A Leaf and Pebble

by Andrew Monroe

  We came to the east gate which would open to air and forest. A shiver ran through as we went through the triple gated tunnel that finally led under an old but well-oiled portcullis. Weak sunlight brought us down Leaf Road as long as the horses could take the hard pace we set. When night fell, we moved off the road and headed onto a game trail that wound south. Walking the horses was slow going, and when the sun had set the mountains were still frighteningly close behind.

  Despite bone weary fatigue, we kept going until the moon disappeared. We could barely think straight by the time we moved to the side of the road. Sluggish hands got the horses loosely tied to one of the thin trees that made up Kalaran’s foothills, and both Volant and I were passed out the moment we knew the horses weren’t going anywhere.

  It was hard to tell how long I was asleep. Night still blanketed the foothills, and in no way did my limbs feel like they’d been adequately rested. It was the horses that had woken me up. They were pacing, making soft noises, and jerking their heads against the ropes holding them to the tree.

  I rolled up onto my feet in a shallow crouch and scanned the entire area around us. My heart was beating hard and strong, nearly overwhelming my ability to hear anything else as it drummed inside me. There were no lights in the clearing. No one moving about. Nothing that should have spooked the horses. They grew even more nervous as I tried to hear what had them so excited. Volant, heaviest of sleepers, still snored softly.

  A sharp, stone-on-stone click brought my heart back up to furious drumroll. It was followed by the soft hissing that anyone who lived near Kalaran or Erset knew to fear. It was the sound of a borgisling. I kicked Volant, but before anything else could be done, it had Slithered into the clearing, beady eyes taking in the two horses and accompanying humans.

  The creature was essentially a humongous, horse-sized lizard, with far too sharp claws and teeth, and that terrifyingly long tail swishing back and forth. It seemed to waver between us and the horses on which to attack first. The lizard lacked a saddle of any kind, so at least there wasn’t any Slither nearby. A wild borgisling was bad enough without a violent cannibal directing it.

  Volant chose this moment to groggily sit up, yawning. The borgisling moved like lightning. Its tail whipped in a humming arc towards Volant. I reacted with a less-than-manly yelp and tossed my newly acquired short sword at the huge reptile. Unlike a proper spear toss, this was quite graceless. End over end the sword wobbled until slapping into the creature’s face. No damage done, but it certainly surprised it. Dirt sprayed as the tail struck the ground away from Volant, who was now quite awake.

  What was quickly becoming my newest nightmare turned its eyes on me. The tail flicked out again, forcing both of us to scramble backwards in a graceless fashion. Instead of continuing in its attack, the reptile had a change of heart and took off after the horses. Before either of us could do anything, one horse broke free, bolting into the night. The other was less fortunate, the venomous fangs sinking into its neck. The horse was then dragged back into the night by the nightmare lizard, one eye staying locked on us until the dark swallowed it up.

  A stunned silence hung between us, Volant still on the ground, me standing a short distance away with a knife hanging loosely in my hand. “Left hand of god…” I muttered.

  “Well, I’ve got good news,” Volant said, still looking towards where the horse and borgisling disappeared.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “Indeed.” He took a shaky breath. “I now know what it feels like to have a heart attack. I will readily be able to tell you if I’m ever having one, assuming we survive longer than a week.”

  Instead of responding, I kicked a rock at him, and then moved to where our horses had been. It was too dark to see much, so we sat there until dawn and quietly talked to keep the darkness at bay. It didn’t take long, but it felt like an eternity. Once the sun came up, it didn’t take long to find what was left. One of the exquisite blankets, though it had a fairly large hole torn in it, a single cooking pan, and as if the gods enjoyed a good joke, a fire starter.

  Thankfully, both of us still had water skins on us. Volant’s axe and bow had been left next to him while he slept. The bow was broken in half though. We found half a dozen unbroken arrows scattered around. My only luck was the daggers had stayed attached to me while I slept, and the hatchet was easily found. The sword had disappeared in the fury of the attack.

