After what had been an early and light dinner, the drift was sitting in the indoor common room.
A game of cards was afoot, Finley volunteering to shuffle and distribute the deck.
Five pairs of eyes oversaw this process with extreme scrutiny, there was money on the line.
Finley’s general reputation as a good lad wasn’t doing much for him at that moment.
Only Xara – zooming around the room as a dacnis – was somewhat disinterested in the process, though that was probably for the better.
In all likelihood, she could transform her hearing or sight to gauge which card held what on its other side.
Sylviane made a mental note to discuss running minor gambling scams with her companion.
Only making those their victims who could take the financial hit, of course.
Meanwhile, Finley did his task with the calmness and civility as merited a man who was an honest gambler and dealer, unperturbed by the dissection of every muscle movement of his by his driftfellows.
“There, you need not forgo naivety in its entirety.
If one shall not trust their drift in matters such as this – and more extreme ones – who shall they trust indeed?”
“We have not been long in your company, Farer Finley.” Callie returned with an unoffending smile.
“Surely your credibility merits much less oversight and perhaps with time, we may be inclined to behave in such a manner.”
“Speak for yourself, Lee.” said Gwenyth, narrowing her eyes at the poor lad.
“He acts so reputable and innocent precisely because he knows any indiscretion will result in him losing the good favour of his drift.
Won’t it, lad?”
“‘Tis true, alas.” Gwenyth looked gleeful.
“It is only part of the reason – the remainder being the goodness of my inherent nature and self -, however, and that too only because my drift is dearly beloved to me and I’d hate to let such petty routine occurrences be the source of any undesirable act.” Finley flashed a winning smile, seeming to have plucked the cheeriness from Gwenyth and tossed it in some obscure place.
The poor girl recovered not and simply huffed, crossing her arms over her thorax until the cards were dealt and then she picked up her hand quite stiffly, making sure no one saw its contents.
Sylviane spent abhorrently less amounts of time on her cards and strategy, instead finding more excitement in studying her driftfellows’ facial expressions.
Callie and Finley were the most devoid of expression.
It would appear that the two were reading of history so ancient and so alien that it did not hold any significance for them – they read only for the sake of reading.
Zander and Gwenyth were more involved but that also meant that they were attempting to engage in several layers of psychological manipulation – especially trying to one up each other in the complexity and minuteness of conveyance of body language, showing a mix of so many signals that they essentially were unreadable as well.
When Sylviane’s gaze reached Venedir’s, she found his eyes – a deep blue – staring right into hers.
She held his gaze, trying to read him, and then she realised.
He didn’t care either.
He was playing for the fun and lightheartedness of it, to observe his friends get comically competitive.
That realisation made a smile lighten her pleasant and cool demeanour.
Venedir gave a gentle grin in return.
Sylviane realised then that Zander was looking at this exchange of theirs.
Zander grinned at her – as if he were retrospectively amused at what he was about to do next – and stood up in a flash.
“Collusion!” He said in a long, drawn-out and accentuated voice.
Sylviane couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
The rest of them seemed confused at Zander’s behaviour but he did not deign to offer an explanation.
Instead, he chose to take offense at Sylviane’s reaction and he pointed at her with a solitary finger – not unlike a witch trying to cast a curse, only his nails weren’t as pointy.
“Blasphemy!” She doubled over and nearly lost her balance, having to hold on to the central table for support.
Zander ignored her and continued.
“The fire-haired and mud-haired are colluding, passing jolly looks and such.” “What?” asked Finley.
The poor lad still seemed bewildered.
The rest were in the process of understanding and had looks on their faces which lay on the spectrum ranging from ‘thoroughly amused’ to ‘drowning in secondhand embarrassment’.
Zander broke character then, seemingly for the benefit of their piteous environmentalist, laughing boomingly.
“Ah I’m just fucking about.” He said and sat down.
