by Marc Mulero
“You are just full of complaints today, aren’t you? Hmm, I think I have a new name for you.” She looked up. “Yeah, Mudry, I think you’ll agree it’s better this way too,” she said before looking Eres dead in the eye. “I’m going to call you Crow.”
Mudry gasped and Eres’ eye twitched.
“Kyta! No call man his enemy!”
“How do you even know what Crow is like?”
Kyta shrugged her shoulders. “No idea, just thought it would piss you off.”
Eres sighed. “Anyway, aren’t you two going to tell me anything about this play? I mean, you’re basically making me walk back to the Osa Sphere to get there.”
Mudry cackled. “Is about the f-”
Whack.
“Aye!” Mudry yelped.
“I want him to go in blind, Mudry!”
Up ahead, past a row of stores decorated with colorfully dyed ice, beyond a purposefully dark alley, burned many lanterns lining a path. The flickering flames danced over a long, boisterous line of people dressed similarly to them, all waiting for the show to begin.
“Mustae… this is a sorcerer’s banquet and I’m an imposter!”
Mudry let out a hearty laugh. “We both imposters then!”
As they got closer they could see faces smiling and heard laughter. Excitement. The place was buzzing as attendants were admitted in, and it was contagious.
“Do we have good seats at least?” Eres was being annoying on purpose at this point.
Kyta huffed.
Things were moving faster now as they were already under the lanterns about to turn the corner, Eres bobbing his head about to get a glimpse beyond two open doors flooded with people. Ticket collectors smiled and bowed as they accepted admission – seeming to love their jobs – dressed in what had to be costume. Two tall Dagos, hair colored bright orange and faces painted red, both greeted almost everyone by name.
Eres guessed living in the UnderSpire for a lifetime meant everyone knew each other. The walls were vast, sure, but how many people were really down there? He wondered.
“Kyta! Looking lovely as ever, my dear. Oi bai seol’mok. Enjoy the show.” The collector accepted her tickets and bowed gracefully.
“Looking forward to it, Noilu.” She smiled.
Eres was shocked by how vibrant these two collectors were, like a firecracker of confetti and colorant had exploded over only them, but once he got past them, once the crowd fanned out into the rows, his brain stopped churning and he surrendered to his senses.
Vastness. Open air, the auditorium almost had its own humming sound like he imagined outer space would, its own aura. Pillars of sealed ice sprung from the ground to frame an enormous stage far ahead, with what could’ve been suns bursting through from behind them. Rays shined through the columns’ opaqueness - visible, sparkling like crystal. As Eres made his way further down the ramp, he cocked his head. More stages appeared - above, to the sides, behind him. It was a lavish panoramic of creation. Feathers dripped down from one of them, like Ilfrid’s shider. Low, controlled flames danced around another; Eres wasn’t sure whether from Sorcery or Tech.
“What am I in for…” he questioned in awe.
This was different than the one time he got to witness a show in Kor. That one was more of a display of skill, he categorized. It was also less of an arena than the Colliding Spheres and more of a production.
“Okay,” he regained his bearings, “I’m pumped, buckle me in.”
“Yaah!” Mudry massaged his shoulders. “Knew you like once in. Knew!”
Kyta grinned and then bowed graciously, motioning for Eres to start down their row. “Our oh-so-terrible seats. And by the way, you’re welcome for covering admission, brat.”
“Excuse me, what kind of hosts would you be if you let a guest pay?” he teased, echoing her own words and lifting his chin high as he walked past.
Mudry mimicked Eres to join in on the fun.
“You go here.” Mudry pointed.
It was only now that Eres noted the uniqueness of the seat - it wasn’t stationary. Although it was currently facing the stage, he could see the tracks beneath it, and when he sat down, he couldn’t help but spin and rock himself around. It was soundless, Eres guessed so the play wouldn’t be disturbed.
“Can put on auto so chair takes you on ride, or can do self. Up to you.”
Eres was having too much fun, barely listening as he scooted himself to the edge of his seat to face each stage.
“Umm, can you stop so you don’t wind up kicking another guest?” Kyta caught his leg.
