Historia V

It’s so soft. As if laying on a stormy cloud. Not perfect by any means, but the refreshing peace it provides has been almost divine. Sunlight creeps in from somewhere as it attempts to shine light through these tightening eyelids. I can feel its blinding warmth. A bit too warm. Hot, actually.

Wait, a sec…

My body shoots up from the bed it’s laying on. Jagged is this jolt of movement; the mind is in a haze, the brain stuck in a deep fog. Looking around the room, nothing stands out from what an inn would be expected to appear as such in a medieval time. Still, it’s strange in its own way.

It’s single room. Two cots can be seen in the sole room. The elevated one I’m on and another further away on the ground. The quality of the two are night any day at a glance. A cypress desk sits at the wooden wall behind the cots, but it lacks a chair to go along with it. All of it having a particular smell. One that I’ve smelt in this world before. Same as on the dirt road, from the vines and cherry blossoms and trees. It’s the inviting aroma of peppermint!

Noises of life parade from the street. These sounds bounce off the thick walls inside the room as if the street is below this place. Shouts, cheers, fun; they’re coming from the streets. A pair of windows are open on the other side of this place— and they’re a sign that glass mustn’t be a thing in this world yet. Both of these windows have wooden doors to them for the obvious reasons. Yet, they have a specific gloss to them. Same as the desk, too. Not only that, the windows seem to also have accessories hooked onto them.

Sunlight illuminates the room through thinly veiled curtains. Their navy blue fabric displays an aquatic-like light show upon the vibrant green walls. Like currents seen from underwater, the green and blue hues mixing into my corneas. Spinning and spinning around into an old childhood memory. A family memory from years ago. A place of rustic cabins and a murky lake; when we were all together.

Eyelids drop at the thought. That off-putting lake smell tickles my nose— even if it isn’t here to relive again. The heart soon follows that sinking feeling.

No. That’s the past. Here and now, here and now.

Shaking my head, I get to my feet. Things are fuzzy; not in sight, but in memory. Short-term, specifically. Fog and haze are fading with every piece of new info given to that mush of a brain. My senses search the room more to relinquish the extra grogginess that’s still hanging around. And, in that goal, the pupils shrink to focus in on something hanging by the room’s front, glossy door. It’s this tall, thin structure made out of some curvy wood. Although, it doesn’t have the glossy finish like the rest of the wooden items occupying the room. Almost as if it’s made personally and by hand. A coat rack, and on it a couple of coats. More precisely, my jacket and someone else’s bushy coat.

Where’s the dagger?!

Thin spikes of needles explode throughout my fingers and down into my spine. From touching my thin stomach through across toned hips, there isn’t an inkling of the dagger anywhere on my person. Nor a cut or laceration to account for it either. Legs twist around on a swivel. Head swirling as fast as my eyes could keep up. The dagger isn’t anywhere in sight, but something did stand out the more that desk came into view.

There, pushed back against the base of the desk’s tabletop, sits an elongated item wrapped in an off-white fabric. Beside the wrapped thingy, there sits a folded note. Writing can be visible on the outside flap of the paper addressing a description: ‘Weird Fainting Lady’.

~•~

“—f!” The room whirls at the exhilaration of the sight, “They actually do exist here—“

Those final words slurring worse than the alcoholics’ mouths that are mere steps aback from where I stand. Things are going dark. Those pesky eyelids won’t reopen. I can feel my body giving out. The arms are first to go, then the legs start to buckle. It’s all over. I’m finally crashing— until.

A gust of wind— like the castle before— develops underneath my torso. Not long after that, something more tangible replaces the miraculous gust.

An arm can be felt going across my stomach now. Slim, but stable instantly. Definitely stronger than the shape would suggest. Fabric of the person’s sleeve is loud, too. It rustles with every movement that person makes.

“Ms. Naexi,” a cute monotone voice requests, “may this weird girl take my room for the day while I’m out? Just until she wakes up.”

A— wha—

Without hesitation, “Of course, most honored guest. As long as you pay for an additional 12 gold pieces for an extra guest”, that same adorable elvish voice accommodates without missing a beat.

Just as the monotone voice returns, “Hmm…—“

~•~

‘Weird Lady’ conjures up a vague memory. A memory that tingles the eardrums more than the other senses. One fortunate, but not on all fronts.

Hey, meanie! Who are you calling weird?

