ã€ŠWhere The Tempest Breaksã€‹


 Prologue

    The hull of the boat slammed into the side of the dock, shuddering to a halt. Tyr Druil Halvin, who had stood tapping his foot on the main deck of the small corvette, lurched forward, nearly tripping over his robes. Steadying himself on the central mast, the Magister turned to cast his furrowed gaze at the pilot atop the boat¡¯s cockpit.

    ¡°Is it your first time docking, sea-rat?¡± he screamed. The sailor scowled but didn¡¯t respond, and instead jumped down and began tossing the mooring lines to a man standing on the dock. Druil adjusted his robes and sighed in frustration. He was still nearly a week out from Montefyd. Had he taken the usual route through Port Alshin, he could have chartered his regular Caravel and had an entire cabin to himself. Instead, he had spent the last four days sharing quarters with the rest of the crew, who lacked any sense of propriety.

    While he waited for the other sailors to finish mooring the boat, Druil scanned what he could see of the portside town.

    It was abundantly clear that he was in the middle of nowhere. There were certainly no bath houses here. Even if there was one, he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d want to use it. The harbourfront was practically in ruins, half the buildings that occupied it awash in brine and muck, the other half blasted by sand from the plains. The series of wooden piers that lined the wharf were in varying states of disrepair. He sneered as one of the sailors pushed by him.

    ¡°You¡¯ll watch where you¡¯re going, boy¡± he said. He¡¯d been on this death trap for far too long with these filthy men and was just about at his wit¡¯s end. Being stopped by a Vertan blockade earlier in the day didn¡¯t help quell his annoyance.

    The sailor muttered something under his breath.

    ¡°What¡¯s that, boy?¡± Druil scolded.

    ¡°Uh..nothing¡­Magister. Sorry about that.¡± the man said, feigning a smile as he fiddled with the gangplank to ensure it was stable before making a gesture for Druil to cross it. Straightening himself, he gave a nearly imperceptible nod to the sailor and crossed onto the dock. Druil was relieved to finally be rid of the ship''s crew, and he made a mental note to speak to the Melyin naval authority about them. He had a brother-in-law who was in a position of some importance. Perhaps he¡¯d have him ring up some charges against the ship. While there was no sign of nefarious activity, he was sure the sea-dogs must have been up to no good. Their hospitality was certainly criminal. Kosun scum.

    Stepping onto the dock, Druil groaned when he saw a hand proffered toward him. A tall man with a feathered hat pressed against his chest stood in front of him.

    ¡°Good evening, Magister¡± nodded the man, unphased by Druil¡¯s outburst, ¡°and welcome to Meshaf. You¡¯ll find lodgings just up the road at our inn, Vermillion Lodge. Would you like me to escort you there?¡±

    ¡°Hah.¡± Druil gave a haughty laugh ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. I have business here this evening, but I don¡¯t want to spend any more time in this¡­town...than I need to. Why don¡¯t you make yourself useful and take my bags to your Postation. I have a caravan chartered to leave this evening and I¡¯m already late. Let them know I¡¯ll be arriving in an hour or so.¡±

    The man looked befuddled ¡°Uh, well I work for the hotel sir. I don¡¯t really have anything to do with¡­¡±

    Druil flicked him a single Grellic mark. The man caught it in surprise.

    ¡°Listen, servant. I normally travel with a retinue to do these things for me. Unfortunately we were separated. That I¡¯m even talking to you is a privilege, I assure you. I imagine that Grell will suffice, no?¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess I could, but I¡­¡± started the man, examining the gold coin, the setting sun glinting off it like fire as he turned it in his hand.

    ¡°Good man. My luggage is onboard still, but I imagine these¡­gentlemen¡­will help you locate it. Do be careful with my things, yes? Oh, one more thing. Where is Osham¡¯s Taverna?¡±

    ¡°Just further down the harbourfront, sir.¡± the man said, pointing towards the southern end of the docks.

    Without another word, Druil began walking down the dock, side-stepping around a pair of docks-men repairing a section of planks, their simple cotton shirts stained with what looked like fish grease. He clicked his tongue. He still couldn¡¯t believe he was here. There was certainly no chance of eating any rosemary-crusted duck or smoking any quality tobacco in his chibouk. He¡¯d be lucky if he could even find decent rations to supply his trip across the plains.

    He watched several more workers make their way down the dock toward the wharf before following them. A bucket half-full of fish guts was precariously propped against the final post of the dock before the wharf.

    Druil pinched his nose.

    He was going to have to tell Trevyn that this was the last time they would be meeting in such a remote place. That he still acquiesced to the mysterious man¡¯s wishes was a miracle on its own. Druil smiled. Well, the man did pay exceptionally well.

    Turning onto the wharf, the Magister avoided eye contact with the locals as he strolled south. That was another thing. Travelling alone without a guard escort was unheard of for a man of his station. What if some unsavoury decided they wanted to rob him? Sure, Druil could probably deal with any threat himself but getting his hands dirty felt so vulgar. Blast Trevyn¡¯s paranoia to Dyn and back. Sharing examination details was technically prohibited by the Charter, but nobody cared. A little information for a lot of coin wasn¡¯t going to hurt anyone and half the Magisters took their fair share of bribes.

    Moving along the wharf, his mind drifted to home: to the sun drenched spires of Montefyd, the smell of lavender in his apartment gardens. He was just daydreaming about sipping Elderwine on his terrace, when he nearly ran into a drunkard stumbling out of a large brown building. The man walked two more steps and vomited on the road before stumbling off.

    ¡°Lovely. This must be the place¡± Druil said to himself, looking up at the stone building, its wooden sign dangling from the facade, ¡°Osham¡¯s¡± shoddily carved into the rotting wood.

    Opening the door, the overpowering smell of burning wood and stale ale  greeted him. He stepped in and surveyed the dimly lit tavern canopied with a thin layer of smoke. Four or five patrons sat quietly scattered amongst the cluster of eclectic tables in the middle of the room. Druil wrinkled his nose as he ambled around a puddle of ale on the floor, lifting his robes.

    ¡°Can I get you anything, Magister?¡± called out a voice from behind the bar at the far end of the room. A burly woman in a green tunic with a towel slung over her shoulder looked at him expectantly. Druil took the wide, crimson mitre off his head and smoothed his hair.

    ¡°I hardly think you¡¯ll have anything I¡¯d like. A tea will have to suffice.¡± he responded.

    ¡°Notta problem.¡± responded the woman, starting to turn around.

    ¡°Barkeep¡± began Druil. The woman turned back. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be meeting someone here, do you have any rooms put aside?¡±

    The barkeep¡¯s face shifted before responding ¡°I¡¯ll bring that tea over¡± she said, nodding towards the far corner of the room.

    ¡°Are you deaf, I said¡­¡± Druil started, but stopped when he followed the keeper¡¯s nod and noticed a cloaked figure sitting at the corner table, barely discernible in shadow. Druil strode over, oblivious to his long robes smacking one of the bar patrons in the face as he walked by.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t have picked a nicer place to meet, Trevyn? I fear we¡¯ll fall ill if we tarry for too long.¡± said Druil as he sat down at the table, looking about with a pompous smile on his face. No one seemed to acknowledge his joke.

    Trevyn adjusted the silk scarf around his face, his emerald green eyes watching Druil intently as he sat down and situated himself.

    ¡°If your report is anything like the last ones I doubt we¡¯ll take very long¡± he replied, his quiet voice, barely discernible over the sound of the waves lapping against the wharf outside.

    Druil eyed the mysterious figure. He¡¯d met the man nearly a dozen times over the past two years and, surprisingly, had not been able to learn much about him. Not for a lack of trying. He¡¯d had several of his subordinates try to follow him, unfortunately, to no avail. What he did know was that the man had coin to spend.

    ¡°Oh. Well I¡¯ve actually got a few interesting ones for you this time.¡±

    Trevyn raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Oh yes¡± continued Druil. ¡°I¡¯ve been conducting exams throughout the Western Continent for the last month. I¡¯ve met several exceptional potentials.¡±

    Druil was about to pull out his list when the barkeep came over and set down a small pot of tea before pouring it into a cup in front of him. He feigned a half-smile while staring at the woman¡¯s hands dubiously. After filling Druil¡¯s cup, she set the pot on the table and walked back to the bar.

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    ¡°Give me the list. Tell me about the ones who stood out the most¡± said Trevyn, his voice even, and calm.

    ¡°Do we really want to discuss this with all this rabble here?¡± began Druil, turning to look at the rest of the room¡¯s occupants. The taverna was empty. Even the barkeep had disappeared. Druil turned back.

    ¡°Impressive. I knew you were rich, but I didn¡¯t think you so resourceful. No matter. Well yes, let¡¯s see.¡± Druil took a small scroll out of his sleeve and threw it on the table before leaning back in his chair and crossing his fingers.¡°Ah yes. There was a young woman just south of Luka. Very impressive. By the way, I wouldn''t recommend going there. The city is such a pain to enter, what with the siege and all.¡±

    Trevyn fidgeted with the scroll, spinning it around absently on the table. ¡°How was she impressive?¡±

    ¡°Well, her manipulation was extremely durable. She was able to concentrate even with the highest level of distraction. Nearly uncanny. It¡¯s a shame she was an orphan. Filthy thing, really¡± Druil took a small bronze disc out of his cloak and rolled it between his fingers.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s it. You wanted anomalies in the test. She¡¯s an anomaly¡±

    Trevyn sighed. He unravelled the scroll and began to look it over. ¡°Who else?¡±

    Druil sneered. The man was impossible to please.

    ¡°There was a very impressive boy...Northern Verta¡­but I think you¡¯re out of luck with him.¡± mumbled Druil.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± snapped Trevyn, looking up from the list.

    ¡°He¡¯s affiliated with the Tyr Onum. I imagine he¡¯ll be whisked away in no time. Was channelling two forms of kose at once though. Just in the exam. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. Well-bred too.¡±

    Trevyn mumbled something under his breath and continued perusing the list. Druil had the sneaking suspicion that he had said something to upset the man. He relished the thought as he took a sip of his tea.

    ¡°Disgusting¡± he said, spitting on the ground and pushing the cup towards the centre of the table.

    Trevyn stretched out the list on the table and began moving his finger down it. Druil smiled to himself. The man cast an almost pitiful figure. He was clearly consumed by some futile obsession.

    Trevyn¡¯s finger stopped . ¡°What¡¯s KW?¡±

    Druil leaned forward and turned the list slightly. ¡°Ah, yes Kellek¡¯s Watch. Remarkably, someplace even more insignificant than here. There was one young woman who was quite exceptional¡­if you¡¯d like to hear about her¡­¡±

    Trevyn held up his hand as he read through the notes.

    Druil sighed ¡°We¡¯ve been doing this forever now, Trevyn. I¡¯ve highlighted half a dozen extraordinary potentials on this list but I can¡¯t narrow it down if you don¡¯t specify. I really don¡¯t know what you¡¯re looking for. Would you like me to tell you about the nump in Revenshore with the broken leg who couldn¡¯t channel, even with the stone pressed right up against her forehead. Oh! I know maybe the forty-year-old man from Princeps who said he¡¯d never been tested but claimed he learned weaving from a city full of rats. Really, Trevyn, I think if you were looking for something you would have found it by now.¡±

    The cloaked man didn¡¯t reply and rolled up the list, leaned back in his chair and began fiddling with it. His green eyes were flicking back and forth, as if searching for something in front of him.

    Then they focused on Druil.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to keep this,¡± said Trevyn.

    ¡°Ah. That won¡¯t be possible. I need it for the Archives. I can copy it for you but you will have to pay me. ¡±

    Trevyn pulled a rolled up piece of paper from inside his cloak and handed it to Druil, who began to unroll it

    ¡°Yes as I said, I¡¯ll need payment and at least twenty minutes to perform the necessary¡­¡± He gasped. Before him was an exact copy of his list.

    ¡°You¡¯re Rellian?¡± asked Druil, aghast. ¡°How did you¡­¡±

    The man didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he took out a bundle of notes and began to flick through them. Druil felt an itching sensation on the back of his neck. He took a breath. He didn¡¯t like being ignored.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be testing again until after Storm Season. If you want to continue our arrangement I can ask the other Magisters for their records. I am sure it¡¯s not lost on you that I only oversee a small fraction of examinations. But sharing material is prohibited and not without its risks.  If you want me to stick my neck out then we will need to¡­renegotiate...our contract¡±

    Trevyn¡¯s nose was buried in his notes, which he had put up in front of his face.

    ¡°Did you hear me? Trevyn?¡± Druil hissed.

    Sighing, Trevyn pulled out a heavy leather pouch and tossed it on the table, casting a reproachful glance before turning back to his notes. Druil grabbed the sack and weighed it in his palm. It felt about right. Maybe he¡¯d purchase a new set of gilded robes to go with his mitre when he got back home.

    ¡°Excellent. You¡¯ll have to double it if you want other Magister¡¯s notes¡±

    ¡°Huh? More? Yes, sure. Fine.¡± Trevyn replied.

    ¡°Fine. Very well.¡± Druil stood up and absently wiped off his robes.

    ¡°It looks like we are done for now, yes? The sooner I leave this place, the better. Write to my steward as usual when the storms pass. I¡¯ll speak with some of the other magisters, but don¡¯t expect anything from me unless I¡¯m paid. Remember, Trevyn, double.¡±

    With that, he turned on his heel and walked towards the door. On his way he noticed that the barkeep had returned. Odd. Druil glanced back one last time before leaving. Trevyn sat unmoving in his seat, his fingers idly tracing something indiscernible onto the table as he read one of his crumpled scraps of paper in the dim candlelight. An odd man, thought Druil. He pushed the door and walked out onto the wharf.

    He shivered and tightened his cloak around him in the evening chill. Inhaling through his nose, he looked past the docked skiffs with their furled sails and out toward the sea. He was tired of the smell of rotting seaweed and brine and couldn¡¯t wait to be back in Montefyd. Back in civilization.

    Taking a few steps, he inspected his sleeves and pants in turn. They reeked of smoke. He¡¯d have to change into something cleaner once he settled into the Caravan. That dolt from the docks better have not damaged his luggage.

    Druil looked around, getting his bearings, and set off down the wharf towards what he presumed was the Postation. The streets were empty; night had fully fallen on the town. The slow lapping of the buoys floating in the bay produced a calming rhythm, and Druil let out a yawn. It was tiring dealing with a month¡¯s worth of idiots compressed into the past four days. Hefting the coinpurse in his hand a few times, he smiled, before tucking it into his breast pocket.

    The wharf was illuminated by torches that had been planted into the dock posts, their flickering light casting elongated shadows across the few shops on the other side of the street. It was beyond him how such places even stayed in business.

    ¡°Druil¡±, whispered a voice from behind him.

    The magister startled, stifling a yip as he stopped in his tracks. He looked back. There was no one there. The day¡¯s toil was clearly starting to weigh on him.

    He took another step and then stopped again. Something was different about the street. The torches had stopped flickering, and Druil, horrified, realised that the long silhouettes they cast had turned into more definite shapes. He swallowed and took a step back, as a crowd of shadowy figures formed along the wharf, staring out to sea.

    Still moving backwards, Druil fingered the bronze coin in his robe, watching as the silhouettes¡¯ heads moved ever so slightly, as if tracking something beyond the wharf. Cautiously, he followed their gaze and saw a strange yellow light snaking through the water.

    ¡°What mischief is this¡± he muttered, watching the light dart erratically below the surface of the shallow waves.

    Suddenly, the mote shifted course and shot towards one of the short piers just in front of Osham¡¯s. Druil turned to find the shadowy figures had been restored to nebulous shapes dancing in the torches¡¯ firelight.

    ¡°What in all of Estioch is going on¡± he cried ¡°Trevyn, if you have something to do with this you¡¯re in for a world of pain.¡± He strode back to the front of Osham¡¯s and peered in the window. The taverna was empty, the only signs of life being the half-filled mugs sitting on the tables from the patrons he had seen earlier.

    Turning back towards the water, he saw the strange mote circle one of the moored skiffs at the end of the pier before plunging down toward the seafloor. He squinted. Something down there was being illuminated.

    Druil started inching towards the pier. Stepping down onto the first wooden plank, he looked about. He took out his coin and held it tightly in his hand as he sidled toward the light.

    A gentle splash sounded from beneath the dock.

    Druil reached the edge. As he leaned over it and looked down into the water, the light suddenly vanished.

    There was still something there. Just a few feet below the surface.

    Getting on his hands and knees, he leaned over the dock and brought his face right down to the water.

    An eel head burst through the surface and nearly smacked Druil in the face, who lurched up and fell back onto the dock. The creature splashed back into the water and darted away.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± he yelled. Gathering himself, he stood up and kicked a chum bucket into the water. He looked about, but no one was around. He started back towards the wharf.

    About halfway up the pier, something wet slapped against his ankle.

    Sighing, Druil kicked his leg and looked down, expecting to find the eel or some discarded fish carcass left by one of the dockworkers.

    Instead, what appeared to be a smooth tendril of water, no bigger in width than his forearm, had latched around his shin, and was slowly engulfing his foot.

    Druil yelled and tried to kick it off but its grip grew tighter and started to tug him toward the water. Four more tendrils erupted from the surface and shot towards him, latching firmly to each of his limbs, the final one wrapping around his neck. He was ripped off the dock and into the water.

    As he splashed  about violently, Druil managed to wrench a hand free from its shackle. He grabbed the edge of the dock, his nails biting into the wood as the violent force tried to pull him into the depths.

    The magister screamed for help, but all that came out of his mouth were muffled squeaks of choked air.

    He couldn¡¯t hold on.

    Fingers slipping off the dock, he fell backwards and plunged beneath the surface.

    As the icy waters filled his lungs, he stared up toward the surface. Silhouetted against the dimming light of torches, he could just make out a cloaked figure standing at the edge of the dock before the world went black.

 Chapter 1

    The lever gave a reluctant groan as it reset into position. Wellynd, face red and dripping with sweat, placed his hand on his hip as he turned to watch the loading trolley clatter back down the rail toward the front of the warehouse. He welcomed the blast of cold wind rushing in through the large portcullis. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the blood pounding in his ears and embrace the autumn bite that gnashed at his hot skin.

    On Ars Illuve, it was still late summer. But Wellynd, like every islander, liked to think of the Sea of Elaudri, whose winds now hammered at the side of the warehouse, as a sort of Oracle. The sea shouted the shift in seasons long before the land. Even now, weeks before the trees on the mountainside would turn traitorous and forsake their ageing leaves, the air had a certain scent to it. That unsettling smell that prophesized violent storms and bleak, bitter nights.

    It was the same air that preceded every stormy season past. There was, however, one major difference. Those seasons, in spite of their violent hails and cutting winds, in spite of their ten foot waves that thrashed the docks and never failed to carry some unfortunate soul into Elaudri¡¯s unfathomable depths, were brightened by a sort of youthful optimism. He used to spend those few months nestled up inside, reading tales of Usum, learning about Artan history in the small schoolhouse of Kellek¡¯s Watch. Even last year, when a landslide from the mine cut off the town from the rest of the island, his hopes weren¡¯t dampened. He remembered hunkering down in the back of Neera¡¯s house with his friends, listening to hail rattle the roof as the four of them dreamed about going to the Revenshore Observatory together and leaving their small, quiet island behind.

    That was around the time they had finished school for good. Their final lesson was the same one that everyone learned before making their way in the world: how to channel.

    Wellynd frowned. He never liked the word ¡°channel¡±. He couldn¡¯t believe that people even called it that. It just didn¡¯t seem to fit. But, it was what their teacher, Master Nasso, had called it. Pulling was what Wellynd and his friends had decided to call it instead. Because that¡¯s what it felt like: pulling something, the very essence of the world, that fiercely hot and exhilarating substance, whatever it was, right out of the air.

    It was during that final class that Wellynd had learned another important lesson. An awful lesson. He was different from everyone else.

    Leaning over the railing in front of him, he let out a long sigh. Every time Wellynd pulled, he felt excruciating pain.

    It was a horrible, inexplicable, infuriatingly annoying pain that swelled up in his chest. No one had ever heard of it happening before, let alone knew why it happened. Everyone just said it would probably go away. It didn¡¯t.

    Clambering down onto the ladder, he descended toward the loading bay. He stopped as a drop of sweat fell from his nose onto the black scar on the back of his right hand.

    It all would have been fine ¡ª the pain, the extra work ¡ª had he passed the test. But it wasn¡¯t fine. He¡¯d failed.

    He¡¯d been keeping his mind off of it the past week by working. Laine had asked him to reorganise the entire warehouse while he was away in Port Alshin, and Wellynd had the sneaking suspicion his uncle had wanted to keep him busy.

    He hopped off the ladder and walked toward the edge of the dock, kicking a nearby stone, sending it skipping into the choppy waters where it was stilled by a lapsing wave. Sitting down, he turned his hand into the sunlight spilling through the portcullis. The black mark etched into his skin didn¡¯t reflect the light, and it hadn¡¯t changed in the slightest since the examiner had burned it there a week ago.

    Wellynd pushed back his hair, sighing as he looked to the horizon. Over the past few nights, when he laid in bed, body sore from shuffling crates around the warehouse, he couldn¡¯t help but replay the scene in his head. The examiner, with his large, strange looking hat, disinterestedly telling Wellynd about his "peculiar" limitations. That such constraints were ¡°too much to overlook¡±.

    He rubbed the strange symbol, its delicate lines growing blurry in his vision. This symbol meant he¡¯d probably be working in this warehouse for the rest of his life.

    Despite only being seventeen, he¡¯d already been working here for the better part of five years. He¡¯d spent five years loading heavy crates of unprocessed stone, ore, and foreign goods into the warehouse, his toes always numb by the end of his shift from the icy water that soaked through the seams of his leather-patched boots.

    He shivered.

    Like nearly everyone else around him, he was just a Kosun.

    It wasn¡¯t clear what the word directly translated to; he wasn¡¯t particularly keen on ancient Venen in school. But the implications were clear.

    Wellynd would never be a Koshai. And while that didn¡¯t mean much to most people ¡ª most folks still learned respectable trade when they failed the test ¡ª it meant everything to him. He would never be admitted to any of the Observatories and he would never be anyone important. Only Koshai, those who passed the test and learned the secret crafts from the Observers, were given high-ranking roles in Artan and Vertan society. Only Koshai would live extraordinary lives.

    Wellynd wiped his sleeve across his nose and stared back down at the docking pool, his black, curly hair falling in front of his eyes. This was all ridiculous. Laine seemed just fine as a Kosun. So did Henry; in fact, Henry was reputedly the faster guster on the island. Wellynd always marvelled as the sails of The Brinebreaker swelled when Henry called the wind and the ship ripped through the waters.

    Then again, Henry had always said he¡¯d be no match for a guster from the Observatory, and that he¡¯d seen Koshai practically skip massive warships across the turbulent waters of the Elaudri.

    Wellynd sighed. He would love to see that someday.

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    He needed to stop dwelling on it. There was nothing he could do.

    Wellynd shook the thoughts from his head before scanning the warehouse. He¡¯d always admired his uncle¡¯s ingenuity in designing the place. If the grizzled sailor was to be believed, it was the only one like it on the whole island. The small docking bay enabled the Brinebreaker to sail directly into the warehouse from the sea, and once the small ship was docked, the portcullis would close behind it. Not only did it allow the crew to haul crates right off the deck and onto the loading crane, but it had the additional function of keeping prying eyes off the boat and its cargo. When you were a smuggler like Laine, that bit was rather important.

    Turning from the waters of the docking pool, he walked toward the front of the warehouse and eyed the peculiar object crudely affixed to the wall inside the operators booth from where the crew operated the portcullis and the loading crane.

    The device was a jant.

    Well, it kind of was.

    Most of the jants Wellynd had seen were comprised of a circular, brass plate moulded around a crystal sphere that held a diamond-like stone. This jant, however, was more of an oval, had several score marks along the front plate, and he could swear there were a few faint cracks in the glass chamber. He guessed that Laine had either bought it from another smuggler or, more likely, taken it from one of the rich merchants he so often swindled when they went on a run.

    Like most people, Wellynd had no idea how the strange contraptions worked. All he knew was that they were used for moving things more easily. A person would stand in front of it, their hand placed firmly against the stone, pull the ambient energy out of the air, and then push it into the device. At least, that¡¯s what he¡¯d been doing, though it seemed every person had a different way to describe their process. He and his friends had used it to practise pulling, and, even though the exam was now behind him, he couldn¡¯t get himself to give up the daily ritual.

    He checked behind him to make sure the trolley, and the hook hanging from it, had come back to its starting position above the pool before staring forward and relaxing his shoulders.

    Inhaling, he placed his hand on the brass plate and closed his eyes. Letting out a slow, long breath, he imagined falling into himself.

    The waves lapped against the wall of the docking pool, their tempo slowing as all else fell away.

    Keeping his breathing steady, he focused. Maybe it won¡¯t hurt this time.

    The air around him was cool, laden with tiny specks of the ocean drifting ashore. He felt it patter his skin and imagined absorbing it through his pores.

    There it was.

    The air grew thick as a soft tingling heat washed over him.

    Magic. He couldn¡¯t help but shiver with excitement every time he felt it.

    Delicately, he began to will the energy into his body.

    Gently.

    He had to coerce it into him. Maybe if he was slow enough, it wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    He felt it pour into the centre of his chest.

    Pain. He tried not to panic as the stinging heat began to radiate outward from his sternum. Ignoring the sweat rapidly forming on his brow, he turned his focus to the cool brass plate beneath his palm. Wellynd pursed his lips and exhaled a shaky breath, exerting his will on the mass that now throbbed in his chest. Imagining the energy as a vein of fire, he began to direct it down through his arm and into his hand until he felt the fire begin to flow into the jant. The metal greedily accepted it, the crystal encased within the enclosing glass sphere responding to the energy with a rapid rattle.

    The jant was now burning hot. So hot that he felt as if he were holding his hand against a wood stove. Unable to take it any longer, he shunted the last of the energy into the jant. A loud clack echoed from above as the empty trolley shot up the rail and snapped against the top of the loading bay.

    Letting go of the jant, Wellynd found himself stumbling toward the ocean before bracing against one of the dock¡¯s posts. After a moment¡¯s rest, he raised his hand, and, like always, was surprised when he saw no lingering effects from the jant. No burns, no change in his skin¡¯s honeyed complexion. Nothing.

    The pain in his chest was completely gone, too. It always happened that way. He couldn¡¯t even remember how the pain felt.

    Flexing his fingers, he rolled them into a fist before shaking his hand out at his side, briefly glancing up at the balcony and the loading bay behind it. The trolley was swinging loosely without any cargo to weigh it down.

    Wellynd bent down and took a seat on the side of the dock, letting his legs swing freely, leaning back as his hands came to rest on the smooth wooden planks. He had just replaced them last year, and the treated wood showed little sign of wear. That would change in the coming months. Elaudri¡¯s salty water quickly ate at the wooden boards and caused them to rot, especially during the Season of Storms. He stared out toward the horizon, noting the long wispy clouds farther out at sea. It looked like a storm might be headed to shore. But, for now, the gusts blowing only a moment ago had lapsed into a light westerly wind that smoothed the incoming waves as they lapped softly at the support beams beneath his feet.

    Bracing his palms, he suspended himself off the dock and stretched his leg downward to kick at the top of the water, splashing out toward the open sea. No. He would find something different to do. He had to.

    Wellynd glanced back towards Laine¡¯s office door. He¡¯d been procrastinating setting out for his delivery all morning and was dreading the trek to the mainland. He sighed. Exchanging smuggled skald with criminals wasn¡¯t exactly a cure to his melancholy. Then again, neither was sitting around here. At the very least, he¡¯d get to see Alara.

    Standing up and stretching his arms, Wellynd went into Laine¡¯s office and walked over to the large wooden desk that sat in the middle of the room. As always, the desk was littered with papers.

    Pulling open the top drawer, he fished through the miscellany of broken tools, bolts and half-smoked cigars until he located the small blue pouch Laine had mentioned. From the rancid smell alone, he could tell it contained Thislrut powder.

    Neera¡¯s mom, Kellek¡¯s Watch¡¯s only healer, used the stuff in a lot of her salves and ointments, but the plant didn¡¯t grow on Ars Illuve. She had hinted that her supply was running low and to bring some back if he had happened to come across any. He chuckled to himself. Although Laine would never admit it, Wellynd had the sneaking suspicion that the old smuggler had a crush on the woman and imagined that he had sought the powder out as soon as he docked at Port Alshin in Melyar.

    Straightening up, Wellynd squinted and scanned the dim office, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The only source of light assayed its way through the dirty windows facing the sea. It was a mess; there were papers strewn about every available surface, and the room reeked of cherry cigar and mildew.

    It took him a few moments, but he finally spotted his quarry; a large rucksack sitting in the corner. Striding over, he grabbed the strap and promptly slung it over his shoulder. He groaned. It was heavy. How many skald was he delivering? He¡¯d have to take a look at the list once he hit the road.

    Taking one last habitual glance around the cluttered room, Wellynd headed for the outside door, making sure it was locked on his way out, and bound up the stairs.

 Chapter 2

    Wellynd stepped onto the dirt path that headed south towards Mine street. Laine¡¯s warehouse stood just beyond the edge of town, surrounded by several other shipping warehouses on the shoreline. These other buildings, however, had long been abandoned, the brick falling away from their rusted iron supports. The Sulfhawks, who had made their homes on the crumbling window sills still sparkling with broken glass, were the only remaining occupants.

    Years ago, the whole street would have been bustling with activity. Wellynd remembered playing hide and seek with a boy named Edward, the son of one of the sailors for the shipping company three warehouses down. They¡¯d spend hours chasing each other in between the stacks of crates, annoying dock workers with boyish pranks, and pretending they were knights who served the folk hero Usum, using their Koshai powers to rid Kellek¡¯s Watch of invisible villains who attacked from the sea. Wellynd wondered where Edward was now.

    Everything had changed when Bertrand Snellium Sr., the owner of Illuvian Minerals, had bought most of the land and absorbed the majority of the shipping outfits on the island. Apparently he had paid each of the owners a, in the words of Laine, ¡°disgusting¡± amount of money. Evidently, Laine had refused such an offer. Wellynd didn¡¯t know why. If he had to guess, it probably had something to do with the war. Verta had occupied this part of Arta for over two years now and, while it didn¡¯t really matter much to Wellynd, people tended to get into a lot of disagreements about it. He¡¯d heard Laine refer to Bertrand¡¯s dad as a ¡°Vertan Lapdog¡± on several occasions.

    He readjusted his pack as the dirt path gave way to cobblestone road.

    While Neera¡¯s place was on the other side of the town, Wellynd thought he would stop by Klof¡¯s on the way. He hadn¡¯t spoken to his friend since the day of the examination.

    Klof, like Wellynd, had failed. They had walked home together after the test, and Klof, normally a loud mouth, had been completely silent.

    As he approached his friend¡¯s house, a modest home built entirely of the brown stone mined from the quarry, he began to hear loud, splintering cracks. Wellynd rounded the corner of the house to see Klof¡¯s father splitting wood in the side of their yard.

    ¡°Hey Conrin, how¡¯s it going?¡± Wellynd called, waving as he approached.

    Conrin split another log and left the axe in the stump as he looked up.

    ¡°Welly! Just fine, lad. How¡¯s your uncle doin? Staying out of trouble I hope?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s keeping busy. On a shipping run somewhere out there¡± he gestured towards the sea. Laine hated anyone outside the business knowing where he was.

    Conrin nodded as he wiped the sweat off his brow. ¡°And you? Hope you aren¡¯t beating yourself up too much after that test nonsense¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯m alright. Trying to keep busy. I¡¯m heading up to Revenshore today actually.¡±

    ¡°Good. A man needs to keep busy¡± Conrin nodded.

    He turned and stared out toward the sea, as if to show off the long jagged scar carved into his jawline. Wellynd assumed the man had received it during his time fighting the Artan civil war. It had happened before Wellynd was born, but it had left many of the nation¡¯s men maimed or broken. Wellynd shuttered. Conrin must have been his age when he fought.

    ¡°How¡¯s Klof doing? I was going to see if he wanted me to get him anything from the mainland,¡± Wellynd asked, shifting his feet.

    Conrin glanced up towards the second floor window above his shop before looking back at Wellynd, his brow furrowed. ¡°Still sulkin¡¯ up there. Wish he would try to move past it. Season o¡¯ storms comin¡¯ and there¡¯s still lots to do. Can¡¯t be wastin¡¯ time.¡±

    Wellynd looked up towards the window and thought he saw the curtain waver.

    ¡°Do you need anything, Conrin?¡± he asked, looking back down to find the man¡¯s stark blue eyes set on him, searching.

    Conrin gave a short smile ¡°No, don¡¯t worry about me. Island¡¯s got everything I need, Welly. Safe passage,¡± he said as he began to wrench the axe out of the log.

    Wellynd started shuffling backwards ¡°Thanks. See ya around, and let Klof know I won¡¯t be around for a few days, if you could.¡± Moving his bag to the other shoulder, he turned on his foot and raised a hand, waving as he walked away.

    ¡°Will do Welly. Take care now.¡± Conrin called, his reply followed by the loud crack of wood splitting.

    Wellynd glanced back at the window one more time before rounding the corner, but saw no sign of his friend.

    He knew Klof had been excited about joining the Observatory. They all were. But he never guessed his friend would take it so hard. He kicked a loose stone that had popped out of the road. Then again, maybe anyone watching Wellynd over the past week thought him just as pitiful a sight.

    As he made his way onto the thoroughfare, Wellynd nodded at the few townsfolk walking the street, who replied with curt smiles. One of the perks of being the nephew of the town¡¯s resident criminal was that most folk kept their distance. He didn¡¯t think anyone thought of Laine as dangerous; he was just a smuggler after all, but he guessed that most of the townspeople would never stick their neck out for Laine if he was in a spot of trouble either. Wellynd had never been keen on small talk, so the lack of warmth suited him just fine.

    He scanned the shops as he strode down the street. The mine shift clearly hadn¡¯t gotten out for the day as there were very few customers at Remy¡¯s general store, and even the Boar¡¯s Head Tavern was quiet.

    Walking past the hospice near the end of the main stretch, Wellynd turned down the alley at the far end of the building; Neera¡¯s family lived in the back so that her mother would always be ready to treat something urgent.

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    He stopped at the side door when he heard muffled laughter. Carefully, he opened the door a small crack and turned his ear.

    ¡°...going to be great!¡±

    ¡°Do you remember what happened? What did they say to you?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done Kellek¡¯s watch proud, Neera! Or do I call you Apprentice now?¡±

    A pit formed in Wellynd¡¯s stomach. They were celebrating her acceptance into the Observatory. Clearing his throat, he stood up straight and let the door swing shut.

    He¡¯d bring the powder when he came back.

    As he started to walk away, the sound of the door creaking made him stop.

    ¡°Welly?¡±

    Forcing a smile, he turned to see his friend standing in the doorway, her slim figure barely discernible against the dim light of the hallway.

    ¡°Hey Neer!¡±

    She walked forward into the sunlight and stared at him suspiciously, her big brown eyes scanning his face as her light brown hair loosely tossed in the breeze. Wellynd¡¯s eyes darted to the gleaming brass medallion that hung around her neck. Only Koshai in training were allowed to wear them.

    ¡°I was just going to drop off this Thislrut stuff for your mom,¡± he half-turned, shrugging his shoulders to show his travel bag. ¡°It sounded like you guys were busy though so I figured I would just come by later.¡± he continued, trying to keep his eyes from staring at the medallion.

    She, evidently, noticed and promptly tucked it into her shirt.

    ¡°Oh, no, we¡¯re not busy at all. My mom is just making a big deal out of the whole exam thing. Kinda stupid if you ask me.¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not stupid¡± said Wellynd, avoiding eye contact.

    She shifted a little closer ¡°Right. No, you¡¯re right. Anyway, it¡¯s kind of just a get together. Did you wanna come in? I¡¯m sure Newt would love to get away from all the adults. He just finished another one of Usum¡¯s tales and has been dying for someone to talk about it with.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I wish I could Neer. I¡¯m about to head to the mainland. I¡¯m hoping to catch the last ferry before nightfall so I have to get going.¡±

    Just as Neera looked like she was about to protest, her mom poked her head through the doorway.

    ¡°Neera, what are you doing out here, everyone¡¯s waiting. Oh hey Welly! Wanna come in? We have fruitcake.¡±

    Ursa Kiregin looked nearly identical to her daughter, the only major difference being the deep wrinkles that shot out from the corners of her eyes. A byproduct of fifty years gathering herbs on the Illuvian mountainside, no doubt. Wellynd always thought she looked like a sort of wise raven.

    ¡°Sorry Ms. Kiregin. I can¡¯t, heading to mainland for some deliveries.¡±

    Ursa glanced at the pack slung over his shoulders.

    ¡°Mhm¡± she hummed ¡°Not carrying anything that might get you in trouble with the Vertans, I hope?¡±

    Wellynd forced a laugh. He had nearly gotten in trouble with a few officers from the Vertan excisors a few months ago. Ursa had been out gathering at the time and had somehow managed to talk the soldiers into letting him go.

    ¡°Nothing like that. Just some mineral samples for some of the folk at the Observatory¡± he lied.¡°Oh!¡± he pulled off the bag and fished around the front pocket, pulling out the burlap pouch. ¡°Laine picked some of this up while he was in Melyar last week. He told me to give it to you.¡±

    Her eyes lit up. ¡°Arthus bless your Uncle.¡± She walked over and took the bag ¡°I really needed this. There were a ton of accidents up at the mine last week. Bertrand really needs to train those workers better¡­anyway, I¡¯ve nearly run out, so Laine has once again saved the day. Do tell him to drop by sometime. It¡¯s been months since he¡¯s been in. And while you¡¯re at it get him to stop smoking those awful cigars.¡±

    ¡°Will do¡± Wellynd said, as he watched her smell the pouch before deftly storing it in one of the pockets of her robe. She then glanced over at Neera, who had moved aside and was staring expectantly at her mother. She turned back to Wellynd and surveyed him for a long moment, as if she were trying to discern what ailment he suffered from.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you aren¡¯t feeling great about the exams.¡± she said, ¡° I wouldn¡¯t worry about it, Welly. I failed too. I expected all of you to fail, if I¡¯m being honest¡± She flashed a warm smile to her daughter, who stuck out her tongue in reply.

    ¡°Because almost everyone fails,¡± she continued ¡°That¡¯s just the way of things. But that didn''t stop me. I know it¡¯s hard to believe but trust me when I say Kosun can learn just as much as Koshai. We just have to be a little more clever about it.¡± She tapped her nose and chuckled.

    ¡°Uh. Yeah, I know.¡± he said, scratching the back of his head.

    Ursa beamed. ¡°Come back in a few weeks after Neera leaves. We¡¯ll have a chat. Since Neera¡¯s off to the Observatory, I¡¯ll need to start training someone else to be the town¡¯s healer anyway. We¡¯ll see if you¡¯re cut out for it. Safe travels, dear.¡±

    With that she turned and headed back through the door.

    Wellynd glanced at Neera ¡°Well that was weird,¡± he chuckled.

    Neera grinned. ¡°Tell me about it. Try living with her. Anyway, let me know when you¡¯re back. We¡¯re gonna do one last delve before Bertrand and I leave. You up for it?¡±

    Wellynd nodded ¡°Definitely. And tell Newt we can talk all about Usum when I get back.¡±

    He picked the bag up off the ground and started towards the road. Neera stood there, watching him for a few moments before heading back inside, the cheers of the revellers echoing out momentarily before being silenced by the door swinging shut.

    Wellynd walked with an even pace up the road. His mind felt inflamed. He knew Ursa was trying to give him hope, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel a little irritated at being Neera¡¯s substitute.

    He rubbed his eyes as he turned off the town¡¯s central road into the small copse of trees behind Tollok¡¯s forge.

    As he pushed his way through a small opening of bramble bushes, Wellynd¡¯s mind drifted back to the image of Klof sitting up in his room, brooding in the dark.

    No. There was no point in sulking more. All in all, Ursa¡¯s offer was a good thing. That she wanted to help him and maybe even teach him some magic was exciting, and it might offer opportunities to get out of the warehouse. Who knew. Maybe even off the island. More importantly, this meant that people, or at least Neera¡¯s family, didn¡¯t think of him as a lost cause.

    He hopped over a fallen tree and nearly tripped, the weight of the pack sending him to one knee.

    Or maybe they did and that¡¯s why they were taking pity on him. He shook off the thoughts and veered onto a steep path that led up the mountainside.

    After several minutes of ascent, the ground levelled out onto a wide dirt road. The Illuvian highway, most called it, and it circled the entire island. Wellynd stood in the middle of the road for a moment, catching his breath as he looked back toward the town below him.

    He didn¡¯t know what people thought.

    But what he did know was that he had a long hike ahead of him. Readjusting the straps on the pack, he set off towards Reven¡¯s Crossing.

 Chapter 3

    Wellynd stopped in the middle of the road, taking a long, refreshing draft from his waterskin. The afternoon sun, no longer blocked by the mountainside, beat down onto his face as the water spilled from the sides of his mouth and onto his tunic. He wiped his mouth and replaced the stopper, retying it to the loop on his pack.

    Staring down the highway, his eyes followed a wisp of dust that swirled up off the road from a gust of wind. Almost there.

    He¡¯d made the trek to Reven¡¯s Crossing dozens of times. Every islander he¡¯d ever met had, with an alarming amount of certainty, claimed that it was the most beautiful hike in all of Estioch.

    Wellynd wasn¡¯t sure how they knew that, since most Illuvians never left the island, and if they did, it was only to go to Revenshore¡¯s markets. He could admit that the views along the road were picturesque; the mountainside spilling down into the sea on the east side of the road, the rocky slope ascending to the heavens on the west, but he had spent so much time reading about the sublimity of the twisted peaks of Rel, the blackened forests of Shadkara, and the seemingly infinite Vermillion Plains of Melyar, that the familiar Illuvian beauty couldn¡¯t help but fall short to the visions conjured in his boyhood imagination.

    A sulfhawk screeched above him before barreling down into farmland below the highway.

    As he plodded down the road, he found himself resorting to his familiar cure for boredom: making up stories. He liked to imagine himself as a powerful Koshai, weaving fire to fend off a pack of feral kippings from a group of travellers, or commanding the trees to attack a group of bandits in the woods. When he passed by one of the many towns that dotted the coast, he would make up tales about the people he saw there, imagining that the blacksmith of Westcrag had no idea how to shape metal, and just spent his days hammering weapons he¡¯d bought from a smuggler, or that the mayor of Tevid¡¯s Leap, who Wellynd often spotted walking out the back door of the town hall, was sneaking off to meet his secret lover in the grove further up the mountain.

    He rounded a corner and a wave of relief washed over him; a wooden post with the sign for Reven¡¯s crossing sat precariously on the side of the road. He would be able to see the small town in a few minutes.

    While he walked, a renewed spring propelling his step, he scanned the eastern horizon, the ocean stretching out into oblivion. His eyes caught sight of something a few hundred yards out from the rocky shore. Placing his hand over his brow, he saw the iconic bronze sails of a Vertan Warship. Ever since the beginning of the Northern nation¡¯s occupation, one was hard-pressed to find a vantage point on the island that didn¡¯t have a view of one of their Corvettes or Galleys patrolling this side of the sea. The vessel crested a large wave, its billowing sails swelling proudly above its blackened wood hull and he imagined himself standing atop the bridge deck, the salt spray lightly peppering his face as the ship sliced a cut in the sun-kissed tapestry of azure sea. He squinted, barely making out the soldiers standing on the main deck, the sun glinting off their bronze helmets as black-cloaked sailors scurried like fleas amongst them.

    Wellynd didn¡¯t really remember much from the Vertan invasion. One day he had been walking back from the schoolhouse with his friends and a troop of thirty or so soldiers had marched into town, led by several men in black cloaks. There was no fighting, no resistance. The Artan High Court, which sat far away on the other side of the mainland in Vel Megnum, had never more than a few soldiers stationed on the island and, according to Henry, the Vertans had taken the island in three days. The people of Ars Illuve never identified with Arta, having been ignored by their mainland counterparts for so many years. No one really cared who was in charge. As long as their way of life wasn¡¯t affected, it didn¡¯t really matter who made the laws.

    Most of the islanders were so apathetic to goings on of the mainland that the Vertans had even set up a recruitment office in Monk¡¯s Landing, two hours south of Kellek¡¯s Watch. Wellynd had even contemplated joining up the day after he failed the exam, thinking he could at least learn to fight and travel somewhere new, but Laine had put a stop to that. He was one of the few islanders who did have a problem with the occupation. He had said joining the enemy would be shameful for any son of Arta to do.

    As he made his way around the last bend in the road, the mountain finally gave way to an open view of the northern peninsula of Ars Illuve, where the Sea of Elaudri met with Arthus¡¯ Strait at a narrow point of flat land. On that point sat Reven¡¯s Crossing, its small cluster of buildings dwarfed by the massive stone lighthouse looming over them from the very tip of the island. Beyond the lighthouse, and far off across the channel loomed the sloping shores of the mainland, the terracotta roofs of Revenshore barely visible against the distant backdrop of verdant green.

    He slowed his gait and eyed the grey-black mass of cloud that loomed on the northwestern horizon. While the beauty of the Highway was generally exaggerated, he felt that this viewpoint was the sole exception. Not only could you see the quaint northernmost port of his home, but also arguably Arta¡¯s largest port city just beyond it. And, as if unifying the two ports under one banner, Arthus, the patron Eikon of Arta, its ancient rings of incomprehensible origin encircling its subtle glowing star, sat loftily above them.

    He stopped and took in the sight. Most thought that the Eikons were crafted by the gods, although some believed that they were the gods themselves. Wellynd always liked to imagine that people built them. That some ancient civilization had flown up beyond the clouds and built it ring by ring. He always wondered what the other Eikons looked like; he couldn¡¯t imagine anything being as beautiful as Arthus. He frowned as a cloud began to obscure the strange celestial object.

    Setting his eyes back on the sea, he couldn¡¯t help but notice the whitecaps crashing into shore down below. He renewed his pace. They seemed to be multiplying with each passing moment.

    Hopefully the ferry would still make one more crossing before nightfall.

    As he began to descend the hill, his eyes traced the winding road that snaked its way down the mountainside.

    He abruptly stopped.

    His heart started to pound as he peered at a cloud of dust that crawled up the road towards him. His stomach sank as he saw glints of bronze.

    There was one big change to his life since the Vertans came. They really didn¡¯t like smugglers.

    Trying not to panic, he breathed deeply to slow his quickening heart. Slinging the bag off his shoulder, he pulled open the drawstring. He had been so distracted by his conversation with Ursa and Neera that he had forgotten to check if Laine had padded the goods. Angling the bag towards the sun, he peered in.

    He let out a sigh of relief. A large pile of colourful pebbles and stones sat at the bottom of the main pocket of the bag; Peyrite, Magstun, Iron, and Volcanstun enveloped the fifteen skalds; their dull grey insignificant against the metallic reds, silvers and golds. No wonder the damn thing was so heavy, Wellynd thought, as he re-tied the bag and slung it onto his back. He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed down the path towards the oncoming cloud of dust.

    Altogether, it took almost ten minutes for him to reach the group of soldiers. As Wellynd had gotten closer, he had been further relieved to see that it was not a party of Excisors agents. His many trips to and from the mainland had made him well versed in the different types of Vertan convoys that occasionally patrolled the highway. As far as he could tell, the group that now approached looked like run-of-the-mill soldiers.

    Wellynd stopped at a bend in the road and waited as the group approached, their rhythmic jog now echoing off the mountainside behind him. There were ten of them altogether, running in three parallel lines, each three men deep, with the squad leader at the front.

    ¡°Halt!¡± yelled the leader, as they grew near.

    The men slowed to a stop as their leader continued to march toward Wellynd, who waved and smiled.

    ¡°Hiya. You guys just get on shore? I think I just saw your ship a while back.¡± Wellynd chimed.

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    The soldier arched an eyebrow and looked at him curiously for a moment.

    ¡°Where are you headed?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Isn¡¯t that obvious?¡± Wellynd joked, nodding towards the town below.

    The soldier grunted.

    ¡°I¡¯m hoping to catch the last ferry to Revenshore, uh, sir.¡± he added.

    ¡°What for?¡±

    Wellynd gestured to his pack with his thumb ¡°Rocks, I think. Usually I carry mineral samples for some of the folks at the Observatory. Judging by how heavy it is.¡± he made a show of hefting the pack ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s what¡¯s in here. You can take a look if you want.¡±

    The soldier¡¯s eyes flicked to the pack before scanning Wellynd up and down.

    ¡°You have a passport?¡±

    Wellynd nodded, casually slipping his hand behind him, taking his documents out from the small pocket sewn into the backside of the bag, and handed them to the soldier.

    The Vertan captain stared down at the well-worn passport, eyes darting from stamp to stamp. Shifting on his feet, Wellynd tried to naturally survey the landscape, avoiding any direct eye contact with the nine soldiers that were now loitering on the side of the road.

    After a few long moments, the captain looked up, assessing Wellynd¡¯s clothes before returning his gaze to the delivery bag.

    ¡°What is it exactly that you¡¯re carrying?¡± he asked again.

    Sighing, Wellynd pulled the bag off his shoulder and placed it on the ground in between himself and the fully-armoured soldier, trying not to eye the shortsword dangling from his hip. He loosened the drawstring for the main pouch and pulled open the sack. The captain pushed Wellynd back as he leaned over and peered into the bag.

    ¡°As I said, they just look like rocks to me. Every few weeks my Pa sends me off with this bag of rocks or minerals or whatever and I take them to the Observatory in Revenshore. They pay well. All I know is I¡¯ve been travelling from Monk¡¯s Landing since before dawn and that I¡¯m tired.¡± replied Wellynd, yawning. ¡°My Pa¡¯s the foreman at the quarry and he lets me keep 5 grell for every delivery so it¡¯s a decent gig for me at the moment.¡±

    As the captain scanned the contents of the bag, Wellynd watched his face for any sign of surprise. The man was probably only a few years older than him.

    ¡°You¡¯re kind of young to be travelling so far alone.¡± the captain said, finally, straightening up and handing the passport back.

    Wellynd shrugged and casually cinched the bag shut.

    ¡°Pa says it¡¯s good prep for the military. I just failed my exams, so I¡¯m hoping to get off this fishgut infested rock as soon as possible.¡± he replied.

    The captain looked back towards the mainland for a few seconds before making a signal to the soldiers, who reluctantly started picking up their shields and packs, some of them stretching out their legs while letting out groans of irritation. Certainly not Verta¡¯s finest, Wellynd thought.

    ¡°Yeah I guess so. We¡¯re actually headed to pick up new recruits at Monk¡¯s Landing right now. Maybe I¡¯ll see you there soon.¡± he turned to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder and added ¡°Make sure they don¡¯t send you right back here though eh, kid? I swear on Deakon this island is the most boring place on this side of the continent. No offence.¡±

    Wellynd replied with a nervous laugh as the soldier walked over and resumed his position at the front of the squad before letting out a three note whistle, and starting up the road, quickly falling into a synchronous jog with the rest of the group.

    He turned back and looked down at the bag sitting on the ground, giving his heart a moment to slow. Even though he had run into patrols like this several times, the faint chance of getting caught still shook him to his core. It wasn¡¯t so much that he was that afraid of getting caught, though he was, but that he hated the idea of going to jail for something as insignificant as smuggling skald.

    He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading down the road towards town.

    Reven¡¯s Crossing was small. Despite being the only public port between the island and mainland, not many people actually lived there. In recent years, the vast majority of traffic was military, so when an islander came through town, it was common for them to spot curtains rustling in windows or encounter quizzical looks from residents sitting out front their homes.

    Wellynd made his way down through the single central road of houses and shops. Since the Goldenshore Inn also ran the ferry service, Alara¡¯s father being the ferryman himself, it sat at the far end of down, the last building sitting by the dockside before the point stretched out to the lighthouse. The inn itself was one of the few two storey buildings in town. The second floor was reserved for rooms and living quarters for Alara¡¯s family while the first floor acted as tavern and shop for the town.

    Ignoring the front door, Wellynd walked over to the side of the inn and peeked his head around the corner, gaining a clear view of the docks at the back. The ferry hadn¡¯t arrived yet so Wellynd knew that he still had a bit of time before he had to get ready; the dock also seemed to be clear of soldiers from the excisor¡¯s office, who occasionally hung around to interrogate travellers moving between here and the mainland. Their absence was a relief. The last thing he needed was more soldiers rifling through his bag.

    He turned around and gingerly pushed his way through the door, the sound of the bell drawing the attention from the dozen patrons sitting at tables throughout the large open room. Looking past the eclectic group of faces in various states of drunkenness, two of whom, Wellynd noticed, were Vertan soldiers, Wellynd saw Alara sitting behind the counter, a tired but happy grin crawling across her face when caught sight of him walking towards her.

    ¡°Excurse me, do ya happen ter have a flagon full er¡¯ claret round¡¯ here ma¡¯am?¡± Wellynd asked in the heaviest Illuvian sailor¡¯s accent he could put on.

    ¡°Ohh ya, Fer sure I do, lad. I just gotta ruffle ¡®roun the back to find it, if ya¡¯d like to join me lad.¡± replied Alara in her own fake accent, directing him with one arm towards the door at the far side of the room.

    Wellynd skipped toward it, Alara quickly slipping through the kitchen door behind the counter.

    As soon as Wellynd entered the back room, a potato came flying at his head. He narrowly dodged it, the abrupt movement causing him to teeter over into a pile of flour sacks.

    ¡°That would have hurt!¡± yelled Wellynd into the dim darkness of the back room. The only reply was a soft giggle emanating from the gloom.

    Another potato came whizzing toward him, slamming into the flour sack next to his head with a short thud.

    ¡°Won¡¯t your mom get mad that you¡¯re wasting potatoes or something¡± he said, grabbing the potato, pushing himself up off the mound, and throwing it back into the direction it came from.

    A faint slapping noise filled the silence of the room as Alara emerged out of the darkness, her dark curls pushed down in front of her face, a smile faintly visible through the tangles, as she casually tossed the potato up and down in her hand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s gonna notice a potato or two missing, Wellynd. If she does, I¡¯ll just say you took it and have dad charge you extra next crossing.¡± she said.

    ¡°Great, I¡¯m sure Laine will love the extra billing¡± he replied, walking up to her and snatching the potato mid-toss, chucking it aimlessly into the backroom.

    He looked at his friend and noticed the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.

    ¡°Gonna come down and visit anytime soon?¡± he asked. Alara usually spent the end of the summer months in Kellek¡¯s Watch, staying at Neera or Wellynd¡¯s place.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been pretty busy. I¡¯ve been running most of the shifts this last week¡­Feels like Mum and Dad have just been trying to keep me occupied since the exam.¡± she said, dropping her last round of ammunition into the sack at her feet. ¡°Sorry. I just couldn¡¯t make it.¡± she said flatly.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he started, slowly, ¡°you think you could come down for some delving later this week? It¡¯ll be the last time before Neera and Smelly Snelly head off to the Observatory.¡± he said, taking a step backward and sitting on the pile of sacks against the wall.

    Alara paused.

    ¡°Yeah, I mean maybe¡­I have a feeling it¡¯s just going to get busier.¡± she looked up and pushed the hair off her face. He thought, just barely, that he could see her eyes glistening against the lone lantern in the room. So she was still upset about failing the exam too.

    ¡°Come on¡­ do you really want to miss out on learning about the history of the mine and how Snellium Senior daringly purchased the plot on intuition alone? You know it was filled with some of the most valuable minerals, right?¡± jested Wellynd.

    Alara rolled her eyes and chortled. ¡°I think we could turn down a different shaft at any point in that story and Bert wouldn¡¯t notice for an hour.¡± she said, sitting down on a crate beside her.

    ¡°Yeah I bet. Who knows though, maybe it¡¯ll be one of the other two stories he has about his Dad.¡±

    Alara opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a loud crash in the front room.

 Chapter 4

    Alara snapped towards the tavern door, flashing a frown at Wellynd before entering the front room. Her once weary eyes were now alert and focused.

    ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± Wellynd heard her ask, her voice muffled by the solid oak door that had swung closed.

    After a beat, he casually followed his friend through the door and leaned against the counter. A broken chair lay in the centre of the floor and a man with long ragged grey hair hung limp from the arms of the two Vertan soldiers, his knees just barely held aloft from the shattered wood.

    ¡°Old pisser here can¡¯t hold his drink or his tongue. He¡¯s been muttering rumours about our great General Gravician. Not very nice ones either.  And we really can¡¯t have that, can we wrinkles?¡± snarled the short, thick-bearded soldier, jostling the man whose head had now slumped even further forward, a patter of blood dripping to the floor.

    Alara¡¯s eyes flicked to the blood, then back to the soldiers. She bowed and shook her head slowly.

    ¡°Obviously Jensen¡¯s had one too many, unfortunately a frequent occurrence here. The whisky always gets him a little fiery, ¡±she placated, turning back to the bar and pouring two large mugs of ale.

    ¡°We can¡¯t have people going around slandering a hero of Verta, miss. We¡¯ll have to take him back to the Port; a few weeks at the Fort will get him straight.¡± said the other soldier, a large woman, nearly two heads higher than her companion.

    Wellynd shifted over to one of the barstools, half sitting on it sitting with his hands gripped firmly on the rim. No one seemed to be paying him any attention and he wanted to keep it that way; his bag of skald was propped up just inside the back storage room door.

    The inn had stilled to an eerie quiet now, with only the occasional sound of tankards coming to rest against wood. After pouring the foam off the flagons of ale, Alara moved swiftly around the edge of the bar and walked with a relaxed gait towards the soldiers. ¡°Why don¡¯t you stay for another round or two, on the house, and let Jensen dry out in our back room. You¡¯ve got a few hours until the next crossing ¡ª no need to ruin the rest of your evening having to lug this one around,¡± she said coolly, proffering the tankards that were beginning to sweat from the cold liquid within.

    The short man remained still, but Wellynd marked his eyes darting up towards his companion. Obviously, she was calling the shots. The woman had locked eyes with Alara, clearly mulling over the offer.

    After a few strained seconds, she dropped Jensen to the floor, the weight of his collapse setting her shorter companion off-balance. He quickly followed suit and let go of the unconscious man¡¯s arm. Jensen¡¯s body slumped and Alara deftly placed her foot beneath his head, preventing it from smacking against the floor. She smiled, extending the two tankards another inch towards the soldiers.

    ¡°Fair enough¡± the woman grunted ¡°just make sure you bring him back out here before we leave, or you¡¯ll be just as guilty for aiding this miscreant,¡± she finished, nudging Jensen with her elbow, who grabbed the two drinks and followed his companion back to their table in the corner as the din of the room cautiously returned.

    Impressive, Wellynd thought. Alara was rough around the edges, ¡°spiky¡± in Bertrand¡¯s words, but she could turn on the charm in an instant.

    He walked over to where she was inspecting Jensen¡¯s wounded head. Plastering on a face of severity, he angled away from the soldiers in the corner who were engaged in what appeared to be a disagreement.

    ¡°You¡¯re good¡± he whispered mischievously, positioning himself to lift the older man.

    ¡°Not now, just help me get him to the back.¡±

    They carried Jensen into the back of the shop, where they laid him down on the sacks of flour. Wellynd kept an eye on him while Alara went into the kitchen and fetched a cloth and some water. Wellynd held back Jensen¡¯s hair while Alara wiped the blood off the man¡¯s face.

    ¡°Handsome fellow,¡± joked Wellynd.

    ¡°Tell me about it.¡±

    ¡°Is he in here every night?¡±

    ¡°Most of the¡­.¡±

    Jensen let out a grunt and shot up, eyes darting back and forth between them.

    ¡°where¡¯d ya get off takin me on¡± he slurred nonsensically, before refocusing his eyes on Alara, a toothy smile spreading across his face.

    ¡°Ya know yer gettin¡¯ pretty old now, you thought about findin¡¯ someone to settle down with¡± he continued slovenly, placing his hand on Alara¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Alright take it easy, Jensen¡± interjected Wellynd with a friendly pat on the man¡¯s back.

    ¡°Who¡¯s this nump?¡± Jensen spat, turning on Wellynd and clumsily swinging an arm at him, the strike flying well above Wellynd¡¯s head, causing Jensen to fall backwards onto the pile again.

    Alara sighed.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go to the usual spot and I¡¯ll join you with some food after I take care of things here.¡± she said.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± replied Wellynd, looking askance at Jensen, who was now trying to push himself up with little success.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Okay, if you¡¯re sure. Can I store my bag back here?¡± Wellynd asked as he was getting up, brushing stray flour off his trousers.

    ¡°Of course. Wouldn¡¯t want old Jensen here getting a hold of that would you¡± she remarked devilishly. ¡°Put it in the usual spot. You¡¯re pretty much the only one that uses it now.¡±

    Wellynd flashed a mischievous smile at Alara before snatching his bag and striding over to the small staircase at the back of the room, taking an oil lantern off the windowsill before heading down into the cellar.

    As he descended, the air grew heavy with the distinct aroma of damp earth, wine, and cured meat. Flickering light spilled into the room as the lantern swung lazily from Wellynd¡¯s hand, its iron cage casting long shadows across the many crates of supplies. Stepping carefully between boxes of wine on the floor, he made his way to the side of the staircase, where he proceeded to tap each of the wide wooden boards until he found a loose one. Steadying himself, he pushed it in, and with a small click, several of the boards tilted inwards to reveal a crawl space that could easily fit three or four adult men. Wellynd chuckled to himself as he carefully lifted his pack into the space. The common name for this type of space was a ¡°smugglers hold¡±; Laine just called it ¡°a surefire sign of a bad day.¡±

    Traditionally, these types of spaces were used to hide contraband or sometimes even smugglers who were evading the authorities. In recent years, however, all the mainland smugglers that Alara¡¯s father had dealt with had been either captured or deterred by the Excisor¡¯s office, so Wellynd rarely found himself fighting for space. He pulled the latch closed and took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

    When he ascended the stairs, he found Jensen sitting up, eyes closed, drinking deeply from a cup of water held by Alara. Wellynd crept by, exaggerating his movements in an effort to make her laugh. Somehow, she managed to chuck a potato at him, which narrowly missed his head as he scurried out the back door and into the night.

    Half an hour later, Wellynd sat staring out over the sea, his legs dangling from the small balcony that wrapped around the upper floor of the lighthouse. The sound of crashing waves against stone lulled him into a trance, his eyes fixed on the glow of Port Revenshore, its many lanterns made brilliant in the fading twilight. He let out a deep sigh and embraced the night¡¯s cool sea breeze. Last time he sat in this spot, he¡¯d contemplated Revenshore as his future home.

    Now it was just a place to deliver skald.

    Craning his neck towards the heavens, he scanned the starless sky for Arthus. Even on overcast nights like this one, its eerie pale glow could be spotted when the cloud cover thinned.

