Sylvester & Tuette: Cursed Doubt

Chapter Twenty-Three

Without so much as a bruise or scraped portion of skin, they landed with their hands still touching the enormous Stone. Tuette marveled at how large the Stone really was, stating out loud that it might be the biggest in the Ring of Ten Minus Two. Sylvester posed a question about how they were all connected if they weren’t identical. Tuette gave a simple answer and tried her best to not make him feel like an oaf.


Letting go, Tuette looked around… and saw nothing. It was dark again. She stifled a curse, thinking how they had unintentionally spent so much time between Cordia and Ac and now their travel time had lengthened. She realized that a delay had been almost inevitable but they were literally running out of time.


“It smells awful here,” rang Cherry’s flighty voice from somewhere to Tuette’s left. Whatever’s wrong with the dullard, she’s truly right about the overpowering odor. It was wretched, almost drawing forth a gag from one of the Guards. Probably Terry. He was easy on the eyes, to say the least of his appearance, but his experiences within the Gousherall Guard were decidedly limited.


“’at bein’ viv’can gas, me thinkin’, oh.” Vivican gas? Tuette wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d never heard of it and asked Dermy about it. “It bein’ flighty gas. Ligh’er ‘an air, oh. Bu’ s’inks somethin’ awfu’, oh!”


“I wholly agree. Is it about to rain, though? It’s even darker than when we landed in Cordia.” Sylvester was right but Tuette’s vision was becoming accustomed to the blackness rather quickly. Though there was Nighteye Pote for such an occasion, she had none available because overdependence on such a Pote usually, in time, resulted in only being able to see at night. In the darkness, she saw rocky protrusions and was immediately reminded of a cave. Is the next Stone in the Ring underground? She thought back to what Ed had said about two Stones in the Ring being lost. It wasn’t so obvious that this was one such unknown location, but it did say that the conduits could be under the surface. And anything underground could be too easily shielded from a Finding Spell.


With her vision readily improving, she could see other forms of vegetation, which seemed to grow amongst the rocks in impressive amounts. Tuette finally identified one of the underlying odors. The primary one was obviously the gas but the more subtle one was the natural fertilizer of animal droppings, which indicated an abundance of smaller animals… or just a few large one that were hungry because they ate up all the small animals. Tuette then realized that some sort of fertilizer had to be used to make sure that whatever the vivican plant was, it could grow nice and healthy. Judging by the abundant amount of vivican gas, it was truly a prosperous plant in this region.


She saw Cherry standing close by with her arms at her sides. She couldn’t see the younger woman’s face but it might’ve been beaming surprise or even anger at ultimately having to come with this group of varied strangers. Thinking on Cherry Tee, Tuette wondered at the continued coincidence of it all. How is it that someone with properties similar to Cherry invaded Ac, murdered a number of people, and was faltered using items he just happened to be carrying?


The ashleaf orbs. Such peculiar items. If more time was afforded after killing Roost, and then after ridding herself of her wretched Curse, Tuette hoped to study the orbs further. She had desperately wanted to double the amount given but that Perryta Fastaire was adamant about holding onto most of his stock, and with good reason. If that Miskel Sociana had come back to finish whatever he had in mind, the people of Ac would need as many orbs as possible.


Was Miskel in Ac for a specific purpose then? Surely he thought he wasn’t only in Ac but Accordia. If they had allowed him through, he would’ve come across the cliff whose base was relegated as Cordia. Had Miskel been seeking Cherry? That seemed… a possibility. The type of blockages they both suffered were mighty peculiar. Unable to touch or be touched by Magik designs, save one Potent act, unless pacified by a tiny orb made of ash and leaf. But where did the orbs come from? Where is Miskel Sociana now? Questions left unanswered bothered Tuette but she knew she couldn’t do anything about it just yet.


Looking into the sky, Tuette didn’t notice any ominous clouds. In fact, it just seemed like a gloomy environment overall. Is it playing tricks on us via a World Spirit? The chance of encountering two World Spirits in such a span of time was still unlikely. Of course, they were literally hopping around the country and it actually wasn’t too far-fetched to believe they’d encountered another one this time.


If it rains, it might stifle the strong stench of vivican gas and manure. “ Be hopin’ it not be rainin’ soon, oh. Viv’can gas ‘nitable!”


Ignitable? Flammable? She understood then why Dermy might worry. Where there was rain, there could be lightning. If lightning struck, it could ignite the gas. But here, underground, if in fact that’s where we are?


Hushing everyone, Tuette strained to listen and detected a faint gurgling of water. It surprised her because, first of all, it was moving water and not a lek or lake, and secondly, because it might signify that they were close to the ocean. That could only mean…


“We bein’ o’ the Seagul’ I’lands, oh,” Came Dermy’s clipped voice from the dark side of Tuette’s right. How’d he know? She had deduced it from the moving water. If they had been in northeastern Decennia, they wouldn’t hear any such water and overall, it’d be colder. She even felt a stifled by the humidity. Of course, he might’ve already heard the water. She asked anyway. “Th viv’can gas comin’ from viv’can plan’. Na’ive to th’ sout’ on’y. Oh.”


Well, that explains it. It also further proved Dermy’s continued usefulness regarding his knowledge of varied plant life. And that, of course, made her wonder exactly what his life had detailed before joining her company more than three years ago. He was older than her, but not by much, and he was well traveled.


With her increasing vision, she saw Sylvester standing next to Dermy while the Guards were flanking the king. They obviously didn’t trust this new and unexplainably dark place. To Dermy, Sylvester said, “So, what conditions does this plant grow under? It looks like we’re underground, but is that possible?”


Tuette grabbed Cherry’s arm. She let out a very slight moan of surprise but stifled it and came along with Tuette as she joined the others. The king’s question was obviously in relation to her own misgivings regarding any of the Stones in the Ring network being in caves or maybe even buried.


That thought actually made her carry her energies further on the subject. If the two missing Stones are buried, would that be why they’ve been bypassed? Since a Stone might be inaccessible while completely in the ground, does that mean it would be bypassed for the next one in line? Perhaps it’s only the usable Stones in the Ring of Ten Minus Two that show up with searches! Making a mental note, Tuette decided the idea at least had merit but, again, she had to focus on the situation at hand.


“Viv’can plan’s be taken up o’ sev’ty-fi’ ‘ears t’ be m-a-turin’, oh!” he said in conclusion. That was quite a lengthy amount of time to pass for a simple plant! A third of a century to grow something that’s simply too smelly to enjoy? It must look absolutely remarkable. She had never heard of such a thing. It must to Potent for Magik properties, at least. She yearned to see that flora.


It didn’t really surprise her that she’d never heard of it. For a plant to take so long to grow, how can it actually blossom unmolested? It must have defenses of its own. If that’s the case, are we in some kind of danger? She didn’t even know what it looked like. Dermy might. If they stumbled upon one, would it see them as a threat and attempt to harm them?


