He peered inside the sack, which he was now realising was just a pillowcase, and had a good look at the O'jin inside.
“So you’re going to eat my magic?” He asked it curiously. The creature remained silent, laying on its back and staring up at him. Its hands and feet were curled to its chest like it was trying to ball itself up.
“You really are an ugly little thing, aren’t you?” He continued, after a short silence from the bag. The creature just blinked at him.
“Good talk” He sighed. He tied the opening of the case to his belt and resigned to carrying the thing around for the time being.
The street was busy with townsfolk, all making their way towards the market square. A farmer he didn’t recognise was pushing his way along the cobbled stone with his wares. The young man stood upon a platform that looked as if it was once a barn door. The platform floated a foot above the street, and supported barrels of fruits and vegetables as well as the farmer. He pushed his makeshift cart along the road with a large stick.
Murphy couldn’t help but to be perplexed by the double standard the common folk seemed to have surrounding magic.
“Good morning mister” He called to the unfamiliar farmer.
“And what a morning” The man called back cheerfully, dragging his stick to halt his cart.
“Seems to be” Murphy said, gesturing to the crowd, “Is it a trade day?”.
“Did you just wake up boy?” The farmer laughed “That’s a merchant ship if I’m not mistaken”, he pointed to the town pyre.
Looming over the town was a large tower. It didn’t have much in the way of architectural embellishments, but it served its purpose well. At the top of the tower were six docking platforms, spread out in a flower pattern. The internals of the tower consisted of a large staircase and a few floors for storage.
He saw two ships docked at the pyre. One was a cargo ship, its bulky hull made that much obvious. The other was a small sloop, the kind of ship that could be crewed by one or two men. That was exciting.
The ships would often show up in groups to Malnir, making the following week’s full of wonders for the townsfolk from the travellers. The trip to Malnir from anywhere was long and arduous, so caravans were the norm. It was the wealth of resources that Malnir had to itself that kept the caravans returning.
“First ship came in this morning” The farmer continued, “if I get in before the rest come I'll have a good spot” he declared.
“I’ll give the push for a ride down” Murphy offered.
“How could I say no to that” the man laughed “climb up, I don’t want to be late”.
He took his place at the back of the floating cart and took control of the stick. The farmer sat on a barrel and sunk his teeth into an apple. They travelled through the town swapping theories about what kind of travellers must have come in on the sloop. The townsfolk cleared the roadways to make them a path, most taking the time to say a polite good morning. The farmer was rather popular it seemed. It was ordinary, and that is all Murphy wanted. Even if it was just for today, he determined himself to not take peaceful Malnir for granted.
They parted ways after reaching the market area. Murphy stayed long enough to help the farmer set up his stall. They stood the cart onto its side after the farmer had lowered it to the ground using a command, and he hung a sign with his prices on it. He gave Murphy a half sack of oats as thanks and sent the boy on his way. Murphy was quick to re-gift the farmer's oats to a random child once he was out of sight. The little boy seemed happy to carry the sack with him.
The pillow case at his hip had started to squirm after they arrived. He decided it was probably time to check in on the O'jin. Sitting against a pillar out of everyone’s way, he opened the pillow case.
“Are you doing alright in there?” He asked the creature as he opened the makeshift bag. Before he had a chance to see the thing, it scurried out of the case and clutched his shirt. He reacted by trying to jump backwards, but given that he was sitting against a stone pillar, all he achieved in his dodge was a spectacular and painful backwards head-butt. The creature didn’t attack him though. It just hung onto his shirt tightly, its wide eyes staring up at him. He could feel the warm little O'jin’s heart beating fast through his shirt and in his own chest. They stared at each other in terrified silence for long enough for them to both come to ease. In the quiet he realised that the creature's heartbeat had a familiar rhythm, matching his perfectly. That made him consider what the crazy old lady had said that morning. Perhaps there was something to it all.
“So you’re not a fan of the bag I take it?” He asked the creature, almost expecting a response.
The creature remained silent, it did however, blink once.
“Do I have to carry you then?” He complained.
The O'jin blinked again and looked around. After what seemed like a hint of thinking, it climbed the rest of the way up his shirt and perched itself on his shoulder.
He looked at it as best he could. All he could see was black and grey fur and a giant purple eye.
“I have a feeling you might stand out there”, He said.
The creature seemed to take his words on board, and proceeded to curl into itself as much as it could, trying to look smaller. Murphy sighed.
“Well it’s not like I can get in more trouble is it”, he said, standing to his feet. “Let’s go see what’s come to town then”.
The merchant’s had clearly been setting up for a while. Most of them had claimed large stall spaces and were already set for sale. They all had several tables to segment their spaces and show their goods. Most of the stalls were similar in the way that they sold industry goods. There were selections of fabrics and leathers from a whole manner of sources, as well as seeds and spices, woods and stones, and almost anything else that went into making something. One stall had a range of weapons, armours and trinkets, they had a sign at the front advertising simple enchantment work.
