Chapter 2

The Sun crept lower in the skies casting a golden twilight over the crowds as Tickle and Flint tried to blend in. They both knew they had to leave town and wait for the heat to die down, but they hadn’t had to say it. Neither of them had said a word since they had slipped the grasp of the guard; Flint had seen something behind her eyes and he could tell she wasn’t ready to talk. Without making a noise, they slipped into an unpopulated nook where they could rotate disguises.

Tickle stared off into the distance as she pulled some silly glasses with a fake mustache out of her bag; her mind was elsewhere. She had heard tales of Aethian prisons – No, she interrupted the thought. “I know a place,” she said, speaking over the tales that echoed in her head. A few of the scattered friends of the minstrels had claimed to have escaped prison. Baxoth’s men would never admit it, but Tickle had seen the scars firsthand, and the stories seemed genuine enough. She realized she had paused when she saw the look on Flint’s face. She continued, “North of here, along the coast. It’s an old Takarakka trading outpost; called Tamang.”

“How far out?” Flint asked as he donned the disguise. He looked goofy with the glasses, but they slipped back into the crowded street.

“We could get there in a day, if we had transportation.” she replied. But they didn’t have transportation, not to mention supplies. They each only had their day bags.

“The interior of the desert is the opposite of the way I need to go.” Flint pointed out.

“Well, it’s not like we can really wait around at the harbor looking for a ship to sail on,” Tickle replied. “Mr Hawky Justice is probably already posting wanted posters of us. We’ll be recognized long before we can find a crew,” she paused. “But we can cut north, ride mostly along the coast. And we can take a ship out of Tanjer when we get there. Tamang is on the way, at least, if we stay out of the bigger cities.”

“Ok, sure, but how are we gonna get there? We have no food, no coin, no transport.” Flint replied. The crowds were thinning a bit as they got further from the festival’s center.

“I know a few people in Tanjer,” Tickle replied, Flint’s mouth opened to interrupt but she continued “And along the way. The Minstrels and I traveled all over together. If we can just get there we can get some help–” Tickle cut herself off; turned her head quickly. She had spotted something out of the corner of her eye. “Speeder bikes!”

Flint turned to look. Sure enough they found themselves in front of a row of chained magitek bikes. They were all clearly mechanical, made of colorfully painted metals, but the designs were borrowed from animals. One looked like a shark, one a dragonfly. Some designs hovered, others stood on the ground. “They’re locked up.” Flint noted.

“You still have the extend-o pole, right?”

“Yeah,” Flint replied, then he realized what she was getting at, “Oh! Good thinking.” Flint wedged Bo into the chains on one of the bikes, the one shaped like a shark, the back end set firm against the ground. The shark-bike was round, it looked a little fat. The number 99 was stenciled on the side. The shark’s jaws were closed, a pipe ran through its mouth in a way that made it look like it was biting on it. As Bo extended the chains struggled and groaned against the force. SNAP!

Flint had hoped to free two bikes but the sound of the snap was louder than he had expected and the shark could seat two. The few people around them turned to look. A few started shouting. Flint had already mounted the bike, taking the driver’s seat. He pulled up Tickle behind him. “Grab on,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Fuzzy, she thought. It reminded her of Zara. The bike jerked backward haphazardly. “Do you even know how to drive one of these?” Tickle asked.

“I’ve driven plenty of speeder bikes.” Flint said confidently “But, uh, this model is new to me.” he added a little more earnestly. He twisted the grip on the handlebar and the bike shot forward. He pulled back on the throttle and was able to gain control of the bike. “See, all under control.”

The commotion they had caused once again drew guards’ attention. One of Lord Justicar’s elite guards had been alerted by one of the witnesses and was now giving chase on foot, no match for the speed of the bike.

Flint took off towards the emptier parts of town, the grip around his waist was tight, Tickle was holding on for dear life. They had lost the guard quickly.

A dark skinned man sat on the edge of a fountain in an open air stone courtyard. Shade cast by large scarlet and gold awnings kept him cool. Tropical plants grew along the edge of the courtyard. The man had a square face with chiseled features and a close-cut well-trimmed beard. His jet black hair was shaved tight on the sides with medium length locs on top. His curious looking armor was inky black on the back and paper white in the front. It moved more like paper than cloth or metal. An earring shaped like a silver sword hung from his right ear, matched in color by his septum ring. The silvers matched the cool undertones in his skin. He was young, in his early 20s. “Thank you for the report,” he replied to his lieutenant who stood in front of him.

