by David Bokman
“One night, after we’d made our fire and went to bed, we were awoken by a strange smell. The fire had spread outside the fireplace, charring the floor. It is malevolent, that fireplace, I tell you!” he had said. Cadwell was no stranger to cold nights, but he had his suspicions that some of his friends would find it unpleasant.
So this is the life of an explorer, Florianna thought to herself. Sleeping in cold houses, not having firewood available. She had told herself that many things would be different from life in Velema. I’d still like for it to be a bit warmer, though, but I guess it’s better than having to put up with my parents for another day. Even though she was the youngest child in the family, and thus would probably inherit no more than a chicken and a tablespoon, her parents had forced her to attend classes and audiences and banquets. For what? So that I’ll know how to behave when talking to my richer siblings? No, it could not possibly be worth it, but her parents would not hear it. They only had time for her older siblings, and they barely had enough time for them as it was. If being a part of the rich nobility meant you had no time for your own family, Na was not so sure it was a life she wanted. They’re probably so busy with everything else that they haven’t even noticed I’m gone. It’ll be like I never even existed. Florianna did not know how to feel about that.
It must have been well past midnight when Samson woke, some strange sound catching his attention. Normally, he would not pay it any mind; there were very few things he would let disturb his sleep. This night, however, they shared a roof with bandits, which was perhaps what made him sit up and quietly check his surroundings. Even though aeni were credited with superior eyesight, he could not spot anything out of the ordinary, even after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Scanning the perimeter a second time, however, he found what he was looking for. Outside the manor, accompanied by a rhythmic chopping sound, someone was cutting down one of the thorntrees. The tree, like most thorntrees, was not more than nine feet tall, and its thin, dark wood almost made it look like it had already died. Even so, cutting one down by yourself would be a substantial undertaking for any man. Judging by the size and determination of the figure, Samson divined it could be none other than Cadwell. He did not know what the thorntree had done to the old man to warrant such violence, but with just a few more swings of the claymore, the tree fell to the ground. Haven’t we had enough excitement for today, Cadwell? As much as he wanted to, Samson knew that he would not be able to go back to sleep before figuring out what the old man was up to.
By the time Samson made his way outside, Cadwell had moved away from the trees, and was sitting a bit further down the road. Sam approached, and saw that the old man had started constructing a fireplace with the remains of the felled thorntree. Why would he make a fire out here? Even with a fire, it’ll still be colder than inside the manor, and he’ll just attract attention. “You alright there?” Samson asked, sitting down next to the old man. “It’s warmer inside, and requires less—”
“Didn’t see them coming.” It felt more like Cadwell was thinking aloud than making conversation.
“Sorry, didn’t see who coming?”
Cad did not answer for a long while, instead focusing on getting his fire going. He had somehow carried the entire tree with him to his fireplace, which was a good thirty yards away. He had now begun the long process of slicing the tree into flammable pieces. After breaking off a branch from the trunk of the tree, he looked up and pointed out into the darkness. Squinting his eyes, Samson could just about see what looked to be the crest of a hill, but there was no way Cadwell was able to see it all the way from here. “There. There’s a hill that way. That’s where.”
“Cadwell, I’m not quite following.”
The old man scoffed. “Was always told you aeni had good eyesight, made you good scouts. Captain always insisted we only use aeni scouts.”
“You were in the military?”
“So I obeyed, brought an aeni scout. Captain knows best, don’t he? The scout was the only aeni in my platoon, but it didn't seem to bother him.”
Cadwell suddenly seemed to lose interest, and his focus shifted back to the fire. He placed pieces of thorntree together, creating a structure not too unlike a house. He then took a branch, put it between his hands, and rubbed them together until he was able to generate small sparks. Not before long, a spark took hold of the other branches, and a fire was born. “What happened?” asked Samson.
“Was a windy day, so we made camp down below the hill. Dumb move, but we needed shelter. We were chasing a group of deserters. An army, more like. Traitors, all of them. Orders were to apprehend or kill them, and we’d already taken care of a smaller band. Forty of us against who knows how many of them, but we were well equipped.”
Samson nodded in approval, warming his hands against the small fire.
“So we made camp, only temporarily, until the wind passed and we’d gotten some food. Sent out my Aeni scout, like a good lieutenant. Figured if he got up on the hill and kept watch, we’d be safe. Nobody’s fool enough to attack from somewhere down in the valley, and he’d see people approaching from above the valley in good time. Not a hard task. Get up the hill, keep your eyes open. Then, before you know it, we hear horses, we hear people. By the time the scout blew his horn, they were already coming over the hill. No more than fifty or so, could’ve taken them without much trouble if we were prepared. Instead…”
Cadwell threw the branch into the fire, generating a large spark of fire. “Instead, I lost a lot of men, and ended up a hostage for a good few months, all because the scout didn’t scout.”
“I’m sorry, Cad.”
The old man shook his head. “It’s my own fault. You want a job done, you do it yourself, don’t send someone else to do it for you. That scout taught me that lesson, if nothing else.”
“How long were you in the military?”
“Until they didn’t want me anymore.”
