"I do believe you, m'lady, or at least I believe this is important to you," The halfling man, Bohdy, said as he stirred his soup. Qas'ke could tell that was simply supplication, and Bohdy had no interest in what she was trying to tell him, "I just don't see the urgency. So a few stars have died, I can't just start panicking. I don't run riot every time I burn through a candle, I've got plenty. Plenty of stars left in the night sky."
He had the classic drawl of a long-standing outsteader, perhaps fourth or fifth generation, who never often, or perhaps at all, made their way to one of the major cities. Light slowly began to pinprick through the nearby window, as the growth of the prismrise slowly turned to dust, then disappeared, as it always did in the hours after the prism set. The soup was mushroom soup, as Bohdy, along with his wife and two daughters, were mushroom farmers. Two weeks of travel east had brought Qas'ke to the southeastern flank of Tol'gead Peak, where she had happened across the outstead nestled against the rocky cliff faces, beside the mushroom cave. Qas'ke's first prismrise since she left Depien had been spent in a cave not unlike the one she-
The one she-
"Aww, come now, Bohdy, it's clear she's simply passionate about her study," Coral chided her husband, giving Qas'ke a wan smile, "And your criticism certainly doesn't help. She looks fit to pass out. Are you sure you're sleeping and eating well, dear?"
The question dug Qas'ke from her cogitating, and she plastered on a smile. No, this woman didn't believe Qas'ke either, but she hid it better behind a facade of matronly concern. "I am fine, my lady, really. I'm simply not used to travelling unattended. Thank you."
"My lady," Coral echoed haughtily, waving a dismissive hand, "My dear, I'm no noble, or city lass, I'm simply a farmer."
"Nonsense," Qas'ke countered, pushing the remains of her soup aside, and putting a small pile of gold Stithings on the table, the square-sided coins stacked neatly. "You've been a generous and gracious host, and given of me your food and shelter. Thank you, again."
Coral blushed at the compliment, hesitantly scooping up the coins. 'Won't you stay another night? It's nearly sunset, certainly you won't want to travel in the dark? Where are you headed anyways?"
Qas'ke moved to sling her pack over her shoulders. "Actually, maybe you can help me with th-"
The front door burst open, and the elder daughter, Bredja, shouted into the room. "Ma, da, help, it's Deedja!"
⥞FIVE⥟
Deedja hung forty-five feet in the air, clinging to a sprawl of vines spilling over the edge of the cliff face against which the outstead was built. Perhaps eight years old, she was a diminutive shape against the vastness of the cliff face. Bohdy let loose a quick string of curses. '"Bredja, get up there, quickly! Coral, get all the pillows and blankets in the house, I'll grab whatever hay we may have!"
The family dispersed, leaving Qas'ke on her own by the cliff, looking up. From what she had seen, it would take Bredja precious minutes to run to the sloping edge of the cliff and get to her sister, even as long legged as she was in her awkward teenage years. Calculations ran through her head. At her age, the forty-five foot fall would almost certainly be lethal for Deedja. The girl was too far away to reach with her magic. How fast would she be going after falling fifteen feet? Would she be safe to catch at that speed? Could she slow the girl further?
Qas'ke whipped around, looking about frantically, until her eyes settled on the drying silo beside the cave, just a handful of feet to the left of where the girl would fall. Ten feet tall, the structure had built-in rungs up the side, to allow mushrooms to be deposited from the top. She ran in that direction, as Bohdy returned with the first armful of hay, quickly followed by Coral with pillows and blankets. Their pile to catch the girl was not sufficient. Qas'ke jumped, and caught the rungs above to get a head start, hauling herself up the side of the silo.
As she reached the top, she could see Bredja sprinting along the cliff face. She would not be fast enough. Qas'ke ran the math through her head as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the two golden cuffs, which wove intricate knot-work from her wrists to halfway up her forearms. The vines around Deedja began to crumble and disappear, and the girl's plaintive and strained crying became shrill shrieks of terror.
