"When the River Runs Dry
Destyn sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose and turning his head to face the source of the stench.
“These waters are foul…” He observed, casting his gaze toward the narrow waterway with its cloudy, brown water and apparent dearth of life. A pitchy, prismatic film floated atop the water eliciting a curious head tilt from Destyn, who had never seen such a thing. He looked to his mother quizzically.
“This stream flows from the South.” She replied, “It is sullied with the pollution of industry.”
“Industry?”
“An affliction unique to Ransera... Do you have the supply list?” Nienna inquired as she adjusted her son’s cloak. The weather wasn’t cold enough that the young Fae really needed such a heavy garment, but the Chieftess fussed to make sure his light, translucent wings were neatly tucked away out of sight beneath its fabric.
“Of course, mum! You just gave it to me five minutes ago!” Destyn said, rolling his pale, white-blue eyes.
“Our clan is in dire need of these provisions, Destyn’rael.” She urged, ponderously. “We won’t tarry much longer in these fallow lands, but we need enough to get us to the old rift site before we can head North again.”
“I just don’t see why I have to go on foot when it would be so much quicker for me to fly there. I want to see one of those big floating bubble things up close!”
“Those ‘big floating bubble things’ are vessels of war, Destyn. These lands have never been the kindest to our ilk and Maera’s Semblance has been picking up on strange trends in the folk we’ve passed since we trekked South of Rhar.”
“I’m not worried in the least!” Destyn chirped, donning his signature impish grin, “I get on with anyone, you know that.”
“I know that you’ve led a very sheltered life amongst our Clan and that you’ve spent all of it in the Wilds North of Kathiid. Flashing a smile and fluttering those doe eyes won’t get you as far with these Southron folk. Just please do your best to blend in and don’t try to be clever.”
Destyn huffed and shouldered his satchel,
“Fine.”
The young Fae trudged over moss and root, through tall grass and bristly hedge. The soft fabric of his turnshoes fell soundlessly as he trod toward the scent of hearth smoke that overpowered the odour of livestock farther in the distance.
By and by, the sounds of the rustling trees gave way to the sound of a bustling town. The course clangour of morning in the marketplace supplanted the woodland hymns of birdsong. Destyn smiled to himself, excited at the opportunity to speak to strangers. He loved his tribe of rambling Fae, but there was something inimitably stimulating about meeting new people from different cultures.
Destyn had long been warned that his folk were deemed strange amongst most residents of Ransera. They were, in essence, refugees from another realm of existence- A land regarded as mystifying, mercurial and wholly unfathomable to the inhabitants of this plane. As his mother explained it, the Fae’ethalan were trapped in this realm- longing to return to their aboriginal soil whilst neither comfortable nor welcome in Ransera. Both the Fae and the natives would have preferred for them to return to their native Everwilds, and so their little band patrolled these lands and used their magicks to monitor sites of former Rift Gates, where the veil was known to be thinner. They coordinated with other Summer tribes who surveyed other such sites elsewhere in Ransera in hopes of finding a spot where the veil was thin enough to punch through to the other side and free themselves from this wretched world. Only Destyn didn’t find it so wretched.
All the stories passed down from bygone generations were, for Destyn, merely stories. Myths and legends that felt as remote as the realm from whence they came. Ransera was the only world Destyn had ever known, and he rather liked it. There was magic enough here to sate his wont, and the fact that his people were a bit different from the locals didn’t daunt him- It excited him.
A rustling from a nearby row of hedges drew him out of his reverie. Beneath the heavy wool of the cloak, his wings perked as he froze in place. He listened to the gentle grunts that emerged from the verdant veil of leaves, finding the sound at once familiar and strange. Living in the woods, he’d heard animals rutting before, but this pair rutted with utterances in the Common tongue. He took silent steps closer and, quiet as a breeze, he climbed up the trunk of a nearby oak and perched on a thick, low branch, attempting to get a better view of the pair engaged in carnal congress below.
He arched a brow and craned his head, fascinated. It seemed to be a pair of humans- likely villagers from the nearby hamlet. One looked to be roughly Destyn’s own age, perhaps slightly younger, and the other was a person in middle age- both male. Though he’d borne witness to the mating of elk, boar and all manner of woodland creature, he’d never seen the act performed by figures with roughly the same shape he presently wore. His big, white-blue eyes gaped on in fascination unblinking until a shriek from below startled him.
His wide eyes met those of the younger party below, who was now pointing up at him as the older party scrambled off and rushed to tug his trousers up.
“Oi! Who goes there?” The grey-bearded man demanded, “Get down here, you bloody pervert!” He growled, flush-faced as he got to his feet and fastened his belt.
Destyn obliged, leaping down from the bough upon which he’d been perched, and alighting gently on the grass in a crouched position, from which he slowly rose.
“Who are you and what are you doing creeping about these woods spying on people?”
Destyn knitted his brow, replying in the lilting accent with which he spoke the Common tongue of Ransera.
“I am Destyn. I was not spying, I was passing through when I heard unusual sounds in a shrubbery and took a peek…”
“More like a peep!” The man blustered.
“A peep from a creep!” His younger companion posited, as he covered himself with a blanket they’d laid down.
“I didn’t mean to offend... Or to interrupt. You both seemed quite stimulated!” Destyn noted, with a cordial smile.
“Stimulated?” The elder almost coughed the word out, “No, no, no! Stilton and I were just, um… Playing a game, erm- Wrestling! That’s it. I coach the lad in wrestling, so he’ll learn to defend himself. As you can see he ain’t but a little scrap of a thing…”
“Wrestling?” Destyn repeated, tilting his head curiously.