While not the only thing to take issue with, embarrassment from this morning is the only thing that I know I have control over at this moment in time. More pressing matters creates a sticky feeling of disgust at the back of my neck. The fact that there is another cot on the ground gives an uneasy feeling. Nothing feels off, nor is anything physically alarming at first glance. Still, the fear of whatever the cute-sounding stranger could have done—or may have yet to do— lingers.

The worries stir as the injured left hand picks up the note. Using the uninjured right hand to wipe away the cloudy film from my vision, I begin to read the words inside.

‘Your dagger is wrapped in cloth beside the note. Meet me at Therian Fountain as soon as you wake up. Bring the dagger.’

As the eyes follow the words, they dart to the wrapped object once more. It seemingly evident that this stranger knows about the dagger, too. Either, they’re assuming I know more than I let on or that this ‘Therian Fountain’ is an easy location to find. My free hand pinches the bridge of my nose because I know the probable answer. After that disastrous showing from earlier, that answer definitely is the worst of the two assumptions.

That person must think I’m dumb…

A groan rumbles from out of the darkness of the vibrating esophagus. The thought of that assumption being more aggravating when knowing that I’m at this stranger’s mercy. And, in their debt.

The fleeting moment of annoyance crumbles away as wonderful scents and radiant laughter pierces through the veil of the navy blue curtains again. The note gets shoved into a jacket pocket as I prepare to leave. Grabbing the dagger and jacket along with it, I leave the room and go down the equally as decorated hallway towards the stairs. Khaki jacket still as weighted before. Dagger—kept in the cloth wrapping— is slipped into the desert pants’ belt loop.

Rambunctious noises of life and business sings through the openings of the inn. Between multiple hallways and multiple floors, it’s crazy how much the room actually had kept out when inside it. Wood and silk rugs make up the fancy hallways. Each wide enough to fit a hippo and tall enough to sneak a bear if it stood on two legs. It’s massiveness nearly unheard of for the time. Especially, considering the surviving medieval architecture back home. That is all until the hallway’s end.

Reaching the glossy, wooden stairs, the whole inn opens up completely. Ascending or descending the stairs, it all looks down upon the multifaceted lobby. Tavern, front desk, and adventuring shops all populate the ground floor. Weapons, jeweled staffs, and fantastical equipment exchanging hands with various glints of metal coins as payment. Many of which akin to their blood-soaked brethren by those castles grounds. In those mesmerizing silver fields of strange grass.

Everything ready to sink one’s teeth into the moment they open the front door. This place brings out an enthusiasm that those old animated movies once did. An excitement for adventure.

Even the weaved tapestries draws one childlike wonder through each of their intricate designs. All hanging from the banisters of each floor as I walk down towards the lobby. A level of sophistication had to be involved when creating this place— and probably a little magic. Nevertheless, time waits for no one.

Down the stairs and through the lobby, one cannot help but take in the spirited atmosphere. The wonderful fragrances of cooked food dances in the air. Forms of many human-like people interacting and intersecting as if it’s a time for celebration. Energy is high, and anyone can feel it. It’s infecting everyone. Despite not seeing the same adorable elf at the front desk, many more are strolling around the inn. Past the drunks and mercs that still give the strange looks when this jacket clicks on by. Everything seeming so fulfilling. Unsure if it’s the inn or a full time’s rest, but the atmosphere is energizing me as well. I’m starting to feel myself again. Out from the inn, and into the inviting city— after having grabbed some nice, tasty food along the way— I retrieve the note to see where the town will take me.

So, left or right?

Outside— in the dazzling sun— residents and many other types of individuals are walking in one of either two of these directions. On both sides of the dirt road are buildings standing side by side. Connected by each of the outer walls until a road cut through. And, in the middle, a road-like space large enough to fit two lanes of wagons for either direction.

My head dials left: venders, businesses, and people walk. My head dials right: grocer stands, fish-like markets, and many more people are making their way through this town. All centered on a stone-based sidewalk section running parallel with the road. Further out in either way this heads turns, the road sprawls out into many more avenues for anyone to venture past.

So many things; so many places, and so many ways to go. The flow of the walkers immediately in front of the inn is dense. Things— eh, individuals— of all various sizes walk at different speeds. Skin, clothing, ears, and fur all melting together into their own paths to wherever they’re trying to go. Yet, the majority are moving in a specific route. Deciding which direction for those outside the flow, I merge within the way the rest seem to be heading. Left.