Qas'ke planted her feet, took a deep breath, stretched out her arms before her, and focused. Her left hand, palm forward, pointed at the dangling girl, while her right, palm down, indicated a spot on the ground, right in front of the silo, closest to Qas'ke. The vines around the girl gave way to dust, and she began to fall.
Qas'ke barely registered Coral screaming as she followed Deedja with her left hand. If she tried too early, the girl would not be in range, and trying again would take too much from Qas'ke. If she was too late, the girl may be going too fast. It had to be perfect, it had to be-
There. Qas'ke released her held breath, and felt her bracers, her foci, grow warm. As she snapped her left hand shut, she whipped her right hand up in a quick motion, shutting it as well, capturing direction and velocity. With a quiet fwipping sound, Deedja disappeared from her mid-air tumble, and appeared at the base of the silo, rocketing upward toward Qas'ke.
Qas'ke quickly withdrew her arms from the girl's path, she was still moving much too fast. She watched the girl crest her upward flight, coming to a momentary stop before beginning to fall again. Qas'ke shot her hands out and snatched the girl from the air as she passed, pulling her to her chest and throwing herself backward to keep herself from being wrenched from the edge of the silo by the sudden transfer of momentum. As Qas'ke landed on her back, feeling the air flee her lungs from the impact, she also felt the weight of a crying, trembling child rest on her chest. She hugged Deedja close, staring up at the sky.
She could save one person. Did that make up for one?
Qas'ke held Deedja for long minutes, until the girl was calm enough to hold onto Qas'ke as she climbed down. Coral quickly took Deedja from Qas'ke as she approached, and the crying began anew, as the mother held her daughter, stroking her hair and thanking merciful Chu'tye for sending a guardian to save her daughter. Qas'ke started as she realized Coral spoke of her, but didn't want to dispute the mother in her current state. A gods-sent guardian. The thought of it made Qas'ke simultaneously warm with adulation, and cold with the knowledge of what she had previously done. No, Qas'ke didn't know if this made up for any of the deaths, but she felt it was a step in the right direction.
As things calmed down, Coral insisted much more firmly that Qas'ke spend another night in the outstead before moving on. Suddenly feeling drained, Qas'ke accepted the offer. Without being asked, she helped gather the pillows and blankets. She joined Coral in plucking the hay from them and cleaning them enough to sleep in. Bohdy, with the help of Bredja—aspiring cook that she seemed to be—prepared a veritable feast, slaughtering one of the family's few shoats in Qas'ke's honor for the occasion. It was delicious, and Qas'ke allowed her spirits to be carried high on the evening's celebration.
"That was incredible, lady Leitfoll! Was that magic? How did you do it?"
Bredja had been fairly silent since her sister's rescue. It had been her idea to go out and play as the prism set past the horizon, and she must have felt it was partially or wholly her fault that Deedja had been in danger. Now, it seemed her curiosity had been more of a force than her introspective silence.
Qas'ke smiled at the teenager, rolling her sleeves up to reveal her glittering foci. "Indeed, it was magic. In addition to being an astronomer, I am a translocator. That means I specialize in magic that moves myself, others, or objects."
Bredja stared at the foci on Qas'ke's arms. She was silent for a long moment, before asking "Can I become a translocator?"
"Perhaps," Qas'ke said, rolling her sleeves back down, "Have you been tested for magical aptitude?"
Bohdy quickly cut in. "We... well, we don't have any magical folk around, m'lady. Most of the outsteaders in these parts are just simple folk like us."
"Well, I wish I would have time to test her, but I should really be continuing along my way tomorrow. Perhaps you could send her to an academy? Depien is just two weeks west of here, and I could provide you with a letter of recommendation to a number of the academies."
Bredja's eyes lit up, but her father sighed. "I'm afraid we need her help here."
Qas'ke felt for the teen as she saw Bredja's spirits fall. Maybe Qas'ke could do something for her on her way back. If she came back in this direction, that was.
"Bohdy, Coral, thank you again for your hospitality. Do you know what direction I could head in the morning? I'm looking for old ruins."
