Cole
Traveling the path back from Outpost Onx was easier than traveling to. Cole chalked it up to the lack of unease. When he and the others had traversed this rough trail two days ago, it had been on their way to infiltrate the outpost. They had no idea what they would find, or what might find them. Tension had been thick and even Cole didn’t have a way of relieving it.
He walked beside the cart pulled by Mall. Mall was still shockingly loyal to their party and obeyed when commanded to move. Cole pondered the intellect of gila saurians as he looked at Mall’s slow-blinking brown eyes. Rerume was on the other side of Mall. He was active in checking their surroundings. Perhaps he was taking the role of protector seriously. He had also claimed Solind’s stinger spear, which he used as a walking stick. Several older members of Saltspring, including Cory, also walked to allow the worse feeling villagers space to recline in the cart. Before leaving, they raided the food stores of the outpost. Much of it was flavorless, but after the ordeal they had endured, it was enough to fill the stomach and ease the spirit.
“Young man, you remind me of a long-lost companion.” Cory shouted to catch Cole’s attention. Cole was pleased to speak to the man. Cory walked the gait of someone experienced in life’s paths. “He was elf-blooded like yourself, though considerably older than you are now. About the age difference between you and myself. Liam the Gate Breaker was the name he earned. I hope Scorpiannus separated his soul well.”
“Are you telling me I have an old soul?” Cole was emboldened by this notion. The idea that he could be treated as an equal by those older than him was a very appealing idea.
Cory had no illusions about dispelling this assumption immediately: “Hmm. I don’t know you well enough to make that claim. I was speaking more to your resemblance. Liam was quite secretive about his past, but you are what I imagine he would look like in youth.”
“I understand.” Cole flashed a brittle smile. It was not the praise he was looking for, but he didn’t want it to be the end of their conversation. “Why was he the Gate Breaker?”
Cory’s bald head glinted in the sunlight. He scratched his beard and viewed Cole skeptically, which made Cole think he had asked a question that only the privileged were privy to.
“Liam devoted himself to liberating the oppressed and downtrodden. We belonged to a party of four: myself, Liam, Bernice Uther, and the man we called Warburton. Thirty years ago we walked the breadth of the Confederacy seeking conscription from lords for coin. We performed our fair share of good deeds and story-worthy adventures, but it was at the town of Voz that we became notorious.”
The younger members of Saltspring, Zoe and Hays moved to the side of the cart Cory walked beside. Hays’ mother, who Cole learned was named Maria, covered a smile as if she had heard this story before.
“The master of Voz was a bigoted man who’s name I will not speak because he is not worth remembering, even as a cautionary tale. He hired my party’s services to repel what he called an oncoming attack. The ‘attack’ was refugees fleeing their sacked city in the east to seek safety of Voz’s high walls. Among them were diablans, a race unseen in Voz. The lord told us he didn’t want Infernals corrupting his town, and that violent enforcement was a ‘necessary evil.’ Hmph. Never liked that phrase. My group did not form to be the tool of hateful souls. I spoke the name Bernice correct? She was a diablan, and one of the strongest wills I’ve known. Liam took our grievances to the lord, but he had stoned his ears to any criticism of his behavior. Wanting no more of such men, Liam, a mage of considerable learning, brought down the gates of Voz to let in the refugees.”
Cole reasoned aloud. “That’s a noble gesture, but if the city wasn’t prepared to take such an influx…”
He silenced himself when he saw the judging eye Cory had fixed on him. Even Zoe and Hays looked at Cole like he had spoken foolishly.
“My group did our part in making sure that Voz could accommodate all arrivals. We weren’t the kind to simply leave a situation believing we had completed our work with a single action. These things take time. Liam took full blame for the gate’s destruction and became an outlaw till his dying day. Myself and the others remained in Voz. The public appreciated our actions so greatly we led a coup against their hateful lord. It was on Bernice’s suggestion that we rename Voz to its original title in the Second Era.”
