Flush with happiness after my birthday, and still riding the crest of the wave from winning the commission for Lord Garman, I approach Ember early in my next shift.
Her raised brows don’t put me off; I’m not above begging to get my way. I clear my throat and give her what I hope is a winning smile. “I need extra time in the Peliharaon studio to fulfill the Lord’s increasingly extravagant order. With you and Mikko to help, it will be the finest work I’ve ever put out, but I can’t do a rush job.”
Her eyes spark. “Of course not. I understand you’ll need to forgo your responsibilities here, so I’ll hold your pay while you’re busy.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” I start to protest, but I stop when I see just how amused Ember is at my reaction.
“Would you rather I grumble about losing your talents for the second half of the week, and not let you go? This commission is valuable, and you’ll come out ahead in the long run. But I can’t pay you for work you don’t do.”
I nod slowly as I consider her words. Honestly, I think part of her is proud that I’ve earned such a respectable client, and she makes a good point that it’s not fair to get paid when I’m not contributing to the studio here in Silaraon.
“Are you still coming along?” I ask, nervous that she’s changed her mind. “I could really use your help with the glass sun.”
“Fine. On one condition: you help us catch up on a few menial tasks first. If we’re both gone, then I need some of the mindless tasks done and the books set in order.”
“Deal!”
While I’m still in Silaraon, I rush around the glass studio, sweeping up and straightening, sorting glass and organizing flux and filler. I color coordinate bits of glass fritz, mix up several new batches of glass ready to be blown, and check the tubing on all the blow pipes to ensure that there are no leaks or cracks that will prevent consistent air flow. Technically, I could make an [Apprentice] handle it, but I’m faster and more skilled. No sense leaving this in the hands of amateurs, after all.
After I’m done with the inspections, I help Lionel pull cane in the wings of the studio, just off the side of the hot shop. Pulling cane is simple in concept, just stretching hot glass into long, thin rods, but it requires a steady hand, patience, and attention to detail. While Lionel and I are self-professed rapscallions outside of work, we take our job seriously when it’s time to make things. We settle into a comfortable rhythm as we go about the familiar task, working side by side like we have for years. At times like this, I wonder why I feel such recalcitrance to stay here for a lifetime. Why do I always get the urge to see new places and experience the thrill of adventure for myself? Why can’t I be content?
“Pining after someone back in Peliharaon, Nuri?”
“I wish! It’s all glass and paperwork when I’m there. No time for fun,” I reply, scrunching up my nose.
He snickers. “I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d said yes, anyway.”
I stick my tongue out, but Lio’s teasing always grounds me when I’m feeling down or my mind starts to drift. Soon, we’re chatting and laughing while we work. I let my stormy thoughts dissipate under the burnished-bronze glow of good friends and hard work.
My responsibilities finally discharged, I head back to the little cabin I’m renting and grab a knapsack with supplies for the day.
As expected, Ember is waiting for me outside when I’m done, already looking impatient. She has a full-sized backpack on that puts my knapsack to shame. A long knife is strapped to her hip, the deadly, triangular point reaching down to her knee. It’s the most martial I’ve seen her in a long time. In an instant, an image of the heroic soldier appears, superimposed over the creative yet strict and bookish administrator that I’ve grown used to in the studio.
“Stir your stumps, Nuri. It's time I teach you what a forced march really looks like.” She winks at me and then stomps off at a surprisingly fast clip, never once looking back to check if I'm following. She knows I won’t back down from the challenge, no matter how wide the gulf between us might be. She’s deep into the next rank, while I'm still struggling to reach my first Threshold, and she has decades of experience with the army to fall back on.
Twenty minutes later, we’re most of the way there. I’m out of breath and clutching at my side, sure that the cramp is going to be the death of me. The walk usually takes me a little over an hour, and that’s at a brisk pace. I need to start working on my conditioning.
Ember holds up a hand, halting abruptly as we reach a thick band of old growth trees. She sniffs, peering through the gloom at something I can’t see. “I’ll catch up shortly, Nuri. Not often that I get a chance to pick wild ginseng root. It will sell well in the market—perhaps this trip will be profitable, after all.”
