“Are you alright?” “So ventanel are real, eh?” “Can you really fly?” “Life gave you a shit deal, huh?” “Do you live on the Air Plane?”
“AY!” The bedridden girl shouted, and let out a huff. “One at a fuckin’ time.”
The rest of the room went silent. They had all burst into the small space like fireworks, loud and colorful and overwhelming. There were six of them, and while the last one in didn’t close the door behind her, they clogged the exit so that she could barely see out to the rest of the house. The bedroom was stuffed with people; people and plants and paintings and pillows, all things mundane and cozy. It was alien to her, all the warm wood-paneled walls and hand-stitched quilts. It was all so… Grounded. Temporary. Mortal.
“You,” the angel said eventually, pointing to the only one who hadn’t barged in with a question.
Kishori spoke: “I’m so sorry… I heard your wings are-”
“Yeah,” the angel interrupted. “Thanks, I guess. It is what it is. Fuckin’ sucks, but… eh, at least I’m not dead.”
The group looked at the bedridden woman with a soft sadness. In the dim of Cinthia’s bedroom, she no longer looked like the angel they saw fall from the heavens two days ago. Nera’s light only just managed to pierce through thick curtains, leaving the room homey but stagnant. The bed was easily the largest piece of furniture in the house, something bigger than a king, but the woman’s wingspan filled it out with ease, the unwieldy limbs folded over her sides like a tawny, falcon feather-lined cloak, and splayed out further to the rest of the bed, even as she sat up against the wide headboard. Her hair matched her wings, milk chocolate and butterscotch waves that two days ago seemed to flow endlessly, but now ended short just below her shoulders. Her long, dagger-like ears and other sharp, streamlined features were foreign to many of the Empire kids, but not otherworldly. She wore a raggedy gown of Cinthia’s, newly split open in the back to accommodate for extra appendages, which along with her hair drooped lifelessly around her. No, she wasn’t an angel; just a normal elf girl who was lost, and had no hope of returning home.
“You don’t have to stand there and fuckin’ sulk,” the elven woman said when the room grew too quiet. “Like I said, I’m not dyin’, and I don’t not want to talk to all the weirdos who are obsessed with me. Y’all are wild, by the way. You can just be, I dunno… normal? And survive? That’s crazy.”
“Who’s normal?” Seneca asked.
“Literally all of y’all,” she laughed. “You especially,” she added, pointing at Pax.
“I guess I don’t disagree,” he smiled. “We Pollocks pride ourselves on being remarkably unremarkable.”
“That a name?”
“Uh-huh! Pax Pollock.”
“Abel Comstock.”
“Eden, uh… Eden.”
“Seneca Magphyralei.”
“Elias Eagleheart.”
“Ohmygod, Eagleheart?” the half-elf snickered, receiving an elbow directly on her bruised rib.
“And I’m Kishori Somers,” Ki finished. She knew the elf’s name, at least her first name, but waited for her to say it herself.
The elf looked around at this room of strangers, and saw a strange kinship in each of their eyes. “Marseillan Aureniil. Y’all can call me Mars.”
Pax gave her a warm look, and leaned against the wall to take up less space in the crowded room. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mars. I’m so sorry it didn’t happen under better circumstances.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Abel offered, taking one of the few chairs in the space, “you aren’t the only one who’s lost. I was teleported here against my will as well, and based on my asking around, my home is close to a thousand miles away.”
“Damn. I have no reference for how far that is, but it sounds like a lot.”
The room laughed. “It is, friend.”
“I did sort of leave home willingly, though. Feels… weird. That my folks know I’m lost, but not how truly terribly I’m lost.”
“Hey, I left home too,” Elias commiserated. “Hope you find what you’re looking for eventually.”
“Same,” Mars agreed, finally smiling a little. “Guess we all have baggage, huh?”
“Oh, big time,” Seneca nodded. “Prerequisite for my previous work, honestly. How about you, Pax? You more of a mommy issues or daddy issues type?”
Pax only chuckled, and glanced out the window.
“Oh, so it is one of them! Well, I’m not a monster, I’ll have you know. Share only when you’re ready.”
The hermit’s smile returned quickly.