“That’s right. These woods are full of all manner of dangers, and Stilton’s mum would be beside herself if she lost her boy to some hungry enchanted critter like a soul-stealing Siltori or summat.”
“...and you think wrestling will help?” Destyn wondered aloud.
“Well.” The man blushed and cleared his throat, “At any rate, you didn’t give us a proper answer as to what you’re doing here, lad.”
“Oh!” The disguised Fae blinked, “Well, I’m travelling with a band of troubadours and they sent me to pick up a few supplies in town.” Such was the innocuous lie he’d conjured to satisfy curious humans,
“Troubadours?!” The younger of the two humans’ eyes lit up, “We don’t get much in the way of entertainment in these parts. Why didn’t the rest of ya want to come into town? I’m sure the tavern would put you lot up free of charge if you provided a night or two of diversion…”
“Good question, Stilton,” The elder man’s eyes narrowed, “Why didn’t the rest of your troupe come with you?”
“Oh!” Destyn grinned at the opportunity to improvise a bit under their scrutiny. “Our troupe passed through here a few years back, and the leading player’s afraid he might have left a bastard or two. He didn’t want to make a fuss by letting it be known that we’d returned.”
“Heh. Well, I’m Walric- I’m the sheriff here in Grauschweig.”
“Is Stilton your… deputy, or…?”
“I’m the tanner’s apprentice!” Stilton interjected, before Walric could speak for him.
“Tanner?” Destyn tilted his head,
“Leatherman.” Walric clarified, with a suspicious cant of one eyebrow. “Where do you hail from, minstrel- I don’t know a town that doesn’t have a tanner, and I can’t place that accent or that name, Destyn…”
“I’m from the North.” Destyn promptly offered, “Far, far to the North. Little island. Warm all year round, and very peaceful, so… Not much leather. Anyway- I should head into town before it gets late.”
“Well, why don’t we escort you, Destyn?” Walric glanced sidelong to Stilton, “The lad and I are all through with our coaching session, I think.”
“Oh, um… All right.” The Fae shrugged.
“Speaking of the coaching session, would you mind keeping this whole, little wrestling excursion to yourself? I don’t want the tanner thinking I’m trying to recruit his apprentice into the constabulary right out from under his nose. We’d both appreciate your discretion.”
“Then consider it yours.”
It was a short walk from the spot where Destyn had caught the two men ‘wrestling’ to the Zaichaeri satellite village of Grauschweig. As they drew closer, the quaint aroma of hearth smoke was overtaken by a noxious, unnatural smell. In the distance over the roofs of the rustic dwellings that populated the town, Destyn could see a rising plume of black smoke.
“What is that?” The Fae inquired, with horrified concern painted across his delicate visage. “Some form of dread mist, or… an aberration?” He glanced to his companions, surprised at their lack of concern over the ominous sight ahead.
“What’s what?” Walric inquired, eying the blond boy appraisingly, “Oh, the fumes? That’s just the steel mill.” He chuckled, “You really are a Northerner, aren’t you, kid?” He shook his head, “Most of the folk here in Grauschweig make their living working there or in the iron mines West of town.” As they crossed into the village proper, Destyn regarded the soot-smudged faces of the townsfolk. One man was coughing profusely, pounding on his chest with a white-knuckled fist, but no one other than the young Fae seemed to take note of the fit. Somehow, he got the sense that pressing the issue would raise more questions than he was prepared to answer.
“So what kinda stuff are ya lookin’ for, Destyn?” Stilton inquired, “There’s the Trading Post in the middle of town that has most of your staples- Food, feed, booze and tools.”
“That sounds perfect.” He replied with a good-natured grin, “It seems the farther South we journey, the more barren the surroundings.”
“What? Is your leading player such a bawd that you’re all relegated to hunter-gatherer status for fear of being seen in towns? Seems bad for business in your line of work...” Walric was clearly growing suspicious. Fortunately, the chipper, guileless tanner’s apprentice at his side was quick to divert that line of questioning with his own concerns,
“So, what kind of entertainer are you, Destyn? Lemme guess! Acrobat? You look like an acrobat.”
Destyn nodded, “I definitely do acrobatics, yeah! Plus I sing and act…” He didn’t mention that he was acting at this very moment, of course, but he always found it best to align his lies with some element of truth. It made things easier to track. In truth, Destyn was getting a bit anxious and doing his best not to show it. There was something off about this place and this company.
“Always seemed a cushy way to make a living…” Walric mused, somewhat haughtily, “Minstrelry.” He spat onto the packed dirt of the road they trod leading into the centre of town. “Dressing up in costumes, frolicking around on swings and playing pretend like children… Is your troupe en route to Zaichaer proper?”
“Um, that’s right!” Destyn offered his best attempt at a disarming smile, “Bright lights, big city and all that. So, um… that’s the Trading Post up ahead, yeah? I see the sign, now, so thank you so much for the escort into town. I can find the rest of the way myself.”
“So quick to be rid of us, youngling?” Walric chuckled, unkindly, “Such a cagey bird it is. Very well, Destyn.” The name sounded as spiteful as a curse the way the sheriff snarled it out. “Just remember.” He held a finger up to Destyn’s lips, “Discretion is the better part of valour.”
Blinking, the young Fae nodded nervously and took a step back to put distance between himself at the overfamiliar finger and the unpleasant aroma it carried.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Promise.” His wings twitched reflexively under his cloak- His instinct was to fly afield of this place, but they settled flat against his back without arousing suspicion. If the humans had noticed anything at all, they must have taken it for a waft of breeze billowing the fabric. Destyn took a few more backward steps, as Walric’s dark eyes glared into his ice blue. He stumbled a bit as his heel dipped into a puddle that had formed in an indentation in the road. Walric and Stilton chuckled at his misstep, and Destyn turned to tread forward for the rest of the distance to the general store.