The parents shared a look, and Coral shook her head. "N-no, lady Leitfoll, we don't know of any ruins around here. But continue east, then north along the wood, there are plenty of outsteaders to take you in, and one of them may know something."
"If anyone doubts your nature, mention us. We're known enough along these woods, our names will go a long way toward gaining trust." Bohdy added, giving Qas'ke a genuine smile.
No, Qas'ke didn't think they believed her any more than previously, but she did feel she had gained their trust. Qas'ke went to bed that night, and slept without nightmare for the first night in weeks.
⥞SIX⥟
Qas'ke looked west, spotting the tops of the mountains she had left behind two weeks ago. Her journey had continued east, following the edge of the forest to her south. Ahead, Qas'ke could spot the smoke on the horizon marking her next destination, a village of outsteaders. The sight came just in time, she had only three days left before the next Prismrise. She took a long drink of water from her water skin, finding herself hoping they had an inn with a bath, and a washbasin for her clothing. The last three weeks hadn't been hard travel, but her last cleaning had been in the frigid mountain runoff rivers, and she was looking forward to bathing water that was even remotely warm.
She listened to the forest to her south, hearing the sing-song callings of the birds. From what Qas'ke understood, birds had only begun to show in force in the last hundred years or so. They, like many other animals, did not fare well when the prism arrived, but they had not been entirely wiped out like some species. Other than the bird song, the woods were quiet. Nothing moved in the underbrush. Qas'ke had heard stories of animals that prowled the woods. Now, those stories spoke of legendary creatures, their rarity a thing of the epochs. Even farm stock was prized for its rarity.
As if reacting to her thoughts, a flock of birds shot above her from the cover of the woods, flying out over the fields to her north. Qas'ke watched them in curiosity, wondering what they flew towards, or away from. She turned her attention to the woods, staring long into the caliginous depths. She shook herself from her reverie, continuing along the edge of the woods, toward the outsteaders over the horizon.
It was shortly after the second morning that Qas'ke could make out the palisade around the village. Eight feet tall, the wooden barricade wrapped around a village of surprisingly large size. From this distance, Qas'ke knew she was still an hour or so outside the village, but she thought it may hold a hundred or so people, most of whom would be outsteaders – those who chose to forgo metropolitan life, in favor of trying to reclaim a connection to the nature that now tried to suffocate them with each prismrise. She resettled her pack on her shoulder, and continued on toward the village.
By the time she stood before the tall palisade, it was shortly before most people would be sitting down for a midday meal. A sign post several minutes outside the village had declared it to be Wood's Edge, an unimaginative, though accurate, name. Within, the population seems to be mostly human, as she walked past rough-built stone homes arranged more haphazardly than you would find in a city. Plenty of children ran about, laughing and playing, as parents nearby kept a close eye, hanging laundry or working wood, which was this village's major export. The friendly folk kept her pointed in the direction of the town hall, which she stepped into a handful of short minutes later.
⥞SEVEN⥟
Qas'ke leaned against the window sill in the town hall as Samwell, the town's leader, dug through paperwork and maps. She had made herself known the previous day, then immediately excused herself. She'd had a bath. Washed her clothing. Slept like a rock in what should otherwise have been a rather bland inn bed. Now, she waited on the aging man to see what he could find in relation to nearby ruins. She stared out at the man hanging in a gibbet, erected in a small square beside the town hall.
"Samwell," Qas'ke asked, pointing out the window, "Why's that man strung up?"
Samwell squinted out the window, or perhaps it was a glare. 'Rotting traitor, he is. Let some bandits from the woods in right after the last Prismrise. By the time I could raise a posse to drive them off, they had half the town's food stores." He then effected a disdainful gesture of the hand. "Leaving the rotter to die at the root, next Prismrise."
Qas'ke put on an inquisitive frown. "Bandits from the woods? How do they survive out there?"
"Don't rightly know, my lady," Samwell said in a distracted tone, returning to his digging, "But there's a damn lot of them."
As Qas'ke mused on this, Samwell spat a curse under his breath. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I can't find our maps of the woods here. Might be those rotted thieves took them."
