Eli, Pernus, and Ormoc (II)

Eli woke up with a headache. A bowl of blood was by his side.

“You’ll have to drink this sooner or later.” An amused Ormoc sat in front of him, the roaring fires illuminating his features. Although he seemed ominous, Ormoc’s smile, which pierced through his beard, was heartwarming and assuring.

“Where’d this blood come from?” Eli asked. He observed it. It sloshed around in the wooden bowl, deep streaks left behind on its rim. “You didn’t - ”

“Humans aren’t the only things that have magic in their blood, if that’s what you’re asking.” He reassured him. “The forest is full of living things and all channel magic in some way. It's up to you to do that.” He tapped the bowl.

“Can’t I eat or drink something normal?”

Ormoc guffawed. He laughed like a hyena. “Normal? Normal?! The moment you came through that gate, you were no longer normal. You ripped a man clean in two, you did, and now you want to pretend you’re normal?”

“I didn’t do that, and I didn’t rip that - ”

“Your muscles, your body, your hands, your blood. Everything about you except your mind. Pretending like that grey matter in your skull matters, that it's your soul. Yes, yes, I understand.” He leaned back, pulling out his small pipe. With a flicker of his long fingers, he lit up its mouth. Smoke flushed out of his nostrils. “The sooner you understand where you are, what you are, the sooner you can come to grips with it. You are different. But what that difference means is still yours to decide. She hasn’t taken that from you.”

Eli stared at the fire. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe it doesn’t. But…” Ormoc leaned forward as he laughed, “it’s not my job to make you understand. You have to come to that understanding yourself, and if you don’t, well, she has answers for that.”

Eli stared into the blood bowl. A long silence passed. He heard the rustle of leaves and the noise of crickets. Flames dancing in the night. Embers crackling in the air. It was cold for once. “Why do you follow her? Is it the magic?”

Ormoc took two big puffs from his pipe, his hands twitching. He tried to hide it, but Eli’s eyes caught him. “What did Pernus tell you?”

“He told me enough,” Eli whispered.

“Then he didn’t tell you enough.” Head resting on his hand, elbow on his knee, Ormoc leaned forward like a grandfather ready to tell a tale to his grandchild. “What do you want to know?”

At that moment, the only thing Eli wanted to know. “Why is being a slave a liberation?”

“Oh-ho, that’s the thing, isn’t it? To what or whom am I a slave? Well, if you drink that bowl and hearten your body, I’ll tell you. What do you say? It’s sweeter than you think.” He grinned a toothy, bronze grin. Eli winced.

With hesitation, he raised the bowl to his lips. He took a sip. Nothing. No taste. Its metallic stench was there, but other than that, nothing. It was like clear water, but as he gulped it down, he felt his headache clear, his body feel lighter and stronger. This was no mere water; it was as if he drank some sort of elixir. He could feel the tingle in his arms as it rushed through his veins. Eyes wide, he stared accusatorially at Ormoc. “What happened to me?”

“You had your first blood meal. You’re growing, becoming stronger, more whole.” He pointed at Eli’s heart. “This, this thing you have inside of you, it needs it. Blood is the great conduit of magic, and through blood, we become true and right and whole.” He shuffled a bit, stretching as if he were tired, but his overacting was just that - acting. “It’s a long night. What did you want to know?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually answer.”

“I still might not, but you've to ask.”

Eli's hands fell to his knees, his palms open and weak. “Why does nobody have a problem with becoming her slave?”

Ormoc crossed his arms. “What do you know of magic in this world?” He asked. Eli shook his head, blank-faced. “I thought not." Ormoc paused to think, and after a puff, he continued, "Magic mobilizes the energy of the world into moments. Into things. The magical being is a collection of power and intentions collapsed together. And these energies, we see, can be terrifying.”

“Like enslaving people.”

“Like trapping people.” Ormoc shot back. His bemused expression melted away. “Like giving undue emphasis on the might of the glitz of magic. It's an energy that seems to be everywhere, yet so much of this world has no need for it. Why do humans have such a fascination with magic? Why are people born in prosperity or squalor because of ability in their veins? It's abhorrent to me.” Ormoc’s expression turned sour, especially grim. “What kind of world is this, that we’re so comfortable letting people - smart people, kind people, capable people - die in the streets because they aren’t born with the ability to circulate mere trifles through their hands? Beasts of the forests are teeming with magic, yet they have no such hierarchy. They just are.”

