Each of the previous meetings had been uneventful; the announcement of the acceptance of a new apprentice, a new discovery into the properties of water and so on. At the Gathering of Mist, one of the carriers died during the main meeting. That was when Nickeal had just joined, a small town boy from northern Corem. The Gatherings had once held something wonderful for him and the day the previous Earth Carrier had named him his apprentice his wildest dreams came true.

“Master, I believe they’re waiting for you to start.”

Nickeal opened his eyes to find Okan squatting in front of him, his hands resting gently on his bent knees. Okan was young yet, and had not learned the patience of the Earth, but Nickeal felt a connection with the boy. He breathed deep and stood, turning away from the dirt wall and out towards the numerous faces waiting before him. He began.

“In the year 155, the first carriers were born. The six of them were close friends with deep bonds. The elements felt a similarity to these six individuals and became one with them, to preserve each unique trait of the elements. The six were honoured and decided to hold the elements in complete confidence. The elements, in turn, trusted their carriers to choose wise and suitable apprentices to one day carry the elements in their stead.

“Those six formed the first Council of Carriers and held the Gathering of Magic a year later to announce their apprentices. It is this tradition that we have continued to honour for centuries, passing the elements down to the apprentice of our choice.

“I have two matters of business to attend to on this first night of Roots. First, after many years of searching for one with the heart to carry Earth, I have found my apprentice.”

Those gathered in the room fell silent. Nickeal, carrier of Earth, had never had an apprentice in his seventy two years of bearing the element. He himself had inherited the post as carrier when he stumbled upon the previous carrier dying in a cave. The element, having no other choice, picked Nickeal. He had once promised that he would never name an apprentice until one came forward who had the heart to give his or her life to the element.

Carriers couldn’t have a normal life. Their minds and bodies were constantly swelling with the magic of their element, its knowledge swimming in their beings. Some considered it a gift, others named it a curse. When the life of the carrier was drawn out to the last possible breath, the element would leave and find the nearest life to join with. The carrier would make sure that his chosen apprentice was right beside him while he took his last breath.

The council waited for Nickeal to announce who would carry Earth next.

“My apprentice is Okan of Joffre.”

Okan’s jaw dropped as a polite smattering of applause peppered through the crowd.

“But Master, I’m not your best pupil and I haven’t even been able to hear the Earth yet. Maybe you shouldn’t pick me,” Okan protested.

“I have named you as my apprentice, it cannot be taken back. I hear the Earth in your heart, you are akin to it,” Nickeal replied. “Now take your place beside me so that this Gathering can continue.”

Amadoun of Fire sat across from him, her apprentice Mattin at her side.

“Nickeal, is this wise? Okan has been with you for only a year and a half and he was only accepted into the Council a few months ago. Shouldn’t you consider his request for you to make another choice?”

“Amadoun, my apprentice is my choice. I have been conversing with the Earth and it agrees with me. It likes Okan. And if that is the last interruption as to my choice of apprentice, we will continue this meeting.”

Nickeal’s voice carried around the room with a strong resonance. There were no more voices.

“Good. Our second matter is of grave importance and must be taken with an open mind. The royal court in Altaz has put a bounty on our heads and has sent out a notice to the members of the Council. We must join him or we will be hunted to our deaths.

“However, I do not believe the power of the elements belongs in the hands of a magicless runt with a throne. His blood would kill the elements and plunge the world into destruction. I have an alternate solution. However, it will be for the ears of the carriers only and it will be their decision. With that, I will conclude today’s meeting. I will meet with the other carriers tonight as the sun sets.”

Nickeal turned and walked out of the hall through a small door in the back, leaving the rest of the council to go their own ways.

Ihoshi of Wood leaned against the rough railing on the edge of the balcony of the inn she was staying at. Though the Gathering was a secret, Ihoshi preferred to stay in a civilized environment, instead of the primitive caves that the Gathering was being held in. Xanthos of Thunder was staying in the room next to hers.

“What do you think Nickeal’s big idea is?” Xanthos asked, walking out of this room onto the balcony.

“Knowing him it will be something we didn’t see coming,” she replied. “I’m already tired of this Gathering. There’s never anything new.”

“Well, Old Nick’s apprentice pick was interesting enough. That kid can’t hold a strand of magic to save his life. Makes me think that the kid has Zakhian blood in him somewhere.”

“Xan, that’s not something to joke about. I know Nick was telling the truth about the emperor wanting us as his personal army, I’ve seen the notices in Jarna. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“I’ve been travelling.”

Silence fell between the two of them. A warm wind blew out of the northeast and wafted through the little town. Ihoshi’s gaze grew distant, vacant, as if she was reminiscencing.

“Do you ever feel as if you just want to die? End your job as a carrier and just pass on?” she stated. The wind took the words out of her mouth. Xanthos dropped his head, his arms resting on the railing.

“I’ll admit that I have thought along that line more than once. But logic always settles in. The elements need us. If they didn’t have us to tie them down to this world, they’d vanish and our world would die, just as the Ruined Land died.”

“The Ruined Land? You really think that this land could die like it did?”

“Not in the exact way that the legends say, but to the same effects.”

“But this cycle can’t go on forever. It will become a cult where the members all have death wishes!”

Xanthos just shrugged and said nothing. The sun slowly dipped towards the western horizon.

“We should go find out what that old coot’s idea is,” Ihoshi said. Together they left the inn and started down a deer path to the caves.

“Sigrun, is Nickeal always like that?” Cirros of Wind asked.

“Not always,” Sigrun of Water replied. “He usually doesn’t say anything at all. You must understand that he is a few decades older than all of us and the way he acquired the Earth was unorthodox and unjust to him. He was never trained to carry an element.”

“So then, he could be the start of a change in the traditions?”

“He already has. Naming Okan as his apprentice was a foolish move. He has little skill or patience for magic. I suppose he is good at following orders though,” Sigrun sighed. “I’m going to go sit by the cavern lake. The Water is already feeling the ripples of whatever Nickeal has in store for us. I suggest you take time to listen to the Wind.”

Sigrun walked away, leaving Cirros sitting by the cavern entrance. He pushed his fingers through his tussled black hair and echoed Sigrun’s sigh. As he was the youngest of the carriers at his first Gathering he didn’t understand why everyone else was so tense. He’d only met old man Nick as the others called him a few years earlier, while he was following the Wind. He’s wandered on to a high plateau where Nickeal was sitting as still as a stone atop a large boulder that clearly didn’t belong there. It was the Wind who told him who the strange man was. Nickeal didn’t say anything or even move to acknowledge his presence. Cirros wasn’t even sure that he had been seen.

A crunch of a branch echoed on the Wind and brought Cirros back to his place at the cavern. Two people were approaching. Cirros’ eyes searched the sky between the trees and found that the sun was almost gone. He rose and stretched his legs as Ihoshi and Xanthos appeared from the dense forest.

“Well if it isn’t our little brother.” Xanthos teased. Cirros rolled his eyes and turned towards the inside of the cave. The little brother jokes were old and no longer bothered him.

A snarl of Thunder caught the back of his shoulder, sending a shock through his body, dropping him to one knee. Xanthos laughed.

“You should know better than to turn your back on a challenge,” he mocked.

“I don’t accept challenges from someone who would attack when their opponent’s back is turned. I was trained in an honourable way Xan. I would have thought it was the same for you.”

“Both of you stop this bickering. Nickeal is expecting us,” Ihoshi snapped, stepping between the two men. “Inside, now.”

The three of them disappeared into the dark mouth of the cavern and found their way along the maze like corridors until they came to the large room where they had met earlier in the day. The small door that Nickeal had vanished through after his announcement was still there, a daunting hole in the wall that lead to some dark corner under the earth. Ahead of them Amadoun and Sigrun were disappearing into the black mouth in complete silence. The last three crossed the threshold and the wall slid closed behind them. Xanthos grunted and muttered something about an inconsiderate bastard before send a shock of Thunder down the corridor. Sigrun and Amadoun had paused ahead of them, stopped by the pressing darkness.

“Thank you Xanthos,” Amadoun said, her voice echoing in the corridor. “Shall we find old Nick all together?”

“I don’t think we’ll find him, he’ll find us. You know how he is.” Ihoshi reminded her as they all set off down the hall again.

After a few minutes of walking they came to a cavern lit by glowing crystals; they gave a pale green phosphorescent light to the walls. Out of the shadows stepped Nickeal.

“I apologize for the rude closure of the door, it is absolutely necessary that what is said here is not heard by anyone’s ears but our own,” Nickeal explained.

“What are these?” Cirros interrupted, examining one of the glowing crystals.

“That, dear friend, is a kiriazi. Crystallized magic. The Zakhians treasure them as a power source for their many war machines. Luckily they don’t know how to properly harvest them and they only get the weak offshoots that eventually die.”

“Neat.”

“Very. Shall we continue?”

Cirros stuttered an apology and set himself on the ground by everyone else.

“Excellent. Now what I have to say may cause you to hate me, but in time you will agree that it must be done. You know that what I said earlier is true. The emperor wants us more than he wants anything else. To have us as his private army. To have the elements at his beck and call. And as human beings, it is only a matter of time before the emperor gets his hands on the elements. We must house the elements in permanent homes made of themselves, hidden in every corner of this world. I have felt the Earth yearning for it and I know what direction its home is in.”

“Why would we hate you for suggesting that? It sounds like an answer to our problems. The emperor will never get the elements to himself if humans no longer carries them and we can pass on our burdens and continue our lives as normal,” Ihoshi stated. Nickeal’s eyes dropped.

“No.”

“No?”

“A Pillar will house the elements but first the pillar itself has to be made. And it must be made of something the element in familiar with.”

Sigrun’s head dropped.

“We have to become those Pillars.”

Nickeal nodded slowly.

“In order to protect the elements indefinitely, we must give our own lives.”

Xanthos slammed his fist into the wall, knocking loose a few kiriazi.

“I have already given my life to serving this parasite, now you want me to die before my time for it? Why should we?”

“Xan, we were talking about this earlier,” Ihoshi said, placing her hand on his arm. “This is what I was talking about. I feel that the Wood is agreeing with Nickeal’s idea. Already I feel its pull. It’s faint, but there. I must agree with Nickeal on this. This course of action is the most logical and allows the greatest chance of success.”

“For now I believe we should take a day to converse with our elements and return here tomorrow with our decisions,” Nickeal concluded. “No one else must know of this plan, not even our apprentices. The news would devastate what little order we have in this council.”

The six carriers stood in complete silence and walked slowly towards the tunnel out of the glowing kiriazi chamber. Once Nickeal had seen them through, he pulled the tunnel closed and returned to the middle of the chamber to meditate again.

A light appeared at the end of the hall; Nickeal had pushed the other side open again. Curious faces were peeking around the corner as the carriers neared the exit. A round of shushes rose as they emerged. They quieted, obviously waiting for some announcement from one of them as to what Nickeal had told them. The carriers split up and disappeared into different channels cut through the rock without saying a word. Their apprentices hurried to catch up.

“Master Ama! Master, please, what did old Nick say to you?” Mattin asked as he caught up to the fiery woman who had named him as her apprentice.

“You will call him Master Nickeal, Mattin. I will allow nothing less,” Amadoun replied.

“Yes Master. May I enquire what Master Nickeal presented you with?” he rephrased, being as polite as he possibly could.

“Your flattery will not get you what you want here. Nickeal requested that what he shared with us not be passed on to any other ears,” Amadoun snapped. “And wish to be alone to think about how I’m going to respond to Nickeal’s ridiculous solution.”

She stormed into the end of the tunnel and dropped to the floor and crossed her legs. Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it, she closed herself in with a wall of dancing flames. Mattin sighed and dropped into an identical form facing down the way they had come from. He breathed and slipped into a meditative state.

The void in front of his eyes burst into flames as he tried to connect with the element he was destined to one day bear. With Amadoun directly behind him conversing with the temperamental Fire, he could feel it pulsing and burning. Again he dared to reach out to it, only to have it flit away from him.

‘No, never again,’ it seemed to say, before ignoring him completely. Mattin didn’t understand it, but felt snubbed by the remark anyway. He opened his eyes and scowled. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down the empty hallway.

It didn’t remain empty for long. Hode strode along it and sat himself against the wall next to Mattin.

“Is Ama brooding too? Ihoshi is up in a tree completely silent. She hasn’t told me to keep my things tidy or eat properly. She’s just staring east like something’s there,” Hode sighed. He motioned over his shoulder at the wall of fire and added, “Has she said anything?”

“Just that old Nick didn’t want the message to spread. Oh, and she got angry at me for calling him old Nick,” Mattin replied. “I wish she would start treating me like the apprentice I am.”

“Well, we’re not going to get anywhere talking like this.”

“Then let’s move on to a different topic. Okan. I never thought it would be him. Personally, I thought the old man would either not pick anyone or he’d go with someone like Gru. Now there is a student that has talent.”

“Have you talked to Gru since the naming?” Hode asked.

“He already left. He’s pissed off at Nickeal for not picking him.”

The flame behind them thinned and Amadoun’s head pushed through it.

“If you two don’t mind, I need some quiet time to think this through and find what answer I will give to Nickeal tomorrow. Now go along and practice. Some sparring might do you two some good,” she hissed. The flames flared again, the heat licking at Mattin’s face.

“All right, we’re leaving.”

The two apprentices found their way to the mouth of the cavern and found Aemiri, Hafeli and Coreq basking in the moonlight. Okan was nowhere to be seen.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Full-of-himself. Disappointed that none of the masters will share what happened in there?” Coreq mocked. “Here, come sit.”

“You haven’t been putting off your practice to flirt with the girls, have you? Wouldn’t Xanthos be terribly disappointed in you?” Mattin replied, sitting beside the apprentice from Corem. “What did Thunderhead tell you?”

“He was talking about some stupid idea. He wasn’t very happy about it. He mentioned Ihoshi a few times, but that’s about it.”

Mattin glanced at the girls. They both shook their heads.

“Cirros is troubled and won’t break his silence,” Aemiri explained.

“Sigrun is weeping in the middle of the lake,” said Hafeli.

“So we have mixed responses to whatever solution it is. Sadness, anger and doubt. No one seems happy about it, so it can’t be a good thing,” Hode concluded.

“But it must be a noble thing or they wouldn’t even consider it. Or at least Xan wouldn’t,” Coreq added.

“Needless to say, we will all be going our separate ways again soon, on whatever path Nickeal has sent the carriers on,” Aemiri guessed.

“But Amadoun said something about giving an answer. I think it was just a suggestion from Nickeal and everyone has to decide for themselves.”

“Between a rock and a hard place then.”

The five of them fell silent at the new voice. Okan slid down off the tower of rocks above the cave entrance and landed beside them.

“So, old Nick’s little pet has decided to show up. You know, we all thought you would be afraid of Gru’s wrath at not being picked and would have flown the coop as soon as you could,” Mattin crooned.

“Gru must have a different way of dealing with his anger. Or were you unaware that he left? Now excuse me, I would like to turn in for the night.”

“Perhaps we should head to bed too. We need to be ready for whatever happens tomorrow,” Hafeli finished. “Up and in, go to bed.”

“Sometimes I think you should have been Ihoshi’s apprentice instead of me.”

The sun rose and Amadoun was the last one to enter the big cavern in the morning. Her night, like the rest of the carriers, had been completely sleepless. The situation at hand had demanded every ounce of her mind to decide. She didn’t like it, but Nickeal was right. Again. He was the Gatherer for a reason.

She approached the other carriers but held her silence, regarding them with a simple nod of the head. She could see that each of them had had as much difficulty with this decision as she had. Their answers were not clear with a simple glance. Too much rested on this decision to be told by a single look at the eyes.

The door to Nickeal’s kiriazi chamber slid open and they walked through it again. When the wall closed again, Xanthos sent a weak line of Thunder through the hall, but the wavering of the magic made it clear that he could not focus either.

The blue glow of the kiriazi met them again and they sat in the same place they had the evening before. Nickeal sat with his back to them, as usual, his eyes closed in meditation. He breathed out and turned his attention to them. He said no words, but tossed six stones to the ground in the space they sat around. Each stone bore two symbols, carved into the flesh of the stone. One was the old rune for ‘yes’. The other, on the opposite side of its partner, was the ‘no’ rune. A stone landed in front of each carrier. Nickeal picked his up and the other carrier followed suit. The light of the kiriazi vanished, plunging them into darkness. The stones clattered as each carrier placed their stones back in the middle of the circle, their answer to Nickeal’s proposition facing up.

When the silence had returned, so did the blue glow. Six identical runes stared out at the carriers. Nickeal offered a small smile and was the first to break the silence.

“Then it has been decided. This will be the last Gathering of the Council of the Carriers. By tomorrow morning this cave will return to its regular state and everyone collected here will be scattered to hide from the wrath the emperor is sure to display when he finds out what we have done.”

The other five nodded and stood. They had departures to prepare for.

Word had been past to the hundred people of the council that Nickeal was calling them back for the departure speech. Soon the hall was as full as it was the day before. The silence grew heavy in the minds of all those present; many thought it should have been called the Gathering of Silence instead of the Gathering of Roots. The five carriers sat in a row at the front, facing Nickeal’s still form. Behind them their impatient apprentices sat, Okan by himself at the end of the line.

Nickeal stood and addressed the already quiet crowd.

“At the first Gathering in 155, the carriers laid down a mandate and traditions that we would follow for every Gathering thereafter. The one point they discussed that hasn’t been discussed since is the matter of ending the Gatherings.”

Hissed gasps rattled around the hall and a few whispers broke out. Nickeal waited for them to calm.

“The time for the ending is now. We have reached a difficult bottleneck in the elements’ journey and all six carriers have voted in favour of this decision. By this time tomorrow this cave must be empty and never will there be a gathering such as this one again.

“Though we will be torn asunder, we must always remember that there are others around us that have known the same joys we have. We must move on, as everything in nature eventually does.”

Amadoun, sitting in the middle of the five, was the first to rise, the other carriers directly behind her. Without giving their apprentices warning, they headed off to collect their packs from where they had sat packed for the last few hours. Impatient to start out, Cirros, Sigrun, Ihoshi and Xanthos started out to the east, following the path the elements hidden in them had set. Amadoun rested a while outside of the cave before turning her path northward. Even Nickeal was ready to leave after making his address. He headed north west without another word.

That was the last time the powers of the elements were gathered in the same place in the First Era. None of the council ever saw the last carriers again. The tales of their last days were recorded by their apprentices as a witness to history.

Their skin was almost as dark as the soil of their island, a complete contrast to the light skin of the mainland. Only the Ziiducians in the south could come close to comparison. But where their skins were close, the rest of the Cirdoni appearance was nowhere close. Everything about them reflected their lives on a collection of volcanoes. Their hair, right from birth, took on an ashy composition and their eyes showed the heart of the volcanoes with a deep orange.

It was a group of these people who met Amadoun and Mattin as they unloaded from their small boat. The two men who had rowed in with them remained in the boat and as soon as the last of Mattin’s bags were out of the bow, they shoved off. The cargo ship was waiting for them and the captain didn’t want to be delayed in Cirdoni water for longer than they had to. Amadoun had paid a hefty price to bribe them into course in the first place.

Amadoun ignored the retreating boatmen and lifted her small pack over her shoulders.

“Come Mattin,” she ordered.

“Are you ever going to tell me what this is about? You dragged me north to Disegni, spent over two weeks trying to find a ship willing to take both of us to this pile of rocks with only a few bags to our names. And our money is gone!” Mattin protested, trying to balance both of his bags as they padded up the beach. Amadoun did not respond to him, she had nothing to tell him. And that fact was making him angry.

There were five Cirdoni men standing on the beach, watching the two of them as they struggled through the soft sand. Each man was carrying a long fishing spear and two carried a large net full of fish between the two of them. They wore nothing but loincloths.

“Seriously, have they ever heard of pants?” Mattin exclaimed.

“The environment that these people live in is not ideal for clothing like ours. The climate is hot and materials with which to make clothing is a rare commodity on this island. As you see, there is no visible plant life near this beach. Much of the island is the same. Fire rules this land with a tight fist. I’ve always wondered how they can survive here,” Amadoun replied. “Now be quiet.”

She approached the group of Cirdoni and bowed formally like they would do in her home of Corem. As the two islands were neighbours and more friendly than Cirdon had been with the mainland a few customs were recognizable between the lands. One of the men laid down his spear and returned her bow. Picking it back up, he addressed her.

“What brings you to Cirdon from the mainland, sister from Corem?” His voice was heavily accented but he spoke the empirical tongue very well.

“I have come on the whims of Fire, to speak with your leaders. My name is Amadoun and I am the host of the element of Fire.”

Whispers of the Cir language passed rapidly between the five men. Their eyes flashed to Amadoun to Mattin and back into the circle. Amadoun stood patiently as they debated, not able to understand what was being said about them.

“She could be lying,” one of the men stated.

“No one lies about being a carrier. The flows would swallow a liar and take him into oblivion.”

“Pfft, that’s just a legend.”

“Really? Let’s try it then.”

“Please, let’s just discuss her request. Should we take her to the city?”

“No,” the first man said. “They must stay here while we return.”

He turned back to Amadoun and bowed again.

“I am Jotun of Solei. You cannot accompany us back to the city at this time, outsiders are not permitted within the city without permission from the High Seat,” he said.

“And what are we to do then? I must seek their council, but how do I acquire permission if I cannot talk to them?”

“We will return to the city and put in your request. When we receive an answer I will return and pass it on to you. If the answer is in your favour, I will bring elk with me and lead you to the city. If it is against you we will supply you with a boat and enough supplies to reach the Jhir coast where you came from.”

“You’re going to leave us here in this wasteland with nothing?” Mattin complained. Jotun tilted his head and examined the young man.

“You are very hasty friend. And not Coremi. This land is not a wasteland; there is a plethora of life hiding in every corner. It is a hard land yes, but life exists everywhere. What is your name, young one?” Jotun calmly said.

“Why should I share my name with you?”

Amadoun shoved Mattin to the ground and turned him towards Jotun.

“Knowing the name of the ones you are communicating with is a custom of respect. By refusing to share your name you insult them and place them under you,” Amadoun hissed. “If you wish to continue as my apprentice you will tell him your name.”

“Fine.”

Amadoun released her grip on his shoulders and he rose.

“I am Mattin, apprentice to Amadoun and a proud Jhir,” Mattin said, staring into the eyes of Jotun.

“Hm yes, I see why you have been selected by Amadoun as her apprentice. The energy of Fire burns in you.” He bowed to Mattin and turned back to Amadoun. “I do not know how long I will be in returning. There is a small fishing cave just down the beach. You’ll find beds for you and your apprentice and food to eat. I will see you soon, I hope.”

“May the rushing fires stay off your course,” Amadoun said. “Come Mattin, let’s find the cave.”

Jotun showed them to the entrance then veered off to the side. He returned with five energetic firelk that had been tethered beside the cave in a short grassy corral. He smiled to Amadoun and trotted off down the beach to where the other fisherman waited. They mounted and were gone.

Amadoun entered the cave and dropped her pack at the end of one of the small cots. The interior of the cave was furnished meagrely and smelled strongly of fish. She sighed and returned to the mouth of the cave.

“Why is it always a cave?” Mattin complained, coming out behind her. “I’m tired of staying in caves.”

“The luxuries of staying in an inn are not for us, Mattin. You’ve been with me for six years now, one would like that you would have learned that through observation. Luxuries cost money, money we get through odd jobs in small towns. Neither of us can hold a long term job on the fear of being discovered by royal soldiers and spies. We must live with what we have.”

“But don’t you ever wish you could give it up and live a normal life?”

Amadoun sighed and sat in the sand, her legs crossed again.

“It crosses the minds of all carriers Mattin. Of course, if you’re already considering this thought, maybe you shouldn’t take Fire at all.”

“The allure of the power is too strong,” Mattin confessed. “I want it more than I want a normal life.”

“Then perhaps this is a good thing,” Amadoun whispered to herself. Mattin did not hear it. “Now, while we have time, I want to you to practice your Magma channelling. Here is the perfect place to master this. Allow me to connect with the magma beneath us before reaching out to it. The Fire magic here is strong and I don’t want it to overpower you.”

Mattin nodded, digging his feet into the warm black sand.

“Draw slow.”

Mattin took ten deep breaths before stretching with his mind into the earth. It didn’t take long to find the source he was looking for. The magma ran with volatile Fire magic, snarling at him. He took hold of it and pulled it to the surface. The black sand around his feet churned and fell away as a small circle of lava flowed around him. He kept it circling, pulling it under his control.

“Good. Now raise it around you and maintain a steady height and temperature. Do not let it get out of hand,” Amadoun instructed, her voice quiet but commanding.

Mattin used his hands to coax the lava to rise out of its circle. A ring broke off and hardened in the air, making a transition from Fire into Earth. Mattin no longer had any control of it and it plunged back into ring of lava. Globs of lava flew into the air in every direction. Mattin panicked and dropped to his knees, his arms spread over his face.

Amadoun was up and in front of Mattin before the lava could find a place to land. She blocked them with a wall of fire and they fell harmlessly back into the ring.

“Thank you Ama. The magma’s energy is like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” Mattin admitted, getting to his feet.

“It is a difficult branch of Fire to control as it is not purely of the Fire magic. It is a blend of Fire and Earth and the switch between the two magics happens rapidly. We’ll take a break and get something to eat, and then I’ll show you how to form a wall with the lava.”

There was a small cache of fishing line in a niche inside of the cave. Amadoun sent Mattin into the stony hills to find a variety of herbs while she threaded the line on to a pole and cast it into the sheltered bay that the cave opened up to.

When Mattin came back an hour later carrying a small armload of greyish leaves covered in scrapes and bruises, Amadoun had four good sized fish sizzling over a hot flame. The smell of the cooking meat made his mouth water.

“Next time you are the one who is going to find the herbs and I’ll stay and fish,” he grumbled. Amadoun laughed.

“If you had to fish and cook, there wouldn’t be any fish left when I got back. Just a pile of bones.”

“I would not!”

Amadoun laughed again and took one of the leaves that Mattin had brought back and crushed it between her teeth. The pungent smell of the leaf was almost enough to cover the simmering smell of the fish. Mattin picked up a similar looking leaf and shoved it in his mouth. Amadoun looked out the corner of her eye and smiled.

“There’s an urn of fresh water just inside the cave,” she said, turning the fish over to the other side.

“Why would I need wat….” His eyes started to tear up and blood rushed to his face.

“Because you just inhaled a whole leaf of the firespice that this country is famous for,” Amadoun explained as Mattin rushed for the cave and the water he had been told waited inside. When he remerged his face had returned to its regular colour and he was breathing normally again.

“Next time warn me, won’t you? That is something I never want to experience again.”

“I needed something to left my spirits. I saw a chance and let it unfold.”

“You’re cruel, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Many times. Now eat your fish.”

They finished their meal in complete silence, their minds occupied on other subjects. For Mattin, it was the continuing mystery of Nickeal’s, and now Amadoun’s, task. Every question he had asked had been answer with silence or the same ‘I can’t tell you’ as before. Amadoun’s mind was in the churning of the element inside her. Clearly, Cirdon was its home. She hoped that the High Seat would understand her presence and grant her an audience to seek the answers to the many questions that swirled around in her own mind. And of course, the more questions she asked them, the more they would ask in return. How could she keep her task a secret and still get the answer she sought? The situation was giving her a headache.

Mattin finished with his fish and tossed the bones into the fire, which greedily ate them. He stretched his arms high into the air and yawned.

“I think not,” Amadoun interrupted. “You are going to master the lava wall before you get any sleep, even if it takes days. Up!”

She stood in front of him and told him to watch what she was doing. Like he had done earlier, she pulled a ring of magma to the surface and swirled it around until it was spinning faster than Mattin had his going. In one smooth motion she dipped low and brought her hands up as she turned in a slow circle. Her hands moved back and forth slowly, coaxing the lava to continue its spinning outside of the comfort of its own heat. Mattin stood mesmerized by the lava’s dance.

“This is what I expect you to be able to do within the next few hours. Then we will move on to the next step.”

Amadoun swept her hands above her head and clapped them together. The lava shot upwards, creating a cocoon around her. Mattin could see Amadoun’s silhouette beyond the lava, her hands still moving against each other. Suddenly she stopped and the lava froze, shifting over to Earth. Mattin held his breath and waited for something to happen.

A red handprint appeared on the side of the cocoon and grew into a tall red mark against the black stone. The stone had returned to lava and was melting away for Amadoun to step out. The cocoon remained whole behind her.

“I’m expected to do that?” Mattin exclaimed. “But I can’t take Earth and make it Fire!”

“No, you cannot. Only the carrier can remind something of what had once been and force it back to that state. No. You will learn to make a partial shield that has a small opening in the back. You will also learn how to maintain a shield of lava without having it turn.”

“And when I carry Fire I’ll be able to create a full shield?”

Amadoun looked away.

“It would be best for you to learn and master these skills.”

Nothing more was discussed on the topic.

Five days of hard training later Jotun returned, leading two frisky elk behind his. Amadoun was relieved to see the animals and not a boat because it meant that the High Seat had accepted her request and would talk with her. She let out a sigh and approached Jotun as he dismounted, dropping into the sand.

“As you can see, Amadoun of Fire, the High Seat will listen to you. They were impressed that the Fire’s Keeper would come to this land, where none of your predecessors had been before,” Jotun stated, greeting her with a bow. She returned the bow before answering.

“It was wise that they did not, knowing that the Fire’s home is on this island.”

Jotun surveyed her eyes and nodded.

“I believe I know of what you speak. What you hope to accomplish here is a great feat. But the far future aside. We will rest tonight in the cave and start for the city tomorrow morning, when the light is fresh.”

Amadoun nodded in understanding. Jotun could see more than she gave him credit for.

“Mattin! Are you still here boy?”

Mattin sat up from where he had been lying in the sand down the beach.

“Yes I’m still here. What of it?”

Amadoun sent him a glare and the sand beneath him became hot. Mattin rolled over and said nothing.