    Stolen story; please report.

    A creak inside the lighthouse pulled him from his search. He hopped up and pushed through the door. The small room had once been used as a dwelling for the lighthouse keeper working long shifts. Now, the whole mechanism ran on some sort of oil system, courtesy of Illuvian Minerals, but there were still remnants of the room¡¯s former purpose, including a small cot and wood stove.

    The trapdoor in the middle of the room floundered up and down a few times before Wellynd heard a muffled yell.

    Walking over, he lifted it up to find Alara holding onto the ladder with one hand, a pot under her other arm, and the strap of a grocer¡¯s bag held between her teeth. She gave him an angry stare.

    ¡°Arf..you¡­g..na..help?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± said Wellynd, smirking and standing idly for a moment before leaning down and grabbing the pot out from under her arm. Alara clambered up and spit out the strap before punching Wellynd in the calf.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go with Jensen?¡± he asked, setting down the pot and rubbing where she had hit him.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine. I put him upstairs in one of the beds. That stubby little soldier insisted on standing outside of the room though. Guy seems a little too intense. I¡¯m starving.  Let¡¯s eat.¡± she replied, pulling two small wooden bowls out of the pocket of her cloak.

    Wellynd took the lid off the pot and the small room immediately filled with the mouth-watering scent of beef stew. Alara began to ladle it into the bowls as Wellynd reached around and pulled a warm loaf of bread out of the grocer¡¯s bag and split it in two.

    For the next ten minutes, the two sat on the floor and ate voraciously. The only sounds to be heard were the slurping of soup, chewing of meat, tearing of bread, and the muffled hushes of ocean crashing against the rocks outside. Wellynd always loved this part of his visit.

    After they had their fill, he lit the small cooking stove, and boiled some water to make tea.

    Alara packed up the bowls and utensils before the two headed out to the balcony. Their comfortable silence continued for a while, the two sitting and staring skyward, occasionally sipping their hot tea to combat the growing cold as they contemplated Arthus, which had appeared once again, the glacial rotation of its outer ring just faintly visible against the deep sky.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you help him?¡± said Wellynd.

    ¡°What? Who? Jensen?¡± replied Alara, briefly startled by the break in silence.

    ¡°Yeah. I mean, Vertans are annoying, but Jensen is too. He kind of deserves to get locked up for a bit, no? Yeah, they shouldn¡¯t have beat him up, I agree with that, but it seems like he gets out of control often.¡±

    Alara raised one eyebrow at Wellynd before turning her gaze back to the sky.

    ¡°I guess so. Part of me just wanted to prevent any more damage to the furniture¡± she chuckled, before continuing ¡°And, he is still getting locked up. But while Jensen is a huge pain, I don¡¯t think anyone deserves to get pummelled and thrown in a dungeon for being irritating, do they? Maybe Bertrand...¡±

    ¡°Hah. Maybe not. I dunno.¡±

    ¡°Technically, you¡¯re breaking the rules by smuggling that skald. Do you deserve to get beat up and imprisoned?¡± she asked.

    Wellynd bit the side of his cheek ¡°Hey. I¡¯m not doing anyone any harm, irritating anyone, causing any damage. I¡¯m just delivering rocks to people.¡±

    ¡°Illegal rocks, Wellynd. They¡¯re illegal in every nation for a reason, y¡¯know.¡±

    ¡°Pfft. Some outdated law. Yeah, I know, the stones can explode, but most people are just buying them from us to sell to someone else. I don¡¯t really think about it beyond that.¡±

    ¡°What do you think those people are using them for? Light shows?¡±

    Wellynd chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±

    ¡°And aren¡¯t you selling them to the resistance?¡±

    He looked around ¡°Okay, okay. Keep it down. I see your point. But, they¡¯re probably using them to fight the Vertans. Isn¡¯t that a good thing? I¡¯ve never really cared but, I imagine it¡¯s why Laine is fine dealing with them.¡±

    Alara turned and stared at him for a moment, her lips pursed, a line creased in her forehead. Wellynd swallowed. He¡¯d almost forgotten that Alara¡¯s brother, Corvin, had joined up with the Vertan military after failing the exam. He could see why she might not like the idea of selling explosive rocks to people he might eventually be fighting.

    ¡°Sorry. I forgot about Corvin. I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±

    Alara¡¯s face relaxed ¡°I know. I don¡¯t like the Vertans being here either. Ever since Corvin joined up, I¡¯ve been confused as to where I stand on the whole thing. I sometimes wonder if that¡¯s why the Vertans started recruiting from the island in the first place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve wondered about that too...It¡¯s like we¡¯re not getting the full picture.¡±

    Alara turned her head ¡°Or perhaps, some powerful Rellian Koshai has us under his spell, and this is aaaaallll a dream world¡± she stated, adding a quiver in her voice and waving her hands in front of him.

    Wellynd kept a straight face ¡°Really? I thought that too! I¡¯ve been seeing black-robed figures flying up the mountainside and hearing the word Deakon echoing in my head for the past few months.¡±

    ¡°Wait. Really?¡± Alara started.

    Wellynd cracked a grin and Alara hit him on the shoulder, edging a little bit closer.

    ¡°It¡¯s getting cold.¡± she said, folding her arms.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He scratched the back of his head. ¡°So, are you still thinking about the exam?¡±

    Alara shifted back.

    ¡°Sometimes. When I keep busy I don¡¯t think about it. And I¡¯m coming to terms with the fact that our dream of all of us going together was pretty much impossible...¡± she paused ¡°No. I¡¯m lying. I¡¯m a little heartbroken. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do now. Am I just Alara the innkeeper now? Forever?¡±

    Wellynd nodded. ¡°I feel the same way. I¡¯m happy for Neer and Bert, and I know it doesn¡¯t make any sense, but I feel a little abandoned.¡±

    Alara searched the side of his face ¡°Well, at least we can feel abandoned together. And we still have our families.¡±

    Wellynd nodded, but didn¡¯t say anything. That wasn¡¯t entirely true. He had Laine, and Alara, and Klof, but he had neither of his parents. His father had died right after he was born and his mother had left the island soon after. It wasn¡¯t a thing he tried to dwell on often.

    ¡°So.¡± Alara started, in a more upbeat tone, clearly recognizing Wellynd¡¯s train of thought, ¡°Speaking of Corvin, I got a letter from him a few days ago.¡±

    Wellynd perked up. ¡°Oh yeah? Where is he stationed now?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s apparently somewhere near Vel Demyn, but obviously not allowed to say. They have him working with a squad of a few Koshai and about thirty other Kosun. He says they¡¯re kind of like an auxiliary force that deals with local problems.¡±

    ¡°Cool. Like what?¡±

    Alara popped up onto her feet. ¡°Oh, Wellynd, it¡¯s like something straight out of one of those silly books you read. There was this crazed beast terrorising some village about two days south of the capital, and by the time they had arrived, the creature had ravaged, like, half the town. Corvin says it looked kinda like a Bellok, only it was ten times the size with razor-sharp spikes on its back and massive fangs. He said each tooth was longer than me.¡±

    ¡°So not very big at all?¡± Wellynd poked.

    Alara shook her head ¡°Anyway, it apparently killed seven of the soldiers in his squad before his captain, one of the Koshai, stepped in and cut off all six of its legs from more than 30 paces away. Then his lieutenant somehow conjured up this thick substance to prevent the beast from moving, so the rest of the squad could safely go up and attack it with their weapons. And it still took ten minutes before the thing died!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even understand how a Koshai could do that...¡± Wellynd said, awe-struck.

    ¡°I dunno.¡± Alara replied. ¡°Corvin says the  Koshai are super secretive about their magic.¡±

    They both stared silently. No one wanted to acknowledge the fact that neither of them would ever find out now.

    ¡°I do miss him though.¡± Alara finally said. ¡°He says he¡¯s going to probably get moved to the navy soon, what with him having grown up sailing with Dad and all. He thinks he¡¯s a shoe-in. And I¡¯m pretty sure that he¡¯d be able to come see us sometimes that way.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be great.¡± Wellynd replied. A crack of thunder shook the air, followed by a quickening tempo of rain pattering against the windows of the lighthouse.

    Alara took a lap around the balcony.

    ¡°So, it looks like Dad¡¯s been back for a while, but there is no way he will do a night ferry in this. You can crash in one of the rooms and I¡¯ll see if he can take you early before anyone else gets up.¡± she said sympathetically, her hair already soaked and beginning to stick to her face.

    Wellynd groaned as he got up. Great. Laine would not be happy about another day¡¯s delay, but, then again, Wellynd didn¡¯t feel in much of a hurry to get back to Kellek¡¯s Watch.

    The two grabbed the pot and bag and headed down the ladder. By the time they reached the door, the sound of the rain had quickened to a rapid thud, and the torrential winds and sleet thrashed against the outside of the tower. They pulled up their cloaks and looked at each other, Wellynd standing with his hand on the door handle.

    ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Ready.¡±

    They burst out through the door and bolted down the road, their cloaks swirling in the gale as they sprinted towards the warm glow of the inn.

 Chapter 5

    Wellynd woke to the sound of a gentle knock. Rolling to the edge of the bed, he clambered across the dark room and stubbed his toe against something hard. Stifling a yelp, he hobbled the last few steps to the door.

    ¡°Rise and shine, stinkbreath¡± said Alara¡¯s muffled voice, knocking louder.

    Wellynd opened the door and winced at the light that poured into his room. Alara was already fully dressed and looked like she had been awake for hours. ¡°Dad says it looks like there¡¯s going to be a storm later this morning, so he¡¯s going to take you over now. Meet you downstairs in ten.¡±

    Without another word she strode back down the hall.

    ¡°What time is¡­¡± Wellynd started groggily, but Alara had already disappeared down the steps.

    ¡°Nump¡± he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with his palms and shutting the door. He felt around at the wall until he found and ignited the oil lamp. The small, but comfortable room came into view. Stretching out his arms and yawning, he eyed the bed.

    She did say ten minutes. The wind rattled the window. Then again, he really didn¡¯t want to get caught in a storm.

    Giving the bed one more longing glance, he scanned the room for his clothes and spotted them slung over the wooden chair in the corner. He put on his trousers,  jerkin, and his still-damp cloak. It wasn¡¯t the end of the world; he would probably get wet on the boat anyway. Peeking out the window, he could barely see the street. The scene was nearly pitch black save for the few glowing lanterns and the thin wrinkle of light peeking over the western horizon.

    As he came downstairs, he was welcomed by the sound of sizzling sausages and the smell of roasted potatoes, his mouth salivating at the prospect of a hot morning meal. His expectations were immediately shattered when Alara walked out with a small cloth wrapped around what looked like the remaining bread from the night before.

    His disappointment must have been clear on his face.

    ¡°The hot food is for paying customers. Free bed not enough?¡± she jibed, ¡°I did put a piece of cured sausage in there, so count your blessings, freeloader.¡± She  winked before walking into the back room.

    Before he could say anything she returned, lugging his pack over her shoulder. She strode toward him and carefully placed it at his feet.

    ¡°Well, Dad is waiting for you...I¡¯ll see you when you get back?¡±

    ¡°Yeah of course. And you should definitely come down for that last delve with Bert and Neera.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to my mom and see if I can.¡± she replied unenthusiastically. They both knew what that meant.

    ¡°Okay, great. See you tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Safe on the seas, Wellynd.¡±

    The two gave each other one last look and shared awkward grins before Wellynd turned around and headed towards the front door, picking the bundle of food up off the floor along the way. Alara turned and headed back into the kitchen.

    The early morning air was cool, the light from the rising sun now just enough to give definite shape to the world. Wellynd took in a deep breath and rounded back behind the inn. Leofer¡¯s ferry was sitting at the dock, lightly bobbing in the water. He walked down the dock and up the gangplank onto the small but roomy vessel, glancing up at the captain''s deck to see if Leofer was there. After a moment, a grey, curly-haired head popped over the railing.

    ¡°Hey Welly, how¡¯s it goin?¡± said Leofer in his jovial booming voice ¡°Lara give ya a hot breakfast?¡±

    Wellynd held up the half eaten loaf of bread.

    Leofer laughed ¡°Ah well I got a bit of hot coffee up here to warm ya up. Why don¡¯t you throw yer pack in the storage hold. Give me a few more minutes and we¡¯ll be off.¡±

    Wellynd just nodded, unable to match the seaman¡¯s energy so early in the morning. He walked over to the trap door near the bow of the ship and pulled it open, carefully clambering down and storing the pack in one of the hanging rope hammocks used for precious cargo. Since there was going to be no one else aboard, he figured he probably didn¡¯t need to make too much of an effort to hide it.

    After making his way back up and fastening the hatch, he continued up to the helm and, thankfully, Leofer had already poured him a coffee. The hot mug immediately dispelled the shivers already wracking his hands in the cold morning air.

    As he enjoyed the rejuvenating brew, Wellynd watched Leofer fiddle with the jant at the rear of the captain¡¯s deck. Most newer ships had the mechanism installed on the back to act as a rudimentary ferrying system that helped ships manoeuvre around docks. Back at Laine¡¯s warehouse, Henry had tried modifying one so that it could be used on the open sea as a sort of secondary propulsion system to squeeze out a few more knots, but ended up breaking the thing.

    ¡°Ya still thinkin¡¯ about the exam?¡±

    The question caught Wellynd off guard, having been slowly lulled into a comfortable daze by the warm coffee and subtle bobbing of the ship.

    ¡°Uh. Not too much. Well, yeah sometimes I guess.¡± he responded with a yawn.

    Leofer nodded as he wiped some grime off the glass sphere of the jant with an oily rag.

    ¡°I know Lara¡¯s been having a rough go about it. Her mother and I feel kind¡¯o bad makin¡¯ her work the inn so much, but with me ferryin¡¯ all day and Grelda makin¡¯ deliveries down the coast every week it¡¯s pretty hard to keep everything runnin¡¯ without her.¡±

    He stopped and looked up at Wellynd, smiling ¡°Arthus bless her though, she¡¯s been great. We offered to hire someone for a while, give her some time off, but she keeps sayin¡¯ she¡¯s fine. Speakin¡¯ of which, Laine still got you workin¡¯ the warehouse? ¡±

    ¡°Oh you bet he does.¡± smiled Wellynd.

    Leofer hummed.

    ¡°Well you¡¯re both good kids. Like I say to ¡®Lara, you¡¯ll figure it out.¡± he stopped for a moment and rubbed his whitening beard, frowning up at the sky. ¡°Corv figured it out just fine. Happy he¡¯s doin¡¯ so well. Anyway, looks like we should get goin¡¯. I want to get into port before that storm hits.¡±

    The sky was now a light shade of blue. It looked completely clear to Wellynd.

    ¡°Henry hasn¡¯t taught ya to gust or anything has he?¡± added Leofer hopefully.

    Wellynd laughed ¡°no, unfortunately not.¡±

    Leofer nodded ¡°I figured I¡¯d ask. A captain always does. No worries, the wind is blowin¡¯ our way.¡±

    Wellynd took Leofer¡¯s hint and went down the steps. He was just starting to pull the gangplank up when a hoarse voice rang out from the direction of the inn.

    ¡°WAIT!¡±

    Wellynd cast a confused look at Leofer before leaning over the side of the ship to find the source of the shout. His stomach sank. Walking towards the dock was the short soldier from the night before. Just behind him was Jensen, who was practically tripping over his feet as the soldier yanked him along.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°It¡¯s still pretty choppy out there, sure ya don¡¯t want to wait until the next ride?¡± said Leofer half-heartedly as the soldier made his way onto the dock, his bronze-plated boots clunking on the wood.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting off this rubbish island as soon as possible, and pisser here is coming with me.¡± replied the soldier, shaking Jensen as he spoke.

    Wellynd reluctantly let the gangplank back down as the soldier approached, only noticing Wellynd once he was halfway onto the gangplank.

    ¡°Hey I remember you from last night. You were helping that girl take care of this one after I clocked him.¡± he said, grinning, before tossing Jensen onto the deck of the boat. He looked down at the hungover man in disgust.

    ¡°I hope putting up with this drunk old fart was worth the reward she gave you¡± he said with a wink, a devious smile spreading across his face.

    Wellynd nodded and gave a half-hearted chortle, turning to pull up the gangplank again. Leofer came down the stairs and started making some adjustments to the main sail as he called out to the soldier.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name son. I have to keep a log of all the soldiers that come back and forth here, make sure I¡¯m gettin¡¯ properly paid and all. You know how it is.¡±

    The soldier eyed Leofer up and down before grunting ¡°Klent Burleon, fourth battalion, 71st legion.¡± He paused a moment before adding ¡°and I¡¯m escorting a prisoner to Fort Gravician for processing.¡±

    Leofer nodded, looking down at Jensen, who, instead of getting up, had rolled over and attempted to fall back asleep. Leofer¡¯s eyes softened for a moment before he looked back at the soldier. ¡°I think I remember you coming over. Does that tall lady know you¡¯re comin¡¯ back early?¡±

    ¡°Nah. I¡¯m not sticking around here. She can come back on her own. But I ain¡¯t leaving this drunk to get off easy.¡± he said, shoving Jensen with his heel.

    Leofer nodded sternly. ¡°Well that¡¯s fine. Vertan army business is none of mine as long as I get paid. But remember, when were on this ship I¡¯m captain. My rules, alright son?¡± He paused momentarily, keeping his eyes locked on Klent before the soldier nodded curtly.

    ¡°And there will be no rough business happenin¡¯ on my boat. Follow that and we¡¯ll be fine. There ain¡¯t much in terms of storage space at the moment, but it looks like you travelled light anyway. We¡¯ll be headin¡¯ out now.¡± he finished, winking at Wellynd as he turned and jostled back up the steps to the helm.

    Wellynd exhaled a slow breath, just now realising the tension he was holding in his shoulders. Klent¡¯s visit wasn¡¯t to search the ship. Nor was it to take the skald and have him strung up. He could simply spend the trip with Leofer and be on his way.

    After he fastened the gangplank rope around the hitch bolted to the deck, Wellynd  heard the jant hum to life as the boat manoeuvred out into the strait. A minute later, Leofer whistled, signalling to Wellynd to unfurl the sail. As the boat began to crest the waves of open water, Wellynd ambled about checking the knots and ties around the mast.

    He heard a grunting noise coming from Klent. Looking over, he noticed the soldier eyeing him curiously.

    ¡°Something wrong? Why are you checking things?¡± asked the soldier.

    Wellynd put on an apologetic smile.

    ¡°Hah. Yeah, didn¡¯t mean to scare you. My uncle¡¯s a captain of a ship and sort of forced these habits into me...¡±

    The soldier ignored the comment, glancing about the ship with a scowl on his face. ¡°Is there anywhere to sit on this hunk of junk? Lieutenant made me stand on the way here, but she¡¯s not here anymore. No need for that Vertan Rites rubbish¡± he continued, looking around.

    Wellynd perked up. It¡¯d be great to get these guys out of the way for the rest of the trip.

    ¡°Uh, yeah inside the main cabin there are a few benches. I can show you if you want.¡±

    The surly soldier stared down at Jensen who was snoring through a peaceful sleep.

    ¡°You can help me lug this waste of skin in there. Filth is still so drunk he can¡¯t even walk properly.¡±

    He kicked Jensen in the stomach ¡°Wake up old man. We¡¯re moving spots.¡±

    Jensen groaned and rolled over.

    Wellynd nodded and awkwardly walked to the other side of Jensen. As he bent over to lift him up, it dawned on him it was the second time he was helping move the drunk. Hopefully it would be the last.

    When they reached the cabin, Klent aggressively kicked the door open, and pulled Jensen from Wellynd¡¯s grip before tossing him to the floor. The old man wobbled like a newborn foal before toppling over, seemingly unperturbed by his change in locale.

    Klent plopped down onto the bench fastened to the side of the wall and let out a relieved groan. He then looked up at Wellynd expectantly and nodded to the bench opposite him.

    Wellynd reluctantly shuffled over to the bench and took a seat.

    The cabin looked the same as always. Besides the two benches there was a small table pinned to the side of the room. A sole oil lantern sat hanging from one of the rafters that held up the low ceiling, swinging in the sway of the seas, vacillating between the front and back of the room, as if uncertain about on whom to cast its light.

    Jensen grumbled something.

    ¡°Shutup old man, this is the most freedom you¡¯re going to have for a while. So keep quiet.¡± Klent growled, flinging his head back and taking a long drink from a flask. He wiped his mouth and looked back over at Wellynd.

    ¡°Let me give you some advice, kid. Don¡¯t join the military.¡±

    Wellynd really didn¡¯t want to have this conversation.

    ¡°No? I heard that they pay pretty well and you get to learn a lot in training.¡± he replied.

    Klent shrugged as he offered the flask to Wellynd, who declined, before taking another swig.

    ¡°Pay could be better. And yeah, you learn how to do some pretty awesome stuff. But by Deakon¡¯s fat ass if you don¡¯t suck up to the right people you go nowhere. You saw my Lieutenant right? Promoted because she was sleeping with the Captain. I¡¯m sure of it. I¡¯ve been in the same position for three years now. Was on the frontlines of the invasion and everything. Now they have me running errands between the Fort and some mining corps on the island. And I¡¯m not gonna lie, you islanders make my life so much more miserable.¡±

    ¡°probably because yer a right git.¡± slurred a voice.

    The soldier stopped mid-swig, glanced at Wellynd for a second, then stared down at the drunkard.

    ¡°What did you just call me?¡±

    ¡°I said yer a right git.¡±

    ¡°I uh...should probably go see if Leofer needs any help.¡± Wellynd interrupted, not wanting things to escalate, at least while he was there. ¡°I told him I¡¯d lend him a hand if the sea starts acting up and it feels like things are getting kinda choppy. You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡±

    Klent nodded and slouched back against the wall and took another swig, eying Jensen suspiciously.

    A gust of sea air blasted Wellynd as he walked onto the deck. Large black clouds swirled off on the horizon, their foreboding presence whipping the growing waves into a frenzy.

    He made his way back up to the helm to find Leofer staring out at the storm, one hand gripped tightly to the wheel, a deep crevice in his brow.

    ¡°Everythin¡¯ okay down there Welly?¡± he asked as he glanced at the small compass next to the wheel.

    ¡°Yeah I think so, they¡¯re inside the main cabin.¡±

    Leofer nodded ¡°Probably for the best. I thought the storm might take a turn east, but looks like she¡¯s got other plans for us.¡±

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but blanch as a large wave rocked the ship, throwing him off balance.

    ¡°Cmon lad, you¡¯re a sea boy! You¡¯ve seen worse than this.¡± the captain yelled over the howling wind that was now rippling the sails rapidly.

    A flash lit up the darkened sky, a loud crack of thunder responding nearly instantly. The boat began to climb and descend small slopes of sea as the foam splashed up onto the deck.

    Wellynd held onto the rail close to Leofer, the captain now gripping the wheel with two hands. Rain started to pelt his face, and within moments, great sheets of water were splashing down, cascading across the deck as the ship continued its ascents of a wave now almost the height of the mast.

    ¡°Ye can hold out in my cabin if ya don¡¯t want to deal with those two numps Welly!¡± screamed Leofer, donning an expression of both extreme concentration and delight. The man, staring death in the face, was in his element.

    ¡°And leave all this to you?¡± Wellynd yelled back, water pouring down his face as he gave Leofer a grin.

    A muffled yell came from somewhere below them on the main deck. Leofer tapped his shoulder and yelled ¡°Go see what that was all about!¡±

    Wellynd dashed down the steps. The stairs were slick and he slid down them, his firm grip on the railing the only thing keeping him from toppling over.

    Moving too quickly, he slid onto the main deck and waved his arms in a frantic attempt at recovering his balance, his feet thumping quick successive beats as he came to a stop.

    Composing himself, he looked toward the main cabin and saw the door swinging wildly in the battering wind. Bolting over to shut the door, he noticed the cabin was empty. As he jammed the door and latched the clasp, he surveyed the deck from starboard to port, looking for the two passengers. The torrent of water was making it impossible to see anything. As he wiped the hair away from his eyes he felt something sticky on his face. Pulling his hand away, he was horrified to find it covered in blood.

 Chapter 6

    ¡°What the¡­¡± Wellynd muttered, bending over to examine the door latch, finding more blood underneath the small wooden handle.

    Not knowing what to do, he moved to the centre of the deck, making sure to hold onto the mast as the boat swayed back and forth, and looked up at the helm. Leofer was dead-focused on controlling the ship, eyes scanning the turbid waters ahead.  Suddenly, the ferry tipped to the starboard side and Leofer spun the wheel anti-clockwise to counteract. The rain had slowed down to a manageable drizzle, but water still splashed up onto the deck, the sea not relenting for a moment.

    He¡¯d have to figure this out on his own.

    Lightning tore across the sky and another clap of thunder cracked in response. They¡¯d have to be around the front, as Leofur¡¯s cabin was locked.

    Wellynd blanched.

    Or, the storm had knocked them into the sea.

    Taking small, careful steps, he rushed towards the starboard side gangway and grasped the slippery handrail to brace himself as best he could.

    There. Farther up the narrow passageway, another faint smear of blood was plastered against the outer wall of the cabin.

    The narrow passage was already horrifying to skirt when there wasn¡¯t a raging storm. He peeked over the edge only to receive an icy-cold splash on his face. A large wave crashed hard against the hull of the ferry, spraying the gangway and diluting the smear from its dark brown hue to a light pink that now lapped at Wellynd¡¯s boots, mixing freely with the seafoam.

    Steeling his nerves, he began to edge along the gangway.

    Halfway to the bow, Wellynd heard something. A strange cadenced thumping. That¡¯s odd.

    Perhaps the cabin door came unlatched in the storm. Then again, this thumping sounded more wet, as if it were a soaked-through sack of ropes knocking against the deck. He shimmied along the last stretch just as another wave broke against the hull.

    When he reached the end and stepped around the corner, he saw the source of the noise.

    Jensen¡¯s body was curled up against the front side of the cabin, a small pool of blood welling around his soaked clothes. Klent¡¯s foot slammed into his ribs, knocking the old man against the wall, his hair covering his face, arms held tightly inward to protect himself.

    Klent pulled back his foot, preparing for another kick.

    For the briefest moment, Wellynd considered slipping back down the gangway.

    He didn¡¯t like Klent, but he didn¡¯t like Jensen either. The man was beyond a nuisance for his friend.

    His conversation with Alara the night before replayed in his mind. She wouldn¡¯t let it happen. He shouldn¡¯t let it happen either.

    ¡°HEY!¡±

    Klent pulled his kick and turned to Wellynd.

    ¡°Get outta here, kid!¡± yelled the storm-soaked soldier, his face drenched in equal parts sweat, water, and mania.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    Despite his fluttering heart, Wellynd strode confidently towards the pair and put himself in-between Jensen and Klent.

    The soldier scoffed and put his hand firmly on Wellynd¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I said. Get outta here,¡± he warned.

    ¡°No.¡±

    The soldier dropped his hand from Wellynd¡¯s shoulder, turning as if he were reaching into his back pocket before snapping back toward Wellynd, backhanding him across the face.

    Wellynd flinched backwards from the blow before reacting in a hot rage of instinct, throwing his shoulder into Klent¡¯s stomach, knocking the wind out of him as they crashed to the deck.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna kill the guy!¡± screamed Wellynd in the tussle, wriggling free of their tangled limbs and stumbling to his feet, his voice barely cutting through the howling wind. He moved back towards Jensen, who was still on the ground, coughing behind him.

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    Wellynd rubbed his shoulder, fearing he might have broken something when slamming into the man¡¯s bronze plate.

    Klent stood, re-adjusting his body-tight armour as he rose, before fixing his stare on Wellynd, a sinister grin plastered to his face. Another spray of water drenched the three of them as the bow just barely failed to crest a breaking wave.

    ¡°Damn you islanders are irritating.¡± he growled, aggressively swiping water off his face.

    ¡°I mean Arta never gave a damn about you! You¡¯d think you losers would be begging for someone to put you in your place.¡± Then, he started forward with wide steps, head half-bowed as he stared up across his brow at Wellynd.

    This was not good.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll have plenty to do soon enough, boy. Once we take your little capital on the continent, your island of ragged bumpkins will be nothing more than Vertan slaves.¡±

    He picked at his teeth before spitting onto the deck, grinning as he drew closer

    This was really not good.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to keep beating him! You¡¯re taking him to the Fort anyway. Let¡¯s just let it go and be on our way when we dock in Revenshore!¡± yelled Wellynd, fully knowing his efforts were in vain. He just needed time to think.

    ¡°No, no, no, no. You tried to play the hero. Now I get to have fun with both of ya.¡± said Klent, his voice raising to a yell as he suddenly rushed forward, arms outstretched.

    Wellynd let out a yelp as he just barely slipped out of Klent¡¯s grasp, the boat rocking sideways and throwing the soldier off balance.

    Taking two short, powerful steps, Wellynd threw himself onto his hip, sliding feet-first down the sloped deck, bracing his legs as he landed firmly against the edge of the ship.

    The boat started to rock back the other direction, and Wellynd planted his hands onto the deck, looking towards Klent who was still catching his balance. Waiting until the deck began to level out, he pushed off the side and began sprinting toward him. He had no plan other than to tackle the man.

    A few steps before impact, Klent caught his balance and crouched down as he swept his leg in a wide arc that caught Wellynd¡¯s shins.

    Pain shot through Wellynd¡¯s shoulder as he crashed into the deck and skid across it. He rolled over and began to push up onto his knees as he heard slow bootfalls thumping towards him.

    Air exploded from Wellynd¡¯s lungs as he was rocked by Klent¡¯s boot, rolling within inches of the boat¡¯s edge.

    He didn¡¯t try to get up this time. His coughs felt wet, and he closed his eyes against the shooting pain in his ribs.

    Strutting over to Wellynd, Klent picked him up by the folds of his cloak and raised him up to eye level.

    ¡°Hero, Hero!¡± Klent cackled ¡°Hey! I¡¯ve got a great idea! How about we see how well the hero can swim?¡±

    The man¡¯s breath reeked of alcohol. Wellynd clenched his teeth and began to thrash, throwing wild punches and kicks at the armoured soldier. He landed two hits, one kick striking his thigh, the other a punch landing somewhere on his shoulder. Klent grunted as the hits landed and, in response, pinned Wellynd against the edge of the boat, his knee crushing into Wellynd¡¯s chest, which freed one hand to block the boy¡¯s feeble strikes.

    Grabbing Wellynd¡¯s left wrist, Klent stared at him and smiled.

    ¡°You remember how I said we learn cool stuff in the military? Let me give you a preview.¡±

    He exhaled a slow breath, his eyes glazing over, lazily focused on something far in the distance. Tightening his grip on Wellynd, he raised his other arm behind him in a smooth motion as if winding up for a punch.

    He widened his stance, a knit forming between his brow. Wellynd squinted against the torrent. The man¡¯s whole arm seemed to be vibrating.

    Cocking his arm back an inch further, Klent looked like he was about to strike when something hit him in the back of the head.

    Klent turned his head and, to both his and Wellynd¡¯s surprise, saw Jensen, standing, bracing himself against the side of the cabin wall, letting out ragged coughs, blood dripping from the sides of his mouth.

    ¡°Ya git¡± Jensen yelled, before being seized by another bout of violent coughs.

    Klent just laughed ¡°Wait your turn old man. I¡¯ve got¡­.¡±

    Whatever Klent said after that, Wellynd didn¡¯t know. He had unfocused his eyes, trying to relax his shallow breathing and calm his racing heart. The sounds of the world around him faded to silence.

    He moved his hand so it was just in front of Klent¡¯s turned head and began to pull. As quickly as he could.

    He directed everything into his arm, and within moments it felt like it had grown twice its size.

    Klent was still saying something to Jensen.

    The pain in his chest was nearly unbearable, and his vision began to blur.

    Don¡¯t pass out.

    Klent spat at Jensen before turning his head back toward Wellynd.

    Just as the soldier''s cheek brushed his fingertips, Wellynd slammed his hand onto the soldier¡¯s brow and released all of the tension he¡¯d been holding.

    An explosion of burning light spilled violently out from his palm and directly into his aggressor¡¯s eyes.

    Klent stood up and fell backwards, cutting the air with a blood-curdling scream.

 Chapter 7

    The pitch of Klent¡¯s scream elevated to a shriek in between rasping breaths. He took several more stumbling steps backward until he tripped as the boat tilted, sliding and rolling on the deck as his hands furiously clawed at his face.

    Wellynd stood there for a moment, catching his breath, the wind whipping his torn jacket wildly behind him. Dizziness washed over him as he looked at his hand and braced himself back against the wooden rail.

    Just like after his practice with the jant, it looked fine. Unchanged.

    The intense fire mere moments ago had evaporated. He shook the hand absent-mindedly, looking to see the still-writhing Klent, who had now rolled near Jensen.

    The old drunk responded by shimmying around him and ambling toward Wellynd. He turned to him and gave him a solemn nod.

    The two of them watched on as Klent stumbled to his feet and managed to follow the cabin¡¯s walls over to the side of the boat. He looked to the sky, his eyes opened widely to the rain and began to helplessly cup his hands and splash water into his face.

    He¡¯d just attacked a Vertan soldier.

    His future had gone from uncertain to grim.

    As he watched the man slosh water onto his face, Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of Alara or Laine visiting him in the dungeons of Fort Gravician.

    Klent would probably push to have him executed. Probably him and Jensen.

    Who must have been thinking the same thing, because, suddenly, the old man was running.

    Not to the safety of the main deck and cabin.

    Not away from his aggressor.

    He was sprinting right at Klent.

    The blinded soldier had no notion of the danger as Jensen rushed toward him, arms pulled back, the wind whipping his mangy hair behind him.

    ¡°Wait!¡± yelled Wellynd.

    Just before he reached his target, Jensen threw his arms forward and slammed both of his hands into the man¡¯s chest, throwing all of his weight into his him. Klent let out a strangled cry as he toppled over the handrail, Jensen in tow.

    And then they were gone.

    Wellynd, barely able to keep his feet, let out an incoherent yelp as he reeled to the edge. He steadied himself and peered overboard, eyes darting, hopelessly searching for any shapes in the turbulent chaos of roiling foam and jet black waves. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat weak in his ears, barely breaking through the encompassing howl of the storm¡¯s gusts.

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    Feeling a sudden rush of dizziness, he pushed away from the side of the boat and tripped over something on the deck. He landed hard on one knee, his hands planted firmly to the deck.

    As he attempted to stand up, another breaker slammed into the hull.

    Wellynd¡¯s legs gave out and he face-planted hard against the planks.

    The cold rain beat hard against his hot face. Laying for a moment, he relaxed into the solid wood beneath him, his eyes refusing to remain open any longer.

    ~

    It was warm when Wellynd woke. His eyes opened to a wooden ceiling not much higher than he could reach. Turning his head to the left, he tried to speak, but could only manage a coarse rasp.

    ¡°Hush boy, you¡¯ve strained your vocal chords,¡± said Leofer warmly. ¡°We¡¯re half an hour out of the Port, but I need to hear it from you first. I could see some of what was going on and was too busy keepin¡¯ us alive to do anythin¡¯ about it.¡± He chuckled ¡°Though, looks like ya didn¡¯t need me.¡±

    The sailor placed a rolled paper between his lips and fumbled around in his pockets for a few moments, before eventually pulling out a box of matches. He threw the first four on the ground and made a show of waving the fifth in a drying motion.

    ¡°Damned thing got nearly soaked through.¡± he complained as he lit his cigarette. He closed his eyes and took a long drag.

    ¡°So, start from the beginning.¡±

    Recounting the fight as best he could, Wellynd left nothing out from the story.

    As he drew to the part when Jensen had knocked Klent and himself overboard, he quieted his voice. Leofer placed his hand on his shoulder, a whisk of smoke accompanying his comforting tap.

    ¡°You did just fine, Welly. Jensen really showed him what Ars Illuve is made of at the end there, didn¡¯t he.¡±

    Wellynd balled his hands into fists.

    ¡°Yeah¡­I couldn¡¯t do anything to stop him. He just¡­ran right at him¡± he said, looking out the window at the sky, menace still lingering in the dark centres of the fluffy grey clouds.

    ¡°Well, if anyone does come askin¡¯, the pair of em¡¯ never boarded the boat. I¡¯m guessin¡¯ his superior¡¯s gonna come around at some point, but it¡¯s best we just act like we never saw em¡¯¡±

    Wellynd nodded. ¡°They couldn¡¯t make it back to shore, could they?¡±

    ¡°Doubt it. That was at least a league if not slightly more offshore. Anyone swimmin¡¯ that far in these conditions has earned their confession¡± he scoffed, reaching for a bottle that he¡¯d tucked away on the shelf. ¡°We¡¯d better head in. It¡¯s turnin¡¯ midday now, and you said you had deliveries to make, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    He knocked back a mouthful straight from the bottle before stopping it with the same cloth and stowing it back on the shelf.

    ¡°Yeah, but I think I need to stop in and dry my clothes first.¡±

    ¡°Good. So we¡¯re set...¡± Leofer gave him a strong pat on the back before disappearing out of the cabin.

    Wellynd stood up and stretched. A large coastal map hung above the table. Before moving for the door, he looked back, noting the half-made cot, the desk strewn with papers, a book, and some other effects.

    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what would have happened if he had just taken Leofer¡¯s suggestion and hung out here for the duration of the voyage. Now he felt like he had two deaths on his hands.

    And he had to pretend like it never happened.

 Chapter 8

    Within the hour, signs of civilization came into view. Compared to Kellek¡¯s Watch, a town that essentially ended within steps of the main street, the city limits of Revenshore were vast.

    As The Flea skirted the coast, Wellynd stowed away his worries about the events that transpired that morning, leaning on the handrail and drinking in the sloping hills of verdant green that soon gave way to pasture, the density of trees replaced by occasional cows and roaming flocks of sheep. Those pastures eventually turned to fields of wheat, terminating in farmhouses and grain silos.

    Every time Wellynd visited, he swore that a new batch of silos had been built. It wasn¡¯t uncommon to see dozens of workers laying brick from atop scaffolding, bronze helmeted soldier¡¯s watching on from below.

    Wellynd heard Leofer grunt from behind him as they passed a site where several large warehouses were nearing completion, dozens of men standing atop the roof frames, hollering back and forth at each other. He turned to see a disgruntled look on the Leofer¡¯s face as he leaned on the helm.

    ¡°Not a fan of the new buildings or..?¡±

    Leofer nodded ¡°Not if they¡¯re killin the people who built ¡®em, no...¡±

    Wellynd raised his eyebrows ¡°What do you mean? The workers are paid, no?¡±

    Leofer stared out towards the sea.

    ¡°A pittance; I¡¯ve talked to a few men who¡¯ve taken the ferry. That¡¯s not the problem. Life¡¯s hard, you gotta take what ya can.¡±

    He paused.

    ¡°I¡¯ve lived in this world for a long time, lad. I¡¯ve seen a lot of folks with power do a lot of awful things. Good things too, mind you. But I¡¯ve never seen an army build up their resources so quickly to ¡®help everyone out¡¯. Verta¡¯s not takin over this side of the continent for nothin¡¯¡±

    Wellynd frowned, ¡° You think they have plans for us? What are they gonna do? Kill all of us?¡±

    Leofer shrugged ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re planning on doing. They¡¯ve told us they want to unite us. I don¡¯t know why they need more soldiers here to do that. There have been no major revolts here for almost two years now. Sure, the rebellion has caused a ruckus here and there, but why do they need so many garrisons? So many arms warehouses? They have enough grain in those silos to feed a whole army.¡± He took another long drag of the cigarette, the crackle of the burning paper filling the small room. Then he grinned, ¡°Then again, I¡¯m just an old Illuvian sailor. Maybe they¡¯re just stocking up their supply lines for their battles in the west.¡±

    He winked ¡°What do I know about the world now. Best you don¡¯t take my word too seriously.¡±

    Wellynd chuckled before turning back to face the passing warehouses, unsure how to respond. He stared at the few soldiers pacing back and forth, their burnished bronze helmets glowing in the morning sun. Two of them were laughing, another group of four were standing around the shore, using their spears to help a worker lift something out of the water.

    Would they really hurt the people they¡¯d spent the last two and a half years living with?

    A vision of Klent¡¯s calm face with his arm poised and ready to strike flashed in his mind.

    From what he¡¯d seen, the man was an outlier. Most of the Vertan soldiers he had met, like the captain on the road or Klent¡¯s commanding officer were generally respectful, if a bit gruff.

    Sure, the Vertan forces were still fighting on the other side of the continent, but the Artan government had always been a mess anyway, and Western and Eastern Arta always felt like two separate places.

    Wellynd¡¯s train of thought was interrupted when the boat rounded a small peninsula and the city proper came into view.

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    Nestled in a calm bay, Port Revenshore had been the centre of trade on this side of the continent for as long as anyone could remember. The city stretched close to a league across the landscape, outcroppings of buildings curling their way onto the two sides of the bay.

    Split into two distinct sections, the ¡°New Town¡± dominated the majority of the city. The buildings, although varied in size and ornament, were all made of a light brown terracotta stone, their roofs flat, many of which had gardens or banners sitting atop them. The tallest, most impressive buildings sat farthest from the shore, atop the ridge that sloped down toward the water where the docks lay.

    Wellynd squinted at the broad strip of road that ran up the city¡¯s centre, where the large jant-powered conveyor sat. It was the central thoroughfare and was used to transport goods from the many inbound ships. A line of people had formed in front of it, each holding a crate or barrel, placing it on the great belt before walking alongside it up the long set of wide steps that led to the top of the ridge.

    To the left, on the south side of the city, sat the ¡°Old Town,¡± whose dark charcoal stone starkly contrasted with the vibrant brown of its newer counterpart. The buildings there were much more varied as well; domes and spires dotted the horizon.

    Wellynd always stood in awe at the haunting beauty of the Old Town, and had often wondered what mysteries those crumbling towers had kept secret from the world...

    Or, in some cases, still held.

    ¡°Looks like we weren¡¯t the only ones caught in the storm¡± called Leofer. Wellynd turned and followed the Captain¡¯s outstretched finger.

    A sandy coloured Trireme bobbed in the water fifty yards away, its mast toppled over, the Melyin flag fluttering hopelessly against the deck while crew members in bright yellow tunics scurried about.

    Wellynd¡¯s eyes scanned the storm battered ship before wandering to the shore beyond it. Atop the hill, like an umbral sliver shot into the landscape, sat a fortress of awesome proportions, built entirely of black stone, its bronze and black flags hanging from the battlements.

    Fort Gravician. Port Revenshore¡¯s newest landmark. The place where Klent was taking Jensen. Not anymore.

    The Flea shifted back and forth as Leofer expertly weaved around the small fishing boats that had taken refuge from the storm, and pulled into a slip marked with the Illuvian flag. A lone soldier sat on a bench near the end of the dock, standing up as Wellynd jumped off the boat with a mooring line in hand.

    ¡°Hiya, Dev¡± yelled Leofer.

    The soldier threw up a friendly wave and tied off the rear. Leofer clambered over and let down the plank, hobbling across it.

    ¡°Just got one passenger this morning. Tried to beat the storm by leaving early. We barely made it¡± huffed the old Sailor, patting the soldier on the shoulder.

    ¡°Yeah we¡¯ve had a few folks moor up on the northern docks. Looked like a rough one, even from here.¡± Dev eyed Wellynd up and down ¡°You¡¯re back eh, Welly? Why don¡¯t you just live here at this point?¡±

    Wellynd laughed ¡°I wish I could. But looks like it¡¯ll be a while before I¡¯ll get that chance.¡± he held up his hand and flashed the soldier his Kosun mark.

    Dev nodded ¡°Ah. Well, welcome to the club. Hardly means anything these days.¡± he said. ¡°Well, if it¡¯s just Welly here then my job is done. How long are you staying?¡±

    Wellynd scratched his forehead. ¡°I¡¯ll probably stay the night and catch a ride back first thing tomorrow morning.¡±

    Dev nodded again and, without another word, walked back over to his bench, plopped down and stretched out his arms.

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t imagine having to sit there all day; it must be so boring. He turned to Leofer, who was watching the sailors on the dock across from them unload barrels of Yellow Skippers, a few managing to wriggle free, bouncing off the dock before landing in the water.

    ¡°So. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow?¡±

    Leofer turned, staring at him for a moment, his eyes searching the boy¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be alright then?¡± he said quietly.

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m good.¡±

    Leofer took out another cigarette and lit it with a match that seemed to appear out of thin air, never taking his eyes off Wellynd.

    He took a long drag.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good lad, Welly. You did the right thing. Keep that in mind. I¡¯ll see ya tomorrow.¡±

    Nodding to Dev, who gave another casual wave, Leofer ambled back across the plank and pulled it up. Wellynd unmoored the boat and threw the rope onto the vessel before giving a helpful shove. He heard the jant hum to life and watched for a few seconds as Leofer turned the boat around and headed back out to sea.

    ¡°See ya, Dev¡± Wellynd said, before walking down the dock towards the city, the wooden planks clanking with each step.

 Chapter 9

    Weaving his way across the network of docks, Wellynd eventually reached the cobblestone road that marked dry land. The dockside strip was lined with large warehouses owned by Revenshore¡¯s most prolific shipping companies. He eyed a half-open door a few warehouses down the street, catching a glimpse of a sailor moving barrels around on the inside.

    There were a handful of private inns this close to the water, but they were meant for visiting diplomats and other people of import. Even if they were public, it was unlikely he could pay one tenth of what they¡¯d cost per night. For most visitors of the port town, the inns further up the hill were the usual destination.

    He would probably stay at his usual haunt, Mermaid¡¯s Tavern, about half-way up the main street. Once he had secured his bag in his room, he would start making deliveries for the day. Better to leave the majority of his skald in safe keeping, Laine had often warned. Clients had previously gotten pushy when they found out he had more of the product on his person, so it was always best to just bring what they had ordered.

    He moved through the bustling crowds of dock workers and merchants, and began to hear a familiar droning hum permeate the din of the crowded street.

    The conveyer was Revenshore¡¯s greatest piece of machinery. Jant-powered, the large belt of interconnected platforms chugged up the hill. The strange device carried all sorts of crates, barrels, and goods up towards the city on one side, and down towards the docks on the other.

    A line had formed, snaking through the crowd, and merchants placed their cargo one after another on the great machine, only to then begin the long ascent up the cobbled steps beside it.

    Turning up the hill, Wellynd followed after a rather burly looking merchant, his robes billowing over top of his large belly. The man had just placed an ornate box on the conveyor, its dark metal glinting with strange symbols.

    Wellynd always loved guessing what was in the more securely bound packages, especially the wooden crates that had foreign script or mysterious insignias on them. He liked to imagine that they contained powerful artefacts, or legendary weapons that he read about in Usum. In reality they probably contained fruit from Port Alshin of Melyar or even more likely, simple Vertan fabrics. But they couldn¡¯t all contain ordinary wares, could they?

    A shout came from up the conveyor path. Looking up, he saw a man chasing a barrel that had come loose from the conveyor and was now bouncing down the steps directly towards him. People ducked into side corridors, shouting in alarm as they jumped from the steps. But one person, a figure with a black cowl loosely tied around their head, didn¡¯t move. Instead, they locked their foot to the cobblestone at an angle, deflecting the fast barrel down a side alleyway, before quickly darting after it. The man who was chasing the barrel yelled out ¡°Stop, thief!¡± as he eventually rounded the corner some seconds later.

    Most onlookers either shook their heads, or shrugged their shoulders and quickly returned to their business.

    About half-way up the hill, Wellynd stopped in front of a three-story building, significantly wider than the small food stalls and shops that surrounded it.

    Mermaids Tavern was etched across a wooden sign above the double doors on the ground floor, several open windows to each side of them. Above, a few broken windows plagued the second and third floors, and cracks had formed in the stone foundation of the roof. The place had seen better days.

    A hearty laugh echoed from one of the ground floor windows, followed by the smashing of glass and a series of cackles. Wellynd sighed as his shoulders slumped, the weight of the bag on his back suddenly feeling unbearably heavy.

    The tavern wasn¡¯t that bad. And, best of all, it was cheap. He¡¯d be able to save some of the money that Laine had left him for the job. But, he¡¯d always been able to deal with the inn¡¯s shortcomings, namely the loud noise deep into the night and the smell of stale beer and fish that permeated every room, because he saw this delivery job as temporary.

    Now, it seemed like this was his life for the foreseeable future. His hands began to sweat at the thought. Another cackle echoed out of the tavern, followed by a scuffling of chairs and a commotion.

    He looked up the hill. If he could find some place reasonably priced, it might be nice to stay somewhere different. Maybe, just tonight, he¡¯d stay somewhere a little nicer.

    ¡°Screw it¡± he muttered to himself as re-hefted his pack and continued his climb.

    Nearing the top of the conveyor, the rough and sturdy buildings that characterised most of the strip yielded to much more ornate structures. They were still made of New Town¡¯s signature terracotta stone, but many of the walls were adorned with moulding, full reliefs, or etched trim around the windows and doors. Many of the rooftops of the higher buildings were also rimmed with brass or copper.

    The gardens that sat atop the buildings, even from below, appeared more opulently decorated; pergolas with burgundy silks gently wafting in the wind must have been the current fashion, because Wellynd counted at least a dozen of them as he walked.

    When he finally reached the top, he looked around at the spacious courtyard that complemented the conveyor. While the machine was now a common sight to him, it truly was a marvel of engineering. It ran for more hours in the day than there was sunlight, and he¡¯d never seen it break down. Right next to it stood a large wooden platform and a series of carts that were meant to haul the cargo the rest of the way to the warehouses a few blocks west.

    A handful of people hustled about on the platform. As he caught his breath, Wellynd watched a team of workers, red and sweaty in the midmorning sun, moving crates between the conveyor and the wagons. He suddenly felt lucky that he was able to unload crates in the cool confines of Laine¡¯s seaside warehouse.

    This area of Revenshore was often called ¡°Hightown¡±, and it contained not only City Hall, but most of the finest inns and dining establishments of Revenshore.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    He scanned the square, his eyes settling on a crier out front of City Hall shouting about the successes of the Vertan campaign. After listening for a minute, he made his way around the square until he came to a set of large wooden doors.

    He knew this building. The Crest¡¯s Inn. Many years ago, he had made a pact with his friends that once they all gained entrance into the Observatory, they¡¯d come spend a night here.

    That obviously wasn¡¯t happening anymore.

    Face souring, he wondered if Bertrand and Neera would still come here without the rest of them.

    He knew he shouldn¡¯t be angry, but he couldn¡¯t help but scorn the idea of them dining and sleeping there while he collapsed from exhaustion in his attic room at Laine¡¯s cottage, or had to calm down some drunkard trying to force his way into the closet-like lodgings at Mermaid¡¯s Tavern.

    Maybe he¡¯d beat them to it.

    He looked up, admiring the carved terracotta faces that sat above the top of the door. The Crest¡¯s Inn stood out from the rest of the buildings in the courtyard. It had been darkened with some sort of grey varnish, and, at five stories tall, it towered over every building nearby. For a long moment, he stood in front of the large walnut doors.

    Part of him felt like this was wrong, but he ignored it and stepped forward, placing his hand on the door. Pushing it open confidently, he walked toward the attendant that stood in the surprisingly small lobby. She was a small and mousy figure with short brown curls and a stark white uniform adorned with gold seaming. The shine of her shoes threatened a quick distraction as the pure flames from the clean-burning oil lamps cast playful light around the interior decor.

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m looking for rooms tonight,¡± he said, mustering up a confident voice in an attempt to sound familiar with the space.

    The attendant looked at him, her face not betraying the judgement that he assumed would befall him. His brine-kissed clothes were considerably more wrinkled than usual from the morning''s events.

    ¡°Unfortunately, sir, we only have one of the lower suites left, and it has recently been discovered to need some slight repair. I wouldn¡¯t want to put you in that.¡± she said, coolly, her eyes twinkling in the ambient light.

    ¡°Uh¡­hmm¡­yeah I am not too sure about that. Is it all you have? It may still be better than what¡¯s dockside.¡± he hedged, not wanting to seem desperate.

    ¡°What repairs does it need?¡± he asked, scrunching his face slightly, feigning concern.

    ¡°It¡¯s a small leak in the bathroom. You¡¯d be able to hear it dripping all night. But apart from that, it¡¯s in typical form, which of course, is excellent if I might say.¡± she divulged, an apologetic smile brushing her face.

    ¡°And how much is it?¡± Wellynd asked, trying not to laugh. The fact that the room had its own bathroom was already unbelievable. The mermaid¡¯s bathroom is essentially a trough out back.

    ¡°That would be 12 Grellic Marks, our typical rate for the lower floors.¡± she said unapologetically. ¡°But, I could see about lowering that given the circumstances.¡±

    ¡°That would be great.¡± he said, a little too quickly.

    ¡°I could do 9 this evening, and of course, that would include the usual fare for meal service at no extra charge.¡±

    His head spun. Even with the discounted rate this was triple what he¡¯d pay if he stepped only a few minutes down the conveyor. But, it also occurred to him that he¡¯d need to pay for his own meals at Mermaid¡¯s. He took a few more moments before giving his response.

    ¡°Yeah, okay. I¡¯ll take it¡± he finally responded to the clerk, who had started working in the logbook in front of him.

    The clerk looked back up and nodded, marking something down before holding out her hand expectantly. Wellynd stared for a moment before realising what the gesture meant.

    With some internal resistance, he handed the woman 9 Grell who, looking slightly surprised upon receiving it, deposited it somewhere underneath the desk before grabbing a velvet tassel behind her, causing a bell to ring out.

    Within seconds, a boy stepped out from seemingly behind the wall opposite the desk.

    The boy stepped over to Wellynd.

    ¡°May I take your bag sir?¡±

    Wellynd reflexively grabbed the strap on his shoulder before shaking his head and replying ¡°uh, yeah it''s kind of fragile so I¡¯d rather carry it myself if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    The boy nodded. ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me I can take you to your quarters.¡±

    Wellynd gave his ascent and followed the boy to the far end of the front lobby to a staircase that bent around the corner and out of sight to the above floor.

    They ascended one flight before turning down a long, dimly lit hallway with a dark burgundy rug and mahogany panelling, each doorway framed on either side by polished brass candelabras.

    They went about halfway down the hall until the boy turned to a door and pulled out a key, unlocking it. He then turned to Wellynd and handed the key to him.

    ¡°Breakfast begins at 5 in the morning and will run until noon. Can I do anything else for you, sir?¡±

    ¡°Uhh...no I don¡¯t think so...yeah. Thanks!¡± Wellynd replied.

    The boy nodded and promptly glided back down the hall. Within moments, the only indication of the boy¡¯s presence was the faint tap of leather shoes upon the stone echoing down the empty hallway.

    Unable to control his excitement, he walked into the room. Somehow, a lantern sitting on a dark wooden desk in the far corner of the room was already lit, illuminating the small but sophisticated apartment that stood before him.

    Apart from the desk and the lamp, there was a large four-post bed with white sheets, and against the wall was a large velvet curtain from floor to ceiling. He pulled the curtain open.

    Before him was a view, but not much of one. He looked to be facing away from the main courtyard and into a small alleyway. The darkened street seemed to be the likes of which would be used for garbage and other sorts of temporary storage during normal operation of business hours.

    This would be a great alley for robberies, escape routes, or any number of other crimes if it were a little closer to dockside, but the unlit street was eerily silent, the still cobblestone offering no scuffing boots, nor did any cries echo down it.

    He exhaled. It was nice to have a little peace, he thought, the stark difference of Mermaid¡¯s loud interior and exterior still echoing in his mind.

    He went to close the curtain before hesitating. He had no real reason to close it given the street seemed to be safe enough, but his instincts made him close them all the same.

    He turned around to inspect his room once more, but this time with a closer eye. He felt around the floorboards of the bed, the edges of the desk and along its underside. Everything seemed in order. There was no false door, or hidden latch to yield any secrets.

    He relaxed onto the bed with a huff. The pillows and bedding, padded with some sort of feather, embraced him, and he found himself sinking into the warm sheets, his eyes growing heavy. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would do him good.

 Chapter 10

    Wellynd jolted upright. Springing out of bed, he drew the curtains open in a panic before letting out a sigh of relief.

    The sun still stood high in the sky, and he must have only dozed off for an hour or so.

    Rubbing his face and stretching, Wellynd eyed his pack sitting up against the wall. It took him a moment to realise that he didn¡¯t actually know who he was delivering to today. Of course, he¡¯d have a delivery for the Mox Ambrum. They always bought from Laine.

    He walked over to the pack and fished a small folded piece of paper out of the front pocket of the bag, unfolding it as he looked about the room. He still couldn¡¯t quite believe he¡¯d paid to stay here.

    There were three names:

    Mox Ambrum - 3, Xa Thaleyn plaza

    Kip - 10

    Selkis- 1

    Don¡¯t be stupid.

    L

    Wellynd chuckled at Laine¡¯s note, before staring at the final name on the list.

    Any other person would give pause on the second name, Kip.

    Kip was the contact for the resistance. If Wellynd got caught dealing with them he¡¯d never see the light of day again.

    But no. Selkis was the one who had him worried.

    Selkis was one of the masters at the Revenshore observatory.

    Folding the list back up, Wellynd clenched it in his fist.

    He wasn¡¯t quite ready to go there, but there was no way to get around it. Laine would kill him if he skipped a delivery.

    He¡¯d go to the Old City first and meet up with the Mox, and then move on from there.

    After grabbing three skald from his pack, he headed out into the hallway, locking the door behind him.

    Two minutes and an awkward smile to the concierge later, Wellynd found himself back in the sunbathed streets.

    He turned south down one of the main corridors of the conveyor thoroughfare.

    Meeting the Mox Ambrum, or, just ¡°The Mox¡± as they liked to call themselves, was always a bit of a hassle. They would leave Laine with a general area in the city, usually dockside, and Wellynd would have to just mill about until one of their agents made contact with him.

    Today, however, was a little more exciting. Wellynd had never been to Xa Thaleyn plaza. It was in the Old Town. A place he rarely got to visit.

    Of course, getting there was a bit of a hassle. While the roads of the New Town were built in a sensible grid pattern, the Old Town lacked such a luxury. The road Wellynd was walking down abruptly ended at a dark stone wall, and he had to start weaving his way through several side streets as slowly he made his way south through the city.

    He didn¡¯t know exactly where the square was and, at one point, found himself stuck in a small courtyard.

    Wellynd must have looked lost because just as he was about to turn around he heard a nasally voice call out from above.

    ¡°Lookin¡¯ for the square boy?¡± yelled an old woman, sitting on a small balcony jutting out from a tall narrow house built of what looked like a combination of reclaimed stone and clay patchwork.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Uh. Yeah.¡± Wellynd called back

    ¡°You¡¯re almost there¡± she laughed ¡°keep heading south and follow the sounds. Or the smells. Whatever comes first.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Okay. Thanks¡±

    After heading south for another few minutes, Wellynd started to doubt the old woman¡¯s advice.

    ¡°Crazy old lady¡­¡±he muttered to himself

    Then it hit him. Smoke. Not the kind that curled from chimneys as families began to heat their homes in the brisk evenings of the season¡¯s end, but the aromatic smell of slow-cooked meat on an open fire.

    As he grew closer, more savoury smells filled the air, and he found himself growing hungry.

    Then came the sounds. It wasn¡¯t quite like the hustle and bustle of the docks. Instead, distinct voices competed, calling out over the chattering voices of a bustling crowd. He even heard the rhythmic patter of drums join the din.

    As he rounded a corner, Wellynd¡¯s eyes were gifted with a visual feast. Before him were a multitude of silks, some of which were made of colours he¡¯d never seen. The silks seemed to be draped over an entryway at the end of the alleyway. He made his way towards them, and, cautiously, pushed his way through.

    He gaped.

    Carts, stands, and tents of all sorts were propped up around the edges of a large square. Vibrant red, orange, and blue silks and satins contrasted with the sombre charcoal stone of the tottering structures that stood behind them. Swaths of people, seemingly from every corner of Estioch, walked between the vendors throughout the market, laughing, ducking into tents, and eating foods Wellynd had never seen.

    How had he never come here before? When he thought of Revenshore, he would have never imagined such a place existed within it.

    He took a few steps into the crowd and quickly swept up into the flow of crowd, bobbing from stall to stall, stopping to watch Shadkarran musicians pluck at the nylon strings of their kloka, a curved wooden instrument that Wellynd had once seen Bilge bring back from a long expedition to the other side of the continent.

    Within minutes, Wellynd¡¯s mouth began to salivate at the smell of scorched pork. Unable to resist the aroma, he stopped at a vendor and bought a garlic-crusted kebab.

    His treat in hand, he moved to the centre of the square to avoid once again getting swept up by the traffic. As he took the first bite of the kebab, the juices spilling onto his chin, Wellynd sat on the edge of one of the large fountains at the centre of the square and continued to watch the people hurry by.

    When he grew tired of watching the crowd circle the market, his eyes wandered to the buildings that enclosed the square. The further south he¡¯d come, the greater the disrepair of the stone structures. Many of the buildings here had long toppled over, and many others, much like the old woman¡¯s house, were barely standing.

    It was the old temples that fascinated him the most. Spires and steeples, although, like the buildings around them, dilapidated, still loomed over the square, their cast shadows scolding the revelry that now filled the square below.

    Of course, the temples were merely shells of what they once were. People had said that this square was once home to many religious orders that, for reasons unknown, had long disappeared or left Revenshore. Though worshippers of Arthus still occupied the city, and since the Vertan invasion, many churches devoted to Deakon had popped up in the New Town, these places, ghosts of ancient past, felt different somehow. They were monuments to gods whose names no one knew.

    Standing up, he craned his neck and put his hand over his eyes to survey the tallest tower, its sharp steeple looking like it could cut a tear in the blue sky. He wondered how long it had been since a person had stood up there.

    As he took a step backward to get a better look, he nearly stumbled into a beggar. Or, that''s what he thought at first.

    The figure was hunched over in a tattered burlap cloak, hood pulled over its head, its sleeved arms clutching a small bronze pot.

    The figure turned his head up to look at Wellynd for a moment, before once again lowering his hood and placing his pot out towards him.

    ¡°ALMS FOR THE POOR¡± yelled a hoarse voice from beneath the hood. Wellynd jumped back as the man pushed past him.

    ¡°ALMS FOR THE POOR¡± the man yelled again, as he stumbled forward into the bustling crowd. Several passersby dropped a few grell into the pot. The hoarse calls continued to sound until they were drowned by hum.

    Uncertain of what to do while he waited to be contacted, Wellynd began pursuing the wares of the stalls on the far side of the square, beyond the chaos of the mob.

    Disappointingly, most of what he saw seemed useless to him. Merchants called out to him or eagerly smiled, nodding their heads as he walked by stalls filled with dried roots of Yorgtrees from Shadkara, or carved, jewel encrusted totems from the northern reaches of Melyar.