Terry whistled once at the news of the plant’s maturation time and Tuette saw Sylvester react to the sound like he was jealous of something that he couldn’t do. She recalled the king trying to make a clicking sound with his tongue, and failing. Does he not know how to whistle? Is that something that can even be taught to a full-grown man?


Does Sylvester count as a full-grown man?


She sniggered at the thought but knew that voicing it would only turn their relationship for yet another sour note. She had embraced enough humilities and verbal spars to last her immediate life.


Vest said, “That’s quite a time for a mere plant.”


“Oh, bein’ non’ meh plan’, oh! Flamin’ gas bein’ ‘ighter ‘an air?” Dermy then whistled and clicked. “Th’ on’y pro’lem bein’ th’ time it be takin’ t’ growin’ th’ plan’s. Non’ t’ sim’le.”


Tuette felt like pulling on Dermy’s wrist to break his disguise. It was very aggravating to listen to him. But he was from Mount Reign whereas she had never been there. There was a reason he didn’t reveal himself to the Guards. She wanted to ask but had no good time just yet. Regarding the vivican plan, of course the ripening time was an issue. If anyone could master…


Tuette felt a sudden silence settle over them all as a strange realization came about. Cherry had said nothing but all eyes, Tuette knew, were on the younger woman. It had nothing to do with their mission, but everyone knew that whatever the vivican plant was, Cherry Tee could probably bring it to maturity faster than anyone thought possible. Again, Tuette realized it wasn’t significant right now, but it might prove useful in the future.


A distant honk sounded, drawing even more distant memories to boil in Tuette’s mind. Though it was more resonant than the ones she had to deal with under the watch of Menginal, she knew she would always recognize a swan when she heard one. It was joined in sound by a second honk from even further away. That one was deeper still. Though it wasn’t likely they had encountered another World Spirit, the possibility still existed that they might be dealing with another variant of selanimals; particularly, selswans.


The idea unconditionally terrified Tuette.


She recalled earlier notions that the entire quest was a puppet show of coincidences. And how she had felt like it would result in her benefit. Now she realized she was going to have to go through col and even hell itself to get rid of her Curse, especially if she had to face off against selswans.


Light had finally become more apparent and Tuette, looking up to see Estella’s nearly-full face, was disappointed to still see no moon. And the light was more ambient, as if coming from the horizon. If we’re underground, that’d make sense but only if the cave walls are transparent. But that doesn’t seem possible.


“What is that honking?” asked Vest, completely wary of the circumstances.


“It’s most likely selswans,” chimed Tuette.


“What are they doing?”


That, Tuette didn’t have an answer for. It was only a possibility, but it seemed like they might have been signaling to each other. About what, she didn’t know. Tuette then noticed that a new odor had entered their presence. It was decidedly foul though not quite fowl. A fluttering of feathers sounded off close by and Tuette felt another constriction of her throat. Back at Menginal’s, she had been attacked by swans on two separate occasions and wished not to have a third. Especially not by a selswan. Perhaps the size and intelligence would make it more conscientious and it wouldn’t attack…


“Whazza doin’ downa ‘ere?” came a shrill little voice. They all turned as one and, coming around the edge of the enormous Stone was… not a talking swan, but a short little man. He looked a little like Dermy. In his hand, he held a cord that dragged behind him—


And then the towering selswan came into view, attached to the cord that was wrapped around the base of its neck.


Tuette’s heart began hammering in her head while the selswan, being much taller than the seleagles, looked from person to person like they were morsels ready to be snatched up and devoured immediately.


But the bird did nothing. And the little man looked from one person to another as if surveying them as… Well, morsels isn’t the right word, but the gleam in his eye and sneer under his lip doesn’t bode well.


Sylvester stepped forward and Tuette flinched when the selswan paid him unduly attention. What made her feel truly uneasy was the fact that the larger and supposedly intelligent selanimal was on some kind of leash. It wasn’t like the little man had domesticated a fig or anything. Far from it. The intelligence that could be acquired by such a creature was supposed to rival that of traditional humans, testament to the fact that they harbored human-based spirits, no less. Finally speaking, the king said, “We came through this Stone,” he unnecessarily gestured to the rock in question. “And we understand we are amongst the Seagulf Islands, good sir, but we aren’t certain of which island we’re on.” The man looked confused by the king’s words. Sylvester continued anyway. “We desperately need to get to Boost Island.”


The little man spit then and licked his toothless gums in a manner that made Tuette lick her own teeth just to make sure she still had them all. “Some’n says dis call Schove ‘land.” He spit again and continued. “We be callin’ if Vica’ Village.” Tuette lightened inside. Schove Island!


But she realized that on both maps she had recently seen, neither had named the individual islands. And the only reason they knew which one was Boost was because of the singe mark bore into the map through Ta Speebie’s Locator Spell.


“Schove Island,” repeated Sylvester. He had either not noticed that the strange man was looking at the king like a piece of meat ready for eating or was doing his best to maintain composure in such an uncomfortable situation. Hoping it was the latter, Tuette couldn’t help but wonder if it was, in fact, the former. “Okay, that actually… helps us very little.” The king sighed and Tuette might’ve as well, she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t stop worrying about the peculiarities of the situation. And she kept wanting to look up at the selswan’s face but knew she didn’t want the kind of attention such an act might produce. “Can you direct us to Boost Island?” Sylvester look up into the selswan’s face and raised his arm, pointing at the bird. “Perhaps provide us some transportation—“


He ducked his hand back as the bird tried to snap at it. Tuette couldn’t help but jump herself and emit a squeak. Terry and Vest came in front of Sylvester then, their blades at the ready. A passive question floated up in Tuette’s mind then. Has either Gousherall ever been forced to protect the king by killing someone? Is it them that Sylvester expects to kill Roost?


“Hozshkue! None fer the eatin’!” said the little man as he yanked on the cord attached to the selswans neck. Tuette then feared for the little man’s life because the bird looked at the man like he might have crossed a line. But the selanimal did nothing. Hozshkue, if that was the creature’s name, was truly tamed.


It made Tuette a little sad, and even sick.


The little man continued and Tuette realized the stench was coming from him. In the dimness, she thought he might be coated in some kind of oil or cream. He did appear to be greasy and was slightly reflective because of it. He smiled and said, “I bein’ Bittial. This rude little swan is Hozshkue.” He tugged on the cord again and the bird only looked angrier, but still did nothing to retaliate. Is the greasy man not worth the trouble? Bittial certainly didn’t look like much. “You folk bein’ real good to stay here, lo. I goin’ up to fetch a basket. Flyin’ and floatin’ bein’ the only way you getting’ up to the village, lo.”


