The Mephit's Tales

The first day was the worst.

They had expected it, of course; but even though the pace was gentle, the flying easy, and the rest breaks frequent, it was a gruelling pace for those who werent used to flying for any great length of time.

“We’ve only ourselves to blame, I suppose,” Mulin sighed, resting his chin on his forearms and stretching his wings out to either side; except for Liri, Kisa, and Vhish, most of them were in a similar state, and the healer was just finishing the application of some balm to Hark’s wing-bases. The Stonekin was not inexperienced at flying, but it had been a while since he last exerted himself that hard to do so, and he’d had to push that much harder than the others. “Why do we have wings, if not to fly? But I don’t think I’ve spent a month’s worth of time above ground, until we started preparing for this.”

(more…)

A touch to his shoulder brought him awake.

In the space of a few breaths, he felt ready, alert. He opened his eyes to the sight of his father’s wan smile.

“Dawn is in an hour,” Father said.

“Thank you,” Mulin said in murmured reply.

Kralin was already dressing when Mulin got his feet onto the floor. Father left them to it. As Mulin was fastening his ironsilk cloak, Kralin touched the wrist of his wing.

“Doing well, brother? I was worried about you, for a little…”

“I’m fine,” Mulin assured him. And he meant it; the past few days, though frustrating on some level to wait through, had brought him not aggravation, but renewed focus and energy.

(more…)

That night was the last easy, relaxing night they had.

The pace of life picked up very rapidly. For the next two weeks, the twins had no such thing as a rest day. Each day, early on, they started with a rigorous exercise routine and sparring sessions; they had intensified lessons, studying geography and all that was known of the surrounding races; they looked over charts and debated on what gear to bring and what to leave behind, and what they might use as trade goods.

Their parents made sure food wasn’t an issue, and their precious free time was spent as a family, savouring what time they had before the twins would need to leave. Although they didn’t have a set deadline as such, there was the constant, nagging awareness that the longer they waited, the worse the problem would be, the harder to mend.

(more…)

The Moon Gallery was one of the older sections of Druumat; it hadn’t been planned, it had just happened. No two levels of the first five had quite the same layout, and no single access way connected more than two levels. Some sections on the same level couldn’t even be reached without going to a different one.

Finding their way to the northern section of the third level took the twins a frustrating amount of time, but at last they were there, five doors down from the mage-lit lobby.

Hoping he didn’t show too much of the anxiety that had his heart racing, Mulin lifted the knocker and gave it a light tap against its plate. It struck, not with a mere metallic clink, but with the sound of a soft chime.

Old and haphazard the Moon Gallery might be, but it was still the better part of Druumat’s residential district. Even the door bore a number of small, convenient enchantments – such as the knocker, and the seeing-gem that brightened for just a moment to the magic sense, and the wards that parted and pulled back the bolt.

He and Kralin exchanged glances. “I think that’s a good sign,” Mulin observed; as the one who knew the occupant, he took it on himself to ease the door open and lead the way in.

(more…)

It was almost unnerving, how empty the burrow felt all of a sudden. There were no fewer people in it than there had been some hours ago, but the awareness that they wouldn’t be back this evening had a peculiar weight.

Kavo sighed, and curled a wing around his mate as he slid home the bolt.

She didn’t melt into his side like she usually would. Bad sign.

“Should we be just letting them go like that, Kavo?”

Not that there’d been much ‘just’ about it. It had been hard enough to make the decision himself; harder still, by far, to override Garn on the matter. He was twelve years her junior – not so long a time for the Vhark, but still; when they’d first realized their interest, he’d been gawky and shy, and she had been the one to take charge. That had more or less set the tone of their relationship since. She listened when he spoke, but usually he’d let her do the talking.

And the urge to protect their sons was still quite strong in him, too.

(more…)

They stood apart from one another. One was all colours, one was none; other than that they were as reflections, each equally lean, each long of wing. Each stood on opposite sides of a circle on the bare earth, each carefully watching the other, with a tiny snippet of attention kept on the flag hung overhead.

And then the flag dropped.

They sprang into motion, darting about the ring with quick leaps and beats of their wings, hopping from one place to another. From time to time, each made a quick gesture, and sent a ball of light hurtling across the ring, arcing toward the other; each watched for the incoming projectiles and threw out a warding hand at the last moment, deflecting it, sometimes right back toward the thrower.

On and on they circled, exchanging fire, breaths and hearts quickening, magic crackling faster and faster across the ring. Closer and closer the shots came to connecting, though none did, not yet.

(more…)

“Mulin!”

A flutter of rainbow wings, and Kralin was squeezing him so tight he thought his ribs would creak. His bookish twin held him close, snout against his neck. “Mulin, oh, Mulin. I’d heard you almost…!” The rest of his words choked off; Kralin shivered and, somehow, squeezed still tighter.

“Oh, Kralin…” Rather awkwardly, Mulin wound an arm around his twin in turn, and stroked his jaw with his other hand. It had been all too long since they shared such a tender touch; alas that the circumstances were so… well, almost-dire. “Shh. I’m all right now, Kralin. I’m fine.”

Mother looked on with a wry, toothy smile. “Well, Mulin, I think it’s safe to say you’ll be here all night, yes? At least, you’d have to drag your brother bodily if you tried to leave…”

Mulin’s tail curled a bit more; he ducked his head. “I’ll be staying, yes, Mother. Tomorrow’s soon enough to stretch my wings.”