“Come see to the elk, I have other matters to discuss with your Master,” Jotun ordered, unaware of the exchange that had occurred between the master and apprentice. The ground below Mattin surged upwards, pushing him to his feet.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t teach me that one.”

“I do not need to. It is a trick of my own. Use your creativity,” Amadoun replied. Mattin grumbled and trudged towards them. He grabbed the guide ropes on the elk and pulled them towards the corral hidden behind the rocks.

“Come, there is something I must show you. Doubtless you’ve seen, or at least felt it, in your days here, but I feel that it needs explaining,” Jotun said, starting off towards a trail that cut deviously between the rocks. In truth, Amadoun had not been up that way and now her curiosity peaked. The trail bounded over boulders and twisted around corners as it followed a natural course away from the beach. They climbed up a fair ways to a cliff that overlooked the plains of Cirdon.

Amadoun glanced over the plains and let the Fire inside her pick through her thoughts. The land was troubled, deep channels of lava flowed out towards the ocean, slowly expanding the island. But the land felt sick, strained. Amadoun looked to Jotun for his explanation.

“The Circle of Fire is eating away at the land of Cirdon, burning away our lives. The High Seat is eager to find a way to calm the Circle and return a sense of peace to our land so that the people can live without the fear of lava bursting from the ground beneath their homes,” he offered.

“I feel that the fire is disturbed, even angry at something. But the source of the angry is not here; I fear it may lie in the mainland, with the empire. It desires calming but doesn’t know who to reach out to. It is a good thing that I came when I did. My task will calm the fires.”

“Perhaps this information will aid your request of the High Seat. No one but the Fire Dancers are allowed in the Circle of Fire and the Heart is beyond everyone’s access. A mystery it is.”

Amadoun remained quiet. She now knew where her final resting place was.

Jotun turned and started back down the slope towards the beach. Amadoun stared out at the plains for a few seconds longer before following him. Back on the beach they found Mattin leaning against one of the tall black stones with a damp scrap of cloth pressed to his eye. He saw them coming towards him and lowered the cloth.

“One of those fool animals kicked me,” he complained, showing off his quickly darkening eye. Jotun crouched beside him and pulled a silver leaf out of the pouch strapped to his leg.

“Here, chew on this. It’ll numb the pain and reduce the bruising,” he said, holding out the lead. Mattin stared at it with wide eyed disbelief.

“I’ve already tried a leaf of firespice and I will not be tricked into eating another one.”

Jotun glanced at Amadoun who explained Mattin’s previous encounter with the innocent-looking little leaf. Jotun held back a chuckle but still held out the leaf.

“I am not tricking you. The firespice is good for more than adding fire to a meal.”

Mattin accepted the leaf and plunged it into his mouth, his face determined not to let the spice get to him like it had last time. A few seconds later he was sprinting back to the cave.

The sun was setting as Jotun pulled a few fish out of the bay and handed them over to Amadoun for roasting. After the meal Amadoun and Mattin turned in for the night, leaving Jotun lying on his back in the sand. He stared up at the stars and hoped that his country would pull through what he had seen in Amadoun’s eyes.

She meant to make a permanent home for the Fire. He hadn’t seen much with the quick glance into her unguarded eyes, but his Sight had picked up that much. She would never pass the Fire on to Mattin, who would probably be angry at his master and attack her. He hoped that Amadoun had enough tricks in her employ that she would be able to defend herself without the help of the element’s energy living in her. He yearned to know more of her plan but the Fire had noticed his prying and refused to let him see more. This was obviously a matter of deep secrecy. He wondered how Amadoun profited from it, or if she did at all.

He took a breath and fell into a sleep filled with blazes of fire.

The morning rolled around without much notice. Jotun rose with the sun from his place on the beach and readied the firelk for the journey back to the city. He had done the journey in a little under two days each way with his friends, but the elk trusted them and they trusted the elk. They let the beast pick their way over the ground where they were most comfortable without trying to restrain their movements. They were a free and proud breed of animal and were violent when oppressed, as Mattin had learned the previous day. With first time riders, Jotun had planned on a ten day journey back to the city. If they learned fast they could cut it to eight days, at the least.

Mattin seemed uneasy went it came to mount the elk and the animal in front of him knew that the boy was scared and continued to mock him by dancing away from him every time he reached for the soft saddle.

“These things are worse than horses!” he exclaimed as the firelk pranced away from him for the eleventh time. Amadoun nudged her mount towards him to hold the animal.

“You can’t seek to control the firelk; they have souls made of fire. You of all people should know that Mattin. Guide them, but don’t seek to control them,” she explained. Mattin took a breath and put his hand on the animal’s back. It stood still, waiting for him. He pushed himself up to lean on the elk’s back and swung his leg over to the other side. He took the guide rope and let it hang loose. Amadoun smiled and trotted off down the beach where Jotun waited at the start of a wider trail that connected with the main road that ran to the city. With a nod they started towards Solei.

The first glance of the city rose out of the black dunes by the edge of the large bay. The walls, made with stone taken from the solid lava flows, glistened black in the setting sun. The structure of the city was blocky; everything was squared with such precision that would make any architect jealous. When Amadoun inquired who had built the city, Jotun was happy to explain.

“We used to be good friends with the Bercanese across the Strait of Storms. They have long been fabled for their skill to command Earth and they built this city for us. In return, an elite group of Fire Dancers pulled the heat of the Circle of Fire underground to the sites of their main cities, creating hot springs beneath the ice that formed buried utopias for the people to live it. We both profited from this exchange. But since then the Bercanese have closed their borders to all foreigners and no Bercanese travels abroad anymore.”

“Well, I know where Nickeal is going them,” Amadoun stated, still staring at the black city. Jotun looked for clarification.

“Nickeal is the carrier of Earth,” Mattin stated. Jotun nodded.

“So he has a task much like yours, but his perhaps will take longer.”

“If the Bercanese are as unwelcoming as you have told us, it will only delay him a few days. Nickeal has his way of getting into places others can’t.”

“I do not doubt Nickeal; even I have heard rumours of him. I doubt whatever apprentice he is toting with him,” Jotun glanced at Mattin who chose to ignore the man’s last jab at him.

“Nickeal knew of his task before he named an apprentice. In hindsight, I see now why he chose who he did. Okan is a young man who will follow every order that Nickeal will give and he himself will remain barely noticed in Nickeal’s shadow.”

A horn sounded over the sand and the elks’ ears pricked up. Jotun fell silent and nudged his elk into a trot.

“That was the first call for the closing of the gates,” he called back to them as they surged forward to catch up. “It will sound twice more before the gates close for the night. We have until the sun touches the earth to get inside or we will sleep before the gates tonight.”

They pressed forward, eager to sleep in a real bed and eat more than fish and herbs for the first time in almost two weeks. Their journey across the country had taken seven days, less than Jotun had thought, but they had to bypass the spas at Fimjaide in order to push on towards the city. Their bodies ached and their stomachs growled for something of more substance.

As the horn sounded for the third time the three of them had crossed the threshold of the gate. They were the last to enter; the gates were hauled closed behind them. Jotun relaxed and slowly led them through the city, where dancing balls of light hovered above every corner and intersection, casting unique shadows on the black stone. Jotun noticed them watching.

“That is why they call this city the City of Dancing Night. The flames dance all night and extinguish themselves as the sun rises and overpowers them.”

They continued through the streets until they came to a wide court, now clear of the day’s hawkers and traffic. The ground stone here was speckled with other colours, mostly shades of red, orange and yellow, that reflected the dancing flames. Amadoun couldn’t help but smile.

They crossed the court and approached a tall stone wall. As they neared, guards faded out of the shadow of the wall and stopped them. Jotun spoke to them in the native tongue and they gestured that they could pass through. Amadoun now saw a tall gate pushed back into the wall. It was opened a small ways, enough for them to enter single file.

The grounds hidden by the high wall was an explosion of colour to their eyes. They had seen nothing but black rocks, red lava and the grey waters of the ocean for days; the splashes of greens, yellows, pinks, blues and oranges made them blink. A voice greeted them from the shelter of a tall tree.

“Welcome to the High Seat, bearer of Fire,” it said. “We understand that your task that brought you to us is urgent, hence we will hold a Seating for you tonight when the horns sound for the middle of the night. Hopefully that will allow you enough time to rest.”

“I… Thank you. That time will suffice,” Amadoun replied, bowing to the shadowed figure. She motioned that Mattin should follow suit.

“Jotun, you are dismissed for the night. Your family is eager to see you. We will call on you in the morning if you are needed again. Our thanks goes to you for bringing this request directly to us in a short amount of time.”

“Thank you High One,” Jotun replied. He bowed and took his leave.

The figure in the shadow stepped out into the firelight for the two remaining to see. Her red hair was loose and fell to the ground to pool around her feet. She wore a formal robe with a red sash running over the white fabric that covered her shoulders.

“Come, I will show you to a room so that you may rest. I will come for you when it is time to meet.”

Amadoun and Mattin followed silently behind her. Each passage that they walked down left them speechless; everywhere was decorated with long green plants. The woman showed them to a large guest suite and left them. They both immediately sought a bed and fell into a deep sleep.

A sharp knock woke Amadoun from her sleep. She lay sprawled across the elegant covers of the bed dressed in her worn clothing. The knock came again, softer this time and she walked to the door to answer it. Behind the door was the woman from earlier.

“We are ready for you now,” she stated. “You may leave your apprentice sleeping; this audience is for your ears only. Should you choose to pass on what we say to him is up to you to decide.”

“For the best, he must remain completely unaware of my situation,” Amadoun replied. “I will tell him only what is necessary for him to understand where we are going next.”

She turned and led Amadoun through a different set of hallways and stairs, leading to the middle of the towering center. As they got higher, the greens intensified and multiplied, the walls and ceilings were covered with them. At last they came to a short stair up through a small opening. It opened into a large circular room. Here the green was replaced with a red glow. Around a low table, seated on cushions, was the High Seat. The women motioned for her to take the empty pillow directly before them before heading to her own place at the table.

“Welcome Fire, the High Seat greets you,” the man directly in front of Amadoun spoke. “We are aware that you seek to enter the Circle of Flames. Yet the Seat wishes to know why.”

“Yes, it is true that I seek the Circle of Fire. I seek the Heart of the Volcano I now know. The Fire inside presses me forward and urges me to hurry. It feels the longing of the fire that runs below the earth and feels a deep desire to correct it,” Amadoun replied.

“This is but a side effect of your true purpose, is it not?”

Amadoun swallowed and looked away.

“A graver purpose drives me to the Heart,” she whispered. They waited for more information. “A purpose that I will not survive.”

The High Seat was quiet, as if communicating mentally to each other. The man broke the silence.

“We feel the truth in what you say. What is it that you require from us?”

“I need to know about the Heart and why that area is sacred. I will need to enter it.”

“No one who has entered has ever returned out of it.”

“I do not intend to leave, as I have already stated. Any secret that lies in that place will not leave.”

“And your apprentice? What part does he play in this?”

Amadoun was quiet, thinking.

“I do not know. But he will not enter the Heart with me.”

“It is in doubt that he should even enter the Circle with you. No one but a Fire Dancer may enter the Circle.”

“Then let him become a Fire Dancer. He needs to know what will happen to me and his part in the future that the carriers have decided for the world.”

The High Seat continued to grill Amadoun with questions, while answering her own with as few details as they could. They would meet with a contingent of Fire Dancers and they would test Mattin. If he passed, he could continue. If he failed, he would have to remain behind at the edge of the Circle. Amadoun had agreed.

She was led back to the guest suite as the sun began to rise over the eastern horizon. Her head pounded with information and stress. While a few of her previous worries had been alleviated, new ones had taken their place. Most of them surrounding Mattin.

She pushed open the door and found her apprentice sitting on the rug in a meditative state. But as she closed the door behind her, he woke.

“You went without me,” he stated.

“It was their wish,” Amadoun replied tiredly. “They pressed me all night and we have come to a compromise. We will go to the Circle, leaving tomorrow. There we will be met by Fire Dancers. I may pass because I bear Fire, but you must pass their test and become a Fire Dancer if you wish to proceed with me. You must pass Mattin, or your journey will end there.”

“I will pass. I will not fail you as your apprentice,” he assured her. “You have taught me well. Perhaps my experiences on the mainland will aid me in whatever test I must face.”

“I do hope so. You will need everything. I will leave you to prepare; I must rest if I am to be ready to travel tomorrow.”

She left Mattin sitting on the floor and collapsed on the bed just as she had when they had first entered the room. Nothing could disturb her sleep.

Mattin brooded over the words that Amadoun had said to him. He had noticed a hint of doubt in her statements, but even more troubling was the amount of fear he had heard. She was scared for him. He did not know why she would be scared; passing a simple test couldn’t be that hard, could it? He was too agitated to drop back into his meditation, so he stood and left the room.

He wandered through the halls for about an hour before he found a small courtyard. There in the middle of the black stone was a group of boys wearing red pants and blindfolds. An older man was standing to the side, shouting orders. The boys moved in a tight formation, smooth and graceful. Mattin stood mesmerized by the moves.

“Perhaps you should join them, seeing as this is the very dance you will have to perform before a council of Fire Dancers if you hope to accompany the Fire into the Circle,” a familiar voice said from behind him. It was the woman from before. She said nothing more, but glided into the court. The boys stopped instantly as their teacher saw the woman enter and gave a curt order. They all dropped into perfect bows. The woman and the teacher exchanged words, as she gestured to Mattin standing in the shadows of the door and the teacher nodded.

Mattin saw none of this. His mind had frozen with the woman’s words. His test was a… dance? Once his mind had recollected itself, he took off towards the guestroom. The woman and the teacher watched him go with contempt. He raced through the halls and gathered angry shouts from politicians and servants alike. He slammed into the door and slid inside, falling to the floor.

A dance. The test was a dance. And he, Mattin, who had never been graceful in his life, had to do it perfectly if he wanted to follow his master. His head fell back and rested on the wall. There had to be a different way…

There was a knock at the door behind him. He pushed himself to his feet and pulled the door open. The woman and the teacher were there. He didn’t have a chance to greet them properly. They pushed a red bundle into his arms and turned to leave.

“As the sun sets, we start,” the teacher stated, walking away. Mattin unfolded the bundle and it fell out to reveal a pair of red pants, much like the ones the boys had been wearing. But these pants were embroidered with gold thread and tied with a gold sash instead of the red ones the boys had used. There was no blindfold.

He placed the pants on the small table beside the door and peeked into Amadoun’s bedroom. She was still sound asleep without showing any signs of waking anytime soon.

He sighed and returned to the rug where he had been sitting before and dropped back into his meditation form and into the rush of Fire.

The threads of Fire began to grow lazy and Mattin floated away from his trance. He found that the sun was beginning to set and that a tray of food had been left on the table beside the pants. He pushed himself from the floor and inspected the food. Most of it had traces of the firespice, but what choice did he have? He ate half of the food that was there and left the rest for Amadoun. Hopefully she would wake up soon and start preparing for their journey.

He stripped off his travelling pants and slipped into the red ones that had been given to him. The fabric was soft and smooth, but Mattin could tell that the threads that were woven into it were strong and durable. Perhaps even fireproof. He tied the belt off to the left side. Then, after looking in on Amadoun one more time, he left for the court.

He arrived there earlier than he had expected, the sun was a good ways above the horizon. So he sat on the ground and played with small balls of fire, making them dance around him. The exercise was one that Amadoun had taught him early in his training as a way to relax the mind and body while become acquainted with the magic. His mind melded with the fire and he was unaware of the two people that walked into the court in front of him.

“I’m afraid you must have mistaken his talent, Shiu. This boy does not need to be taught how to dance, he merely needs to be shown the moves,” a male voice said. Mattin let the fire circle around him and looked up. The sun had fully set now and two people stood before him. One was Shiu, the woman who had served as their guide in the High Seat and the other was the teacher. He rose and bowed the way Amadoun had shown him. But he said nothing.

“Perhaps I was too hasty in my assumptions, Haset,” Shiu replied. “He’s yours now, until they depart in the morning. Maybe he can succeed after all.”

Mattin’s eyes narrowed.

“Whatever challenge you throw in front of me I will beat,” he snarled. “I never back away.”

“Neither does a flame, my boy. Now, we only have a few hours for me to teach you the ways of the Fire Dance,” Haset interrupted. “Shiu, I can take care of my student. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”

Shiu returned Mattin’s glare and floated out of the court.

“I want you to calm yourself to the same point that you were while you were in that trance, playing with the fire.”

He paused and waited for Mattin to relax.

“Much of the Fire Dance is improvised. There are no definite steps, only a flow of motions that the council wants to see. They want to see control and unison at the same time as they want to see individuality and risks. It’s finding your own rhythm that takes the most time. I’ll admit that when I saw you in the entrance earlier today and the way you bolted I already doubted you. But seeing your arms move like that brought back the possibility of you succeeding. But why did you run away earlier?”

“I’ve never liked dancing. The thought of that being my test was terrifying.”

“But you dance very well,” Haset stated, looking confused.

“When have you seen me dance?”

“Just now, before we spoke. That was a very graceful dance and I only saw your arms moving. Let’s get the rest of your body moving.”

“But, no… what? Wait!” Mattin exclaimed.

“It’s easy and explainable. Your mind and body are separated when you dance, which allows your body the freedom to move however it wants without the thought process behind each move. Nothing is calculated.” Haset moved backwards and sat at the edge of the court. “Now go back to that state. Play with the fire again but let your whole body move. When you are completely absorbed, I want you to try and reconnect your mind with your body while maintaining that freedom.”

Mattin looked doubtful.

“Just try it.”

He began to move the fire again. His mind connected with it and flew. He remembered what Haset had told him and tried to reconnect. The results were unlike he had ever experienced. His conscious was floating lazily above the court, looking down at where he had just been. His body was still there and now he knew what Haset had been talking about. He was a completely different person, moving like a cat with fire all around him. Haset sat mesmerized.

Mattin directed his mind to the ground and drifted toward his body. The second his skin came in contact with the unseen matter of his mind he felt himself fall to the ground, panting for breath.

“That was an interesting end. What happened?” Haset questioned.

Mattin explained his experience and Haset only nodded, offering no reply whatsoever.

“Again.”

“Pardon me?”

“Again, do it again. But better this time.”

Mattin groaned and did as he asked.

As the sun poked its orb over the eastern horizon Mattin understood some of what Amadoun had gone through in her audience with the High Seat. He was physically and mentally exhausted. He had finally been able to remain conscious of his movements while allowing his body to move as it wanted. He laid dripping with sweat on the stone, his chest heaving before Haset dismissed him. He had to be ready.

He returned to the room and found Amadoun sitting at the table, eating a large breakfast. She pointed to the other plate of food and he sat down gratefully and started eating.

“Funny, you haven’t said a thing about where you were all night,” Amadoun commented, sipping on her hot drink.

“I was training with Haset for the test,” Mattin replied, his mouth full of food. “You never told me that I dance when I meditate.”

“I didn’t want you to think about it and spoil the beauty,” she replied. “Are you feeling prepared?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Good. We leave for the Circle when you’re finished eating.”

Mattin choked.

“So soon?”

“Yes. This matter of business is demanding an action immediately. I have to go, Mattin and you must try your hardest to follow me. Until I enter the Heart. Then you must wait for the next step.”

A knock sounded at the door before it was pushed open. Jotun stood there, wearing red pants with a black sash.

“We are ready to leave,” he stated. “I’ve been asked to take you to the Hall of Fire and travel with you to the Circle. Your task must be an urgent one; the High Seat has established a Fire Tunnel between here and the temple of the Fire Dancers. Our journey will take only minutes.”

“Good,” Amadoun replied. “Mattin, go with him now. I have one small thing to see to and I will be right behind you.”

Mattin shrugged, shovelled the last few bites of his food into his mouth and followed Jotun into the hall. Amadoun stood slowly, removing a sealed parchment bearing Mattin’s name from her sleeve where she had hidden it when she heard Mattin approaching. She left this and a small bag on the table where Mattin would see it when he returned. She offered a small smile and hoped that her actions would be too drastic for Mattin to handle, that he’d be able to move on afterwards.

Leaving that bag was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Inside were her competition medals of the time before she had been the carrier of Fire. They were all that she had left as a reminder of her previous life, a reminder of her fighting spirit.

‘And here I go to die without giving any sort of a fight,’ she thought, turning her back on the table. ‘Goes to show how much a person can change in a few mere weeks.’

She closed the door to the room and sealed it with a secret seal that she had only taught to Mattin. Only he’d be able to get into that room once she was gone. She had to ensure that it was he who got that message and not one of the High Seat.

They were trying to sabotage her. She knew that the Fire Tunnel was part of it, but they had forgotten who Fire listened too. She wouldn’t end up in the middle of nowhere at the other end of the Tunnel, she would arrive at the temple as she had planned.

Mattin’s test she couldn’t interfere with, however. That he had to do on his own and it made her nervous. So much hinged on his success and it was the one thing she couldn’t control. The anxiety was eating at her.

As she had been buried in her own thoughts, they arrived at the hall. The wall directly across from the large set of doors was glowing red, with a white square blazing in the middle near the ground. That would be their door out of here. The High Seat waited on both sides of her.

‘Bearer of Fire, we send you with our wishes,” the man from the head of the table said. Amadoun nodded grimly and stared at the wall as she walked towards it. She let small fingers of Fire poke at the construction of the Tunnel, seeking where the other side came out. Her senses felt something cold, and saw nothing but white and grey. A blizzard. The poking fingers couldn’t survive any longer so she withdrew them. A small smirk worked its way to her face as she rearranged the threads of Fire until the destination matched her desire. She breathed again and paused directly before the door. She spoke forward, though her words were meant for the seat.

“You have done what you felt would benefit you the most. However, surely you are aware that Fire seldom goes where you direct it. In the hopes of achieving what is needed, I hereby refuse to accept your wishes and go forward with only my own task,” she exclaimed. Still smirking, she stepped into the white heart of the wall with Mattin and Jotun close behind her. The stunned silence of the High Seat was left behind.

When the white light had faded away they were left in a darkened hallway. One man stood in front of them, his eyes wide. His red pants were threaded with white silk and a white sash hung over his shoulders.

“But, this is not what was planned! This is not what should be!” he panicked. Soon there were other Fire Dancers around them, wondering what was going on. Shiu appeared out of them.

“I should have known better than to trust that you would simply go where we would send you,” she stated harshly.

“If I had we would be in the middle of blizzard right now, frozen to our bones. You cannot predict the path of Fire, perhaps you should stop try,” Amadoun hissed in reply.

“But Fire can be defeated,” she smiled. She flung herself at Amadoun, two knives of fire clenched in her fists. Amadoun braced to block her attack, but it never fell.

“Go,” Mattin told her as he pushed off Shiu. “This is my test; I will follow when I can.”

Amadoun smiled and placed her hand on Mattin’s bare shoulder.

“I’ve always been proud of you Mattin. I’ve even seen you as my own son. No matter what happens, I want you to be strong.”

She squeezed his shoulder one more time before she turned and fled deeper into the Circle as Shiu attacked again. The woman tried to leap passed Mattin to chase Amadoun but Mattin would not have it. A wall of lava rocketed out of the ground and enclosed them, trapping them together. Mattin’s last view of Amadoun was cut off.

Amadoun ran through the temple, feeling the push of Fire everywhere around her. The concept of space was warped here; she knew, based on a map she had examined in the High Seat, that the Circle of Flames covered an area ten times the size of the city of Solei. And yet she could feel every inch of it and it was telling her that it was nothing more than a simple temple and the Heart lay at the middle.

She sprinted inward, unaware of the Fire Dancers that she passed on the way. They were just as confused as the ones that had gathered around the tunnel had been. She could feel the heat of the Heart calling to her; the Fire inside her pushed her as hard as it could, it wanted to be home.

A large r

Roughly hewn door stared down at her. Behind it was the Heart. But the door did not have a crack or a handle. There was no way in. Two guards stood on either side of the door, tall spears in their hands. They watched as she approached and slowed to a stop before the stone.

“There is no way in to the Heart,” one said.

“The door was sealed centuries ago,” the other said.

Amadoun smiled.

“It was sealed by the master of the Heart, who had left for the time being. Now the master has returned and the doors will open.”

She placed her hand on the stone and it churned. Beads of sweat began running down her forehead as she continued to press into the door. Slowly the stone changed, reverting to its beginning as magma from beneath the earth. The entire door melted away, leaving a large archway. Both guards dropped their spears and ran. Amadoun did not notice them. Her eyes were on what lay beyond the door.

The carefully crafted interior of the temple gave way to the rough inside of the mouth of a volcano. Stepping forward, she could see that a path ran around the outer edge of the crater, a thin strip of rock above the boiling lava below. It was here that she felt the true power of Fire. She stepped to the edge of the path and stopped. A white light began to fill the crater, expanding until it met the place where she stood. Amadoun could see a narrow bridge spanning out into the light. She took a step on to it and continued into the light. There a voice greeted her.

“Amadoun,” it said. “You have succeeded. You may rest now, knowing that you have won your final battle.”

She smiled and allowed the Fire to consume her. The white flames leapt into the flood of light and finally came home.

Shiu lay unconscious against the pillar Mattin had thrown her into. The force of Fire flooded through him and he knew that he could not be stopped. When he was convinced that she wasn’t getting up again, he dropped the wall of lava and raced down the way that Amadoun had gone. He could feel her path through the strength of the threads that flowed through the hallways. He met two guards fleeing the other way. Nothing coherent left their mouths.

Mattin soon found what they had fled from. A large doorway without doors yawned in front of him and a bright white energy was pouring out of it. He got as close as he could and stopped. He could see Amadoun in the middle of the light, looking up at a wavering figure in the brightest part of the energy. He could feel that his master was smiling and with a blink she was gone. Towering white flames exploded in the middle of the light, drawing most of the energy to where Amadoun had just been. It gathered and plunged into the spitting magma below. The liquid fire shuddered and burst with light, changing to the same bright white. A tall, smooth column of fire simmered in the center, fading high above him where the rock that enclosed the Heart opened to the sky.

The light had faded to a soft wash of energy that now flooded over him. He heard two voices speaking to him.

“Mattin, you have witnessed the birth of the Pillar of Fire, which will forever be called Amadoun,” a masculine voice explained. “Your master has nothing more to teach you.”

“I don’t understand,” Mattin whispered.

“It is necessary for all the elements to come home. They will create a new life for themselves and thanks to your master, they no longer need to seek a human host,” a feminine voice answered. “But all the power cannot be kept in one place.”

A blurry figure appeared before him. He could make out a hand slowly being extended to him.

“This is Zhi, the Stone of Fire. It must leave this place and never return. You are its Keeper until it moves on,” she said. Mattin removed a small red stone from the outstretched hand.

“Go now, Keeper of Fire. But take one last look, for as long as you bear the Stone you will not be able to return here.”

The light faded towards the sky, taking the ghostly figure and the two voices with it. He looked at the small stone in his palm and clenched his fingers around it. The magma retained its white colouring and the column of Fire burned bright.

The sound of footprints alerted Mattin to the fact that he had visitors. He turned and found a host of Fire Dancers and Shiu staring with disbelief at the Pillar. He spoke to them.

“This is the Pillar of Fire, which shall be forever called Amadoun,” he stated. “It is the Heart of all Fire magic. It will heal the disturbances that have been rocking this country.”

With those words he walked away from the Pillar and didn’t look back.

He ended up back in the High Seat after he had formed his own Tunnel. The people of the High Seat were still gathered in the hall, debating what action should be taken next. Mattin walked right passed them, heading directly for the guest room. When he arrived he found Haset examining the door, which now bore a large red seal, ringed with runes. Mattin smiled. Another trick Amadoun had taught to him at the beginning.

He brushed passed Haset and placed his hand on the center of the seal.

“Quan,” he ordered. The seal faded away and the door swung open. The light of the hallway fell on the table in the middle of the room first. Upon it was a sealed letter and a small leather bag. Mattin opened the seal and read what it said. The contents made him cry.

‘Mattin, if you are reading this then I know that I have succeeded in what I set out to do. I am sorry that I hid my intentions from you, I couldn’t be sure that you would support me if you knew that the Fire would be housed in a permanent location next instead of being passed to you, as you had always expected. Even now I hope that you can forgive me for denying you the future you had trained for. I do not know what awaits you now but I hope that you find your true place in life.

Your Master, Amadoun’

Disgeni had been two weeks ago and the drizzly weather that they had slogged through was now considered warm by Okan’s standards. Nickeal had bought them both fur-lined snowsuits with gloves, hats, thick scarves and boots. At first Okan had felt like a swollen tuber, but as their road turned north he was glad for every ounce of warmth he could get.

“People live farther north than this?” he exclaimed, holding his hands out to the tiny flame in front of him.

“Yes, and they live very well. But how they live is a secret to the rest of the world,” Nickeal replied.

“How is that possible? Why hasn’t the Zakhian army invaded and found out their secret?”

“They have. Many times in fact. I’ve lived through four invasion attempts and all of them failed. The Bercanese don’t have to fight, they let the environment protect them. They believe that if they live wholesomely and leave to nature that which is nature’s that nature will protect them. And so far it has.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Bercanese do not use magic for it belongs to the great celestial Bear. That is why it is very important that we show no sign of our magic until we reach our destination.”

“You plan on deceiving them?” Okan said, astounded.

“No. I never deceive. But if they do not ask questions, I will not give answers. I am a wise man, my mouth remains shut until it is advisable to share such knowledge with our neighbours.”

Okan brooded over this information and pocketed it in his mind. It was filed in a corner labelled ‘Nickeal’s Wisdom’ and was full of all sorts of things that Nickeal had said. Okan may not be the most bold or talented, but he had a wonderful memory. It was the reason he was usually quiet.

Nickeal sighed and pushed a load of snow over the weak flame, killing it in a small burst of steam. Okan muttered a complaint about not being warned but stood and strapped his pack onto his back again. He had suggested they take horses with them from Disgeni to carry the packs and Nickeal had just laughed it off. Another display of old man wisdom.

