Year: 3045 AGD

Month: New Year

Fourth Eighthday

Serenity Valley

Institute of Learning

Shawnrik had been at the Institute for four Eightdays now. On this, the last day of the month of New Year, he woke up feeling good. Being Eighthday, it was the day that he and Verrian had off from their courses. The last two Eighthdays they had spent working out and training, as Verrian was behind the rest of their Basic Offense and Strength Training classmates. Verrian was finally getting to the point where he wasn’t completely exhausted anymore, however, and they had decided together to take the day off and explore Serenity Valley.

The girls had been joining them for dinner only ever since Shawnrik had learned that Sara and Rigael were his cousins. They had managed small talk, but conversations were stilted and sometimes stopped abruptly. Shawnrik wanted to make everyone comfortable again, but he had no idea what to say to accomplish it. He had attempted to talk to Rigael several times since then, but the young Stroml’dier simply ignored him at each attempt.

Because it had been awkward for the last Eightday, Shawnrik found himself surprised to see Olivia, Sara, Vivianne, Rebecca, and Syranna waiting for them as they approached the station. All of the girls except Sara had dresses on that were more appropriate for spring than winter, but the temperature inside the mountain that encompassed Serenity Valley rarely changed, so he guessed that it didn’t matter that tomorrow would be the start of Midwinter.

“Hey Shawnrik!” Olivia said, waving at him enthusiastically as she did nearly every time she saw him, as if she were afraid he would miss her.

“Hello Olivia, ladies.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement of her group of friends.

“How do we look?” Olivia asked, twirling in her maroon dress, the bottom flaring slightly.

Shawnrik thought she looked beautiful, as her chestnut hair flowed around her face and her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “I, um…” he said, finding that his tongue was no longer working correctly.

“Pretty sure that means you look good,” Vivianne said, her light brown dress matching her hair, making her hazel eyes seem to glow. “How about the rest of us, Verrian?”

“You ladies are as lovely as ever,” Verrian said, while not looking anywhere but directly at the beautiful young women arrayed before him.

“Oh look, they're turning red.” Rebecca grinned as she ran up to Verrian and took his arm, leaving Verrian little choice but to look at the blonde girl who wore a bright blue dress that matched her eyes.

“You all are going to regret wearing those if we end up having to fight something,” Sara said, her outfit being her usual attire: a pair of pants that were easy to move in and an airy shirt, though Shawnrik thought that both might be of better quality than her other outfits.

“Dresses are fine for fighting,” Syranna said. Her dress was an earthy green with a forest pattern. With her light brown hair and her green eyes, she made Shawnrik think of a predator hiding in the trees. “Besides, if anything happens to them, we can just fight in our underwear.” The other four girls looked at her, no one really sure if she were joking or not. Enjoying her companions' discomfort, she winked at Shawnrik and turned towards the platform. “Oh look, here comes the train.”

Verrian stood still, lost in his own thoughts, and Vivianne pinched him on the arm. Shawnrik grinned as his friend turned a brighter shade of red when he realized that everyone there knew exactly where his mind had gone. Several male students of the Institute scowled at Verrian as the young man boarded the train with a girl on each arm.

“So, where are we going today?” Olivia asked.

“Well, Verrian and I were just going to explore downtown and see what was there before stopping at Gnorman’s.”

“Who’s Gnorman?”

“Oh, he’s a gnome friend of Verrian’s family. He runs a Jeweler’s shop in town,” Shawnrik said, not realizing where such a statement might lead the minds of five young women.

“A jeweler, huh?” Syranna said, giving Olivia a look that Shawnrik couldn’t interpret.

Verrian seemed to catch something Shawnrik hadn’t and added, “Yes, Shawnrik and I stopped by Gnorman’s on our first outing at the beginning of the month; he’s making us an earring, and some cufflinks.”

“Cufflinks? Like for a suit?” Rebecca asked.