“Saltspring.” Cole indeed felt foolish for his earlier judgment. He of all people should know the consequence of assuming the end of someone’s story. Cory nodded confirmation.
Zoe looked to the north. “Storm clouds near the high hills. I think your friends are getting rained on.”
Cole followed her gaze. The hills had been on the northern horizon for most of Cole’s time in Athshin. There were clouds that way, but they didn’t seem the kind to produce a storm. Then again, Cole didn’t know anything about weather patterns and he already let his ignorance show once today.
“We’ll be reaching the Serpent Road soon.” Rerume announced. He had been silent for the last few hours and his voice surprised Cole. “Are you prepared Cole?”
The Serpent Road extended far to the east. Ramuff was visible in the flatlands ahead. At this distance it seemed small. Like a model. Only the walls and tallest buildings could be made out. The merchant tents on the exterior were a mishmash of color and ants. Cole was no stranger to walking long distances alone, but he was used to there being more tree cover.
“I believe I am” Cole smiled at Rerume. A memory sparked a reminder. “Señor Montelban, do you know what an atlatl is?”
Cory nodded. The name made him nostalgic. “That is an old weapon. A carved piece of wood about a half-meter long. Some cultures used it as a tool for dart throwing.”
Cory demonstrated length of the tool as well as the general motion used for it.
“Interesting. I’ll look for one in the market of Ramuff.” Cole tapped the bag of coins looped around his belt. Not only was it leftovers from their commission with the Order, but it was also a handful of coins taken from Outpost Onx.
“You should stop wasting your talent with the darts.” Rerume side-eyed Cole. He had been harboring this opinion for some time and was deciding now was the time to make it known. “You endanger yourself and others through insisting on the use of something unfamiliar.”
Cole took a moment to think about how to respond. Should he simply brush off Rerume’s remark, or take it to heart? Rerume was speaking to Cole as if he was a child under his command, a relationship Cole did not think they had.
“I’ll practice and become better with them. It’ll take time, but I’ll do it. If they become familiar, then they won’t be dangerous.”
Rerume groaned and approached Cole. He held out the sheathed sword he had been using all this time. “At least take this.”
Cole accepted the offered weapon. He felt it would be enough to calm Rerume’s nerves. After all, his concerns came from a place of worrying for Cole’s safety.
Cole looked Rerume dead in the eye. “Two weeks, then we’ll reunite at the Pavilion of Scrolls.”
Rerume nodded. He even reiterated that he gave his word. Cole gave his farewell to the eight survivors of Saltspring. He wished them luck to rebuild their town and the hope that he might visit. Many of them were still downtrodden, wondering where their separated family members could be. Cole wished he could promise them he’d rescue them all, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t that adept at lying yet.
With Señor Montelban Cole exchanged a firm handshake. The old man told Cole that he was indebted to Cole and his allies. Rerume guided the cart to point south, towards Cory’s approximation of Saltspring’s location. Cole waved them goodbye. The youths Zoe and Hays waved back, the sunlight lighting up Hays’ tattoo of Kurtzkith.
Now Cole was alone. The best guess was that it would take him two hours to reach Ramuff. Nothing on the road in either direction, not even a peddler's cart. Cole had plenty of time to think. The scenery didn’t offer much, unless one enjoyed cacti and the occasional running jackrabbit.
What to think about then? Cole thought about how this had been a very eventful two weeks for his seasonal break. Two weeks and two months remained until he had to return to the academy. Surely none of his peers were experiencing this level of thrill and adventure. He thought about Lara, and how she might act when she heard about this.
~-~-~
It is summer, or at least the end of it. The night is warm with the most pleasant of breezes. Cole skips his way down one of the many external hallways of Academy Oran. To his right was the dried field where hours prior the academy choir had been singing old fae songs to celebrate the end of the Season of Yellow and the transfer to the Season of Burgundy. The white moon is waxing crescent and the stars look like a thousand eyes curiously watching Cole.
