Sleep did not come easily at the Tynemouth Guild Hall. The group arrived in the early hours of the morning and the looming sunrise, along with the painful knowledge of Barkroot, hindered their attempts at rest. Kelek had to use magic several times to calm his emotions, a practice at which he had grown remarkably adept. Imp’s own calming remedies soothed her to sleep, and Renzen’s unflappable stoicism permitted a restful night.
To their surprise, no bills had been posted in their absence. Several townsfolk visited and expressed concern about the Barkroot fire, but no refugees had made it to Tynemouth. The repeated reminders of the tragedy irked Kelek, and he had to excuse himself from the hall. Imp and Renzen sat at the lonely bar and contemplated their next steps.
“Poor kid…” Imp said softly. “Losing your parents out of nowhere like that is unimaginably painful.”
Renzen hummed lowly but did not offer more of a reply.
“Are your parents still alive? You never talk about your family.”
Renzen picked up his cup and swirled the water, letting his reflection settle into place before replying.
“They are, and I don’t.”
Imp bristled slightly at his response.
“By all accounts the Zenorsthallan Elves are remarkably kind and peaceful. Why do you get this way when talking about your people?”
“I don’t recall interrogating you about your past. If you would be so kind as to extend me the same courtesy-“
“Oh come off it! If we are going to continue working as a team there shouldn’t be any unknowns between us. What could possibly be so upsetting that you can’t even talk about your own people?”
Renzen shot upright and beat a fist into the bar. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, but clenched it shut and made for the door.
“You’re never going to get anywhere if you just keep running away from your problems. Maybe you should take your own advice sometime.” Imp said, defeated.
Renzen halted for a moment at her words but continued outside.
Kelek was sitting atop a large boulder near the Yulei river. The waters babbled through a meandering path as they flowed toward the Argentum Ocean several miles away. He had walked south of Tynemouth with no clear destination in mind. His feet carried him ceaselessly forward as he battled intrusive thoughts in his mind until he stumbled upon the inviting plateau of the rock he found himself seated upon. His eyes were closed as he meditated. The constant bubbling flow of the stream was soothing to his ears as it provided a steady anchor point for his thoughts. Feelings of anguish and depression clawed at his psyche, but with every assault he would cling to the unfaltering flow of the river, reminding himself that he was existing in the moment, and that there was nothing that would harm him here.
“Meditation was always my favorite activity because so few people can tell if you’re actually just napping.” Renzen said as stepped into Kelek’s clearing.
His voice startled Kelek, who scrambled to ready the rifle before realizing it was his friend.
“Coming to make sure I’m not drowning myself out of sorrow?”
“Actually I came to see if the river had room for two heads.” Renzen replied with a smirk. “Imp and I think it would be best to make for Ardor—put all this mess behind us and start fresh at a new hall.”
Kelek nodded in agreement.
“I suppose it makes sense. No point wallowing in misery. It’s as you’ve said. If I I’m going to live this life there will be no shortage of tragedy, and I had best learn how to deal with it and move on.”
Renzen was taken aback by the maturity and understanding in Kelek’s voice. He had anticipated that convincing him to move on would take hours, if not days of persuasion. He smiled as he stepped closer and joined Kelek on the boulder.
“I find that keeping your mind preoccupied with other tasks is the best method to move past tragedy.” Renzen said. “Having a goal in mind and working toward it helps stave off the malaise.”
Kelek chuckled in response.
“You know I never really had to worry about much as a child. We were poor, sure, but I never went without a meal. Injury and death beyond natural means was rare, and even then our funerals were more joyous celebrations of life than doleful ceremonies. My father did most of the farm work, letting me spend my time reading stories and pursuing my interests that other children were too busy to attend. By all accounts I’ve lived a pampered life for a farmer.”
Kelek clenched his fists and sucked in his breath before loosing it in a steady stream.
“Which I suppose is why something like this was bound to happen sooner or later… Can’t have the good without the bad…”
Renzen shook his head and retorted in a harsh tone.
“Don’t think like that. There are no arbiters balancing what is fair in this world. Life is cruel, uncaring, and unjust. A rich man surrounded by loved ones is just as likely to be struck by lightning as a murderous pauper. That’s the terrifying truth of it. Seek no meaning to this madness because I can guarantee you will find none; I would know.”
Kelek shot him a quizzical look before being interrupted by a voice from the nearby canopy.
“Would you now?”