They trudged through the snow for a few more hours before the darkening forms of buildings rose up through the fog. As they got closer Nickeal explained that they were what remained of one of the army’s bases when they had tried to invade Berco years ago. The barracks were run down, but stood half buried in the snow, a perfect place to camp for the night.

They found a barrack that still had a few rations inside and had a feast on the dried food over a much bigger fire. The beds weren’t the same as an inn, but in comparison to the frozen ground it was heaven. Nickeal sat with his face to the fire and fell asleep sitting there, deep in his thoughts, conversing with Earth. This is how he’d been the entire journey. He spent more time talking to Earth than he did to Okan or observing the land around him. But Okan didn’t mind, it meant that he didn’t have to return the conversation.

The two of them were matched well in personality, that much Okan could agree to. But beyond that he was still wondering why he had been chosen over Gru. He knew the other man had disliked him from day one, but Okan always tried to patch things up. When Nickeal had named Okan as his apprentice, all hope for at least a nonhostile relationship was lost. Gru growled about it and stormed away from the Gathering.

“It is not good to dwell on the past that you can’t change,” Nickeal whispered, his eyes still closed.

Okan sighed.

“I’m going outside,” he told his master. “I won’t be long.”

He stepped through one of the gaps in the wall and out into the snow again. He found a pile of boxes and climbed up on to the roof of the barrack building. The sun had started to cut through the fog, revealing a bit more of the landscape around them. Okan could see that they had been hiking straight down a sloped canyon; either side was lined with a thick forest of dark pines dressed in heavy robes of snow. The path continued through the break between the trees until it was claimed by the fog again.

The air was crisp and sounds carried well. Okan could hear the chirps of birds in the woods across the canyon. But another sound on the air caught his ears. A loud shout echoed from down the canyon and other shouts answered it. Okan dropped back to the snowy ground and plunged his hand into the snow to the cold dirt beneath. It thrummed and vibrated with the movement of people. He listened intently and isolated the heavy footsteps of twenty men, all armoured and moving quickly.

He raced into the barracks and flung himself towards Nickeal. The old man was deep in a trance, still communicating with the heart of the Earth and oblivious to the disturbance on the surface.

“Master, there are twenty men coming towards us!” Okan exclaimed. Nickeal’s eyes snapped open and he hopped to his feet.

“Then we must leave,” he concluded. “Grab your bag and let’s be on our way.”

Okan already had his bag strapped on. Together they jogged out of the barracks and headed up the valley. The shouts on the air were louder and clearer than before, the men were getting closer.

The snow was too thick for a quick dash away, so they opted to cut a path close to the trees to hide their darker figures against the snow. The damaged buildings of the barracks quickly faded. But the sounds of the men continued to grow louder.

“They’re moving quicker than we are,” Okan huffed. Nickeal stopped and connected with the Earth beneath them. Okan held his breath until Nickeal was finished.

“They are not moving on the ground itself; the Earth feels only the echoes of their movements.”

“Snowshoes?”

“Or skis. Either way, we’re not going to be able to outrun them like this. We’re going to have to take drastic measures for a while to escape them.”

Nickeal pushed away from the trees into the middle of the valley, Okan followed close behind him. When they had reached the center, Nickeal pulled a narrow swath of Earth from below the snow to form a road. They both climbed on and began to run. Nickeal pulled the Earth up in front of them and Okan pushed it back down behind them.

Okan was worried about the obvious path they were leaving behind, but the speed advantage it gave them was enough to quell those worries. They pushed on in the same fashion for a few hours until they lost what little light they had. Nickeal stopped pulling up Earth and Okan had the last bit throw them towards the trees before dropping it, ending their trail abruptly without any further evidence.

They landed hard in the snow just outside the edges of the forest. Scrambling to their feet they dove into the boughs of a low-branched pine and caught their breath. Nickeal started to watch the surface of the Earth for the disturbance while Okan prodded a small flame to life in the cavern-like shelter made by the snow and pine branches. Nickeal spoke only moments after.

“These buggers are fast,” he stated. “But I believe they’ve decided to stop at the end of our trail.”

“I’ll confirm that they are staying and find out what I can,” Okan stated.

“Don’t be seen,” Nickeal warned. Okan nodded and vanished.

They had been followed when they left Disegni. When they encountered the snow they thought they had lost their followers, but this group appeared out of nowhere, hot on their trail. Hopefully Okan would return with news of their business. But for now, it was just Nickeal and the Earth.

Lately he had been spending more time than usual talking to the element, finding out exactly where it desired to go. It had pushed him north along the land bridge so far and showed no sign of slowing down. Nickeal was sure that it meant to push on into Berco, though how he was to get in was beyond him. If there was one thing that was considered ‘impossible’, it was crossing the border into the frozen wastelands of Berco. Nickeal had seen the border once in his life; the towering menaces of the twin cities on the border had returned to haunt his dreams. They towered high into the sky, only visible when the sky was completely clear. They were the gate into Berco but no man from outside had ever made it passed the cities. Nickeal was not looking forward to seeing them again.

Meanwhile Okan had trudged through the snow to the edge of trees closest to the group of men. They camped in a row in the wide trench Nickeal’s Earth road had caused. Okan could hear their raucous laughter as they sat around a roaring bonfire feasting on their supper. Okan chewed on his jerky and pressed his ear to the ground. He ignored the instant cold seeping through his face and focussed on the group of men. They weren’t hard to locate. The Earth magic echoed their voices.

“We should be able to catch them in the morning. They can’t have gotten far, we know by their earlier trail that they aren’t travelling on skis or snowshoes. This bigger path proves that they are who we’ve been tracking. This screams Earth mage,” one of the men said.

“We’re getting awfully close to the Bercanese border though,” another added.

“Then we’ll let the Bercanese finish them.”

Laughter burst out from the group again. The conversation continued along the same line for the most part, with the occasional jabs at the Zakhian throne thousands of miles away. Okan gave up and headed back for the tree that Nickeal was under. He dove underneath the boughs and woke Nickeal.

“They are hunting us,” Okan declared. “They’re not Zakhian nationals but they seem pretty loyal.”

“We’ll have to move tonight then. If they see us we won’t be able to avoid a confrontation. And this close to the border we don’t want to engage the Bercanese as well.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, are we going into Berco?”

“The Earth is pushing us that way, so I have no choice but to listen and follow.”

“But the rumours about the Bercanese border…”

“Are true. It is nearly impossible to get across. If we succeed, we will be the first foreigners in Berco since the trade of magics between Berco and Cirdon.”

“What choice do we have but to succeed? What alternative is there?”

“Capture and death by either the Bercanese or our army friends out there.”

“Which are worse?” Okan asked. Nickeal didn’t answer. They were both equally as bad. Nickeal hummed and warmed his hands by the small flame.

“If we have a choice, we must be taken by the Bercanese. We cannot allow the Earth to come to the Zakhian emperor.”

Okan silently agreed, despite the tales he had heard about those people who had tried to cross into the land of ice. When he had learned geography in his younger days in an empirical school the only thing he learned about Berco was the year-round winter and the guard cities of Valkiri and Malkiri at the northernmost point of the Zakhian Empire. They had been represented by a sword and a spear and were noted to be the most violent cities on the continent. Now, faced with the knowledge that he’d have to face those cities, he wondered how many of the tales were true.

“The tales have never been proven, Okan,” Nickeal stated, as if he could read Okan’s thoughts. The apprentice must have looked bewildered so Nickeal continued. “The Earth feels your fear at something unsolid, something spoken. I used logic to figure out the rest.”

Okan nodded and folded his legs across the fire from Nickeal. The old man breathed deep and closed his eyes.

“You should get some rest,” Nickeal told Okan. “I can keep watch for a few hours while you sleep.”

“But what about you master? You need rest as much as I do.”

“I’m glad you did not say ‘more than I do’. You are finally starting to see us as equal, master and apprentice, as a team. I will close my eyes and my body will sleep, but with the Earth living in me I can never truly rest. I am always moving, always listening, a consisted thrum. The Earth cannot afford to stop or life as we know it would end.”

Okan nodded in understanding and added more facts to his ‘Nickeal’s Wisdom’ corner before he lay in the loose pine needles and fell into a deep sleep.

“So grown up and yet so young,” Nickeal whispered, his eyes still closed. “I hope the new world that we will create will allow you a normal life.”

With that he fell silent, allowing the natural noises around him to fill his mind. He relaxed and felt his mind slip into the currents of Earth. The flow carried him north, through the barrier that the twin cities posed to them and through the ice. He slipped downwards and suddenly found himself in a narrow tunnel. The flow followed the tunnel, passing many other connecting tunnels. A few times Nickeal thought he saw a light down one of the other tunnels, but the Earth did not allow him to stop and look again. Once he was sure he saw a human figure but it too passed quicker than he would have liked.

Usually the Earth was slow and steady, but something, probably Nickeal’s task, had roused it. And once the Earth was roused, it was difficult to direct it anywhere but where it wanted to go until it was finished. Many other mages mistook Earth as an easy magic, solid and readily available to pull at. But whenever Nickeal met someone who thought like that, he set them straight by giving them a little lesson. They would usually walk away and mutter something about grumpy old men. Nickeal would chuckle and continue on his way.

He knew that now was one of those times that any attempt to stop the rush of Earth would only end up with injury, even for him. So he wafted along with it, flowing ever north.

The tunnel grew wider and lighter and the Earth slowed a little. The walls of the tunnel grew more intricate and smaller openings started to appear. The Earth had slowed almost to the walk of a normal person, perhaps a bit faster. People dressed in fur lined clothing began to appear and point in Nickeal’s direction; the Earth had begun to take form.

A large white bear stepped out of the large tunnel that led to the city’s main square. The chief was sitting beside the hot spring fountain, talking with a few of tribesmen. As the great bear walked towards them they leaped from their seats in awe and dropped to the cold white stone in reverence. Nickeal could feel the Earth’s prodding, telling him to speak of their coming so he did.

“Great Chief,” he started in a voice that was not his at all. It sounded younger but carried a thousand years of wisdom. The Earth’s voice. “Two men will come to you from the south. One of them bears the heart of Earth, whose steady presence has guarded you and your people for many centuries. Do not harm them, for they mean you no harm. The one named Nickeal comes to make a home for the Earth, which has chosen your country to live in forever. The one named Okan is his apprentice and he will be the only one to leave. They approach your southern cities this night with harm on their tails. Treat them wisely.”

As he spoke the last words he looked into the chief’s eyes. They were full of admiration. Nickeal felt the magic around him begin to fade away and his mind returned to his body underneath the pine tree. He woke with a start; not sure if what he had just experienced had been real. But the Earth felt quiet now, perfectly content to let Nickeal figure out the rest. He skimmed the surface of the magic, feeling for the men that had been following him.

The camp was empty; disassembled and packed up. The men had split up to either side and were methodically searching the forest. The nearest one was only about 10 meters away.

Nickeal quickly woke Okan and motioned for him to be completely silent. Nickeal placed his hand on the ground and attempted to create a tunnel through which they might escape. But the Earth barely moved. Throughout the magic small particles of water had frozen in the cold, trapping the Earth in its place. Nickeal cursed under his breath and peeked out of their little shelter. The closest man had paused to urinate against a tall poplar tree and was not looking in their direction. Okan spotted him and quickly moved the other way, up the valley.

The sun had begun to rise over the snow encrusted forest, making the white carpet sparkle. Okan and Nickeal sprinted as fast as they could through the lesser snow underneath the tall boughs of the trees and were almost in the clear when they heard a shout.

“Footprints! Southern side of the gap, moving northward at a run! Area clear of soldiers!” The call came up from behind them. Several arrows whistled in their direction, splitting the two of them up. Nickeal motioned that they should continue north separate from each other, to confuse the men. Okan signalled back that he’d race him to the cities. Nickeal smiled. Full of spunk. He accepted and darted between the trees.

Because cover was no longer a problem Nickeal sprinted straight through the trees without bother to try and hide his path. Arrows continued to fly at random as the group started to converge on the area. Nickeal spotted Okan once through the trees, flying over a fallen tree with amazing speed.

‘Perhaps he would have been cut out for Wind had he not chosen Earth. They may be opposites, but many attributes are shared,’ he thought as an arrow struck the snow where his foot had been. He could see the trees thinning out and coming to an end but continued at the same speed.

The trees suddenly stopped and the ground became flat and icy. The morning sun glinted off of the wind-polished surface and blinded Nickeal. But he kept running, hoping that the men wouldn’t be able to see over the shine to shoot them with arrows. He also hoped that Okan continued running as well or he would be lost.

The foggy barrier of the two countries flew up in front of him and he flew into, stepping into Berco. Once the fog had completely surrounded him he stopped to catch his breath.

“I beat you by a long shot old man,” Okan poked as he appeared out of the fog in front of him.

“You should be kinder to your elders,” Nickeal shot back, smiling. Okan had kept running before Nickeal had even hit the ice. The two of them shared a chuckle before screams were heard in the direction they had run from.

“Bercs! Back, back to the trees! The Bercanese are…”

The man never finished his sentence. In his head Nickeal could feel the man’s blood seeping through the ice to the ground below. No other man dared venture out onto the ice.

Okan was completely still, poised as if to make a run for it if he had to. He didn’t have a chance. A dart hit each of them in the throat and they collapsed to the ice, unconscious.

Nickeal woke groggily, his vision swimming before his eyes. It was dark and cold, a prison cell most likely. Closing his eyes again he dipped into the Earth and discovered that his cell was small, maybe two meters from side to side and a meter and a half deep. Okan was in the cell to his left, still unconscious from the poison. Two guards were posted directly outside their cells and two more stood facing the cells. And two more were moving down the hallway towards them.

Nickeal lay quiet while the two moving guards burst through the door, their voices urgent. Nickeal knew he was gesturing to them in the cells. The tone of the voices grew hushed and the two extra men took off down the hallway again. One of the guards, the head guard Nickeal figured, was now shouting orders to the other three. One took off after the first two down the hall and the others searched for keys to unlock the cells.

‘What I wouldn’t give to know Berc right now,’ Nickeal wished as the two guards jabbered with each other, neither one making any jokes. The lock on the cell clicked open and one guard approached him. At this point Nickeal opened his eyes and stared into the face of the Bercanese guard. The man appeared startled to see him awake at first but quickly recovered from his shock. He shouted to the head guard outside the cell and put Nickeal’s arm around his shoulder. The man was solid and strong and was easily able to support Nickeal’s weight. Nickeal tried to get his legs underneath him to walk with the man but found that they wouldn’t move, being still paralysed by the poison. Nickeal cursed and allowed the guard to drag him along.

Okan had been hoisted up onto the other guard’s back, his arms and legs swinging loosely from Okan’s body. Nickeal was sure he was going to be stiff when he woke up, even more than Nickeal had been. And from the guard’s response, he knew that he shouldn’t be awake yet. He should be in the same limp state that Okan was in. But he wasn’t. He had a suspicion that the Earth inside him had something to do with it, but the Earth was still being laxy-daisy in its responses to him. He gave up and watched where they were going.

It was clear that they were in one of the high twin cities, though which one was beyond his guess. The walls smooth cut clearly said that it had been built, not carved like the delicate buildings that he had seen in the northern city. They were heading towards the center of action; the motion in the halls began to grow with messengers being sent to and from. Surprisingly, it did not take long to reach the end of the hall where it became a large atrium. There was one man that looked out of place there. Instead of wearing the long sleeved grey shirts that everyone else was wearing, he was adorned with a bright blue jacket rimmed with grey fur that fell to his knees. From there thick black pants ran to black boots. His black hair was neatly braided down the back of his head and his eyes were closed.

Nickeal tried to figure out where he had seen the man before when the Earth lazily prodded him. He pushed it back and thought again. The city. This man had been sitting in the circle with the chief. Nickeal now noticed a silver pin pushed through his braid near the base of his neck. He must be important.

Nickeal and Okan were dropped to the ground in front of him. Okan, of course, lay where he had been dropped and did nothing. Nickeal on the other hand forced himself to his knees and looked up at the man, studying his face.

“So, you proved to be too much for the slool poison, did you?” he spoke, his Common Tongue crisp and perfectly clear. “You must be the Nickeal the Great Bear spoke to us about.”

The guard beside him gasped.

“The Great Bear spoke of him? Are you sure?” he questioned, his Berc voice

“The Bear visited us last night out of the southward tunnel and told us of the travels of these two men and how we are supposed to conduct ourselves around them.”

Nickeal was suddenly confused. It was clear the two men were conversing in Berc, but Nickeal understood every words of it. The Earth prodded him again and he smiled.

“The Earth learns of what is around him,” he chuckled. The men stopped talking to each other and stared at him.

“You speak our tongue?” the blue jacketed man demanded. “How is it so?”

“The Earth learns what is around him,” Nickeal repeated louder. The two men were stumped and Nickeal said no more of it. He had temporarily forgotten what the Bercanese thought of magic. Though, after the ‘Great Bear’ had spoken to them about Nickeal, how much could he get away with without appearing blasphemous in their minds? Nickeal knew that this was one line that he could not test in the least.

“So the Great Bear spoke of you carrying the heart of Earth. Is this true old man?” the blue jacketed man stated.

“I am not called old man, rude one. I am Nickeal, as you already know. I will not part with any further knowledge until I am graced with the knowledge of your name,” Nickeal replied, still staring defiantly into the grey eyes of the other man, who snorted and turned away.

“I am Chun-Ranuk, head of the Ice Sailors,” he replied, his voice clearly unhappy about having to give up his mysterious presence. “I am a close advisor and friend to our chief Cha-Sumith. He sent me down here with the speed of the ice wyvern’s wings to find you. And here I find you, trapped in our prisons. The Great Bear surely thought too highly of you.”

The guard gasped again.

“You may leave us guard. Clearly you do not have a sound enough mind to comprehend what we are talking about here. Leave us!” Chun-Ranuk demanded. The guard spun around and darted out of the atrium.

“If the Great Bear spoke of us, then you know what our purpose in your country is,” Nickeal said, staring at the back of Chun-Ranuk’s head.

“It is true that he spoke of it, but he was not clear. Our chief wishes to extend to you an invitation that hasn’t been heard of in a long time. He invites you, two outsiders, to his palace in Teryl in the north.”

Nickeal’s mouth dropped open. An invitation into the country, and as guests, not prisoners. It was unheard of. A moan came from the floor beside him; Okan was beginning to wake from his poison-induced sleep.

“Where are we?” he slurred. Chun-Ranuk scoffed at him and turned back towards them, his eyes directed at Nickeal’s.

“We sail north as the sun rises. I will send someone to escort you to your accommodations for the night and see to it that you are fit to sail. Good day, Nickeal of Earth.”

He stalked out of the atrium. Nickeal read from his movements that he was not happy to be in this city or to be the babysitter of outsiders. Nickeal chuckled and bent himself towards Okan.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so… Was he just speaking to you in Berc? Does he expect you to understand?” Okan replied, waking in a more conscious state than Nickeal had. Must be the age.

“I do understand it. Do you remember what I taught you long ago about the Earth’s demeanour?”

“‘Earth learns what is around him’?” Okan recited from memory.

“Very good.”

“So you just… learned?” Okan stated.

“Yes, and with practice you can too.”

Okan thought about it for a while before he nodded.

“I’ll give it a go later, when there are more people around to learn from.”

“Wise move, Okan. There may be hope for you yet.”

Two guards entered the room and motioned for them to follow. Nickeal and Okan struggled to their feet and shuffled after the two guards. Clearly they hadn’t been told that Nickeal had learned their language.

“Look at them, shuffling like a drunk.”

“Or like a Zakhian after he’s been shot in the leg.”

The two of them shared a quiet chuckle before continuing.

“I can’t believe the Chief sent Chun down here. That man hates the southern cities, prefers to live in his cave.”

“You weren’t too enthused when you were posted here in the beginning either you know. You complained about the texture of the damned bricks used to build this place!”

“But I had never been here before. Chun has been here many times and still hates it.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“And his precious chief had these two cities built when he was just a young man! He should praise them as an early achievement instead of a poor first choice.”

“It sounds as if you two aren’t very fond of Chun-Ranuk,” Nickeal cut in, speaking in Berc. Okan chuckled and Nickeal smiled for him. He clearly had also learned what the Earth had. The interruption has caught both guards off hand and made them stop completely.

“Perhaps you should be careful what you say around people you don’t know,” Okan added. The two guards were silent until they reached the room where the outsiders where staying. Once they had shoved both of them in and closed the door they strode off down the hall, heads together in harsh whispers.

The room they had been given was only slightly more comfortable than the cells they had been in earlier. Two narrow beds lined either side of the room and a single, fogged window let in light from outside. The inside wall had a fireplace built into it, with a fire going strong and a pile of spare wood stacked beside it. Okan claimed one of the beds then turned his attention to the curious looking window.

“Hey! This isn’t glass at all. It’s ice,” he commented, pressing his hand against it. “That is quite the feat.”

“A gift from the Great Bear, perhaps.”

“You believe that mumbojumbo about the Great Bear?” Okan exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Very. I have felt the energy of the Bear. He is not a living animal, but living magic that takes the form of a bear when it chooses.”

Okan was quiet. The boy often thought long and hard about things that Nickeal never heard. The Earth wouldn’t reflect his thoughts. Nickeal always figured it was because Okan was so close to him and that he would be the one to carry on after he was gone.

Gone. The word stuck in Nickeal’s mind. Soon, he would be gone. Perhaps it was only a matter of days before that happened. Maybe longer. So much depended on their visit to Chief Cha-Sumith and there was so much yet that could go wrong. Nickeal knew very little, almost nothing in fact, about the culture they were about to meet with. And the Earth still wasn’t co-operating with him on finding out more.

‘It wants its home to remain a mystery, even to me,’ he thought. ‘So that it will remain a mystery for all of time.’

“Master, what is our purpose here?” Okan asked quite suddenly, still trying to peer through the icy window.

“Okan, you know our purpose.”

“But why here? Why Berco where we know nothing? Where magic is feared? Why would an element choose a place like this to spend eternity?”

“Because it is hidden, separated from the prying fingers of the rest of the world. Here it will be able to rest and flow as it has always been meant to flow.”

The door was pushed open and a small girl brought a basket of food to them. She quickly put it on the floor and scurried out the door. She pulled it part way closed, but continued to look through the crack, examining the foreigners. She, like every other Bercanese, had never seen an outsider up close and living, not to mention as guests, even here on the border. The only foreigners they saw were black specks on the ice, being pecked at by the crows of the forest. Okan waved to her and she vanished quickly, the door clicking closed as she went. Okan smiled and picked up the basket.

“You like children, don’t you?” Nickeal asked, taking the bread that Okan handed him.

“Yes. If I had not chosen to follow this path, I would have settled down, found a wife and had many kids. I love their curiosity and their innocence; they know no fear until we tell it to them.”

Nickeal sighed. He had never liked children, he found them bothersome. But perhaps Okan would get his wish in having a family when this ordeal was over. They ate their meal in silence before climbing into the small beds and into the first decent sleep for weeks.

The morning rolled around without a sound. A small tap echoed through the hall as the little girl knocked on the door of the outsiders. She had been sent to bring them down to the Sail dock, where Chun-Ranuk was waiting for them. Okan opened the door and smiled at her. This time she smiled back and began to rush through her orders to bring them down to the ground level doors. Nickeal appeared beside Okan and they followed the small girl down the hall. She skipped happily in front of them, her short black braid bouncing along behind her.

Nickeal ran his fingers through his own hair, long and tied back loosely with a thread of leather. He watched the braid bounce and considered how his hair would look in a similar fashion. Okan laughed at his antics.

“You’re getting old and turning into a woman if you’re worrying about your hair more than about this meeting,” he stated.

“I’m only curious,” Nickeal replied.

The Sail dock was a large open room with a tall, wide door at the far end. Out the opening all that could be seen was the vast expanse of ice that covered the entire country. The pointed forms of mountains also loomed out of the fog, their white heads poking at an unusually clear sky.

All along the walls were long narrow lines of rock. At these rocks a form of boat was tethered. They looked like ordinary sailboats at first glance, until the bottom of the boat was seen. The hull rested on a large narrow piece of metal that curved up in the front and trailed out at the back. Each boat was tipped to the right to avoid having one boat get snarled in another’s rigging.

As they watched, a small boat flew through the large door and steered to a smooth stop at an empty dock. The crew, two young men, carefully folded their white sail and tipped their boat to match the others before hurrying off inside.

Chun-Ranuk met them there with two other men.

“Lovely sight, aren’t they?” he commented, his scoffed pride of the day before forgotten. “This is where my heart lies, not in the walls built unnaturally of stone.”

“They are quite graceful Chun-Ranuk,” Nickeal stated, watching as three more boats came in and two were pushed out. He noticed that the incoming boats always veered to the right when entering, regardless of what dock they pulled up at. The outgoing boats stayed to the left where they caught an unseen gust of wind to get them going.

“Please, call me Chun,” he replied. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I get rather testy every time I’m forced to enter the cities above the ground.”

Okan looked to Nickeal for clarification but none came. Okan would find out in time.

“I am sorry for that. Being shot by poisoned darts and locked up in cells isn’t the best way to start a day.”

Chun huffed once.

“That is were intruders are kept until their fate is decided. Your fates are the first since the cities were built that did not involve death. But come, enough about the past. We must start out immediately if we are to catch the wyvern’s wings to Teryl.”

“The wyvern’s wings?” Okan asked.

“Just after the sun has appeared completely above the ice a gust of air rushes northward. We can ride this wind with the fastest sails and arrive in Teryl quickly. At sun down, when the sun is just touching the ice the wind returns, blowing south. This is the way most messages are sent because of the speed.”

He started to walk down to the level of the docks and then all the way to the end, to where two sleek vessels sat tipped. One had brilliant blue sails and the other bore silver ones.

“Nickeal will ride with me on the blue, Okan with Gha on the silver,” Chun instructed. “But before we depart, we have some warmer clothing for you to wear.”

The man beside Gha brought forward two jackets, both blue with black fur and a pair of black pants for each. They also received hats and gloves and long pieces of fur to wrap around their necks. Once they were dressed, Okan could feel the sweat beginning to drip down the middle of his back. Chun noticed his discomfort and laughed as he pulled a pair of black leather goggles over his eyes, motioning for to copy him.

“It is very cold out there on the ice and even colder in the winds. Of course the wyvern’s wings are the coldest. Your discomfort will leave shortly.”

Gha and the other man tipped the silver sailed vessel to its standing position and Chun helped Okan get settled near the mast. Gha jumped on as the other man pushed the boat backwards into the invisible gust of wind. Gha mastered the sails and caught the wind, shooting out into the white outside.

Nickeal was quickly settled onto the blue sailed boat and they pushed back in the same way. Nickeal noticed that a flurry of other boats were hastily being prepared to shove off as well. But before Nickeal could see how many, they shot forward.

The speed of the boats was incredible. The ice flew by underneath them and the mountains quickly disappeared behind. Chun was a master sailsman; he flew over the ice with great speed. They caught up to the silver sailed boat before Chun checked his speed and sailed beside the other boat. He then started to explain the logistics of the sailing.

“Each boat has a colour coded sail. Blue, like mine, marks a master sailor. Masters are allowed to sail in every kind of weather without higher permission and often go on more difficult missions. The silver sails, like Gha’s, are journeymen. They can sail in anything but a blizzard and may carry passengers. White sails mark an apprentice sailor. They can sail by themselves, but only with cargo and in good weather. The red sails marked beginners, who are not allowed to sail in the wyvern’s wings or go out of sight of their home dock,” he explained, carefully steering around a rock that had broken through the ice.

“And this is the main form of transportation?” Nickeal asked.

“Goodness no. This is only for messages and important cargo. It’s too dangerous to have too many sails out on the ice at one time.”

The other boat had fallen some distance behind them and Chun looked back in worry. The silver sailed boat was meandering a little, the sail wobbling from an unsteady hand.

“What is Gha doing?” he commented as Nickeal turned to look.

“I believe the question should be ‘what is Okan doing?’” Nickeal corrected as the boat moved a little bit closer with more confidence.

“Okan?”

“He’s at the, what do you call it, a tiller?”

Chun’s grip on the sail shook a little.

“Okan is sailing?” he choked, regaining his hold on the sail. Nickeal remained silent and tucked the fur around his neck a little snugger.

On the other boat, Gha had suggested that Okan try his hand at the sail. Okan had eagerly agreed, wanting to feel how the control of the boat was handled. Gha had stood behind him for the first bit and had been surprised at the rate that Okan mastered the push and pull of the winds. He relaxed and took Okan’s original place as the passenger. The blue sail in front of them wavered a little and Gha laughed.

“I believe my master has noticed who is sailing right now,” he yelled over the wind. “I’m going to get yelled at when we dock.”

“Why would that be? You’re a great teacher!” Okan yelled back as he pulled at the sail in adjustment. Gha didn’t reply but was staring straight ahead. Directly in the path of the wind was a large, sloped hump, where the earth below must have pushed up. All the boats around them, even Chun’s was moving to sail around it, out of the wind for a few seconds. But Okan showed no sign of following. Gha began to panic and get up.

“Sit down or I’ll lose my concentration!” Okan shouted at him. Gha quickly sat down and covered his eyes. He would be demoted to white after this for sure.

Okan steadied the sails as they started to shoot up the slope. As it turns out, the slope was a jagged piece of ice that ended abruptly, shooting them out into the air. Okan dropped the lines to the sail, allowing them to go completely slack. Just as they were about to hit the ice again, he pulled hard and the sails flared open, slowing their momentum and placing them gracefully on the ice again, ahead of everyone.

Gha breathed a shaky sigh of relief and let his grip on the edges of the seat go.

“You know, you’d probably make a great sailor.”

When the gaping mouth of Teryl’s dock came into view over the ice, Gha insisted that they switch places again.

“No matter how much you learned out on the ice today, it takes years to master getting into the dock properly and slowing down to a stop.”

