D’Argen stared at the wall in front of him and tried to concentrate. Abbot was slouched against it, just out of sight, but D’Argen refused to look over and either confirm or deny that the artist was looking at him.

Darania had said he cracked the wall. Walls had beginnings and ends, no? Did it stand on something? Was it too high for him to climb over?

No.

He focused on the sandstone in front of him.

The sound of charcoal against paper made him hope that Abbot was drawing him instead of just staring. Now that D’Argen had been sitting still for so long, Abbot may be able to get a proper sketch in of him.

The curtain at the window fluttered with a breeze that turned into ice fingers when it slipped down the back of his shirt. He was not sure whether it was trying to tickle him or comfort him.

“I can’t,” D’Argen groaned. He flopped back into the pillows behind him and stared at the ceiling instead. It was carved in intricate patterns that his eyes could follow. More interesting than the wall.

Yaling laughed somewhere over his head.

Abbot scratched against his paper. “Almost five minutes this time,” he said.

D’Argen groaned. “This is stupid,” he spat out. “Why am I doing this again?” he asked.

When he twisted his body, top of his head to the floor so he could look at Yaling upside down, she just laughed again.

“You tell us,” she said.

Darania had told D’Argen about the wall. She had told him that he should be fast enough to pass through it without breaking it. He just needed to understand it first. And she had also told him not to go breaking down the complex by experimenting.

“I’m done,” he said and got up. There was a spring in his step, his mahee bidding him to get out of the room they were in. “I’ll see you all—”

“Darania said—”

“I know what she said,” D’Argen interrupted Yaling right after she tried to speak over him.

Yaling rolled her eyes. At least she was not scowling at him like yesterday.

“I need to get out,” D’Argen said. He did not wait for either of them to acknowledge him and left the room. The curtain at the door tried to strangle him and he almost ripped it out of its rod. By the time he was in the open courtyard, he felt short of breath. Neither Yaling nor Abbot followed him. Good.

In the courtyard was a small class. There were over a dozen mortals sitting in the grass and on pillows in a circle around one of the older women that worked as a teacher at the complex. They were all silent as she moved her hands in intricate forms, teaching them the silent language.

D’Argen had thought it would be good to learn it, but he had lasted even shorter in one of her lessons than staring at the wall with Abbot and Yaling as silent company. Both Fran and Joel were in the circle. When Joel noticed him, he grinned wide and waved over. Then, his face scrunched up in concentration and his hands moved in a few patterns, bending his fingers and turning his palms around. He was glaring at his hands as if he was doing the forms wrong. D’Argen could not tell. He only knew how to say, ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ using his hands.

While Joel was focused on his hands, D’Argen exited the courtyard.

“Hey, have you—” D’Argen’s words died out when the mortal put a finger up to her lips. He knew that one as well. Right. Silent classes. She walked past him and into the courtyard he came out of. D’Argen wandered the vined and cobbled paths until he finally heard someone speak again.

“Have you seen Darania?” he asked the first mortal he came across.

“She is in the gardens,” the man answered.

Which gardens? D’Argen wanted to ask in frustration, but the man was already focused on another task. For such a lax culture and relaxed people, they all seemed to be too busy to talk to him. D’Argen walked off again. He asked a few more people, got pointed in different directions, and finally, finally, found Darania with a larger class of mortals in one of the gardens where they were discussing the different plants around them and their uses.

At least she was talking out loud. D’Argen ate up her voice. When she noticed him, she raised her hand and did a small motion with two fingers and a flick of her wrist. She did not stop talking to the mortals as she did it, her eyes focused back on them. D’Argen was not sure whether the motion was to make him wait or to tell him to leave. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

What felt like years later but was probably not even a minute, Darania gave the class an assignment. She watched them as they all went to different parts of the garden, and only once she was sure they were occupied did she make her way to D’Argen.

“Any news?” D’Argen asked in lieu of a greeting.

“I just sent the messages this morning,” Darania answered with a smile.

D’Argen started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And is there—”

“I will let you know as soon as one of them answers.”

“I could always—”

“Just stay here,” Darania interrupted him again. “I know you can go and deliver the messages yourself, but then you would be staying there and waiting for them to find the answers. You know how Vain is, it sometimes takes him longer to sort his memory than the official library at Evadia. And Olde still does not have a proper organizational system for the records he keeps in Salem.”