Eres gave her side-eye. “Trying to get fire out of me again? Must be rare.”
Kyta then sunk five nails into his ankle. “Here’s your fire.”
“Ow, hey!”
“Scoot!” She let go and held her dress flat against her bum as she shimmied past.
Eres brought his rocking to a minimum, his head turned, eyes watching Kyta as she sat, thinking. Nah. They were flirting a lot. She was cute, but he’d never considered a Dagos. Was it so outlandish though? I mean, it’s not like we can get into any trouble. I’m a Dawn after all. Ugh, what am I even thinking? She’s old, and more like a sister than anything.
“What? You’re staring, Eres. Is there something on my face?” She rubbed her skin, making her eyes look sunken for a second.
Eres didn’t say anything, but the smirk he’d been holding onto still lingered.
“Uhh, rude.”
He then looked back and forth between Mudry and Kyta. “You guys are like the siblings I never had. It’s… nice.”
“Yes, I’m sure our shared mother had the equipment to make a Dagos and two uemons.”
“I said like, Kyta, like. It’s a feeling.”
“I feel same. You brother to me.” Mudry rubbed his shoulder harshly and then sat back in his chair.
“Shh!” Kyta scolded them, the lights dimming. “It’s about to begin.”
Eres couldn’t explain why, but he had the same feeling as when his fata and ooma were both in the house at the same time. It gave him a sense of security, he guessed, like he was a little kid again. His body was warm all over, little pins and needles spreading from excitement. Then the noise came, a familiar voice echoing through a microphone - Ramillion.
“My dear guests!” The spotlights all rotated down upon the tiny Kujin. “Another packed house! How grateful can an old man be? Well… I dare not sing any praises yet, you only just got here. Maybe there’s garbage headed my way after seeing me actually act.”
The audience chuckled lightly.
I guess sorcerers can’t speak through their surroundings like Reachers can, Eres thought to himself.
Ram hooted. “But seriously, let me start by saying welcome, to the Strathbourne Theater – a place of wonder, magnificence, where artists can shine in their own element. I daresay, ladies, gentlemen and Dawns, perhaps it’s the best theater in the sphere.
Some groans and more light chortles.
“Okay, I’ll stop, I promise. But, before we get on with it, I’d like to welcome a very special guest in our audience today. It’s no secret that our beloved Skrols are an endangered species due to the Silent War, and that our protected secret may one day be flooding our shared world of Ingora. But today is not that day, for Eres Way, descendent of the great Agden Way, graces us with his presence tonight. He is here, in our audience, seeking to take on his training and defend our sacred tradition. Let’s hear it for this brave soul!”
The audience roared. Guards at the entrances howled and raised their translucent spears, actors and actresses hung upside down by strings off of the high stages to shout their praise.
Eres flushed red with discomfort. So much for that cozy feeling of security - a thousand eyes on him was not what he was expecting that evening. He looked over to Kyta, who was covering her mouth in second-hand embarrassment before she took his hand to raise it and cheered alongside everyone else. Mudry leaned over and shook his chair, making as much nois
e as possible. What a nightmare.
After about a minute of straight applause, Ram stopped clapping and swung the mic back into his hands again. “Alright, alright, I think we made him blush enough. Poor lad. Should’ve warned him.”
One last laugh-cheer hybrid for him.
“In your honor, Eres, and the honor of those who came before you, I present, the Five Hearts.”
The lights turned off, everyone’s chairs reclined so people were on their backs looking straight up, and one sole spotlight flipped to the ceiling, painting a shadow of a… man? Woman maybe? Could’ve been either. But it was just their outline.
“I have seen it.”
Welp, someone here has Reach.
“It cannot get out. There can be no others who know. It can only be me. Civility depends on it.”
The shadow looked back and forth suspiciously, like it was being followed, or to be sure no one was looking. And then the spotlight cut out, and another one zoomed elsewhere, this time to the uppermost stage behind them – the one decorated like an oversized jungle.