“Well,” Kishori spoke up, bravely choosing to sit at the end of the bed. “Guess we’re all sort of vagabonds, then. Hell of a party we make, huh? Came together real quick, and in the middle of nowhere at that.”
“Seems like how these things go,” Elias nodded.
“Wait, party?” Marseillan asked. “I gathered that none of you really know each other, but… is this an actual thing? Wren said he’d hoped he could scrounge up some sort of mercenary org.”
“Well, we all wanna help people,” Eden said emphatically.
“Untrue!” Sen contested. “Some of us are in it for the money.”
“Still time to break that habit,” Elias jabbed back goodnaturedly.
“And…” Marseillan’s synapses fired, and a hopeful look grew on her face. “Am I a part of it?”
“Seven is a fortuitous number,” Abel said, to which Kishori mumbled “Almost as good as thirteen,” which elicited a couple strange looks from around the room. “Suppose if it’s going to be official, though, we need a name.”
“Well… I honestly kinda like ‘The Vagabonds’,” Marseillan said, her face now beaming. “It’s like… well, like you said Kishori, it fits all of us. Seems like we’re all fish out of water, just sort of swimming around and gettin’ lost.”
“But we wouldn’t have found each other if not for that,” Pax agreed with his trademark tranquility.
“Should be more active, though,” Sen thought. “Like, ‘Vagabonds’ feels stagnant, like we’re hunkering down. That doesn’t seem right.”
The group paused to think collectively. Silence overtook them like a sudden undertow, but unlike the silence when they first entered the room, they sat together in it. With their minds set on the same goal, they weren’t lost in the waters, set adrift and alone; they were ready to face the world as one, with held hands and stronger bodies, minds, and hearts.
“What if we’re not just vagabonds?” Kishori finally said. “What if… we’re people who vagabond? Who go vagabonding?”
“Is that a word?” Eden asked, getting nods from Abel and Pax.
“What’s the difference?” Sen asked.
“Well, we won’t be doing this simply because it happened to us,” Ki responded, looking around to each of her new friends in turn. “If we’re gonna do this, it’s because we all actively decide to. We make the choice. To act. To help. To vagabond.”
“So… we’re Vagabonders?” Abel raised his eyebrow.
Kishori glanced around to gauge everyone’s opinion.
“It doesn’t sound that much different,” Seneca admitted, pausing for dramatic effect. “But I do like it a hell of a lot better.”
“The Vagabonders,” Marseillan repeated. “Well, I think it’ll suit y’all well.”
“Should suit you, too,” Pax said with a sorry look.
“Sure. But with my wings broken, I can’t exactly say I’m on the team, can I?”
“Sure you can!” Eden grinned. “You fell on us, right? Gotta mean something. Even if it’s not right away, so long as you’re still here in a couple weeks, or whenever we find you again, you’re one of us.”
Marseillan beamed at the man who caught her in his wind.
“You sure you’re gonna be okay, being alone?” Elias asked. “I mean, with your broken wings and everything. Duncan will probably stick you in the back of the wagon the whole way up north. I’m from there, -ish, I’d be more than happy to convince them to let me come with. If we already have to split the party, it probably shouldn’t be one and six, right?”
“S’fine,” Mars disregarded him. “It’s shit, but I’ll live. I mean this is the start of something, right? Wren says you have some mission to do. You should all be there for it. Am I pissed as hell? Yeah. I’ll live though. And you’d better bet that once we get to this Zurdinock place, or whatever it is… I’m gonna fly all over this world. It’s weird, but… I’m sorta kinda really fuckin’ excited.
“Zurdenstock,” Abel chuckled. “You know, that is the capital of our country. I have never visited, I come from even further north, but I know it is a truly massive city. All sorts of people. They may look a little funny at someone like you, but also… I imagine the possibilities are endless. And of course, there is no lack of sky to fly around in wherever you go. You should be excited.”
Before Mars could respond to the wizard, she caught what the rest of them couldn’t see. “Hey, Captain.”
When dismissed her as he elbowed his way into the room. The older human man ran his fingers through his hair, and glanced at each of the Vagabonders in turn. “I’m no leader, just organizing. So, you kids getting along?”
“Famously,” Seneca replied. “Even came up with a band name.”