Okan agreed and took his spot as passenger. They cruised over the ice and Gha started making a flurry of adjustments. As they soared through the opening he picked a slot and glided the boat to it. Okan readied himself to jump out as they slowly came to a stop. He was at the bow of the boat and helped Gha tip it into place. Chun’s boat slid up next to them and a man on the dock assisted in the steadying until Nickeal got out. Once the boat was properly tipped, they walked over to where Gha was checking and double checking everything on his boat to keep Chun’s attention away from him.

For the moment, Chun did ignore him. He turned to Okan instead.

“You, boy, have a lot of nerve. First time on a sail, in the wind and you fly over a shelf! I don’t know how you managed that landing but you’ve got a lot of luck. If you weren’t here on business, I would take you in as my student.”

“I’m honoured sir. I was only having a little fun, I meant no harm by it,” Okan apologized. Nickeal laughed.

“You nearly stopped his heart Okan,” he said, taking off his jacket. Chun said nothing but turned to Gha, who was for the third time checking the knots on his sails.

“You. Don’t let that happen again.”

“Yes sir.”

There were no other words exchanged between them. Okan waved to Gha in parting as Chun led them through the docks and into a cavern-like entrance. Where Okan had expected to see stairs leading up there was only a sloping path leading downwards, beneath the ice. Nickeal followed without a word.

The chief was waiting for them in the same square that Nickeal had seen from inside the Bear the night before last. Now he was able to take in the sheer beauty of it.

The city had been carved into a white-rocked cavern; the stone smoothed over and decorated. At the very middle, and in various places around the city, a hot spring sprung up from the ground into a natural fountain. The warmth of the water created a pleasant atmosphere beneath the ice. The people who scurried around wore short sleeves and bare heads. Nickeal noticed a number of different fashions, but everyone wore the same colour: blue.

“The fibre we make our clothing from grows blue in the moonlight and retains that colour. Blue is the colour of the ice and the colour of the sky.” Chun replied when he was asked.

Okan looked and saw a number of trees growing around crags of rock, the leaves white as if frosted. There was even short blue grass in some areas.

“It’s almost tropical down here,” Okan commented as a bright blue bird flitted overhead. “But what I can’t understand is why it’s so light down here.”

Chun pointed to the roof of the cave.

“We have a glass sky, a special kind of ice that forms over the steam of the hot springs. That is why we build our homes around the springs, so that we can enjoy the sun’s light by day and the moon’s light by night.”

“Ah, Chun, you arrive right on schedule, as usual,” a voice said in front of them. Chun bowed his head.

“As you requested.”

The voice belonged to the Chief, Cha-Sumith. He was surly looking man; his hair braided into a shower of small braids and gathered in the back with a white rope. He wore white clothing and was marked with a white tattoo on his forehead. An ancient rune. Nickeal bowed as Chun had and presented himself.

“I am Nickeal, bearer of Earth. I seek a home to put the Earth to rest where it will remain hidden for the rest of its days.”

“I have heard about you and I know what you need. Once the Great Bear came to us I began to think right away. And I know where the Earth may rest.”

Nickeal was startled.

“You know already?”

“Yes. You will dine with me tonight and we will prepare the rites for your journey. The place you are to go to is sacred to our people and to enter you must be properly prepared.”

Nickeal nodded.

“A sacred place is perfect,” he agreed. The chief clapped his hands once and two people, one woman and one man came forward.

“Prepare a feast for tonight. Everyone will celebrate the coming of Earth!”

The two nodded happily and rushed off in different directions. Instantly two more replaced them and took Nickeal and Okan away, leaving Chun with the chief. The outsiders were taken to a large bath filled with water from one of the hot springs. Their troubles melted away in the water as they became refreshed.

Okan requested that his hair be braided in a long tail sweeping down his back and one of the girls was more than eager to do it for him. They both scoffed at Okan’s hair, which was cropped short and stood on its own accord.

It took a full two hours to prepare them for the feast that was being held in their honour. Nickeal was fussed over more than Okan, who brooded about it the whole time. Nickeal chuckled.

“Sometimes you remind me of Cirros,” he told the impatient young man. Okan stopped pacing and sat on a cushioned chair and twitched his leg instead.

They were led back to the square but were instructed to wait in a side tunnel until they were called for. Soon a cry rose from the square and they were hauled out in front of everyone. Okan’s desire for attention was sated in the first few seconds, and then he turned red and trudged behind a more regal looking Nickeal.

The feast was indeed a large party; there was music and dancing and tales of all kinds. After all the food had been served and put away, the chief stood and everyone fell silent.

“We welcome for the first times in our lives two outsiders among us. They have come with a task from the Great Bear and we will help them achieve it!”

A cheer rose over the crowds.

“Nickeal, who bears the sacred powers of Earth will tonight complete the ritual of entry and will enter the Balance to complete his purpose.”

Two women dressed in black now stepped forward, each one carrying a pot of ink and a soft brush. Nickeal stood as they approached and removed his outer robe. His chest was bare.

‘I can’t believe the old guy is eighty four,’ Okan thought. Nickeal had once told him that Earth did not show its age as humans did. And clearly he was right. Again.

The two women began to paint a pattern of rune on his bared skin while the people gathered around began to chant. Okan found himself chanting with them, without knowing the words. It was relaxing to him. Once the chanting was finished the women stepped away and Nickeal replaced the outer robe and took his place beside Okan again. Nickeal had fallen silent now, deep in thought. The chief dismissed the feast and the people trickled away, full of food and wine. Okan took Nickeal back to their rooms where he fell asleep instantly. Okan followed him quickly after.

The morning came too soon, as they always did. Okan stretched and yawned, not wanting to leave the warm covered that were draped over him. Nickeal was up already, meditating on the floor. Okan opened the door and found Gha poised to knock on the wood. Instead he lowered his hand and coughed.

“I’m supposed to take you to Chun in the docks. You’re travelling out again,” he said solemnly. “Chun is acting like we’ll never see you again.”

Okan didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. He nodded and turned to find Nickeal standing behind him. The old man said nothing but walked beside them as they climbed out of Teryl and into the sunlight streaming through the dock’s opening. Chun was waiting with his blue sailed boat ready to go. Both Nickeal and Okan got on they were off. Chun was indeed acting as if he was bringing them both to their deaths. Nickeal was ever silent and Okan didn’t feel like pushing for more information. Their ride southwest was completely silent except for the scraping of the blade beneath the boat.

After a few hours of sailing Chun came to a rest beside an irregular jut of ice and beckoned for them to get off. He pointed to a small hole in the mountains in the distance and bowed to them, remaining completely silent. A wind howled around them, blowing snow down from the mountains and into their face. Nickeal started towards the hole in the mountain with Okan behind him. The silence was beginning to get to him.

It took them an hour to get from their landing place to the hole they had been pointed to. It was a perfect opening cut into the side of the icy mountain, the walls inside the entrance were an eerie blue colour. Nickeal reached out and grasped the edge of the opening as the winds threatened to blow them away. Okan grabbed his hand and was pulled inside.

Okan noticed small niches carved out of the ice on either side of the entrance. The seats inside them were worn down, but there was no one to be seen.

“Master, shouldn’t there be guards?” he asked, hoping Nickeal was over his silent spell now that they were inside.

“I suspect a message arrived here before us, telling them that the Great Bear had work to do here that must not be witnessed. But hush, remain silent. Down this path lies the Balance.”

They walked down the gradually sloping hall in a blue glow until the tunnel opened up into a great cavern. The temperature inside was greatly warmer than the temperature outside, where the wind howled at them for entering. Okan removed his outer coat and set it on a nearby boulder as he gazed out at what the Bercanese called the Balance.

The floor in front of them dropped suddenly into a deep chasm, whose bottom had never been know. The chasm stretched across the entire room. Hanging suspended by nothing but air across the entire gap were floating stones, flattened on the top. In the middle of these stones a hole had started to form.

Nickeal removed his outer layer and jumped out onto the nearest stone, his hood still pulled over his head. It remained in the air. Okan started to follow but a harsh motion from Nickeal stopped him.

“You must stay where it is safe,” the old man said. “It is you that must bear this secret to the world.”

“Me? But what about you?”

“I will not be coming back with you.”

Okan stopped, his mouth hanging open. He finally understood Nickeal’s reason from coming up here. He closed his mouth and remained still with great difficulty. But obedience had always been one of his strong points.

The stone Nickeal stood on moved to the center of the chasm, where the hole had grown in size. As the Master drew closer to it, a light faded into existence, a tall beam that rose from deep in the abyss.

“Nickeal…” a female voice said from the light.

“I am here,” Nickeal replied, removing the hood from his head. With the faded tattoos of the ancient runes from the party the night before still on his skin, he was finally beginning to look old.

“I have guarded the Earth for seventy two years. I have come to give the Earth back to the flow it came from and complete the circle.”

“Very well,” the voice said. A figure began to materialize in the light. Its form seemed to be fighting the invisible flows of the world. Eventually a woman’s body could be seen in the beam, clothed by the energy. Nickeal began to move again, his hands flashing into the ancient forms that would activate the runes on his skin. He began to glow a soft orange, the colour of the Earth. Faster and faster his hands moved until suddenly, they stopped, stretched out from his body.

“Come,” the woman of light commanded. Nickeal stepped forward and was caught by the beam of light. Okan shielded his eyes as the beam exploded, filling the room with white magic and whispers of a realm beyond his understanding.

He felt the darkness return to the cavern outside his closed eyes. Slowly he opened them, unsure of what he would find in the chasm.

Nickeal was gone. In the opening that had been filled by the light was now a tall pillar of stone. Its surface was carved with the same runes that Nickeal had spread on his body. It floated with the same ease as the other, smaller pieces of stone. The lady of light was walking towards him, her feet not touching the stone. She held something in her hands, cradling it.

“You are Okan, are you not?” she asked. He could not form the words needed to answer, so he simply nodded. The brightness of her presence had engulfed him. Reaching out, she placed a small object in his hands and wrapped his fingers around it.

“What you see before you is the Pillar of Earth, the stronghold for all the Earth Magic used in this world. The Bercanese will protect this place,” a new voice said from the light surrounding the lady. It was deep and warm, an inviting presence in Okan’s mind.

“In your hand you hold the only piece of the Pillar that will leave this place. They must be kept apart at all times, to avoid the corruption of the pillar.”

Okan opened his hands and stared down at what the woman had placed there. It was a smooth disc of metal with a lip rising from one point as if it could be threaded onto a string.

“It is called Jireldan,” the woman told him in a whisper, “It will decide its own master throughout its life. Guard it well.”

The woman’s image faded away from the cavern and somehow the memory of what she looked like vanished from his mind. He closed his hand around the disc again and turned his back to the Pillar, never to return.

Outside in the light he found a single man boat with a black sail. Nickeal’s death had shocked him to a state of numbness, but he remembered everything the old had ever taught him. The one piece of wisdom that drifted to the surface now told him that the Earth recovers from its wounds quickly but bears the scars of them forever. It would be best for Okan to move on, but the scar of losing Nickeal would always be there.

As he readied the sail he thought about the passing of the elements. Nickeal had been honest with him when he said that the Earth was going home. Okan had a chance at life now, a normal life. As he thought he realized that the other apprentices would have to go through the same decisions as he was. He couldn’t help but wonder what each of them would do.

Okan carefully tucked the disk into a pocket on his breast and heaved the small craft up into ready position. He started running on the ice until he caught the wind. He jumped on the boat and sailed back to Teryl to start his new life.

“It wouldn’t be this hard if Sigrun was with us,” he muttered, pushing away from the wall. He tucked his hands under his arms and headed back towards the inn that they were staying at. If they had Sigrun, they would only have to buy a ship. None of this hiring a crew to sail it business.

The inn was fairly busy; it was well known and popular with all kinds of travellers. It was also along the main road down to the docks, so first time visitors like Xan and Ihoshi saw it right away and decided not to look any further after a long day of travel.

Once they had left the Gathering, Ihoshi had noticed Xan turning up at the same towns she was and suggested that they travel together until their elements pulled them separate way. So far, they were still pulling the same direction: east. The only problem was the endless expanse of water that separate them from their destination and the unwillingness of every crew in the city to sail more than two weeks east.

Xan pushed through the crowds in the common room and aimed for the stairs. Ihoshi’s voice calling to him over the crowd stopped him.

“Xan! Over here!”

She sounded excited, so he shoved his way passed drunken diners to where Ihoshi was sitting. A man was sitting with her, a deep scar running down his face. Xan was immediately suspicious.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he stated, sitting down beside Ihoshi.

“He has decided to negotiate with us about our offer,” Ihoshi explained.

“Let’s here it then,” Xan said. The man coughed and put his vile smelling drink on the table.

“I will go farther than anyone else in this town. Four weeks, due east from the mouth of Keme Bay. After that four weeks you can return with me and my crew or you can take one of my smaller crafts and continue out on your own, if you are so determined to prove that there is something out there,” he proposed.

Xan narrowed his eyes and looked him over. The man was obviously a pirate of some sort; his clothing was scruffy and smelled strongly of seawater and vomit. His beard was mangled with bits of feathers stuck in it and the scar across his face had clearly come from an illegal fight.

“Ihoshi, can I speak with you in private for a minute?”

She nodded and the two of them stood, leaving the man at the table, and found a quieter corner.

“Do you trust him?” Xan asked. Ihoshi sighed.

“What choice do we have Xan? He’s the only one in three miserable weeks that has even taken the time to consider what we’re offering. We have to push onward; the Wood is getting impatient, which is not good. We need to be off this continent and going eastward as soon as we can. He sails tomorrow, with or without us.”

Xan was quiet.

“We sail tomorrow then,” he replied. “I can’t believe I’m trusting my life to a pirate.”

They returned to the table and gave their answer to Captain Valvegi. He described his vessel and told them where they would be able to find him in the shipyard. As he walked away, Xan sighed.

“I’m assuming Coreq and Hode aren’t here?” Xan asked as they moved towards the stairs at the far end of the room.

“No, they went out after you did. But don’t worry about them, two strong young men like them can easily take care of any problems. And without using magic,” Ihoshi answered. “Have a goodnight Xan.”

Xan nodded and continued walking down the hall as Ihoshi slipped into her room. The three boys were sharing the largest room of the inn at the end of the building and Ihoshi had a room with a single bed.

When Xanthos entered the room he suddenly felt uneasy. Tonight would be the last night he ever spent on this side of the world. Even if four weeks of sailing revealed nothing, he and Ihoshi would have no choice but to take that smaller boat and continue eastward as their elements willed. It would be Coreq and Hode’s choice to follow or go back. But knowing Coreq he would continue on with Xan and Hode would follow Coreq in fear of being called a coward.

Xanthos lifted the heavy blankets on the bed farthest from the sight of the harbour out the window and rolled over to sleep.

Coreq had to shake him from his dreams when the morning came and the first batch of ships was getting ready to sail. Valvegi’s was supposed to be one of the first. Xan muttered incoherently and hastily packed up his things and ran out of the inn with Coreq behind him. The young man had told him that Ihoshi had gone ahead of him, sure that he would be able to get up on time. Xanthos cursed his dreams for keeping him asleep. He could remember that they had been very intense, but the details and pictures were quickly slipping out of his mind. A large beast with wide, leathery wings rose up and vanished, just like everything else. And then Ihoshi. She was the last bit of his dream that he could remember. Just her.

The trip to the docks took no time; at this early hour the streets were completely clear of people and stalls selling merchandise. Valvegi’s ship sat exactly where he had said it would be and Ihoshi was waiting for him on the deck, watching anxiously for his arrival. When he flew around the corner and hopped up the gang plank she visibly relaxed.

“I thought you weren’t going to follow through with what we decided, leaving me to go alone,” she said quietly, giving him a hug.

“I was always going to come. It was a dream that prevented me from waking,” he replied, hugging her back.

“A dream? One of those dreams?” she asked, scrutinizing every part of him.

“Yes, one of those dreams. I haven’t had one in years and the details slipped away instantly. But you were in it.”

Ihoshi looked worried.

“Can you remember anything about why I would be in one of your dreams?” she whispered. Xan shook his head.

“I don’t really want to know what you were doing there, especially if it is definitely one of those dreams.”

“Your ability to see the future through dreams had only predicted disaster,” Ihoshi muttered back. “I don’t want to be part of one of those dreams unless I’m staving off disaster, okay? So leave me out of any dreams you may have in the future.”

Xan chuckled and nodded.

“I’ll try.”

A cabinboy showed them to the small corner that they would call there own for the next four weeks. Xan chuckled about this little corner of a pirate ship being the closest thing he had to home, being the place where he would stay in one place for longer than a week. Ihoshi laughed back. Coreq and Hode didn’t quite understand the joke, but let it roll of them anyway.

The boat lurched and loose objects rolled across the wooden floors as the boat was set free from its bindings to the docks and pushed out into the narrow opening of the bay. Beyond the gradually towered rock on either side lay the endless ocean, the Waters of Capriole. Soon the empire of Zakh was behind them on the horizon and water surrounded them.

Very little changed in the way of scenery for those four long weeks on the ocean. Both Ihoshi and Xanthos had come in handy to the crew, Ihoshi with her ability to mend wood without nails and Xan for his talent for keeping particularly nasty storms out of their path.

They were entering the tail end of the fourth week when an eerie fog rolled out on the water. Valvegi had the ship slowed to barely moving and sent scouts forward in the fog to see if anything lay ahead that could possibly damage the ship. The little boats were gone for a good four hours before any news came back to them. Out of the fog came four boats; the two that had been sent out and two different looking longboats. Their sails were simple, no design covered the fabric.

The crew in the boats signalled that the other boats were friendly and the tension on the ship relaxed. The two little boats were hauled back aboard and some of the men from the other ships came aboard as well. Surprisingly, their tongue and the common tongue of the empire was almost the same, save a few dialect differences. They were told that the ship could not go any further without a declaration of purpose, which Valvegi could give them. He instead pointed them to the four strangers that were waiting on the deck. One of the men approached the group and stopped.

“I am Igieth, commander of the harbours of Port Ais. Why do you seek to travel into our country and where are your origins?” he demanded. Xan stepped forward to answer.

“I am Xanthos of Thunder and this is Ihoshi of Wood. The two behind us are our apprentices. We carry two elements to their homes in this land. Our point of origin was the Empire of Zakh, across the Waters of Capriole.”

“Capriole? How do you know this name?” Igieth asked, startled.

“He was a great explorer of the sea for our leader. He found an island that soon after became part of the empire. The waters to the east of our land are named for him,” Ihoshi replied. “You sound as if you knew him too.”

“Yes, quite well. He appeared off the ocean, much like you just have, claiming that he was a wave walker and desired to know where the waters ended. But you speak of him in the past and we have seen nought of him in many year.”

“Yes, Capriole died ten years ago.” Xanthos confirmed. Wisely, the two apprentices behind them remained silent. Igieth contemplated the news with silence.

“We will welcome you four to our shores, but I feel as if the rest of your sailing companions would most likely wish to turn for familiar waters as soon as they can.”

Coreq and Hode took off, dropping into the lower level of the ship to retrieve their belongings. The two of them were outdoing themselves today. Ihoshi gave Valvegi the agreed upon amount of gold and climbed down into the waiting boat. The two boys followed her with the packs and Xanthos was last, finally leaving the last piece of Zakh behind.

As soon as the two longboats were clear of the ship, it was swinging around and hoisting sail to catch a wind westward, towards their home. Xanthos watched them go as the longboats moved back into the fog.

The low lying clouds soon thinned and the silhouette of a landmass could be seen through them. The fog vanished altogether and revealed a bustling city, alike to the one they had left behind. The harbour had no large ships like Valvegi’s in it, but hundreds of longboats like the one that they now sat in.

On the way to the shore Igieth gave them a brief lesson about the land they were seeing for the first time.

“Our country is called Aramaea. We are ruled by a king on Rayvnn’s Sea across the deserts from here. There are a few nations around us, but there are no conflicts at the moment. The Yoncian Empire to the north is experiencing some troubles and Aliaq in the east is mainly nomadic tribes that wouldn’t stand a chance against our forces,” he explained.

“And what lies behind those mountains?” Ihoshi asked, pointing to the shadows rising in the distance to the north of the city.

“Those mountains are known as the Wall. There was little more than a spattering of mountains there fifty years ago when the ground rumbled and rose into that. Many people have tried to climb over them but none have survived. Others have tried sailing around and into the bay there but the ocean itself doesn’t seem to want us there. We don’t think about them if we can manage it.”

There was no more history lessons given as the boat slid up to a dock and the foreigners were helped out of it. Immediately Xanthos knew he couldn’t stay here, even for the night. The Thunder pulled him ever eastward, but with a slight southern pull this time. He passed this information on to Ihoshi.

“I expected as much. We couldn’t stay together forever,” she replied. “Wood is pulling me slightly northward now, so our paths must part.”

The parting was hard, but soon Xanthos and Coreq were on their own. They traded for necessary items and left the city as the sun was starting to set. The land around them changed quickly. The area directly outside of Ais was shortly forested by stunted trees with silver needles but those quickly changed into short golden grasses that moved in the wind. It became drier and drier as they walked before they decided to stop for the night. The short grasses made a hot fire and lasted for a surprising amount of time.

A week’s worth of time passed as they continued to march across what was now very obviously a desert. Every bite of food crunched with the undesired texture of sand and their water supply was depleting fast than they had hoped. But Xanthos pressed on, hoping that the urging of Thunder would lead them either to an oasis or well beside the road or to wherever it would live for the rest of time. Unfortunately neither came.

They managed to find a small outcropping of rock that hid them from the blistering stare of the sun that only continued to get hotter. Both men were exhausted and their water supply had run out. Xanthos knew they had hours to survive and cursed the desert around them for being so unforgiving and Thunder for not letting him have some space to think. Already his mind went back to Ihoshi and he was sure she had been more patient, taking the time to learn what she was getting into before leaving the safe haven of Ais.

Coreq was unconscious beside him and all he could do was curse more. Despite his rough attitude towards his apprentice, he had a soft spot for the boy. There was so much of himself reflected back in his black eyes that Xan couldn’t help but like him.

He heard a shuffling on the sandy surface around them but wasn’t alert enough to think about it. He was vaguely aware of something standing over him then another something standing beside the first. They were talking in a strange hiss. For some reason they reminded Xanthos of reptiles before everything went black.

The air around him was warm. He faintly heard the sound of drums as he woke up. The ceiling above his head was flapping around irregularly; he must be in a tent of some kind. Xanthos rolled over and found himself alone in a sandy bottomed tent in a sleeping roll on a straw mat. The drumming was coming from outside. He pushed the loose flap aside and stepped out.

The village around him was like nothing he had ever seen before. Tents were haphazardly arranged in circles, lines and random patterns. The space between the tents was stacked with the same golden grass they had walked through when they had left Ais. There was no one to be seen.

Xanthos wandered around, meandering steadily towards the source of the beating. The tents got grander and more colourful the closer he got. He saw a group of people between the gap in two tents and ran towards it. The person closest to him turned around and it took everything he had not to scream like a girl.

The face that was now looking his way was long and clearly lizardlike. The eyes that looked back at him were solid black. The lizard stood on its rear legs and was dressed in brightly coloured clothes decorated with beads and feathers. Despite the face and scaly skin, it looked human.

“Xan!”

Coreq was cutting through the crowd of lizardmen directly for him.

“Aren’t they cool? Most of them don’t speak the Common, but there’s few that can. Come on, I’ll take you to them!”

Coreq darted back through the crowd with Xanthos behind him, still stunned. They stopped at a series of blankets spread out on the sand. Two of them were occupied by lizardmen and the other two were empty. Coreq immediately sat down again and started talking to the younger lizard. Xanthos awkwardly sat on the last carpet available.

“Hello,” Xanthos mumbled. The lizard next to him laughed.

“Your friend there guessed right about you. You are unsure about what do think about us.”

“Well, I’ve never seen anything like… you before,” Xanthos admitted. Another laugh.

“Yes, we are unique. We are the Gri’Jari and we have lived in this desert for many years. I am Jiop, this tribe’s leader. We welcome you to the deserts of Aramaea.”

“Well, thank you, I guess,” Xanthos stuttered. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m not being very open, it’s just, this is a little weird. I had a pet gecko when I was younger that used to climb up and down my arm and I still haven’t really…”

“Gotten used to it. It is not to worry about, there are many people who scream and run away from us when they see us. That is why we live out here in the desert where we thrive while they stay by the water where they thrive. Being able to talk to us is better than most Aramaeans who we share this country with.”

Xanthos didn’t reply. The Aramaeans he had met in Ais hadn’t mentioned anything about the lizardmen of the desert that he had declared that he was going into. In fact, they hadn’t said anything about the desert either.

“How many Aramaeans know that you exist out here?” Xanthos asked.

“Hm, perhaps one hundred total? The royal family knows of us for certain, they are the ones who signed a treaty with us and gave us the desert to live in. Apart from them, there must be a few in the Library that have read of our contract,” Jiop replied. “And then there’s the ones that wander too far away from a trade route between cities and get found like you did. What city were you coming from?”

“Ais.”

“And they let you go off on your own without supplies?”

“I don’t think they really cared about us. We came off a ship and headed straight for the desert. They were probably glad that we didn’t stay any longer.”

Jiop paused, confused for a second.

“You are not from Aramaea?”

Xanthos shook his head.

“Where then? Aliaq? Altain? Yonce? Or perhaps from the lands farther north?”

“Lands to the west, over the ocean. There’s a few countries there, the one that we came from is called Zakh,” Xanthos explained. The Gri’Jari just nodded his head and hummed.

“You do have an out-of-place feel about you.”

Xanthos looked over to where Coreq was having no problems talking to two Gri’Jari now. They were laughing. The two Gri’Jari got up and walked away, waving at Coreq. The boy got up and sat next to Xanthos on the sand.

“They said they could take us on a tour of the desert if we’d like,” he explained. “They’ve got all sorts of neat stories to share with us.”

Xanthos looked to Jiop for the truth in this.

“Yes, we were considering showing you our lands and the homes of our countrymen the Aramaeans. I do not know what business you have here in Aramaea, but perhaps they will be able to help you,” Jiop said, catching Xan’s glance. “Now that you have woken, we can leave tomorrow if you wish.”

Xan was quiet for a moment, allowing the Thunder to show its opinion. It wanted to go.

“That sounds like a good plan. There’s a specific place that I’m looking for, but I only know a direction and not an exact location,” Xanthos explained. “A home for what hides in me.”

“The heart of Thunder,” Jiop said, uncovering what Xanthos had hoped to remain hidden. “The desert is not silent and we are not its keepers for nothing. It said that Thunder was coming and only by finding you did we understand.”

“How did you find us?” Coreq asked. “Kuan and Tretio didn’t say.”

“Like I said, the desert tells us things. For months now it has been telling us that the Thunder was coming. The voice got louder and the urging to find the Thunder became almost unbearable. It led us to the middle of the Cursed Fire and we found you, dehydrated and dying. We knew then that you must be the Thunder that the desert talked about.”

“So you can listen to the earth?”

Jiop shook his head.

“Only the desert. Where the land grows hard in the north and full of roots and other solid stones the voice is lost. And it is not all of my people that can hear it, only a select few. A gift, many say.”

The lizards Xanthos assumed were Kuan and Tretio returned carrying a large platter of fruits, each one exotic looking to Xan and Coreq. The younger man eagerly reached for whatever he could get his hands on; Xan was more restrained. He took what was clearly an apple from the middle of the pile and sunk his teeth in. The texture was the same as an apple’s, but the taste was different, sweeter. The juices dripped down his throat and he finished the fruit quicker than he had intended. He got a little more adventurous and pulled an unfamiliar fruit from the platter, unaware that the Gri’Jari were watching him.

The little bunch of globelike fruit burst as soon as Xanthos pinched them with his teeth. The first one slipped a little, but the second flew from his mouth and hit Coreq on the cheek.

“Hey, don’t spit your food at me,” he exclaimed, wiping the squished fruit from his face. “What is that anyway?”

“It’s called a grape. We harvest many of them and eat them raw like you are. But we also trade them to merchants from the cities and they make a drink called wine out of them. I’ve never liked the taste of it,” Kuan explained. Jiop shot a nasty look at him, prompting him to explain more. “But I only had a sip from a generous trader.”

Jiop shook his head and stood. The clothing on his scaly body made him even more foreign to Xanthos than he had looked before. From underneath the robes he was wearing a long green tail trailed, resting gently in the sand.

“There is more food waiting in your tents. Once you have finished, you are welcome to take a nap while the rest of us sleep. We are mainly nocturnal, sleeping in the warmth of the sun and moving under the cover of the moon. When we wake we will start for the Sea in the Desert.”

Xan and Coreq returned to their tents, finding that they had been placed side by side with an open flap between them. The promised food was sitting on the ground in the flap, waiting to be eaten. Aside from more fruit there was a hard flatbread made of a course kind of grain and a juice that was thick and salty. Xanthos didn’t judge the food but ate some of everything wholeheartedly. Surprisingly, he found that he was tired when they had finished. He took to his sleeping mat and fell asleep.

Coreq woke him the next morning by dropping a full pack on his sleeping body.

“Hope you’re ready to ride,” Coreq stated, squatting beside Xanthos’ pained face.

“Ride where?” Xanthos muttered.

“To Rayvnn’s Sea. Remember? They said that they were going to show us.”

Xanthos grunted and rolled the bag off of him. The tent was dark and the air was cool around him. But the area outside of the tent was busy with activity as Gri’Jari were trying to sell merchandise and food just like in any other marketplace that he had seen. True, the things they were selling were radically different, like scale paste and roasted bugs on a stick, but essentially the same.

Coreq pushed him out into the moonlight and hauled him through the village. Coreq had always been an optimistic ‘let’s-do-everything’ kind of person, which is why, Xanthos suspected, Thunder had taking a liking to him almost immediately. Xanthos followed half-heartedly, not really looking forward to being dragged back into the desert where they’d almost died.