The unsettled young Fae could feel the eyes of the locals fixed upon his form as he strode these filthy streets where all the buildings were covered in a film of ash that ranged from a light dusting to being caked on like packed snow. He accelerated his pace, eager to get inside and away from the prying eyes of the marketplace, only to find that there were more appraising gazes within. Most pointedly was that of the proprietress,
“Oi, stranger.” The elderly woman instantly stepped out from behind the counter. Her fell on a gradient that ranged from dark grey to bright silver, and was tied into a tight bun. Her canvas apron was smudged with stains of soot and grime too deeply set to be laundered away. “What brings you into Gruczella’s today?” She limped over to Destyn, lifting a monocle that hung from a chain affixed to the top of her apron to eye him more closely. “What a pretty youth it is!” She inspected the pristine smoothness of his skin, and raised her crooked fingers to cup his chin and tilt his head to the side to see his face in profile. “If it weren’t for the rounded ears, I’d’ve taken you for an Hytori.” She grunted, “And we don’t serve their kind hereabouts.” She withdrew her hand, wiping it against the front of her apron. “So where are you from?”
“I hail from the North. I’m traveling with a group and they sent me here for provisions. I have a list.” Destyn produced the note his mother had written out in simple common, and handed it over to the woman he presumed to be Gruczella. She held the monocle over the text, humming thoughtfully to herself.
“You’ll have to go to one of the farmers stands outside for all the fruits and vegetables, but I’ll warn you- You’d be better off dining on heartier fare hereabouts. Our meat grows better’n our crops. But you’re probably used to that Northern shite, aren’t you? Big juicy plums and huge, bright red apples. Probably taste like a dream, but they’ll kill you sure as the black flu- Rife with MMOs, they are.”
“I… don’t know what that is, Ma’am.”
“Magically modified organisms, of course! Up Kalzasi way they use little magical maggots to ripen their crops faster and make them grow unnaturally large.”
“I don’t know if that’s… a thing, ma’am.”
“Sure as shite, it’s a thing! Matter o’ fact, it’s the magic maggot shite that ensorcells the crops! If you eat MMOs, you’re eating bug shite.”
“Huh! Well, um… Do you carry anything from this list, or…?”
“Oh, yes, of course, lad. I’ll gather everything for you and get it packed up, if you want to browse about the toy aisle or summat… I’ll probably be a while, if you want to hang that cloak up.”
“Oh, I’m all right, thank you.” Destyn replied, with a nervous giggle.
“Suit yourself.” Gruczella huffed, as she collected a bag and limped down one of the aisles to start assembling the components of Destyn’s order. The Fae, took this opportunity to scan his surroundings, curious as to what sorts of items a strange store in a strange town might boast in its inventory.
Although he’d taken a bit of offence at her suggestion that he peruse the ‘toy aisle’, a few of the items there did catch is eye. There was, for instance, a model that appeared to be a depiction of the strange floating bubble vessels he’d noticed hovering about the South. His mum had called them ships of war, but they seemed a bit silly looking- like overgrown eggs with boxes bound to their ventral side. He picked the model up and scrutinised it, wondering how in the world such a thing could take to the air when it didn’t appear the least bit aerodynamic. It boggled his mind why anyone would want to fly in something that looked like that, when the airships he’d seen in the North seemed so much more sleek and, well, ship-like. He placed the mini-zeppelin back down where he found it, and paced around to the next aisle where a pleasant aroma began to overpower the chemical stench that permeated much of the village. Widening eyes found rows upon rows of sweets- Fruit candies, fudge cubes, salted licorice sticks and more. He promptly grabbed a jar of chocolate covered nuts and unscrewed the lid, popping one of the candies onto an eager tongue and biting down with a satisfying crunch.
“Oi!” Gruczella’s face appeared in the gap left by the candy jar, glowering at Destyn. “Those ain’t free, y’know!”
“Sorry! I just wanted to try one… It’s delicious!”
“I know it is. How do you think I lost all my teeth?” She said, offering a gummy grin. “I’ll tack that onto your order.” She said, before continuing to bag items from the furtive Fae’s shopping list.
Destyn brought the jar of candy up to the front counter and placed it down. He was sure his mum would be cross with him for spending the clan coin on sweets, but once she tasted one he was certain she’d be grateful enough to forgive his trespasses.
By and by, Gruzcella returned toting a crate full of bagged provisions, which she heaved onto the counter next to the candy jar.
“I had most of it, but like I said- You’ll have to check the market stalls if you want to hazard fruits and vegetables what grow around here. I also didn’t have all of these weird herbs- Rue, witch hazel… What in the name of brass do you want with all that nonsense anyway? Are you some sort of alchemist?”
“Oh, um… No, nothing at all like that. I’m with a troupe of minstrels and we, um… Use them to make special effects. Spectacular stuff, really, but um… We’ll make do.”
“Good luck with that. Like I said, the soil here don’t prosper. All that iron in the ground, don’t leave much room for plants I reckon… Anyway, that all adds up to…” She paused, tapping her fingers on the countertop as she did the calculations, “Oh let’s round it out to 80 gold Avens.”
Destyn withdrew the coin pouch he’d gotten from his mother and dumped the contents onto the counter, pushing the pile of diverse tokens toward the crone. She blinked down at the pile, and then up to the boy before her with a scowl.
“Is that enough?” He asked with a childlike grin upon his boyish countenance.
“Ugh. Let me count it up.” She muttered, as she started making stacks of like coins. Though Destyn had been sent to do this kind of thing on a few other occasions, he wasn’t great with money. He didn’t really understand the denominations of the coins or notes, as he rarely had need of currency. Typically his clan would barter with other Fae or merchants on the road, but that was goods for goods and Destyn wasn’t often party to such exchanges- He merely reaped the benefits after the fact.