A rare smile on her face, Ember glides into the woods soundlessly, soon disappearing into the underbrush like a specter.
One day, I’m going to move like a ghost, I vow to myself as I watch her with a mixture of envy and awe. She might not be one of the great champions of Densmore, but she’s always been a hero in my book. Aside from teaching me the foundations of glass making after my father passed, she’s also drilled into me the rudimentary skills necessary for defending myself. While she always insists that I have to promise not to join the Army or run off and become an adventurer like my father did before settling down, she’s made sure that I can more or less hold my own.
My head full of dreams about a more glorious future, I press forward through the woods, eager to reach the studio and show off the progress we've made. Sunlight filters through the leaves, dabbling the ground with leafy patterns, and the gentle breeze carries a floral scent that I find oddly relaxing. I should spend more time in the woods.
I’m so wrapped up in enjoying the beauty of nature that I don’t notice the ambush until it's almost too late.
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Flashing claws catch the sunlight right in front of my face. The reflection saves my life as a jolt of fear and excitement shoots through me. I scream and lurch sideways on instinct, avoiding the worst of the blow as the very tips of the claws rake the side of my face. Agony erupts across my cheeks. Hot blood paints my face. I fling myself to the ground, rolling behind a tree to avoid the snapping jaws that seek my throat.
Shadow Jaguar!
A distant part of me is pleased with my presence of mind to identify the threat and take evasive action. My thoughts haven’t devolved into gibbering fear, and I am already back on my feet and dodging behind another tree. It’s only bronze-ranked. I can do this.
Before I can crow in triumph, I need to survive.
Roaring out a wordless war cry, I snatch up a fallen branch as thick as my wrist and swing for the jaguar. Pouring as much mana as I can into my singular Skill, I ignite the walking stick only a heartbeat before the gnarled end of the hardwood smashes into the big cat’s face, knocking out a long, pointed tooth.
A frantic yowl of pain rewards me for my efforts. The cat recoils, its spine arching and its silky black fur bunching and bristling. Sparks of fire smolder on its whiskers where I hit it in the face, but it shakes its head to try to dislodge the burning embers and hisses, spitting in anger and readying itself for another attack.
Keeping the tempo advantage, I lunge forward with a double-handed overhead strike, slamming my makeshift staff against the Jaguar’s skull. Its head twists to the side sharply, but it keeps its footing and gathers itself for a powerful leap.
Acting purely on instinct, I fall back into a defensive guard, my feet wide and planted in the dirt. I angle the stick across my chest to protect my vitals and meet the fury of claw and fang with a bellowing shout of defiance. Its claws dig deep into the stick, nearly wrenching it from my grasp, But I twist and push hard enough to shunt its momentum to the side.
The force of the predator’s pounce knocks me on the ground, and as I scramble to catch my bearings, I lose sight of the obsidian-furred cat. My heart thuds against my ribs. Fear spikes through me. An unmanly shriek echoes through the clearing a second later as its fangs sink into the meaty part of my shoulder.
My Skill flares to life, radiating heat into the hungry predator’s twisted face. Its lips sizzle in the blistering heat, and it releases me, flinches away as it howls in pain and anger. I jam the end of the branch into its mouth, reversing the flow of my [Lesser Heat Manipulation] and freezing its jaws shut around the wood. A sharp kick from my boots sends it stumbling backward, and I drop the stick and flee through the trees toward an open field a short ways ahead.
Furious growls follow my mad-dash escape, but a quick glance over my shoulder proves that the jaguar can’t run properly with the big branch affixed to its face. I don’t know if it’s alone or not, however, so I push onward with every last drop of energy I can muster.
Sunlight washes over me a few heartbeats later as I break free of the dense woodlands and stumble into a nearby [Farmer]’s field. A pair of workers look up from where they’re hoeing in the furrows, digging weeds up from the dirt. Their startled, perplexed looks transform into fear and alarm a moment later when another jaguar emerges from the trees, screaming a triumphant hunting call.
