Yonni took a deep breath and steeled herself for the journey ahead. Being chosen as a Tomekeeper was the greatest honor an Anqualai could have outside of being the King or Queen of the kingdom, but it came with an overwhelming amount of responsibility for the lives of all those within. Tomekeepers were considered the wardens of peace and voice of the gods, revered across every nation in Lidaesea. There would be training and meetings, not to mention political delegation and military assessment. Thankfully, Tomekeepers never had to go to war on their people’s behalf. Most spats were settled between parties long before violence was a factor, and even the northern kingdoms in the country of Silnathum - those of the Terrolaffs, Noctide, Pyrolites and Wojlidoj - that were more known for their violent tendencies somehow managed to stay their blades. The gods did not endorse war, as war was what led to the loss of their physical forms. Everyone across Lidaesea knew this, but very few really understood the immense pressure of becoming a Tomekeeper, an exclusive club in which Yonni had now been thrust into.
She felt the nerves building and her back starting to tense as the carriage came around the corner of the courtyard, drawn by a quartet of Seastriders and flanked in the front and back by two units of the Queen’s Chosen. It was a bit of overkill from a protection standpoint, but Yonni understood it was her mother’s way of making sure she stayed safe.
Enerill patted her on the upper back and pointed toward the carriage. The sly grin on his face made Yonni feel he must have thought the same thing.
“All this time away and I see she’s still the same,” He laughed. It was nice to know he was still capable of doing so.
Queen Monalei wrapped up the conversation she was having with Gandreke behind them and moved closer to the siblings. Though Yonni strained to listen, the Queen made sure they were just out of hearing range. Whatever she had told him, Gandreke surprisingly stayed behind.
“Is he not coming with us?” Yonni asked, looking back toward her guardian and friend.
“Not this time,” the Queen answered. “I need him to stay behind and tend to matters in my name. Once the other kingdoms discover you’ve been chosen, he might have to deal with whatever diplomats and other unsavory parties come our way.”
Yonni nodded in understanding. Gandreke made the most sense to rule in her absence, even though Enerill was the next in the line of command. He was still fresh out of school and hadn’t quite settled back into palace life yet. She leaned forward and saw her brother in deep thought. The tawny beige of his skin stood out in comparison to the sepia of Yonni and her mother.
“Maybe I should stay behind too,” Enerill voiced, as if reading her thoughts again. “I can use this chance to learn from Gandreke and put some of my schooling to use.”
The Queen tilted her head toward Enerill in surprise. “Are you sure? It’s not like you to miss out on an adventure.”
Enerill let out a hearty laugh, yet something seemed off about it.
“I’m not the same silly boy, Your Majesty,” He responded. “My days of escaping the castle walls are well behind me. I’m afraid I’ve settled into the lifestyle of an old widow.”
The Queen’s eyes snapped toward Enerill and her face twisted into a look of displeasure. Yonni fought the strong urge to not tease him further and add fuel to the flame. Enerill realized his poor choice of wording and turned toward the Queen.
“My apologies, mother,” He said with his head bowed. “I was merely joking. I shall take my leave.”
“Yes, you shall,” the Queen confirmed coldly.
The massive teal seahorses ridden by the Seastriders let out a light trilling sound as the carriage pulled up to Yonni and her mother. Gandreke moved forward to open the door and Yonni noticed that Enerill had already left. The two women took their seats as the light began to fade away in the land above. Night was coming and, by morning, they would arrive safely in the Font of Drinex. From there, it was smooth travels toward Prodigium.
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Verina crossed the ashen wastes and climbed back up the hill until she came to a jagged black rock that was half of her height. She wrapped her hands around the side, pressing the sharpness into her palms until it broke skin. The rock rumbled and turned clockwise before revealing a small hatchway covered by illusionary magic. She opened the hatch and dropped down into the darkness below. An incline broke her fall and she slid down towards its bottom, spit out into a tunnel covered with glowing green fungi. She crouched, the tunnel barely bigger than her standing height, and made her way through until she reached a large, open cavern.
A sprawling, wooden city spread across the lagoon that encompassed the cavern’s bottom. Bridges crossed in every direction, and up ahead the small circle of light from the cavern’s opening bounced off the water to cut through the grim darkness. Istio’s Gate - or simply “The Gate” as most Terrolaffs would call it - was a city that many had heard of but few had seen. Or at least lived to tell the tale of.
Verina clambered down a ladder and onto the nearest bridge, making her way back to her home on the other side of The Gate. Hers was tucked amongst a few others, simple shacks barely big enough to fit the families within and always a hazard when the tide flowed into the lagoon. The rickety bridge creaked underneath her every step and her boots squeaked from the water that covered her soles. A man screamed for help from the fishing stall nearby as the owner swiped a crooked blade at him.