The sidewalk goes and goes. Walkers trail off into smaller routes away from dirt roads while others onto bigger openings. I grasp the dagger’s wrapped handle tightly. Pushing of those tall and short cannot distract from the wonders every glance can witness. Yellows, whites, and browns paint the shops exteriors. Albeit, the browns being what mostly is coming from the exposed wood at any given location. Inside, elaborate designs entice— depending on the commerce a guest might be searching for. Extravagant attires, flamboyant concoctions, and unique weapons can be seen passing by each open business. Each sight a delight. Every whiff more pleasant than the last. All the noises an orchestra of the most interesting topics to indulge myself within.

“Where’s the Guild at?”

“Papa! Papa! Look! A shiny blue ball~”

“Port Dêmos is always so busy during this season.”

Chatter of passerbys come and go. Bits and pieces sneak in through these curious ears from either a conversation or a complaint— or something else entirely. The looks this outfit gets dwindles the further I get lost into the overflowing crowd.

As roads go by, the sun begins to hit its apex high within the clear blue sky. Area after area goes by without a hint of the fountain. Surprisingly, the sun’s rays didn’t translate into the heat it seems to threaten. A small silver-lining away from the nightmarish days in the outskirts of Cairo.

Ahh~ It’s so nice not dying at noon everyday. Assuming that it is noon right now.

This sightseeing stroll trails off from road to road. Ringed venders swirling ice and crushed fruits in midair at the excitement of kids and the absurd amount of multi-colored bling some patrons are doing mystical party tricks with; the use of magic is more common than the boy lead me to think. It’s everywhere.

“Glad that castle business is done.”

“Sapphire-Core Staffs on sale! Only 1,050 Bronze Coins! Only 2 left in stock!”

“Brr— This place is so darn cold year-around. Why must we always make a stop here, Captain?”

More straggling phrases slither past my ears. Pieces that are interesting or familiar, it’s all equally as fascinating in one way: that it is all in English. Especially, when it’s coming out a lizard-like humanoid’s mouth. Unfortunately, an observation I probably won’t ever get reciprocated. Here or back home.

More bodies crowd the sidewalk. Bumping and pushing grows. Until the butt of the wrapped dagger’s hilt pokes someone.

“Yaowch! Who the hell did that?” A giant wolf-like being yelps out.

Like the lizard humanoid, the wolf guy is far more wolf than human. Simply put, a big, fluffy wolf that lives on its hind-legs. Muscles flex from underneath his deep blue and snow white fur. The being towers over most of the beings around— and I’m far from the exception. Thus— from underneath his five-foot-four blindspot— I take the first route closest to cower into.

Size of the area in the route begins to shrink. Buildings are closer together. The sidewalk now taking up the whole space between the three-story buildings that eclipse it. Taps from the sneakers turn more solid with every new step. The ground is covered in a cobble stone type of space went for foot traffic— and only foot traffic.

Quantities of people trickle down by the dozens. More and more until there are only handfuls at any single stretch of walkway at a time. Things begin to fizzle into a refreshing volume. These routes resembling comfy alleys rather than busy streets by the time one can hear their thoughts again.

Exteriors of these buildings drastically differ from those facing the dirt roads. More flora dangle from makeshift flower pots. The most front doors closed to the public. Walls less extra and the wood foundations more exposed than anything out there on the roads. Or, would those be closer to streets? Whatever the case may be, these must be the residential areas of this sprawling town.

Walkway to alleyway and back; the architecture still doesn’t match what a medieval town should look like. Not one bit. The idea of that fascinating, but the obvious question applies here: is this just due to magic or is there more to all of this?

More questions on top of questions without a hint to where the answers I may seek.

Hey, that sounded kinda poetic. Ahh! I might be some kinda natural.

Nodding my head along with this achievement, these legs continue to take me down many more walkways. Passing flora shops and lover’s quarreling into open painter dens and small neighborhood squares; even strange colorful circles on walls. Those circles containing matching jewels at their centers, too.

The walking— usually not much a struggle— is taking a small toll. Throbbing begins to pulse from where the leg is still bandaged. While only being a minor irritation, it’s still enough to take notice. My pace begins to slow as the alleyways start to look the same. Like, a maze without an end. A cruel joke and a sign of poor planning for the town. Each path deceptively straight-forward, but the constant walking proves otherwise. And, this is just after that whole castle trek I did yesterday!