In that same moment, Bittial turned and approached Hozshkue. The selswan still looked angry but did nothing as Bittial hoisted himself into a saddle that hadn’t been readily visible before. At a snap of the cord, Hozshkue lifted himself – or herself – into the air to reveal that some tools were kept under the creature’s wings. It made for a good surprise, Tuette supposed, if you thought you were attacking a rider that had nothing but the selswan he rode. Amongst the tools that she could recognize, Tuette thought she might have seen a net and some bags that looked lumpy, as if stuffed with rocks. But she knew they couldn’t be too heavy, otherwise they would add to the weight of the selswan, if Bittial even cared about that sort of thing. Somehow, I doubt he does.


The flaps from the selswan were minimal but it still raised itself up. Tuette remembered that Dermy had stated that the vivican gas was lighter than air. Perhaps that’s what made the lift so easy. Tuette actually felt like jumping up to see if she felt lighter but decided she didn’t want to look so foolish.


After Bittial and Hozshkue were out of earshot, Sylvester asked, “Can we trust that man? He smelled very strange. Even worse than…down here?” He frowned then. “I guess that means we are underground.”


Tuette shook her head from side to side. “With all the ambient light filtering in here? I don’t think so.”


“Then where? Where are we?” asked Terry. He was sounding a little strained, like maybe he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being in the ground. Tuette, after a fashion, imagined she wasn’t either, to an extent.


“That Bittial said we were on Schove. For an island to be big enough to have an underground cavern like this,” Sylvester said while gesturing about a little wildly, “the island itself has to be pretty large.” Tuette nodded, knowing she had thought similarly a very short time ago.


Dermy reached into his rucksack and pulled out Ta Speebie’s borrowed map weave. He unrolled it and placed it against the large, warm Stone. Sylvester stood up behind him, pointing out the burned island in the dark. It was the very tip of what looked to be a wing of the seagull shape that the island chain was named for. “That is Boost. And the largest island…” It was obvious that it was the central one, that made up the abdomen of the seagull and stretched down into one of the wings as well. Boost was that wing’s tip. “There! Or… here! We’re on Schove and the very next island in the chain, southeast from us, has to be Boost.” He looked at Tuette. “Right right, Tuette?”


The way he asked, it sounded like he needed the reassurance. It was clear he was right too. “Yes, that’s very apparent, Sylvester. Now, we just have to get there. And this Schove… Something isn’t right here.”


The king frowned. “What isn’t right? Besides that you don’t think we’re underground?”


She looked at him in the dimness. What does he mean by that? I have a legitimate reason for thinking as much. “I just mean that it seems like there is natural moonlight coming from where the cavern walls might be. Like the walls are transparent, or simply aren’t there. That doesn’t seem possible. If it is, what’s holding the sky – or whatever’s up there – up?”


Sylvester frowned again. He obviously wasn’t following her reasoning so she didn’t bother voicing her opinion about the selswans being treated as little more than mounts. “I don’t think its right that those swans – selswans – are being treated like slaves. They’re basically just different people, aren’t they?” That was Terry who asked and it made Tuette’s heart melt just a little to know that he worried about the same things as she did.


Vest replied to his younger counterpart’s question, even though someone like Dermy or Tuette would know the answer better than he. “They may have human-designed spirits, but they still are just animals. And besides, that... was his name Hoshizukue? Hoshizukue just let Bittial treat him that way. So I say he might deserve it.”


Tuette felt a chill then and realized that maybe it wasn’t both of the Guards that Dermy didn’t trust, but just Vest. He does bear enough of a resemblance to Sylvester that I might check to see if he has a kingstone too. His response was extremely basic and spoke of his lack in understanding the situation regarding selanimals fully. At least Sylvester was attempting to understand the natures of Magik in rudimentary forms.


Thinking again about the vivican plant, Tuette turned to ask Cherry a question, but the woman wasn’t there. In their waiting and arguing, she had slipped away. “Guys, Cherry’s gone!”


“Dack!” spat Vest. “Where? Why?”


She looked at the Gousherall and hoped he realized he had asked a stupid question. “I don’t know. It’s not like she left a script detailing her plans or anything.”


“Well, we have to find her before that little man gets back,” said Sylvester. “Who knows what other large animals live around here.”


Tuette then realized that the selswans had to prey on something besides the insects that would invade their feathers. And several small somethings might easily prey on the group of them, if not individuals who’ve decided to explore for themselves. She then remembered her misgivings regarding the vivican plant and how she worried it might have defensive measures. If they’re Magik-based, Cherry will be fine. If not, she’s a dead woman. Assuming, of course, such plants have defenses. She asked Dermy.


“Th’ viv’can plan’ be havin’ means o’ ‘fense, yeah, oh. Be squirtin’ con’trated fumes an’ th’ like. Be knockin’ you out, oh! Other’n beasties come an’ eat ya up!” He was smiling as he said it but Tuette knew he was feeling anything but happy about losing someone like Cherry.


Tuette then felt guilty for a moment. She had thought about Cherry Tee as something that could be lost, like an item of interest. Tuette knew that Cherry was more than a mere item, though what it was that made her as special as she was, Dermy, she, or anyone else didn’t know. They just knew that she was quite unique and that someone with similar properties was also in the world, causing problems.


Wishing she knew more about the vivican plant and this area in general, Tuette silently wished the plant’s gas was Magik in nature, sparing Cherry from any harm. In the back of her mind, Tuette still felt guilty about Herb Tee being transformed into a night dragon. One reason she had not minded bringing her along was that once she was rid of her own Curse of the Hood, she would be able to help Cherry pursue her father or even just the dragon that Cursed Herb.


“Okay, that Bittial guy did say that we should stay still but I’m not too inclined to listen to him. If he’s anything like the other villagers topside, I don’t really want to meet them.”


“But the selswans can help us, at least. They can get us to Boost. We can end this today, even!” Sylvester all but shouted at Tuette. He might’ve been angry because Cherry was gone or because Tuette had dismissed the idea of trusting whatever kind of people would enslave selswans. “And Cherry should be able to look after herself anyway.”


Has he met her? “She’s… There’s something different about her, Sylvester.”


“Yes, I know. We’ve discovered that she can’t use Magik, be touched by it, or whatever.”


“No,” she said, feeling warm anger climb up into her throat now. “No, well, yes, she’s different in that respect, but she’s socially different. She doesn’t know how to speak… properly. Or… something. Haven’t you noticed it?”


“You’re saying she isn’t using her grammar properly? Is that it?” asked the king while everyone had become quiet and might’ve been backing out of the argument as well. It was an argument she didn’t want to be having, but somehow, here she was, yelling at the king again.


“No, I’m not saying that. You have to have noticed the way she talks. It’s so distant, like she’s not sure of where she is… at all times.”


“But Bittial said—“


A honk sounded and a few flaps were heard before they saw Bittial approach from the gloom. Tuette had silently hoped that Cherry had been captured by the selswan and rider. At least then, I’d know where she was. But, no, Bittial only carried with him more nets. A second rider flew in as well and Tuette wondered how both selswans were supposed to fit in the immediate area.


