It was difficult to say goodbye to my elders, but I won’t be gone forever. This task of Śuri’s shouldn’t take too long, considering they need to be back before the other grand elders gather.
Elder Enya is much more clingy than I ever remember her, and telling her I was leaving had her attempting to drop everything and follow me. Cyrus put a stop to her rather quick. While sad to see me go, he was dedicated to fulfilling his penance.
Apparently, the two have been confined to the Agglomerate for a decade as punishment for losing their tribe. I think it’s rather unfair, considering there was nothing they could have done to prevent what happened. Then again, a decade is a short punishment in the eyes of the grand elder who judged it appropriate.
I walk out to the periphery of the Agglomerate where the others are waiting for me. We have two grand elders leaving the city at once. I’ve only met the three so far, what with how careful Yalun has been to keep me out of the eyes of the others, so I don’t have a good idea how many more there might be.
To my understanding, the grand elders either prefer the intense heat found at the core of the Agglomerate, or spend their time on the Titan Alps. Considering the heat in the depths of our glass mountain reaches higher than even I can handle, there is no doubt that each is strong, but how many are there?
Śuri himself is as strong as any inner circle mercenary. Even though my capacity is greater than his, he can fight far greater beings than I could. Really, if not for the taboo, I’m sure he would far surpass my energy as well. He is what, over five centuries? He calls Yalun young, so he must be ancient. Śuri has all the time in the world to go hunting to boost his capacity, and yet I’ve overtaken him in only a few years.
If the taboo is removed, I’m sure with a few years of hunting — or some subterranean glow bug extermination — he could amplify his strength to approach even Hund levels.
Yalun is comparatively weak. I’m absolutely certain I’m stronger than her. As the elder with the greatest binding, that’s not exactly unexpected. The eagles have never focused on their fighting ability. Rather, the ability to become birds to both be scouts and messengers is undeniably useful, and yet, the dedication required to achieve such results make it an undesirable life path.
Which makes the fact that she’s pushed her binding as far as she has incredibly impressive considering she hasn’t neglected growing her heat as most other eagles do. Is Yalun actually really talented?
The grand elder in question glares at me, as if she somehow knows what I’m thinking, but she spreads her flame to me, regardless.
I smile involuntarily as I avert my gaze, accepting her connection.
It’s been weeks, but she’s still been unable to identify the source of the strangeness she feels within my flames. We’ve already established it’s probably something to do with what the Void changed with my body, but she’s adamant about continuing her search whenever we have time.
If she can figure out the difference that allows me to grow faster than other áed, the knowledge could be revolutionary. Especially so if it can allow more to push their binding with less risk than the current method.
“I have to say, I’m looking forward to flying on the back of a bird.” Śuri is already on Grímr’s back. “I’ll finally get to see what it’s like for you, Yalun.”
Leal makes sure her suitcase of tools is secured tight before joining him. Yalun doesn’t make a move to climb up my friend, rather changing her form. If she wants to fly, then I might as well join her.
“Don’t you already have your own way of flying?” Yalun’s flames don’t even become visible through her transformation, showing just how far I need to go to perfect my control.
“You know that method is far too expensive. Besides, soaring with wings has a different aesthetic to thrusting through the air. Pleasant, almost.”
With everyone ready, Grímr spreads his wings before throwing himself into the air. Yalun and I take off, trailing close behind. We’re heading southwest. Essentially, we’ll be following along the Titan Alps until we reach the ocean. I’m not looking forward to spending such a long time flying over the ocean, even knowing it shouldn’t pose a problem with each of us able to fly.
Well, Leal can’t, but I think she’s the last one we need to worry about falling into water.
“So, how many grand elders are there?” I ask. Leal’s head swivels, clearly interested in the answer herself.
“There are eighteen of us,” Śuri says, putting his hands behind his head as he lays back. “Little Yalun is the newest to be accepted amongst us. How long ago was that now?”
“Forty-six years,” Yalun says, her tone curt. She’s likely annoyed at being called ‘little Yalun’ again.
I find it hilarious, and I can’t help but rub it in. “You’ve been a grand elder for such a long time already, little Yalun?”
Her head snaps toward me with a glare strong enough that I immediately regret trying to tease her.
Śuri chuckles. “That’s hardly any time at all.” He tilts his head back with a smirk. “Though you should be careful with your words if you don’t want them to come back to bite you, tiny Solvei.”
I cringe at that. Maybe I should have stayed out of it.
“No, I don’t think that’s quite enough.” Yalun is smirking now, apparently finding it funny when it happens to someone else.
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“Oh? Then shall I give you both another term of endearment?” Śuri asks in amusement. “How about ‘clumsy Yalun’? I have plenty of stories from back when you were the student.”
Yalun’s smile goes stiff as the target returns to her. “You do that, and I’ll fill your chambers with rot rock.”
Śuri seems surprised. “You can handle that much heat now? That’s great.”
She rolls her eyes at his wilful ignorance and returns her gaze to the endless dunes before us. “I have for a decade now, but only for a few minutes at a time.”
It’s surprising to see her holding a conversation and flying while she inspects my flame. Usually, she would lose almost all external senses when she got lost in her focus. When she really gets into her own world, not even pokes or yelling can snap her awake. There was one time where she was so focused for days on end that I’d given up and dragged her off the edge of the mountain.
Considering how much of her time she spends like that, I’m surprised she was the first áed we met as we arrived. Unless, of course, she’s been messing with me. I think it’s unlikely, but I haven’t thrown away the possibility entirely.
“So how far is this western ocean?” Grímr asks.
Śuri hums as he peers over the side of Grímr’s feathered back. “At our current pace, a little over a week.”
“Really?” I ask. That’s a lot further than I was expecting.