Was that supposed to be the Founder? Is that what Mudry was trying to tell me earlier in the springs? Eres considered before shifting his chair to follow the others. Wow… this reminds me of Dundo-Ba. So cool.
A scrawny man paced barefoot over dirt, viny décor swirling down his legs and stopping with leaf coverings around his ankles like a plant growing around a stick. He was holding his hair dramatically, shaking his head, pointing one way, stopping in his tracks, and scoffing to himself again.
“Hey, hey, Xellious, what’s wrong?” A new character burst from the bushes with his arms held out, then rushed over.
Xellious waved the helper away. “Oocon, I… saw something that I cannot unsee.”
Oocon dipped his head in thought. “Hm? A crime? Where is he?” He picked a large stem from the ground. “I’ll kill ‘em.”
“With that?”
The crowd chuckled.
Oocon looked at the stem comically, shrugged, and tossed it away.
“It’s no crime, Oocon. You, you remember what I told you about…” he put an arm around him and lowered into a huddle, “the other side.”
Oocon sighed and began pulling his hair into a tight ponytail while breaking away from Xellious. “Not this again.”
Xellious ran in front of him. “You still don’t believe me?”
“That there’s a whole other world out there, one where you can fly around and see our ancestors? No Xellious, I think you have a very vivid imagination and that is all. Don’t scare me like that again, aye?”
Eres felt a pang in his gut as though the writers of this play, Ramillion, or whoever else, could see right into his soul.
Xellious let his arms fall to his sides in defeat as Oocon walked off set; the stage went black.
All seats shifted to the ceiling again, where the spotlight illuminated another person.
“Apologies, young one, for sharing this burden with you.” The voice seemed to be speaking to Xellious. “But if I am to pass, there must be others, worthy life, who can shoulder this burden. I cannot let it be erased. It is not my place to decide such a matter. That will be up to you.”
That shadow is definitely the Founder, Eres thought, wanting to lean over to Kyta and tell her that he’d figured it out, but then thought better of it.
Everything darkened once more. Seats shifted, steam blew from every chair to create an aura of mystery – which made Eres jump in his seat, to his friends’ delight – and then the next stage came to life.
A uemon dressed as a Kujin sat cross-legged upon a bed of ice. Why not just use Ramillion for this? Eres thought to himself, noting the sickle-shaped ears and outlandish robes of the actor. He had one glossy ring strapped around his tiny bicep. It was a concoction of leather and wood, meant to look like a branch twisted into a perfect circle.
The Kujin sighed. “The village thinks me mad… that I’m losing my touch, that I’m going to fizz at any moment.” His frown deepened as he traced his nail into the ice. “Maybe I should just stop talking about it. I mean, how could they ever believe me if they don’t see it? And how would I ever be able to show them?” He looked at the ring on his arm. “I never meant to find it. It-it was just lying there, beneath the ice. Hmph,” he grunted, “I should never have taken it… it’s cursed!”
He then saw the hair along his arms rise up, experienced a slight shiver, even noticed his teeth clattering as he spoke to himself. Another sigh. “What am I but a source of warmth to my people?” He wrapped his hand around his wrist to summon a flame from within.
The energy drawn from it caused him to take a deep audible breath before his skin started to steam. He sucked in another deep inhale and then puffed out an ‘O’ of smoke into the cold air. Fingers suddenly burned red as if candles had been lit inside each of them. Then a flame puffed to life. Fire from nothing. He waved it around his body for warmth before placing it down gently in front of him.
“The Town Sorcerer, pfeh,” the Kujin spat, “just a hermit losing the respect of his people. Maybe I should fizz soon… start fresh.”
“How could you say that, Rikle?” Ramillion’s character crept onto stage, earning a low clap from the audience. “Years, years, and years we spent in meditation, trying to pull the memories of our mother before she fizzed into us. I don’t want to lose you yet! Plus, who will create our fire, hm? The town needs you… always.”
Rikle stood. “Cut it Brother, will you?” He backhanded the air in frustration. “You must think me mad too, deep down. You said you saw nothing when I gave you this ring.” He spun it around his bicep. “Nothing! When I see an entire new world... I think that this is where my fire comes from, to be honest.”
