The sun hesitated at the horizon as if pondering the city's worthiness, before finally rising over the titanic walls of crying obsidianite. The stone's dark tears glistened like a starless sky.
In the land of towering peaks and bloody blessings, the sun's first light took a more appropriate look.
Jolting from the ground like broken bones, the mountain range housing the Rubra Mountains pulsed and bled as the light reflected off of them. The Redrock Sector and beyond was painted in bloodied gold.
Elara looked almost ethereal, looking closer to a warrior painted against the bleeding morning. Elara's muscles bulged, and her breaths came in short bursts, leaving in clouds of hot air. Beads of sweat traced paths down her face, sticking her black hair to her neck and outlining her blunt tusks and fiery amber eyes.
546… 547… 548… Elara counted the number of steps taken on the hill, diverting her thoughts from how much farther they still had to travel. Her hands, white-knuckled and tense, dug into the handles of the small wooden cart as each Herculean step and strained breath, inched her closer to the crest of the hill.
Standing at an imposing one meter ninety-six, her stature and robust body of her people would typically make such a task a minor annoyance at best, but this hill was just the latest in a series of many that marked the journey. The sun's warm touch was gentle on her, infusing her limbs with much-needed strength.
Inside the cart, the sunlight began to weave through the plethora of dolls like a hound on the hunt.
At the cart's short handles, Elara could hear Mara's sleepy protests and muffled sounds of discomfort while seeking refuge from the intrusive light. Despite her fatigue, Elara glanced back at the cart, accidentally tilting it and allowing more sunlight to spill inside. Almost letting it slip from her sweaty hands.
With a labored grunt and with a step carrying enough force to grind bone, they reached the hill's summit where a gentle breeze greeted Elara, cooling her overheated skin.
Elara gave the cart one last check, ensuring it was secure and wouldn't roll back down. Satisfied, she collapsed onto the grass with a heavy, wet thud, where the still wet grass helped her muscles to relax.
The sunlight burned Mara's eyelids like hot coals, insistent on dragging her to the waking world. Mara was acutely aware that her attempts to stay dreaming were futile, but she couldn't help could drag these last moments as long as possible. She was on the cusp of marrying a king's daughter and she wielded a sword that could bring thunderstorms down onto the heads of her enemies, having just turned a whole army to ash moments prior.
Just ten more minutes, that's all I need. Clinging to the fading fantasy, Mara kept her eyes firmly shut, her growing tusks appearing with each soft grunt.
In a stubborn effort to recreate darkness, Mara covered herself with the most oversized dolls she could grab, and when that wasn't enough, she grabbed handfuls of her auburn hair, which trailed longer than she was tall, and draped it over herself.
The makeshift cocoon, though helpful, soon turned stiflingly hot. To Mara's irritation, what provided her with the desired shadows also trapped the heat around her. Squirming and twisting, Mara sought some form of comfort, finding it annoyingly elusive. Reluctantly, she sat up, stopping halfway after feeling a sharp tug at her scalp.
Attempting to stand again, Mara felt another painful tug at her hair. Truly opening her eyes and glancing downward, the source of her pain was obvious. In her restless movements, her hair had become entwined with several hairy and furry dolls, including the ones she was sitting on.
Not again. Mara's face twisted into a grimace. Trying to free herself quickly showed the extent of her problem. The hair of the dolls had knotted with her own in such a way that simple twisting and tugging couldn't save her.
The estimated time to free herself would be: close to forever.
Mara's frustration only mounted higher when she sought a solution, but her mind presented no easy fixes. After trying a few more times, she reluctantly decided to resort to a method she wished to avoid.
"Moooom…" Mara groaned, her voice stretching into a long, pitiful whine. Her unique voice, reminiscent of someone who dined on gravel and smoked tobacco for years, made the plea all the more striking for anyone hearing it.
Outside, Elara lay sprawled on the grass, her limbs relaxed and fully savoring the breeze and cold wet grass. Mara's pleas were clear in her ears, interrupting her moment of relaxation.
Without rising, Elara glanced toward the cart, beaten and batter, but not broken; not yet. The once-bright cover was now a dingy yellow, stubbornly resistant to cleaning, and its handles bore fresh indentations from the day's journey. Each dent, stain, and warp on the wood had a history attached after faithfully serving them for nearly four years.
One more day, just hang in there.
Another whine from Mara prompted Elara to action. Like a loaded spring, Elara sprang to her feet with a slight huff, getting disoriented when the world wobbled around her. Too young to be this rusty, Swaying over to the cart, she leaned against it to anchor herself in the spinning world.
