A New Beginning

Duara didn’t know how to feel about the tiny cabin. The wooden frame bowed from the forest debris. When her father pulled the door handle, the wood holding the hinges cracked, then eventually caved from the metal.

His shoulders popped and it settled after 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 in the cabin, at his first step, the floor board sucked in his foot. Her father pretended a competent expression. “I’m just stomping this down, setting up for 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 took deliberate steps and assisted her father out of the hole.

They both let out a heavy sigh and inspected the cabin. Torn shades let in pockets of light, but it wasn’t enough, the cabin shadows kept most of the house obscured.

“Can you add some light in here?” His voice bounced around the cabin when he asked.

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 center of the room and the light brightened as it centered itself.

Her father muted a few claps.

Duara snorted. “Any child in Haford could do that. Even the ones like us.”

“Not without a kurnyit.” He argued back.

Contrasting the initial steps and the worn exterior, the rest of the cabin appeared sturdier. Some of the planks were shades brighter, less worn from its surrounding peers. The roof was well above the rectangular interior, a kitchen bereft of cooking items on the left side, and the other side was empty space.

“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 gleamed when he spoke and scavanged around the cabin. “I’m going to look around and find some tools, why don’t you talk to a woodworker and a blacksmith to replace those floorboards?” He dug into his pockets and counted some taelmarks.

She gave a playful smile and took the coins from his hand. “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’ll 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 add any more pressure on the broken wood.

The woods were easy enough to traverse through. Each row of trees welcomed any path for Duara to take. She took her time contrasting the foliage between Haford’s massive trees, where the wide base and the abundance of branches were hard to avoid, and conversely to Tavean’s high reaching trunks, which spread its branches only at the peak. Even the dirt below her feet had a darker and richer hue than what she was used to; the dirt beared novel herbs and flowers.

Moving to Tavean was beyond awful, but she could see herself finding solace between the rhythmic chirping and playful scattering of the woodland rodents. She knew it was better being in Tavean – Aelorians like her had a chance to breathe without the unending Sylwean restraints. Maybe she was too comfortable with suffering with her peers, maybe that was the reason she didn’t feel comfortable traveling to Tavean. Who was here that understood what it was like living in a world that was made to keep you from growing, where eyes would instantly stop at the top of your ears before listening to a word you’ve said, and knowing exactly what you’ll be doing for the next hundred years of your life? Nobody here in Tavean, especially here in Drethen, or even Corterra itself.

Drethen was the nearest town to them. When they passed by it on the way to the cabin, Duara declined every suggestion to check-it-out. As the town came into view, she made sure her hood covered her stunted ears. Sometimes, her leather brown hair would cover the stumps that remained, but the supplemental loose covering of her hood over them satisfied the worry.

Finding the blacksmith was the easiest part of her journey. She followed the sounds of constant clinking, it rang clearly above the other sounds.

Duara walked over to the blacksmith, keeping her hand on the coins. “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 a small dark cloud. While still hammering away, he acknowledged her. “Yes?”

“Do you have any iron nails?”

Only stopping so that 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 that 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. Her soot outlined her fingernails, left-over evidence of desperate washing, and yet some spots remained in her elbow crease. She kept a tiny bundle of her blond hair loosely tied, most of which was dyed with soot. The majority of it, nonetheless, stayed in place, but strands became unkempt over time.

Duara lingered on each detail, little strands that seemed cutely unkempt, and one particular strand that kept itself obnoxiously stagnant in front of her gentle gaze. The girl’s eyes reminded her of the underside of Haford’s tree leaves, whenever they covered a sunset. A soft touch of green, outlined by an orange hint of the coming dusk. Eventually, she pulled out a taelmark for the exchange, but the girl didn’t take it, instead, she moved the nails toward Duara’s pocket. “Ashke.” She said. A breath fluttered in Duara’s chest when the girl leaned in to place the nails.

“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 them back in her pocket.

“Duara? That doesn’t sound Tavean. I’m guessing you’re from Kington?”

An uncomfortable fit of breath left Duara’s lips, as 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 in to 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 road, expecting Duara to follow.

“You don’t have to-”

She looked back, aiming her voice towards her uncle. “Yes of course! You’re *welcome!” *After her focused shouting, she kept her voice low 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-” Ashike put her hand up.

Duara still continued. “-to me.”

“-it.” Ashke rolled her eyes. “Next thing you’re gonna say,” Her head became upright, and her voice became stern. “Oh Ash, you gotta keep at it. You might like it. When I was your age. Blah-do-bleeh-bloop, some random when I was your age speech after any type of griping. Like, I don’t like cheese, but 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 her complaint. “Just for a pound of cheese, then travel back uphill to get home. Like, how do you even travel twice uphill, dad?”

Duara became empathetic, she’s had similar conversations with her dad. The old, “back in my time” speech, but usually it foretold the oppressive future ahead as Aelorians if she 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 taking conspicious glances at Ashke. She wanted to remember Ashke’s confident smile and relaxed expression, but she’d lose track of the conversation if she indulged too long from a glimpse. “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 feined a cough. “Must be getting used to the air.” She panicked, her eyes danced around, finding an exit from the conversation. “I’m going to go find a place to pee.”

