Enigmatic Shards

The cellar reeked, inundating Sophi’s senses with a multitude of unpleasant scents. Her nose twitched in distaste. The odors of death, blood, and the scent of alcohol permeated the air in this dim chamber. Everything had unraveled in the blink of an eye, and now she found herself trapped beneath the ground with her patrons. Her father had been left behind, entrusted with the task of ensuring her safety. But from whom? Who were those merciless individuals?

They had shown no remorse, ruthlessly snuffing out lives as if they meant nothing. Murderers, all of them! She tried her best not to think of what may have become of her father.

Despite not being claustrophobic, the room was clearly not designed to accommodate this many people simultaneously. Amidst the chaos that ensued earlier, a peculiar urge had driven her to pocket one of the crystals after the bumbling man who stumbled upon the inn possessed spilled them all across the floor from his satchel. Just before that very man… imploded. It all defied reason. The situation seemed like a nightmare, a dream that she yearned to wake from with a jolting slap to the face.

Summoning her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation with these individuals who, in some semblance, appeared to be competent adventurers. Her father had entrusted her safety to them, entrusting her fate to their hands and abilities.

“Have you thought about why each of us instinctively reached for these crystals? Did you not witness how we all snatched them up, almost without second thought?” She held the crystal firmly in her grasp, revealing it to those within earshot and sight. “I find myself unwilling to part with it. Why is it that I feel this way?”

Varg’s broken Pluilesse was partially vexing to her. However, her father’s teachings echoed in her mind, reminding her of the value of patience when dealing with all sorts of customers from every corner of the world. Only minutes ago, she had still considered Varg as one of her clients, a fact that remained unchanged despite her current circumstances. Perhaps that should not change even if she was no longer at the tavern, even if temporarily.

“Sell this…?” The prospect of parting with the shard suddenly struck a nerve, setting her on edge. A strange sensation, indeed. Curious… She wondered if the others felt this as well. She turned her attention to Varg. “I fail to see any shine in it. What exactly do you mean? It’s entirely opaque. Are we even gazing upon the same crystals?”

Sophi grimaced upon hearing about witchdoctors — not a combination of words she had ever encountered before. Perhaps a language barrier, but she parsed the words Witch and Doctor correctly into Pluilesse. She had to make sure. This is stressful. While maintaining eye contact with Varg she began to approach her ever so slightly, taking but a few steps closer only.

“Witchdoctors? Who are they…?” Her words came out in quick succession. “What can they do? And… You can smell magic?” She cleared her throat as she tried to pronounce an unfamiliar term. “Garum… Gak?”

With the crystal still tightly held in her grasp, she extended her hand toward Varg to offer a closer look. The firmness of her grip was evident, a testament to her reluctance to let the crystal go, even accidentally.

Nix struggled to understand the Auridian tongue at the best of times but, standing here in this crowded, dank cellar amongst a dozen or more hushed and hurried conversations… it was close to impossible to comprehend even a single word. Granted, he had only roamed a small corner of this new continent that he finds himself in, but he was yet to find a single person he could converse freely with in a language he actually understood — and tonight he had met two. Two. Gorranach, the dwarf he had spent a few blissful minutes conversing openly in Draconic with before everything happened, was scribbling notes down on some parchment across the room, and Varg — whose light green skin was such a vibrant colour it was almost glowing in the dimly lit cellar — was talking to Pabonni’s daughter, Sophi. It was shifting his focus to Varg that allowed one word he did understand to pierce through the white noise and resonate around his head.

“Crystal.”

“Ah!”

His right hand suddenly ached, forcing him to avert his gaze down to his side. Opening his clenched fist revealed the crystal he just couldn’t resist picking up before, and the perfect imprint it had stamped into his small, scaled hand. Nix couldn’t tell if it was the lack of light in the cellar which made the crystal look as dull as it did, but — dull or not — this crystal was suddenly the most valuable thing he owned.

Gasp.

With a sharp intake of breath, his hands raced to his belt to trace the rough, splintered edges of his Biwa — “Phew” — okay… second most valuable thing he owned.