    Wellynd laughed to himself.

    Most of these were made probably only a few leagues from town. There was a good chance that Laine had smuggled at least some of the cheap materials used to make the statues.

    He kept browsing around the square until he came to a rather large blue tent propped up against the crumbling rubble of a half collapsed temple, bits of its black stone spilling out into the street.

    Looking about, he saw nobody trying to approach him so with nothing to do but wait, Wellynd pushed his way through the small slip in the tent.

 Chapter 11

    It took a moment for Wellynd¡¯s eyes to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps mounted to the few timber beams that stood in the middle of the tent.

    Short, mahogany shelves lined the makeshift shop¡¯s small perimeter, an odd array of items carelessly piled on each one. At the far end of the tent sat a wooden desk backed by a dark curtain. The pungent scent of incense filled the air; small curls of smoke drifted and dissipated around him, casting the room in a preternatural haze.

    Wellynd stifled a cough.

    There didn¡¯t seem to be anyone around, so he began to browse a nearby shelf.

    Almost immediately, he felt a pang of disappointment.

    Most of the items here were of the same dubious nature as the counterfeits he¡¯d seen in the street. Crystal skulls, nickel-bound tomes, engraved bone-wands. All the regular junk.

    He was walking down the row of shelves, brushing his fingers against random items, his excitement quickly waning when something caught his eye. He picked up a gilded scroll case sitting on top of one of the shelves close to the back of the tent. The firelight from the oil lamp behind him danced off the metal as he ran his hands over the etchings carved around the centre of the cylinder.

    At first glance, he didn¡¯t recognize the markings at all, but there was something familiar about them.

    He looked around. There was still no one in sight.

    He raised the metal to his teeth and bit down on it. Raising an eyebrow, he pulled it away and looked at it more closely.

    Not even a dent.

    The thing was probably made from painted Magstun. When heated, the ore, abundant to Ars Illuve, could be shaped almost as easily as gold, but became harder, though brittler, than iron once it cooled.

    It was a common metal for counterfeiters to use, as it took on gold paint exceptionally well. Bilge was notorious for selling idols made of the stuff to naive pilgrims crossing through Port Alshin whenever he could catch their eye.

    Rotating the scroll-case, he stared at the markings again.

    He knew he¡¯d seen them somewhere.

    Then it hit him. Wellynd started to giggle. He couldn¡¯t help himself.

    This was Uskrit: a completely fictional language from Tales of Usum. In one of the earlier stories, one that Wellynd must have read at least a dozen times, Usum had been betrayed by one of his comrades in his party of heroes, Fulkas. Usum didn¡¯t want Fulkas to know he was onto his treachery so he began to develop a language that he shared with only his closest allies. Using their secret form of communication, they were eventually able trick Fulkas into leading them to their enemy, Varden. Usum vanquished them both by calling down lightning from the heavens.

    Wellynd sighed. He had been so enraptured by the stories when he was younger that he had memorised every letter and word of Uskrit that he could get his hands on. Him and Klof would leave messages with chalk on the side of buildings around town.

    He closed his eyes in happy memory and made a mental note to go talk to Neera¡¯s brother about Usum when he got back to Kellek¡¯s Watch.

    He opened his eyes again and tried to decipher the script; he was a little rusty.

    ¡°Th¡­.this¡­¡­..scroll¡­.con.container¡­contains¡­no-¡± he started to read aloud.

    ¡°-thing. This scroll contains nothing¡± uttered a soft voice from behind him.

    Startled, Wellynd dropped the scroll which bounced off the wooden shelf before landing on the cobblestone ground.

    He felt his face turn hot.

    Turning around, a middle-age woman, with weathered sunkist skin and droopy eyes, her long red hair pulled back by a grey bandana, stood before him.

    She wore a simple baggy brown robe, and a violet crystal pendant hung affixed to a silver chain around her neck.

    ¡°I uh... Didn¡¯t think¡­¡±¡±

    She smiled and raised her hand in a calming gesture.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing from the way you bit that scroll that you should know you don¡¯t have to be too concerned about damaging it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, still¡­sorry. You scared me.¡± he replied, leaning down to pick the scroll and hand it out to her.

    A mischievous pleasure flashed across her eyes as she glanced down at it.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that you could read that. I don¡¯t know anyone over the age of ten who reads Tales of Usum.¡±

    Wellynd blushed again. ¡°Yeah, well, there¡¯s not a lot to do where I come from.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Makes sense. You¡¯re an islander, yes?¡±

    He straightened. ¡°That¡¯s right. Is it that obvious?¡±

    ¡°No, not really. I just recognize one of my own.¡±

    Wellynd relaxed, ¡°Wow, what town?¡±

    ¡°Sulfur Cove.¡±

    ¡°Ah, from the west side eh? I¡¯m from Kellek¡¯s Watch.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Kellek¡¯s Watch? You wouldn¡¯t happen to be related to Berty Snellium would you?¡±

    ¡°No. But I¡¯m friends with his son.¡±

    She gave pause for a moment before relaxing her shoulders. ¡°Ah. Thank goodness.¡± she said, smirking.

    Wellynd laughed.

    ¡°So, looking for something foreign and exotic are we? I imagine your fondness for children''s fairy tales has you hoping you¡¯ll find something of a magical nature...You should be about to take your trials, no?¡±

    He sighed before holding up his hand and showing her the mark on the back.

    ¡°Just had them.¡±

    She rolled up her sleeve and showed him the same mark on the back of her hand. Even though she was probably close to fifty years old, the mark hadn¡¯t faded even slightly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad, trust me.¡± she offered.

    ¡°Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me,¡± he said, looking down at his feet before readjusting himself and looking back into her eyes. He didn¡¯t notice before but they were violet, just like her pendant.¡±

    ¡°There are things that can...help.¡±

    ¡°What, all this junk?¡± he replied without thinking ¡°Oh...uh...sorry.¡±

    If the comment bothered her, it didn¡¯t show.

    ¡°Come with me.¡±

    Hesitating only for a moment, Wellynd followed after her.

    She made her way to the back of the tent, adjusting some of the items on the shelves as she went. Ambling around the counter, she pulled the sheer curtain to one side and gestured for him to enter.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The back section of the tent was about a quarter the size of the front. Near the back sat a small wooden desk, on which stood the room''s only source of light, three small candles.

    It was the few objects that sat on a long thin wooden table to his left that caught his attention, however.

    Spaced out almost perfectly, there were four roughly square objects on the table. Their neat placing seemed almost suspicious, like all of this was staged, but he couldn¡¯t help but get a little excited. Thinking about Usum¡¯s adventures had the tendency to make him a little over-imaginative.

    ¡°Take a look.¡± the shopkeeper said.

    Wellynd slowly walked down the side of the table, glancing back at the woman, who gave him a nod, before picking up the first object. It was a brass sphere with several curved lines engraved into its surface.

    ¡°Its called Deakon¡¯s Conduct.¡± the woman said from behind him. She had come a few steps closer and he could faintly feel her breath on the back of his ear. ¡°They say it was made by elite Vertan Engineers, and amplifies the user¡¯s ability to attain power.¡±

    Wellynd knew that there was probably at least some truth to this. He knew that brass had something to do with magic, and had noticed on his deliveries that many objects in the Observatory were made from brass. Including the fence that lines the perimeter. He¡¯d noticed that Selkis had several brass trinkets, not entirely dissimilar from this one, sitting on the shelves in his office.

    ¡°Cool.¡± he said, ultimately disinterested, but holding it for a second to make it seem like he was impressed.

    The next two objects were also made of brass. The shopkeep gave him similar stories about them; Wellynd¡¯s hopes continued to sink. Again, most of this felt like a lie wrapped in a thin veneer of truth.

    He was well aware of the tactic; he¡¯d seen several of the crewmembers of the Brinebreaker swindle folks out of money over the years.

    The fourth item, however, was quite different.

    On the table lay a solid chunk of jet black stone. Its side was matte and smooth, but the top of it looked coarse and dotted with small pecks of cerulean.

    He picked it up, turning it to feel its different textures.

    He had no idea what kind of stone it was, but it somehow felt empty, despite it being quite heavy for its size.

    ¡°You have a good eye. This is one of my rarest artefacts.¡±

    Wellynd wasn¡¯t quite sure that artefact was the right word, but his interest was piqued.

    ¡°Where¡¯s it from?¡±

    ¡°I acquired it from a merchant in the market quarter of Montefyd, but it hails from much further away. From the mountainous reaches of Rel.¡±

    Wellynd looked up, eyeing her suspiciously. The Rellians were apparently the first ones to tap into magic, and because of that, many ancient artefacts were said to have come from their lands.

    ¡°You can¡¯t possibly expect me to believe that...¡± he said, gesturing towards the front end of the shop.

    She laughed. ¡°Fair enough. Would a demonstration of some sort put your mind at ease?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    She took the stone from his hand and held it in front of her, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders.

    It took a second for Wellynd to notice, but he began to see a deep purple haze emanate from her body.

    At first it was barely a dim outline, but as she continued to focus, sweat began to bead on her forehead, and the light grew expanding outwards until the eerie glow illuminated the whole room.

    Wellynd watched in wonder as the stone in her hand began to radiate bright orange, the whole scene now a brilliant display of dancing colours.

    Suddenly, the light cut out, the soft glow of the oil lamp regaining dominance in the small room.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    The merchant wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow, breathing heavily.

    ¡°It is rumoured to have been mined from deep within the earth, beneath the Mountain of Sahr Amyl; how it works, I don¡¯t know. But its presence helps you manipulate the latent energies around you. Watch.¡±

    The smell of burning cedar became distinct again, and Wellynd watched as the woman began to wave her hands in an intricate pattern.

    The smoke in the room seemed to obey her command, following her fingers as she weaved tiny threads into a shape in front of her and then directed them towards the three candles sitting on the desk.

    Suddenly, Wellynd was plunged into darkness.

    He heard some rustling, and then the striking of the match as the woman relit the candles, the glow casting menacing shadows on her face.

    Wellynd stood awestruck as light returned to the room.

    ¡°You try.¡± she said, breathing heavily and handing the stone back to him.

    He took the stone and looked at her, confused.

    Smiling, she placed her hand on his arm.

    ¡°You know how to pull in the energies around you, yes? Try that first.¡±

    Swallowing, Wellynd nodded. He didn¡¯t want to tell her about the pain. He hoped he could hide it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and attended to the air around him. Bracing himself, he began to pull, immediately feeling the hot touch of energy against his skin.

    ¡°Open your eyes¡± he heard her say.

    He did so, and nearly gasped, almost losing grip on the energy. Purple mist swirled around him; the same glow he had seen coming from the merchant. He looked down at the stone in his hand and almost dropped it; it glowed a hot yellow, as if it had come straight from the bowels of the earth.

    And then he realised something else.

    He didn¡¯t feel any pain.

    As the violet haze swept around him, he closed his eyes again and pulled harder. He felt good. This is what he must have been missing out on.

    He relished the feel of the energy as it coursed through him; it was euphoric.

    Then, just as he tried to concentrate the abundant energy into his chest, he heard a low rumble as the ground beneath his feet shook. His ears suddenly popped and the mist around him was swept away, the candles snuffing out and plunging them back into darkness.

    He stopped.

    The rock had lost its glow.

    A moment passed before he heard the striking of the match and watched in confusion as the shopkeep relit the candles. She looked at him curiously, almost as if she was deliberating about what to say next.

    ¡°Well¡­I don¡¯t know what happened there. I¡¯ve¡­.never seen¡­or felt.. Anything like that. You¡¯re originally from Kellek¡¯s Watch you said?¡±

    Wellynd nodded.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± she scratched her cheek as she eyed him up and down. ¡°You must have some affinity with this stone. For what reason or how that came to be I cannot know¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Did I break it?¡± he replied.

    She laughed. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. But I¡¯ve never seen anyone interact with it like that before.¡± she hesitated before adding ¡°I normally don¡¯t do this but¡­well I can¡¯t give you the stone for free, but I think you are supposed to have it¡­what can you afford?¡±

    Wellynd calculated what he needed to get back home. He already had the ferry sorted out, and his only extra cost was the Crest¡¯s Inn.

    He had the extra money, but he didn¡¯t want to part with all of it.

    ¡°I can give you 5 Grell¡± he said. He had twelve.

    She sighed, hesitating for a moment before holding out her hand ¡°You are cutting my margins very thin.¡±

    Wellynd didn¡¯t fully believe her, but something told him he had to have the stone. He was going to take anything that could help him figure out what was wrong with him at this point. Even if it was a scam, he felt no pain when he used it. That alone was worth his money.

    Handing over his coins, Wellynd thanked the merchant before rushing back out into the front section of the tent. Oddly, the smoke had cleared quite a bit in the front section of the store, but he figured it must have been because they had snuffed out all the candles in the back.

    He took a deep breath and was about to push out into the street when the woman¡¯s voice called out. He turned to see her standing with her hand holding the back curtain, her shadowy figure made more menacing by her violet eyes.

    ¡°Be careful who you show that to, okay?¡± she warned with a wry smile.

    ¡°Yeah. Sure. Will do. Maybe I¡¯ll see you on the island sometime.¡± he responded.

    The shopkeeper just hummed a laugh and receded into the back, letting the curtain fall closed.

    Wellynd turned and pushed his way back out into the square. He looked around and was surprised to find this area of the square almost empty. How long had he been in there?

    He tossed the stone back and forth between his hands, and turned it around, marvelling at its beauty. Did he just waste his money? Part of him wanted to forget his delivery and head back to the hotel to test his new artefact further.

    Suddenly, someone called out from one of the side alleys that branched off the square.

    ¡°I knew you were dumb but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d get scammed that easy...¡± said the nasally voice.

    Wellynd stopped as he caught the glint of silver from the corner of his eye. He turned to face the figure, who emerged from shadow of one of the crumbling buildings. It took a second for Wellynd to realize it was the monk he had bumped into earlier, his hood still pulled over his head.

    ¡°You can spend your money on junk like that but can¡¯t spare a coin for the poor?¡± said the monk, shaking the rather full-sounding urn in his hand.

    ¡°Uh¡­sorry¡­I don¡¯t...¡± started Wellynd stepping back a few steps.

    The figure pulled back his hood and gave him a toothy smile. Wellynd relaxed.

    It was Slim, one of the errand boys for the Mox Ambrum. His long, greasy hair was pulled back in a ponytail behind his head, accentuating his high cheekbones and gaunt face, the brown burlap cloak hiding his wiry frame.

    ¡°You should probably pay more attention to your surroundings, you nump. I was trying to get your attention in the square. You¡¯ve wasted half my day now. Let¡¯s go.¡± he said, putting his hood up and turning back down the alley.

    Wellynd slipped the stone into one of his pockets under his robe and followed Slim into the darkness.

 Chapter 12

    The sun had moved well past its zenith when Slim and Wellynd finally came to a halt in front of a blank, grey-stone wall. In similar fashion to Wellynd¡¯s trip to the square, the pair had weaved through several smaller plazas and back alleys of the Old Town, making their way north towards the boundaries of the city.

    Wellynd had never been to this part of town. It was reminiscent of the religious quarter, but the buildings were further spread out from one another, accented by wide cobbled roads in varying degrees of disrepair.

    ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± asked Wellynd.

    Slim scowled at him and jerked his head further down the alley. Several paces further ahead slumped against one of the walls, sat what appeared to be another monk, garbed in a robe similar to Slim¡¯s.

    Slim sauntered over to the man and tossed a coin in the brass pot sitting beside him. The beggar must have been blind, as he didn¡¯t react until the coin clanged against the brass.

    In response, the man pulled a burlap cowl out from his robe and handed it up to Slim, who snatched it and walked back towards Wellynd.

    ¡°Put this on. And don¡¯t let me catch you peeking. Dhengis here will know if you do.¡± sneered Slim, holding out the sack whilst pointing his thumb back to the blind man.

    ¡°Really?¡± sighed Wellynd before grabbing the sack. He flashed Slim a sarcastic smile.

    The Mox were always up to this nonsense. They fashioned themselves as some great shadowy organisation and tried to act like one.

    In reality, they were just another small criminal outfit. And from what Wellynd heard from the crew of the Brinebreaker, they were only known in Revenshore, and had very little influence beyond the city limits.

    From his previous interactions with Slim, Wellynd learned that the only way he could deal with them was to cut through their nonsense with acerbic wit.

    In comparison to Laine¡¯s other client, the Resistance, the Mox Ambrum were, to use one of Bilge¡¯s favourite phrases ¡°litt¡¯l potatoes¡±.

    Wellynd arched an eyebrow as he watched Slim twirl a dagger while looking up the street behind them.

    The whole song and dance was exhausting.

    Finding the holes in the sack and coiling the sides up in his hands, he pulled it over his head and immediately began to cough.

    It smelled like old feet.

    Just as he began to get used to the smell, he felt Slim¡¯s hand grasp his shoulder and push him forward.

    Underneath the burlap, Wellynd rolled his eyes. They were off again.

    Unable to see anything besides a few specks of light through the shroud, Wellynd let Slim¡¯s rough hand aggressively guide him through what seemed like leagues upon leagues of winding alleyways, occasionally tripping over his feet.

    He had no idea where they would end up.

    In order to confront the tingle of dread that had begun to foment in his stomach, Wellynd passed the time by imagining himself as a captive trying to figure out where he was going. He listened closely to the sound of his shoes upon the cobbles and sniffed the air for the salt of the sea.

    It seemed like they were moving further towards the outskirts of the city; further from the conveyor and further from the crash of the waves. Less and less did he hear the footsteps of another person walking by. Every now and then Slim would grunt ¡°What are you looking at, Nump?¡±, but as time drew on, even these interactions faded beyond seldom.

    After a time, he gave up on trying to figure out where they were going, and his mind began to drift back towards the blue-tented shop and the stone that now sat heavy in his pocket.

    Was Slim right? Was it just another fake piece of junk? Although he hated to admit it, Slim¡¯s aspersion of doubt further dampened his already narrow hopes.

    After what seemed like the whole afternoon, Wellynd finally felt Slim lift his hand off his shoulder as they came to a halt.

    It was quiet. The drone of the conveyor had died out some time ago, and he heard no nearby sounds of life.

    Wellynd jumped as a sudden and violent grinding, the absonant grating of stone upon stone, echoed through the alleyway. He felt the deep reverberations in the stones in front of him, so he stepped back and began to pull off his mask.

    A hand firmly gripped his shoulder.

    ¡°I said keep it on, dumbass¡± said Slim in a low, threatening voice.

    ¡°What is that? On Arthus, if something happens to me, the Captain is not going to be happy¡± yelled Wellynd, unable to keep a trickle of fear from leaking into his voice.

    Slim didn¡¯t reply.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    After a moment, the grinding stopped, and Slim pushed Wellynd forward. He tripped and almost fell as the ground seemed to fall out from under him. Slim held him fast as his foot finally touched ground.

    ¡°Oh ya, watch your step.¡± he snickered.

    Wellynd huffed as he carefully made his way down the steps, the air growing cooler as he descended.

    The few splotches of light visible through his mask shifted from the bright golden sheen of afternoon sun to a dimmer auburn glow. The ground soon levelled out, and the smell of damp stone soon overtook the now faint stench of feet.

    They had walked about fifty paces when Slim stopped him. Once again a grinding sound echoed through the tunnel, this time louder in the confined space. Wellynd put his hands over his ears. Slim shoved him forward onto a step and they began to ascend again.

    A new scent wafted in through the burlap. Candle wax?He felt a tug at the top of his head as Slim pulled off the bag.

    Wellynd gaped.

    He couldn¡¯t think of any building of this size in all of Revenshore. He had never been in a room this big. It must have been some sort of temple. Not that he¡¯d ever been in one, but he¡¯d read about places like this. This was the type of place where ancient priests worshipped even older gods.

    He craned his neck upward. The vaulted ceilings must have been fifty paces high; the tops of each wall were lined with stained glass transom windows. He couldn¡¯t make out what they depicted, but they were clearly more aesthetic than practical.

    There was one source of proper natural light. A large oculus had been built right into the centre of the ceiling, the afternoon sun pouring down into the hall in a dazzling beam of light that seemed to contain innumerable trails of swirling dust. Wellynd followed the light down and scanned his more immediate surroundings.

    The hall itself was in an odd state of disarray;piles of wood pews were scattered about the temple floor, some shattered, some twisted and burnt, the ground beneath them speckled with shattered wood. An ornately weaved violet rug ran the length of the temple floor.

    He and Slim stood at the far end of the rug near the middle of the hall. At the other end were a few steps leading up to a section that held the dais, although what lay beyond was obscured. The whole area had been cordoned off with large black drapes, and two men paced back and forth in front of the divider.

    Behind them, what Wellynd presumed was the back of the temple, was even more shrouded in shadow. Squinting his eyes, he could only make out the silhouettes of what must have been more dilapidated furniture.

    ¡°Pretty nice, eh?¡± said Slim, puffing out his chest and spreading his arms as if he owned the place.

    ¡°If you like creepy, sure. Am I supposed to pray to some crusty old god or something? Why did you bring me here?¡±

    Slim grunted and made a dismissive gesture, turning on his heel and making his way towards the back of the hall.

    The two made their way through the debris, Wellynd occasionally kicking detritus as he walked. Eventually, they came to a spiral stairway at the back of the hall. Wellynd carefully followed Slim up the narrow steps, the soft sounds of voices and music growing as he ascended the stairs.

    The stone passageway had been mended with mortar in places, and entire blocks were missing in others. Reaching the top, they made for the wooden scaffolding that bridged a gap in the stone, their feet clacking against the planks as they crossed to the other side, eventually passing through a wide door.

    This was not what Wellynd expected to find.

    In front of him sat half a dozen tables sitting in the middle of a sizable room, most of them occupied with groups of two or three figures huddled over candles, drinking from an eclectic array of mugs and flagons.

    A wooden bar lined the left side of the room, the far end of the tavern sectioned off by another velvet drape. The scents of spilled beer and tobacco smoke intermingled with those of the old temple, creating a rare and strange smell distilled by damp stone.

    What Wellynd found most surprising , however, was the quietude that permeated the makeshift tavern. People spoke, but they spoke in hushed voices. Music played, but the strings of the rebec were plucked softly, as if the cloaked figure at the corner of the bar was playing in private contemplation.

    The members of the Mox Ambrum were uncharacteristically subdued.

    All eyes turned to Wellynd and Slim when they entered. Smiles turned to grimaces and blurry eyes fixed to hard stares. Slim began boisterously slapping backs and grabbing shoulders, calling aloud for ale, pointing over to a makeshift booth in the far back corner towards the drape.

    Wellynd shimmied into the booth and slid onto the bench opposite Slim, who had already sat down and was eying Wellynd, an annoyingly smug grin on his face.

    ¡°Nice place¡± said Wellynd, looking around, nodding. ¡°how long you guys been squatting here?¡±

    Slim ignored the question and took a long drink from the mug of ale that the bar keep had just brought over, the dark liquid spilling down the sides of his cheeks and onto his tunic. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and gestured to the bar keep before looking back at Wellynd ¡°I don¡¯t know why the boss wanted you here. But he did. So keep your mouth shut and wait.¡±

    Wellynd swallowed. He¡¯d never come this far for a deal with the Mox.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think you¡¯re going to get out of me, but I really don¡¯t have that much time. Can we hurry this up?¡±

    Slim ignored him again.

    Wellynd shrugged his shoulders and looked around.

    ¡°Whats behind the curtain at the front of this place?¡±

    Slim sneered. ¡°None of your business, kid. We have many secrets in the Mox. Much of our power comes from those secrets.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not important enough to know, are you?¡± chuckled Wellynd.

    Slim straightened and slammed his mug on the table ¡°If you don¡¯t stop wagging that tongue I¡¯ll cut it out.¡± he feigned a thinking pose, exaggerating his movements ¡°Hmm. Now that I think about it, we don¡¯t really need you to talk.¡± He pulled out a knife and smiled, turning it back and forth in front of Wellynd, the gleam of candlelight dancing on the edge of the blade.

    Wellynd forced a straight face. ¡°Listen Slim, I know you¡¯re a funny guy, but on the off chance that you are planning on doing something to me, I would really recommend that you don¡¯t. The captain really won¡¯t like it if his main delivery boy gets hurt, you know?¡±

    Suddenly, a crash shook the booth.

    Slim stopped spinning his knife, his smirk fading away as he sat back in his seat, eyes fixed on something behind Wellynd.

    A choked gurgle echoed through the tavern, followed by a wet thud that caused the hairs on Wellynd¡¯s neck to stand as he turned to follow Slim¡¯s gaze to the far end of the bar.

 Chapter 13

    Wellynd wasn¡¯t a stranger to violence, but his stomach dropped at the sight before him.

    At the far end of the bar lay a body slumped up against the wood panelling, legs spread, the man¡¯s hollow eyes staring off into empty space. His neck, or what had once been his neck, was a mess of blood, his trachea completely eviscerated.

    Drops of crimson rained down on the dead man¡¯s knees as a hulking figure stood above him, ripped flesh clutched in his fist.

    Wellynd looked around in horror at the other patrons, who, for the most part, having gone silent, stared at the scene briefly before turning back to their drinks and murmuring conversations.

    Uncertain of how to react, Wellynd turned around and looked back at Slim, who was still eyeing the man, his gaunt face even paler than usual.

    Swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, he watched Slim''s eyes follow something closer to their table, the ominous clomp of leather on stone drawing louder in his ears.

    Then footfalls stopped.

    Out of the corner of Wellynd¡¯s eye, he made out an arm with strange black tattoos leaning onto the table.

    Reluctantly, Wellynd turned.

    The first and only thing Wellynd could focus on were the man¡¯s eyes. Like two molten spheres they stared down at him, freezing him in place.

    ¡°Sorry about that gents. I¡¯ll be right with you.¡± said the man, before turning around and walking out of sight behind the bar.

    ¡°Sure. No problem Tanner.¡± said Slim, his quivering voice calling after the man with little conviction.

    Slim stared at the bar, lost for words, before another figure appeared in front of the table and promptly slid into the bench, jostling Slim out of his daze.

    It was Trin.

    Wellynd had met her on a few previous occasions. She was a strange sight to behold in southern Arta.

    Sickly pale white skin, her dull, fine blonde hair stood out amid the darker hair and skin tones of the coastal port city. Her light grey irises, intensified by the heavy bags under her eyes, stared intently at Wellynd.

    She grimaced at him before making a gesture to the barkeep with three fingers.

    Wellynd¡¯s stomach was reeling, his thoughts still lingering on the smell of blood coming from the large man, Tanner, as he¡¯d drawn near.

    Finally meeting Trin¡¯s eyes, Wellynd opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

    ¡°He¡¯s scared, eh Slim? I guess Tanner does that to runts like him.¡± said Trin, a small grin on her face, her nasally voice not all that different from her companion.

    She continued ¡°I don¡¯t blame him. Who knows what Tanner¡¯s gonna do. Boss wasn¡¯t happy about the last delivery. Said rock boy here skimped him with some half-juiced stones. They ain¡¯t even fetch close to what they shoulda. I¡¯m wonderin¡¯ if he¡¯s imaginin¡¯ what we do to him if he tries to pull that crap again.¡±

    While she only addressed Slim, she kept her tired eyes trained on Wellynd. If he wasn¡¯t still processing what he had just seen, Wellynd would have found it irritating.

    He had to focus. This was typical Mox fashion. Maybe the dead guy was some sort of trick. He took another glance back at the bar. Two men were dragging the body towards another door at the back of the room.

    Maybe not. It looked pretty real. He wiped his sweaty palms on his cloak under the table.

    This was them trying to throw Wellynd off-balance. While this seemed like some sort of game, in reality The Mox needed Laine. Not the other way around. This is where he could find solace. There¡¯s no way they would endanger that relationship by killing one of his delivery boys.

    At least, he was pretty sure they wouldn¡¯t.

    If he¡¯d be seeing more of the Mox from now on, he needed to show them they couldn¡¯t intimidate him so easily.

    He straightened up and turned back to Trin and feigned a half-smirk.

    ¡°You sure your boss didn¡¯t just get scammed himself? Never heard of stones being half juiced. Your buyers probably just swindled your boss into selling them for less¡± said Wellynd.

    Slim jumped up, his blade reappearing in his hand ¡°Why you little runt. You think you can talk about our boss like that? I¡¯m gunna slice you from neck to navel, then we¡¯ll see what the Capt¡­¡± he said, spittle shooting out of his mouth.

    ¡°Shutup Slim, we know you aren¡¯t going to do anything¡± scolded a voice from behind Wellynd. A moment later, a tray of drinks clattered onto the table and Slim¡¯s anger sputtered, his expression quickly straightening as he sat back in his seat.

    ¡°No, Tanner, I just thought¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think. Obviously. Be useful. Go get Grug.¡±

    Slim sat there a moment, clearly looking for support from Trin, who kept her head down, before throwing his own head back and jumping up onto the table. He walked straight across it, knocking Trin¡¯s empty mug over, jumping back down on the other side and walking off.

    ¡°Now, Trin. Where were we? Were you giving Wellynd here a hard time?¡± asked Tanner, pulling up a chair and sitting at the head of the table.

    Wellynd froze. It took all of his will to not break. Tanner used his name. They weren¡¯t supposed to know his name.

    Hesitantly, he looked at the massive man, ensuring he kept his face neutral.

    Something had changed about the man.

    Tanner¡¯s eyes were now mere dying embers, darker and rusty, with flecks of their previous molten intensity. It allowed him to get a better look at the rest of him. A thick, unkempt beard covered the lower half of his face, its black strands showing the faintest white streaks. He combed his fingers, still speckled with blood, through it idly.

    ¡°Uh. Why do you call me that?¡± Wellynd replied.

    Tanner smirked. ¡°Come now. You think using your own name at the Crest¡¯s was a smart move? Business must be good for the Captain if you¡¯re able to afford such nice accommodations, eh?¡±

    Wellynd silently cursed himself.

    The man took a long draw from Slim¡¯s ale.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Wellynd. We just wanted to make sure you were clean before letting you into our little home.¡± he paused and scratched his beard before continuing ¡°We haven¡¯t met before. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard, I¡¯m Tanner.¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Tanner held out his hand.

    As soon as he touched the proffered hand, Wellynd realised two things: the man¡¯s skin was unusually coarse and scarred, and the sense of dread that sat deep in Wellynd¡¯s stomach intensified.

    Tanner smiled. ¡°Now. Wellynd. Shall we get the transaction over with before we discuss other matters?¡±

    His voice was eerily calm.

    Wellynd shifted in his seat, scrunching his toes in his shoes.

    ¡°Uh. Sure.¡± replied Wellynd. He took the small pouch of stones out of his pocket and placed them on the table.

    Trin looked at Tanner, who gave the slightest nod, before reaching her arm across the table and taking the stones out. She inspected each of the three closely and placed them in a neat line in front of her.

    ¡°They look fine.¡±

    Tanner smiled. ¡°Excellent. We are going to do a quick test, if you don¡¯t mind, Wellynd.¡±

    He really didn¡¯t like how Tanner kept saying his name.

    After several moments of strained silence and trying to look anywhere but Tanner¡¯s eyes, Slim returned, followed by a man even larger than Tanner.

    Grug.

    Wellynd knew the man to be Mox Ambrum¡¯s main muscle. He was also quite possibly the largest human being Wellynd had ever encountered.

    The bear-like man gave Wellynd a brief nod and began pulling a small coil of thick twine out of his inner jacket while Trin pushed the stones across the table.

    After a small flourish with his other hand, Grug held the twine out over the stones, letting a small, jagged jet crystal that was attached to the end of the twine hover over the stones.

    The crystal began to rock back and forth over the skald, sometimes moving in a linear wave, sometimes moving in more of a pendulous circle. After about twenty seconds of this, Grug pulled the crystal away and gave a nod to Trin.

    This was another one of the Mox¡¯s tricks. As far as he knew, the crystal didn¡¯t do anything.

    In a way, he wasn¡¯t witnessing anything different than what the peddlers in St. Francis square did, selling nothing but a performance with the hopes of playing on the viewer¡¯s imagination. However, while the peddlers were selling hope in order to make a profit, the Mox were selling fear.

    It had successfully scared Wellynd the first few times he saw it. He remembered how he¡¯d taken less money because one of the stones ¡°didn¡¯t work¡±. Laine gave him an earful after that and told him that, while he didn¡¯t know if they could tell, to never accept anything but the agreed upon price.

    Shortly thereafter, Wellynd had done some investigating of his own and had found out that the whole thing was nonsense. He had asked Selkis at the Observatory if people could ¡°detect¡± energy with such a ritual.

    The Observer had flown into an uproar, raving about ¡°Such utter chicanery¡± abounding amongst those happy to prey on others¡¯ superstitions or ignorance of magic.

    Subsequent deals with the Mox had confirmed Selkis¡¯ allegations; the rest of the group were staring at Wellynd and not the stones during Grug¡¯s little ritual, seeing if he would sweat or get agitated. He imagined the gang used this technique quite often, but he never let on that he knew.

    ¡°It seems the deal is good to move forward,¡± said Tanner. He took out a small pouch and slid it across the table. Wellynd took it and stored it in his cloak pocket.

    ¡°What did you want to talk about?¡± asked Wellynd, hoping to move things along.

    Tanner leaned back and stretched, cracking his neck both ways. ¡°The Boss has decided that we are going to start needing more skald. We want to increase both the quantity and frequency of purchase.¡±

    ¡°Tell the contact. I don¡¯t know why you are telling me. I¡¯m just the delivery boy.¡± replied Wellynd, hopefully sounding confident.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you. And that¡¯s not all.¡± Tanner calmly replied ¡° The boss wants to, eventually, have a closer partnership with the Captain.¡± he smiled ¡°we figure, we are all making money from this skald crap, why not run a more tight-knit operation? The Mox Ambrum are growing beyond Revenshore, Wellynd. We have big plans. We want the captain to be part of those plans. He would be able to lead the smuggling arm of our operation. He could be making much more than he is now by working exclusively for us. With us.¡±

    Wellynd tried to call his bluff ¡°How do you know the Captain isn¡¯t already making boatloads of money ? Why does he need you?¡±

    Tanner laughed, ¡°Just a delivery boy eh?¡±

    Wellynd reddened.

    Tanner¡¯s face grew hard. ¡°If he was making ¡®boatloads¡¯ then he wouldn¡¯t be processing half of his hauls and selling raw ore to the Crusaders of Deakon, would he?¡±

    Wellynd fumbled ¡°Well I don¡¯t know anything about that.

    He really didn¡¯t.

    As far as Wellynd knew, The Crusaders of Deakon were a mercenary group of ill-repute that were sometimes contracted to do Verta¡¯s dirty work when their armies were needed elsewhere.

    Rumours of their barbaric practices had reached the island; mostly based out of Verta, but not officially part of the Vertan regiments, groups like the Crusaders of Deakon used their independence as an excuse to carry out their missions with extreme brutality.

    According to Leofer, who often heard stories from folks travelling on the ferry, the Crusaders made the Vertan army seem like Rellian scholars.

    There¡¯s no way Laine was working with them.

    While he was no patriot, he couldn¡¯t see his uncle supporting a group like that.

    Tanner must be lying.

    ¡°Ask him yourself¡± continued Tanner, shrugging his shoulders, wearing what almost seemed to be a look of pleasure as he watched Wellynd process the information.

    ¡°I..uh¡­I don¡¯t speak to the captain myself. I get instructions and the stone; that¡¯s it.¡± said Wellynd staring down at the table.

    ¡°Ah¡± said Tanner.

    He stood up.

    ¡°Leave. All of you. I need to talk to Wellynd. Alone.¡±

    Trin looked mystified as she shimmied out of the seat. Grug and Slim, who had been standing and watching with their arms crossed at the end of the table glanced at each other.

    ¡°Tanner, we don¡¯¡­¡± started Slim.

    In an instant, Tanner¡¯s hand was clutching Slim¡¯s neck, holding the thin man in the air, his feet dangling.

    With incomprehensible strength, he pulled the man¡¯s head closer while keeping him well off the ground.

    He stared into Slim¡¯s eyes ¡° we don¡¯t what, Slim? did you think before you opened your mouth again? I really think you need to start taking my advice.¡±

    He let Slim drop, who caught himself on Grug¡¯s arm before scowling at Wellynd and walking over towards the bar with the other two.

    Tanner sat back down.

    ¡°Sorry about that, Wellynd. Slim means well for the outfit but he¡¯s not particularly smart. I often wonder if he¡¯s worth more than the trouble he causes.¡±

    It took a second, but Wellynd realized that the man¡¯s irises had turned molten once more.

    ¡°What was I saying again?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­that you want the Captain to join the Mox?¡± offered Wellynd.

    ¡°Oh right. Yes. Wow that Slim makes my blood boil.¡± he laughed ¡°Right. So you tell The Captain that he should seriously consider this offer. The Mox are going to be a major player soon. With the war ramping up, he¡¯ll need our help for what¡¯s coming. Otherwise¡­¡± he looked around for a moment before leaning in closer, his eyes burrowing into Wellynd.

    ¡°Otherwise, he might find his nephew strung up from one of those chains he has hanging from the roof of that lovely little warehouse in Kellek¡¯s Watch.¡±

    Wellynd froze.

    ¡°How do you¡­¡± he started.

    Tanner let out a deep, hearty laugh. ¡°We know a lot of things, Wellynd. Don¡¯t worry though. We have a very insulated information structure in the Mox Ambrum. Only a few of us know who the Captain is. But it would be just awful if someone like Slim found out where you all live, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± he put his hand on Wellynd¡¯s shoulder as if they were old buddies ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest with you, Welly. That¡¯s what they call you right? I don¡¯t think he likes you very much.¡± Wellynd turned to look at Slim who was leaning against the bar eying them suspiciously.

    Tanner sat back down and took another drink, this time from his own flagon of ale.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you head on out for now. We can talk again next time you come down. Who knows, maybe you¡¯ll have a place in the Mox. Even though you failed your tests, we can teach you so many neat tricks.¡± he took one last drink before getting up and walking towards the back door.

    Wellynd sat, unable to process all the information he had just received. He felt paralyzed. He knew he had to go, but he just didn¡¯t know what to do first.

    Should he return to Laine immediately?

    No¡­that was stupid. There was no point in rushing home just because he was scared.

    Laine would know what to do. He just needed to keep course.

    Wellynd reached across the table and took a drink of Tanner¡¯s ale. This was his world now; he needed to learn to deal with it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. You¡¯ve lived out your welcome¡± said Slim.

 Chapter 14

    Wellynd stood up and made his way towards the door, Slim closely in tow.

    ¡°Slim!¡± shouted Grug, as they neared the door ¡°Bossman wants to chat.¡±

    ¡°Tell him I¡¯ll be right there.¡± called Slim before shoving Wellynd out onto the landing.

    They made their way back down the winding staircase and into the main hall.

    ¡°You¡¯re pretty scared of Tanner eh?¡± said Wellynd, as Slim nearly forced him to trip on a broken chair.

    Slim grabbed the back of his cloak behind his neck and pulled him back.

    ¡°As soon as the boss is done with you I¡¯m gonna love tearing you open with my blade.¡± he growled in Wellynd¡¯s ear before shoving him forward again.

    Wellynd turned back to look at the spindly thug. ¡°Hey you¡¯re the one who¡¯s always rude to me. I¡¯m just saying. I don¡¯t blame you or anything...That guy is creepy.¡±

    ¡°Hah! Trying to cosy up to me now? Every runt like you thinks you¡¯re better than everyone else.¡±

    Wellynd frowned. Normally he wouldn¡¯t bother with this conversation, but Tanner¡¯s threat had him wondering and worried about Slim. What if he somehow did find out about Kellek¡¯s Watch?

    ¡°What did I do to you?¡±

    Slim scoffed again. ¡°Why don¡¯t you stop worrying about me and get a move on. I have my reasons runt.¡±

    Echoing through the hall, Tanner¡¯s voice rumbled like an avalanche.

    ¡°SLIM. NOW.¡±

    A chair leg in a rubble pile beside them rattled, tumbling down the wreckage and clattering to the floor.

    Slim let go of Wellynd¡¯s shirt.

    ¡°Uh. J...just continue down the main hall until you see an arched door on your left. Go through it and walk till you get to an unlit sconce. Turn it sideways. You¡¯ll have half a minute or so before the door shuts. So don¡¯t get squashed, idiot. Or do, I don¡¯t care.¡± Slim stuttered before turning and almost jogging back to the stairwell.

    Wellynd started to look around when Slim¡¯s voice echoed out through the hall.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying to look for a way back in. You¡¯ll never find it.¡±

    Wellynd swallowed.

    He stood there, listening as Slim¡¯s footsteps pattered up the staircase and out of earshot. Turning, he eyed the curtained off section of the hall and briefly watched the two men patrolling back and forth in front of them.

    One of the guards looked at Wellynd, who, uncertain of what to do, gave an awkward wave before locating the stone archway on the far side of the hall.

    The archway led to a narrower corridor dotted with lit sconces, as well as the occasional wooden door on both sides of the hallway.

    The distant hum of the tavern, and even the soft tap of guards¡¯ feet against the main hall¡¯s stone had faded, and an eerie silence loomed between each of Wellynd¡¯s solitary steps.

    Or...it wasn¡¯t quite silence.

    He stopped and strained his ears. Very, very faintly, he could just make out something. At first, he thought it was the distant trickle of water.

    Not quite.

    It sounded almost like a whisper.

    He couldn¡¯t locate where it was coming from, and every time he turned his head the whisper¡¯s origin seemed to switch directions. After looking around to find no one else in the long corridor, Wellynd walked over to the closest door. Maybe it was coming from one of these rooms.

    Wellynd pulled on the large iron ring in the centre of the door, and, being caught off guard by how tightly locked it was, he let go. The ring slammed back against the door, causing the metal to ring out.

    Heart beating, Wellynd paced quickly down the hallway.

    Not a good idea.

    As he walked, he put his hands on the other doors he passed. Each seemed as firmly shut as the first.

    Eventually, he spotted an unlit sconce on the right side. The hallway continued on but he stopped and examined the ornament.

    It looked just like the others.

    Reaching up, he grabbed onto it and tugged sideways.

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    Immediately, the absonsant grating he¡¯d heard on the way in started up, and the hallway itself seemed to shake.

    This obviously wasn¡¯t the same door he and Slim had come through. They had come right into the main hall. Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but be impressed with the amount of work that must have gone into building entrances like this.

    He watched on as the stone wall on the right side of the hallway receded into the ceiling, revealing a stone staircase leading downwards into the darkness.

    The grating eventually subsided as the door came to rest.

    He looked up and down the corridor. As he was about to step down into the darkness, the wooden door closest to the stone gateway caught his eye.

    It had opened just a crack.

    Wellynd took another look around. No one was in sight. He eyed the stone gateway. He knew how to get out now.

    Maybe he could just take a quick look around.

    Walking over to the wooden door, he pushed it open. It was dark inside.

    Taking one last look at the stone gate, Wellynd slipped through the wooden door and into the dark room.

    He strained his eyes but couldn¡¯t make out anything in the thick darkness.

    Taking careful steps, he shuffled along the wall, guiding his hand against the cold stone as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark.

    Blinking, the room barely came into view. It wasn¡¯t much. A sparse bookshelf lined one wall and a tipped-over desk lay in the middle of the room.

    Retreating to the hall, he borrowed one of the torches off the wall.

    He returned to the desk and through the scattered papers and empty drawers, he looked around the room again.

    There, barely noticeable even in the light of the torch, tucked into the corner of the room was a small opening carved into the stone wall.

    Curious, Wellynd walked over to find a wooden stairwell that descended into darkness.

    Holding his torch forward, he couldn¡¯t see the end of the steps. The darkness seemed to swallow the light.

    He slowly stepped down the stairs, squinting into the dark as each board groaned under his feet, his free hand occasionally brushing against wooden scaffolding as he descended into the darkness.

    Another ten steps of deafening silence, save for his echoing steps, and the air began to grow wet and cold, and he noticed something odd about his torch.

    Its flickering glow, previously dancing between bright oranges and yellows, had turned a bitter red.

    The wooden steps stopped and the ground levelled out into what appeared to be another corridor. This one smaller than the one above, and in the deep red torchlight, he passed under a narrow archway.

    His heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears.

    Waving his torch in front of him, he marvelled at the strange light, and just barely caught something else in the periphery of his vision.

    Something faint had been carved into the ceiling.

    A series of gloomy red marks wound around each other, clumping at the base with multiple strands sprawling off into errant tendrils. It was like an overgrown tumble of weeds connected at the root with each stem trying to grow apart.

    He blinked at the symbol, only a foot or so in width, and counted the stems.

    Twelve in all.

    As he continued down the hallway, he spotted the symbol six more times.

    The only difference between them was that the symbols seemed to get progressively larger and rougher. The sixth instance of the symbol was two, maybe three feet wide in all, its lines more tremulously etched into the stone than the previous ones.

    Passing under another stone arch, his head craned upwards as he scanned the ceiling for any more of the markings, Wellynd was caught off guard when his foot suddenly struck dirt.

    Extending the torch outward he tried to see the chamber he had entered. It was big. He walked forward.

    No, it was enormous.

    It must have been a circular room, because he could make out a slight curve in the wall to his right. The rest of the chamber seemed to stretch out into oblivion. Even the ceiling was out of sight.

    Something else was different too.

    The whisper he had heard back above. The one in the hallway. It had intensified. It was still, silent. But somehow, more pervasive. Like it was rattling around in his head.

    Wellynd got the strong sense that he wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. Like something very bad was going to happen if he didn¡¯t leave.

    He was about to turn heel and run back towards the hallway when he saw a flash of torchlight from far above him.

    He took a few steps closer. The dim glow from the other torch revealed a dome-like structure in the ceiling, and, at its centre, a small hole from where the light emanated.

    Wellynd walked towards the centre of the room. Maybe he could see more through the hole if he got right under it.

    He stopped. Something shuffled in the dirt in front of him.

    Slowly, Wellynd lowered his torch in front of him.

    On the ground, fifteen paces in front of him, lay a person.

    Or at least, something that looked liked a person. It was hard to tell in the strange hue of the torchlight.

    Its skin was scraped and torn, with chunks of flesh missing from its back.

    It kicked its leg.

    Wellynd took a step backwards and nearly tripped over his feet. Unconsciously he let out a faint yelp.

    The creature rolled over onto its back, its head snapping up to look at him.

    Two, magma orange eyes threatened to still Wellynd¡¯s fleeing legs, but he shrugged off the spike of fear, his heartbeat drowning out all sounds as he pelted away from the creature.

    Kicking up dirt, he ran faster than he¡¯d ever run until he found stone beneath his feet once more. Steps echoing, he raced forward, passing all of the strange markings above him.

    He nearly ran into the scaffolding at the bottom of the stairwell. Rounding behind the first post of scaffolding, he braved a glance back down the corridor, whipping his torch in front of him as if it were a sword.

    Nothing.

    Whatever it was hadn¡¯t given chase. Steeling himself, he took shallow breaths as he waited for any sign of movement in the darkness.

    Still nothing.

    He turned to begin his ascent up the stairs, when, suddenly, the whispers coalesced into coherent words:

    Xandu-El is dead. Torix is here.

 Chapter 15

    Wellynd turned but nothing stood behind him. Just the hollow darkness. Without any more hesitation, he sprinted up the stairs, two steps at a time, not even taking the time to watch the torch turn back to its familiar colour as he ascended the stairs.

    Bursting out of the recess, he pushed through the door and grabbed at the unlit sconce, yanking it down, the rock grating out in response. Wellynd ducked under the door and began to descend the stairs.

    He had just started to slow down when the stairs disappeared from under him, turning into flat stone. He fell onto his back and began to slide down a chute, turning once in a curve before being spat out into open air.

    And into a pile of rubbish and refuse.

    Wellynd groaned as he tried to roll out of the pile without touching anything else. Everything was wet. This is where they must dump their human waste as well.

    Slim¡¯s idea of a joke.

    Wellynd finally crawled out of the mess and looked around. He was in some sub-courtyard deep in the Old City. He could tell from how dark the stone was on the tall buildings loomed over him. He scanned the walls. There was no clear indication where he had come from.

    The sun was no longer visible from within the courtyard so it must be well past midday.

    He¡¯d have to find his way back to the Crest¡¯s and change before he went to see Selkis at the Observatory.

    He certainly couldn¡¯t go smelling like this.

    Telling the old scholar about his failure of the exam was already going to be embarrassing enough.

    Turning twice to get his bearings, Wellynd set off back towards the Crest¡¯s, the whole way, his mind haunted with visions of the shadowy figure dwelling beneath the Old City.

    ~

    About an hour later, Wellynd stood out front the Crest¡¯s Inn, the afternoon sunlight pleasantly warming his face, refreshed and cleanly clothed. Holding up his arm to his face, he inhaled through his nose and smiled. He now smelled subtly of lavender and mossroot. He couldn¡¯t believe he¡¯d had fresh water drawn just for him at the Crest¡¯s, and that they had included a choice selection of oils and soaps to be infused into the bath.

    He could get used to that.

    The bath had also given him time to rationalise, or, at least try to piece together what he had seen in the Mox Ambrum¡¯s hideout.

    The figure had to be human.

    He¡¯d never read about, and certainly never witnessed, any creatures that so closely resembled a person. He wondered if they were from far away, like Shadkara. Knowing the Mox Ambrum, they were probably keeping them prisoner for a ransom, or the purpose of some other devious scheme.

    The only thing he couldn¡¯t make sense of, when he sat with half his head below the water of the hot bath, enveloped in bubbles and steam, were those eyes.

    And that whisper.

    They obviously had something to do with the strange power that seemed to ripple off of Tanner.

    Whatever was going on, he had no plans of investigating anytime soon. His curiosity about their hideout had been satiated. The Mox had always seemed innocuous enough, but Tanner¡¯s demands and threats had changed that.

    He was even considering asking Laine to have someone else deliver skald to them from now on.

    Wellynd glanced around the square. Some workers were unloading crates from the conveyor, as usual, and there were a handful of passers-by no doubt returning from the market, netted bags laden with fruit or new clothing. One girl, leaned against city hall, was covering her mouth, snickering at him.

    No doubt she¡¯d watched him relish his new-found love for luxury bathing.

    Face turning red, he started up the northern road that headed out of the square and toward the Observatory.

    Unlike the Old Town, the New Town buildings became sparser as one moved further away from the city centre.

    Wellynd walked down the perfectly formed brick road, staring through large windows of shops and admiring the opulent merchant houses that took up the majority of the district.

    It was always easy to tell when one was getting close to the Observatory. Pubs were replaced with coffee shops, and merchants'' stalls were replaced with book shops. Younger people, all around Wellynd¡¯s age, walked about in small groups wearing robes of varying shades of grey with a distinct crimson stripe along their shoulders.

    Robes that Wellynd had once thought he would be wearing.

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    He couldn¡¯t help but clench his fists as a tall, older looking boy in darker robes pushed by him. In light of the day¡¯s series of events, he¡¯d managed to forget about the aching sense of loss at his failure to pass the exam.

    A group of four girls in robes brushed by him, laughing amongst one another.

    He tried to steel his mind. He wasn¡¯t coming here.

    Such an effort took all his focus and he tried to ignore the effervescent and vivacious atmosphere only found in places where everyone is collectively committed to doing something extraordinary.

    He was so focused on ignoring this world that was now lost to him that he almost ran into something.

    ¡°Can I ¡®elp you?¡± said a voice.

    Wellynd shook his head and looked up.

    In front of him stood two massive stone pillars, framing a gate formed of numerous brass rods, the symbol of Arthus connecting the two gates ornately formed by thin gilding in the middle.

    He looked behind him to realise the last grouping of buildings was nearly 200 paces back, the city having given way to the open green fields that characterised the grounds of the Observatory itself.

    The source of the voice was a guard standing in front of one of the pillars, outfitted in an ornate looking set of armour. It was still made of the signature Vertan bronze, but a series of etchings and patterns ornamented the helmet and pauldrons. The guard carried no spear, instead holding a large two-handed sword, its blade pointing down and his two hands resting on the pommel.

    ¡°What? Uh, yeah. I¡¯m here for Master Bardov.¡± responded Wellynd, distracted.

    ¡°Delivery?¡± replied the guard, glimmering bronze pauldrons highlighting the inscrutable face poking out of her helmet.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I recognize you. You¡¯ve been ¡®ere before¡± she said, stepping forward.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me¡± replied Wellynd, stepping forward a little more confidently.

    ¡°Do delivery boys come through the main gate?¡± she returned. Wellynd almost responded to the question genuinely, but caught a glimpse of the woman¡¯s arched eyebrow under her helm. His face reddened even more.

    ¡°Right. Yeah, sorry. I¡¯ll head to the back¡± he replied awkwardly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let em¡¯ know you¡¯re comin¡¯¡± said the soldier before resuming her perfectly straight stance and staring straight ahead into the distance. How the soldier would let the guards at the back know, Wellynd had no clue. Another mystery he¡¯d probably never solve now.

    ¡°Oh shutup¡± he muttered to himself as he turned up the narrow gravel path that ran alongside the length of the fence.

    Ruminating wasn¡¯t doing him any good. He was still getting the rare opportunity to even go into a place that most people never even dreamed of witnessing.

    This meandering journey around the outskirts of the Observatory was often the highlight of his visits to the mainland.

    It wasn¡¯t rare for him to catch a class of students sitting in a field or sometimes sparring, the combatants moving at near impossible speeds, jumping ten feet in the air, almost hovering for a moment while they gained the bearings of their opponent.

    He had no idea how any of it worked, but, according to Selkis, sparring wasn¡¯t traditionally part of the curriculum. Apparently, their Vertan patrons had demanded that Koshai receive more physical training, since so many of them ended up joining the military.

    Wellynd continued along the path, which sloped gradually up towards the structure whose battlements were now just visible over the crest of a hill. The grounds inside the perimeter of the fence were perfectly manicured, a short, even, vibrant green grass topping its gentle rolling hills, a white poplar occasionally breaking up the uniformity of green.

    When the Observatory itself came into view, Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but stop and admire it.

    He wasn¡¯t quite sure what kind of structure it was. It was distinct from the buildings in the New and Old Town.

    While it possessed battlements, it wasn¡¯t exactly a castle or fortress; certainly nothing like Fort Gravician that sat further out from town.

    Seemingly carved from a single piece of nearly white rock, the building was three stories tall and unfathomably long. Sometimes, Wellynd was able to explore the grounds after completing his delivery, and one time he had sprinted the length of the building.

    It had taken him nearly a minute, at full speed, to get from one end to the other.

    Tall arched windows lined the building on each floor, each window about three paces apart. The stone itself was etched with perfect lines between each floor, and the middle section of the building possessed ten large columns on either side of the main door, each half embedded into the structure of the building itself. Altogether, the pillars held up a grand archway that depicted an ornately carved relief of hooded figures that praised a floating Eikon at the peak of the arch, the eikon itself emanating an array of beams decorated with gold leaf.

    Each end of the building also held a turret of sorts, ascending another two stories and capped with large glass lanterns.

    Wellynd soon found himself, like he did every time he visited this place, face pressed up against the brazen bars of the fence, staring at the magnificent structure. Even though the building was now tainted with his failure, it was still the most beautiful place he had ever seen.

    Fighting the urge to sit and stare at the structure all day, Wellynd pushed himself from the bars and continued on, circling past the sides and rear grounds, where there lay a series of less impressive outbuildings.

    As the perimeter circled behind the main structure, the path and grass gave way to cobbled stone. Wellynd continued along the fence until it too disappeared, replaced by a wall of grey brick. He finally came to a relief in the wall that contained a nondescript wooden door. He knocked loudly.

    ¡°Delivery for Selkis¡± he yelled, slightly annoyed that he had to return from his reverie to the task at hand.

    After a moment, another, less decorated guard opened the door and nodded at Wellynd to follow him. The pair wound through a series of hallways, up two staircases, until they entered the main hallway along the back of the Observatory, long cathedral windows lining the left side, and a series of lecture halls on the right. As they walked down the hallway towards Selkis¡¯ office, Wellynd listened hungrily to the echoing lectures that rang out through each doorway he passed, sometimes punctuated by howls of laughter, other times complemented by choruses of wondrous gasps.

    They reached the end of the hallway and walked through another arched opening, turning right to find a narrow hallway of offices. The guard led Wellynd to the final office and knocked on the door.

    ¡°Observer Bardov, you have a delivery,¡± said the guard.

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but smile when he heard the scuffling of a chair and a muffled squeak of excitement behind the door.

 Chapter 16

    The door creaked open to reveal a lithe figure, just above average height, his advanced age signalled by the tufts of white hair that shot out from either side of his head, the top of which was hairless, and glistened in the torchlight of the hallway.

    His face was characterised by a large bulbous nose, underscored with a scruffy white moustache, and, most notably, thick spectacles that fell somewhere between reading glasses and engineer¡¯s goggles, the rims chipped and marked with a faint scoring.

    He wore a simple grey robe, this one with black stripes across the shoulders.

    ¡°Ah yes yes my boy, come in come in. Thank you, Reginald. We¡¯ve got it from here.¡± said the master excitedly, as he ushered Wellynd into the study.

    The guard, Reginald, apparently, looked askance at Selkis ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to leave any delivery folk unattended.¡±

    ¡°Delivery folk? Ah yes. No, not to worry Reginald. The boy¡¯s been here a million times. We have further business to discuss before I send him on his way. Hmm yes. So I¡¯ll call you when he needs to leave, yes? Some sort of escort is required or something?¡± rambled Selkis, fiddling with a small brass spring that seemed to appear out of nowhere while looking around in wonder at the hallway as if he had just discovered it.

    The guard eyed the man strangely. ¡°Yeah. Like always. Just ring the guardhouse and we will send someone up. Make sure you do. Also, the name¡¯s Burke, and I¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, very good.¡± said Selkis, slamming the door shut.

    ¡°My boy! Wellynd? Welly was it? You¡¯ve brought goods no doubt, yes?¡± exclaimed Selkis ¡°And how are you? Well, I hope.¡± he looked around conspiratorially ¡°the rock. It¡¯s here, yes? Not too much trouble I hope?¡± The man rubbed his hands anxiously as he asked the last question, his bright eyes darting around Wellynd¡¯s cloak.

    Wellynd grinned as he approached the large oak desk at the far end of the office and, not without some theatricality, fished the skald out of his pocket and placed it on the desk¡¯s edge.

    The man¡¯s eyes lit up hungrily.

    This hunger was different from the one that Wellynd¡¯s other clients often displayed, who generally used the stones for either profit or destruction. Selkis Bardov, Master Observer at the Revenshore Observatory, however, looked at the stone as if it was some untouched land to be discovered, its secrets untombed, the light of knowledge cast to illuminate its shadowy unknown.

    ¡°Oh my boy very good, very good¡± he said excitedly, eyes never leaving the stone as he walked over and opened a drawer in the desk.

    He fished around for a moment before pulling out a small brown leather pouch and tossing it to Wellynd.

    Eyes still set on the stone, Selkis then leaned over and pulled up a small iron chest. In one fluid motion, the master pulled a key out of his robe, unlocked the chest, and pulled open the lid to reveal a small pile of different rocks and gems. Some were skald, others common gems like topaz and sapphire, and some were other metals that Wellynd didn¡¯t recognize, their mysterious shine and colour alien to him.

    Selkis placed his newest addition carefully in with the rest, taking one more vociferous look at his hoard before closing the chest and placing it back in its hiding place.

    When the man came back up he flashed Wellynd a mischievous grin. Wellynd glanced curiously at the spot where the chest just sat, while Selkis brushed his hand against the desk.

    ¡°Master Bardov, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, if you aren¡¯t using the stones right away, but you have the money to afford so many, why don¡¯t you buy more than one? I¡¯m sure the Captain would give you a discount if you bought more.¡±

    ¡°Ah. A very astute question. And as I said, it¡¯s Selkis. Selkis boy. When you come here and take classes with me then all the formality is to be expected, but no need right now. I hear enough of it. Hold on.¡± He glanced over to a circular wooden chart nailed to the wall. ¡°Magisters should have passed through here by now. Did you pass the test my boy? I¡¯d gotten the feeling that I might see you in these halls soon, no?¡±

    Wellynd cringed before holding up his hand and flashing the symbol to the old Master and bowing his head for a moment.

    There was no response. The room remained silent.

    Unsure of how to react, Wellynd looked up at Selkis. The old master wore a look that Wellynd had never seen on him before.

    Confusion.

    The man often wondered, often investigated, and was always probing. But he was never confused.

    Unsure of what to say, Wellynd sputtered ¡°they say you never know¡­¡±

    After another strained moment, the man¡¯s face returned to its usual happy demeanour.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m sorry to hear that boy. Very sorry. I was actually quite certain that I¡¯d be seeing you in the upcoming class. How odd¡­I thought¡­yes well nothing can be done of it now. Don¡¯t stop practising my boy. Never stop learning. There is more than one way to feather a sulfhawk, eh? Well maybe I can¡­no..that¡¯ll have to wait¡­well we¡¯ll just have to see...yes.¡±

    Wellynd stood and let the man have a conversation with himself. This was a common occurrence, and while the man¡¯s ramblings weren¡¯t exactly helping quell his anxieties about his failures, there wasn¡¯t much he could do at this point.

    Eventually, Selkis stopped talking and began to stack papers on his desk, barely making progress toward organising the miscellany of objects and scrolls that sprawled across its surface.

    ¡°To answer your earlier query...academic funding is a strange beast. Yes, very strange. You see I only get a certain amount every month and the war makes it a hard case for me to press for more, you see my boy? So I have to spread my money thin and get what I can. Hmm, yes. There is also the added danger of the stone itself, yeah? Did I already say that? Either way, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m even allowed to have it!¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He furrowed his brow.

    ¡°Of course, my research is of dire importance. Dire importance, my boy. But alas, Vertan bureaucracy eh?¡±

    Wellynd nodded along. He sometimes forgot that Selkis was Vertan. He had been at the Observatory several years before the occupation, but he imagined the old master wasn¡¯t particularly well-liked by his peers. For Wellynd¡¯s part, he didn¡¯t care about that. He found the man fascinating.

    If he was being honest with himself, Selkis was one of the reasons he was so ambivalent about the Vertan occupation in the first place.

    He looked around the study for a moment, which was cosy but small, the walls lined with bookshelves, the source of light being a large ocular window in the ceiling, sunlight pouring through and reflecting off of a series of mirrored surfaces on its way to the chamber below. Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but notice that he could see Arthus floating high above in the now clear sky.

    The far end of the study held two mahogany doors crammed between the continuous bespoke shelving. Wellynd looked back at Selkis to find the man eyeing him curiously.

    ¡°Do you want to see something wonderful?¡± asked Selkis.

    ¡°Sure¡±

    Selkis gestured to the left door, following after Wellynd as he pushed through it.

