by Pirateaba
A dark brown face and a braided ponytail appeared in Erin’s plane of vision. Octavia popped up from the counter holding a piece of plant matter in her hands. To Erin, it looked as if the girl had appeared out of nowhere.
“Welcome to Stitchworks!”
Erin screamed.
“Gyaaaaaaa—”
“Are those Ashfire Bees?”
Erin blinked and cut off mid-scream as the jar full of bees was lifted out of her hands. Octavia held up the jar, breathing on the glass and wiping it clean.
“Let’s see…soldier bees, and worker bees…all intact as well! And alive? How did you get—no, I can make use of these—”
Erin blinked a few times at the dark-skinned girl. Her mind was still playing catch-up trying to interpret what Octavia had just said. The other girl was speaking really fast.
“You said they’re Ashfire Bees? Why do people call them that?”
Octavia bustled around Erin and placed the jar on a big scale. She kept speaking as she did, and as Erin stared at her back and the shock of meeting her wore off, she noticed Octavia’s odd stitch-marks around each shoulder and her neck, accentuated by her sleeveless shirt.
“Hmm…let’s see. That’s not a bad quantity at all. And they’re large bees, too; intact. Yes, I can give you a great deal. Let’s say I give you five gold coins for the jar, and I’ll toss in two of my custom-made stamina potions. It’s a great deal and I’ll throw in a 15% discount on any purchases you make. What do you say? Plus, I can give you a great deal on the honey!”
Erin blinked at her. She raised a hand.
“Um. I don’t need potions.”
“Are you sure? If you’re not into stamina potions, why not a healing potion? Everyone needs a healing potion, even if you’ve got the safest job in the world. I tell you what—I’ve got some low-strength potions right here, perfect the occasional scrape or bruise. I’ll trade them to you—let’s say half-weight of this jar? You’ll make back the market value of your bees or even double or triple the worth with a little bit of legwork in the market, easy.”
Erin hesitated again. Part of her wanted to say ‘yes’, but she wasn’t even really sure what she’d been offered.
“That does sound good. But no thanks. Why are they called Ashfire Bees?”
“A tough customer, huh?”
Octavia didn’t seem to be fully engaging with Erin. She spoke even faster as she pulled some poitions off the shelves.
“I’m not fully liquid in terms of finance, but how about some of my latest inventions? I call these pepper potions. A few drops in the eye and your enemies will go blind. They’re going to be a bestseller I can tell, and I’ll give you to them practically for free—I was using them to fill another order, but I can make more and for you I’ll add that to some mana and stamina potions—a full set. Even if you don’t need them, they’ll be worth a fortune, what do you say?”
“Y—”
Erin bit her tongue. She wanted those potions now. She could sell them at her inn! But right now, she needed money more badly. She cleared her throat awkwardly.
“I don’t really exercise. And I don’t fight, so uh. The bees? Why are they called that?”
“Bees?”
For the first time Octavia paused, she looked oddly at Erin.
“What about them? Do you want to do a trade? I’ll take a few specimens off your hands if you’re willing to trade. Or—”
Erin raised her voice and cut the other young woman off.
“The Ashfire Bees. Why are they called that?”
Again, Octavia blinked at Erin. Then she slapped her forehead.
“Bees! Of course. Well, the Ashfire Bees—lovely quality and perfectly undamaged except for those two, by the way, you must tell me what adventurer harvested them—are known for their ability to withstand heat, and the way they can even start fires when they gather together. Not so much in the winter, but when spring comes, watch out! They’ve burned down forests and they’re quite dangerous which makes them big targets for adventurers. Consequently I rarely see so many in one place, but as I’ve said I’m willing to make any trade you w—”
“Does their honey have any special effects?”
“Their honey?”
Octavia’s eyes widened as she saw the jar Erin pulled out of her bag. It was gone before Erin could blink.
“Ashfire Bee honey? Well, it’s not the best of reagents, but I can see it acting as a potent base although of course it’s not confirmed since there’s really no reason to use that when it’s such an expensive—I suppose I could make you a good deal right here without you having to find a merchant. Name your price and I’ll make sure you get the best deal right here. In fact, let me find you a seat.”
The girl with stitches tried to alternatively block Erin from leaving or retrieving her jars as she scrambled around for a place for Erin to sit. For Erin’s part, she was so bemused and confused that she eventually took a seat in a stool as Octavia tried to make another deal.
“Okay, you’ve clearly got some merchandise and I would be delighted to take it off your hand. So I’ll offer you my best item right now, which is a high-quality blur potion that I’ve just developed. It has a few minor side effects, but I think you’ll agree that the tradeoff in twitch speed is worth it.”
She grabbed a strange potion—yellow with whirling flecks of blue and shoved it in Erin’s face. The colors spun hypnotically as Octavia kept speaking.
“I think you’ll notice the blending here and the telltale unabsorbed reagents. This is a rare potion—any Silver-rank adventurer would want one. I can give you this and half my stock of—”
“Nah, I don’t want any. Hey, do you think the bees are magical, or is it just a biology thing that makes them so big?”