“Of course, Commander Theron.” Octavia still always felt strange addressing her oldest friend by his rank. Her skin was ochre almost like a stone of carnelian and her black hair flowed over her shoulders and down to her mid-back. A fitted white suit with maroon and gold accents adorned her large, muscular, yet decidedly feminine, frame. She had soft features with an intensity behind them, her lipstick the color of dried blood, her eyes smokey with shadow. Her nails were short but painted - they matched her lips. Secured by a braided gold rope to a belt on her waist were two ornately decorated sets of brass knuckles.

“Octavia,” Theron said, after a pause. Technically her superior, he was able to dispense with formalities. “Lord Justicar will have already stationed guards at each of the gates,” he thought for a moment. “If they’re smart they’ll be gone long before we can set up enough men on the rooftops, but go ahead and give the order anyway.”

“Of course, commander.”

“I’ll also want to talk to all the guards who had been in contact with either of them since they arrived in town.”

Octavia turned to leave. Theron rarely officially dismissed her and she was usually able to read him well enough to tell when he’d finished giving orders.

“Oh and Octavia.” Theron added. She stopped, and waited. “We’ll be heading out on this hunt together,” he said as he stood up and put his arm on her shoulder. Theron was only a little taller than Octavia, but were both imposing..

Octavia laughed as she cracked her neck, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tickle was surprised how relatively uneventful the escape from Oasis had truly been. At least, the second attempt. It was already dark by the time they escaped the town. Flint had done a lap around town before they decided they had to go by the beach, like Magnus had tried to do, but when they did they had seen another platoon of guards blocking beach access. Flint had just gunned it directly towards them. “They’ll get out of the way,” he had said before clipping one of the guards and almost losing control.

But now they were riding along the coastline where the rainforest turned to grassy dunes and gave way to sandy beaches and the occasional rocky stretch. They’d have to cut inwards when they got to the edge of the rainforest until they could find one of the ancient roads. It was easier to navigate the desert if you followed the old paths.

“Can we stop for a bit?” Tickle asked after a while. They were on a stretch of beach pretty far removed from any city.

Flint let go of the throttle and the speeding shark gradually slowed down to a stop. After the touchy start he was a little afraid to slam on the breaks. He had a small scar on his chin, hidden by fur, from being thrown over handlebars before. “What’s up?” he asked, Tickle already running to the treeline.

“Gotta pee!” she shouted back at him. She returned a few minutes later. “Oh gods that’s so much better, we’d just been running around since I was on stage…” she saw Flint sitting on the sand staring out at the water. She took a seat next to him.

They sat there for a minute or two, not speaking but not in silence. The waves crashed over the sands, their claws dragging shells back to sea as the shells made their glittering sounds. Birds hooted and sang from the rainforest behind them. Despite that it felt remarkably quiet.

“Why’d you help me?” Flint eventually asked.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t know me. You helped me escape from the guards. And then that guy showed up, and you just left them to him to escape with me.”

Tickle’s gut sank, she felt sick to her stomach. “I… didn’t want to leave them.” she said.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Flint said in a matter of fact sort of way.

Tickle stared at the ocean for a bit before responding. “Do you mind if I tell you a story?” she finally asked. 

Flint nodded, “Yeah, but can you tell me on the bike?” He looked shiftily back towards Oasis. “I feel a bit exposed out here and they seemed pretty serious about finding us.” Tickle nodded. This time Flint was able to start the shark up without as much fanfare. They started off again towards the endless sea of sand.

The wind rushed past their ears, but Tickle amplified her voice slightly so Flint could hear. Flint could only listen. “My parents were terrible,” she told him. “My father was a drunk and my mother only really cared about herself.” She paused for a while lost in thought. “They blamed me for all their problems.

“It’s hard to remember sometimes.” she added. “I was really young. I remember the broad strokes, though. Dad hit mom, mom hit me.” There was another long pause. “I remember they didn’t want me; they told me to leave.” By now they were rounding the edge of the rainforest and Flint hugged the landscape as they moved inwards to follow the roads.

