by Jeff Kish
“Right, right,” Era says, waving it off. “Corpit Luuuuuk. Like that?”
Jem rolls her eyes. “Sure, that’s perfect. Just stay hidden. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Wait a second,” Era calls after her. “If trouble finds us, I might actually need Ospif to back me up. Can you give him a weapon?”
“Sure. My broken dagger is in the bag.”
Ospif wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I would much prefer Crystalblade.”
“Pah!” Jem scoffs as she pushes her way out of the foliage and onto the main path. Though the road has other travelers, no one pays her any mind as she heads into town with them.
“She must be happy to finally blend into a crowd,” Era says, mostly to himself.
Ospif shrugs it off, instead fixated on the destination before them. “That is a sizeable town. The largest yet, I would say.”
The traveler notices its size for the first time. “Wow, what a tall structure right there in the middle. It almost looks like a fortress! Is that really made from caked earth?”
“Seems appropriate that the Allerian dogs would live in the mud,” Ospif cracks.
Era grimaces at the raw hatred the royal exudes, realizing just how much he must have been instilled with these notions from his birth. To Era, the Allerians have seemed as human as any Valvoran he has ever met, though they certainly have their differences in demeanor and culture. He’s starting to understand Jem’s lamentations about the deep-seated hatred between nations.
* * *
Era checks his pocket watch yet again. “This is taking too long,” he groans as he watches the sun disappear behind the horizon. “I think it’s time to go after her.”
“Go after her? Are you insane?” Ospif exclaims. “If she’s in trouble, I want nothing to do with it.”
“Hey, I might need you in a fight. And besides, don’t you want to meet Corpit?”
“Not badly enough to risk ending my life. Your friend is among her brethren. I’m sure she’s perfectly safe.”
His words suddenly make Era nervous for Jem, who has been adamant that the locals would never view her as one of their own. “I’m going in,” he decides as he rummages through their belongings. “You should continue your journey alone, just in case.”
“A-Alone?” Ospif stutters, as if considering it for the first time.
“I mean, weren’t you planning on splitting paths with us at this point? The Academy is to the south, and I don’t know where we’re headed next.”
Ospif grimaces. “S-Sure, but… traveling unprotected remains an unsettling thought.”
“Or,” Era says with a coy smile, “you could come with me and make sure Jem is okay. If you do that, we’ll escort you to the Academy from here. After all, I figure Luk might direct us that way, regardless.”
The royal student glances to the main path, frustrated with his mutually undesirable options. “Ugh, fine, that satisfies me. Just keep your end of the bargain, you scoundrel. Even if Corpit sends you back north, you must honor our agreement.”
“Done,” he replies, knowing his partner will certainly veto it. He retrieves Jem’s broken dagger and tosses it to Ospif, who jumps backward to avoid it.
“What are you doing!?”
“Hey, be careful! That little guy has seen a lot of action, so don’t let it break.”
“Then stop flinging it around,” he complains as he picks it off the ground. “A lot of action, indeed. This blade has seen better days.”
“The runoid did that,” Era comments as he stashes their goods into a log.
“The runoid was capable of this?” he asks, aghast.
“Sure. Elemental blade and all that, right? Sharp enough to slice through metal, as Jem found out the hard way.”
“Fascinating,” he mumbles as he runs his finger carefully along the sliced edge.
“All right,” Era says as he stands. “Let’s go save Jem!”
“Assuming she isn’t just perusing the local taverns,” he sneers.
“Jem’s never been one for drinks,” he counters, “but I’d sure be happy to find her in a pub at this point.”
“You and I both.”
* * *
The two Valvorans enter town beneath an impressive arched gateway. Era marvels over the size of the structure, though the lack of gate makes it useless for preventing anyone with malicious intents from entering. As Era ponders this, he notices that the main road is disturbingly bare. This is typically where market vendors set up shop, and it is far from uncommon for them to be pushing their wares at discounted rates at this hour. Instead, the vicinity is entirely abandoned.
