I had never flown with someone before…
Well, to be more precise, I had never flown while carrying someone else with me. Teacher, Sabar, and Zaylany could fly on their own, as could all the Practitioner acquaintances I knew of. Flight is actually the most basic skillset of any Practitioner of the arts.
When I was helping monitoring the children at the temple, it was a common recreational activity to lift them in the air and spin them around. But it was always done from a safe distance of the ground.
Right now is a bit different, though. I am carrying a grown adult man several metres in the sky while flying at a high speed, and contrary to the kids back then he is not enjoying the experience.
Sazayi is hopelessly trying to gain a footing… or maybe he is trying to stand straight? I am not sure… All I know is that is he frantically flailing his limps around, as a result he is now gyrating about like a ball.
I could help him to maintain a proper position, but his behaviour is just so silly. I know… he is not trying to goof around, he is nervous, and a little scare, yet.. I can't help myself from leaving him to his own device—It is tactless, I know, and inconsiderate, but I am just curious about how long his gesticulations will last before he gets tired. I even deliberately slowed down to find out.
I eventually heave a sigh; my conscience will not let me do this any longer. I take hold of his body, restraining his movements into an invisible grasp and he freezes wide-eyed.
"Try to relax a bit. I promise you; you are not going to fall—just… stop panicking." He wordlessly nods his head, and I let go of him, picking up at a steady pace.
In no time we make it to the site, and I make us land slowly on the ground. Sazayi teeters a few steps before collapsing on the ground, releasing a shaky breath. I craft a stool out of the ground beside him and sit down.
Sazayi eyes me for several minutes, alternating between scrutinizing me and my staff before eventually saying. "So, you are really a sorceress from the old era? The myths were true, your people could wield all the Arts of sorcery."
I slowly turn to him.
"—I mean… You can fly," he motions at my seat, "you just made a chair, and you also repaired all those… Constructs back there. You do it all so casually too. It's amazing."
"I have never seen it in that light." I say after a moment.
"I bet you didn't, if all the sorcerers could do all the things you can it would naturally be a norm and not so incredible anymore."
"I suppose you are right. I once remember reading that in the time before the Empire was founded, the most basic spells we know were considered miracles at the time. Like the story of that man who could walk on water, or the one about that old man who could summon pillars of fire…" I pause, trying to recall other tales. "Hmm… Now that I think about it, there were also exceptional people, like the story of the man who split a sea in two—that sort of fit requires a lot of skill and an absurd amount of spiritual essence."
There were also some pretty ludicrous claims about that guy in particular… something about him having the ability to turn water to blood, summon plagues, and transform his legendary staff into a giant, living snake. He also was claimed to be blessed by the divine, so I guess it is safe to assume that most of those tales were heavily exaggerated.
"That's… interesting. I have to admit that I am a bit envious of you; being able to learn and wield any Arts? It is the type of things you only read in novels."
A giggle leaves my mouth. "Well, I am jealous of you too. The innate connection sorcerers have now with their respective element is more profound than what I have ever seen before, it is something that every sorcerer of my era seeks to attain after years of training."
He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes. It is like your elements are an extension of yourselves instead of a tool, it is intriguing." I pause for a moment, maintaining eye contact with Sazayi before speaking again. "If you do not mind, may I ask you what Art you wield?"
The high density of his Spiritual essence indicates that he is a sorcerer, but I can't tell which Art he specializes in, which means that it is not an Elemental Art.
There is a complicated expression on Sazayi's face, the atmosphere suddenly becoming more serious. I find myself wondering if, maybe, I should not have asked. I remember my conversation with Yango, the young woman from that nomadic tribe, she had warned me that not all sorcerers would be willing to divulge on the Art they wielded.
I am about to change the subject, but Sazayi speaks before I can.
"I can tell you if you want. It's not like I try to keep it a secret, my ability is actually a common knowledge, and since we would be travelling together it is only a matter of time before you find out." He takes a deep breath, then exhale.
"I can… make people do what I want," he says with some effort, "whatever I tell someone to do, they will be compelled to do it. People like me are called Whisperers."
Hmm… Mind sorcery then.
"Can you show me." The words escape me before I can catch them.
Sazayi looks at me like I had grown a second head. "Did you just listen to a single word I said?"
"I did."
"Then you do realize that 'showing you' means that I would use my ability on someone—and you're the only person around."
"You make it sound like I asked you to harm me—"
"—You might as well have. What you are asking is reckless to so many levels. You barely know me."
