by K M McGuire
“It’s fine,” Voden said, rubbing his wrist. He made a mental note to never become his enemy. “Vec was saying we should start heading out soon.”
Andar propped himself on his elbows and rubbed his face. A gentle breeze breathed through his dark, wispy hair as though it offered to comb it down for him. He hardly budged, appearing not quite ready to face the day, but he seemed to trace thoughts with himself.
“I have to free him from the Compressed Ones…”
“What?” Vec asked.
Andar looked shocked at the question, seeming to forget others could hear him. He ignored an answer and yawned as he stood. He grabbed his sleeping gear and shoved it back into his bag. Vec beckoned to Voden, quietly throwing dirt on the coals, and they stirred the smolders out. Everything now gathered, the empyreal head of the sun lifted itself to crown the viridian forest, and the dew began to flee back into the sky in wisps of fog.
“Let’s get going,” Vec proclaimed, his legs itching to move.
“Before we go,” Andar said cautiously, as he stretched his limbs, “you will be able to lead us to the Lady of the Lake, right?”
“Here’s the deal,” Vec said, letting out a calming breath, “you two have a bit of a predicament. You have very limited food, and I’m guessing you have no money?” Andar and Voden shook their heads. “Damn, well it doesn’t matter. I guess I’ll have to watch you two for now. Can you use weapons?” He stared at Voden.
“I mean,” Voden stammered, “I’m not terrible with a bow. I’m eager to try this out.” He pulled out the crossbow Koruza gave him. He could tell Vec wanted to hold it but resisted asking.
“You better take care of that,” he said mindfully.
Vec lifted his quiver and threw it over his shoulder. He took a moment to find his bearings and began without word, walking northeast through the dense cluster of trees. Andar looked painfully at Voden, scrunching his face with a grimace, but followed. Twigs from brambles snapped at the touch, cracking like glass, which came in handy when Voden lost sight of his companions. They marched over hills of slate that dropped down into valleys of trickling slivers of creek, spreading the trees apart for sheets of light to dance across the ferns and low growing vegetation.
Voden often found himself distracted and was rewarded with a thick stick or twig slapping him across the cheek. But even with that minor bother, he still enjoyed watching the wisps of colored wind become birds as they settled on branches, whistling tales of mundane adventures to anyone who would listen. Vec paused every so often to allow for them to catch up, only to point out certain plants to look out for, or to stray far away from. They traveled for quite some time before he stopped them at a thick bush, blooming with succulent berries. They gleamed like jewels in the sunlight. He and his companions gathered some for a midmorning snack. Vec explained how many varieties of fruit there were, pointing to the different bushes and trees so they could remember for later. It filled Voden’s head to the point of bursting. He knew he wouldn’t retain any of the information. The sky slipped to the dull orange of evening when Voden finally admitted to the pain in his ankles.
“It’s not much further,” Vec said. “I hope. Probably should warn you that these people are nothing like Adetians. Well, they might look like you but are probably not nearly as kind.”
Voden held his tongue. It wasn’t entirely because he felt scared. It was more from how sore his body felt, and he figured talking would cause him to collapse. Andar had the same distressed expression sprawled across his face; the day had caused him to drag his boots carelessly forward. They climbed a steep hill scattered with sheets of slate jutting from the ground like splintered bones, and the stone’s frailty made it much more difficult to ascend. Vec took some pity on them and pulled them over the gullies carved in the side of the hill. They crested the top and were rewarded by a sight that reestablished their faith in Vec.
From there, they marveled at the emerald draped down the nook of a valley, cascaded with a serenity that sheltered security. The sky laid a perfect backdrop for such brilliance, expanding to their eye’s content, vast in curves and breathy terrain that felt like empowered fists in the sky, as if giving praise to something well beyond itself. The light of evening crowned the botanical wonder with fiery halos, righteous enough to set diadems upon their heads like the kings they were. In the wake of the blessing, golden flecks of light sprinkled into the ribbon of water, cutting the kingdom asunder. Trees retreated from the river’s edge, wary of the liquid mirror, lest they be swept away.