A short time later, Qas'ke strolled from the town hall, having excused herself to go explore the town and investigate it's people. But she couldn't escape the nagging in the back of her head. How did they survive out there, those bandits? Even if the group were large, as Samwell had implied, it was unlikely they had the means to create shelter that would withstand a Prismrise. They would have to use existing shelter.
Something like the ruins of a temple, perhaps?
Qas'ke made her way to the gibbet hung in the middle of the square. The man inside was ragged, exhausted, and looked bored. He stared down at Qas'ke, his head resting against the side of his prison. "Come to gawk?" he spat venomously, his voice little more than a sanded-down whisper.
"Actually, I came to ask you some questions."
"And why should I tell you anything?" He husked, shifting in his gibbet, his posture becoming more attentive. "I'll be rotting by nightfall."
Qas'ke took her waterskin from her side, holding it up to the prisoner as he looked on, skeptical. After a long hesitation, he snatched it, desperately drinking. After a long pull, he gasped and sighed, looking a bit more vital.
"I want to know how you survive out there." Qas'ke asked, crossing her arms. She made a mental note to buy a new water skin before leaving town.
The prisoner continued drinking, before finally offering the waterskin back. Qas'ke declined with a wave of her hand, to which he shrugged. "Old, deep temple, buried in the forest. Quite the find, really, we've been there a few months. But supplies have been tight. So boss planted me here, and we waited for the right opport-"
He cut off as Qas'ke grabbed the gibbet, causing it to swing a bit. "A temple? Where?!"
The prisoner showed genuine surprise at this, then his eyes filled with guile. 'Well lady, those woods are deep and confusing. I could take you myself, but it seems I'm scheduled for execution. What a shame."
Qas'ke narrowed her eyes. She needed this man, at least for now. "I'll speak to Samwell, see what we can..."
She trailed off, as bells began to ring at the edge of town.
⥞EIGHT⥟
Qas'ke was slowly swallowed by the chaos.
They came from all sides of the town. Bandits, armed and armored in poorly cared for equipment. They had scaled the palisades with ladders, dropping into the town as people scrambled to gather children, and form a militia. Too slow, too chaotic.
Qas'ke ran toward a group of children she had seen playing earlier. They stared up at a hulking man, frozen with fear as he raised an axe above them. Still dozens of feet away, Qas'ke's breath caught, and she felt her foci on her wrists begin to warm. She threw her hands up, and the air above the children rippled as the axe fell. The axe head and half the haft disappeared as it passed into the distorted air, re-emerging on the other side of the patch as if dipping in and out of water.
She used the time, and the bandit's confused hesitation, to take a single step, covering the dozens of feet in an eyeblink. She scooped up the children as the bandit got his wits back, and wound up for a wide, horizontal swing. Clutching the screaming children, Qas'ke let herself fall backward, beneath the swing of the axe, and felt herself land hard on her back on a wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling of a home.
More screams came from outside, the chaos multiplying.
She released the children, and got to her feet, confronting a pair of surprised and frightened women. "Lock your doors behind me!" Qas'ke shouted, storming out of the front door of the home she had transposed them into. Still chaotic, the town began to mount a feeble resistance. She had to do more. She spotted a nearby group of men, brandishing pitchforks, old swords, and even a barstool, against a group of bandits, holding poorly. She felt her bracers begin to grow uncomfortably warm as she doubled, then tripled the number of militia men with phantom images, transposing their positions as they multiplied, confusing the bandits enough for them to falter.
Chaos, on both sides.
Nearby, a family screamed as they fled their home, fire beginning to rage on the walls on the structure. The whole town would burn if that went unchecked. Qas'ke ran to a nearby well and craned over the edge, staring into the depths and blinking, to fix the point at the bottom of the well into her mind. She then ran back to the burning home, and fixing the thumb and forefinger of each hand in a circle, opened a hole. Water gushed out in a powerful stream, and Qas'ke swept it back and forth, fighting the flames.
Chaos in flames.
