Memories of a Soul

First Fragment

Young Sylus grunted with each swing of his hoe, too big for his slender arms. The hard part wasn’t striking the soil—in that regard, gravity worked for him. Unfortunately, it couldn’t push the hoe back up after. Thankfully he was no stranger to tilled earth and its ways. That is to say, he was used to the labor, which was also his daily chore. Sylus lived in a small wyverian village built on top of many spires of grassy rock that just barely peaked above the clouds, interconnected by a dozen swaying wooden hangbridges. He had worked up a sweat plowing the wheat fields, but here the wind always blew to cool him down. They called it the Celestial Gale—the wind that forever blows. And they called this remote overgrown farmstead of theirs the village of the crying wind. “Cathar”. The locals certainly believed wind to be their element, and most, if not all, would agree. No matter where you happened to find yourself in Cathar there was always at least one windmill within view, but usually two or three, and their sails were always spinning at full speed. Red and orange pinwheels were pinned haphazardly around the village in reverence to the Celestial Gale, and the dirt streets were marked out with tall poles that had long pieces of flowing white cloth tied at the top. If you somehow didn’t feel the gusts, you would certainly see them.

Sylus leaned on his hoe, muscles aching in his back and shoulders. The sun's rays weighed down on him as his energy escaped alongside his labored huffing and puffing. The most important rule when it came to keeping up with laborious work: don’t stop to rest unless absolutely necessary. Because the moment you do, you won’t want to get back to work. A raspy old voice called out from across the farmland.

“Bucko, come and have a rest! Nonni-Bonna made you a little snack as thanks for your hard work!”

“Coming!” said Sylus calling out, a wave of relief washing over him, finally freed from his duties. He dragged his hoe behind him as he lumbered back to a small barn of stone and wood situated up on a small precipice where it stood overlooking the farm. The voice belonged to one of the village elders, Kunuku, who still worked the earth even at his impressive age of three hundred and seventeen (he was one of only two fourth-century-aged people in Cathar). Kunuku was sitting on a wooden log outside the barn by a small table with a red and white checkered tablecloth draped over it. On the table was a cloth-covered basket, and beside Kunuku sat Nonni-Bonna, a middle-aged woman in her second-century sixties. Sylus had no recollection of his mother, but he imagined that Nonni-Bonna might be what having an aunt was like. She did often talk about his mother after all, and they had apparently been very close before her parting. She treated him very warmly, often spoiling him with jewelry and freshly baked pastries.

“Well hello Sy-Sy! Come and give your Bonna a big hug!” she said as Sylus approached, remaining seated but unfurling her arms. Sylus dropped his hoe and jumped into her arms smiling. Her hugs were affectionate and warm—her arms wrapping around Sylus like a blanket. He almost wanted to stay embraced like this forever. “Oh my sweetie daisy, how I’ve missed you! It’s been so long!”

“But Bonna, we met just yesterday,” said Sylus, looking up at her with his innocent gray eyes.

“Oh my little plumpkin pie, every second without you is an eternity for Bonna!” said Nonni-Bonna as she pinched Sylus’ pink cheeks. “Oo, speaking of plumpkin pie!” added Bonna. “I brought a freshly baked one for you! Well, not a plumpkin one, a wildfruit jam one! A little bit out of season for plumpkin…”

Kunuku coughed out an old chuckle as he reached over for the cloth-covered basket, but was too short to reach it. However, before he could perch himself on top of the table to reveal the contents inside the basket, Nonni-Bonna struck his hand away.

“Kunuku, you rascal you! That pie is for little Sy-Sy!” said Bonna.

“It’s okay Bonna, let’s eat it together,” said Sylus, turning his head to smile warmly at Nonni-Bonna.

“Oh alright then my little sweetie!” said Bonna, who Sylus knew always conceded at his opinion, as if he was the sun and she a bowl of shaved ice just melting away in his presence.

“I’ll help myself!” said Kunuku as he pulled off the cloth from the basket revealing a golden crust. The scent of butter and tangy, sugary fruit wafted in the air, and suddenly Sylus felt his stomach churn and knead in hunger. Kunuku skillfully sliced the pie into three pieces, one bigger than the rest, before grabbing himself one of the two smaller portions. Bonna grabbed the next small portion, leaving the biggest slice for Sylus to eat. He picked it up carefully from the basket with both hands. It was hot to the touch, but just cool enough where he could still hold on to it. The flour-dusted crust was coarse and flaky—he was holding the fruits of his laborious work in his hands. The filling was a translucent, almost jelly-like orange jam mixed with larger pieces of fruit, and it glittered in the midday sun. He blew on it a couple of times before finally taking a big bite (as big as his small mouth could). Sweet nectar hit his tongue and sent a shockwave of joy all the way from his head down to his feet. He enjoyed the pie quietly and contently as cool winds caressed him.