Well, when he says it like that…
"Please? Just a small demonstration."
He searches my face for a long moment, then shakes his head as he mutters. "Weirdos. I'm surrounded by weirdos."
"Fine." He moves his body, turning around to sit while facing me completely and his gaze boring into mine.
"Lift your right arm."
His voice was calm, devoid of any trace of command. It had sounded less like an order and more like an offhand remark. Yet, without conscious thought, my body obeyed, my right arm rising sharply, as if compelled by an unseen force.
I study my raised hand for long seconds.
"Interesting…" I whisper.
His ability is very different from how conventional mind spells works. I have a decent mental fortitude against mind sorcery, it is not perfect, yes, but at least it would help me resist from any attempt to influence my mind long enough to run away from the executor of the spell.
With Sazayi, on the other, my mind barriers had not even registered his words as a spell, or any sort of mental compulsion. My body just obeyed as if with a mind of its own. Even now, it is with great difficulty than a lower my arm down to my lap, covering it with my other hand to prevent it from raising on its own.
"Huh?" Sazayi exclaims quietly. "People don't usually recover so quickly."
Oh, how dreadful.
"Are other 'Whisperers' like you?" I ask.
"No idea," he shrugs, "I have never met anyone with my ability. Whisperers are a rare breed, I am told."
If my speculation is right, and sorcerers of this era really have absolute control over the Art they wield… I briefly glance back at Sazayi, and a shiver coursing down my spine. Then sorcerers in the Occult Arts must be particularly formidable. After all, it is largest branch of sorcery, and merely a fraction of its mysteries has been uncovered and catalogued.
What could a sorcerer with complete authority over one of its Arts possibly be capable of?
My heart is beating so fast that I am starting to feel lightheaded.
I am torn between trepidation and curiosity.
"There is something else I am curious about," I say after having calmed down, "I have been under the impression that you did not want to be here, so why follow us in the end?"
He tilts his head, with an expression I cannot identity, then he diverts his gaze to the landscape below, his brows creasing with frustration.
"N'jobu… he is an idiot. He is reckless and impulsive—And above all, he is the most infuriating person in the world. He's been like this as long as I had known him." He sighs loudly. "That is why it has fallen upon me to look out for him, or he had end up in serious trouble."
I blink a few times, not quite sure what to think of what he said.
"You must really care about him to still be at his side to this point." I finally say.
"Care? Me? For him?" His face twists into a scowl. "I wouldn't give him a second thought was his not for his sister, Anhso. She is the one constantly worrying about that idiot, kind and caring as she is… Sometimes—All the time—I ask myself how can the two of them be ever related. But she is worth it! For her, I am willing to be that retard's nanny."
"…Oh. Is she your wife?"
"Not yet. She is my fiancée." He looks up at the clouds, his lips extending into a dreamy smile. "I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on her; she is the last thing I want to see every night before sleep and the first person I wake up to in the morning. She is smart and gentle and refined and so, so very beautiful, she is so unreal I wonder if she is actually a human. You should see her—and when she smiles, my good Lord, it feels like the world becomes brighter…"
I do not know Sazayi well, but his passionate way of speaking about his fiancée makes it clear how deeply he adores her. I am also more than a bit impressed that he is ready to commit himself to her at such a young age.
That said, I desperately wish he had stop now—or at least that we change the subject. Listening to him rave endlessly about 'a million and one reasons why Anhso is the most extraordinary, most perfect woman to ever grace the world with her presence' is growing unbearably tiresome.
I hope the others will get here soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~
A low rumble echoes through the valley. The wind howling across the mountains like a coven of haunted spirits, bending the tall trees like mere sticks, and carrying with it the scent of moist earth, frigid air.
The sound of rain intensifies, raindrops falling like stones on the ground, the world dissolves into a blurred haze of grey, as the deluge consumes everything, reducing the visibility to mere feet away.
It is startling how quickly the weather can change, it was a perfectly sunny day a couple of hours ago, with barely any clouds to obstruct the sky. Now, the climate has turned terribly cold and humid.
Thank goodness we had already set up camp by the time it had started. I had to alter our site to the weather, though—Nothing too sophisticated, just a makeshift, cave to protect us from the heavy rain. I wish I could have done something classier, but the others advised against it, night is about to fall and 'it is better to have an exit route in case of an attack than be trapped in a closed house,' they said.