“What do you—”
“What’s it to you, anyway? None of your damn business. I didn’t come out here for company.”
“Right. Well, I should… I’ll get back inside. Get some sleep, Cadwell.”
“Hm.”
Morning eventually came. The first beams of sunlight barely had time to illuminate the manor before Cadwell forced everyone to start packing, eager to go back to Grensby. “Hey, Na?” said The Dart, seeing the young girl pack a few scrolls into a haversack. “Care to tell us what those scrolls are about?”
“Oh.” Florianna smiled. “I doubt they would interest any of you, it’s just silly reading.”
“Not silly at all!” Jaio intervened. “This girl is a purveyor of the arcane, it would seem!”
“You know magic?” asked Samson.
“I don’t! Well, only a little, and the scrolls are just for studying. I hope to learn it, one day.
Cadwell frowned. “I don’t like arcanists.”
“What a surprise,” said The Dart. “This could be beneficial, though. Never know when having an arcanist can come in handy. Keep it discreet, though. We don’t need others to know you have those scrolls, or that you know what they mean.” The Dart threw an eye at the scrolls, seeing that they were littered with strange runes and symbols which she could not decipher. The scroll itself was made out of old, yellow parchment that looked sturdy and strong despite its age.
“Well, go on then!” said Samson enthusiastically. “Show us something!”
“I really only know small tricks, nothing to be excited about.”
“Any trick! I’ve never seen magic in my life.”
Caving in, Florianna picked up a copper coin from one of the side pockets of the haversack. Holding the coin out in front of her, she moved her left hand in a quick, simple pattern, and in her palm, a golden coin now resided. Repeating the pattern, she returned the coin to its original state, and put it back in the haversack. “Well, that’s our money problem solved,” laughed The Dart.
“No, I can only make it stay in that shap
e for a little while before it becomes too… exhausting.”
“Just means you need to train more. Every arcanist experiences magic fatigue, but the more you train, the more resilient you become.”
“You seem to know a lot about magic,” said Cadwell.
“I’ve come across it once or twice, yes. Hard not to, when you travel the world.”
“So…” Florianna looked around the room. “It’s okay if I keep the scrolls?”
“As long as you don't turn any of us into sheep during the night.”
“And as long as you keep them far away from me,” added Cad.
After a final cleanup, and after Cadwell had collected a few extra baubles from Jaio’s personal stash, the group freed Bernt and Amara, and left the manor in their hands. With one more member than when they arrived, the group went outside, checked that the strange rift was still there, packed their belongings onto their horses, and set off once more. Jaio, Na and The Dart all raised an eyebrow at the massacred tree and burnt out fireplace, but none made any verbal remarks.
It was a cold day, or at least as cold of a day as you could get this close to a desert. It paled in comparison to a night in the manor, though. They rode on in silence, and quickly made their way towards Grensby. Around midday, Jaio finally broke the silence. “I quite liked my manor.” By now, the group had long since abandoned the manor, and were in the middle of the desert surrounding Grensby.
“Wasn’t yours,” said Cad.
“Ah, well one could argue that it is he who owns the keys who is the true owner of an abode, not he who has his name stamped on the papers. I concede I might have overstayed my welcome, though.” Jaio had been given the choice of either sharing a horse with Samson, or walking. He had chosen the former. “In any case,” he continued, “it is not a debate I wish to have on an empty stomach. I suggest we find ourselves a camping spot and eat a ration or two.”
The group quickly realized that most spots out in this desert landscape looked the same, and simply stopped next to the road, preparing their rations. “Samson?” asked Jaio. “I can’t help but notice that you are the one who now wields my sickle. If you would allow me, I can show you how to use it.”
His thoughts of food suddenly all gone, the young Aeni followed Jaio a few paces away from the makeshift camp, sickle at the ready. It was a fine weapon; its craftsmanship was far better than any that Sam had seen during his time in the tavern. The handle crafted from well-worked leather, and the blade itself had small yet intricate engravings carved into it. “Very well my friend,” Jaio began, stopping at an even space of land close to the others. “The first step to harming someone with your newfound weapon is to hit them, wouldn’t you agree?” Jaio did not wait for a response. “With that in mind, hit me with the sickle, wherever you please.”
“Sorry, hit you?”
“Ah, do not worry. Nobody will be harmed. I just find it is easier to practise when you have a target to aim at, rather than this void of a desert. Now, please proceed!”
Samson looked down at the sickle, then up at the young Laentarian, then down again. He took a few cautious steps forward, raised the sickle in the air, carefully swung at Jaio’s left hand, and found nothing but air. Jaio now stood two paces to the left, unphased. “No, no, no! Not quite right, not quite right at all. Slice with conviction, Samson! Slice as if your life depends on it, not as if you are afraid of your weapon! Again!”
Again, Samson stepped forward, brought the weapon up, and sliced, this time with more force. Beams of sunlight struck the sickle, illuminating it on its path through the air. Again, the result was the same. Almost too quickly to register, Jaio dodged out of the way.
“Much better! However, there is a problem with your form. Let me show you. Swing again!”
