Fluid - 44

Nanoĸ, Nikias, and Myrto are heading out the door when Phile comes over and sits beside me. Bumping her knee against mine, Phile holds out a hand and, when I clasp it, she gives me a relieved smile I gladly echo. A knot of tension eases from my stomach, with her not opting to create a distance.

“You saying you grew up without other children around makes sense now,” offers Phile.

“Yeah. Although I had lots of celestials to keep me company, they were all more like mother-hens than playmates,” I admit.

Ipy nods. “Not having someone you can be yourself with is isolating. Growing up with my mother in charge of temple compounds was isolating. The other children, even those outside the compound, treated me differently than their other friends.”

“I could relax with them, but everything I got up to would get back to my mother,” I say and stop as Phile laughs.

“That wouldn’t be relaxing,” chuckles Phile, and she directs a cheeky smile at her mother.

“Parents ‌find out, Gail; children just like to pretend they don’t,” advises Zosime, and her voice tightens nervously. “I see why you took on a different appearance—you stand out.”

“It’s also hard to hide in the undergrowth with hair this blond,” I quip and wave a lock of my hair about. “Should I leave it like this or stick to my Wood Elf form?”

I could play bait to see if Torm will come after me so Sarah can grab him.

“You’re exotic in either form, but the glowing eyes many would find intimidating,” advised Zosime, and Phile nodded in agreement.

Reverting to my Taurë shape, I grow my hair and form the rosewood-hued locks into a long braid.

“How much can you change your appearance?” asks Zosime, and she grimaces before I can answer. “If that isn’t intrusive.”

Giving what I hope is a reassuring smile, I weigh up what to share, considering the tension about her. “I have a few shapes I normally use. Most are elven forms close to my own but with different skin tones or genders. I don’t imitate others, but I’ll blend in with the local species when I’m looking to avoid trouble or scouting.”

“Genders?” gasps Zosime.

“I was physically female at birth, but when I was young, changing was a game. My mother had to get a device to limit my changes to ensure I didn’t take on a dangerous form. Sticking to one form has been the toughest part of this trip so far,” I admit.

“Nanoĸ leaves and you continue answering questions,” chuckles Ipy.

Motioning toward Sanctuary, I keep my reassuring smile in place. “I vented a bit when I took Nanoĸ on a trip through the annex. I created the travel beacons while in a Catfolk form, so he already knows about my shapeshifting. Your questions and concerns are about me, so that’s fine. He’s the one that decided to leave.”

“No getting my daughter pregnant, Gail,” orders Zosime.

“Mother!” gasps Phile.

My quick laughter earns a frown from Zosime. “I’m still learning about being me, so I’m way too young to be a parent myself.”

“You said that when I thought you were a female Wood Elf,” reminds Zosime, her tone a playful gruffness. “Curious youngsters are a cause of enough pregnancies.”

Androkles snorts. “Gail, I’m over ten times your age; learning about yourself is an ongoing experience. Being a parent will teach you things about yourself you never imagined, the same as being a grandparent. New experiences always let you find something new; sometimes they’re pleasant discoveries, and other times you find your flaws.”

The last comes out with a sad wistfulness, but I don’t prod for answers.

“My father says to beware the feet of clay on those you hold up as examples to others. The higher you hold them as a standard, the more pain it causes where their clay feet shatter,” advises Ipy.

“I didn’t expect him to be philosophical; I thought his performances were about more earthy facets of life,” I comment.

Ipy laughs. “He composes other songs and poems, beyond ones like Ode to the Dawn.”

“Ode to the Dawn? Your father composed that one?” questions Androkles.

“What is that?” asks Zosime.

Phile blushes. “It’s a very suggestive poem popular in some taverns. It’s about a woman waking up to the dawn’s light, having fallen asleep under the stars in her lover’s arms.”

Knowing the history of when the poem started, I muffle my snickers. Ipy’s brows lift, and I catch the curiosity in his gaze.

Looking between them, Zosime frowns before she directs her attention to Androkles. “Phile has travelled, but how do you know about it?”

“Adventuring bards in Georgius’ taproom,” advises Androkles.

Rising to my feet, I wave. “I’ve got a few things to check on this afternoon. I’ll drop by and cook breakfast in the morning.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” protests Zosime, waving her hands in a panic.