The cart's front cover parted, revealing Mara's face, her brown skin almost glowing under the bleeding sun. Mara’s gray eyes, dull and perhaps even lifeless to strangers, were a whirlpool that could hold Elara's stare for hours. Without thinking, Elara reached out to cradle her daughter's face, inadvertently pulling Mara closer and causing her to wince in pain, a reaction that didn't escape Elara's notice as she quickly released her, allowing Mara to retreat into the cart.
"What happened? Did you cut yourself with your dagger again?" Elara's voice held a blend of concern and exasperation as she pushed the cart's covers aside to check Mara more closely.
Elara began a meticulous but gentle search for any signs of injury, her hands patting Mara up and down with the expertise of a trained guard.
Growing embarrassed and red in the face, Mara slapped her mother's hand, "That was a long time ago! I'm not a kid anymore," she protested, wriggling out of her mother's reach. But in her haste, Mara accidentally stepped on one of the dolls entangled in her hair, causing her to tumble back onto the pile of dolls with a pained groan.
The cause of her daughter's earlier plea instantly became clear to Elara after seeing the web of auburn strands intertwining Mara and the dolls. Swiftly drawing her dagger from her waist, Elara climbed inside the cart.
Panic flickered across Mara's face as she attempted to retreat, cradling the entwined dolls and trying to salvage her beloved hair. But confined by the small cart and burdened by the numerous dolls still attached to her, Mara's efforts were in vain. Helplessly, Mara watched with a mix of horror and relief in her eyes as her mother’s dagger cut close to the dolls, freeing her hair but inevitably cutting it shorter in the process.
After Elara carefully cut away the remaining tangles, Mara's hair became a few fingers shorter. Despite her outward show of displeasure, Mara felt a sense of relief washing over her when she could actually get up and walk out of the cart.
The world greeted Mara with a breeze and wet ground. Taking a few steps on the grass, Mara let her hair unfurl in the grass so she could assess the damage. Not horrible. She would rather not cut her hair at all, but the longer it grew, the more situations happened where she had to cut it. It was as if the world bent backward to make her mother right.
"I told you to let me braid your hair before we left. But apparently, staying awake for a few extra minutes was too much of an ask," Elara said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she left the cart armed with leather strips and a brush.
"I was tired," Mara retorted, her gaze drifting towards the clouds. As the sun fully ascended over the walls, the crimson of the early morning faded, giving way to the warm, golden light of a new day.
Holding the brush in between her teeth, Elara fashioned her hair into a simple bun using the leather strip. "The same?" Elara asked, getting a simple yes grunt.
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Her daughter's hair unfurled on the ground like an autumn blanket, stretching nearly one and a half times her height, measuring slightly over two meters. Elara then began the meticulous process of caring for her daughter's hair.
Mara kept herself occupied by nibbling on a piece of stale bread. Dry bread. Mom could have brought something else. Mara knew they had a jar of fireberry jam in the cupboard; it was still half-full, she was two hundred percent sure of that, and she knew that because she was the reason it was only half-full.
After an arduous one and a half hours, Elara fashioned Mara's hair into a single, thick plait. The hair was pulled tightly from the sides of Mara's head, cascading down her back like a wyvern’s stinger, trailing on the ground behind her.
Let's see. Immediately Mara began to dart around, testing the resilience of her mother's handiwork.
"You're going to trip on it," Elara calmly remarked, observing her daughter's antics.
Elara couldn't help but marvel at how much Mara had grown, she would be an adult in just five more years. Elara entertained the thought that Mara might even outgrow her, especially if she took after her father's family.
The thought briefly darkened Elara's mood. Like a spiteful parasite, that man managed to be a burden to her even in her happy moments. Now is not the time for that. Focus on the good, Elara reminded herself, firmly pushing the negative thoughts aside with a shake of her head.
Elara's gaze swept over the landscape, shifting her attention away from the past to the terrain unfolding before them.
Unlike the hills they had traversed, with their houses and shops, or the barren hill they currently occupied, dotted only with grass and occasional flowers, the terrain ahead promised change. The upcoming hills, each as tall as, if not taller than, the ones they had already passed, were covered in trees tall enough to be thrice Elara's height and with enough bushes for small prey and predators to hide.
Looming tall past the hills stood Russet Ridge, painted in earthly browns and reds. It stood like a wall thousands of meters wide, denying all from the view of the emerald expanse of Vraelom.
Bearing a slightly red face and uneven breath after finishing testing the resilience of the plait, Mara clumsily clambered back into the cart and parted the covers to watch her mother, silently signaling her readiness to continue their journey.
Taking a few deep breaths and knowing she couldn't afford the relaxed caution of earlier, Elara hopped lightly from foot to foot to limber up. With smooth, practiced movements, Elara drew her dagger, beginning a series of swift slashes and thrusts, allowing muscle memory to guide the start of the routine. When her speed plateaued, Elara took back control, now making planned movements against imagined enemies.