D’Argen wanted to groan. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and kick his feet. He wanted to run.

“What about Master Upates?” D’Argen asked instead of doing any of that. “Based on the location from my… dreams… and the village itself, Kaariai is the closest location. Maybe his libraries have something about this Varuba instead?”

“I have sent a message to him too, but I doubt he would answer.”

“What? Why?”

“It is not just you that Master Upates likes to ignore,” Darania answered with a smile, adding a little emphasis to his title. Upates was the only one of the first five that asked everyone to use his title. Most did not, but the more someone ignored it, the more he ignored them. D’Argen had yet to receive a new bow after sending his old one to him to be fixed.

“Can’t you make him answer?”

“How? And you know how he is – once he gets focused on a new project, nothing will drag him out of it until it is complete. That is good news for when he does deem my message important, but until then, we wait.”

D’Argen shifted his weight. The ground under him was hard enough to bounce him all the way out of the complex and toward the open plains of the island. By the time he reached them, he would have gained enough momentum to even cross the strait if—

“What is it with you recently? You have been in such a hurry. You have been more—”

“I’ve always been fast.”

“—impatient.” Darania pretended he did not speak over her. “I know you like to run fast, but it has been millennia since you have been in an actual hurry to do something. Is this… does this worry you?”

“Of course it worries me! Does it not worry you?”

“Yes, it does. But we have time.”

“How much?!” His shout made a few of the mortals from the class focus on them. Darania’s glare made him lift his shoulders up to his ears and whisper, “Sorry.”

“Have you been practicing?” Darania asked, her voice stern like a teacher checking for homework.

“I have,” D’Argen answered with a groan.

“How long? Three hours a day, like I asked?”

D’Argen’s eyes wandered over her head. He could barely make it five minutes before the boredom drove him to running away.

“Are Abbot and Yaling helping or distracting?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Neither,” he answered honestly. “I just can’t do it. You’re asking me to sit there and stare at a wall until I see the cracks of it and—”

She silenced him with a glare. Her eyes darted to the sides. The mortals should not know about this. After a long moment of silence, she faced the class. Most of them were just fiddling with the leaves in front of them, obviously not paying attention to their tasks and instead pretending not to listen in on the conversation between the two.

“That will be all for now,” she announced. “I would like you all to have your wreathes completed in time for tonight’s songs. Remember, the flowers you chose make a difference. I will be inspecting all of them.”

The class nodded. D’Argen was bouncing again before the last of them left them alone. Once they were, Darania hooked her arms around one of his and turned him around, leading him to the centre of the garden. She dragged him down to sit in the pillows. Only once she let go did D’Argen realize he had not felt the need to flinch away from her touch.

Interesting.

“If we want to give it a try in fixing whatever damage was done to the wall, we first need to see it,” Darania said, explaining it using the exact same words she had used when she first gave him the task. “And I cannot see it. Not like you can.”

“But I can’t see it either!” D’Argen groaned.

Darania made a show of sifting through the woven basket beside her. It was filled with flowers she had picked out for herself, probably for her own wreathe that night. When she found a flower she was looking for, she held it out to him.

D’Argen took the flower and brought it under his nose. It smelled nice. He did not know what else to do with it.

“I heard you went to one of Bowa’s sign language classes. Did not stay long, but it interests you?”

“I was bored,” D’Argen replied in a low voice. The scent of the flower was calming him. He did not move it out from under his nose.

“Did you know that flowers have a language too?” Darania asked.

“No. And truly, this is a beautiful flower, but can we talk about your task with the—”

“That flower means patience,” Darania interrupted him. “Its scent calms you, no?”

D’Argen nodded. He twirled the flower under his nose.

“In a way, flowers themselves are the mahee. Are they not?”

“No. It’s completely different,” D’Argen replied with a scoff.

“How so?” Darania asked.

D’Argen was ready to answer until he realized that he did not know how to word it. As he thought about it, Darania picked another flower out of her basket. It was the same type, though a different colour.

“This flower is called a lily,” she said, her voice quiet.