“This amounts to sixty-four gold, seven silver and eighty-eight copper.” The woman announced, with a glare to the honey-haired lad.
“That sounds like an awful lot! Is it enough?” He asked innocently.
“No, it’s not enough.” She grunted, narrowing her eyes.
“Oh… But I need all of that stuff.” He glanced to the candy jar and pouted slightly. “Is it enough if I don’t get the chocolates?”
“Not even close.”
“I need it, though.” He repeated, with a grimace.
“Not my problem.” Gruczella shrugged one bony shoulder, and started to unpack the pricier items from the crate. Destyn knitted his brow and took a step back, considering his options. His mother had placed a great deal of weight on the need for these supplies. If she’d had more coin to give him, he was certain she would have, which meant Gruczella’s inventory was probably overpriced- She may have even been tacking on an extra fee for his being an outlander from the North. He quickly scanned the room, but his turning head froze as his eyes landed on a table of cheeses. He cocked an eyebrow and his lip curled. He stared intensely at a huge wedge of hard cheese and willed the Aetherium to spring forth from the rune on his sternum to create a small portal beside it. His lips barely moved, as he whispered in his native dialect of Valasren-
“Come and vex! Come and feed!
Come assist this Fae in need!”
A loud squeaking sound reverberated through the modest shoppe, and Gruczella halted her unpacking to whip her head toward the cheese table just in time to see a huge rat with black fur and glowing red eyes skittering into view. Her eyes widened and she screamed:
“Vermin! Vermin!” She dropped the packed flour she’d been holding back into the crate and rushed to get a broom with which to assail the offending rodent spirit. Destyn sprung forward to toss everything back into the crate (including the chocolates) and grab it by the handles to make a dash for the door. Behind him, he could hear Gruczella continuing to shriek about the preternatural pest that was plaguing her trading post- as yet unaware of the theft underway.
As Destyn burst through the door out into the marketplace, he locked eyes with Sheriff Walric who hadn’t gone far afield of where they’d parted. With his eyes already on the shoppe’s door, perhaps he’d actually been waiting for Destyn to emerge this whole time and, when he did, he looked awfully suspicious with a crazed look in his wide white-blue eyes, an armful of supplies and a screaming proprietress in the background.
“Oi! What’s going on in there?” Walric demanded, jogging toward the store.
“There was a rat on the cheese table! I have a phobia! Got to run!” And run Destyn did- dashing down the ash-laden dirt road leading back toward the woods from whence he’d come. Behind him, he heard the cries of ‘vermin’ transition into cries of ‘thief!’ and he felt the eyes of all the town turn toward him as he sprinted.
“Hey you!” An angry-looking bystander leapt out from an alleyway, grabbing at Destyn and managing to snag his cloak. The larger man tugged it back, sending the Fae to his knees, barely holding onto the crate in his arms. He placed it onto the ground so he could tug free of the sleeves, which sent the villager tumbling backwards with his own momentum holding nothing but an empty cloak. Destyn grabbed the crate again and unfurled the two sets of translucent wings that sprouted forth from the oaken bark of his spine. He got up to a crouch and sprung up from the ground into the air, sending forth a cloud of dust and soot as his wings beat at an incredible velocity and sent him up above the rooftops of the town. Shouts of horror sounded below, but he couldn’t make out the details of what was said- nor did he wish to. His sole concern was getting back to his clan and away from this horrible place. As soon as he was clear of the town he swooped down to an altitude that would keep him below the forest’s canopy, so the angry villagers wouldn’t be able to see which in which direction he turned to return to his clan’s last location.
Destyn alighted on a grassy patch near the glade where his clan was camped, and released the crate onto the ground as he collapsed next to it. He tried to silence his panting breaths enough to listen to his surroundings. He couldn’t hear the grumbling of angry townspeople nor the crackling of their torches, just a few songbirds and rustling leaves in the breeze. Without realising it was coming, Destyn suddenly let out a laugh. Relieved beyond comprehension, he broke into peels of hysterics, rolling in the cool grass and beating his legs on the soil.
“Having fun?”
Destyn opened his eyes to find his mother leaning her face into his view, staring quizzically at her giddy child.
“Sorry!” He got control of his faculties, and sat up, “That town just made me really appreciate nature. It was so… dirty and devoid of life energy. It was all sad, sickly humans and their chattel animals, which were even more miserable… Waiting to be slaughtered or milked or shorn.”
“Aye.” Nienna nodded, “They are crueller here to that which does not resemble them… Were you able to find everything?”
“Their produce was withered… sickly, but everything else should be in there…” He said, patting the crate.
“What is this?” Nienna grimaced, picking up the jar of chocolates from the top of the pile.
“Try it! You’ll thank me.” Destyn did his best to exude innocence, as his mother shook her head, chuckling.
“Did you run into any trouble with the humans?” Her eyes widened, realising his torso was bare, “Where is your cloak?”
“I… uh… snagged it on a tree branch! On the way back, though. It’s fine. It was fine.” Destyn waved off her concern with a winning grin. She narrowed her eyes slightly and scanned the trees for movement, her ears perking to listen closely- finding only the rustling of squirrels, the flapping of birds and the chirps of insects.
“Well. Let’s get back to camp, child.” She crouched down to pick up the crate, and Destyn rose to his feet. “We should be about our work here in haste, so we can quit these gods forsaken grounds as soon as possible.”
Destyn nodded emphatically.
“Agreed.” And followed her back toward the glade, casting a backward glance over his shoulder toward the angry, ashy town of Grauschweig, that spewed black smoke and vitriol in equal measure.
