Satern, Sir of Febla: 33 Xiven

Kayin didn’t quite expect to sleep well tonight, but he did expect to sleep at all. But beneath the floorboards, the other stories of this building, people rustled around, snored, chatted in a language he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It felt like the entire city all slept in this building—which, really they could have. Kayin didn’t know. Right as the moons disappeared behind the light of the morning, the small town grew to life even more, with the sound originating from outside this time.

It just wasn’t very quiet here, Kayin resigned himself to admitting as he rose and rolled up the beds. Dhekk and Karsarath didn’t look rested, either, but none of them spoke as they prepared to head down the stairs and start the day.

“So, um,” Kayin started as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulders, “do you know who to talk to? I thought the guy that greeted us was the leader, but….” He trailed off and shrugged with nothing helpful to add.

“I was hoping to glean that information last night as well,” said Dhekk through a sigh. “But I guess we just need to ask. Might be a democracy. Might have to ask everyone.” That sounded inefficient, Kayin thought, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you think that girl last night…do you think that’s what everyone will be like? Do you think they’ll know that I’m using a fake name?” Kayin hesitated at the top of the stairs, waiting for his companions to descend first.

“I don’t think that’s what was going on,” Dhekk said with a laugh. He hesitated behind Karsarath. “You think the child bullying you could read your—”

Kayin interrupted him with a loud, moody sigh: “Never mind. Come on.”

Maracosh caught them as they descended the stairs, preventing Dhekk from taunting him any further.

“Hello!” their host said in passing with a wide grin. The trio bade him an awkward “Good morning” before all of them made their way outside into the crisp morning air.

As Kayin expected, it didn’t get very cold last night. No hint of frost, no dead flowers; everything looked just as it did last night, with more light. The Sow Season must have worked faster the more inland they were. Or maybe someone here created warm weather.

“Is there a Cigam that deals with weather?” Kayin asked absently.

“Pressure differential,” Karsarath answered in passing. “My sister could do it in small areas.”

“Is weather just…pressure?” Now that he thought of it, Kayin hadn’t really considered the weather, what caused rain or sunshine. Aunt Aayin used to just use it as a storytelling tool, to tell him a sad part was coming or a battle was beginning.

“Wind is just pressure, I think.” Karsarath shrugged. “Wind carries weather.” People used to say Ichaemi was the wind, and Kayin thought it was just another name. Now that Karsarath mentioned people could manipulate it, it sounded a little more probable that something out there shared its power with others.

“Ichaemi?”

“Hardly that strong,” Karsarath said with a laugh. “But I guess.”

In the light of Rinesa stood about a dozen or so people in the middle of the only road in this fortress of trees. The man that greeted them last night now wore black pants instead of a robe, as did Oie. Others wore robes and dresses, now, too.

“I’m really confused,” Kayin admitted when they all descended the stairs. Maracosh pushed by them to join the growing crowd, all of whom gathered in a circle of sorts to start their morning business. “I can’t tell who’s important and who isn’t. I thought that only important people wore robes and dresses.”

Karsarath nodded. “Maybe it depends on what their duties for the day are,” he supposed aloud. That made more sense, but only barely. The trio kept their distance from their town meeting. Kayin only caught a few things that were said by the louder members of Dorr: roof leaks needing to be fixed, the outhouse to be emptied, the water retainer to be collected, a trading cart to be taken to Tornah to exchange goods—the least favored of the assignable tasks, one that no one volunteered for. No one spoke more than another; everyone took designated turns, stating their business and solution propositions. After someone randomly called a number, an unhappy citizen with a large growth on their neck accepted the responsibility of taking the cart to Tornah. The others seemed sympathetic, and merely offered a scarf to cover their lump. Kayin found himself touching the scars on his cheek. Should he consider finding a way to hide them, if Tornah was that judgmental?

But after about twenty minutes of various organizational conversations, all the citizens gathered in the road parted ways and began their morning.

“Dhekk,” Kayin said awkwardly, “I don’t think these people are in the position to do anything with…well, you know. There’s barely any of them.”

“Were you?” was Dhekk’s candid reply. Kayin stared at him, how Dhekk’s bright eyes watched every citizen of Dorr move from one place to the next.

“What do you mean?”

“Were you in a position to do anything before? Are you?” To show he vaguely understood Dhekk’s point, Kayin shrugged.

Dhekk waved toward the dispersing meeting in an attempt to draw attention. “Mar…what was his name…. Maracosh!” At the sound of his name, the stringy-haired man turned to look at them.