Bittial dismounted and stopped. “Where be the other lady, lo?” The second rider came in, his selswan landing almost on top of Hozshkue. But the first selswan just sidled over and they both stood right next too each other, their folded wings touching. It looked like a tight fit between the large Ring Stone and the nearest cluster of flora, but it worked for the selswans and they seemed unbothered. The second rider dismounted as Tuette began explaining about how Cherry had wandered off and they were just preparing to go and find her.


“Nixo!” shouted the second man. “She wandered off, she be lost to the ‘cans. And then to the critters.” He then shook his head. “Quite a shame, Bittial.”


“There’s still the other girl here. Plus these virile men, lo!”


At those words, Tuette began to grow very suspicious of the two men: she knew the term virile was more commonly used when discussing the subject of breeding. And she recalled suddenly how Bittial had been quite pleased to have stumbled upon not one but two females.


These men definitely have something sinister in mind. She had slipped her hand into her rucksack and clutched the Firedom Expansion Pote but knew it would be useless without an initial spark to build the Pote around. And there was the Freezing Pote… but she really didn’t want to use that.


She weighed the outcome of using the Freezing Pote now or saving it and possibly being taken and mistreated by these two short men. I’d most likely survive, but at what cost? Maybe if she revealed she was Cursed, they wouldn’t want to take her or the others, simply because they’re associated with her.


Of course, I’m just jumping to conclusions without knowing all the facts. Maybe this is a community that values strong men and reveres women? That was giving them a lot of credit, she knew, but she couldn’t deny them the benefit of the doubt at least.


Her hand brushed against the gift that Jack had given her: a script and three acorns. Jack had said they could be used to make a quick forest, whatever that meant. She gripped the package tightly as Bittial approached her, smiling that toothless grin as before. Even in their dim surroundings, that eerie sight was easily seen. “My friend here is called Lopom. We’ll take you folks up to Vica’ Village real soon now. Just mesh up our nets and carry you that way, lo.” He then licked his lips and spit once again.


Tuette felt herself back away as Bittial approached and she immediately wondered why no one was attempting to intercept him. Do they not recognize the threat he represents? How uncomfortable I am? Finally, Terry stepped forward. “Please, you’re making her uncomfortable. Can’t you see that?”


Bittial put his hand to his chest, like his heart had just been broken. “I’ve no ill intentions for the missus, no, lo. We merely want you all to be our esteemed guests here. Up there. In Vica’ Village.”


Tuette nodded but felt little at ease. She found herself drawing her hood and skirts more closely about herself, despite the fact that there was no way that her Curse could be activated. Again, she thought she might simply tell them, all of them, that she was Cursed. They might not be so hospitable then. And we need help to find Cherry, at least.


“That’s well and good, Bittial, and Lopom, but we need to find out friend,” said the king. “She really shouldn’t be out there alone.”


Lopom and Bittial exchanged a suggestive leer. “Oh, she not be alone for long!”


Tuette knew she could take that in several contexts and actually felt better when she thought the pair of skuzzy men were referring to Cherry being hunted by an animal of some kind.


“I would hope not,” continued Sylvester. “Because she needs to remain with us. We appreciate your offer of hospitality, but I have a Freezer here,” he gestured to Tuette and that surprised her because that meant he hadn’t forgotten her original cover story. She had let the guide lapse for a couple days now. “And if you take us by whatever forceful means you have in mind, she and my Guards will have to put up a fight. And I don’t imagine it will be beneficial to either of our parties. Or for our cause.”


“Your cause?” asked Lopom with genuine interest backing the question.


King Sylvester nodded. “Yes. We come from Mount Reign. I am the king of this land and many others, all which make up Decennia. And we have all been put in danger that, unless we can get to Boost and stop the count there, will have drastic results.”


Lopom and Bittial exchanged looks again but this time without such a suggestive leer. They actually looked dumbfounded and Tuette thought that maybe a little of their inherent menace had been diminished as well. Lopom then asked “The count of what?”


“Of Boost,” she found herself blurting out. Weren’t they listening?


“Nah, nah. What you tryin’ to count?”


The question didn’t make sense to her. Tuette tried explaining again but in a way they might understand as it was clear they didn’t know what a count was. Absentmindedly, Tuette herself wondered why such a name was given to a title of importance but decided it didn’t really matter. “We need to get to the next island, somehow, and stop… a bad man.” She felt foolish for speaking as she did but it couldn’t be helped. These men were like children in some ways. “We have to stop him before he does a big and horrible thing to the rest of us.” Yes. She felt very foolish.


Both men doled out grins again, Lopom with more teeth than Bittial, which might’ve been a status symbol. Or it could be that Lopom is younger or knows how to scrub his teeth every once in a while. Tuette noticed for the first time that Lopom was also slicked up with the grease or whatever it was. Is it the grease they wear that keeps the selswans in check? And why aren’t the creatures taking charge of their own lives?


A crash came from somewhere to Tuette’s right, drawing everyone’s attention. A moment later, a rush of pungent vivican gas hit them all and Tuette feared the worst: that Cherry had come across a vivican plant and it had sprayed her, putting her into a near-coma.


Bittial and Lopom made some odd sounds as they headed into the flora, leaving their selswans behind and warning the group to remain where they were. Tuette looked at Hozshkue and, judging by the look in the selanimal’s eye, knew that it was the oil on their bodies that allowed them to treat the selswans as they did. It either didn’t taste good or inspired some fledgling-based fear inside the selswan’s minds.


A finger poked her in the back and she turned to see Sylvester also looking up at Hozshkue. “Talk to it.”


“It? He’s not an it!”


She felt a hot sheet of breath blow out with a sigh as Sylvester took a breath. “Fine. Talk to him. Tell him we need to get away. That we need his help.”


“You want to steal these people’s mounts? That’d be like someone trying to steal Eaf…” She bit her tongue, but the damage was already done. In the dimness, she saw him stiffen.


For his credibility, he took it in stride. “Eafa was different. We couldn’t really talk to each other. Hozzyque—“


“Hozshkue.”


“Yes, that. He can understand you and vice versa, right?”


When she had said the selanimal’s name, Hozshkue had turned his head towards Tuette abruptly and Tuette had no doubt that the selswan could understand her. But does he comprehend me? It seemed like this particular group of selswans had purposely been denied the fundamental usages of their predisposed talents. She knew Sylvester was right though. She had to try.


“Hozshkue?” The selswan’s attention was drawn again. “Can you understand me? Can you…”


“Shhhhhz,” uttered the second selswan. “Hozzzshkue haz lozt hiz ‘peech powerz.” He said next in lower tones, ducking his head so close to Tuette that she feared it would be bitten clean off. “I recognizzze that thiz proximity frightenz mozt ‘umanz, but the otherz canna hear.” Tuette nodded, saying nothing but recognizing that she had swallowed two or three lumps that had unexpectedly formed inside her throat.