Tickle continued. “I slept outside at first, thinking they’d let me back in, I guess. I would sleep curled up like a dog on the street. I remember bottles being thrown at me. I guess eventually I got the message…” She trailed off for a bit again. “I was only four,” Tickle choked up a bit, the words almost a sob.

Tickle couldn’t see it but Flint made a pained face at the thought. She managed to keep her composure for a bit as they sped along, occasionally stopping to point Flint along the right path. “I lived on the streets for two years. I was hungry all the time. My only meals came out of the garbage.

“Then one day, the minstrels came to town. I think it was the first time I had smiled since I’d been kicked out. I especially remember Hector…” she trailed off. “His illusions made me forget my hunger for a bit. He pulled a rabbit out of a hat - I made him teach me that one. Afterwards, when they came around for tips he saw me. He could tell I wasn’t getting enough food. He said I looked like a tightly wrapped skeleton when they found me” She laughed a little at the thought - it was the way he had said it way back when. The outline of a small outpost was growing on the horizon. “That’s Tamang,” she pointed. “Anyway, Hector and Zara fed me. They raised me. I’ve been with the Minstrels ever since.”

As their pace slowed the wind quieted down enough that Flint was able to respond to her. “If they were so important to you, how could you just leave them to the guard?” it was an innocent question to him.

But Tickle’s response was snappier than she had intended, it had touched something in her. “Because you needed to find your family.” They had come to a stop and were getting off the bike.

He could sense the emotion in her voice. He responded in kind. “I didn’t ask for your help, so don’t blame me.”

Tickle sighed. “Yeah, I know you didn’t,” she replied much more calmly. “And I don’t blame you. It’s just…” she trailed off again. “You were alone, you were hungry, you didn’t have anybody.” she finally said. “You don’t just leave someone like that.”

Tickle’s eyes - set in a white painted face with large red cheek dots - looked at Flint with a sincerity he rarely saw. A single thought went through his mind. His face twisted as he tried to hold back the laugh. The words transformed into an image, and the river laughter burst its banks.

“What the hell?” Tickle asked, the emotion returning to her voice.

Between laughs he managed to get out the words “Sorry.”, “Sad…” and a few guffaws later “...clown.” The final image of the sad clown renewed his laughter again. Flint really had felt bad for Tickle, and had understood when she explained why she left. But he’d never been able to stifle a laugh in his life, much to the annoyance of his grandfather and to the amusement of his father.

Tickle’s face shifted from solemn to smiling and she too joined in laughing. “It is pretty funny,” she admitted. Her hurt and annoyance faded as the memories that had helped surface them once again disappeared into the background.

When the laughter finally died down, Flint added “Thank you.” The words hung in the dry night air for a bit. “But I won’t say you’re not crazy for leaving with a complete stranger.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been telling myself that in here all day,” she added pointing to her temple, her voice was playful but there was something swimming under the surface. “But don’t come off as the sharpest tool in the shed either, Mr. I-left-him-a-note!”.

The tone was playful. But Flint’s affect was blunted when he responded. “Yeah… Let’s find somewhere to sleep, it’s late.” it was punctuated with a yawn as they walked the bike into town.

The outpost of Tamang was small. Still, the people who built it seemed to take pride in their work. Past the few steer and goats in the outskirts the town was made of buildings of mud and rock decorated with holes and carvings on the sides. They almost looked like miniature castles. The township was built in a circular shape with a large series of colorful and ornate fabric awnings above the central court - home to a natural spring decorated as a fountain that served the town’s water needs.

Tickle walked Flint to the inn, the largest building in town. Light still shone out of the holes and door of the first floor. As they walked a voice greeted them. “Tickle!” It was a dark skinned man, mostly obscured by a deep blue headscarf the color of a sapphire. He wore robes of a brighter blue, darker than the sky but lighter than the sea.

“Meerab!” Tickle greeted him.
“I didn’t expect you and the Minstrels to be coming through here for another two moons or so.”

“To be honest I didn’t expect to come.” She replied.

“And who is your friend? Is he a new minstrel?”

“Flint,” he introduced himself with an extended hand, but Meerab grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed his cheeks.

“It is good to meet you!” Meerab said. “Any friend of Zara’s is a friend of mine. I take it you’ll be camping outside like usual? I’ll come out with you, Magnus still owes me from our last game of Tarneeb.” Tickle’s eyes met Meerab’s. There was something in them. “What? He doesn’t have the money? That’s fine, that’s fine I just want to rib him about it a little.” 