“But the beasts don’t think or act as we do. We have a society and civilization.”

Ormoc scoffed. “Civilization is nothing more than a word that hides the violence it brings. It’s a smokescreen for those at the top to decide and determine where people and bodies go. It’s the brutality of nature organized into a way that hides its own violence. But, and I assure you this, my boy Eli, it is as violent as anything you’ll see in this forest.”

“Then what does she want to do? What does the General want to achieve with this…making everyone her thrall?”

“Well,” Ormoc reasoned, “if magic is such an impenetrable element to human hierarchy, then the solution is simple.” His scowl turned into a sly, self-satisfied smile. “Just turn everyone into mages.”

“That can’t be possible.” Eli shot up. But then he looked at Ormoc. He looked at Ormoc’s hand. “That’s not possible.”

“Is it? For the while you've been here, you've not shat or pissed, not grown sick or weak. You have no need to waste away your days sleeping, and the world is a part of you as much as you are a part of it. You have no hunger; as long as you have magic, you are sated, and as long as there is blood, you will have magic."

Eli didn't say anything, but he couldn't but help realize how long the days had become, and how much time he'd spent gleefully playing with his abilities. He was her slave, but in that way, he had been freed. It made him deeply uncomfortable, and inside, he still refused it, but there was so much he could do now that he couldn't before.

"You already have many advantages others do not. Is that not unfair and unjust, Eli? Consider it: human society is a rotting corpse. If there is no trustworthy way to equalize the violence meted out by its members, then the species must be rebuilt, remade, and reshaped into something that makes it equal. This is the only way.” He stoked the flames a bit, allowing the fire to crackle a little longer.

“You’re insane. You’re completely insane.” Eli raised his fists, but Ormoc made no moves. He just sat there, his eyes at the fire, smoking his pipe. “That'll never work.”

“A boy, an impetuous whelp - lecturing me on whether something will work? How much of this world do you actually understand, Eli? How much beyond this forest have you actually seen? You speak about freedom, slavery, violence, equality, but how do they take form in this world? Have you ever thought about that?” Ormoc staggered up, putting Eli on the defensive posture again. Ormoc did nothing. Instead, he dusted the dirt off his boots and cracked his neck. “I don’t know what you see in those eyes, but it isn’t us. You're an alien, someone whose mind and sensibility have long been shaped by another time and place. I am here. I have to live with the consequences of my actions and the events of my world. We all do."

Eli's fists were still up, though they wavered.

"Bring down your arms. She may have called you her soldier, but you’ve done nothing to earn that name.” Ormoc put out his pipe. He emptied it, turned around, and sauntered off. Before he completely disappeared, he stopped for a brief moment to look back at Eli. “You are a sightseer, and this is our war. You'll never belong here. Don’t forget that.”

Eli and Pernus (I)

Eli found Pernus at his usual place, the watchtower, keeping an eye over the moonlit forest. Pernus had already prepared a flask for him, a simple sheepskin container that could be slung over his shoulder or fitted to his waist.

“A gift,” Pernus said, cross-legged. He leaned forward, his chin jutting out and his arms bobbing left and right. “These nights are feeling longer.” He said. “I miss sleep.”

“You miss it?” Eli sat down cross-legged as well. “The night watch?”

“You sleep very little when you turn. Some can go without it.” Pernus’ eyes turned to Eli. “I’m one of the lucky few.” He winked.

“What do you miss about it?”

“I miss the feeling of being refreshed, coming up and the morning sunlight kissing your cheeks. I miss falling asleep, letting nightfall take me,” he took a swig, blinked a few times, and then shut his flask, “there’s a lot of things I miss, to be honest. Drinking deer’s blood can only satisfy you so many times.”

“Why don’t you eat? I mean, can’t you eat?”

“With this lot? No, all they know is how to prepare for the next wave, the next group. Keeping watch is all I do now.” Eli's puzzled stared led to Pernus closing his eyes. He let a sigh escape. “Liassus, Liassus, you want him to fight. He has to know.” He whispered.

His hand scanned the village. “Ilma isn’t a village in the middle of nowhere for mere trifles. It’s a place where people realize and understand what they’ve become, their future.” He shrugged. “It’s also a place where people join up.”

Eli took a pause, considered everything he knew so far, and then made the leap. “For her resistance? Her army?”