Her reaction is exactly what I’d worried about. Stepping around the firepit, I lean down and catch her hands. “Please. My nanny taught me how to cook, and I enjoy it.”

“You had a nanny?” asks Zosime. I know I’ve mentioned Elleth before to Zosime, but with how her gaze fixes on our hands, it’s not the time to poke about her memory.

Crouching so she can’t avoid my gaze, I smile and shrug. “Elleth originally came to help my mother as a midwife since celestials—solars especially—don’t normally have children. Afterwards, she stayed to help look after me and ensure I had someone who understood Mortal limits. I hope my heritage isn’t frightening to you. The Greeks I know have tales of individuals like Hercules, but I hope you can see I’m not the same.”

Zosime nods. “It is a lot to take in. It would have been a bigger shock if not for all your strangeness.”

Laughing, I release her hands. “I hope it’s always been a good strange.”

She gives my shoulder a reassuring pat, and at her nod, I release her other hand and motion towards the rain spattering against the force barrier. “The barrier will stay in place at least an hour more if you need the courtyard for anything.”

“Where are you heading off to now?” enquires Phile quickly.

“I’m planning to check on some Isil communities since I’ve never actually been to any of them,” I admit. “I’m hoping they’re not as rigid in their social structure as I’ve found the Andúnë.”

My tone doesn’t contain any sharpness, but my reply gains a frown from Phile. “Are you expecting some of them to come visit as well?”

Waving toward Sanctuary, I nod. “Most of the delegation has now left, only three currently remain. I  told those that departed that I expected them to arrange for a representative from each group to speak with me instead of excluding their kin..”

“But now you have to scout out the Isil?” asks Androkles.

Grinning at him, I tap my nose. “Precisely. I have been told about the local elven species, but I found the Andúnë representatives an overall disappointment. Elleth’s information on the Taurë seems more accurate, but I need to learn more. As far as the Isil go, I’m currently reliant on an information source that has already provided biassed or inaccurate information about the Andúnë.”

“Ygnvarr?” enquired Androkles.

“No, he didn’t speak about his kin on his visits. That’s a facet of my bias: I wanted to slap them since they didn’t treat him or Alfarr respectfully,” I admit.

“Isn’t Yngvarr a noble, though?”

“It’s a messy situation for him,” I explain. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter. I better get going, or I won’t learn much today.”

“I could come along to help you gather information,” offers Androkles

“And me,” chips in Phile.

“I’ve only found small villages so far. Unless I find somewhere a traveller will blend in, I’m unsure if I’ll let them see me. Especially after the drama with the Andúnë,” I reply. Changing into an eagle, I let out a little screech before I teleport away.

I arrive just south of the biggest Isil community I’ve found. Here the sky's a cloudless gorgeous blue. While some sharp predatory melodies are present in deeper waters, nothing close by sounds ominous. Keeping above the wards I take in the movement among the community. A few score of children are out among the walkways or visible under shade, far outnumbered by adults.

Though goods are being handed over, I don’t see any coins or other currency being exchanged. Among the houses, an open-sided communal dining hall is visible through the trees, with dozens of elves cleaning up after a meal. Aside from size, I don’t see any difference between the houses and, though the elves wear a range of attire, nothing looks worn or badly repaired. Almost uniformly, a blue tinge dusts their pale skin, but none show any sign of sunburn. Unlike the natural hues of Andúnë and Taurë hair, the Isil colours range from liquid metallic shades through earth tones to a deep crimson.

Turning northward, I ignore a whistled query backed by a Power from a Ranger far below, letting him catch a sense of disinterest in return.

It’s a few hours of flying time before I catch sight of a natural harbour ahead that has had significant adjustments made. There are traces of spells keeping the cove around the stone piers clear of build-up. Though, unlike Apollo’s Reach, there isn’t any discordant hum when I stretch out Resonance. Looping back around, I land out of sight of all the guards and resume my Wood Elf form.

Creating a travel pack with a waterproof roll and assorted camping gear, I ensure I've got it properly settled before heading off. It's only a few hundred metres before I find myself at the town’s outermost wards. Stepping through them causes a delicate feathery sensation to brush against my Mana Sense.