“Do either of you even own a suit?” Vivianne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I own a suit,” Verrian replied. “I’ll occasionally go to an important meeting with my father, and he likes for me to make a good impression.”

“I bet your suit won’t fit much longer though, Verrian—you’ve been putting on some muscle.” Rebecca squeezed his arm, and Shawnrik couldn’t help but smile as his friend puffed up slightly at the attention.

“Speaking of muscles,” Sara added, “I’m willing to bet tall, dark, and stony here doesn’t have a suit.”

“I’ve never given it much thought, I guess,” Shawnrik said, looking down at his companions. “These bracers are probably the nicest thing I’ve ever owned, and I only just received them when school started.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about those,” Sara said, leaning across the aisle to get a closer look. “They look like metal, but they aren’t, are they?”

“Pedrial said they were just something he had laying around. He called the material living stone.” As he finished, he noticed that everyone around him except Verrian had suddenly become very still.

“Shawnrik, take those off!” Olivia nearly shouted.

“Calm down, Olivia,” Syranna said, making a soothing motion, she was about to say more, but was cut off.

“Calm down?” Olivia said her expression suddenly full of anger. “My family has legends about that stuff. It kills people.”

“Wait…” Shawnrik said, looking down at his bracers, “…what?!”

“Listen,” Syranna said, once again trying to calm everyone down, but to no avail.

Vivianne leaned in towards Shawnrik as if she were thinking about touching the bracers. “I’ve always wondered if it was a real thing. My grandfather told me stories about a man who found some living stone, and a few days later he was a dry husk.”

“Take those off right this instant.” Olivia’s voice had dropped to a near whisper, but her tone told Shawnrik that she would brook no argument about it.

“I think,” Sara said, placing her hand on Olivia’s shoulder, “Syranna has something to say.”

Syranna huffed as everyone turned to look at her. “Thank you, Sara, sometimes I feel like you people don’t even realize I’m here. From what I’ve learned from the Lorekeepers of my people, living stone is a parasitic organism to most living creatures.”

“See, I told you. Take them off.” Olivia’s statement was accompanied by overemphasized hand motions that mimed the act of removal.

“But,” Syranna continued, “There are several forms of life that have strong enough constitutions and are able to be near the stone with little to no consequences. Not only that, but there are several stories about the stone having a more symbiotic relationship with its host when worn for a great deal of time.”

“Symbi-whatic?” Vivianne asked, her hand moving slightly away.

“Symbiotic,” Verrian replied, pulling her back slightly from his roommate. “It means that it is able to live off of its host in a mutually beneficial relationship. Or at least, that is one of the definitions, and the one I hope she means in this case.”

“That is correct, Verrian,” Syranna said. “Another thing that is fascinating is that once bonded to a person—a process that takes several days to accomplish—the stone can no longer be used by anyone else, meaning that it is not a danger to any of us.”

Olivia visibly calmed at the last part and tentatively placed her hand on the cool stone. “Does it hurt?”

“No. Before today, I didn’t even know that it was really a living thing, I thought I had heard the word wrong when Pedrial told me about them.” Shawnrik looked down at his forearms. “What kinds of beneficial things can it do? And is it one lifeform or two?”

“You have to remember that these legends are thousands of years old, so it is always possible that the stories are nearly complete fabrications. The stories I can remember told of men who were impervious to damage and extremely hard to fell. In most of the stories I can remember, the people were monolithic beings—more than likely Giant-kin, though there were one or two that might have been Mountain Dwarves.” Syranna was pushed back in her seat as the train turned the corner on its way into downtown Serenity Valley. “Very few accounts are left about what happened to these men and women after their fighting was done, however. Most of these people seemed to have just disappeared once they were no longer needed. As to the question of whether or not the bracers you wear are one lifeform or two, that is something that I cannot tell you. Perhaps one of the Elders would know more, either of my race or your own. We might also ask the Headmistress; she is very old and knows many things.”

