Prelude 8 - The Skyward Dance

Sharing the description with Cestia, her eyes flicked across the page and then checked her own book for confirmation before she nodded and looked him in the eye. He looked back at their instructors. Suray set her headgear aside, on the workbench, not far from the sewing machine and yet decently away from Momo as she cracked her neck with a barely-audible snap. Rufus placed the shellmet out of pecking distance from Sekina and then quizzed both of them on their light reading.

“What is the elemental type of a Wormwool?” The question was directed at Kaye, who answered by pooling all his neurons together into one flash of a word.

“Brown.”

The Charmie had...a blue droplet symbol next to it? And the worm creature, he could distinctly remember, was a brown thing. All other details fled him.

Rufus returned a slow steady nod before following up, “...And which element does that represent?”

Kaye endeavored to make his pause following that question feel like calm reflection, and not the panic that resumed within him. Brown… brown… brown. Suray often quizzed them on the key elemental types. After the first few, they became a jumble, although the first few were also a blank rainbow of colors and notions.

He just felt proud of himself that the green insect creature sketch hadn’t thrown him, although he couldn’t remember if there even was a green element. Same as his selection before, blindly flailing towards the Charmie hat, he just stated the first thing that drifted towards his mind.

“Ground.”

“Very good, Kaye. Well, the term is mithe, terra, or earth in some tongues, but ground is correct. Magical users or mages especially have to consider elemental aspects when spellcasting, but other types of jobs include abilities that are also elemental in nature or imbued with elements by other means. There are elemental dominances that are survival critical to understand. Wind erodes ground. Ground suffocates fire. Fire boils away water. Water blocks wind. And there is a fifth quality without element. For that, pretty much every attack style you attempt will do basic damage except for soul spells. Soulcasting connects with the four spirit types. But I don’t wanna deluge you with all that now, since you should be fine for a while. Got it?”

Even though Kaye nodded in response, all he could retain for certain was that ground was a thing and that… Ground was a thing.

There were days when his heart fluttered, sweat collected in every corner, and tears rattled the edges of his eyes in the fear that he was a dumb man and no one wanted tell him the truth about it. Surely, Suray or Cestia would’ve mentioned it to him privately though. Right...?

But, then again, he had a sense about the day, an intuition about what all the animals around the farm needed, and a cleverness when it came to patching things up and working through problems. But did any of that matter when it came to adventuring? He desperately hoped so. But he also feared he was well on his way to disappointing his childhood best friend, the mentor of his youth, and everyone else. And, out here, disappointment led to death and worse. He had to be better, even if it meant reading this book all through the night once his training was over, and firing up every scrap of mental power inside him.

The instructors found a place to sit with Momo and Sekina lingering nearby as Kaye and Cestia set out to acquire everything for the recipe, from parts of this ground critter to everything else. Once it was just the two of them on the nearest forest path, Cestia assured Kaye that she would take care of the stuff that required slaughtering Charmdrops and split the proceeds with him.

Even though he wanted to counter that he could kill them himself, he knew he still wasn’t ready for that, despite the training and practice Char had eased him through. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to kill these bug critters based on the spiky green larva look and description the book offered, but they were sharing the duties and he had to do his part.

It didn’t take Cestia long to find some of the slow, pink stragglers from the crowd she had dispersed earlier and easily slew them before they recognized “death on blue wings” was coming for them.

After several rounds, they soon had enough of the drops by Charmies for the main part of two crafting recipes.

The Wormwools, roughly three fists across and six long, mainly hung out on the evergreens, but also ambled with their needle-like teeth probing the ground. They definitely didn’t register much cuteness to look at, but they still had eyes that expressed curiosity, concern, and calm. A touch of Charmdrop salmon tone on what was likely their cheeks hinted at a blush that Kaye rationally knew was nothing of the sort or, at most, a deterrence for fretful, would-be predators like him.

Fortunately, his Daring knife was long enough to jam between the spiky plates on the side and behind. It felt distressingly far from honorable, but he managed to get the required amount of tufts for both of them by stabbing all the bugs in the rear. The only wound he sustained was a quick jab on the back of the hand from getting too close to one.

< -1 HP.>

Of course, the critter didn’t have any poison abilities and the bleeding, just a small trickle, stopped by the time he was done. Still, Cestia dressed it with more attentive care than she gave her own wrappings from the battle with Crosha. She had stopped bleeding long ago, but the rusty patches still pained Kaye to see. They both washed up in a nearby stream and refilled their canteens, after long drinks, in clear, flowing water.

Following a sigh of relief that the hunting was done for this quest, Kaye peered into the waters below him. His precise details shuddered in eddies and currents. He wore a pronounced crease that slipped from the bottom of his prominent, freckled nose, bridged the gap of his thin lips to fade within his curly, crimson adolescent scruff, before dividing the center of his chin.

It hurt he couldn’t remember the color of his parents’ eyes and his simple, brown set required little memory at all. He’d trimmed his dusky-bright, red locks soon before they started this journey, yet already the fringes were threatening to sit across his shoulders.

He figured the area around Elshelm had some simple magic, or at least a barber, to cull it. A wandering bump, invisible unless he pulled on his skin, rested just below his hairline. He discovered it late one night, many years ago, after no audacious adventure with Cestia in the woods, nor after any hardship on the farm, nor skirmish with the local kids.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

He hadn’t bothered to speak of it as, around town, such blemishes were linked to deviancy. At birth, his parents said he wore masses of freckles that some took for a pox on his mother staring openly at the evening fireplace and passing on a psychic burn to him. At least a red blemish upon his cheek, contrasting against his fair, pale skin, was easily lost in his brilliant hair till it finally went away after a few years. By the time he found the courage to tell his father about this mark, it had gone from rough scrubbing nuisance to tolerated acquaintance.