Back in the area where Xan had first learned about the creatures that had saved them they found a string of strange looking creatures. They, like the Gri’Jari, were lizard like in some appearances but had the body build of a horse. Two long horns rose pointed from behind two smaller, softer ears. Their legs were strong and the body sturdy, with a long sweeping tail swinging behind them. They were sand coloured, one of the reason why they were so elusive out on the desert plains. One each animal was a simple saddle and a pack.

Jiop and Kuan were waiting for them. Coreq took the reins of the animal closest to Kuan, leaving the last animal to Xanthos. Up close the animals looked bigger than possible, and impossible to climb up on to. Jiop came behind him and hoisted him into the saddle before mounting his own.

“These are desert kyradriel,” he explained. “They are large enough to carry us and can move fast. As descendants of the animals bred by the Yoncian beastmasters, they are generally gentle. I believe they are comparable to riding a horse. Or so I’ve been told.”

“That gives me a little comfort,” Xanthos replied. He adjusted his posture in the saddle and guided his kyradriel to follow Jiop’s. It took a moment to get the right feel, but Jiop had been right. It was almost exactly like riding a horse. The width of the kyradriel’s body was wider, which caused Xan’s legs to cramp up right away, but the animal’s steady gait was easy to match.

They headed out of the village and north into the desert. With the sun gone and only the light of the moon to shine on the sand, the desert looked like a completely different place. It was like a smooth silver dust had covered the land. Both Xanthos and Coreq were in awe.

“The Desert of Cursed Fire bears a different name at night to us. We call it The Moon’s Garden,” Kuan explained. “There is much plant life that only comes out of the sand when the sun is gone.”

He pointed out a few white petalled flowers and desert crawling vines that clung to the surface of the sand. There were other creatures out on the sands as well; they scurried from plant to plant, occasionally running between the legs of the kyradriel. The first time it happened, Xanthos gripped the saddle and prepared to be bucked off by the lizard-horse. But the kyradriel just snorted and kept plodding onward. After that Xanthos was able to completely relax and enjoy himself a bit more.

It took about a week of travelling to reach the shores of the sea that Jiop had promised to show them. The body of water looked endless, but Xanthos was assured that it had a shore all around it, as well as three cities. As the sun began to rise, Xanthos could see one of the cities on a distant point of the shore, glittering in the sun. It was Ebuda, the current royal seat of the Aramaean throne.

The Gri’Jari that had accompanied them didn’t get close to the water. They explained that it had something to do with the treaty and wouldn’t explain any farther. While they set up a tent and drifted off to sleep as the sun rose, Xan and Coreq took a quick swim in the water. It was warm and strangely comforting. They felt renewed from their long journey and were reluctant to leave the water until something bit Coreq on his leg. Whatever it had been was clearly threatening them as it circled around them, herding them deeper into the water where they would be helpless. Xanthos managed to discharge it with a directed shot of Thunder and they escaped the water. They let the sun dry the water off of their skin before heading to the tent only a few minutes later. The story of the creature in the water never passed from their lips.

As the sun set at the end of the day, the Gri’Jari were quick in packing up and leaving. Xanthos had barely wiped the sleepiness away from his face when he was pushed onto the back of a kyradriel and they trotted back into the desert. After a few hours of hard riding they slowed down and relaxed again.

“I did not mean to be rude to you, but the areas around the Sea, though technical no-man’s land, is guarded by the Aramaeans and they are very jealous about their water. We never want to be caught in a situation where they could blame us for stealing their water,” Jiop explained. Xanthos shook his head.

“It sounds like you and the Aramaeans don’t get along very well,” he commented. “And you avoid them above everything else.”

Jiop nodded.

“They are hunters by nature. And until only a few decades ago we were still game to them. There are many who disapprove the royal treaty and choose to ignore it, hunting Gri’Jari anyway. But we have settled to far for them, they dare not venture into the desert just to find us.”

“So how did the treaty pass then? If no one supported it.”

“A Gri’Jari saved the life of a prince when he wandered too far into the desert. When that prince became king, he recognized what the Gri’Jari had done for him, even after his people continued to hunt us. He declared peace with us and named us equal citizens with the rest of the Aramaeans. And as he was King, the treaty couldn’t be revoked in any way.”

Xanthos was silent. He didn’t know what to think. Coreq was riding ahead of him, talking to Kuan again. They were quickly becoming close friends. Xan noticed that they weren’t on the same path that they had taken up to the Sea. Judging by the moon, they were travelling east. He voiced his question to Jiop.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing the edge of the desert, where it meets the plains of Aliaq. It’s quite a radical change, and so quick. The sand is eaten by the long grasses and a few feet past the end of the sand the wetlands start.”

Xanthos looked confused to Jiop clarified.

“The wetlands are fed by underground pools and at the divide of the desert a ridge rises up under the earth that keeps the water out of the desert.”

“A divide.”

“Yes, and that’s where Aramaea ends and Aliaq begins.”

So they rode for another week, heading for the divide. All was going well until the end of the seventh night when they spotted a faint trail of smoke rising from the distance. Jiop had the group stop early and sent two younger Gri’Jari to scout out the source of the fire. When Xanthos suggested it might be a grassfire, Jiop shot him down.

“If it was a grassfire the smoke would be darker and wider spread. No. This is a campfire of some kind.”

The scouts returned and explained to Jiop in their hissing tongue. Xanthos gathered that the news was bad and whoever it was out there wasn’t friendly towards the Gri’Jari.

Jiop ordered that they set up camp for the day and post watches around their tents to prevent the foreign visitors from sneaking up on their camp.

When the majority of the group had retired to the tents, Xanthos took Coreq and snuck out of the camp. He had to see for himself what had set the lizard chief on his guard. They slipped between the sentries and crawled over the hills and crags of the desert towards the smoke. They crawled to the lip of the nearest slat of stone and peered down on the scene below. A moderate sized camp lay spread out below them. Now that the sun was coming up the camp was coming alive. Xanthos saw that the camp was full of men, but not the men of Aramaea. These men were covered from head to toe in red and yellow paints that decorated their darkly tanned skin with sweeping motions and random dots. They all appeared to be armed with a spear and some carried small bows and quivers of arrows.

“They’re clearly a raiding party of some sorts,” Coreq commented. “They have enough provisions to last weeks! I wonder how they’ve been hauling it around.”

As if to answer his question a trumpeting noise filled the morning air. Away in the Gri’Jari camp the sentries heard it and rushed to tell their chief that the Qis had elephants with them. But back at the edge of the camp Xanthos and Coreq knew none of that. They saw the grey hide of the massive animals begin to rise from the interior of the camp where they had been tied for the night.

“That’s not a good thing, is it?” Coreq stated, staring at the large beast.

“That’s worse,” Xanthos replied, pointing to a pair of men pointing to something on the ground. From their vantage point they could see what the two men were looking at. It the dusty surface of the desert there was clearly a path of two sets of prints; large, lizard-like prints complete with the trail made by their dragging tails. The two men ran back into the camp, yelling at the top of their lungs.

Most of what they said was unclear to Xanthos, but he could pick out one word that was repeated over and over: Gri’Jari.

The camp exploded with activity as a large group of armed men came racing into the desert in the direction of the prints. One of the elephants began to follow, topped with a handful of men with bows. Their speed was terrible and their shouts were even worse.

A cry came from behind the two foreigners laying in the sand. The Gri’Jari had gotten news that their enemies were on to their presence and had come racing towards them. But they were drastically under prepared for what was running to meet them.

“Xan do something! They’re going to kill each other and start a war!”

Xanthos took a deep breath and did the first thing that popped into his head. He called a shower of Thunder down on the desert. The answer from the magical flow was astounding.

The glare from the bolts drowned out even the sun as they pelted the ground with enough force to shake the earth. The elephants that had been moving towards the Gri’Jari panicked and began to thrash about wildly, trampling tents and men as they retreated back towards the plains they had come from. The men that remained behind had never seen such a celestial display of power. When the Gri’Jari topped the hill and it was clear that the power was on their side, the Qis took off after their elephants, leaving everything behind.

The Gri’Jari stopped and began to cheer at the sight of their enemies running away from them. Xanthos, however, dropped to the ground as if in pain. Coreq was immediately beside him, concerned.

“The Thunder… I’ve never felt that kind of power before,” Xanthos gasped, pushing himself to his feet. The Gri’Jari had gathered around him to thank him for his help. Only Jiop stood away.

Xan quickly pushed himself away from the others and joined Jiop where he stood. The chief looked at him as if he was dangerous and kept his distance.

“You have altered the desert, Xanthos of Thunder. Already it shifts and begins to change.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. Coreq wanted to avoid bloodshed.”

“I understand that. We should return to the village as quickly as we can. I must gather with the other chiefs and decide what is to be done about this incident. The Qis have never raided the desert before; there is nothing here for them.”

Coreq joined them and after a brief word with Xanthos to make sure that he was all right he walked off again, towards a spear that had been left in the sand. As he pulled it from where the sand held it Xanthos immediately knew something was wrong. He raced out towards Coreq as the ground beneath him snapped open and spread apart.

Xanthos was feet away when Coreq disappeared into the chasm. He didn’t know what had possessed him to jump, but he dove into the gap after Coreq, calling the boy’s name as he fell. The chasm seemed bottomless as the darkness swam up around him to consume him.

But a light burst out of the darkness and a hand stretched out of the light. Xanthos reached out to it and caught the very tips of the fingers. He was pulled into the light.

He wasn’t falling any more. He was floating, unsupported by anything. He heard a laugh drifting through the light around him and felt the happiness begin to soak through him. On impulse, he pushed himself upwards as if he could fly. The Thunder in him was rejoicing, it was finally home.

Jiop watched in horror as first the boy named Coreq fell into the mouth of the desert and felt his heart stop when Xanthos threw himself down after his companion. Jiop had grown to like the foreign man, he had a cautious but curious heart and moved without hesitation, as he had just demonstrated again. The chief closed his eyes and started to turn away from the place where their two new friends had fallen to their deaths when the light before his closed eyes exploded.

He quickly opened them and beheld something he had never seen before. A tall jagged beam of Thunder had flown from the crack in the desert and shot towards the sky. Small ribbons of Thunder echoes around it. At it’s base, where it disappeared into the crack a figure lay still. Kuan was already rushing towards Coreq as he rubbed his head and stared up with just as much disbelief as the rest of them. Xanthos was gone.

As he rose to his feet a bolt broke away from the Pillar and stabbed at the ground before Coreq’s feet. In the small crater that was left smoking in the aftermath of the bolt was a twisted purple stone. Coreq picked it up and curiously turned it around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. A voice answered him in his head.

‘That is the stone of Thunder, called Yenku. It must leave the presence of the Pillar that has now become Thunder’s home. This place will be ever called Xanthos, but you must only see this sight once while you hold that stone. You must take care of it and see that it does not fall into the wrong hands,’ the voice said. ‘Now look long and hard then turn and walk away.’

Coreq stared at the Pillar, finally convinced that it was Xanthos. He closed his fist around the stone, nodded to the invisible voice and turned away from the Pillar and back to the Gri’Jari.

He was never completely out of the view of the Pillar, its light shone bright across the night sky for the next few months before fading into a secondary light to the moon. The desert around it continued to crack while the Pillar competed with the moon, causing the Gri’Jari to rename it the Cracked Desert. Any chance of Qi invasion was shot down due to the dangerous and impassable nature of the Cracked Desert.

The two of them had met at the Gathering of Gales as trainees of the masters of Wood and Thunder. Because they shared a common background in their heritage, as they were both Jarnian, they got along right from the start. But then, at that very Gathering, Xanthos was named apprentice to the Thunder carrier. What might have been between the two of them was cut short; Xan made that perfectly clear to Ihoshi. She had been heartbroken, but understood. A year later she was named apprentice to Wood. She couldn’t help feeling glad that she and Xanthos were at least on the same level again.

Ihoshi sighed and turned back to the inside of the room they had rented for a few weeks. Hode was fiddling with some instrument that he had traded for in the market down the street. It had five tightly drawn strings over an oddly shaped piece of hollow wood with a hole on one end. The strings would hum when rubbed with another string drawn on a curved piece of wood that was called a bow, for the shape it took. They also gave off a hearty thrum when Hode pulled one of them slightly away from the wood and let go.

The young man was amusing himself by reforming the base of the strings, moving the hole along the length and changing the shape of the body. Ihoshi let him play, it made her relax watching him.

Even though Ihoshi was the second younger carrier, second to Cirros, she had the oldest apprentice. She found him steady enough in his magic and patient enough with the attitude of Wood. She knew he was a perfect fit. But now that the element was to be housed in a Pillar, she wasn’t sure what Hode would do after. Would he stay by the Pillar or would he make his way home?

Ihoshi shook those kind of thought out of her head. For her there wouldn’t be a future and that idea had hurt more than separating herself from Xanthos had been. But when the rest of the council was for it, how could she stand against it, a single tower of sand staring at a mounting wave? She had had no choice but to go along with what the rest of the carriers had decided. And she would fulfill it, there was no point denying that.

Even her element, the Wood that lived in her, felt reluctant. It knew where it was supposed to spend the rest of eternity, but Wood liked the feel of living things, as it itself was living. It wasn’t demanding at all, as the other elements seemed to be. It just grew in each carrier and in return for allowing it to rest there it gave the carrier a vast amount of knowledge about everything living.

Ihoshi had grown to need the constant song of the Wood in her heart. In a strange way she was glad that she wouldn’t survive the process. She could be with Wood forever as it rested there.

A sudden twang filled the room as one of the taut strings had snapped in half as Hode was playing with it. He chuckled and set the instrument to the side. His eyes found Ihoshi’s and he smiled.

“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” he commented. “By the way, how long are we planning on staying here?”

“I’m not sure. From the information I’ve gathered from the people here in the past two weeks, the land to the northeast of here is known as the Yoncian empire. Not many people are willing to talk about it, but from what I could gleam they say that the population at the borders of the empire is growing quickly, which makes me think that they’re trying to evacuate the middle of the country for some reason,” Ihoshi replied. Hode nodded.

“I heard the evacuation rumours too. The one old lady I talked to said something about dragons, but she was a little touched in the head I think.”

Ihoshi laughed.

“Yes, there are some weird people here. But anyway, I don’t think there’s much else we can learn. I’m hoping that we can trade for some supplies to get us into the area we need. It doesn’t feel like it’s that far away.”

“Horses?”

“We won’t have enough for them. And what would we do with them if the way gets too hard for them? With what we’ve learned about Yonce, Yoncians don’t like to trade with foreign people.”

“And let me guess, the Wood is leading us right through them,” Hode said sarcastically.

“We’ll be able to sneak through by following the mountains around to the north. The forests in that area are notoriously confusing.”

“Won’t we get lost then?”

“I have an internal map, or had you forgotten?”

Hode fell silent for a second and Ihoshi walked inside and started to collect her things. They had each acquired a few new items in their time in Ais; Ihoshi’s favourite was a tall pole that she planned to use as they hiked through the forests. It was plain, but the wood used to make the staff had come from the heart of a young tree and she found that she could easily manipulate it. Hode’s favourite was of course the stringed instrument.

She took the staff and the last of their coin and headed out into the market. Hode didn’t say anything, he knew that she preferred to shop alone. And it would give him time to take in the last bit of civilization in a while.

Ihoshi stepped out of the inn and pulled her hood up over her head. A fog was blowing in off the ocean and the streets were barely visible. She quickly trotted down the road to the dockside market, her cloak swishing after her.

Despite the blanket of clouds that had settled on the docks, the crowds at the market were exactly the same as they would be on a clear day. Ihoshi quickly handed out her money in exchange for some dried foods and provisions. She drew a few strange sideways looks from the locals with her hood drawn up, but Ihoshi preferred the few looks to the blatant stares she had received the first time. With her deeply tanned skin and bushy hair, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

As quickly as she had appeared in the market, she left. Hode was sitting where she had left him, but there was a lingering trace of ale in the air. Ihoshi snorted a laugh and shook her head. Dropping the food on the bed she took a seat next to Hode.

“I had to,” he simply stated. “When’s the next time I’m going to see an alehouse?”

“Soon enough I’m sure. But I’m not disappointed. I’m glad you’re becoming independent.”

She hugged him and stood up again. Hode just sighed.

“You know, you act like my mother a little bit.”

Ihoshi laughed at this as she started divvying up the food between their two packs.

“I just care about you,” she replied. “Yes, there are times where I could think of you as my son, but I wouldn’t be sure if I was right.”

Hode noticed the hint of sadness in her voice. She would never admit it, but Hode could always sense the feelings that she wanted to hide. And to keep the peace between them, Hode stayed quiet about it and let the sadness wash over him.

Because of his connection to her, he knew what she felt for Xanthos. He knew the pain that was between them. But he would hold it silent. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain.

Ihoshi had finished packing and was back out on the balcony. Hode yawned and climbed into his bed. In minutes he was asleep. Ihoshi soon followed.

The morning greeted them with a quick cold breakfast and heavy pack. Ihoshi was strangely grim as they walked out of the inn into yet another bank of fog. They passed through the city in complete silence while the people still slept. The road northeast was void of all people. They were climbing up into the higher foothills of the mountains and had a good view of the city when Ihoshi collapsed to the ground. Hode rushed to her as the dim morning light was chased away by an explosion of light from the southeast. It sizzled and vanished over the horizon. One muttered word escaped Ihoshi’s mouth through the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. Hode could feel more pain than he had ever felt coming from Ihoshi since he had met her.

“Xan.”

She sat and cried for a while longer while Hode held her. She eventually nodded and stood without a word and continued up the road.

That night, when they made camp on the edge of the quickly deteriorating road, she said nothing about it but had returned to her usual attitude. From what Hode had figured out that beam of light had been caused by Xanthos and that, if he had guessed right, Xanthos had died. How, he couldn’t guess. But how he died Hode didn’t know.

Again he said nothing.

By the next morning the whole ordeal seemed like it was in the distant past as Ihoshi directed them off the road and began their trek through the forests. The Wall loomed ever higher on their left and the forest was getting deeper. A few days had passed and they saw no other person in the woods. It was at that point that the trees started to thin and Hode looked for an explanation.

“This is not the only forest here. We move forward.”

Not seeing anyone, just like they hadn’t for the past days, they crossed the gap between the bordering forests. The wide meadow seemed innocent, but proved to have a more dangerous side. They had crossed into the middle of the meadow when the first arrow hissed in their direction. Fifty men were hiding in the trees on the opposite side of the meadow, protecting their border. A second arrow struck the ground in front of Ihoshi’s boot and they started to run. One arrow found a spot in Hode’s shoulder; he ripped it out and kept running. The deeper they went, the few arrows there were. Eventually they stopped and Ihoshi fell behind a tall tree. Hode dropped down next to her, huffing in unison.

She saw the blood beginning to dry on the shoulder of Hode’s shirt and was instantly behind him examining the wound. Hode winced as she prodded the area around the hole where the arrow had pierced him. She rummaged inside of her pack and found a bandage pack and some medicine.

“Off with the shirt,” Ihoshi ordered. “We have to get that wrapped up before it gets infected.”

Hode smiled and carefully removed his shirt for Ihoshi. The blood was caked onto the edges of the ripped area and with no water in the direct area the shirt was unsaveable. He chucked it to the side and hissed again as Ihoshi continued to poke at it, swiping medicated lotion over the wound. She then took the bandage and wrapped it tight. Tucking in the ends she gave it a pat and backed away.

“Are you going to kiss it better too?” Hode joked, pulling a new shirt on. Ihoshi just laughed.

“If you’re feeling all right to joke, you don’t need to have it kissed. Now get out there and catch us some dinner. But don’t go far.”

“I know, I’ve felt it too. These trees are old and suspicious of us here. I’ll be careful,” Hode answered. He picked up his bow, strung it tight with a string and swung his quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “One freshly caught dinner coming up.”

Ihoshi watched as Hode disappeared into the shadows of the trees before relaxing completely. The first day out of Ais had rattled her, she hadn’t expected to feel the shock of Xanthos’ death like she had. When the light shot to the sky something invisible had stabbed at her heart and ripped a piece out of it. She hadn’t said anything to Hode, and he hadn’t asked. He knew something was wrong, that was clear, but he didn’t know what.

Since then she had treasured every memory of Xanthos while haunted by the fact that she was running towards her own similar fate. But she never felt like she was getting any closer to her destination. She had been too preoccupied to find out why before, but because Hode was slightly injured, they would have to stop for a day, which would give her enough time to talk to Wood and find out. She closed her eyes and slipped away.

The gentle pulses of Wood washed over her as it continued to grow around her. She focused and found that Wood’s attention wasn’t focused on one place in particular. It was jumping around, examining various places in the woods around her. Basically, the element was telling her just to wander around and discover. Maybe when she had learned the forest like the back of her own hand the Wood would find a place it wanted to spend forever.

Hode returned about an hour later with pair of pheasants and found Ihoshi deep in a trance. He smiled and started a small fire with fallen pieces of wood. He plucked the birds and cooked them over the flame. He carefully wrapped one of the cooked birds in a piece of fabric and devoured the other one. Knowing that Ihoshi would not surface from her trance any time soon, Hode set up a camp and shelter around Ihoshi and hoped that whoever had shot at them wasn’t combing the forest for them.

As the thought left his head, he felt the forest around him stiffen then become friendlier than they had been since they had first entered. It felt as if the trees had agreed to protect them.

“Well, we won’t have to worry about them then,” Hode said out loud. He laid out his own sleeping mat and fell asleep with Ihoshi still sitting against the trunk of the tall tree.

They stayed in that spot for three full days. When they packed up and started out again, Hode’s shoulder was good as new. The forest that had watched them was apprehensive to see them up and moving around again, the change was too fast for them to like. But they let them go and remained friendly.

About five hours into their journey they stumbled upon an abandoned temporary camp. The tents were empty and had been empty for quite some time. But what caught their eye first was the ripped flag flapping lazily from a crooked pole in the middle of the camp.

“Yonce.”

“What?”

“Yonce. We crossed into Yonce,” Ihoshi stuttered, staring at the flag.

“What?” Hode exclaimed. “Then those men…”

“Were most likely border guards, yes. And it would appear that the evacuation rumours were true.”

Hode looked back at the camp and examined it closer. It seemed everything was left in a hurry and everything had been left behind.

“We might as well see what we can find down there. Maybe some hints at what happened here.”

He headed down into the camp and motioned for Ihoshi to follow. Some fears at repeating what had happened at the meadow a few days earlier ran through her mind, but Hode was already at the entrance to the camp without any sign of aggression. She followed.

The camp definitely had the look of abandonment and it was almost eerie. The items that were left behind were largely not useful to them; discarded clothes and children’s toys, filled the tents and large empty baskets rolled around the grassy paths between the tents. They did find one tent that had some food in it; the fruits were spoiled but the bread, though a little hard, was still edible. They even found some smoked meat hidden in the bottom of one of the baskets. Neither one of them could guess what kind of animal it came from and neither one wanted to.

“Do you find it weird that there are no weapons or armour of any kind?” Hode asked, packing the meat in his bag.

“It is a bit strange, but I’m sure there’s a reason. This could have been a camp of women and children, hidden here while the men fought whatever has their country so disturbed,” Ihoshi replied. “I expect that the further into the country we get the more signs of fighting we’ll see.”

They left the camp and were confident enough to walk down the trampled grass road that led away from the camp. It was a long meadow that had been used as a travelling route for the camp they had left behind, so the path wasn’t very distinct. The trees to either side seemed quiet, ignoring Ihoshi and Hode’s presence on the grass.

Hode got a little ways ahead of Ihoshi, searching down the path for any clues. He didn’t have to look very hard.

The meadow opened up into a small plateau. The grasses were blackened and the ground was black. Strangely, there were small piles of sand across the entire field. Hode shouted for Ihoshi to wait where she was and cautiously stepped out onto the charred plain. He was about ten paces into the sea of dead grasses when he stumbled across the first body.

There was nothing wrong with the man from what Hode could see, besides the fact that he was obviously dead. It was as if something had pointed at him and said ‘You’re dead’ and he died. The man was wearing a chestplate and gauntlets and a helmet lay just a little ways away. They all bore the same symbol, the same one that they had seen on the flag at the camp. So these were Yoncian soldiers then. Hode stepped passed the dead man and kept walking into the grass. He came across five other men that had died the same way that the first one had. The seventh body was a completely different story. The man’s face was withered and wrinkled like a man of a hundred years, but his arms were smooth and small, like those of a boy barely out of his mother’s care. And one leg bore scars of battle, whereas the other was unmarred. This was by far the strangest thing he had ever seen.

Hode looked out across the field and noticed a stack of stones that had been toppled, but still clearly showed the craft of architecture. He turned and returned to the path where Ihoshi was waiting for him.

“There’s a large plateau up ahead, with grasses at hip length. On the other side of it there looks like traces of more permanent buildings that these people must have come from,” he explained. Ihoshi stood and brushed the dust off her clothes.

“Then what are we waiting for? We should go check it out.”

“There’s just one thing,” Hode hesitated.

“What?”

“The field is full of dead bodies.”

Ihoshi paused for only a second before racing down the path that led to the field. Hode quickly turned and caught up with her as she dove into the black grasses. Once inside the grass she stopped, with a start, her breath stopping.

“These grasses… they’re not right,” she gasped and landed on one knee. “They’re clearly dead, but for some reason they stay alive, as if frozen in that exact second in time that they were killed.”

Hode just stared at her.

“That doesn’t make sense. How can something still be alive if it’s dead?”

“There’s that moment of everyone’s life when they step onto the threshold of death. At that point we consider them dead. But in reality there is still a bit of life in them, until they completely cross through the door. These grasses were frozen at exactly that point in time,” Ihoshi seemed troubled. “But nothing should have that power, nothing.”

“Well, apparently something does. There’s bodies that look like each piece should belong to a different aged man. Really bizarre.”

Ihoshi just stared at him, then out across the field. She spotted the same toppled pillar and started cutting through the grasses directly towards it. Hode followed.

They encountered many more bodies as they darted through the grass, a combination of the mixed up bodies and healthy dead bodies. As they got closer to the stacked stones the bodies became more frequent and almost all of them were a mix of different aged body part. When they got to the stones they noticed that it was the last pillar of a line of them. They led back into the forest, down a stone paved road. Hode knelt beside the toppled stones and felt along the joints.

“I’m not an Earth mage, but even I can tell that these pillars and road are very new, I’d say ten years old at the most,” Hode announced, standing. Ihoshi put her hands on her hips and looked down the road.

“There’s no bodies here either,” she added. “Who wants to bet we’ll find something interesting at the end of the road?”

Hode stood and the two of them started down the paved pathway. The pillars got taller and more ornate, covered with symbols and writings that neither Ihoshi or Hode could figure out. The forest got thicker and the natural light of the sun was blocked out. Stones patterned into the road and chiselled into the pillars gave off the only light, a soft purple glow. By these lights they found the temple.

The building looked as if it was centuries old; vines crawled over the masoned stone and roots had begun to crack apart the stone. Ihoshi placed her hand on the nearest vine and listened.

“These vines have only been here for a few days,” she gasped. “Before that this place was a home for many people.”

“Probably those people who are now dead in the field,” Hode commented. “I wonder what happened here.”

He started to walk forward, expecting Ihoshi to follow him. There was no movement from the Wood’s master.

“You explore. I’m going deeper to see what I can find.”

Hode nodded and kept going. The temple doors stood ajar, the massive wooden slabs dark in the shadows. He slipped through the crack and surveyed the inside. The walls were encrusted with the same purple crystals that glowed in unison, creating enough light to fill the entire room. From the entrance Hode could see that the layout of the temple was a simple one; an antechamber, a gallery and a shrine. He walked out of the antechamber just inside the doors and into the gallery. The large, circular room was open to the sky, not by design but by the removal of the roof. Bits of the stone lay around the gallery which led Hode to believe that it hadn’t been a planned renovation.

There were several statues around walls, all of the same image. Hode walked up to the closest one and examined it. It looked like a large serpent-like creature with a large head and two horns. Two feathery wings rose from its scaled back. He hoisted himself up on the statue to get a better look at the face. It looked soft and gentle but the eyes destroyed what peaceful feelings the statue may have given off. Where the carved eyes should have been were two deep holes, rimmed with red paint to make the statue look like it had been crying blood.

Hode looked at every statue and saw that each one born the same eyes. As he approached the shrine he felt every pair of those empty eyes watching him, glaring in anger. He tried to shake off the feeling as he climbed the stairs in the middle of the round room to a raised dais surrounded by a thin grey veil.

He pushed aside the fabric and stepped in. The top of the dais was made completely of the glowing crystal, which gave the curtained area a supernatural glow. In the middle of the dais was a phenomenon that Hode had never expected to see.

A pillar of sand was falling steadily from the center of the ceiling. As it reached the ground it hovered for a few seconds before spiralling back around the falling sand to the top where it joined the pillar again and repeated its routine. Hode was mesmerized by the scene. The sand, black as the grass outside, fell with a strange music that almost lulled Hode into an unwakeable sleep. As he was at the edge ready to jump over, the steady flow of Wood wrapped itself around him and pulled him back.

He found himself standing with his hand stretched out towards the inner pillar, small streams of sand circling around his extended hand before swooping upwards back to the main stream of ascending sand. Hode shook his head and yanked his hand back. He turned and fled down the stairs from the shrine. The statues were still staring at him with their empty eyes. Each time Hode looked at them he felt as if something was moving inside of the empty sockets, dancing around. He left the temple as quick as he could.

Ihoshi sat down as Hode strode off to the temple. It was easy to slip into the flow of Wood and explore that way. The pulsing of the vines and roots around the temple were vibrant; something had compelled them to destroy the temple that was hiding in their forest. Or maybe Wood itself felt threatened by the presence of the temple.

Ihoshi explored deeper, prodding at what was in the temple. Rising from the middle of the temple was a core of dark, angry magic that was pushing the collapsing flow of Wood away from it. It was only a sliver of what it represented, but it was dangerous enough.

Standing directly beside the black energy was the magical signature that she instantly recognized as Hode’s. He was close to touching the magic that would destroy him. She sent a wave of Wood to catch him before he did anything stupid. Once she was convinced that he was all right and would be joining her soon she began working her way out of the trance.