The second selswan continued, telling quickly of how Hozshkue had had his tongue severed for speaking against Bittial. Tuette cringed at the thought of the act. “Why do you let them treat you like that? They are smaller than you.” asked Sylvester.


“To nip them iz uncomfortable. Their clothz ‘urt feircly.”


Their clothes? Some sense was coming together now, regarding the odd-smelling oils that the short men wore. It had to be a variant of a Pain-Less Stone, though in Pote or oil form. Somehow, the oil took the pain out of the clothes, which were obviously of poorly-handled shrent. The pain a shrent caused human flesh was known to be legendary. For an animals, it must be even worse, especially on their mouths. It was indeed a very effective means for keeping the selswans tamed. Tuette explained the situation to Sylvester. He seemed to understand it already though, at least as far as the part where the oils kept the little men from feeling pain. Tuette then asked the other selswan, “Why don’t you just leave these people then?”


The speaking selswan frowned as much as was possible before answering. “We do not know much of the other islandz. But we’re told often enough that our ancestorz came here for refuge during hard timez, when they were hunted and murdered by humanz. We are too… afraid to leave. And they provide food. For the mozt part.”


“What does that mean?” asked Sylvester.


The second selswan, who had not given his name – nor had it been asked – sighed first, looking towards where Lopom and Bittial departed, and turned back. “We canna ‘unt. They bring uz foodz, if we fly good. Zometimez fish, zometimez rodentz, zometimez… nothingz. They canna always find foodz for uz.” He sighed again and Tuette noticed, regrettably for the first time, that both selswans seemed undernourished. She was basing the observation solely on the smaller swans she dealt with under Menginal, during her stint with Corunny Voidet, but the selswans should’ve been plumper.


Tuette sadly realized the reason they were both able to fit in such a cramped space as this. This birds take up less space.


The flora rustled and Bittial, Lopom, and Cherry stumbled through. Tuette felt a relief wash through her at seeing Cherry. The two riders looked angry though. “Stupid missus let loose on’ of our vivica’ plants!”


“We had nah time to wrap-n-seal it, lo,” chimed Bittial.


“Wrap-n-seal?” asked Sylvester.


Cherry was forced onto the group and Tuette couldn’t help but notice that she smelled rather horrible all of a sudden. “The large plant squirted me, Tuette. It stinks inside. But it floats, too!”


“It floats?” Of course. The plant produced a lighter-than-air gas and could even rise up. Cherry must’ve stumbled upon a mature plant, or a dying one, and caused it to dislodge earlier than expected. She turned to Bittial. “What do you mean by ‘wrap-n-seal’?” Sylvester then looked at her and recalled that he had posed a shorter yet similar question but it hadn’t been answered yet. “The king already asked you.”


“We be showin’ you soon ‘nough, folks. We take you up top and show you, lo!”





*          ~          *          ~          *





In an impressive amount of time, Bittial and Lopom had meshed together three of their nets with nearby sticks that were questionably slim. They were then reinforced with Sealant Spells and thus made the nets that much stronger. Between the two selswans, the net was attached via notches sticking out from the saddles. Apparently, loads were carried often enough between selswans that the apparatuses were necessarily built.


Instead of cargo, the humans were carried in the nets, two at a time. Lopom flew his selswans while Bittial stayed with the remaining four and then two. Tuette and Cherry were the last pair with each trip taking almost half an hour. All that time spent alone with Bittial was very uncomfortable and Tuette even asked what their intentions were. “We just be lookin’ to make you folk feel at home, lo.”


The speech pattern is very similar to Craspone. Perhaps he came from this odd assortment of people? Tuette was on the verge of asking when Lopom returned with Hozshkue and the other selswan. They were loaded into the netting and hoisted off. With the time that had passed, more light was filtering through the gloom, revealing that daybreak was nearing. The thought made Tuette a little more disgruntled because they had a day and then some to get to Boost.


They were carried straight up and Tuette finally glimpsed what the big mystery was. The group had essentially been deposited inside a cave that really did have no walls. Except it wasn’t a cave, but a land under ground. Or pieces of ground.


At its core, Schove was part land-based island and part floating island. There were sparse columns here and there that noted main support points but for the most part, the upper portion, where Vican Village was located, was literally floating on air. And this is what the people centered their lives around: keeping the village up, literally. Beneath the landmass that was in the air were hundreds of wrapped-and-sealed vivican plants. Tuette learned from Cherry’s experience and from asking Bittial that the vivican, upon reaching maturity, detached from its root system and the majority of it, seeds and all, rose into the air. This was how the plant was able to deposit the heavy, hand-sized seeds in the first place: by reaching new heights and locales and dropping them into fresh soils.


But what the villagers did was tend to the plants and take seeds off of ripened ones just before they might detach and then wrap them with different assortments of skins and leaves that were sewn together and sealed with the same Sealant Spells that were used to firm up the net sticks. The villagers called them buoys and once they were settled into an area underneath the land mass, they helped keep that section afloat in a more secure fashion. Vines and twine were tied around the root systems, allowing the villagers a chance to reset the buoys under different portions of the island because, apparently, the vivican gas lasted a long time but slowly decreased. It was riders like Bittial and Lopom who kept the vivican plants under close watch. Others made sure that weight distribution was even across the village.


Tuette had never seen or heard of anything like it.


They traveled so that the twines were nearly hitting the riders in the face and Tuette could see, even from her poor vantage point, that the selswans were becoming exhausted. She felt sorry for the creatures.


Even though she knew the trip was destined to last less than half an hour, they had flown under the length of the floating island and were turning about to be deposited in a manner of what felt like minutes. Tuette had seen some other riders tending to the buoys and, looking down, even saw a few more riders on foot, checking on plants and even seeing one being wrapped, sealed, and tied off. It was utterly fascinating and Tuette forgot completely about the sheer uneasiness that these people caused her.


That is, until she was greeted by more people of the same type. They resembled Bittial and Lopom in height and stench and Tuette realized that these people had to live lifestyles that demanded lightweight aspects throughout. Their existence was literally in jeopardy. She thought she might be tired but she wasn’t. Neither was the king, his Guards, or Dermy. Cherry looked slung around the eyes but that was most likely attributed to her experiences regarding her father and her unique situation. Not to mention her experiences below the island.


What truly drew Tuette’s attention though were the sheer amounts of swan statues. They were large enough to resemble selswans even and Tuette wondered about whether a Life Spell would be used and if it would draw either a swan or selswan spirit from Valtos’ Memory Well of cleansed spirits. If it was a swan spirit, that would make sense, but if it was a selswan, that might indicate that there was some place in the world that harbored frogs as big as the houses in Cordia. And swans as big as her…


Tuette’s thought pattern was broken when she abruptly saw such a structure similar to her own swan-shaped home. It was newer and, in truth, shaped to look younger, but the design was too similar to ignore. Everything else became part of the background as Tuette moved herself closer to the structure. “Tuette, what’re you doing?” asked someone who might’ve been the king. Her thoughts were winning out though. Was Craspone the one who orchestrated my situation? Surely he didn’t have Corunny Curse me, had he? It doesn’t seem likely. But he had obviously led me and Dermy to my swan-home. Was that more coincidence or is Craspone truly from this village? Tuette truly wanted to ask.


