O'taomon | The Empire of Eraat: IV

Logan and Olivia wander into an ancient courtyard with a dalkarian monolith marker glowing in the same luminosity of the moons. The place is overgrown with shrubbery, flowers, blooming fruit trees, and ornate twisting ones. The cracks between the layered brickwork protrude with strands of grass.

Olivia analyzes the grass. "The water has to be coming from somewhere."

"I thought these plants were accustomed to the climate." Logan plucks the blade of grass with careful dexterity, leaving the root intact. "Here," he hands it to Olivia.

"You didn't have to do that," she brings the specimen to her eyes. "But thank you, this does help a bit."

"Maybe moisture is soaked inside the stone?" Logan suggests, "it is a pretty thick wall."

"That does make sense," Olivia lays the specimen on the ground. "I don't suppose they're having a little outside assistance."

They roam toward the monolith. "What do you mean?"

"During my first lecture with Professor Evrim, she concluded potential life imbibing properties of particular shards that sustain entire ecosystems in an otherwise uninhabitable environment." Olivia stops to admire the monolith.

Logan slaps the monolith. "How old do you reckon this one is?"

"Perhaps sometime from the primordial ages, well over ten thousand years." The glyphs illuminate their surroundings. "Of course this could have been placed here far earlier as decor of some sort."

Logan scans the courtyard. "It would make sense, there are no Ayshek's here." He pats the monolith one more time, "It's pretty bright on its own."

An idea comes to Olivia's mind. "If you're not far off in some war getting your butt kicked, we should attend this site every lunar event and document our findings. I think the professor would love it." Olivia bubbles with excitement, "in fact I could invite her." Olivia chuckles. "I'm getting carried away."

Logan leans against the monolith looking directly at Olivia. "Getting my butt kicked? Have you seen me kick butt?"

Olivia holds back a giggle. "No but I've seen you sleep, I've never known anyone to sleep as much as you do."

"It keeps me young, keeps me healthy. In fact," he yawns, "I might just take a nap right now." He closes his eyes and feigns a snore.

"Oh come off it. You don't even snore." When he doesn't budge she strolls off. A few moments later he catches up to her, bringing with him a soft breeze.

"I can't just leave a lovely young lady walking home by herself now, can I?" Logan matches her pace.

"This isn't some lesser known city in Ayildur." They exit into a luminous street with paper lanterns, mingling themselves among jovial people. "What's it like?"

Unaccustomed to the crowd, Logan fidgets. "What's what?"

"The thing that you do, with the wind," Olivia has no particular abilities of her own. The insignia just above the center of her brows was a series of three crescent shapes balanced atop one another, cradling a small circle. She studied it herself many times, though never gained insight into its nature.

"Well for one thing, it's not a thing, it's an activity. To answer your question," Logan shrugs, "I don't actually know. It's sort of just yourself, like how you move your hand. You don't think about moving your hand, you just do it." To demonstrate Logan flounders his arms about like a maniac.

"Alright, alright, stop," Olivia's stomach hurts from laughing, "you're attracting attention."

When they both compose themselves Olivia regards his words to her own capabilities. Maybe it was something subtle, she'd heard of them but never looked into it. Setting aside the topic for the professor, they finish the stroll back in pleasant conversation.

Loraunt had tidied up the place well, arranging the furniture, dusting out the cupboards and drawers. Beating out the carpet, and organizing the clutter. The alvarrian is snoozing away on the ottoman, his back leaning against the wall.

"Should we wake him?" Olivia whispers.

Logan shakes his head. "Nah, we'll thank him in the morning." Logan jabs a finger at Olivia, "you on the other hand need to get to bed young lady."

"Indeed I do," Olivia agrees. "You'll wake me before he leaves? I'd like to say goodbye."

"Definitely, now go to sleep." Logan unfastens his spear from the wall and climbs up the windowsill. "I'm going to see what news is in town." He jumps down, twirling the wind to cushion his landing.

Logan zooms off to the palace at remarkable speed, launching from one district to the next until at last landing on the opposite shore. From roof to tree, tree to roof, roof to wall ledge and a final catapult, he lands on the roof of the palace. The guards are nowhere to be seen inside, making his infiltration easier.

When he arrives outside Garrett's cell, the redhead has forgone his heavy outfit and lays in a vested red waistcoat over a silk button down shirt, dark cotton trousers and triple laced boots.

Logan taps the bar once.

Garrett jumps onto his feet, wide stance, fists at the ready. When he gets a good sight of his visitor, he relaxes. "Oh, it's you," he walks up to the bar. "Any good news?"

"Keep your voice down," Logan warns. "No news at all I'm afraid. Well there is one," Logan lowers his voice even further. "I met Loraunt today."

Garrett's face brightens. "That's awesome, you can tell him where I am and they'll get me out of here."

Logan frowns. "What? They who?"

Confusion spreads across his face. "Loraunt didn't tell you about James?" He steps back, "shit, I didn't know. Damn, James is never gonna let me down for this one."

The name registers in Logan's mind, "hang on." Then it clicks, "you're telling me Loraunt is part of the organization? That's why he's here? His benefactor is with the organization?" A spark of rage builds in his chest, he glares at the prisoner. "Don't worry, he already knows, I told him everything that's happened here."

Garrett grips the bars. "Look man, it's not like how you think it-"

"Logan?" Ahmet stands halfway down the corridor, spear in hand, a platter of food in the other. "What are you doing down here?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Inspecting the prisoner," Logan answers in shirhashhat.

Ahmet shakes his head with a look of betrayal. "I heard you speaking his tongue. You know what he says."

Ahmet drops the tray and makes to alarm the guard when Logan dashes off and wrangles his arms back.

"Traitor!" He spits.