“Yep,” Śuri says. “Took me three to get back myself.”
A week of our flight would be over six months of travel for a tribe, and he’s saying it only took him three weeks to cross that distance? I could understand if some flying was involved, but he already dispersed that idea earlier. Even if he sprinted non-stop, he wouldn’t make it within a month.
“How?”
Śuri opens his mouth to speak, but Yalun interrupts. “Don’t even ask. He’ll take any opportunity to show off to anyone he hasn’t yet.”
The older grand elder only smiles toward Yalun before turning back my way. “Once we land, I’ll show ya. How about that?”
Yalun shakes her head while I’m left in confusion. Why would he be so proud of some method of travel that’s slower than flight? Well, I’ll find out soon enough. While all of us besides Leal don’t really need all that much sleep, Grímr still prefers to get at least a couple of hours every night. Śuri will show me then.
❖❖❖
When Grímr finally brings us down, it is dangerously close to the Ember Moon. He spent an hour longer than intended flying, hoping to find some rock cropping to rest on. The sand still drains water from both my friends too quick to remain comfortably resting on the sand.
Unfortunately, Grímr has yet to get enough control over the transformation that overcomes him during Ember’s light to maintain flight. It’s much better than it once was — he has clearly been working on it, what with the deep red permeating every corner of the Agglomerate during the nights — but he still has some way to go.
Śuri leaps off Grímr before the alicanto can touch down. The grand elder lands effortlessly before immediately spreading flames along the sand before him. They’re not the black fire I felt from him, but the bright blue flames are still incredibly impressive to witness.
He has such control over the flames that the air doesn’t even heat from them, only the sand he burns.
Leal watches in interest on Grímr’s back as Yalun and I land by his side, both returning to our original bodies with cloth appearing from within our flames. No matter how many times I watch the clothing appear, it still impresses me. How much would this have helped during all my fights in the past years?
I’d been planning to look for that self repairing inscription for cloth I’d heard about when I eventually travel to Riparia, but because of Yalun’s help, I won’t need to.
That is, if I ever get the opportunity.
Now that I know all about the taboo that prohibits travel to the eastern nations, I might not be allowed to leave. It’s a worrying thought; I don’t want to be unable to see my friends again. There is always the option to just leave, but doing so would break any connection to my kind; I don’t want that.
Well, there’s no point worrying over it for now. I’ll only know what will happen after the meeting between the grand elders.
Śuri shoves his hand into the sand that he just burnt and flips a piece of glass. He buries it in more sand before melting it again. After a few motions of smoothing out the edges, he pulls out the glass board and shows it off like I’m supposed to know what it is.
The glass isn’t clean at all. It has a murky, orange hue, which is far different from the impurity-free clarity of the Agglomerate. Resting upright in the sand, the board rises to his hip and reaches about a third of that in its width. This isn’t what he meant by how he travels, right? I can’t even picture how that would help.
“Why is your glass different to that in the Agglomerate?” Leal asks. “It looks dirty.”
I’m worried for a moment how Śuri might take that. Leal forgets how to ask politely when something interests her. Thankfully, the grand elder just laughs it off.
“For one, the sand around the Agglomerate is of far higher quality. And second, I don’t need to put in all the effort to clean it for the purpose I need it for.”
I’m glad he isn’t insulted, but I’ll need to give Leal a talk about how she might accidentally insult someone in the future. I really don’t want to lose my friend to the angry outburst of some stranger who misinterprets her intentions.
“So, did you want to see? I’ve been trying to spread this amongst the tribes.”
I mean, we are already here, aren’t we? Why not? I nod and notice Leal doing the same.
“Great!” he says as the Ember Moon’s light washes over us. “Well, that’s interesting.” Śuri looks over the changes to Grímr for a few seconds before snapping back to his presentation.
From the back of his waist, he inverts a bag that unfolds into a large tarp with a series of ropes hanging from the ends. I recognise it as the thin layer of skin beneath the armour of a colossal-worm. Tough enough not to tear or break easily, but light enough that even I’d be able to carry it with one hand.
He says he’s been trying to spread it. It is immediately obvious why most tribes would be reluctant to adapt whatever this is; if it requires a colossal-worm, most tribes won’t take the risk, even if they have tribesmen that could take on with ease. If my tribe was the norm and not the exception, most are risk averse and would prefer to walk than risk any members to one of those worms.
With the tarp laid out on the sand before him, Śuri stands on the glass board before burying his feet in sand and melting it into glass, freezing his feet to the board. He takes hold of the ropes and creates an orb of white flame right before the tarp.
After all I’ve learnt about airflow with heat and how I could carry Leal’s heavy weight with these odd interactions between fire and air, I shouldn’t be surprised as the tarp lifts off the ground and starts pulling Śuri along with it, sliding along the sand on that board of his. I shouldn’t be, but I am.
Immediately, I know how it works, but the visual of Śuri sliding along the dunes at speed is still impressive. Like a ger in the middle of an intense sandstorm, the tarp catches all the air pushing away from the unrestrained heat and converts it all into momentum for the grand elder.
Śuri shows off for only a minute, even doing a flip as he launched off the top of a dune, before he returns to us. The worm skin flutters to the sand, unable to hold its own weight now that no flame keeps it aloft.
“So? What do you think?”
“Why didn’t you use any hotter flames?” I ask. I’m sure with blue, or even clear, he’d be able to go so much faster.
“I will sometimes amplify the heat, but it always drags me along with the kite into the air. Quite difficult to control where you are going from the sky, though it makes for a good view. There is also the issue that if I end up moving too fast, I’ll be forced to turn around so I don’t crash into the next dune,” he says. “Want to give it a go?”
This is clearly not anywhere near as fast as flying. “Yes.” But it looks fun.