    If he hadn¡¯t come from the office, Wellynd would have guessed the room he now occupied was in a different building altogether. Constructed of smooth stone, the walls shaped into an arching dome lit overhead by another ocular window at its centre. There were several shelves carved into the stone, and Wellynd noticed several peculiar looking shapes covered by white sheets on the far side of the chamber. All of this, however, paled in comparison to the magnificent structure that stood in the centre of the circle.

    It couldn¡¯t have been wider than his thigh, but the structure stood about four yards tall, composed of hundreds of coiled brass wires, all twisting and coiling upwards, like a thousand snakes all ambling to taste the light above. At the top of the coil sat a small brass mounting, almost like a small claw, its fingers open, pointing upwards. Halfway up the sloping walls, two more, less impressive coils shot out from opposite ends of the room connecting with one another, just beneath the claw. Wellynd stared, unsure what to do.

    ¡°Quite the sight, ain¡¯t it my boy?¡± said Selkis, his voice echoing in the chamber as he too marveled at the strange mechanism.

    ¡°What does it do?¡±

    ¡°It does several things my boy. Yes, yes. It is connected to many other things in the Observatory. But its purpose in this room, what it does best above all else, is provide insight. Yes, what we¡¯ve discovered in a relatively short time is remarkable boy, wonderously remarkable. But we still see very little. And because we see very little, we know very little. This device gives me a glimpse.¡± he rambled, finding his way into a small recess on the left side of the room that Wellynd hadn¡¯t noticed.

    ¡°Aha!¡± He made a victorious cry after several moments of rustling and came back out from the recess holding something in front of him.

    Wellynd made it out immediately. It was another skald. Or, a piece of one. It was very small. He even remembered which one. He had brought it to Selkis over half a year ago.

    ¡°Still have that thing? You really are building a stockpile eh?¡± joked Wellynd. Selkis chuckled before ambling over to a small stone panel and pressing on it, causing it to swing open and revealing a storage closet of sorts.

    He pulled out a small step ladder and pushed it over to the coil before pausing, and glancing at Wellynd.

    ¡°Want to do the honours my boy?¡±

    The eccentric master smirked as he held out the stone. Wellynd felt his stomach do a tumble before nodding and taking the stone, carefully wrapping his fingers around the familiar coarse surface.

    He walked over to the step-ladder, and, after testing the first step, confidently climbed it until he could reach the top. He took a hesitant glance at Selkis, who was staring at him intently, before reaching up and placing the stone into the mounting. He wiped his hands and walked back down, shuffling backward to properly survey his work.

    ¡°Good, good, my boy¡± chirped Selkis before walking over to the bottom of the spire, pulling on one of brass wires and placing the small spring from earlier somewhere inside.

    Selkis then ushered Wellynd over to the small recess and behind what appeared to be some sort of console facing the centre of the room and pulled on a large wooden lever.

    A loud creak echoed from above as a large, black-tinted glass panel appeared above Selkis from a unseen compartment and slowly descended.

    Wellynd shuffled his feet as he couldn¡¯t help but recall the stone door at the Mox hideout.

    The brass spire was still visible from behind the tinted glass, and Wellynd thought he could detect a faint glow in its foundations.

    ¡°All set my boy?¡± flashing a maniacal smile before walking up to the glass and facing his back to Wellynd.

    Wellynd saw the man¡¯s shoulders slump as he placed his hand on the glass.

    Suddenly, the glass changed colour, and the black tinted faded into translucent yellow. It was what was beyond the glass, however, that had Wellynd stunned.

    The brass spire looked exactly the same, but all around it swirled dancing colours, flowing about the room. The most dominant of these colours, by far, was an ethereal blue, but there was also an abundance of gold, some green, a hint of deep black, and very occasionally he made out a speck of deep red.

    ¡°What¡­what is that?¡± stammered Wellynd, walking up to the glass.

    ¡°Kose, my boy¡±

    ¡°Kose? What is that?¡±

    The master arched an eyebrow at Wellynd but didn¡¯t answer. He walked back around the console and, without hesitation, turned a large brass knob.

    The whole room began to shake.

    A hum began to reverberate from the brazen spire behind him. It was, at first, the faintest noise, almost as if the tiny brass coils were minutely vibrating. The sound began to grow, and Wellynd found that the sound now came from multiple points, not just from the spire but, from what he could guess, the perpendicular coils as well. Within a few moments, a great whirring noise vibrated the air, growing steadily louder as a secondary high-pitched squeal joined in.

    Wellynd began to sweat. He looked back at Selkis, who was now stretching his hand out towards the spire.

    Wellynd¡¯s heart began to race faster. The entire stone chamber now echoed and whirred, the sounds reverberating rapidly around the concave walls, the drum of the now booming noise seemingly intertwining with the rapid beating of his heart.

    He could also make out faint distortions in the air around the spire as the colours continued to swirl about it. He watched on as the distortions seemed to climb the final segment of the structure, bracing himself as they reached the claw.

    The whirring hit a crescendo as the skald exploded with light, distorting the air around it, bending the sunlight pouring in from the window above. Abruptly, all the colours stopped swirling, their ethereal essence hanging in the air like high-flying clouds that blanketed the sky.

    Wellynd turned back to Selkis again to ask what was happening, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

 Chapter 17

    He furrowed his brow.

    A moment of silence passed before sound began to trickle into the room. Not the loud mechanical whirring of the great machine, but a high-pitched thrum. He opened his jaw as if to yawn, feeling the overwhelming need to unclog his ears, but nothing helped. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he tried to lock eyes with the master.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he tried to say.

    He still couldn¡¯t hear himself, but he was pretty sure he¡¯d shouted that loud enough to be heard through the high winds of a storm.

    Glancing around, the room had quickly returned to its normal lighting. The spire and all its coils had looked just as they did moments ago, the skald still resting firmly in the grasp of the brazen claw.

    Selkis quickly lowered his hands from his ears, eyes transfixed on the spire. Without looking, he reset the lever to upright, and the sound of gears chugged into motion.

    Without waiting, he stepped around the protective glass, now black once more, as it moved slowly up into its ceiling compartment.

    ¡°Wait, what are...¡±

    Wellynd tried to say, but either Selkis couldn¡¯t hear him, or he was too focused on whatever just happened.

    The master shuffled this way and that, picking up a paper from his desk and glancing at it briefly before moving on and stubbing his toe on the way to get the step ladder.

    Eventually he made his way to the top of the spire and, with long metal tongs, plucked the skald from its apex.

    Moving the dark rock to a small desk on the other side of the room, he placed it on a leather mat, moving some metal device with an array of glass lenses over top of it, then peering through the layers down at the stone.

    It was after a minute of watching the master examine the skald and scribble endlessly onto a sheet of paper that Wellynd began to hear the sounds of the world around him.

    ¡°Marvellous, marvellous. Truly a wonder to behold. And only a mere fraction expelled. Would you ever have guessed that, my boy? A whole thirty three times and counting!¡±

    Stepping up alongside the master, Wellynd tested his voice ¡°Mast¡­uh..Selkis?¡±

    The master wrote another few words before placing his pen down gracefully, and, standing up, papers in hand, his eyes danced to Wellynd before he turned toward the spire.

    ¡°Amazing isn¡¯t it my boy?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I...what happened to my ears? And what were all those colours?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I warn you? Surely I did...no, no maybe not. You¡¯ll be fine my boy, but next time make sure to plug them. You see there¡¯s a sort of...release of energy. Part of which is most certainly a burst of sound. Not enough to cause any...permanent damage I think. Well I don¡¯t know actually. Not with the refractor that we were standing behind¡­..I don¡¯t think..¡±

    He paused and looked down at Wellynd, brow furrowed as he looked over the boy.

    ¡°Colours you say?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, when you changed that class¡­that kose¡­or whatever you called it¡­.it was different colours?¡±

    Selkis eyed him up and down. ¡°Different colours you say? Hmm. Maybe it is. I observe it so often that I don¡¯t really think about what it normally looks like anymore. Colours..yes..that¡¯s interesting¡­¡±

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the man¡¯s ramblings; Selkis replied to his laugh with a warm smile, which was quickly followed by his darting eyes looking back at the spire as he bit the inside of his cheek.

    ¡°Well my boy, I¡¯m happy you could see this. Great shame that you won¡¯t be coming, but what is there to do¡­I¡¯ve got some things to do now..sorry to rush you off¡­but¡­.yes¡­I¡¯ve had a few things that I need to take care of¡­.plans change..but do feel free to wander about, my boy. Just don¡¯t let that insufferable Burke? Reginald? yes¡­Reginald..catch you. And do give the captain my regards¡±

    Selkis started to usher Wellynd towards the door.

    He had to say something.

    ¡°uhm¡­Master bard¡­..Selkis. Is there any chance you could teach me a few things.¡± he asked in a playful tone.

    ¡°Teach¡­oh..well¡­that¡¯s something¡­.Hmm¡­no¡­best not risk it boy. I could get in a lot of trouble. Maybe one day¡­who knows what the future will bring, my boy, but best not anger the powers that be, yes?¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Oh right¡­of course. Yes. Well. I¡¯ll see you next time.¡± Wellynd replied before quickly striding out, not wanting the Master to see the deep disappointment now etched upon his face.

    Stepping out of the office, Wellynd walked through a few hallways until he stepped out into the back of the Observatory grounds.

    Squinting against the late afternoon sun, he blinked before shielding his eyes and clocking the guard that stood at the exit, currently checking the contents of a student¡¯s bag.

    A burst of laughter caught his ear from the right side of the grounds, beyond the student-led garden that sat in the centre of the field, and over toward the student residences.

    A group of four students spilled out of the middle of three buildings, adorned in their grey robes, the same woven brown book-bags slung across each of their shoulders.

    Ambling over to the neighbouring building, the tallest of the bunch peered into the window before banging on it. After a moment, he moved to the door and repeated the process.

    Wellynd watched them chat, until a moment later, when a small boy with a mop of wild brown hair opened the door, a tall stack of books balanced precariously in his hands.

    Rushing out of the building, he turned to close the door behind him, but lost his balance and spilled books and papers in all directions.

    The group erupted in laughter while the boy scrambled to pick up his materials, crunching loose papers into his fists as the rest of the group began walking down the cobblestone path that would lead them directly past Wellynd.

    Sighing, he glanced back at the guard who was still occupied with a now growing line of students on either side of the gate.

    It seemed they were a little short on guards today. Maybe the side exit would be less busy.

    Turning around, he walked down the weathered cobblestone path that ran parallel to the Observatory, passing a handful of classrooms, each with a set of three windows and a door.

    None of which had any classes currently running.

    A few leaves danced through the wind as the breeze picked up. He caught a half-yellow one that tried to dance past him and rolled it in his hands, the subtle crackle of the withering leaf filling the silence of this empty section of the grounds.

    Up ahead, he could see the junction he would turn to exit. Back to Revenshore. Just beyond he saw a set of three windows, all of which were illuminated. A class was in session.

    He¡¯d have a reasonable enough excuse if he were to get caught. He was walking towards the exit, after all.

    He stepped toward the nearest window, taking care to avoid any fallen leaves that might rustle under his feet, stopping just six or so feet from its line of sight.

    ¡°¡­would need much more Kose for it to be effective,¡± said a firm voice.

    There was that word again, kose. The window was open.

    Crouching, he inched closer until he knelt a mere foot from the open glass.

    Taking shallow breaths, he slowly peeked through the open shutter.

    A tall man with a white beard and ochre skin stood at the front of the class, his blue and yellow robes clashing against the muted greys who sat facing him.

    ¡°But¡­can¡¯t we just pull from Gwyn if that¡¯s the case?¡± asked a girl from the front row after a few moments of silence.

    ¡°There¡¯s several complications to that, and not something you¡¯re likely to learn any time soon¡­For next week, be sure to read section 37 of Principles, as we¡¯ll be conducting some of the drills that Observer Algar discusses. Now, let¡¯s get outside. The sun should be right in your eyes about now. Perfect for today¡¯s drill!¡±

    Wellynd shuffled back at the sound of chairs pushing out from desks.

    Without waiting, he turned and dashed around a nearby oak.

    He stood, his back against it, breathing quietly as he heard the chatter of the class. Glancing up at the canopy above him, he grimaced. While the rustling leaves did cover the sound of his movements, it also obscured the conversations he longed to hear.

    It felt like minutes passed before he dared a glance around the tree.

    He let out a breath that he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding.

    The last student in the double-file line was nearing the front of the Observatory, about eighty or more yards away.

    He decided to wait until the students were no longer in sight before walking back to the now dark classroom.

    The door opened with a consistent creak, its wooden frame was old and cracked where it met the stone housing of the building.

    Wellynd paused, the door only opened a foot, but heard no response from within the room. He peeked his head through, and though it was dark, the class seemed empty.

    He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

    To the left, the class opened up into a sloped section of seats, extending quite a bit farther than he¡¯d imagined from the outside. To his right was a small section of seats on flat ground, each with an attached arm that folded into a personal writing space. In front of the seats stood an ornate wooden dais, with large chalkboards framed in the same ebony wood.

    While the building itself seemed old, the quality of the furniture and accoutrement of the room was finely crafted of rich material.

    Glancing up, he saw an intricate series of lamps affixed to the ceiling, a thin brass wire connecting them all in series. The brass wires extended down to the wall at places where more lamps were affixed. Tracing the wire, he saw that it ended right beside him, running into the top of a brass box, laden with a series of eight crystal spheres, patterned in a diamond shape. He ran his fingers along it.

    Was this a jant?

    Even the lighting in here was far more intricate than any of the common buildings of Revenshore.

    Wary of the device, he decided not to waste time figuring out how to light the room, and instead made for the dais.

    The windows would be enough to see by in the afternoon light.

    Turning back to the dais, he stood in front of it, and pretended to address a class that sat in front of him.

    There must be a hundred seats in here.

    The dais had a piece of chalk resting on its top ledge, with a drawer and a few shelves underneath. There was a book on the shelf that he placed on top of the dais. It was a green leather tome, the binding worn and slightly loose, its pages, stitched together with a burgundy thread, were barely hanging onto the spine.

    Wellynd flipped it around to reveal dull gold lettering embossed across the cover, in a delicate script.

    Principia Eikonum, I

 Chapter 18

    Delicately opening the front cover, Wellynd¡¯s eyes danced across the stylized script.

    The matter of Eikonic Principles hereforth discussed were concepted by Observer Algar of the Eikonic Observatory of Melyar in 31 Post Luminescence. This, the second edition of the text, was scribed from Mellyc into Vertan Common by Scribe Tautsmith of the Revenshore Observatory in 63 Post Luminescence.

    Property of the Revenshore Observatory.

    The bottom of the page was signed:

    L Ranier

    Wellynd took a deep breath, glancing at the window, he blinked against the light that spilled in from outside.

    He flipped the page.

    For Eleanor and our son, in whom I see the hope of a stronger Melyar. May this text illuminate the world around you, so that you may shape it for the better.

    Wellynd jumped, dropping the book to the dais, with a solid thump.

    In the distance, he heard a muffled crack followed by a thunderous impact.

    Looking up, he saw the windows vibrate as three similar sounds followed in quick succession. Something was happening outside. As much as he knew this was his last chance to experience an Observatory classroom, he also didn¡¯t feel like getting into anymore trouble today.

    He stared at the book for a moment before slinging his pack to the ground and placing the book delicately inside.

    Why shouldn¡¯t he have it after all? These people were surrounded by knowledge already. They wouldn¡¯t miss a single book. One that he was sure he¡¯d never find on the island.

    Another crack followed by a rumble.

    This time, the floor shook slightly and he heard the vibrating of the glass against the window frames, more violent than before.

    Whatever the class was doing in the gardens was substantial enough to shake the room, and the gardens were at least one or two hundred paces away.

    Cinching his pack tight, he strode to the door before looking over the empty class once more.

    Maybe he and Klof could keep up with their friends after all. At least in some way.

    The ground rumbled again, so he walked past the fork in the path that led to the side exit of the Observatory grounds.He had to see what they were doing.

    Cresting the edge of the building, he looked past the array of garden beds to the distant field near the front gates.

    An array of boulders, about the size of a standard delivery crate, rained down in a wide arc toward the ground where a group of students and their instructor had all taken battle stances, their arms and legs bent, ready to react.

    He could hear the Master¡¯s voice echoing on the wind, instructing the class with exaggerated motions.

    They collectively raised their arms above their head, palms flat and facing the oncoming barrage of stone.

    The boulders were some 50 yards out and approaching with terrifying speed when the Master brought his hands inward to his centre before extending them out to each side, palms never turning away from the hurtling projectiles.

    Four students had stepped forward and mimicked his motions.

    With a devastating crash, three of the boulders exploded against an invisible wall, the air rippling outward from the points of impact.

    Thousands of pebbles rained down from the sky, the rubble piling on the ground and obscuring the grass.

    Wellynd watched, stunned into stillness, before he saw that there was still one boulder crashing violently toward the remaining students. He took an instinctive step forward, his hand reaching out in an effort to help.

    His eyes darted between the rock and the scared boy, frozen in shock, before a thunderous explosion echoed through the grounds.

    Wincing, he clasped his ears, already hearing a faint ringing from the impact.

    He saw the shockwave that followed, picking up stray petals from the blooming flowers as a fierce wind ripped toward him. He narrowed his eyes and buffered the barrage with one hand.

    Where the boulder had been was now nothing but powdered stone hanging loosely in the air.

    Behind the class, he saw the distant figures of the masters, one clapping the other on the shoulder, before they were obscured by the grey cloud that floated outward, surrounding the class.

    Wellynd stood, watching the stone dust cover the grass, the students kicking up puffs with each step as they converged in the center of the field. Some students stood, some knelt, but most sat in a wide arc that centered around the two masters who stood facing the class.

    The one master, adorned in a sort of red grape colour, stepped forward and began speaking, motioning with his hands to a few students in front of him. Then, he held his arm out straight, his flat hand just barely sticking out of his sleeve billowing in the wind. It looked like he was about to shake an invisible hand.

    Slowly, he rotated his arm, keeping it straight the whole while, until it was just behind his head. He held it there, slowly curling his hand into a fist, before swinging his arm downward in a chopping motion. He repeated the motion several times, walking around the students, repeating it at different angles. Wellynd could see some of the students practicing to themselves, copying the master but with the intent of ensuring they¡¯ve memorized something, not actually trying to perform it. The motion didn¡¯t really look all that different,but maybe he couldn¡¯t see some hidden detail from this far away. From here, it looked like they were just swinging their arms around.

    The other master, adorned in bronze robes, now stepped forward. Pacing back and forth, he demonstrated a slower version of what Wellynd had previously seen during the first volley; the master raised his arms to the sky, palms flat and facing the class before lowering them near his heart and then extending them outward to each side. His hands came a little more forward than he previously thought, but the motion was mostly what he remembered. Again, students practised this to themselves.

    Before long, the students had formed two groups once more, interposing eachother with a large gap of academy grounds between them. Another volley of boulders launched and soared rapidly toward their targets. He could faintly hear the whistling of the projectiles breaking through the wind. He saw the familiar motions of the opposing class, and, looking skyward, saw the array of faintly shimmering arcs that met the incoming volley. The boulders collided with a fierce thrum that rippled through the courtyard and sent debris tumbling away at all angles. He felt the sound deep in his chest, like a violent heartbeat that shuddered through his body.

    Setting his jaw, he turned away from the class and headed toward the side gate, the sound of stones still crashing in the gardens behind him.

    ~

    Wellynd stepped into the courtyard outside of the Crest¡¯s Inn. He had dallied on his trip back from the Observatory, and the sun was now well on its descent toward the horizon. This cast much of the courtyard and market strip into long shadows, obscuring the faces of the workers still moving crates off of the lift.

    Wellynd raised a hand to greet the doorman just as his stomach let out a loud groan. He smiled sheepishly. The doorman smiled back, ¡°Welcome back. You¡¯re just in-time for dinner, sir. Please, come in.¡± It was the same attendant who had helped carry his bags to his rooms.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Yeah, thanks. Good to be back.¡± Wellynd replied.

    He thought he saw a twitch in the attendants eyebrow at his reply. Was that an awkward thing to say?

    The attendant held the door open, and Wellynd stepped through. The air was warm, and smelled of freshly baked bread and some combination of spices unknown to him. His stomach growled again. Turning back to the attendant, he started ¡°Wow it sure¡­ smells good in here¡±, but the door was closed, and so he trailed off quietly to himself.

    A prim and slightly nasal voice from somewhere behind him started, ¡°Today¡¯s dinner consists of three courses: a soup, an entree, and a dessert. Our restaurant staff will be able to share further details, if you will follow me, sir.¡±

    Wellynd turned to see that by the desk stood a staff member he hadn¡¯t seen before. The fellow was tall and thin, his dark hair short and gelled, his moustache thick and followed his upper lip exactly. He looked as if he¡¯d just stepped out of a dressing room with a personal barber. He held one hand across his stomach, the other proffered outward, his open palm pointing down a hallway to Wellynd¡¯s right.

    Wellynd rolled his shoulders backward, straightening his spine.

    ¡°Uh¡­ great, thank you¡± he started toward the hallway. The heavenly smell wafting on the air was making his stomach hurt.

    He came out into a large hall, and was led to a small circular table in the centre of it by another attendant. It was set for two people, a white table cloth placed overtop, with silver cutlery and two wine glasses laid out in front.

    ¡°Will you be expecting a companion this evening, sir?¡± asked the attendant. Wellynd was pretty sure the waiter already knew the answer, as his hand hovered just overtop of the wine glass across from where he sat.

    ¡°No, not tonight.¡± Wellynd said. The man nodded and began stacking the second placing of tableware.

    ¡°Of course, sir. A member of our staff will stop by shortly with a briefing on tonight¡¯s courses, alongside a local wine sourced from Estuary Vineyards.¡± continued the server.

    ¡°Oh¡­excellent. Thanks¡± said Wellynd, even though he had no idea where Estuary Vineyards was. The waiter glided away and Wellynd took a moment to look around the hall. It was large and open, and placed throughout it were circular tables of varying sizes. His table for two was the smallest, whereas he saw some that might seat upward of eight guests.

    Great wooden beams stretched up to the vaulted ceilings above, and he noticed some sort of loft at the back of the restaurant, stairs nestled along the wall beside the bar. The main hall looked like it could fit fourty or so people comfortably, with maybe another ten up in the loft. Wellynd must have missed the dinner rush because he only spotted three other parties in addition to himself.

    There was an older man and woman sitting at a table similar to Wellynd¡¯s near the front of the hall, maybe ten or so years older than Laine, her hand placed over his in the middle of the table. They had mugs of something hot, and what looked like a slice of chocolate cake.

    Overhearing a conversation behind him, he adjusted his seat, using the motion to cover his glance backward. He briefly spotted a group of kids not much older than himself seated a few tables away. A flash of crimson stripes on the shoulders caught his eye; Observatory uniforms. What were they doing here?

    He turned his head so he could listen in.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. Just listen. So like usual, I swung by Jeanie¡¯s before fourth period so we could walk together¡±

    ¡°Yeah, so she can catch you up on the reading before class¡± said a male voice

    ¡°Shutup, Brandt. Anyway, she didn¡¯t answer. Which is weird because I know she wouldn¡¯t have gone to class without me. So I keep knocking. Eventually I hear shuffling and the door opens up. But it¡¯s not Jeanie¡­¡± she continued

    ¡°Oh my god it was Vint, I knew it. I knew it. It told you, Nell. They always sit together in Selkis¡¯ class¡± said a third voice, another girl, but it had a heavy lilting accent. She was probably from Western Arta.

    ¡°Nope. It was Master Bluff.¡± said the first voice, presumably Nell.

    ¡°Okay. So he was cleaning her room. He¡¯s the custodian. This is your big news? Guy¡¯s a creep, was probably sniffing her drawers, boo-hoo. Let¡¯s eat.¡± scoffed Brandt

    ¡°Yuck, Brandt. But, no, get this¡­¡± A pause.

    Wellynd thought he heard a small sigh and then a frustrated tapping on the tabletop.

    ¡°He was clearing out her room! He said Jeanie was no longer at the Observatory.¡± revealed Nell

    ¡°What? Why would she get kicked out? She¡¯s brilliant! She¡¯s top five in our cohort, minimum. She hasn¡¯t seemed any different. Wow, she must have done something really awful. She didn¡¯t say anything to you when you saw her last week?¡± said the third voice

    ¡°Nope. And tell me about it; she¡¯s the only reason I got through advanced harmonics. I feel like she would have said something.¡±

    There was a thoughtful grunt.

    ¡°Hm. The variations she was coming up with for the term project in Shape Theory were pretty out there.¡± He cleared his throat before continuing, ¡°¡­maybe she burnt out? She always seems pretty stressed.¡±

    A large, lively party entered, their laughter echoing through the hall. Wellynd pushed his chair out from the table and shifted his seat to sit sideways so that he could hear over the noise. He grew frustrated as he could only catch snippets of the conversation.

    ¡°and I guess expelled her after all¡± said Nell.

    ¡°Honestly I think Master Deng was jealous of her¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be dramatic, Brandt. She wasn¡¯t a prodigy or something. Speaking of which, apparently one of the incoming students next month is. Anyway, she wasn¡¯t building anything dangerous ¡ª she wouldn¡¯t do that¡­¡±

    He heard a waiter clear his throat from above him. ¡°And that is the menu for today¡¯s service. Any questions, sire?¡± Wellynd looked up at him, but the man was looking toward the newly arrived party. He wondered how long he¡¯d been standing there.

    ¡°No that sounds great. Thanks¡± replied Wellynd. The waiter left to greet the new guests.

    He could no longer hear chatting from the students behind him, just the stray mumbled word from the room¡¯s other parties, and the occasional scuff of forks against plates. He fidgeted with his napkin and took a sip of water. Wondering if the students had left, he turned to check their table, and locked eyes with Brandt. Wellynd flashed him a quick smile before turning back to his table. He took another sip of water as he slid deeper into his seat, and he could feel the tops of his ears start to burn.

    ¡°Hey wasn¡¯t that the kid who was watching Artillery like a nump earlier today?¡± he heard Brandt say.

    Kid. They were practically the same age. He felt his face turning red as he stared forward. He could just see the waiter coming out from behind the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup. For the rest of the meal, he vowed to keep his eyes locked on his food.

    After one final, blissful bite of lemon custard, the waiter returned with a mug of coffee and a small pot of syrup for sweetening. The meal had been delicious, although he found that each course was a rather small amount of food. To be fair, it was likely better than anything he¡¯d had before, except for maybe his birthday two years ago when Alara had made him a roast from the dry-aged antelope that her parents had bartered.

    Only he and the upstairs party remained in the dining room. He had stolen a glance when he heard the students get up to leave. Both Nell and the other girl looked back at him while he was finishing his main course of grilled fish, but they hadn¡¯t given him any more attention than that.

    He stirred his spoon around his coffee. The whole meal he had been wondering about their friend, Jeanie. He had been so concerned with getting in to the Observatory that he hadn¡¯t ever considered needing to stay in. Was expulsion a common event? or was their friend an exception? Why else would someone just disappear? From what he had seen, the Observatory was one of the best guarded places in all of Revenshore.

    After finishing his drink, Wellynd thanked the waiter and stood up from his table, tucking his seat back into place. He began to walk toward the entrance of the hall just as an elderly couple, dressed in fine clothing, stepped in. Without waiting for the waiter to seat them, they strolled toward the bar at the back of the restaurant.

    ¡°This city has become so dour these days, don¡¯t you think? that brute at the dock was utterly rude. How were we supposed to know that some unsavoury washed up on the shore?" said the woman, holding onto her companion¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Rascal is probably better off anyway.¡± chuckled the man.

    Wellynd passed them and caught a scent of fine perfume. Berries? No, it was more herbal than fruity. He continued out of the hall before he processed what the woman had said. He stopped in the lobby of the inn. An ¡°unsavoury¡± that had washed up on shore. Could it have been Klent? or Jensen? No. There was no way they¡¯d have washed up already. The storm had probably caught many boats by surprise this morning.

    He made his way through the lobby and back up the steps, and when he got back to the room, he found the curtains to have been closed and noticed a hint of lavender in the air.

    ¡°This really is way too much¡± he muttered to himself, as he stripped down to his underclothes and fell onto the bed. Taking the pillow, he placed it so he could lie widthwise.

    As he stared at the ceiling, his eyelids growing heavy, he thought about the events of the day. So many odd things had happened today: Jensen and Klent¡¯s demise at sea, the Mox¡¯s troubling revelations, Selkis¡¯ strange experiment.

    He turned on his side. Kip had never reached out to him. Tomorrow morning he would get up early and leave the shipment with Uther at Mermaids. If Kip didn¡¯t want to show up then so be it. Laine might be a little upset but that was fine. They could reschedule the exchange.

    His thoughts began to settle, and, much to his surprise, Wellynd realized that, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he sorely wanted to get back to the island.

 Chapter 19

    ...It was raining. But he couldn¡¯t tell if it assaulted him from the sky, or if it was the spray of the sea urged on by the howling wind. Either way, torrents battered his face from all directions as he looked up into the swirling clouds, a writhing mixture of red and black. Wellynd felt his stomach turn. The groan of the wood under his feet made him look downward, and he noticed the ground was moving, tilting as if all of Vel were about to topple over. A splash of frigid water hit his face. He was back on Leofer¡¯s ship. Leveling his sight, he saw Jensen barreling toward a blinded Klent, who was staring at the sky, wiping the rain out of his eyes. Wellynd let out a cry, a shout to disrupt Jensen¡¯s attack, but it was no use. Their tangled bodies disappeared over the handrail as a red fissure tore across the sky, a whirring hum momentarily overtaking the howling wind. Blinking at the sudden flash, Wellynd ran to the edge, brushing his hair out of his face. Peering over the edge, the sea was surprisingly calm, and through the still black water he saw a pair of bloodshot eyes staring up at him. Wellynd gripped the gunwale. Klent¡¯s mouth was agape; a pained look frozen upon his face. He stared for what felt like minutes, his heart rate increasing, hands beginning to cramp and sweat. The ghastly figure swayed loosely in the calm tide. Wellynd shivered. He let go of his grip and wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath. Another flash in the sky momentarily drew his gaze. The rattling hum rose once more. He stared down again and jerked back. Klent¡¯s face was now protruding out of the water, mouth still agape. His bright orange eyes were fixed firmly on Wellynd, and he could hear Klent¡¯s jaw crack as it closed. Wellynd swallowed, and tried to look away but found that he couldn¡¯t. An unfamiliar voice whispered in both of Wellynd¡¯s ears,¡°Xandu-El is dead.¡± A wet hand slapped on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Klent¡¯s face was now inches from his own. His rasping breath splashed spittle towards him as he groaned, each word rattling out of his broken lungs. ¡°Torix is here.¡±

    Thrashing at the blankets that were trapping his arms, he threw his pillow to the floor. His breaths were rapid and shallow as he scanned the room. It was still dark as pitch, save for the edge of moonlight flowing through his drapes. He reached, with a shaking hand, for his mug of water at his bedside.

    ¡°Who is Torix?¡± said a hushed voice.

    Wellynd cried out as he scrambled for the oil lamp on his bedside table.

    It wasn¡¯t there.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he shouted.

    ¡°Keep it down. It¡¯s me, kid.¡± chuckled the woman¡¯s voice ¡° and a little word of advice: you¡¯re sleeping the wrong way on that bed.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Oh¡­¡± replied Wellynd, between breaths.

    It was Kip.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Just wanted to try it out I guess. And Torix is...I don¡¯t know something I heard today. Was I talking in my sleep? Why are you here? Where have you been all day?¡±

    He began climbing out of bed, feeling around on the ground for his trousers.

    ¡°No need to get up, Kid. I already got the stones from your pack. Your payment is on the bench by the door. And to answer your question, I was busy. But I need a favour.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m done with extra favours. It¡¯s been a long day. Get out of here.¡±

    He squinted, blinking a few more times to get the sleep out of his eyes. He could just barely see the shadowed figure sitting in the corner of his room.

    Kip was silent for a few seconds.

    ¡°You need to tell the Captain to sell exclusively to us.¡±

    Wellynd hoped she couldn¡¯t see in the dark because he rolled his eyes.

    ¡°Not again. You know, you aren¡¯t the first person to make that offer to me today.¡±

    Kip grunted.

    ¡°Hmm. I imagine that must have come from one of those degenerates infesting Maruthian¡¯s. Criminal scum.¡± she spat.

    ¡°Maruthians¡­?¡±

    ¡°Anyway, forget them. They¡¯re using the stones for profit. In fact, they sell half their supply to us at an inflated price. We are fighting for Arta. We need this. I think the Captain must know this.¡±

    Wellynd groaned again ¡°Why do all you people keep telling me this. I¡¯m not the one making decisions here, and I pretty much have no sway over the Captain.¡±

    ¡°We can buy as much as he can give us. Every week. For at least the next year. Tell him. I¡¯m also probably not the first person to tell you that things are about to change. We¡¯re going to need it.¡±

    ¡°What are you using it for?¡± Wellynd ventured, unsure if he wanted to know.

    Kip hummed. ¡°Freeing Arta. You¡¯ll know what that looks like soon enough.¡±

    She shuffled in her seat slightly, switching which leg she had crossed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I told the Mox: I can¡¯t promise anything, but I¡¯ll make sure the Captain knows¡± he replied. Maybe this was just a dream as well.

    There was a pause between them while the Kipping uncrossed her legs and sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, arms proffered forward with her hands clasped together.

    ¡°Talk to the Captain, please. We need this.¡± Wellynd heard the chair creak as she stood up, her shadow looming over him in the darkness.

    ¡°We¡¯ll continue this conversation next delivery. In a few weeks, I believe? I look forward to hearing from you.¡±

    As she spoke, he could see her hands moving, as if she were stirring something in the air. The moonlight seemed to shy away from the corner of her room, bending around it in an arc. Wellynd tried to see what she was doing but he began to yawn and shook his head before slumping back into his pillows as the world went black.

    Wellynd awoke with his head tilted sideways against a pillow. The room was still dark. He groaned, massaging the back of his neck as he tried to recount what had happened.

    ¡°Right. Kip.¡± he sighed, glancing toward the empty chair in the corner.

    He scanned the rest of the room. Nothing seemed amiss. After another moment of twisting his neck back and forth, he got up to check his pack.

    ¡°Well, at least she¡¯s an honest rebel¡± he muttered; the rest of the skald was gone and a small, heavy pouch of grell was sitting on the bench. Wellynd picked it up and tossed it into the air before stuffing it in his pack.

    Walking over to the window, he pulled the drapes open. The moon still hung in the sky, and the empty, silent streets of the square bathed in its pale glow. He looked at the bed, but felt no lingering sleep behind his eyes.

    It was as if he¡¯d slept a full night.

    He opened the window and felt the crisp autumn night wash into the room, accompanied by the cyclical lapping of waves against the distant port, heightened by a city that had gone quiet for the evening.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Maybe it was time for a walk.

    Wellynd always enjoyed walking alone at night. It was relaxing. The darkness and solitude offered him respite from the mounting troubles that swirled inhis mind.

    He felt like he could project his thoughts onto the darkness; see the problems of the day more clearly.

    Heading toward the conveyor, he decided to saunter down the steps toward the docks. Only a few lights dotted the many windows of Revenshore; even the rowdy din of Mermaid¡¯s tavern was absent this night.

    The waves, growing louder as he neared the dock, allowed him to sink into himself and wash away the stress that had been knotting in his chest.

    He stopped. He almost didn¡¯t notice that he was standing in the spot where that thief from earlier in the day had stolen a barrel from the conveyor.

    He looked down the alleyway. The escape route.

    He glanced around. There was nothing better to do.

    The alleyway  went on straight for several minutes before forking off into three different directions. Straight ahead looked to be a dead-end, but right and left looked to continue on.

    He opted for the left, noticing that most of the windows here had iron bars in front of them.

    Revenshore was a strange place.

    It was riddled with pockets of both extreme poverty and extreme luxury. Most of the shop owners lived in these areas, unable to afford homes on the streets they sold their wares on. He was sure many of the men he had seen peddling in Xa Thaleyn square were probably holed up somewhere around here.

    He had just turned a corner when a loud crash echoed through the alleyway. He jumped. A cat had pushed a barrel over on one of the wagons cluttering the alleyway. He let out a breath of relief.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough excitement for today, thanks¡± he muttered to the cat, who now sat atop the tipped over barrel, licking its paws and staring at him.

    He started towards the creature when, a low laugh echoed out from somewhere behind him. He spun to see a figure standing in the center of the alley, the moon cloaking the man¡¯s face in shadow.

    ¡°We¡¯re just getting started, kid.¡± said a gravelly voice.

    An icy chill settled deep in Wellynd¡¯s chest. That voice was unmistakable.

    ¡°Did you miss me, you little runt?¡± laughed Klent ¡° We didn¡¯t even get to say a proper goodbye!¡±

    The shadowed figure wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then stretched out his arms, rotating his shoulders, and cracking his knuckles one at a time while he continued his slow advance toward Wellynd.

    ¡°Oh wait. Let me guess. You thought I was dead. Hah!¡± he yelled, the anger in his voice increasing with each word ¡°Washed up on the shore somewhere like your addle-brain friend. Obviously, you don¡¯t know a thing about Vertan soldiers. Oh, but don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll be well acquainted with some of our, more old-fashioned, practices soon enough. After I¡¯m done with you, you¡¯ll be begging for me to squeeze the life out of you, just like that muddled geezer.¡±

    He stopped to swipe the cat off the barrel, the poor creature slamming into the wall.

    He looked at his hand and laughed again ¡°Oh, man. Before you interrupted, you should have heard that loser begging for help. Even the storm couldn¡¯t drown out his pathetic cries. Nothing a boot didn¡¯t silence. And to be fair, his corpse made a great makeshift raft after I broke his wiry neck.¡±

    Uncertain of what to do, Wellynd held up his hands.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Klent. I didn¡¯t know Jensen was going to tackle you off the boat. I swear. I don¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t even like the guy.¡± he pleaded, still moving backward.

    ¡°Then why¡¯d you stop my fun. Why¡¯d you burn my eyes? Do you have any idea how painful that was?¡± roared Klent, picking up his pace. Wellynd noticed the man¡¯s fists start to glow in the dark.

    ¡°You were beating him to death! What was I supposed to do?¡± yelled Wellynd

    Klent advanced his pace

    Wellynd turned on his heel and started sprinting as hard as he could.

    Spotting a junction at the end of the alley, Wellynd surged forward, trying to ignore the cry of anger that rang out in response to his retreat.

    There was a stack of wooden pallets and other garbage blocking the right path.

    No exit that way.

    Turning left, he caught a glimpse of Klent rushing after him.

    Damn he was fast.

    There was another junction up ahead ¡ª probably back to the main street.

    ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to go, kid!¡± teased Klent¡¯s voice from closely behind him, each word breathy and punctuated by his steps.

    Wellynd slipped as he skirted around the corner, but he caught himself, barely losing momentum as he pushed off the ground with his hands, scrambling forward. He was heading west now, one more turn south and he should see the main conveyor strip ahead.

    Almost there.

    A corner loomed up ahead.

    There it is.

    He slowed himself just enough to round the corner, his fingers dragging against the stone before he came to an abrupt stop.

    He blanched.

    Five paces in front of him stood a dead-end. The back of some shop, its door closed, a few metal barrels stacked beside its entryway.

    Wellynd ran to the door and tried the handle.

    It was locked.

    The damn thing wouldn¡¯t even jostle at his frantic attempt to open it.

    There was a sharp crack of glass breaking behind him. He saw Klent pull something from under his jacket, a flash of metal glinting in the moonlight as he resumed his slow strides toward Wellynd.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m kinda doing you a favour¡± Klent pondered, waving his blade back and forth in the air casually, ¡°If I told my commanding officer that you attacked a Vertan soldier. Phew. Would you be in for a world of pain...¡± he paused for a moment, ¡°Hmm. Maybe I¡¯ll paralyse you and bring you in anyway. I¡¯ll tell you what ¡ª it¡¯s your call.¡± the moon reflected off his teeth as he smiled a wide and awful grin.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just let it go. I¡¯m really sorry. Please. I¡¯ve got some money¡­I can give you that¡± urged Wellynd, his back now almost completely against the door.

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Just hand it over and I¡¯ll be on my merry way.¡± laughed Klent.

    ¡°Right. Listen. Klent, my uncle. He can get you anything you want.¡±

    ¡°Sure. Maybe I¡¯ll have a talk with him. You¡¯re from the island right? Maybe me and a couple of my buddies will go down there and search him out.¡± Klent chuckled ¡°It may take a bit of coercing, but we¡¯ll find him. Oh! I know! We¡¯ll ask that pretty friend of yours at the inn.¡±He took a final step so he stood one pace away from Wellynd, the scent of liquor and tobacco wafting off of him.

    Wellynd clenched his jaw, his teeth squeaking.

    Without thinking, he burst forward,  dipping and grabbing a handful of pebbles off the ground, and throwing it directly at Klent¡¯s face. He dashed to the side in two quick steps, bolting around the menacing figure.

    Klent cried out and slashed wildly with his makeshift knife.

    A hot line of fire traced along Wellynd¡¯s ribs and into his shoulder. Stumbling, he lost his feet and his bloodied arm gave out as he tried to catch himself.

    Ignoring the pain, he scrambled away on all fours, his feet slipping on the sandy stone.

    Something sharp cut into his hand as he crawled toward the head of the alley. The glass Klent had broken, he thought between quickened breaths. He grasped it, blood running from his shoulder and pooling around his hand. He let out a surprised grunt as he was tugged backward, Klent¡¯s grip an iron vice around his ankle.

    He tried to kick, but Klent got hold of his other ankle. The world abruptly spun as Klent swung him into the stone wall. All air escaped his lungs in a violent rush, the edges of his vision turning black as he crashed against the ground. He heard the sound of his only weapon, the shard of glass, crunch under Klent¡¯s boot.

    So this was it.

    There was no Jensen to save him now. The entire city was asleep.

    Surprisingly, Wellynd felt an odd sense of calm wash over him. The cold air swirling in the alley danced around him, buffeting the dead-end as if it would defy the city itself and carve a path through the building. His blood felt hot against his skin in the night air, as he lay there, barely able to see Klent towering over him.

    He heard the man mutter something as he wound up for a kick. Wellynd felt his body shake at the impact. The pain was distant, and his vision grew darker still.

    He felt his mind continue to expand, feeling the weight of the ground beneath his body. He felt the depth of the earth and the stone under the street.

    Another kick rocked his body, but he felt nothing. His vision was now entirely dark, so he closed his eyes, and, somewhere, somehow, he felt grounded to something deep beneath the city. Something shimmered far below. A faint hope, a sliver of light at the edge of his mind.

    Each kick seemed to come more slowly than the last as the world descended into darkness around him. A heat resonated from deep within his core. In a final haze of confusion and pain, he tugged on that sliver of light, grasped at it.

    Immediately, awareness ripped into Wellynd¡¯s body, as the weight of Klent¡¯s blows suddenly stopped and the ground around him shook.

    A horrified and strangely muted scream tore through the silence of the alleyway.

    Seizing his chance, Wellynd jolted upright, and, before he even took a full breath, was running as fast as he could back down the alley.

    His journey back to Crest¡¯s was a blur, and, when he arrived, without taking off his cloak, he collapsed in the bed and passed out.

 Chapter 20

    Wellynd awoke to the sun peeking through the window of his room, the curtains moving loosely in the soft breeze. He started, his breath and heart quickening. The room was mostly quiet save for the occasional and familiar thump of crates being unloaded at the conveyor.

    Sitting up, he noticed his hand stuck to the sheets as he went to rub his eyes.

    Looking down, he lay in the middle of a bloodied mess. He looked at the barely clotted scab on his hand and felt a thrum of pain as his shirt underneath his cloak, stuck to his skin and pulled against his shoulder. He was parched, his mouth, eyes, and skin all felt desperately dry.

    He could even smell the blood that was all around him.

    But, he was alive.

    How had he escaped?

    Wincing, he stood, and went to fetch water from the carafe on the table. He drank directly from it, the cool liquid relieving what felt like a week-long thirst.

    He wiped his mouth with his arm before changing into a clean pair of pants and tunic, stuffing the bloodied and torn cloak into his pack.

    Feeling guilty, he placed a few coins and the room¡¯s key on the ruined sheets, and left through the window. He¡¯d prefer not to explain what happened to the concierge, and was pretty sure he wouldn¡¯t be welcomed back.

    As he walked through the now busy streets, the morning sun having already warmed the brown cobble, Wellynd tried to piece together what happened the night before.

    He walked by a pair of Vertan soldiers, avoiding eye contact with either of them. If Klent had gone back to the Fort, it didn¡¯t seem like the soldiers had Wellynd¡¯s description yet.

    At least not these soldiers.

    He still might be able to make it out of the city. As long as Leofer was on time, he just had to make it to the dock.

    He felt his pace quickening, a knot forming in his stomach as he descended down the conveyor steps.

    Shouts of merchants pushing wares rang out all around him and announced their daily specials. One particular voice caught his ear.

    ¡°Ward off the woes of Winter! Powerful stones from the Northern Reaches of Melyar! Talismans from the Lost Forests of Shadkara! Come get them here.¡±

    Wellynd stopped. The stone he¡¯d bought in the square. Where was it?

    He threw his pack onto the ground and rifled through it.

    It wasn¡¯t there.

    Was it in his cloak pocket when he ventured out last night? He¡¯d been so preoccupied with his dream and Kip¡¯s mysterious entrance that he couldn¡¯t remember if it¡¯d been on him.

    Could it have fallen out of his pocket during his fight with Klent?

    He chewed his lip.

    The alleyway was just up ahead. Klent must have been long gone and it would only take a moment for him to look.

    He should just leave.

    Slowing his pace, he stepped onto the landing and peered down the alley.

    There was no commotion. No sign of soldiers.

    What if they did find the stone? What if they connected it back to the tent and found the merchant who had sold it to him. She knew he was from Kellek¡¯s Watch.

    Taking off at a light jog, he began tracing his winding path from the night before. Every person he passed kept their head down. His stomach started to unknot. He could just check the alley for his stone and be on his way. Even if Klent was searching for him, he¡¯d never expect Wellynd to go back to where he had escaped from.

    Just as he rounded the last corner, an odd tapping noise rang out in his ear.

    He stopped.

    A large crowd had gathered around the dead-end.

    What was even more concerning was what loomed above them.

    Large jagged spikes of stone shot out in every direction from the far wall, towering over the onlookers. Wellynd slowed his pace as he wandered forward.

    Most of the crowd was composed of what looked like regular citizens, but Wellynd could see that four of the town¡¯s watch stood in the crowd, garbed in their distinct light blue tunics. Several flashes of stark black and bronze Vertan uniforms also stood out in the crowd.

    The crowd mingled, exchanging hushed words, as Wellynd located the source of the faint tapping. It was the sound of a metal chisel against stone echoing throughout the alley.

    He inched closer, hoping he just seemed like some curious onlooker.

    Two merchants broke away from the crowd, shaking their heads as they passed by Wellynd.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The crowd shifted, and Wellynd could now see a robed figure that knelt in front of the stone mass welded to the wall.

    It was an older woman, and Wellynd caught sight of the white ink tattoo on her hand as she tapped at the protrusion with her metal instrument.

    She was a Koshai, no doubt from the Observatory, a distinct yellow band on the shoulders of her cloak.

    She broke off a piece of the stone and dropped it into a glass tube before she stoppered it with a cork and stood up. Her mouth formed a thin line as she examined the mass of stone in front of her.

    The town¡¯s watch, ushered on by a command from one of the Vertan soldiers, began to break the crowd apart, making way as the Observer, accompanied by a set of soldiers, began to walk directly toward Wellynd.

    He turned, angling away from the alley and walking slowly, head facing the ground.

    Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he sidled closer to one of small clusters of civilians who had broken apart to let the soldiers through.

    The procession passed by without a word.

    He let out a sigh as they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

    Breaking off from the group, some of whom were now throwing him odd glances, Wellynd walked back to the dead-end where the remaining town¡¯s guard stood in a wide circle, preventing the thinning crowd from getting any closer to the strange stones.

    From this distance, the stone spikes appeared, impossibly, to be made from the same rock as the cobble beneath his feet. They twisted and bent at unnatural angles in almost every direction. He began to trace them back toward the epicentre of the protrusions, until his eyes fell on...

    Immediately, Wellynd felt his stomach churn.

    A stone face. Twisted in pain and utter horror, it sat in the centre of the gnarled structure that had melded to the building¡¯s outer wall.

    Squinting, he stepped closer instinctively to get a closer look.

    It was Klent.

    Or, at least, a veneer of rock that added a bit of bulk to the man¡¯s face.

    The muffled sound of Klent¡¯s horror from the night before echoed in Wellynd¡¯s memory.

    Did he...do that?

    Turning away from the horrific scene, Wellynd vomited against the wall, his stomach spasming at the lack of food.

    A few of the onlookers grunted sounds of disgust and Wellynd could tell he¡¯d caught the attention of one of the soldiers, but he didn¡¯t care.

    His eyes began to water, but whether it was from the violent retching, the pain of his shoulder as he hunched forward, or the shock of the scene before him, he wasn¡¯t sure.

    Klent¡¯s tomb stood eerily quiet amid the chattering crowd, and Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but spare one final look at the violent stones that captured his final moments, his terrified visage cut in sharp relief against the tawny rock.

    Keeping his head bowed, Wellynd wiped his mouth and started back toward the main thoroughfare, trying to avoid any more attention from the crowd.

    ¡ª

    The walk to the dock felt longer than he remembered.

    Every muscle in his body ached, and the gashes in his shoulder and back stung with every step. He had bandaged his hand with a piece of cloth from his bag, but would need the help of Ursa to mend his other wounds.

    He also needed rest. Whatever Kip had done to him the night before had worn off, and it seemed an injustice that the one night he spent in a luxury hotel ended in such a wretched sleep.

    Klent¡¯s face felt permanently etched into his memory. Anytime he wasn¡¯t paying attention to where he was going, or got distracted by a patrol of Vertan soldiers, of which there seemed more than usual of, he¡¯d see that monument of twisted pain carved into the stone.

    He needed to know what happened, but first he needed to get out of Revenshore. Get back to the island. Then he could think.

    As he stepped onto the docks, the smell of brine and the clatter of feet against planks washed over him. At last some relief. Something familiar. He was one step closer to home.

    He made his way towards the ferrying pier and felt yet another surge of relief as he saw Leofer and The Flea tied in at the end.

    Leofer was already waving when Wellynd caught his eye, and his steps quickened at the thought of being back on the waves. As he made his way down the long pier, he stared out towards the horizon and Elaudri¡¯s comforting oblivion.

    Something else caught his eye.

    Not too far from shore, a large Vertan ship, in fact, the largest Wellynd had ever seen, was slowly sailing towards the pier, its awesome hull barely rocked by the small waves.

    He slowed his pace a bit as he marvelled at the vessel.

    There were at least twenty sails atop its five masts and each side was dotted with countless bronze panels, each one probably hiding some sort of cannon.

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t fathom why such a ship was here now. Maybe someone important was visiting the famous port-city. They definitely wouldn¡¯t send something like this for what happened with Klent, would they?

    Unwilling to let what he knew to be unrealistic anxieties get the best of him, he turned and continued back towards Leofer. Maybe it was best if he didn¡¯t return to Revenshore for a while.

    ¡°Ahoy, Welly! Looks like you bin runnin¡¯ into more rough seas, lad¡± chuckled Leofer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to...¡± Wellynd started.

    The sky abruptly flashed red, and Leofer¡¯s head snapped toward the open sea. Wellynd paused, one hand on the ladder of The Flea.

    ¡°What was that?¡± he asked, looking up.

    Two seconds later, a piercing reverberation shook the air.

    The hull of the Flea violently rattled beneath Wellynd¡¯s hand, as if the boat was going to rip apart.

    Leofer let out a yelp that was quickly drowned out by a second sharp, high-pitched thrum. Letting go of the ladder, Wellynd stuffed his fingers into his ears.

    Leofer scrambled off the boat and walked a few steps down the pier, staring out toward the bay.

    Wellynd turned to look with him and yelled out. The massive Vertan ship was gone.

    Or at least he tried to yell out. Wellynd attempted to say something to Leofer, but no sound escaped his mouth.

    A large wave, visible even from the shore, had formed and Wellynd noticed large pieces of wood hull and debris riding atop it towards the pier. As the wave got closer, he noticed the bodies of a few Vertan sailors also mixed in with the wreckage. The ship had been obliterated. He was so mesmerized by the sight that it took him a moment to see Leofer yelling at him. The captain was clearly unable to hear as well, as he kept rubbing at his ears and trying to yell again.

    After a few more moments of deafening silence, the sky began to turn back to its normal hue, and, with it, the sound of the waves gradually returned.

    Wellynd felt Leofer put his hand on his shoulder as they watched the large wave crash against the walls of the pier, massive pieces of hull smashing against other boats or breaking off smaller sections of docks.

    Then, another piercing sound rang out. This one Wellynd knew. An ominous, low-pitched horn emanated from Fort Gravician on the other side of the bay, and he saw what looked like a green ball of flame shoot up into the air from behind its black walls. Within seconds, Wellynd could see Vertan soldiers spilling out from nearly every building near the wharf, sprinting towards the docks.

    Leofer snapped his finger in Wellynd¡¯s ear, who turned back to see long lines deeply carved in the old sailor¡¯s face.

    ¡°It¡¯s about to be very difficult to leave Revenshore. We best be going, lad.¡±

 Chapter 21

    Laine Albright was a lot of things. A seasoned captain. An early riser. A devout gardener. What he wasn¡¯t, however, was considerate of other people¡¯s sleep.

    Or at least, not his nephew¡¯s...

    The intolerable banging had been plaguing Wellynd for at least a half hour. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the hammering that caused the pounding in his head, or some sort of hangover from the sheer exhaustion he felt from his trip to Revenshore.

    He had almost taken up Alara¡¯s offer to stay another night at the inn when he¡¯d arrived back in Reven¡¯s Crossing. But, as much as he didn¡¯t feel like spending the day walking halfway down the island, he wanted to be back in Kellek¡¯s Watch for today.

    Today they were supposed to go delving into the mine. It would probably be the last time Wellynd and his friends would do something together.

    At least for the foreseeable future.

    Rolling over, Wellynd pulled the pillow over his head. Klent¡¯s twisted face flashed in his mind. He¡¯d been unable to forget that countenance of anguish carved into the stone.

    Shaking the image out of his mind, he stretched out his legs and threw the pillow off the bed. His ears still felt off after the explosion, or whatever it was, at the dock.

    They had made it out of Revenshore bay before the Vertan soldiers had locked it down, but even as they sailed across the channel to the island, Wellnd could make out countless black and bronze sails just cresting the horizon behind them. He¡¯d asked Leofer how they had learned of the attack so quickly, but the Captain had just shrugged his shoulders.

    The sun had already set on Kellek¡¯s Watch when he¡¯d reached the front door of Briarberry Cottage yesterday evening. Laine had still been up, pacing around the den, pouring over maps, the room heavy with smoke. Wellynd had given him a brief overview of the previous two days¡¯ events.

    The captain of the Brinebreaker had, like Leofer, only really shown concern at Wellynd¡¯s recounting of the attack on the Vertan ship. Nothing else, not even the Mox¡¯s threats seemed to have phased the man, but after Wellynd had described the sky lighting up and the way sound had been pulled from the air, Laine had paced the room several times, pulling on his cigar with every breath.

    When Wellynd finally finished his story, his uncle had few words to say.

    ¡°You should get some rest, Welly. We¡¯re probably going to have to put a pause on your deliveries to Revenshore for now. We¡¯ll talk in the morning.¡±

    Wellynd turned over and looked at the small window of his attic room in Briarberry Cottage. The sun reflected off the dust dancing around the small room.

    Clambering out of his bed, he walked over to the wash basin, plunging his face into the tepid water he¡¯d brought up the night before. He held his head under the water as long as he could, only pulling back up when his lungs started to burn. As he rubbed his hands down his dripping face,  he pulled open his eyes to stare at his reflection in the small, dirt-stained mirror pinned to the wall.

    He¡¯d left out one detail in his recollection to Laine. He didn¡¯t mention what had happened with Klent in that alley.

    What even happened?

    Wellynd didn¡¯t know magic could even do that. He¡¯d certainly never seen anything like it. He¡¯d heard many stories from Henry who fought in the Umbral Wars, about powerful Koshai; the way they could shape fire, or slow whole battalions of men with some invisible force. He¡¯d even heard stories of the great Artan Builders in Vel Megnum who could construct forts in only a handful of days.

    But encasing a man in stone? It felt like something out of a nightmare.

    He sat on the floor with his back up against the bed, staring at the crisp blue sky through the small window. A sparrow flitted by, a Sulfhawk in tow.

    Did he make that happen? There was no way anyone else was in that alleyway.

    A trickle of excitement made his chest heave. He knew it was wrong. Klent was a horrible man, and Revenshore was probably a better place without him, but no man deserved to die like that. Suffocating in stone, gasping in darkness, waiting to die.

    But, if it was him, it meant not all was lost.

    How had he done it? He squeezed his hands together and winced as he remembered Klent¡¯s foot slamming into his stomach. He¡¯d been so focused on suppressing the pain that everything else was a blur. He let his eyes drop down to his pack, half open from him tossing it against the wall, when he fell into bed the night before.

    He hadn¡¯t seen the stone he¡¯d bought when he¡¯d returned to the alley the morning after.

    Crawling over to his bag, he pulled it open and dumped it onto the wooden floor. Several loud thuds rang out as the stones Laine had put in there spilled out into a pile. Wellynd tugged on his cloak and fanned it out into the air.

    Thud.

    The strange rock fell to the floor.

    It had been with him during the encounter with Klent.

    He turned it in his hand. To be fair, it looked even less impressive in the morning light pouring into the room. He rubbed his finger across the smooth side and over onto the rough edge.

    Something was different.

    There had been a sharp edge on the rough side of the stone. Wellynd had remembered rubbing his finger over it. That edge was now gone. As if someone had taken off a small piece and smoothed it over.

    He rubbed his finger along the edge. Did he somehow use some of the stone?

    Only one way to find out. He closed his eyes and began to pull, like he did in the blue tent.

    The now all-too-familiar pain erupted in his chest. Ignoring it, he focused on directing the hot energy that entered him toward the stone.

    Too excited to wait, he peeked open his eye. A wave of disappointment washed over him.

    He had hoped, at the very least, to see violet mists, the stone glowing in his hand, or something to signal what had happened in the alley, but the room was still, unchanged.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Wellynd tried again, this time pushing until he could no longer bear the pain. He opened his eyes.  Nothing.

    He turned the stone in his hands; it was cold, unchanged.

    He let it drop to the floor and it bounced off the wooden boards with a muted thump. If whatever happened to Klent was a result of the stone, he had no idea how he¡¯d done it. Apparently, even the effect he had produced in the tent wasn¡¯t easily repeatable.

    Wellynd looked around at the rest of his belongings splayed out on the floor. He eyed the book he had stolen from the Observatory. Maybe there was something in there.

    The hammer from outside started pounding again and Wellynd let his head droop. It was as if Laine was telling him to get going. He¡¯d have to take a closer look at the book later.

    He groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground. The trip to Revenshore had left him with more questions than he could answer right now. Today was for his friends. He could muck about with the stone and investigate what happened that day after they left.

    Throwing on a fresh shirt and trousers, he made a mental note to pick up some new clothes from the tailor in town. He¡¯d have to burn his bloody clothes and wash his cloak when Laine wasn¡¯t around.

    Wellynd raced down the stairs and into the kitchen at the back of the house. He grabbed an apple and a chunk of bread off the harvest table, voraciously devouring the bread and placing the piece of fruit in his pocket. Making his way out the door he scanned the yard until he saw Laine, aligning a panel of wood against the fence.

    ¡°Hey, thanks for waking me up. I didn¡¯t have a long day yesterday or anything¡± said Wellynd, walking over to his uncle.

    Laine didn¡¯t look up, instead positioning the nail and hammering it several times. Wellynd stood and waited, tapping his foot, until his uncle finished.

    The man stood and faced Wellynd, smoothing his wavy black hair back and out of his face. His stubble beard, much like the rest of his hair, was streaked with white. He wore a pair of dark brown canvas overalls, his usual gardening attire, a stark contrast to the usual billowed shirts and loose trousers he wore when sailing.

    He nodded back toward the fence.

    ¡°Damn greks keep getting into the veggie patch; they¡¯re eating all my carrots.¡± he finally replied, taking a long drag from his cigar.

    ¡°Right, well, next time try to hammer a little quieter, eh?¡± Wellynd replied.

    Laine took another drag from his cigar and puffed it out, scrutinising the curling smoke for an answer to a question he hadn¡¯t asked.

    He looked down at his nephew.

    ¡°So you going to tell me what happened with the clothes in your pack or should I just assume that you¡¯re fine and dealt with it?¡±

    Wellynd paused for a moment before setting his face ¡°How did¡­it was nothing, someone tried to jump me when I was out for a walk. I dealt with it.¡±

    Laine nodded. ¡°We aren¡¯t going to have any Vertan patrols coming around asking questions, are we?¡±

    Wellynd shifted his eyes ¡°No, as I said, I dealt with it.¡±

    The weathered sailor grunted and tossed his cigar into the garden, pulling another out of his breast pocket and lighting it up with a match.

    ¡°I thought more about what you said about that attack on the Vertan ship. Part of me thinks Kip might have had something to do with it. It doesn¡¯t bode well for business, that¡¯s for sure. Either way, we should start stockpiling for the rest of Storm season while things cool off on the Mainland. Take the rest of the week off, and, after your friends leave, we¡¯ll get you working on the Brinebreaker proper.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± started Wellynd.

    ¡°Yep. I¡¯ve had a word with Conrin; your friend will be joinin¡¯ ya.¡±

    Wellynd piqued ¡°Klof? Really? that¡¯s great¡± Maybe this would bring his friend out of his funk.

    Laine nodded ¡°So there¡¯ll be no excuse for either of you to be mopin¡¯ about anymore. There¡¯s always work to be done. Henry figures ya both might make decent gusters. We¡¯ll have to see.¡±

    Wellynd blanched ¡°Even with my¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t go off, now. We¡¯ve got a few options and more than enough time to help you figure it out.¡±

    Wellynd, uncertain of how to react, just nodded his head. He wondered if Laine would teach him his craft. Whatever Laine¡¯s craft was. He never talked about it and Wellynd had never seen the man do anything that looked like magic. The only peculiar thing about Laine was his remarkable astuteness.  Nothing escaped the man¡¯s scrutiny.

    Laine let out a grunt and turned around, walked over to a small pile of lumber and picked up another piece. This is how conversations usually ended with him. Without another word, Wellynd stepped onto the gravel path and set out.