78 Glade, 121
“These waters are foul…” He observed, casting his gaze toward the narrow waterway with its cloudy, brown water and apparent dearth of life. A pitchy, prismatic film floated atop the water eliciting a curious head tilt from Destyn, who had never seen such a thing. He looked to his mother quizzically.
“This stream flows from the South.” She replied, “It is sullied with the pollution of industry.”
“Industry?”
“An affliction unique to Ransera... Do you have the supply list?” Nienna inquired as she adjusted her son’s cloak. The weather wasn’t cold enough that the young Fae really needed such a heavy garment, but the Chieftess fussed to make sure his light, translucent wings were neatly tucked away out of sight beneath its fabric.
“Of course, mum! You just gave it to me five minutes ago!” Destyn said, rolling his pale, white-blue eyes.
“Our clan is in dire need of these provisions, Destyn’rael.” She urged, ponderously. “We won’t tarry much longer in these fallow lands, but we need enough to get us to the old rift site before we can head North again.”
“I just don’t see why I have to go on foot when it would be so much quicker for me to fly there. I want to see one of those big floating bubble things up close!”
“Those ‘big floating bubble things’ are vessels of war, Destyn. These lands have never been the kindest to our ilk and Maera’s Semblance has been picking up on strange trends in the folk we’ve passed since we trekked South of Rhar.”
“I’m not worried in the least!” Destyn chirped, donning his signature impish grin, “I get on with anyone, you know that.”
“I know that you’ve led a very sheltered life amongst our Clan and that you’ve spent all of it in the Wilds North of Kathiid. Flashing a smile and fluttering those doe eyes won’t get you as far with these Southron folk. Just please do your best to blend in and don’t try to be clever.”
Destyn huffed and shouldered his satchel,
“Fine.”
* * *
The young Fae trudged over moss and root, through tall grass and bristly hedge. The soft fabric of his turnshoes fell soundlessly as he trod toward the scent of hearth smoke that overpowered the odour of livestock farther in the distance.
By and by, the sounds of the rustling trees gave way to the sound of a bustling town. The course clangour of morning in the marketplace supplanted the woodland hymns of birdsong. Destyn smiled to himself, excited at the opportunity to speak to strangers. He loved his tribe of rambling Fae, but there was something inimitably stimulating about meeting new people from different cultures.
Destyn had long been warned that his folk were deemed strange amongst most residents of Ransera. They were, in essence, refugees from another realm of existence- A land regarded as mystifying, mercurial and wholly unfathomable to the inhabitants of this plane. As his mother explained it, the Fae’ethalan were trapped in this realm- longing to return to their aboriginal soil whilst neither comfortable nor welcome in Ransera. Both the Fae and the natives would have preferred for them to return to their native Everwilds, and so their little band patrolled these lands and used their magicks to monitor sites of former Rift Gates, where the veil was known to be thinner. They coordinated with other Summer tribes who surveyed other such sites elsewhere in Ransera in hopes of finding a spot where the veil was thin enough to punch through to the other side and free themselves from this wretched world. Only Destyn didn’t find it so wretched.
All the stories passed down from bygone generations were, for Destyn, merely stories. Myths and legends that felt as remote as the realm from whence they came. Ransera was the only world Destyn had ever known, and he rather liked it. There was magic enough here to sate his wont, and the fact that his people were a bit different from the locals didn’t daunt him- It excited him.
A rustling from a nearby row of hedges drew him out of his reverie. Beneath the heavy wool of the cloak, his wings perked as he froze in place. He listened to the gentle grunts that emerged from the verdant veil of leaves, finding the sound at once familiar and strange. Living in the woods, he’d heard animals rutting before, but this pair rutted with utterances in the Common tongue. He took silent steps closer and, quiet as a breeze, he climbed up the trunk of a nearby oak and perched on a thick, low branch, attempting to get a better view of the pair engaged in carnal congress below.
He arched a brow and craned his head, fascinated. It seemed to be a pair of humans- likely villagers from the nearby hamlet. One looked to be roughly Destyn’s own age, perhaps slightly younger, and the other was a person in middle age- both male. Though he’d borne witness to the mating of elk, boar and all manner of woodland creature, he’d never seen the act performed by figures with roughly the same shape he presently wore. His big, white-blue eyes gaped on in fascination unblinking until a shriek from below startled him.
His wide eyes met those of the younger party below, who was now pointing up at him as the older party scrambled off and rushed to tug his trousers up.
“Oi! Who goes there?” The grey-bearded man demanded, “Get down here, you bloody pervert!” He growled, flush-faced as he got to his feet and fastened his belt.
Destyn obliged, leaping down from the bough upon which he’d been perched, and alighting gently on the grass in a crouched position, from which he slowly rose.
“Who are you and what are you doing creeping about these woods spying on people?”
Destyn knitted his brow, replying in the lilting accent with which he spoke the Common tongue of Ransera.
“I am Destyn. I was not spying, I was passing through when I heard unusual sounds in a shrubbery and took a peek…”
“More like a peep!” The man blustered.
“A peep from a creep!” His younger companion posited, as he covered himself with a blanket they’d laid down.
“I didn’t mean to offend... Or to interrupt. You both seemed quite stimulated!” Destyn noted, with a cordial smile.
“Stimulated?” The elder almost coughed the word out, “No, no, no! Stilton and I were just, um… Playing a game, erm- Wrestling! That’s it. I coach the lad in wrestling, so he’ll learn to defend himself. As you can see he ain’t but a little scrap of a thing…”
“Wrestling?” Destyn repeated, tilting his head curiously.
“That’s right. These woods are full of all manner of dangers, and Stilton’s mum would be beside herself if she lost her boy to some hungry enchanted critter like a soul-stealing Siltori or summat.”