“Leaving?” the man supposed as he approached them.

“Soon,” said Dhekk in response. Maracosh’s eyes drifted over the three of them, squinting slightly. Suspicious. “We wanted to know, who is the leader of Dorr?”

“For which purpose?” Maracosh answered quickly; when he did, Kayin’s eyes caught sight of some sort of shadow moving under the stairs.

A beast of sorts, around the size of a small child, on all fours, covered in thin, patchy fur. The front claws were joined with a thin, leathery web-like skin that stretched all the way to its hindquarters, though the wingspan certainly wasn’t large enough to support flight.

Kayin jumped back at the sight of it; the beady eyes noticed, staring at him. It was difficult to see many defining features, with the way it shifted and remained in the shadow of the steps.

“Ah, Zin,” sounded Maracosh, ignoring Dhekk’s answer. “Zin’s the newest of the pack. Still a baby.” The man approached the creature, bending down to join it in the shadow of the house. “See? Smallest. Can hardly burrow.” Dhekk’s shoulders remained stiff, facing the opposite direction that Maracosh now bent over; clearly peeved at being so easily dismissed.

“A…vemp?” Kayin guessed nervously. Karsarath wasn’t subtle with the way he stepped further into the light, away from the creature.

“Yes. There are more vemps here than people!” Maracosh answered with a chuckle.

“I’ve never seen a vemp before.” And even then, with the beast lingering in the shadows, afraid to come out even to approach Maracosh, Kayin hardly counted this as “seeing” a vemp.

“They only live in Dorr. They will only be around me.” Although he didn’t ask another question, Maracosh continued, looking up to Kayin from his crouched position. “Some people can use their Cigam at will; some, like me, cannot control it. And so, every vemp in the vicinity comes to me.”

“So you’re…you’re compelling them?” Kayin asked with a furrowed brow. Did the creatures know, like how he did when Merna and her father compelled him? Did they want to leave, or was it a subtle background effect they couldn’t understand?

“You know,” Dhekk started as he turned around, “I didn’t even notice, but yes—I haven’t actually seen a vemp in about ten years. I thought they were being over-hunted for their skin.” Zin recoiled at Dhekk’s words, hissing and revealing two rows of tiny, pointy teeth. “Is that when you came here?”

Maracosh abandoned the attempt to try and get Zin’s full attention, and stood up. “No, that’s just when it started happening. I’ve been here my whole life.”

This got Karsarath’s attention. He cocked his head to the side and asked, “You—you didn’t know you had Cigam before?”

“I knew I could influence certain animals sometimes, but never when or why.” Maracosh shrugged. “And eventually, it became background for me. Automatic.” Fascinating. Terrifying, but fascinating.

Kayin stared at Zin for a full moment, watched how it crouched closer to the ground to try and sink into the shadows. He’d never considered wings to be used for anything other than flight, but it made sense that they would be good for burrowing, moving dirt. Or maybe it could glide, too, if it accidentally burrowed through a cliff.

“So,” Dhekk said while clearing his throat. “Your leader in political affairs? Or foreign affairs, I suppose?” Maracosh obviously fought displaying a scowl. At his shift to annoyance, Zin rose back up from the ground.

“I suppose that would be me,” said Maracosh cautiously. “We are not interested in affairs of foreigners. We maintain our distance from others so that they maintain distance from us.”

“But,” Kayin said awkwardly, “you don’t want to, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Be alone?”

Maracosh scoffed. “We aren’t alone.”

“I mean if you wanted to—like to trade with Tornah, like I heard earlier you talking about, wouldn’t you like to do that with more…security? Without having to hide?”

This, for some reason, made Maracosh stand straighter, place his hands on his hips. He couldn’t even hide his displeasure, his eyebrows twitching to return to his grimace.

“We are not interested in your politics,” he said harshly.

“What my companion means to say,” Dhekk interrupted with grit teeth, “is that if any individual person here is interested—”

“We are not!”

“—there is a group of people hoping to create a more accepting future, without the emperor.” That seemed to get their audience’s attention. The vemp at his side, though, adjusted itself, using its person’s leg as a barrier between the two. Although hiding was certainly a movement based in fear, the thin hairs on the creature’s back extended; its neck fur ruffled, as if making a sound Kayin couldn’t hear. Faintly, through the floor, Kayin felt a slight rumble, like a localized, miniature quake. Whatever sound the vemp made must have been loud.