The voice was unmistakably feminine. It was loud enough to be heard clearly over the rustling of the leaves and babbling of the stream, but it carried a delicate ring, as if it were being sung. Renzen’s eyes sunk with recognition as Kelek turned about to locate the voice’s source. He spotted her standing on a bough that overlooked the clearing. She was an elven woman wearing a vibrant yellow silk garment that did little to conserve her modesty. The fabric formed a “V” shape to cover the chest and converged in a wide train that hung suspended just below her knees. The silhouette of a bird-of-prey was embossed in a large emblem at the bottom of the train. Her only other bodily adornments were two large pearl bangles that clung to each of her wrists. Despite the daring apparel, Kelek found her most striking feature to be her hair. It was bundled together behind her head in such a way that it formed a ponytail that was nearly the width of her shoulders and trailed down to end just above her waist. He was unsure a normal human would be capable of growing that much hair in a single lifetime. The woman sneered as she looked over Renzen’s arms.
“I find it hard to believe someone who desecrates their own body so willingly is capable of producing worthwhile insight.”
Renzen stood and barred his arm across Kelek’s chest.
“What do you want Laniscylla?” He asked, a hint of either fear or anger in his voice.
The elven woman leapt from the bough with the grace of a doe and landed unnaturally slowly before them.
“You know why I am here, Renzen. Exethalla.”
Renzen shuddered as she spoke the elven word.
“I am under no obligation to maintain contact with you or anyone else from the grove. I am practically a hermit now. They can keep searching for their answer, I have nothing to do with them anymore.”
“Oh they are still searching Renzen, which is precisely why they sent me to fetch you. Burrata talked. He says you found the answer and ran away to keep the secret for yourself. You are going to share it with us—whether or not you do so willingly is up to you.”
“Renzen, what is she talking about?” Kelek asked, alarmed by the trepidation he could sense emanating from him.
Renzen bent his fingertips so that each one contacted Kelek’s chest and for a brief moment both of their consciousnesses were drawn into the tranquil meadow that Renzen had conjured before. In that still space Renzen calmly commanded.
“Run.”
In an instant, Kelek’s vision shot back to the present. Renzen’s other arm was delivering an upward slash of vicious nails that was deflected by a stone pillar erupting from the ground beneath them. The pillar launched Renzen backward and sent Kelek tumbling to the side. The Sturmangriff rifle was still lying beside the boulder and Kelek shot out a hand and summoned it without speaking. He immediately regretted the decision as the heedless magic was misdirected slightly and sent the rifle wide, colliding with a tree behind him.
Renzen recovered from the tumble and jetted toward Laniscylla, who had returned to her perch on the tree bough. Looking down at Kelek, who was primed to re-summon the rifle, she clenched her fist in the air. A thick dome of rock erected from the earth around Kelek and encompassed him in a claustrophobic shell that eliminated all light. Kelek began to panic as he could not even straighten his body without pushing up against the stony prison. He beat on the shell from within but to no avail.
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“Leave him out of this!” Renzen called out, halting his advance.
The elven woman raised an eyebrow at his demand.
“Suddenly learn to make friends? I couldn’t imagine you worrying about even Burrata this much. Since when did a human manage to earn your favor?”
Renzen growled in response and ran to the dome where Kelek was imprisoned. He drove his iron-like nails into the rock shelf, puncturing a line of four holes that would allow Kelek to breathe, then turned his attention back to Laniscylla who let out a sadistic laugh.
“Your time away really has changed you, unless this is a result of the Exethalla, in which case all the more reason to bring you back”
She did not wait for Renzen to reply. Instead, she raised her left hand and mimicked a grabbing motion. The ground near Renzen rose in concert with her motions and formed a crude facsimile of a hand that lunged out to grasp him. He deftly swung his body below the encroaching stone fist and slinked to back of the hand while calculating a safe approach. Laniscylla grew irritated as she swung her left hand around in the air, puppeteering the large earthen fingers in a likewise fashion. Renzen was obviously familiar with the limitations of her abilities as he kept his back pinned to the hand’s backside, where Laniscylla’s fingers, and therefore the protrusions of stone, could not bend. He rode the shifting rock in this manner for several seconds before she flung her arm upward, launching him speeding toward the branch of an oak tree.
Renzen crossed his arms in front of his torso and focused his thoughts. He thought back to Kelek’s remark about how his more extraordinary abilities were actually unwitting spells and conducted his movement with this knowledge. Tensing every muscle in his limbs, Renzen commanded his body to halt its momentum. A wave of warmth radiated down his spine as his acceleration came to an abrupt end. He was not unfamiliar with the sensation, but now that his eyes were open to the true nature of the phenomenon, it felt strangely alien.
With speed abated, Renzen was able to grasp the branch of the tree and swing his entire body around to land upright atop the bough. He stared at Laniscylla with a venomous glare as he sunk his nails into the trunk.