I shift uncomfortably on the stool beneath me, it does nothing to attenuate the pain on my backsides unfortunately. A sigh escapes my lips, my frustration growing. I miss chairs, cushions, and everything soft.
"I should have brought pillows with me, and a nice blanket."
"So should I." Responds Sazayi. He leans forward, extending his hands to the fire as he warms himself. "I usually enjoy when it rains—but only from the comfort of my house…"
"Covered in a warm blanket..."
"Or drinking a hot beverage, while watching the rain outside from a window…"
"Or while reading a book…"
"Or while taking a nap. Sleeping when it rains is… an experience of its own."
I nod. "When the bed is just at the right temperature, coupled with the sound of rain, it is the best lullaby."
"Yes indeed."
Sazayi and I lock eyes, and in that brief moment I am overflowed by a profound sense of kinship towards him, and him towards me. It is like finding someone who finally understands me, someone who thinks just like me, someone who I can relate with… It feels like reuniting with a long-lost brother I never knew I had.
The realization washes over me—I sense that he has come to a similar conclusion, he knows how I feel because he feels it too. I am suddenly comforted and relieved to have him here, with me, a loneliness I never knew was there slowly fades away as we share a meaningful smile.
"What is wrong with the both of you?"
We are wrenched out of our implicit bond and back to reality. N'jobu, Ewa, Kayin, Azikiwe and Gamba all gawk at us, speechless and confounded. The sudden attention and their intense gazes make me feel embarrassed for some reason. I didn't do anything abnormal, so why are they acting like that?
Sazayi sighs audibly. "You wouldn't understand." Then he turns to me and winks. They all decide to drop the subject, and not long after, tonight's dinner is ready.
It is a reheated meal Ike had made back in Dalisso's lair, called Egusi Dish, it is a steamed dish that has a rich, nutty taste and a satisfying texture, served with cassava sticks which are chewy and sweet. It may look simple, but it is actually very nutritious—I am already full, but I only managed to finish half of it. At least I will be able to enjoy it again tomorrow.
I am sure Sabar and Zaylany would have loved it too. I wish I could share it with them…
"He is back." Azikiwe calls out.
I follow his gaze out to opening of the cave, and there I see Ike, his spear resting on his shoulder, and striding through the relentless rain and raging winds, the storm lashes against him, but he does not seem perturbed by it. He comes to a stop just at the edge of our shelter, but does not enter immediately, rather he stays rooted in place as he studies the cave for several seconds, then slowly his gaze lands on me and he makes his way inside.
"I must say, this ward of yours really is effective. Had I not already known where this place was, I would have hardly been able to find you guys."
"Really?" Ewa inquires. "They are that good?"
He sits down near the fire, then nods. "Despite having so many people gathered here, you are all completely undetectable inside this cave. To anyone—or anything—outside, it appears as nothing more than a peculiar formation—an unnatural anomaly in the landscape."
"Oooh…" Ewa coos.
All heads turn in my direction, except for Ike, the rest are staring at me as if seeing me in a new light.
The attention… It makes me uncomfortable.
"I… C-Considering that there are who-knows how many Junjus lurking about, I figured it would be better to take an extra step for safety."
Personally, the idea of confronting any other Junju and being exposed to their nauseating essence chills me to the bone, I had preferred to avoid them entirely if possible. That is why when making this shelter I not only placed an Array to protect it from the weather but also layered a few concealment and warding Arrays from the mystical sense of any outsider—especially for concealment.
"You did a good job, nonetheless." My breath hitches when he starts removing the upper part of his clothing. Immediately, my gaze falls on the rolling muscles of his arms and chest, and his defined, well carved abdominal muscles. "I secured the perimeter, but an additional measure of protection was a good move. Let's do that from now on."
He twists his hands, the motion causing his arms to tense and bulge even more. Water pours out of his clothes in steady streams, wrung from the fabric with an effortless strength. As he continues, the dampness rapidly fades, leaving his garments nearly dry, but still damp. Then he flaps his clothes a few times before hanging them on the rack above the fire.
I turn away when he moves to serve himself from the pot. Having his back to me gives me some reprieve —though it's fleeting. His chiselled shoulders and the defined lines of his back hardly make it easier, even as I remind myself relentlessly that it would be most improper to stare longer than is appropriate.
This isn't the time nor the place to feel the way I feel, but ever since what happened in that kitchen I can't help but be more conscious of him.
Lord, have mercy on me.