“I’m not liking this,” Ospif says quietly as they enter the ghost town.
“We saw people entering along with Jem, so there must be someone here we can question,” Era replies, though the atmosphere is certainly unnerving.
At last, a lone figure exits the fortress-like compound at the far end of the square with a half-dozen men behind him. Their swords glimmer in the faint light.
“Keep your weapon hidden,” Era quietly warns as he dips his hand into the pouch hidden by his cloak. Still, he finds Ospif so petrified that any hope of his ally being useful in a fight is long gone.
The aggressors stop short, their hands on their hilts as their unarmed leader steps forward. “Valvorans, state your names and your business.”
“My name is Era. I’m here for my friend, who came to town a few hours back,” he says earnestly. “I don’t want trouble. I just want to take her and leave.”
The Allerian grunts his disapproval. “Your friend is here. Asked some funny questions about a companion of ours. We’re asking her some questions of our own.”
Era’s fist clenches as he tries in vain to keep calm. “We mean no harm.”
“Bunch of Valvoran pigs coming to town asking about Corpit… Just why are you asking about him?”
“We’re rune scholars! We want to ask him questions about runoids is all,” Era answers.
“You expect me to believe that you crossed the border just to ask Corpit about runes?” the aggressor derides. “You two are joining your companion. One of you will break.”
The armed gang steps forward, but Era yanks an earth blade from his pouch. “Stay back! I’ve sliced through metal blades before, and I’ll do it again!” he lies.
Surprisingly, the threat works, and even the leader seems impressed. “An elemental blade?”
“Want to try your luck against me?” Era brazenly taunts, still hoping to dodge a fight with his untested right hand. “Now release my friend.”
However, the adversary squats and rests his fingers on the packed path. “Sliced through metal? Pah. Very well, then,” he answers as he pulls his own dirt blade from the ground. “Stay back, men. I’ll handle this.”
Era’s jaw drops. He has never met another earth shaper, let alone battled one, and the banter and hollers coming from the opposing gang are indicative that this opponent is no pushover. Era tightens his grip on his weapon, realizing he’s in over his head.
Undaunted, his opponent initiates the skirmish with a powerful thrust. Era parries the attack, and he clumsily defends a series of follow-up strikes. The motion causes his cloak to flutter about, revealing his handicap.
“I was wondering about the sideways cloak,” his opponent mumbles as he momentarily disengages. To the cheers of his allies, he rests his sword on the ground and pulls in more sand to make a heavier weapon. Wielding it with two hands, he taunts, “Let’s see how you do now, you one-armed pig!”
A shiver runs down Era’s spine as the talented shaper imposes his will. His muscles already exhausted, he still isn’t practiced enough with his remaining limb to be able to respond offensively. He longs for his good arm, especially with his useless ally quivering in his boots, and he’s filled by a dread he has not experienced since the night Di was taken.
However, as he barely deflects yet another strike, the overwhelming desperation triggers a shift in Era�
�s mentality. Muscular strength shouldn’t matter in a battle between shapers. He suddenly sneers at the efforts of a mere human, one whose elemental abilities cannot possibly compare to those of a runic. All he needs to do is make his blade sharper… sharper…
The Allerian heaves his weighty sword at Era, who confidently raises his sliver of a blade to shatter the weapon upon impact. Era is showered with loose dust as the rowdy crowd is silenced, and their leader looks to his broken weapon in disbelief.
Era casually brushes the dirt from his hair and rests his blade against his own shoulder. “Now give me my friend.”
His aggressor’s disbelief shifts to a seething belligerence. “Shut up, Valvoran!” he cries as he bulks and hardens his weapon, and he makes another heaving effort to cut Era down.
Once again, Era raises his thin blade in defense, but this time the weapons stick together at the point of contact. As the Allerian tugs to get his sword back, one of his allies yells, “Watch out! He’s pulling you in!” Only then does he notice that Era is vying for control over the shaped earth, and the shaper is required to shift his focus into resisting the opposing elemental force. As sweat pours from his brow, he notices Era’s cold eyes as he absorbs the material in his weapon.