“...and you think wrestling will help?” Destyn wondered aloud.
“Well.” The man blushed and cleared his throat, “At any rate, you didn’t give us a proper answer as to what you’re doing here, lad.”
“Oh!” The disguised Fae blinked, “Well, I’m travelling with a band of troubadours and they sent me to pick up a few supplies in town.” Such was the innocuous lie he’d conjured to satisfy curious humans,
“Troubadours?!” The younger of the two humans’ eyes lit up, “We don’t get much in the way of entertainment in these parts. Why didn’t the rest of ya want to come into town? I’m sure the tavern would put you lot up free of charge if you provided a night or two of diversion…”
“Good question, Stilton,” The elder man’s eyes narrowed, “Why didn’t the rest of your troupe come with you?”
“Oh!” Destyn grinned at the opportunity to improvise a bit under their scrutiny. “Our troupe passed through here a few years back, and the leading player’s afraid he might have left a bastard or two. He didn’t want to make a fuss by letting it be known that we’d returned.”
“Heh. Well, I’m Walric- I’m the sheriff here in Grauschweig.”
“Is Stilton your… deputy, or…?”
“I’m the tanner’s apprentice!” Stilton interjected, before Walric could speak for him.
“Tanner?” Destyn tilted his head,
“Leatherman.” Walric clarified, with a suspicious cant of one eyebrow. “Where do you hail from, minstrel- I don’t know a town that doesn’t have a tanner, and I can’t place that accent or that name, Destyn…”
“I’m from the North.” Destyn promptly offered, “Far, far to the North. Little island. Warm all year round, and very peaceful, so… Not much leather. Anyway- I should head into town before it gets late.”
“Well, why don’t we escort you, Destyn?” Walric glanced sidelong to Stilton, “The lad and I are all through with our coaching session, I think.”
“Oh, um… All right.” The Fae shrugged.
“Speaking of the coaching session, would you mind keeping this whole, little wrestling excursion to yourself? I don’t want the tanner thinking I’m trying to recruit his apprentice into the constabulary right out from under his nose. We’d both appreciate your discretion.”
“Then consider it yours.”
* * *
It was a short walk from the spot where Destyn had caught the two men ‘wrestling’ to the Zaichaeri satellite village of Grauschweig. As they drew closer, the quaint aroma of hearth smoke was overtaken by a noxious, unnatural smell. In the distance over the roofs of the rustic dwellings that populated the town, Destyn could see a rising plume of black smoke.
“What is that?” The Fae inquired, with horrified concern painted across his delicate visage. “Some form of dread mist, or… an aberration?” He glanced to his companions, surprised at their lack of concern over the ominous sight ahead.
“What’s what?” Walric inquired, eying the blond boy appraisingly, “Oh, the fumes? That’s just the steel mill.” He chuckled, “You really are a Northerner, aren’t you, kid?” He shook his head, “Most of the folk here in Grauschweig make their living working there or in the iron mines West of town.” As they crossed into the village proper, Destyn regarded the soot-smudged faces of the townsfolk. One man was coughing profusely, pounding on his chest with a white-knuckled fist, but no one other than the young Fae seemed to take note of the fit. Somehow, he got the sense that pressing the issue would raise more questions than he was prepared to answer.
“So what kinda stuff are ya lookin’ for, Destyn?” Stilton inquired, “There’s the Trading Post in the middle of town that has most of your staples- Food, feed, booze and tools.”
“That sounds perfect.” He replied with a good-natured grin, “It seems the farther South we journey, the more barren the surroundings.”
“What? Is your leading player such a bawd that you’re all relegated to hunter-gatherer status for fear of being seen in towns? Seems bad for business in your line of work...” Walric was clearly growing suspicious. Fortunately, the chipper, guileless tanner’s apprentice at his side was quick to divert that line of questioning with his own concerns,
“So, what kind of entertainer are you, Destyn? Lemme guess! Acrobat? You look like an acrobat.”
Destyn nodded, “I definitely do acrobatics, yeah! Plus I sing and act…” He didn’t mention that he was acting at this very moment, of course, but he always found it best to align his lies with some element of truth. It made things easier to track. In truth, Destyn was getting a bit anxious and doing his best not to show it. There was something off about this place and this company.
“Always seemed a cushy way to make a living…” Walric mused, somewhat haughtily, “Minstrelry.” He spat onto the packed dirt of the road they trod leading into the centre of town. “Dressing up in costumes, frolicking around on swings and playing pretend like children… Is your troupe en route to Zaichaer proper?”
“Um, that’s right!” Destyn offered his best attempt at a disarming smile, “Bright lights, big city and all that. So, um… that’s the Trading Post up ahead, yeah? I see the sign, now, so thank you so much for the escort into town. I can find the rest of the way myself.”
“So quick to be rid of us, youngling?” Walric chuckled, unkindly, “Such a cagey bird it is. Very well, Destyn.” The name sounded as spiteful as a curse the way the sheriff snarled it out. “Just remember.” He held a finger up to Destyn’s lips, “Discretion is the better part of valour.”
Blinking, the young Fae nodded nervously and took a step back to put distance between himself at the overfamiliar finger and the unpleasant aroma it carried.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Promise.” His wings twitched reflexively under his cloak- His instinct was to fly afield of this place, but they settled flat against his back without arousing suspicion. If the humans had noticed anything at all, they must have taken it for a waft of breeze billowing the fabric. Destyn took a few more backward steps, as Walric’s dark eyes glared into his ice blue. He stumbled a bit as his heel dipped into a puddle that had formed in an indentation in the road. Walric and Stilton chuckled at his misstep, and Destyn turned to tread forward for the rest of the distance to the general store.