Gwenyth tossed the undistributed deck at his face, which he ducked under, but still managed to catch with his hand, a few cards falling astray.
“Was that blasphemy?” Finley asked Zander teasingly.
“Oh yes indeed!” He said in a pompous voice before settling down.
The games progressed with no significant shenanigans thereon.
In an anticipated unfolding of events, Callie and Finley had gained money by the end of it.
While none of the others had gone bankrupt even with the small buy-in they had set up for their game – a day’s wages -, Zander was the one most in the negative, though Gwenyth was the one who was whining more.
“I’m never gambling with you all again.
It’s all rigged.” She said, huffing and storming off.
“Well, I don’t know what’s got her so worked up.
It’s only three hundred coins.
I lost four.” said Zander.
“Not something to be proud of, buddy.” Sylviane said as she went to sit on one of the couches, sliding down in a resting position as soon as her body touched the cushiony softness.
“I never said I was.
It’s just, I have one hundred left, awful good that’s going to do me.
Can’t spend that today anyway.
And I get the feeling that I’m too young to be saving.”
“You’re never too young to be saving.” said Finley, ever the wise one.
“Oh yeah, smart guy?
So why were you gambling with your money instead of saving it?” shot Zander.
“Because I know I’m going to win.” Finley said, with Sylviane definitely catching a hint of smugness in his tone.
It was in good humour, though.
Not so smug either so as to cast aspersions on him.
Zander scowled then grinned.
“Pride comes before the fall, Farer Finley.”
“Speaking of fall.” said Callie.
“I was going through the maps of Fluviale we have.
There’s a waterfall a bit south of the village.
I might make a hike of it.
If anyone would want to join, you’re most welcome to do so.” The room buzzed with general sounds of agreement, as Sylviane had expected.
Hiking was a worthwhile pastime.
There was hardly an Allfarer worth their salt that’d say no to a nice hike.
“Zander, I had a question.” said Venedir, who had flopped on the couch beside hers.
“Mhmm?” Zander’s head turned in their direction, his arm resting on the top edge of his chair.
“So the village is not a coastal one, right?”
“Uh… what do you mean by coastal?”
Venedir looked stumped.
“Like… is it next to the sea?”
“Define next to.”
“Fuck… does it have a harbor?”
“That’s a better question.
And I… don’t know the answer to that.”
Venedir groaned loudly and threw his head back in his couch’s headrest.
“See, there used to be a harbor at Fluviale but it is said that it was destroyed by monster attacks a few years ago.
These maps have not detailed upon whether reconstruction has taken place.” Zander said.
“And if there hasn’t?” asked Sylviane.
“Is there land navigable for the Oaty?”
“There seems not to be.”
“Why seems?” Sylviane was confused now.
“You have detailed maps and surely the land pattern can’t be destroyed or changed too drastically.”
“It can.” It was Callie who spoke this time.
“But that’s not the main issue.
Faring maps are not fully reliable outside of the Lament due to inaccurate and irregular updation.
The monsters don’t help in this regard.” As if they helped in any regard.
“So…” Finley ran his hands through his hair.
“should we make an official record of the lay of the land for the sections we visit?”
Zander vehemently shook his head.
“I already have a lot on my plate as navigator and I shall not take up any more work than is necessary.”
“Okay… so on a voluntary basis then.
I’ll try to contribute as much as I can.” Finley said.
“Why, though?” asked Venedir.
“Why do the extra work?”
“Because they will ask us what we were doing in Fluviale and no.” Finley said preemptively before Venedir could interrupt.
“Buying alcohol will not be a good enough reason.
You do want better assignments and a pay increase next time around, don’t you?”
Venedir shrugged.
“Wouldn’t mind it particularly.”
“Great.
So let’s try and be productive in name at least, please.
And who knows?
Our work may be of help to us or even some other drifts down the line.”
Sylviane tilted her head and then slunk further down in her seat.
“All this talk of work is making me feel tired.” She whined.
