindsey thought she could clearly make out a direction: The voices came from somewhere near the great mound of stone.

Another moment found Lindsey picking her way across the rocky maze towards the mound. The mound was further away than it had at first appeared, and further still given the meandering route which Lindsey was obliged to take in order to reach it. Indeed, it was well nigh an hour before Lindsey at last found herself at the foot of the edifice.

It was truly immense. Less tall perhaps than Lindsey had at first thought (for it was perched on a hill), but no less impressive by girth. And as crude as it had appeared at a distance, closer inspection revealed a greater measure of architectural consideration (for want of a better phrase). While there appeared to be no particular regularity to the overall shape, the mound was partially encircled by rings of massive pillars of varying sizes; some of made of stacked stones, others composed of single upright rocks. There were perhaps twenty such pillars in all, set in two or three uneven rows at differing heights on the mound. It appeared to Lindsey that the idea was perhaps to ultimately ring the whole mound with the things in several tiers like a great lumpy wedding cake, for it was clear to her that the structure was unfinished. Grass, weeds, and small shrubs sprung from between the worn stones at lower levels, which became thinner higher up as the stones appeared less settled, stacked with gaps and colored unevenly where one part had lately been buried and another exposed. The pillars too showed signs of labor both old and recent, some of them fresh and others weathered and grown with moss. And looking closer still at the nearest of them, Lindsey could see that some were engraved with freshly cut inscriptions; crude pictograms and disjointed lettering. If nothing else, Lindsey was impressed that whoever was building this monstrous thing was not the most gifted of craftsmen.

It was at this moment that a shadow passed fleetingly over Lindsey’s head, and a large boulder made an abrupt landing about halfway up the mound with a resounding crash, only to begin rolling back down part way again with a shower of pebbles and shards. Lindsey darted out of the way even as the bulk of the avalanche rumbled to a stop some feet away.

And then an awesome thing appeared.