“The boy’s got a head on his shoulders,” Pernus said, chuckling. “I’m sorry, Ormoc didn’t think you’d realize what it’s for, but you’re sharper than you let on. The stubborn, mouthy bastard was all we had you pinned for.”

Eli buried his face in his hands.

“Don’t act like such a child; we rarely get to see someone like you. Most of the time, it’s a poor lass or children or some beleaguered farmhands who join up. We rarely get to see someone so out of their element and so uniquely ill-prepared.”

“I…I wasn’t expecting that. Ill-prepared.” He smiled. “I am ill-prepared. Ill-prepared.”

Pernus shrugged. "You didn't think you'd come into this world unstoppable, did you? That your powers had no limits, or that people would fall at once to your beck and call?" He took another drink. "What were you before you came?"

"I was a cook," Eli flashed a grin, "so, ironically, I can't even eat food from here, can I?"

Pernus chuckled. "You haven't the stomach for it, literally." His fingers rapped the flasked. "But you were a cook—a cook from before. And you're still a cook now. A cook to a god, or a hero. It takes more than blood to be someone great."

Eli hung on those words for a while. He let the silence surround him. And then, just when it looked like Pernus was about to get up, Eli asked, "Can I be someone great here? Or am I only a visitor?"

Pernus stared at him. He had put his flask down. He leaned forward, his long and crooked nose almost touching Eli. “You spoke to Ormoc, didn’t you?” When Eli shot a surprised look at him, Pernus nodded. “I knew it, I knew it. He complains about every little thing. The old dog can barely bark, but he loves to bite.”

“I might have pushed it too far,” Eli said.

“You didn’t push anything too far. You’re alone, isolated, far from that woman of yours. You have every right to be angry. You’re chained by some strange force that keeps you locked to a leader who wants you to bleed and die for her yet speaks in riddles. Being angry is natural. Younger boys have bigger grievances with lesser problems in my day.”

“What did you do, Pernus? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Pernus’ grin became even more pronounced. “She made me night watch for a reason.”

Eli clenched his fists. The night was bright but quiet. Pernus said he wished he could feel refreshed again, but Eli felt something come over him. A new power, a new energy, a new force. “Pernus, can you teach me how to control this power? Can you teach me how to fight?”

Pernus looked him up and down and then got up. He walked over to a sheathed sword.

Eli and Liassus (I)

The night was long and arduous, made worse by sudden gusts of hot air. It had been cool before, but she could feel it.

Liassus was tapping on her pipe, the rush of smoke entering her nostrils. She spluttered and coughed. Hands thumping her chest, she started hitting all over her body, the clang of her gauntlets clicking like coins rubbing against each other. “Damn. How does Ormoc do this?” She whispered. Then, she saw a sweaty Eli walking towards her, his hand raised.

“Liassus, oh, er, General.” He said.

“Call me whatever you want. They call me that because it’s easier.” She beckoned for him to sit down, her hand tapping on the empty bench beside her.

“Why is it easier?” He was a bit hesitant but relented. “What’s so hard about Liassus?”

“You’ll know. Or, well, assuming things go to plan, you might not. But,” she took another puff, hacking another cough, “you’ll most definitely know.”

“Right,” He said, chuckling, “another one of your secrets?”

“Here to interrogate me? About to call me a taskmaster? A slaaaaave-driver?”

Immediately, Eli’s smile dropped from his face. “You hear that often?”

“I don’t need to,” she emptied her pipe. Embers fell onto the ground, where she stamped it out, “but this isn’t the first time someone’s asked me that. Also, Ormoc’s got a big mouth. Don’t expect him to keep anything quiet.” The air became still and quiet. They could hear not even the sound of rustling grass or leaves. “So, I also hear that you’re trying to do something with that blood of yours.”

“Yeah, I’m working on something. I think it’s cool. Reminds me of being like a superhero of sorts.”

“A superhero, huh. Didn’t you say that your world has no magic? Or did Ormoc tell me that?” She whispered that last sentence, turning her head away.

“It doesn’t.”

“Is it wise to get fancy and happy? Once you go back, you might not have those abilities anymore. Are you willing to be normal again?”

“...is it possible to be normal again?”