The unsettled young Fae could feel the eyes of the locals fixed upon his form as he strode these filthy streets where all the buildings were covered in a film of ash that ranged from a light dusting to being caked on like packed snow. He accelerated his pace, eager to get inside and away from the prying eyes of the marketplace, only to find that there were more appraising gazes within. Most pointedly was that of the proprietress,
“Oi, stranger.” The elderly woman instantly stepped out from behind the counter. Her fell on a gradient that ranged from dark grey to bright silver, and was tied into a tight bun. Her canvas apron was smudged with stains of soot and grime too deeply set to be laundered away. “What brings you into Gruczella’s today?” She limped over to Destyn, lifting a monocle that hung from a chain affixed to the top of her apron to eye him more closely. “What a pretty youth it is!” She inspected the pristine smoothness of his skin, and raised her crooked fingers to cup his chin and tilt his head to the side to see his face in profile. “If it weren’t for the rounded ears, I’d’ve taken you for an Hytori.” She grunted, “And we don’t serve their kind hereabouts.” She withdrew her hand, wiping it against the front of her apron. “So where are you from?”
“I hail from the North. I’m traveling with a group and they sent me here for provisions. I have a list.” Destyn produced the note his mother had written out in simple common, and handed it over to the woman he presumed to be Gruczella. She held the monocle over the text, humming thoughtfully to herself.
“You’ll have to go to one of the farmers stands outside for all the fruits and vegetables, but I’ll warn you- You’d be better off dining on heartier fare hereabouts. Our meat grows better’n our crops. But you’re probably used to that Northern shite, aren’t you? Big juicy plums and huge, bright red apples. Probably taste like a dream, but they’ll kill you sure as the black flu- Rife with MMOs, they are.”
“I… don’t know what that is, Ma’am.”
“Magically modified organisms, of course! Up Kalzasi way they use little magical maggots to ripen their crops faster and make them grow unnaturally large.”
“I don’t know if that’s… a thing, ma’am.”
“Sure as shite, it’s a thing! Matter o’ fact, it’s the magic maggot shite that ensorcells the crops! If you eat MMOs, you’re eating bug shite.”
“Huh! Well, um… Do you carry anything from this list, or…?”
“Oh, yes, of course, lad. I’ll gather everything for you and get it packed up, if you want to browse about the toy aisle or summat… I’ll probably be a while, if you want to hang that cloak up.”
“Oh, I’m all right, thank you.” Destyn replied, with a nervous giggle.
“Suit yourself.” Gruczella huffed, as she collected a bag and limped down one of the aisles to start assembling the components of Destyn’s order. The Fae, took this opportunity to scan his surroundings, curious as to what sorts of items a strange store in a strange town might boast in its inventory.
Although he’d taken a bit of offence at her suggestion that he peruse the ‘toy aisle’, a few of the items there did catch is eye. There was, for instance, a model that appeared to be a depiction of the strange floating bubble vessels he’d noticed hovering about the South. His mum had called them ships of war, but they seemed a bit silly looking- like overgrown eggs with boxes bound to their ventral side. He picked the model up and scrutinised it, wondering how in the world such a thing could take to the air when it didn’t appear the least bit aerodynamic. It boggled his mind why anyone would want to fly in something that looked like that, when the airships he’d seen in the North seemed so much more sleek and, well, ship-like. He placed the mini-zeppelin back down where he found it, and paced around to the next aisle where a pleasant aroma began to overpower the chemical stench that permeated much of the village. Widening eyes found rows upon rows of sweets- Fruit candies, fudge cubes, salted licorice sticks and more. He promptly grabbed a jar of chocolate covered nuts and unscrewed the lid, popping one of the candies onto an eager tongue and biting down with a satisfying crunch.
“Oi!” Gruczella’s face appeared in the gap left by the candy jar, glowering at Destyn. “Those ain’t free, y’know!”
“Sorry! I just wanted to try one… It’s delicious!”
“I know it is. How do you think I lost all my teeth?” She said, offering a gummy grin. “I’ll tack that onto your order.” She said, before continuing to bag items from the furtive Fae’s shopping list.
Destyn brought the jar of candy up to the front counter and placed it down. He was sure his mum would be cross with him for spending the clan coin on sweets, but once she tasted one he was certain she’d be grateful enough to forgive his trespasses.
By and by, Gruzcella returned toting a crate full of bagged provisions, which she heaved onto the counter next to the candy jar.
“I had most of it, but like I said- You’ll have to check the market stalls if you want to hazard fruits and vegetables what grow around here. I also didn’t have all of these weird herbs- Rue, witch hazel… What in the name of brass do you want with all that nonsense anyway? Are you some sort of alchemist?”
“Oh, um… No, nothing at all like that. I’m with a troupe of minstrels and we, um… Use them to make special effects. Spectacular stuff, really, but um… We’ll make do.”
“Good luck with that. Like I said, the soil here don’t prosper. All that iron in the ground, don’t leave much room for plants I reckon… Anyway, that all adds up to…” She paused, tapping her fingers on the countertop as she did the calculations, “Oh let’s round it out to 80 gold Avens.”
Destyn withdrew the coin pouch he’d gotten from his mother and dumped the contents onto the counter, pushing the pile of diverse tokens toward the crone. She blinked down at the pile, and then up to the boy before her with a scowl.
“Is that enough?” He asked with a childlike grin upon his boyish countenance.
“Ugh. Let me count it up.” She muttered, as she started making stacks of like coins. Though Destyn had been sent to do this kind of thing on a few other occasions, he wasn’t great with money. He didn’t really understand the denominations of the coins or notes, as he rarely had need of currency. Typically his clan would barter with other Fae or merchants on the road, but that was goods for goods and Destyn wasn’t often party to such exchanges- He merely reaped the benefits after the fact.