Since it was the time of his father‘s dwindling strength and advancing infirmity, all he could offer in response was a gently polished ax and a kind nod. He could’ve sliced it open easily and drawn any fluids forth, but he never did and no one looked close enough to bother him about it, not even Cestia.

Be it pox or curse, it had taken its sweet time if it were building to any ill effect.

In the folklore dismissed around the longhouse, gathered from merchants and travelers beyond the tranquil sea, to the southernmost continent and islands far east and west beyond the runic lands, some marks were a sign of Asgard‘s anointing touch.

Of course, everyone told different stories, whatever tales suited them. In some, Odin is a god of wind and air. In others, one of runic magic and insatiable quests for knowledge.

Kaye straightened. He was no instrument of the gods, nor sterling example of the kind of adventurers he met in travelers, stories, or along their way here. Whether he could even pass these initial trials felt uncertain. And what of when Cestia and he ultimately went their separate ways? That had been at the corners of their discussions about becoming the Queen and King of Adventurers. Sure, they would team up when required or work together on some mounting challenge, against some unknown, infernal beast. But Cestia had her path planned ahead and...

He preferred not to pursue that thought each time it came up. They had now, these adventures together. Whatever tomorrow brought or the day after or the day after that was undecided. He couldn’t imagine a life without his father’s steady hand or his mother’s warm embrace, but he had to and he lived it this far. Cupping water, he splashed his face numb and cold a few times before rubbing it dry with a sleeve.

“Kearny? Look at this.” Cestia called to him, back towards the evergreens, her voice muffled. Turning, Kaye watched her gaze upwards through a thick tangle of pine branches, one low enough for either of them to hoist themselves upon. From there, the next few branches seemed like an awkward but natural step ladder to the towering heights above. They both had the same thought.

Cestia hoisted herself up first, weaving between the densest needles with a wince but no cry. Kaye followed with a searching but steady grip on the trunk before bringing his leg up. Clinging tightly, Cestia clenched her teeth and supported him on his way to the first of the branches with her. From there, he ventured out to the next step and provided assistance for her. At half this age, the dance of climbing was still awkward. She ensnared his throbbing, numb fingers like a vice made of cold noodles. His grip dangled as she struggled from branch to branch. It took several tries before the fact that they were a little girl and a little boy stop mattering. Kaye still felt his heart press against his chest more from Cestia’s smooth arms than the retreating sight of the ground below them. But he understood how firmly to hold her.

The dense, rough bark didn’t provide the kind of grip either of them would’ve liked, but one passed the other like a slow spin through a cloaked, rising dance floor. Cestia reached the pinnacle first, her head cresting as a gust turned her long locks into an overcast, roiling sea. Joining her, Kaye tested an arm around her waist before moving it to grip her free hand. The quick flair of a smirk dashed across her lips before she turned to peer into the wind.

From up here, it was easy to see the stony walls encircling Elshelm Castle. Some hint of the train they'd taken also showed with a strange absence of trees in a bent oval. Arched columns of smoke followed the breeze and a glittering bridge tower suggested a sea crossing at the edge of the forest.

Distant clouds still encircled the waning sun with stray rays making him squint as Cestia‘s hair splashed at his arm. He managed, “It’s really nice.” Though his gaze first flicked to Cestia, he made sure to take in the full landscape.

Squinting, the tallest flank of evergreens prevented him from getting a glimpse of the great desert to the south, which they had deliberately avoided on their trek here and still only knew from stories and legends. The cursed desert, burned, borne, and branded by the evil Theros sealed away all those millennia ago. Despite a lingering curiosity to at least see some sign of it, he was in no hurry to experience that stretch of the runic lands.

At ease, despite the faintly-swaying branches beneath his feet, Kaye took a long, slow breath through his nostrils. Near the end, he paused. A foul, wretched aroma clawed at his nose and refused to escape, despite being expelled with a cough. Moments later, Cestia sputtered as well and shielded her mouth.

For a nervous instant, Kaye worried that his last, hurried meal was reaching its conclusion in an unexpectedly pungent way. But the aroma was being carried by the wind, latched on like a nasty parasite. Breathing through clothing and wraps helped as they did their dance in reverse, down through the prickling pine needles and hopping back to the mossy ground. The suffocating stench remained. Dampening the strips of cloth in the creek, Cestia and Kaye carefully ventured into the path of the breeze with their heads down but their eyes scanning for what could possibly produce such a demonic fragrance.

The scent swelled until Kaye could only envision a herd of sickly farm creatures befouling themselves en mass. At the eye of the horrific odor, the intensity waned only slightly at the next clearing. It didn’t take them long to spot what had to be the source: Sprawled out on the grass with his limbs askew, clothes ruffled, and eyes wide was the body of an adventurer much like them. His mouth dipped opened, as though struggling to speak a final word none would ever know.

Cestia recoiled first, her hands clasped together into near fists above the pinnacle of her chest. Kaye didn’t catch her expression before she fought it down to one of measured concern, but he suspected panic or greening. He knew death all too well, which is why he frowned and slowly approached the fallen form before them.