This time, as Jaio dodged away from the strike, he lightly tapped Samson’s forehead with his palm. “You see? You leave your weapon down after the slice! Always keep your weapon up! It does not matter how well you can strike if you cannot also parry! Again!”
Samson and Jaio were still practising by the time the others had finished their rations. “He looks like he’s training on ice,” commented Cadwell.
“He looks like he’s improving.”
Florianna, on the other hand, had not been able to take her eyes off the man from Laentar. “How can he move that fast?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad we didn’t have to fight him,” said The Dart. “He seems to be getting along well enough with Samson, though.”
After a few more attempted slices, Samson finally seemed to yield, and fell down on the ground, panting. “Excellent!” Jaio exclaimed. “Fighting until the body gives in, that kind of spirit is going to take you further than any books or lessons can.” He looked around, like a dog sniffing out its prey. “Now, what about those rations..?”
The group carried on with their journey and by early afternoon, thanks to the good travel conditions, they were able to spot the small village of Grensby approaching on the horizon. It did not take them much longer to reach its outskirts. “Ah, the lovely stench of civilization,” said Jaio, taking deep breath after deep breath. “No mistaking it, be it a small farming village or the gates of Kardh’Ao.”
“Grigor said he had a house at the other side of the village,” said The Dart. “Best bet would probably be to seek him out there.”
The town had not been sparkling with life yesterday, but today it seemed even more empty. Riding through, the party did not meet a single soul, save for an old woman and a stray cat. “Yeah, lots of civilization stench here, isn’t there, Jaio?” asked Cad. “Probably at least half as much civilization as that manor of yours before we came along.”
“Let’s find Grigor; I think I’ve seen all I want to in this village,” agreed Na.
With that goal in mind, they hitched their horses and quickly located the building Grigor had described to them. Whereas most buildings in Grensby were simple huts made of sandstone, mud and rock, Grigor’s house, presumably built long ago, was made from wood which had now started rotting away. An optimist would say the building could last another year, and a realist would have already moved out of it long ago. The Dart approached the building and knocked on the sorry excuse for a door. Almost instantly, as if having waited by the door, Grigor opened it ever so slightly, and peeked out. “Oh, it’s you. Well come in, quickly.” He stepped aside just far enough for his employees to step inside, and then quickly closed the door behind them. “You weren’t followed, I trust?”
“Why would we… are you alright, Grigor?” said Samson.
“And who is this?” Grigor’s eyes were locked on Jaio.
“Ah, I am—”
“An old friend of ours. Met him on the road, and he offered to help us.”
“Well I don’t have any money for him.”
“No need for money, sir! I am just happy to help out friends in need,” said Jaio. “So, what is troubling you?”
“First The Trade, and now that… nevermind. The manor is taken care of?”
“Aye,” said Cadwell, handing over the key. “Just a couple of bandits, huh? A whole bloody entourage of them, we had to deal with. Warrants ten extra suns each, I reckon.”
“Yes, yes, I might have downplayed the severity to get you to accept it, but you all survived, didn’t you? I’ll happily give you thirty suns each, if you promise to forget my name.”
“Grigor. Calm down. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, that’s the problem! It’s that damn fissure in the ground! It’s a threat, no doubt in my mind about it.”
“There’s a rift here, too?” asked Florianna, looking at her friends.
“That’s what they’re called? There’s a strange hole in the ground, it apparently consumed the barkeep when it showed up, and allegedly glows purple! It’s a sign, must be. They’re losing patience with me.” Grigor spoke quickly, almost incoherently.
“Excuse me! What do you mean, consumed the barkeep?” said Samson.
“Oh.”
“Where exactly is this rift?” asked The Dart.
“Quarter of a league outside of town, or so they say. Haven’t left the house since I heard of it. Anyway…” he waddled over to a drawer, pulled out a sack, and presented it to the group. “This sack is a hundred suns. A lot of money.” Grigor went through his pockets, and scrambled up another twenty golden suns. “There you are, paid in full,” he said, handing the coins to The Dart. “Now, I would like to plan my escape from this hellhole.”
Cadwell already had a foot out the door before Grigor finished. “Pleasure doing business with you. Let’s go.”
The Dart insisted they go examine this new rift at once, before distributing the payment. And, since she was the one holding the gold, her word was currently law. “I am not sure I can express my support for this course of action,” said Jaio. “We have already seen evidence these rifts are most dangerous, and while I agree they are also intriguing, curiosity can lead to a quick death.”
“We’re just going to have a look,” said The Dart. “Don’t you want to know if it looks any different to the one we saw?”
“I agree!” said Na. “As long as we keep our distance, we’ll be okay, and perhaps we can figure out what they are!”
“They’re holes in the ground, that’s all,” said Cad.
“And this is why we go to the rift before dealing with the payment. The second we split the suns, this one is gone,” said The Dart, punching Cad’s shoulder. He did not seem especially fond of the gesture.
It was not hard to pinpoint the rift once they made it past the final house of the village. A few hundred yards away, out in the desolate desert landscape, a large group of people stood in a circle. Using Cadwell as a battering ram, they made it into the circle without much trouble, and got a good look at the rift. “See, told you. Just another hole.”
