Zolzaya was not having a pleasant day.
It had started with an argument between her parents just before the start of the hunting trip. Her mother had always been protective of her, even if for the wrong reasons. Her mother loved Zolzaya in her own way, but to her, her daughter’s goal should have been finding a nice Jadewalker husband. To her mother, Zolzaya had the responsibility of uplifting herself and the rest of the village.
Her father, in contrast, fully supported Zolzaya’s plan of becoming a Grassreader. Many people in the village assumed her father was a dullard, being slow to speak and always putting up with her mother’s more… aggravating traits. But Zolzaya, and those who cared to pay attention, knew the truth. Her father might have been a quiet man, who rarely angered and never argued, but his mind was as sharp as a spear.
If Yutu’s parents were the life of the village, always smiling and trying to cheer others up, Zolzaya’s father was its ears. More than once, she’d found him on guard duty near the gate, listening as some villager or another endlessly complained about one issue or another. Sometimes it was a serious problem that needed addressing. More often than not, it was just someone venting their frustration to someone they felt wouldn’t complain. Her father would nod, listening as he watched the prairies pass by.
Zolzaya always suspected her father was who she’d gotten her ‘gift’ from, even if it manifested even weaker in him than in her. After all, Zolzaya was the only Esper in the Slatewalker Village, no matter how minor her ability was.
More specifically, Zolzaya was what the examiner called an ‘Empath’-type. She could naturally read a person’s nature and intent just by being in their presence. Of course, only a few people in the village knew; not even her two closest friends, Yutu and Ganbaatar, knew. Young Zolzaya had learned quickly that people didn’t like being called out, and their responses could get… heated. Maybe that was why her father was such a quiet man?
That being said, her gift made her a near-perfect Grassreader. She’d taken to the secret art of the Wandering Cities like a natural. Spirit Energy was said to have a “will” all its own, after all.
It had been that same ability that had drawn her to Yutu and Ganbaatar, too. Yutu, for all his awkward shyness and self-deprecating habits, had one of the kindest and gentlest souls she’d ever seen. It could never be said he wasn’t his parents’ child. Part of her wanted to protect that kindness from the harsh reality of the world, but her efforts to shelter him had only caused the man to withdraw further.
Ganbaatar, Ganaa… he was a rough man, filled with desire, both to prove himself and to be recognized. But he was honest to a fault and wore his heart on his sleeve. She doubted she’d even need her ability to read the man. He could be stubborn as a mule, but Zolzaya knew Ganaa was the man you wanted at your back when the chips were down.
They’d grown up together, trained together. They were supposed to have grown old together, supporting each other like pillars and working together to uplift their home.
Then the Beast Lord appeared.
In an instant, everything Zolzaya had worked towards was washed away by the cruel nature of their world. It took friends, both those she’d trained with for months and those she’d met only on that trip.
Then it took Yutu and Ganbaatar.
Something inside Zolzaya had broken at that moment. She didn’t have a name for it, but as the remnants of her joy inside her burned, she’d raged. She’d lashed out with blinding, all-consuming fury at anything remotely hostile. Zolzaya wasn’t a trained combatant, not by far. She’d sparred with Ganaa some, but a Grassreader’s skills were more… esoteric than physical.
But with her blade in hand, she’d moved like a storm, letting her gift guide her. It told her when the enemy was coming, where and when to strike. Every thought and action of the enemy was laid bare before her. She could feel her gift rebel against her, though. It wasn’t that kind of power; it wasn’t meant for killing and slaughter, and it fought her every step. Though it was only after the fact she even noticed, so utterly consumed as she was.
Only after the others dragged her back to the cart, had the flames die. All that fire had been replaced with cold, dead ash. She felt empty and, for the first time since she’d awakened her gift, so very alone. She couldn’t even muster the energy for tears, not anymore. But she knew that spark was still there, buried deep under the ash; it just needed a new fuel source to reignite.
The ‘Lord Protector’ — as the others had called it — appeared.
Zolzaya’s gift had screamed at her to run the moment it appeared. She’d felt nothing like it before. When it approached, Zolzaya shivered involuntarily; she could feel this creature’s… she didn’t even know what to call it.
It had been looking for them, that she could tell. But it wasn’t hunting them; they weren’t prey or even friends. No, the creature had sought them out with a strange, cold detachment that reminded her of watching the Alchemists pick the right herbs.
The creature wasn’t looking at them like food or a curiosity. Hell, it barely saw them as people.
They were tools.
There was no argument to be held, no choice for them. They were tools to be used for their purpose and, if necessary, discarded.
At that thought, the small spark ignited again. How dare it?! What right did this creature have to appear out of nowhere and demand to use them? Did they not deserve a moment of peace? Time to grieve? Or did the world get some sick amusement from watching them suffer and struggle? Was all this just some game for some higher power, while those she loved and cared for died fighting?!
She refused!