The stall that he looked at first was smaller than the others. A man was tucked into a corner at the edge of the square, he had a red rug laying over the stone and a bunch of cups spread about holding sticks, as well as little wooden statues of strange monsters. He sat on a stool, whittling away at a small block of wood. He was dressed in a tight red coat, parted just enough to show the runed gun tucked into his belt. Murphy could see the coat was filled with all kinds of magic. He also wore a bright red wide brimmed hat, with an assortment of feathers sticking out from it. The feathers too seemed to glow with magic. Murphy thought the man looked utterly pretentious and eccentric, and couldn’t wait to talk to him.
He smiled up at Murphy as he approached. “Greetings from Elahsa young one”. He stood, put his hat to his chest with one hand and stretched the other out to the side, before taking a slow and deep bow. “Be you my first custom on this stop, my name is Findah, how may I serve”. His accent was heavy and his voice raspy, Murphy had never heard the dialect before. He put his hat back on and stood tall, seemingly done with the theatrics.
“Good day Findah, I hope you travelled well” Murphy lied. In truth he hoped the journey was overwhelmed with danger and triumph. He wanted a story.
Findah smiled, he could see the boy practically bouncing in front of him. “Allas young one, the journey is never without its troubles” he responded “but I fear you will have to wait for my tales just as all others, for I can not do justice to the tribulation without my good bard”.
“You have a bard with you?” Murphy asked, nearly rushing the man in his excitement.
“I do yes” Findah laughed “Though he will not wake whilst the warm light blesses our skin”. He said poetically.
“Is he a drunk then?” Murphy asked.
Findah laughed and slapped his knee. “The boy is astute” he bellowed, gesturing to an audience that wasn’t there.
“Most bards are drunks” Murphy punctuated.
“And wise too” The man joked. “What might bring a wise boy to my stool?” he asked, gesturing to his wares.
The statues were as he expected, they were detailed and beautifully made, but they didn’t glow with anything. The sticks were different. Each stick had a pallet of aspectral colours. The patterns in the colours looked to be different in each cup. He picked up a stick gently to have a closer look.
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“Take care now young one” Findah insisted “Once the stick is broken, it will release the spell inside”.
Murphy nodded and placed it in the flat of his hand. The stick was covered in tiny runes, each connected to its neighbour in an elaborate pattern. The lettering was so small he could barely make it out. Only knowing it was there is what let him spot it. He couldn’t tell what the colours were in any of the cups, they were all new to him entirely.
“What do they do?” He asked, gently giving the stick back to Findah.
“This one” he said, holding it up “Will bring the rain for a full day and a full night”. He placed the stick back into the cup and grabbed one from a different cup. “This one will bring the clear sky for the same time”. He put the magical stick back.
“How do you fit that spell on a stick?” Murphy asked, dumbfounded.
“Trade secret I’m afraid” Findah chuckled.
He spent some time pointing at each cup and insisting Findah explain the spell in each stick, then the monsters, and finally the hat, he really liked a fancy hat. After about an hour of unrelenting questioning he decided to let the man rest, he looked exhausted. He promised that he would return later, and Findah died a little inside at the prospect.
As he walked back into the gathering crowd he saw a few familiar faces. Much more of the town had made their way to the square to see the first ships come in. During his conversation with Findah, another merchant ship had arrived, as well as the scout for the ground caravan. There had to be a few hundred people filling the large square now as well as at least two dozen stalls at a glance. Many of the townspeople had erected their own stalls by now.
The people he recognised were taking a wide berth when they walked past. He noticed a friend of his, a young man named Rolf. He waved at Rolf and started to approach him, but the young man averted his gaze and ducked into a stall.
“Well alright then”, He sighed to himself, remembering his current stigma. He wanted to approach Rolf anyway, if for anything but spite. Though he decided to leave the man be, he was after all in enough trouble already. As if to punctuate the thought, he felt a blunted pressure on his chest. It caught his attention and he broke free from his musings to see a Malnir hunter holding the pommel of his axe against his chest.
“What’s that then boy?” The man grumbled.
Murphy frowned, he knew the man well. He looked over his shoulder, back in the direction he had come from before responding. “That’s a merchant”, he quipped with a smirk, “and a good morning to you too Samuel” he said, pushing the axe handle from his chest with one finger.
“Its Samuel Tane Huunitah to you welp” Samuel scoffed.
“You’re claiming a title name now?” Murphy laughed. “Must be that you’re a captain then?” He asked, raising one eyebrow at the man.