“We literally just spoke of it for two minutes.” replied Finley as a nice little tune played on the announcement speaker.
“What’s that?” Venedir asked, lifting his head from its cushioned haven.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Zander stood up and spread his arms.
“We have reached Fluviale… alive.”
* * *
48th day of the 10230th year since the passing of Kriene
Sylviane and the others woke up quite early, having turned to bed into the twenty ninth hour.
They were all ready at the striking of the seventh hour, by which time the Oaty had been docked at the harbour of Rainy village.
The dock was quite unusual.
In fact, Xara had insisted upon taking Sylviane outside first thing when the woman had woken up.
Sylviane complied because she liked Xara and her companion did not insist upon much in general day to day life.
And Sylviane had to say, Xara’s insistence was not without merit.
The Oaty could not dock the previous night, when it touched the isle’s coastal waters.
This was because of the fact that due to the range of mountains in the northern part of the isle, the shoreline was all cliffs, steep and sometimes even obtuse in their slope.
Sylviane had expected something unlike what they had all seen the night before.
But no, the harbour was unlike anything she had ever seen.
There was enough space between them to hold vessels of varying sizes.
There even seemed to be a upward of a dozen Faring vessels docked on the isle, most – if not all – of them larger than the Oaty.
Sylviane had gotten ready quite quickly in her excitement to see Fluviale and had dressed in a green waistcoat and black skirt that reached till her knees.
This style was typical of her and Sylviane liked dressing for warm weather.
The coming storms and rains would put a damper on her fashion in all likelihood.
But Sylviane hoped she would hold out and not have to dress in cloaks, jackets and whatnot.
Even the clothes she’d packed for Fluviale were all summer wear.
She had taken one raincoat, though.
That too because it was Rainy Village and she didn’t want to risk falling sick.
As they stood on deck – the bridge connecting the deserted harbour base to their vessel already set up, courtesy Xara-, Sylviane leaned against the railing for support, then craned her neck up to look upon the harbour towers in their entirety as they stood impossibly tall, waves crashing against the cliff side.
“How long do you think the towers are, Lee?” Gwenyth asked, her cloak flapping noisily in the wind.
“A couple hundred metres.” Callie estimated.
“That’s a lot of climbing.” Zander murmured.
“So it is.
And the weather’s not so supportive either.
We’re lucky that the town isn’t inland.
The walk would have ruined my shoes.” Finley said.
“I think there’s a lot of scope for your shoes to get ruined regardless of how today goes.” Sylviane said.
“If you wanted to protect your shoes, assimilation would have been the better choice.”
“I thought about it… but I don’t think I could.
I like nature too much, I like… this too much.
I can’t bear to think of myself in a state where these things would not be appealing to me.
This was the safer choice.”
“But the most powerful people always have assimilated.” Venedir said.
“There’s only so high up you can go in the Faring, only so much you can do.”
“Most, if not all, assimilated pretty late in their lives.” reminded Callie.
“And it makes sense.
We’re a minority in our species, why would someone like Volider or Jimis be given the reins?
It’s not like they (or we, even) would be able to understand most people in Lament as a Farer.”
“But assimilation, like ambition, is a disease.” Sylviane murmured.
“Not ambition, surely.
Machiavellianism, you mean?” said Zander as he stepped off the Oaty, onto the bridge.
“We should continue the conversation as we walk.
It’s a long climb.
I hope you all have packed for a week or so.
I’m sure you won’t want to ascend this structure more than once.” He said with a smile.
“Packing and unpacking is all we do.” said Gwenyth in a surly tone as Sylviane followed Zander.
“But this is more of a vacation, isn’t it?” Callie smiled and nudged Gwenyth with elbow.
“I guess…”
“Not for Finley, though.” teased Zander.
“I can do both.” said Finley serenely, being the last one off the Oaty.
Venedir and Gwenyth – with the help of Xara from the other end – then disconnected the bridge from the Oaty.