Among the terrible grandeur of nature stood the lantern that brought breath back into their lungs. There sat a town, nestled along the stream like a cat sleeping by the foot of the hearth, watching little ants scurrying along the warm stone. The specks of sentience bustled in and out of a massive building, which ran parallel to the artery of water, a spectacle shepherding the weary merchants as they kept their purses blissfully jingling at their side. The land was blighted by scars of roads slitting through the forest, and on either side of the river, stitched together by a mighty bridge, sat wooden statues of a robed person holding a lantern in a kind, servantly manner. Voden’s eyes wandered back to the long building, a sumptuous brownish-red against the sleepy sun.
Voden struggled to fathom how such a building was constructed. The planks were sheared flat along the sides, with curved ribs belly up, split at the top as if to be enriched further by the sky. It was clear the structure was built around the road, instead of the road built for the town. Outside the galleria, tight pastures for horses and mules were placed, and where it seemed the villagers lived, their homestead was set apart to give them respite from the commotion of the market.
“This is Barisko,” Vec announced, smirking at the awe spread across the boys’ faces. “The largest free market still active today.”
Vec started down the hill, chuckling at their reaction. Something about it drew the weariness from their bones, knowing that at least they would have the pleasant warmth of a bed. Voden nudged Andar, and they descended after Vec, passing through thickets and brushing past the thinning birch trees. He became high-spirited with each step down, and though branches and vines would whip him, he passed them by without really noticing their abuse. They slid down the final embankment of slate that cropped the road, where they were met with a cascade of noise. Merchants sat atop heavy carts and carriages, brimming with goods going in or pockets that glittered at the seams as they left the town. It was a motley collection of humans and Tastins. Voden almost felt he was out of place, gawking at the procession of people. Children yelled along the riverbank, throwing rocks across its surface or casting thin lines to the center of the folding blankets of water racing to its everlasting.
“Come on,” Vec said, pushing them forward. “Don’t act like you don’t belong. I’d rather avoid making people suspicious. Focus on blending in, and everything will go alright.”
The boys nodded and followed him towards the town. The building they saw from the hill cut into the sky, beckoning the travelers forward. Voden saw that it was much bigger than he had thought, towering well above them as they approached the looming gate of the market town. Two wooden sentries stood as high as the arched ribs, holding blazing iron lanterns creaking lazily to the wind. Their faces were carved kindly, one Tastin, the other human, both looking far over the trees and down the road, as though their vision blessed the traveler.
The road continued through the building, and at the main gates stood filigreed ribbed timbers held together by a large metal plate with an emblem of clasping hands. From the wrists of the hands spilled carvings of grain that drifted down the arch, morphing into wheat and then cascades of water, which produced leaping fish. The roof stood taller than the Blue Keep, and Voden pondered how they managed to build the roof, let alone thatch it.
“It’s what makes it so sublime,” Vec said, staring into the cacophony of the market.
The street was filled with a throng of wandering patrons, shifting from o
ne vendor’s booth to the next. There were buildings inside that helped to support the ceiling. Most were taverns and inns, though the more decorated stone buildings were ominous banks, looming with a grand power of what a fortress of money could do. These buildings, set against the frame of the arches, were littered with heavy lanterns and torches, exemplifying the deep shadows more than they exposed them.
“Come on,” Vec said, walking into the swirling dance of commerce.
Andar pursed his lips, appearing slightly annoyed, while Vec nearly vanished into the crowd. They began to follow, forging a trail through the heavy flow of people, which always produced foul looks from folks even though Voden and Andar apologized for being a slight inconvenience. They passed the strange rabble of people arguing over fish and a petty dispute over linens, though Voden hardly made any sense of it. It seemed to be a battle of wants against fairness. The massive posts that pressed up into the arches were carved into sexless totems of sentries, hooded beings that seemed to almost judge the market, and they too had burning cages that stuttered hollow shadows along the slate road and dark wooden buildings.
