Wellynd stood up straight and slowly turned, subconsciously moving his hand towards the stone in his pocket.

A figure stood near one of the tunnels that led deeper into the mine, the faint ambient light of the cavern and Wellynd’s torch not enough to illuminate their features.

“Uh, who are you? This section of the mine is closed off.” said Wellynd.

“Well, it was.”

The figure took a few steps closer, entering the small domain of torchlight. The man was tall, middle-aged. He wore a simple set of what looked like leather trousers and a well-pocketed leather vest over a simple long-sleeved white tunic. The features of his face were still hard to discern, but it appeared that the man had gone unshaven for at least a week, and his dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot atop his head.

Wellynd took a few steps back before gesturing to the opening he had made in the mountainside. The winds howled outside and occasionally whipped through the entrance, stirring up a restless breeze throughout the dark space.

“Uh, yeah. I guess that’s true. Was this your stuff here?” he replied gesturing with the strange mechanism he still held in his hand to the rubble behind him.

The figure let out a soft chuckle “Mhm. Luckily, I kept my rations deeper into the cavern to keep those damned goats away. Otherwise I’d have to make another trip into town.”

“Kellek’s Watch?” Wellynd blurted out.

“No…Devlyn’s Burrow, it’s about an hour west of here. Are you from Kellek’s Watch?”

Wellynd had heard of Devlyn’s Burrow but never been there. They rarely had reason to visit the towns on the west side of the island.

The figure took a few more cautious steps. Brilliant, emerald green eyes, reflecting in the torchlight examined Wellynd with a lively curiosity, though the man’s countenance remained inscrutable.

“Yeah. Well sort of. I’m from around there.” he realized it was best that he didn’t reveal where he was from. He wasn’t supposed to be here after all.

“I’ve heard of it. I should visit sometime. Ah. Before we go any further, can I ask what you’re fiddling with in your pocket. If it’s a weapon, I assure you I don’t intend to harm you.”

Wellynd stopped. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been fiddling with the stone. It probably wasn’t a bad instinct at this point, but he wasn’t keen on bringing attention to it.

“Oh it’s nothing. It’s just a stupid stone my uncle gave me. Kind of a good luck charm to keep with me.”

“Ah. So why are you here?” continued the man.

“I’m sort of just exploring. Well, I’ve been here befor….well, I know the owner’s son…and I was just…” Wellynd began to stammer. He never had issues lying to save his skin when he was doing deliveries, but, for some reason, the question had caught him off guard.

The stranger raised his hand placatingly “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I’m not supposed to be here either.”

“Mr. Snellium doesn’t know you’re here?”

“Who…? Ah, yes. The mine owner. No, he doesn’t. Or at least, I don’t know why he would.”

Wellynd relaxed a bit. “Then why are you here?”

“Well, I think that’s obvious. I would guess for the same reason that you’re here, but before we get into that, can we start a fire? Your entrance has made it rather drafty, and I also don’t want the goats thinking they can just wander in here.”

“Oh, sure. And yeah. Sorry about ruining your stuff.” Wellynd placed the mechanism down in front of him.

The man waved his hand “Oh don’t worry about it. Most of it is easily replaceable anyway. Well, except for that.” The man walked forward and picked up the mechanism.

“Seems to be in order. I’m Kellog, by the way.”

“Kellog. I’m uh, Klof” That was the first name that popped into his head.

The man’s eyes searched Wellynd’s face for a moment. “Klof eh? I’ve never met a Klof. Let’s get this mess sorted out, shall we, Klof?”

Kellog walked towards the entrance, and without giving any warning, he casually raised one hand. The large hole Wellynd had created began to fill with dust and rocks, closing up right before their eyes, the sound of piling stone echoing throughout the cavern. The entrance had almost completely sealed before the man stopped, leaving a small fist-sized opening.

“Are you a Spade?” Wellynd asked in awe.

“A Spade?” the man chuckled “Maybe. I’ve never heard that term before.”

“Really? Like, you know, people who can move rocks or dirt. There aren’t any other Spades in Devlyn’s Burrow?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been there twice.” Kellog bent over and began picking up pieces of paper that were stuck in between the pieces of remaining rubble.

“Oh, are you from the mainland?”

“I guess I am. Though, not Arta or Verta.”

Wellynd let his shoulders relax. “You’re from Melyar?”

Kellog stopped arranging his papers and scratched his stubbled chin. “Hmm. That depends. I was born there. Or maybe in Rel. The borders were different back then. I move around so often now that I’m not sure I’m from anywhere.”

Wellynd had never met anyone from Rel. Well, except the rude magister who had performed his Observatory entrance test.

“Wow. You’re a long way from home. Or, where you were born, I mean.”

“Hmm.” The man started laughing. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I just started thinking about how complicated of a question you asked.”

“Why is it complicated?”

“Not sure it’s worth explaining right now. Let’s talk about the present. I’m more interested in why you’re here.” Kellog said as he walked over towards a stalagmite, which Wellynd now noticed, had several piles of cut logs and sticks piled up beside it. “As I said, we’re probably here for the same reason.”He gestured in the direction of the floating boulders. “But I didn’t think I’d have any visitors down here. How did you know about this place? You weren’t here when this happened, by any chance?” Kellog flashed a curious glance at Wellynd before continuing to throw sticks into an impressively neat pile.