“You don’t have to make this hard, Renzen. If any of us achieved Exethalla we would share the news with jubilation! Why are you hoarding the secrets to yourself? Do you so loathe your fellow elves? What justice is there in such a wretched soul being gifted divine knowledge?” Laniscylla spoke as she descended to grass.
“What justice indeed…” Renzen replied in a whisper to himself, joining her on the forest floor.
The two elves stood, an arms breadth apart, and studied each other. Kelek’s labored breaths from the nearby enclosure interrupted the tranquil breeze that danced about the tense pair.
“I don’t suppose you intend to fight honorably?” Renzen asked in such a way it was more of a statement.
Laniscylla looked down her nose at him, staring pointedly at the twisting viper that painted his arm.
“No honor for the dishonorable.” She spat and lunged toward him.
Their wrists met with a crack as corded muscle struck flesh and bone. No time was given to process the pain before a second strike was delivered and intercepted. Their arms extended and retracted with such speed and precision their movements were almost mechanical. Every assault was answered with an equal and opposite counter. A passerby could mistake their conflict for a well-choreographed dance. Renzen had not sparred with a member of his own race for quite some time, but his natural reflexes were none the duller. The same could not be said for his stamina. He was accustomed to his opponents faltering in battle in less than a minute, relying on his superior natural fortitude to power him to victory. Up against a foe that had an identical biological advantage though, he was out of practice. The heavy impacts of Laniscylla’s strikes began to linger, and his heels dug into the dirt beneath him as he was forced into a lower and lower position.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be disappointed.” Laniscylla taunted between her unrelenting blows. “It is only natural for body to wither in the absence of proper discipline.”
Then, with a feint, she weaved her hand around his arm and jabbed her thumb backward. A pillar of stone shot from behind and slammed against Renzen’s back, pinning him to the ground as Laniscylla slipped out from beneath.
“You’ll certainly not be welcome back with those blasphemes upon your flesh, but if you’re cooperative they may write kind stories about you in the future.” She said, striding toward his prone body.
She bent down and gripped a fistful of his short, black hair; wrenching his head upward to face her. Renzen’s vision was blurred from exertion, and phantom echoes of Laniscylla flanked her physical form as his world stuttered in and out of clarity. He mumbled a question to her, something so meek and inaudible, she could not process it. Humoring him, she leaned in to hear his words.
“Will they welcome you?”
Confusion painted her face for a moment, followed by the sharp inhale of a person realizing the sting of a wasp. Renzen’s left forefinger had injected its nail into her ankle, and a black welt began forming at the incision point. He had Laniscylla’s own condemnations to thank for the idea. Knowing his affinity for manipulating his own body, he focused on every impurity within. Every bit of plaque in his teeth, filth on his skin, and the long-settled ink within his tattoos he concentrated into the tips of his fingers. The result was a septic needle ready to be injected and instill plague upon his enemy.
The marred flesh on Laniscylla’s ankle began to roil as the combined impurities spread through her previous immaculate skin. She recoiled and screamed, less so out of pain, but more the horror of seeing her bodily temple be desecrated.
“What wretched design is this!? Have you no respect for the sanctity of the flesh?” She cried out, stepping back with each word in a futile effort to escape the spreading corruption.
Renzen laughed as much as his compressed lungs would allow. “What good is a viper without any venom in his fangs?” His façade was difficult to maintain as the newly weaved spell quickly sapped him of his remaining energy.
Fury flashed in Laniscylla’s eyes, but her distress at the growing contamination in her leg overcame her other emotions. In a fit of panic, she fashioned a ring of stone from the earth beneath her that slid up to just below her knee and tightened it as a tourniquet. She was well aware of the danger such a measure entailed, but could think of no other option to stagger the poison’s advance. She spat a curse at Renzen in elvish before bounding away amongst the treetops to triage herself in safety.
As her distance grew, the strength of the stone arch pinning Renzen to the ground likewise waned. Chunks of clay sloughed off the curved pillar until the entirety of it dissolved into a fine powder. The earthen dome that imprisoned Kelek dissipated in turn, covering him in a coarse dust. Kelek emerged from the ground, coughing and stretching his strained back.
“What was that all about? Who was she?” He asked in between coughs.
“An elf from my tribe, and a Harnesser at that.” Renzen answered, lurched over in exhaustion.
“That much is obvious, but why did she come for you like that? What is this ‘Exethalla?’”
Renzen shook his head. “There isn’t really a translation for it in the common tongue. Either way now isn’t the time for explanations. I don’t know how exactly that trick I pulled will work, and she may be back. We should get back to Imp just in case.”
