A Scholar's Dream (Part 2)

With his permission granted, the girl uncapped an inkwell, dipped a feather into it and withdrew a solitary, black droplet. She unfurled a blank roll of paper and began scribbling.

It took a short while for Kairan to realize that she wasn’t writing but drawing an intricately detailed model of him. Several lines stretched to the margin – only a few denoted points of interest, the others left blank.

He gazed at her, absorbing every detail, just as she studied him. From her short black hair tied back with a ribbon, amber eyes peeking behind the pair of glasses that rested on her small nose and, her thin eyebrows and lips. He found her cute.

There was a short convulsion in his chest, a painful surge far different from a flutter of the heart.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, noticing he’d been staring.

“Not at all, I’m perfectly fine,” he said, holding back the sting of bile. Mind and body in disagreement.

An awkward silence befell them as they held the other’s stare – longer than what was comfortable.

Then just as the awkwardness grew too much. The kettle whistled, prompting the girl to retrieve it with haste. She poured its contents, a strange green liquid, into two cups.

“Tea?” she offered, holding a cup by the rim with the tips of her fingers.

“Thank you,” Kairan said, accepting the cup with a half-smile.

She unfolded a new piece of paper, “Now that we are comfortable, would you be willing to answer a handful of questions,” she inked the feather, ready to record his words. “Where did you learn Therlyr?”

Kairan blinked. “The instrument?” he asked without pause, a tone almost condescending, but more confused.

“…No, that is the name of the language we are currently speaking. This ‘Therlyr’ instrument, do your people play it? Could you draw one for me?” she inquired, leaning over the table.

“Not from memory. Regarding where I learnt to speak though.” Best to mix some truth in.

Kairan grabbed a hold of the cup and brought it to his lips, “Well, we never called it ‘Therlyr’, but my parents taught me,” he answered before taking a quick sip. The taste reminded him of the plants he’d tried eating on the volcano, so he set the tea aside.

Her amber eyes sparkled, “So there are more of you? What can you tell me about your people and your culture? And of that instrument, does that mean you have a rich history of arts? What about architecture?” she fired her question off in rapid succession, Kairan barely had time to register one before she’d spewed out three more.

“I’m human,” he interrupted, finally managing to say something. His words cut through the conversation as swiftly as a blade, it silenced her for a moment as she processed them.

“What!?” she yelled, dreams crumbling before her eyes.

“Yup, I’m a human, or at least I was one until about yesterday. Woke up on top of the volcano as this... thing,” he explained, somewhat nonchalantly as he jabbed his thumb behind him.

She adjusted her glasses and squinted hard at him, “I don’t see any traces of a transformative spell, so it’s not magic that did this but that is impossible. Unless…no but it can’t.”

“So, I truly am stuck like this?”

“Unfortunately, I think that may be so.”

I’d expected as much.

The girl tickled her nose with the feather as she thought. “Whilst not as impressive as my original thesis, a curse – or something similar – that turns humans into myconids…actually, I think this may just guarantee my chance at being accepted into Arken Tower. Consider it, a miracle – for lack of a better word – a transformation bereft of magic. There are only old stories, fantasies, that tell tale of such occurrences.

“I think you are misusing the word miracle, because I definitely don’t find any of this miraculous, but I’d gladly help you in uncovering what happened to me.”

“Certainly…If you don’t mind, could you tell me how you wound up atop Mt. Tefraa.”

“I can, but before that, I do find this exchange slightly tilted in your favour. Amongst the supplies, I want something else in return, something only you can help me with.”

The girl hesitated, “I have very little at the moment, freeing you did cost most of my savings.”

Kairan nodded, fair enough.

“But if it means you will help me, I’m willing to say you can take anything that catches your eye.”

“If you insist.” Kairan could help but smile, it was a terrible choice of words.

A sudden horror dawned on her, “Wait. I am not-”

“Promise to teach me some magic and answer some of my questions and you have yourself a deal,” he offered.

“Deal,” she said almost instantly. Her face was flush with happiness, “Let’s start over. I’m Blake,” she said, holding her hand out towards him.