“Oh yeah? Good. Well, I hate to break it up right after you just met the woman, but…”
Mars scowled. “Duncan’s ready already?”
“Yup, wagon’s loaded. I’m sure many of your friends can tell you about the unfortunate distance between this sorry village and the next one up the road. At this rate you’ll barely make it before dark, but it’s better if you do. Besides, the sooner you get to the city, the sooner you can get your wings fixed. Right?”
She thought for a moment, setting her brow. “Right.”
“We’re coming back as soon as we can, kid. Take the time you need to heal, and get acclimated to the fact that you’re stuck here until further notice. Can’t be easy.”
“Yeah. It’s not.”
“Well. Duncan’s got a way to contact us, so if you ever wanna talk, ask him. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know. Feel free to take a couple minutes to say your goodbyes.”
When Wren left the room, Seneca shared a brief, pitiful look with the rest of her party before exiting the master bedroom. “Hey, Cap’n! Wait up!”
The man acknowledged her, but continued walking through the kitchen and out of the house. Seneca followed.
Outside, life had seemingly returned to normal in Burden’s Bluff. Humans, féar, and a few other people of some elven descent wandered around visiting neighbors, dropping off milk and produce for families’ breakfasts, and tending to dozens of different chores Sen had never considered. Their provincial lives were strange to her, somewhere between living in industry and the wilderness. She felt comfortable in either one or the other, but had never tried bridging the gap. It was quiet, but not overly so. Regimented, but in a slow way. Wren walked through it all like it was nothing, so she figured she could too. When he opened the rear curtains of a hooded wagon, she cornered him.
“Hey boss.”
“Yeah? What’s up, Seneca?”
Sen messed with her hair as she talked with him. “I was just thinking: I don’t know how loaded you are, but if you’re paying for some complex surgery for the angel or whatever, you’re probably sending most of the coin up north, right?
He glared at her. “Some. Maybe. Why?”
“I’m excellent with a bow, but I haven’t had one in quite a while. Thought you might sponsor one.”
Wren bellowed with laughter. “That all?”
“Maybe,” she retorted, imitating him with shocking accuracy.
“Fair.” As Wren spoke, he climbed into the wagon and searched around for something. “Listen, I won’t bullshit you. I’m paying for Mars’ surgery mostly on favors and good will. But yeah, you’re not wrong, most of my little funds are going with Duncan. But if all you want’s a bow, I got one right here you can use.”
Seneca couldn’t see Wren, but an unstringed bow flew through the flaps of the wagon which she caught deftly. Ducking under the cover as it settled back into place, the man exited the vehicle, and handed her a stiff, bundled string and a quiver of arrows more gingerly. “For you.”
“You couldn’t spare any of your fancy arrows?” she asked, not-so-subtly staring at the colorful feathers on Wren’s own quiver.
“Find me the right shit out in the wilds to make them, and I’ll craft some for you. Until then, you can get used to the bow again with what I’ve got on hand. So, that’s all you needed?”
Seneca faltered for a moment. “You don’t seem like a complete arse to me.”
“Thanks?”
“So why’d you treat Marseillan like that? Like she was a fucking child?”
He thought for a moment before responding as cool and collected as he could. “Because she’s someone who’ll fling herself into danger without a second thought. And it’s not her fault, but she doesn’t know this world. I’d rather her be safe and temporarily dejected than thinking she can take on the world and paying for it with her life.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. She’s not the only one. I think the work we’re going to do is a great service for our current society. But it’s not easy. Some people will love us, and others will hate us. Monsters aren’t the only thing looking to kill adventurers. So I won’t have her flying into something she’s not ready for.”
“So what, it’s tough love?” Seneca asked.
“Listen, I don’t relish it either. But respectfully, I know how this shit goes. Before you know it, we’ll meet up with them back in Zurdenstock, and all will be well. Trust me.”
“I don’t care about being with her,” Seneca scoffed. “Just making sure you’re not going to treat us like children too.”
“I’m not,” Wren corrected, finishing his overview of the cart’s supplies. “People lie to children to protect them. They leave out the messy details of the world so that they can stay innocent. I’m not going to lie to you, and I don’t mean to speak down to you. But if I do, it’s only because I’ve been through this before, and as much as I’m excited to get started again, I know how this can fall apart. So I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t.”