The gathering of short men drew her attention finally and she didn’t want to ask. “Please, guests, follow us. Our perryta would like to make your acquaintance.”


A perryta. At least they have some form of civilization. It was a short trip through odd terrain. The swan-shaped structures weren’t numerous but there were several of the statues, all which had chains around there webbed feet.


Terry must’ve noticed them too. “Why do you chain up your statues?”


An older-looking man of the group spit and then answered. “’cause when we carve ‘em up without any footing, they don’t be comin’ to Life.”


“To Life?” asked Terry. He obviously didn’t understand.


“You bring these statues to Life?” asked Sylvester, who, surprisingly, did understand. He had retained at least some knowledge of Magik in that respect and was on his way to acquiring Tuette’s genuine respect. It’s still a long way off.


“On’y when the land bits start dippin’, teek.”


Bittial joined in then. “Yar, see, the land is floatin’ good and such but sometimes, the buoys sink ‘fore the tenders can replace ‘em. In ‘mergency sit-e-ations, we Life Spell the stats and keep the lands ‘float while riders help find a balance.”


It was interesting, to say the least. But Tuette could only wonder why they made the effort. “It seems like if you just let the island sink, you wouldn’t have any of these problems.”


The group, traveling as one, stopped as one. An echoed gasp sounded.


Lopom replied to Tuette’s comment. “Then the world would lose a valuable stock of vivican plants. The land would crush them, seeds and all. It already takes too long to grow them. They can’t grow in direct sunlight.” After an awkward silence, they started moving again, traveling across a variation of bare land and lengths of wooden planks, constructed like bridges, only secured to the ground. Tuette imagined they were keeping the land masses conjoined too. She also noticed that there weren’t any trees up on this level. Tuette assumed the roots would only serve to further undermine the integrity of the floating land mass that was Vican Village.


As they were traveling, Tuette began to notice a string of circular plank sections that were made of the same types of wood but not secured to the ground in the same fashion. Rather, it looked like they hinged upwards. Tuette asked Lopom about them. “That be our wells. The river be ‘rectly below them hatches. Lets us draw up some water when we need it, which idn’t often. Rainwater don’t hold on the ground up here. Soaks right through. We donna mind though; it makes sure our plants are gettin’ fresh water. Our village does seem to slightly sink after a rain though, yeah, but it’s an even-sink so don’t no one panic much.”


Terry asked, “What about sea storms. And hurricanes? Can’t they blow your island away?”


Bittial said, “Naw. The If  we start swayin’, we bringin’ the swans to Life and they be helpin’ with stabilization too.”





*          ~          *          ~          *





As they walked, Tuette almost expected to see a Talking Tree as most towns and villages had one as their focus point at some point. Had Ac? She couldn’t recall. A return trip might tell her. In Vican Village, there was no Talking Tree, but Tuette wasn’t surprised. Even if this had been one of those originating towns, the chances their Tree had survived like Zharinna’s had would be anything but a miracle. But they were nearing what might be the center of Vican Village, or the center of the island, at least. Tuette realized they were probably one in the same as it wouldn’t make sense to have more than one village located on a floating island. The towns might not be cohesive and if they were, they would’ve eventually merged into one town anyway.


Thinking about the floating island, Tuette found herself anticipating the story that would tell how such a thing was accomplished. Did the caverns below house the plants first and then a huge amount of vivican plants all detached themselves and lifted the surface to its new height? Or was this always the height and the cavern walls deteriorated due to the lighter-than-air gas taking usefulness out of the barriers? That was probably it as there were the stone columns, few as they were. And they couldn’t be grown, unless there was a further style of Magik being employed.


Out of nowhere, Vest said, “Dermy, these people talk a lot like you.”


Tuette finally realized that Dermy hadn’t said a word since they arrived on the surface. It occurred to her that Dermy was wearing a disguise that was modeled after Craspone. And if he spoke, he might draw their attention. But it also might bring to light the origins of Mount Reign’s former agricultural specialist. Dermy didn’t respond to Vest’s comment and she was rearing up the courage to ask about the coincidence when they were halted in front of the largest swan-shaped structure that Tuette had ever seen. The six of them were ushered inside where it actually resembled a normal tolo or even a four-walled structure, however unsupportive those actually were.


Inside, a very old and very rotund man introduced himself as Perryta Kilameen. “Welcome, grounders!” he said in an accent that wasn’t as thick as the other villagers. It told Tuette that he was either new to the area or he had been here so long and encountered so many grounders that his accent had disappeared due to exposure. “We are so happy that you’ve decided to stay here with us in—‘’


“We are not staying here for any length of time,” Sylvester all but shouted. This caused Kilameen to step back, his smile slipping for just a moment. It even made Tuette jump a little, but it was necessary, especially if these villagers expected the six of them to stay there and avoid Count Roost and his Curse. “We need to get to the next island, Boost, and take care of the count there. We can be done with this relatively soon.” He was right and Tuette actually began to feel the anticipation of a final showdown-type situation itch at her skin. The Curse would affect everyone – except those who were Cursed, like herself – and Roost had to be dealt with. Tuette went on to explain the nature of the count and his Curse of the Thumb.


Perryta Kilameen didn’t seem to soak in all the knowledge. “So… this man is going to enchant our thumbs?”


“No,” rang Vest. “His Curse is designed to remove your thumbs. And mine. And everyone else’s.”


“Yes, we require assistance in reaching Boost. The method you used to carry us here was rather helpful, if not a little dangerous for my liking.” Dangerous? What, was the king used to riding beasts everywhere now? “But we’ll accept six of your selswans in return for agreeable compensation.”


He looked confused by even his own words, but Tuette had to admit that it sounded very professional. She hoped that he wouldn’t give out the last of the money they brought with them as he surely realized they would have to get back home with part of it.


At the word compensation, though, the perryta’s lips parted in a very straight-toothed smile. Tuette recalled the way her and Cherry had been visually ogled earlier by first Bittial and then Lopom. Looking at Cherry, Tuette also wondered if, in her brief absence from them, if the two oily men had encountered her and performed deeds most dastardly that the dullard wouldn’t think to report upon. The thought alone made her boil a little inside.


“Compensation?” asked Kilameen. “For… what did you call them?”


Sylvester actually grunted. “Selswans. They’re selswans. And I must say that they don’t seem to like being in your company.” Tuette realized that Sylvester was being a bit bolder than what otherwise might be acceptable for these people.


At the king’s comment, the perryta’s eyes narrowed and he looked like he was going to puff smoke. “You come to my islandic paradise and tell me that my own riding beasts are unhappy with my men?”