A sentry rounds the corner ahead. Not a soldier or guard, but a staff member enforcing curfew. Cole throws his hood on and ducks into one of the alcoves on his left. His cloak is black and the shadows are thick here. The sentry doesn’t see him. Cole smirks and continues on his way.
The women’s dormitory sits across Star Lake River, so named because it connected to Star Lake, which was so named because of its glassy surface appearing like a second sky at night. Cole darts amongst the foliage so that his approach isn’t apparent. He is out late after curfew, even the night classes have ended.
The reason for his rule breaking is a little yellow window with a set of ivy vines pouring out of its garden box. So convenient that ivy, planted just last week and grown with arcane songs until it was strong enough to bear his weight. The window is unlocked, as promised, and now he is in the forbidden territory of the women’s dorms. The consequences for being caught here after curfew would be dire. Older students pass around a theory that the Academy encourages this sort of behavior. It is almost too easy to get this far. He would not put it past the academy masters to have it this way as some meta-lesson on being daring. Surely they could afford better security.
He is in a stairwell, the door to the dormitory bedrooms is locked. Cole checks his surroundings a final time before retrieving a lockpicking kit from his cloak pocket. So close, and yet so far. All that’s left is to open a single lock. Fate favors him and the lock pops easily. He makes sure to close the door behind him.
The third door down the hall is painted with red stars. He taps on the door with one finger to the tune of Rebellion Woman. The door opens inward to reveal a woman in a green cloak. Before she can say anything, Cole takes her hand and kisses it. It seems the romantic thing to do.
“You’re early.” She chides him. She doesn’t retract her hand immediately, but remembers better than Cole that silence is golden here.
With her hood up Lara Aífe’s marigold hair frames her face in a cavalcade of curls. She quietly grabs a bag set near the door. As she does Cole catches sight of her roommates watching this scene from their beds.
“We were debating who it could be that Lara was seeing at this hour.” Donala White whispers across the room.
“Many arguments in my favor?” Cole asks quite casually.
Donala’s hand slips across the nightstand to retrieve a stack of glasswood coins. “Just mine.”
Lara grabs Cole’s arm. “Let’s go. I can hear someone coming.”
She’s full-blooded wood elf and can hear better than him. She is also stronger and capable of dragging him to the yellow window before he can exchange another word with her roommates.
Around the backside of the girl’s dorm is Star Lake. Through no small amount of climbing and careful planning, the two rule-breakers reach the roof of the dorm for the perfect top-down view of the lake.
Cole breathes a sigh of relief. They are finally here after a week of preparation. He immediately sits down and looks fondly at Lara. She cast off her cloak to show she is wearing her fencing uniform.
“You’re not about to challenge me to a match, are you?”
No no. This was just easier for me to move in.” She takes a seat beside him. From her bag she retrieves a bottle of cheap wine that she shares with Cole. Cole can’t complain that she’s in her uniform. It is form fitting.
“I must admit I’m still surprised that you were willing to do this. What would they say if the captain of the fencers was found on a scandalous rendezvous?” Cole can’t stop smiling at her.
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“Probably what they would say if they found the descendant of Diana Jolnes in the same position.” Her smile is more coy, less obvious in intent.
“Fair.” Cole drank from the bottle. It came from one of the vineyard students. Not the top of his class, but it didn’t make Cole wince with each sip like some of the dregs he had bartered for before.
“Have you decided where you’ll spend your autumn break?” Lara hugs her knees so she could rest her chin on them.
“If I take an autumn break.” Cole corrected. “Maybe I’ll leave for winter. I’ve never liked winter here. It's like the climate is stuck in limbo for an entire season. Not cold enough to snow, not hot enough to rain.”
“I’ll be gone for autumn.” Lara says. She bounces her curls, her equivalent of a wink. Cole knew she would be gone. The academy was funding her entry to the Emerald Sea Tournament in Poet’s Bay. Cole hopes her statement means she doesn’t want to be at the academy when he’s not. He slides closer to her and is thrilled when she meets him halfway.