More color-coded circles appear on walls and objects the further these alleyways continue. Each one very detailed. Triangles and other varies lines matching the last, and all having a round, marble-sized jewel at their center.

Closer in I move to them. Deeper and deeper; a terrible smell comes with it. It’s rank. It’s gag-worthy. Front facing the circles in full view, the designs of things I’ve seen during class back home. And, the smell I wish I didn’t.

These are alchemic circles, and the smell of dead rat-like animals. Recently deceased, too.

Whatever this meant, I didn’t want any part of it. So, I continue on past the corpses and through the umpteenth alleyway. Splashes of water echoes into the alchemically drenched path. A hope arises. It’s time to meet the mean stranger.

Another clearing makes way from the redundancy. Into a place of only two entrances to speak about. Another town-like square. At its middle, something that brings a tear to my eye. A stone fountain sits.

But, it’s wrong. No one is around.

A fountain erected in functionality alone. Crystal clear water sprays out gracefully from the most basic centerpiece known to man. Stone piping alone for water to trickle out of— nothing a town like this would give a name to. Presumably, at least.

Nevertheless, the louder splashes of water did not come from here. The sound of freedom crashes out in the close distance. A place just beyond these increasingly claustrophobic alleys. Such a place filled with similarly as noisy creaks as the water those sounds travel besides.

Are you serious? I think I took a wrong turn again. That stranger is so gonna be pissed.

That location is better than the endless map this has become. Cobble stones rattle after every connection to the wearing sneakers towards the other exit of this town-like square. My walk turns into a jog. The throbbing annoyance pounds harder around the lower left leg the faster my heart beats. Down another alleyway, an aquatic air can be tasted as the end of it comes near. That, and—strangely enough— the aroma of peppermint clouding my nose.

Bump!

Shoulders crash into each other as I turn the corner. The size difference— while not as much as the giant wolf-man— still knocks me back against the white alleyway wall. The moment jarring; the shock akin to a jump-scare rather than anything close to pain. Chattering from the dagger happened to be louder than the scoff of the one I hit. Yet, he didn’t move a muscle. The heads turn towards the perpetrator to each other’s inconvenience. Ours eyes meet.

He stands straight in an embroidered tunic. A stained collar fully wraps around his neck Proud in the velvet sleek he stares back at me in. His neck elongated into the uncanny valley. Green that covers the outfit basks in the ocean sun beating down on us both.

“I’m sorry, mister~.” The apology starts until, “I got lost in the alleys and—“

The man puts his right hand up. A whiff of peppermint flings out with the flick of his maintained fingernails. As if to use the force, he awkwardly keeps it out in front of the both of us until I cut my words short. An eyebrow rises towards the man with the pencil mustache that remains quiet and still. With the blow of the aquatic winds, his sandy brown hair shows his age hidden underneath. There—in the silence— a smug smile creases within the hair’s shadow. And, just like that, the smugly weirdo walks away into the maze I had just left. All without saying a single word.

Muttering to myself, “What the hell”, as I continue towards the noises of ocean water and louder creaks. That was not a human nor an elf. Yet, he was human-like in appearance all the same. Whatever— I suppose— just another question to throw onto the pile of many more.

From out of the maze and into the precipice of the sea, a merchant market there is for me. Boutiques are abound from corner to corner; at the reveal of the ocean noises, this happen to be a large shipping dock area. And, a merchant market place set up right beside the wooden docks themselves.

Massive ships of wood and—probably— scurvy crowd the close by waters as each crew bicker and fight to port or set sea. Each ship unloads several packages of supplies by the crew-hand that’s closest to the ship from the docks. Rows of rows of ships all doing the same process. It must be a dozen or so I can see amongst the crowded merchant market. This definitely won’t be where Therian Fountain is, but it would be a great place to ask a few burning questions— and get a few souvenirs, too.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Hello~ can you help me with something?”

“Hi! Do you know where Therian Fountain is?”

“Yahello! I’m just a bit lost. Can you give me directi— Ooh! What’s that thing?”

Going from booth to booth, the introduction is made. The attempts are attempted. The questions are questioned. And, the distractions— the distractions are still there. That cannot be helped. Every booth, every angle; a bust at every stop. Be it a human merchant or another type of merchant, all turn me away the moment they see me.

Is it the angle I’m going at them with or is it the way I look? Or— my hotness makes them blush and explode their hearts! … Nah. No way. Not for these guys, at least.