As Hode dropped to the ground beside her panting, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He looked paler than usual.

“That temple… is haunted… by something… that’s terribly… angry,” he pushed out between breaths. He paused until his voice was steady again. “And there’s this magically cascading sand in the middle of the shrine. It’s black and so enticing…”

“I know. I saw you getting too close to it so I pulled you away from it,” Ihoshi stated.

“Thank you,” Hode replied before continuing. “And there were a number of statues in the room around the shrine. They were carved in the images of large dragons but they didn’t have any eyes. Just empty holes.”

“We should get away from here as quickly as we can. Obviously whatever entity that temple was built for is incredibly powerful and is menacing right now,” Ihoshi paused. “Sand, different aged parts… this is a temple to the entity of Time…”

“Time?”

“Yes. I heard a man speaking of an old legend when we were back in Ais. He was saying that there were two forces that constantly battled for dominance. Time and Death. Two dragons of immense power. But he spoke of it only as a myth, not something that might actually be happening.”

“But no one in Aramaea knows what’s really going on here in Yonce,” Hode interjected. “They assume some sort of war.”

“This is a war, but not one between men. That man was saying something about the two only having a peaceful push and pull battle, nothing of this magnitude. Because their powers were equally matched they never put a lot of effort into trying to defeat the other.”

“Well, maybe one of these dragons found a way to give itself a power boost,” Hode suggested.

“Which means the balance is upset,” Ihoshi concluded. A stabbing feeling poked at her from the magical flow inside her. Wood was reminding her.

“But this is not our fight or our problem,” she said quietly. “We must leave it to happen and focus on our task.”

“But people are dying!” Hode barked. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“There’s nothing that we could do Hode. Our power is no match for the being that destroyed these people. Even the very core of Wood is having a difficult time suppressing the evil that is in the sand in the middle of that temple.”

She got to her feet and started moving away from the temple, back towards the field. Hode sighed heavily and followed her in a huff. When they got back to the grass Ihoshi didn’t head straight back to where they had come from only an hour or two ago. She headed directly east, away from the glaring wall of mountains.

When they stopped for the night Ihoshi and Hode said nothing to each other. Ihoshi went into her tent as soon as it was set up and only came out when she smelled that supper was ready. She took the meal back into the tent and didn’t remerge. Hode climbed the nearest tree stared out into the night.

The tree he was in was a tall tree and from it he could see the land that they were heading deeper into. The heads of hundreds of thousands of trees stared up at the sky that twinkled with stars. The moon was full and bore down on the land with its pale light. Hode sighed and examined the lands to the east. The forest broke some ways in the distance and started up again almost right away, taller and darker than before. The trees continued to grow in height until Hode couldn’t see any further.

His vision blurred and he became lightheaded. A second later the feeling passed and left him clinging to the branch. He clenched his eyes closed for a second to refocus them then climbed down the tree. He sat awake for the rest of the night, poking at the fire with a long branch.

When the morning broke it was clear that Ihoshi was still not talking to Hode because of his outburst the day before. Hode accepted it and welcomed the silence. Perhaps when this whole ordeal was over Ihoshi wouldn’t treat him like such a child any more. They set off east with Ihoshi leading.

It took them a little over a week to tramp through the forest to the break in the trees that Hode had seen. It had been caused by a wide, slow flowing river that was flowing out of the north. Hode shot a rope across to the other shore where the arrow is was tied to struck a tree and held fast. He tied the other end to a tree and helped Ihoshi into the river.

Their relationship had begun to repair itself; the evening of the day after the temple Ihoshi had apologized for reacting that way. Hode apologized in return, stating that she had been right to forget about the whole thing and concentrate on their own task.

“Who know, maybe what we’re doing might actually help end this thing,” he had said to her, which caused her to smile.

The river bed was slick with stones that made crossing a slow and tedious operation. Once they climbed out on the other side they were both ready to call it a day. Hode nodded in agreement and coughed. His health had been deteriorating ever since that night in the tree. There were more times in a day that his vision blurred and they had to take a break to allow him the time to focus again. As they continued it grew worse and they were down to a mere three hours of trekking a day.

Wood still hadn’t decided on a location, so Ihoshi was directing them blind. In a strange way she was glad that Hode wasn’t feeling well. It gave her more time to interpret Wood’s intentions and riddles.

They went one day further than the river and were forced to stop when Hode suddenly collapsed. His breathing was shallow and hard drawn. He sucked at the air and his body tensed up. Ihoshi worked quickly to set up a shelter for the two of them. By nightfall it was clear that they weren’t going any further until Hode recovered.

For six days Ihoshi tended to Hode’s fever, blotting his forehead with a damp cloth whenever he broke out into a sweat. She tried all the medicine in the small package she had bought in Ais but nothing worked. There was a small leaf that, when boiled into water and forced down Hode’s throat, held back his fever for a few hours, but the supply of the foreign plant quickly ran out.

As the day went on, Hode’s condition rapidly grew worse. He would gasp for air, barely conscious and mutter strange things in a language that Ihoshi didn’t understand. He would thrash around in his sleep and scream in pain while Ihoshi could do nothing but watch him.

Day after day Ihoshi grew less optimistic with Hode’s condition. His fever was burning through his skin regardless of how many damp cloths she pressed onto him. He didn’t eat and only took small sips of water, most of which came out as sweat minutes later.

When she wasn’t attending to Hode, Ihoshi was sitting a little ways away from him, tears flooding her eyes. She truly felt was if Hode was her own son; she had never had the chance to have her own kids and Hode’s parents weren’t fond of his career choice and had disinherited him. Together they had become a family.

She felt as if her soul was being torn apart. She knew that there was only the slimmest of chance that Hode would survive this mystery illness but she clung to that small sliver of hope that he would live. What would she do if he died?

The next day was the longest day Ihoshi had ever experienced. Hode’s condition had changed, he no longer had a fever and his body had stopped sweating. There were points in the day when Ihoshi saw his eyes flicker open once or twice. Her heart leapt each time, the spot of hope growing large with each sign of recovery that Hode showed through the morning hours. He accepted a few spoonfuls of broth from her before midday. But after that everything changed again.

Hode’s skin grew cold and pale and he stopped moving altogether.

“Ihoshi…” he whispered, barely comprehensible. She rushed to his side at the sound of his weak voice.

“Yes Hode? I’m right here,” she answered, just as quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. “And, I know how you felt about Xanthos. And I know how you feel about me. Thank you for being my mother.”

With those words his breaths grew short and shallow and his pulse got weaker. As the sun was setting above the leafy cover of the trees that towered over their campsite Hode took one last shaky breath and died.

Ihoshi’s heart broke as she clutched Hode’s lifeless body in her arms, her tears now pouring out of her tightly closed eyes. Never had she felt such pain over losing someone; not even Xanthos’ distant death had felt like this. Hode’s body quickly grew frozen in her grasp as she continued to cry. He had been what had meant the most to her, even more than her past love with Xanthos. Hode had been everything to her.

Wood was strangely silent as she mourned, not daring to interrupt an emotion that it barely understood. Love was a human feeling, something that the elements had never understood and never would. The complex weaving of feelings that surrounded it were too much for the flows of magic to comprehend.

Ihoshi held Hode for the rest of the night, as the moon floated in the dark skies above her. The wind whispered through the leaves, ignoring the weeping woman that sat among the roots. When the sun rose the next morning, her tears had stilled, though her heart was still feeling the stabbing pain of loss. She picked up Hode’s body and walked away from the camp, intending to find a wonderful place to bury his body and built some sort of memorial to his presence. As she walked through the trees she couldn’t get the memories of Hode out of her head. His laugh had been so deep and rich and his eyes had understood everything about her. She knew that now, with Hode’s last words, that he had known more about her than she had wanted. A special gift, Nickeal would have called it. She would have gushed over his abilities and found a way for him to train it and master it.

But it was too late for that. She trudged on through the forest, her own strength surprisingly keeping up with her actions despite the lack of rest she had experienced in the past few days. But after a few hours of trekking her feet began to grow heavy and her toes caught on every little root and branch that was in her meandering path. Finally she collapsed.

There in front of her was an impossibly large tree. It pierced the sky with its dead branch, grey and leafless. The tree itself was a skeleton, void of life. Ihoshi looked up at it and gave an exhausted smile. Wood had finally chosen. As a last request, Wood stopped pushing at Ihoshi so that she could bury Hode. The roots of the nearby living trees parted the earth for her to lay Hode’s body in.

He looked so peaceful lying in the hole between the roots. Ihoshi’s eyes blurred with fresh tears as the roots closed over him and he passed from her life at last.

She turned to the giant tree and placed her hands upon the lowest branch. Slowly she pulled herself up into the middle of the tree, where a crack had formed in the gray trunk. She stepped into the tree and paused.

A gentle rain of specks of light was falling inside the hollowness of the tree. Slowly the drops grew in frequency and size as she watched them. When they were one solid beam she stepped closer.

A voice faded into her mind, sweet and sorrowful. It comforted her with silent words before speaking so that she could hear.

“Ihoshi of Wood,” it said. “You have suffered a great loss, and we feel your pain. But we also feel the desire of the Wood inside you.”

Ihoshi remained silent as the feminine voice spoke to her. It told her tales of comfort to soothe her before gently pulling at the Wood.

“It wants to live,” she told the voice in the light. A new voice spoke to her.

“And live it shall. It’s magic will forever give life to this tree and this forest,” a male voice said. She could hear the power rebounding from it.

“Time…” she muttered, holding off the pull from the light.

“Time and Death will hold no sway over what I have put in place,” the male voice assured. “This place cannot be touched by either of them without incurring my wrath.”

Ihoshi sighed and smiled.

“Then I truly have nothing to worry about. But I have one request,” she said.

“Name it.”

“That this tree and the trees that surround it remain ever in bloom, never feeling the harsh, dead-like fingers of winter. That they will live without fear of fire and other threats. And that the grave of my son Hode be always covered with flowers.”

To her it was like the light had smiled at her.

“It will be as you wish.”

“Come Ihoshi,” the female voice said. “Come and never feel pain again.”

She closed her eyes and stepped into the beam of light. She felt youth fill her as her existence faded into the core of the tree. The shaft of light spread into each limb and dove off of every little branch in an array of colours. The colour of the bark changed from the sickly grey to a blushing brown. Brightly coloured leaves and flowers grew out of the branches that the light had flowed through. The light made it’s way down to the roots and the trees surrounding the Tree felt renewed and satisfied.

At the base of the Tree where the roots had covered Hode there was now a small patch of bright blue flowers, known to the Yoncians as Life’s Flower because of it’s healing attributes.

Ihoshi could faintly remember her past as the light lifted away from her multiple limbs. She felt wonderful, clothed in a dress of solid greens leaves with twinkling flowers as precious gems embedded in her gown. By the ground, where her feet delved into the warm dirt of the earth she saw something glittering. It was a small, bright green stone growing out of her bark. She shook her foliage in the breeze and whispered to the passing wind the name of the stone that had grown out of her.

“Zoralle,” she spoke and fell completely silent.

Years later, as the forest sat devoid of human life, a curious crow landed at the feet of the Tree, drawn by a strange glittering at the base. Using it’s sharp beak it carefully pecked at the stone, eventually separating it from the place that had been its home. It popped out quite easily and the bird was too involved with trying to pick up the stone to notice that the small divot it had rested in had already grown in.

Finally getting the stone into its beak, the crow flew away from the Tree, taking the stone called Zoralle with it.

“Hey Cirros, can you give us a hand? We can’t get this one line pull properly,” Sigrun called. Cirros put down his piece of fish and walked casually over to the rope they had been fiddling with on and off for the past four hours. With the twist of one of his hands and a quick tug from the other one, the rope came free and the sail dropped. He handed the rope to Sigrun with a smirk and went back to his spot in the bow to finish his fish.

Over the past few days they had attracted quite a lot of attention in the coastal city of Roth on the northern point of Corem. Their journey across the country to the island had been uneventful, crossing Corem had a little more spark due to the lack of empirical soldiers everywhere. But here in Roth, knowledge of their planned journey into the waters only the legendary explorer Capriole had survived had flown around the town on words with wings. At first the residents had thought they were joking but when they bought the ship and all the supplies they could possibly pack onto it, the people started treating it as a suicide mission. The four of them had quickly grown tired of all the whispers and spent as much time on the ship as they could, away from the crowd.

Because both Cirros and Aemiri were from Ziiduc, they knew boats without a shadow of a doubt. The other two were hopeless but had to learn so that they could do their part when they set sail. They’d learned the basics, but knots and ropes had been their weak point.

Sigrun huffed at Cirros and drew the sail back up and tied the knot almost as quick as Cirros had untied it.

“Show off,” she said, sitting beside Cirros.

“You almost have it. We should be able to take off in the next few days,” Cirros replied.

“But there’s supposed to be a storm coming in tomorrow,” Hafeli interjected. “The lady at the shop told me.”

Sigrun and Cirros stared at her and laughed. Hafeli was the newest apprentice, aside from Okan. She had only been with Sigrun for a few days when Sigrun announced that Hafeli would be her apprentice a few month before the Gathering.

“We’re the Water and the Wind, Hafeli. We won’t need to fear something like a storm, we can just push it aside and keep going,” Sigrun replied. Hafeli blushed and sat down.

“Don’t worry about it, you haven’t been with us long enough to have known that,” Cirros added. “And this situation is a bit overwhelming.”

Aemiri changed the subject.

“How long do you think we’ll be on the water for?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Nothing of Capriole’s said anything about a land over the waters, but across them we go anyway. According to his log, he sailed for two months on the northern waters and found nothing. So we’ve packed enough stuff for a seven month voyage. After that, well, we’ll see what happens,” Cirros stated. Sigrun stared at him.

“Seven months? Is that really how long you think it’ll take us to get there?” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t say that. I said we’d packed for seven. Could be more could be less,” he shrugged. “Besides, Capriole didn’t have the magic of Water and Wind to hurry him along.”

Sigrun and Hafeli returned to their knots while Cirros and Aemiri poured over the rough maps that Capriole had drawn himself. Cirros had told anyone the truth about how he got them, telling them that he won them in a game of cards. In reality, he had to sneak into the building where they were kept locked away and steal them without getting caught. Sigrun would have his hide for doing such a stupid and illegal thing while the two apprentices would think that he was a hero. Though the hero feeling would have been all right, he didn’t want to get in trouble with Sigrun. She could be very temperamental at times.

The map that Cirros had stolen showed the waters around the northern part of Corem and into the waters that were named for the explorer. There was a set of marks that looked like wavy lines that Cirros understood to be currents and another set of marks like concentric circles that meant winds. And then there was a third set, a circle with a wavy line following it, that appeared concentrated in several places on the map. Aemiri suggested that they might be sandbars or islands. Cirros nodded.

“That’s possibly,” he replied. “And our path will take us right beside this group of them here.”

He pointed to the largest collection of the strange marks.

“We’ll be able to figure it out at that point.”

“It’s too bad that drunk at the tavern didn’t have Capriole’s notebook too,” she stated, her eyes still on the map.

“Yes, well, it was lucky enough that he had the map, isn’t it?”

Aemiri nodded and answered with a little sound. Sigrun and Hafeli had finished their set of knots and had called them over for a bite to eat.

Two days later they prepared the ship for real. The whole city, or most of it at least, had gathered to see them off once the news of their departure spread through the streets. Many people had offered them white flowers, a symbol of luck as well as a symbol of loss. They were accepted with the hope of luck and for the fact that the flowers could be used in food if prepared properly. Hafeli was an expert in this area. The Lhuns used flowers and leaves of all kinds in their food and seldomly had the chance to eat meat. The lands of Lhunari were known for their amazing absence of animals of any kind. Only seabirds flew over the air of Lhunari, and they didn’t taste very good.

The sails on the mast were raised, but hung lazily in the absence of a breeze to push them out to sea. Several people in the crowd laughed at their attempt to go when the weather clearly would not permit it. Cirros stood at the stern of the ship and smirked down at the crowd. Some stopped laughing, others laughed harder, thinking a bunch of insane people were trying to take up sailed.

Cirros raised one hand to the sky, two fingers pointing up. He nodded to Sigrun and Hafeli, who tightened their grip on the ropes. Aemiri had her hands firmly on the helm. Cirros turned to face the mast and let his hand fall until it was pointed out to the mouth of the harbour and to the sea.

A rush of wind suddenly filled the docks, sweeping hats off of heads and filling the white sails. The ship bumped forward, eager to be off onto the seas. When the ship was free of the wooden pier, Sigrun and Hafeli each took one side of the deck and started to push the water beneath them so that they sailed smooth and cleanly away. They left the inhabitants of Roth completely speechless and without an explanation. To this day they still don’t know how the four foreigners sailed away that day, for they were never seen again.

The seas had cooperated with them so far, three weeks into their journey. Cirros was busy adjusting the winds to direct them properly when Aemiri flew out of the bridge to him.

“The marks on the map! According to our speed and the map, we should be coming up beside them right now!” she exclaimed. “I do hope they’re islands with fresh fruit, I would to have a seapple after all this dried food.”

“That can’t be right Ae. Are you sure you read the map right?” Cirros replied.

“Yes! I was raised reading maps of the waters, all kinds of maps, even ones scrawled by drunks. And with a carefully drawn map like this one, there’s no way I could have read it wrong!” Aemiri shot back. “Why did you think that?”

Sigrun and Hafeli had come out to listen.

“There’s no islands or sand bars or anything out here!” Cirros exclaimed. “The water’s colour says that it’s incredibly deep!”

“Deep enough to completely submerge the mountains around Iro,” Sigrun interjected.

“Exactly. There’s no way there could be islands here.”

Hafeli leaned over the edge of the boat and visibly paled.

“Well then maybe I was wrong about what the symbols meant,” Aemiri hissed.

“Well of course you were wrong. Either about the symbols or our position on the map!”

“Um, guys?” Hafeli’s voice was too quiet to interrupt Cirros and Aemiri.

“I’m only human! I do make mistakes once and a while. And if you haven’t forgotten, you’re human too!”

“I know that I’m human, but at least I know what I’m talking about. You know you could say sorry for your mistake.”

“Would it kill you to show a little mercy?”

“Hey, guys? Maybe this isn’t the best time.” Again Hafeli’s voice was lost.

“Jerk!”

“Little Miss Unperfect!”

The ship tossed to the side wildly, as if struck by something. Hafeli screamed at them.

“There are really big, moving things in the water!” she shouted. “If you could stop yelling at each other for just a second, we might survive this!”

The other three raced to the side of the ship and glared deep into the water. Long, scaly bodies swam swiftly just beneath the surface of the water. Sigrun tried to count them, but they moved too much.

“I don’t know what they are, but I don’t think they like us being here,” Sigrun stated when the ship lurched again. “We need to get out of here.”

Before they could do anything the water beside the boat broke and a large, serpentine head rose from it, screaming in a deep voice. It levelled out and stared at them, it’s dark green eyes boiling with anger. Smaller, higher pitched voices rebounded around them. Miniature versions of the large beast that had come from the ocean were swimming around the larger one’s twisted body, playfully splashing around in the water.

The creature snarled and dove for the ship. Sigrun was quick and pulled a wall of water from the ocean up beside the ship. Cirros was instantly beside her, freezing the water. The creature smacked the wall of ice and screamed again before diving into the ocean.

“Get us out of here,” Cirros hissed, calling the biggest wind he could to speed the ship along. Sigrun nodded and began pulling and pushing at the water. The creature was quickly following them, pushing its long body back and forth through the water.

“Damn that thing is moving fast,” Cirros cursed, pulling a stronger wind.

“It’s a water born creature, and it appears to have a minor control of the water around it,” Sigrun breathed, struggling with the pressure to get them farther and faster. “I can’t hold it off much long.”

Cirros changed the direction of the wind and shoved it into the water beneath then. The ship shot into the sky and he struggled to keep it airborne. The creature, no longer able to see where its query had gone, swam in a tight circle and headed back to the place they had encountered it. The ship landed back in the water with a gigantic splash. It rocked once before Sigrun settled it.

The two apprentice had jumped into the small room under the helm and reappeared when they heard the nervous laughter of their masters. In Aemiri’s hand was the map. She turned it over and handed it to Cirros. On the back in a faint scrawl that had been faded by the years of being rubbed against surfaces was a small legend of the symbols he had used. The currents and winds were proper, they were the universal signs of those things across the known world. When Cirros spotted the third symbol there he groaned.

“I guess there is no universal symbol for ‘giant sea monster’ is there?” he muttered.

“It says here that they’re called ‘leviathans’,” Sigrun stated, peeking over Cirros’ shoulder. She took the paper from him to examine it. Cirros pushed his hand through his hair and stood in front of Aemiri.

“Sorry for… you know,” he tried to apologize. Aemiri nodded.

“Yeah, me too. But it was good to get that out of our systems, yes?” she replied. “Fleety.”

“What?”

“Fleety. The attitude of the wind is fleety. That’s what you first told me when I asked if you would teach me.”

“Did I now? Well then, I guess I was right,” Cirros answered.

“In what?”

“In taking you as my apprentice. We’re both fleety, just like the wind.”

Aemiri laughed and went to help Hafeli straighten the sail.

For the rest of the journey they were careful to avoid the third mark on the map. Their one experience with the leviathan had been enough, they didn’t want to have to do it again. When they passed into the area beyond what was written on the map, they avoided the deeper water as much as they could and when they had no choice, they went slow and always had someone at the bow glancing into the water for any sign of movement.

“I wonder if this is how Capriole did it when he was first exploring these waters,” Aemiri commented one day.

“I’m not sure. But I would love to know how he dealt with the leviathans he encountered,” Cirros replied. “He obviously encountered way more than we did, based on those marks.”

The next weeks flew by. The waters eventually got warmer and lighter; there were times when they could see the sand glittering at the bottom. The sun shone more and brighter and everything was easier to control. As they progressed east on the ocean they started to nudge themselves to the south a bit. The waters steadily became shallower, until the hull of the boat could barely stay above the sand. Sigrun lifted the level of the water a few times for them to clear sandbars, but it was clear that the boat part of their journey was quickly coming to an end.

Sure enough, the next day the ship shuddered as the hull crashed into the sand and stuck fast. Hafeli and Sigrun tried to raise it off the sand but it wouldn’t budge. Cirros jumped off the ship to find that the water was only waist deep and tried pushing the ship through. That didn’t go either. They rested for the day, trying to decide what to do. But as the sun set, it was clear that there was only one way to continue.

“So we’ll take one of the smaller boats and you’ll take the other?” Sigrun said, lying on the sun warmed deck boards. Cirros hummed the affirmative.

“We’ll divide the rest of the supplies too.”

The energy between the two of them dropped. Cirros sighed and sat up.

“It’s going to be hard,” he whispered.

“What is?”

“Saying goodbye.”

“Oh.”

The silence returned. Both Aemiri and Hafeli were asleep up by the helm, leaving Cirros and Sigrun to address the matters of the next day. Now that the preparation was done, both of them headed off to sleep as well. Neither one of them got much of it, but they tried anyway.

The sun rose bright and fresh the next morning and after a quick breakfast of dried fruits they split the remaining provisions into the little boats and dropped them into the water. Cirros quickly rigged a sail onto their small little boat while Sigrun said that they wouldn’t need one. Aemiri and Hafeli said quick goodbyes and got into the right boats, one on either side of the stranded ship.

Cirros and Sigrun looked at each other intensely before meeting in a tight hug.

“I’m going to miss you,” Sigrun told Cirros. “You were the best thing that happened to the council, I swear.”

“I’ll miss you too. Before you go, I have one thing that I need to tell you,” Cirros answered.

“What?” Sigrun was suspicious.

“I wasn’t completely honest to you at one point on this journey.” He approached the side of the ship, leaving Sigrun in the middle.

“I stole the map.”

Sigrun’s jaw dropped and she raced towards him. He leapt over the railing and landed in the water. He pushed his way to the boat, climbed in and grabbed hold of the sail.

“Cirros you get back here right now!” Sigrun yelled from on the deck as the sail flared with wind and began to skitter away.

“Miss you!” he called back at her and then went out of earshot.

“You’re not very good at goodbyes, are you?” Aemiri asked, her hand on the tiller.

“No, I’m absolutely awful at them,” he admitted. In his head he was thinking about the next goodbye he would have to make and tried to put it as far out of his mind as possible. The last thing he needed to do right now was break down in front of Aemiri. He pulled hard on the sail and steered the boat directly south.

When the sun went down they were forced to stop the boat and sleep. The water was completely still, so they didn’t have to worry about drifting away out of their course. They woke in the morning and continued sailing south. The waters gradually got shallower until even the hull of their small boat could sail any further with them in it. Both Cirros and Aemiri stepped out of the boat and found that the water only reached halfway to their knees. They led the boat behind them, content to bring it with them to carry their supplies until they absolutely had to leave it behind.

They spent another three days trudging through the water as it slowly dropped to their ankles, then just above their toes. When they finally reached just sand and no water, the only thing that brought that fact to their attention was the heavy tug on the boat. It couldn’t go any further. They rested on the edge of the water for a few days, in no hurry to continue forward. Aemiri had distilled a bunch of the sea water and had poured it carefully into their water skins the last night on the shore. When the sun rose in the morning, they left their little boat behind and hiked into the desert.

The sand was difficult to walk on and made their progress incredibly slow and tiring.

“Maybe we should go back to the boat and make some sort of desert sailboat,” Aemiri suggested, dumping a pile of sand out of her shoes.

“We should have thought of that first,” Cirros agreed. “Let’s go back to it.”

They stood up and turned around. Up the closest dune they peered northward, hoping to see the glitter of water and their tiny boat somewhere in the distance. There was nothing but a vast expanse of sand.

“Something’s not right Cirros,” Aemiri commented. “We didn’t go that far today and we should still be able to see the ocean.”

Cirros covered his eyes and looked hard. But not even the wind could tell him which direction the ocean was.

“The wind is confused,” Cirros announced.

“And so are we,” Aemiri answered. “I guess we’re not going back to the boat after all.”

“I think the sand is moving,” Cirros stated.

“You’ve got to be joking me. So now you’re an Earth mage too?”

“No, seriously.”

“Prove it.”

“I will.”

Cirros took a walking pole from his pack and stabbed it into the top of the sand dune. He then slid down it and sat with his back to it.

“We’re going to rest here for a bit. Try and get some sleep,” he told Aemiri. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes but did as he suggested. She was feeling tired from today’s trek.

When she woke, Cirros was still sitting where he had been before, his eyes closed. Aemiri huffed and looked up the sand dune behind him. Judging by the sun it had only been an hour or two since he had put the pole in the sand. But it wasn’t there any more.

Aemiri jumped up and raced to the top of the sand dune that she was sure that Cirros had stood the pole. Reaching the top she found no sign that the pole had simply fallen. She looked north, hoping that the change in light would reveal the ocean and found the pole. It was standing in the top of a dune five ridges over from her.

Cirros appeared behind her.

“Told you.”

“You moved it.”

“I did nothing of the sort. The sand is moving around on its own, drifting.”

“So what now?”

“I don’t know. I guess we wander our way south and see where it takes us.”

“You’re hopeless Cir. Hopeless.”

Cirros smiled at Aemiri slid her way back down the dune. He curled his body into a ball and threw himself down the steep sides of the dune. He rushed passed Aemiri in a whirlwind of sand.

“Cirros!” Aemiri complained. He hit the bottom of the dune and unwrapped himself, lying flat on his back laughing.

“You should try it, it’s fun!” he shouted back.

The next few days were almost identical, only the passing of the sun over them and the falling of night proved the passage of time. The one day they had stopped for the night they had found a patch of long, pale green grass in the middle of three dunes. But when they woke the next morning it had vanished from under them.

“Still don’t believe me?” Cirros asked. Aemiri said nothing.

They were getting dangerously low on their supply of water and there was no sign of rainclouds in the sky. Cirros heaved himself up one last dune and saw something on the horizon. A single twisting ribbon of smoke was rising lazily into the sky.

“Aemiri, come take a look at this!” he yelled down the dune. Aemiri sighed and climbed up after him. She was really beginning to despise sand. She looked in the direction that Cirros was pointing and saw the smoke.

“We should head towards that,” he commented, adjusting his pack.

“As long as the desert doesn’t push it away from us I think that’s a great idea.”

They went down the dune and up the next one, always checking to see that they were still on track towards the source of the smoke. When they got closer, they started to smell the burning of a fire. Over one last dune and there before them was a small collection of tents, each one the same colour as the sand around it. There was a group of people sitting around the source of the smoke, a large fire that danced and crackled happily.

As they stood on top of the dune someone in the camp below spotted them. Cirros couldn’t tell if they were angry, but he didn’t feel like fighting anyway. One of the people, a young man wearing a chain and pendant around his neck bounced through the sands towards them. Cirros and Aemiri did not move.

He stopped in front of them and put it hand in the form of a fist to his forehead rapidly before dropping it and cautiously saying something in a fluid language that sounded more like the whistle of winds through leaves than a language. Cirros carefully listened, pulling a twist of wind around them. The man’s words were silenced, pulled into the wind. He stopped trying to speak and stood staring as Cirros slowly breathed in the wind and answered him.

“Words thrown to the wind are never lost,” he answered in the man’s own language. Aemiri gasped.

“How did you do that?” she asked in the Common Tongue. Cirros turned to her and winked before blowing in her face. She squinted her eyes and tossed her head from side to side as the wind left Cirros and entered Aemiri. She suddenly knew.

“But how?” she asked again.

“There are two elements with the ability to take in their surroundings and adapt to them. The Earth does it to remain in balance with itself and the other elements around it. The Wind does it to learn about what it is flying over.”

“So we just learned from the wind?”

“Yes. Because we are both highly sensitive to the wind it works for us. It would not work for a lesser mage though.”

The man who had rushed up to them had taken off down the dune, shouting at the others in the camp. They stood and looked at them, as if waiting. The man got down to them and pointed back to them, made a whooshing motion with his hands and said something and all the other men gasped and looked at them.