Voden pressed on, desperately following Andar, who was tall enough to catch glimpses of the dark hood he assumed was Vec. The man somehow slid like vapor through the crowd. Voden found his attention drift over to the strange street performers (usually Tastin) with brilliant charisma, wowing the crowds around them. They appeared to be dancing in intricate, gleeful patterns right before sprouting a little vine that spiraled up from the earth, blooming trinkets of wood or stone to be handed to the sparkling-eyed child who stood before them, as the crowd clapped and marveled at the trick.
Voden had not seen transmutations before, though he remembered reading about them. As children, they were discouraged from it, where their teachers told them that common magic, or Syphon, was a perversion of the Will. He had always been wary of Syphon, or even the Will if he were honest, mostly because the concept was utterly confusing. The Will was a magic, enacting on petitions to the world, as if asking hopefully for an outcome, whereas Siphon forced the outcome, sacrificing energy from its host, unless the host was competent enough to channel energy from the surrounding environment. He appreciated the magic, nonetheless, as the vine turned brittle and brown, and the magicians flicked their hands, which turned the remainder to a puff of flames, forcing the crowd a step back. He looked at the vases of flowers behind the performer, where the petals wilted and crumbled as an end to the act.
Voden realized he had lost focus, scanning frantically for Andar. His friend’s head peeked above the crowd. Voden squeezed his way through, but Andar seemed not to notice.
They walked past a table where an old crone pointed out colorful cubes hanging on thick cords. “Boy!” Voden heard her call, beckoning him over. “No need to be down on your luck any longer. Come and see! These talismans will surely turn all of that around.”
Voden felt pangs of curiosity as he stepped closer. The objects pulsed with whispers he could not hear, only feel. Each had another shape inside, the corners of which touched the center of the cube’s faces.
The woman smiled at him. “Take a look, boy! No need to be shy! Here!” She held up a carmine cube, slightly larger than the others.
The crowd still bumbled around him, but her voice seemed oddly clear. He took the object by the string and stared at the shape inside. A sliver sliced inside the inner form, black as emptiness, slowly seeping into wild methodic veins that reached out and touched the edges of the shape. Inside the cube, the shape began to spin.
“Ah.” The old woman smiled, her thick nose masking most of it. “I see it fancies you.”
“What is this?” Voden asked fearfully. The veins morphed to clouds, fogging the shape into a polygonal pupil.
“The latest discovery in arcane things!” she said, flashing her arms out from her side.
Voden looked at her old hand as one of the patrons dropped an undefined amount of coin, which she made disappear nearly as quickly as it had gotten there. “Far across the sea, they uncovered these in the old Tasso salt mines,” she said, slipping her other hand back down, now filled with coin from another happy customer. Her wild eyes shook with beady excitement. “They unlock the oldest of our powers! To see further, to heal, to focus all our magical properties! They are the stones of the divine! The salt of the Great Beyond! And for a fair price! Isn’t that enticing?”
Voden felt a bit uncomfortable. “I suppose,” he said, watching the crowd grow around the booth. The old woman was running out of the strange cubes. “But I have no money.”
She looked under her counter, eyes flicking quickly at what Voden felt was her pile of coin. “Tell you what, boy,” she said, looking deeply at him. There was something rather familiar to the twinkle in her eye. “Take it as a gift.”
Voden stared at it, feeling strange accepting it. The dark ink faded, returning the center shape to a white. “I don’t think I should. I appreciate it, though,” Voden said shyly.
“The shop is closed!” the woman yelled to the surrounding people. A collective moan of outrage echoed around the area as they angrily left. She looked back at Voden. “Only with acceptance can one achieve divinity.”
“Voden?” yelled Andar. Voden turned, still holding the geometric stone. “Come on, we can’t hang around. Vec is going to be hard enough to find. What’s that?”
Voden shook his head. He hardly heard Andar. He stared at the bloody crystal and looked back to where the vendor sat, but she was nowhere to be seen. Every sign showed she had never been there. A queer sensation rolled up Voden’s throat. “I…I don’t know.”