D’Argen threw the flower from under his nose back in the basket.

“I can’t see this wall unless I’m running,” he said, trying to get on topic and not let the anger bleed into his voice. Lilian’s breeze tried to calm him with a caress against his cheek, but he brushed it off. It turned cold when it slipped around his neck and down through his throat into his mahee. It expanded his lungs and the fresh air cleared his head a bit.

“That is why I have you doing that exercise. It may be boring, but you do not actually need to be moving to open your mahee.”

“I know that! I’ve done it before.”

“Then, do it again.”

“It doesn’t work like that! Look, every time I’ve gone near this wall of yours, first of all, I didn’t see it or know it was even there, let alone that I’ve passed through it or cracked. Second of all, it was either when I was running really, really fast or…” he trailed off.

Darania’s face showed sympathy. He had already told her how he fell with Lilian. The first time, when they fell after him with his sword. The second time, when they fell together while in an embrace. He had also told Darania of his sword, running through his stomach or chest, and the pain it had caused. The effect of it was enough to have him shying away from any sharp metal at all in the complex.

It was a good thing D’Argen did not wander anywhere close to the training halls of the school, though he did miss the sound of metal striking metal. Yaling had only once questioned where his sword was – not the one from the dreams or the other realm, but D’Argen often carried a sword at his hip out of habit. It did not take long for the others to notice it too and though he was fine with the shorter blades of the daggers, even Fran and Joel had taken to wandering the complex without swords on them.

And then there was the first time he crossed over into the ethereal.

“Or with Thar,” he finished off lamely.

Darania’s face, however, brightened. “If I bring Thar here, would that help you concentrate?”

“Just the opposite,” D’Argen replied.

Darania’s smile faded. D’Argen got up, shaking out his arms and legs, trying to dispel some of the energy inside him. It did not work, but it still gave him something to do other than stare at Darania. Or a wall.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” he mumbled out.

Darania did not look happy with him, but she did not try to stop him.

D’Argen knew better than to run through the complex – there were enough courtyards and paths and open space for him to not worry about destroying the structure, but there were also too many people. His staring at a wall had not helped him figure out how to run through a person without killing them. The thought alone made him shudder and his mind to skip over and search for a different topic. He was pretty sure this was not due to Darania’s influence, but his own mind trying to protect itself.

Lilian had said it was broken and damaged already, he did not need to make it worse.

When he exited one courtyard only to enter another, this one with wooden lattice work overtop and vines keeping it shaded, he noticed a group of people huddled together. It did not look like any of the classes. The closer he got, the more he heard their hushed and hurried words.

“Hello, is everything alright?” he asked when he approached.

One of the women in the group jumped up and put a hand to her heart. “You surprised me, Liege D’Argen. My apologies.”

“Not to worry. What has you all whispering in the corners? Is it a secret?” he grinned and leaned closer, “Is it one from Darania? I would like to join in on that one, actually.” He hoped his smile and attitude over the past few weeks was enough to comfort them into sharing.

The woman’s eyes danced everywhere around him but on him.

“Nothing of the sort, the messenger went her way just now,” the woman said. D’Argen was not sure if she was lying or not.

“Then, what is it?” he asked, more serious, and looked at the others. They all looked worried. Scared. “Is someone hurt?”

“Yes. And no!” The woman agreed and then tacked on the negative quickly. “It’s just… my brother’s husband is a merchant. He went to the mainland recently and has yet to return. His last message to my brother was… worrying. And we have not heard from him in a few months now. Then Babas said—”

“Same thing with my wife,” a man from the group spoke up. “She went to the mainland, not a merchant, but she hasn’t returned any of my letters in a few weeks now.”

“Letters take time,” D’Argen said, trying to comfort them. “Even I, when I came to visit, I had to book a ship across the strait ahead of time.”

“Months, my Liege,” one of the others from the group said. “That is not normal.”

“All of you?” D’Argen asked, looking over the group. “You all have someone on the mainland that has not returned yet?”

They all nodded in varying states of worry.

“When was the last any of you heard from your loved ones?” he asked.

“Most recent was this morning, a message arrived. The messenger that went to Darania. But it was not from our loved ones and not addressed to us.”

“What was the message?”