    Making his way into town, he was immediately met with a rather rare sight in Kellek¡¯s Watch. The streets were bustling and the few taverns were alive with sounds of laughter and music.

    Wellynd had almost forgotten that it was a holiday; the Feast of Arthus. He craned his neck and looked up above the mountain beyond the west side of town. Arthus hung in the air just above the peak.

    Revellers pushed by him every which way. Other than tavern hosts and healers, no one would be working. Wellynd made his way up the street, watching the people scurry by, smiles plastered to every face.

    ¡°WELLY! LAD!¡± screamed a brash voice.

    He turned to see two hulking figures stumble towards him, large tankards in each of their hands. Filch and Bilge, two of the deck-hands on the Brinebreaker.

    ¡°Filch. Bilge. Having a good day off?¡± replied Wellynd, nodding at the beer.

    ¡°Hah! Yer Uncle wanted us hauling crates mate, can ye¡¯ believe him? An whats he doin? huh? trimmin¡¯ roses?¡± roared Filch.

    Wellynd laughed, ¡°Yeah something like that.¡±

    ¡°We said ¡®not on the day o¡¯ the feast Cap¡¯n! You can¡¯t make us! We got ale to drink and lasses to mingle¡¯¡± continued Bilge, spilling half the tankard onto the ground as he stretched out his arms in an utterly confusing gesture.

    Wellynd looked around ¡°Looks like you¡¯re only doing one of those things¡± he quipped.

    Filch roared, smacking Wellynd on the back. ¡°yu¡¯ll af to watch that quick tongue o¡¯ yers when yer on the boat, Welly. The Cap¡¯s informed us o¡¯ the news. You n¡¯ that friend of yours, eh? On the waves with us! Hah! no mo¡¯ sailin¡¯ along for free. Bout time you come have a pint with us lad, ain''t it Bilge?¡±

    ¡°Wha? Ya I fink so¡± slurred Bilge, who was staring at a group of revellers who had just walked by.

    Slowly stepping backwards, Wellynd took advantage of the momentary confusion ¡°Next time, guys. I¡¯ve got plans with my friends today. I¡¯ll see you down at the warehouse next week?¡±

    Filch, who was now too staring at the crowd, groaned and looked back at Wellynd ¡°Don¡¯t remind me, lad. Today we drink to Arthus! King of Ale!¡± Arthus was not King of Ale, but Wellynd didn¡¯t correct him, and the two set off towards the large group, who had just filed into the Boar¡¯s Rump Inn.

    Not wanting to get caught in any more drunken traps, Wellynd set into a jog on his way up to Neera¡¯s place. He found her standing out front, her long hair tied into a braid, a small pack slung over her shoulder, watching the passersby with a grin on her face. She beamed and waved when she saw Wellynd approach.

    ¡°Heya! How was the trip to Revenshore, Welly?¡± she said. Even on his approach, Wellynd noticed that she wasn¡¯t wearing her apprentice¡¯s medallion.

    Wellynd stopped in front of her, replying ¡°Well. A lot happened. Let¡¯s get out of town first. Where¡¯s Bert meeting us?¡±

    ¡°At the base of the steps. Klof will meet us there too.¡±

    ¡°Klof¡¯s coming? How¡¯d you convince him? I haven¡¯t been able to get a word out of him since the exams...¡±

    She adopted an innocent look, fluttering her eyes ¡°I just cried about how me and Berty would be going away and had no clue when we¡¯d be back.¡± she straightened her face ¡°although to be fair, he still seemed reluctant. I think his dad being there helped seal the deal. I got the impression he¡¯s pretty disappointed in the way Klof¡¯s reacting to all this.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Yeah. I got the same feeling when I saw him the other day.¡± Wellynd pondered ¡°But this is good news. And anyway, it looks like we¡¯re both going to be sailing for Laine after you two leave. Hopefully that¡¯s brought his spirits up.¡±

    ¡°Great! You¡¯ll finally get to see the world!¡± she said, overenthusiastically. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s exciting.¡± he replied, mimicking her overenthusiasm ¡°we shall!¡±

    In stride, the two set off up the road toward the mine.

 Chapter 22

    The day was hot.

    The cobbled road, slowly inclining up the mountainside, had given way to gravel, and eventually, dirt. Swirls of dust kicked up every few feet and mingled with the haze that radiated from the sun-scorched ground.

    After half an hour, the base of the rocky steps came within sight, the outline of two figures just visible at the bottom stair. Wellynd always marvelled at the sheer size of the steps; they extended another quarter-league up the mountainside to the mine¡¯s entrance.

    To the left of them sat a large rail. Several carts were grouped near the bottom. Miners usually took the carts up and the stairs down, but since the mines were closed today, they¡¯d have to walk both ways. Wellynd¡¯s legs hurt just thinking about it.

    He saw the figures pique up. One was the unmistakable hulking form of Klof. The other figure was a few inches shorter, but looked almost equal in height to his companion due to Klof¡¯s characteristic slouch.

    ¡°Did you stop to have a drink or something?¡± hollered Bertrand, his deep, nasally voice echoing off the hillside.

    ¡°No, we just wanted to make you wait!¡± yelled back Wellynd.

    The pair began walking towards them. Klof walked with an air of defeat; a stride so dissimilar from his normally carefree jaunt.

    Bertrand, on the other hand, had a smug smile on his face, which was already red, droplets dripping down his hooked nose, further flattening his straight slick-backed hair.

    ¡°Hey Welly. You get a chance to bathe before coming? I¡¯d rather not have my Dad¡¯s mine smelling like fishguts.¡±

    ¡°Looks like you could use a bath right now, Bert. When¡¯s the last time you left the house and got a little exercise?¡± retorted Wellynd, gesturing vaguely to Bertrand¡¯s red face.

    ¡°No. Actually, I¡¯ve been busy studying wit...¡± he began.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough¡± warned Neera, casting a disapproving glance at Bertrand, who put up his hands in surrender.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± said Wellynd ¡°I imagine you two have been getting ready for the Observatory. Everyone¡¯s been talking about it. Even the guys at the warehouse. You two are the ¡®pride and joy¡¯ of Kellek¡¯s Watch according to Briv.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help but exaggerate Briv¡¯s words and roll his eyes at Klof, who replied with a smile and a grunt.

    ¡°But seriously. We¡¯re happy for you guys.¡±

    Not really.

    ¡°We know you¡¯re going to be great...Neera¡± Wellynd added, before tapping his nose at Bertrand, who scowled.

    ¡°Yeah, on that note¡± started Klof, straightening himself and pausing to take a deep breath. ¡°Let¡¯s not tiptoe around it any longer. I know I¡¯ve been sorta aloof lately. Sorry for not saying anything to you guys.¡±

    The large boy chuckled to himself and scratched the back of his head.

    ¡°I kinda lost it. I¡¯m not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed. I was hoping we¡¯d all go to the Observatory together. And it was hard coming to terms with the fact that you guys are kind of leaving us behind¡­¡±

    ¡°Klof it¡¯s not¡­¡± Neera started.

    Klof held up a hand.

    ¡°But Welly¡¯s right, we are happy that you guys get to go. None of us should stop the other from doin¡¯ this stuff¡± he said, before puffing out his chest and nodding to himself ¡°And hey, looks like we¡¯re about to become proper sailors. We¡¯ll be learning our own tricks soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like how to smuggle Rellian wine in your¡­¡± started Bertrand, before Klof punched him in the stomach.

    ¡°You ain¡¯t a Koshai yet, Bert. I can still stomp you like a blade of grass¡¯¡± laughed Klof cracking his knuckles.

    Bertrand hunched over and put up his hands placatingly.

    Neera shook her head and looked at Wellynd, ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re both okay? We don¡¯t have to talk about it, really...¡±

    Wellynd nodded ¡°I¡¯m sure¡±, looking at Klof, who inclined his head ¡°We¡¯re sure. We want to hear what you¡¯ve been learning. Yeah it sucks that we won¡¯t get to learn it with you, but hey, what can we do. We failed. I don¡¯t know how the test works, but they obviously have it for a reason. Who knows, maybe we can learn some stuff from you guys. I bet we¡¯ll be better than Berty even without schooling.¡±

    Bertrand curled one eyebrow ¡°First off, in your dreams, dock-boy. Secondly, we aren¡¯t allowed to share our lessons with you. It¡¯s part of the Student¡¯s Charter of Admission.¡± He said the last part in a very officious voice.

    Neera sighed ¡°Of course we will share with you guys. Don¡¯t be a nump, Bert. Anyway, let¡¯s get going. We can chat more on the way. I wanna hear about your trip to the city.¡± She began walking up the steps.

    Klof stood still for a moment, casting a bewildered look at the three of them ¡°Wait, we aren¡¯t taking the cart up? Oh c¡¯mon. It¡¯s so hot. I¡¯ll even power the jant! Bert, you can get the cart running can¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Ya, if I want my dad to wring my neck. The things louder than a Krentswail. He¡¯ll hear us as soon as we get in earshot of the offices.¡±

    Wellynd looked back at him ¡°Wait. Your dad¡¯s not celebrating in town?¡±

    ¡°As if. Since no one is working he¡¯s going to be processing some of the ore on his own. He¡¯s crazy. And besides, the miners probably aren¡¯t too keen to have a pint with the man who just froze their wages.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d he do that?¡± Neera asked.

    ¡°I dunno. Somethin¡¯ about an explosion in Revenshore. A messenger came by the house last night and Dad¡¯s been having a fit.¡±

    ¡°Ah. That I can tell you more about.¡± Wellynd said, before beginning the climb up the stairs after Neera, Klof and Bertrand in tow.

    As they made their arduous journey up the steps, Wellynd relayed the events of the past few days. Like with Laine, the only part he didn¡¯t tell them about was his second run-in with Klent.

    He still didn¡¯t know what to make of that.

    Much to Bertrand¡¯s chagrin, Wellynd saved details about the explosion that rocked all of Revenshore until the very end of his story.

    ¡°Laine implied that Revenshore¡¯s going to get nearly locked down for the rest of the rest of the season, at the very least¡± he finished, in between gasps of air, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, the sun having nearly reached its zenith.

    They¡¯d been climbing for nearly forty minutes and had to take several breaks.

    ¡°Yikes, no wonder dad¡¯s freaking out¡± said Bertrand, brow furrowing.

    ¡°Ohh, you¡¯ll be fine Bert. Maybe you¡¯ll have to eat one less dinner at the Crest¡¯s every few weeks¡± jibed Klof.

    Wellynd swallowed. He hadn¡¯t told his friends that he had stayed there.

    ¡°Speaking of which, we need to figure out when you two can visit. I think we should still all spend a night there. We can¡¯t break the pact!¡±

    Wellynd and Klof glanced at each other uncomfortably. Klof scratched the back of his head ¡°Yeah, I guess we could do that. Could be fun.¡± he said.

    ¡°Yea¡± agreed Wellynd,¡°although, I think it might be hard for us to get over there anytime soon with what¡¯s been going on.¡±

    Neera continued walking up the steps ¡°Well, we will figure it out. We need to do it.¡± she responded after a long pause.

    Wellynd wasn¡¯t keen on going back to Crest¡¯s with them. He and Klof didn¡¯t pass the test. The pact was already broken. He also wasn¡¯t too keen on explaining the bloody mess he¡¯d left in his room to the concierge.

    Bertrand stopped, turning around and staring down the mountainside. All of Kellek¡¯s Watch was now fully in view. He leaned over and put his hands on his thighs, trying to calm his breathing ¡°Saints, I need to get in shape. June says some of the classes are pretty intensive.¡±

    ¡°Ya I saw a class doing some pretty wild exercises when I was there,¡± said Wellynd ¡°Wait, who is June?¡±

    Bertrand started to respond but Neera butt in.

    ¡°He¡¯s just an upper- year apprentice at the Observatory. It¡¯s standard for them to send someone out to train incoming students about fundamentals for a few weeks before the semester begins.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s pretty impressed with us too.¡± chimed in Bertrand.

    ¡°Cool¡± said Wellynd. ¡°What have you guys learned? Anything neat?¡±

    Neera glanced at Bertrand, ¡°I guess. It¡¯s all pretty basic.  A lot of first principles stuff, fundamentals of the different types of kose, how they differ...¡± she said casually.

    Kose. He looked askance at Klof, who, brow furrowed, said ¡°Uh huh. Anything practical, or cool looking at least?¡±

    Neera started to shake her head back and forth but Bertrand interjected ¡°We learned how to manifest our mantle; it¡¯s kinda like a big magic bubble. We¡¯re supposed to meditate on it or something. But it kinda does stuff. It looks incredible.¡±

    Neera cast a disapproving glance at him before adding ¡°Mantles don¡¯t do much on their own. But, apparently, it will help us somehow once we start specialising in a craft. We don¡¯t really know what it is yet, June has been very cagey about giving any details. He just makes us do these exercises over and over.¡±

    Wellynd nodded along. He did his best to suppress his frustration.

    ¡°Wow. Sounds like you¡¯re both well on your way. You¡¯ll have to show us this mantle before you go. Anyway, shall we race to the top?

    They all shared looks before bolting up the steps. He had to at least win this race.

    --

    Bertrand keeled over the last step and fell to the ground, rolling onto his back and wheezing. Neera and Klof weren¡¯t much better off; Neera sat with her head in her arms, legs curled up on the ground, and Klof was grabbing onto an old mine cart near the entrance to the cave, spitting onto the dirt.

    Wellynd stood with his hands on his knees, winded, but not exhausted. He had won by a considerable margin. Klof and Neera took a whole minute longer, and Bertrand had stopped several times during his ascent.

    ¡°Saints, you guys need to get out more.¡± said Wellynd between breaths.

    Bertrand groaned, covering his eyes with his arm ¡°God, I better learn how to fly or something in Revenshore. I¡¯m done with using my legs.¡±

    Neera put her hand up in agreement.

    A yacking sound echoed from behind the mine cart.

    Bertrand sat up ¡°What¡¯re you doin¡¯ oaf? someones gonna notice that¡­¡±

    A disembodied hand shot up and waved him away.

    Shaking his head, Wellynd turned to look at the entrance of the mine. The opening was about ten paces wide, and half that tall, framed by burnt black timbers, each as thick as Klof¡¯s torso.

    Starkwood, he thought, a tree that only grows in Northern Melyar; practically a world away from here. He¡¯d helped the crew unload beams like this from the boat before, but just now made the connection that they were probably for this mine.

    The rail that had run up beside the staircase now split into several sets of tracks, some of which snaked down into the mine, others winding their way to the left of the entrance and towards the small processing building a few hundred paces away.

    The entrance was dark; he could only see a few steps in; the lanterns that normally lit the passage had been snuffed out.

    Bertrand walked past him and to the threshold, scratching his head. Wellynd noticed the long dirt stain running down his friend''s back.

    ¡°Damn. Dad must have shut the lights off to save money since no one is working today. Ugh. I¡¯ll go see if I can get them up and running,¡± and set off towards the building.

    While they waited, the three that remained chatted about where they¡¯d go for a meal and drink after the delve. While they spoke, Wellynd stared into the darkness of the mine, only half paying attention to the conversation, nodding along.

    Oddly, he felt a longing to step into it. A sense of groundedness.

    Somehow, he felt that the sensation was familiar.

    Abruptly, the mine illuminated, giving way to more timbers as the shaft slowly declined into the mountain.

    ¡°Remind me to turn them off on our way out or you¡¯re paying for it when my Dad tells me to cough up.¡± hollered Bertrand walking back towards them.

    ¡°Yeah sure, I¡¯ll get right on that¡± replied Wellynd, taking one last look around them, eyes eventually settling back towards the steps they¡¯d just climbed.

    The town was no longer visible due to the grade of the mountain, and all he could see was the vast blue ocean beyond Ars Illuve.

    No, that wasn¡¯t quite right. A thin, brownish line accented the horizon. He¡¯d been up here dozens of times, and never once had he noticed that he could see Vellen Kellek from here. He¡¯d probably be heading there within the next few weeks with Laine.

    Shrugging his shoulders, he looked back at the other three, who stood silently waiting on him.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± he said.

    Within minutes of walking down the central shaft, daylight had disappeared, and the orange flicker of the oil lamps every twenty paces made the shadows of the group dance upon the walls.

    The change in air was quite abrupt, as well. The fresh, albeit dusty and humid, air outside was replaced by a warm dampness, and Wellynd found himself breathing more heavily.

    They¡¯d travelled into the mine many times over the years, but he was still surprised by what felt like such a heavy plunge of atmosphere.

    They walked on for about twenty more minutes, Neera and Bertrand walking to the left of the track, while Klof balanced on one of the rails. Wellynd opted to only step between the rail ties at first, but keeping track of them made him dizzy, so he opted to join Klof on the opposite rail.

    Eventually the slope levelled out, and the four stopped at their first junction, the path and rails splitting in three different directions. There was also a small enclosure, presumably containing mining tools, and two tables with papers and oddities splayed across it sitting just next to the tracks.

    ¡°Which way?¡± enquired Klof, teetering over and stepping off the rail.

    Bertrand smirked, his visage menacing in the wan light. ¡°Left¡±

    Neera, who had been picking through the items on the table, turned and furrowed her brow ¡°I thought we weren¡¯t allowed to go that way?¡±

    Bertrand laughed, ¡°We aren¡¯t supposed to be here at all.¡±

    Wellynd stood next to Neera, ¡°Yeah but you said we really aren¡¯t supposed to go that way. Your dad said it¡¯s dangerous, no?¡±

    Bertrand shrugged ¡°Meh. That was years ago. They¡¯ve been expanding forever now. Besides, Neera and I are leaving in a few days. We¡¯ve seen most of this mine already¡­let¡¯s just check it out. Nothing bad will happen. And if it does, well, we¡¯ll figure it out. C¡¯mooon.¡±

    Wellynd heard Neera exhale before nodding her head. Klof just shrugged his shoulders.

    ¡°Alright. You¡¯re in front. If a rock squashes you I¡¯m telling your dad that this was your idea.¡±

    Bertrand snorted. ¡°If my dad finds out we were down here he¡¯ll hire a Gwynic priest just to bring me back and kill me all over again.¡±

    The four set off down the left tunnel, and for the first little while, it looked about the same as all the other tunnels they¡¯d travelled down over the years. Wellynd detected a slight decline in the ground, but much less obvious than the one on the main shaft.

    Soon enough, however, he started spotting small passages carved off of this tunnel. He¡¯d never seen these before. The openings were a pace wide and a few inches taller than Wellynd.

    ¡°What are those?¡± he asked.

    Without turning back, Bertrand replied casually ¡°Prospector¡¯s shafts.¡±

    ¡°Prospector¡¯s shafts?¡± asked Neera, walking over to the closest and poking her head into the opening.

    ¡°Yeah. Or something like that. I¡¯ve heard the miners call them a few names. Some ruder than others. Rather than mining out massive sections of rock, my dad contracts one Koshai from the mainland every quarter year, who searches different sections of the rock for veins. It¡¯s cheaper, faster, and less likely to cause a collapse. Most of these shafts are old and lead nowhere. If he¡¯d found something they would have excavated it, but they sometimes go pretty deep and open up into big caverns deep in the mountain. We just need to pick the right one.¡±

    ¡°Pick one?¡± she replied.

    ¡°Ya. We should check one out. It¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the sound of this¡­¡± said Klof, eyeing the closest hole in the wall suspiciously.

    Wellynd and Neera shared dubious glances before continuing on.

    The prospector¡¯s shafts showed up every fifty paces or so, but sometimes there were more. Wellynd was curious about how the Koshai picked these spots. He would love to see what the magic looked like. Every now and then, Bertrand would dip into one of the tunnels before popping back out and shaking his head.

    ¡°What are you looking for?¡± asked Klof.

    ¡°A tunnel with an air current. Some of these lead out and up to the surface; sometimes the Koshai gets so far they realise that it¡¯s quicker to just get out the other way rather than walking all the way back. I think it helps with the air in here or something. You can feel the wind passing through if you take a few steps in.¡± he replied.

    ¡°And you want us to take one of these tunnels right to the end?¡± asked Wellynd.

    ¡°Ya, why not? Scared Welly?¡± poked Bertrand.

    Klof raised his hand ¡°I am.¡±

    Bertrand laughed ¡°You¡¯re always scared.¡± he turned back to Wellynd ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what. You can pick the shaft. Just find one with a current. Or if you really don¡¯t want to, we can always just go back down the main shaft. It¡¯s just, it¡¯s kinda boring, what with Neera and I learning proper magic and all. It doesn¡¯t seem as exciting anymore.¡±

    Wellynd wanted to kick Bertrand in the face.

    He glanced again at Neera who was staring at Bertrand, eyes alight with fury.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll pick. But once we get out, you have to show Klof and I this mantle thing.¡±

    Neera started ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± interrupted Bertrand, a smug smile plastered across his face.

    Wellynd began to check each of the shafts along the right side of the track. The first few were filled with stale air.

    At one point, he thought he had found one with a current, but when he tried to feel around with his hands, he couldn¡¯t locate a big enough entrance for them to fit through. He wondered how the Koshai had gotten through.

    After about twenty minutes, Bertrand yelled ¡°Are you just pretending not to find any Welly? I mean if you¡¯re really scared I totally understand.¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Wellynd ignored his friend¡¯s jibes and continued to search the small holes along the left side of the tunnel.

    He ducked his head into another and put his hand up. He couldn¡¯t feel any air passing through. Bertrand wasn¡¯t going to let up if he didn¡¯t find something soon.

    Pulling his body out of the hole, he stretched his back and looked across the tunnel. Neera and Klof were about fifty paces back, laughing about something as they casually strolled behind Bertrand, who was poking his head into the prospector¡¯s shafts on the opposite side.

    He approached the next shaft on his side and stared into the deep blackness.

    The sensation he¡¯d felt earlier washed over him again.

    ¡°Does anyone else feel that?¡±

    ¡°Feel what¡± said Klof, his voice echoing down the tunnel

    ¡°He¡¯s losing it already. Ow...¡± he heard Bertrand mumble to Neera, who must have hit him in the arm.

    Wellynd poked his head into the shaft. He couldn¡¯t feel any air, but maybe he wasn¡¯t far enough in. He shimmied in, feeling the sides of the wall as he went. A slight tingle of fresh air whipped past his ear and he could faintly make out the sound of a breeze from somewhere.

    As far as he could tell, the shaft was big enough for them to fit through, as well.

    ¡°Found one!¡± he yelled.

    The three others caught up and peeked their heads into the tunnel.

    ¡°There¡¯s definitely an air current here. I guess you found one after all, Welly¡± said Bertrand.

    ¡°Uh, are you forgetting something, Bert?¡± said Neera

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­light? I can¡¯t imagine your dad would run oil lines and mount lamps in tunnels he wasn¡¯t using.¡±

    Bertrand paused for a moment. ¡°Just a sec.¡±

    Before anyone else said anything, he bolted off down the main shaft. A few minutes later, they heard his footsteps approaching, along with his typical wheezing

    ¡°Got..it¡­from one of the storage¡­closets ¡± he said between breaths, holding up a small oil lamp with a handle.

    ¡°Honour is all yours, Mr. Snellium¡± said Wellynd, gesturing towards the opening of the shaft.

    Bertrand moved forward, shimmying his way past Wellynd.

    Wellynd had never taken issue with small spaces. In fact, he was often the one pushing the group into other crannies in the mine and underwater caves when they took their yearly trip to the beaches in Monk¡¯s Landing.

    However, as they made their way through the small tunnel, often having to crouch or even occasionally crawl on their hands and knees to move forward, he couldn¡¯t help but notice a growing tightness in his chest. His mind wandered to thoughts of Klent¡¯s weight on top of him, the horror the man must have felt in his final moments.

    This tightness as they continued their way through the passage. As the minutes dragged on to what felt like hours, no opening to the outside appeared.

    There must have been one somewhere, as they all felt the fresh air blowing tickling their increasingly dusty faces. He started to wonder if the fresh breeze came from a small breathing hole or something.

    He was just about to bring up this possibility and suggest turning around when Bertrand yelled out.

    ¡°I see something!¡±

    ¡°Thank Arthus¡± gasped Klof, who was at the back of the group

    Wellynd rounded the corner where Bertrand had disappeared and breathed a sigh of relief. Before him was a vast sun-lit cavern.

    At the far end of the cave, stood a small circular opening, just enough for each of them to crawl through. The opening, alone, however, wasn¡¯t the central source of light. Somewhere in the ceiling there must have been cracks in the mantle of the mountain where streams of light poured into the chamber.

    Bertrand set down the lamp and craned his neck to look up at the stalagmite covered roof of the cave.

    ¡°Now this is cool. What did I tell ya!¡±

    ¡°Yeah yeah you¡¯re brilliant¡± said Neera as she stumbled into the chamber, making a futile effort to wipe the dust and dirt off of her clothes.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I am¡±

    ¡°Can we get the hell out of here and go get some food now?¡± said Klof, gesturing towards the exit

    ¡°What!¡± Bertrand turned ¡°We just got here. This place is great¡± he yelled, putting his hand to his ear when his echo replied

    ¡°Oh wow, it has an echo. So impressive. Did you learn that from your special Observatory tutor?¡± said Wellynd.

    Bertrand looked at him, curled one eyebrow and smirked.

    ¡°Impressive...eh?¡±

    The boy promptly walked over to a short stalactite and placed his hand on the top of it, gripping his fingers around the point of the stone

    ¡°Bertrand, don¡¯t¡± warned Neera.

    Bertrand ignored her and closed his eyes.

    What happened next was so fast Wellynd could barely believe his eyes. The top of the stone spike began to glow red, not unlike the skald in Selkis¡¯s laboratory. It quickly reached a brilliant yellow before it began to melt. Bertrand quickly pulled his hand away and let the magma spill down the sides of the shaft of the stone, a smug smile on his face as he looked back to Wellynd.

    ¡°What about that? that impressive?¡± he said.

    ¡°Wow,¡± said Klof.

    Neera walked over and pushed Bertrand. He laughed as he stumbled back.

    She turned to Wellynd and Klof

    ¡°You don¡¯t even need training to do that. He¡¯s being a show-off. It¡¯s simple. I know you both know how to pull ambient kose and push into a jant. This is the exact same thing. You kind of just have to localise it into an area itself, rather than having the jant do the work for you.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ve heard it a million times now. First off, what is kose?¡± said Wellynd ¡°And secondly, how the heck did you use it so fast.¡± addressing his second question to Bertrand.

    The magnate¡¯s son just shrugged his shoulders and said ¡°Dunno. Maybe that¡¯s why they picked me¡±

    Neera growled. ¡°kose is just magic. It¡¯s what we use. I think there are different types, but all you need to know is it¡¯s what''s in the air. I think...something like that. It¡¯s the term that Koshai and scholars use to describe it. I don¡¯t know why. Anyway, pulling fast and pushing fast just takes practice.¡±

    She perked up¡°Oh! Why don¡¯t I show you something new that you guys can practise? I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get it.  There¡¯s a way to choose where to pull kose from. Watch.¡±

    She walked over to another stalactite and placed her hand near the top. Before Wellynd could even blink, the tip of the stone began to heat up. As the stone began to shift to magma, Neera moved her hand a few inches away and opened her palm.

    The glowing magma began to dim. The liquid stone that had started to pour down the side stopped its descent and hardened.

    Wellynd thought it kind of looked like an exotic flower that had bloomed and started to wilt.

    ¡°Cool, right?¡± she said, unable to keep the grin from her face.

    Bertrand huffed ¡°Yeah, yeah...¡±

    She looked at him ¡°Bertrand hasn¡¯t quite figured it out that part yet; he¡¯s just bitter.¡±

    Klof lurched forward and strode over towards another group of stalactites, planting his feet and grabbing onto it.

    He looked at Neera. ¡°Like a jant?¡±

    Neera nodded ¡°But rather than trying to pull in the kose as a separate step, just assume that it''s already there and try to push it out almost immediately. June said to think of it like adding fuel to a fire that¡¯s already lit. You don¡¯t need to start it, you¡¯re just adding another log. That¡¯s what helped me wrap my head around it.¡±

    Klof nodded and closed his eyes.

    Wellynd watched intently. At first, nothing happened. Seconds passed. The stone started to glow. Brighter and brighter. Klof yelled out and pulled his hand off.

    ¡°Hot!¡± he said, smiling. He placed his hand a few inches away and closed his eyes again. They all waited in anticipation.

    Nothing happened.

    Klof beamed ¡°Well, it¡¯s something!¡±

    There was an awkward silence as everyone, except Bertrand, tried to not look at Wellynd.

    Wellynd tapped his foot.

    ¡°I know you¡¯ve had issues with pain so I...¡± Neera started.

    ¡°We totally understand if you don¡¯t want to try,¡± interrupted Bertrand.

    Wellynd¡¯s face grew red. He knew Bertrand was trying to get the best of him. But Bertrand didn¡¯t know what he had done to Klent. None of them did.

    Responding to neither Neera or Bertrand, Wellynd instead strode over to the stalactite next to Klof.

    He grabbed onto it and closed his eyes. In his mind, he conjured up Neera¡¯s image of feeding a lit fire, willing himself to push it into the stone.

    Nothing happened.

    He felt empty. Several more seconds passed. It wasn¡¯t working.

    ¡°Welly it really doesn¡¯t...¡± started Neera.

    Wellynd shook out his other hand and grunted, keeping his eyes closed.

    He¡¯d focus on pulling in the magic. Kose. Whatever it was.

    He started to pull. The pain came. Aware of his audience, he worked to keep his face neutral.

    The kose seemed reluctant. Or maybe he was.

    He pulled harder, biting down on his lip as the pain intensified. Unwilling to suffer any longer, he started to push, imagining the stone on his hand was a jant. The energy felt like it was spilling out of his hand, uncontrolled, chaotic. He wasn¡¯t pulling fast enough to keep it up, either. He stood there for several moments struggling.

    ¡°Welly¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± snapped Wellynd.

    The last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes and see Klof¡¯s nervous apprehension, Neera¡¯s concerning stare, or Bertrand¡¯s subtle mocking scowl.

    His anger flared. Their pity, their assumptions about him, were insufferable.

    He turned his thoughts to the night in the alley with Klent. What did that feel like? What had he reached for? He searched for it, all around him. Was it the stone? He wished he had brought it with him. He used his free hand to rub his pant leg.

    Wait.

    The stone was there. Had he taken it with him when he left Briarberry that morning?

    He couldn¡¯t remember.

    He focused on it. The oddly shaped artefact felt heavy in his pocket now that he was aware of its presence.

    The feeling he¡¯d experienced earlier washed over him again. It almost spoke to him. Not with words, sounds, or images. It was like he was apprehending intention; like becoming aware of the slow shift of shadow in the midday sun.

    That intention directed him towards the space beneath him, around him, not in the air, but further, deep into the stone. He felt the weight of the world grow heavy upon him as his senses sunk deeper and deeper into a primaeval darkness. Wellynd started to get fearful. A part of him pleaded for respite. Another part of him pleaded for the power to prove his friends wrong.

    Both came suddenly.

    He felt a wave of effervescent yellow light wash over him. Fear fled. He was calm. Confident. Keen to express what he knew he had dominion over. He relished in its endless current.

    Coming back to himself, Wellynd seized his opportunity and pulled the kose in from all around him.  Pain now receded from his chest, and he pushed what felt like an immense power down his arm and into the stone. This was it.

    He opened his eyes. The stone was still dark grey. Nothing melted. No heat radiated from it.

    Wellynd¡¯s stomach sank. How. How had he felt such power and still nothing happened? Keeping his eyes open, he poured more kose into the stalactite.

    The cavern started to shake.

    ¡°Welly¡­¡± started Neera

    He ignored Neera. Now we¡¯re talking. This was it. This felt good. He couldn¡¯t help it. Everything else around him faded from his senses. It was just him and the stalactite. He kept pushing more and more. He¡¯d make the entire thing disappear. He¡¯d melt the entire cave if he had to.

    Suddenly the breath was knocked out of him as something slammed into his chest.

    Rather, someone. Klof had knocked him over.

    ¡°What¡¯d you do that for!¡± Wellynd screamed, shoving the larger boy off of him.

    He waited for an answer but was met with silence. A look of horror was plastered to Klof¡¯s face as he started up to the ceiling of the cavern.

    Wellynd followed his gaze.

    Small cracks were shooting between the stalagmites, rippling out in every direction as the sound of cracking stone echoed out from every direction.

    Suddenly, the top of the cave heaved and dozens of chunks broke off, plummeting towards them.

    Wellynd rolled over just in time to see Bertrand throw his hands into the air and yell as the rocks plummeted down towards them. Wellynd covered his head.

    Nothing struck him.

    After a few moments, he turned over, expecting to see a pile of rocks where Bertrand had stood. Instead, he saw his friend in the same pose. His arms up in the air.

    A miasma of what felt like a translucent fog hung all about them. It seemed to be emanating from Bertrand himself, but it stretched up towards the roof of the cavern.

    Wellynd stared in amazement as he watched more and more rocks hit the outer reaches of the glimmering substance, slowing into a glacial tumble.

    Unfortunately, the rocks didn¡¯t stop completely. They slowly fell through the fog, and Bertrand¡¯s eyes widened. Wellynd could see a single bead of sweat trickling down the centre of his nose, the vein in his forehead already quickening in size and rhythm.

    Bertrand¡¯s face twisted and contorted. It was as if he was struggling with the entirety of the weight suspended above him.

    Suddenly, a deep tremor shook through the ground, and what felt like a blast of wind nearly knocked Wellynd onto his knees, as the air in the bubble twisted and convulsed.

    Wellynd regained his balance and turned to see Neera, hands outstretched towards the rocks, the cavern now illuminated by golden glowing motes that dotted the dense atmosphere, the bounds of the bubble now expanding out beyond the walls of the cavern.

    The falling rocks responded with a shudder and stopped their descent entirely.

    Two dozen boulders, the smallest one just bigger than Klof, hovered twenty paces above them in what now appeared to be a brilliant dance of shadows and aether.

    Bertrand and Neera looked at eachother, haphazard grins flashing across their feverish faces.

    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna lie, I had no idea if that was going to work. I don¡¯t know what you did Welly, but don¡¯t do it again?¡± breathed Bertrand.

    ¡°I agree. Quick thinking Bert.¡± said Neera.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s a mantle?¡± ventured Klof, a tremble in his voice

    She turned her head back to the two of them and nodded.

    ¡°We are going to have to walk towards the exit at the other end, very slowly¡­you two grab on to each of us and help guide us towards...¡±

    The cavern shook and a great crack resounded from above. Wellynd snapped his head up and heard Klof cry out. Several large fissures shot along the length of the ceiling and more boulders, many more, plummeted towards the bubble.

    In unison, both Bertrand and Neera moved closer to one another, stretching out their arms as far as they could. Boulders tumbled into the outer layer of the bubble and stopped their descent, instead moving laterally, circling around and knocking into each other; a quickly forming mob of celestial bodies colliding in gradual succession.

    The assault was relentless as the rocks continued to fall, piling up and crashing into each other, eventually forming into a sort of stone canopy. Once every gap was filled, loud thuds reverberated throughout the cavern as more rocks tumbled onto the makeshift roof.

    And slowly, ever so slowly, they began to sink further into the bubble.

    ¡°Uh, Bertrand, what do we do now?¡± yelled Neera.

    Wellynd had never heard her speak with such panic.

    Wellynd looked over and saw Bertrand¡¯s eyes darting back and forth. There was a moment of strained silence.

    ¡°C¡¯mon Bert, think of something!¡± yelled Klof.

    ¡°Remember what June said about shifting? I can try that. You keep them steady and I¡¯ll try to carve out a path!¡± barked Bertrand, eyes still flitting between the boulders above as sweat poured from his brow.

    Wellynd didn¡¯t know what that meant, but Neera obviously did. She gave a guttural sound of ascent and pivoted her feet back and forth a few times, taking a deep breath and firming up her stance. The air shuddered again and the boulders stopped moving entirely as Neera exerted her will.

    As soon as the boulders stopped, Bertrand took a few steps forward. The darker parts of the bubble flickered for a moment, and Wellynd yelped as the boulders dropped for a split second, but the glowing motes suddenly brightened and the bubble expanded out with even more intensity, pushing the rocks back in place as the air hummed all around them.

    Neera stood proudly, as if in defiance of the whole cavern, the outer edges of her body glowing with the same light that emanated from the motes.

    Whatever Bertrand was working on started to manifest. One by one boulders began to fall, slowly, into what appeared to be a sort of pathway in the bubble, filtering down towards the outside.

    Wellynd watched on as Bertrand¡¯s body began to shake, as he pushed against an imperceptible weight.

    Wellynd heard a groan and looked back to Neera who was now drenched in sweat, her whole body trembling. She couldn¡¯t do this for much longer. There were way too many boulders to move and Bertrand, despite the immensity of his efforts, was working at a snail¡¯s pace.

    ¡°What can I do?¡± yelled Wellynd.

    He saw a flash of frustration shoot across Neera¡¯s face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by a stoic resolve.

    ¡°You and Klof need to run. Maybe we can hold it for long enough if we can make our mantle smaller. Get someone to come help¡± she replied through her teeth

    ¡°Wait, what¡­¡± said Wellynd.

    ¡°GO!¡± screamed Bertrand, now violently shaking under the invisible weight.

    Wellynd looked back to Klof, who had already started walking backwards, a stony resolve set on his face. He nodded at Wellynd and made a slight beckoning gesture with his hand.

    He looked up towards the boulders, and noticed the glowing motes that surrounded them were starting to dim.

    ¡°No¡± said Wellynd. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving you. Is there a way I can give you mag¡­kose?¡±

    Neera¡¯s eyes flicked towards him and he could tell she was deliberating on what to say next. He wanted to laugh, even in a life or death situation, Neera was thinking about how to put things nicely. He knew what she was going to say. That he couldn¡¯t pull in energy properly. That he was unable to do what they could do.

    She began ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did there Wellynd, but¡­¡±

    Wellynd interrupted. ¡°I know I can help. Trust me. Klof, you can help Bertrand¡­¡±

    He turned back to beckon his friend. Klof was gone. He couldn¡¯t blame him. It was probably the right choice to make.

    Ignoring his conflicting emotions about Klof, Wellynd put his hand on Neera¡¯s shoulder and started to pull. As soon as he could feel that familiar prickle on his skin, he directed the kose towards his hand, and urged it to move to her. If he could act as a conduit, maybe he could avoid the pain. At least for a while.

    ¡°Wellynd I don¡¯t think¡­¡± started Neera, but she stopped and stood up from the slouch she had started stooping into. The motes began to glow brightly again, like embers roused by a sudden breath of wind. Wellynd opened his eyes to peek at Bertrand, who, in response to Neera¡¯s burst of power, continued to guide the stream of boulders with renewed vigour.

    Wellynd closed his eyes again. If he could just hold on. They could do it. They could at least hold on until Klof retrieved others to help. The miners would know what to do.

    A soft thump pulled him from his thoughts. Opening one eye, he saw that Bertrand had fallen to the ground.

    ¡°Bertrand, get up, man!¡± yelled Wellynd.

    He felt Neera¡¯s shoulders slump.

    ¡°Wellynd¡± she started in a meek voice ¡°I can¡¯t do this for much longer¡­you gotta run.¡±

    Wellynd felt the pain in his chest start to grow. It felt like Neera was no longer pulling out the energy he was pushing into her.

    ¡°No, no no, we got this. Klof¡¯s gonna get help. You gotta hold on.¡± urged Wellynd.

    He looked up to see the boulders start to tumble a little more quickly. The closest one was only about ten paces above his head.

    The motes started to dim.

    Neera fell to her knees, arms going limp as she collapsed onto the ground.

    The bubble dimmed.

    Wellynd screamed in desperation, pulling in everything he could.

    Time seemed to slow.

    He refused to die here. He willed the rocks to stop. Urged them to no longer listen to the rules of the world. They were going to listen to him. They needed to obey his will. They were no longer allowed to fall. Not on him. Not on his friends. He searched feverishly for that effervescent light, focusing on the stone in his pocket, using it to send his envoy of command to the boulders hurtling towards them.

    Neera¡¯s bubble completely vanished just as a flash of light blinded him.

    Instinctually, he jumped on top of Neera and covered his head with his hands, waiting for the rocks to fall.

    He braced himself for the pain. But none came.

    He waited another moment. No weight of the hundred boulders fell onto his head, not even the sound of a stone dropping echoed out.

    Cautiously, he turned his head up in confusion.

    He gasped.

    In the air hung a hundred boulders. No bubble of magic held them up. They weren¡¯t attached to the surrounding walls or roof of the cavern. They just sat there, suspended in empty space.

    Wellynd momentarily looked down to check Neera¡¯s breathing.

    Good, she seemed okay. A soft snore emanated from her nose.

    He got up and walked over to Bertrand. Same thing.

    Wellynd stared back up at the rocks. They hadn¡¯t moved.

    Cautiously, he spent the next five minutes carrying each of his friends out of harm''s way towards the small entrance at the far end of the cavern.

    And then he sat down, his back against a stalactite and stared up, unable to tear his eyes away from the impossible sight that floated above him.

    ~

    It was unclear how long Wellynd waited in that cavern. He was too preoccupied wondering about the hovering stones, trying to piece together what had happened.

    The incident with Klent had been horrifying, and he wasn¡¯t sure how the man had been encased in stone, but it was still the stuff of fiction. What had happened here just didn¡¯t make any sense.

    Also, like with the incident with Klent, Wellynd had resolved to not tell anyone this was his doing. He wasn¡¯t sure how he would explain what happened, but he figured pleading ignorance was safer than trying to explain how he willed a hundred boulders to stop falling.

    To be fair, he didn¡¯t even know how he¡¯d done it.

    Eventually, voices echoed from the exploration shaft, and Klof came into view a few minutes later, followed by several men wearing leather caps and brown cloth tunics. After them came a man garbed completely in black leather, his hooked nose and slicked back hair unmistakable.

    Snellium Senior ; Bertrand¡¯s father.

    Klof let out a cry when he saw Wellynd sitting with the bodies of his friends,  and ran forward. As he approached, Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of resentment for his friend. He knew Klof¡¯s departure was a smart move, potentially even their best shot at survival, but he still could not quell the stirring anger that Klof¡¯s abandonment evoked. When they locked eyes, there was no doubt that Klof sensed this anger, his mouth firming to a slight frown.

    ¡°Albright, I am going to make sure you never see the light of day for this! He was in here because of you, no doubt, you despicable dock rat, I should have had your uncle locked up years ago...¡± started Snellium Sr. striding directly towards Wellynd, his hands outstretched in anger.

    Wellynd, numb from weariness and wonder, gestured placatingly with one hand ¡°He¡¯s just asleep, Mr. Snellium. If it wasn¡¯t for him we would all be dead. Neera too. They¡¯re both fine.¡±

    Snellium stopped for a moment, redirecting himself toward Bertrand¡¯s body, and bending down to check his son¡¯s pulse. ¡°Oh. Well. Right. Good then. No doubt their training has served them well.¡± he muttered before turning back to Wellynd.

    ¡°Why were you down here? What were you doing? Yessel, give me a smellstone.¡± his voice, although slightly tempered, still dripped with disgust in his address to Wellynd.

    One of the miners started fiddling with a pouch hanging from his belt.

    ¡°We were just exploring one last time before Neera and Bert left. We got here and the cave started to collapse. We didn¡¯t do anything.¡± Wellynd lied, eying Klof to see if the boy had told him anything. Klof made an almost indiscernible nod.

    The miner handed Snellium a stone that resembled a large chunk of salt. The man held it underneath Bertrand¡¯s nose, who, after a moment, shot up and screamed. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings before his gaze centred on his father. He paled.

    ¡°Oh no¡±

    ¡°¡®Oh no!¡¯ is right you fool! What were you thinking! Two days before you head to the Observatory? Did I raise such a vapid dolt? Tell me, were you coerced by this smuggler¡¯s runt? Did he pressure you somehow? I¡¯ll have him whipped, strung up, run out of town with¡­¡± the man raged, pointing at Wellynd as he yelled into the face of his half-conscious son.

    Bertrand eyed Wellynd before looking back up to his father. ¡°No Dad, it was my call. I wanted to come here.¡±

    Snellium smacked his son on the back of the head ¡°You¡¯re an idiot. You¡¯re lucky those stones never fell down. Klof had me convinced this chamber was on the verge of collapse. Why do you surround yourself with such hyperbolic fools!¡±

    ¡°But they did fall¡­¡± croaked a soft voice. During the commotion the miner, Yessell, had used another piece of the stone to wake up Neera.

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯d be dead if they fell, girl!¡± snapped Snellium.

    ¡°What did you do, Neera?¡± said Klof.

    Wellynd flinched at the assumption, but remained quiet.

    Everyone looked at the boy who was staring up at the floating boulders with a blank stare.

    ¡°What are you talkin¡­¡± began Snellium Sr. who whipped around to stare at the cave. The man went silent for a moment.

    ¡°How did¡­¡± he whispered.

    No one spoke for several moments.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen. But I imagine we should probably get out of here. Just in case it¡­stops¡­happening?¡± Wellynd finally said.

    ¡°Yes. Right. Well, we have to go back through the tunnel, this hole leads to the opposite side of the mountain. It would take hours to get back. Can you two walk? Yes. Good. No reason you shouldn¡¯t be able to. Yessel¡± he turned to the miner ¡°when we get out of here go into town and find a crew that¡¯s willing to work. I¡¯ll pay them double for the day. We need to seal this tunnel off. It¡¯s dangerous.¡± he started to walk across the cavern before stopping and turning back to the group of friends.

    ¡°It¡¯s best we don¡¯t speak of what¡¯s happened here. We don¡¯t want the Vertans poking around. There¡¯s enough trouble about as it is. Keep this¡­anomaly¡­to yourselves.¡± he trailed off, once more staring at the rocks above him before shaking his head and disappearing into the darkness.

    The rest of the group followed after Bertrand¡¯s father. Wellynd glanced out the small hole and noticed a goat feeding on a tuft of grass sticking out of the rocky hillside. As if sensing his gaze, the goat looked up and locked eyes with him, before skipping off outside the view of the hole.

    Wellynd turned and followed the rest of his friends back into the tunnel.

    End of Act I

 Chapter 23

    Act II

    The next few days passed in a blur. After the incident at the mine, Bertrand Sr. had been doubly protective of his son, and the rest of the group didn¡¯t get to see their friend until the day he and Neera headed off to the academy. She too had been absent for the remainder of the week.

    Bertrand Sr. had been adamant about keeping the incident under wraps, so Wellynd wasn¡¯t sure if Neera had actually told her mom what happened and Ursa was protecting her daughter, or if she just needed the extra help in preparation for Neera¡¯s departure.

    He and Klof, while they hadn¡¯t officially started their apprenticeship, had spent the intervening days loading crates in the warehouse. Laine had gotten him to show Klof the ropes so he would be prepared when their work as sailors officially started.

    When departure day did come, the townsfolk lined both sides of Mine street to watch the Observatory¡¯s carriage roll into town. A Vertan barge had sailed down the coast right into Kellek¡¯s watch and the black and bronze carriage had rolled right off the front of the ship and onto the shore.

    Wellynd and Klof stood next to the hospice, watching on as the vehicle, pulled by two large oxen, rolled up the cobblestones. The two friends exchanged furtive glances.

    They had briefly entertained the idea of not coming to see their friends. Wellynd felt like they had already sort of said their goodbyes up at the mine, and Klof wasn¡¯t sure if he could avoid breaking down in tears. Whether it was over their friends leaving the island, or the fact that they weren¡¯t going with them was unclear. Fortunately, Laine had overheard their conversation and told them to stop being so miserable.

    He was right, of course.

    It was, after all, the first time in 40 years that a citizen of Kellek¡¯s Watch had been selected to go to the Revenshore Observatory. Folks were dressed in their celebratory robes and all of the shops were closed. Bertrand Sr. had even paid to have gilded banners bearing his son¡¯s and Neera¡¯s family crest hung from every building.

    As the carriage drew closer, Wellynd heard the clutter of boots as the oak door in the alley behind them swung open. Steeling himself, and giving another supportive glance to his friend, Wellynd turned with a grin.

    Neera and Bertrand walked toward them, their gold medallions shining brightly against their white apprentice robes. Just behind them walked a slightly older apprentice, no doubt their tutor, June. The young man had jet black hair that stood out against his own white robes. It took a second for Wellynd to notice that the robe was darker than Neera and Bertrand¡¯s. It must have been some hierarchy thing, he thought.

    June put his hands on the two apprentices shoulders and urged them forward. Behind June walked Bertrand and Ursa, their faces glowing with pride. As they approached, Neera returned Wellynd¡¯s grin, but Bertrand grabbed the shoulders of his cloak and playfully tugged them up and down, tongue-in-cheek aimed at his two friends. Wellynd elbowed him as he passed, and Bertrand coughed and let out a laugh.

    Looking up, Wellynd saw Bertrand¡¯s father staring down on him. The man scowled before following after his son. Ursa gave the boys a wink. She was closely followed by Neera¡¯s father, Nurin, who gave them a warm smile.

    Turning to Klof, Wellynd leaned in.

    ¡°Think we can sneak onto the carriage?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure we can avoid the two hundred sets of eyes.¡± replied Klof.

    ¡°I¡¯m obviously joking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not really in the joking mood¡± snapped Klof, a stern line etched into his brow.

    Wellynd shrugged, ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    The two hurried after the procession as more townsfolk started to crowd in around the gilded carriage, which had now stopped in front of the hospice.

    The crowd sat silently for almost a full minute. Bertrand Sr. stood behind his son, tapping his foot.

    Finally, the door of the carriage swung open and a man with simple charcoal grey robes sprung out onto the road and scanned the crowd, eventually spotting June and ambling over to the small procession.

    Wellynd hadn¡¯t seen the man before. He had a clean shaven face and looked surprisingly younger than the other masters he had met.

    The man patted June on the back before shaking hands with Neera and Bertrand. Bertrand¡¯s father leaned in and said something to the man, who gave a brief frown and shook the magnate¡¯s hand and chuckled.

    Neera said something to the man, but Wellynd couldn¡¯t make out the noise over the crowd. The master smiled and gestured with his hand.

    Neera and Bertrand walked back over to Wellynd and Klof.

    ¡°So.¡± said Neera.

    ¡°So.¡± replied Wellynd.

    ¡°This sucks. Yes. It¡¯s great. But it also sucks. You are going to come and visit, right?¡± asked Neera.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re starting on the ship tomorrow so I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    ¡°Shutup.¡± interjected Bertrand ¡°You guys need to come and visit. How else am I supposed to smell the sweet scent of fish guts and seaweed without jumping off the wharf.¡±

    Wellynd laughed. ¡°Yeah, yeah. You¡¯d need to walk down there without dying from exhaustion to do that.¡±

    Bertrand scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ll have to have another race in a few months'' time then. I mean, I¡¯ll probably be gliding through the clouds by then, but, I¡¯ll take it easy on you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. We¡¯ll see about that...¡±

    Smiling, Bertrand gave a nod to both of his friends before heading back towards the carriage.

    Wellynd looked at Klof, his head slightly bowed, frowning.

    ¡°Uh. I dunno. I think we can manage to make our way out there after the storms end, right Klof?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡±

    Neera eyed him while wiping her sleeve across her face. She abruptly lurched forward and hugged Klof, who, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, returned the embrace.

    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you¡± he said, finally, before turning away and straightening his back.

    Neera stepped back and considered Klof, before turning to Wellynd.

    Wellynd stepped back and made a surrendering gesture.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to be seen hugging a known criminal. People¡¯ll get ideas¡± joked Wellynd.

    Neera smirked before embracing Wellynd. Wellynd hugged her back.

    ¡°Whatever happened in the cave, I know it wasn¡¯t me, and I know it wasn¡¯t Bertrand. You did something. You should be coming with us.¡± she whispered in his ear.

    She squeezed him one more time before stepping back.

    ¡°I¡¯ll look in the library at the Observatory and see if I can find out what happened.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± Wellynd started.

    ¡°BUT¡± interjected Neera ¡°You¡¯ll have to visit so we can follow up.¡± And with that she turned on her heel and walked towards the carriage, the grey-robed master gesturing towards the open door.

    The two remaining friends watched as everyone boarded the carriage, the master making a silly salute before shutting the door. The oxen huffed at the urging of the driver, and they began to make a wide turn in the street before heading down towards the shore.

    ¡°What was she talking about with the library?¡± asked Klof, as they watched the carriage disappear around the bend, the townsfolk cheering and walking after it, some of whom waved flags portraying the Crest of Ars Illuve and Arta.

    ¡°Something about whatever happened at the mine. Said we should all look into it.¡± replied Wellynd, not looking his friend in the eye.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± hummed Klof. ¡°Don¡¯t know what she thinks we can find out here. Weird. See you tomorrow.¡± He gave Wellynd a strange glance before sticking his hands in his trouser pockets and walking off down the road towards his house.

    Wellynd stood silently as the din of the crowd grew more distant, and all that remained was the sound of Klof¡¯s boots scraping against the cobble.

    Turning the opposite direction, he set off to Briarberry cottage. With all the commotion over the past few days, he¡¯d tried to ignore thinking about the floating stones or the incident with Klent.

    He had started to read the book he¡¯d taken from the Observatory, but had quickly realised that the language was far too academic to learn anything from a quick skim.

    Right before he turned onto the trail, Wellynd looked up the mountainside toward the mine.

    Bertrand¡¯s father had probably sealed the whole place off by now.

    There was that small hole on the other side of the mountain. He ruffled his hair as he tried to calculate how long it would take to get over the mountain and whether he¡¯d even be able to locate it. His apprenticeship with Laine started tomorrow and he probably wouldn¡¯t have any free time in the coming months.

    He sighed and turned back down the trail.

    It¡¯d have to wait.

    ~

    When the storms hit Ars Illuve, many of the island¡¯s residents, especially those on the coastal towns, like Kellek¡¯s Watch, went into something close to hibernation. While many of the shops stayed open, much of the industry that characterised the town shut down. The fisherman only went out for a few hours in the early morning, merchant vessels rarely braved the turrid waters, and even the mining operations were reduced to a single shift a day, as the steps were far too much to brave in the high winds.

    Laine Albright, however, went out for several runs per week. His crew delivered regular ore to all their normal ports of call, but his real money was made in the extra runs he took to Fellun Kellek. Due to the increased strain on supply in the black market, skald could be sold at a premium price.

    Klof stared, mouth agape at the grizzled sailor.

    ¡°What do you mean next month? We¡¯re going out there?¡± Klof cried, pointing towards the portcullis, a crack of thunder rumbling outside the warehouse to emphasise his point.

    Laine chewed on his cigar, eyes surveying the two boys who stood in front of him.

    ¡°Welly didn¡¯t tell ya, eh?¡±

    ¡°He did, but I thought he was joking¡±Klof replied, looking at Wellynd for support.

    Wellynd grunted and shrugged his shoulders.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve done it hundreds of times. Yeah, you¡¯ll get a little wet. But your dad tells me you¡¯re a good sailor.¡± said Laine.

    Klof scratched the top of his head ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m alright. Dad started taking me out fishing as soon as I could walk. But during the summer.¡± He turned to look at the Brinebreaker that was lightly bobbing in the docking pool. ¡°Can that thing even handle a twenty foot wave?¡±

    Laine looked a little taken aback. ¡°The Brinebreaker? Of course she can!¡±

    Wellynd nudged Klof as they watched his uncle stride toward the boat. Talking about the Brinebreaker was one of the few things that got the man excited. Laine took his cigar and tossed it into the water before hopping onto the boat and walking up to the bow. He stared down at the two friends as they walked closer to the hull.

    ¡°This boat is the fastest, sleekest, most elusive clipper in all of Elaudri.¡± Laine waved his hand out towards the sea. ¡°She breaks the waves when she needs to, and she slips over them when they¡¯re too big. Every crew member has to be working constantly to keep things afloat, especially when we get close to Vellen Kellek, and there¡¯s no better crew than these lads. We also have the best damn guster on the whole island.¡±

    Wellynd and Klof grinned at each other. This was what they¡¯d been waiting for.

    Laine noticed the exchange and raised an eyebrow, ¡°Yeah, yeah, that¡¯s right. Henry¡¯s gonna take you two out onto the beach today to see if either of you can gust. Having a secondary guster would allow us to get further, faster, and potentially avoid the fatal swells that come rumblin¡¯ off the desert. And Henry¡¯s also gettin¡¯ kind of old.¡±

    Klof rubbed his hands together.

    ¡°And if either of us aren¡¯t good at gusting?¡± he asked.

    Laine stared down, his brow furrowing. ¡°Well then you¡¯ll have to find work somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± Wellynd yelped, before clicking his tongue as a mischievous smile crawled across his uncle¡¯s face. Laine threw his head back and howled, holding on to the rope bound to the mast to support him.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see what else you¡¯re good for. Just deal with Henry for now, Welly. See what you can do¡± he finally said.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Where is he, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Should be making his way to Recluse¡¯s Cove now. You two can head over now and probably beat him there if ya run.¡±

    Klof looked at Wellynd and then up at Laine ¡°Why can¡¯t we just practise on the beach outside here. What¡¯s the point in making an hour¡¯s trek?¡±

    Laine chuckled again, ¡°You¡¯re soon going to learn that all magic-users, even us lowly Kosun, like to keep our tricks o¡¯ the trade to ourselves. It¡¯s what makes us valuable. I know as little about Henry¡¯s craft as he does mine.¡±

    ¡°And what is your craft? Insanely sailing into deadly waters?¡± Klof asked.

    ¡°Hah. That¡¯s one of em¡¯. You¡¯ll find out. Go see Henry for now.¡± The sailor replied before disappearing atop the boat.

    The two boys glanced at each other before the Klof broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

    ¡°Well...I guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected a normal first day with your Uncle as boss.¡± said Klof.

    ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s not so bad. You¡¯ll see.¡± Wellynd said, turning back up toward the path. ¡°You wanna take the high road or walk the beach rocks?¡± he asked, glancing backward.

    ¡°I guess let¡¯s take the rocks. Tide should be low for a while yet.¡±

    Spring in their step, they set out towards the secluded bay up the coast.

 Chapter 24

    Recluse¡¯s Cove was a small inlet farther up the shoreline. It was one of the greatest spots to fish on the whole island, but it wasn¡¯t easily accessible.

    One could hike the inclined path that led northward into the escarpment and then shimmy down a rather steep cliff full of loose rock, but most, like Wellynd and Klof, found it easier to wait until the tide was low enough to walk across the rock-lined coast.

    Except Henry. Wellynd had little doubt that Ars Illuve¡¯s most talented guster would have used his abilities to navigate the precariously rocky bay from the sea.

    As he and Klof walked, Wellynd imagined himself as a guster like Henry. If he could even be half as successful as the first mate of The Brinebreaker, he¡¯d be invaluable not only to Laine, but to any other ship that wanted to contract his services.

    He knew there were other vocations for guster¡¯s as well. One of the other gusters in town, Pelod, used his skills to bellow the forge fires up at the mine, but Wellynd had always thought those to be a waste of such an incredible power.

    Of course, Wellynd¡¯s mind eventually wandered to the more fantastical possibilities of controlling the wind. He couldn¡¯t help but think of Nesta, the legendary archer from one of Usum¡¯s tales, who used her ability to shoot arrows with deadly precision, bending them around obstacles, and deflecting the returned volley of her enemies.

    He absently tapped at the stone he¡¯d put in his cloak pocket as Klof helped him up a small cliffside. Wellynd was determined to prove his ability.

    ¡°You think you could fart and blow it at people?¡± Klof asked, wiping his hands and standing up straight.

    Wellynd guffawed, shaking some pebbles out of his sandal. ¡°Now I¡¯m not sure I want you to pick this skill up.¡±

    ¡°Come on, I wouldn¡¯t do it to you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Like you don¡¯t already try to do it to me.¡±

    ¡°Hey¡± Klof said, pointing, ¡°is that Henry¡¯s sail?¡±

    Squinting, Wellynd could just make out the orange-dyed canvas beyond the next crest of shale.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go¡± shouted Wellynd, as he began to jump carefully down the next set of rocks, Klof following quickly in tow.

    Sitting on the beach, near the midbay, was Henry. A steady stream of smoke floated from his clay pipe.

    Spotting the boys, he stood and waved, his long brown and grey hair catching the wind and blowing behind him. He bent over and rifled through a small leather bag that sat on the sand beside him before standing up and walking towards them.

    ¡°Ahoy, lads. Took ya¡¯s long enough.¡± he smiled, before placing his pipe between his teeth and holding out both of his hands, fists clenched, toward the boys.

    ¡°Take these each of ya¡¯s. Tie ¡®em to yer wrist fer now.¡±

    Looking askance, Wellynd stepped forward and accepted the bundle from Henry. It was a rolled strip of linen cloth. Unfurling it only slightly, Wellynd tied one end around his wrist. As he let go of the remaining bundle, it caught quickly in the wind and began to flap behind him.

    ¡°What is this? Planning on losing sight of us or something?¡± Klof asked, as he finished tying the cloth around his wrist.

    Henry chuckled, ¡°No lad. But you better hold onto it or yer gonna be in fer a confusin¡¯ coupla hours.¡±

    Henry furrowed his brow as he looked out beyond the boys. Turning, Wellynd and Klof saw the anchored hand sail, its orange sail furled at the top of the mast, the small platform, composed of two carved planks of wood, half-jammed into the sand.

    ¡°Prove what you can do here today, and someday you may just get yerself a lady like that.¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we just build one anyway?¡± asked Klof, turning back to a plume of smoke partly obscuring Henry, his wide smile just faintly visible.

    ¡°Well, ya could, but you¡¯d be sure to sink not ten yards from shore. Winds not strong ¡®nuff to carry the load.¡± Henry tapped out his pipe before cleaning out the stained clay bowl with his shirt. ¡°Far be it from me to stop you wastin¡¯ yer time, though.¡±

    Klof snorted.

    ¡°Alright, well. We¡¯re here. What now?¡± asked Wellynd.

    ¡°Patience lad. There are some things you need to hear before we start, so listen up.¡±

    Henry moved casually as he walked toward the cliffside behind them. Unsheathing the sabre at his hip, he whacked at a bush and began pruning the twigs from the branch.

    Making his way back to the boys, he pointed the cleaned branch to a spot of sand beside his bag.

    ¡°Sit. Make yerselves comfortable.¡±

    Planting the stick into the sand, Henry twisted it until it bore deep enough that it could stand on its own, before hunching over and rifling through his bag.

    ¡°Now, what we¡¯re doin¡¯ out here might seem insane, but that¡¯s just cuz yer stupid and haven¡¯t seen the world yet.¡±

    Looking up, he flashed a meek grin as he saw the reactions of Klof and Wellynd.

    ¡°Look, this is my first time teachin¡¯ a shapeless, and I¡¯m not a teacher.¡±

    He pulled out a thick, dark green leaf from his sack and unrolled it, revealing a brown, seedy mass inside. Pinching off a finger-full, he stuffed it into his pipe before striking a match and inhaling deeply.