“No, uh…” Flint started. He looked at Tickle.  “I’ll explain it all to you, I think it’s best if Tickle just rests for now.”

Tickle was going to object but her eyelids were heavy, she felt drained. “Thanks,” she said.
“Room 3 is ready, just take that one, Tickle,” Meerab told her as she walked off into the hallway. Flint sat across from Meerab in the small lobby of the inn. They talked for a while, Flint filling Meerab in on the story from when he stole the food to the escape with Tickle.

“Did you get introduced to any of the other minstrels?” Meerab asked him after he had recounted the events.

“No. I saw them all, but when I met them things were too hectic. I think I know Hector and Zara.”

“That’s a shame, they’re good people. Fun to be around. They have a joy about them; a radiance that feels warm and inviting. I never feel more alive than after they visit town. But maybe that’s because I always beat Magnus at Tarneeb,” he laughed to himself. “Magnus was the beefy one with the mustache,” he added for Flint’s benefit. “Back when the minstrels were just Sage, Saffron, Hector, and Zara they’d come by here, back when my dad ran the inn. We’ve always just been a place for people to pass through, even way back before speeder travel we were only a rest stop for merchants, but we needed a permanent presence,” he looked at Flint inquisitively. “Did you see the fountain outside?”

Flint nodded.

“It’s built on a spring,” he explained. “It’s the reason this location was chosen. Tamang is actually older than those old desert roads, although the buildings are only about 50 years old max…” he trailed off for a bit. “There’s an old spirit in the spring, a water spirit. It’s watched over the few people who stayed here year-round for centuries. I’ve seen the spirit a few times,” he added with a yawn, “it’s name is Siqaya.“

Flint’s head nodded in his chair and he jerked up. It was late, and he had trouble listening to history lessons even when he was fresh. “Sorry Meerab,” he said. “I’m beat. Let’s talk more in the morning.”

Theron and Octavia approached the desert outpost. The stars still hung in the sky like the silence in the desert air. The guards Octavia had gathered for him had told him enough. He got their contacts in the city, and the guards had seen which way they had escaped. “Let’s get this over with, quick,” he said with a yawn as they approached.

“Eager to get back to Mom?” Octavia teased. She would hold her tongue in front of the other soldiers, but when it was just them she refused to treat him as her superior. Theron had always been a hair ahead of her in skill and accolades, but she had never seen them as anything but equals.

“That’s the only part I’m not looking forward to,” he admitted. “Let’s post up until dawn. Don’t let them know we’re here, we don’t want them running.”

Octavia cracked her knuckles. “We could take care of it right now and be home in Taelethier by tomorrow,” she tried to tempt him.

“There’s no honor in besting a tired opponent.” he replied.

She nodded. The Aethian army tried to cure you of that delusion. “Victory is victory” was a common refrain. “The only dishonorable battle is the one you lose” was another. But Theron was right. There was no honor in beating an enemy who wasn’t at their best. Or at least, there’s no fun in it, she thought with a smile.

Theron moved, layers peeled off of his armor. Thin slices of paper, stark white and inky black, floated through the night air. They swirled in the air in a small cyclone before coming together to form a tent, obscured from view of the town. The tent was rounded at the bottom, squat - like a ball squished under a large weight. It had a pointed top. Both of them could stand easily inside. As they both walked through the large rounded doorway more leaves of paper peeled from his armor and tore themselves into small little crumpled strips. They cushioned two beds that took shape on the ground. Octavia plopped into the pile of paper. “Goodnight,” she said somehow already snoring not even seconds after the word crossed her lips. Theron laid awake for much longer, going over what he knew about their quarry.

The Sun rose fast but the morning moved slowly. Despite turning in later, Flint had arisen first. He had walked around the shaded courtyard and sat on the edge of the fountain. The desert was quiet to him, but the trickle of water from the fountain was familiar - he was used to the sound of waves. He tapped his foot with an anxious energy as his mind raced. After minutes that felt like hours he decided to pull out Bo and used it to doodle in the sand.

Tickle woke groggy, but eager to eat. She thought about the breakfast Sage and Saffron had been making. Her mouth watered. But an unfamiliar pain in her back brought her to reality. She was accustomed to sleeping on hard ground in a bed roll, not a cushioned bed. She looked around, enclosed by four walls instead of a tent. The events of the day before played over in her head. She sighed.