“Sound the alarm!” I yell, stumbling toward the two and stating the obvious.
To my surprise, instead of signaling their superiors or coming to my aid, they drop their hoes and take off sprinting. The movement triggers some primal, predatorial instinct in the big cat, and it springs into action. Its long, loping stride eats up the ground, and I barely have time to try to push my Skill past its limits to burn its feet while it’s still within my range.
The burning flash of heat makes it jump, skipping sideways and tossing its head to and fro in confusion. Enraged at my meddling, it switches targets, charging toward me with savage violence and preternatural intelligence gleaming in its eyes.
Incoherent screams rip from my throat as it launches itself at me. I drop and roll under its claws, wishing I still had my staff, and cling to the hope that Ember will arrive before it’s too late, but I’m not sure if she can hear me, let alone save me.
A whistle sounds out, high and thin. The jaguar flinches, spinning around and crouching in preparation for action. Eyes as black as the abyss dart in every direction, looking for the threat. A heavy thud follows a split second later, and my mind takes time to catch up to what my eyes just witnessed. The jaguar is no longer in front of me, and I spin in place, searching frantically to find my attacker. There! The predator is pinned to the ground twenty feet to the side, leaving a trail of battered, flattened vegetation in its wake. A thick branch, twice the size of the one I’d picked up to fight off the first jaguar, juts out of the big cat’s rib cage. It came hurtling through the air faster than I could follow, slamming into the creature with the force of a runaway ox cart.
Ember sprints into view, breaking out of the treeline with flames gathered around her fists and a halo of darkness around her head. She dashes up to me, her face contorted in terror, and flings herself to her knees by my side. Fingers fumbling at her pack, she croons to me gently like a mother soothing her upset child.
“Don’t move, Nuri. I’ll bind you up. You’ll be good in no time; their poison is too low-level to resist this general antidote,” Ember says, her voice soft and gentle as she daubs my cuts with antiseptic. Her strong hands pin me in place so I can’t squirm when the medicinal salve smears across my open wounds. “Good work on the first jaguar; I dispatched him on the way to find you. Freezing the stick into its mouth was smart. Probably the only thing that kept you alive.”
She keeps up a steady stream of speech, which is surprising for her. I wonder if it’s to distract me from the severity of my injuries and keep me from worrying about the pain from the bites and scratches. If so, it’s working. I’m thankful for her efforts on my behalf.
“What would I do without you?” I say in a fierce half whisper, still too jittery from my near brush with death to find the strength to speak any louder. I clutch Ember’s strong hand in my own, smiling up at her gratefully.
“You’d figure something out. You’re a tough kid,” Ember grunts. She shakes her head, lips pursed. “Shouldn’t call you that anymore, I guess. You’re a man now. Stood and fought, didn’t die. Proud of you.”
The praise warms me. Ember is my rock. Reliable and looking out for me, just like always. I owe her my life, although I already did before today. Without her, I would have nothing to my name; no hope, no future, no skills or trade to support myself.
“The [Farmers] ran off,” I say, struggling to my feet despite her efforts to keep me in place. “They have no chance if there are other monsters around. If we don’t help, then who will?”
Ember growls in righteous indignation. “Monsters like that shouldn't be allowed to flourish so close to the city walls. The watch will keep them out of Silaraon, not to mention the mana barrier repels them, but Peliharaon has no such defenses.”
I nod sharply. “Then let’s go. Pull out that branch you used to skewer the jaguar, and I’ll lean on it like a walking stick. If nothing else, I can try to freeze them and slow them down for you to butcher.”
Ember regards me shrewdly, but aside from a subtle tightening of the small muscles around her eyes, she doesn’t gainsay me. A fast step and a single bound brings her to the cat’s side, and she wrenches the branch free with a jerk of her hand. “Keep your eyes open. I’ll likely need to run on ahead to get there in time to save people. Be smart, hear me? Don’t force me to choose between them or you; I don’t need their blood on my conscience.”