Cole had been mentally planning this rooftop date for a long time. Probably since the third day of fencing classes a year ago. To even talk to Lara he needed to be on the fencing team, and to talk to her regularly he needed to be good enough to be matched with her. No small feat, but boys will do absurd things to be this close to women like Lara.
They talk about their differing classes. Cole has assured next year, his tertian year, he’ll be learning song arcana. Lara is avoiding that, she believes she has no ability for singing. Her dueling lessons will continue into advanced techniques such as multiple opponents and blade forging. She has a long list of names for the first sword she forges on her own. When Cole asks her what she plans to do after she graduates she surprises him by saying she’d like to live a quiet life. She explains that she views fencing as a means to earn wealth. She plans to reach her peak, then retire with the tournament winnings earned.
“Maybe it's hard for a half-blood to understand. I’ll live to see anywhere between the next two to three centuries. I don’t want to decide how I’ll spend those years when I’ve only just reached the first quarter of my first century. I do know that I don’t want to serve the military, or the nobility. I’m content to compete against other duelists until I’ve earned enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life in somewhere small and quiet.”
“You became the best duelist in this academy for the money?” Cole is half amused, half repulsed.
Lara steals a kiss from Cole while he’s frowning. It's only the third time she’s done that. “The way I understand it, you became the second best duelist in this academy just for that.”
Cole kisses her back. “Touché.”
He wants to go further, but the moment is broken by the bottle falling out of Lara’s hand. Cole dives to catch it before the clatter gives away their position. When he returns Lara is suppressing a giggle. They look into the twinkling lake below them. A slight breeze makes Lara’s hair sway hypnotically.
“Cole, do you feel like an adult?”
“Sitting next to you is making me feel several adult emotions.” Cole jokes in a flat tone.
Lara laughs, but that’s not the kind of answer she wants. “I received a letter from my cousin up north. She’s the grounds keeper for Fletcher’s Keep now. We’re only a year apart in age and she has a job and home of her own. Sometimes I feel… I feel like we’re stunting our growth here. Our peers are already in the world of adults and we’re here: sneaking out after curfew like blushing adolescents. I don’t feel like an adult, and I don’t feel like anyone attending this academy is an adult.”
“Even me?” Cole is downtrodden. This line of discussion was a mood-killer.
Lara comforts him with her smile, but it’s just a cushion for what she says next: “Even you.”
Cole pulls away from her. He knows she’s still looking at him, but he wants to sulk. She mentions a shooting star, but he’s looking strictly at the shingles at his feet. His depression is temporary. It's hard to be sad when Lara Aífe moves close to kiss your cheek.
Feeling bold, Cole believes he can get the atmosphere back to its original intent. “So what you’re saying is: I can’t see all of you until I’m a man.”
Lara’s eye contact is unbreaking. “Oh you can see all of me any time you’d like. It just won’t mean anything. Cats’ Love, nothing more.”
Cole feels like his cheeks might steam from the heat they’re giving off. Her words give him intense internal conflict. It wasn’t meant to be, but he imagines the slow nod he responds with was very amusing. Lara’s chuckle confirms it. In Cole’s mind a thousand different responses are being written and rejected.
“Very well.” Cole snaps to his feet. “Then I’ll become a man. This autumn, I will travel somewhere dangerous and live three months of adventure. When I return, I’ll be an adult worthy of you.”
Lara beams. Her cheeks are two pink roses beneath the teal coins that are her eyes. “I look forward to it.”
Cole holds out his hand to help her up. They engage in the first few steps of a dance right there on the roof of the women’s dorm. They kiss a final time for the night.
“My brother is quite jealous of me.” Lara makes idle conversation as they retrace their route off the roof.
“Bearach?” Cole knew him. He played the lyre and had already begun studies into song arcana.
“Mmhm. He’s always had a thing for you.”
“I don’t know what to do with this information,” Cole admits. He’s never given Bearach Aífe much thought beyond his connection to Lara. His response makes Lara laugh.