Liassus looked at him. Eli knew that Liassus was a tall, commanding, beautiful woman, but he could never get over it. At moments, Pat's face would flash in his mind. But due to some force or misery or magic, whenever he saw Liassus, nobody else came to mind. She shrugged playfully, and perhaps it was the soft glow of this otherworldly moon or that coy smile she cast, but new strange magic seemed to flow over him.

“I don’t know. That’s all I know.” She stifled a chuckle. “That was pathetic. I thought it would have come off a little better.”

Eli didn’t find it funny, but he laughed anyway. "It came off fine.” He sat down beside her.

“Ahhh, this kind little man!” She grabbed him by the head, her fingers through his hair. She locked his head onto her shoulder. A small, round object glinted from her collarbone. “I appreciate the generosity.”

Eli didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. His hands were cupped together at his waist, his fingers tapping against each other. His shoulders fell, and his eyes stared straight. He didn’t look up.

She loosened her grip. “So, tell me about this fiancee of yours. What’s she like?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He imagined her laugh, her presence, her body. The warmth of her touch, the smell of her hair. Long locks of strawberry blond, eyes of amber-green. A laugh that didn’t stop, from a girl who didn’t want to stop laughing.

But he also remembered long nights of silence, nights that got longer and longer as the silence became harder and harder. The weak smile turned into a blank stare. He recounted all of it to the woman whose shoulder he rested on, and she only sat in silence. Like Eli, Liassus only stared straight, but whether she did it for the same reasons as he did, he didn't know. She didn't give a single chuckle, no nods or affirmations.

She gave him nothing.

The one to break this long silence again wasn’t Liassus but Eli. Fingers locked together, his foot tapping up and down, he mustered the courage to ask her. “Is she really here? Like, is she really here?”

Without hesitation, Liassus replied, “of course.”

Eli closed his eyes, but even though he was tired, he found it difficult to sleep.

Nara (III)

Nara woke up somewhat numb, her fingers slow, her legs heavy and sluggish. Her dried lips broke apart when she tried to open her mouth. It stung.

Beside her, vigilant and stern, eyes scanning the parchment, was a long, golden-haired woman in well-worn armour, her one hand tapping the pommel of her sword as the other held the sheets. “Nara…Adams. A strange name, I’ve not heard of one of the Salah to take on the names of humans.” She had a high-pitched voice, almost like a child’s voice.

“I…I took my husband’s name.” Nara replied. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe; you’re back at Aura. This is Fort Commander Mira’s chamber, you’re in a bed, and I’m trying my best to ascertain the situation and fate of the Swift Suns based upon the reports I’ve been able to put together.”

“The Swift Suns…what happened?” Nara looked out the windowsill, the streets of Aura in front of her. She once saw them as cozy, the long and thin roads quaint, but now they seemed like a cobweb, each branching like nets into far-off pastures.

Leanne’s cold hands brought her back; she had pressed them against her cheek. “I’m sorry...”

“You mentioned in your letter that the priest boy was sick. We found him dead, but before we commit to an autopsy, I want to hear your thoughts.”

“He was sick, from the air. The foul air caught him, and we tried to drain it from his body, but there was far too much.”

"We?" Leanne asked.

"The wagon-driver and I. He recommended it."

"I see. It was him who recommended it." Then, there was a brief silence. She put down her quill, crossed her legs and arms, and then made eye contact. “How long were you and your husband together?”

Nara’s eyes widened. Her hands clenched together. “I’m sorry? I don’t under - ”

“It’s strange for one of the western Salah to be here, in West Siral, and even stranger for them to be at the border. And as an adventurer? Married to a human? You’ve broken many stereotypes of your kind, Nara Adams.”

Leanne turned back. Her body relaxed, though her hand drifted towards the blade on her waist. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

“I am honest with you, my lady, I - ”

“Did you love your husband?”

“Of course I loved him! He and I were - ”

“Together for how long?”

“We were together for years, my lady.” Nara’s hands fell open. Her face twisted into something ugly, hunched as sunlight gleefully cast rays upon her body. And yet, there were no tears.

Leanne closed her eyes and sighed. “I have a city that’s under the throes of something I don’t understand. I have people in my streets dying, turning black and blue and convulsing as I’ve never seen it before. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but I don’t believe that you’re just the adventurer Nara, married to Alan of Loweight, who befell a terrible fate at the Burrows. I need to know who you are, because if you have something, anything, that could help me…I need it.” After a brief moment of silence, Leanne shook her head. She bolted up, took her things, and then walked out.