“I feel it,” the runic mutters as he closes his eyes. “I feel the earth, all the way through.” The Allerian starts to lose the last of his control, and Era flashes a sinister grin. “And it doesn’t end with your sword.”
The sand and dirt forcefully rip away from the Allerian’s hands, and he screams in agony as blood sprays into the air. He frantically clenches his fists as he falls to his knees, still shrieking. “MY FINGERS! MY FINGERS!!”
As the remaining forces rush to their ally’s side, Era drops the unwieldy mass of earth and, realizing they are still badly outnumbered, makes a mad dash into a back alleyway. “Come on, Ospif!” he shouts, and his companion clumsily races after him.
“Don’t let them get away!” the injured leader screams at his men, who take off in pursuit.
Era turns a corner and races through the empty street. “This way!” he calls as he makes for another alley, and Ospif does his best to keep up for fear of his life. They flee into a narrow street with long adobe huts, and, when Era pauses to catch his breath, he is frustrated to hear the mob continuing to give chase. As he searches the adobe walls for an escape, a thought strikes him. He rests his hand against the nearest cold, dusty surface, and it disintegrates at his command. Ospif’s gapes as Era carves out an entrance spacious enough for them to use. After Era ensures the other side is safe, he beckons for Ospif to follow.
The crowds are nearly upon them as Era plants his hand on the cob wall and prompts the hole to seal itself by thinning out the surrounding material, which effectively conceals their escape as their aggressors dash by without taking notice.
Era lets out the breath he failed to realize he was holding. “Whew!” he exclaims as he slides to the floor and wipes his brow.
“‘Whew’ my foot!” Ospif contends. “That was a terrifying display of battlefield shaping back there. Whatever possessed you to do something so horrifying to your opponent?”
Despite Ospif’s loud exclamation, Era doesn’t bother to shush him or even contest the question. The truth is that he has no answer, and he stares at his right hand in silent contemplation.
“And this!” Ospif cries as he beckons to their sealed escape route. “This doorway, and then not a doorway. You are a shaping genius, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Yeah, it seems adobe is easy to shape. Maybe because it’s drier?” Era wonders, as if that were the most pressing issue.
“Just where did you lead us?” Ospif demands as his eyes adjust to the darkness, making out wooden crates in the small room. “This is no house.”
“Looks like a storage unit or something,” Era comments. He stands and shapes a small peephole through the wall. “We should be safe here for an hour. We’ll go after Jem once the sunlight is gone.”
“Go after her? Still?” he asks in abhorrence. “Where would we even start looking?”
“That huge facility in the middle of town, of course! From there we just explore,” he says with confidence.
“Well, count me out of your little hunt.”
“Out!?”
“I can’t believe you talked me into coming in the first place,” he gripes. “That filthy Allerian can get strung up by her toes for all I care. She isn’t worth all this.”
“Say that again!” Era shouts as he grabs Ospif by the collar. “Jem has done nothing but save your pathetic hide at every turn. Why do you hate her so much, even after all this time? She’s a human being!”
“She is an Allerian,” Ospif replies with disdain. “She is incapable of anything but instinctual self-preservation. We just so happen to have profited from that natural propensity thus far.”
As Era seethes, his clenched fist rubs against Ospif’s neck, and the same feeling from earlier strikes him. He can feel the earth on the surface of his companion’s skin. Beyond it is still a muddied mess of other elements, but the point of contact is clear as day. It would only take a small tug to tear into his flesh.
His heart racing, Era shoves the pompous student to the ground as he is flooded with dread. Gasping for air, Era leans into the wall and fights to regain his senses.
“Good heavens, what is wrong with you?” Ospif barks, rubbing his backside. He hesitates before asking the question burning in his mind. “That man… Did you… Did you remove his fingers?”
“N-NO!” Era shouts, failing to contain his voice. Much quieter, he explains, “No, I just ripped off the outer skin. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” the Academy student exclaims in horror. “You cannot do that to someone!”