Kelek was surprised by his prudent remarks, but he could tell that the fight took a hefty toll on him. After retrieving the rifle and slinging it over his shoulder, Kelek offered his other arm to support Renzen as they walked toward Tynemouth. After several minutes of walking, Renzen’s stamina returned to the point that he could continue forward unaided.
“What exactly was this ‘trick’ you pulled? I heard her say some pretty strange things.” Kelek asked.
“I tried devising some new magic.” Renzen answered with a hint of smugness. “You mentioned that my affinity was for controlling my own body, so I’ve been wracking my brain with ideas on how to implement that ability. I figure if I’m able to redirect blood flow, and even pain in my body, it should be easy enough to do the same with everything else in it. Honestly the thought didn’t really occur to me until she kept harping on about how ‘impure’ my tattoos were. So I focused every unclean thing in and on my body into my nails and stabbed her with it.”
“That’s vile! I mean, clever of course, but good gods man. I’d heard stories of soldiers spreading filth from latrines on their spears and arrows to cause infections, but I didn’t think I’d ever see a dirty tactic like that in real life.”
“There’s no such thing as honor when you’ve already got a foot in the grave. If such a tactic ensures victory, I’d sooner use it then claim the moral high-ground with my head on a pike.”
“Fair enough I suppose. How did you know it would work?”
“She wasn’t there to kill me. She wants information that I have, and she has every intention of staying in the good-graces of the tribe's aldermen. Fortunately for me, they have strict ordinances on the purity of one’s body. I’ve mentioned it before, but my tribe finds things such as tattoos, bodily scarring, and even minor imperfections such as welts to be abhorrent. The body should be immaculate in their eyes, and any deviation from a perfectly sculpted figure is shameful.”
Kelek scoffed in response. “That sounds barbaric. What is a poor sap to do if he gets stung by a bee, or falls and scrapes his arms?”
“They seclude themselves from others until they are whole again. There are several private areas on the outskirts of the village that members go to when their bodies are marred. It sounds extreme, and admittedly it is, but these practices have made the Zenorsthallan elves remarkably skilled at living while avoiding anything that could blemish their body.”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever noticed any scratches or bruises on you after a fight.”
“That is because I do not move carelessly. When a stubbed toe is met with the same social stigma as a leprous wretch, you learn quickly how to protect yourself from needless harm. The poison I’ve left coursing in Laniscylla’s veins should keep her ostracized for quite a while.”
“I feel like wearing armor, or even some actual clothes, would help avoid disfigurement no?”
Renzen chuckled at the remark. “Actually, it might be considered worse, depending on the aldermen at the time. In keeping with the belief of the sanctity of the body, it is generally viewed as distasteful to cover it. Some of the elves wear enough clothing to conserve their modesty, generally when venturing outside the village, but the majority of them live mostly naked. I’ll give them that point,” He said as he tugged at the tight leather vest that draped his torso. “The freedom of movement offered by minimal clothing is far more valuable than any protection a clumsy iron plate can provide.”
Kelek had more difficulty than he cared to admit shaking the thought of a city of nude elves from his mind.
“What about her hair? Is that another one of your- sorry, their traditions?”
Renzen nodded. “Cutting of the hair is considered offensive, as it implies that your body is inherently wrong, and you are attempting to correct it. The eldest of the tribe often have hair that would trail several feet behind them if they let it all out. Creative bundling and braiding is commonplace to prevent it from getting in the way, but there are a few elves that incorporate their lengthy hair in their martial arts. And before you ask, yes that includes all hair. Fortunately elves are not as ape-ish as you humans. Our bodies do not tend to grow hair aside from the occasional beard on particularly gruff males.”
Kelek looked over Renzen in a different light now. Almost everything about him stood in stark contrast to the rules and traditions he laid out for his tribe. His hair was obviously cut and styled to sharp points, his legs were entirely covered along with shoes, and the most obvious deviation, his spiraling snake tattoos. It was as if everything he did was an effort to actively rebel against the laws of his home. Kelek respected him for it.
“I’m happy you’re the one that came to my rescue all those weeks ago, Renzen. If I was destined to become friends with an elf, I’m glad it's you.” Kelek said, playfully giving Renzen a soft punch to the shoulder.
Renzen returned the kind glance. He too looked at Kelek in a new light. A strange, distorted light that made him appear… familiar. His features did not seem normal, in fact they did not seem human. They were sharper. He was taller. His hair billowed out from behind him. He was Buratta, Renzen’s oldest friend from Zenorsthalla. He turned and asked him “What’s wrong?” but his voice was disjointed and unnatural. Before Renzen fell to the ground and his vision blurred into nothingness, he heard the clamor of approaching footsteps as his friend’s body joined his own in the dirt.