He shook it, a far less menacing smile stretched over his face.

“Kairan.”

The two continued their discussion long into night, what started as a conversation centred around Kairan – his transformation and how he’d arrived atop Mt. Tefraa – eventually devolved into a common chat.

He found Blake very entertaining; asking more questions than she had paper to record, and when prompted with a question of his, she spoke at length often delving into facets of the question he hadn’t been interested in.

At some point, she’d put their conversation on hold and prepared a meal for the two of them – a simple meal of boiled potatoes, nothing exciting but satisfactory.

It wasn’t until the conversation had drawn to a close did Kairan finally ask the question that had been burning within him from the start. Not certain as to why he’d taken so long.

As Blake held back a yawn and stretched her arms over head, Kairan took his chance. “I need to get to Dyovaris as quickly as possible, and I need help doing so.”

“I’d highly advise against visiting Dyovaris, the mainland is still embroiled in a violent and bloody war. It’s unsafe.”

He leaned forward, the shadows obscuring his face fled, revealing a malevolent smile. “I have business in Dyovaris and it won’t wait simply because a war is raging.”

“If you feel that you really must, then Sintri is really your only option, unless you catch a merchant ship along the coast as it circumnavigates the island. Now, as eager as I am to question you further, the night draws late, and I am feeling rather tired. Could we continue tomorrow?” Blake yawned.

“I agree,” Kairan said, thinking that a proper night’s sleep would be greatly welcomed.

Blake retired to the dinky, little bed in the corner after handing Kairan a spare pillow and blanket. Since there was only one bed, his only option was to sleep on the floor which wasn’t too much of an issue, a wooden floor was far better than the plain ground. Especially when it was next to the fireplace.

He reflected on what Blake had told him. Had they been sent here to stop a war? If that were the case, why was it still raging? He had destroyed the artefact. Or had he been too late?

Caught in thought, his mind began to drift, no doubt this war was the king’s doing, how many more must suffer at his hands?

It had proved to be a long day and so sleep was swift to take him. Only minutes after being embraced by the warmth of the dying embers, could he feel his mind begin to grow fleeting as it struggled to cling to consciousness.

***

The sound of weeping caught Kairan’s ears.

Tucked away in the darkest corner a girl had curled up into a ball. Hesitant at first, Kairan approached the girl with a hand outstretched. He’d meant to comfort her, but his unsolicited touch caused her to retreat.

She screeched, desperate to fend him off.

“Relax, relax. It’s me.”

“Kairan.” Her voice barely a whimper. She lunged at him, holding him in a tight embrace. “I can’t do it,” she whimpered, “I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He accepted her embrace, holding her tight.

She reached up, gently caressing his face with a hand. It felt wet. “Liar,” she whispered as her hand fell.

He couldn’t respond, instead he reached for his face. It was wet. He looked to his hand and felt his chest tighten. Blood.

He began to shake, “No,” he forced, the words barely a squeak. It can’t happen again. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

“Stephanie…” he couldn’t bring himself to look upon her, “please say something.” His words were met with a gurgle as she chocked on blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to block out the sound. Bile began to bubble within his stomach; it gnawed at his throat, stinging the flesh.

Hesitantly, he looked down at her and fell into a quiet sob.

As he held her lifeless body a voice spoke out, echoing around him. It mimed Stephanie’s voice but with a sick, twisted rasp. “Find the girl,” it stammered.

Kairan looked about in a panic; he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He was alone, or so it seemed. He could feel its presence skulking about the darkness, just short of view.

Gently, he lay Stephanie down and climbed to his feet. Uncertainty made sure he did so with the greatest caution.

“Until her sanctuary is assured, rest will not meet you as an ally.”

He felt the air in his lungs chill; he wanted to speak but no words would sound.

A shade began to circle him, ever so slowly closing in with every revolution.

“In a fortnight and four moons more, grave will it be should you still remain within your cradle.”

A wisp of hot air brushed his face, freeing his tongue, “Who are you?” The shade enveloped him.

“I am that which bore witness, and I command thee, depart.”