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Jaumes

At one point, Jaumes had probably found the walls of stone caverns comforting. But at least since his mother’s death, the town of Pa Papa felt stuffy and constricting. That was one reason Jaumes had jumped at Reni’s offer to become his apprentice. That had been less than a year before.

Now, Jaumes entered the hot cavern that he’d hatched and grown up in. It was a respectable size, about fifty feet long and averaging ten feet wide. Buildings were carved into the walls, only identifiable by the names carved over their open entryways. The whole cave was lit by the glow of a lava river that provided the town’s name and economy.

The walls were streets as much as the floor was, and with stalls and buildings in the wall, depojico scrambled along every surface. Their brown scales, in the dark red glow of the lava, blended into the dark rock, making them appear as shadows. It was a startling difference from the bright forest that Jaumes had grown used to. But Jaumes was a shadow of who he had been, so the tone shift fit.

Ignoring the slight complaint of the foreign magic in him, Jaumes led the way up the wall to the craftsmen’s living sector. The higher up the house, the higher the danger of falling, and the lower the class of the depojico living there. The house of Hajuc Oiv was about halfway up, right above the bihosa, or ‘merchant’, stalls. Joining the bihosa had been Jaumes’ game plan before Reni’s offer.

As Reni and Jaumes entered Jaumes’ neighborhood, other apprentices his age gathered around them. All were apprenticed to one or both of their parents, which meant that they were learning one construction element or another. They must have felt safe in such a large group since they actually had the nerve to talk directly to Jaumes now. One jira ovlu apprentice, Fiavla Jiovlu, asked a question that was no doubt on all of their minds.

“Where’s Mahela?”

Jaumes knew that they would hold him responsible for what had happened to her, but the story would get out anyway. So he answered them bluntly.

“She’s dead.”

The answer shocked the crowd into either silence or anger. Jaumes didn’t pay attention to what any of them said after he told them. Reni didn’t respond to the exchanges at all, seeming to not hear them. It didn’t take more than five minutes for the group of apprentices to drift away. The aljeaberavs walked to Jaumes’ home like they’d never been bothered in the first place.

When they got there, Reni tapped the side of the entryway with a claw. There was a low vibration that vibrated in the acoustics under the floor of the house. This was their doorbell. Jaumes hoped that Launi had gotten the day off. If she answered the door, he could handle it. If his father did, he’d have to endure the pain on his father’s face.

Fate hated Jaumes, so Hajuc came up to the entryway. The adult depojico looked Jaumes and Reni up and down, then looked to either side like he was expecting Mahela to jump out and startle him as a practical joke. Then he lowered his head and stepped back.

“Come inside,” he said.

The group of three moved further into the house to avoid being seen or overheard by passersby. They stopped in the private room of the house.

It was a fairly large room, big enough for perhaps five or six adult depojico to comfortably lounge. The walls and ceiling were painted with bioluminescent algae, casting the whole room in an eerie green glow. Jaumes shivered, suddenly reminded of his longing for the warmth and yellow light of the sun.

Hajuc settled himself on a rock platform that was situated near the doorway. Reni and Jaumes both ignored the outcroppings and other platforms scattered around the room and stayed on the floor. From his vantage point, Hajuc studied them with sad eyes.

“Mahela is gone,” he said, “So you’re returning Jaumes.”

Reni lowered his head.

“Yes, Mahela is gone,” he said, “But Jaumes isn’t staying here permanently. He is recovering, then we will head out again.”

Hajuc’s gaze hardened.

“Are you saying that you will take my son back to the place where my daughter was killed?” he asked.

“Not to the exact place, no,” Reni said evenly, “But he is still my vand.”

“He is my son before he is your vand,” Hajuc said, “So I get the final say.”

“Does he get to decide at all?” Reni asked.

“NO,” Hajuc said, “He already chose to become your vand, and look where that led. He clearly has poor judgement.”

Jaumes flinched, but Reni was already arguing vehemently about Hajuc’s claim. While the two adults argued, Jaumes stood and began to leave.

“Young depijico, where do you think you’re going?” Hajuc snapped.

“I’m clearly not going to be able to decide my own fate, so I don’t have any reason to be here,” Jaumes answered, “I’m going to Paravu.”

“May the Messenger bring you to your senses,” Hajuc said.

The arguing continued as Jaumes left his father’s home.

* * * * *

Greenbrook

Greenbrook crept alongside Trail, careful to match his teacher’s pace. Both had bows slung over one shoulder, with a small quiver over the other. Among the magic training, Greenbrook had to learn how to live as the Western Forest people did. That included hunting.

Trail stopped, and Greenbrook stopped beside him. They locked eyes, and Trail glanced up ahead the trail. There, in a small clearing, was a small herd of deer. Trail let his bow slide gracefully into his left hand and reached for an arrow with his right. Slowly, the teen lifted his right foot and placed it toe-first onto the ground.

With slow, deliberate steps, Trail came into range of the deer herd. Many were does, but a singular buck could be seen in the center of the herd, head raised to scan for danger. Trail raised the bow slowly, taking aim.

Greenbrook felt Aunt Forest shift around him, preparing to harm Trail like it had harmed Greenbrook for waste. In a split second, Greenbrook shot a magic-made spear and directed it at a large branch. Trail’s arrow flew a split second later. The small projectile ran into the falling branch, and the deer herd fled at the sound of the branch breaking. Trail whirled to face Greenbrook.

“What was that about? We’re all sick of lizard meat, we could have gotten deer!” he said.

“Aunt Forest would have hurt you if you’d killed that buck,” Greenbrook said, “She hurt me when I was about to do something similar yesterday.”

Trail huffed and slung his bow back over his shoulder.

“You fear the Elements too much. They’re Spirits! They can’t actually affect us. All the choosing and stuff is superstition,” he said.

Greenbrook’s eyes widened.

“No wonder you aren’t the next chief,” he said.

Trail met his eyes.

“Exactly,” he said.

It was a long, silent walk back to the village.