Seneca was satisfied enough with that answer, and tipped an invisible hat on her head in salute. “Understood, Cap’n. Thanks for the bow.”
“Sure, Seneca. When we rest on the road tonight, why don’t you come hunting with me? See if whatever skills you had didn’t deteriorate.”
The half-elf laughed, and turned to stroll away. “You’re on, Cap.”
As she returned to Cinthia’s home, facing east as she did so, Nera shined on Seneca. Her light was comforting, bright, and complete, gracing Sen’s face with holy warmth. Whether it was from that radiance or her own effort, she had no clue, but Seneca felt truly excited for the first time in years. Hopeful. Happy. There was the tiny darkness in the back of her head, of course, that never left. But she could move past it. Any anxiety remaining from the horrible decision she had made was gone, or at least suppressed enough that she could ignore it. No matter how much she resented it, Seneca was beginning to warm up to the idea of being with a group again. Not that it had even been that long.
“Ah! Not there, fuck that hurts!”
Standing in the doorframe, Seneca was met with Marseillan, being carried out of the master bedroom by Elias and Duncan. She had an arm around each of their shoulders, and her wings drifting around each of their backs. The air elf was walking fine, but it was clear that moving was painful for her.
“Coming through, Sen,” Elias grunted.
“Yop, got it,” she said, and quickly darted inside and around them. As the trio awkwardly maneuvered out the door, Sen attuned to the vibe of the room. It wasn’t quite cold, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as it was outside. Over the din of Cinthia cleaning up the area she had healed them all in, she heard Pax speaking with the mages in the bedroom. Kishori was helping Cinthia, but halted in place when she saw Seneca re-enter.
“Nice bow,” she said with a soft, sort of sad smile.
“Thanks,” Sen replied wryly. “Another thing I talked my way into for free.”
Ki gave a little laugh. “Nice. I hate to burst your bubble, but I saw Wren buy that one a couple months back.”
“Hm, good to know I can’t get one past you, huh?”
“You better not try,” Ki replied with a wink.
Happy to have a moment to actually get to know one of her new people, Seneca sat down on the couch, and began to string her bow. “So that’s it? Mars is gone?”
“Well, we’re all gonna go out and say goodbye as the cart leaves. But yeah, I guess so. We’re gonna scrounge up some horses, and we’re setting out for Epollonia.”
“God, yes,” Sen sighed. Kishori flopped down on the couch next to her. “You ever been, Ki?”
“Can’t say I have,” she responded. “I’m a central Empire girl, and not particularly proud of it.”
“Well, you’re going to love it. It’s one of the ports we landed in most, and it was always my favorite. Except maybe Arsaya in the Causeway, fuck that city is fun.”
Kishori smiled. “Tell me about it. You were some sort of swashbuckler or something?”
“Am,” Sen grinned. “Just not on the seas. But yes, I sailed around on a ship for a decade or so, and it was good fun. Being on the ocean is incredible, there’s nothing more fun than doing menial work and shooting the shit on the deck of a massive galleon. I think you’d really love it.”
“Maybe I would. Honestly I’m really excited just to see the ocean. It’ll be my first time.”
“Damn. So you really are an Empire Girlie?”
“Ew, I wouldn’t say that,” Kishori laughed.
“Then what are you?” Sen asked pointedly, catching the glint in her sky blue eyes wavering. “I guess I’ve sort of assumed since yesterday that you were Wren’s kid.”
“Oh my gods, no!” Ki said, a blush growing on her pale face. “Absolutely not, he’s like just a guy. Uh… old friend of my dad’s.”
“So not just a guy.”
“No. I guess not. He’s a good man, though, you know.”
“Sure. I mean he doesn’t seem to give a shit about the fact that I committed a crime the second I came into town, so that’s a plus.”
Kishori looked around, and saw that the owner of the house had left the room to go help with Marseillan outside, so she gazed back at Seneca, who was deep in the process of getting her bowstring perfectly taut.
“You seem to be under the impression that we’re against thieving.”
“Uhm… yes?”