  There wasn’t much left to do, but carry on. We kept heading south, and since that was the direction the reptile had taken my horse, cautiously following its trail. Even moving slowly with extreme caution, we found the creature’s den, or whatever you call a tree housing a bunch of huge, evil lizards. The horse’s remains, bits and pieces that hadn’t been ingested by the three or so borgislings that slept in the branches were scattered about the trunk.

  Unlike most of the willowy thin types that covered the area, this massive oak looked like a direct transplant from my home, Erset. Triple the height of any tree around it, and five times as wide, the behemoth tree certainly drew the eye. We kept quite a distance back. They may be nocturnal, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t die from one while the sun was up.

  I looked to Volant, who had an arrow in one hand already, and a dark look on his face. He had quite the soft spot for horses. With his free hand, he cut off a sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it loosely around the arrow. Next came dried leaves and twigs stuffed in the gaps. Without being asked, I handed over the fire starter. Within seconds the arrow was blazing. A swipe of his hand, and the faint breeze died, leaving us in a perfectly still moment.

  The arrow made a soft thump as I used my Skill to throw it into the tree. A gently pulsing breeze mimicking Volant’s movements teased at the flames. Fire grew unnaturally fast and spread up the tree. The wind grew stronger, spiraling the flames around the trunk. Fire climbed up, engulfing the trees trunk before any of the borgislings noticed.

  Volant dropped his arms, eyes dark and smoldering in time with the tree. We continued walking as fire crackled behind us. It wasn’t until sundown that we stopped walking. Kalaran’s mountains lined up behind us as we crossed into Tryst, rolling grass plains as far south as the eye could see. A thin trail of smoke reached into the sky far back into the foothills. Despite our rotating watch that night, sleep did not come easy to me.

  Four

  Wind whistled as the axe sliced through the air above my head. Soft summer rain continued to distract me, lulling my mind with its patter. As the blade continued around in a wild arc, water splashing across my face, I saw my chance to strike and earn an easy win. Weaponless, I had to move quickly before Volant recovered his balance.

  I reached out to gain control of his arm, but the wet ground betrayed me. I caught the pointed end of his elbow with my head as I fell into him while he continued to spin wildly. Squishy ground greeted me as my head spun. Volant’s squelching steps came towards me, unhurried. He never hurried. A bizarre trait for a cloudling. They usually landed closer to the hyperactive end of the scale, my muddled mind informed me.

  Moving up on one elbow, I waited for the world to stop spinning. Gods above and below-- that was a solid whack. The world came back into focus, but the throbbing headache was just getting started.

  “Nil, you all right?” he asked, not even a hint of worry in his voice.

  Slowly, I tried to stand, but couldn’t manage it with my head spinning so much. Instead, I took in the dirty blonde-white hair plastered over his forehead. In his left hand, the axe sheathed for practice, while his right reached out to me. Completely unfair, he managed to keep his weapon, and all I had were the nearly useless pair of knives and a tiny hatchet.

  “No thanks to you...” I mumbled at him almost indistinctly. He heard despite the mumble, and laughed heartily.

  “It’s not my fault you ran into me,” Volant said. “You’re supposed to be the quick and clever one. I’m practicing the scary, big guy that growls indistinct threats and such role.”

  This
was true, though he was barely taller than I, and still far quicker. Volant had determined he would pick up all things heavy until he became heavy, himself. For an artist and aspiring herbologist, it seemed an odd calling but who was I to disagree with his path.

  “Don’t give me that look, I don’t like playing the bully any more than you like to play the distressed maid,” he said with an evil smile.

  “Say that again, you left hander,” I growled, popping up and standing to my full height, not that it was much more intimidating.

  He smiled and straightened the soaking wet shirt he wore. “It would appear you are back to feeling better, shall we go another round while the rain continues to bless us with its presence?” He flipped the axe over his shoulder and crouched into a low stance.