Second Fragment

All the townsfolk had gathered in front of Oten Shrine, a cave structure within a rock spire three stone throws away from Cathar’s nearest cliff face. They were all standing at different elevations and lined up so as not to block the pathway of the hangbridge leading from the shrine. Sylus stood by the dirt path and Nonni-Bonna was there next to him, her hands firm on his shoulders. She was the one who brought him here, but she didn’t say much about why. He was familiar with most people in this village since they were but a small farming community, but he had never seen any of them behave like this before. Most had stern or emotionless expressions on their faces. He could hear sobbing from somewhere among the crowd. Nonna was quiet. That was the strangest part.

He noticed that people were coming out of Oten Shrine. There were two men carrying something that looked like a bed of wicker on their shoulders, and in front of them was the Grand Guru himself. They slowly crossed the wooden hangbridge, and the closer they got the more Sylus began to realize that someone was lying on that bed which they were hoisting on their shoulders. The nearby sobbing began to grow louder, and as the three men passed them he felt Nonna’s hands squeeze his shoulders tighter, and then he saw who was lying there, unmoving. It was old man Kunuku. Oh, I see, thought Sylus. He heard murmurs in the crowd. “He passed away too soon,” and “nobody could have foreseen this,” and “he had so many golden days left ahead of him”. Sylus wondered why they were surprised. He had foreseen it. The energy that flowed around Kunuku had wavered and leaked for the past couple of seasons. Did nobody else pay attention to that?

The crowd followed the Grand Guru, who guided the two men carrying Kunuku to the highest precipice in Cathar. There were three tall gates leading to the precipice, all decorated with white strips of cloth. The pinwheels here were more abundant, and they were bigger in size too. The wind hadn’t picked up, but they seemed to spin faster and faster as they approached. When everyone had entered through the gates and gathered on the grassy slope of the precipice, the Grand Guru walked all the way up to the edge, his figure becoming a silhouette in the setting sun. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled—a cry akin to a song. After he was done, everyone waited with their breaths bated, and soon they heard the intimidating sound of large flapping wings. Each flap shook the air, then a large turquoise-scaled wyvern came flying out of the distant bed of clouds before diving back down like some kind of ethereal fish. It did this a couple of times before circling around Cathar and landing next to the Guru with a great gust accompanying it. It stood just a little bit taller than the Guru, and though it had intimidating features, it appeared to be friendly. The Guru gave it some feed which it ate straight from his hand. Sylus was staring at it in awe. This was the first time he’d seen a wyvern up close. The way its neck moved—it was smooth and in control. It was as if it was swimming underwater. Its eyes were yellowish and its pupil was only a thin slit. Sometimes it would look hereward, but it never made eye contact with Sylus. He really wanted to make eye contact with it. Its energies flowed in a very natural way, sort of enveloping its form without branching out. It was the most mesmerizing thing he had seen in his life.

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The Guru patted the beast on its snout before beckoning the two men to come forward. They stepped forth and presented Kunuku’s body. Sylus stood frozen. The wyvern looked over at Kunuku’s unmoving body and lumbered towards it. It prodded at him gently before turning around to look at the Guru. He just nodded with a subtle smile, and then the wyvern with its talons grabbed Kunuku by his shoulders. It powerfully flapped its wings a couple of times, sending dust and dirt spiraling into the crowd. People covered their eyes, but Sylus didn't even notice. It twisted its body with grace and flew away from Cathar with Kunuku’s body clutched tight. At that moment, Nonna’s fingers dug into Sylus, and he heard her trying to hold back her tears, but sobs broke into crying, and cry she did. Some other villagers followed suit, but Sylus remained quiet. Like he always was. All he could think about was the wyvern that now disappeared into the orange-painted clouds with Kunuku.

Third Fragment

The knife's edge scraped slowly against the wooden surface. The edge gleamed in the sunlight as Sylus looked at it inching closer and closer. Nonni-Bonna held the knife handle tight and pressed the tip hard into the post, carving a mark into it, brushing against the top of Sylus’ hair. It tickled a little bit.

“Alright let’s see,” said Bonna, and Sylus turned around to look as well. “It’s about a digit and a half perhaps. You’ve really grown tall, huh!”

“Yeah,” said Sylus brushing his hand against the dozen marks on the wooden post. The ones at the bottom were duller than the ones towards the top. Sylus turned around to face Nonni-Bonna and stretched his legs to become taller.

“If I stretch out my feet, I’m almost as tall as you!”

Nonni-Bonna laughed. “I suppose so my sweet plumpkin.”

A sudden but distant sound of propellers drew their attention towards the hanging docks.

“Well, well, well. A whale at this time of the year,” said Nonni-Bonna putting her hands on her hips and looking off into the distance. She then turned to Sylus with a smile. “I think we must investigate!”

Sylus gave a quick but affirmative nod before racing off towards the hanging docks. Bonna couldn’t keep up with his quickness.

“You go ahead Sylus! I’ll catch up!” she said calling out.