“This amounts to sixty-four gold, seven silver and eighty-eight copper.” The woman announced, with a glare to the honey-haired lad.
“That sounds like an awful lot! Is it enough?” He asked innocently.
“No, it’s not enough.” She grunted, narrowing her eyes.
“Oh… But I need all of that stuff.” He glanced to the candy jar and pouted slightly. “Is it enough if I don’t get the chocolates?”
“Not even close.”
“I need it, though.” He repeated, with a grimace.
“Not my problem.” Gruczella shrugged one bony shoulder, and started to unpack the pricier items from the crate. Destyn knitted his brow and took a step back, considering his options. His mother had placed a great deal of weight on the need for these supplies. If she’d had more coin to give him, he was certain she would have, which meant Gruczella’s inventory was probably overpriced- She may have even been tacking on an extra fee for his being an outlander from the North. He quickly scanned the room, but his turning head froze as his eyes landed on a table of cheeses. He cocked an eyebrow and his lip curled. He stared intensely at a huge wedge of hard cheese and willed the Aetherium to spring forth from the rune on his sternum to create a small portal beside it. His lips barely moved, as he whispered in his native dialect of Valasren-
“Come and vex! Come and feed!
Come assist this Fae in need!”
A loud squeaking sound reverberated through the modest shoppe, and Gruczella halted her unpacking to whip her head toward the cheese table just in time to see a huge rat with black fur and glowing red eyes skittering into view. Her eyes widened and she screamed:
“Vermin! Vermin!” She dropped the packed flour she’d been holding back into the crate and rushed to get a broom with which to assail the offending rodent spirit. Destyn sprung forward to toss everything back into the crate (including the chocolates) and grab it by the handles to make a dash for the door. Behind him, he could hear Gruczella continuing to shriek about the preternatural pest that was plaguing her trading post- as yet unaware of the theft underway.
As Destyn burst through the door out into the marketplace, he locked eyes with Sheriff Walric who hadn’t gone far afield of where they’d parted. With his eyes already on the shoppe’s door, perhaps he’d actually been waiting for Destyn to emerge this whole time and, when he did, he looked awfully suspicious with a crazed look in his wide white-blue eyes, an armful of supplies and a screaming proprietress in the background.
“Oi! What’s going on in there?” Walric demanded, jogging toward the store.
“There was a rat on the cheese table! I have a phobia! Got to run!” And run Destyn did- dashing down the ash-laden dirt road leading back toward the woods from whence he’d come. Behind him, he heard the cries of ‘vermin’ transition into cries of ‘thief!’ and he felt the eyes of all the town turn toward him as he sprinted.
“Hey you!” An angry-looking bystander leapt out from an alleyway, grabbing at Destyn and managing to snag his cloak. The larger man tugged it back, sending the Fae to his knees, barely holding onto the crate in his arms. He placed it onto the ground so he could tug free of the sleeves, which sent the villager tumbling backwards with his own momentum holding nothing but an empty cloak. Destyn grabbed the crate again and unfurled the two sets of translucent wings that sprouted forth from the oaken bark of his spine. He got up to a crouch and sprung up from the ground into the air, sending forth a cloud of dust and soot as his wings beat at an incredible velocity and sent him up above the rooftops of the town. Shouts of horror sounded below, but he couldn’t make out the details of what was said- nor did he wish to. His sole concern was getting back to his clan and away from this horrible place. As soon as he was clear of the town he swooped down to an altitude that would keep him below the forest’s canopy, so the angry villagers wouldn’t be able to see which in which direction he turned to return to his clan’s last location.
* * *
Destyn alighted on a grassy patch near the glade where his clan was camped, and released the crate onto the ground as he collapsed next to it. He tried to silence his panting breaths enough to listen to his surroundings. He couldn’t hear the grumbling of angry townspeople nor the crackling of their torches, just a few songbirds and rustling leaves in the breeze. Without realising it was coming, Destyn suddenly let out a laugh. Relieved beyond comprehension, he broke into peels of hysterics, rolling in the cool grass and beating his legs on the soil.
“Having fun?”
Destyn opened his eyes to find his mother leaning her face into his view, staring quizzically at her giddy child.
“Sorry!” He got control of his faculties, and sat up, “That town just made me really appreciate nature. It was so… dirty and devoid of life energy. It was all sad, sickly humans and their chattel animals, which were even more miserable… Waiting to be slaughtered or milked or shorn.”
“Aye.” Nienna nodded, “They are crueller here to that which does not resemble them… Were you able to find everything?”
“Their produce was withered… sickly, but everything else should be in there…” He said, patting the crate.
“What is this?” Nienna grimaced, picking up the jar of chocolates from the top of the pile.
“Try it! You’ll thank me.” Destyn did his best to exude innocence, as his mother shook her head, chuckling.
“Did you run into any trouble with the humans?” Her eyes widened, realising his torso was bare, “Where is your cloak?”
“I… uh… snagged it on a tree branch! On the way back, though. It’s fine. It was fine.” Destyn waved off her concern with a winning grin. She narrowed her eyes slightly and scanned the trees for movement, her ears perking to listen closely- finding only the rustling of squirrels, the flapping of birds and the chirps of insects.
“Well. Let’s get back to camp, child.” She crouched down to pick up the crate, and Destyn rose to his feet. “We should be about our work here in haste, so we can quit these gods forsaken grounds as soon as possible.”
Destyn nodded emphatically.
“Agreed.” And followed her back toward the glade, casting a backward glance over his shoulder toward the angry, ashy town of Grauschweig, that spewed black smoke and vitriol in equal measure.