The brother shook his head. “Well then perhaps that world is for your eyes only, same as your sorcery. It’s no different, really. Why make such a deal over it?”
“Because this is something I need others to see. I can’t navigate it alone. It’s… it’s terrifying. Too vast for one small Kujin. Ledorn, listen to me. If fission takes hold… don’t shake your head at me! If it does, Brother, and two brats spawn from my essence, you must hold onto this treasure until someone with sense can wield it. Sh! Don’t say anything. Close your mouth, and just nod your head. Please, I beg of you. This is bigger than us. I can feel it.”
These must be the original espers, Eres thought, prescribed by the Founder himself. I get it. I do. He’s using the power that my fata was said to have - to split his eye into Gushda and spread it. That’s how my mota got hers.
Hmm… Ram wants me to interpret all of this. He said so himself. He wants me to see it in my own way, come to my own conclusions.
“The town waits for you, Brother.” Ledorn rested a hand on his shoulder. “How about we keep this other world between us until we understand it better, hm? The townspeople could be skeptics at times. Yes, even if you’re the source of their warmth. They don’t understand it, Rikle. They don’t. But I will listen. I will hear you.”
With a wave of his hand, Rikle extinguished his flame, and again, the stage went dark.
“You will not bear this alone good Rikle, voyager of Verglas. There will be others. In time, you will be united. That’s why I gave you the Selka – the glue, to combine all other espers if ever such a decision is made.” The floor shook beneath the audience’s feet.
All seats then shifted forward and were propped up as if everyone had just awoken from a jarring nightmare. What was that? Center stage remained dark. Some first timers, including Eres, looked around at other audience members to see if this was normal. Suspense was building… something obviously brewing. A hissing alternated between ears, making him flinch. There, framing the stage, mist machines began to twist as they exhaled long winding trails of cool smoke. Tiny lights suddenly blinked to life - representing a starry night - and slowly, a tribal drumming thumped louder and louder.
“Uh, heyaya, uh, heyaya!”
The pounding became more int
ense, more voices joined in.
“Uh, heyaya, uh, heyaya!”
Long Dagos-style Mohawks danced down bony backs as a tribe moved in ritualistic fashion. A low campfire burst from the ground to make a group of them visible. They kicked and flailed in unison, circling the flame faster.
“Uh, heyaya! Oh!”
It all stopped at once. Everyone dropped to their knees and dipped their heads, praying to something, someone.
Eres thought he could see face paint – Dagos masks – on all of them. But that wasn’t the case. The face paint seemed like it was representing the Sindus Guild, the assassins with blood around their eyes. Did these people have gore on their faces?
He got his answer when a barefoot Dagos woman prowled forward on all fours, blood dripping down her arms from the severed animal’s head strapped onto her back. She rose to her hind legs, bones contorting, limber muscles elongating until she was upright, straight as an arrow and tall. Chin lifted high, detached head held out, she was the most menacing, fiercest of them all.
“Ei Shetana.” The crowd lifted and fell again into a deeper bow.
“Tees ring wants us to et hearty ta’night.” She lifted her ankle and tapped it. “It tol’ me so, Machekees. It di’. So, tas what’ell do.” She then tossed the head into the fire pit, sprinkled some dust to bolster the flame, and held out her arms for the tribe to embrace her.
“Says we see bad tings. Burnings of our people. Tor-ter. We,” she pounded her chest, “suffer. Fine. Okay. We suffer? Ten we et, too.”
The bowing Machekees slammed their heads onto the dirt to show strength to their tribe leader and roared into the ground. Spinal columns and shoulder blades peeked through muscle as their howls grew more intense, bones aching to contort to all fours.
“S’right Machekees, es right. If we ta be tor-tered, we not go quietly, no. We fight. And we only strong enough to fight if we et.”
Another roar from the tribe, heads lifted slightly from the ground, teeth bared. They were waiting for their tribe mother’s permission.
“Tees ring say we no let our young starve. No! Tees ring say we no weak!” She stomped the ground – the signal. “Go Machekees. Hunt!”