(more…)

“Mulin, you have a visitor.”

His concentration frayed; the frost that had been gathering in the air suddenly had a much easier focus on his fingers. He winced and bit off a curse, wiggling them with a soft crack of ice, and looked up as he rubbed his hands together.

Next to the day monitor was a figure he’d seen once in his life, and that a few hours before; but the grey robe he wore, clasped with a golden brooch bearing the rune for Storm, was even more distinct than horns that had wrapped around in three full turns with age. Archwizard Sulon. Mulin swallowed, and tried to sit up straighter.

“Rest easy, Mulin,” the Archwizard soothed, gesturing for him to relax. He pulled up his own chair and sat by Mulin’s cot. “I wanted to personally thank you for what you told us today. That last thing you said seems to have been the key to a puzzle. Exactly what it means, we don’t yet know; but now we have something to think about for the next few days. Or weeks, likely; maybe longer.”

“Oh.” The tip of his tail curled; he ducked his head. “It…”

“It was nothing, is that what you want to say? Mulin, to you it was a small thing – perhaps, it was something you considered to be expected of any citizen. But there are many citizens indeed who simply go from day to day, and keep their mouths shut on the things they think are inconsequential. They do not want to trouble the important people with their little fears. Yet sometimes those fears are significant; that was exactly the sort of thing we hoped to tease from your memory today.” A breath. “But that’s not the main reason I’m here. Ah, Physician… Jeris, is it?”

“Yes, Archwizard,” said the arriving, red-robed healer, smiling to be remembered.

“Is Mulin well enough to depart, do you think? I would show him a few things.”

“So long as you don’t plan to have him guest at another Assembly,” said the healer with a small, ironic frown. “What he needs most is rest; but he can do that as well elsewhere. I dare say returning home, when your business is done, will be the best thing for him.”

“Oh, very good. Mulin, I promised I would show you why we were so certain you hadn’t caused the problem. For this, I would like to show you around the heart of the font in some detail, and I also have some documents that might be instructive; would you like to come?”

To be shown around the mana font by one of the Archwizards themselves? Most young folk dared not even dream of such a thing; he grinned. “That would be splendid!”

(more…)

“Order, learned folk; order, you who observe. This gathering will come to order.” The gong rang; the Speaker set the mallet down, gathered her robes, and sat; so, too, did the seven Archwizards.

Mulin was the last to sit, on the small stool that was positioned at the focus of their arc.

“Mulin, son of Kavo, Magekin,” the Speaker intoned, “you are here so that we might discuss the events of yesterday, two hours and a third after noon, within the Nexus of the mana font. Do you understand?”

He swallowed. “Yes, Speaker.”

“Good. With good fortune, perhaps we’ll get to the root of this matter.”

He tried not to let his wings fidget, to keep his tail coiled tight around one ankle and, thus, still.

(more…)

“Focus, Mulin,” the voice whispered. His mother’s voice. “Feel the fire within. You have brought fire to wood; there is more of earth in this rock, but there is more of fire as well. Coax it forth; bind it to your will.”

Mulin stared into the brazier. The soot-blackened metal was home to a small lump of lignite, brown coal. For the past two hours, that coal had sat there, stubbornly cold, with not so much as a flicker of flame.

He was sore from sitting in one place, his head ached with the strain of concentration, and his hands holding the brazier were shaking, craving a rest.

He growled. His brother had breezed through this exercise without a moment’s difficulty; he himself, however, had taken a week to even ignite a piece of wood. Everyone said he was supposed to be magically gifted, but at the moment he was finding it difficult to believe.

But losing his temper wouldn’t help. He swallowed, and took a deep breath.

To his surprise, his mother crooned, “No, no. Fire rages, Mulin. Fire is the angriest of the elements. Perhaps anger will bring you into better harmony with it. Let it come; let it flow through you…”

Well, nothing else had worked. It was worth a try.

(more…)

It began with an egg, which is a suitable place to begin.

The Vhark all began their lives with eggs. Kavo and Garn were not unusual with their egg – though they were an unlikely pairing; Kavo was a slender Frostkin hunter, his hide brilliant azure, his curled horns black as polished obsidian, and his wingspan was enough to rival the Stormkin; his mate, a burly Firekin with ruby skin and shorter wings, who focused on the elemental magics for her trade. But there were more unlikely pairs in the largely-underground city of Druumat, and they had made eggs and raised healthy children.

So in that, Kavo and Garn were hardly unusual.

But three miracles incubated along with that egg, in that special hearth that had been set for it in the nursery.

(more…)

For thousands of years, the city of Aynithral had nestled, safe and secure, beneath the living rock. No enemy had come to the city in all that time; no hostile force had ever threatened the heart of the Kingdom of Jisani.

Well, they had come now, and the oldest city of all the Crandil race was in chaos.

Not even the deepest tunnels of the Deep of Rod and Crown – the Palace, the humans called it – were empty of fighting, save for the very secret passages that only a handful of Crandil ever knew.

Only one knew them now, and by the exit of such a one he crouched. All about him was darkness, but that was no great barrier for his race; the deep, dark places had long been their home. Light gave life to their crafts-folk and made the jobs of workmen many times easier, but for something so simple as navigating a passageway at a slow walk, there was no need of it. And he had walked these unseen halls so often, his feet would know the way even if he shut his eyes and folded his ears back and in all ways closed his senses from the world; his stride was all he needed to measure his path.

(more…)