  “Fine, but I’m not holding back,” I said.

  Volant laughed. A rare sound after these past couple of weeks traversing Tryst. He took two steps back and then charged, screaming like he always did in some Wydvis style war cry that not even he understood.

  With no time to come up with a better plan, I dove towards him, tucking into a roll when my hands hit the ground. With the forward momentum, I kicked both feet at him from my back. In this contest, I won if I touched him at all, while he could only win by touching me with that stupid and cool axe. His bullish charge diverted gracefully with a quick flurry of steps, fluidly dancing around my kick and gently resting the axe head across my chest as my feet flopped across the wet grass with a piteous squelch.

  “Curse those dainty feet of yours,” I grunted. It was as much an admission of defeat as he would get. I pushed the axe off and wiped some of the rain out of my eyes. Yet another win for him. The sky was beginning to grow bright with early morning light. Far to the east, the morning sun could be seen peeking through the clouds. Normally, he didn’t win so easily and it soured my mood. With glum silence, I helped pack our meager camp up.

  Since we had reached the grasslands of Tryst, every morning had been the same. Wake up while it was still dark, eat as large a breakfast as we could put together, then train until the sun came up. It would start with lots of jumping and stretching. From there, we’d move on to close quarter techniques that Volant had learned on his mother’s airship as a kid. A bit of shadow boxing if we were feeling enthusiastic, and then ending with some light sparring.

  We seemed to barely be scraping together much martial prowess, but we were definitely growing in other areas. Soft legs were developing harder muscles, and Volant was getting scary good with his rapier. Our lack of classes, friends, or anything else to occupy our time also led to a near constant flow of energy from us, Volant with his wind manipulation. Me with my Skill. We tweaked our shots at small trees that dotted the plain, or had contests of will, pushing against each other.

  There was nothing great accomplished, but the constant small uses had done wonders for both our endurance. We’d also diligently erase any trace we could of our presence, though the flattened grass was impossible to hide. If anyone was tracking us, hopefully they weren’t too experienced and would assume some large animal had made a meal out of us. But since we hadn’t seen anyone since fleeing Rootfloor, it was doubtful we were actually being chased.

  When the sun was fairly high up, we began to move on. So far, we’d mostly wandered in a southerly direction. We’d tried to take as erratic a path as possible, though from an aerial view it probably didn’t look too different than an alcoholic trying to find his way home. Our first stretch of the walk was always the best part of the morning.

  A good way out from last night’s campsite, we both turned back. I focused my will, Skill pooling into an intangible yet undeniable existence. Three fingers pointing at the campsite, I waved and twisted the hand upwards in a broad motion. A gentle unseen force unbent the grass slightly, and a small cloud of dirt raised up before being scattered by the wind. I dropped my hand and felt only mostly drained compared to previous days. Progress. Next to me, Volant swung his hands in an exaggerated slap. A wall of concentrated wind mirrored his action, scattering debris in every direction. I chuckled happily, all thoughts of this morning’s loss to him leaving my mind.

  “Nil, you seem to be getting better!” he said cheerfully. “Soon, you may even be a passable Learner! Maybe you’ll be able to take me on sometime in the distant future.”

  I grinned back at him. “I was passable before I met you, cloudling! And I could take you with one hand, right now.”

  He laughed again, long and loud. We both knew that I’d be put to shame in a head to head match. But, that’s just how things are between Learners and Naturals. We sat and chewed on strips of jerky, the majority of the rations that had survived borgisling attack. Like lightning on a clear day, I was suddenly hit with the desire to go home.

  “Volant.” My voice was neutral of someone trying to be casual. “I am finished with this miserably boring hike through these gods spawned plains. I don’t like Tryst. Let’s go to Erset. My family there can take us in until all this blows over.”

  He stared blankly; a bit confused at first. “But, Erset is so far.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Besides that, your family may be a trap. These people sound connected, Nil.”

