((Author’s Note: Not going to make this a regular occurrence but since this is a change to update schedule – going to try to publish twice a week now on Tuesday/Thursdays. Felt like once a week was too slow. Carry on.))
Somewhere in Quacha Ra, Second Week of the Thawing Moon
Moments like these with Queneh were what Cazan loved the most about their life in Quacha Ra. The two raced up the path shrieking with delighted laughter, Cazan’s gray streaked brown hair threatened to come out of the loose ponytail they had it in.
Ahead of them was a dark-skinned girl who looked over their shoulder as Cazan approached. Cazan lunged playfully at Queneh and the tips of their fingers only barely grazed the bright fabric of Queneh’s poncho before she jumped away with a grin.
“You’re going to have to be quicker than that, matis!”
Cazan paused for a moment and blinked at the term Queneh just called them, “I’m not that old.”
They continued their race up the mountain slopes before finally reaching the ridgeline. Below them the valley was beginning to spring to life, brilliant patches of green, red, and yellow poked out from under the retreating snowbank. The growing seasons were short here and the plants had to take advantage of every second of warmth and sunlight they could. Cazan set their pack, quiver, and bow down. They closed their eyes and felt the harsh warmth of the afternoon sun on their tan and sun marked skin. The air was thinner up in the high mountains that made up the interior of the continent.
It was a land which most lowlanders disparagingly referred to as the Barrens. They thought of it as a lifeless land of waste and snow, fit only for those foolish enough to wander its slopes and passes. Cazan lived most of their childhood in the shadows of these ranges, hunting on the steppes around the mountains but never venturing past the first intimidating curtain of gray rock and brilliant white ice.
Once they did, however, they realized there was a whole new world to explore. It itched a need deep in their mind to wander, to learn, and to see and experience new things. It was certainly better than sitting in a stuffy tower all day which was what the Provosts wanted to do with Cazan once they learned about their “unconventional magical practices”.
The harsh squeak of a cavy brought them back to the present and Cazan turned to see Queneh sitting cross-legged on the ground and holding a handful of grass to the small rodent. It slowly approached and grabbed a mouthful of grass before making a waddling retreat to its burrow below the rocks. Overhead a hawk screed as it searched for its prey. A few flies buzzed around Cazan and they swatted them away.
A lifeless land indeed.
Cazan took a seat on a flat rock, “Well I suppose we should get started with your lesson.”
Queneh made a face, “Can’t we just enjoy the afternoon?”
“We can still enjoy the afternoon while learning … it’s called multitasking,” Cazan replied and they patted the ground next to them, “Now sit.”
“Fine.”
Queneh took a seat next to Cazan and pouted slightly.
“First let’s clear our minds and focus,” Cazan said and closed their eyes. The only experience they had with teaching was with Queneh and that only started about a year ago. They were very much going off of what they had seen other mages do in the past and usually that involved some kind of meditation at the beginning of their lessons.
It was a fairly simple exercise. A way to focus on the moment, to feel the energy coursing through them and around them. As Cazan breathed they felt the blood in their veins thrum with the arcane power that practically everything possessed. It was life and it was the world around them. The air carried it in the winds, it swirled in turbulent waters, and stones held it in their stubborn grasp.
Cazan felt that the mountains of the interior held more of it than the flatlands, though they weren’t sure why. Perhaps it was all the rock that surrounded them. Perhaps it was the fact that in some ways, the magic was woven into the very clothing they wore.
Either way, they felt more connected to magic here than they had anywhere else.
Beside them, Queneh stiffened and suppressed a groan, Cazan’s eyes snapped open and they looked at Queneh. She was trying very hard to not look like she was in pain. Her teeth were gritted and her eyes were screwed shut.
Worry shot through Cazan like an arrow.
“Queneh?”
“’m fine…”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just a little dizzy,” Queneh finally admitted though Cazan couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t quite being forthcoming.
Cazan began to get up, “We’ve been in the valley all winter, maybe…”
“It’s not that,” Queneh said, her voice was sharp and she winced, “Something feels wrong. Can’t you feel it too?”
Cazan frowned, they knew they weren’t as great at this exercise as Queneh was but they felt they should know if something was wrong, “No. What does it feel like?”
“I don’t know, just … wrong.”
It became obvious to Cazan that Queneh wouldn’t be able to focus on the lesson they had planned. The girl was gripping at the stone beneath her as if bracing herself against the pain.
“Let’s get going,” Cazan said and held their hand out to Queneh, “I can teach you another day.”
Queneh hesitated for a moment before taking Cazan’s hand. It felt like Cazan was holding an ember in their bare hand and they grit their teeth against the pain. They didn’t want Queneh to think they had hurt them, instead they pulled Queneh up and as soon as she was steady, they let go of her hand. As Queneh turned away to walk down the path, Cazan surreptitiously shook out their stinging, now red hand.
As they bent down to pick up their gear, they saw a stone that Queneh had been gripping at when she was in pain. Idly they wondered if it had always been black and they felt the same worry niggling in the back of their mind. What was going on with Queneh?
The two trekked down the mountainside and Cazan tried to get more answers out of Queneh, “What did you mean by something felt wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Queneh said testily.
“Alright, so how do you know it’s wrong?”
“It feels out of place … and it hurts,” Queneh replied with a shrug, “That sounds like something’s wrong to me.”
Well couldn’t exactly argue with that logic.
Queneh stopped and cast a glance behind her at Cazan, “How come I’m the only one who can feel it?”
Cazan stopped as well, “… I don’t know.”
Beneath them they felt the earth give a slight jolt. The rumble of the earthquake echoed off of the mountains around them, on the slope opposite of them a few rocks had come loose and tumbled towards the valley. Clouds of grey dust rose into the otherwise clear skies. After a few moments the tremor subsided and the echo of the rumble slowly faded away.
These small quakes were common in the mountains where the earth never quite seemed to settle. Cazan instinctively looked to the east, towards where the highest peaks of Quacha Ra were and where several dormant volcanoes lay. It was quiet … no clouds of black ash marred the blue skies and everything had become still once more.
Despite this, now Cazan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was a sense of foreboding dread that rose the hairs on the back of their neck. As if someone were aiming a bow at their back. Cazan quickly looked over their shoulder and up at the mountainside above them.
There was no one.
Somehow, Cazan felt that their feeling of wrongness was not exactly the same experience Queneh was having. They tried to shake the feeling off, “We’ve still got a way to go before we can set up camp,” they said as they began down the trail.
“Are we going to stop soon?” Queneh asked, “At a town I mean.”
“Maybe,” Cazan said, “We’re near Jarau – we can stay there for a week or two and rest.”
Queneh frowned, “Not any longer?”
“We already spent the winter at Hualya,” Cazan said. What a long winter it had been as well, they felt antsy and ready to wander once again. If they spent another month in a town they felt like they’d implode.
However at Queneh’s crestfallen expression Cazan relented, if only slightly, “We can … stay there a month or so. It may be good to see the weavers there to teach you and perhaps we can work on getting to the bottom of whatever’s … wrong.”
Queneh beamed, “I’ve heard so much about Jarau from the traders! They have some of the best weavers in Quacha Ra, Mestra Asira was from there.”
Cazan smiled at Queneh’s sudden enthusiasm and energy. They were happy to see that she seemed to recover from whatever had ailed her at the ridgetop. They walked up to Queneh and put their arm around her shoulders as the two began to walk down the path.
“Jarau’s a day’s walk away if we hurry,” Cazan said.
“Let’s hurry then.”