Night fell over Glorestra. Unrelenting light turned to oppressive darkness. Outside llumifruits began to glow in exposure to the shadows. More candles flickered across the city.
The disgusting heat did not die down. Most of it came from the tempest, which still swirled and rushed and whistled a kilometer above and beyond Glorestra.
Nur and Barakat had ushered the group into a caravan, leaving the strange building behind.
Sanya felt a little bit better about herself. Her scarf wrapped around just her neck instead of up to her nose. She let the night air brush against her face.
“Go on,” Barakat gestured to the empty covered wagon. A stone bench flanked both sides. Other than that, it was empty.
Not for long.
Sanya, Mai, and the fourth individual reluctantly stepped up and into the wagon, shuffling into seats at its far end.
Ismael and the third individual—the one that paced and uttered random remarks—sat inside another caravan. Probably to separate Ismael and Sanya out of pity for her. O-or they were separated by gender, in which case Sanya felt a little happy.
In any case, she agreed with Ismael, she hoped never to see him during their time in the academy. Hopefully she wouldn't, they would be in different classes. Sanya was already an abyssal mage. Ismael wasn't.
Unfortunately, Mai wasn't either, and Sanya felt something weird—she almost wanted to be able to see Mai.
“It's neat to see your face!” Mai cheered, sitting a bit too close to Sanya. “It’s a nice one!”
Sanya looked away and hid her blush. How was Sanya supposed to respond to that? “Um, your face is nice too?” At least it was true. Why did Mai's remark make her feel this way? Whatever, she didn't want to speak.
“Stop flirting,” the fourth one said. “Spare me.”
Something at the open end of the wagon thumped. Barakat and others were probably loading it up with goods, and also to hide the teens.
It really did feel like they were being smuggled.
Maybe because they were.
“Still not much of a—hey!” Mai suddenly cried out.
Mai grasped Sanya's left hand and yanked it closer to her. Sanya's body jerked, and she almost fell over on top of Mai. She turned to look at whatever the crazy girl was doing.
Sanya tried to get her arm out of Mai's grip, to no avail. She pulled and pulled, while her right hand gripped the bench.
Mai pulled up Sanya's left sleeve with a bit too much force, revealing Sanya's arm.
Dark red bandages covered her skin, all up to her elbow. Some new, brighter and wetter stains soaked the bandages.
“W-what in the name of Heliux!?” Mai glanced up to look Sanya in the eyes, expression full of shock, betrayal, and worry.
Sanya could only look guilty. All the while, the fourth individual only watched the two of them critically, both arms and legs crossed. She looked like a stuck-up queen on her throne.
“Barakat!” Mai called. “Do you have any bandages!?”
“Why? Actually—no matter—under the benches, there should be a first-aid kit!” Barakat replied from beyond the crates.
Mai looked underneath their bench, still constricting Sanya's arm.
Then, she looked up and set her gaze under the fourth individual’s bench. “Zahira. Do you mind passing the kit over?”
Zahira glanced at Mai, then at Sanya's arm.
Mai gave her a puppy-eyed stare.
Zahira snorted. She uncrowded her legs and fished the kit out with her legs. She kicked it across the wagon and towards Mai.
“You could have been nicer,” Mai scolded. “Thanks, anyway.”
Zahira rolled her eyes.
Mai used her free arm to pick up the kit. It was some sort of stone box, it had metal hinges at the back connecting the lid to the container. Metal flippy things locked it closed. Mai set the kit on her legs and flicked the metal open, unlocking the kit.
She opened the lid gently and fished through it. She picked out all sorts of things and set them between her and Sanya. Glass bottles of liquids, some kind of balm, and, most importantly, bandages.
“Unwrap your bandages,” Mai ordered.
Mai's hand felt . . . weird . . . on Sanya's arm, even through the bandages. Also, like, could she stop holding Sanya's arm hostage?
“You . . .” Sanya whispered. “You can let go of my arm.”
Mai gently kicked Sanya's closest leg. “You don't have to whisper. Anyway, are you going to tend to your wounds if I let go?”