"Shhh-shh-shh!" Logan soothes frantically. "It's nothing like that arkadash, please." He loosens his grip, "trust me."

Ahmet stops struggling. "Just this once," his voice drops, "no more."

Logan releases him.

Ahmet gathers the dry foodstuff onto the tray and attempts to wipe off the splatters with his sleeve.

Logan crouches down, "no Ahmet, let me-"

"Go!" The voice rattles the bars and trembles the ground.

Logan falters. A sinking feeling in his chest dampens the flaming rage to embers. He speeds off at breakneck pace, launching himself high into the sky and spiraling toward the shore.

For hours he sits beside the seashore. The bubbling sounds of the waves drowning his loss in the sea of infinite depths. A sand crab scuttles next to his foot, inspecting the new addition to the beach. Logan smiles and the crab darts back to its burrow. A moment later it pops its head out, peaking. Logan blinks deliberately and it burrows back in, scraping out dirt. Logan laughs and lifts himself off the ground, patting away the dirt.

He snatches his spear and speeds off, launching himself back into the city. He'd wasted too much time, the first light of dawn trickles into the sky. He jumps and leaps over any surface, skipping his way back to the apartment to confront the alvarrian.

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Olivia stirs from her sleep, to the gentle proddings of Loraunt's finger.

"Morning, bookvyrm."

Olivia sits up. "Oh, are you leaving?"

"Yes, I sleep too long," he smiles sweetly.

Olivia searches the room. "Where's Logan? I'm sure he'd want to say goodbye."

Loraunt holds her hand to his chest. "Is alright, he knows."

Olivia nods and embraces the alvarrian. She nestles herself into his embrace. How long would it be before they see each other again? "Please take care." She feels a pat on her head.

"I vill, and you take care." They lock eyes for a moment. He pulls away, hops onto the windowsill and waves. "Fahrahm, Olivia."

"Fahrahm, Loraunt," Olivia waves back and the krishkalvarri leaps into the streets.

Olivia retreats to the sofa and dreams of her friends. Saudade beating in her chest.

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Logan leaps through the window, landing with an airy step, billowing the curtains in the room. Olivia turns in her sleep with a glowing smile.

Loraunt is nowhere to be found. Without disturbing her slumber, he drops back into the streets, kicking the wall behind him and launches himself toward the sunrise. He knew exactly where to find him.

He takes the course of the wind, letting it guide him. In a matter of minutes he arrives, landing in the midst of the arena platform.

"Spectacular!"

Logan lifts his head and glares straight into James' languid eyes.

James, attired in a sleek obsidian overcoat over a velvet silk shirt, with thick trousers tucked into dark laced boots, bears a disinterested expression toward his opponent

James soars onto the opposite end of the arena. "You couldn't have landed on this side?"

Logan releases a horizontal sickle of wind.

James jumps, landing with a little tap of a dance, arms open wide. "You didn't seriously think that would have done anything did you?"

Logan raises himself up with his spear.

"Not much of a talker? I understand." James starts pacing leisurely back and forth. "Myself? I can't shut my mouth sometimes. Sort of to er… quelch the nerves you see."

Logan grips his spear and releases a barrage of gales.

James dodges these attacks as if he were strolling through a chaotic street. "O! Almost had me there, close one." He stops. "I'd seen your performance with Loraunt earlier, is that really all you can do?"

"Where is he?" Logan points the spear with pinpoint accuracy.

"He does have a mouth," James feigns a convincing surprise. "I don't quite remember," he strolls further back. "You'll have to jog my memory a bit I'm afraid. I haven't had my morning exercise and that really helps get the blood flowing."

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment James is standing there, the next his foot is making contact with Logan's chest, plunging him out of the arena and into the stands.

Logan barely manages to condense his internal energy to cushion his landing. The impact rattles him.

"You're not the only one with speed." James paces back and forth, "granted, I can't keep it up for an extended length of time."

Logan intends to speed off but is cut down from behind with a kick and thrust onto the platform. The pain… he'd never felt anything like it.

"Ah-hah, thought you'd get me with that one did you?" James removes his foot and strolls back to the end of the arena.

Logan leaps into the air, but James is right next to him, then above. A foot meets his back and he's sent back into the stands.

Logan's body surges with energy. He launches himself right back.

James maneuvers sideways and slams his foot into his back, sending him straight down.

Logan rolls into a crouched position.

James takes an easy landing. "Now, now, let's have none of those silly explosions. We don't want to attract attention." He smirks, "trust me, I learned the hard way."

If Logan ever doubted his speed more than now, he couldn't recall it. One after another, no matter how much energy he invested, James had the upper hand. At last, his own body gives up. He lays battered and limp on the floor.

"As the yokels say in the Silver Alps, 'now there's a good lad,' stay down, don't make trouble." James crouches near his ear, "Your duel with Loraunt yesterday. He held back quite a good deal."

Before Logan's vision fades, he sees the last dwindling silhouette of James walking off.

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James steps onto the plaza outside the arena. The spicy dawn gleams just over the horizon, ever so opulent with her light. He walks casually forward, toward the ledge of the plaza with a daring drop below. The wind ruffles his hair and clothes.

Nagahshya appears in her Nagari form, undulating beautifully with the wind. James grabs hold of the large ring rotating around the base of her head, and climbs onto her back.

She sails skyward. Over the strait, toward the Grand Vizier's palace. Loraunt and Garrett are looking overwhelmed by numerous guards. "They look in need of some assistance. Why not scare them a little will you?"

Nagahshya dives for the soldiers who duck at her looming approach. When they finally have the courage to look up a few moments later, they find their prisoners have already vanished.

With Loraunt and Garrett dangling by her ring, they fly southward. Toward the Holy Lands.