Sylus gave Bonna a big white grin before speeding up. He spent a lot of his free time jumping and climbing around in the village, so it didn’t take long for his nimble feet to carry him all the way to the perimeter of the main square. He only had to run through the gap between these two shacks and the hanging docks would come into view, but he had another plan. He began observing the wooden house to his right. Its roof was constructed of a combination of rope material and curved shingles. He wanted to climb to the top of it, but it was much too high for him to reach. There was, however, an empty wooden cart on the path to his left. His mind moved and gears began turning. He started visualizing how he’d do this. He wouldn’t be able to jump from it, considering it was too unbalanced on wheels. If only he could turn it on its side. That would both stabilize it and elevate him further since the cart was more wide than it was tall.

Well, first things first, he thought, moving to retrieve the cart. He jogged up to it before grabbing hold of the wooden handle that was crafted in a way where one would be able to push the cart along rather than pull it. He pulled on it before realizing this, wherein he ducked underneath the handle and began pushing instead. When he had pushed it all the way to the side of the house he was planning to scale, he circled around the cart and tried to lift it. Alas, it was far too heavy. But Sylus knew there had to be a solution. Suddenly, an idea came to him and he began scouring the road for rocks. After a short moment, he picked up one rock that he liked—a long rock with a sharp sloped end—and went back to the side of the cart. He stuck it against the bottom of its wheels, wedging the rock between, creating a small leverage. Once more he tried to push the cart over, and though it required all the strength his small body could possibly muster, he finally managed to lift it as it slowly shifted weight and hit the ground. A small leverage proved to be a significant leverage nonetheless.

He climbed up the cart and balanced on it, then tread slowly forward towards the house and gauged the distance. He could make it. He knelt down and jumped, leaping far up into the air and grabbing a hold of the edge of the roof. He dangled a bit before kicking off of the wall with his feet, using that momentum to swing right up on top of the roof. He smirked. It was his small little victory. So petty yet such an achievement. He clambered up all the way to the ridge and peered over to look at the hanging docks. There it was. The so-called “Whale”. A large airship with an even larger air balloon at the top. It had propellers built practically everywhere they could be built, and people that seemed all too familiar were getting off of it one by one. Wait a second, he thought. There was one who he had never seen before. It was a taller man clad in a leather vest that revealed his bandaged stomach area. He wore a very prestigious-looking fauld around his hips made of some kind of scale or bone. He had a large backpack flung over his left shoulder, and to his back was strapped a shield; underneath it, what looked to be a sword. Though it was admittedly hard to tell from this distance, it seemed to resemble a foreign hunter. The man’s gear didn’t seem to be crafted from parts of any local monsters, that was for sure. How intriguing. Cathar used to have their own hunters a decade ago. Back then, unlike now, they didn’t need to rely on those mercenary hunters from Val Habar when local monsters got out of control. Perhaps the tides were changing! But truthfully speaking, Sylus didn’t care at all about things such as hunting business and trade. He was simply enthralled by the fact that a hunter from another land was here! He had to speak to him.

“Oh, Sy-Sy! Where did you go?” called Nonni-Bonna across the village.

“Sorry Bonna!” whispered Sylus to himself before vaulting over the roof ridge, sliding down and hopping off before landing on the ground of the main square without even stirring up the dust at his feet.

“Don’t go worrying Bonna now, kid,” said Farhel, one of the village carpenters who had noticed Sylus jumping down.

“Mhm,” said Sylus nodding before racing off towards the docks. He jogged passed a dozen people or so before landing in the middle of all the commotion. There had been more people than he’d initially realized, and his short stature prevented him from seeing where the hunter went. He stopped completely and looked around for this mystery foreigner, eventually spotting him a good distance away talking to some villagers. He began jogging in that direction but bumped into something yellow and fell backward.

“Oh, sorry!” exclaimed a familiar female voice. “Huh, now would you look at that? What do we have here.”

Sylus looked up and saw a young woman—a forgemaster—one that he recognized. Treading up next to her was a large burly man who he also recognized.

“If it isn’t young master Sylus,” said the man. “What a coincidence.”

“Old man Tanto! And Koko!” said Sylus surprised. These two smithys were partners who traveled around together. They would sometimes visit Cathar for “old memories' sake”. Apparently, Koko used to live in a place called Harth, not far from here. She still wore the same Troverian yellow knitted leather, and she still carried that same giant hammer. The man was dressed more frugally; more wyverian. He carried ornamental necklaces around his neck and bore a large sack on his back, most likely containing all their forge gear.

“We’re going to go meet with the elder. Do you wanna come along and maybe catch up little guy?” asked Koko, twirling around Sylus and Tanto.

“I-” began Sylus, shooting his gaze in the direction of where he had seen the foreign hunter. He was gone. Sylus felt like sighing, but instead swallowed his dissatisfaction and smiled softly. “I’ll come along.”

“Great! You wanna see my newest creation!?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Koko, or “Little Miss Forge” as some called her, began pulling out different contraptions, tools, and weapons from Tanto’s big sack, showcasing their uses and functions to Sylus. Interesting as they were, Koko seemed to be showcasing them to herself rather than to him.

For the rest of the day, he hung around the two smiths before they eventually had to leave again. Nonni-Bonna only managed to find him when it had begun growing dark, and she had one or two opinions about that.