“Why not?” Era asks. “I felt it. I felt the earth that made up his hand. I couldn’t press too deep, but it was more than enough to pull a tiny bit off the top. I’m not a monster.”
“You’re making me ill,” Ospif groans as he sits, rubbing his head. “Have you done this before?”
“No, never.”
“Then you must absolutely swear off ever doing it again,” he urges. “This atrocity… It is highly taboo.”
“Taboo?” he asks in disgust. “I just saved your life, Ospif. Show some gratitude.”
“But shaping another person is…” A sharp shiver completes his thought. He eyes Era with fear, as if sharing the space with a feral animal.
Era wants to ignore the issue, yet he cannot deny that Ospif’s revulsion resonates within his soul. “Then… tell me about it. What did I just do?”
“As if I could answer that,” he huffs. “In some ways, humans are nothing more than a walking sack of earth, water, fire, and air. We’re comprised of all the elements and their derivatives, just as all of nature surrounding us. So shaping them should be as anything else. However, humans are also different, because we have a natural defense against shaping.”
“A defense?” Era asks. “You mean we resist it?”
“I am a water shaper,” he boasts with pride. “If I place my hand on you, I can attempt to shape the water in your skin, but, despite the fact that you are not a water shaper, you have a natural resistance to my efforts. My skill level, as with most shapers, is unable to surmount that defense, therefore I cannot manipulate your makeup.”
“But there are shapers who can overcome it?”
“Obviously, seeing as you’re one of them,” Ospif answers, “but yes, besides you, there have been plenty of others. In truth, an average shaper can get there via a decade or so of training, so it is not an unattainable goal. However, you are certainly the youngest I have known personally who can do it.”
“Seeing as you know all this stuff, it must not be all that taboo,” Era comments.
“It is absolutely taboo! Those who have shaped men at will have gone down in history as the vilest of villains. Just look at the Great Elemental Wars! Even those who used their powers for the good
of their nation are regarded with disgust.” Frustrated, he explains, “If you shape a human, you are no longer human, yourself. You purport to be something greater, with the authority to change that which you did not create. And once you have shaped a person, what has the person become? Is your victim still human, or something different?” With a shudder, he whispers, “Taboo, taboo… You are even more nefarious than I first credited you.”
“I didn’t change who that person was, Ospif. You’re blowing this out of proportion.” Era adjusts his cloak and sits against the wall. “I’m not evil.”
“Once you treat a person as an object to be shaped, your humanity is forfeit,” Ospif warns. “You had best be wary of that.”
The comment strikes a chord with Era. There can be no doubt his runic powers triggered the ability to shape his opponent’s skin, as if he needed another reminder of his quandary. He wonders just how much humanity he has left.
Era pounds the wall and keeps his voice low. “You can die alone in Alleria for all I care. I’m sick of dragging you along and protecting you. To think that you would uselessly shake with fear while I fight to save you, and then you call both me and Jem inhuman? You’re the inhuman one! You deserve what you get.”
Ospif finally falls silent by his words, and a satisfied Era peers into his peephole, anxious for nightfall. He longs for Jem, who has refused to accept a change in his identity. In her absence, he searches desperately for a quote from his fake father to dwell upon, yet nothing comes to mind. Even as he searches back into his falsified memories, there is only darkness, and that scares him more than anything else that transpired tonight.
* * *
The cloudy, moonless night casts a shadow upon the city as the alley wall once again disintegrates. The cloaked interloper cautiously emerges, confirming the back streets are clear before continuing onward. Without a word to his companion, he dashes to the end of the alley and scouts, finding the main plaza empty and quiet.
He glances back to watch as Ospif creeps away in the opposite direction. Though glad to be rid of him, some part of Era is nervous about tackling this task alone. ‘Like he would have been useful, anyway,’ he tells himself. What he wouldn’t give to have Fire by his side for this mission, and he again feels the sting of her betrayal. For better or worse, he is officially on his own.