Zolzaya didn’t care who or what this creature was, where it came from, or what it wanted. She wouldn’t run or bow anymore. Not to it, not to the Beast Lord, not to her mother, and not to this cruel, uncaring world.
With that thought like a raging inferno in her mind, she’d lept from the cart again and struck out at the creature. It was a foolish, pointless thing to do, she knew. But if she was going to die, she’d die making her own choices and with a blade in hand.
Then a miracle happened.
Rather than the inevitable blow that would end her life, warm, familiar arms enveloped her, and a voice she thought she’d never hear again called out to her. Zolzaya’s fury was buried in the warm hug like a raging wildfire smothered by fresh spring rain. When she could see through the tears, she looked up at Ganaa, wondering if the creature had killed her without her even realizing it.
How else could her lost friend be here in front of her?
Reality soon asserted itself, though, as the rest of the survivors rushed the pair.
Despite the tears, the fire in her heart still burned, unwilling to die so quickly. The young man pulled himself free of her death grip, intent on giving whatever asinine reason he had for abandoning her like that. She wasn’t hearing it, though, and she did the only reasonable thing in the situation.
Her father always said she had a mean right hook…
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Grassreader Kallik leaned up against the side of the cart and sighed.
“I’m getting too old for this…”
Ulagan — on his knees at that moment, working with two others to make hasty repairs to the cart — looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Aren’t you only 120 years old? [Silver Spirit] Cultivators have a minimal life span of 300 years. You’re not even middle-aged by that standard,” he said, returning to his work.
Kallik furrowed her brow and glared down at him. If she wasn’t missing an arm, she would have reached down and smacked him upside his head. Slatewalker kids and their mouths… Kallik pointedly chose to ignore the fact that during her generation, she was well known among the village as the youngster with the fiercest temper and sharpest tongue.
Instead, she glared even more down at the young Guardian and furrowed her brow.
“Bah! You sound like my own teacher! Just wait until you’re my age, Mr. 35-year-old [Bronze Spirit]. My joints have been popping in the morning since before you were born!” she shot back.
Despite her sharp tone, both knew her words had no real venom. Just as both knew that Ulagan would likely never suffer the same ailments of old age as she did.
After all, unlike herself, who had advanced into [Silver Spirit] later in life, Ulagan was a prodigy, having advanced to [Bronze Spirit] — the step below her own — at only 30 years of age. Where she had the mature, if somewhat weathered appearance of a mortal woman in her forties, Ulagan, even five years after his advancement, still looked like he was in his early twenties and would look so well past her age.
Ulagan wasn’t the only prodigy in this batch of apprentices, either. Her gaze drifted from the young Guardian to the group gathered around Ganbaatar as the man narrated the events of their rescue, the story becoming more grand and suspenseful with each retelling.
Ulagan noticed her gaze and sighed. “It’s a right shame that the boy’s affinities are so poorly suited for Guardian life. We could have used someone like him. It feels like every year, the new recruits from the academy become more bullheaded and less skilled.”
Kallik gave a good-natured humph and rolled her eyes. The young Guardian might have been the youngest Senior Guardian candidate in generations, but he was only a decade out of the academy himself.
“A shame indeed. A decent metal and a powerful wood affinity — a combination that some would kill to have for themselves… Yet not the tiniest bit of earth affinity.” Kallik shook her head and continued, “If nothing else, he’d make a good Adventurer. Might even be what’s best for him in the long run.”
It was Ulagan’s turn to scoff. “Adventurers. Locusts, more like it. It happens every time: some fools wander into the prairies, thinking they can pluck treasures off the ground. All they do is make our patrols harder when we inevitably have to rescue their sorry hides. Then there are the ones who seem to think it’s easier just to rob the hard-working gatherers. Or if it’s not them, then the ones who strip the land of everything not tied down, with no care for the proper order of things. The sects and clans on the border are bad enough, but at least they know how to not damage the prairies.”
Kallik laughed and adjusted her weight so as not to agitate her wounds. “Hey now, you’re forgetting I used to be one of those ‘locusts’ in my youth.”
Ulagan blushed and turned away.
Kallik smirked and continued. “I understand what you mean, though. Adventurers can be a mixed bag, even in the best of times. You meet all sorts out there, beyond the grass. Even so, it would be a good chance for him to spread his wings. See the world. Grow in a place not so… stifling.”
Kallik turned her gaze away from the story session and toward the back of the cart, where a young woman knelt beside her oathbrother. The young man was dressed in fresh bandages, and he looked slightly less pale than before, thanks to the medication she’d given him.
When Kallik next spoke, her voice was soft. “Maybe, in another timeline, those three could have gone together. Three Slatewalker kids off on their own adventure. I would have liked to hear their stories…”
Ulagan grimaced, “What? First, you send off the boy, and now you want to deprive Slatewalker of its best young Grassreader, too? As for Yutu, I’ll admit he surprised me with his resolve before, but I don’t think he’s got the heart for the outside world. Besides, you talk like they’d even bother coming back.”