“Since it seems this is a mystery that will not be solved this afternoon, we might as well forget about it for now,” Olivia said, her hand moving slowly over the strange stone. “We’ve veered off topic anyway; we were talking about the fact that Shawnrik needs a suit before the Winter Dance.”

“That’s funny, I don’t remember anyone saying anything about the dance,” Vivianne said, a small smile forming.

“Of course that’s what we were talking about!” Olivia huffed. “What else would he need a suit for?”

“Speaking of the dance, cousin, have you asked anyone to accompany you yet?” Sara asked, standing with the rest as the train reached their stop.

“Asked anyone? Like, to go with me? I thought it was a school dance that everyone went to.” Shawnrik nearly walked into his companions as he stepped off the train; they had all stopped and looked at him.

“Oh my, that’s just too cute,” Syranna said, lifting her hand in front of her face and turning away. A moment later, her shoulders began to shake.

“Verrian! What have you been teaching him?” Rebecca laughed as Verrian began to sputter.

“Relax, Verrian,” Vivianne said, putting her hand on his chest. She seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment before she continued. “No one blames you, or Shawnrik, for his lack of experience with these things.”

Shawnrik could feel his cheeks burning as they continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there. He just wanted someone to explain exactly what it was that they were all laughing about. Looking around at the massive stone structures that were arrayed along both sides of the street, Shawnrik couldn’t help but feel humbled, even as he himself towered over his companions. Bright tapestries hung in windows, drawing the eye with various elaborate patterns.

Sara stepped up beside Shawnrik on his left as the rest of the group continued to talk amongst themselves. “Don’t let them bother you. Many of us had no idea how to behave or what was considered appropriate for these kinds of social functions when we first came here. I almost challenged the first boy who asked me to the dance two years ago to a knife fight because I thought he wanted to take me as his mate.”

Shawnrik chuckled as he thought about the look of horror that must have been on the young man’s face. “Did you end up going to the dance with him?”

“I did, and it was…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “…fun.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Who’s the brave lad that was willing to tempt a knife fight?”

“Oh, are we talking about Danny?” Olivia said, drawing the conversation the others were having away from Shawnrik’s inexperience.

“Danny?”

“Forget about it,” Sara said, moving off towards the nearest shop.

If he didn’t know any better, Shawnrik thought she might be blushing.

“Danny asked Sara to the Winter Dance the year before last. He has been doting on her ever since,” Vivianne added from behind them.

“They went to the Harvest Festival Dance together as well that year,” Olivia added, grabbing hold of Shawnrik’s arm.

“I’ve heard a rumor that he has already asked her to go to the Winter Dance this year as well,” Rebecca said, eyeing Verrian. Shawnrik thought his friend might be in for some trouble the way Rebecca and Vivianne kept smiling at each other behind his back.

“So, who did you ask to the dance Shawnrik?” Sara said.

Shawnrik knew that she was trying to deflect attention away from herself, and he didn’t want his cousin to feel any more awkward around him than she already might, so he took the bait. “What kind of relationship am I supposed to have with someone before I invite them to a dance like this?”

“Oh, well it helps if you like the person, and they like you,” Syranna said from directly behind him. He had lost track of her during the conversation so was slightly startled by how near she was.

“Or if you want to start up a romantic relationship with them, right Sara?” Vivianne laughed as Sara quickly entered the first doorway to her left, acting as if she hadn’t heard the barb.

Shawnrik thought that the building must be run by a seamstress of some sort, as bright fabrics took up most of the space. Bright dresses adorned the walls on each side of the shop in a variety of shapes and sizes that made his head spin. “Alright, how am I supposed to know if someone likes me enough for that?” Shawnrik asked, feeling the texture on a tie that was on display at the front of the shop. He didn’t think he had ever felt anything so smooth.

“Well,” Olivia said after a quiet sigh. “Maybe that person would do everything they could to be near you or touch you whenever you were around.”