When a bandit got too close, seeking opportunity against her, she turned the stream on him, widening her hands to turn the rushing water to a powerful torrent, beating the man back with a scream. Her wrists began to burn. She turned her attention back to the home, finally quenching the flames to mere embers. That would have to be enough.
The man she had soaked was getting back up, rage contorting his face as he rushed toward Qas'ke. Panicked, confused, angry, Qas'ke screamed as her foci scorched her wrists. She swiped an arm horizontally at the bandit, and the air at his midsection split. He stumbled, and clutched his gut for a moment, before falling over, his top half cleanly separating from his bottom. Qas'ke rolled her sleeves up, shaking her wrists to try to relieve the burning, when she began to hear shouts across the town. "Prismrise, Prismrise!" they called.
Cursing, Qas'ke picked the tallest building she could see, taking herself there with a blink. Observing the town, most of the folk had retreated to homes, barricading themselves in. She saw plenty of dead, but all in all, they seemed to have fared okay. On the far horizon, she could see the rising tidal wave of explosive growth. Not much time.
Chaos in nature.
The bandits began to retreat, heading toward the town gates, which had been closed and barred. If Qas'ke let them escape, she would have to fight them at the temple. Gritting her teeth, she picked each door, linking it in her mind to a partner. With a few gestures, she "grabbed" each pair of doors, "tying" them together in front of her. She watched as wisps of acrid smoke began to rise from her wrists. She didn't notice the pain anymore, and a few gestures later, she realized she was nearly tapped out. Below, the bandits threw open one of the gates, only to stare back into the town from the opposite side. With no gates out of town, no ladders on this side to scale the palisades, and no shelter they could quickly get into, the bandits were trapped and exposed as the Prism began to peek over the horizon in the distance.
Qas'ke needed one of those bandits. She blinked to the gibbet in the middle of town, and grabbed the prisoner, who had been beating against the metal of his prison. "Take me to the temple, and I'll let you free, please!" She shouted.
Frightened, the prisoner nodded, and with a final scorching flare, Qas'ke teleported herself and the prisoner to safety inside a nearby warehouse, where they listened to the rising screams of the bandits, and the groaning growth of the bramble, outside. In the dark, Qas'ke's bracers glowed faintly for a few more moments, before going dark and cold. The chaos finally fully consumed her. She was spent, and with an exhausted sigh, fell backward to the floor, passing out without a further thought.
⥞NINE⥟
Qaske awoke to shaking, dragging her consciousness to the forefront like a cart through thick mud. She slowly focused on the man above her. The... prisoner.
"I hear people outside, lady. If they find me in here, I'm dead for sure."
Qaske shook herself fully concious. "Pick a crate to hide in, and wait. I'll need a day to rest, and then I'll come get you, and we'll leave. You show me to the temple, and then we never cross paths again."
The prisoner nodded, then scrambled to find a crate to hide himself in. A few short minutes later, one of the townsfolk found her.
Back in the town hall, Qasle was recieved as a hero. Apparently, fewer than twenty townsfolk had died, while the bandits were, as far as they could tell, entirely wiped out by the Prismrise.
"Along with that damned mole." Samwell spat, eyeing the mangled, empty gibbet outside. Nobody seemed to question the lack of a corpse, though the Prismrise often left little of it's victims in passing.
Townsfolk bustled about the town hall, celebrating, carousing, and enjoying some celebratory wine. Mothers and fathers often came up to Qaske, thanking her with profuse candidness, for saving their families. Qaske took it all in stride, being as humble as she could manage, not letting the seething knot of guilt inside her show to these, who saw her as a hero.
Evening came, and with it, a great feast, in which Qas'ke gladly partook. At the feast, she took the opportunity to announce her intention to leave the next day. Many in the room were visibly saddened, but the town seemed resoloved to send her off with honors.
She slept that night in a warm, comfortable bed, and her dreams were filled with allusions to her temple to redemption.
When she awoke the next morning, she made preparations, said her goodbyes, and made her way to the warehouse. Here, she retrieved her prisoner, her guide, and with the flick of her wrist, teleported them both out of town, out into the forest.