Taking slow steps, Elara deepened her concentration. Her life would've been easier if she had access to more common magic, without the need for all this warmup. But she knew she should be grateful to be capable of magic at all.
Elara's concentration soon gave her the feeling she wanted, a cold sensation concentrated on her head. It slowly spread its tendrils of power outwards, wanting to connect, to influence the world. Negating the tentacles' desires, Elara slowly pulled the tendrils back inside of her. The tendrils fought her control, pulling them inside felt like stuffing a slippery eel on a tube too small, but gradually, the tendrils lost as always and spread evenly along her body like a second set of nerves.
Let's start simple. A wave washed over her like cold water as she willed the tentacles to coat her weapon. Glowing violet, the dagger left trails with each thrust and slash.
From inside the cart, Mara's eyes shone as they tracked her mother's motions.
Without a weapon of her own, Mara mimicked her mother, trying to commit the movements to memory. While her mother had begun training her, these movements were new, more fluid, and more complex than anything she learned so far.
Why didn't we start with that? Instead, I'm stuck with footwork and how to hold a dagger. I know how to hold a dagger; just point the blade to who you want to stab, then stab. Mara thought annoyed.
Sheathing her dagger, Elara was caught by surprise, a smile lighting her face when she saw her daughter's face scrunched in concentration. Utterly lost in her imitation and unaware of the world around her.
Approaching the cart and seeing her daughter's lack of reaction, Elara squatted, got a firm hold on the cart's frame, and heaved it up. Startling Mara, breaking her concentration and eliciting a lively scream.
---
The descent downhill was tranquil. They had a few minutes of easy travel before reaching the forest, and both mother and daughter savored the moment.
The day was clear, and a gentle breeze gave Elara welcome relief from the heat. Elara steadily pulled the cart while Mara, growing bored, fiddled with her dagger, still trying to commit her mother's early movements to memory as she thrust and slashed at the air.
The forested hills greeted them with a symphony of sounds, critters rustling in the underbrush, the rustling of leaves, and the barely audible sound of running water nearby.
The tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a shard of ice zipping past them and breaking against a tree.
Moments later, a small boar barely tall enough to reach Elara's knees, charged past her, hotly pursued by a young man in embroidered blue robes, followed by a group of at least four others wearing a simpler version of the blue robes.
"Pay attention before casting, you spawn of a Gryphon's ass!" Elara screamed at the group before resuming the walk, her steps now laced with irritation, "Fucking academy folks, more money than sense." Though her mood was momentarily affected, Elara didn't let it ruin her appreciation of the forest. Breathing deeply, she absorbed the scents of freshly turned earth and the vibrant life of the forest.
Meanwhile, Mara continued watching the unfolding chase with admiration and curiosity, her eyes lingering on the ice shards flying after the boar. Can mom teach me that? She never saw her mother do any elemental magic, but it wouldn't hurt to ask later.
Eventually, they reached a fork in the road. One path was well-traveled, its compacted dirt and absence of vegetation a testament to both its frequent use and the efforts that went to maintain it. The other path was less inviting, overgrown with weeds and tree roots snaking across the trail.
Elara's brow twitched in irritation, her jaw tightening slightly as she steered them towards the treacherous path, "Godsdamned Podkus, you old horse."
Marching on, Elara silently vowed to give Podkus a piece of her mind —and perhaps the blunt end of his bow — for neglecting his promise.
Mara shared her mother's dissatisfaction, feeling the lack of maintenance on her read end with each jolt and jerk of the cart. Walking alongside the cart soon became preferable to sitting at its front, especially since hiding amidst the dolls was not an option as it put her hair at risk of being shortened further, so Mara jumped out of the cart.
"Stay close," Elara warned, her tone leaving no room for discussion, "Almost no one uses this path." She debated whether to insist Mara stay in the cart for safety but then reconsidered.
At ten years old, Mara was already capable of basic self-defense. Elara recalled her childhood; she was even younger when she received her first dagger and encountered a boar. It was brutal and bloody, but it was fun. Elara wanted to let Mara have a try, but they lacked the resources she had when she was small.
As they ventured deeper, the sounds of the forest began to fade, replaced by the silence of the densely foliaged area. Mara was walking closely to her mother when her attention was momentarily captured by the sight of a Ruby Bird, its bright red plumage and black beak making it stand out against the greenery.
"Mara, what's the first rule of adventuring?" Elara quizzed, her voice carrying a hint of sternness that Mara recognized as a sign of disapproval.
"Always pay attention?" Mara responded, her certainty wavering under her mother's scrutinizing gaze.