Maracosh sneered. “Without the emperor?” he repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes.”

“And what, you want to use your skills for your gain? Is that it?”

“Not unless someone wants to.”

Just as in Urbana, Maracosh shook his head at the proposal.

“Is this a test? Are you going to send your loyalist goons after our city? We have been independent for hundreds of years, we mean no harm to—”

“This is just informational,” Dhekk said with a hand waved to try and calm Maracosh—or perhaps Zin, who now edged closer to the light. Sensitive to light, sure. But now that its front claw was fully illuminated by Rinesa’s rays, it seemed to know that the light didn’t hurt. Watching it, Dhekk continued, “Change is coming, and there’s more than one side, now.”

“I—I think you should leave.” Zin hissed again.

“We are.”

“Now,” spat Maracosh.

Dhekk raised his both of his palms, now, even stepped back. “We’re going. Just know that there is a movement to rid of Emperor Xiven. It’s coming.” Maracosh glared. “We just hope that you would not help him if it came to it.” This must have been too much of a push, because now Zin stepped into the light completely, unhinging its jaw to an impossible size. A third row of teeth sprang out from under its tongue while it hissed.

Drowned in the cry was the sound of Karsarath taking out his short sword to hold in front of him. Kayin’s stomach flopped.

Out of the corner of Kayin’s eye, another shadow shifted. No, two. There were two more vemps under the next building over, twice the size of Zin, using the stilts as cover. They were too large for it, and their raised hairs only emphasized their size. Kayin nudged Dhekk’s shoulder as he backed up.

“Begone.”

“We’re gone!” At this announcement, Dhekk spun around and headed to the vine curtain, not a hint of hesitation. Kayin struggled to walk that fast without running, though it looked like Karsarath didn’t entirely care about the optics of literally running away, and beat them through the curtain. They didn’t wait for the bald man to part the leaves, just ran through them. Heavier than normal vines, but not too difficult to walk through, like they were soggy and wet. Kayin was last through them; the sound of the greenery shushing back into its unnatural, limp form sent a shiver down his spine.

“Okay,” Dhekk said through a sigh. “Pop quiz, Kayin: How many vemps were watching us at the end after Kacie pulled out his sword, there?” The man rolled his shoulders, then started off to make his way around the walls of Dorr.

“Three?” guessed Kayin. He was more certain of that one, but Dhekk shook his head without turning around.

“Twelve.”

Xern, Sir of Febla: 33 Xiven

No vemps followed the trio when they made their quick escape away from Dorr, to the northeast in the direction of Tornah.

“How much longer?” asked Kayin yesterday.

“You’ll know soon enough,” was Dhekk’s helpful response. It would have been a frustrating answer if it wasn’t true.

It was a little sad to recognize a city by its smell, but Kayin could already tell this was how Tornah must have been known, why no one seemed to speak of it with any sort of affection. It was some sort of mix between decaying hay and dead rodents, but he couldn’t see any hay in sight…or rodents. He almost immediately covered his mouth and nose once they’d approached the massive main gate. The walls were taller and thicker than he’d seen any other city, even the castle of Yatora, but the buildings were even larger. They seemed to stack on top of one another the further they stood in the massive metropolis. This caught him as strange.

“The buildings are taller because it goes down in rows. See? You can see the Capitol.” Karsarath pointed to the tallest building—it almost looked like an extremely thin castle—in what looked to be the middle of the mess of buildings. “For archery in times of war, I heard. Archers post on the roofs, and because every building gets taller, they can use more longbows in the back.”

“Doesn’t that mean that sometimes citizens would get caught by the arrows?” Kayin guessed. Karsarath raised a brow.

“Yeah, but…you know how war is.” Unfortunately, he did. Citizens didn’t matter as much as soldiers did. “But look. It’s a circular system.” He gestured again to the buildings, how everything ramped taller and taller the more centered it was. “Every road goes to the Capitol. They have parties there. I went to one when I was little.”

“You mean galas?” Kayin clarified, looking to him.

“No. I mean parties. Parties are really informal, but galas are formal. Here, you have to own a house to go to the galas.” Kayin merely nodded as they slowed to the massive, iron gates of the city’s walls.

“I don’t think I like galas,” was his only response to that. Dhekk turned to Karsarath with a frown.

“You’ve been to Tornah, right?” he asked.

“I literally just said that I have.”

“So you know not to just pull out your sword when your feelings get a little hurt?”

“Dhekk!” Kayin called with wide eyes.