“Definitely not. Honestly, I’m not particularly against anything completely, ‘cept when it comes to bodily autonomy, and treating good people decently. There’s almost always a gray area, right? Wren’s the same.”
“Huh. Good to know.” Once she finished with her bow, she leaned in to whisper to Kishori. “And how about Pax, he’s the same too?”
Kishori thought for a moment. “Well, I’ve only known him a half a day longer than you. But he seems like the kind of guy you could explain your case to and he’d agree. Strong morals, but not unreasonable, you know?”
“Let’s hope,” Sen said.
At that moment, the bedroom door opened wider, and Eden walked out with Pax and Abel trailing closely behind. E nodded at Sen, and she returned the gesture.
“Has Cinthia joined the rest outside?” Abel asked the room.
“Seems like it,” Kishori responded a little sadly. “We probably should too, huh?”
Abel nodded, and continued his path behind Eden when the pair of women stood. Pax, however, lagged behind. Bundled in his arms were two broken halves of the bow Marseillan had taken to the Material Plane with her, and broken upon landing. The string still hung limply from loops at either of the weapon’s tips, connecting the two useless sticks like an afterthought.
“Figure she’s gonna use that still?” Seneca chuckled.
“She didn’t have it taken out with her,” Pax said simply. “But I thought she might want it for sentimental value. And if she doesn’t, I’ll hold onto it.”
As Seneca held back a laugh, Kishori smiled. “That’s sweet, Pax.”
“Is it?” Sen asked against her better judgment, leading the last two out the door of Cinthia’s home. “Just feels like a rude reminder to me. I’m sure she left it for a reason.”
The hermit thought for a moment. “Maybe… Should I just hold onto it then?”
“I don’t see the point in that either, honestly.”
Pax started intently at the back of Seneca’s head, eyeing the way her shoulders tensed as if putting up a defense, and her thumbs fiddling absentmindedly in her trouser pockets. “I feel like anybody would want a piece of their history later on in life. Even the rough memories.”
Seneca twirled around Pax and Kishori as they exited, giving the former a baleful glare hidden behind a painted smile as she shut the door behind them. Pax nodded in return and continued silently, reading the message loud and clear.
“Not all rough memories.”
“Fair. I can think of a few of my own I wouldn’t want dredged up either, honestly.”
“Really, you, Mr. Sunshine?” Seneca asked openly. “Can’t imagine the world has sent much hardship your way.”
“We all have our… struggles,” Kishori added awkwardly from the space between them.
“I don’t like comparing trauma,” Pax said simply. “Just hurts people. That aside, I think you’re probably right about at least not bringing it up for now, Sen. Thanks for the advice.”
The rogue laughed. “Sure, dude. Anytime.”
On the way to the vehicle, Pax spotted Wren leaning against a separate cart, and jogged over to stick the bow fragments into a free crevice, sparing a nod to Seneca as he did so. What a weird man, the woman thought as Pax looked to her for an affirmation she didn’t feel particularly inclined to give. After mulling it over, she gave a half-effort thumbs up, and made her way over to Eden to finally catch up with her longer-time partner.
The rogue snuck up behind Eden and leapt at him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “So… adventure, huh? Are you excited, E?”
“Of course!” the sorcerer said emphatically. “I’ve only been awake for like, a tenday, so I don’t know exactly what I wanna do, but I feel like this is perfect for us! I mean you’re already a badass, feels like you should be doing badass things. And I was talking to Abel, and he seems like he knows basically everything there is to know about magic. I think I’m gonna ask him to, uh, tutor me.”
“Oh yeah? No offense, but he seems like a book-learny type of magician. And you’re…” Seneca looked Eden up and down for comedic effect. “Not that. You’re more like, ‘lightning go zappy’, and honestly I think you’re better off. Who needs books?”
Eden’s laughter filled the sky as he looked up to Nera, the heart of the chorus of the early morning, and it spoke to the woman of the hour like a warden bell calling the scouts back home, bringing her out of a stupor and back to attention.