"Exactly. So, why aren't you following it?" Elara pressed, her eyes boring down on her daughter.
Mara tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Because you already are?"
Mara's earnest tone caused Elara to momentarily break stride, trip on a small hole and almost fall to the ground — Mara trusted her too much. Elara swiftly composed herself, yet the thought lingered like rotten meat in her teeth. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't be watchful too," Elara replied firmly.
"But you always notice everything! Like when I tried to jump out of the window, or that time I took some wool for my doll-making, or when I tried picking your dagger. You caught me every time," Mara countered, her tone reflecting a mix of admiration and frustration.
A soft laugh escaped Elara as she recalled Mara's less-than-stealthy exploits. "It's not so much that I'm observant; it's more that you need to work on your stealth," she teased gently. Pausing briefly, she added, "Why don't you ask Podkus or Jr. for some tips? They're out hunting frequently; they could give you better advice on being discreet than I can."
Mara responded with a non-committal grunt, her attention shifting to their surroundings, not truly paying attention. Elara easily noticed how Mara's gaze often wandered to some other colorful creatures or a pretty plant more often than not.
Does she truly understand the importance of these rules? Should I have used more Mom and Dad tactics to make the lessons stick?
The path ahead was eerily quiet. Alone, Elara might have been wary of an ambush, but with Mara near her, her protective instincts were in overdrive. She could feel her hands sink and splint the cart handles and her stomach churn; intuition told her something wasn't right.
Elara scanned their environment with the intensity of a Wyvern on the hunt, alert to every rustle in the bushes and every unfamiliar scent carried by the breeze. Vigilance soon paid off, her ears perking to a strange rustle and her eyes detected movement ahead. Without hesitation, Elara released the cart's handle, swiftly grabbed Mara, and threw her over her shoulder like a potato sack into the cart.
Finally, a bit of peace of mind, Facing a monster was far better than the suspense of being ambushed with the vulnerable Mara near her.
The creatures in the thick underbrush slowed their movements, noticing the sudden actions and heightened caution of the prospective prey. Paying attention to the rustling, Elara had an idea of the general direction of the would-be predators. While confident in her abilities to deal with whatever lived in these forests, she knew better than to make assumptions — overconfidence is Sefeteris' favorite chord.
Mara, ever curious and having unwavering faith in her mother's abilities, opened the folds of the cart, excited to finally see her mother in action again. It felt like forever since she last saw her mother fighting.
Elara grounded herself; the cold in her veins deepened and her sense heightened. Keeping part of her mind focused on the tendrils of power coiled inside her, she circled the cart, ensuring that the potential attackers wouldn't target the weaker of them.
Time dragged on, and just as Elara's tension began to wane, believing they may have given up the ambush, there was a blur in the corner of her vision.
The dagger sliced through the air, meeting the snout and mossy hide of a Verdant Stalker. The recognition of the creature calmed her slightly — she was familiar with these moss-covered, wolf-like predators.
Unfortunately, most of the damage was dealt by the dagger's hilt, the blade only grazing the beast and inflicting a superficial cut due to the awkward angle of the attack. The Verdant Stalker retreated quickly into the underbrush.
Bracing herself, her muscles taught like a bowstring, Elara soon heard the rustle that signaled another attack.
Left and right; up and down, or both?
Two Verdant Stalkers sprang into action; one soared towards her head with wide open jaws looking for her neck, and the other charged low, looking to cripple her legs.
Leaving a purple trail, Elara's dragger moved with unyielding precision, sinking hilt deep into the skull of the air-borne attacker while her leg glowed violed as she lifted it and brought it down on the head of the stalker like a speartip, crushing the skull, grounding the bones to dust and meeting the ground with enough strength left to lift a plume of dust.
The entire skirmish was over within moments, but for Mara, it was a scene of awe-inspiring action. She watched her mother with starry-eyed enthusiasm, imagining herself performing similar feats. Why can't she teach me that? It's always, you're not ready, or I can't teach you that.
Keeping her breathing steadied, Elara scanned the forest for further signs of danger. When none came, she took it as her display of strength having scared the remaining beasts. Not leaving room for surprises, she thoroughly swept the area to be certain, only relaxing after finding signs of the stalkers' escape.
Flicking the blood off her dagger, Elara turned her attention to her leg and boot, now stained with the thick, stubborn blood of the stalkers. The viscous fluid would be challenging to clean, particularly against her gray complexion.
Elara frowned. It has been too long. If I had The Child of The Dunes with me, the fight wouldn't even have started. Elara reflected regretfully, replaying the fight in her mind. Letting out a tired sigh, she quickened her steps, looking to reach the farm before the blood started molding and destroying another pair of good boots.