Samuel just grunted and slung his axe onto his shoulder. The double head on the weapon was three times the size of the man’s head. “It’d pay for you to keep your smart words to yourself little mouse” he growled, twisting the axe slightly in an attempt to look imposing. The crowd had already started to clear around them, many familiar faces stopping to take in the commotion.
“Do you need me to slow down for you?” Murphy joked.
“I’ll take that tongue if yer’ insisting” He growled back through gritted teeth, gripping the axe handle tightly.
“You show your worth Sam” Murphy replied, “I made you that axe, and you would stand there and threaten me with it”. He was starting to get annoyed with the man. The audience grew thicker and the air tense. Samuel looked around at the murmuring crowd chagrined.
“What’s that then?” He barked, pointing at Murphy’s shoulder to change the topic.
Uundah flinched, and tried to burrow further into his shoulder.
“It’s my pet” Murphy replied, bringing the little O'jin into his hands.
“Looks to me that you bought something dangerous into town” Samuel declared in a sadistic tone, his yellowing teeth peering through his cracked smile.
“He’s as big as a rat” Murphy scoffed, clutching the O'jin closer to his stomach.
“That don’t count for nothing” he replied, “all manner of nasty things can pretend they’re somethin’ else” He said, looking Murphy up and down with a deliberate slowness.
“Are you scared of rats now too Samuel?” Murphy asked.
“What do you mean by that” He grumbled, knowing Murphy had more to say.
“Well you’re clearly scared of a wash” He gestured to Samuels clothes. They were stained with the fluids of the job, to the point of giving off a foul odour. “If’n you didn’t scare off all the women with that head of yours, maybe you could have yourself seen to”, he finished, blocking his nose with his free hand. There was a quiet chuckle from the crowd. Samuels cheeks turned red with rage.
“Hand over the monster little gonban” He snapped, readying his axe.
“I don’t think I will” Murphy laughed, feeling an all too familiar confidence in himself.
Samuel lunged at him, grasping at Uundah with his left hand. Murphy saw the hunter coming and twisted himself out of the way and letting the man move right past him. He gave the man a sharp jab on the back with his finger.
“Come now Samuel, there’s no need to be so sensitive” He said laughing.
Samuel swung around, his free arm stretched out for a back hand. Murphy ducked and took two big steps backwards. He was stopped by the now cheering crowd and pushed back towards the hunter. Again he ducked as Samuel lurched to grab him by the hair.
“You’ll be in the stocks for this Samuel” He said, gaining as much distance as the onlookers would allow.
“Only one getting pressed today is you boy” Samuel said, before spitting on the ground. “Slippery Wark” he growled.
The crowd jeered and whistled, they were clearly excited for a fight. Murphy felt hands jab his back, and he stumbled forwards to Samuels reach. The hunter grasped at him again, this time he was successful. Murphy tried to slip his grasp, but his vice grip on the boy's hair was too strong. He pulled Murphy in close enough that he could taste the man’s putrid breath. He clutched Uundah tightly. The little creature was panicked, and for a moment at least, Murphy was convinced he could feel the things fears.
“Feel like making your jokes now?” He said, just loud enough to be heard in the front row.
“Not really” Murphy said, smiling up at the man.
“Hand it over” Samuel demanded.
“I don’t think I will” He replied, still smiling.
He gripped Murphy’s hair tightly, enough to pull a chunk out, and bought the boy even closer. “One more chance, ronta” he said in a quiet and serious tone. The crowd had grown quite by now, and Murphy could see why. Samuel was still yet to discover the giant of a man standing behind him.
“It might be wise to let go now” Murphy quipped.
“You have some nerve, boy” Samuel said as he started to raise his axe. His face turned white once he felt the weapon come to a dead stop. He turned around slowly, still holding the boy by the hair, and saw Miata LockHalm standing behind him, one hand firmly on the blade of the axe. He gulped.
“Ah, smith, I was just” he started to speak but cut himself off when the Demai man looked down into his eyes.
“Let go of the boy hunter” Miata spoke firm and slow.
Without hesitation, Samuel released his grip, allowing Murphy to fall to the ground.
“I...” Samuel started to speak again, but was silenced by the big man holding one finger up.
“Munfiray” Miata said simply “On your feet”.
He didn’t waste any time, and did as his grandfather asked. They walked through the crowd, being given plenty of room as people pressed against each other to avoid them. They left Samuel standing in silence.
“Picking fights then?” Miata asked him once they were clear of the audience.
“I did no such thing” Murphy defended himself “He was trying to take my new pet”.
Miata looked down at Murphy’s hands to see the O'jin peeking through his fingers. “That’s not a pet boy”, he said. “You’d do right to remember that”. The old man seemed offended on Uundah’s behalf.
“The old lady called him an O'jin, said he could talk, she has one as a pet too” Murphy continued but was halted by his grandfather's silencing stare.
