Duara didn’t know how to feel about the tiny cabin. The roof’s wooden frame was bowed from forest debris. When her father pulled the door handle, the wood holding the hinges cracked. He shuddered. “At least it doesn’t creak.”
Duara hid a smile. “At least our death will be silent.”
“Don’t be like that, Dua.” He shuffled into the cabin. At his first step, the floor board collapsed and sucked his foot in. Her father put on a competent expression. “I’m just stomping this down, setting up for a stronger foundation.”
“Dad!” Duara protested.
“Okay, okay…” Her father struggled to lift his foot out of the hole. “I know it’s not great.”
“It reeks.” She complained.
“And it’s smaller than I thought.” He confessed. “But it’s what we have for now.” Duara stepped deliberately over to her father and assisted him out of the hole.
They both let out heavy sighs and inspected the cabin. Torn shades let in pockets of light, but it wasn’t enough. The shadows kept most of the house obscured. “Can you add some light in here?” His voice bounced around the cabin.
Duara scratched at her neck, “I’m not sure I would bring a torch in here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine.” She muttered, then brought her hands together. It only took a few moments for the air around her to stir. Once her palms felt warm enough, she opened them up. A weightless ball of light rested inside. She willed it towards the middle of the room and the light brightened as it centered itself. Her father gave her a few muted claps. Duara snorted. “Any child in Haford could do that. Even the ones like us.”
“Not without a kurnyit.” He argued back. The rest of the cabin appeared sturdier than the worn exterior and front steps. Some of the planks were shades brighter and less worn than their surrounding peers. The roof was well above the rectangular interior, a kitchen bereft of cooking tools on the left side and an empty space on the right. “It’s a canvas.” Her father said, pointing towards the space. “For where we’ll paint our life.”
She rolled her eyes. “Forever optimistic.”
“It’s what your mom liked best.” Her father glowed as he spoke, scavenging around the cabin. “I’m going to look around and find some tools. Why don’t you talk to a carpenter and a blacksmith about replacing those floorboards?” He dug into his pockets and counted out some taelmarks.
She took the coins from his hand and gave him a playful smile. “I don’t know, dad. I don’t want the cabin to eat you when I’m gone.”
He shooed her away. “Make it back before sundown in case you need light to pull me out.”
She turned to leave. “I can always make light.”
“Sundown.” He grunted.
She kept the door open when she left, unsure if she should put any more pressure on the broken wood.
The woods were easy enough to traverse. The rows of trees were welcoming and open; Duara could take many paths to Drethen, the nearest town. She took her time comparing Haford’s massive trees, whose wide bases and abundance of branches were hard to avoid, with Tavean’s high reaching trunks, which spread their branches only at their peaks. Even the dirt below her feet had a darker and richer hue than she was used to and it bore novel herbs and flowers. Moving to Tavean had been beyond awful, but she could see herself finding solace in the rhythmic chirping and playful skittering of woodland rodents here. She knew it was better to be in Tavean - Aelorians like her had a chance to breathe without the unending Sylwean restraints. Maybe she was too comfortable suffering along with her peers. Maybe that was the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in Tavean. Who here could understand what it was like living in a world made to keep you from growing, where eyes would stop instantly at the top of your ears before listening to a word you said, where you knew exactly what you’d be doing for the next hundred years of your life? Certainly nobody in Tavean, especially here in Drethen, or even Corterra itself.
When they’d passed by Drethen on the way to the cabin, Duara had declined to “Check-it-out,” as her father had suggested multiple times. As the town came into view, she made sure her hood covered her stunted ears. Most of the time, her leather brown hair covered the stumps that remained, but the loose covering of her hood satisfied her persistent worry that they would be seen.
Finding the blacksmith was the easiest part of her journey. She followed the sounds of constant clinking, which rang clearly above the other sounds of the town. Duara walked over to the blacksmith, keeping her hand on the coins in her pocket. “Excuse me.” The blacksmith was completely covered in soot. Whenever his hand came down to strike the metal, puffs of the soot came off, creating small dark clouds.
Still hammering away, he acknowledged her. “Yes?”
“Do you have any iron nails?”
He stopped so he could be heard. “Twenty marks.” He replied then continued banging. “For how many?”
“One.”