Cole doesn’t even think about sentries as they return to the yellow window. The idea that they’re out after curfew seems like a foreign concept. He is a dashing rogue returning a princess to her castle. Lara bids him goodnight once she is through the window. Cole hopes that when she recounts the night’s events to her roommates she at least spices them up somewhat.
The next day, Cole filed to spend his autumn break in Athshin.
~-~-~
Cole had dwelled on that night for every calm moment he had in Athshin. There weren't many of those since being captured by barbartus, but for this long stretch of empty trail Lara’s orange curls were all he could think of.
He needed a distraction, otherwise he might feel too comfortable in the flatlands. He wondered why a major city like Ramuff had so few farms outside of it. Perhaps the story about the Enenra under the city was true and the only reason people were drawn to it was a supernatural market. Maybe there had been farms at one point, but the Era of Terror had turned them to dust.
His ears caught the sound of groaning. It was a pitched vocalization that sounded like someone was laboring with a bodily function. Whatever was making it didn’t sound human, or elven, or even coatlmade. There was a wedge shaped rock a dozen meters off the trail. It was tall enough that a traveler could easily rest in its shade. From behind this rock extended the tip of a brown tail that thumped aggressively on the dirt. Cole approached cautiously. He wasn’t worried for a fight, more that he could scare whatever it was.
Cole stepped around the edge of the rock. A phyrn sat there, grinding its back against the rough stone. Flakes of papery skin peeled off it in large quantities. It’s strained grunts made Cole’s skin crawl. The lizard had a walking stick tied with a bindle of supplies. Cole couldn’t see any weapons. He wanted to make contact.
“Hello,” he spoke cheerly. It was as good an opener as any.
The phyrn squeaked and scurried away from him. It squealed in a hoarse voice. “Go away!”
Cole was intrigued. He hadn’t imagined that the phyrn might speak Common. He chased after it, shouting pleasantries and declarations that he meant no harm. The phyrn kept repeating its command that he should leave it. The phyrn had difficulty running because of the peeling skin. It kept pausing to scratch itself.
“I just want to talk.” Cole begged. “I could help you with your shedding.”
Those were the magic words to get the phyrn to pause and seriously consider if Cole was a threat. Cole even set down his sword and dart quiver.
“Accepted.” The phyrn grunted. The shedding had to be aggravating if it was this desperate to be done with it. Cole set himself at the wedge boulder and patiently waited for the phyrn to approach him. The phyrn sat with its back to Cole. True to his word, Cole started meticulously removing the flaking skin. The phyrn exuded a stench that burned Cole’s nostrils, but he endured it. This is just another part of his adventure to tell back home.
“What’s your name?” Cole asked.
“Gorn. Only Gorn.” The phyrn arched its back when Cole dug between the scales to get smaller pieces.
“Forgive me, is that a boy’s name or a girl’s name?” Cole asked.
“Neither. It is a phyrnfolk name. No boys or girls. I am an egg-layer now, but I was a fertilizer last week.”
Cole didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t question it. Gorn didn’t speak Common perfectly so perhaps there were concepts being lost in translation.
He paused his task, causing Gorn to tense up. Perhaps they thought he was grabbing a weapon. Instead he retrieved the rolled up phyrn skins with writing on them. He compared the skins to what he was taking off Gorn. The written skins were tougher feeling, possibly cured after peeling, and were lighter in color. Maybe they came from the belly. He passed the writings to Gorn and asked what was written. It was his main reason for chasing Gorn down.
Gorn cocked their head so they could read the page with one eye. They read aloud in their native language, speaking quickly with no pauses. To Cole’s unknowing ears the language sounded like a rapid collection of chirps, hisses, and growls. Before Cole could make an intervention Gorn had finished reading.
“Could you read it in Common?”
“I don’t know what...words to say.” Gorn paused between each word so that they could translate their thoughts in real time.
Cole sprinkled some water from his waterskin to wash Gorn’s back. “Could you please try? I just want to know what it says.”
Gorn was anxious. They kept shifting uncomfortably, messing up Cole’s attempts to remove several sections of skin in one piece.