Sanya glared at Mai. How had Mai seen right through Sanya? Of course she wasn't going to tend to her wounds . . . Better to leave them like . . . this . . . and hidden? No, okay, maybe since the first-aid kit was here she should use it. But, then Mai and Zahira would see her arm . . .
“She has to whisper,” Zahira said, leaning up against a vertical beam of the wagon that kept the fabric covering of the wagon on. “Else she'd stab herself more or get clocked by dunces like Ismael.”
Mai shot Zahira a look, and frowned. “Her whispering didn't save her from either of those.” She turned towards Sanya. “Look—Sanya. You can speak normally. I won't hold it against you. You'd still be . . . well, Sanya!”
Sanya sighed, but nodded. “Okay. I'll unwrap my bandages,” still whispering.
Mai let go.
Sanya began to unwrap the bloody, once-white strips of cloth around her arm. She needn't tell Mai that her other arm was like that too.
“So, Zahira. If you're not bigoted, why are you such a vulture-tongued camel . . . barf?”
Zahira sat there in silence.
Mai poured a little bit of some bottle of stuff onto a cloth, she held it up, waiting for Sanya to finish.
Sanya finished, taking her filthy bandages and setting them aside.
“Sanya!” Mai cried out again. “W-wh . . .”
She looked like she was about to cry. What was Sanya supposed to do? Should she comfort her or—
Sanya only flinched at seeing Mai's face contorted like so.
Then flinched in a different manner as Mai took the cloth and began dabbing Sanya's recent wounds. It needn't be described what Sanya's arm looked like. It wasn't very pleasant. Suffice to say, her olive colored skin was ravaged by dozens of scars and shallow cut marks.
At least it was free of hair, not that she had shaved it or anything.
Once Mai finished applying the alcohol or whatever to Sanya, Mai set the cloth aside and picked up a little tin of balm. She tapped the ends of her index and middle finger against it, letting a small amount end up at the tips of her fingers.
She gently applied it to Sanya's wounds. So gentle, in fact, that Sanya found herself not wanting Mai to stop. It felt . . . nice.
Unfortunately, Mai finished. Although, even she seemed reluctant to do so. Her hands hovered over Sanya's arm for a few moments before she pulled back.
She handed the roll of bandages to Sanya. “Here.”
Sanya took it and began wrapping her arm back with the clean bandages. She completed her task, and tore off what she used from the rest of the roll. She handed it back to Mai.
Mai nodded, looking satisfied. That was, until she looked at Sanya's other arm with intent.
Sanya shook her head vigorously, and brought her right arm back to her side.
“Nuh-uh,” Mai said. “Show me your right arm too.”
Mai reached out both her arms, trying to grasp Sanya's right.
“We're heading out!” Barakat called, from in front this time. He probably sat behind the reins to the camels.
The wagon lurched forward, and then began to roll.
Mai lost her balance and fell towards Sanya.
Ack! No! She wouldn't be able to deal with any more awkwardness. Sanya grabbed onto Mai's right arm and held her steady and pushed her back. Sanya let go when she thought Mai was safe from falling.
“Um . . .” Was the only thing Mai could get out.
She sat upright again.
Zahira snorted in . . . amusement? “I can't believe I'm going to have to put up with you both for six hours. I should call the temporal mages and tell them to work themselves to their graves.”
“Oh pluh-ease! I know you're entertained!” Mai winked at Zahira.
Zahira rolled her eyes.
Mai turned towards Sanya again and held out her hands. “Your other arm.”
Sanya hesitantly moved her right arm towards Mai. She didn't know why.
“Huh, you have long nails,” Mai noted.
Sanya gave her no response.
Guh, she wanted Mai to continue helping to take care of her—and for Mai to apply balm to her wounds again . . .
Ugh. What was this? She felt all nice and warm and giddy and yet she also wanted to throw up. Sanya should take the razor back from her pocket and slit her own throat—
Mai pulled back Sanya's sleeve, slower this time. As if she knew what was coming but didn't want to face it.
“Sanya!” Mai was starting to get predictable. She practically scowled at Sanya's right arm, also wrapped in a revolting, bloody bandage.
“That's me,” Sanya whispered, giving Mai a terrible smile.
“Sanya, Sanya, Sanya!” Mai continued. “Take that off. Sanya, you chose a nice name.”