She made her way downstairs to Meerab’s lobby where she could smell breakfast being made. “Are you cooking, Meerab?” she shouted out.

She heard a reply, “No, that’s Kahina.” Meerab and his blue robes appeared from around the corner. “I think you’ve met before,” he said, knowing full well the intensity of their friendship.

“Kahina’s here?!” Tickle replied with excitement. She was already running towards the kitchen before Meerab could reply. She was shouting “KAHINAAAA”.

“Tickle?” a much more timid voice replied as Tickle entered the kitchen. There was a blur of something flying through the air and a look of shock on Kahina’s face, dark skinned with a soft yellow paint and red henna designs on her cheeks and forehead. Tickle landed on Kahina with a hug. “Careful!” she said as they both fell to the ground “Careful!! There's a fire here, I’m cooking!”

“I missed you the last three times I was here, it’s been three years. If you catch on fire from my hug you catch on fire.” Tickle said as they both laughed.

They sat up. Kahina was older now, and she’d changed her hairstyle. She now wore box braids that hung out from under her headscarf that she had tied in a new style as well. Tied like a turban, rounded and large around her head, with the two tails of the fabric that freely hung from her head like pigtails.

“Whatcha cookin’?” Tickle asked as she lifted the lid of the pot to peek in. The food in the pot was a uniform beige and smelled of warm milk and grain.

“Just a basic porridge today.” Kahina said. “I’ve got figs, dates, honey, nuts, and butter to top it with. I was just finishing up, we can eat now. Let me just tell Meerab it’s ready.”

“I’ll go tell Flint. But you and me are catching up on the last three years for the rest of the day.”

Kahina laughed, “Of course, dude.”

Octavia yawned as she opened her eyes. The sunlight that filtered through the paper tent revealed the hidden detail of Theron’s construction. The black papers were layered to create various shades and from the inside the tent looked like a stained glass cathedral in grayscale.

Theron was still asleep. Octavia tried to run her fingers through her hair but they got caught. She had scraps of the torn paper bedding hanging in her hair. She shook Theron awake. “Make me a brush.” she urged him.

“Good morning to you too,” he yawned sarcastically as some papers flew together in the air to form the shape of a hair brush which landed gently in her hand.

She sniffed the air like a hound while she brushed her hair. “I smell food,” she said. Her sense of smell was keener than his, enhanced through fighter magic, and honed hunting the wild ice goats out on the glacial plains. Theron himself wasn’t incapable of fighter abilities but he was never able to enhance his senses to the extent she could. Elementalists usually relied on their innate gift too much to need to branch out. Mastery over a particular substance - some more common than others; Theron’s paper ability was especially rare.

“Let’s see if we can drop in for breakfast,” Theron replied with a smirk.

“Wait, so Amara just kicked the guard in the chin?” Kahina asked between mouthfuls of food. They sat outside under the colorful awnings, gathered on stone seats around the food in the midst of them. Flint and Meerab, but mostly Tickle, were filling in Kahina on the events of the day before. Even Flint hadn’t seen that bit, sneaking under the stage at the time, but he had heard the thunk of the hit and the grunt of the guard.

Suddenly, Flint’s tail stood upright - he was the first to notice them. Two figures approached from the main entrance of the town, they stood across the fountain. They looked clean, well-rested, well-groomed. The man wore strange armor, and the woman a flowing suit. They were talking aloud.

“This canopy sure is gorgeous.” the man said. This caught the attention of the rest of the diners. “The patterns on the cloth, the way the light hits them. And look how it affects the color of the shadows along the ground. Definitely in the style of the Takarakka tribe.”

“I’ve always loved the blue of the mens’ robes.” the woman added. “The construction of the fountain is beautiful, you can really see how the builders utilized the same motifs on the buildings and the fountain. I love it when designers show off their artistic flare.”

“Oh here’s something different.” The man said, looking down. “Doodles, in the sand.” There was no way they hadn’t noticed the diners yet.

“Cute” the woman replied, seemingly sincerely. She waved over to the diners as they continued their approach. They were close now. “Did one of you draw those?”

Tickle looked at Flint, she had found him drawing when she called him to breakfast. Flint didn’t say anything, he had an intense look on his face.