  “Don’t care,” I responded. “I need to see my family. I miss the trees.” I looked him in the eye, determination coursing through me. “I am going,” I said, “and I want you to come with me. But I’ll go without you if I must.” The words hit home, and I saw it stung. This was as close to an actual disagreement we had had since first meeting in Kalaran. Normally, our patterns of thought were eerily close. Just when I thought he wouldn’t say anything, Volant looked down at the jerky and nodded to himself.

  “Fine,” he said quietly. “But,” he said with a raised finger, “if we run into anyone suspicious there, or your family becomes endangered, or if anything goes in any direction but up, we are both leaving immediately,” he said with such conviction, I knew he meant he would tie me up and toss me over his shoulder if needed.

  A tension that had built up in my shoulders bled away. “You are a true friend, Volant,” I said with genuine sincerity.

  As he was about to reply, chaos broke out around us in a fury of fur and growls. We were caught completely unaware. Volant was already raising his hands above his head, creating a mini vortex of wind between his. The calm state of mind I needed to manipulate was in a thousand pieces. I went for the hatchet instead. We were both too slow. Nearly twenty huge cats being ridden by incredibly dark-skinned people surrounded us. Soft Steppers. Ropes flew from half a dozen different directions, whipping around limbs and each other, immobilizing us. Volant let out a furious growl of his own as he was bound. I mostly just groaned under my breath.

  I knelt down in the grass, the rope giving just enough to allow me the movement. My head barely cleared the waving grass now. “Volant, be still!” I called out above the growls of the enormous zymphs the Steppers were riding. Almost immediately, he stopped his thrashing, realization dawning on his face. With a sigh, he knelt as well. We could have easily been killed if that’s what these cat riding maniacs had actually wanted. They also had used a pretty low risk of injury approach to capturing us. And we were still conscious. It seemed someone wanted to talk to us. Or at least, so I hoped. A few moments passed, only punctuated by the spine-tingling growl of one of the panthers. After the shock and awe capture, it felt eerily quiet. A whistle went up, part bird and part something foreign. All eyes turned towards the source. Unfortunately, said source was some ways behind me and both of us didn’t have much mobility with an airship’s worth of rope tangling us up.

  A slackening came and I shuffled around to see who was there, and came face to face with a gorgeous and deeply tanned young woman. She flicked her hands in complicated motions, silent commands to her tribesmen. It was eerily similar to Volant and I’s hand spelling, but she was far too quick to make any sense of what was being communicated to the Soft Steppers.

  Her people wore mixtures of
leather and chain mail, none matching, or even similar in style to each other. One man didn’t have any form of armor, just a nice brimmed hat. Nomads. Scavengers and thieves, and even sometimes traders. Most of all though, musicians. These were the Soft Steppers I had heard about, and was never allowed to visit when they came trading at the edge of Erset.

  Apart from low pitched purrs from the giant cats, it was now eerily quiet. Our captors hadn’t spoken. The girl, still sitting on the enormous grey and black zymph finished her silent message and turned to us. Not knowing what else to do, I gave her a big wink.

  A tiny grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. Or at least, it looked like one may have done so. She slipped off the predator, and flashed a small smile my way. My heart skipped a beat or two.

  “Point to Nil,” I whispered to Volant.

  He rolled his eyes and said nothing.

  The girl sashayed towards us, the little smile gone. Copper-colored hair braided around her head like a crown. Even the grass seemed drawn to her, barely whispering as she passed through. The more intelligent half of my brain berated the other side for being so easily smitten.

  “Afternoon, traveler” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

  “Good afternoon, Stepper,” I replied.

  She reached out her hand, another short signal flicking out to her companions. The ropes went slack immediately. Without hesitating, she pulled me to my feet with surprising strength for someone so small. She barely came up to my shoulder once I stood. She turned to Volant, offering the same smile and helped him up as well. “Before we speak about why I’ve waylaid you,” she said, “let’s calm your friend. He seems to be desperate to use that little axe on me.”