“I’m just informing what I’ve heard from one about another.”


Kilameen’s eyes widened. “Who?! Who has been talking to you outsiders?”


Sylvester frowned then. “I actually didn’t catch his name, but—“


“But that’s not important,” interjected Tuette, finally letting the boil spill out and form hard words. “What’s important is that the selswans that live here carry human spirits and thus need to be treated like humans, not livestock. Or slaves.”


“My swans love it here. They’ve repeated as much, and more. We provide shelter and food for them, in return for invaluable services that we otherwise would not be able to perform. And then this world would be deprived of such a rich field as that below, where the viv-plants grow!” Kilameen looked agitated. “But this is all irrelevant! You outsiders are our guests, and we shall meet your masculine needs until our females are with child. And until your females provide children, as well.”


Silence hung on the air. It lasted for only a moment.


“What the dack are you talking about?” screeched Terry.


Tuette felt a heaviness in her chest. Her initial thought had been correct, when she had thought twice about the two men’s use of the term virile.


Kilameen continued. “You will provide more for our population. In return, we shall help you get to the next island, whatever you called it.”


He obviously didn’t understand. Sylvester looked red about his beard. “But we need—“ He began, but Tuette interrupted.


“We will not be breeding stock for your folk, perryta!”


Kilameen exposed a toothy smile. “You will, whether you want to or not!” What does that mean?


The obvious implications bubbled to her head before any others: these people were either going to outright perform heinous acts… or they were going to use Lust Potes on the group. Tuette had never had an experience with such a Pote because it was against her mindset of human decency. In her mind, the acts that a Lust Pote permitted was still considered rape, even if both parties were willing to go through with it. If these villagers need new stocks of humans in this manner, they must surely be desperate.


“Sylvester, we need to get out of here.”


“Yes, Tuette, I know. But it doesn’t seem like they’re going to let us—“


“Then we make them let us! We have weapons. They don’t.” They conversed freely in front of Kilameen and didn’t think it unwise. He was elderly and probably didn’t hear so well anyway.


Sylvester looked at her as if he didn’t recognize her. She suddenly realized that she surely wasn’t sounding like herself and could only attribute it to the situation. Did the count know we would encounter these people? He must have. He practically lives right on top of them. Without replying to her comment, the king turned back to the perryta. “We understand that your people are depleting—“


“Any children born will have a decent rearing. They’n not be ‘glected.” He was still trying to sell the idea. It was very unsettling and he seemed desperate, to say the least. He continued to smile but it looked less malicious and more… pleading.


“That’s all well and good, Perryta Kilameen, but it can not happen. Not soon. If we can’t get to Boost, then every person in this kingdom – your people included – will fall under the count’s Curse.”


As if it was the first time he heard it, Kilameen straightened his stance. “Cursed?” he asked in a raspy whisper. Sylvester and Tuette nodded as one and she could only wonder why he hadn’t heard them before. The desperation of their population was probably urgent enough to incur selective hearing when it came to incorporating new progenitors. “We canna be havin’ Cursed folk amongst our stocks!”


Sylvester and Tuette exchanged glances and in the kings, she thought she recognized a note of understanding. She felt herself lighten inside because she knew she could reveal that she was…


“I’m Cursed, Perryta,” called Sylvester.


Kilameen all but backed away, his eyes bulging in horror. What’s the king doing? He isn’t Cursed. But his kingdom was going to be if they didn’t get out of there soon. She hoped the perryta would accept the bluff and send them on their way. Of course, they would have no reason to conscript selswans to them either. We might have to find another way. Maybe we can use some of the statues? No, they won’t come to Life in the daytime. Not without a chicken egg.


Finally finding his voice, the head villager said, “Cursed? We serve a Cursed king?” Serve? They probably weren’t even aware they had a king until a few hours ago. That seemed like a common theme in much of Decennia. How disheartening is that for Sylvester? To be part of an office that wasn’t recognized by those beneath him? She suddenly felt even more depressed about Sylvester because his broken kingstone was most likely the reason the nation wasn’t aware of him.


At the older man’s question, Sylvester only nodded. Kilameen all but screamed that the outsiders be escorted. In moments, they were being herded by smelly men again. Kilameen followed them out. “Take the king to the edge and drop him. The rest, take them to the Regenerative Shack


Ice stabbed her chest once more as the men grabbed Sylvester violently and began to drag him away. The Gousheralls tried to draw their swords but the men touched their painful cloth to the Guard’s bare hands. This time, Tuette didn’t think about hesitating. She reached into her rucksack with the intent of grabbing the Freezing Pote…


And her hand brushed the acorn package again. She looked at Cherry, who was very still but who held a silent panic in her eyes. This might be too much for her, but Tuette knew what acorns truly were: seeds. And Cherry had a gift. And they needed nothing short of a miracle right now.


She clutched the three acorns and forced them into Cherry’s palm. “Cherry, do your stuff!” Cherry looked into her palm, hers eyes wide. Tuette could feel her quickened pulse through the girl’s wrist as she gripped it mightily. Tuette’s own pulse was hammering inside her as thoughts of them both being inducted into this society via Lust Potes invaded her head. She didn’t like the feeling.


After only a moment, Sylvester was still struggling to remain with the group, his eyes watering as the short riders continuously touched their clothes to this hands and face even. He grunted, but never screamed. Cherry pulled the acorns to her mouth, muttered her Key Phrase, and blew into her closed hand. When she opened it, the acorns all but bolted to the soil of Vican Village.


In no time, three mighty oaks burst upward from the ground with such ferocity that no one was certain what was happening.


Tuette instantly felt guilty about the root system because they would surely undermine the integrity of the local landmass. But these people have left us little choice.


Amongst the oaks, Jack appeared almost instantly. He looked rejuvenated but Tuette knew he could model himself after any appearance. She did wonder if he could be in both places at once. If so, it was remarkable Magik and maybe the first instance. If not, that might mean that there were more World Spirit environs than people realized. They just didn’t know because of inactivity on behalf of the Spirit being in one place instead of another.


The small men looked horrified at the arrival of the oaks more so than the World Spirit tethered to them and Tuette felt that rush of guilt once more. They would get over it though. She knew she would.


Jack’s field of vision and activity was limited to the extension of his roots and branches, but that was enough. He saw Sylvester in the now-slackened grips of the riders and he pushed them away without uttering a word.


Tuette then felt a grip around her own upper arm. Thinking it was one of the Gousheralls, she went with it at first but saw that it was actually Bittial and only when it was too late. Is he using Mighty Grips? Possibly. The thought brought to mind Fy’tay and Tuette desperately wished the perryta had opted to come on this little journey through the kingdom rather than Tuette herself. It’s all proving too perilous!