“Know who you have there lad” he said angrily. “He will speak when he is good and ready, and ye’ won’t hear a word from him while ever ye’ call him a pet” he scolded.
The man was always stoic, though Murphy could tell the times he was upset. This was one of those times.
“What is it then?” he asked, looking into Uundah’s eyes again.
“He” Miata said.
“What is ‘HE’ then?” Murphy asked, rolling his eyes.
“He” The old man continued “is yer’ best damn hope at a longer life” he said, pulling Murphy to a stop in an alleyway. “If’n ye’ can manage not to piss in the wrong oats long enough” he finished, looking back to where Samuel had been.
Murphy chuckled. “I reckon he will need a new pair of trousers now” he said.
“This is serious lad” Miata scolded, but he could see the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “That there is why ye’ have to go, do ye’ get that boy or is yer’ ears too filled with the shite that comes out ye’ maw”.
Murphy sighed. Again, he knew his grandfather was right. “I know” he said, hanging his head. For a moment at least, he had managed to forget about his leaving. He looked up when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Miata looked as if he was going to speak, but he remained silent, and just pulled the boy in for a hug. The old man wasn’t known for affection, the action was enough to nearly make Murphy cry. He stepped back to get a good look at the boy.
“We will have to do something about yer’ travelling” He said, looking back to the market. He reached into a bag he had slung over his massive shoulder, and pulled out a leather pouch. “This ought to help” he said, grabbing one of Murphy’s hands and dropping the pouch into it. The tell tale sound of crystal on crystal rang through the leather. Murphy put Uundah back on his own shoulder and had a look inside. Sure enough, the pouch was filled with gold coins. At a glance, he guessed there had to be at least 40 gold in the pouch. Some of the higher priced items he had seen that day were valued at just a few gold coins. The old man had just handed him a small fortune.
“ElLoh Dahdan” he said in shock, “this has to be more than a year’s earning” his eyes were wide, and he was almost afraid to be holding the coin.
Miata laughed. “that coin was dead when I found it, I won’t be losing anything here” he said, patting the nervous boy on the head.
“You’ve had these that long?” Murphy asked, dumbfounded.
“Not as long as ye’ think lad” he said.
Murphy knew how the crystal coin worked, since his grandfather had taught him when he was small. It took a dead gold coin, or slab as they were also known, four hundred human years to return to its golden state. Every denomination took a different amount of time, with copper chips and silver slips taking less time than a gold slab. The value was determined by its colour, and to artificially charge a coin was a guarded art. They had the property of being able to discharge the energy inside by an impartment of nothing but the will of the holder. They would charge themselves at intervals determined by the runes on the coin.
The Demai measured their time on a different scale, given their extraordinarily long lives. They counted one year for every 400 human years. To his grandfather, it only took the slabs one year to charge to gold.
“Listen boy” Miata said, regaining the boy's attention. “I didna’ want this to be the way ye’ left Malnir. But ye’ know as well as I do, that this isn’t the place for ye’ to be”.
Murphy nodded. Again, he knew the old man was right. He had always dreamed of going on wild adventures out in the seemingly endless world. It was all he and his friends would talk about. They would come up with fantastic plans to stow away on a visiting ship and sneak away to a more exciting life. That didn’t stop him from being scared though.
“Ye’ have yer’ Ellah Dahdan spirit” the old man continued “And it would break the man’s soul if he learned of ye’ being ruined over a nonsense thing”. He sat on a crate to meet Murphy’s eyes. “Ye’ can be great Munfiray, and ye’ can always come back in a century or two”.
That was the most his grandfather had said to him at once in years. And it was the first time the man had compared Murphy to his father.
Rahska LockHalm was by all rights an adventurer. Miata rarely talked about him, most of the stories about him that Murphy heard had come from the elders in the town. He had always wanted to meet his father, to see who the man was, but there was a good chance that was never to be. Rahska didn’t even know Murphy existed. He had met the boy's mother on a rare visit to see Miata. She was working at the pub and as legend dictated, he sweet talked the young woman and had her in the same night. By the next morning he had already left on his mount and taken back into the wilds. Once Murphy was born, he was left in Miata's care, and she stuck onto the next merchant ship and ran away to find her Demai lover.
Murphy had decided a long time ago that he didn’t care about the rumours and slander surrounding his parentage. Instead he chose to see it as a passionate love story, and fantasised about his parents going on amazing adventures seeing awesome things.
“I will come back ElLoh Dahdan, I promise you that” He said.
Miata stood. He stayed silent, but Murphy could see the water in his eyes. Again he patted the boy on the head.
“Go on then”, he said, gesturing at the market. “Get yer’ gear, I’m sure ye’ already know what ye’ need”.
Murphy gulped back the tears he hadn’t noticed welling in his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight then”, he said.
Miata grunted, then nodded. Murphy figured that meant the conversation was done.