Kallik raised a brow and grinned. “Oh? You only say that because you don’t have the eye for arrays to appreciate the boy’s work. You meatheads are all the same.”
The Grassreader’s grin turned into a laugh at the Guardian’s glare.
“And yes, I believe they would return, in time. Home… has a way of drawing you back. This place more than most, I would reckon,” she continued.
She’d been one of the teachers of Slatewalker village going on for sixty years now. A few of the newly graduated apprentices would strike out for richer fields every year. Be that in a larger village, one of the Wandering Cities, or even the outside world. Yet, without fail, most eventually made their way home, one way or another.
Kallik never questioned those wandering souls who wished to see more beyond the village they’d known for all their lives. After all, she’d been one as well, once upon a time.
No, it was the ones who never made it back home that always pained her the most. Each time they got some ill news, she wondered if such a tragedy could have been prevented had she just been a better teacher.
The conversation lapsed into silence.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” Ulagan asked after a moment, his voice almost a whisper.
Kallik frowned. “In any other situation, I would say no. The boy’s bones weren’t just cut; they were shattered, while his kidneys and liver have all but been destroyed. Yutu is only an early [Stone Body] Cultivator: with this kind of damage, he would need a powerful healer practically right next to him to stand any real chance…”
“And yet?...” Ulagan asked, hearing the unspoken doubt in her words.
Kallik sighed and continued, “And yet… he’s stable. I’m not sure what this… ‘Lord Protector’ did, nor what strange material they used to close Yutu’s wounds, but the boy isn’t getting worse — for now, at least. The Iron-rank [Blood Replenishing Pill] and the [Seven Grass Regeneration Balm] have also helped, but they’re not meant for this kind of injury. He needs surgery, but…”
“But we can’t do that in the middle of the prairies while being hunted.” Ulagan finished for her.
Kallik sadly nodded.
After another brief pause, Ulagan spoke again. “What of this ‘Lord Protector’? I wouldn’t expect Ganbaatar or any of the other kids to see anything too strange, but I’m familiar with the Akh’lut well enough that I know they wouldn’t just let a pup wander the prairies alone. Not one so young, and not under the apparent care of some unknown spirit beast.”
Kallik’s frown deepened, and she turned to look at the strange, giant metal beetle creature Ganbaatar claimed had saved them all. ‘Unknown’ was speaking lightly. As a Grassreader, Kallik had knowledge of every spirit beast who called the prairies home, and as a former Adventurer, Kallik was far more familiar with the various spirit beasts outside the prairies as well. Yet, in all her years, she had never heard of anything quite like this creature.
Strange, as just its size alone would have made it a thing of nightmares wherever it wandered. The bloody thing was literally bigger than a house cart!
So then, where had it come from?
“Yes… I think it’s about time we found out, isn’t it? Though before that, let us speak to young Ganbaatar once more and make sure we’re not missing anything important. Ulagan, be a dear and carry an old woman to meet our guest?” Kallik called.
Ulagan sighed, and set his tools down, then stood. In one sweeping motion, the large Guardian picked up the crippled Grassreader, and the pair made their way toward the gathering and the large spirit beast watching idly nearby.
As they drew closer, the rowdy crowd of survivors quieted and parted ways. Once Ulagan was in front of Ganbaatar and the ‘Lord Protector,’ he gently placed Kallik down so that she could address them on her own feet.
Eh… foot…
Leaning on Ulagan for support, Kallik smoothed out her Grassreader robes and stood straight, trying to project an air of authority — as well as hide her slight blush at having to be carried like a child.
Kallik coughed into her hand, but before she could speak, the ground between her and the metal spirit beast bulged.
The Grassreader’s eyes went wide, and she nearly fell as the head of a Grassbreaker Penguin pushed itself out of the ground. Several in the group cried out in warning while Ulagan moved to intercept the creature, though the next instant proved their worry unfounded. After all, the creature was quite dead, as were most creatures that found their necks between the jaws of a large Akh’lut pup, such as the one that pushed itself out of the ground after the penguin’s corpse.
Intellectually, Kallik knew the Akh’lut were intelligent, and this one in particular was still very young. Yet, looking into the golden eyes of a predator mere inches away, Kallik found herself lost for words. She could only stare, her mouth gaping like a fish.
Then, in an instant, the predator was gone, and the large, wolf-sized creature was replaced by an energetic puppy. The Akh’lut pup dropped the penguin at her feet and panted, their fluke wagging with enough force that their lower legs shook with the motion. The young pup then gave a sharp, yipping click-bark and nudged the still bloody — and slightly gnawed — corpse closer.
Kallik paused and closed her mouth. She looked down at the former penguin, then back up at the young pup. The Grassreader could have sworn the pup’s eyes sparkled, and their wagging intensified — If such a thing were possible — as she met its gaze.
Kallik felt her shoulders sag and signed a sigh she could feel in her bones before reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
I don’t get paid enough for this…