Season I | Episode V | Chapter I

229 days until Affliction Day

Soon, the dust settles between all of them. Grandma starts to laugh more around Rycrofth. Rycrofth himself loosens up. Where he was rigid and seemingly uncomfortable around them, now he’s more malleable. Tarrick likes to think he went from rock to clay. He doesn’t want Prothea to know that, though. She’ll laugh at him. And tell him how this is a silly analogy for someone who controls the solid phases of matter. Tarrick doesn’t mind. Some thoughts deserve to be private.

In any case, they travel in the Wide Canyons for a few more weeks. They’ve showed Rycrofth their stash of red crystals the day after the cave in and he’s been studying them ever since. Enthusiastic beyond words. Rycrofth looks younger whenever he looks at them. Tarrick can see hints of Rycrofth’s younger self in his eyes. That seems to do him good. For every day, Rycrofth manages to lift them all up over the canyons, and it seems easier each day. Then he needs time to recharge. They walk some more, sit around from dinner ‘till night, let Rycrofth study the red crystals, morph them around with his powers, and are on their way early the next morning. Routines never bothered Tarrick. But he dislikes walking. A lot. Every few days he has to sit down with the Lennox in his paws. How he misses the smell of books, the feel of the carpet under his feet, the helm’s wooden texture gripped by his paws…

Soon. They’ll be out of those canyons soon.

It takes them a while, but Tarrick’s not wrong. The first sign they will be soon out of the Wide Canyons arrives when they reach the village of Yeagsant a few weeks after meeting Rycrofth. The sun is already setting over the horizon, turning everything to rich oranges and pinks, painting the canyon walls in shadows. Rycrofth gently lifts them up above the canyon wall and… there. Yeagsant stands in all its glory.

The village is built like a spidamander web. No. Not like that. It isn’t built in the shape of a spidamander web. It is built exactly like a spidamander web. Yeagsant is a convoluted mess of colourful houses and wooden pathways built on high wires, clinging to the stone archway Tarrick had seen while standing upon Mama Mountain Scorlion’s head. The wires are attached to the houses by thick iron balls sticking out of the houses’ roofs and outer walls and foundations. Yeagsant is a patchwork that gathers in a circle around the mayor’s house on Middle Rows Street, Grandma tells Tarrick. Everything is suspended in the air. Meaning whispers on the wind. Goosebumps bloom on Tarrick’s arms. This whole place is filled with Meaning.

“Tarrick?”

He turns to Prothea. She’s glided a few paces ahead and stands with Grandma and Rycrofth. Prothea smiles gently at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Oh! Right. We’re going… there?”

“Indeed, we are.” Rycrofth puts his fists on his hips, looking at Yeagsant. “The only way forward is up.”

Rycrofth lands them at the feet of the great archway. A strange assembly of ropes, pulleys and wooden platforms await them. But there’s no one here. They stand underneath a strange rock formation sticking out of the great plateau. It’s shaped like an upside down ‘L’ and has been attached to a little bell on a piece of twine. Grandma steps over to the bell. She lifts her cane and swings. It lands gently against the silver. Ding!

A whistle shrieks. Tarrick covers his ears. Water falls from an overturned bucket overhead. It falls into a complex series of little platforms bringing down the water into a water mill. It turns and turns and turns. Machines groan. A door opens and closes, opens and closes, in Yeagsant’s lowest house, suspended a few feet above the ground. A trap door opens underneath the house’s foundation and a rickety old wooden elevator is lowered. It hits the ground with a faint thud. The elevator door slides open. Inside, a bored-looking Davrian looks at them over his notepad and round-rimmed glasses.

“We’re full,” he says in a monotone voice.

“I’m sorry?” asks Grandma.

“We’re full. As you may see, the village of Yeagsant is particular about the number of its citizens. Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine houses stand on this… I can’t believe they make me say that… ‘amalgation of wires and wonder.’ Only one more citizen is allowed in a house in this place. I believe you are… one, two, three… yes, three people too many. I’m sorry, but that is law. Have a good day.”

The Davrian raises a paw towards a lever sticking out of the elevator.

“Wait!”

The Davrian’s paw freezes an inch above the lever. “Yes?”