“So… machiavellianism, you said.” Sylviane said as she started walking beside Zander.
“I think that is indeed what I meant.
I think I have a poem on a similar theme that I have noted in my diary.”
“Poetry?” Finley said and looked back at them.
Sylviane could have sworn she had seen an almost literal interpretation of the phrase ears perking up.
“I’d like to hear it, if you’re up for sharing it.” He said.
“I mean… sure.
It’s not too long a poem either so I won’t bore you.” she said for the others’ benefit and laughed sheepishly, slipping her bag off one shoulder to bring to the front, bringing a notebook out from one of the smaller pockets.
“I know it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.”
“Pfft, just read it for us, Madam Builder.” Venedir said.
“Please.” He added with a smile to be extra nice.
As Xara flitted about her, Sylviane caught her eye.
“Can I have some light while I read the poem, please?
Just for a couple minutes.” By then Sylviane had gotten adjusted to the rhythm of the stairs in the tower and felt she could manage multitasking just fine as she held the notebook open with one hand and gripped the metallic railing for support with the other.
Xara’s body grew luminescent with green light, making Sylviane smile.
It was her favourite colour, Xara knew.
She blew Xara a kiss and the light flickered a beautiful pink before turning back to gentle green.
“The title of the poem is ‘An ode to Neliene’.
It was penned by Ashiro Doaz – a waykeeper in the eighty first and one of my teachers – twenty years ago.
The poem goes like this –
He never yearned for her, not till he was seven
Urged by a hopeful mother, an expectant father
Or was it egocentricity
That formed his friendship with her
Barefooted wonder that she was
Triumphant in his golden discs
Laid out delicately on shelves
Adolescence lost in the storm of her eyes
Such luminescent sharp greyness
Competing for her affections
To be in the eye of her storm
For the calm she brought him
However momentary
Would be zeniths of his youth
Untempered by frail elders
Felicia
With her serene simpleness, eyes of honey and touch of wheat
Was he to hate her for wrenching him from Neliene’s wings
Or to love her for her gentle merriness
Surely she did not hate him
Not for his misguided devotion
Nor for his neglect of their issues
She too was guilty of the latter
Her blade and red letter
Decorative trinkets moistened in the shadow of her headstone
No laurel wreaths adorned her
This lovely figure in stillness
More alluring than the golden beauty beside
Dull wearying greyness, echoing the quiet within
Gone are their issues
Lamenting, he finds his fair friend to be fair no more
Lacklustre yellow surrounding empty haziness
No laurel wreaths adorning her
For all lie with him, lifeless leaves, hellish circles
Soon to be unseemly blemishes in his tomb
Forgotten gloom
His friend does not visit
Severing the bonds that never were
The drift was quiet as Sylviane finished the poem, closing her notebook silently and slipping it back in her backpack.
Xara seemed to be thinking deeply on it, taking a few moments to lose her luminescence, leaving them in the tower lighting arrangements, inadequate but wholly pleasant due to their soft lavender colour.
“I feel sad for Felicia.” Callie said in a barely audible murmur.
“Me too.” Gwenyth said and wrapped her arm around Callie’s shoulder gently, giving her a comforting squeeze.
“Do you think Neliene actually exists?” Finley asked.
“Given all that does exist, I’d bet that some form of gods do exist.” Zander says.
“But I don’t think there’s anyone out there listening to people’s prayers.
Actions count.
They’re real.”
“So you’re an atheist?” asked Venedir.
“No.
I don’t know whether there is a God, if by God you mean someone who’s all-good, all-powerful, creator, preserver and destroyer of all, by whose will all of everything happens.
I don’t think such an entity exists, but ultimately, I do not know.”
Venedir nodded a little, then said “If Neliene – or someone like her – does exist, I imagine they would be like spirits, drawn to whichever thing they represent.”.
“So Neliene would be drawn to someone who’s a champion in their field?” asked Sylviane.