“Oh we’re here-”

Duara didn’t hear her, she spent all of her energy searching around. As she tried to leave, she bumped into a boy. He was the same age as Ashke. His hair was cut short, like new grass poking around the sides and back, with an inch of growth on top. The skin underneath was a sun-weathered brown and somehow it hinted at a slight green hue.

“Wiko!” Ashke quickly combed her hair with her fingers. She spoke, flustered, as if her lips couldn’t keep up with her tongue. “What’re yow-u doing here?”

“Wood.” Wiko responded flatly.

Ashke laughed demurely. “Oh.” She angled her eyes away from him. “I’m certain you have plenty.”

Duara tried sidestepping the pair, but somehow Wiko grew wider. He stepped closer to respond to Ashke, moving as if Duara didn’t exist.

“No, we already used up our supply. The Kyron temple needs more. We’re finally upgrading the alchemy room.” His demeanor peaked with interest as he talked about the Kyron temple.

“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. “For now, I’m just a Kunza.”

Duara chuckled, something about the name sounded silly. The noise unfortunately caught Wiko’s attention, and Ashke pointed her out.

“That’s Duara, she’s new here – from Kington.” Ashke explained, excited to bring foreign news to him.

“I’ve been there a few times to visit the other temples, what part of Kington?”

“Ohh.” She held on to the vowel, creating time for her to think of a name. “Someplac- Sunmplak, yup, that’s what its called. Sunmplak.”

“I’ve never been there before, is it near Niobeth? I haven’t gone more east than there.”

“It’s super not known, so I don’t think you’ll find it on a map. It’s super east from there, for sure. Far east, like almost in Bramphia.” Duara focused away from Wiko and into a small area between the two. 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 to secretly save over decades to pay for the Runners. They were kind souls, all of the Bramphounds she met. A few eccentric, sure, but they risked their fur to sneak them out of Haford. The Sylwean judges wouldn’t have given them a second thought to forever imprisoning them, a punishment worth more than a bag of Taelmarks.

“I’ve heard that there’s this underground group over there.” He looked away, his 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 asked them the same question, But when she asked them, they 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. His eyes squinted, taking a few moments to think about the question.

Duara inconspicuously sidestepped until she escaped the center of the two.

Finally, Wiko completed his thought. “I think they’re doing it to make money, why else would they keep doing it? What do you think Duara?”

She sucked 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, guys.” The woodworker cut in 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 gleamed back for a moment. 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 woodworker pressed his hands together succinctly, 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 woodworker foretold, they carried numerous holes about a coin’s width — if not for the other supporting boards, each one would quickly fold into its own weight. She struggled with keeping them firmly pressed against her chest, as each plank wobbled a different way when she walked. On top of that, the hardness pressed well into her forearms — she winced every time the sharp edges nipped into her skin.

Wiko carried twice more 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 finally stopped, she plucked away at 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 started to press her hands together.

The leaves that were freshly plucked started to shift around. At first, a few turned over, but a few seconds more, they began to catch a strange wind and twirled around.

A flash of orange light made the other two look away, and 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 mended together. “They’re ruined.” She pouted her lips and traced her fingers across the misshapen wood.

“It’s okay.” Wiko said while holding 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. Just like before, the wood glowed a sunset orange, but a new skyblue light emanated from the misshapen portions.

After a few seconds, Ashke sheepishly peeked out of one eye. The planks of wood were exactly how she wanted it. Where holes previously resided, a 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 itself on the ground. The other two waited for confirmation. After a few minutes, she resolved their anticipation. “That’s right.” She sighed. “My father and I escaped from Haford. We hired Runners to move us. I’m sorry if I lied to you. I just wanted to be seen and heard.”

The other two mulled over the revelation. After a quick silence, Wiko spoke out. “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 rollover.”

The other two laughed. Ashke even snorted a little and Wiko covered his face to try and mute his laugh.

A flicker of light shined through the branches and touched Wiko. He glanced up after noticing. “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 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.” Then 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 apart. The walk back to the cabin felt shorter, she spent the entire time replaying the past few moments.

There was a few hours left 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 that were once kept in the cabin had been tossed out.

“How was it?” Her father walked from behind the cabin, holding more debris. “I assume you enjoyed it.” He gestured his chin toward her face.

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 would hope so, we had a pretty low standard.”

“What does that mean?” She picked up the top plank and handed it to her father, and pulled out a few iron nails to take as well.

The discolored portions of the wood captured his attention, and he inspected the iron nails. He switched his eyes to his daughter as she stared at the iron nail.

“We should start a garden, I think.” He said, ignoring her question.

“Why’s that?”

He placed the top board on hole he made earlier. “I checked the dirt outside, the loam is different than 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. They’d grow so tall because of it, but it’d never be tall enough to get enough sunlight. The few that did, became lanky and could barely hold themselves up. But here, I 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 stopped listening after she realized he was going off on one of his “dad ramblings”. She had taken out another iron nail and closely inspected it. When her father finished his speech, the rising intonation clued her to respond back. Quickly, she thought of a response based off the keywords he used, “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.”