Wellynd let the question hang in the air for several moments. His first instinct was to say no. He lied about his name, after all. Then again, he did need to know how he’d made the boulders stop falling, and he got a sense the man was probably more capable of answering that question than he was.

“Uh, sort of. Me and some friends were here but I left to get help when the cavern started to cave in.”

“So you didn’t see this happen. Ah. That’s a shame. I would have loved to meet the person who did this. Rumour says it was a young woman.”

Wellynd’s pulse quickened. Bert’s dad had been adamant that nobody find this place because he was worried about the Vertans. Was this man some sort of Vertan agent? How had he found out?

Kellog walked over his newly constructed pile of sticks, looked about for a large enough rock and plopped down on it. As he sat, the sticks abruptly burst into flame. The crackling sound of burning wood pittered off the high ceilings of the cavern while a narrow stream of smoke found its way to the small opening and spiraled out into the night air.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Have a seat. It’s getting cold.” said Kellog, gesturing at another flat rock on the other side of the fire.

Wellynd cautiously walked over and sat down.

“How did you start the fire?”

“What?”

“Well, how did you start the fire? I thought you were a Spade. Spades can move rocks, or dirt, or whatever. Spades don’t start fires. Kindles start fires. I’m sure a Fulmin could also start a fire, but not a Spade.”

The man raised one eyebrow “Ah, now I understand. Spade is what you call people who are of a certain Habit. Same with Kindle and Fulmin. Hmm. I guess I’m not a Spade then. A bit of a shame. I kind of liked that name.”

Wellynd wasn’t sure what the man meant by Habit, but he figured it was just a different word for ‘craft’.

Kellog held his hands out to the fire, turning them after a moment, the damp wood crackling into the cavern, the flames dancing in his green eyes.

“What do you call people who are both Spades and Kindles. Spindles?” he chuckled.

“No...people aren’t ever both. Once you start training a...craft...that’s what they are. Whether good at it or not.”

“Ah...” replied the man, his eyes moving to Wellynd. “So tell me then, what is your craft?”

“I...well I just started training to become a Guster.” said Wellynd, shifting in his seat.

“I imagine a Guster does something with the wind?”

“Yeah. They, uh…we… mainly help propel ships with the wind. Any decent vessel has one in the crew.”

“Ah yes, people like you, Gusters, exist all over Estioch. Though, most of them are Vertan, or Artan, like yourself. I do like the names, though. A little reductive maybe, to be sure, but endearing.” Kellog beamed.

Wellynd’s jaw tightened, his brow creasing slightly “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well Klof, it means that one can always learn more about the world. Despite having travelled across most of the continent, I have never heard the term Spade or Kindle. I might have heard Guster on a ship at some point, though, I can’t recall when. Do you have an Observatory on this island? You look like you’re about the right age.”

“No, only the one at Revenshore.”

“Why aren’t you studying there?”

Hoping Kellog couldn’t see his face turn red in the firelight, Wellynd gestured with his marked hand.

Kellog bit the inside of his cheek and prodded at the fire with a stick, but didn’t reply. Wellynd figured he probably seemed less interesting now, but before Wellynd could say anything else, his stomach let out a growl.

Kellog piqued up with a sly grin. “Hungry, Klof? I have a shoulder of boar we could roast.”

“Yeah. I mean…sure…if you don’t mind.”

“Excellent. Let’s get these embers roaring; I’ll start preparing the roast. There’s more wood that I’ve cut over there along with some kindling. Give it some wind when you add it, will you?”

He gestured over to a stacked pile of logs as he stood and began walking deeper into the mine, toward one of the tunnels.

“Give it some wind?” asked Wellynd.

The man stopped and turned “Yes, Klof. Stoke the flames, you know? Surely you’ve gusted more than just sails on ships. Do that.” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Kellog turned back and began sorting through some bags leaned against the far cave wall. A few moments later, he ambled back toward the fire carrying a couple canvas satchels in his arms, and what looked like a carved wooden platter. He sat back down on the stone and put the platter on his lap, and began to carve the pork.

Wellynd fetched some timber and kindling, placing a few pieces onto the dimming fire. He stepped back. Maybe it would catch on its own, but then again, the kindling did feel a little damp.

Picking up a sheet of bark from one of the logs, he began to fan the embers.

Kellog, who had already moved on to grinding up what smelled like spices in a bowl, glanced and furrowed his brow “Why not simply gust? It’s good practice! I assume you normally send as much wind as you can into the sails of your ship. But you know, true skill is measured in restraint and all that.”

Apparently, finished with his preparation, Kellog scooped some of the spices into his hand and began massaging it into the large chunk of meat.

“Well...yeah I only ever gust with full strength. I guess I can try to just do a little.”

Wellynd swallowed. He set the bark down on the ground and closed his eyes, his hand instinctively moving to the stone in his pocket, he began his mind’s search.