‘Ugh, tourists never learn,’ Verina groaned internally.
She moved up to her door, the fifth home in a row of twelve, and swung it open. It buckled against the hinges from its own weight and smacked into the wall on the other end. Verina pulled her hood off, shaking the moisture from her hair. Her short bob, cut roughly by her own dagger, was a light silver that created a ghostly halo. She pulled her weapon from its holster and threw it down into a nearby table where the blade embedded with a solid thunk.
“You’ve been gone long enough,” the scratchy, drunken voice of Verina’s father floated from around the corner. She heard a scuffling of furniture and his fumbling footsteps across the wood. He popped into the doorway and sneered. The wisps of what remained of his hair angled in different directions and the weight from all the uninhibited drinking gave him a rounded belly beneath his fisherman’s garb. He grinned, teeth yellow and cracked against his reddened, greasy skin. “Best have brought some coin, now.”
Verina took a small russet sack, half the size of her hand, and threw it at her father. He snatched it from the air and dumped the contents onto the floor. Verina watched as he struggled to count.
“Only eight merrillans?” He huffed. Verina shrugged.
“I told your worthless self to not come back with less than thirty! Eight’ll barely get me a pint of the weak stuff,” Her father fumed. He kicked the coins across the floor with a loud clatter.
“I’ve been hunting all day,” Verina argued. “What have you done except look at the back end of an empty bottle?”
Her father stumbled forward with intense fury, hand raised at her defiant comment. Verina normally moved out of the way or left the house when her father tried to get violent. It was easier than dealing with him and he was never fast enough to catch her. She refused to be struck. This time, things were different. There was no need to move or run or stand by and accept her worthless father’s punishment. Instead, she reached out and grappled his wrist.
“Listen, you drunken old swine, because it will be the last thing that you hear,” Verina spat. “I have been chosen by Istio herself. I am marked for greatness and have been given a great task. I will not let you rule in my life any further.”
As she spoke, the burning feeling began to creep up in her hand again, then spread to her arm. The bubble of pulsating green flowed out of her cloak and crossed onto her father. He began to grunt, then yelp, then finally scream as the acidic magic swept over him. He yanked his arm against hers but couldn’t break free. The hold she had was unusually strong. Verina stared him down with a wicked smile burned into her face. Her grip tightened.
Verina’s father fell to his knees and begged for mercy. The magic covered almost his whole body, inching toward his neck and head. Verina twisted his arm down and put her face close. His hot breath made her nose crinkle.
“Goodbye,” She whispered. “And good riddance.”
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Utic Delj raced through the desert city of Montenau, desperate to reach its outer wall. The smell of potent spices and fruit swirled together in the air as he dashed through the market square. Utic slid under a passing merchant cart, eliciting a curse from its owner. He had to get to the skiff bay, and quickly, in order to keep his brother from being swallowed by the approaching sandstorm. An ominous brown cloud, as big as the horizon, inched closer every second.
Utic cursed his older siblings under his wheezes and his lungs stung from breathing in the extra dust already sweeping through the air. Nine older siblings, and not a single one could be bothered to keep an eye on Uvet. He wiped the sweat building on his brow with the sleeve of his cream-colored tunic. Uvet, the youngest of the family, should not have gone to the bay alone. That was an issue by itself. One of the others should have stopped him, though, or warned him of the incoming storm. That was another.
As always, it was up to Utic to clean up after their mistakes. Utic, the caretaker. Utic, the fixer of messes. Utic, the invisible.
As he reached the city gate, Utic heard a loud shout from the side. He looked in the direction it came from and saw a heavily-armored guard waving him down. The guard, a Groundshifter, pointed his polearm toward Utic.
“You can’t go out that way!” The Groundshifter shouted as the wind began to whip around them. “The storm is coming in. If you go, you’ll be caught in the middle of it all!”
Utic moved closer, but only enough for the guard to hear him. “I need to go! My brother is caught out there and I need to bring him back in.”
The guard shook his head, then looked up at the sky. Dirt began to blot out the normally blazing sun. The rumble of the storm gently increased.
“You have five minutes,” The Groundshifter stated, emphasizing the time with his hand. “After that, the gate is locked!”
Utic waved in thanks and pulled the door of the wooden gate open. A wave of sand splashed across his face like small razors, scratching him up as he yelped. He pushed against the ever-mounting wind and pulled the hood and mask of his tunic over his face. Each step he took with his open, leather sandals sank into the endless body of tan and copper sand as he made his way toward the bay just to the right of the gate’s entry. Utic saw the wood planks of the bay’s dock just ahead.
