“You promised to stay.”

Archil scowled, feeling bad for breaking his promise. “I know mother but-”

“Oh don’t give me any butts,” Esha dismissed her eldest, raising the ground to stand on the pedestal so she could pinch the nose of Archil. “You know I have to leave for Kutha, and you promised me to stay here. What are we supposed to do now?”

Being the person this was all about, Kiur quietly shut off the whole conversation and focused on fixing Archil’s outfit.

More and more ships had arrived at the mountain port of Nippur. Transport vessels with the order to investigate strange activities in the northwest.

It was nothing unusual that they needed help and people like Archil could choose to reject it but not this time. Apparently, it was too urgent to refuse, and they needed all tracking and scout specialists on-site.

Kiur’s hands began to tremble on the prospect of his brother leaving.

“A bit too tight.”

“Ah, sorry,” Kiur apologised since he drifted away in thought not realising how he wasn’t paying attention.

“Mother, Kiur is old enough and he should be alright to be left on his own for a while.”

“For a while… We are speaking of at least two months. You know we can’t leave him for this long, it’s still too soon.”

“It has been over two years; he’s doing fine so far. Even the priests say he is adjusting well,” Archil then turned to face his brother who was just done with tying up the shawl around Archil’s torso. “Kiur, since it’s up to you, what do you say? We know you are still recovering physically and… mentally but do you think you can handle two months on your own?”

Silently Kiur’s gaze remained on the ground, unable to answer the question. He thought about it while finishing Archil’s outfit but couldn’t come to a conclusion.

So he turned around and picked up Archil’s weapons. Two sickle swords, one on each side of the hip and an akinakai short sword behind him. Kiur repeated the names in trance as he put them on Archil.

“Kiur, please,” now his mother walked up to him, taking his hands in hers. Esha was around 80 and looked like a middle aged but small and frail woman. Dwarves aged slower but the greying strands on her otherwise brown hair showed how much she was worrying over the years. “We need to know you will be alright when we are gone.”

Kiur wasn’t physically or mentally ill, not as much anymore but some years ago Kiur had a mental breakdown.

It wasn’t pretty, no one could recognize him anymore. An accident which scarred him and needed a lot of time and care to get back on his feet.

Work, reading and sometimes visiting the temple made it bearable. He needed something, anything to keep the cries and screams out of his head. A routine to follow every day.

Squeezing the hand of his mother Kiur mastered up a meek smile. “Two months will be nothing. I can ask the priests to keep me occupied with work. It will be alright, I promise.”

By the exchange of looks they were not fully convinced and Kiur couldn’t blame them. After all, he couldn’t convince himself either, but it was enough to put some of their worries at ease.

“I will be off then,” said Archil as they silently walked him to the port. He was halfway over the bridge of the ship but stopped to walk back.

“Did you forget something?” asked Kiur with an attempt of a grin. He was surprised when his brother suddenly hugged him.

“See you later little brother,” their foreheads touched and Archil ruffled Kiur’s golden hair. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright.” Said Archil one last time before he went off with the ship for who knows how long.

—☼—

“Help me with this part Kiur, I can’t decipher their writing.” Asked Esha when they were back at home and working.

Placing down his own work Kiur came over with a metallic cage that was holding a candle in. “This looks like Tabira’s cuneiform,” answered Kiur, wandering over the various characters.

Esha inspected the tablet closer, taking the caged candle into her hand for a better look. Her weary eyes squinting in the attempt of deciphering.

“Daughter of a metalworker, this girl has terrible handwriting. She should have studied smithery like her parents and not work in the temple.”

“She’s trying, mother. Imagine how hard it must be to write when you are missing a finger and develop a cramp when working for hours on end.”

“Right,” Esha realised her mistake, recalling the circumstances. “Now I feel bad, we should get her something. Isn’t she about your age? You should get her something.”

“Mother, she’s expecting, did you forget?” Kiur laughed off the subject like he did years ago whenever they joked around when a young girl proposed for his hand in marriage.

Esha’s face was contorting in laughter and then in disbelief. “You were serious? Time flies by so fast. Who did she marry or is she carrying for a family?”

“A family, remember the baker family?”

“Ah, Agarin and Gitlam. A great couple, they already have two wonderful kids. Especially Ninda, she was such a shy little girl when I found her in Kutha.”

Kutha, it’s a deserted city in the southern ranges of their country and close to their sister country Navarre. It’s the one place which is viewed as a problem city.

Once a flourishing culture centre for all citizens but now it lies in ruins and flooded with refugees. Characteristically being dubbed as the City of the Dead.

Every now and then people from the west are frequently finding their way to Kutha by following an impossible trail through the mountains and desert. They end up unable to go any further and remain there.

Both countries regularly check on the place and support the locals as much as they can.

No one knows why they are fleeing really or from where exactly. Some say it’s from drought, the wildlife or escaping the Reiszer Nation.

They knew that the Reiszer were an authoritarian state in the far west that enslaves people but the fact that the escaping individuals are native to Idaris and Navarre it couldn’t be the only case. It’s impossible to tell what the real reason is. It’s as if no one knew the answer, not even those who were escaping.

Most of them who survive are children. Young children like Kiur who -according to Esha- was born in Kutha too.