To his surprise, he immediately apprehended the silver sea of power beneath this cave. Familiar, somehow, from when he last pulled from it. He reached out, bringing the power into him before opening his eyes.

No pain.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he held, and quickly forming the kose into an estimation of Henry’s shape, he imagined directing that wind onto the fire. A current of air came from behind him, tousling his hair lightly as the flames danced in reaction to the new source of fuel.

“Good. Now that you have a stream, direct it to the embers.”

Wellynd narrowed his eyes, breathed in, and exhaled once again, directing his air at the fire and imagining the gust of wind doing the same.

The embers turned from dark red to bright orange as the thin stream of air washed over them.

“Well done, Klof!” said Kellog “Very impressive. It’s very rare to find someone who can alter their application of a shape so easily. They missed out by not sending you to the Observatory, eh?”

Wellynd attempted to suppress his grin, failing miserably.

“Did you go to an Observatory in Melyar or something? Are you a Kos…” Wellynd started before noticing that the man’s hands, still rubbing the spices into the meat, bore no mark on either of them.

“How did you...”

Kellog smiled “Why don’t we talk about that after we get this boar on the fire. I’ll tell you what. I’ll explain to you why I have no mark on my hand if you tell me exactly what happened the day these stones decided to stop falling,” he said as he pointed behind him with his thumb.

“But I wasn’t…”

Kellog held up his spice-covered hand “I’m not going to lie, Klof. Part of me thinks you know more than you’re letting on. Even if you weren’t here, as you say, your friends must have told you what happened, no? They wouldn't be very good friends if they didn’t.”

Wellynd resented the remark but couldn’t argue with the reasoning. He silently nodded to Kellog, who was awaiting his answer intently.

Kellog nodded back and beamed. “Good!” Placing the hunk of meat in a cast-iron pan he pulled out from his bag, he walked over and placed it in the embers at the edge of the fire, slicing off a few pieces of butter with his pocket knife and throwing it atop the meat.

“That should take awhile. I’ll just have to keep an eye on it.” He cleared his throat and cast another furtive glance at Wellynd. “ You strike me as a suspicious young man, so I’m not going to even ask you to tell me what happened first. So…”

He scratched his head and stared into the fire.

“What do you know about Mantles?” Kellog said after a moment’s pause.

“Not much. My friends who went to the Observatory told me about them and I saw them…uh, they showed me what they looked like. Their tutor said it has something to do with learning their craft? Nobody else I’ve spoken to knows about them. Even the best Guster on the island had never heard of them before.”

Kellog nodded. “Best Guster on the island eh? I’d like to meet him. Well, your friends, or their tutor I suppose, are partially correct. Everyone has a Mantle. It’s what enables us to channel kose and mould it into complex shapes, like the one you learned to make the wind blow.”

“Oh. I thought, maybe, only Koshai had Mantles. I figured that’s why they were picked for the Observatory.”

Kellog shook his head. “No. Everyone has them. Who gets to be a Koshai and who is relegated to Kosun is largely a question of funding and resources. It’s not something worth talking about right now. All Mantles, however, are not the same.” Kellog turned the meat on the pan with a stick. “You see, when you learn a shape, and continue to use that shape over and over again, something miraculous happens; the mantle starts to calcify, or as we like to say, it forms a Habit. As a Habit forms, a person is able to weave their magic with more ease and efficacy. However, without the proper exercises, the Mantle is, eventually, only able to express itself as that Habit. The Koshai, with sufficient knowledge, is able to maintain some malleability to their Habit. They still specialize in a craft, focusing on a single shape, as it were, but they are able to experiment and manipulate that shape to a certain extent. Do you follow so far?”

“I think so. A Guster who is a Koshai can do stuff other than Gust, but it’s all still kind of a Gust?”

“Hah. You love that term. Exactly. The Koshai is still limited to what you might call ‘Gusting’, but yes, they are able to come up with a range of creative applications to that ‘Gusting’”

“And what about Kosun?” Wellynd couldn’t help but think of Henry slamming the Sombernaught creature into the deck of the Brinebreaker “I’ve seen a Kosun Guster do something other than make the wind blow into the sails of a ship.”

“It depends. I don’t know the background of the person you’re referring to, but if they’ve never expressed their Mantle properly, they can probably only alter the intensity and direction of their ‘Gust’”

“Oh. Yeah I guess that’s what he did…what do you mean by ‘creative applications’ then?”

Kellog chuckled. “We’re getting away from the point here.”

Taking his cooking stick, Kellog traced the symbol for Koshai into the dust that had collected on the cavern floor “All Koshai have a Habit, but they can manipulate it to produce a range of effects. The size of that range is dependent on the will and knowledge of the individual.”

He then traced the line for Kosun to the left of it “Kosun, largely, learn to do one thing. Because of that, their Habit is rigid and resistant to any variation. That’s why they are stuck doing one thing for the rest of their lives.”

Wellynd’s stomach sank. That was him.

Then, Kellog traced a simple circle on the right side of the Koshai symbol.

“Then there are people like me.”