Uvet sat behind a nailed-down bench that wobbled against the pressure of the wind. His legs and arms were curled together, as if balling up would protect him from the storm. Utic pressed onward, then called out his brother’s name. Uvet perked up and waved, his ten-year-old body shaking in the midst of the storm’s gusts.
“Why didn’t you leave when you saw the storm coming?” Utic reprimanded his brother when he neared the bench. “You know you can’t survive the brute force of these things!”
Uvet’s lip quivered and he looked down in shame. “I just wanted to come ride the skiffs like you do. I didn’t think about it.”
A small tinge of guilt crept into Utic’s mind. He knew his younger brother loved to watch the sand surfers ride their skiffs across the dunes. Utic, a talented surfer himself, had promised to show him the ropes but never got a chance to, as he was often stuck doing everyone else’s chores. He didn’t blame Uvet, but himself.
“Come on, little brother,” Utic sighed with a gesture to come closer. “I promise I’ll bring you back out, but we need to get back through the gate.”
He estimated around three minutes had passed, which meant they had less than two to get back through the gate before it locked. Utic pulled his brother up and turned around to guide him. The gusts increased in speed and force, and each felt like a wall smashing into Utic’s body from the side. He tripped and stumbled, yet refused to give up. It wasn’t just his life on the line, it was Uvet’s too.
The frame of the door came into view and Utic felt relief replacing the heavy weight on his body. The deafening crack of wood sent a shockwave of fear through him immediately afterward. Utic faced the sound and saw the mast of a sandskiff breaking in half behind them. Another gust of wind and -
“Get down!” Utic yelled at his brother as he jumped in front of the mast. The rounded side smashed into the middle of his chest and ripped the breath out of his lungs. Utic fell to the ground, lowering his mask and gasping for air that the sand-filled sky could not provide him. Uvet leapt down to help, but Utic gripped his arm in response.
“No,” He uttered in choked words. “Can’t go. Make the gate. Leave. Now!”
“I can’t leave you, Utic,” Uvet cried. Tears streamed down his face. “You’ll die!”
“Now!”
Uvet stood with a shuddering breath and ran toward the gate door. He banged on it incessantly until the Groundshifter opened. Uvet tried to point toward his brother and demand help, but the guard ignored his pleas. Utic watched as his brother was yanked back inside the city walls and the door was slammed closed.
Utic tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t allow it. What little energy he had after running through the city was exhausted from the might of the sandstorm. Taking the blow to the chest was just the signature on his death sentence. His hands grasped at the sand as it sifted through his fingers. More began to cover the lower half of his body. The crunchy, earthen taste filled his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the eventual suffocation.
‘Utic Delj, compassionate yet unnoticed,’ a strong, stern female voice seemed to call to him from the sands that surrounded his body. ‘Do not fear, for I have taken note of your deed. Rise from the sand, my Chosen. Make your name and collect your tome.’
Utic felt the sand begin to shift around him, ebbing and flowing like water around his body. He felt weightless in that moment, as if the responsibilities of the world and his impending death were no longer a concern. It felt pleasant, warm even. His lungs began to swell with fresh air and a feeling of strength returned to his body. Utic closed his eyes and let the sensation swallow him whole.
The ground opened and the sand lifted him up until he was resting against the desert dunes once more. Night had fallen, stars twinkling like beautiful jewels in the blackened sea above, accented by Lidaesea’s three moons. What was once blistering heat had shifted into frigid temperatures that chilled him to the bone. Utic ran his hands along the sides of his arms in an attempt to warm up and examined the landscape around him. The city of Montenau was nowhere to be found. Not a single sight of its high slate walls arose in the distance, either.
A lone ball of shimmering amber light served as a beacon where sand met sky. Utic looked more closely. The ball was moving closer at impeccable speed. The shape of a barge slowly came into view, the amber light actually a series of lanterns at its front. Utic waved wildly as the barge, bulking and rusted, whirred to a stop nearby. He ran towards it, hands raised as a sign of peace. A single, elderly man with a fur jacket and a long, scruffy white beard that ran to his stomach walked toward the barge’s edge. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunbleached goggles.
“You lost, boy?” The man asked with a gruff tone.
“I’m from Montenau, sir,” Utic answered. “But I need to get to Prodigium.”
The man stroked his beard and gazed at the stars, then turned back and kicked the ladder next to him. It fell down its railing and hit the sand, emitting a small puff of dust.
“Today’s your lucky day then, boy,” The old man answered. “I’m heading toward the Varlan Plains to drop off some cargo. I suppose I can make a detour towards the Font. That’s the closest I can get, then it’s up to you to make the rest of the way.”
Utic gave the man multiple thanks and made a vow to himself as he ascended the ladder. No matter what came his way, he would complete the journey to Prodigium and become somebody that made Verna, and his family, proud. He had finally been seen. No, even better.
He had been chosen.
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