“I hope it’s not as bad as last time,” worried Esha. “Can’t believe Archil had to go right before my trip. I can’t possibly cancel it.”

Esha was still not convinced of going and leaving Kiur without someone to watch him despite how important the trip personally was for her. She went there at least once a year to check on the city and on bad years she went there frequently.

Delaying it by a month or two meant she would need to travel there during the summer solstice.

“Mother, I thought we talked about this. I will be alright while both of you are gone.”

Concern coloured her face, hands holding the stone tablet tightly against her chest. “I don’t know, I am worried. Being a parent is worrying about their children, no matter the age.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t burn down the house,” assured Kiur, trying to lighten the mood. “At least not again.”

“Funny,” she definitely didn’t find it funny. “Tell me, how old is that shawl of yours?”

Inspecting the tears, strains and faded green colour Kiur concluded “Around six years, give or take.” He loved wearing shawls, especially the ones his mother picked out for him at the market.

He didn’t know why he asked but when it was the day when Esha had to go for her trip to Kutha, Kiur saw her holding a new shawl in her hands. One as blue as lapis lazuli and as smooth as silk with a golden lion brooch on top of it.

“I didn’t plan to give it out so soon. It was meant for a special occasion, but I want you to have it now, so you know your mother is thinking about you.”

“I know you do but I don’t need any present.”

Kneeling down Kiur let his mother take his old shawl and wrapped the new one around his white robe with the beige fringes. The golden brooch was then pinned on the shoulder end of his robe and shawl, fitting right in with the other accessories he wore like bracelets, earrings and a necklace.

It always amazed Kiur how everyone liked to put on jewellery, but he didn’t complain. He loved it too.

“That’s my pretty son,” Esha hugged Kiur and kissed him on his cheek. “No burning down the house,” now she thought the joke was funny with her chortle. “I know you will be alright but please be safe.”

This was it, now his mother was leaving and Kiur was left alone at home for the first time since he was 16.

“This won’t be so bad, it will be alright… it will be alright.” Repeated Kiur with uncertainty as the facade of their house loomed over him. “It will be alright.”

—☽—

The first week went by uneventfully. Performing assignments at the temple, visiting the market for groceries and talking to familiar faces who all seemed worried but somehow proud of Kiur’s progress.

“Finally, the troubled boy was getting his act together,” was what everyone was thinking. They were all rooting for him and a few of them even came bearing gifts as a sign of support.

Everything was going well.

With the second week Kiur’s daily life became monotonous with nothing to do.

Nothing Kiur couldn’t handle.

In the third week Kiur visited under the temple’s instructions the grape fields they grew on the mountain hills. Then his next trip involved checking out the lower city area which was located underneath a fissure.

It was the best shaded part of the entire city state and the best place to escape the sun and relax under the cool air. Unlike the part with the raging river further below that loomed at Kiur like an abyss he stared into.

That’s when it started. The dark thoughts resurfaced.

“Why is it always like this? I don’t want to be the person I am right now,” Kiur walked away from the abyss, its shadows encroaching on him but unable to catch him. “I need to get home.”

Playing dame on his mother’s favourite cedar table Kiur distracted his perturbed mind. It was a particular hot day today and he couldn’t rest nor sleep. His mind was in shambles and sweat rolled down his cheeks.

Check. Check.

The clacking of pieces didn’t help in distracting his mind. It made it worse, scattering it further.

“Say something!” Kiur yelled at his opponent. A blurry figure which took the form of pitch-black ocean water. Dark and incomprehensible.

It was a woman, on a good day she would stay in a corner, silently judging him but on a bad day?

On a bad day she would be crying and disturbing Kiur’s consciousness. Her long hair was flowing down her shoulders and covering her face with her hands as she was sobbing.

She was constantly crying and despairing and it drove Kiur mad as he couldn’t get her out of his head. He knew her name, he knew about her identity. He knew who she was.

“Get out of my head!” Kiur finally snapped, his magic flared uncontrollably. The force cracked the table and the wall behind her, pushing the woman down right where she was sitting.

Panicking about his outburst, Kiur rushed up to her, holding her shoulder. “I am sorry, but I don’t know how to help you… how to help me.”

Her sobbing was growing worse and Kiur started to cry as well. He felt heartbroken and unable to tell what to feel.

“I am sorry for what you are going through, I don’t know what to do to make you feel better. I just don’t know,” for the first time Kiur saw the woman turn her head at him. Suddenly she wrapped her arms around him and started crying inaudibly as if she were underwater.

It was terrible, making him hopeless.

Character Profiles

Name: Esha Artor

Age: 80 ; Height: 124 cm ; Gender: Female ; Race: Dwarf

Magic: Earth

Esha Artor is the foster mother of Kiur and Archil Artor. She works as a scribe and travels around a lot for work and supporting refugees in Kutha. Overworked by the amount of work that floods her.

Likes: wood craftsmanship, her sons, myths about their culture

Name: Archil Artor

Age: 28 ; Height: 192cm ; Gender: Male ; Race Therianthrope

Magic: Wind

Archil Artor is the older brother of Kiur. He was adopted by Esha at the age of 11 when he and his family fled the south by ship. He currently works as a scout for Idaris and supports his brother a lot. Refuses to get married after a messy breakup.

Likes: running, fresh bread, his foster mother, going on a voyage