“Oh you have breakfast!” The woman continued. “Do you mind if we join you? We’ve been traveling across the desert all night and we’re famished.”

Tickle looked at Kahina who nodded. “Yeah there’s enough for everyone.” Tickle said.

“Don’t worry, we can pay.” said the man as he took a seat with them. “My name is Theron by the way.”

“Octavia.” the woman added with a smile. Kahina ladled them both bowls of porridge. Which Octavia dove into quickly and Theron nibbled at.

“Why are you really here?” Flint asked.

“What?” Theron feigned innocence.

“You didn’t just travel across the desert. You’re well-rested. Your clothes are fresh. Your hair is brushed.” he gestured at Octavia with the latter comment, his other hand resting anxiously on Bo.

“Caught us.” Theron said with a smile, the skin by his eyes wrinkling. Tickle’s muscles tensed, the hair on her neck stood up. “We’re chasing down a pair of criminals. You,” he pointed at Flint, then at Tickle, “...and you.” Flint was on his feet immediately. His weapon drawn. “Come now, that’s no way to treat a dinner guest.” Theron continued, calmly. “We can fight after breakfast. For now, let’s just eat.” He took another bite of the porridge.

Octavia finished hers with a loud burp. “I’m not letting you arrest my guests in my town,” Meerab said firmly.

“Oh? Is that so?” Octavia looked at Kahina. “Is it going to be four against two?” she asked with an excited bloodlust seeping from the words, her eyes were wide, her gaze piercing.

“Three,” Kahina replied with determination, she turned to Meerab. “I’ll take care of this.” Meerab wasn’t a magic user, and even though her abilities lie mostly in healing, Kahina had a much better shot than he did.

Theron finished his food and put down his bowl. He stood up, paper peeled off from his armor and reformed itself into the shape of a sword which he grabbed. Behind him two paper birds flittered their wings. The left arm of his armor reformed into a claw shape.

Octavia simply pulled her brass knuckles off her belt, using the gold rope that had held them to tie her hair back, then putting them on before cracking her knuckles.

Flint had extended Bo to its normal fighting length. His eyes were focused squarely on Theron. Tickle stood in between him and Kahina. Theron and Octavia had set themselves up opposite the fountain and both took fighting stances. Octavia smiled, “Let’s start with 30% of my strength,” she said taking in a deep breath and throwing a punch at the wall of the building next to her. The stones that supported its weight scattered backwards in a loud crash. As the desert winds cleared the dusty cloud Tickle could see the building had been turned completely to rubble. “Yeah, that’s about 30%,” she said.

The two paper birds dove quickly towards Flint who batted them off with his bo staff. They flew up and back down in a dive bomb pattern. Octavia ran towards Tickle and Kahina, she moved like a freight train. Tickle popped her jester hat off her head; she reached inside. Rabbit in the hat, she thought. Her whole arm disappeared into the hat. She pulled out a handful of marbles which she quickly threw on the ground in front of her. Octavia slipped on the marbles, but her forward momentum kept her on a collision course. Tickle and Kahina dove out of the way.

Theron had closed the gap. Flint’s attention was split between the birds above and Theron in front. He clumsily parried the sword attacks with Bo, but Theron’s blade was sharp, and the birds distracting. It sliced off piece after piece of Flint’s staff, requiring Flint to keep extending it. This isn’t good, it can’t take much more of that, he thought. He could barely block. Theron’s attacks were aggressive. They didn’t allow him a moment to breathe.

He felt a sharp pain. A slice against his right shoulder. His arm was hot, almost numb but somehow throbbing with pain. It was hard to hold Bo with the injury. But the touch confirmed it. He fights with paper.

The fist was a blur as it swung towards her, but Tickle managed to flip her hat around towards the punch. Octavia’s punch slipped into the nothingness. And when her hand came out it was covered in a sticky substance, something like honey, and fluffy white feathers clung to her fist. “Fight like a woman you coward.” Octavia said. She tried to shake the gunk off her hand to no avail.

“Not a woman, I’m a clown.” Tickle replied with her tongue out. She didn’t even try to dodge. But Octavia’s feathery fist went right through her form. Octavia heard a teasing voice. “Over here”. It came from behind her. Octavia wheeled around, her speed was increasing with each attack.

“Fucking fight back,” Octavia said in frustration as she swung through another illusory Tickle. “At least try to hit me.” 