    Henry closed his eyes and blew out a steady stream before plopping down on the sand and giving the two boys a stern look.

    ¡°So. We Kosun have a shape somewhere inside of us. Sorta like a container for magic. You pull it in from the air, and you stuff it into that container. From there you sorta release it again, except you try to convince it to do what you want it to do. You followin¡¯?¡±

    Wellynd looked at Klof, who was frowning, before looking back up at Henry

    ¡°Uh. We¡¯ve both pulled before, but we¡¯ve only practised pushing the...kos¡­do you call it kose too? magic...into jants.¡±

    ¡°I think i¡¯ve heard that somewhere before. Don¡¯t matter to me what ya call it. Anyway. There ya go. A jant is kind of like a container that does a specific thing. You know, like lift somethin¡¯, like the trolley we have at the warehouse.¡±

    Klof responded slowly ¡°So...you have a jant inside of you that blows the wind?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s one way to think of it¡± Henry nodded, taking another drag on his pipe as he watched them, the sound of the loose cloth flapping in the wind as the boys thought about what he¡¯d said.

    ¡°Now, this jant inside of me is a special shape. It doesn¡¯t look like the one we have in the warehouse, nor any you¡¯ve seen before. It¡¯s something that was taught to me when I was about yer age by someone you never met. It¡¯s not somethin¡¯ yer Uncle knows, or even anyone on this island. Mael, there ain¡¯t anyone in all of Arta or Verta that knows it exactly. While you probly¡¯ won¡¯t remember all of it, ya need to give me yer word that what I show you today stays here.¡±

    Henry paused, letting his words sit in the air between them.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I mean, of course.¡± nodded Wellynd, looking over to Klof who was sitting, eyes forward, not saying anything. Wellynd elbowed him.

    ¡°Ah, sure...¡±

    Henry cast a discerning gaze at each of them before nodding and standing up. Twisting the branch from the sand, he took a few steps toward the cliffside and scanned the beach. Bending over, he smoothed out a section of sand before looking expectantly at the boys, who, in turn made their way to his side.

    Closing his eyes, he began drawing something into the sand with the branch he had prepared. As he drew, Wellynd tried to follow the complex diagram of interweaving lines. Just as he thought a stroke would be the final line in the shape, Henry began making a series of smaller, more delicate lines that crossed the others. Some connected small elements together, whereas others scored through already drawn lines, thickening them. After a couple of minutes, Henry opened his eyes.

    ¡°There we are.¡±

    ¡°What in all of Arta is that supposed to be? I thought you were going to draw a nice looking circle or something¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you listenin¡¯? That¡¯s the shape I use to gust with.¡±

    ¡°But what does that mean? How do I get a shape, and how do you gust with it?

    Wellynd felt a hand thump his back and he looked up, befuddled.

    ¡°Here¡± Henry snapped the branch in two before handing one half to each of the two boys. He pointed at the shape engraved into the sand ¡°try to draw that, or at least something kinda like it. Don¡¯t worry about the small details, you can figure those out later.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Wait, what about your mantle? Do we need to manifest it or...whatever?¡± asked Wellynd, glancing at Klof who nodded at the question.

    ¡°My what now?¡± scowled Henry.

    The man looked genuinely confused.

    ¡°Uh...we heard that at the Observatory, it¡¯s important to...¡±

    ¡°Rubbish. All of it.¡± interrupted Henry, before continuing, ¡°Look, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a time and place fer book learnin¡¯. But it ain¡¯t now, Welly. I never heard of a mantle, and I¡¯m sure as the sea that what¡¯er it is, it ain¡¯t needed for makin¡¯ the wind blow, lad. Now c¡¯mon, let¡¯s get drawin¡¯.¡±

    Henry held out the broken sticks, one in each hand, nodding toward them.

    Klof eagerly snatched the stick and walked a few steps away. He began sketching into the sand, glancing back at Henry¡¯s reference image every few seconds.

    Wellynd looked at the shape one more time before he too began to try and recreate the maze of lines.

    He traced the lines slowly into the sand, his eyes flicking back and forth between the reference and his own. He tried to remember the flow of Henry¡¯s lines: which he drew first and which direction he drew them in.

    ¡°Too detailed¡± he heard Henry say to Klof.

    Clearly, Klof was doing the same thing. Copying the small connecting lines from the start, attempting to include every detail that made Henry¡¯s piece complete.

    Wellynd scratched his head. Time to try a different approach. He started to focus on only drawing the bigger connecting lines, the ones that outlined the general shape.

    ¡°That¡¯s better, Welly. You¡¯re on the right path now. Both of ya need to get the big parts right first. That¡¯s what¡¯s important at this point.¡±

    After another half-minute of scraping and etching, with Henry more quickly walking between the two, the sailor raised his hands.

    ¡°Alright lads, that¡¯s good enough fer now. Take a few paces and draw it again.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡± asked Klof, who Wellynd noticed was eyeing Wellynd¡¯s shape with a frown.

    Henry chuckled. ¡°Just do it. It¡¯ll make sense later.¡±

    For the next half-hour, Henry had the two boys carve the shape from memory into the sand for two minutes, and then instruct them to do the same thing further down the beach. Soon enough, Wellynd could no longer see Henry¡¯s original shape, and could only work from his own previous iteration.

    By the time they reached their tenth drawing, Wellynd knew that his own shape was only vaguely similar to Henry¡¯s.

    The first mate threw up his hands and beckoned the two boys back toward him.

    ¡°Right. That should be good. I think. Should be right good fer our purposes anyway. Let¡¯s give r¡¯ a go, eh?¡±

    Wellynd and Klof shared a grin as they rubbed their hands together in unison.

    ¡°What do we do now?¡± said Wellynd.

    ¡°Well this is the harder part, at least fer now. Everyone does it different, see, and what¡¯s gonna matter here is that you try to fill the shape with that magic ya¡¯ grab outta the air. Once ya¡¯ve done that yer gonna need to push it back out as the shape and¡­sorta¡­ask the wind to let ya do it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ask the wind?¡± Klof said, looking befuddled.

    Henry took a long draw of his pipe, nodding his head as he let the smoke plume out of his nostrils.

    ¡°That part¡¯ll take a while lads, an I don¡¯ expect either of ya to get it today, but this is what those cloth¡¯s ¡®round yer wrists are for. Ya see, the bigger the task, the bigger the ask, at least that¡¯s what I was taught an it hasn¡¯t led me into troubled waters yet. Yer goal is to take the shape, give it to the wind, and just ask her to change the direction of the cloth. It¡¯s hard to explain with words, at least for me. I do know that ya could learn the most complicated shape in the world and it¡¯d be no good if ya can¡¯t get the wind to take it. I¡¯ve heard of folks negotiatin¡¯, some pleadin¡¯, I¡¯ve even heard of gusters threatnin¡¯ the wind. Can ya believe it? Me, I just ask her nicely. It seems to work pretty well, even when she¡¯s fierce out on Elaudri. Anyway, take a bit o¡¯ time to remember the last shape ya made, then go off further down the sands and see what ya can do. I¡¯ll be here just mossin¡¯ on the rocks if ya have any questions.¡±

    Wellynd and Klof spent the next several minutes examining the shapes they etched in the sand. Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but wander over to Klof¡¯s.

    ¡°Looks like one of Laine¡¯s sailing charts to me¡± he jibed.

    Klof chuckled before pushing his friend away ¡°Just you wait and see Welly. I¡¯ll be teaching Henry by next week.¡±

    Wellynd rolled his eyes and walked back to his own side to give his work one more lookover, before making his way further down the beach.

    Klof walked off in the opposite direction, eventually stopping across from Wellynd on the other side of the small bay.

    Henry had sat down next to his sail, staring out into the sea as puffs of smoke frequently billowed out above him drifting up in their futile pursuit to rival the clouds dotting the sky above.

    This was as good a place as any, Wellynd thought as he angled himself to face out toward the sea, the breakers receding back into the water only a few paces in front of him.

    Convince the wind to blow.

    Really?

    He sighed and shook out his hands before examining the cloth around his wrist whipping left and right, wrapping around itself before unfurling again as it attempted to fly off. Should he try to approach each step one at a time or just give it a go altogether?

    He thought about the looming pain. Probably best if he took it one step at a time.

    Throwing off his cloak behind him, he let the cool wind coming off of Elaudri ruffle his undershirt. He also didn¡¯t want to use his stone just yet. He knew it could help him, but he also didn¡¯t know how. If the strange artefact was slowly wearing away, he figured it best to exhaust every option before attempting to use it.

    Holding the image of the sand-etched shape in his head, Wellynd breathed deeply and started to pull, the sensation of kose soon tingling his skin. He directed it inward toward his chest.

    As usual, the pain shot through him immediately, but he ignored it and visualised the hot substance, suspended in a dark expanse somewhere inside of him. He attempted to mould it into the shape, envisioning his etching, directing the kose into its rough lines.

    The first thing he noticed was that while the kose came in quite freely, it felt thick and heavy as it moved around in his mental space.

    Every time he tried to funnel the reluctant energy into one section of the shape, another part of it would bulge out or or swell.

    After twenty seconds of struggling, Wellynd released kose, unable to stand the searing pain.

    He keeled over, his hands on his knees, breathing deeply as the abrupt relief from the pain washed over him.

    This was going to be difficult.

    Taking another deep breath of salty air, he pivoted his feet.

    Again, he pulled in kose. Again, the pain erupted.

    Afraid of losing it, Wellynd rushed to form a nebulous blob in his chest. Rather than form the kose into lines and distinct smaller shapes, he formed the energy into a hot ball that looked like an opaque outline of Henry¡¯s etching: a sort of oblong sphere, with valleys and mountains etched into its rim.

    The pain intensified.

    Now what? He tried to will the different sections of the shape, his jaw clenching as he suppressed the instinct to let the kose out.

    It still looked vastly different from his own etching, let alone Henry¡¯s complex design. But maybe he could get a feel for it if he tried the next step.

    He peeked open one eye and watched the cloth whip in the wind. How could he convince it?

    He thought about how he used a jant and, uncertain of what else to do, began to force the shape down his arm toward the cloth. The pain was excruciating, and at one point, Wellynd thought he was going to faint. Gritting his teeth, he tried to make sense of the strange space between the mental and physical world and moved the shape to what felt like the area around his wrist. Then, he tried to push the shape out into the world.

    Nothing happened.

    The pain was unbearable.

    In a last ditch effort, Wellynd tried to visualise the wind itself and imagined it colliding with the shape, the air bending around the nebulous blob of kose. He released it and opened his eyes.

    The cloth continued to whip in the same direction.

    For the next hour, Wellynd tried and failed what felt like a hundred times. While every subsequent attempt allowed him to practise making the shape, allowing him to closer replicate his etching in the sand, the effort of doing so was so exhausting, that by the time he had to convince the wind to accept the shape, his nerves felt like they were on fire and was unable to think clearly.

    Wellynd plopped down and watched a small crab scuttle across the puddle on a rock onto the sand. It hastend up the beach towards the tideline, racing the remnants of a wave that had just broken onto the shore, but was pulled in by the receding waters just before it reached its mark. Wellynd jumped up and grabbed the crab before it washed out to sea and placed it back on the rock.

    Maybe this wasn¡¯t the right spot. He knew at least some of his attention was being diverted towards Klof on the other side of the bay.

    Just as he was about to start looking for another spot, he heard the faint noise of a triumphant yell over the crashing waters. Glaring across the small bay, he saw Klof hooting and hollering, pumping his fist in the air, Henry walking towards him. Great. Klof had some sort of success.

    If he couldn¡¯t accomplish anything this day, Klof would be insufferable on their walk to town.

    Wellynd ran over to his cloak and fished the stone out of his pocket, holding it tight in his hand as he walked back towards the tideline.

    He moved closer to the water, letting the waves crash against his shins and the wind whip through his hair. Particles of sand blew in his face, but he resisted the urge to wipe them off or spit them away.

    Henry¡¯s strategy, at least on the face of it, wasn¡¯t working. Time to try his way.

    Wellynd thought about the way that he felt just before the strange events that happened in the cave and during the incident with Klent. Both times, he somehow felt connected to the ground beneath him, or, perhaps, something below that.

    Closing his eyes, he searched for a familiar feeling, splitting his focus between the stone in his hand and visualising the earth beneath him. A black, vacuous space occupied his mind.

    At first, darkness was all he could envision.

    Nothing like that endless sea of light he¡¯d felt beneath the cave.

    Wait. There was something.

    He shifted his feet. Far off in the dark realm of his mind¡¯s eye, he could make out a speck. The sliver of that familiar feeling suspended deep beneath the sands.

    Wellynd reached out towards it until it came to the centre of his focus.

    Instinctually, he started to pull.

    To his delight, kose flowed into him rapidly, this time with no accompanying pain.

    Within a few seconds, the speck disappeared. He switched his focus to the kose around him and, again, there was no pain. What did that mean?

    Not wanting to miss his opportunity, he quieted his thoughts, and began to form the shape. It was still difficult to control the unwieldy substance, but now he had time. No urgency of pain coaxed him to be careless.

    Shaping and moulding, he eventually made what felt like a fairly accurate representation of what he had drawn in the sand.

    Now was the hard part. Rather than trying to just will the shape into doing something, like he had been doing, he took a moment to focus on the wind as it continued to pelt his face with sharp specks, and imagined the wrap coiling around his wrist.

    Unlike the previous attempts, Wellynd felt a sense of confidence that wasn¡¯t there before. The same confidence he¡¯d felt in the cave.

    Without thinking, he superimposed the shape upon the image of the fluttering cloth while attending to the sensation on his face, willing the three to merge and shift to his desire.

    Suddenly, the ground fell out from Wellynd¡¯s feet as his stomach lurched and he shot up five feet up into the air, spiralling around like the winding cloth, before plummeting back down and crashing into the sand on all fours.

    Well, that was something.

 Chapter 25

    Stunned, Wellynd let the waters race up around his legs. He¡¯d done it.

    Well, he¡¯d done something.

    Eyeing the opposite shore, he saw Klof talking excitedly while tracing a line in the air with his hands. Henry was laughing, and patting the boy hard on the back as they walked toward the shore, Henry pointing at something farther out into sea.

    They hadn¡¯t seen him.

    Standing, Wellynd brushed the mud off his pants and walked back to the dry sand. He took a few steps before unbuckling and flicking his sandals to the side so that they landed a few paces apart.

    The sand was hot against his feet and he quickly began to wiggle his toes, burying them beneath the sun¡¯s glare so that he stood in cool, wet grains.

    He let his stone drop to the sand and pulled the slightest amount of kose from the air.

    Immediately, he was met with the familiar pain.

    He knew it. Somehow, the stone was allowing him to pull freely.

    Wellynd closed his eyes again and tried to see into the dark space beneath him, around him.

    It was dark. The slosh of waves filled his ears as he probed the darkness with his mind, searching for a speck of silver light to latch onto. Something was there, but it was somehow unreachable. It was deep below him, of that much he was sure. Tentatively, he pulled, focusing on the source deep below him, but he felt unable to lock on to the silver speck. The pain blossomed in his chest and he stopped, releasing the kose.

    Infuriated, he opened his eyes and kicked his feet free, picking up the stone and striding a few paces farther into shore.

    He came to stand on a large sheet of buried shale and looked down at the strange artefact in his hands, wiping the sand off of it. While several of the rough edges have been smoothed out, the strange looking rock was maintained its general size.

    If it continued to disintegrate at its current rate, it would take hundreds, if not thousands of uses before it completely disappeared.

    He¡¯d have to use this for now. Wellynd ignored the nagging question in the back of his head: What happens when I do use up the stone?

    Hopefully, he¡¯d figure out what was wrong with him by then.

    Gripping the stone tightly, he refocused on the task at hand. His success felt hollow.

    Was what he did really ¡°convincing the wind¡±? It seemed more like he¡¯d asked the wind for a favour and it had taken offence and taught him a lesson.

    He needed more control. Maybe he could release the shaped kose more gently into the wind? Maybe. But to do that he¡¯d have to find another one of those specks.

    He began to slowly pull, attempting to limit the amount of pain while he searched out the light.

    He let his mind delve beneath the ground, far below the rock he stood atop. It was as if he could almost see the darkness underneath him, feel the weight of the primordial stone above as he projected himself deeper into the earth.

    Then, he saw it. Or felt it. He clutched his stone trinket, and the speck became clear. It sat there, a bright shard shining in his mind amid the sea of darkness.

    This one was bigger than the sliver from before. Reaching out with his mind, he tried to pull it into him.

    It resisted him this time. He grunted. It felt too far away. On instinct, he kneeled down and planted his hands against the shale.

    The rock felt hot against his palms. The wind was cool against his skin.

    A peculiar sense of familiarity creeped over his senses and then, as if from the ocean itself, coolness and relief washed over him as the speck of light became accessible to him. He greedily drank it in, syphoning the suspended sliver of light until it grew dark.

    Unfettered from pain, he pulled in more kose from the air and began to form Henry¡¯s shape. It took nearly a minute to mould, but once he was satisfied with it, he took another moment to think about his intentions.

    Visions of Klof cheering flashed in his mind and Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but smirk. He¡¯d show both him and Henry what he could do.

    A sudden gust whipped off the ocean and tousled his hair. He focused on reversing that gust, pushing back and making it flow out towards the sea.

    Wellynd imagined the waves reversing course, the breakers toppling towards the sea, the wind whipping against his back. He superimposed the shape upon this thought, and, gently, diplomatically, tried to fuse the shape with his intention.

    Without warning, the ground fell out beneath his feet, again, but this time he was rocketed forward as a scream of wind pummeled his back.

    For a moment, he expected his feet to hit sand, but when he opened his eyes he was amazed and horrified to find himself still airborne, shooting forward rapidly. After what felt like an eternity of his stomach in his throat, Wellynd slammed into the water, and the waves began to violently crash around him.

    While Wellynd was a strong swimmer, he couldn¡¯t seem to buoy himself. It took a second for him to realise that the wind was still pelting him from the shore, throwing the waters into a maddening dance.

    Flailing his arms, Wellynd tried to call out, but was hit by a wave, briney water filling his mouth and lungs. Coughing, he managed a weak breath before he was submerged once more. It felt like he was stuck in the middle of a whirlpool, the waters tumbling him down towards the seabed. Struggling to orient himself, he managed to break the surface and grab another breath, before he was sent spinning by another breaker.

    A flash of orange came into view above the water, and Wellynd felt a calloused hand grip his arm and pull him out of the churning whirlpool.

    Henry tugged Wellynd onto the small platform of the handsail and gripped him upright in one of his arms, the wind suddenly changing direction and shooting the tiny vessel across the water toward the beach.

    When they reached the shore, Klof came running up and helped Wellynd onto dry land, sitting him down in the hot sand. He coughed up a bit more water, before looking at his rescuers, and despite the grave countenance of their faces, couldn¡¯t help but chuckle.

    ¡°I think I did it.¡±

    ~

    Several things happened after the incident at the bay. The first was that, despite Wellynd¡¯s close brush with death, both he and Klof returned there to practise constantly for the next three weeks. Henry wanted them to train as much as possible before the storms, which now raged almost every night, started intruding on the day and made the beach inaccessible.

    The second thing to happen, or rather, that didn¡¯t happen, was Wellynd never repeated his initial success, if that near-death experience could be called such. Upon reflection, Wellynd guessed it had at least half to do with the lingering fear of once again being cast out to sea. He also wasn¡¯t sure that he wanted to use up the strange stone by something as mundane as making the wind reverse course for no reason.

    He had figured that he could still continue to practise moulding the shape without the aid of his artefact.

    Despite this resolution, he¡¯d still bring the stone with him every time he trained. And, occasionally, he still found himself searching for another one of those silver slivers beneath the earth, but even when he did find one, he would only briefly pull from it, just enough to make the pain subside.

    Not once did he pull enough to feel that sense of power and confidence that had propelled him violently from the beach before.

    The most troubling development, however, was that despite his best efforts, he didn¡¯t seem to be getting any better at moulding Henry¡¯s shape. This wouldn¡¯t have been a massive concern if it was not for Klof¡¯s own rapid development in the same process.

    By the time the three weeks had elapsed, Klof had learned to both mould the shape and produce a, albeit weak and fleeting, gust within moments of pulling. While this was still nearly useless on a ship, Henry suggested that at this rate, Klof would be able to properly gust before the next season of storms hit.

    Wellynd, however, saw no such development. When he did manage to get the shape to match, it took him almost ten times the amount of time and effort to do so. He did find that manifesting the shape into the world was easier the more he did it, but he always found himself so frustrated with the shaping part that his gusts would just fall flat, huffing only a short burst of wind or blowing in the wrong direction.

    He was bad at this.

    Something about the whole process just felt off.

    One day, after another morning of failing to improve, and watching Klof jump for joy at his continued success, Wellynd told Henry that he was feeling under the weather and headed home to Briarberry cottage early.

    Locking himself in his attic room, Wellynd walked over to the small bed in the corner and pulled out the book he¡¯d lodged in between the mattress and the frame.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    He wasn¡¯t worried that Laine would find the book, but he still felt a bit odd about taking it from the Observatory. The days in the bay training with Henry had been exhausting and every time he pulled it out at night he¡¯d always found his eyes growing heavy within minutes.

    Not today.

    He¡¯d already managed to get through the opening pages, and while there was still much that was confusing to him, he was able to glean some basic information about kose.

    Most observers theorised that kose came from the Eikons. It also seemed that kose from each Eikon was somehow different.

    It had also occurred to him that kose was the root word of the terms ¡°Kosun¡± and ¡°Koshai¡±; he¡¯d felt a little stupid not making the connection earlier when he finally figured it out.

    He flicked through a few more pages laden with heavy blocks of text until he found what he¡¯d been looking for.

    Letting the book fall open on the floor, he studied five diagrams etched across the two open pages. Each diagram depicted a different spherical object, surrounded by varying rings or structures. Wellynd¡¯s eyes immediately focused in on the second object from the left. It was Arthus. Or at least a hastily sketched rendering of it.

    Around the diagram there were a series of notes, pointing to different parts of the Eikon, as well as several longer notes discussing things like ¡°the properties of kosal density¡± and ¡°domains of influence¡±.

    Much of what was being said was far beyond Wellynd¡¯s vocabulary. He sighed, trying not to get discouraged. He didn¡¯t expect that the book was going to solve his problems with shaping, but he did have the smallest hope that some piece of information would help him better understand more about kose in general. Maybe something that would tell him why it seemed to be so much more difficult for him than everyone else.

    One peculiarity that he did notice was that, while most of the book was written in one uniform hand, apparently Scribe Tautsmith¡¯s, many of the notes around the diagrams were written in several different hands. This book must have been shared or looked at by several Koshai.

    He examined other diagrams and found their names scrawled just below the objects. The object on the far left was Mael, on the other side of Arthus, straddling the two pages, was Deakon, then Gwyn, and finally Val Kan.

    These were the patron Eikons of each of the nations of Estioch. While Arthus hung above Arta, Deakon hung above Verta, Gwyn above Melyar, Mael above Shadkara, and Val Kan above Rel.

    He¡¯d seen the faint glint of Deakon on clear nights from atop the mountain and lighthouse, but he¡¯d never seen, or heard anyone outside of the classroom even discuss the other three.

    It was always strange to think that something other than the moon, sun, and Arthus hovered in the sky. It was such a permanent fixture.

    Maybe one day he¡¯d be able to see the others.

    He turned the page. The verso of the previous page was blank, except for a messily scribbled block of text near the bottom:

    Oh Heaven¡¯s skies hold five in all

    Which carve the lands and bring us strength

    Who built such saints whose light will never fall?

    Through what engines? At what length?

    When did the one who fostered Mael,

    Divine his broodish aura true?

    When His people, noble, stark, and pale

    In spite of twisted forests grew?

    When Arthus with his heavy hand

    Did build a continent alone

    Did he not wonder if his land,

    Would bear a coupl¡¯d sovereign throne?

    Deakon, a match to none and all

    Usurped half her other half owe¡¯d.

    Was she design¡¯d to reign or fall,

    Or make us walk some middle road?

    Did Gwyn, imbued with life and death

    Ask for the widest of domains?

    Or was it greater being¡¯s breath

    Who annexed vast those crimson plains.

    How did Val Kan know when to show

    Young Erdus shapes of power¡¯s fate,

    Mocking godless Vellen as his foe,

    From learned mountain fortress great?

    Despite these questions grand,

    That make me deign to comprehend,

    What I want most to understand:

    When will this awful lecture end!

    <ul>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">V.M.</li>

    </ul>

    Wellynd coughed out a laugh as he read the final line. He wondered how old ¡°V.M.¡± must be now.

    A knock at the door downstairs interrupted his train of thought, and he hid the book under the cover of his bed.

    Running downstairs he opened the door to find Ursa standing in the doorframe, illumined by the afternoon sun, a slight grin stretched across her pointy face.

    She held a netted bag in her right hand.

    ¡°Henry tells me you¡¯re sick. I thought I¡¯d stop in and make sure you¡¯re eating.¡± she said, gesturing with the bag.

    ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯m not really. Uh, yeah. Sure thanks¡± he muttered before stepping back and welcoming her in.

    She strolled past him, casting him a furtive glance before continuing on to the kitchen.

    She placed the bag on the table as Wellynd followed in after her. Rolling up the sleeves of her cloak, she pulled out a covered bowl, a spoon, and a loaf of seeded bread and placed them in front of the other chair.

    ¡°Sit.¡± she instructed. Wellynd sat down and stared at the bowl, he was still half thinking about the poem. ¡°Godless Vellen as his foe¡±: was the poet talking about the desert?

    Ursa sighed and took the lid off the soup, handing Wellynd the spoon. She sat down across the table.

    ¡°Eat. You¡¯re obviously not sick. You still need to eat.¡± she ordered.

    Wellynd took a spoonful of the hot broth. It was salty with a slight hint of mint to it. It was good.

    She watched him for a few moments as he ate the soup, a knowing smile plastered to her face.

    ¡°So why are you saying you¡¯re sick when you¡¯re not?¡±

    Wellynd raised an eyebrow before sipping the last of the soup straight from the bowl. He wiped his arm across his mouth.

    ¡°Uh. It¡¯s complicated. Things aren¡¯t going well I guess.¡±

    Ursa nodded her head. ¡°I thought you might be thinking that. Henry came in to have his finger mended the other day and couldn¡¯t help but talk about what¡¯s been going on¡­well¡­you know Henry.¡±

    Wellynd flashed a smile before biting his thumbnail.

    ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s just not happening. Klof is getting on well, but maybe I¡¯m just not cut out for gusting. Speaking of which...¡±

    Ursa held up her hand. ¡°That¡¯s also why I came here today.¡±

    Wellynd turned his head.

    She continued ¡°Henry also told me about what happened during your first lesson at the bay. It sounds like you¡¯re having trouble with control. Not that it¡¯s a bad thing. I don¡¯t know what that means, but you just haven¡¯t quite figured out why you¡¯re different. That¡¯s okay. But when it comes to what I do, one has to have an immeasurable amount of control. What I do can go very awry, very quickly.¡±

    She walked over to the sink and grabbed a flower stem that Laine had left after gardening. She came back and leaned both of her elbows on the table, the stem held between her open hands.

    As she closed her eyes, her shoulders relaxed. A moment later, the stem of the flower began to grow. Wellynd gaped as a sunflower began to bloom, its head turning towards the sun spilling in through the window.

    Suddenly, Ursa opened her eyes and stared at Wellynd.

    ¡°Flowers are easy. Most plants, at least the ones I know, are simple.¡±

    She closed her eyes again, the sunflower head began to grow even bigger. The seeds started to spill out and the centre of the head started to grow over the petals, before becoming a gnarled knob, twisting and contorting before turning black.

    Letting the dead flower drop to the table, Ursa stared at Wellynd again.

    ¡°If I lose control at any point, that¡¯s what can happen. Imagine what would happen if I lost control when I was treating a human, who are much, much more complicated.¡±

    Wellynd paused before responding, not wanting to sound too curious. He understood her point. ¡°Uh...would the same thing happen to a person?¡±

    Ursa shrugged her shoulders ¡°I don¡¯t know. I vowed to never try with a person. Or even an animal for that matter. I don¡¯t think plants mind.¡± she added with a smile before furrowing her brow and frowning.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what Henry has told you but, once you start learning something too much, it¡¯s harder to learn anything else. Eventually, you can¡¯t learn anything else.¡±

    She stood up and walked over, putting her hand on Wellynd¡¯s shoulder. ¡°To be honest I¡¯m being selfish. I don¡¯t want you to learn your craft from me and then be stuck with something that you might be afraid to use. I imagine that would be a horrible life; I imagine you would resent me for it. Neither Neera or myself would want that¡±

    ¡°Fair enough¡± Wellynd replied, deflated ¡°I get it. Doesn¡¯t look like I¡¯m going to figure out what I¡¯m going to do anytime soon. Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡±

    ¡°Have you ever tried doing...your craft...somewhere other than Arta? Like in Verta or Melyar?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but think of the diagram he¡¯d just been looking at.

    Ursa sat back down and gave him a warm smile ¡°Welly, I¡¯ve hardly left the island my whole life. Someone once told me it feels...different when you¡¯re away from Arta, but I have no idea.¡±

    Wellynd nodded ¡°Sorry, I know everyone¡¯s pretty secretive when it comes to their own craft. I was just curious.¡±

    ¡°Your father was like that. I think that¡¯s why he started to sail. Didn¡¯t know what else to do. Just liked to meander about. Learn about the world. Even after he married your mother, he spent so much time skirting coasts. Your mother used to tell me about all the things he brought back for her. Not that she minded him gone, though! She always knew what she wanted.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± said Wellynd flatly.

    Ursa raised her eyebrows and stared out the window ¡°I don¡¯t know why she left. I miss her. I imagine what happened to your father must have broken her.¡± she wiped her eyes.

    ¡°Anyway, there¡¯s no use in us thinking anymore about it. Those days are over. You¡¯ll figure it out. I can still teach you about herbs or anything you¡¯d like. And I¡¯m always happy to offer help when I can. Oh! and I think Neera is coming home for the Prelude festival. We got a letter yesterday.¡±

    Wellynd nodded ¡°that¡¯s great. I can¡¯t wait to see her.¡±

    The door creaked open and they both looked up to see Laine walking in. The ageing captain must have only noticed Wellynd, as he started.

    ¡°Time to get your sea legs on, Welly, we¡¯re going to Velle¡­..Oh Urse. Ursa. What¡¯re ye doing here?¡±

    His face reddened.

    Ursa grabbed her bowl and put it back in the bag, eying Laine disapprovingly, though Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but notice a slight smirk.

    ¡°I was just checking in on Welly here. Heard he was feeling storm-weathered. We¡¯ve got him all patched up though. Should be fine to sail soon enough.¡± she added.

    She gave Wellynd a wink before walking past Laine and out the door.

    ¡°Oh. uh. Good. See ya, uh, Urse¡± Laine stammered, before puffing out his cheeks and ruffling his hair until she was gone.

    ¡°Hope you¡¯re feelin¡¯ better, Welly. No more lazin¡¯ about. We¡¯ll try teaching ya something else when we get back. We¡¯ve got a window to run for skald.¡±

    Wellynd sighed and nodded ¡°Okay. When are we going?¡±

    Laine gave his nephew a devious smile, his unlit cigar held by his teeth at the corner of his mouth.

    ¡°Tonight.¡±

 Chapter 26

    A breaker crashed into the side of the hull, an icy blast of water nearly knocking Wellynd off his feet.

    ¡°You good?¡± screamed Klof over the fury of Elaudri¡¯s crashing waves and howling winds.

    Wellynd gave his friend a thumbs up as water poured down his brow.

    Klof nodded and turned back to stand near Henry, who was perched atop the small guster¡¯s podium closer to the bow of the ship, arms raised toward the front mast, a screeching wind billowing the sails as the Brinebreaker cut through the black waters.

    Wellynd stood with Filch near a cluster of empty crates, checking that the ropes were battened tight as the ship was jostled every which way by the storm. Normally, Laine would keep the empty crates below deck, but the urgency of their mission required them to have everything ready for when they landed at Vellen Kellek.

    If they even made it there.

    He surveyed Filch standing tall, his legs naturally absorbing the rise and fall of the waves as he shoved a crate back into position.

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. He hadn¡¯t seen him since their encounter during the festival of Arthus, where the large sailor, and his even larger brother had been looking for companionship in a drunken stupor.

    On land, Filch and Bilge stood out like a sore thumb. Here, though, they seemed so natural, focused, as if they were permanent fixtures of the Brinebreaker itself.

    Wellynd turned back to see Klof had started imitating Henry¡¯s stance. He wasn¡¯t sure if Klof was actually adding anything to Henry¡¯s already fierce wind, but the fact that he was gusting at all made Wellynd a bit ill with envy. Then again, it could also just be the waves.

    He unconsciously rubbed his hand over his pocket, feeling the edges of his stone. On the way home from learning to gust, he¡¯d thought more about his experiments on the beach, and decided he¡¯d never go anywhere without it again. Whatever the relic actually was, it had helped him find those silver motes of pain-free kose.

    Using it was not quite like the merchant had promised. After all, there had been no purple mist that swirled around him like there was in her tent. But it was doing something.

    ¡°Storm wall south!¡± screamed Laine from atop the helm, the boat careening as they carved down the side of a wave towards a wall of clouds that stretched to the heavens.

    On their way to the warehouse before setting off, Laine had explained to Wellynd that they needed to sail that night in order to make it to the desert and back before the growing storm bloomed to full strength.

    It had been too stormy for normal operations as of late, which was expected for this late in the season, but tonight, Laine thought the current storm bore a window of opportunity. An opportunity that if they did not seize immediately, if they delayed even until the next morning, they likely wouldn¡¯t be able to sail to the desert again for months.

    Not until the season of storms had passed.

    He¡¯d never been on the boat this late in the autumn months, but he¡¯d heard stories about what sailing across the Elaudri was like this time of year.

    When he was young, Laine would sit with him by the cottage fire and explain how the storms of Elaudri formed unevenly, creating pockets of calm waters amidst stretches of turbulent seas.

    Years ago, the crew of the Brinebreaker found that they could still traverse the treacherous sea in these conditions, using the pockets of calm water as their safety on the way to Vellen Kellek.

    Even though they¡¯d only spend a handful of minutes sailing at full speed through the stormy sections of the Elaudri, the Brinebreaker would need immediate repairs as they landed in one of the safe pockets. All crew members, save for Laine, would take the precious minutes to patch any damage, reinforcing the boat to ensure they could continue safely.

    Laine called the technique pocket hopping, and the Brinebreaker crew were the only ones left on the island who were bold enough to attempt it.

    These pockets, along with any opportunity to sail, would disappear as the winter months, the season of storms, came to pass. But, as Laine put it, a run this late in the year provided a unique opportunity for the crew.

    When they were successful, they could sell skald at a premium price, since the rest of their competitors had docked their boats for the season.

    Wellynd looked up to the helm. Laine stood staring straight off into the distance. He looked unbothered, unmoved by the storm¡¯s assault as he held the wheel steady amidst the chaos about him.

    The trap door in the middle of the deck swung open and Bilge appeared, his face hardened in focus. He walked by Wellynd and gave him a wink before shouting up to Laine.

    ¡°Hull¡¯s holdin¡¯, but she could use a short break!¡±

    The large man looked over to Wellynd and grinned.

    ¡°Havin¡¯ fun Welly?¡± he yelled.

    Laine just pointed towards the approaching storm wall. Bilge glanced at it and nodded before disappearing into the cabin.

    Wellynd glanced back at Filch to see that he¡¯d been joined by Briv, the Brinebreaker¡¯s current Fulmin.

    Briv only came out with them when they went on skald runs, and though Wellynd had never seen a Fulmin in action, he knew they were useful for extracting valuable minerals from the desert¡¯s abandoned mines.

    He¡¯d heard that they could unleash an immense concussive blast from their hands, generating superheated air pockets around them.

    The blast would essentially liberate skald directly from the rock in Vellen Kellek, showering the Fulmin in a rain of dust and pebbles.

    If any skald were to fly through the superheated air, they were likely to explode, so Laine paid men like Briv well.

    Briv looked up at Wellynd, a toothy grin spreading across his clean shaven face, his piercing blue eyes dancing with excitement.

    ¡°How goes your first skald run?¡± he shouted, leaning up against the crate next to Wellynd¡¯s as the boat crested another enormous wave.

    Wellynd braced as they sailed down its slope, lowering his stance to absorb the impact as they planed out.

    ¡°Well, I thought it¡¯d be a little dryer!¡±

    Briv laughed and patted Wellynd on the back as the boat jostled from side to side.

    A bell rang out from the helm. They were about to push through the storm wall.

    The Brinebreaker sliced a cut in the side of a wave as it lilted to make itself completely perpendicular with the storm wall.

    ¡°One last push till¡¯ we reach a pocket¡± sang Filch.

    ¡°One more gust to go!¡± responded Bilge, re-emerging from the cabin, with a deep harmony.

    Wellynd saw Henry turn his head to Klof, and the boy responded by raising his arms.

    The boat surged forward with a fresh gust of wind and broke into the wall of thick clouds. Wind seemed to whip in every direction as if the boat had sailed directly into a cyclone. Moments later, the boat shot out through the other side. Henry and Klof lowered their hands and the boat slowed to a near halt on  the now inexplicably calm waters.

    Sun filtered in through the mist about them, the sky above lightening in the early hours of the morning. Other than the storm wall encapsulating the small pocket of calm, there was no visible sign that a violent storm raged all about them.

    Light, water, and time all seemed suspended here.

    Filch and Bilge sprung to action and began inspecting the masts and ropes.

    Briv ruffled Wellynd¡¯s hair before disappearing into the cabin.

    Henry turned to Klof and patted him on the back, the two laughing together.

    Not wanting to appear annoyed, Wellynd approached his friend.

    ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got another Henry on our hands¡± said Wellynd, grinning.

    Klof laughed ¡°Haha. Maybe. Just wait! Maybe I can do more.¡±

    Wellynd nodded in agreement. Klof¡¯s confidence had returned these past few weeks, and he was glad to see his friend back to his old self.

    Even if it was at the agitation of his own envy.

    Laine yelled out ¡°Check for leaks! Straighten your spines! We¡¯ve got three hours to get there, five hours to harvest, and ten hours to get back. Let¡¯s give ourselves some breathin¡¯ room, lads! We¡¯re almost there! You¡¯ve got five minutes til¡¯ we¡¯re breachin¡¯ the next wall!¡±

    Everyone threw up an arm in acknowledgement and continued in their roles, Bilge once again dropping below to check the hull.

    Uncertain of what to do, Wellynd climbed up the ladder to the helm and stood beside Laine.

    ¡°So when are you going to teach me how to know where to go in a storm? I don¡¯t know how you can see anything.¡±

    Laine kept staring forward as held a match to his soggy cigar ¡°Soon, Welly. I¡¯ll try teachin ya, don¡¯t worry. Let¡¯s just focus on getting to the desert for now eh?¡±

    Wellynd impatiently gripped the handrail ¡°I know you and Leofer do the same thing. What is it? Do you just see more clearly or something? See farther ahead maybe?¡±

    Laine looked at Wellynd and raised an eyebrow before chuckling to himself.

    ¡°Sorta. Though Leofer can¡¯t do what we do. No, as far as I know, other than the one who taught me, who¡¯s long gone, there''ve been very few folks from the island that could do what I do.¡±

    He gestured to the boat amidst the walls of the storm.

    ¡°Ah. Could my Dad do it?¡± Ursa¡¯s comments earlier had him thinking about his parents.

    Laine¡¯s brow furrowed, the many deep lines on his weathered face making a sudden appearance.

    He nodded slowly ¡°Yeah. We learned together.¡±

    His eyes softened as he continued ¡°How do ya think we became such good friends? And how do ya think he was introduced to my sister? Right git for doin¡¯ that but, well, it worked out. For a while anyway. Surprise you want to know. Ya never wanted to talk about them before.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense. Was just curious. So which direction are we going in next?¡±

    Laine gave his nephew a questioning glance before pointing directly east. ¡°We¡¯ll cut through there. One or two more pockets should get us through the worst of it. Once we...¡±

    A wailing screech split the air, echoing off the storm walls on all sides of the pocket.

    The cigar dropped out of the captain¡¯s mouth as his face paled.

    ¡°Ya gotta be kiddin¡¯ me¡± he yelled before placing his hands on the rail, his eyes glazing over.

    Bilge appeared from the trap door again and shot up the pegs of the main mast until he reached the top, casting his eyes southwest.

    ¡°Say it ain¡¯t so Laine¡± yelled Henry, scrambling to the base of the mast staring off in the same direction as Bilge.

    Laine stayed silent for another moment before shaking out of his trance and running over to the pilot¡¯s wheel, spinning it with a powerful jerk.

    ¡°Unbelievable! Ten years!¡± he yelled ¡°We need to turn around. Now. Tighten yer belts; no more skald until next season lads!¡±

    Despite the Brinebreaker¡¯s slow speed, the sudden change in direction nearly threw Wellynd off his feet. He grabbed the rail and looked down at Klof, who was staring back at him with a look of horrific uncertainty.

    Wellynd turned to Laine.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°They¡¯re not supposed to migrate for another two weeks. Henry, urge the wind westward. Filch, Briv - don the leather, we¡¯re going to have company! Bilge, the Pub is open, get Welly to give ya hand!¡±

    Laine turned to Wellynd and grabbed his shoulders. ¡°Stay near Bilge. Help where you can. I¡¯m sorry lad. I¡¯m gonna need absolute focus for this. Bilge, lights on. Tear that sheet Henry! Klof, do yer best to back him up!¡±

    The captain grabbed the wheel again, and Wellynd felt a wicked thrust of wind blast into his back, and he swore he felt the corvette lift off the water as they jettisoned back through the storm wall.

    Lightning cracked and wind howled as the boat emerged from the calm pocket and back into the maelstrom.

    ¡°What! What happened? Why are we¡­¡±

    He turned back to look behind him and nearly cried out as he saw several wakes being cut through the water behind them. Though it was dark, Wellynd could make out the silhouettes of enormous shapes just below the surface of the water.

    ¡°DOWN TO BILGE, WELLY!¡± yelled Laine.

    Wellynd forced himself to focus and clambered down the ladder, finding Bilge with his back up against the cabin.

    The boat hurtled through the air as they crested the top of another wave, smacking against the water on their way back down.

    Bilge outstretched his hand to the front of the boat. The four torches affixed to the two masts burst into flame, casting the main deck in light.

    Wellynd could see Klof kneeled down, breathing heavily, behind a towering Henry, his arms firmly in the air. His friend looked back at Wellynd, fear plastered to his face, before standing up again and opening his arms like Henry.

    The cabin door shot open, Briv and Filch striding out, fastening leather vests to their chests. Briv handed a knife to Bilge, who placed the blade between his teeth. Filch tapped Wellynd¡¯s shoulder.

    Wellynd looked down to see the hilt of a shortsword being pushed into his hand.

    ¡°What¡¯s following us?¡±

    Filch looked grim.

    ¡°Sombernaughts, Welly.¡±

    ¡°In Arthus¡¯ name what¡¯s a Sombernaught?!¡±

    As if in response to his question, a large shadowy form emerged on the port side of the deck, the boat tilting slightly as they passed over the creature¡¯s large wake.

    It was hard to tell by the dim light of the torches, but the mysterious form seemed to be covered in a slimy dark skin, and it was  cutting through the water, matching pace with the Brinebreaker.

    ¡°What is...¡±

    Lightning flashed and revealed fins atop the form, its slimy, scale-less body smooth and dark. It emerged further from water, towering metres above the deck of the ship.

    The monster seemed to be almost as long as the Brinebreaker.

    Another wail screeched out from the monster, and six green etchings started to glow on the side of the great creature¡¯s body.

    They brightened, their light nearly too intense for Wellynd¡¯s eyes to bear before the skin beneath them shifted and seemed to open like a fleshy door.

    Wellynd tried to keep from yelling out, his horror mounting to a panic.

    Humanoid creatures, at least a head taller than Bilge, sprung out from the now open doorways in the side of the monster vessel, and jumped onto the deck of the Brinebreaker.

    The men, creatures, whatever they were, appeared to be made of a similar substance to the skin of the monstrous being that now began to submerge back below deck-level.

    The creatures'' heads were perfectly round and smooth, their featureless skulls glistening in the torchlight.

    The one closest to them shuddered briefly, its skin vibrating, and then bolted forward, outstretching a three-pronged claw towards Bilge and Wellynd.

    Filch sprung to action and darted toward his assailant, intersecting its intended path before dropping and sliding on his hip across the wet deck, pulling his sword cleanly through the creature¡¯s ankles. It fell, spasming as it toppled to the ground.

    Another one jumped at Filch as he recovered from his slide, but Briv was there to help.

    Briv ducked beneath a swipe of the creature¡¯s claw before hacking at its swinging arm with a dagger and grabbing the front of its head with his free hand. A glow of light flashed beneath the man¡¯s hand before the back of the creature''s skull exploded, the remainder of its body dropping to the deck and sliding away as the boat began to tilt.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while!¡± screamed Briv before engaging another one of the invaders.

    Filch jumped to his feet in one motion and ran over towards Briv and his opponent, grabbing onto a mast rope and swinging in a wide arc before kicking the faceless creature in the head, sending it toppling over in a mass of limbs.

    A yelp sounded, and Wellynd turned to see one of the creatures scuttling rapidly on all fours towards Henry and Klof.

    Henry yelled and waved his hand at Klof, his eyes locked onto the sail in front of him.

    A reluctant Klof turned and outstretched his arms towards the incoming threat. He bent his knees and closed his eyes. The creature was ten paces away.

    Five paces.

    ¡°Klof! Run!¡± yelled Wellynd.

    Klof opened his eyes and a new gust of wind ruffled the back of his hair.

    The creature slowed and was pushed up onto two legs from the torrent of wind. It threw its arms in front of its face and took another halting step forward.

    Klof was clearly pouring all of his might into the gust, but even so, the creature was gaining ground through laboured steps.

    Klof screamed, arms shaking before he finally collapsed to one knee, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

    Suddenly, Henry turned, the ship keeling at the loss of thrust, and sliced his hand diagonally through the air toward the attacker.

    A gust of wind howled as the creature¡¯s body was immediately flattened to the deck, the sound of crunching bone faintly audible over the storm. Henry pushed his hand forward, and the mangled body shot off the side of the boat.

    The seasoned Guster placed his hand Klof¡¯s shoulder before turning back, the sail once again swelling as the boat rocketed up a large wave.

    ¡°Welly, g¡¯me a hand!¡± yelled Bilge through the dagger clenched in his teeth. He turned to a large wooden trunk affixed to the side of the cabin and unfastened the latches on atop it.

    Wellynd ran over to Bilge.

    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±

    Bilge handed Wellynd the dagger, who quickly shoved it into his belt, and pulled open the trunk. Inside sat twenty or so black glass bottles, rattling as the boat jostled up the waves.

    The large man grabbed two of the bottles and thrust them into Wellynd¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Hold these Welly! Pub¡¯s open and tha drinks are on me! Keep the bottles comin¡¯¡±

    He grabbed four more bottles and turned to scan the boat.

    ¡°Filch, Briv! INCOMING!¡± yelled Bilge as he stepped towards the fray and chucked one of the bottles towards the group of creatures who had surrounded their prey.

    Filch immediately grabbed Briv¡¯s shirt and flung them away from the group.

    Bilge pointed towards the air and a spark flashed as the bottle soared towards the creatures. It ignited and exploded, raining liquid fire onto the creatures who stood beneath it.

    Rattling screeches erupted as they were covered in flame, momentarily writhing before sprinting to the edge of the boat and throwing themselves overboard.

    Wellynd had no time to process what had just happened before Henry¡¯s voice sounded out from his podium.

    ¡°Cover Laine! Another drop!¡± the old guster shouted.

    A wave broke against the hull and Wellynd felt the boat shudder as it bore the brunt of the force.

    Another one of the massive and monstrous vessels emerged on the other side of the ship, its iridescent skin blending into the storm. It slowed its pace, letting the Brinebreaker move ahead just enough so that when glowing green etchings appeared on the side of the vessel, they were perfectly aligned with the helm.

    Whatever the thing was, it seemed to understand that Laine was a priority target for the next horde of creatures.

    A black bottle soared through the air and erupted into flame atop the monstrous vessel.

    Its green etchings sputtered, fading away and lapsing back into oily skin from whence they emerged.

    ¡°A third!¡± shouted Filch, as another vessel emerged from the water beside the main deck, green etchings already glowing brightly on its side as it became level with the Brinebreaker.

    Before Bilge could respond, eight more creatures shot out from the etchings and landed on the slick deck and immediately barrelled  toward Filch and Briv.

    Wellynd put his hand in his pocket and gripped the stone as he took a step forward.

    ¡°Stay.¡± yelled Bilge as he pulled the dagger from Welly¡¯s belt and threw it at the frontrunner. The dagger embedded itself in the creature¡¯s skull and it dropped to the deck, its followers momentarily stumbling over the corpse, their advance slowed.

    Another bottle flew through the air and ignited over the group, who, like their predecessors, retreated over the side of the deck as the white hot flames jumped between them.

    The captain¡¯s bell rang out.

    Wellynd looked behind him just to glimpse a series of green etchings glowing behind the sheets of pelting rain.

    Ten creatures in all landed on the main deck, three of which began scrambling towards the ladder that led to the helm.

    Wellynd dashed towards the helm in pursuit, but Bilge grabbed his shoulder.

    Wellynd, exasperated, made an inaudible noise and pointed toward the Captain.

    Bilge nodded but maintained a stoic expression, despite the vein now pulsing in the side of his glistening shaved head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go. ¡®elp the boys, but be careful¡± he shouted, clapping Wellynd on the shoulder before pulling a sword out of his belt and running towards the ladder.

    Wellynd tried not to panic as he noticed one of the creatures from the previous assault, half blackened by the smouldering fire, pulling itself to the edge of the boat.

    Several more horrifying screeches sounded.

    Filch and Briv had already engaged the larger group of enemies, cutting them off their path to Henry and Klof.

    Briv shore through one foe¡¯s neck, a spray of green ichor spattering his face before he turned and plunged his sword through another one¡¯s back, the blade landing mere inches beside Filch¡¯s head, who had been grappling with the creature on the ground.

    The oily-black monster went limp, and Filch threw it off of him, rolling onto his side before fetching his shortsword and readying himself once more.

    Wellynd felt the Brinebreaker lurch as Henry shouted and jumped away from gusting to help in the fight.

    A wall of wind smashed into two of the creatures, sending them tumbling back toward the far edge of the deck.

    The other four had split off and began to surround the crew. One of which peeled off and interposed Wellynd from the rest of them.

    ¡°HENRY, WE NEED WIND¡± yelled Laine over a crack of thunder, but Wellynd could barely hear him behind the rushing blood in his ears.

    He grabbed the stone in his pocket, instinctually extending his mind into darkness, desperately searching for a mote of power.

    But there was nothing; only a turbulent sea beneath his feet. Wellynd opened his eyes just in time to duck a swipe of the creature¡¯s claws.

    Its smooth, reflective face stared at him, devoid of all features. It shuddered slightly, as if the thing¡¯s entire body had something rippling under its skin.

    He thrust his sword forward, but the creature caught the blade in its claws and jerked its hands sideways, sending Wellynd¡¯s blade clattering across the deck.

    The thing slashed, and a hot streak raked across Wellynd¡¯s shoulder as he shifted back and turned to avoid the strike.

    Ignoring the pain, he barely managed to catch the creature¡¯s next attack at the wrist, narrowly avoiding its deadly claws.

    It¡¯s strength was overwhelming, and Wellynd had to use both of his hands to resists the creature¡¯s strike

    Suddenly, its oily skin vibrated beneath his hand, and, instinctually, he let go, jumping backwards and sliding on the deck.

    The next moments passed in a blur.

    Wellynd lunged for his sword, ducking another swipe which threw him off-balance. He dove, grabbing the sword and turning as he skidded along the deck, the creature pouncing after him.

    The creature flew at him, claws primed to lash out, but Wellynd thrust his sword toward and through the creature, impaling it before its claws could reach him.

    It screeched as it slid down the sword, shaking violently before falling still, collapsing on top of Wellynd.

    Panting, he let go of his sword and rolled the creature off of him as he squirmed out from under the wet grey monster. He glanced at his hands, now covered in a viscous green liquid, and grimaced, wiping them against his pants.

    Glancing about the deck, Wellynd saw Klof yelling while clutching at his side, his tunic awash in blood, as Henry dragged him away from the fight.

    The boy¡¯s wild eyes locked onto Wellynd for a brief moment before his body went limp, head lulling to the side as he fell unconscious.

    Another yell. This time Briv¡¯s.

    The Fulmin rushed forward and met two creatures at once, ducking and weaving their claws as they viciously swiped at the air.

    Briv thrusted his hand toward one of the creatures and a bright red explosion flashed. Wellynd momentarily averted his eyes as he felt a wave of heat wash over him, a pained scream curdling the air.

    Wellynd looked back to see Briv¡¯s fist protruding through a creature¡¯s body, his hand blackened and steaming.

    The Fulmin¡¯s teeth were bared, his head tilted toward his remaining foes.

    Throwing the corpse onto the deck, Briv jumped backward, just narrowly avoiding another slash.

    Wellynd swore he could hear the man growling over the winds of the storm.

    The boat groaned under the pressure of a crashing wave, and his attention snapped back to Filch as he heard the man cry out.

    Filch backpedalled as he riposted the attacks of two creatures. One, however, had broken away from the fight with Briv and lunged at Filch¡¯s back, slamming into the man.

    Filch doubled over, collapsing face-first into the deck, a shuddering creature standing overtop of him, claws embedded deep into his shoulder.

    Wellynd started to run toward the creature but Briv got there first. He jabbed his hand onto the creature¡¯s neck as a hot flash lit up in front of them, Briv cursing aggressively as the creature dropped to the floor.

    A scorch of flame lit up above them on the upper deck as Laine shouted commands to Bilge.

    ¡°We¡¯re outta ol!¡± hollered Bilge.

    Immediately, the boat lurched south.

    ¡°We¡¯re turnin¡¯ into the storm! Henry! Give it all ya got!¡± screamed Laine, and Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but notice that a slight fear tinged his Uncle¡¯s voice. Something he¡¯d never heard before.

    The boat keeled as the wind howled to a high pitch and they lurched forward as the sails fully tautened at Henry¡¯s command. The man, skin pale and body slumping, was still in command of the winds, driving his hands forward as the now bombarding sheets of rain cut at Wellynd¡¯s skin.

    One of the creatures must have noticed the change in direction, as it immediately let out a series of short unintelligible sounds. The remaining group, still entangled with Filch and Briv, began to retreat.

    Briv yelled as a claw raked against his side. Turning, he swung a wide punch into the creature''s abdomen. Wellynd winced as a bright flash shot through the creature before it toppled to the ground, the massive hole through its stomach alight in burning cinders.

    Briv doubled over, shaky blackened hands coming to rest on his thighs. He managed to slowly stand, wearily, just as a retreating monster slammed into him. They tumbled to the deck, the creature regaining its footing quickly as two others began to drag Briv to the edge of the ship.

    ¡°Someone help Briv! Hold fast lads! Just one more swell!¡± yelled Henry.

    The ship careened at a steeper angle into the storm, rising with the water before crashing back onto the trough of the wave, slowly corrected as Henry manoeuvred the sail, expertly metering the power of his gusts.

    Instinctively, Wellynd recalled Henry¡¯s shape from the beach and how he¡¯d asked the wind to do his bidding.

    He charged forward, chest burning, as he began to pull in the ambient kose.

    Holding his hands forward, he planted his feet and tried to fill the shape in his mind with the kose that burned in his chest.

    It wouldn¡¯t budge. The kose remained nebulous and unyielding. It felt stuck in his chest, and the wind would not come at his command.

    Hard sheets of rain pelted the bow of the Brinebreaker as it plunged deeper into the storm, driving the creatures to dive off the side.

    Briv, head lulling from being tackled, snapped to attention just as the creatures hauled him over the edge, locking eyes with Wellynd momentarily, a grim smile plastered on his face, before he slipped out of view and into the dark sea.

    ¡°Man overboard!¡± screamed Henry, wind immediately ceasing.

    Rushing to the edge, Wellynd saw no sign of Briv in the messy waves that crashed against the hull.

    Then, a flash lit the sea just behind, quickly followed by another.

    Wellynd saw a glimpse of Briv, underwater, a mist of gore in front of him as the bottom half of a creature sank out of view deeper into the water.

    Another flash.

    There were more of the strange creatures. More than Wellynd could count.

    Quicker under water, they swarmed Briv, and Wellynd watched as they enclosed the flashes of light, each successive blast lighting the ocean less.

    The boat lurched forward again, Henry having already realized the inevitable.

    Wellynd gripped the side of the boat and stared behind them as they soared up another wave, waiting for another sign of Briv.

    But none came.

 Chapter 27

    By the time they arrived back at the warehouse, the sun had already begun to soften the sky. Minus a few directions from Laine, the crew was quiet as they ferried into the docking bay.

    The journey back was long and arduous. They had weaved deeper into the storm until the Sombernaughts had broken off their chase. The Brinebreaker, as worthy as she was, was too battered to move quickly across the water. They had continued southwest until they reached the southern tip of the island and then slowly sailed the coast back up to Kellek¡¯s watch.

    It had taken them the full day and following night to get back home.

    No Vellen Kellek. No skald. No Briv.

    They tied off and disembarked.

    ¡°Take two days lads. I¡¯ll have something for us by then.¡± Laine¡¯s voice sounded hoarse as it echoed off the walls of the otherwise silent warehouse.

    Everyone grunted in ascent. Klof, who had come to on the voyage back, was the first to leave, nodding to Wellynd before running off out of the warehouse. He was surprised his friend had the energy.

    Bilge patted Wellynd lightly on his bandaged shoulder ¡°Not a great first shift eh Welly? Not lookin¡¯ forward to tellin¡¯ Briv¡¯s brother. Bastard ¡®imself woulda loved that he made me uncomfortable.¡±

    Filch, who was holding what appeared to be a broken arm, gave Wellynd a wink before syncing up with Bilge as the pair limped towards the door.

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna go see Ursa¡± croaked Bilge, grabbing his brother under the arm ¡°anyone else comin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Ima take care o¡¯ a few things.¡± called out Henry, who still stood on the main deck of the Brinebreaker. Laine, who was walking towards Wellynd, gave a grunt of ascent. Filch and Bilge disappeared out the door without another word.

    The walk back to Briarberry cottage was almost silent as well. No one in the town had woken up, except the smith; the dull, infrequent sound of hammer on steel suggesting that the old man was still shaking off the dregs of sleep.

    It wasn¡¯t until Wellynd arrived in the back kitchen of Briarberry cottage that he said anything.

    ¡°What were those? What in all of Estioch are Sombernaughts?¡±

    Laine took a long drag from his cigar and pulled out the chair, exhaling a laboured breath as he sat down into a comfortable slouch.

    ¡°They chase the storms. Come from somewhere south. Beyond Elaudri¡¯s domain. You never see em¡¯ this early though. I should have.¡±

    ¡°How do you know they¡¯re called Sombernaughts?¡±

    He flashed a sad smile before spitting out a piece from his cigar ¡°That was Henry¡¯s idea. Southern Melyins from the plains call those southern oceans the Jatta Bara¡¯lo, or Domain of Gloom in Artan. Henry thought it was a clever name. I¡¯d have to agree.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but why have I never heard of them?¡±

    The captain closed his eyes and let the smoke swirl around him.

    ¡°Sailor¡¯s rules. It¡¯s a tough world out there Welly. Despite what the magisters and those folks at the observatories say, there¡¯s a lot we don¡¯t know. And normal folks deal with enough worryin¡¯ about war and making it through another season. Nobody wants to hear about monsters if they have no chance of runnin¡¯ into them. The sombernaughts don¡¯t come onto the land, and they only show up in the deep sea when the storms are raging, so they¡¯re no threat to anyone but fools like us. It¡¯s not the last thing you¡¯re going to encounter on the seas. I probably should have gone over this before we made ya officially part of the crew, but it¡¯s kind of a rule to not talk about what we see out there when we¡¯re on land. Probably tempting fate with this conversation right now.¡±

    Wellynd¡¯s eyes widened.

    His uncle flashed a devilish grin. ¡°Mainly superstition, Welly. But the sombernaughts are real enough. I haven¡¯t seen them in close to ten years though.¡±

    Wellynd sat down in the chair opposite Laine, the painful relaxation of defeat washing over him.

    ¡°Briv¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Good man. Skilled Fulmin. Okay sailor.¡± he chuckled to himself and shook his head at the final epithet.

    ¡°I tried to do something to help, but I couldn¡¯t. Not sure how much use I¡¯m gonna be on the ship. If I was able to¡­¡±

    Laine held up his hand ¡°Briv¡¯s gone lad. It¡¯s no one¡¯s fault but the ones who killed him. We¡¯ll miss him. But that¡¯s how things go. We won¡¯t be doing anything in Vellen Kellek for the next few months, so we¡¯ll worry about findin¡¯ another Fulmin then.¡±

    Wellynd nodded silently, looking down at his hands. ¡°I need to figure out what¡¯s wrong with me.¡±

    Laine looked at him curiously, taking a long drag of his cigar before nodding slowly. ¡°Probably.¡±

    It was hard to discern what that meant coming from the grizzled sailor.

    ¡°Ursa told me she can¡¯t teach me her craft. I¡¯m guessing that means you won¡¯t either?¡±

    Laine laughed. ¡°As far as I know, it¡¯s pretty hard to hurt anyone with what I do. Only yourself if you¡¯re stupid enough. No, we¡¯ll still give it a try, but you still need to figure out what¡¯s wrong with ya.¡±

    Wellynd stood up and stretched.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to get a few hours of sleep.¡±

    Laine nodded before standing up and hobbling off into the parlour. He¡¯d probably spend the next few hours pouring over trade routes before falling asleep in his chair.

    Good. Wellynd wanted him to be asleep when he left. He knew what he needed to do.

    ~

    The rock slipped beneath Wellynd¡¯s foot as he scurried along the ridge of a rocky pass. He¡¯d left the path that headed to the Mine several hours ago, and the sun now loomed high in the mid-afternoon sky.

    A bead of sweat dropped from his brow onto the rocks below him, the cold blustering winds threatening to set a chill. He¡¯d packed a heavier bag than usual, and the trek had been challenging because of it.

    The rocky slope in front of him settled far down the mountain in wide hilly plains, the grass trimmed short and struggling to regrow from the several evenings¡¯ frosts that had subdued their roots.

    He felt for the stone in his coat pocket as he took careful steps onto the hillside.