The tawny covered wagon sat sullenly in the center of one of the only intersections in Burden’s Bluff. Denizens of the hamlet gathered in the shadows of the space, looking curiously at the woman with the brilliant falcon wings, but never making themselves known; Wren stood a dozen steps away from the cart like a sentinel soldier, hands gripping his spear, the blade pointed up at the clear blue sky. His presence in the square was a palpable aura that held back the view of anyone who might cause the foreigner trouble. The carriage itself, meanwhile, was the lonely castle he was protecting, a wood and canvas fortress meant to hold a great secret, whose face was long, beautiful, and melancholic for an opportunity she’d barely had the chance to know she couldn’t have. The tips of her feathers hung below the cart’s body as she gazed out the back of it, not caring about all the people who would see her; destitute for the next month or so, where she would be shackled to the mere surface of this opulent land.
Surrounding her were the figures she hadn’t even thought to care for thirty minutes previous, but now hated the idea of leaving. The beautifully plain woman who had rushed over to her, and now spoke with her like they were old best friends. The knight who’d carried her here, now awkwardly reaching around her wing to grab his armor from the wagon, gleaming family crest on his lapel. The roguish half-elf who shot the shit with anyone who would laugh with her, who seemed at once very guarded about her emotions, yet also extremely clear about her feelings on the morning’s event. The strange man with ocean eyes who listened to his friend keenly, a big grin on his face, but wide eyes up to the sky. The wizard who stood furthest from them all, staring hollowly at the wagon she sat in and holding tight to the silver watch he never seemed to be without. And the golden man, with his eyes like honey and his kind smile and his curly brown hair, who sat in the middle of them all, attention perfectly divided to every single one of them, and everyone else who shared the space, even the townies who hid in the shadows, until all the sun’s light seemed to catch in his eye, and his gaze shifted to only her, as if he had always known her and forever looked to her.
“It still feels wrong,” the golden man said, approaching the wagon with a sense of gravity that pulled the rest of them in. “Are you sure you’ll be alright going north, Mars?”
Marseillan huffed. “Yeah. In some way, it feels like I deserve this… A month or whatever of sitting in this moving room, after I completely fucked my life up just because I was so desperate not sit still…” When everyone else was quiet, she forced a laugh and added: “Hey, it’s not all bad though, right? I mean, I wanted to see the world. And I’ve never ridden in one of these things before! There’s a lot to learn about, clearly.”
“There’s definitely a lot to learn if you think the trip will take a whole month,” Kishori joked, hopping onto the side of the carriage with Mars.
“Shut up,” Mars laughed more genuinely. “We barely even have days where I’m from. Not to mention, I hardly know what the name of the city is I’m traveling to, how should I know how long it’ll take?”
“Kidding, obviously,” Ki smiled, elbowing the air elf. “We’ll miss you, you know. You’re just as much us as the rest of us, right?”
“Is talking to me for no more than half an hour gonna hold y’all over to remember me by the time we meet again?”
“No doubt,” Elias said.
“You’re a hard one to forget,” Sen added with a wink.
“Besides, like I said before!” Eden started. “You literally falling on us has to mean something. That sort of thing doesn’t just happen.”
“I mean, sure, in, like, a poetic sense it is pretty significant,” Mars said, the easier, more satisfied smile from their first discussion returning to her.
“I actually think it might be more than that,” the wizard spoke up. Everyone turned heads to Abel with great import, as he clicked his watch shut and ran a hand over the burn scar on his face; it finally seemed to fit the strange, stoic young man. “I’ve been thinking more on it since you mentioned it, Eden. Psedhara works in strange ways. There’s no shortage of stories of how people meet. Adventurers. Adversaries. A young prince meeting the pauper that would dethrone him as king twenty years later. A dragon torching the very village home to the only one who could slay her. Coincidences are often much more than just that. And seven is a fortuitous number.”
“Sure those aren’t just stories?” the knight asked.
“Some are, some aren’t. I don’t think that ruins the theory’s credence.”
Elias shrugged.
“Well, no matter what, Wren said there’s a way for you and Duncan to contact him, right?” Pax brought up. “Reach out sometimes, even if it’s just to talk. And when we’re all back together, you can tell us all about the things you see when you can fly again.”
Marseillan beamed at the golden man. “Fuck yeah. Can’t wait, guys.”
From the far edge of the square, the party’s sentry nodded to the front of the wagon, and a loud, gruff voice shouted back from it. “Alright, Mars! Ready?”
