Sword from the Sky
Page 33
THE KIND GIRL
SLAM! A DOOR BURST OPEN.
“This will have to do,” a young man, whose one eye beamed forth from the shadows, said. There was a cloud of chatter, like a chorus of voices sounding off behind the young warrior.
“Are you sure this is it, Mastro?” a voice behind him said.
“It’s not much, but we’re not here for pleasantries,” the man said. “Pick your beds. Now.”
The man moved out of the way and revealed himself in the light of the setting sun. It was Mastro Jeskun. His fortified body showed signs of weariness: his “ren”, the Davinians’ soft, poncho-like garment, was soiled and ragged; his pants were covered in dust; and his face glistened with a cool sweat. He fidgeted with his worn eyepatch before heading inside.
Behind him were his students. There were eight in total: Luleh of Heatheranla, Tamru of Nawa, Swaso of Reyhdor, Pabru of Bune, Vehru of Nawa, Kahsy of the Plains of Nevetén, Jené Jenóu of Janvai, and Nefiru, a Prince of Corco. The eight had traveled with their master for weeks, roaming across a vast, sunless land until reaching a city not yet infected with the stain of darkness.
The students poured into the building like ants streaming out of an anthill.
“Ugh, what’s that smell?” Pabru said.
“I think it’s you,” Jené said as he walked by him.
Pabru paused and discreetly smelled himself. “Oh.”
Vehru of Nawa pushed Pabru aside as he made his way in. “If you’re not going to pick a bed then let me through.” He carried his bags inside and found a bed next to a small window. He dropped the bags on the cushion and a huge dust cloud exploded all over him, sending Vehru into a coughing fit.
“Has anyone ever slept on these beds?” Luleh said as she took a bed diagonally across from Vehru. Her fiery mane of red curls had failed to stain with dirt during their journey, but her vest and ren were in need of a good cleaning.
Another girl approached Luleh. A shy girl of only fifteen years, she had to make an effort into speaking to the young flower of Heatheranla. “Is this bed t-taken?” she said, referring to the one right next to Luleh. The girl, Kahsy of the Plains of Nevetén, was the only other girl besides Luleh in the traveling party. She was tall and slim, with blonde locks. She had bright blue-yellow eyes like the color of a vibrant horizon where a blue sky merged with the flowing grasslands of a luscious green meadow. Kahsy waited for an answer.
“It’s available,” Luleh said. “Make yourself comfortable, if that’s possible in this old and dirty place.”
“S-Sadly, I don’t think it is possible,” Kahsy said.
Luleh smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Kahsy of the N-Nevetén.”
“Nevetén? You mean the frozen flatlands? I’ve never met anyone from there.”
“Well-s-s-s—” Unfortunately, Kahsy couldn’t get her word out without feeling awkward.
“That’s okay, Kahsy,” the kind flower said. “I’m Luleh of the Coastal Hills of Heatheranla.”
“W-Warm there.”
“Yes, it sure is,” Luleh said.
“I have d-difficulty speaking,” Kahsy said.
“I understand,” Luleh said. “It’s quite all right.”
“It’s c-cold where I’m from,” Kahsy said, smiling. “Mom says I d-don’t really s-stutter, I just s-sh-shiver because it’s so c-cold.” Kahsy made a shivering motion with her arms and smiled.
Her comment warmed Luleh’s heart.
“C-Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why does that boy k-keep looking at you?” Kahsy said, turning her head towards Vehru. Luleh turned her head as well and met with Vehru’s stare. Vehru awkwardly jerked his body and put his hand up to his head, scratching it, as if pretending to have forgotten something he didn’t really forget. Luleh smiled.
“Come, let’s get our stuff unpacked,” Luleh said. “I don’t think we’ll be here very long, but it’ll be good to settle in.” The two girls talked as they sorted out their belongings.
On the other side of the room was Pabru, dusting off all the dirt that had accumulated on his pillow. “If I sleep on this pillow, am I going to wake up a different color?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Jené Jenóu said. “It might suit you.” Jené was a slender young man who sported a dark green mane which accented his dark, soulful eyes. His appearance was always well-groomed, even slightly immaculate.