Andar gave the cube the strangest look. “You should get rid of it. Something about it makes the nerves in my spine go cold.”
“Yeah, probably,” Voden said. He held the cord in his fist, staring into the red. His face shone against the facets. He shook his head and stashed it in his bag. Maybe he could get some money out of it in a pinch. “Where is Vec?”
Andar scanned the crowd with tight eyes. “I think that’s him.” He pointed towards an alley not too far off. Andar cut his way through the crowd.
Voden followed close behind. He heard the loud proclamations of religious men and women, crying out to the crowd, with no ear absorbing their words, beating their chests in hopes of gaining a few coins to offer to their deity. Voden almost wished to listen, only curious to learn of these deities who were so oddly different from what he knew. He fought the urge to listen, focusing on the path Andar carved. Andar studied the rocking wooden signs and altered their course. Finally, they turned down the alley which was much less crowded than the main road.
“Took you long enough,” Vec said, leaning coolly against a wooden post. He snatched the boys around their shoulders, sneaking between them, pointing to the building they stood before. “This, my boys, is the Wayward Sons! Best mead you’ll every drink, with company that will make you forget how uncomfortable the beds are!” He laughed as a rosy-cheeked woman, tight as an hourglass, smiled wantonly in their direction. Her dress danced like wheat in the breeze, swaying with her sensual strut, wafting vapors of lavender and gooseberry, and Voden somehow knew what caused the attraction of bees to flowers.
“Hi, boys,” she said with a voice that could melt winter. She kept walking towards the inn, brushing around them. Voden felt it strange how quickly his eyes wandered. He noticed Vec silently tracing her hips with his hungry gaze. She marched up the steps of the inn, where she turned and winked at them.
“Maybe I’ll see you inside?” She pulled the wooden door open, where a rush of clamorous, drunken roars of laughter bombarded the street. The door clenched shut, and the street became less cheery in the silence.
Vec dug around his pockets. “So, you don’t have anything of value?” he asked. He pulled out a tiny sepia bag and yanked the mouth open, peering inside.
“No,” Voden said, but he realized he still had the red crystal. “Well, I do have this.”
Vec took it fr
om Voden. Voden could not read his puzzling look, but Vec handed it back. “I’ll cover you this time. Hope you aren’t an expensive date.” He stuffed the purse back inside his cloak and beckoned them up the grass-covered stairs. They approached the door, thick and splintered, abused by the many years of commotion that filled the building.
Vec put his hand on the door and looked at the boys. “This is the world I’ve come to enjoy. This is where most of us come to forget, to let go. To me, this is the closest thing to home.”
The trio stood as shadows in the smoky light as the door closed behind them, sealing them in the gloom. The dim, dingy air wavered at the chaotic merriment, aggravating the torches that hung along the support beams spread throughout the room. Laughter and jeers splattered the ancient walls, where conversation focused solely on the speaker, hoping to gather merit from anyone who would listen. What appeared even more devious than the intentions of men were the scantily dressed women. They were like sprites who clung to the accolades of story, eager to whisper secrets to the teller and lure them up the creaky stairs, like angels rapturing the hero to their visions of heaven. The air stank of mead and wine, drenched in every crack of wood, woven with odors that soured Voden’s nose.
He could only assume it was the perfume of pounds of food that bemoaned the tables, or perhaps it came from the grungy individuals consuming mountains of food. At this point, the clatter of mugs and jaws paused, and the attention turned to the newcomers standing awkwardly in the doorway. The air became thick with unspoken judgement, beady eyes waiting for them to move.
Vec pushed Andar and Voden forward, making no attempt to ease the tension. “I would stare, too,” he whispered to them, nodding to a particularly large, one-eyed man. The behemoth said nothing but nodded his thick head and raised his mug sloppily to his mouth. “I mean, you really aren’t dressed for the occasion. You’re rather out of place with your fancy clothes.”