    Before setting out in the late morning, he¡¯d skimmed Eikonic Principles. As far as he could tell, the book contained no information that aligned with his experiences. He¡¯d found a chapter that discussed the efficacy of different compounds on kose that contained a few diagrams of strange brass devices, but there was no mention of pain when channelling kose or strange rocks that mitigated this pain. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    But, obviously, the stone was doing something.

    Rocks tumbled down the hill as his feet disturbed the untravelled path, but he set his eyes forward to a rocky outcropping of the mountain that looked to level out into flat ground.

    The day when he¡¯d stilled the rocks in the air he¡¯d had his stone. So too did he have it during his encounter with Klent, and during his training sessions on the beach.

    But of all those times he¡¯d used the stone to wield kose, only in the mine had he encountered anything greater than a few motes of that strange silver kose. There, he¡¯d been awash with it. He needed to know what that felt like again. Maybe he could figure out what it was.

    After reaching the outcropping and clambering up the side, he set his bag onto the flat ground.

    Stretching, he walked to the edge. Here, the grassy hillside formed a steeper valley, beset with a small river that ran into a grove of trees as the ground began to level out.

    Bertrand¡¯s dad had said they¡¯d been on the other side of the mountain when they emerged from the prospector¡¯s tunnel. But on which side of the mountain, Wellynd wasn¡¯t sure.

    Unbuckling his pack, he pulled out his waterskin and drank from it. Despite the cold, he¡¯d worked up a sweat that would need to dry before the sun set.

    The tall yellow reeds that lined the river rustled in the breeze, their slender stalks bending and swaying in gentle rhythm.

    At first, the motion seemed like nothing more than the wind teasing the grass, stirring it in soft waves. But as they continued to shift, the movement took on an odd, almost deliberate pattern that seemed too purposeful for the mere whim of the wind.

    Hidden among the stalks, the head of a goat slowly peeked out. It chewed on a stalk near its feet, bleated, then moved to drink from the river.

    A moment later, another joined its herdmate and drank from the river. Soon, there were five in all.

    Just what Wellynd was hoping to find.

    While he couldn¡¯t be sure if the goat he¡¯d seen at the opening of the cave on that fateful day was in this herd, he felt it was a fair signal that he may be getting close.

    He observed the herd for a moment longer before shifting his gaze to the mountain ridge. Tufts of grasses lay in patchwork along the steep slope, and he spotted a goat grazing from such a spot, standing assuredly on the steep incline.

    He could stop and rest here for a while. Set a fire. Dry out his clothes and maybe prepare a meal.

    But, he felt something urging him forward.

    Wellynd was doubtful it was anything more than his excitement at the idea of finding, at the very least, a promising section of the cliffside to search along.

    Packing up, he hefted the heavy sack onto his shoulder and took off, eyes set past the goat to the flattest section of the mountain face that he could see.

    He stepped cautiously up the slope, testing the precarious rocks with half his weight and watching as the traitorous ones tumbled down, creating small rock slides into the grasses below.

    Successfully hopping over another section of crumbling stone, he grabbed onto a rocky ledge and tried to pull himself up onto the plateau. His bag weighed him down, his left arm slipping from its grip to the ledge.

    Pain seared down his right arm as he strained to keep himself from letting go. With great effort, he threw his left arm back up, doing his best to ignore the bite of his wounded shoulder, and heaved his leg up onto the ledge.

    He rolled over, throwing his bag further onto the plateau, his body tingling as his heart slowed its rapid pace.

    When he looked up, he saw that the lone goat had taken notice of him, having walked a few steps closer, chewing on a tuft of grass as it examined him with multiple tilts of its head.

    ¡°Are you the guy I saw a few months ago?¡± Wellynd asked, grudgingly pushing himself back up onto his feet.

    The creature bleated and skipped off.

    Apparently not.

    He grabbed the bag and dragged it across the plateau to another edge. Scanning his surroundings, he couldn¡¯t make out anything that looked like an opening. This may turn into a multi-day expedition, he thought.

    He was going to have to examine different parts of the hillside more closely.

    Another goat skipped by him. He turned around to take a look at the rest of his surroundings.

    ¡°That¡¯s odd¡± he said aloud, his voice joining the chorus of wind echoing off the mountainside.

    Just north of him, settled right into the hillside next to the plateau, was a large arrangement of rocks. There were rock piles everywhere, but none of them had such a peculiar amount of large stones like this one.

    He approached the pile and threw his pack down. Clambering over a few stones Wellynd tried to find an opening.

    Nothing stood out, so he began to lift up some of the smaller stones.

    Even these were heavy, and he soon realised he¡¯d hurt himself before he got anywhere. He stepped back, wiping his hands as he surveyed the pile from further away.

    This was definitely made by someone, he thought.

    It looked unnatural. Somehow.

    After several minutes of examination, Wellynd figured out that many of the stones were resting upon a much larger boulder. He scanned the area around him until he spotted a thick branch that had rolled down the hillside from one of the few trees stubbornly growing out of the side of the mountain.

    Taking the stick, he coerced it in between the smaller stones, sliding it down and underneath, he felt the long branch hit something softer.

    Awkwardly positioning himself so he wasn¡¯t standing on any of the boulders himself, on what he was almost certain was a piece of bedrock, Wellynd started to rock the branch back and forth, careful not to push too hard and break his lever.

    It took over a quarter of an hour of considerable effort, but eventually, he felt like the base rock was loose enough that it should shift positions with one more push.

    He wiped the sweat on his brow that had quickly grown cold in the icy winds that were now pelting the mountainside, as the sun sunk behind the mountain.

    He scanned the landscape. A few goats hopped between rocks or scaled different parts of the mountainside, but there was no sign of anyone else.

    He didn¡¯t expect there to be anyone, but he knew it was probably best to exercise caution. If one of Snellium¡¯s prospectors or, even worse, a Vertan patrol happened to see him, explaining the cave and why he was there would not be easy.

    Satisfying his caution, he gripped his lever and pulled hard. The boulder jiggled free, but instead of falling safely down the hillside, the entire structure of stones collapsed inward, the weight of them ripping at the soil on either side, revealing a hole significantly bigger than the one he had seen before.

    But this had to be it. Wellynd peered down into the hole and frowned.

    Amidst the blanket of rocks that had rolled down into the cavern, he saw several pieces of wood. He could also make out several torn pieces of paper and even the sparkle of glass.

    What had they put below their sealed entrance? Some sort of reinforcement? Whatever it was, it clearly wasn¡¯t very effective.

    Grabbing his pack, he stole one more glance around him before climbing down into the cavern.

    The light still poured in from somewhere up above, but it was much dimmer than when he was here last. Whether it was because the collapse had altered something in the cave, or just a result of being later in the season, he wasn¡¯t sure, but he grabbed the wooden torch off the side of his bag, and began to wrap it in a piece of cloth he had doused with a bit of oil he kept in a small jug in his cloak pocket.

    Wellynd lit the torch with his flint and held it up over his head.

    Dozens of boulders still floated in the cavern above.

    He frowned. A few had fallen though, if his memory was true. That was concerning.

    Moving back towards the entrance, Wellynd looked around for a spot near the opening where he could set up his bedroll, maybe start a proper fire. He planned on staying for as long as his supplies lasted, but he didn¡¯t want to attract any attention by setting anything up on the mountainside.

    The torchlight flashed off another piece of glass amongst the rubble.

    What was that? Setting down his pack, he crouched down and moved a few pieces of rubble before carefully pulling at what looked like a long stem of glass.

    Surprisingly, it didn¡¯t break, and he pulled it free of the remaining dust and dirt.

    He¡¯d never seen anything like it before, but if it reminded him of anything, it kind of looked like the head of a bird, the long glass stem eventually turning into an orb encased in a brass fixture.

    He turned it in his hands. It was obviously some mechanism.

    Just as he was about to stand up and try to get a better look at the object in the waning daylight near the entrance, a scuffle of stones echoed from within the cavern.

    Wellynd froze.

    ¡°I¡¯d be careful with that¡± said a voice.

 Chapter 28

    Wellynd stood up straight and slowly turned, subconsciously moving his hand towards the stone in his pocket.

    A figure stood near one of the tunnels that led deeper into the mine, the faint ambient light of the cavern and Wellynd¡¯s torch not enough to illuminate their features.

    ¡°Uh, who are you? This section of the mine is closed off.¡± said Wellynd.

    ¡°Well, it was.¡±

    The figure took a few steps closer, entering the small domain of torchlight. The man was tall, middle-aged. He wore a simple set of what looked like leather trousers and a well-pocketed leather vest over a simple long-sleeved white tunic. The features of his face were still hard to discern, but it appeared that the man had gone unshaven for at least a week, and his dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot atop his head.

    Wellynd took a few steps back before gesturing to the opening he had made in the mountainside. The winds howled outside and occasionally whipped through the entrance, stirring up a restless breeze throughout the dark space.

    ¡°Uh, yeah. I guess that¡¯s true. Was this your stuff here?¡± he replied gesturing with the strange mechanism he still held in his hand to the rubble behind him.

    The figure let out a soft chuckle ¡°Mhm. Luckily, I kept my rations deeper into the cavern to keep those damned goats away. Otherwise I¡¯d have to make another trip into town.¡±

    ¡°Kellek¡¯s Watch?¡± Wellynd blurted out.

    ¡°No¡­Devlyn¡¯s Burrow, it¡¯s about an hour west of here. Are you from Kellek¡¯s Watch?¡±

    Wellynd had heard of Devlyn¡¯s Burrow but never been there. They rarely had reason to visit the towns on the west side of the island.

    The figure took a few more cautious steps. Brilliant, emerald green eyes, reflecting in the torchlight examined Wellynd with a lively curiosity, though the man¡¯s countenance remained inscrutable.

    ¡°Yeah. Well sort of. I¡¯m from around there.¡± he realized it was best that he didn¡¯t reveal where he was from. He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here after all.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it. I should visit sometime. Ah. Before we go any further, can I ask what you¡¯re fiddling with in your pocket. If it¡¯s a weapon, I assure you I don¡¯t intend to harm you.¡±

    Wellynd stopped. He hadn¡¯t even realized that he¡¯d been fiddling with the stone. It probably wasn¡¯t a bad instinct at this point, but he wasn¡¯t keen on bringing attention to it.

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s just a stupid stone my uncle gave me. Kind of a good luck charm to keep with me.¡±

    ¡°Ah. So why are you here?¡± continued the man.

    ¡°I¡¯m sort of just exploring. Well, I¡¯ve been here befor¡­.well, I know the owner¡¯s son¡­and I was just¡­¡± Wellynd began to stammer. He never had issues lying to save his skin when he was doing deliveries, but, for some reason, the question had caught him off guard.

    The stranger raised his hand placatingly ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me if you don¡¯t want. I¡¯m not supposed to be here either.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Snellium doesn¡¯t know you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Who¡­? Ah, yes. The mine owner. No, he doesn¡¯t. Or at least, I don¡¯t know why he would.¡±

    Wellynd relaxed a bit. ¡°Then why are you here?¡±

    ¡°Well, I think that¡¯s obvious. I would guess for the same reason that you¡¯re here, but before we get into that, can we start a fire? Your entrance has made it rather drafty, and I also don¡¯t want the goats thinking they can just wander in here.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure. And yeah. Sorry about ruining your stuff.¡± Wellynd placed the mechanism down in front of him.

    The man waved his hand ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about it. Most of it is easily replaceable anyway. Well, except for that.¡± The man walked forward and picked up the mechanism.

    ¡°Seems to be in order. I¡¯m Kellog, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Kellog. I¡¯m uh, Klof¡± That was the first name that popped into his head.

    The man¡¯s eyes searched Wellynd¡¯s face for a moment. ¡°Klof eh? I¡¯ve never met a Klof. Let¡¯s get this mess sorted out, shall we, Klof?¡±

    Kellog  walked towards the entrance, and without giving any warning, he casually raised one hand. The large hole Wellynd had created began to fill with dust and rocks, closing up right before their eyes, the sound of piling stone echoing throughout the cavern. The entrance had almost completely sealed before the man stopped, leaving a small fist-sized opening.

    ¡°Are you a Spade?¡± Wellynd asked in awe.

    ¡°A Spade?¡± the man chuckled ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve never heard that term before.¡±

    ¡°Really? Like, you know, people who can move rocks or dirt. There aren¡¯t any other Spades in Devlyn¡¯s Burrow?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. I¡¯ve only been there twice.¡± Kellog bent over and began picking up pieces of paper that were stuck in between the pieces of remaining rubble.

    ¡°Oh, are you from the mainland?¡±

    ¡°I guess I am. Though, not Arta or Verta.¡±

    Wellynd let his shoulders relax. ¡°You¡¯re from Melyar?¡±

    Kellog stopped arranging his papers and scratched his stubbled chin. ¡°Hmm. That depends. I was born there. Or maybe in Rel. The borders were different back then. I move around so often now that I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m from anywhere.¡±

    Wellynd had never met anyone from Rel. Well, except the rude magister who had performed his Observatory entrance test.

    ¡°Wow. You¡¯re a long way from home. Or, where you were born, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The man started laughing. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m not laughing at you. I just started thinking about how complicated of a question you asked.¡±

    ¡°Why is it complicated?¡±

    ¡°Not sure it¡¯s worth explaining right now. Let¡¯s talk about the present. I¡¯m more interested in why you¡¯re here.¡± Kellog said as he walked over towards a stalagmite, which Wellynd now noticed, had several piles of cut logs and sticks piled up beside it. ¡°As I said, we¡¯re probably here for the same reason.¡±He gestured in the direction of the floating boulders. ¡°But I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have any visitors down here. How did you know about this place? You weren¡¯t here when this happened, by any chance?¡± Kellog flashed a curious glance at Wellynd before continuing to throw sticks into an impressively neat pile.

    Wellynd let the question hang in the air for several moments. His first instinct was to say no. He lied about his name, after all. Then again, he did need to know how he¡¯d made the boulders stop falling, and he got a sense the man was probably more capable of answering that question than he was.

    ¡°Uh, sort of. Me and some friends were here but I left to get help when the cavern started to cave in.¡±

    ¡°So you didn¡¯t see this happen. Ah. That¡¯s a shame. I would have loved to meet the person who did this. Rumour says it was a young woman.¡±

    Wellynd¡¯s pulse quickened. Bert¡¯s dad had been adamant that nobody find this place because he was worried about the Vertans. Was this man some sort of Vertan agent? How had he found out?

    Kellog walked over his newly constructed pile of sticks, looked about for a large enough rock and plopped down on it. As he sat, the sticks abruptly burst into flame. The crackling sound of burning wood pittered off the high ceilings of the cavern while a narrow stream of smoke found its way to the small opening and spiraled out into the night air.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Have a seat. It¡¯s getting cold.¡± said Kellog, gesturing at another flat rock on the other side of the fire.

    Wellynd cautiously walked over and sat down.

    ¡°How did you start the fire?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Well, how did you start the fire? I thought you were a Spade. Spades can move rocks, or dirt, or whatever. Spades don¡¯t start fires. Kindles start fires. I¡¯m sure a Fulmin could also start a fire, but not a Spade.¡±

    The man raised one eyebrow ¡°Ah, now I understand. Spade is what you call people who are of a certain Habit. Same with Kindle and Fulmin. Hmm. I guess I¡¯m not a Spade then. A bit of a shame. I kind of liked that name.¡±

    Wellynd wasn¡¯t sure what the man meant by Habit, but he figured it was just a different word for ¡®craft¡¯.

    Kellog held his hands out to the fire, turning them after a moment, the damp wood crackling into the cavern, the flames dancing in his green eyes.

    ¡°What do you call people who are both Spades and Kindles. Spindles?¡± he chuckled.

    ¡°No...people aren¡¯t ever both. Once you start training a...craft...that¡¯s what they are. Whether good at it or not.¡±

    ¡°Ah...¡± replied the man, his eyes moving to Wellynd. ¡°So tell me then, what is your craft?¡±

    ¡°I...well I just started training to become a Guster.¡± said Wellynd, shifting in his seat.

    ¡°I imagine a Guster does something with the wind?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. They, uh¡­we¡­ mainly help propel ships with the wind. Any decent vessel has one in the crew.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, people like you, Gusters, exist all over Estioch. Though, most of them are Vertan, or Artan, like yourself. I do like the names, though. A little reductive maybe, to be sure, but endearing.¡± Kellog beamed.

    Wellynd¡¯s jaw tightened, his brow creasing slightly ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Well Klof, it means that one can always learn more about the world. Despite having travelled across most of the continent, I have never heard the term Spade or Kindle. I might have heard Guster on a ship at some point, though, I can¡¯t recall when. Do you have an Observatory on this island? You look like you¡¯re about the right age.¡±

    ¡°No, only the one at Revenshore.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you studying there?¡±

    Hoping Kellog couldn¡¯t see his face turn red in the firelight, Wellynd gestured with his marked hand.

    Kellog bit the inside of his cheek and prodded at the fire with a stick, but didn¡¯t reply. Wellynd figured he probably seemed less interesting now, but before Wellynd could say anything else, his stomach let out a growl.

    Kellog piqued up with a sly grin. ¡°Hungry, Klof? I have a shoulder of boar we could roast.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I mean¡­sure¡­if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Let¡¯s get these embers roaring; I¡¯ll start preparing the roast. There¡¯s more wood that I¡¯ve cut over there along with some kindling. Give it some wind when you add it, will you?¡±

    He gestured over to a stacked pile of logs as he stood and began walking deeper into the mine, toward one of the tunnels.

    ¡°Give it some wind?¡± asked Wellynd.

    The man stopped and turned ¡°Yes, Klof. Stoke the flames, you know? Surely you¡¯ve gusted more than just sails on ships. Do that.¡± he made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

    Kellog turned back and began sorting through some bags leaned against the far cave wall. A few moments later, he ambled back toward the fire carrying a couple canvas satchels in his arms, and what looked like a carved wooden platter. He sat back down on the stone and put the platter on his lap, and began to carve the pork.

    Wellynd fetched some timber and kindling, placing a few pieces onto the dimming fire. He stepped back. Maybe it would catch on its own, but then again, the kindling did feel a little damp.

    Picking up a sheet of bark from one of the logs, he began to fan the embers.

    Kellog, who had already moved on to grinding up what smelled like spices in a bowl, glanced and furrowed his brow ¡°Why not simply gust? It¡¯s good practice! I assume you normally send as much wind as you can into the sails of your ship. But you know, true skill is measured in restraint and all that.¡±

    Apparently, finished with his preparation, Kellog scooped some of the spices into his hand and began massaging it into the large chunk of meat.

    ¡°Well...yeah I only ever gust with full strength. I guess I can try to just do a little.¡±

    Wellynd swallowed. He set the bark down on the ground and closed his eyes, his hand instinctively moving to the stone in his pocket, he began his mind¡¯s search.

    To his surprise, he immediately apprehended the silver sea of power beneath this cave. Familiar, somehow, from when he last pulled from it. He reached out, bringing the power into him before opening his eyes.

    No pain.

    He exhaled a breath he didn¡¯t know he held, and quickly forming the kose into an estimation of Henry¡¯s shape, he imagined directing that wind onto the fire. A current of air came from behind him, tousling his hair lightly as the flames danced in reaction to the new source of fuel.

    ¡°Good. Now that you have a stream, direct it to the embers.¡±

    Wellynd narrowed his eyes, breathed in, and exhaled once again, directing his air at the fire and imagining the gust of wind doing the same.

    The embers turned from dark red to bright orange as the thin stream of air washed over them.

    ¡°Well done, Klof!¡± said Kellog ¡°Very impressive. It¡¯s very rare to find someone who can alter their application of a shape so easily. They missed out by not sending you to the Observatory, eh?¡±

    Wellynd attempted to suppress his grin, failing miserably.

    ¡°Did you go to an Observatory in Melyar or something? Are you a Kos¡­¡± Wellynd started before noticing that the man¡¯s hands, still rubbing the spices into the meat, bore no mark on either of them.

    ¡°How did you...¡±

    Kellog smiled ¡°Why don¡¯t we talk about that after we get this boar on the fire. I¡¯ll tell you what. I¡¯ll explain to you why I have no mark on my hand if you tell me exactly what happened the day these stones decided to stop falling,¡± he said as he pointed behind him with his thumb.

    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t¡­¡±

    Kellog held up his spice-covered hand ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie, Klof. Part of me thinks you know more than you¡¯re letting on. Even if you weren¡¯t here, as you say, your friends must have told you what happened, no? They wouldn''t be very good friends if they didn¡¯t.¡±

    Wellynd resented the remark but couldn¡¯t argue with the reasoning. He silently nodded to Kellog, who was awaiting his answer intently.

    Kellog nodded back and beamed. ¡°Good!¡± Placing the hunk of meat in a cast-iron pan he pulled out from his bag, he walked over and placed it in the embers at the edge of the fire, slicing off a few pieces of butter with his pocket knife and throwing it atop the meat.

    ¡°That should take awhile. I¡¯ll just have to keep an eye on it.¡± He cleared his throat and cast another furtive glance at Wellynd. ¡° You strike me as a suspicious young man, so I¡¯m not going to even ask you to tell me what happened first. So¡­¡±

    He scratched his head and stared into the fire.

    ¡°What do you know about Mantles?¡± Kellog said after a moment¡¯s pause.

    ¡°Not much. My friends who went to the academy told me about them and I saw them¡­uh, they showed me what they looked like. Their tutor said it has something to do with learning their craft? Nobody else I¡¯ve spoken to knows about them. Even the best Guster on the island had never heard of them before.¡±

    Kellog nodded. ¡°Best Guster on the island eh? I¡¯d like to meet him. Well, your friends, or their tutor I suppose, are partially correct. Everyone has a Mantle. It¡¯s what enables us to channel kose and mould it into complex shapes, like the one you learned to make the wind blow.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I thought, maybe, only Koshai had Mantles. I figured that¡¯s why they were picked for the Observatory.¡±

    Kellog shook his head. ¡°No. Everyone has them. Who gets to be a Koshai and who is relegated to Kosun is largely a question of funding and resources. It¡¯s not something worth talking about right now. All Mantles, however, are not the same.¡± Kellog turned the meat on the pan with a stick. ¡°You see, when you learn a shape, and continue to use that shape over and over again, something miraculous happens; the mantle starts to calcify, or as we like to say, it forms a Habit. As a Habit forms, a person is able to weave their magic with more ease and efficacy. However, without the proper exercises, the Mantle is, eventually, only able to express itself as that Habit. The Koshai, with sufficient knowledge, is able to maintain some malleability to their Habit. They still specialize in a craft, focusing on a single shape, as it were, but they are able to experiment and manipulate that shape to a certain extent. Do you follow so far?¡±

    ¡°I think so. A Guster who is a Koshai can do stuff other than Gust, but it¡¯s all still kind of a Gust?¡±

    ¡°Hah. You love that term. Exactly. The Koshai is still limited to what you might call ¡®Gusting¡¯, but yes, they are able to come up with a range of creative applications to that ¡®Gusting¡¯¡±

    ¡°And what about Kosun?¡± Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but think of Henry slamming the Sombernaught creature into the deck of the Brinebreaker ¡°I¡¯ve seen a Kosun Guster do something other than make the wind blow into the sails of a ship.¡±

    ¡°It depends. I don¡¯t know the background of the person you¡¯re referring to, but if they¡¯ve never expressed their Mantle properly, they can probably only alter the intensity and direction of their ¡®Gust¡¯¡±

    ¡°Oh. Yeah I guess that¡¯s what he did¡­what do you mean by ¡®creative applications¡¯ then?¡±

    Kellog chuckled. ¡°We¡¯re getting away from the point here.¡±

    Taking his cooking stick, Kellog traced the symbol for Koshai into the dust that had collected on the cavern floor ¡°All Koshai have a Habit, but they can manipulate it to produce a range of effects. The size of that range is dependent on the will and knowledge of the individual.¡±

    He then traced the line for Kosun to the left of it ¡°Kosun, largely, learn to do one thing. Because of that, their Habit is rigid and resistant to any variation. That¡¯s why they are stuck doing one thing for the rest of their lives.¡±

    Wellynd¡¯s stomach sank. That was him.

    Then, Kellog traced a simple circle on the right side of the Koshai symbol.

    ¡°Then there are people like me.¡±

 Chapter 29

    ¡°You aren¡¯t either a Kosun or Koshai?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. People like me don¡¯t have Habits at all.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? You don¡¯t have a Mantle? How do you weave kose then?¡±

    ¡°I have a Mantle, it just never forms into a Habit. It makes weaving kose exceptionally difficult. Every time I weave a shape into the world, it¡¯s like the first time doing it. Since my Mantle never calcified into a Habit, I have to form the shape through sheer will and memory. Every time.¡±

    ¡°So you aren¡¯t either...and you have no mark on your hand...wait, every time you form the shape from memory? Does that mean once a Koshai forms a Habit, it¡¯s way easier for them to just form their shape?¡±

    Kellog was nodding along at the questions, and Wellynd paused to consider the implications. Forming shapes out of habit. The name did make sense.

    ¡°How many shapes do you know anyway?¡± asked Wellynd.

    Kellog smiled, wiping off the dirt from the end of his stick with his shirt, and turned the boar over once more. It sizzled, the fat now rendering in the pan wafted a delicious aroma throughout the cave.

    ¡°More than a few. And they come to me when I need them. Sort of like how the next word in a sentence isn¡¯t a conscious thought. You know?¡±

    ¡°I guess...but definitely not with the shape I use for Gusting. I¡¯ve been drawing it in the dirt daily, or wherever I can really, so that I can remember it faster when I need to use it.¡±

    Kellog¡¯s verdant eyes examined Wellynd, moving back and forth as if he were reading the pages of a book.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t come to you any easier? Even after practicing for some time? How long have you been "gusting" for?¡±

    ¡°Well, I was practicing for a few weeks. I¡¯ve been sort of on and off with it because I¡¯m not getting any better.¡±

    ¡°And when you start to concentrate, it takes you how long until you¡¯re "gusting"?¡± Kellog asked.

    ¡°Probably like half a minute or so¡­I guess I¡¯ve always had a harder time. When I pull in kose, I feel this intense heat in my chest. Like I¡¯m burning on the inside. It goes away when I push it into a jant, or more recently, when I weave the gusting shape. But the whole time I¡¯m making the shape in my head, it¡¯s painful...¡±

    Wellynd absently brushed his hand over his pocket.

    ¡°But you must have gotten used to it, no? You seemed quite relaxed a moment ago when you stoked the fire.¡± replied Kellog. He¡¯d stopped tending to their dinner and now stared intently at Wellynd.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess. At least, this place seems to be ok for me.¡±

    ¡°Ah! So you¡¯ve used the kose here before, then? Was it on the day that these boulders became suspended in the air?¡±

    Wellynd winced. He¡¯d slipped up.

    ¡°Uh...well...we were just messing around in here, and uhm¡­yeah¡­ the cave started trembling, like an earthquake or something, and rocks started to fall. My friends expanded their mantles and the rockfall slowed. I ran to get help, hoping they could hold on while I fetched the mine¡¯s foreman. When I got back it was...like this.¡±

    ¡°What did your friends say happened while you were getting help?¡±

    This was where he had to be careful.

    While it seemed more and more unlikely that Kellog was some sort of Vertan agent, Wellynd was still uncertain if he wanted to reveal what happened. After all, he hadn¡¯t told anyone about what actually transpired that day. Then again, he was probably sitting with a person who might actually know what was going on with him.

    ¡°Well, my two friends, who are now at the Observatory, eventually passed out, so they don¡¯t actually know¡­¡±

    ¡°And the third friend?¡±

    ¡°Who says there was a third friend?¡±

    ¡°My source said there were four of you.¡±

    Wellynd frowned. ¡°So you already knew that we were here that day. Who told you?¡±

    Kellog wagged a finger ¡°I knew that someone was here when this happened, and I knew a young woman was involved. You and I only confirmed it was you and your friends a few minutes ago. And my source is just someone who doesn¡¯t make enough money for the work he does.¡±

    Wellynd thought back to the men who had come with Bert¡¯s dad that day. It could have been any of them.

    ¡°Oh. I guess that makes sense. And the fourth? He was a little foggy with the details. He said that there was a flash of light just as Neer and Bert, uh, my other friends¡¯ mantles disappeared. When he looked up again, the rocks were just floating there.¡±

    Kellog scratched his chin ¡°Hm. That is very strange. And this friend doesn¡¯t remember anything else. Anything that he did or felt, or perhaps something he saw one of the other friends do?¡±

    ¡°No. It was all a blur¡­I think he said, anyway.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±

    Wellynd paused. ¡°Why does it matter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to know. Maybe see if he¡¯s willing to speak about it more. It¡¯s always strange talking to people without knowing their name. He¡¯s from Kellek¡¯s Watch, like you? It¡¯d be strange, and quite rude, asking around for ¡®the friend of Neer, Bert, and Klof? Don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Wellynd swallowed. ¡°Yeah, I guess. His name is Wellynd. Most people call him Welly.¡±

    ¡°Wellynd. What a curious name.¡± Kellog leaned back and slapped his hands on his knees. ¡° Okay, then. That helps. I¡¯m not sure when I¡¯ll get to Kellek¡¯s Watch, but all this information is useful.¡±

    Wellynd stared at the three shapes Kellog had traced on the ground. ¡°What¡¯s so special about what happened here? Have you never seen this happen before?¡±

    Kellog let out a hearty laugh as he stood up and turned the meat over in the pan and pressed his finger against it. ¡°Ah. That wasn¡¯t part of the bargain, was it? Let¡¯s eat first shall we? Maybe we can talk about it after.¡±

    Wellynd¡¯s stomach rumbled again in response and he grinned, unable to resist the succulent smell of the meat. ¡°Sure.¡±

    After grabbing the pan with a cloth, Kellog sat back down and started to slice off a piece.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t have any other plates. Do you mind eating with your hands?¡± Kellog asked.

    ¡°Sure, no problem¡± Wellynd replied, eyes already hungrily devouring the meat.

    ¡°Did you want any extra salt on your meat, Welly?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m good. It looks like you season¡­..Oh, what? No. I mean¡­I¡¯m not Welly¡­Wellynd.¡±

    Kellog let out another hearty laugh. ¡°I knew it! Hah! Now, now, don¡¯t get upset. Your secret is safe with me. I just wanted to save myself a very awkward trip into town. Yes, that was probably a bit devious of me. Here, take my plate.¡±

    Wellynd took the plate of meat begrudgingly. Normally, his secret having been revealed would have thrown him off his appetite, but the day¡¯s journey, combined with the overwhelming scent of whatever Kellog had seasoned the meat with was too much to resist. He grabbed the chunk of boar shoulder and bit into it, the juices spilling down the sides of his mouth.

    It was so good.

    ¡°What did you put on this? This is amazing.¡± Wellynd grumbled with a full mouth.

    ¡°You like it? I travel often, but I¡¯ve always said if one has the right spices they can eat well anywhere. Paprika, black pepper, a little bit of crushed cumin, a good pinch of salt. Dark sugar if you have it!¡±

    The pair eagerly ate as they huddled closer to the warm light of the fire. The wind had grown wild outside and the fresh air whistling through the cavern had taken a turn for the frigid.

    In between mouthfuls of succulent boar, the two continued to converse, though on less immediate matters. Wellynd mostly talked about Kellek¡¯s Watch, what the town was like during the festivals, how they almost nearly shut down during the Season of Storms. He avoided discussing Laine and the smuggling business, as, while it was unlikely Kellog was some sort of Vertan investigator, he still had the gut feeling that there was something off about the man. He was, after all, trespassing in Snellium¡¯s mine without anyone else¡¯s knowledge, and, as was the case with most Illuvians, Wellynd inherently distrusted all visitors to the island who had unknown motives. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Kellog, on the other hand, had no problem divulging much information about himself. He mainly talked about the places he¡¯d visited. He¡¯d been to all five nations on the continent of Estioch, including the Northern Reaches of Melyar and even the remote capital of Shadkara, Vel Anghun.

    ¡°They¡¯re strange people, the Shadkarans. It¡¯s almost as if the world itself has cursed them. They act like that¡¯s the case, anyway¡± Kellog ruminated, as he tried to dry his greasy hands on a rag after he¡¯d finished his fourth slice of boar.

    ¡°Why do you go to all these places though? You said you¡¯re investigating ¡®anomalies¡¯, but what for?¡± Wellynd asked, having himself just finished a third plate.

    Kellog brushed his hands together before casually throwing another log into the fire. ¡°As I mentioned earlier, there is much we don¡¯t understand about kose. In fact, we are infinitely more ignorant than we are knowledgeable of its origins and properties. Let''s take what happened here, for example.¡± Kellog turned and gestured towards the floating boulders in the cavern behind them.

    ¡°A guiding principle of magic, of weaving, is that the more outlandish of a thing you try to weave into the world, the more difficult it is to have the world accept it.¡±

    Wellynd nodded, this was what Henry had been talking about on the beach. ¡°Yeah, different people have different ways of ¡®asking¡¯ the world to take their shape, right?¡±

    Kellog chuckled ¡°Sure, that¡¯s one way to put it. The shape you create is, in essence, the words that communicate your intent. Think of it as pure language. If you can find the right words, you can express what you need to do, at least in theory. But, that¡¯s not everything. Weaving a shape is kind of like the voice you use to express those words. You need both to make the world accept your demand. The more incongruent that demand is with the forces that govern natural law, the more effective you need to be with both your words and voice. Do you follow?¡±

    Wellynd scratched the back of his head. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s not entirely different from what Henry told me.¡±

    Kellog raised an eyebrow ¡°That¡¯s this famous Guster? Good on him. I¡¯m always surprised at how understanding blossoms even in those who had never stepped foot in an Observatory. Hmm let me see here. Let''s consider this entrance I filled in, the one that you made with your disastrous entrance.¡± Kellog said, pointing at the fist sized hole. ¡°The dirt, dust, and rocks had, only minutes earlier, been in the position that I wanted them to return to. When I was young like you, my master would always say ¡®Nature has a memory¡¯, though I later found out it was a fleeting one. Anyway, when each rock and clump of dirt returns to the hillside it was just ejected from, each rock and each clump of dirt will support each other, just as they had done previously. The demand I¡¯m making is really not very taxing, and, more importantly, the outcome of my demand breaks no natural rule. Thus, weaving it was extremely easy. I know the shape I need to use, and I received little resistance when I weaved it.¡± Kellog paused and prodded one of the logs in fire, before continuing. ¡° The fire was a little more difficult. I am asking the wood to alter its state, and, ultimately, destroy itself. Not a particularly nice thing to ask it to do, you see. As such, the wood requires a little more convincing, but, with the right words and voice, it will acquiesce to my demands. After all, fire exists in nature, with or without us, and it is not completely outlandish for us to ask wood to burn¡±

    ¡°So every part of the world is alive. Even a piece of dead wood?¡±

    ¡°Alive¡± Kellog sounded the word out slowly with his mouth as if he was tasting it ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s the right word. I mean, it might be. It certainly has a will, or at the very least, a way it likes to operate.¡±

    ¡°You mentioned earlier that there were more Gusters in Verta and Arta than anywhere else, is that just because more people know the shapes here?¡±

    Kellog bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at the cavern ceiling for several moments. ¡°It¡¯s a good question. I¡¯d almost forgotten that you probably don¡¯t know this. Weaving has a third important factor one must consider.¡±

    Wellynd moved forward to the edge of the stone he was sitting on.

    ¡°You know, of course, that each Nation is aligned with an Eikon...¡±

    The diagram in the Principles flashed in Wellynd¡¯s mind.

    Mael, Arthus, Deakon, Gwyn, and Val-Kan.

    ¡°We are quite confident that kose emanates from the Eikons. There is a good chance they give life to our world. However, not all kose is quite the same. Each Eikon¡¯s kose is different. It¡¯s unimportant for you to know how they are different, at least at the moment, but I¡¯ll just say that it is quite easy, for example, to move the dirt around here in Arta, or, for you to make the wind blow, under the domain of Arthus, where its kose is more dominant than any of the other Eikons¡¯, and that it would not be the case if you were somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°Wait. So the kose that comes from Arthus is different from the one that comes from, say Val-Kan? What if I try to Gust in Rel and I am using kose from Val-Kan? Will it not work?¡± Wellynd asked.

    ¡°It might work, still, but it would be much more difficult, and much less effective. To extend my example of language and voice earlier, the type of kose is kind of like the dialect of that language. It¡¯s still the same language, to be sure, but the expression of it is just different depending on what you¡¯re trying to do.It gets quite complicated after that and I¡¯m not sure a cavern is the best place to explain it, I¡¯m sorry to say.¡±

    Wellynd¡¯s frown deepened. This changed everything. How did he know so little about the world after seventeen years of life? His mind spun with a million questions, but he resisted them. He needed to focus on the immediate problem.

    ¡°Okay, but, what does that have to do with the boulders in the cavern?¡±

    Kellog chuckled. ¡°It may seem like I¡¯m going on a tangent. I do tend to do that, but in this case it¡¯s important to know the principles of weaving to understand why I¡¯m here. Before I explain, though, let me ask you, why do you think floating boulders might be an anomaly?¡±

    Wellynd scratched his head. ¡°Well, given what you just said, maybe because boulders aren¡¯t supposed to float? But that can¡¯t be why; I saw some people at the Observatory making boulders soar through the air.¡±

    ¡°Ah! They still do those exercises, eh? But I imagine they were propelling them through the air. Which is not an unlikely thing to happen, no? Volcanoes erupt, rockslides happen, soldiers fire catapults all the time, but when was the last time you saw a rock suspended in the air? Unmoving? Never, I would guess. Even more importantly, if it was a person that caused this, why is the rock still floating when there is no discernible reason for it to be doing so?If it was a natural anomaly, or, better put, supernatural anomaly, why did it happen when it did?¡±

    ¡°And there aren¡¯t Koshai who can do this?¡±

    ¡°Koshai? The fabled Usum himself never did anything like this!¡± Kellog exclaimed, standing up. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. In all my travels, I¡¯ve met people of all Eikonic affinities, studied countless variations of shapes, seen practitioners do simply incredible things, but never, never, have I seen anything like this.¡± he waved his hands in the air before snatching a stick off the ground and beginning to pace back and forth.

    ¡°What do you think it could mean?¡± Wellynd asked.

    Kellog sketched the symbol for Arthus into the dirt. The same one that appeared in Wellynd¡¯s copy of Principles.

    ¡° Well, it could mean I know less about Arthus, or, as we say ¡®Arthusian kose¡¯ then I thought I did. Though, I like to think I know it pretty well.¡±

    ¡°Could it have something to do with the Vertan occupation? Does their presence affect anything?¡±

    Kellog tossed the stick between his hands

    ¡°Hmm, probably not. The Vertans, as much as I hate to admit it, are brilliant researchers and I¡¯m sure they¡¯re working on many awful things, but this doesn¡¯t feel like something they would do, nor does it seem likely an interaction between Arthusian and Deakonic kose could ever produce something like this.¡±

    He sketched the symbol of Deakon in the dirt beside Arthus.

    ¡°Well, maybe the Eikons are changing?¡± Wellynd suggested

    Kellog drew three more symbols in the dirt. Mael, then Gwyn and Val-Kan.

    Wellynd¡¯s brows knitted, and he turned his head to see Kellog¡¯s sketches at a better angle.

    ¡°That¡¯s the same order that the Eikons were drawn in a book I¡¯ve seen. Is there a reason to that order?¡±

    Kellog¡¯s eyes were locked onto his sketches in the dirt and he completely ignored Wellynd¡¯s question.

    ¡°It could be¡­that¡­if it is¡­no¡­no Eikon here should be able to do this...¡± the man trailed off before glancing up at Wellynd, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

    Kellog walked back to his stone and sat down. He poked at the fire absently.

    ¡°Sorry young Wellynd, I get carried away sometimes. It¡¯s just¡­this is the greatest anomaly I¡¯ve seen in some time. Possibly ever.¡±

    A spark crackled free from the embers and floated into the air before disappearing into the dark.

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but feel the slightest pang of pride. Whatever he¡¯d done that day befuddled this man. Kellog, seemingly an expert Koshai, no, more than a Koshai, was investigating the feat that he¡¯d performed months ago.

    Wellynd swallowed. ¡°Sounds like a lot to try and figure out. How long do you think you¡¯re going to be here?¡±

    ¡°Well, that all depends on how quickly I can discern the truth. As long as it takes, I suppose. Speaking of which, do you know how often these tunnels get used in the winter months? Any risk of running into miners, or angry, ill-paying Mine owners while I¡¯m down here?¡±

    This Wellynd did know. ¡°Probably not. They focus more on processing and refinement in the winter. The storms can end up flooding the mines with water, which then freezes. This is also an exploration shaft. Nobody has used it in forever anyway.¡±

    ¡°Good. Yes, that¡¯s very good.¡± mused Kellog.

    The man scratched his chin, head tilted slightly as he eyed the fire. He glanced at Wellynd.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame you didn¡¯t pass the exam, you know. That wind you weaved earlier was impressive, especially considering the problems you¡¯ve encountered. And you''re keen. You would have done well at the Observatory.¡±

    ¡°Uh. Thanks. Nothing I can do about it now unfortunately.¡±

    Kellog eyed him for another moment. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what.¡± he started after a long, thoughtful pause. ¡°I¡¯ll need help while I¡¯m here. I have a theory about why this might have happened, but I''ll need someone who knows these parts well to help me. Otherwise I¡¯d be wandering around like a bumbling fool asking too many questions¡­Yes. I think this might be good. Wellynd, how would you like to help me? I can help you figure out your problems with weaving, maybe teach you a few basic exercises in exchange.¡±

    Wellynd didn¡¯t even blink ¡°Yes. I mean, yeah. Yeah for sure. What do you need me to do?¡±

    Kellog beamed. ¡°It¡¯s settled then! It¡¯s getting late though. We¡¯ll figure out the details in the morning. Hmm. I do have a follow-up question though, just so I can start figuring out how to go at this.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°If my theory is correct, we will need to start collecting samples. There is one thing that may be¡­difficult to acquire¡­here¡­let me see if I have it¡­¡± Kellog started shuffling through one of his satchels ¡°Aha! Here it is. What do you know about these¡± Kellog said excitedly, stretching out his hand.

    In his palm sat a large, fist-sized skald.

 Chapter 30

    ¡°That¡¯s skald.¡± blurted out Wellynd.

    Kellog held the stone up and examined it between his index finger and thumb. ¡°Skald, eh? Another Southern Artan term, I imagine. It¡¯s strange that you recognize it though. Have you seen it around here? How do you know what it is?¡±

    Wellynd stood up and walked toward the wood pile. There was an acute fragility to this moment. Kellog had just offered him mentorship. The thing he¡¯d been hoping for the most. If Wellynd lied to him now, he might endanger his opportunity. At the same time, he didn¡¯t want to oust Laine and jeopardize the crew of the Brinebreaker.

    He tried to formulate a response as he knelt down and started stacking logs in his arms.

    ¡°I can¡¯t really tell you how I know. At least, not yet. Is there any way I can answer that question later? Or, is it not enough that I know what it is?¡± he finally replied as he walked back towards the fire.

    Kellog placed the rock back in his pocket and sat down. ¡°Sure, sure. As long as you know what it is. I guess that¡¯s all that matters. Though, I would be lying if I said I¡¯m not interested. So, you know it¡¯s both highly volatile and highly illegal just about everywhere, meaning we must exercise utmost caution when using or speaking about it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. No problem at all.¡± A bloom of sparks shot up into the air as Wellynd threw a log onto the fire.

    ¡°Do you know why it¡¯s illegal?¡± asked Kellog, the intense curiosity in his voice unmistakeable.

    Wellynd shrugged his shoulders as he peered into the fire. ¡°Because it¡¯s dangerous? I dunno. I always figured it was just one of those laws that everyone agreed to.¡±

    Kellog nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. It is exactly that, but there¡¯s a good reason for it. Perhaps we¡¯ll talk about that sometime as well. It all depends¡­¡± The man¡¯s eyes absently gazed off into the darkness of the cavern for several long moments before snapping back to Wellynd, the rich green irises once again filled with warmth from the firelight. ¡°For now, I think it''s best that we call it a night. Or were you planning on returning to Kellek¡¯s Watch tonight?¡±

    Wellynd nodded to the sleeping roll tied to his bag. ¡°No way. That would be a death sentence at this point in the season.¡± The wind howled outside in emphasis of his point.

    ¡°Fair enough, Wellynd. Or would you prefer Welly?¡±

    ¡°Welly works.¡±

    ¡°Okay Welly, feel free to huddle up close to the fire. I must attend to a few things before I sleep , so I¡¯ll just be puttering about like a fool in the dark. I¡¯ll see you bright and early.¡±

    And before Wellynd could say another word, Kellog walked off deeper into the cave.

    ~

    A thump awoke Wellynd from his light sleep. Peeking open one eye, he saw Kellog standing over the crackling fire, prodding a fresh log with a stick. The night¡¯s storms had subsided. A faint, whistling wind emanated from the small entrance hole, and the cavern was now replete with a soft light.

    It must have been early dawn.

    Wellynd rolled over and tried to find a comfortable spot on the hard ground, though he knew his effort was futile. He had spent what felt like half the night tossing and turning on his thin bedroll, the revelations that Kellog had given him, and the thousands of questions they had prompted, causing his mind to rage like the storms battering the mountainside.

    ¡°Sorry about that. Didn¡¯t mean to wake you, Welly.¡± said Kellog¡¯s voice, notably hoarser than it was the previous night.

    Wellynd sighed before sitting up and turning back towards the fire, rubbing his eyes and yawning ¡°That¡¯s alright. I should probably get up anyway¡­When¡¯d you cut all that wood?¡± asked Wellynd, noticing a neat pile of freshly cut logs next to the wall.

    ¡°Last night. I was having some difficulties sleeping, so I decided to forgo it altogether. I don¡¯t need much rest anyway. Since you¡¯re up, why don¡¯t you get that pan hot and warm up some of that bread. I have some cheese we can share.¡± Kellog replied before wedging another log into the fire.

    ¡°Why do you use wood?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°Well, you can start a fire with kose. Can¡¯t you keep a fire going with it too?¡±

    Kellog raised one eyebrow and grinned as he fished around in one of his bags.

    ¡°I could, yes, but I don¡¯t. It¡¯s not a practice I¡¯d suggest anyone take up unless they absolutely have to.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re full of questions, eh? Even this early in the morning, hah. I have my reasons. To keep it simple, I¡¯ll say that, one, why would I keep up a weave when the wood will burn without me doing anything, and two, more importantly, one should always revel in the simple tasks of life. They provide more insight than you can possibly imagine¡­Ah good, yes just throw it right in the coals there.¡±

    Wellynd had gotten up and moved the skillet into the fire. He then returned to his seat from the night before.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan to¡­..what are you doing with that?¡± Wellynd asked, noticing a long collapsible ladder leaned up against one of the cavern walls. ¡°That¡¯s a miner¡¯s ladder. Did you take it from the main shaft?¡±

    ¡°I did borrow it, yes. We will need it later once we sort a few things out.¡± Kellog replied as he sat down and began to carve a small block of cheese into slices.

    Wellynd stared into the fire as his mind awoke from its half-slumber.

    ¡°Uhm. I have¡­another question¡­¡± he finally said with a polite reticence.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Sort what things out?¡±

    Kellog chuckled. ¡°I wasn¡¯t criticizing you for asking questions. Just observing. But yes. I¡¯ve been thinking about your dilemma. Or rather, your dilemmas.¡±

    This is what Wellynd had been waiting for. He suddenly felt his heart racing.

    ¡°The way I see it, you have two distinct problems.¡±

    ¡°Two?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And there is a good chance they are unrelated, but we will find out shortly. Watch the bread!¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Watch the¡­Oh!¡± Wellynd ran over to the skillet and, without thinking, pulled it out from the coals. He yelled as the hot iron seared his hand, and the pan clattered to the ground. Clenching his fist, he hurried over to his pack, grabbed a linen cloth, and wrapped it around the burn.

    ¡°Sorry about that Welly. That was probably at least somewhat my fault. Let¡¯s eat and then we¡¯ll get to it.¡±

    The two ate their breakfast in relative silence. Like the roasted boar the night before, the cheese was delicious. It had a nutty and sharp flavour that left him wanting another bite. Wellynd had never tasted anything like it before.

    ¡°So¡± Kellog started, licking his fingers and wiping them off on his pants as he stood up. ¡°I have some suspicions about the nature of this pain you feel when you manipulate kose, however, that problem will be a little more difficult for us to solve.¡±

    Wellynd frowned, ¡°Okay¡­then what¡¯s my other problem.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not really a problem. Well, I guess it could be, depending on how you look at it, but I think, overall, for our purposes, it¡¯s a good thing. If you¡¯re up to the challenge, that is.¡± Kellog beamed.

    ¡°What is?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re like me.¡±

    ¡°Like you? How do you mean?¡± Wellynd could feel a slight tingling sensation at the tip of his ears.

    ¡°I mean that you have been blessed, or cursed, with a Mantle that never forms into a Habit.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I haven¡¯t been able to improve my Gusting?¡± Wellynd asked, working his best to suppress the grin that was now threatening to spread across his face.

    ¡°Probably so, though, I am curious as to how you were so effective at it yesterday. But yes, probably. Let¡¯s be sure though, shall we? Let¡¯s see here¡­Yes just to be safe¡­¡±

    Dirt and dust crumbled toward them, and a loose stone tumbled down, scattering the fire as the side of the cave crashed open. A gust of cool mountain air flooded the stuffy cavern, and Wellynd blinked against the daylight. Kellog strolled outside.

    Incredible. Wellynd followed after him.

    The sky was grey, and a light drizzle peppered Wellynd¡¯s head as he and Kellog stopped a few yards from the entrance.

    Kellog took a deep breath, and Wellynd couldn¡¯t help but notice that the wrinkles on the man¡¯s face were much more pronounced in the daylight. He didn¡¯t look old, he just looked weathered.

    ¡°To know for sure, we need to see your Mantle. I¡¯m going to show you how to express it.¡±

    Wellynd set his jaw and nodded silently, hoping he was conveying a countenance of fierce determination.

    ¡°Expressing your Mantle is rather simple, but requires a very intentional trick of the mind. This may be difficult given your issue with pain, but there¡¯s not much we can do about that right now. You¡¯ll just need to push through it. Are you fine with doing that?¡±

    ¡°Sure. No problem.¡±

    ¡°Good. To start, you¡¯ll need to pull in as much kose as you can. As you feel as if you¡¯re beginning to ''fill up'', I want you to start compressing it into the smallest ¡®ball¡¯ that you can. Try to hold it at the center of your mind, body, wherever it is that you visualize it.¡±

    ¡°Compress it?¡±

    ¡°Mhm¡­Let me see¡± Kellog looked around before jogging over to a small patch of snow that must have formed in the early hours of the morning. He ran back with two fistfuls full of it.

    ¡°I find a visualization always helps. So, you take the kose¡± he said, holding up one hand filled with snow.

    ¡°Compress it¡± he began to squeeze the snow in his hand, forming it into a tiny ball.

    ¡°And then add more.¡± He took the other handful of snow and compressed it into the first, eventually forming a small snowball in his hands. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Got it. Then what?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll get there. Just keep doing that for as long as you can.¡± Kellog replied, playfully tossing the snowball at a goat who had wandered over towards them. The creature bleated in protest before walking away.

    ¡°Okay. Sure. No problem.¡±

    It was at this moment that a horrifying thought occurred to Wellynd. What if he just couldn¡¯t do it? What if the pain was too much? Or, what if Kellog was wrong?

    No. He could do it.

    Wellynd shifted his feet and clenched his jaw, ready to embrace the pain.

    ¡°Okay. Here I go.¡±

    Kellog smiled and took a few steps back.

    Wellynd took a calming breath to stifle the tremor that threatened his hands.

    Closing his eyes, he began to pull.

    The air around his skin began to tingle as the cool mountain air faded from his senses, replaced by a crackle of heat, causing the hair on his arms to stand on end. A stab of pain needled at his chest, but he ignored it. He¡¯d done this a thousand times.

    This was nothing.

    Within seconds, what felt like streams of fire were entering his body, and, with some effort, he began to sweep them into a swirling, writhing mass at the centre of his chest.

    He pulled more.

    He imagined those hot streams of kose as the snow Kellog held in his hand, and tried packing them tightly together. But snow is cold.

    The mass wavered.

    Wellynd pressed it back in, flooding the streams directly onto the mass, trying to shape it as it came in directly. He heaped the kose onto the mass, cupping it and pressing it against the now scorching ball of heat that threatened to consume him. His brow knitted, and more creases formed around his eyes as he shut them tighter.

    What if this doesn¡¯t work? Will Kellog tell me to leave?

    The torrent inside of him ruptured and began to unravel. Wellynd¡¯s head swam as he tried to maintain his balance.

    Breaths now coming in short bursts, a low groan began to emanate from Wellynds throat as he fought the urge to give up. To collapse.

    He began to yell. Scream.

    The pain was too much. He forced the swirling molten mass of kose into a violent ball and tried to lock it away, swallow the pain, to somehow anchor it deep into his chest. He opened his eyes, still yelling, the edges of his vision turning black.

    He stumbled and tears ran down his face.

    Nothing was happening. Just pain.

    ¡°More! Pull in more!¡± Kellog said, voice raised to be heard over Wellynd¡¯s echoing yell.

    How? Was that a pang of disapproval in Kellog¡¯s voice?

    He couldn¡¯t do it. It was too much. He felt sweat drip from his brow and land on his arms. He didn¡¯t remember raising them.

    The snowball trick wasn¡¯t working. He felt the wind blow his hair, and, instinctually, he tried to envision the mass not as a snowball, but as a violent cyclone, wickedly churning and spinning, collapsing in on itself. The storm raged and his pain intensified once more.

    It was too much. Everything disappeared to black.

    He was standing in Laine¡¯s warehouse, a storm threatened to tear down the metal walls that housed The Brinebreaker. Elaudri¡¯s waves crashed violently against the mooring dock in front of him. The waves were not the familiar blue of the sea he¡¯d sailed all his life. They were, instead, a beautiful, swirling silver.

    A howl of wind blew through the portcullis from the vast sea before him, just as a breaker slammed into the dock, soaking him entirely in the silver water.

    The pain stopped.

    His yell faded to a murmuring hum as he opened his eyes. He was still on the mountainside. At the center of his vision stood Kellog, his mouth slightly open as he tracked something with his eyes above Wellynd.

    Wellynd craned his head and gasped. Swirls of silver tendrils, like the violent air currents found in the storm walls of the Elaudri, whipped around him in a vortex. He gasped, taking a step backward, trying to move away from the erratic streams, but they followed him. The chaotic energy whipped out in all directions, the torrent obscuring his vision.

    Was this his Mantle? What did it mean? It didn''t look anything like Bertrand''s or Neera''s when he''d seen them. Theirs was orderly. Not this violent, swirling chaos.

    Suddenly, the tendrils retracted, rushing in towards him and disappearing from sight.

    All that remained was the howl of the wind against the mountainside above them. The pittering of rain against the stone.

    Kellog silently walked up to Wellynd, holding one of the sticks he¡¯d been prodding the fire with in the morning.

    He gestured downward to a small patch of mud that had formed at Wellynd¡¯s feet. In it, he traced the sign for Kosun, then crossed it out.

    He traced the sign for Koshai, then crossed it out.

    He drew a simple, perfect circle.

    ¡°You¡¯re like me.¡±

 Chapter 31

    A rumbling thunder echoed throughout the cavern. The pleasant sound of sizzling boar was only outmatched by the mouth-watering scent emanating from the meat sitting atop the gentle coals.

    Minutes after Wellynd¡¯s expression of his mantle and Kellog¡¯s revelation, a storm had torn across the mountainside. After they had retreated inside, Kellog had rebuilt the wall and started a new fire in the ashes of the previous one.

    As the light of the flames danced off the freshly minted wall, Wellynd stared down at the Kosun mark on the back of his hand and smiled.

    This wasn¡¯t who he was.

    ¡°I could remove that, but I imagine that might cause more trouble for you than it¡¯s worth. By the time it¡¯s safe to remove it, you¡¯ll probably be able to do it yourself.¡± said Kellog, who was fiddling with the strange brass and glass mechanism that Wellynd had found when he caused the collapse.

    ¡°Do it myself. Right. So what happens now?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Kellog looked up at Wellynd and furrowed his brow, as if he had never even considered the question. ¡°Well, I expected this was the case after our discussion yesterday. Your mantle, like mine, will remain in flux indefinitely. Though, I must say, yours is wildly chaotic. Learning how to shape it to your will is going to take considerable effort.¡±

    ¡°Is that why it¡¯s painful then?¡±

    ¡°No. As I said earlier, that¡¯s a different issue entirely. One less easily discerned. I have some preparations to make for that test. In the meantime, I¡¯m going to put you to work.¡± Kellog grinned and held up the device, wiggling it back and forth.

    Wellynd hoped he¡¯d get to learn a bit more before this part of their agreement. Best not to try his luck, though.

    ¡°Okay. What do you need me to do?¡±

    The disappointment must have been clear in Wellynd¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Welly. We¡¯re going to get you learning in no time. I¡¯m a strong proponent of honing knowledge through practice, but I need to ensure I continue my research while I can. You¡¯re going to need to collect some samples from those miraculous floating boulders.¡±

    Wellynd looked over his shoulder at the open space. The lowest boulders were only a handful of yards above the ground. That wasn¡¯t too bad. ¡°That¡¯s why you got the ladder then? Alright. What does that glass orb have to do with it?¡±

    ¡°This, young Wellynd, is a Depositor. A fascinating device, courtesy of our Vertan friends. I...uh¡­borrowed it from one of their Observatories a few years ago. I really should give it back. Anyway, you¡¯ll, of course, need to take samples from a few of the boulders themselves. I have a hammer and a chisel you can use for that, but I¡¯ll also need samples from the air around the boulders.¡±

    Crouching down, Kellog held the device by its brass handle. The main body of the instrument, a glass enclosure supported by brass fixtures, had a long glass tube that stemmed from one side, ending in a small brass orb.

    Wellynd still couldn¡¯t help but think of the device as a bird, but, seeing Kellog tip the device toward the ground until the brass orb sat a mere inch above the stone floor, it also kind of looked like a very intricate and impractical teapot.

    ¡°Say I wanted to take a sample here. First, feed the Depositor a steady stream of kose. The sample chamber at the end will open and then close when the sample is gathered.¡±

    As he spoke, the brass sphere at the end split open, rotating so that it became a half-sphere. It reminded Wellynd of a sort of deep brass ladle. A few moments later, the device whirred closed, clicking shut with a snap.

    ¡°Once it¡¯s opened and closed, continue feeding kose into the device. Here, open your hand.¡±

    Kellog moved the device over to Wellynd who held out his hand just as the device clicked open once more.

    A grey, translucent stone fell into Wellynd¡¯s palm.

    ¡°The device will open when it¡¯s done transmuting the sample into something easier to analyze like this.¡±

    Wellynd held the small stone between his finger and thumb, looking through it at the firelight.

    ¡°So...wait...this is air? A stone made of air? How is this possible? Also, were you just pulling kose this whole time? ¡± asked Wellynd.

    Kellog chuckled. ¡°Hah. One at a time Welly. As far as I can tell, the device captures the trace elements in the air and condenses them, but I¡¯ve only got my hands on one of these so far, as they¡¯re quite new, so unfortunately I haven¡¯t had the chance to take one apart. Oh, and yes, I was.¡± He winked ¡°years of practice.¡±

    That was an understatement. Wellynd had never seen anyone pull and push kose so¡­nonchalantly.

    He rolled the stone around in his palm. ¡°Well this one looks just clear, kinda grey-ish, to me. What am I looking for?¡±

    ¡°No need to look or analyze. There should be a few containers you can place rock and air samples in, just make sure to not mix them between each boulder.¡±

    Wellynd nodded, looking at the supplies laying around Kellog¡¯s bags, spotting the hammer and chisel he¡¯d mentioned.

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll get started then!¡± Wellynd said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.

    A flash lit up the cavern and a moment later a low rumble perturbed the air. The storm seemed to be moving quickly over the mountain, the howling winds dancing through the cave, searching to join the storm¡¯s chorus deeper out to sea.

    Wellynd walked towards the boulders and the air grew cold as soon as he stepped away from the fire. He pulled his cloak around him. The sooner he could finish collecting the samples, the sooner he¡¯d get to Kellog¡¯s next lesson.

    Having grabbed the depositor, chisel, hammer, and two clay cups, Wellynd dragged the ladder across the ground until he was underneath the lowest boulder.

    He stared upwards.

    This was the first time he¡¯d stood directly beneath the boulders since they nearly crushed him and his friends. The lowest stone was suspended only a few yards above his head.

    Wellynd¡¯s muscles tightened as he stood beneath it.

    He took a breath, then positioned the supports of the ladder firmly on the ground and ascended towards the boulder.

    ¡°The samples should be about half the size of your palm¡±shouted Kellog, who had made his way over to the otherside of the cavern. Wellynd jumped and nearly dropped his chisel at Kellog¡¯s interjection.

    The task had turned out to be much more difficult than Wellynd had anticipated.

    Nearly an hour had passed before he got a decent sample from a single boulder. He had spent most of that time with his hands raised above his head, chiseling at the rock. His shoulders ached from the awkward positioning, and his head twinged with pain as slow drips of water, the remnants of the passing storm, splashed into a puddle on the cavern floor.

    During his breaks to relieve his hands and shoulders, Wellynd would watch below him and try to figure out what Kellog was doing.

    The man had spent his time moving about different parts of the cave, examining all sorts of nooks and crannies. He also had what appeared to be a set of small brass cubes with him. Sometimes he would place a cube on the ground, or rest it on a rock, and other times he¡¯d hold one near a wall of the cavern, or against the stalagmites that protruded from the floor. After several moments, he would either grumble in frustration or hoot in satisfaction.

    At first, Wellynd simply watched. After seeing what the man could do to the cave wall, without any hint of effort, he¡¯d expected a stalagmite to explode into dust, or for Kellog to form another tunnel shooting off of this one, prospecting the mountain for more signs of whatever else he was interested in.

    But nothing so remarkable happened.

    No stones turned to dust, no tunnels were formed, and the strange brass cubes appeared to do nothing. Wellynd had asked at that point as to what the cubes were for, but Kellog simply replied that he¡¯d better focus, lest he fall off the ladder, and that he would give an explanation over lunch.

    As Wellynd finished placing the boulder sample into the clay pot below him, he returned up the ladder once more to work the Depositor.

    To his relief, it wasn¡¯t as hard or painful as he¡¯d built it up to be. His practice with Laine¡¯s warehouse jant, and the jants on the minecarts were more difficult than this one.