“Yes, exactly.” Venedir answered.
“Is there a God of underprepared drifts?
I think we could use their help.” Zander said with a sigh.
“We could indeed.” Callie said.
They were silent for a couple of minutes then.
Winds blew harder now, accompanied by a drizzle and Sylviane was very glad to have the railings for support.
She felt the force of the building tempest was enough to send her falling into the water otherwise.
“Would you have stayed with the man if you were Felicia?” asked Finley.
Most said no, save Finley himself.
“Why wouldn’t you leave such a person, Finn?” asked Callie.
“Same reason Felicia didn’t… or couldn’t.
Love.
Their children.
Hoping to save him from Neliene.
I could see myself doing that for my partner.
Despite how tragic it may end up being.” Find the original chapter at g.com.
“For your sake, then, I hope you find someone good and who’s worth sticking around for.” Venedir said and patted his shoulder.
“I hope we don’t get so ambitious that we forget what we really are doing this for.
I hope that we will be better.” Gwenyth said.
“I think we will be.” said Sylviane.
“But I don’t know about a lot of the other drifts out there.
The little time I did spend interacting with people in Youvlon… they aren’t great.
They won’t be able to be fully happy if they carry this much competition and condescension inside of them.
I’d hate to think how worse off the assimilators are, how numb their brains are to… everything real.”
“Yet, the ones who have assimilated, hardly any of them send their kids to Faring schools.
I estimated this.” said Zander.
“Around one out of every fifty children goes to a Faring school.
I guess emotional attachment to children is a major reason and they could be brainwashed by technology but there could be something wrong with the faring itself…”
“No way to tell.
But I do feel the freedom we’re given speaks to the merits of the Faring.” said Gwenyth.
“I agree.” said Callie.
“There doesn’t need to be something wrong with our way.
They’re just… prisoners of love and inertia.”
“Can love be a prison?” asked Sylviane.
“It was for Felicia.” The voice was not of one of her drift members.
No.
This was someone else.
A man.
A deep and dark but melodious voice.
Sylviane’s eyes looked up from the stairs and realised they were approaching the landing leading to the island.
On the landing was a man over seven feet tall, dressed in loose flowing black robes and cloak.
A comically large hat – which didn’t look all that funny on him, somehow – sat on his head, the brim dipping low enough to shield his face from the angle.
His hands were gloved and he wore long boots reaching to his knees.
The only parts of his body that Sylviane could make out were his neck – pale to an extent the man seemed almost luminescent in the dark – and his wavy blonde hair that covered part of it.
“When did you come?” Callie said flatly.
And Sylviane realised who this person was.
Alaric Virien.
“Oh… a few hours before.
I sensed you sleeping in your vessel docked down there.
So I could not pay you a visit.
You must show me around some time.”
“That’s fine.
You didn’t miss much.
And I will, if you stick around long enough.”
“You have me there.” The man said and laughed in a low, gentle tone.
Sylviane had reached the landing by then and she saw her face, her heart beating a bit faster.
While the man was beautiful – more so than any other she had laid eyes upon -, it was not the only reason it had her heart beating in such irregular a manner.
It was his eyes.
His sclera was black, his irises blacker, his pupil blacker still such that she could somehow distinguish his eyes swivelling to hers.
He smiled a little and reached a hand towards her face, not with the intention of touching but Sylviane still took half a step back.
“Are you a-” He blurted and sighed mid-question, seemingly frustrated at himself for having said anything to her at all.
“Of course not.
As if your heart wasn’t enough to give you away, your bearing betrays you further still.
Dozens of other intricacies but they don’t bear mentioning.
Your eyes made me lose myself for a moment, apologies.” He extended a hand, Sylviane reached out and shook it.
“Alaric Virien.”
“I know.
I’m Sylviane.”
Alaric seemed to look at her expectantly for a moment then blinked the look away.
“Do you not know your family name?”