“Or they might squeal in glee every time they see you someplace they didn’t expect to,” Vivianne added with a smirk.

“I do not squeal!” Olivia hissed, her eyes going wide a moment later.

Going over the past several Eightdays, Shawnrik realized that every time he had seen Olivia, she had jumped on him or placed her hand on his arm. He could feel his eyes widening as he realized that Olivia had just said, in a roundabout fashion, that she liked him.

“Oh, that’s precious,” Rebecca said.

Olivia let go of his arm and moved up to where Sara was looking at some scarves. Shawnrik looked back at Verrian for help but noticed that his friend seemed to be having his own realization as he looked between one arm and the other; Rebecca on his left, Vivianne on his right. Syranna walked past Shawnrik with a small sigh of her own, she bumped into his left arm as she moved past.

“You didn’t tell him?” Vivianne asked Verrian, drawing the young man out of his stupor.

“Well, I mean…” Verrian said, “…I thought it was kind of obvious, but I’m starting to realize that maybe it wasn’t to him. Maybe he thought she was just the friendly sort and didn’t know to read anything into it.”

“Oh, and maybe he’s not the only one who hasn’t been picking up on the appropriate signals?” Rebecca smiled and pecked Verrian’s cheek before moving off.

“You aren’t that dense, are you, Verrian?” Vivianne’s eyes danced with a knowing mirth before giving him a peck on his other cheek before moving to join the girls, who were now loudly discussing which scarf was better.

Shawnrik moved next to Verrian, putting his hand on his roommate's shoulder.

“Girls,” Verrian said with a sigh, though a smile began to tug the side of his lips higher.

“Yeah, girls,” Shawnrik replied with a sigh of his own. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Verrian replied. “But it might still be fun nonetheless.”

Mine

They had gone down into the mines to work twice since his fight with the Orc. His last two periods of sleep had been restless. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel Warak’s cold gaze on his back. His two Goblin friends had apologized several times for drawing the Orc’s attention to the boy, and though he was mad about the fight he couldn’t hold it against his fellow slaves. He had asked them what it was that they had been saying to the other Goblins, and they had replied with half answers that he didn’t really believe.

It didn’t really matter what they had said to the other Goblins. He knew that they must all think him an oddity. A child working the mines alongside them. Their speculation on what was wrong with him or who he had angered reached his ears in the small hours of the night, as they had with the previous group of slaves who had died in the cave-in.

There were only two people in the cell who didn’t look at him like he had some sort of sickness. One was Warak’s Orc companion Grelesh, who since the fight had looked upon the boy as if he were clay in need of molding. The other was the strange, squat Goblin that sat away from the others. His light blue eyes held a gleam of intelligence the likes of which the boy had only seen reflected in the Blood Mage that had helped deliver the new batch of slaves. Those eyes tickled a memory in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite catch hold of it.

Where have I seen that color before?

They had just begun mining when the boy realized that he wasn’t at the end of the line of miners. He had been the last one out of the cell for so long that he hadn’t realized the squat Goblin had waited for him to get into line before him. The realization interrupted his rhythm long enough for one of the guards to yell at him to get back to work. Several dozen swings later he looked over to see the squat Goblin eyeing him as the man’s powerful body swung relentlessly at the rock in a powerful staccato.

“What?” The boy whispered in goblin.

“Who, and what are you?” The Goblin replied in a language that the boy knew he had only heard before in his dreams. Draconic.

“I don’t know, and what are you?” The boy replied in the low hisses of the dragon tongue.

A small smile crept onto the face of the squat man. “I am Pershanti. My people are called the Grenaldins in the old parlance.”

“Well, pleasure to meet you Pershanti, I’m called Tunnel Rat, boy, or freak, take your pick.”

“Tunnel Rat might be who you are now, but it is not who you were, nor is it who you will become,” Pershanti said, his rhythm uninterrupted by the conversation he was holding in whispers with the boy.