“How does he stay so clean?” Pabru said to his friend across the way.
“I asked him that once,” Vehru said. “His reply was that ‘he avoided you at all costs.’”
“I see the urgency of the trip has not taken away your sense of humor,” Mastro Jeskun said as he walked past them, patting Vehru on his shoulder. “Settle in now, quickly,” he said to Pabru. “We leave on the morrow.”
“I thought we were going to stay for at least a day or so?” Tamru of Nawa, a boy of fair skin and almond hair, said.
“We don’t have time to waste,” Jeskun said. “I’m sorry, but we have to keep on.” Jeskun surveyed the dour faces surrounding him. “At least we’ll have a good supper at the tavern. We’ll dine well tonight and have some good drink.” Their faces lightened up some, especially Pabru’s.
“Real food?” Pabru said.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Vehru said. “You know what happened last time.”
“I still say that was real rabbit,” Pabru said, “regardless of its gumminess. I stand by my actions.”
“My stomach would beg to differ,” Jené said.
“Oh, hush up,” Pabru countered.
“Settle down, you two,” Jeskun said as he opened the back door and stepped out.
“Where’s he going?” Pabru said.
“Let him be,” Vehru said. “He has a lot weighing on his mind.”
Vehru was right. A thousand thoughts raced through the good mastro’s head. A few weeks ago, his world had been turned upside down. He had lost his most precious sword and was forced to abandon his home, mourning after all the loved ones slain by the dark forces that laid siege on his school. What ever happened to those creatures?
He walked out into a large, wooden deck positioned right above the edge of a sea, looking out into the expansive coast. He leaned against one of the sturdy railings, watching his reflection in the warm water. He wondered if he had what it took to carry out the task given to him by his beloved master, Siel. He sighed.
Jeskun looked up and marveled at the city. He had been to Claria only once in his life, when he was much younger and still a fugitive beggar, long before he ran into the likes of his great friend, Vohro of Nawa. Claria was a coastal city known for its booming trade in medicinal herbs and apothecary ingredients. It was once golden with long, sandy beaches and numerous ships strewn about the various ports. Pale green palm trees lined the cobblestone streets, and coconuts of all sizes were spread along the sandy pathways. Donned in loose clothing and vibrant jewelry, the women were carefree, and the men, with their clean faces and tanned legs, were boisterous and hearty. There were gardens everywhere, and the smell of honeysuckle permeated the coastal air.
Not so much anymore.
He was so weary of travel that he had failed to notice the city’s decline. There was something not right about it. He searched with his one good eye, looking for something that would send off alarms throughout his body. All the city inhabitants seemed gloomy and hopeless, walking as if a weight had been put on their shoulders.
“Strange,” he whispered. “The sun still lives in this place, but the people walk like they are in total darkness.” And with the sense of a mage, he caught a hint of a gray spot to the west. “Fog. It looks like it has finally set its eyes on Claria. The fog grows stronger by the hour. How long until the whole land sees darkness?”
One of his companions stepped outside. It was Swaso of Reyhdor. He was the oldest of the children and had just turned sixteen, thus considered to be the “adult” among the
students. Swaso was a striking young kid. He had loose locks of black hair and fair skin. His plump pink lips were balanced by his big brown eyes and some freckles atop his nose. He was muscular and fit, a true Davinian student.
“Are you all right, Mastro?” Swaso said.
“We might not stay here through the night,” Jeskun said.
“Why’s that?”
“The fog is rolling in from the distance, just beyond the Sea of Baahamonh,” Jeskun said, taking off his soft, wide-brimmed hat. “This town is not what I remembered it to be.”
“I think once the students get some rest, even if it’s just a few hours, they’ll be rejuvenated and ready to go,” Swaso said, looking out into the sea. “Besides, this hostel gives them the creeps. So, are we to skip supper then?”
“No, we’ll dine, sure enough,” Jeskun said, smiling. “And then we’ll make our retreat in the cover of darkness.”
“No rest for the weary,” Swaso said.
“That’s right, Davinian,” Jeskun said, losing his smile. “Go and get the others ready to dine.” He motioned Swaso inside. Jeskun took one last look at the horizon before returning to his students.