“No.
I did not inquire about it.”
“Why not?”
“I…” She realised then that this conversation had stretched a bit too long with the others listening to them.
“cared not for it.” She said simply and a bit awkwardly, trying to end their dialogue.
Alaric sensed it and smiled at her before turning to Callie.
“Let’s walk.
Sylviane, walk with us, will you please?” Alaric said and started walking.
Callie looked at Sylviane for a moment.
Her eyes seemed to tell her that it was fine.
Sylviane glanced at the rest of her drift for a moment before sighing and falling in step with the duo.
“-your drift?” He was saying.
“They didn’t let us exceed the drift limits.” Callie responded.
“You should have told me about this problem before.
I always thought you would be there even if they excluded two people.
I would have talked to the old man.”
“That’s the last thing I needed you to be doing.”
Alaric sighed, then turned to Sylviane.
“And you.
What are you doing in this drift?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have potential.
Especially with that shapeshifter companion of yours.
She may not look the part, but she can give me a run for my money in a fair fight.”
“Xara’s not much of a fighter.
And I just did not take the drift forming seriously.
Left it for the last moment.”
“Great.
Introversion and complacency.
I’m sure it’s like this for the rest of your drift as well.
Not only is your drift weak in numbers, but these common qualities you seem to share will not be helpful, even if you all have potential.
I know you two do, at least.” He said and sighed.
“Why do I always get the stupid ones?”
“I don’t think Callie’s stupid.” Sylviane said, trying to defend her friend but Callie only shook her head at her words as if she’d made a mistake.
“That’s because you don’t know her yet!” His voice grew hard and a little louder.
He said as they stepped off the tower’s pathways onto the island.
Sylviane slipped a little.
Alaric grabbed her arm, his grip vice-like but it didn’t hurt.
“Thanks.” She muttered.
“Most welcome.” He said out of courtesy, only to resume scolding them.
“Drift formation is so crucial.
It dictates life and death, who you’ll be friends with, who you’ll fall in love with, the kind of person you will be, everything!
To be so cavalier about it!” He sighed dramatically.
“I wasn’t planning to see you all so soon, but I was in Fluviale and a friend who was also visiting the isle told me about your drift.
She seemed disappointed so I thought I would engage in somewhat of an intervention, for her sake, of course.
And now that I have bothered to meet you and offer my two bits on the matter, I have something I’d like you to do for me.
Consider it something of a practice assignment to make you all better Allfarers and prepare you for what lies ahead.”
Callie and Sylviane spoke together.
“What will we get in return?” asked Callie.
“What lies ahead?” inquired Sylviane.
Alaric laughed, most likely at what Callie said.
“Well…you said your companion doesn’t fight, right?” He said, turning to Sylviane.
“While I expect that to change, I can help you across the dragon isles, make sure it’s smooth sailing.
It’ll save you a fair bit of time and effort.”
“How did you-” Sylviane stopped herself.
She already knew.
“Good girl.
You’re learning.” Alaric smiled.
“And as for what lies ahead, you will have to find that out for yourself.
It’s more fun that way.”
“For you or for me?” Sylviane asked dryly.
Alaric laughed.
“Am I glad I asked you to join us!”
“I also noticed how none of you two’s first thought was to ask me what the assignment was.
Maybe there is some compatibility in this drift.”
“Since you seem so eager to share, do tell us what you would have us do.” Callie said.
“It’s simple, really.
They’ve imprisoned a friend of mine.
I need you to help release him.”
“That’s a crime!” Sylviane exclaimed.
“I’m not asking you to get caught doing it!” Alaric said indignantly.
“Two hundred thousand coins.” Callie said tonelessly, unabashedly, without skipping a beat.
“In advance.”
Alaric grinned and slowly turned to Callie.
“I thought you’d ask for three.” He brought out a pouch from his robes and thrust it in Sylviane’s hand.
“Anyway, here’s gold worth four.”