Bittial continued to drag her and she saw that the others were being similarly dragged out from under the protective canopy of Jack the World Spirit. In no time, Tuette couldn’t see Jack anymore, but she did see the riders fly here and there at his semi-physical interjection. “You folken thinkin’ you’re so clever, lo?” Tuette saw Kilameen’s swan-structure collapse at the front. Jack apparently had reign over part of it. “We only be needin’ you for babies, lo. But you had to be puttin’ up fights an’ such!” He licked his lips and Tuette tried desperately to pull herself away.


With a rush of victory, she felt the fabric of her sleeve tear beneath the little man’s grip. She tugged once more and saw Sylvester moving to come to her aid. Bittial continued to struggle though, his grip slackening. One of the riders rushed at the king, pitching himself into Sylvester’s torso and toppling him over. Unfortunately for the rider, they fell back inside Jack’s domain and Tuette saw the attacker being raised into the air and being flung like a doll.


Behind her, Tuette began to notice more noises that didn’t seem to fit. Was that the sound of rushing water? Up here—


She realized almost too late what Bittial’s intentions were. He‘s going to throw me down one of the wells! With new inspiration, she yelled loudly, noting that she grabbed Terry and Vest’s attention but she had also inspired Bittial to take a stronger grip, using both hands to clench her upper arms from behind. She kicked backwards but he seemed to anticipate each attempt! “These Grips be comin’ in handy, lo! ‘specially for folk like yourself who donna wan’ to be helpin’ us out!”


“Excuse… me… if I don’t want… to be raped!”


Bittial just laughed and she heard him spit on the ground and lick his lips again. She began to feel helpless as the situation became more displaced from the group. They had Jack to overtly protect them. The Gousheralls were having to fight their way through a swarm of riders and not allowing themselves to kill any of the misunderstood villagers. Is that compassion necessary? She imagined she’d already be rescued by now if they hadn’t been so considerate of the locals.


Tuette was then swung around and forced to walk in front of Bittial and she could see the open hatch a few meters in front of her, a fresh bucket of water standing right next to it. Apparently, the arrival of the outsiders had called a halt on all other activities, even in mid-stride. A removable rolling bar was set up over the opening. Tuette guessed it only made drawing up the water easier.


As they got closer, she became desperate and even started to pull forward, hoping to off-balance Bittial. Why has he become so vindictive all of a sudden? Have I insulted him more than any of the rest? She cast a glance over her shoulder to look past Bittial’s face. She didn’t see Sylvester or anyone of a friendly nature. Biting a curse, she realized that she should’ve used the Freezing Pote. Her selfishness regarding her Curse had simply brought too much endangerment to everyone, including herself.


Bittial grunted and they both fell forward, Tuette landing next to the bucket of water. No cloth of his touched her skin so she didn’t feel any pain, except when her hand brushed his tunic. She pulled it away like it had been burned.


There Sylvester was, regaining his balance. He had apparently charged at Bittial from behind to topple them both over. And just in time too. They were a meter or more away from the well. Tuette wondered why they didn’t build up a small wall to guard the well but realized that hatch was sufficient when it was closed. And more constructs would only add more weight to the floating island.


She stood, feeling unsteady this close to the exposed well. Tuette was curious to know how deep the rock actually went before opening out to the cavern-like region below. But she didn’t really want to find out firsthand.


Sylvester approached her, huffing, his face pocked with red whelps. She felt bad for him again. Looking behind him, she saw that the other would-be attackers were being subdued against the three mighty oak trees. Outside of that perimeter, other people were scrambling to the nearest selswan statues, activating them with whatever eggs they kept on hand. Grimly, she imagined it might be selswan eggs and thought of the irony laced behind such a notion: the destruction of new life to temporarily bring back an old one.


Truly hoping that wasn’t the case, Tuette refocused on Sylvester. She found that she was also breathless. “Sylvester,” she huffed. “King. Th-thank you.” Tuette felt like she might start crying too but she wasn’t sure why. She had been so close to the well…


She felt a strong grip on both her ankles as they were then jerked out from beneath her. She fell forward, against Sylvester. He caught her and she looked down to see Bittial there. He was still trying to cast her down the well. Sylvester tried kicking Bittial in the face but the little rider quickly grabbed at the king’s foot and twisted it with the Mighty Grip. It didn’t break but instead caused Sylvester to turn with the ankle and he fell onto his side with a wet grunt.


Bittial scrambled up and Tuette slapped at him with open and closed fists, trying desperately to keep his Grips off her. He pawed at her clothing and the tiny man had an impressive reach; he was being persistent with Gripping her, grabbing at her clothes, her hood. She knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t allow him to remove it though. To do so would expose her Curse. And Sylvester had just told these people that he was Cursed. These people were obviously using some branch of Magik in conjunction with their selswans and not just Life Spells. It was rare to come across Magik societies that didn’t treat Cursed persons like contagious plague victims, as evidenced by the king’s death sentence. Tuette just knew that trusting anyone to know about her situation was simply too dangerous.


Sylvester finally intervened, standing and stepping between Tuette and the tiny man, putting his knee in Bittial’s gut. “Leave us, little man! We need to go. The count must be dealt with.”


There was that phrase again: dealt with. Even in this moment if terror, she couldn’t help but focus on his usage of it. Does he understand what that implies? If so, why doesn’t he just say—


The short man pushed at the king by grabbing the knee with his Grips and forcing down. Sylvester fell once again and Bittial reached up to grab at the point where her hair would be if the hood was down.


Jerking back in an almost violent manner, she tried to get away from Bittial and his form of further molestation… when she felt a defining moment occur between herself and her hood.


It came off, tearing after years of wear and tear.


And her damp mass of hair instantly shaped itself into a massive swan, casting a shadow on her as Brill above seemed to look down and even laugh at Tuette. She felt her face heat up with sorrow and embarrassment, made even worse when Bittial began to whoop and holler in very degrading tones, pausing his attempts to Grippingly kill her. She expected Sylvester to follow suit any second now, when he found his footing once again.


He stood and when she faced him, she only saw a pang of guilt, as if it was all his fault. It made her feel—


A terrible gust came upon them and Tuette felt the extended wings of her swan-hair catch an updraft and she was forced backwards once again. Sylvester grabbed her arm to steady her as Bittial was still too consumed with raw laughter to take notice. “We need to get you…” but whatever he said was lost in another gust that pulled her out of his delicate grasp.


Tuette suddenly realized the unintentional intentions that the violent gust was perpetrating. Behind her was the well.


Beyond that was a vast space of air that eventually terminated amongst a lush cave of plants and the roaring river that could still be heard even up here.


With a lurch in her gut, Tuette fell, kicking the full bucket of water on her way down, internally cursing Corunny Voidet one more time. As it was possibly the last time she would get to do so, she made sure it was extra bitter. The last she saw was the hole of light above get smaller and smaller, with Sylvester’s outstretched hand desperately and uselessly reaching down after her.


He was no Koso, she knew, and she had never wished to have one around.


Until now.