It’s demoralizing. Albeit, one is still able to see a lot of cool new stuff. Numerous things a person from home has never seen before or will see. Smells and tastes not so much, but the sight have been crazy interesting. Liz maybe not, but Dad sure will. When I see them again.

If I see them again.

That terrible feeling bubbles deep. It sucks, I don’t like it.

A shaking of the head & tough wake up claps to the face, and onto the next merchant. And, the one after that if he doesn’t work. And, so on and so forth. Nearly an hour passes. Two and half hours since leaving the inn, and not a single direction to the fountain in the note.

Creak! Crack! Bends and breaks of large wood piece crackle from out by the ships awaiting their turn to dock. Those perilous noises blast into the merchant market as it vibrates all the metals found about the booths within. Not long after, the lower hollers and retaliations follow until they— too— fade back into the call of normalcy around these docks. Some jump out of their skin at all this, others don’t let out a blink.

“Hello, little one,” a lively baritone voice calls out, “did the attack get to you?”

There’s a warmth in it. One as inviting as the old man from the wagon earlier. What was it he called that horse-like creature again? Starfish?

“I just took me by surprise. I should be ok.” A slight tremble attaches itself to my vocal cords as I walk over to the short man’s booth. “You said attack, right?”

Nodding his bald head, “Yep. That’s right. It’s nothing to be scared about when they’re that far out”, the short man tries to soothe this curious teenage woman.

Up close to his shaded booth, one could see that the man isn’t in the business of weaponry or sailor stuff. Not an iota of such things. What he has laid out around his booth is jewelry. Many types and many kinds. Rings, earrings, cufflinks, ear-cuffs, bracelets; a whole slew of different accessories organized neatly onto his own, separated table. Each and every piece of these accessories has a jewel inlaid into them— or multiple the more one looks around.

“Who are ‘they’?” My eyebrows rise to the vagueness of his comforts.

“Oh,” the pitch of his voice rises along with his hairy hand to that big bushy beard, “you must be new to these parts. A hefty history lesson is needed then. ‘They’— in this case— would be the Aquarians. They’ve always been known to sack cargo ships from Runik. But, they’ve really gone in on Port Dêmos after that guy made seafood of their people a half season ago. Real shame, too.”

I— I think I got it…?

“That’s a lot to take in, y’know?” With a hand on my hip and a finger pointing straight at his white bushy beard.

Pointing back at himself, “Didn’t I warn you it was hefty?”

Both us fools laugh well and hearty. Maybe not the funniest thing on a normal day, but it is to have this moment of levity with someone else for change.

A smile supplants the roulette wheel of emotions the last day has had the unfortunate joy of letting me spin through. There are other questions I want to ask— and need to— but this has been the only merchant willing to play ball and engage with anything I’ve had to say. Regardless of my immediate desires, I have a far more important need to play this smart rather than swift. Thus, I look at the jewelry.

“Oh, wow~”, I dial up the charm as the sun sparkles off the emerald rings, “All this jewelry looks soo pretty! Especially, the topaz earrings. They’re so ugly, and that’s what them so adorbs! I’m surprised you have any left.”

“Um, little one”, the short man looking puzzled, “these aren’t jewelry pieces. No, no. These— right here— are top of the line magik conduits made by yours truly, Carbek Aleforge. I mined, cut, and tested them meself.”

“Huh?” My jaw opens as the doubt waterfalls out, “This is what the boy meant?”

Both hands freeze in place. It’s as if my brain short-circuited, and the words fell out. As soon as they formed within that wrinkly thing; I said the quiet part out loud.

A proud growth of his lips stretches to the absolute limits of what those cheeks could handle. It’s a grin so big people could see every tooth within his mouth from feet away. As if this is the type of question a guy in his profession wishes for everyday. The perfect opportunity for him to indulge in. An infamous sales pitch.

“Over the ages,” his mostly toothy grin emits this boisterous pitch, “species grow and others fall back into the dusty Runik sands. Be it either to lessen the effects to a person or disregard the afflictions that our world’s magiks can cause to you, the discovery of these elder minerals changed that balance long ago. And, they can change the game for you, too!”

Uhm. Magic can have different effects on someone depending on the wielder? Interesting.

“What if”, I inquire, “we humans use magic without one of these ‘conduits’?” My hands reach towards the various metals the jewels are housed inside. These fingers perusing through the various options for one specific type of accessory to potentially buy.