Approaching, I catch the sensation of being watched and bring the residents’ music into a sharper focus. This far out, the guard stations among the trees aren’t all high in the air but mixed between canopy and ground. It’s a kilometre to the first outlying building along the shoreline, and their defensive structures are minimalist and non-intrusive. With me walking out in the open, it’s not long before various hand signs and bird whistles start between guards.

I’ve crossed a third of the distance to town when a guard emerges from the undergrowth securing the dunes ahead of me. When she pushes back the hood of her camouflage cloak, the silken material ripples out of its chameleon state and settles into a pale grey. Despite the cloak’s hue, her white skin, salted with hints of steel blue, still stands against it with her face and hands no longer concealed.

Beneath her garb I can hear the bright notes announcing one of Titania’s holy symbols in her possession. That aligns with the Priest Class among her melodies, which she has entwined with Ranger, Wizard, and Alchemist.

Her voice is soft, nearly mingling with the noise of the rolling surf. “Bright skies to you, cousin. What brings you our way?”

“A bit of travelling, trading, and learning,” I reply. “I’m Gailneth, and you are?”

“Medlinith. Would you like me to guide you to the outlier’s Inn, or does someone expect your arrival?” enquires Medlinith.

“There’s no one expecting me,” I admit.

“The outlier’s inn it is. Some find the town too big, but they’ll be able to give you directions for someone suitable to trade with,” explains Medlinith.

That pronouncement has me hiding a frown. “Someone suitable?”

Hopefully, they don’t have restrictions like the Andúnë.

My question gets an amused smile. “Do you expect a store tender to buy things they have no use for?”

“No. I was simply worried your town might restrict trade to only select individuals,” I explain.

Medlinith laughs. “You’re on the east coast, cousin, but you’re not in the Andúnë lands. The receptionist will direct you to those who’ll have the most need, but you’re free to check around if you don’t like their offer.”

“Do patrols keep the beaches free of monsters?” I ask. “Some beaches I’ve travelled along in the south are rife with giant crabs. I’d actually thought I might do some gathering of seafood, but its quiet.”

“Which southern beaches?” asks Medlinith with a curious frown.

“Those in lands occupied by the humans, though I’ve only visited a few in the Guild’s territory,” I admit

“Guild? What is this Guild? Do you mean the Greek lands?”

“The Adventurers’ Guild controls the lands that used to be under Egyptian and Greek rulers,” I say.

“Curious, I hadn’t heard. When did that take place? “

“Just over two decades,” I explain and make a note to see if others also don’t know.

“Oh, after their Gods’ War. I’m glad our deities weren’t involved. Did you stay among the humans? My brother visited your kinfolk years ago and avoided stopping in any but essential human settlements. It took him some roundabout ways, but he felt safer,” states Medlinith, as she follows the beach’s edge.

“That’s a long way to travel living off the land. I came east via magic and haven’t travelled far up the coast. I can’t imagine walking or riding west again,” I offer.

“The first village he stayed at, he got accused of dallying with a maid. One who’d swollen near to term with his baby the same day he arrived in the village,” grumbles Medlinith.

“Did she think he looked like the actual father?” I laugh, wondering if humans have issues telling elves apart.

“Because they both had silver hair?” scoffs Medlinith.

“Maybe she didn’t know the father well enough to tell the difference,” I offer. “I’ve heard that among humans, elves have a reputation for romancing young women and leaving them pregnant. A village I visited had it occur once in three hundred years, yet they’ve still got a fixation on it. But let’s talk about something else, shall we? How did he enjoy his stay in the Lady’s forest?”

Medlinith seems happy to detail her brother’s travels. He must also be a Ranger, considering all the terrain details she recounts. When we close the distance to town, I spot the closest ramp onto the suspended walkways. Sitting beneath the town’s stilted buildings and pathways are gardens with plants sensitive to daylight.

Instead of heading towards the first ramp, Medlinith steers us further inland. “My barracks is that way, and my commander is trying to talk me into opting for another duty rotation with the local troops. I want to travel, not tackle guard duty for another decade.”

“Can’t you just say no?”

“I can, but he’s my dad, so it makes it harder,” explains Medlinith. “I’m avoiding the topic until I’ve found out if my next duty rotation has enough people attending it.”

“If you want to travel, why are you worried if they have enough help? Won’t they find someone else?”