“Should we go down there?” Aemiri asked.

“I see no present harm in doing so,” was Cirros’ reply.

They followed the man’s path down the dune and walked into the camp. The men allowed them to enter, but watched them carefully. The man that had greeted them on the dune stood in front of them again.

“Hello, I am Timas, one of the Path Guides of the Wandering Desert. We welcome you to come around our fire and share your story,” he said, fingering the pendant that hung around his neck. Aemiri looked confused, so Cirros switched to Common Tongue to explain it to her in the bluntest terms.

“He means ‘Sit and tell us what the hell you’re doing in our desert speaking our language’,” Cirros stated. Aemiri chuckled. “Let me talk though.”

She nodded and sat down on the sand next to him in front of the fire. The men waited for his to say something.

“I am Cirros and this is my sister Aemiri,” he started. “We have been travelling for a long time, on the waters in the north. We came to this land to find a place to hide something that is of great importance to the world and we were wondering if you could help us.”

The men laughed.

“If you’re looking for a place to hide something, the Wandering Desert is the right place. But I hope you never expect to find it again,” one of the men chortled. The others laughed again.

“We do not want it to be found again. It should be lost forever.”

Timas was quietly examining them, weighing their words. But Cirros had nothing more to say.

“Do you know the Sky Paths?” he asked quietly. The other men instantly stopped laughing and turned to look at Cirros, awaiting his answer.

“The sky paths?” Cirros was confused. “No, I have never heard of them.”

“Then you truly are foreigners,” Timas concluded. “We survive in this desert using a system of Paths. There’s the Earth Path, the Water Path, the Grass Path and the Sky Path. I am a Path Guide for the Earth Path and I’m the head of power in this camp with that ability. But you, you used energy that is opposite to the Earth Path, which made me suspect that you were of the Sky Path.”

Cirros clued in.

“I do not know of the Sky Path, but I do control the Wind magics,” he stated. “We are opposites, you and I. Earth and Wind.”

Timas continued to look at Cirros, his eyes giving no hint at what he was thinking. The quiet lengthened and grew awkward before Cirros interrupted it.

“What do you want from us?” he snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. Timas was startled.

“I will take you to the main tribe. They will decide what is done with you. For now, you may use my tent while the men hunt.”

He pointed to the tent at the far end of the camp, stood and walked away from them to converse quietly with the other men. Cirros knew a dismissal when he saw one and took Aemiri towards the tent that Timas had pointed to.

“Your sister?” she mocked once they were out of earshot.

“Hey, better than my wife, or my lover or my daughter,” he replied. “This way they won’t be suspicious of us always being together. We’re just troubled siblings, lost in an unfamiliar land, searching for a way to get rid of their burden.” Cirros swooned and fell onto the low cot that was in the tent.

“You mean your burden, don’t you? It’s not mine to bear,” Aemiri answered, sitting on the floor. “And if I’m your sister, shouldn’t you be the nice big brother and give your poor little sister the bed?”

Cirros groaned and rolled off the bed onto the sandy floor, his face buried in the sand.

“You are so immature, you know that?”

A grin widened on Cirros’ face.

“Now you can’t prove that,” he answered, his voice muffled by the sand.

“I hope you get sand stuck in your teeth,” she said.

They bantered back and forth with each other for about an hour before Timas came into the tent unannounced.

“We are having supper now and tomorrow we will travel back to the tribe,” he stated. “And perhaps you can teach me a little of this Wind magic?”

Cirros was shocked.

“You want to learn from me?”

“Yes. Sky Guides are incredibly rare and being one guarantees you a good life with no worries about the future,” Timas explained. “If I could become a Sky Guide, I wouldn’t have to make these treks into the desert with a pack of hunters.”

“Why don’t you refuse?” Cirros suggested.

“I can’t. As a Guide I am bound to help Jurans find their way in the land of Paths. And the ones that need an Earth Guide are hunters and traders. The main group has a few, but they are more dependent on Water and Grass, not Earth. The group is so large that they seldom travel.”

Cirros contemplated his situation before answering.

“I will try and teach you what I can, but I can promise you it won’t be easy, if you’re able to grasp the Wind at all. Earth and Wind are opposites, like I said earlier. This might be like trying to teach a mole to fly.”

“A mole?” Aemiri and Timas said in unison.

“Yes. A mole is a creature of Earth. They burrow in it and know many of its secrets. Yet to a mole, the sky is a place of mystery, where the wind flies.”

“For a mole to fly it would have to quit being an Earth creature and become something quite different, changing its entire structure,” Aemiri concluded.

“That’s right. But the mole can never change who it is; it will always be a mole.”

Timas was staring at them confused. Cirros and Aemiri had slipped back into the Common Tongue as they discussed the importance of the mole. Timas cleared his throat and the two of them stopped and realized what had happened.

“The mole?” Timas asked.

“It was just a figure of speech,” Cirros clarified. “I was just using other words to say that it will be nearly impossible to teach you the Wind. But I will try nonetheless.”

Timas thanked him for the promise and vanished to the outside. Cirros and Aemiri followed close behind him. The fire had been stoked and the flames now rose a little higher, licking the meat that had been skewered and placed above them on a rotisserie. The smell of the meat had Cirros drooling; the only fresh meat they had had in the past six months was the fish they managed to catch out of the ocean.

One of the men offered Cirros a chunk of the meat as he sat down and he eagerly bit into it. The juices dribbled down his chin but he didn’t care. Some of the men were laughing good-heartedly at the show and others just ate on themselves, ignoring Cirros.

“This is delicious!” he exclaimed, swallowing a bite. “What kind of meat is it?”

“Desert mole.”

Aemiri bit her tongue to strangle a laugh and accepted her own piece of meat. Cirros noticed and spoke quietly to her.

“I won’t have any jokes about the irony later, got it?”

Aemiri smiled and nodded once. Cirros didn’t believe she had truly agreed at all.

They finished the meal and the rest of the men had decided to entertain their guest afterwards. They told stories and legends and explained a little bit about their culture. Timas groaned when they got up and danced around the fire in what Timas called ‘Altai Fire Dancing’. Cirros didn’t know what that was and wasn’t really in the mood to ask. After a polite amount of time, he excused himself from the fire, where the men continued to dance and sing, and carried Aemiri, who had fallen asleep behind him after supper, back to Timas’ tent.

He put Aemiri on the cot and took a blanket for himself before falling asleep on the ground. He was asleep instantly.

The morning came with shouts and a flurry of activity. Cirros rolled off the ground and peeked outside to see what was going on. The sun had barely risen above the sandy horizon, but the rest of the camp had already been dismantled. Timas was heading towards him.

“Oh good, you’re up,” he greeted, placing his hand to his forehead like he had done the day before. Cirros sleepily returned the motion, not really thinking.

“A message came in the middle of the night. There is to be a gathering of all Path Guides in Jairo tomorrow night,” Timas continued. “We don’t know why we’ve been called.”

“And we’ll make it to this place called Jairo for this meeting tomorrow?” Cirros questioned.

“By following the Paths we will.”

Cirros disappeared back into the tent. By now Aemiri was awake. Cirros took her outside and the second they left the tent, three men had fallen on it and had it packed up in less than a minute. All that remained in that spot was their packs.

“Wow,” Aemiri commented.

“Wow is right,” Cirros echoed. “Can you imagine the success the Zakhian army would have had right away if they had men as efficient as them?”

Aemiri started to laugh but stifled it suddenly.

“Cirros!”

“What? It’s not like they can hear me mocking them. Besides, I’m never going back to that country ever again,” he answered light-heartedly. But in his head he was already smacking himself for bringing the topic up. He didn’t want to think of that time until it was absolutely necessary. The Wind inside him disagreed and began to prod at him.

Aemiri picked up her pack and held the other one out to Cirros. The rest of the group was waiting for them. Cirros accepted the pack and together they walked to the group. Once they stood with everyone, Timas began searching for a Path.

It was an odd display. His legs were spread wider than his shoulders and his hands were spread out in front of him, perfectly parallel with the ground. He slowly moved by sliding his feet over the sand; never once did they break contact with it. His hands moved in an irregular motion. It looked like a slow dance. He stopped and relaxed.

“This way!” he called back the group and set out. They quickly followed. Timas would walk with his hand spread out in front of him like he had placed them before, when he was looking for the Path. He explained it to Cirros as he was holding the Path, watching where it went.

Cirros and Aemiri had learned a lot about the Paths the night before, around the fire. The Paths were the only way to survive the desert, which they learned was aptly named the Wandering Sands. These Paths moved freely and needed a Guide to track them. Every party that went out into the desert went with a Guide or they were never seen again. Cirros considered themselves lucky to have stumbled upon a group in the middle of the desert. Aemiri thought it was fate.

By the middle of the day they had met up with several other groups when their Paths converged into one. Cirros and Aemiri were looked at with many different kinds of stares, all of which they returned with a smile. Timas wasn’t watching the Path now, he was talking with another Guide, one from the Grass Paths. They chatted like they were old friends.

Aside from the odd looks, the two foreigners were left alone out of the respect for the different. They chatted quietly between themselves, usually in the Common Tongue. Most of the time they bickered about little things, pausing to comment on someone who had just gone passed them or something about the sand around them.

“Hey, do you feel that?” Aemiri asked, feeling a directed flow of wind.

“I do. It’s coming from above us somewhere,” Cirros answered. He shielded his eyes with his hand and looked up into the sky. There was nothing to be seen.

“I feel it flowing from over there,” he said, pointing to a spot in the sky behind him. As he pointed, a bank of clouds appeared in the otherwise clear sky; a thick road of white through the sky. The rest of the procession stopped around them as it appeared and came towards them.

“Sky Road!” The whispers said around them. They all fell silent as the Path grew and expanded over their heads. Everyone but Cirros and Aemiri fell to their knees until the Path had completely vanished from the sky, some fifteen minutes later. Once it was gone, Timas hurried towards them.

“Why did you not kneel?” he hissed. “They will hear of this in Jairo and you will be killed!”

Cirros snorted.

“The day they’re able to kill me for ignoring a bank of clouds will be the day that the sun hides his face for the moon.”

Aemiri put her hand on his arm.

“Maybe you should keep it toned down,” she told him in the Common Tongue. “They don’t know that you are essentially Wind itself.”

“No, they don’t. They don’t need to know that,” Cirros replied in a like fashion. He turned to Timas.

“You want to learn the Wind magics? We’ll start right now. I want you to let go of any base that you may have. Let yourself float.”

With that he took Aemiri and walked away from him. Timas stared back at him, his hands shaking. He cleared his thoughts and ran after Cirros.

“But how? I’m rooted to the ground by my feet,” he whined. Cirros stopped and looked at him.

“Your magical being needs to be untied if you are ever to drift on the Wind. Right now it is dug so deep into the Earth that it doesn’t know what freedom is. Work at it and come see me when you’ve achieved this. Until you do, I cannot teach you anything farther.”

He walked off again. Aemiri stayed behind with Timas.

“He’s right, you know. He can’t teach someone who’s rooted. And I don’t know how he expects you to be able to do it so quick. It took me two weeks,” she tried to reassure him. “If you are truly dedicated to this, then you have to give it everything. That will mean that you will never be able to go back to the Earth magic.”

Timas was left stranded by Aemiri as she took off to catch up to Cirros.

“You tried to encourage him, didn’t you?” Cirros said to her coldly.

“Well, yes and no. I told him that if he’s set on this to give it his all. But I also made sure that he knew what he would be losing if he did commit to this.”

“There’s no way he can ever become well enough trained in the Wind magic,” Cirros said quietly. “He’s too Earth oriented. Even if he did succeed in digging up his roots, he would only be able to conjure a small breeze, not the forces required to raise you into the sky. And then he would be left floundering, not really belonging anywhere. Once you dig up a tree’s roots from the soil, the soil fills in and doesn’t easily take the roots back.”

“So you don’t even want him to try?”

“I want him to realize that what he has is great enough. Honestly, I can’t wait to meet one of these Sky Guides to see why he wants to be one so bad.”

“Can you not see that these people practically worship them?” Aemiri exclaimed. “Who wouldn’t want to be one?”

Cirros was getting increasingly more irritated.

“Next Sky Path that comes over us is being torn to pieces,” he hissed. “And don’t you dare try and stop me.”

“I know better than to get in your way Cirros. Fleety,” Aemiri commented. She walked behind him and no others words were said between them. Cirros’ temper must have been evident because the Jurans gave them a wide berth.

Aemiri felt the next Path coming before it had appeared again, so had Cirros. He stopped in his tracks and was calming his breathing. As the Path appeared over them, the Jurans dropped to their knees again and Cirros exploded. A multitude of cyclones bearing bits of sand were hurled up towards the clouds. The Guides on the Path tried to block the incoming attack, but it easily overwhelmed them and ripped through the clouds that held them so high in the sky.

When the Path was completely destroyed, the sand around Cirros settled and the Wind mage made sure that every Guide that had been thrown off landed safely on the sand. He then waited for their reaction. What he saw made him even angrier.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the first Guide screamed at him. “You should know better than to try and use your petty sand to attack our Path!”

Aemiri took a deep breath and held it as Cirros seethed. Another Guide had joined the first and she could see more coming. This wasn’t going to turn out pretty. The first Guide was yelling again and the second shoved Cirros backwards. That was the last straw.

“How dare you touch me,” he snarled. “After you push around my flows to set yourselves above your countrymen to a position that you do not deserve.”

“Your flows?” the second Guide laughed. “How is it that they belong to you?”

Aemiri began to run back towards Cirros; if she didn’t interfere and calm him down immediately, the whole desert could be in the air next. The other Jurans remained on their knees and dared to do nothing.

“Cirros!” she shouted. “Cut it out before someone gets hurt!”

Cirros recognized her voice, but didn’t calm down.

“The only ones who will be getting hurt are these pompous windbags,” he barked.

“Cirros!”

He ignored her and walked towards the spot where five Guides now stood together. While he had been listening to Aemiri, they had quickly formulated a plan. The five of them together conjured a huge ball of Wind and hurled it at Cirros. But instead of it bowling him over as they had expected, he pulled it around him and laughed.

“It’s mine because it is me, you fools. I am the bearer of Wind; all that belongs to the element belongs to me!” He pushed the ball of Wind to pieces, scattering the magic back to the flow. “Now, you will walk to Jairo with the rest of the Jurans here. And they will not kneel in your presence while I am around.”

He said the last part loud enough for every bowed Juran to hear. They shakily got to their feet and started walking again, the Earth Guides trying to settle themselves enough to find the Path that had slipped away from them while the ordeal happened. Cirros stared down the Sky Guides who were now shaking themselves.

“And if any of you try to go back into the Sky, I will remove that ability from you permanently,” he growled. “Now get out of my sight.”

The five scattered, racing ahead of Cirros. Aemiri approached Cirros, her mouth open. The master held up his finger to silence any words that had been about to come out.

“Not a word until tonight when I’ve calmed down completely,” he explained. “Let’s walk or they’ll leave us behind.”

The rest of the journey to Jairo was awkwardly quiet. The Sky Guides, who made no attempt to get back into the sky, walked ahead of the group, their heads held high and their mouths scorning everything around them like they were peacocks. When the rises of Jairo came into view, they broke into a run and reached the city way before the rest of the Jurans.

Cirros expected to find the gates to the city barred to their entrance, but they were wide open. It seemed that not even the high and mighty Sky Guides could keep them out when they were called. The city itself was just a collection of ramshackle huts and shanties made of wood, straw and stone. There was no sense to the streets that led off the main road into the city. Timas appeared beside them to explain.

“Jairo is one of the only established cities in Jura. It’s the capital for our ruling body and for international trade. The river is just on the other side of the hill; it’s the main reason this city is permanent while our people are nomadic,” he stated. “The people who live here are either merchants or foreigners seeking refuge from something. The laws here are not strict, so not many Jurans actually stay in the city if they can help it.”

Cirros said nothing, but examined the city anyway. It did look like a complete slum.

“What do the other cities look like?” he asked.

“Other? Oh! Cadiz up the river is much nicer, but it’s basically the home of the king and the houses of all his servants and his court. Ciri Oasis is a collection of spas and relaxation huts, so it’s rather laid back. Ajai’Jin on the Jin-Ei River to the southeast is another trading city, but it’s inhabited by Altai and Jurans that have Altai blood. It’s very traditional, with organized wooden houses built on stilts over the boggy banks of the river. And in the northeast there are two settlement type cities, Mi’ot and Mi’ori, that the Water Guides train in. The Ocean People visit there fairly often.”

“And those are the only cities this country has?”

“Yes. And some I wouldn’t really call cities. Just permanent building sites.”

Cirros just grunted at the last comment. He noticed that very few of the Jurans had actually entered the city; the bulk of the people were setting up a large camp outside the gate.

“They don’t like the city,” Timas explained. “Only the Guides are coming in.”

They followed the somewhat straight road to a large space that was shaded by a giant sail flying overhead. The area was full of other Guides, all wearing different kinds of clothes. The Sky Guides stood sequestered in the farthest corner, surrounding a low dais. Cirros couldn’t see what was on it.

As the foreigners entered and moved to the center of the area, the Guides stepped back, creating an empty ring around Cirros and Aemiri. Cirros sat in front of the gaggle of Sky Guides and waited. Someone was sitting on the dais and Cirros was ready to bet it was either the king that Timas had mentioned or some one close to him.

The sky Guides scowled at him in unison before breaking away from the dais to stand behind it. On the dais, seated in a large scarlet cushion, was a normal looking man with a circlet of gold around his forehead. The king.

“I hear you disturbed the Sky Guides on their way here,” the king said nonchalantly. Cirros rested his wrists on his crossed legs and nodded.

“I did and I will not be offering an apology.”

The crowd behind the king scoffed and turned their noses up at him.

“They also bring me news that you claim to be the Wind. How is this?” the king asked. Cirros bowed his head and was silent for a few moments. Aemiri knew he was going to tell them the truth. He had to.

“Inside of me I hold the core of Wind, brought from the heart of Zakh, a magicless nation across the waters to the west. I and my apprentice, along with another carrier and hers, sailed to your northern shores. We started to cross the desert into the country when we came across a group of hunters. They brought us here,” Cirros stated, remaining perfectly calm.

“What do you want here?” the king asked.

“That I wish to discuss with you in private.”

The king considered his request while one had reached up to stroke his beard. Cirros looked him in the eyes and did not blink.

“I will allow you a private audience with me,” the king announced. The Sky Guides were mortified.

“Your Majesty, perhaps you did not hear what he did to some of our number…”

“I heard and I have no fear of this man. He would be foolish to harm me.”

Cirros nodded in confirmation.

The king called one of his servants to take Cirros and Aemiri to a room in the back off the meeting grounds where they could relax while the king addressed the Guides that had gathered there. By the time he had finished, the sun had set and torches had been lit down the halls of the tented meeting place.

Cirros was finally finished calming down when the king entered the room. He dismissed the guards and sat on the ground in front of Cirros.

“I know that what you told me in the Sailed Hall was true. Almost unbelievable, but true. Now, what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?”

Cirros looked and Aemiri. She sighed, got up and left the room. Official carrier business, she had been told. Once she was gone and the door had been closed again, Cirros started.

“I need to discuss the future of the element that I hold. There are six of us carriers and a little over a year ago we decided that for the safety and security of the elements and the people of the empire that we lived in, that the elements needed to have a permanent home, not a temporary one that needs to be renewed every seventy years or so. Four of my companions have already done so.”

“Then what do you require of me?” the king replied.

“In creating a home for the element, I will lose my life. I know where the Wind wants to rest, but I cannot go yet knowing that I have loose ends to tie up.”

The king cocked an eyebrow.

“The girl with you.”

“Yes. She is not my sister, as I had told the Jurans we first encountered. She is my apprentice. As we the carriers agreed, our apprentices would not know of our fate until that time was upon us. She still thinks that she will carry the Wind when I am gone. I need to be sure that she will be taken care of when I’m gone,” Cirros said. The king thought for a moment and answered.

“I can promise to make sure she is taken care of if I can ask something of you in return,” he stated. “As you have seen, the Sky Guides have gotten out of hand and I do not know how to deal with them. I was an Earth Guide before I became king. I would have you reorganize and try to push some sense into their heads before you go.”

Cirros felt a smirk rising to his face.

“I don’t think they’re going to like that very much.”

“It doesn’t matter. I am their king and they must listen to my orders.”

Cirros and the king worked out the details of their agreement. Cirros would take one year to reform the Sky Guides and how they operated and in return the king would take Aemiri into his personal service, provided that she be given as much freedom as she wished. They settled on the terms and left the room.

Cirros explained that he had been put in charge of the Sky Guides and asked for her assistance in trying to reshape the way they lived and conducted themselves. She eagerly agreed, wanting to know how the Sky Paths worked.

They had agreed that Cirros would meet with the Sky Guides first thing in the morning in the Sailed Hall. When Cirros and Aemiri got there, they found the Guides standing at the far end of Hall, talking amongst themselves.

“All right, can I get you all to come over here?” he shouted across to the Guides. They ignored. He called out again and was still ignored.

“This is not going to be easy, is it?” Cirros muttered under his breath.

“It won’t be if you lose your temper again,” Aemiri replied. “Show them a controlled display of your power and maybe they’ll listen to you.”

Cirros huffed, but slowly gathered enough of the flow in his hands. He pulled at it and twirled it around. The flow separated, fingers of magic waving in the air. They wrapped themselves around each individual Guide and lifted them carefully from the ground. There was a lot of squawking that started to rise from the Guides as Cirros directed the Wind to settle them in neat lines in front of him.

“Now you will listen to me,” he said, the Wind that was still holding them now forcing every sound and thought apart from Cirros’ voice from their heads. “The king has informed me that the Guides of the Sky Path have become overzealous and full of themselves. He asked me to rework the way that you operate and interact with the other Guides and regular Jurans alike. I have a year to do so. For that year, you will do exactly as I say, or you will face the same consequences that I gave to the Guides who were lucky enough to encounter me on the way here. Do you understand?”

The words forced themselves into the Guides’ heads. Cirros didn’t get any clear answers, just a bunch of grunts. Aemiri went and stood with them. Cirros sighed and began at the basics.

The months flew by. After two weeks, most of the Guides had been won over to his teachings and now treated him properly. There were still a few that required a few more weeks to break, but eventually they all did. Aemiri started growing farther from Cirros, making friends with many of the Guides. This was something he encouraged. When she decided to start rooming with a female Guide, he supported it one hundred percent, telling her that he wanted the extra space in the room they had shared up to that point.

At the ten month mark, the king asked if Cirros would take them out into the desert and slowly release them back to their Path. Cirros agreed, seeing that the time he had been asked to share with them could potentially end early if he was able to confidently let them all go.

The trip out into the desert was the first time Cirros got to be on the Path. He had no troubles getting up on it. When they were all up, Cirros waited for that one person who would break off and try and get away. But no one did. Cirros had won them all over.

Up in the sky, the Wind started to pull on Cirros harder than before. He tried to ignore it, but found that he couldn’t. He endured it as they moved the path out into the middle of the desert.

A large twisting cloud was coming towards them. Cirros could tell that it wasn’t a Path; it didn’t have the same feel as the clouds they were standing on. It twirled and moved and breathed like it was a living creature. It headed straight for the group on the Path.

“What is that?” he asked quietly. The Guide standing behind him answered.

“That is a Cloud Dragon,” he said. “They are clouds that have been inhabited by spirits; this one must be particularly strong to be able to glide across the sky to its own will instead of being blown apart by the wind.”

The Cloud Dragon streamed overhead and Cirros could make out some vaguely shaped clouds on the creature’s underbelly that looked like scales. But as it passed, there was no wind from the drag of its wings. It was as if it had drifted by like a simple cloud. It flew back around and turned directly for Cirros. He didn’t move and he was swept through the body of the dragon. As it completed its turn, it vanished into wisps of cloud and vanished on the breeze.

“That’s a sign of both good luck and an eternal goodbye,” the Guide standing behind him said. Cirros shuddered and the Wind pulled ever harder.

“I’m returning the control of the Sky Paths over to each individual Guide,” Cirros announced. The Guides expressions lit up.

“We can go?” one of them asked. Cirros nodded. The joy in each face was evident. They had hated being kept on the ground for nearly a year.

“But before we go,” the Guide next to Cirros quickly interjected before anyone could take off, “we have some business to attend to. First, to Aemiri, we would like to name you an official Sky Guide.”

Aemiri suddenly appeared from between the other Guides and a smile burst forth on her face. The Guide who had named her handed over a long, clear crystal. She took it in her hands and watched as it formed itself into her own Path Pendant. She hung it around her neck and began to chatter with her friends. They stopped paying attention to the Guide who now appeared to be in charge.

“Second, to Cirros. We would also like to name you as a Sky Guide.”

Cirros looked at him and took the pendant he offered, but did not allow its new shape to be revealed to the other Guides.

“I thank you for your respect and acceptance, but I cannot truly become one of you. Now that my task to your king and all of you is over, I have the task that the Wind demands of me to complete.”

“And Aemiri?”

“Aemiri is the master of her own life. Clearly, and thankfully, she has chosen to continue on with the Sky Guides. This parting will not be as hard as it would have been, had I set out right away to complete Wind’s task. I ask that you take care of her, like the king has promised to, and make sure she knows that I weeded myself from her life to ease this parting,” Cirros finished. “I will take my leave.”

Cirros lowered himself to the desert sands. He glanced once at the Sky Path high above his head then looked forward. On top of the nearest dune there were two figures: a girl in white and an animal standing faithfully by her side. She waved at him and took off down the other side of the dune. Cirros ran to catch up as the Path above him moved away. He chased the girl into the desert and was never seen again.

A few days later, the Guide who had been the last to talk to Cirros before he vanished, pulled Aemiri aside on a smaller Path. He sat down and invited her to do so as well. Quietly, he broke the news of Cirros’ disappearance to her. She gasped and a few tears slid down her cheeks.

“He didn’t want to make the parting hard,” the Guide explained. Aemiri wiped the tears away and sniffed.

“He never was good at saying goodbye,” she whispered. Aemiri rose to her feet and went off on her own path. The Guide let her go; she was her own Path Guide now, she could go where she wanted to go.

She pulled a part of the large Path to the side and sat on it, directing it across the sky. The desert was spread out below her, an endless face of sand. She had been going for quite a while when she saw something strange in the desert. From up in the cloud where she was sitting, it looked like some sort of tower, topped with various windmill blades. As it rose, the body of the tower twisted and branched off, giving it an abstract look.

Aemiri directed her little piece of cloud downwards and dropped onto the sand where she thought the tower had been. It wasn’t there. She raced to the top of the dune and searched the surrounding desert, looking for just one glimpse of the twisted building. There was nothing to be found. She stomped her foot and kicked something free from the sand. It was a Path Pendant in the form of a perfect spiral. As she held it, it changed, becoming a single, round stone in her hand. It was clear and she could see the eddies of energy swirling around inside it.

“This was Cirros’,” she said quietly.

“And now it is yours to look after,” a voice said from somewhere around her. Aemiri whipped her head from side to side to find where it was coming from. The voice laughed.

“You cannot see me yet, young one,” it said. “That will come at the appropriate time. What you hold in your hand is known as Eira, the stone of Wind. Your master has given himself to become the Pillar of Wind, housed in a strange contraption that he would have called the Wind Well. It will wander these sands for as long as the sands themselves wander. Take care of Eira.”

With that the voice was gone. Up above, Aemiri spotted the fleeting appearance of a Cloud Dragon, there one moment, gone the next back to the wind. She smiled and held the stone to her chest, where it found the chain that her Pendant hung on and attached itself to it as well. Aemiri lifted herself back onto her little piece of cloud and drifted away.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked quietly. Sigrun climbed down the hull of the stranded ship and sloshed through the warm water to the boat.

“Yes, we’re ready to go,” she replied shortly, swinging herself inside.

“Cirros blew you off and left, didn’t he?” Hafeli asked knowingly. Sigrun huffed and took her place in the boat.

“Yes, he did. And I don’t want to discuss it,” she mumbled. “Let’s be off, I have a feeling we still have a long ways to go.”

The ocean that they travelled on didn’t change depth or colour; the only change that they could see was the distant sand dunes and the moving of the sun. The two of them took turned pushing the boat along in the water. One would work while the other slept. Hafeli took control when the sun rose into the sky, guiding it through the day and Sigrun would take over when the sun set, taking it through the night. They seldom talked, but neither one of them were concerned about it. It was just normal to them.

After a few weeks out on the ocean, Hafeli spotted another vessel on the water. It had a large sail and quickly skittered away from them. Hafeli woke Sigrun and together they pushed their little boat to catch up to the larger sailboat that they had seen. As they pushed onward, other boats began to appear, small ones like their own, tall ones, ones with large white sails, some with pulled by sails held by only string and even a few that floated on two massive rolls. At first the collection of boats and ships paid them no heed. But when it became quite clear that they didn’t know where they were or where they were going, a small sail skittered out to meet them. The sail was attached to a tall, skinny mast, which was then attached to a flat, smoothed piece of wood. The person on the board held onto a horizontal piece of wood that was part of the sail and guided it towards the boat.

The rider called out to them in a strange language and Sigrun made a motion to let the other person know that they did not understand what he was saying. The young man tried a different language and again Sigrun had to make the same motion. He seems perplexed for a while before simply motioning with his hands to follow him. He turned his little vessel around and made for one of the bigger sails that they could see in the collection.

It turned out that the large sails weren’t part of a boat, they were part of the harbour. Wooden poles rose from the water at different heights and widths. The man motioned for them to pick one, tie up their little boat and join him. He climbed off his vessel and waded through the water to a boardwalk that was floating on the water. Hafeli quickly tied up the boat and the two of them waded towards the floating pathway after the man. He waited for them to climb onto the wood before he started trotting down it, towards the sails. They had no choice but to follow him.