Quality and quantity merge into one at the examination of the magic accessories on display. Between I and the short man, only the glistening sun makes its presence at this booth. A booth closest to the market’s edges. One so much so, it’s perfect reflection can be seen off the ocean water. Like a mirror fresh off the factory floor. An ideal place to purchase some souvenirs from.

If only there were necklaces. For you and I, Liz.

Moments of silence from Carbek passes on by. His grin had disappeared, and—in place of it—astonishment takes hold. He leans parallel to the booth and over to the market’s edge. Looking down at the ocean water, the short man checks his face and body off his crystal clear reflection. A grunt of confirmation follows between each of the ripples— and whatever happened to cause them at any given instance. And, without warning, a giant laugh erupts from his giant mouth.

“BWHAHAHAHA!” The sound enough to overtake the hustle of the market and the unloading of ships. Enough to make anyone’s eardrums ring for several minutes.

“Me human?” Carbek’s voice barely audible so soon after such a thing, “Oh, no, little one. I’m nothing as new as that.”

“What!” These fingers fidgeting the skin around my ear holes, “I couldn’t hear you! Can you please repeat that?”

The short man simply shakes his whimsical head. “Little one,” his words either returning to normal or the volume at which he’s speaking has risen, “I’m no human. I’m a dwarf.”

Did I hear that right?

“A dwarf?”

“Yes”, confirming as he hands me some more magic accessories, “you must be surprised?”

That’s surely putting it lightly. How could I forget dwarves are a thing in fantasies?

“Oh”, my body tenses up, “I’m sorry~. I didn’t—“

The accessories in my hands crack. Not from the tensity that shot into those fingers nor the grip of the palm either. Those pieces of forged metals are without a scratch— not even a smudge could be seen on any of them. They all cracked in the one spot that matters most to these conduits.

“It’s ok,” the dwarf excuses, “it’s been a common mistake by many a buyer. I take no offense to such a tiny thing.”

His pun sets off another chuckle from his round belly. Luckily, a laughter not nearly as deafening as the last. I can only muster an half-attempt of laughs to match along. The joke coming off more deflective than hearty this time around. Yet, this laughter is short-lived.

Bang! An explosive gust of wind and wet wood blows out from a ship in the harbor.

“What?”

Fury of uncertainties launch out from the merchant market crowd.

“Aquarians? This close?!”

Anxieties inflame the worries flying towards the commotion at nearby sea.

“Not again!”

One last shout of reason collides against the incoming monsoon of mayhem.

“Someone get Dêmos Security now!”

The ship port devolves into chaos. Those that bought weapons draw them. Merchant that sell them pack them up— along with the rest of their inventory. All types of beings are running everywhere. Everywhere except the water.

Out on the cargo ships, only a few seem to be in trouble. Human-sized fish people are crawling up the ships from the ocean’s depths. Their blue and white scales blending in with their surroundings until reaching far enough up those wooden targets. From the water and onto their ship decks, lizard and fish-like people can be seen fighting. Clashing swords can be heard with dull sparks and salty droplets flying all about. Any smells mixing together with the ocean’s strong scent— all except one peppermint aroma. This sight should be terrifying, but I can’t help watch this unfathomable scene take place. Something one could ever see on a giant movie screen. One only Hollywood could produce.

“Hey,” I blurt out, “Mr. Aleforge? Do you smell peppermint, too?”

Our eyes are trained on the fight happening just far enough in front of us. Unlike me, his hands are moving. His inventory is being packed up as we speak.

“What, little one?” Carbek Aleforge reveals, “What’s a peppermint?”

In that moment, I whip my attention away from the spectacle and back to Carbek. Eyes wide; my mouth opens, yet nothing comes out in time. A tug can be felt from around my pants’ belt loop.

“What?” My voice yells out, “My dagger!” Yet, my voice is but a needle in a haystack of thunderous claims to action. The hooded figure didn’t stop. Their back is shrinking faster and faster from sight.

“What, how? Hey!” Carbek shouts towards me. His eyes bulging at the sight of his merchandise cracked and ruined. The jewels inlaid are all blackened and shattered. These conduits all wasted by my touch. “Where are you going? Girl, you come back and pay for these!”

His rage is understandable, and I do feel dreadful about it. What the wagon said might be true: magic and I just don’t seem to work together.

Ignoring Carbek’s comments, I follow the dagger. Feet, then legs; I give chase. Towards the brown, cloaked figure into that chaotic crowd.