Octavia paused again. Erin looked at her innocently and started asking all the questions she’d been pondering.
“You see, I really don’t know much about the bees—but I thought you could use the honey and maybe some mana potions and make something cool. Actually, I just wanted to know if mana potions made food…magical. Because what if I added that to alcohol? Does it just make mana alcohol? Or does something else happen? Can you add potions to magical things and make the effects stronger?”
“Um—well, that’s a very interesting question. I have to speculate—”
Octravai hesitated. She looked at Erin.
“What type of ingredient are we talking about here? Some kind of magical excretion?”
Erin shook her head.
“No, I’ve got these faerie flowers, see. When I add them to ale it creates this weird hallucination sometimes—if I add too much you see things.”
“Faerie flowers?”
It was disconcerting the way the other girl’s eyes sparkled. In an instant Octavia was pacing around Erin, speaking rapidly.
“I’m so sorry, it was my mistake. I didn’t realize you were another [Alchemist]—well, I haven’t heard of any ‘faerie flowers’ but I suppose terms differ—are they some kind of toadstool? Of course, I’d love to discuss the effects, but if we’re talking experimentation then I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”
She practically ran over to her shelves and began pulling down ingredients. Erin stared at what looked like a cow tongue floating in green liquid and a handful of purple leaves as Octavia kept trying to seal the deal, whatever the deal was.
“I have quite a large variety of rare ingredients and I would be happy to assist you. Where did you come from? Esthelm? Wales? Further than that? I’m gratified that you chose my shop to visit first—I may not be the highest-level [Alchemist] in the region, but believe me, my experiments have already yielded several new innovations. I’ve got a wonderful new way to make smoke bags, and you won’t believe what I’ve developed for self-defense. True, the Watch banned me from using the stink potion anywhere in the city but—what type of alchemy did you say you practiced?”
“Uh.”
Erin’s brain hurt. But Octavia was
looking at her so intently, so Erin scrambled for a response.
“I’m not an [Alchemist].”
“Oh, so you’re just an interested party? Adventurer? Merchant? If you’re looking for someone to experiment on your behalf, you’re in the right place.”
“I’m uh, not any of those things. And I don’t want to make potions. I want to make food. I’m an [Innkeeper].”
“Well, I think we can partner and do some great things together. I think a small downpayment on your part would help if we’re going to use my shop, and of course if you have any other ingredients I’d be happy to pay a City Runner to import—”
Octavia broke off. She paused, and then slowly turned her head and stared at Erin, the first non-hyperactive moment Erin had seen her make.
“What did you just say?”
2.38
As Erin Solstice sat with the [Alchemist] named Octavia in a warm room in the city of Celum, another girl ran through the snow far to the south. She had been running for a long time—before Erin had even woke up, in truth, but she ran on with wild abandon.
Most runners conserved their energy; measured their pace and thought of distances to traverse, and of caution and prudence. They treated their bodies as finite resources. But Ryoka Griffin ran as though there would not be another ten minutes, let alone a tomorrow. She didn’t think beyond each step; her bloody feet churned through the snow as she ran the icy road from Liscor north.
She had known pain before. She had felt it in her heart, in her fragile limbs and from a thousand races and competitions and injuries. But now the agony of her heart was making even the urgent, biting thunder in her legs and chest grow silent. She had to keep running. She had to get there in time.
She ran north, gasping for air. She ignored the group of Goblins who spotted her and chased after her for a few paces. She ignored the people on the road; merchants and even groups of adventurers who called out. She ran with only one purpose in mind.
To avoid being too late.
—-
Never again. I swear it. Never again, I swore.
Time and time again I’ve said the same things, made the same promises. My broken oaths litter my past, and the dead claw at my heels. I feel like I walk in circles; repeating the same story towards infinity.
I can’t break free. I can’t stop it. I make friends and lose them. No; until this point I didn’t have friends. It was just me driving the nail into my skin, waiting for my skin to fester and rot. I would throw myself into challenges and cast everything to the wind because there was nothing worth clinging to.
At least, in my mind. But when I finally looked up and saw what was worth holding onto, it slipped from my fingers like starlight in the harsh light of the truth.
I ran for my friends and found only blood and bones before my eyes. Piles of bloodied rags in the darkness. Memory in shadow. It hardly seems like they’re gone. The lack of any goodbye haunts me.
I fell down and the Stone Spearstribe lifted me out of the cold. They offered me a hand—a paw—and lit a fire to ward away the cold. They died to destiny and monsters, fighting alone against a horde led by the Goblin with empty eyes.
And one last time, yes, one last time I run. Onwards, to save a friend who made a place to live in a world filled with monsters and magic. She built a place to keep my heart, and I brought death to her doorstep.
Is that my fate? Is that the price I pay? The cruelest of fates would be that. If destiny could read my mind, it would know that punishing others for my transgressions would hurt me most. If that is the case, why shouldn’t I run far away, far away and find a place where I will be alone forever?