Nara buried her face in her hands.

Ira and the Medicalers (III)

“You promised, sir Liarus? You promise you’ll bring me to your summer chalet?” She followed behind him with bouncy steps, her hand flicking forwards to catch his, but she’d always pull it back at the last second. He’s a Medicaler! She thought, trying to shake the thought out of her head, but nothing.

“Of course,” Liarus said. His voice was gentle and soft, loud enough to be heard but soft enough to feel like a whisper, a secret between the two of them as the group trudged onwards. Led by the palanquin, they cut through the forest of Ilma, the wild growth difficult and laborious for a group outfitted such as theirs. It looked as if the days were getting even hotter; summer had yet to come, but even then, it seemed like it was here in full force. For men of the flame, the Medicalers were much more tolerant of heat than anyone else, but it was becoming clear that it was uncomfortable at best.

Ira could feel her heartbeat with every word he said. Ever since they’d been travelling together, the sound of the other men escaped her. In all the clanging and shuffling of steel and leather, all she heard and saw was Liarus. “You promised.” She whispered to herself, smiling.

“What did you say?” Liarus asked. “Is something bothering you, my dear?”

“Nothing,” She responded, “I’m so thankful I met you.” She tried to grasp his hand, but it seemed to always fly out of reach every time she did.

Bad luck, she surmised. It didn’t stop her from trying.

Not long after, they heard something else in the distance. A faint sound that didn’t belong to the forest at all; men shouting.

“Hold position,” Liarus said to his group. He held Ira at his side. “How’s your wound?” With a flash of his fingers, he lifted her shirt. She jolted a bit, but he ignored it. A ring of red and blue was forming, and even with the soft glow of his healing magic, it was growing even more. His lips twitched, but Ira didn’t catch it. “Stay with me, stay close.” He told her. She nodded, her head swinging like a little girls’, her ears flopping up and down.

“Of course, sir Liarus!” She squeaked.

“We got movement!” Voices from beyond were heard. “We got…men.”

Three men entered into their sight, wearing thin clothes of hemp and hide. They were somewhat gaunt in the faces, though they were hardly thin. It was a strange sight to see men so heavily clothed in the middle of such a hot day, but the Medicalers - in their bandoliers and wraps and armour - were hardly ones to cast judgment.

“Greetings, my dear men.” Liarus briskly walked to the front of the convoy. “We Medicalers are on the search for an artifact lost from us. But this vicious heat has made it quite difficult, and this forest makes setting up camp quite precarious. Can you tell us where the nearest town is?”

One of them stepped forward. “Nearest place around here is probably the Loweight down the traders’ road.” His fingers were twitching, one of them tapping on his waist. “It’s a couple of days from here, but I can lead you fellas out of the forest, and then you just make way south on your own.”

“I see.” Liarus surveyed the three of them. “Hunting, I suppose?”

“Yes, of course.”

Liarus smiled. “You men are quite far from Loweight if that’s the case. Can you give us some food or water? Or let us stay at your farmstead? We can pay.”

The two in the back looked at each other. The one in front crossed his arms. “Sorry, Ser Medicaler, but we cannot. We have scarcely any food ourselves, and what we need we need for the hunt.”

“I can see that. No packs, but you have flasks. How suspicious.” He whispered. He cleared his voice. “But you men are dressed so hot, with so little food, hunting so far away from the nearest town. Why is that?” His metal gloves started to heat up.

“I’m sorry, Ser Medicaler, but we must get back to our duties.” They turned around. Liarus unsheathed his sword. He sliced the flask. Blood poured out freely and generously, spilling all over his pants. The one in front pushed the other two and screamed at the top of his lungs, “run!”

Before the hunter could muster up anything, grabbed him by the neck, his hot hands burning the man's skin.

“We've blood mages!” Liarus yelled. The choking and gurgling could scarcely block him out. His hands were slapping on Liarus' gauntlets, but every time his skin made contact, it would stick to them, sizzling and steaming and flaking. Flames were soon licking his eyes and ears, but nothing the hunter did loosened Liarus' grip.

In his last moments, the hunter tried to cast something, anything. A bead of blood formed around his hands, sharpening into a blade. Yet before the hunter could even fire it, he completely burst into flames. The knife fell onto the ground and it shattered into dew.

A deep howl rang throughout the woods.