The elven woman looked around at her friends. “Guess that’s it, huh?”
Kishori fidgeted a little next to her. “May I side-hug you?”
Marseillan laughed fully and happily. “Sure, Ki. I’ll take a hug.” She wrapped an arm around the shorter one, meekly doing the same with her left wing, even if it caused her a little pain.
“See you soon, right?”
“Mhm. READY, DUNCAN! SHIP ME OUT!”
At Marseillan’s call, the sound of the reigns rippled throughout the square, followed by the steady clop of horse hooves, and finally the creaking of four wheels as the wagon began to pull away. Wren finally abandoned his post to jog up to the vehicle, hopped onto the front bench, seemed to clap the driver on the shoulder, and leapt back off. The Vagabonders, six in total for the time being, were left to watch their friend as she sailed away, waving for a little bit until the carriage took her beyond the corner of a low home, and she moved the cover to hide herself. Her friends were six little islands, dwarfed even by the tiny sea of Burden’s Bluff.
“You’ll see them soon, friend,” Duncan said.
“I won’t be grounded for long,” she responded firmly, as if her confidence alone would stitch the bone back together. In that moment, she vowed then and there to return to them, whether by their will, or her own. They may travel far, and the Material might be large and constricting, but her wings would take her anywhere.
Back in the center of town, the six young heroes stood as silent as church mice; but Wren Doomas was hardly still. The older human took in his little collection of would-be adventurers, saw their expressions, and memorized them in an instant. Then, no sooner than he confirmed that Duncan and the ventanel were on their way to Traverse, he got to work. From the back of his new cart, he grabbed a small coin pouch, and began to walk off.
Pax, Abel, Eden, Seneca, Elias, and Kishori all stared at the man blankly, his face set in stone and pouch juggling back and forth from one hand to the other. The blue sky above was vast and empty.
“What’s next?” Kishori asked, at once very clearly directed at Wren, and also not at all.
Without turning, Wren eased the pouch open, took a single platinum piece out of it, and threw it into the air behind him, devoid of care; Eden managed to catch it. “Eden! There’s a general store three hundred feet west of you, green roof. Have the féar there, Aoife, set you up with three weeks of rations for each of us.”
“How’d he know I caught it?” Eden asked the world.
Ki peeked over the slender man’s shoulder. “Is that a platinum? I wasn’t sure those actually existed.”
“Damn, guess you really aren’t his kid,” Seneca joked. “Come on, E. Let’s go spend all this dude’s money!”
“Within reason,” Elias griped with a smile, following them out of the center of town.
With only Abel and Pax left, the wizard looked to the hermit. “I, eh… I normally wouldn’t, but if there are potential spell components…”
Pax chuckled. “Go with them, man. I’ll catch up with you guys.”
Abel nodded. “Alright. Hey, wait up!”
The golden boy listened to them all leave, their feet and mouths moving a mile a minute as they bounced around town, getting ready to head out themselves; he swore he caught Eden say something about smelling the rain.
Sky’s clear, Pax thought. Like always…
That clear sky stretched out above the man on an infinite canvas, just above where he could touch. On days like that day, Pax thought the air itself was holy, a gift from a great Thing that he had never thought to thank. It was a vibrant blue, unlike any other color in nature, yet it was perfectly natural. Dotted not with clouds or stars, but the simple, perfectly circular scars of Callisto and Io, tiny crimson and violet orbs that pulled Pax just as powerfully as Nera.
He never put much thought into it, but Pax frequently found himself pulled by things that didn’t actually have any sway over him. Not physically, anyways. He just found things beautiful, and important, and it only made sense to be in the orbit of beautiful and important things. He thought about his journey north so many years ago, tugged into the magnitude of his origin at Celeste, before even knowing what direction it was in when he went looking for it. He thought about the sun and the moons, each with their time to shine in the sky. He thought about how he had neglected to stay in Traverse a few nights ago when he passed it, and how that lack of impedance led him here, to friends and adventure and purpose and the sun.
Celestial bodies, indeed, he thought, taking one final look at the sky and all its wonders before setting off to find Wren, light in his heart, the south on his mind, and the vast sky all above him. It was only out of reach for now.
“See you soon, Mars.”