“Twenty for one nail!?” That was nearly twice the amount she had. The blacksmith ignored her question and continued hammering away.
Someone tapped on Duara’s shoulder. “My uncle’s messing with you.” It was a girl around her age. “It’s one mark for twenty.” She continued, holding up a handful of iron-nails. Soot outlined her fingernails, left-over evidence of desperate washing, and some spots remained in her elbow crease. She kept her blond hair in a tiny, loosely tied bundle, most of which was dyed with soot. The majority of it was still tied back, but strands had come loose and hung unkempt around her face. Duara lingered on each detail, especially one particular strand of hair that kept itself obnoxiously right in front of the girl’s gentle gaze. The girl’s eyes reminded her of the underside of Haford’s tree leaves at sunset: a soft touch of green outlined by the orange hint of coming dusk. Eventually, Duara pulled out a taelmark for the exchange, but the girl didn’t take it. “I’m Ashke.” She said.
A breath fluttered in Duara’s chest as Ashke leaned in to place the nails in Duara’s pocket. “I can’t just take these-” Duara pulled the nails out of her pocket, attempting to return them.
“I’m still learning the trade, so they’re probably not worth much, don’t worry.” Ashke blocked the return with her palms. “I’ve never seen you before. Take it as a welcome gift, um.” She pointed to Duara, prompting her for a name.
“Duara.” She placed the nails back in her pocket.
“Duara? That doesn’t sound like Tavean. I’m guessing you’re from Kington?” An uncomfortable breath left Duara’s lips, and she tried her best to disguise it as a laugh.
“That’s right, um - some small town in Kington you probably never heard of. We just moved into the cabin up the stream.”
“That explains the nails. I can get you some wood too. I’m guessing you’re fixing it up finally.” Ashke walked off down the packed-dirt road, expecting Duara to follow. “You don’t have to-”
Ashke looked back, aiming her voice towards her uncle. “Yes of course! You’re welcome!” She lowered her voice then and switched her gaze to Duara. “He was showing me how to make a metal post.” Her eyes bounced back and forth between Duara and the blacksmith. “He’s gonna make me do it a hundred times.” She rubbed at her forearms. “Do these look like they can make a hundred of anything? I’m still sore from twenty measly nails.”
Duara muffled a snicker with her arm. “You look pretty stron-” “Stop-” Ashke put her hand up.
Duara still continued. “-to me.” Duara finished.
Ashke rolled her eyes. “Next thing you’re gonna say is,” She held her head upright and made her voice stern. “Oh Ash, you gotta keep at it. You might like it. When I was your age. Blah-do-bleeh-bloop. He always has some random speech when I was your age speech if I gripe about anything. Like, if I say I don’t like cheese, he’ll say when he was my age, cheese wasn’t as easy to come by. He had to travel uphill for thousands of miles-”
“-in the snow.” Duara interjected.
Ashke giggled while she continued. “Just for a pound of cheese. Then he’d have to travel back uphill to get home. How do you even travel uphill twice, dad?”
Duara remembered similar conversations with her dad. The old “back in my time” speech usually came out when he dwelled on their likely oppression as Aelorians if they stayed in Haford. “Well, what do you like?”
Ashke beamed at the question. “Akibon control.”
“Like, magic?” “That’s right, I’m getting better at it. We have a fairly active mage chapter here.” Duara stared at the dirt road, an attempt to keep herself from glancing too conspicuously at Ashke. She wanted to remember Ashke’s confident smile and relaxed expression, but she’d lose track of the conversation if she indulged in a glimpse for too long.
“You guys have a worship gate for Renet?” The second she asked, she realized her error. “You mean Bara?” Sweat started to bead on Duara’s neck. “That’s what I meant.” She feigned a cough. “Must be getting used to the air.” She felt panicked and her eyes danced around as she tried to find an exit from the conversation. “I’m going to go find a place to pee.”
“Oh we’re here-”
Duara didn’t hear her. As she turned to leave, she bumped into a boy. He was the same age as Ashke. His hair was cut short like new grass, just poking out on the sides and back, with an inch of growth on top. The skin underneath was a sun-weathered brown, which somehow had a slight hint of green.
“Wiko!” Ashke quickly combed her hair with her fingers. She was flustered and spoke as if her lips couldn’t keep up with her tongue. “What’re yow-u doing here?”