Maybe it was the sudden wave of calm — provided by his precious Biwa — washing over Nix, or the fact that he had enjoyed an actual Kyou conversation with Varg in the bar upstairs, but he felt compelled and comfortable enough to join the conversation. Maybe they could cast some light on the situation? Are these crystals common in this part of the world?

“Many… Hello’s… Uhh… Both..?”

Another wave of relief washed over Nix as he heard that familiar tongue. Not necessarily from the region where he was born and raised, so it carried a few subtle differences and required a touch of work to follow, but it still felt like a warm bed to hear it again after all these months. Nix let that feeling show with a soft smile and, after his manners gifted an apologetic nod to Sophi, he turned back to his new… what would she even be to him? It was far too early to call Varg a ‘friend’… but she was much more than a stranger. He wondered if Auridians had a word for it.

Nix hoped that placing his hand on her knee might help show his sincerity. Society suggested that a hand on her shoulder or arm would be preferred — but the knee was as high as he could reach, so the knee would have to do.

Nix’s mind raced back to where he grew up, telekinetically skimming stones into the violent sea… next to her…

Nix’s gaze moved toward Sophi and the words tangled his tongue once again.

“These… Crystals… Com—Comm—Common… Sophi?”

Sophi retracted her arm, considering that Varg had examined the crystal long enough, and pocketed it. Her attention was drawn to the red-scaled kobold, whose question had captured her focus. Common? The query lingered in her thoughts. Were these crystals really common? They were certainly the first she had encountered in her entire seventeen years of life. Then again, the world was vast, and she hailed from a village with fewer than three hundred residents. Her perspective was limited. Nevertheless, she needed to respond.

“I… I don’t know. They might be…?” She cast a hopeful glance around the gathering, wishing for someone to step in with an answer on her behalf.

Around this same moment, the Navin approached her offering a handkerchief. She felt grateful — she couldn’t put a finger on it, but the Navin’s presence soothed her. She immediately felt cared for, even if they were still just strangers. She could count the number of times she’d seen a Navin with her hands, each one quite different from the other.

“Thank you.”

She stepped forward, finally mustering the courage to speak. Her tone remained steady and composed — a far cry from the earlier chaos when she had shouted at Hinny to take cover from the appearance of the strange men. Her gaze shifted between Hinny and the assembled group.

“Perhaps you could identify the crystal, Mister Dwarf. Are you some kind of smith, by any chance?”

“I, for one, have never seen these crystals before. Do any of you recognize them? Could they be dangerous? What do you think might happen if we attempted to destroy them? Not that I’m suggesting we do so…”

Gorranach put a hand in the pocket where he’d stashed his crystal, then quickly pulled it back out before he touched it. These crystals themselves clearly weren’t anything special.

Then why would anyone cast magic powerful enough to charm a whole room to have them pick them up?

Grim thoughts swirled in his head, but he kept a straight face. These people were clearly counting on him. Same way the Dragonstone soldiers had counted on Bannock. Gorranach had seen his brother give speeches both inspiring and calming many times. He could do the same now. Be the leader he had to become.

“Ah think they may be rigged to explode. Same way the man did. But we’ll be fine.”

“Keep yer voice down. We’re not out of the mines yet, remember.”

Gorranach took out his shard to show he didn’t mind holding it. Years of training as a surgeon helped keep his hand steady.

“Ah don’t think they’re going to make us explode right now, and I’m hoping I’m wrong. Look, that man had a lot of them. We each have only one. I’m sure it would take years for our bodies to accumulate enough magic. So panic is entirely unnecessary.”

Xīlōxōch gave Gorranach a light pat on his shoulder after seeing his command of the room. She looked at him with a warm smile, running her talons softly across his shoulder.

“Not bad, you handled the crowd pretty well. Do you have any stage experience?”

“No.” Xīlōxōch smiled warmly. “My people…” She let her mind drift for a moment, searching for the right description. Slow? Laid back? Spiritual? It matters not right now. “They’re a special group. We like enjoying life — whatever that means is up to the individual. But above all else, we enjoy each other.”

“Sort of. Have you ever wondered why you don’t see my kind that often? We like to live alone, in the skies — preferably above the clouds, where a girl could dance with the clouds.”

Xīlōxōch did a quick spin as she finished her sentence, before bringing her attention back to Gorranach.

“What about you? How is it like where you came from?”