“It is a record of Warmth. Warmth was the only god in the past. Warmth protected Phyrn and gave them power.” Gorn paused. Cole nodded and asked them to keep reading. “Phyrn were every place in Athshin. The Dried Ones were their only enemy.”
“Dried Ones? Teotl?” Cole asked.
Gorn didn’t know that word. “The Dried Ones failed many, many times to kill the Phyrn. Their last try was summoning a new god for the phyrnfolk. Cold was the god’s name. Cold fought Warmth. Warmth fought Cold. Neither could win. Fighting Cold made Warmth weak, too weak to help the Phyrn. The two gods still fight. Still no winner. We must make Warmth stronger by singing and writing its record. If it can defeat Cold then the sun will shine forever on the Phyrn as before.”
Cole had removed most of the back shedding. He scratched the scales hoping it helped catch some smaller pieces. Gorn hissed approvingly. Cole was pleased by hearing the story, even as short and broken as Gorn’s translation was. He had never heard about Phyrn gods or legends. He wondered how many non-Phyrn knew. He could earn much respect from other bards by retelling an obscure legend like that one.
“Where did you learn Common?” Cole paused before asking so that Gorn could ask their own questions, but they didn’t.
Gorn shifted uncomfortably again, pressing into Cole’s nails so that he could scratch harder.
“Family forced me. We needed a speaker in the market. Someone to speak for Phyrn and to Phyrn.”
“The market of Ramuff?” Cole froze in sudden discomfort.
Gorn confirmed. Ramuff was the only place for their tribe to get fresh fruit, the only piece of their diet that wasn’t insects. The fruit-bearing trees near Ramuff all belonged to protected orchards where Phyrn weren’t allowed. One day, warriors in blue and white uniforms came. The Order of Suffering. Gorn’s tribe was told they weren’t wanted in the market, or anywhere in Ramuff. They were cast out. The choice was to take up violent means to acquire fruit, or starve. They chose the former.
“Why didn’t you go anywhere else? There are other cities, other markets.” Cole asked. He had to restrain his voice. The pieces of Gorn’s identity were falling into place and Cole did not like the picture they formed.
“We wanted to. I spoke to Order leader a last time. He tells me that the Order is everywhere. ‘Phyrn have no place in what we’re building.’ He was rude. Scary.” Gorn’s shoulders sank from the memory. They closed their eyes tight and balled their knuckles. It seemed the Phyrn response to sadness and fear was to shut off as much of oneself as possible. “My tribe believed him. We had nowhere to go away to. The Order found us. Most died. I escaped. I am now alone.”
Cole’s breathing grew audible. He felt like his body would seize up from sheer panic. His mouth was too dry to speak properly.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say. Gorn tilted their head upwards to look at Cole. “I helped them do it. I helped destroy your tribe. I’m so sorry.”
It took a beat to understand what Cole had said. It was Gorn’s turn to breathe heavy. Without a word they pushed Cole away. Taking their stick and bindle, Gorn ran away from the Serpent Road. Like before, Cole tried to chase them, but with most of the irritating skin removed Gorn could run more freely.
Cole called after the retreating phyrn. “Please don’t go! I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought...please let me help you!”
He didn’t care that he was running farther from the road or delaying his arrival to Ramuff. Even the night with Lara on the roof receded into the back of his mind as if it had been told to him by someone else. He ran as fast as he could, shouting every variation of an apology he knew. Gorn kept running, and never looked back.
When he reached his limit Cole dropped to his hands and knees. He felt like he would have to spit up his insides to remove the pressure that had taken his body. He was panting erratically into the dirt. His skin cooked in the sun, making him feel worse. It was like he was a boil begging to be lanced.
When he finally regained control of himself —he didn’t know how long it took— he looked to see if Gorn was still running. He saw nothing but flat desert populated with shrubs, cacti, and rocks. He was alone. He needed someone to talk to. He needed to explain the emotions he was feeling. But he was alone.
“Am I a bad person?” Cole asked the air.