“Wood.” Wiko responded flatly.
Ashke giggled. “Oh.” She angled her eyes away from him. “I’m certain you have plenty.” Duara tried to sidestep from between the pair, but Wiko seemed to grow wider.
He stepped closer to respond to Ashke, moving as if Duara didn’t exist and speaking over her head. “No, we already used up our supply. The Kyron temple needs more. We’re finally upgrading the alchemy room.” His demeanor changed as he talked about the Kyron temple, his interest piqued.
“This is Wiko.” Ashke gestured at the boy while turning back to Duara. “He’s one of the Kyron Keepers.”
Wiko put his palm up. “Soon to be.” He corrected, still looking at Ashke. “For now, I’m just a Kunza.”
Duara chuckled. Something about the name sounded silly. The noise finally caught Wiko’s attention. “That’s Duara, she’s new here - from Kington.” Ashke explained, clearly excited to break the news to him. “I’ve been there a few times to visit the other temples, what part of Kington?”
“Ohh.” Duara held on to the vowel, stalling so she could think of a name. “Someplac- Sunmplak, yup, that’s what it’s called. Sunmplak.”
“I’ve never been there before, is it near Niobeth? I haven’t gone further east than there.”
“It’s not very well known, so I don’t think you’ll find it on a map. It’s east of there, for sure. Far east, like almost in Bramphia.” Duara focused on the ground between Wiko and Ashke, refusing to look at them. If she could shrink into a plank of wood, she’d have an easy escape.
“Bramphia?” His eyes focused more on her. “You must’ve met a lot of Bramphounds then.”
“A few, sure.” That was the truth. Her parents had secretly saved for decades to pay for the Runners. All of the Bramphounds she had met were kind souls. A few were eccentric, sure, but they’d risked their fur to sneak them out of Haford for a single bag of Taelmarks. The Sylwean judges wouldn’t have given a second thought to imprisoning them forever.
“I’ve heard that there’s this underground group over there.” Wiko’s lips curled into a smile, revealing his fascination. “They smuggle objects in and out of bordering nations.”
Ashke gasped a little and covered her mouth. “Why?” Duara had asked them the same question. In response, they’d spent hours describing what it was like living in Bramphia. The entire nation was like a prison, the bars hardened by the pressures of their society. Being a Runner meant being free.
Wiko stepped back and looked away. He squinted, taking a few moments to think about the question. Duara sidestepped again, escaping from between the two. Finally, Wiko said, “I think they’re doing it to make money. Why else would they keep doing it? What do you think Duara?”
She sucked air in through her teeth and prolonged it until she was able to turn it into a thinking sound. “Probably.” She responded briefly. “Look, I -uh- just want to get this wood and head back home. I’m tired from, uh- moving.”
“Sorry, Ashke.” The carpenter cut into their conversation. “Woodrats came in and chewed into my supply. I’ve got a bit left, but I’m working on backorders too.”
“That’s perfect!” Ashke smiled.
Both Wiko and Duara crossed their arms, expecting an explanation. She grinned back. Pride flashed in her eyes as she spoke. “I learned a reinforcement spell a few days ago. I just need twigs and other snippets of wood, and I can fix it!”
“The wood’s back there, please, just take it away. I’ll pay a taelmark for any that you can fix.” The carpenter pressed his hands together briefly, gesturing his gratitude, and went back to work.
The three didn’t waste any daylight. They diligently packed as much wood as they could carry and went off towards the edge of the forest. Duara picked six planks. As the carpenter had said, they had numerous holes, each about a coin’s width. If not for the other supporting boards, each one would have quickly folded under its own weight. She struggled to keep them firmly pressed against her chest as each plank wobbled a different way when she walked. On top of that, the hardness pressed into her forearms - she winced every time the sharp edges nipped into her skin. Wiko carried twice as much as Duara and didn’t seem bothered by their awkwardness. He carried them easily, leading the other two into a clearing.
“This should be good.” Ashke had gathered an arms-full of sticks and branches. When they stopped to set down their loads, she plucked away the leaves. It didn’t take long for them to set up for the spell. Once she finished with the branches, she put them in a pile next to the planks and pressed her hands together. The freshly plucked leaves started to shift. At first, a few simply turned over, but a few seconds more and they began to catch a strange wind, twirling around in the air. A flash of orange light made Duara and Wiko look away. When their eyesight returned, the branches and twigs were gone.