One of the man teared up, his eyes wet and spilling over.

“There has been multiple incidents in villages all over Oltria. My Ganah was meant to go to one of them,” the man hiccupped out between tears.

“Incidents?” D’Argen asked.

“Attacks.”

“Disease.”

“Natural disasters.”

The words came out almost at the same time, but everyone nodded along.

“There have been things happening for a long time now,” one of the men said. “Mother Darania and the others here, they teach us the healing arts. Herbs, poultices, how to stop an infection and bandage a wound. That is why many of us go to the mainland on a regular basis, we provide aide. But… who aids us?”

D’Argen stared at the group. Darania had told him nothing of this.

“We will,” he said, forcing himself to use the plural. “I have to go speak to her quick, but all of you – ask around the others, but put together a list for me: all the places your loved ones went. I will go check on them and return with a message, if I cannot with them right away.”

“Thank you, my Liege.”

“Thank you.”

“Praise you.”

The acknowledgements made him feel awkward and to break out in goosebumps. Fortunately, none of them reached for him to express their gratitude in physical form. D’Argen turned right back around to go back to Darania. She was still in the garden, reading a piece of paper. Her small face was scrunched up in a frown.

He cleared his throat and when she looked at him, it took her a bit to clear the unhappy expression from her face. D’Argen tilted his thin and focused his eyes on the paper in her hand.

“Missing people?” he asked.

“You heard?”

“Just now. A group of their loved ones. They want me to go and—”

“You have to practice reaching the wall.”

“Look, I get it, I agree with you. But keeping me confined here won’t help. It’ll just make me more anxious and make me even more useless in trying to do this. Let me run. Let me clear my head. I’ll be back before Vain and Olde give you any useful information. I promise.”

Darania’s eyes narrowed in on him. “That is quite a loophole, on what is considered useful and not.”

D’Argen grinned and said, “Then I will be back by the start of next season. At the latest.”

Darania thought it over and then nodded. D’Argen was ready to run.

“Take Mayan with you,” Darania ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can take the others from your party too, if you want, but I want one of mine with you, and Lisa is busy.”

“He will slow me down.”

“Then take until the end of the Autumn instead of the beginning.”

That was too tempting. Longer time away or shorter time by himself. Worse case, he could leave Mayan behind somewhere. Now, if he could only come up with an excuse to take only Mayan.

“One of these places—” she waved the paper in her hand a bit, “—they talk about an outbreak. Mayan is immune to most diseases, due to the diet and his work here. He will be safe.”

“But Fran and Joel won’t be.”

“I do not know for sure, but probably not.” Her eyes narrowed in on him, as if she was reading his mind. Her next words made him think she really could. “Yaling should stay to keep an eye on them, and a comfortable company, but I do need Abbot for something else. We are starting a new class and a textbook would be useful.”

D’Argen did not even care what excuses she made up for him. All he had to do now was find Mayan, or just say he could not—

“Mayan should be in the western gardens. He teaches the young ones how to wrestle.”

But if he was not there, at a glance, then D’Argen had an excuse to go without him. Unfortunately, Mayan noticed him before he even entered the gardens in question. The man’s bright smile and cheery wave had D’Argen mirroring him without even thinking. Mayan made a few motions with his hands toward the others, they responded in kind, and then the large man was jogging over to D’Argen.

How were the two supposed to travel? D’Argen did not know enough words in the silent language for them to communicate?

As if expecting that answer, Mayan held out a piece of paper.

D’Argen did take his time making his way to the western gardens, he did have to stop and collect the list of locations from that other group, but he did not expect Darania to know him so well. She had sent a messenger to Mayan to inform him of their plan.

With a smile and no words at all, D’Argen put the paper away beside the list against his breast, and then made a motion with his head behind him. Mayan nodded. He raised a single finger in the air with an imploring look, then jogged back a few steps. As if waiting to make sure D’Argen would not run off without him, he kept an eye on him until he made it to a pile of bundles and baskets. He took a large leather canvas bag from it, swung the strap over his chest, and then jogged back to D’Argen with that same sunny smile as before.

Great. He was already packed too.

D’Argen forced a smile, though it did become more natural once the two left the complex in one of the regular merchant carts.