Underneath the large sails was an open air market. There were tables and booth set up in rows and the space between them was filled with people. Sigrun could make out two distinct races; there were dark-haired, slightly tanned people wearing robes and kilts and there were dark-haired, deeply tanned people wearing loose pants or dresses. The first group of people seemed quite and withdrawn, while the others were rambunctious and loud. It made for some interesting transactions.

The man led them right through the heart of the market to the middle. There appeared to be some sort of trading center right in the middle that swapped currencies and other delicate items. Sigrun watched as a hooded man handed over a bag of white crystals and received a bunch of strangely shaped coins in return. He asked a question to one of the robes men, who pointed him further into the market. He turned at looked at Sigrun and Hafeli and again motioned for them to follow him.

The market ended suddenly, where it gave way to sparkling white sand dunes. Various coloured tents were spread out on the sand, sprinkling the colourless desert with a rainbow. They were led straight through the tents, to a bright blue one on the far side. The man motioned for them to sit and went inside. Sigrun shrugged and sat down in the sand. Hafeli copied her.

“Who do you think is in there?” Hafeli asked.

“Someone important, most likely,” Sigrun replied. They sat and waited for a few minutes quietly, with the buzz of the Markey behind them. Suddenly, a cry of pain came from the tent. Sigrun was on her feet and inside instantly.

Inside there were three people: the man who had led them from the docks, an older, wrinkled lady and a younger woman giving birth. The younger woman was in pain and it was obvious that the older lady wasn’t used to this. The man looked completely lost in worry. Sigrun completely forgot that they were strangers and stepped in to help the old lady. Using the water from a pot beside the bed, she was able to calm the young woman. Soon she was holding a baby girl in her arms. At that point the old lady scooped the baby out of Sigrun’s arms and, after cleaning it off, wrapped it in a clean cloth and cooed at her as she screamed.

Sigrun careful slipped back out of the tent to where Hafeli was standing nervously, deciding if she should go in or not. At the sight of Sigrun covered in blood she almost fainted. Sigrun quickly sat her back on the sand.

“What happened in there?” she asked softly.

“The man’s wife was giving birth and the midwife, if she was one, didn’t know what to do,” Sigrun replied. She stripped the blood off her skin and clothes and buried it deep in the sand.

“You helped.”

“Yes. I am trained as a healer.”

The man came out of the tent and dropped to his knees in front of Sigrun, his mouth motoring in the language that he had first spoken to them on the water. Sigrun tried to calm him down, but he was too overjoyed. He darted back into the tent and came back with the baby in his arms.

“She’s so cute,” Hafeli whispered. Sigrun was barely listening to her.

The man had stopped talking and was now pointing at Sigrun. When he noticed that she didn’t get it, he pointed at himself.

“Kalo,” he said clearly, then pointed back at Sigrun. She smiled.

“Sigrun,” she replied, pointing at herself. The man nodded and pointed to his newborn daughter.

“Sigrun.”

He smiled again and dipped his head multiple times to Sigrun and vanished back into the tent. Hafeli stared at the waving tent flap in disbelief.

“I think he just named his little girl after you,” Hafeli stated. Sigrun nodded.

“That’s what I got too.”

The man came back out and sat in front of them, a determined look in his eyes. He pointed to Sigrun.

“Sigrun,” he said. She nodded. He moved his finger to Hafeli.

“Hafeli,” she replied. She raised her finger and pointed at him. “Kalo.”

He seemed pleased and decided to move on. He brought his hands up to his face and began opening and closing his mouth. He added a word that neither of them knew.

“Oh!” Hafeli exclaimed. “He’s asking us if we’re hungry.”

Sigrun stomach growled. They both made the motion back and nodded. Before the man stood to get some food, they had to repeat the word back to him several times before he was satisfied. They sat on the sand waiting for him. They could hear the babbling of the old lady and the young women inside the tent and the occasional cry from the baby. Kalo returned with a basket of fruit and sat down with them again. He taught them the names of all the fruit as they ate. He then pointed to a smaller tent, one that had obviously quickly been set up as if they had been expecting them. It was theirs.

Kalo and his wife stayed in the city that Sigrun learned to be Mi’ot for several months. In that time Kalo spent half the day teaching Hafeli and Sigrun the language and the other half he spent with his family. The old lady, they learned, was Kalo’s mother.

By the time Kalo was packing up to leave Mi’ot and go home, Sigrun and Hafeli were fluent in Kituen and were working on the desert language of the Jurans. The strange sounds of the desert language made it difficult to learn and the unwillingness of the local Jurans to talk to them made it even harder. Soon they had all but given up on learning it. Jura was a land of sand, not of water, what use would it be to them outside of the trading city anyway?

Sigrun stretched her arms into the air and stepped out into the morning breeze off the ocean. Kalo saw her and trotted towards her.

“Sigrun!” he said. “We are leaving for our home in Rive today. Will you be coming with us?”

“I believe we will be going at least part of the way with you. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go in Kitue yet,” she replied. Once they had become fluent enough in Kituen, Sigrun had explained their mission to Kalo, who had understood more than she thought he would. He told her back that every Kituen is born with the water magic in them, it was part of who they were. He completely understood why the Water would want to have its home among the islands of Kitue.

“That is good news!” he declared. “Sirie and young Sigrun will be very happy to have you along.”

Sigrun had quickly formed a bond with the little girl who now shared her name. It was rare among the Kituens to have any colour of eyes besides blue, but little Sigrun’s eyes were as green as her namesake’s. Kalo’s wife, Sirie, was worried at first that her daughter wouldn’t be accepted, but Kalo and his mother assured her that her difference would be celebrated as a connection to someone who had been honoured with the purpose of carrying Water for her life.

“We will meet you at the southernmost board then,” he added. “Sirie wants to buy a few things in the market to take home with her.”

Sigrun nodded and Kalo trotted away again, in the direction of the market. Hafeli emerged from the tent and stretched her arms. She and Kalo’s mother, Ferop, had bonded in the same way Sigrun and the baby had. Ferop had been teaching Hafeli about the culture and traditions of the Kituen people. Sometimes Hafeli would pass on some of the information to Sigrun, but most of the time they would talk about the Water. Sigrun was growing increasingly distant and quiet. Being in the presence of such a power energy center for the element was stressing her out a fair bit, every Kituen radiated with the element in their actual beings. She wondered if they could feel the presence of Water in her like she could in them. Sometimes, when a large trade caravan came in off the ocean, she would go and hide in the Juran side of the city, just to get out of the throbbing power of Water.

That’s where she was going now. Hafeli watched her leave and went in search of Ferop. The Juran district was not brightly coloured like the Kituen district, the tents were shades of tan, matching the desert backdrop. She wandered into the streets, unbothered by the Jurans that were mingling around. They all knew who she was and that she didn’t speak Juran, so she was left alone. That’s the way she wanted it.

Sigrun was wandering aimlessly through the streets when she heard shouts directed in her direction. She turned and saw a young man running down the road towards her, followed by a young woman. They skidded to a stop in front of her. The man started talking incredibly fast; asking her questions, she guessed by the influxes in his voice. He paused and looked at her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Juran,” she said in Kituen. The woman lit up and started talking to the man then turned back to Sigrun.

“He doesn’t speak Kituen, but I do!” she exclaimed. “I’m Aloa and he’s Timas. He’s saying that you remind him of a man he met in the Wandering Desert a few months ago. Do you know anyone called Cirros?”

Sigrun’s jaw dropped.

“He’s met Cirros?” she stammered, struggling to hold onto the Kituen tongue. Aloa translated for Timas and he began babbling again. Aloa tried to calm him down.

“Timas says that he found Cirros lost in the desert with a girl named Aemiri. They travelled to Jairo together where he confronted the Sky Guides and got the king’s permission to reform their ways,” Aloa translated quickly, before rapidly talking to Timas. The two of them seemed enthralled at what Timas had just said. Sigrun let them chat for a while before butting in again.

“Where is Cirros now? Is he well?” she pressed. Aloa asked Timas.

“Neither of us have seen him since Jairo. He stayed there to teach the Sky Guides,” Aloa told her. “We haven’t been back to Jairo since then. Timas agreed to take me through the desert to Mi’ori, but the Paths took him here instead.”

Timas was rambling on to Sigrun again. Aloa listened.

“He says that if he sees Cirros again, he’ll tell him about meeting you,” she translated. Then she was talking to Timas again and they wandered away from her, leaving her alone again. Sigrun’s thoughts had leaped around, trying to guess what Cirros was doing.

“Trying to avoid the goodbye,” she muttered and walked away.

She spent a few hours in the Juran district before Hafeli found her.

“Sigrun! Kalo is ready to leave and he said that you had announced that we were leaving with them,” she said, her Kituen much more pronounced than Sigrun’s.

“Yes, I just got a little distracted,” she replied, choosing to withhold the information she had heard about Cirros and Aemiri. She didn’t want Hafeli to feel lonely without her old friend.

Hafeli and Sigrun walked side by side to the market. Hafeli took a detour and swung by her favourite booth to say goodbye to the friends she had made. Sigrun slowly walked towards the southern exit. Hafeli caught up to her just as she was walking through the giant door. She was carrying a large basket full of fruit and sweetbreads.

“Look what they gave me as a parting gift!” she exclaimed. “I told them that I would try and come visit them if I could.”

“That would be nice for you and for them,” Sigrun stated, stepping onto the floating boardwalk. They walked down the bouncing path to a small boat tethered directly to the dock. Sirie and little Sigrun were already seated in the bow of the boat. Kalo was waiting on the dock for them. He waved them over and they started to jog down the boards.

“I wish to reach Kheta by nightfall. It’s a bit of a stretch, but if we all combine our magic then maybe we’ll be able to do it,” Kalo said.

“I’m sure it’s doable,” Sigrun replied. “You take the tiller, Hafeli and I will worry about moving us along.”

Kalo held the boat steady while Sigrun and Hafeli climbed in and took their places on either side of the boat. Kalo pushed the boat away from the dock and sat in the stern, next to the tiller. Sigrun perfected her balance and began to direct the water beneath them into a fast moving current. Hafeli gave full control to Sigrun and assisted in breaking down other magical strands in the water ahead of them that might give them problems.

Kalo was surprised that the speed that they were going; he was having difficulty handling the tiller.

“I can’t steer properly if we go at this speed,” Kalo called.

“Then raise it from the water and join your wife in the bow,” Sigrun called back. “We can manage it.”

Kalo pulled the tiller up and climbed passed them to his family.

“Hafeli! I’m going to need you steering,” Sigrun shouted over her shoulder. “There shouldn’t be much of a threat of flows out here.”

“Yes master!” Hafeli replied. She moved to the back of the boat and sat in the spot that Kalo had vacated.

The sun was just beginning to set when the flags of Kheta came into view. The island looked like a sandbar from where they were approaching from. But soon palm trees rose from the horizon.

Sigrun slowed the boat as they approached the mouth of the harbour so that they could drift into place. The dock was close to what Mi’ot had, but not as grand. The boardwalks lead straight to the shore, where wooden houses built on short stilts started.

Fingers started pointed to them approaching. As they pulled up at a dock they could hear whispers dogging their movement. Kalo helped Sirie out of the boat and was welcomed warmly by another woman.

Sigrun tied the boat while Kalo and Sirie presented little Sigrun to the woman. She took the child and held her close, playing with her little fingers. Kalo ran back to Sigrun and Hafeli.

“I would be honoured if you joined us for dinner with Sirie’s sister. She would like to meet you,” Kalo said.

“We would love to join you,” Sigrun answered. Kalo smiled and ran back to his wife. They followed a little farther back.

The table was laden with foods that Sigrun had never seen. In Mi’ot, a lot of the food was Juran because the city was a Juran city. This food was much more colourful and Sigrun imagined that it was much tastier as well. They sat at the low table on plush pillows.

It turned out that Sirie’s sister was a sky reader, what Sigrun understood to be a fortune-teller of sorts. She grabbed Sigrun’s hand in earnest and introduced herself.

“I am Soria,” she said. “It was I that told my sister that her birth would be difficult, and that she should await your coming in Mi’ot. To Kalo I told how you would arrive.”

“That’s lovely,” Sigrun replied hesitantly.

“I would love to tell your future!” she giggled.

“Um, I suppose that would be all right, but not now.”

“Eeee, I’m so looking forward to it!” Soria squealed. She then turned her attention back to her sister and the little girl in her arms. Sigrun shook her head and headed out for a bit of air. There she met with Kalo.

“She’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t she?” he said. Sigrun laughed nervously, but couldn’t find the words to answer. Kalo laughed.

“She really did tell us to go. Sirie was having difficulty moving and had been sick for a few weeks before we asked for her help. To be honest, I was sceptical that you would actually arrive. But there you came, when and how she said.”

He glanced out at the sea.

“I don’t know how she did it,” Kalo whispered. “Before that she was wrong more than right. But for some reason, this one absurd guess from the sky, this one was right.”

“She is a mage?” Sigrun stated.

“Everyone has magic of some sort in Kitue. Those born without seldom live past a few days. You need the Water in you to survive in an environment like the Islands.”

“But the abilities vary,” Sigrun guessed.

“Yes. Soria said that she could hear the Water in people and made guesses on their future on what she could hear.”

Sigrun chuckled.

“If that is so, then of course she felt me coming and merely guessed at where I would land,” she explained. “As I told you, I carry Water itself. That alone would make enough ripples to raise waves.”

Kalo smiled.

“Then she is gifted.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a way for me to get out of this reading that she’s putting me up to?”

“No, I’m afraid not. She expressed her desire to sit with you before she greeted us or congratulated us on our daughter,” Kalo laughed.

Soria burst from the house and spotted Sigrun. She latched on to the foreigner’s arm and started to pull her away.

“Good luck!” Kalo called back. Sigrun gave him a look annoyance and allowed herself to be pulled along. Soria took her to a small peninsula that jutted out low into the water. Someone had paved the area with white stones, creating an irregular shaped court. Soria sat Sigrun down and became a completely different person.

“You are of Water, that is obvious. Even your name, Sigrun, speaks to that. There are many people on these islands who have the same sound to start their name. But you are much more than your name.

“In you I see a powerful wave, roaring across the land and yet not destroying anything. It comes crashing down on our collection of islands, seeking rest. Out into the Great Basin it goes and… oh. Oh. You and it, it…this can’t be. How can someone so strong just go…”

“What have you seen?” Sigrun dared to ask.

Soria looked into her eyes and Sigrun could see true magic shining from behind them. There was also a fear.

“When the wave crashes, the water has blurred the crispness. There is a large disruption in the normal flow of things and then everything just…oh goodness. I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“It’s all right, I know that death awaits me soon.”

“I…You do? But how?”

“It’s the end I have chosen for myself. But I would appreciate it if you said nothing of this to everyone else.”

Soria nodded and stood.

“What I have seen will stay with me. You have my promise.”

She extended her forefinger and pinkie into the air below her shoulder and walked passed Sigrun, who was still sitting.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sigrun rose shortly after Soria and walked back to the house. Hafeli had already turned in for the night; she was sound asleep on her cot. Sigrun lay down on her own and fell asleep.

When she woke in the morning, dark clouds covered the sky menacingly. Some people were packing up and moving around the docks. Sigrun looked for Kalo to explain. He was beside the door.

“Parents with children take the clouds as a sign to travel to Koaz for the awakening. For everyone else, it’s a sign to stay off the waters. This marks the start of our rainy season and the time when the oceans become unmanageable.”

“The awakening?”

“Yes. At the age of seven children from every island comes into the age of discovering the true nature of their magic. At this time of year, the families with children of the eligible age journey to Koaz to await the coming of the rains. I would tell you what happens, but it would be better for you to see it for yourself, don’t you think?”

“But…”

“Hafeli asked to borrow the boat this morning.”

Sigrun smiled in understanding. Hafeli raced down the docks towards them.

“Sigrun! We have to leave know if we have any chance of getting there before the waters get too rough!” she yelled, stopping halfway.

Sigrun ran out towards her.

“When did you become the master?” she joked as she readied the boat to sail.

They were just one of many boats that was coming into Koaz; the waters were speckled with them coming from every direction. Hafeli excitedly pointed to the different flags, her favourite one being the flag from Iogen way out on the eastern edge of the Kituen archipelago.

The harbour was overloaded, but the people of Koaz still managed to find a space for everyone. Sigrun and Hafeli ended up tying their borrowed boat up quite a ways out from the shore and had to swim. Many of the families with older children had to do the same.

“What age does this stop at?” Sigrun asked a much more educated Hafeli.

“They keep coming until they are chosen,” she replied hastily, stepping onto the sand and tried to sluice some of the water off of her skin and clothes. Sirie had given Hafeli some of her older clothes to wear. Hafeli looked almost exactly like a Kituen dressed in them. A few more months under the sun and only her eyes would give her away.

“Sigrun,” Hafeli said. “I’m going to participate in the call to awaken.”

She waited for Sigrun’s reply nervously.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Sigrun answered. Hafeli’s face lit up and she raced off to a large blue and green tent that had been erected on the beach. The other children were heading that way too; the older ones on their own and the little seven year olds on their first journey were being escorted by their eager parents.

As Hafeli ran off, Sigrun was approached by an older, boisterous woman.

“Is that your daughter?” she asked in a deep, booming voice. The lady stood easily two feet taller than Sigrun.

“No, just a good friend,” Sigrun said back, looking up.

“Where are her parents?”

Sigrun was quiet for a moment. Hafeli’s parents had died when she was just a young girl; her mother fell into the ocean while fishing on the floating ice packs that drifted into the Iuris Bay that bordered her home in Lhunari. Her father had been killed by Zakhian soldiers when he chose not to obey their orders. Sigrun had found her wandering in the Joff wilderland and took her in. She’d grown quite a bit since then.

“They’re dead,” Sigrun whispered. The large lady nodded her head and stayed quiet for a bit.

“Then you are her guardian?”

“Yes”

“Excellent. May she be chosen.”

With the formal awakening dismissal, she walked away, heading off the next family coming up the beach. Sigrun shook her head and continued walked. Hafeli returned shortly after. She handed Sigrun a bracelet and told her to put it on. She had a matching one on her left hand.

“These identify us as participant and parent, though you’re not really my mom. I hope that doesn’t matter,” Hafeli began, the excitement running into her words.

“It doesn’t, I already had someone ask me where your parents were. They were all right with the fact that I’m here with you as a guardian.”

“Great! Well, this also tells us where we’re staying. We’re at the end of the beach,” she continued. “I hope it’s not a horribly long wait, I don’t think I can be patient for much longer. You know how hard it was to hold this back from you for all those months?”

“How long have you been planning on this?”

“Ferop told me of her own experience and suggested that if we left Mi’ot before the rains that I should go for it.”

Sigrun shrugged and started walking in the direction of their tent. Hafeli bounced around her talking; Sigrun assumed it was about the awakening, but she wasn’t in the right mind to listen closely. Instead she just nodded and made approving noises at times where Hafeli paused for her input.

Their tent was a communal tent, with cots set up in neat rows up and down from the entrance. Several families were already there, happily talking to their child and encouraging them. Sigrun put her things down on her bed and went to search for a quiet place to think.

The small island had been taken over by the festivities. Away from the beach and the tents, the inhabitants of Koaz had set up large party tents; brightly coloured flags and decorations hung from every tree and pole. Sigrun walked through the empty sets of houses to the far side, where she found a quiet place to sit.

The party started behind her with beating drums and the tingling of chimes. The crowd would burst into song and dance as they partied all night long.

The sky was dark, still covered with the blanket of thick clouds. They were churning above where Sigrun sat in the sand, waiting for the perfect time to dump their loads. Sigrun stayed where she was, eventually falling asleep. No one disturbed her for no one knew where she was.

The pale morning light came with rumbles of thunder roaring through the clouds overhead. Sigrun woke when a drop of rain fell on her face. Slowly, more drops followed the first. A great cry came up from the beach and Sigrun wandered back through the houses to see what it was.

The party tent was empty of all people; a few seagulls had descended upon the remains of the party food. The people had moved from the tent to the beach, where the rain was pouring down. All the eligible children were standing knee deep in the water, waiting.

Sigrun squinted her eyes and saw something moving on the surface of the water. The people around her began to point and cry.

“The Mantas!” they chanted. Sigrun watched silently, concerned about these mantas what they were doing. She spotted Hafeli far out into the water; she had gone farther than anyone else. The mantas rushed into the bay and swam around the children. On the horizon a large creature leapt from the water and landed with an astounding noise.

As soon as the large creature had resubmerged itself, the mantas homed in on a few of the children in the water. With a great flurry of flying water, those children were swept off their feet and were being rushed out into the open water, directly towards the creature. Hafeli was one of the chosen.

She gave a surprised yell as a manta swept under her feet and carried her away. Sigrun watched as she got farther out and realized that Hafeli had no control over the situation. Sigrun broke free from the crowd and rushed down the beach. She dodged the unchosen children that were coming up the beach, some happy, some disappointed, and ran straight into the water. She pulled at the threads of the Water and plunged herself into them.

She could hear the chanting voices of the mantas as they streamed out to the ocean. Sigrun screamed with Water’s voice, a great whorl of water that shook every swimming creature for miles. The mantas panicked and dropped their cargo and fled as quickly as they could into the darkness of the water.

Everyone swam back to the shore, where Sigrun sought Hafeli. When she found her apprentice, she expected a hug and a thank you, but all she got was a cold shoulder. Hafeli stormed off towards the tent leaving her behind confused. All the children who had been taken and their parents were scowling at her fiercely and the rest were frowning.

The large lady was tromping down the beach towards her, her footsteps full of anger.

“What in Pak-Pao’s name do you think you’re doing?” she fumed, standing with her fists on her wide hips. “You chased away the Mantas!”

“I’m sorry?” Sigrun put out. “I thought they were being dragged out to sea…”

“That’s part of the awakening ritual!” The woman was screaming now. “You better pray that they come back tomorrow to finish what you scared them away from!”

The rain continued to stream down from the sky and the ocean got choppier as she watched. The kids wouldn’t have been safe in this, would they? She wandered back to the tent, where all she got was more cold stares.

Hafeli was laying on her cot wrapped in a blanket. No matter what Sigrun tried, she couldn’t get the girl to roll over and face her. Finally Hafeli exploded.

“You wrecked the whole day Sigrun! That was supposed to happen, it happens every year! The kids that are ready go out with the mantas for the night, meet the Pak-Pao and return the next morning. They have never let the people down. But you had to be so controlling, you had to stop them from doing what they do!” she shrieked. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

Sigrun stood up, a grim expression on her face. She walked out of the tent and went as far as she could from the tent. The small grove of palm trees at the end of the island was desert. The waves crashed hard against the rocks that fell into the ocean, sending a curtain of seaspray up into Sigrun’s face. She spent the night under the rain.

The morning came and the children waded back into the water, battling the waves that were beating the beach. They stood there all day. Sigrun watched from a rock far away from the crowds. Hafeli stood alone in the water, the other children had distanced themselves from her. Sigrun figured it was because of Hafeli’s connection to her. She felt guilty for ruining her apprentice’s day and destroying all the excitement that had been building in her for months.

The mantas didn’t return that day. Or the next. And as the rains got harder and the sea swells rose higher it was clear that they had no intention of returning. That night Sigrun spent sitting on the edge of the sea, the waves pushing at her folded legs.

In the morning she sought out the large lady. It was clear now that she was in charge of the festival and now hated her for ruining everything. She begrudgedly agreed to a talk with Sigrun.

“What have you wrecked this time, ignorant one?” she hissed. Sigrun let it roll off of her.

“Let me go try and fix what I have done.”

“What good will that do?” the lady barked. “The mantas are gone and the seas are too rough to go out on even if they came back.”

“I will set up a new way to complete the ritual. The rites and customs will be out of my hands however, they will be dictated by Water itself.”

The woman scowled at her.

“First you act against our oldest tradition, now you suggest that you can convince Water to change what we have been doing for years?”

Sigrun stood.

“Yes.”

The lady laughed in her face.

“I am sixty four and I have know the ocean and the Water for many years. I asked the Water to return the mantas and it replied with a no. I have talked to Water. What more can you do?”

Sigrun took a deep breath to prevent her from launching herself at the lady’s fat neck.

“You listen to me,” she seethed. “I am the Water; it lives inside me. I have been away from my own homeland for a year now, seeking the place that Water wants to rest for eternity. It chose this country, these waters. But I can alter the attitude of the Water. By placing it here I can create havoc for the rest of this country’s history, however long it lasts against the fury of the Water. My whole life has been to catering to the Water. And you dare place yourself above me and say there is nothing I can do?”

Sigrun turned to face the exit.

“I will fix this. But no longer will this awakening ceremony of yours be risk free. In order to realize your full potential, you must give your life to the Water and let it decide if you are worthy of wielding its strength. Just you wait.”

She stormed out of the tent, ripping the flap from its place and hurling it to the ground. The people around the tent quickly turned away and pretended that they had not been listening. As she reached the beach, an overripe seapple hit her back. She stopped short and whipped herself back around. When there was no movement to declare who had thrown the fruit, she continued on her rampage towards the sea.

Hafeli watched as she stormed down the beach and silently hoped that Sigrun wouldn’t do anything stupid. When she had been angry in the past, she had done some things that she shouldn’t have and regretted it later. Above all, Hafeli hoped her master wasn’t angry about her little outburst after the mantas had disappeared.

Sigrun’s feet hit the edge of the water and she swirled it around her, encasing herself in an egg of water. She kept walking down the sand, into the water. She never surfaced again.

When she was gone, the Kituens went back to their normal business. The larger lady thought it would be wise to officially declared what Sigrun had said, since half of the people on the island knew already. They were unsure about what to think about it and decided to wait to see what happened.

Sigrun held onto the dome of water that she had formed around herself and pressed on through the ocean. The sand gradually changed into colourful reefs, alive with multicoloured fish and corals, but there was no sign of any mantas. She kept going.

She figured she had been moving through the ocean for a day now, pushed by the water. She was invariably heading towards a point of interest to the Water. Sometimes she slept in her little bubble, other times she simply watched the schools of fish swimming beside her. A few times a whale had swam over her and once, terrifyingly, a leviathan had circled around her, investigating the bubble. It had been about to eat the bubble whole when a large shadow had swirled out of the ocean and knocked the leviathan. The serpent and the unknown creature continued to fight as the water moved Sigrun hastily away from them.

The ocean grew dark and Sigrun knew that they were getting deeper. For the next day the world was dark. There were some spots of faint light coming from the bellies and heads of bottom dwellers, but those were fleeting.

On the third day the ocean lit up with a strange, pure white light. Ahead of her in the water, she could see a tall beam of white light piercing the ocean to the bottom. She could see the shapes of the lost mantas circling around it. At its base was a small raised section of the ocean floor. On it was a cave. She moved the bubble towards it and entered the cave. Surprisingly, the inside of the cave was completely dry. The beam of light intensified here, almost blinding her. Curiously, she reached out and touched it. A childish giggle filled her ears as the ocean around her exploded with magic. The beam of light began to spin, drawing the ocean into a massive maelstrom.

Sigrun walked further into the beam and felt herself fading. The world around her was turning white. A female voice spoke to her.

“What you had told the leader of the Kituens is now true. Any Kituen wishing to master Water must now venture into the ocean and find this place in the ocean. They will have to let the Pillar of Water decide who is worthy of living and who is not. That will be your job, Sigrun, for you are the Pillar.”

“Hafeli…” she stuttered, speaking against the swirling light around her.

“Hafeli will be well taken care of,” a male voice said. “She will be the first to visit you here and she will lead the Kituens into a new tradition.”

Sigrun smiled and let herself go.

The ocean ceased swirling almost instantly. Where the cave had been now stood a spiralled Pillar, like a horn, standing tall on a submerged island. Its pale blue and white light lit up the ocean floor for miles around it.

When Sigrun had disappeared, the ocean suddenly became calm. The rains continued, but the ocean did not reflect the sky’s mood. Hafeli stubbornly set herself at the edge of the water where Sigrun had sat the night before and refused to leave. She sat there for the rest of the day, and for the next two after that.

Kalo and Soria arrived the fourth morning and were told what had happened the week before. Soria faced Kalo.

“I did promise Sigrun that I would not speak of this, but this seems like an appropriate to share what I saw in part. Sigrun had chosen her death, and I feel that her vanishing into the ocean was the start of that decision,” Soria said softly. “She’s not coming back.”

Kalo listened to Soria’s words and looked at Hafeli sitting on the beach. He could see something glimmering on Hafeli’s cheeks.

“I think Hafeli knows that too,” he replied just as quietly. He took a blanket that had been hung on a line inside a tent and walked down the beach. He draped the blanket over Hafeli’s shoulder and gave her a hug.

“She went away mad at me and she’s not coming back,” Hafeli cried quietly. “I’ll never get a chance to apologize.”

Kalo remained quiet, sitting beside her.

“You will always have a place with my family, should you chose it,” he said after a while. “We will gladly take you as one of our own.”

Hafeli sniffed and stared out at the perfectly calm sea.

“She did that. She stopped the ocean.”

Kalo stared out at the sea with her. A ripple was approaching them. Kalo creased his brow and put his hand to his face. Something was coming towards them.

Hafeli suddenly stood up, shed the blanket and ran into the water to greet whatever it was. Tears were rolling down her cheek again. Kalo waited on the beach, astonished.

The creature slowly rose to the surface, its huge flat back spanning nearly the entire bay. Hafeli reached out to it and Kalo’s jaw dropped.

“Pak-Pao…” he exclaimed. People felt the creature and rushed to the beach. The Pak-Pao was the ruler of the Great Basin and never got close to shore. The mantas did its bidding.

Hafeli reached out and put her hand on the Pak-Pao’s smooth skin. The beast roared into the water and a bubble rose from its mouth. It floated on the surface of the water, not popping. Inside it was a smooth blue stone, glimmering with magic. Hafeli slowly pushed her hand into the bubble and took the stone. The Pak-Pao mewed softly and vanished beneath the surface again, leaving Hafeli with the stone.

“This is Azure, stone of Water,” a voice echoed from the water. “She is yours to protect.”

Hafeli nodded and held it tight in her hands and turned back towards the shore.