    The device greedily ate all of the kose he fed into it, and it did exactly as Kellog demonstrated. It made a satisfying click when it finished, and the resulting stone that plopped into Wellynd¡¯s hand seemed no different than that of the air sample Kellog had demonstrated.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He frowned, stepping down the ladder and walking toward the firelight as he held the stone between his thumb and finger, rotating it to catch flickers of light from the flames.

    ¡°So, what are the brass cubes?¡± asked Wellynd, sitting down in front of the fire, rubbing at his shoulder after he set down the samples.

    Kellog produced yet another wedge of cheese, a small pot of nuts and seeds, and some dried fruit. Placing them on the tray beside him, he held up one of the brass cubes.

    The firelight glinted off the burnished metal. Palm-sized, its surfaces bore grooves etched in swirling patterns, weaving an intricate tapestry across the metal.

    Wellynd narrowed his eyes. The patterns reminded him a bit of Henry¡¯s etchings in the sand at Recluse¡¯s Cove.

    ¡°Is that a shape?¡± blurted Wellynd.

    ¡°Yes and no.¡± Kellog smiled. ¡°This is another Vertan invention. They call it a Deakonic Core.¡± he rotated the brass cube, looking down at it as he spoke ¡°but I¡¯ve once heard a soldier refer to it as a beacon. Not the cleverest play on words, mind you, but not a horrible one either.¡±

    Kellog placed it beside him on the ground, portioned out the meals and handed a small platter to Wellynd.

    ¡°So what does it do?¡± asked Wellynd, taking his meal.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite clever¡± Kellog started, popping a dried apricot into his mouth. ¡°It stores Deakonic kose. The intention is that if you¡¯re too far from Deakon, you can pull directly from this. I presume the Vertans made this so their invading forces could be more effective when they¡¯re, well, invading, but it will serve our purposes just as well.¡±

    Wellynd took a bite of cheese. It was softer and creamier than the one from the morning.

    ¡°Why do we need five of them? ¡± asked Wellynd through another bite.

    ¡°Ah, you should have figured that out, Welly. Why might you think I have five?¡±

    Wellynd chewed on a charred piece of meat as he thought about the question. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I don¡¯t really know what you¡¯re planning on doing. I guess we could need more than one beacon¡¯s worth? Oh¡­well there are five¡­and there are five Eikons. Is each one for a different type of kose?¡±

    Kellog grinned and snapped his finger ¡°That¡¯s it. Good work. While the Vertan¡¯s only made one for Deakonic kose, for obvious reasons, I¡¯ve made some slight alterations to these other cubes. I¡¯m actually quite proud of myself. It really didn¡¯t take that long to figure out.¡±

    ¡°Okay. And what are we doing with them?¡±

    Kellog nodded for Wellynd to wait while he took a long drink from his waterskin.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s the big question isn¡¯t it? Hopefully, we figure out why you¡¯re in such pain when you channel kose. Really well done by the way. That you were able to produce your Mantle under, what I imagine, were excruciating conditions, really is a feat on its own.¡±

    ¡°So¡­different types of kose can cause pain?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯m not quite sure I¡¯d look at it that way. It¡¯s more so the person than it is the kose. Remember yesterday, when I said that different Eikons have different domains? Let''s consider Arta for example. Here, Arthusian kose abounds¡± Kellog gestured to the air around him ¡°the air is suffused with it. There are traces of other types of kose, but by and large, we are awash with Arthus. We¡¯ve discovered that people tend to acclimate to whatever domain they live in. We don¡¯t know if this happens when someone is born or whether it happens over time, but we know that the vast majority of people born in Arta have an affinity with Arthus.¡±

    Kellog leaned over and grabbed another cube ¡°When someone who is born in Arta travels to Melyar, they might try to channel. It depends on the person who is channelling, but usually, these individuals will find this task much more difficult. Since they are pulling from Gwyn, the kose is less likely to respond to them, and many people report feelings of mild pain or pressure.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I think that makes sense, but I can¡¯t really call what I feel mild.¡±

    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s where we come to the very small minority of people who are not acclimated to their resident Eikon. Mind you, this is very rare. I¡¯ve only met one other person who ever had such a peculiar ailment¡­if we can even call it that. These unfortunate few are affiliated with a different Eikon than the one they were born under, and, for some odd reason, their pain is amplified when they try to pull from anything other than the Eikon that they are actually aligned with. We don¡¯t know why it happens, and we don¡¯t know how to fix it.¡±

    Kellog stopped and examined Wellynd for a moment before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s not something you probably want to hear, but if you ever want to become a master of wielding kose, you¡¯ll have to leave Arta¡­now¡­where you¡¯ll have to leave to is what we will find out with these.¡±

    Wellynd suddenly felt very heavy. He¡¯d always wanted to leave the island. To travel the seas and explore the world. But of his own volition. Being forced to leave because he was somehow incompatible with the air around him wasn¡¯t quite the same thing. The euphoric feeling he had gained from learning about his mantle began to dwindle.

    ¡°So I¡¯m¡­not supposed to be here?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest idea. As I said, we don¡¯t know why it happens, but this is the only thing that makes sense to me. It really is quite miraculous to have two wildly rare conditions manifest in one person. I wonder if they¡¯re connected¡­anyway, why don¡¯t we find out what kose doesn¡¯t hurt you and go from there.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­.okay. What do I need to do?¡± Wellynd replied.

    Kellog walked over and placed each of the cubes onto a stone that was sitting in front of Wellynd.

    ¡°Mael, Arthus, Deakon, Gwyn, Val Kan. Left to right. What you need to do is very simple. Take each of the beacons, one by one, hold it in your hand and channel. Try to keep your focus on the beacon itself. Much like a jant, it will do most of the work for you. You should just pull from the brass cube. Pay attention to the way you feel. One of these should give you kose pain-free. What we do and how we progress will all depend on that.¡±

    Wellynd nodded and picked up the leftmost cube, holding it in both hands.

    The metal was cold, and he ran his thumbs over the grooved lines.

    Mael.

    He¡¯d never been to Shaddkara. He hadn¡¯t even seen any drawings of the land. He¡¯d only seen a sketch of their Eikon.

    And now its kose was trapped inside this bronze cube.

    He pulled.

    A coldness began to seep into his palms, and he hesitated, ceasing the flow of kose.

    Swallowing, he resumed, and it began to trickle through his palms once more, pooling inside his body.

    It felt like a thick sludge, fighting against Wellynd¡¯s attempts to leech it from the device.

    Wellynd could no longer feel his hands.

    He continued to fight against the thick stream until he felt pins and needles in his palms.

    A cold sweat formed on his brow, and moments later, he felt a sudden painful throb, as if his mind caught up to the danger in a sudden jolt.

    Wellynd cried out.

    ¡°It¡¯s different, but it¡¯s excruciating.¡±

    Kellog stood, watching Wellynd intently.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite enough, then! Impressive first attempt, mind you. You picked that up quickly.¡±

    Wellynd ceased pulling, and placed the cube back on the stone.

    He stood there, taking a few deep breaths as he held his hands under his armpits.

    Oddly, they were warm.

    Just like the intense heat evaporated immediately when he stopped pulling from Arthus, so too did the icy chill dissipate when he ceased pulling from Mael.

    ¡°Well, we already know about Arthus, so onto Deakon, then.¡± nodded Kellog.

    Wellynd forced a smile, and picked up the third beacon.

    He repeated the exercise, and found that pulling from Deakon was much easier than pulling from Mael, and perhaps even easier than Arthus. The pain that followed, though, was present all the same. It came on gradually.

    Gwyn rushed into him as he became more familiar with pulling from the strange devices, and the pain that settled deep into his bones followed swiftly after.

    Kellog had remained silent throughout the process, and sat with an expectant look as Wellynd picked up the fifth and final beacon.

    Val-Kan.

    He held the beacon in his hands and began to pull.

    ¡°Does this even have any kose inside? I don¡¯t feel anything...¡±

    Kellog raised his eyebrows, ¡°So, Val-Kan it is then. Hmm, getting into Rel might be...¡±

    Then, Wellynd¡¯s balance faltered, his head swaying as the room began to spin.

    ¡°Oh...¡± he said as he fell to his knees.

    Wellynd dropped the cube, and, after a few moments, his equilibrium returned.

    None of them worked.

    What did this mean? He looked up at Kellog, who was scratching his chin and giving Wellynd a sidelong glance.

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t make any sense. You must be affiliated with one of them. The rare few are lucky enough to be affiliated with multiple Eikons. Never have I heard of none¡­what aren¡¯t you telling me, Welly?¡±

    Wellynd pushed himself up on one knee. ¡°What do you mean? Maybe this is just the way I am.¡±

    Kellog crouched down so he was eye level with Wellynd. ¡°Maybe. But that doesn¡¯t explain how you were still able to weave air into the fire yesterday. The level of pain you¡¯re feeling should have been far too much to pull off a shape so effortlessly.¡±

    There was no point in hiding it any longer. Kellog was far too smart to believe any lie Wellynd could come up with, and he didn¡¯t want to alienate the man who had already helped him so much.

    Wellynd reached into his pocket and pulled out the stone.

    There was a moment of silence.

    ¡°You need to tell me where you got that.¡±

 Chapter 32

    ¡°I bought it in Revenshore,¡± Wellynd said, placing the strange artefact down next to the bronze cubes.

    Kellog took a moment to examine it before asking ¡°May I, Welly?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    Kellog carefully picked up the stone, turning it over in his hand, running his thumb over every bump as he inspected it.

    He cocked an eyebrow.

    ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that you use this somehow when you¡¯re weaving?¡±

    ¡°Well yeah, that¡¯s what I figured since the time at Recluse¡¯s cove. Or maybe Revenshore¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°What happened at Revenshore? What happened at Recluse¡¯s cove? Listen to me, I sound like you now! Could you tell me everything that¡¯s happened since you found this? As much detail as you can give, even if you think it insignificant.¡±

    Without hesitation, Wellynd began retelling the series of strange events that had occurred since his arrival in Revenshore.

    Kellog listened intently.

    His first interruption came upon hearing of the purple smoke that the woman in the blue tent created when demonstrating the stone.

    Kellog scoffed and assured Wellynd that the smoke was a known sales tactic amongst vendors of ¡°artefacts¡±, and there was a good chance she had no idea what she held.

    Wellynd found himself thinking about the other things the peculiar woman said; had she lied about being an islander too?

    He continued his story, but it wasn¡¯t long until Kellog¡¯s second interruption came. He spoke up as Wellynd finished telling of his encounter with the strange creature in the basement of the Mox¡¯s hideout.

    ¡°You said there was a strange shape etched on the wall. Do you recall how it looked? Any chance you could show me?¡±

    ¡°Sort of, I can try...¡± Wellynd grabbed a stick and began to trace out the shape from memory with the charcoal from the fire.

    The memory of discovering those dull red marks carved into the damp basement ceiling sent a shiver through his body. Each etching looked like a clumped tumbleweed that had grown spindly shoots that sprouted from its tangled core.

    He stifled a tremble as he sketched the confusing mess of lines, finally setting down the stick when he finished.

    ¡°Hmm. No shape I know looks even remotely close to that. It seems off, somehow. It¡¯s probably the ravings of some lunatic. Perhaps this Tanner fellow. What were those words the creature used?¡±

    ¡°It said Xandu-El is dead. Torix is here.¡±

    Kellog scratched his chin as his eyes darted back and forth. ¡°I don¡¯t know what or who Torix is. Xandu-El is¡­well it seems familiar to me, but I can¡¯t quite place it. I might ask¡­¡±

    ¡°Ask who? Someone at one of the Observatories?¡± queried Wellynd. The idea that there were people out there more knowledgeable than Kellog confounded him.

    ¡°Oh, well not really, no¡­not for a long time now. Just an acquaintance of mine. Someone of like mind, you might say.¡± Kellog mused, only half-present as he gazed off into the darkness.

    Wellynd started ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t want anyone knowing...¡±

    Kellog refocused his eyes on Wellynd and raised his hand ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Welly. I won¡¯t implicate you in anything. I can promise you that. Please go on. I won¡¯t interrupt again.¡±

    Wellynd wiped his hands, now damp with sweat, against his pants. The flicker of firelight flashed in his eyes, triggering a memory of the orange glare of that creature in the dark basement below the Mox¡¯s sanctum.

    He blinked forcefully, clearing his head of the memory, before continuing.

    As he got to the confrontation with Klent in the early morning streets of Revenshore, he tried to recall exactly the feeling of whatever he¡¯d done to the man.

    He felt his voice choke up as he remembered Klent¡¯s muted screams as he ran away. Wellynd had thought of the night many times but saying it aloud seemed to make the memory come alive. Kellog, for his part, handed Wellynd a small tin cup of coffee he had been preparing over the fire.

    Wellynd took it, nodding in thanks as the warm metal radiated into his hands, rebuffing the chill of the morning air.

    He moved on, brushing quickly through the explosion at the Revenshore docks and his return to Ars Illuve.

    Looking up at the boulders floating above them, he described the events that led to their suspended state. How he¡¯d felt when seeing his friends¡¯ mantles. How he¡¯d been helpless, and how he pulled from the silver lake of energy below the cave.

    Kellog grinned at that, but his smile faded as quickly as his brows furrowed, nodding in thought as his eyes twinkled in the firelight.

    As Wellynd told of his training with Henry and Klof at the shore of Recluse¡¯s cove, he could tell that Kellog had something to say, but, keeping his word, he held his mouth firmly closed.

    ¡°What is it?¡± asked Wellynd, interrupting himself.

    ¡°You said slivers of silver on the beach, yes? But here, you said a lake of silver?¡± Kellog gestured to the cave floor.

    ¡°Uh yeah. I had to walk around the beach to find any slivers. When I searched out with my mind...it was just darkness mostly. When I was near a sliver, that¡¯s when I got tossed into the sea by the wind.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s when you tossed yourself with the wind.¡± Kellog chuckled ¡°You have faced quite a bit of trouble these past few months. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not worse off. Much of what you¡¯ve told me is also troubling. For now though, would you mind doing something for me?¡±

    ¡°Of course. What do you want me to do?¡±

    Kellog handed Wellynd back the stone.

    ¡°Hold this, and do your ¡®mind¡¯s search¡¯ for me. Try to see the lake of silver light below us once more, and pull from it, if you can.¡±

    Wellynd grasped the stone and instinctively made a fist around it.

    ¡°Ah, would you mind keeping the stone at least partially visible? I¡¯d like to observe it while you focus.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Sure. Some of it will wear away though.¡± Wellynd said, loosening his grip and holding it between his thumb and his index finger.

    Kellog nodded ¡°I appreciate you using some of it for this demonstration. I do think it¡¯s worth the cost.¡±

    Wellynd couldn¡¯t argue with that, so he closed his eyes, relaxing and letting the dancing light fade away behind his eyelids.

    He was familiar with this space now, and searching out the silver mass beneath him came more readily to his mind.

    He took a minute to observe it.

    The silver light didn¡¯t stretch on forever like he had initially perceived. There were bounds to it, but it was still enormous.

    Ever cognizant of the collapse he caused when he was last here, he very carefully pulled some into him and felt the cool wash of kose in his body.

    He suddenly felt confident. In control.

    Breathing deeply, he slowly opened his eyes as they adjusted to the light.

    Kellog, now holding a lump of skald, sat forward in his seat, eyes glazed over, the skald in his hand, and the black, cerulean-dotted artefact in Wellynd¡¯s.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough. Huh. Curious, to be sure. This confirms it, justly¡­I think¡­¡± said Kellog, seemingly to himself as he began to trail off.

    ¡°Confirms what?¡±

    He glanced sidelong at Wellynd.

    ¡°Could you reach out one more time? You don¡¯t need to take any of it. I imagine that¡¯s what consumes the artefact. Look to see if the silver light also emanates from this vellunstun¡­uh..skald. That¡¯s what we call it, you see.¡±

    Wellynd did. He reached out. There it was. Right in front of him. He hadn¡¯t even noticed it before, too preoccupied with the allure of the vast reservoir.

    ¡°It does. A very small amount. It¡¯s hard to see.¡±

    ¡°It is kose. I knew it. I knew it. Or some aberration of it. I should explain. We¡¯ve always known of the potential of vellunstun. Too much so, perhaps. It was outlawed after the last war due to the destruction it wreaked. Untold numbers of people were killed by our barbaric uses of it on the battlefield. It is perhaps concerning that your Observer friend, Selkis, is conducting experiments with it. I know nothing of his allegiances, but it probably means the Vertans are once again interested in its applications. The destruction of that ship in Revenshore is also, undoubtedly, a result of its use. In more academic circles, there have always been arguments about what the nature of that power is. Some, like myself, have always thought it must be related to kose, or be a form of kose. Others have speculated that it is a different form of power entirely. I always found their line of thinking untenable; the two energies are too damned similar. You see, all kose, over exceptionally long periods of time, becomes mineralized.¡± Kellog gestured to the brass cubes ¡°I pulled the different Eikon¡¯s kose into those cubes from deposits I located throughout the cave. The only problem with the vellunstun was that nobody could detect it or manipulate it naturally. We could only observe its effects. It also only seems to exist in mineralized form. You¡¯ve changed that. Though if it¡¯s just the artefact or something about you is¡­unclear¡­¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Kellog eyed the strange looking stone in Wellynd¡¯s hand curiously. For a very brief moment, Wellynd felt the urge to snap it back safely into his pocket.

    But he didn¡¯t. He stretched out his arm, offering the stone to Kellog, before lightheartedly adding ¡°Maybe you can teach me something useful to do with kose after?¡±

    Kellog chuckled before gently accepting the stone and passing it to his other palm. As he wrapped his fingers around it, his eyes glazed over.

    Several moments passed in silence.

    Eventually, Kellog¡¯s eyes refocused.

    He let out a slow sigh as he handed the stone back to Wellynd. The shadows on Kellog¡¯s face were pronounced by the soft flicker of the dying firelight, and it dawned on Wellynd that the man was quite old.

    ¡°It looks like it¡¯s just you who can wield this, Welly. You¡¯re a piece of the puzzle.¡± Kellog scratched his chin ¡°Though the puzzle¡¯s greater shape remains a mystery. Hmm. I¡¯d like to see if this repository below us shares the same material properties as the vellunstun that comes from the desert.¡± He stood and looked about ¡°Can you tell me where the centre of this repository is?¡±

    Wellynd grasped the stone and reached out with his mind.

    ¡°There.¡± he said after a few moments, pointing to a patch of flat ground just behind Kellog.

    ¡°Good! Well, come on. Get up. You wanted a lesson. Now¡¯s your chance.¡±

    Kellog clasped his hands together behind his back and cleared his throat ¡°So, how do you suppose we might go about unearthing the ore?¡±

    Wellynd eagerly pushed himself up and stretched his arms out at his side.

    ¡°Okay. Well I thought you were a Spade when we first met. You seem pretty good at moving dirt and stones around. So, I¡¯m guessing you would do something similar to what you did to the wall, except in reverse, like you did when we went out to test my mantle.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right on several counts! Wrong on one. I won¡¯t be doing it. You will.¡± Kellog grinned devilishly before walking over to one of his satchels and rummaging through it.

    He returned, holding a roll of parchment that he began to unfurl.

    As he unrolled it into a flat sheet, dark grey lines began to imprint onto the page.

    Wellynd blanched. ¡°How are you¡­¡±

    Kellog held parchment away from him and angled it towards the fire light, squinting as his eyes danced over the imprint. Seemingly satisfied, he let go of one end of the parchment, allowing it to roll back into a furled coil.

    ¡°Scribing with kose is quite difficult. Let¡¯s start with something  a little easier, yes? Here. Take a look. This is one of the shapes I used earlier to manipulate the stones in the cave wall. Mind you, this is specifically for transmuting stones. There is a more generic form that can be adapted to other scenarios, but I think the subtle differences will be difficult for you to grasp at first.¡±

    Wellynd took hold of the scroll and felt his heart begin to quicken.

    A shape.

    He unfurled the thick parchment. Three hand-spans wide, the yellowed page bore intricate markings, connected and intertwined in a neat fashion. This was an immense improvement over the dirt-etched shape that Henry drew for him and Klof back at the cove.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid of writing it down? That someone will get a hold of your shape?¡±

    Kellog chuckled ¡°You¡¯re like me, Welly. You don¡¯t need to keep your shapes secret. You can learn all of them. Koshai and Craftsman keep their shapes secret because it makes them unique, allows them a niche or distinct advantage. They¡¯re stuck with it. People like us don¡¯t have to worry about that. Our advantage is that we can always change. Always learn. Take a few moments to examine that.¡±

    Minutes stretched by as Wellynd traced his eyes over each line of the diagram. It was immense, but his weeks of practice at Recluse¡¯s cove helped bolster his confidence.

    He would learn this one, too.

    It obviously looked different than Henry¡¯s shape. Very different. But it also felt different. When he wasn¡¯t focused on the curve of a specific line or a particular intersection, when he stared at it as a whole, he couldn¡¯t help but get a sense of the coarse abstract geometry of a cave wall. There was the faintest  apprehension of stone, even though he couldn¡¯t actually see, smell, or feel it.

    Then again, maybe the feeling was the result of him having lived in a cave for two days.

    Fetching a stick that had been poking out of the fire, Wellynd used the blackened end to trace the shape onto the ground, checking the diagram every few lines to ensure his accuracy. He made mistakes, wiped away the lines with his hand and re-drew the failed lines, until he had them close to perfect.

    Stepping back, he compared the shape on the ground to the one on the page.

    Frowning, he wiped at the charcoal with his hand, shifted over, and began drawing it again.

    Kellog remained silent as Wellynd repeated the process ten more times. When Wellynd finally did look up, he was surprised to find the man sitting back near the fire, sipping something hot from his tin mug.

    ¡°So what do you mean by trans..what-ing?¡± asked Wellynd, stepping back and surveying his most recent work. This had to be close enough.

    ¡°Transmuting. Changing form. This shape specifically turns stone into finer particulate. Sand, dirt, whatever its smaller form is. It¡¯s not a significant change in form, so it shouldn¡¯t be difficult for you to weave. Obviously, you won¡¯t be able to do it all at once. As you transmute layers of the cave floor, I¡¯ll sweep away the dirt.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so this isn¡¯t what you did to tear down and rebuild the cave entrance?¡±

    ¡°Not really. The shapes aren¡¯t entirely dissimilar, though.¡±

    Wellynd tried to think through what that might mean.

    ¡°You¡¯ll spend a good part of your life pondering the meaning of the language of the world, Welly. For now, let¡¯s just focus on this. Come. Sketch it out once more, then we¡¯ll take a go at it.¡± said Kellog as he walked over to where Wellynd had pointed earlier.

    Wellynd drew most of it from memory, though after checking against the parchment, he smoothed over some lines and corrected them.

    ¡°Good enough. When shaping it in your mind, if it¡¯s not perfect, don¡¯t worry, just carry on. Weaving the shape into the bedrock is a bit of a personal touch. It¡¯s different for everyone. If I recall, Henry had told you to ask the wind nicely and hope that it will listen, yes? If that works for you, then go with that.¡±

    ¡°What am I asking the stones, though?¡±

    ¡°Well your goal is to change the stone into its smallest form. Ask whatever you¡¯d like. You¡¯ll get it.¡± smiled Kellog.

    Wellynd began to walk over to Kellog, but the man threw his hand up ¡°Leave the artefact. You can¡¯t grow dependent on it. It will eventually fade away, after all.¡±

    Wellynd looked down at his hand. He hadn¡¯t even realized that he was holding it. Trying not to appear too worried about the pain he was undoubtedly about to experience, he shrugged and placed the artefact on his seat near the fire before approaching Kellog.

    ¡°If you can make contact with the bedrock, it might be easier. It ultimately doesn¡¯t matter, but I always found it helped when I was starting out.¡±

    Wellynd crouched down and placed his palm against the ground. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and began to pull in kose, wasting no time as he began to form the shape still fresh in his mind.

    The pain was intense, as usual, but he found he was able to ignore it by keeping all his focus on moulding this new shape.

    Once he had formed the kose into a rough semblance of what he had been practicing for the past half an hour, Wellynd began to focus on the cavern floor against his palm. It was cool. Damp. Using his experience weaving the wind as a reference point, he tried to connect with the stone, to coerce it into turning back into dust, or dirt, or whatever it once was, while he maintained the pulsing shape in his mind¡¯s eye.

    The feeling of the cavern floor suddenly vanished and Wellynd fell forward a few inches, his hand landing on something soft.

    Dirt.

    It was dirt.

    Wellynd opened his eyes to see a circle of dirt, about three yards in diameter, centred around his hand. He looked up to see Kellog standing above him, a wide grin plastered to his face.

    ¡°Not so bad, eh?¡±

    ¡°I did it. I did it in one try. Yes¡± Unwilling to let the tears that rushed to his eyes spill out, Wellynd stood up, clenched his fists and shook his arms as he let out a triumphant yell.

    In the wake of all of his failures, all of his doubt, here was a success. Achieved wholly by him. The news about his Mantle had been encouraging, but this, this, was something he did.

    Without the artefact. Without fearing for his life. Entirely on his own.

    ¡°Yes, very well done! A little bit easier than coaxing the wind, but a great victory nonetheless. As I said, you would have been a great success at the Observatory. Nonetheless, let''s not rest on our laurels now. Repetition is the key to consistent success.¡± said Kellog, who waved his hand above the sphere of dirt as a wind with mysterious origins swept it away.

    ¡°Right. Let¡¯s do it.¡± said a triumphant Wellynd, as he kneeled back down.

    All told, it took them nearly an hour to reach the reservoir. As Kellog swept the final layer of dirt out of the now five yard deep pit, Wellynd could tell that the stone was different.

    ¡°Can you get some light in here?¡± Wellynd asked.

    Kellog, to Wellynd¡¯s surprise, leapt out of the pit in one bound and disappeared for a few moments, only to return with a torch, jumping back down and landing softly beside Wellynd.

    ¡°You have to teach me that.¡±

    ¡°Oh I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m the right person to do that. Anaturgy can be incredibly dangerous and I¡¯ve only learned enough to help me out of binds. Hmm. This looks like vellunstun, no?¡±

    Disappointed, Wellynd scanned the ground in the torchlight. It was the same coarse, dull, grey stone that was all too familiar to him. This just happened to be the largest piece of skald he had ever seen.

    ¡°It definitely is. What does this mean?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea why it¡¯s here. We¡¯ve found deposits of each of the five Eikon¡¯s kose all over Estioch, but never this. Vellunstun has only ever been found in the Vellen Kellek. What I do know is that I will need to take a trip up the coast to resupply and take care of a few things. What are your plans, Welly?¡±

    ¡°I should probably get back to Kellek¡¯s Watch. My Uncle said the Brinebreaker crew needed to be back today and is probably wondering where I am. It¡¯ll take me a few hours to get back. Damn. Just as things were getting exciting.¡±

    Kellog let out a hearty laugh ¡°Not to worry Welly. We can reconvene soon, if you can manage it. A few hours though, eh? Hmm. Well, I have yet to go to Kellek¡¯s Watch. Let¡¯s say I meet you in the centre of town in a week¡¯s time. Do you think you could manage that?¡±

    ¡°Definitely. Do you need me to do anything while I¡¯m there?¡±

    Kellog scratched his chin ¡°Hmm. If you can get another sample of vellunstun, it might be useful. Though, I don¡¯t want to put you out.¡±

    ¡°No problem. That I can definitely get.¡±

    Kellog nodded. ¡°You¡¯re a curious figure, Welly. And something tells me you¡¯re the key here. I¡¯ve never believed in fate, but I can¡¯t help but feel its work at play on Ars Illuve. That, or I¡¯ve spent too much time living in this damned cave with nothing but goats for company. Well, let¡¯s get to it. One week.¡±

    ¡°One week.¡±

 Chapter 33

    When Wellynd finally collapsed into his bed at Briarberry cottage, the sun had already set. He was cold, wet, and too tired from his journey back over the mountain to protest when Laine called up for him to be at the warehouse by sunrise the next day.

    Despite Kellog¡¯s revelations about Wellynd¡¯s extraordinary circumstances, he still needed to live his ordinary life.

    The warehouse was lively and loud when Wellynd arrived in the early hours of the morning.

    Laine had found them a job.

    Klof and Bilge were loading supplies aboard The Brinebreaker, and Henry and Filch were arguing about who owes who money for the previous night¡¯s revelry at the Boar¡¯s Rump.

    Laine sat alone on a rickety chair in the middle of the warehouse, enshrouded in a haze of smoke, watching Henry and Filch argue, a mild smirk glued to his face.

    Any outsider watching this scene would never have guessed they had just suffered the loss of a crewmember.

    But that¡¯s how it went.

    He walked up to Laine, stretching out his arms and yawning.

    ¡°Remind me why we have to leave so early again?¡±

    A sharp gust rattled the portcullis blocking entry from the sea.

    Laine spat out a piece of tobacco leaf ¡°You know why, Welly. Storms tend to be calmer in the morn¡¯. Won¡¯t be a long one. We¡¯re just skipping over to Port Ketch. Got some Melyin tobacco and a few of the remaining skald to deliver. We¡¯ll be back by the early afternoon.¡±

    Who were they delivering skald to that far south? Tanner¡¯s remarks about Laine selling to the Crusaders of Deakon, the notorious mercenary group, echoed in Wellynd¡¯s head.

    He shuffled his feet ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±

    Laine, who had been eyeing Filch and Henry, focused his eyes on Wellynd¡¯s.

    ¡°Probably. What is it?¡±

    ¡°Do we care who we deliver skald to?¡±

    Laine clicked his tongue ¡°I think so. Yes. Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Tanner at the Mox  told me we were delivering to the Crusaders of Deakon. I figured he was lying, but I just wanted to make sure. I, you know, hope we aren¡¯t making the war worse.¡±

    Laine¡¯s brow furrowed ¡°Tanner knows that? Well he¡¯s not wrong. But¡­well¡­they aren¡¯t¡­it¡¯s probably best that I don¡¯t say. There is a lot going on with this damn war that is complicated. Don¡¯t look at me like that¡­I¡¯d tell you more, but it¡¯s not for me to say. We¡¯ve got to do what we have to. Speaking of questions, where¡¯ve you been? Did you figure out your problem?¡±

    Wellynd, surprised at Laine¡¯s curt response, scratched the back of his head. ¡°Alright then. And uh, yeah. Sort of. It¡¯s a work in progress.¡±

    Laine patted his legs and stood up. ¡°Glad to hear. Let¡¯s set sail.¡±

    ~

    The trip down the coast of Ars Illuve and across the channel to the mainland was, thankfully, uneventful.

    Wellynd spent the first leg of the voyage chatting with Klof while the Brinebreaker shot through the waves, skirting just a few hundred yards off the coast. The jagged, sandy cliffs of southern Ars Illuve rolled by to their west.

    Klof had spent the intervening days resting up and practicing his gusting. He had thought the work would keep his mind off the death of Briv, and Wellynd was surprised to see him bounce back so quickly. His friend was rapidly becoming a full-fledged member of the Brinebreaker, in both skill and demeanour.

    For some reason, Wellynd, whose mind was still half occupying the cave back at the mine, didn¡¯t quite feel the same.

    The storms raged further out at sea, roiling black clouds dominating the southern horizon, as The Brinebreaker navigated around the tip of Ars Illuve, Laine expertly weaving the ship through a series of rocky shores. Cutting across the channel posed some danger, but with the combined might of Henry and a burgeoning Klof, they made it to the southern mainland in what Bilge said was record time.

    Upon reaching Port Ketch, Laine had instructed most of the crew to come with him to the exchange, including Klof. Only Wellynd and Henry stayed aboard the ship.

    Surprisingly, this didn¡¯t bother Wellynd. He spent some of his time idly talking to Henry while they prepared the ship for their return voyage. Most of the time, however, Wellynd spent reconstructing Kellog¡¯s shape in his head. He¡¯d made a point to commit everything about kose and weaving to memory, whenever he got the chance. He wanted to actually practice shaping, but he thought Henry might notice and ask him questions he wasn¡¯t quite ready to answer.

    Next week felt so far away.

    When the crew did return, Wellynd learned that there had been a scuffle at the exchange. Filch had a bloody gash on his arm, and Klof was suffering a black eye, though you wouldn¡¯t know it with the grin that was plastered to his face.

    Apparently, there had been a miscommunication on the final price and some of the Crusaders¡¯ grunts had struck first. Filch responded in kind. Ultimately, an all-out brawl was avoided, thanks to Laine negotiating a new price.

    The trip back to Kellek¡¯s Watch felt long, and Wellynd just wanted to get back so he could continue practicing his weaving. During the final stretch up the east coast of the island, even Henry¡¯s wind seemed to waver as the Brinebreaker sluggishly ploughed through the waves.

    As the ship was re-entering the warehouse at Kellek¡¯s Watch, Klof, who had taken over for a tired Henry, walked by Wellynd and made the comment ¡°Gonna do anything Welly? Decks need cleaning! Haha just kidding!¡±

    Wellynd laughed off the comment, but in truth, Klof¡¯s words had his mind wandering. Mainly because it held some truth. What was his plan now? He obviously wasn¡¯t going to be a guster, and even if he did learn much from Kellog, would anything the man taught him be useful to The Brinebreaker crew?

    An answer came soon enough. It was when they had docked and unloaded that Laine asked Wellynd to follow him into his office while the crew took off to celebrate in town.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Wellynd asked, watching Laine light a fresh cigar, waving his hand to snuff out the match.

    ¡°I need you to go back to Revenshore.¡± Laine said before coughing.

    ¡°What? Why? I thought we were going to stay away until things calmed down there.¡±

    Lained nodded ¡°Yeah that was the plan. A few of my contacts have said that things have laxed up a bit, though, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll ever go back to the way they were. The Vertans are mad. This is probably going to be the new reality for us.¡±

    Wellynd shook his head. ¡°I...I...can¡¯t. I have things I have to do here. Why me?¡±

    Laine furrowed his brow ¡°Things to do eh? Well, it needs to be you. You¡¯re the best at it. You know your way around. And you know the sole client. It¡¯s a small delivery.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°That Selkis nut at the Observatory. He¡¯s been reaching out to our contact non-stop. Something about a breakthrough. Says he¡¯ll pay a lot for a single skald. Quite frankly, after the other day¡¯s failure, we could use it. Today¡¯s deal is enough to keep us goin¡¯, keep the lads well-paid but...¡±

    ¡°But what?¡±

    Laine rubbed his open palm against his rough, unshaven face ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been told that there¡¯s been a push by the Vertans, and some Melyins, I think, to open up the desert for mining again. Make skald legal or somethin¡¯. Don¡¯t know what will come of it but, if that happens, we¡¯ll be hard-pressed to keep things going the way they are. If that happens, we¡¯ll need to figure out something new to smuggle. Heh, maybe we¡¯ll have to become legitimate traders. Can you imagine Bilge doin proper bartering in a Melyin bazaar? Anyway, maybe that¡¯s a good thing, ultimately, but we¡¯ll need a lot o¡¯ Grell to sustain us while we figure it all out.¡±

    Laine took a long drag of his cigar and fiddled with a thread on his trousers

    He was nervous. Wellynd had never seen his Uncle like this. Laine Albright was supposed to be calm and inscrutable.

    ¡°Okay, and you¡¯re explaining all of this to me for what? Is what Selkis is offering enough to cover everything?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no. Not at all. It¡¯ll help for a bit, but, no. What we really need is another shipment of skald.¡± Laine stared at his nephew. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Wellynd blanched. ¡°Are you nuts? You can¡¯t possibly be thinking about going back! The storms are stronger than ever! You don¡¯t even have a Fulmin. And what about those Sombernaught things? When¡¯s the last time someone went across the Elaudri at this point in the season and came back in one piece?¡±

    Laine leaned back in this chair. ¡°Well. Huh. Now that I think about it, that¡¯s kind of a funny question. The only person on Ars Iluve, at least that I know of, who has done that, is you.¡±

    Wellynd scoffed ¡°Yeah. Real funny.¡±

    Laine just stared and raised his eyebrows.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°How do you think your Dad died?¡±

    Wellynd frowned ¡°At sea, I know that. What does that have to do with me?¡±

    ¡°You were with him, Welly. You and your mom. I suppose I never really talked about it, now that I think about it, what with your mom leavin¡¯ right after I had figured we best be done with it.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡° We had been talkin¡¯ about finding a quicker  way across the Elaudri, using the currents, especially if the storms subsided early. You know, sometimes it happens. Well, one season, they did. At least, we thought they did. We were young...¡±

    Laine stood up and started mindlessly shifting papers around on his desk, ash from his cigar falling onto the large map sprawled across the table.

    ¡°We both decided to try different routes. You know, we both knew what we were doin¡¯. I took The Brinebreaker and Henry. Your dad had a good-sized sloop. Nice boat, stood out with these deep red sails. Anyway¡­uh¡­back then¡­ not everyone figured out what they were good at early, and bein¡¯ a little younger than me, well, your mom had a decent go at gustin¡¯ so far, so she volunteered. Brought you along.¡± Laine looked up at the ceiling and chuckled ¡°we were so sure the storms were done. I joked about how the family trip was gonna slow him down¡¯¡±

    Wellynd slumped down against the wall ¡°How did you make it back and not him?¡±

    Laine was already lighting a new cigar. He took a long drag while nodding. ¡°Well, Henry and I musta got to the desert quicker. We combed the coast a bit but didn¡¯t see any sign of your ship, so we figured your dad had beat us and head back, or had decided to turn around. By the time Henry and I got back, a fresh storm had been chasin¡¯ us somewhere off Vellen Kellek. When we found out ye hadn¡¯t come back we didn¡¯t know what to do. Just as we had mustered up the will to head back out and look for you, we saw those red sails bobbin¡¯ in the waves less than a quarter league offshore. Henry shot us out there and we towed the boat back. It was in bad shape. You and your mom were drenched. You wouldn¡¯t stop cryin¡¯. I can still hear it. I knew when I didn¡¯t see your Dad right away what had happened. Well, when we got you to shore, your Mom just handed you off to me and head back up to Briarberry Cottage¡­¡± Laine let the cigar droop from his mouth ¡°when I went there with you later¡­she was just gone.¡±

    As Laine told the story, brief scenes of a wrecked boat with red sails being towed into shore flashed in Wellynd¡¯s mind. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was remembering the day or creating them as Laine recounted the events. Somewhere inside, he felt anger. Not at Laine, or his father, or even his mother. But it felt distant. Or somehow muddled by all the other confusion and mystery that had been heaped upon his life recently.

    He didn¡¯t know what to say. He cleared his throat ¡°So. You don¡¯t know what actually happened to my Dad. And you have no idea where my Mom went?¡±

    Laine slumped in his chair and huffed, remnants of smoke missed by his last puff chasing its kin into the rotting wood that made up the ceiling.

    ¡°Nope. Only she knows both of those things. If she¡¯s still alive. Either way, don¡¯t know if it matters at this point. What matters is what¡¯s happening now. World¡¯s changing, as far as I can see. Bilge figures he got a Fulmin for us. Someone he met down at Monk¡¯s Landing. And despite the fact that I¡¯d love you to be part of the crew and come with us, I¡¯m guessin¡¯ you¡¯re not gonna be around here forever. Whatever you figured out up in the mountain, you¡¯re wearing it. Any sailor worth his salt knows when the winds have changed. I just need you to do this. Then I¡¯ll be able to help ya in whatever you¡¯re doin or wherever you¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think I don¡¯t want to be around here? Why wouldn¡¯t I want to be a part of the crew?¡±

    ¡°Have you ever?¡±

    That statement hurt a bit. Though, it probably reflected at least some sentiment bordering on truth.

    Several moments of silence passed. Laine sat patiently, smoking his cigar as he stared out the small, yellow-stained window.

    ¡°When do you need me to go?¡± Wellynd finally said.

    ¡°Anytime in the next few weeks. Vertans will probably be even more active once the storms start to recede. Best do it before then. Who knows when that¡¯ll happen anymore.¡±

    Wellynd scratched his chin. ¡°I¡¯ll go next week. I need to do something first. Also, if I¡¯m gonna do this, I need an extra piece of skald.¡±

    -

    Six days later, Wellynd awoke in the early hours of the morning.

    Today was the day. His final delivery. And hopefully, one of many meetings with Kellog.

    Peeking out the window, he stretched as the red sun spilled gently into his room.

    His eyes fell to the two skald that sat atop the windowsill.

    One for Selkis. One for Kellog.

    He¡¯d asked Laine for a few more, just in case he needed to access the silvery kose in a pinch, but since Wellynd was unable to divulge his reasoning, and they were almost out of stock, Laine had refused.

    Wellynd would have to be careful during his trip to Revenshore.

    Trying not to dwell on the dangers that lay ahead, he grabbed the skald, squeezing them in his hand before tucking both into his shirt pocket.

    He was going to see Kellog first, after all. Before heading into town, Wellynd made a humble breakfast of Laine¡¯s day-old bread fried in honey butter from Ursa. A favourite of his Uncle¡¯s.

    By the time he¡¯d reached the town square, the sun had risen and much of the morning mist had lifted from the busy town. Some folk were just beginning their days, opening up their shops, while some, like the few fishermen who had braved the morning storms and were now trudging up from the pier, looked like they were ready for bed.

    As Wellynd walked by Klof¡¯s house, he stopped when he spotted Ursa talking to a tall figure out front. At first, he thought it was Conrin, but when the man turned, Wellynd was surprised to see Kellog¡¯s wizened face.

    He smiled broadly ¡°Welly! Come here!¡±

    The man waved him over and Wellynd felt the slightest hesitation at the remark. Surely he hadn¡¯t told them about their research in the cave.

    ¡°Good morning, Welly. I was just talking with Kellog here about the Season O¡¯ Storms and how our sailors are some of the best on the island. But...you¡¯ve met before?¡± smiled Ursa.

    ¡°We met on the road!¡± Kellog exclaimed. ¡°He was kind enough to break bread with me and tell me a bit about the island.¡± He patted Wellynd on the back.

    ¡°Yeah. Good to see you again, Kellog. Hi Ursa.¡±

    ¡°Great, well, not much to see here, but we do have quite a knack for sailing. Anyway, I reckon you¡¯ve seen the worst of the storms lately, eh Welly?¡± she said, a knowing smile touching her face.

    ¡°Yeah...¡±

    The door to Klof¡¯s home swung open and Conrin emerged holding a rolled piece of paper.

    Walking over, he cleared his throat and handed the scroll to Kellog.

    ¡°Probably a little off, but it¡¯s the best we¡¯ve got. Water level¡¯s changed a bit since that was drawn up a few years back, so there might be a little more of the islands showing.¡± he said.

    Kellog unfurled it, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the drawing. Wellynd recognized the familiar map, but it looked strange seeing it so absent of Laine¡¯s pen marks.

    ¡°Wonderful. This is excellent. Much better rendering than what I¡¯ve seen from the folk at Devlyn¡¯s Burrow.¡± he smiled, nodding to Conrin in appreciation.

    ¡°Hah. Don¡¯t mention it; glad to have another connection for good Melyin lumber. Oh and thanks again Urse, I appreciate you having a look at Heidi. Hard to know with the little ones. She¡¯s especially difficult as she refuses to tell me until it gets bad like this. Stubborn girl that one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the same at our house. Neera was like that as a girl, and so is her brother now. Think Heidi will be up for picking wolfberries with me and Newt at some point over the next few days if we get a few hours respite from the storms?¡± she eyed the clouds looming deeper over the Elaudri.

    ¡°Yeah. Wouldn¡¯t doubt it. I¡¯ll ask her tomorrow. But I¡¯m running late. I¡¯ll catch you later. Thanks again.¡± said Conrin, turning away before pausing and reaching out his hand ¡°Good to meet you, Kellog. Take care.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up with Heidi?¡± asked Wellynd. He hadn¡¯t seen Klof¡¯s younger sister much in the past little while.

    ¡°She¡¯s fine. Just the flu gone a bit sour in her ears. She¡¯ll clear up. Anyway, that reminds me. Are you heading into town anytime soon? I could use some supplies.¡± said Ursa.

    ¡°Actually, yeah. I¡¯m heading to Mainland today. What do you need?¡±

    Kellog looked up from the map and cast Wellynd an inquisitive glance.

    ¡°Wonderful! I could use more linen. You think you could pass by the tailor¡¯s, pick up a roll or two for me? The thin sheets.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course.¡± responded Wellynd.

    ¡°Thank you, Welly. You¡¯re very kind. Let me get you some coins.¡± said Ursa as she jogged off up towards the hospice.

    Kellog cleared his throat. ¡°Ah! Are we going to Revenshore? There were a few things I was hoping we would do today, though, heading to the Mainland wasn¡¯t one of them.¡± Kellog poked his tongue into the side of his cheek.

    ¡°Yeah, about that. Sorry. I wanted to tell you before I left. My Uncle needs me to go to Revenshore. It¡¯s the last time I have to go, so I¡¯ll be free to help you with research after that.¡±

    Kellog tucked the map into his travel bag.

    ¡°Hmm. Where in Revenshore are you going? And how long do these trips usually take?¡±

    Wellynd glanced sidelong at Kellog.

    ¡°This one should be short. A day if I can time the ferries right.¡± Wellynd said, assessing the position of the sun. ¡°Yeah, I could probably make it in time to Reven¡¯s Crossing in time for the night ferry, that is if it¡¯s running tonight and if I leave soon. And I just need to deliver something to someone at the Observatory. Speaking of which, I have that¡­thing¡­that you need.¡±

    Kellog¡¯s eyebrows shot up ¡°Oh good. Hmm. Are you visiting that Selkis fellow you mentioned back at the cave? Any chance I could tag a long? It¡¯s probably best we avoid the cave for the next little while anyway.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    ¡°Well, after my visit to Devlyn¡¯s Burrow, I headed back to the cave to continue examining that large deposit we found. Someone had been there. My notes had been rifled through.¡±

    Wellyn frowned ¡°That¡¯s not good. Do you think they figured out what you¡¯re looking into?¡±

    Kellog shook his head ¡°No, no. I use a specific shorthand for most of my research. It would take some time to decipher. I am worried, however, that they might have seen the deposit, or the floating boulders for that matter, at least, if it was someone who didn¡¯t know they were there. That they didn¡¯t take anything might be the cause for concern. It means they probably intend on going back.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­troubling¡­¡± he started, just as Ursa rejoined their group.

    ¡°Here, Welly, and thanks again. What¡¯s troubling? Well, whatever it is, stay away from it! Anyway, one of Teva¡¯s boys just dropped in, so I¡¯ll catch you later.¡± she hurriedly said as she started to walk backwards ¡°Oh and good to meet you, Kellog. Stay safe in your travels. Welly, thin linens!¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Wellynd waved before turning back to Kellog ¡°You can come. I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯d have any difficulty getting into the Observatory. I figured I could visit my friends while I¡¯m there too, you could ask them questions about the cave if you want.¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± said Kellog, flicking his hand in a celebratory manner. ¡°We can do some more training on the walk as well.¡±

    At the mention of training, Wellynd beamed. ¡°Sounds good. Shall we go?¡±

    ¡°We shall¡±

 Chapter 34

    Kellog and Wellynd trudged along the Illuvian Highway. The road had taken a battering from the constant storms, leaving large swathes of muddy patches where the path dipped, and dried out sections that had been exposed to the high crosswinds. Despite this, they had been lucky with the weather. Infrequent drops of rain pattered against Wellynd¡¯s cloak, but the turbulent clouds kept their distance, looming out over the sea.

    Wellynd hadn¡¯t anticipated the road deteriorating so severely, and found himself worrying that they wouldn¡¯t reach Reven¡¯s Crossing in time for Leofer¡¯s final ferry.

    It was just as they crested a hill, west of the village of Tevid¡¯s Leap, that Wellynd nearly tripped as his foot sank into a deep patch of mud. Kellog, who seemed to be navigating the road with ease, stopped and took a swig from his waterskin as he watched Wellynd yank his leg free.

    After escaping the obstinate mud, Wellynd removed his boot and scraped the muck out from inside with a stick. He glanced sidelong at Kellog as he tossed the stick aside.

    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± he asked, fixing his boot back on his foot.

    ¡°Doing what?¡± Kellog smiled as he tucked his waterskin back into his bag.

    ¡°Not getting stuck...your boots don¡¯t even look wet.¡±

    In fact, now that he took a longer look, Kellog¡¯s boots appeared to have no mud on them at all.

    ¡°Ah¡± Kellog said, turning his foot to reveal dry treads. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to ask.¡±

    He stepped forward with one foot, planting it into the mud patch in front of where he stood. As his foot made contact with the ground, the mud around it briefly crumbled, drying immediately before Wellynd¡¯s eyes. Holding it there for a second, Kellog lifted his foot and moved it back to the naturally dry spot on the side of the road. The dirt sank back into mud and became a cohesive wet mass once more.

    ¡°See?¡± He took his other foot, lunging forward again as the same thing happened. The wet mud solidified into dirt, and disappeared back into wet mud as he took his foot away.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s convenient...you just let me get mud all over myself for the past hour? Why?¡± Wellynd curled his toes in his boots and felt a small amount of mud compact between them.

    Kellog put his hands behind his back and leaned forward ¡°It¡¯s part of being an observer, Welly. You won¡¯t get anywhere meaningful if you don¡¯t notice things. New shapes, variations on ones we already know, all of these developments have come from observing the world. The Observatories make discoveries every year in Shape Theory and engineer new ways to manipulate kose, but the core principle has always been the same. Be astute. Remember that. I think you already have a natural inclination towards observation, but you should never forget it. Pay attention to everything you can. Not just the natural world, but the people that inhabit it, too. You¡¯d be surprised at what you can learn from the seemingly most mundane goings of human life¡­And besides, I have to admit, it was kind of funny watching you get stuck in the mud.¡±

    Kellog grinned and playfully hopped back as Wellynd kicked mud at him.

    Wellynd scratched the side of his head. ¡°Okay. Well, what I¡¯m noticing is that you¡¯re turning mud into dirt, or something close to¡­stone? So, it can¡¯t be entirely different from what you taught me back at the cave.¡±

    ¡°Good. Believe it or not: It¡¯s almost the same shape. Hm. Come over here and reduce this stone into dirt.¡± he gestured to a stone jutting out from the hillside next to the road.

    Wellynd walked over and placed his hand on the stone. Taking a moment to pull the kose, he drew up the shape quickly and weaved it into the stone. The top section vanished, dematerializing into a fine dirt.

    ¡°Good. Now again. Faster.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Wellynd thought he was quite quick. Apparently, the last week of recommitting the shape to memory and practicing weaving in secret wasn¡¯t enough.

    He did it again, this time quicker, relying on his muscle memory to form the shape without actively thinking about every line. More of the stone vanished, its remnant dirt dancing away as the sea-winds whipped across the road on their way up the mountainside.

    ¡°Again.¡± Kellog chimed. Wellynd did it again. And again. When Wellynd protested that they were taking too long and that the delay might cause them to miss the ferry. Kellog simply replied with ¡°So what? Don¡¯t think about that. Focus. Again.¡±

    Fifty attempts later, most of which were successful, Kellog held up his hand. The large stone that had been jutting out of the side of the mountain was now halved in size, its smooth edge contrasting the angular cliff around it.

    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve gotten a consistent rhythm, I want you to do the same thing, but use less kose. Try to retain enough to keep the shape.¡±

    ¡°But when I weave it, it all goes away. Isn¡¯t that how it works?¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯ve been doing it that way, yes. Depending on the shape, the amount and intensity of kose affects several factors. But you don¡¯t have to expel all of it. Pull kose, build the shape, and weave it at a trickle.¡± Kellog wiggled his fingers ¡°Go ahead, try.¡±

    Wellynd pulled kose and quickly constructed the shape. He was ever-aware of the searing pain that quickly formed, and he sometimes felt it tugging at his concentration, but he knew he could compartmentalize it. Keep it at bay.

    He focused and began to weave into the stone, attempting to hold his mind¡¯s shape together as the world acquiesced to his will, greedily tugging at the seams of the construct he¡¯d formed.

    The shape fell apart as another layer of stone turned to fine dirt.

    Kellog said nothing. Wellynd tried again. It fell apart again.

    On his third try, something different happened. He felt the stone turn to dirt, but only where the tips of his middle three fingers made contact. His thumb and pinky still touched solid stone. Opening his eyes, he saw a small depression of dirt surrounded by stone. More importantly, the shape still hung there in the empty space of his mind, the distant pain a dull reminder of its presence.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯ve got it. Keep that shape. Begin pulling more kose. It should naturally bond to the shape you¡¯ve already made. Focus on weaving. You just did it thirty times. Keep that rhythm.¡±

    Wellynd pulled in more kose and to his surprise he felt it start to coalesce with the shape he already held. He focused on weaving it into the world, moving his hand to fresh stone with each pulse that flowed through him. He felt the cyclic nature of pull and push as he began to sweat.

    As he adjusted to the cycling, he was able to increase the pace of each pull and push, until eventually, the stone was falling away at a constant rate.

    There was, however, some variability in the efficacy of the weave. Sometimes the stone turned to fine dirt, and other times it fell off in larger sections. He continued for what felt like minutes, splitting his concentration between weaving the shape and controlling the flow of kose. Eventually, he got through the entire stone, and all that remained was a mound of stone chips and dust.

    He stepped back, stretching his arm and taking deep breaths. The pain lingered, and he realized that his mind still clung to the shape he¡¯d held. It took purposeful effort to expel it. Once he did, the radiating pain began to dissipate, and he felt a previously unrecognized tension release in his muscles.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been holding that shape in your mind the whole hike?¡± Wellynd asked between breaths.

    ¡°No no. Only when I have to step through muddy patches. Though, it wouldn¡¯t be difficult to keep it going the whole time. You took that up quite well. You¡¯re learning quickly.¡±

    Wellynd straightened his shoulders a bit. His practice had paid off.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°But you said it¡¯s a different shape, right? Can you show me?¡±

    ¡°Just slightly.¡± Kellog pointed to the dirt beside his feet.

    Wellynd ambled over to Kellog¡¯s side and looked down to see a perfectly etched shape that he had obviously weaved into the mud.

    At first glance, the shape appeared exactly the same as the one he had just weaved into the stone. To better compare, Wellynd again began to pull kose and form the shape in the hollow space in his mind, comparing each cross-section with the one on the ground.

    Then, he spotted it.

    A section near the right side that normally dipped into a downward-facing semicircle, was instead turned upward. Wellynd squinted, looking over the shape once more to confirm he didn¡¯t miss anything else.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s the only difference?¡± he asked, pointing to the upside-down segment.

    ¡°There¡¯s two, actually.¡± Kellog raised an eyebrow, gesturing to another section of the dirt.

    Wellynd examined the part of the shape Kellog was pointing at. It took him a second to notice that one line was broken.

    ¡°I thought that might have just been because of the mud. You keep that line broken on purpose?¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡± Kellog said, crouching down and waving his hand over the broken line. ¡°Normally, we use this shape permanently. Let¡¯s say you wanted to dry out a patch of land. Maybe you¡¯re building something. You¡¯d keep this line intact. But by breaking this line I have turned this into what we commonly call an open shape. Not every line connects to another one. Open shapes require much less kose than a closed shape, but their effect only persists while you weave it. Some shapes are naturally opened. Some are naturally closed. As a general rule, most naturally closed shapes can be opened, but very few naturally opened ones can be closed. Calling the wind, or ¡®Gusting¡¯ as you call it, is a good example of a weave that always uses an open shape; I imagine that shape Henry taught you has several breaks in it. There is no closed shape for blowing the wind, or at least not one that I¡¯ve ever heard of. ¡±

    Wellynd visualized Henry¡¯s shape, and sure enough there were several points where lines weren¡¯t connected.

    ¡°What happens when I try to close the Gust shape? Does it still work?¡±

    Kellog raised an eyebrow ¡°Well. Try.¡±

    Wellynd pulled in some kose and began to form Henry¡¯s shape. He¡¯d forgotten how complicated it was compared to the rock shape that Kellog had taught him, especially without the help of the artefact. With great difficulty, he formed the wind shape, and, through considerable effort, connected any open lines with any points that were closest to them.

    He tried to weave it. Usually, when he would weave something, there would be some sort of response. It didn¡¯t always accept the shape, but there would be resistance. With this shape, there was nothing. The kose was static. Wellynd released it and wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t work. It¡¯s like I was¡­being ignored or something.¡±

    Kellog readjusted the small pack on his shoulder and gestured to Wellynd to continue walking.

    ¡°Exactly. And the world, the wind, whatever it is, won¡¯t respond. You¡¯re offering a shape that your audience doesn¡¯t understand. Try speaking common tongue to a local on the moorlands of northern Melyar. You¡¯ll get a similar response. Or better yet, try chatting with a tree! Ask it to shed its leaves in summer. Your words will fall on no ears. Without the proper shape, you can¡¯t communicate your will to it, though, you might demand it with axe or flame.¡±

    Wellynd, who had started following after Kellog, stopped and frowned ¡°Wait. But I did use that shape to make the wind blow for several minutes, if I remember correctly. At Recluse¡¯s Cove. I wasn¡¯t weaving the whole time.¡±

    Kellog stopped too and turned back to Wellynd. ¡°Yes. I remember you telling me that. It¡¯s like the boulders in the cave. You¡¯re somehow breaking the rules with that artefact and that kose that is locked away in the velunstun. I don¡¯t really have an explanation for that. All I can say is that you should still learn all the rules because you¡¯re still mostly bound by them, and until we figure out what¡¯s going on, you ought to pay extra attention to how you are subverting them.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± replied Wellynd, watching on as Kellog practically skipped across another puddle, dirt hardening beneath his feet with each step. He frowned. How was he supposed to weave kose with his feet? He was about to call after Kellog and ask when he stopped himself. This would be the perfect opportunity to prove to Kellog, and himself, that he could figure things out on his own.

    The solution to his problem came quite quickly. He¡¯d been toying with weaving the shape when he remembered Neera¡¯s comments back in the cave. She had said that you could focus the kose to a specific point in his body.

    Wellynd figured the same rule might apply to actually weaving it. He decided to test his theory out on a small puddle.

    Slowly, at first, he practiced the motion that Kellog had shown him, moving his foot back and forth onto the patch of mud as he delicately pulled continuous kose into the shape.

    The first few tries, nothing happened. Directing the kose into his foot felt sluggish, and he couldn¡¯t quite time it properly.

    Eventually, however, he got the hang of it.

    He would pull the required kose, ready his mind, and a step before crossing, he would weave the shape into the mud. Then, he¡¯d simply walk across.

    No wet feet.

    The difficulty, and several soaked boots, came when the muddy stretches extended for multiple steps.

    During these sections, he either became stranded on a newly hardened patch of dirt, unable to maintain the current weave while preparing his next step in time, or he¡¯d resolve not to hesitate stepping forward into the patch only to weave the mud into dirt around his foot.

    Wellynd became so frustrated with his failed timing that he decided to temporarily abandon his practice, instead choosing to walk around the larger mud patches, sometimes detouring so far that he had to jog to catch back up to Kellog.

    He continued with this cycle for the next few hours, until they drew close to the descent to Reven¡¯s Crossing. Wellynd, who had just successfully taken three steps in the mud while weaving the shape, noticed that his travelling companion had stopped up ahead.

    Kellog stood on the crest of a hill, looking off into the distant grey clouds moving across the horizon.

    ¡°Storm?¡± Wellynd called out between breaths as he trudged up the steep incline.

    Kellog turned. ¡°No. Not yet at least.¡± His weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

    As Wellynd crested the hill, the western strait between the island and Arta proper came into view. The waters churned, and whitecaps dotted the surface, but it wasn¡¯t the impending weather that had caught Kellog¡¯s attention.

    Four large ships carved their way across the water, their massive dark hulls stark against the white waves. Their black and bronze sails were completely unfurled, drawn tight against the wind, cutting a fast clip southward down the strait.

    Wellynd stopped and stood beside Kellog ¡°Vertan ships? I always see them from this part of the road. Do you think they¡¯re up to something?¡±

    Kellog followed the small fleet with his eyes for a few more seconds before turning back to Wellynd and flashing a weathered smile ¡°Who knows? There might just be bigger patrols about because of the attack. We ought to get moving.¡±

    The Northern point of the island must have been hit hard by a storm recently, as the descent down to Reven¡¯s Crossing was a precarious one. By the time they reached the Inn, even Kellog had mud caked to the bottom of his cloak. Though, Wellynd noticed, his shoes were still perfectly dry.

    The sun had begun to set, the fading light casting the Goldenshore Inn in soft shadows that spilled onto the cobblestone path out front.

    A customer stumbled forth from the doors, his shoulder brushing the unlit lantern and setting it swinging loosely back and forth. As the door closed, Wellynd caught a fleeting glimpse of flowing brown curls.

    ¡°Inn stays busy all year, does it?¡± asked Kellog, shielding the low hanging sun from his eyes.

    ¡°Yep. It¡¯s a hard season for a lot of folk up here.¡±

    A moment later, the door cracked open and the Inn¡¯s light spilled forth, illuminating a familiar silhouette. Alara stilled the swinging lantern and opened its brass housing. She struck a match and lit the oil wick, adjusting the dial until the dancing flame cast a gentle glow across her face.

    Shaking out the match, she turned and watched the drunk man stumble up the path momentarily before her eyes fell upon Wellynd and Kellog.

    ¡°Wellynd?¡± she called, squinting her eyes and taking a step forward. ¡°Hey!¡± she walked a few more steps before quickening to a jog.

    ¡°Hey Alara¡± Wellynd said, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

    ¡°What are you doing here? Trip to the mainland?¡± She turned and tucked a curly lock of hair behind her ear, seemingly only now noticing Kellog. ¡°Oh. Hello.¡± Alara looked sidelong at Wellynd.

    Kellog stretched out his hand. ¡°Kellog. Lovely Inn you have here.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. It¡¯s my parents. They¡¯re...¡± she briefly eyed the Inn. ¡°Well there¡¯s ups and downs, certainly. I¡¯m actually headed to Revenshore tonight because of some...developments.¡±

    ¡°Developments?¡± Wellynd asked.

    ¡°No, no. Well, sorta. I guess.¡± Alara replied, fidgeting with the end ties of her apron. ¡°Dad¡¯s worked up over the increased Vertan presence at the docks. Said on his way home this morning he heard word of stricter security and levies in the coming days. Wants to stock up while we can.¡±

    Wellynd turned to Kellog ¡°Maybe the ships we saw earlier were in anticipation of that?¡±

    The man grimaced. ¡°Could be.¡±

    The door to the Inn opened and spilled light into the courtyard. ¡°Lara! Don¡¯t have all night!¡± called Leofer.

    She turned back to reply, but the door had already begun to swing closed. Alara¡¯s eyes darted between Kellog and Wellynd. ¡°Well, whatever is going on, this is your last chance to get over there tonight. Who knows when the next storm will hit. It¡¯ll be fun.¡± Her eyes settled on Kellog ¡°And you can explain who you are.¡±

    Kellog chuckled ¡°Whatever you say. Always up for an interrogation.¡±