Karsarath glared.

“Fine, next time we get surrounded by vemps, I’ll just let them eat you.”

“Your observational skills need almost as much work as Kayin’s.” That was unnecessary. But instead of giving either of them a chance to say anything, Dhekk stomped forward to the iron gate to approach a lone soldier. Kayin didn’t entirely notice it before, but behind the guard was a normal-sized door made of the same material as the wall, without a handle. Clever way to hide shifting of the guards, or to hide that more were near and watching.

“You know you don’t have to let him talk to you like that,” Karsarath muttered when Dhekk was out of earshot.

Kayin shrugged. “He’s literally all I have right now,” he admitted. The words sounded pathetic falling from his mouth. “I don’t…have anything else.” Maybe he was a bit rough around the edges, but his priority was to keep Kayin alive, so it would have to suffice.

“Don’t let him get to you.”

“Like how he’s getting to you?” Maybe Kayin should have kept his mouth shut rather than say that. Maybe hanging around Dhekk made him too sarcastic and sour. Karsarath clearly resented the statement and shook it off with a huff, then moved forward to try and hear whatever Dhekk said to the woman clad in studded leather armor. She held a halberd, which Kayin opted to just try and ignore.

“…moving in from Urbana. I’m sure you heard of the attack?” was all Kayin caught.

“Oh, what attack?”

“Peka raid. That place isn’t safe. We need walls to keep things out!” Dhekk gestured to the very one that kept them out of Tornah at this moment.

“Right. And you said you’ve bought a house?”

“Yes. The address is….” After Dhekk rattled off a weird, numeric description, the guard nodded.

“I’ll notify my superiors. If you don’t register your address with the Council by the end of next week….”

“That’s more than enough time,” Dhekk insisted, nodding.

The guard squinted.

“Right. In you go, then.” As she said this, she approached one of the massive iron gates, and spread her fingers across with both hands so that she touched four of the bars. In a flash of light, they vanished, revealing an open rectangular about the size of two doors in the fence.

“Oh! Illusion?” Kayin guessed. The guard just stared at him until he took his place behind Dhekk to go inside. It was probably a safety thing, to not say anything.

The stench only grew when they got inside. True to Karsarath’s word, Tornah’s streets seemed arranged in a circular, bulls-eye sort of formation, with bisecting, straight roads that all led to the center-most tower made entirely of a gray, shiny metal.

The buildings, much like the ones in the center of Urbana, seemed cramped; unless there was a road or alleyway, each one shared walls, and climbed taller and taller the more they walked in. Kayin blinked in the bright afternoon light; everything here was painted in bright colors: blues, oranges, pinks, yellows—even different colors on different stories. If it weren’t for the buildings casting heavy shadows onto the road, he would have had to squint.

“Are these all shops?” Kayin asked, glancing to the open doors. Some of them looked rather plain, with just tables and chairs and sofas inside.

“Not all. But if you’re home, you leave your door open.” Dhekk then muttered something about it contributing to the bad smell, but Kayin couldn’t catch it. Though not entirely crowded, there were still to many people laughing in their homes, children running by, shopkeeps peddling vibrant clothes and fancy knickknacks from their open windows.

Despite walking for only a moment, Dhekk hesitated by a closed door. On it, a poster, not unlike the one that Kayin saw when the family from Wakino found him out. Instead of his ugly face displaying scars and an insult, though, it was a colorful advertisement.

“I knew it,” glowered Dhekk. Kayin couldn’t quite see the poster, but looked back to Karsarath when Dhekk glared at him. “You are actually cursed.”

“What?” Kayin and Karsarath asked in unison.

“Things were going fine, we were following Tidesa’s vision, until he came along.” As Karsarath began to sputter some sort of argument, Kayin stepped up to the poster to try and see what was wrong.

Bright, yellow and orange colors. An ad for a gala, it seemed, in three weeks’ time.

“You don’t see the future,” Karsarath argued, “so how do you know that’s not part of it?”

“Because Tidesa would have told me—and this?” Dhekk’s hand shot across the ad to a detail written on the bottom. “This is not just a snag or a wrinkle in a careful plan, this is a disaster that only a curse can cause.” As Kayin read this, his heart skipped a beat.

“Dhekk,” he asked nervously, “what does this mean, to celebrate Tornah’s strengthened loyalty to Emperor Xiven?”

“It means,” Dhekk grumbled, turning to Kayin with a red face, “that our little resistance secret is out. It means he knows we’re here.”