“Um…” Tarrick takes a deep breath. He squints at the name tag on the Davrian’s shirt. “I’m sorry… ah… Arokas? We don’t want to be citizens. We’re simply travellers. We only want to spend some time here. A temporary amount of time. Would you… have an inn, by any chance?”

The Davrian’s entire face brightens. “Oh, really! Travellers! You should have said so earlier!”

“Wasn’t it obvious, though?” points out Prothea.

Arokas looks at Tarrick’s shoulder. “A talking cat-owl, huh? Fascinating. Look at how cute you are, kitty-kitty!”

“You want a piece of me, spectacles?”

Arokas looks like he’s swallowed a lemon whole.

“Prothea, shh!” says Tarrick. “That’s not nice!”

“I think it’s hilarious,” cuts in Grandma, half-chuckling.

“I’m with Grandma on this one.”

Tarrick shoots glares at both Rycrofth and Grandma. They shut up. Good.

Arokas rubs his paws together. “So. Travellers, huh? Around these parts, the best place to stay at is Zelenyphe’s tavern. It’s not the cheapest place to stay in, though. That doesn’t matter. Oh! And for a small fee, I can be your personal guide around the village. What do you say?”

Tarrick rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Ah, all right.” Arokas shrugs. “Hop in.”

The ride up to Zelenyphe’s tavern is a blessing and a curse. At first, the view of the sun setting beyond the canyons and the houses dangling in the air is nothing short of coming out of a dream. But then Tarrick wakes up. Soon after the elevator stops inside the lowest house, which also happens to be the post office, Arokas guides them up. And up. And up. Turns out, Zelenyphe’s tavern is located at the very top of the spidamander web. At the veeeeeery top of the archway. And all those pathways Tarrick had glimpsed from the ground? Are actually stairs. A lot. And a lot. Of stairs.

Tarrick almost drops dead when he reaches Zelenyphe’s tavern’s threshold.

“I… never… want… to… climb… stairs… ever… again.”

“Chin up, Tarrick!” says Grandma, oh so enthusiastic no matter the fact she’s groaned about her aching hip not even five minutes ago. “We’re there!”

“Wonderful. Let me just… smell this delightful door mat for the next ten minutes, okay?”

“Is… everything all right?” Tarrick hears Arokas tentatively ask.

Tarrick lifts a thumb up. He hears paws clap.

“Wonderful! Call me if you need me next morning for your tour of the city. And bring your best walking shoes! That tour isn’t for the faint of hearts!”

“And this wasn’t for the faint of hearts?” asks Prothea.

“You don’t get a say,” cuts in Tarrick. “You fly. I don’t. We are not the same.”

“Come on, Tarrick, get up.” Arms gather Tarrick and pull him up. Rycrofth smiles down at him. “We can’t get inside if you’re blocking the door, son.”

“Okay. Just let me die in a bed, won’t you?”

Tarrick barely listens when Zelenyphe - the kind tavern owner - swoops in from the dining area and shows them the way to their bedrooms. While playing with her greying fur, she chats happily away at how there have been more travellers in Yeagsant recently and how it’s good for business. And how it’s good that the younger generation isn’t as afraid of the Afflictions as hers was. Soon, they’re in front of two doors opposite each other at the end of the hallway. The key clicks inside the lock. It’s a small space, with two small beds and a cot. A small window opens up to the magnificent view of Yeagsant as it lights up for the night. Prothea jumps on the cot and immediately falls asleep. Lucky her.

Tarrick still has to do some boring stuff. Like stand in the doorway with Grandma and Rycrofth. Even as Zelenyphe excuses herself and disappears at the turn of the corridor. At least Tarrick can keep his mouth shut. He only has to listen and watch.

“Thank you, Rycrofth,” says Grandma.

“I guess this is the time we say goodbye.” That feels final, coming out of Rycrofth’s mouth, and Tarrick has a feeling Rycrofth isn’t only saying goodbye for the night, but in preparation for when they’ll have to separate for good. “It’s strange,” he contiues. “I never thought I’d feel so comfortable travelling with actual people. I’m more of a lonesome Davrian, after all.”

“The Academist life is lonely?”

“Yeah… it’ll be once you have to leave. Anyway. ‘Till tomorrow.”

“‘Till tomorrow.”

Tarrick can barely stand on his own two feet until he collapses on his bed.