“What will I become, then?” the boy asked, his swings making a counterpoint between his neighbors every other swing.

“Something not to be reckoned with, if I am correct in guessing who you are.”

“Who am I?” the boy asked, his voice rising to a level that made one of the guards look in their direction.

After several moments, the guard’s attention wavered, seeing that his charges were doing their work.

“I know not your name, but my people long ago put forth a theory as to how to make someone like you come about. I am so glad that Cypheria has seen fit to guide me here. There is so much I can tell you!” Pershanti became so animated that he missed his next swing, ruining his rhythm. In the moment of silence that followed, a yell was heard emanating from the front of the mine.

“Did you hear that?” the guard nearest them said, getting the attention of the others. In the silence that followed, his question traveled as a small concussion of sound, speeding through the mine and alerting everyone that something was amiss. Two of the four guards sped off towards the cells to see what was going on, while the other two guards spread out along the line of slaves, their eyes swiveling between their charges and the darkness that their compatriots had disappeared into.

These men were used to dealing with slaves that had resigned themselves to their fate, so they were caught by surprise when Warak swung his pickaxe high over his head as if he was going to get a solid hit at the wall. A third of the way down, however, he switched the momentum of his swing and brought it out and around into the chest of the guard nearest him. The final guard, hearing the impact behind him, turned around and started to pull his sword while backing towards the front of the cave.

Pershanti sprung on the guards back, wrapping the chain that was looped between his wrists around the man’s neck. The guard tried to swing at the Grenaldin, but what little contact he could make scored only minor cuts. Realizing that his swings weren’t doing anything, the guard managed to reverse his grip on his sword hilt and was preparing to thrust the weapon behind him into his attacker. Choosing between the guard’s life and Pershanti’s was an easy choice for the boy, who sunk his pickaxe into the guard’s chest before the Grey Elf swung his arm back. The guard’s sword dropped from his hand, which no longer possessed the strength to wield it as his life blood ran out onto the mine floor.

“Thanks for that,” Pershanti said before he flipped the guard’s body over and tore the key ring off the man’s belt.

Looking down the mine at the rest of the slaves, the boy realized that Warark’s companion Grelesh had much the same idea and was currently working to unlock his manacles. Pershanti unlocked the shackles around the boy’s ankles after removing his own, and when he moved up to unlock those around the boy’s wrists, he seemed to realize that they had no key hole.

“How do they remove these?” Pershanti asked.

“They don’t,” the boy shrugged. “They just slide the chain through and take it back out when I’m done.”

Pershanti placed his hand on one of the blood red manacles and pulled it back quickly as if he had been burned. “I see,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t know what is going on, but you should crawl into that air vent over there until we figure it out. I will make sure the others know to keep their mouths shut.”

Pushing the boy towards the vent, Pershanti helped hoist him up into it, giving out advice the whole way. “If for some reason we are separated, I will try to make my way back to the front of this mine within the next few days. If by some strange act of Thom I don’t make it back by three days, I want you to gather any supplies that are left and start heading south. There is a forest a few weeks' journey from here that you might be able to survive in if you are crafty enough.”

There wasn’t enough room in the vent for him to turn around, and the boy knew that he should crawl far enough in so that his feet were well hidden from view. He heard a lot of quiet conversations going on between the Goblins, with a few deep throated interjections from the Orcs that were quickly silenced. It sounded like the last of the slaves had been unlocked from their fetters when a loud voice reverberated through the tunnel.

“Oye, you lot.” Silence followed. The only sounds the boy could hear were that of his own quiet breathing and the shuffling of feet outside his hiding spot. “Just put your picks down and there won’t be any trouble.”

“Oh, Borathar, they are obviously slaves,” a feminine voice said. “You fellows aren’t going to try to hurt us after we just helped you get free, are you?” The way she asked the question made the boy want to agree immediately, but he held still and kept his breathing shallow.