“Um, thanks?” Sanya proceeded to unwrap her bandage. Did it even need to be said that she still whispered, anymore? “You, um, you chose a nice name too.”
Mai giggled. “I didn't choose mine, silly, but thanks.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Would you bothplease just be quiet?” Zahira groaned.
The caravan came to a halt.
“I wonder why we stopped,” Mai tilted her head, paused, and listened. “The gate, maybe?”
Boots crunched sand and gravel. The noise came around and to the back. Meanwhile, Mai dabbed the cloth dabbed with alcohol onto Sanya's wounds. Mai's left hand held onto Sanya's arm while she did it, and her fingers felt nice and soft. She didn't have any long nails that could dig into her skin, either.
Sanya could not see beyond the crates stacked up to the wagons covering. They were densely packed and also crates deep.
Someone opened a crate and searched through it, a hand moving through what sounded like basalt fiber cloth.
“It's all good,” the individual called from the back. Sanya winced at the noise.
The guard stepped back to his post. Sanya heard as the guard walked from the back of Sanya's wagon all the way to the front, then headed away.
Sanya could not hear anything from the front of the wagon. She and the other two sat in the third of four.
The portcullis screeched as it pulled up and off the ground. Soon, the wagons started moving again.
Mai sighed. “This is so weird. Why do we have to be smuggled, anyway?”
She set the cloth down again and began applying the balm. It stung like crazy, but Sanya supposed it didn't hurt as much as the razor. She didn't know if that was good or bad.
“Maybe we're getting trafficked,” Zahira said.
“You're too smart for that, right? You would've known if this was suspicious and declined. They would have knocked us out and tied us up or something too.”
Zahira shrugged. “You never really know, but I trust this—my last statement was a joke.”
“Huh,” Mai said. “I didn't realize you were capable of that. Anyway, being trafficked is no joke, your sense of humor is terribly compromised.”
Zahira sighed. “I will . . . yield that one to you.”
It was kind of wild to Sanya that Nur and Barakat could employ the mages necessary to travel the tempest. Did those mages know they were smuggling a bunch of potentially dangerous teenagers to some academy somewhere? Were they randomly contracted or were they in on it all?
So this was it. Sanya was leaving Glorestra for some magical abyssal mage academy.
Sanya snorted to herself. This was all so weird. She would have never expected her life to take this course. Surely, then, something unexpected would happen and she'd end up dead or tortured soon.
“Okay, you can wrap your wounds now,” Mai handed Sanya the bandages.
She got to work.
“Sanya?”
Sanya looked at Mai, saying nothing, but signaling a “go on” nonetheless.
“You don't happen to have any more injuries elsewhere, do you?”
Sanya shook her head.
“Are you lying to me?”
Sanya shook her head again.
Mai sighed with relief. “Okay, that's good.”
Yes, Sanya had injuries elsewhere. Old ones though. Not new—not ones that need to be or could be taken care of now—not the ones Mai was thinking about. So, did Sanya need to tell Mai about the other ones? Of course not.
It would never come up anyway.
Right?
Mai yawned, then stretched. She put the balm, alcohol, and bandage roll back into the first-aid kit. She left the used cloth out, though. She clicked the kit closed and put it under the bench—hers, this time, not Zahira'a.
Mai stood up and found one of the crates at the top of the stack.
“What are you doing?” Zahira asked.
Mai took the lid off the crate. “What does it look like, Z?”
“Don't nickname me.”
“Got it,” Mai took a large piece of cloth from the crate. “Got this too.”
She tossed it onto the floor of the wagon. It was a large robe, it looked . . . kind-of . . . institutional. No—not in that way, but in an academic way. It was, like, uniform-esque.
Mai fell back onto it and closed her eyes.
Sanya and Zahira blinked at her in disbelief.
Although, it was just a little bit of meddling with Nur and Barakat's goods. It wasn't even stealing, just borrowing from their potential saviors. And Sanya was familiar with the idea of theft.
So, she guessed this wasn't so unreadable.
“Well?” Mai asked, without opening her eyes. “Are you going to sleep? We've got six hours ahead of us!”
Sanya shrugged and followed suit.