Ashke knelt near the newly repaired wood. “This looks… awful.” Portions of the wood protruded unevenly across the planks. Some had melded together. “They’re ruined.” She pouted her lips and traced her fingers across the misshapen wood.
“It’s okay.” Wiko said, giving her a comforting smile. “They were unusable before. I appreciate you trying to help us.”
“Try again Ash.” Duara placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can help you. Just refocus yourself on the wood.”
Ashke closed her eyes and placed her palms together. “Nothing to lose, I guess.” The leaves stirred once more, drifting around the three of them. Just like before, the wood glowed a sunset orange, but a new skyblue light emanated from the misshapen portions. After a few seconds, Ashke peeked sheepishly out of one eye. The planks of wood were exactly how she wanted them. Where holes previously resided, only brown discoloration remained. Ashke traced her fingers against the grain, and poked at the discolored areas. “How did y-”
“She’s from Haford.” Wiko explained. “I’ve felt that magic before. From enchanted swords and tools.”
Duara stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. The other two waited for confirmation. After a few moments, she satisfied their anticipation. “That’s right.” She sighed. “My father and I escaped from Haford. We hired Runners to move us. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just wanted to be seen and heard.” The other two mulled over the revelation.
After a silence, Wiko spoke. “What were the Runners like? Were they mean? Did they have scars?”
Duara chuckled. “No, they were the kindest people I’ve met.”
“Did you pet them?” Ashke asked.
“One let me. The other one said something like, I’m not a pet, ask me again and I’ll drop you in the ocean.” Duara grinned. “I still asked him again. I thought he was gonna push me overboard, but he just ruffled my hair and said, Do you like that Aelorian? You like that? Hm? Now roll over.” The other two laughed. Ashke even snorted a little and Wiko covered his face to try and muffle his laugh.
A flicker of light shined through the branches and landed on Wiko. He glanced up. “I have to head back. The other keepers want to finish up the lab as soon as possible. There’s some stuff I think you can help me with, Duara.” He grabbed his planks and started to walk off. “You should come too Ash. Might help with your magic.”
“Of course.” Ashke responded. “I’ll head back too. My uncle’s probably suspicious. Not the first time I’ve escaped my work.” She grabbed a few planks of wood and helped Duara carry the load. “Come find me tomorrow.” Ashke winked. “I want to learn all of your magical secrets.” She turned to walk back towards the town.
The planks were a lot easier to carry. Duara didn’t have to shift them around to keep them from falling. The walk back to the cabin felt shorter and she spent the entire time replaying the past few minutes. There were a few hours of daylight left when she reached the cabin. Outside of it, she had to step around piles of debris. The torn curtains, branches, and rotten wood in the cabin had been tossed out.
“How was it?” Her father walked out from behind the cabin, holding more debris. “I assume you enjoyed it.” He gestured toward her face with his chin. She had been holding a tender smile the entire walk back.
After realizing, she placed the planks down. “I think I like it here.”
He laughed. “I should hope so. We had a pretty low standard.”
“What does that mean?” She picked up the top plank and handed it to her father, pulling out a few iron nails as well. The discolored portions of the wood captured his attention, and he inspected the iron nails. He switched his eyes to his daughter.
“We should start a garden, I think.” He said, ignoring her question. “Why’s that?” He placed the top board on the hole he’d made earlier. “I checked the dirt outside, the loam is different than in Haford. But the seeds I brought should still do well. One problem I had over in Haford was that the old trees around us always blocked the sunlight. The plants would grow so tall because of it, but they’d never get tall enough to get enough sunlight. The few that did became lanky and could barely hold themselves up. But here, even with the trees - they’re spread out enough for a small garden. But that’s all I need really. What do you think?”
Truthfully, Duara had stopped listening after she realized he was going off on one of his “dad ramblings”. She had taken out another iron nail and was inspecting it closely. When her father finished his speech, the rising intonation cued her to respond. “Um- yeah, It’s a good place to start roots.”
“You weren’t listening, were you?” She answered with a guiltless smile. “No. But I got the gist of it.”