“Slaves, aye Erin, along with a pair of Blood Orcs and a fargin Grenaldin,” the voice that must belong to Borathar replied.

“A Grenaldin? My, what are you doing in such inhospitable conditions?” The female voice that the boy guessed belonged to Erin asked.

“Well, my lady,” Pershanti began. “You see, I was out stargazing away from our compound one night when I was set upon by several Dracairei. I was then taken to Siniquity in order for the Mages there to try to wrest any knowledge that they could from me. After a year of trying and failing, they decided to send me here to be of some use while they thought up new ways in which to extract what they want.”

“I see,” Erin replied. “You didn’t by chance happen to see a young boy around here, did you?”

“I did!” Pershanti said, excitement in his voice. “He was here when we arrived several days ago.” His voice suddenly lost the excited tone. “Unfortunately, the Blood Mage Temendri and his lackey Walkins seemed to have plans for the boy, and they left the next morning.”

“Walkins?” Borathar growled before making a sound that the boy thought might have been a spit. “Of course that rat is around. First time we get close to the boy, and that gnome endowed waste of flesh beats us to it. Nim isn’t going to be happy.”

“Nim has got bigger things to deal with now, and we’ve got to get these people to a safe settlement. It snowed for the last several days, so there is very little chance of us picking up the trail anyway. If I find that boy I’m going to strangle him before I let Nim at him.”

The boy was suddenly very glad that he was hiding in the vent, as it seemed that these new people were looking for him specifically. It didn’t sound like whatever they had planned for him would be nice. Shortly thereafter, he heard the group shuffle towards the front of the mine shaft and their cell and the guard’s living area. He didn’t know how long he waited until he began to slowly inch his way back out of the vent, but after a long staring contest in the dark with a spider the size of his hand he decided that it was time.

When he dropped to the floor of the mine tunnel, he found the stripped bodies of the Grey Elves. Everything that might be useful had been removed, all the way down to and including their underwear. The sight of the two dead men was rather disconcerting. Each had a large hole in the center of their chest, and both stared at the roof of the tunnel, their eyes hazed over in the glassy stare of death.

Taking his time on his way towards the front of the tunnel, the boy moved only a few steps at a time, taking a break between movements to listen for any activity. He didn’t hear anything until he was almost back to the cell that he had lived in for as long as he could remember.

“Alright, you lot. We’ll do what we can to keep ye warm on the journey, but we’re going to have to make haste,” the voice belonging to Borathar stated.

“Don’t push them too hard, they look malnourished,” a second male voice said.

“Ye bleedin’ heart, Fredrich. Don't you worry none. Between your skills as a healer, Za’quenar’s hunting, and Erin’s finger wagglin’, we’ll get these people home safe.”

“Finger wagglin’?” Erin said, sounding affronted. “I’ll have you know that…”

Whatever it was that she would have Borathar know, the boy would never find out, as their voices were lost as they moved out of the mine. Moving into the guard’s room, the boy found a water skin that had been hidden under a pillow. Removing the cork and taking a whiff, he realized that whatever was inside it definitely was not water. Gathering up the few meager supplies that had been overlooked on the group’s exodus out of the tunnels he realized that he would have to leave the mine in a few days anyway or he wouldn’t have anything to eat.

Sometime later, he moved towards the entrance of the mine. He had never seen what was outside of the tunnel, and as he neared the front of the cave he nearly gasped at what he saw. Everywhere he looked was a brilliant white; the footprints of the group that had left were already starting to fill in as the white flakes floated down from the sky, filling the impressions.

He stood outside for only moments before he realized that he would likely begin freezing quickly if he stood there for too long. Besides, it was just too open outside; it was a little unnerving to not be able to see the roof above your head, and he almost felt like if he jumped he might begin to fall up into the billowing abyss above.

Taking one last look at the white valley below, he turned back into the tunnel to await Pershanti’s return.