“Ok, if you insist,” it was Kahina. The water hit Octavia in the face with the force of a waterfall. She was taking a breath when it hit, she fell to her knees as she choked.

Flint’s ears pricked up as Theron’s claws dug into his left leg. “Water? Kahina over here!”

Theron’s sword was heading straight for him, he tried to turn but the tip was thrusting too quickly. It was aiming for his left shoulder. Theron was trying to completely disarm and incapacitate him. There was a splash. There was contact, the wet sword crumpled under the force.

Kahina’s golden eyes, and the red markings on her face had taken on a glow. She was manipulating the water in the fountain. She made a bridge of ice that she slid along to quickly flank Theron. Flint blocked his escape as blast after blast of water hit his paper armor. Parts of it were sloughing off his body. Theron’s face changed, he didn’t have a backup weapon.

Octavia was back up. Her steps were faster. She was hard to keep track of. Tickle was tired, making such large illusions was difficult. She had to do a few more. She had to tire her out. It came so fast Tickle didn’t even see it. It came in so hard Tickle felt a rib crack. She felt the breath knocked out of her. Almost felt her soul leave her body. She felt herself fly back. And she felt herself slam back into something softish, and she heard a loud gruesome crack. It took all her effort but Tickle was able to roll off of whatever she had fallen on. She looked back. It was Meerab. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his blue headcovering was turning black with blood. “MEERAB,”. It was Tickle and Kahina both.

“THERON,” it was Octavia. She saw Theron prone, and she saw Flint trying to swing Bo at his head. Flint’s body turned, his back leg twisted, he was swinging with lethal intent. She flash stepped in between them and blocked the swing with her hands. Even with her fighter defenses she winced at the pain.

She considered the situation for a second. She was hungry for more fight, but she looked at Theron, wet and pathetic. “We’re leaving,” she said. “Tend to your wounded,” she added, lifting Theron’s half-naked body like he weighed nothing at all. As they passed the main entrance to the small village she added. “Thank you for breakfast.”

Kahina hadn’t needed Octavia’s instruction, she was already desperately trying to save Meerab, her hands bloodied as she undid his headwrapping. She touched his wound tenderly. There was no reaction from him. “No,” she said, frustrated. “It’s not enough.” Her eyes and markings glowed again, the fountain too began to glow then to bubble over, the water soaking the sand around it. “Are you sure?” Kahina asked. Tickle couldn’t tell to whom, but she was only half conscious, held awake by her concern. Flint had limped over, the claw wound on his leg radiating pain with each step. He could barely move the fingers on his arm. “Ok.” Kahina said. 

The flow of the fountain slowed, then stopped. Kahina’s glow faded as the fountain’s did. Meerab sat up to an embrace from Kahina. “Oh thank the spirits.” she sighed in exhaustion. She was crying.

Meerab touched the closed wound on his head. He was awake but his head still rung like a church bell. He looked to the fountain, almost dry. “I think I know which spirit.”

Kahina nodded. “You two are one now.” She looked at Tickle and Flint. Tickle tried to say something but it only came out as a wheeze. Kahina turned to heal her too. Tickle may have been struggling to breathe through a cracked rib and bruised organs but still this time the wounds weren’t so severe. 

Tickle saw some small ethereal creatures, lesser spirits called sprites, float around Kahina as her eyes glowed. Some of them landed on her, touched her wounds. And then, she was able to breathe. “Thanks.” she said, but she still winced with pain.

Kahina turned to Flint. The sprites healed his leg quickly but the damage to the arm was extensive. They sat for a while as she worked on his shoulder, the pain returning to it with the feeling. “You’re a shaman,” he realized. Kahina nodded.

Meerab was up, his head covering abandoned, he looked into the dry fountain. Kahina walked up behind him. “So, will it dry up forever?” he asked. The thought of having to abandon his home floated through his mind. The well was the heart of Tamang. Without water nobody could live here. Not that many did in the first place.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Siqaya’s power is in you now. But you’ll have to learn how to use it.” She paused before continuing,  “Granny told me one time, it’s how the first elementalists were born.”

Meerab tried to gesture. A tiny trickle of water flowed from the spring and began slowly refilling the fountain. One could hardly call it a spring, but he smiled nonetheless. “Now I am a magic user” he said to Kahina proudly.

“Yeah, I guess you are,” she said with a smile.