I tried that once. But people who loved me found me. I tried it twice, and they still brought me back. Was it truly love, or just the need to fulfill their duties as parents and guardians in a society that judged?
I should have asked, even if it meant listening to lies.
…
I have one last card to play. My deck is nearly empty. I thought I had a full hand of cards, but each one has flown away into a sky full of regrets. Some nights I stand on a hill full of yellow bones and wonder who will bury me in the dark earth when I die.
I have nightmares about that. Not of dying; I never did. But now I fear I will outlive everyone around me.
My fingers hurt. My lungs hurt. My feet—
At some point I think I decided the boots I was using were slowing me down too much. I threw away the coat and hat and everything else with it around the same time. I run through the snow. My feet burn with the cold; a terrible prickling pain trending towards numbness. Frostbite awaits, a dark little creature holding oblivion in one claw.
I don’t care. I run on, as fast as I can. I don’t even remember how long it’s been. I knew I had to get to Teriarch right away; but it will take at least a day of running straight out to get there.
Too slow. I might die before I reach him. So many things could happen. But I have to run as fast as I can.
If Erin is dead, then I really am lost.
How do I know she’s even in trouble? I can’t tell. She could have wandered off and simply not come back.
She could be dead.
It could be a thousand and one things or none of them. But as I was thinking, the terror of it came over me. When did I—? I’ve never been this afraid. Not of anything. But the thought of losing someone else makes me run even faster than I do now.
Running alone through the snow, blurring past people on the road who stare at me in surprise. Running, running.
But they follow me even so. So I guess I’m not alone.
“Is she trying to run fast?”
“I think she is! But she is so slow, isn’t she sisters?”
“Yes, so slow! Slow like dripping sap and ice melt.”
I grit my teeth. But they’re with me, as always. I looked left and see a faerie lazily flying by my side. She laughs at me.
“Huffing and puffing away. Do you think it will help?”
“Where. Is. Erin?”
The faerie stares at me. I stare back. For once, this is a contest I can’t win. After a few seconds I stare back at the road, just in time to dodge past a large stone.
“Human. Have ye not heard us the last hundred times we’ve said it? We do not interfere in mortal affairs.”
“Liar.”
The faerie flips over and stares at me.
“Mm. True. But we do not break our oaths that easily.”
“You broke them once for me and Mrsha. Just tell me if Erin’s okay.”
“And why would we do that?”
Don’t snap at them. Don’t yell. I breathe in and taste the blood as the cold air rushes into my lungs.
“Don’t you care? She made you food. She likes you.”
“She is still mortal. She is one among countless many. Why does she matter more?”
“She matters to me.”
“So?”
It’s too much. I stop in the snow, slowing down and trying not to tumble as I start to skid. I stare at my feet in the snow and only notice now that I’ve left a trail. I lift one foot and see pink, red flesh. Blood begins to drip out of the white-red gashes on my feet, but slowly. The cold makes even losing blood hard.
“Ooh, she bleeds!”
Some of the faeries flying around me fly closer. I wave them away, but they just fly around my leg, pulling faces at me. I stare at them.
“Help me. If you won’t help me find Erin, help me reach my destination quicker. I know you can.”
I still remember the rushing air around me, the coldness in my bones, and the feeling—of flying. The night I ran through the Goblin Army to safety with the faeries—how far did I go? Each step felt like I was running into forever. The world felt still around me and I felt like I understood running like I never had before.
I need the same thing now. Erin could be injured, betrayed by her damn skeleton. Or maybe it failed her and a monster got her. Or if she crashed the sledge—
I shudder. My dreams were like this last night. I keep seeing—
I have to run faster. I look at the faeries. They’re hovering around me, giving me skeptical and incredulous looks. One of them floats nearer to my face.
“You beg a favor with naught to offer? Nay, you beg to alter destiny? Have you no shame?”
“Not anymore.”
I meet her eyes squarely. The faerie shakes her head at me.
“Nothing is free. We are not gods! This fate you fear is your duty to change, mortal.”
“My name is Ryoka Griffin.”
She gives me an old look.
“Dust.”
“She fed you. She built her inn out of copper to please you! She’s the only damn person in this world worth saving! Don’t you care!?”
I scream at them. The faeries hover in the cold air, and I feel it grow colder. My feet don’t really feel like anything anymore. But I don’t look away from them.
This time, the high-pitched voice is gone. The voice that comes out of the glittering diamond of a body is lower, and it echoes. Something else is speaking. Or perhaps it’s the true form of the faerie that even Erin and I can’t see.
“We care. Watch your tongue, mortal. We care. We care like pouring rain and a new shoot’s blossom. We care for fires’ burn and for scurrying things caught by flood and fang. We care for the fading earth and the sigh of a dying breeze. We care.”
“So stop asking!”
A snowball hits me in the face. This one has shards which cut and burn. I wipe away the snow and feel myself bleeding. Around me, the fey are hovering. Watching.