“I’d like to travel, but I’m not rushing. If it's not this rotation, it will be another. Others might also want to travel and have been waiting longer or not want to handle the role I get assigned. So I’ll see if the town’s got enough in the role to function,” replies Medlinith.

“You won’t put your name forward to leave first?” I ask.

Medlinith’s head shake is so energetic it spills a long braid almost completely from under her cloak. “My brother told me to do that, but I have options to progress when not on duty that others don’t, so I don’t want to stand in their way if they want to travel.”

“What do you expect your next rotation to be?”

“Likely a crafting duty; since I haven’t had one in sixty years. While I’m not the biggest fan of mundane crafts, maybe I’ll get apprenticed in something new and pick up another Skill,” remarks Medlinith.

“How many crafting skills do you have?”

“Eight, no, nine if you consider brewing as a craft, but I know that from learning alchemy,” declares Medlinith proudly. “Most of the ones I know don’t help my classes grow, but they’re useful. I’m in a prime position to participate in a new village founding.”

“Is that likely?”

“Maybe in a century or three, and I’ll be in an even better position by then. They’ve recently founded two to the south, and I came close to being picked,” sighs Medlinith.

“Maybe next time if you’re not travelling,” I console.

Medlinith gives a happy nod and points out towards a large hut. “That’s one of the town’s better provisioners, but he favours dried foods with hot spices.”

We barely make it a hundred metres into town before Medlinith has made extra stops to introduce me to a few dozen people. By that point, we’ve also passed through five sets of wards with an increasing level of strength humming within each—four before even stepping onto a ramp. I wouldn’t want to be an unescorted non-Elf entering this town. Those furthest from town contain sleep and confusion afflictions, while wards among the buildings feature elemental and petrification effects. From the music, scores of individuals were involved in their creation, with hundreds of levels of Wizard all up.

The outlier’s inn is a seamless stone building about twenty metres long on each side. The exterior is carved to display a scene of dwarves and elves sheltering under a tree with branches spread wide. There isn’t a window in sight, only a small pair of double doors carved into the depicted tree trunk. The beauty is typical of dwarven engravings, all the more so since it’s one of the town’s few stone buildings.

Medlinith shrugs when I look it over curiously, listening to the enchantments. “We don’t see a lot of travellers, so it does extra duty as a fallback position. In case of an assault, the non-combatants head to one of the stone buildings in town—easy to spot if you get turned around or aren’t near home.”

“I take it they’ve all got different escape routes if they’re going to be overwhelmed?” I ask.

I get a look of surprise from Medlinith, so I offer a helpless shrug. “It’s only logical to have secure ways out of gathering points. Do you mind if I ask who carved it?”

“The council has an arrangement with the Southshield clan’s crafters to handle any stone construction work it requires,” explains Medlinith. “Mother says they’re sharp hagglers but fair about delivering the work.”

That they had trade with the dwarves yet the Andúnë don’t is an interesting surprise, but I keep it contained. “Does the town trade much with the dwarves?”

Medlinith shakes her head. “Most of the trade with them is in the north. The only regular dealings we have with any dwarves are with Southshield. How about your home?”

“We see some dwarves from time to time, but mainly just passing through and visiting friends,” I state. “Those faithful of Moradin I’ve met would appreciate the care that went into this inn’s construction.”

“The last time the dwarves came was before I was born, I’m not sure who they follow,” allows Medlinith.

The depicted stone doors expand when Medlinith touches the trunk, and they open wide enough for six to walk beside each other. Inside is a dimensional expansion that provides far more space than the outside conveys. The exterior carvings continue in the reception area, with wood and stone panels alternating around the room.

Medlinith steps aside, patiently waiting for me to examine the interior before we enter.

“It’s beautiful; there isn’t a hint of magic having altered the wood or stone.”

Though neither of us did anything to draw attention, a male Elf appears within minutes. I’m still taking in his lightning-white hair and silvery gaze when Medlinith gestures to him. “Gailneth, this is Lastar. He runs this inn and is one of the best cooks in town.”

Her information makes for an interesting high point since he also possesses three combat-oriented classes whose melodies I’d never heard before, along with Wizard. I must keep my expression composed when I catch his only affinities: Metal, Lightning, and Death. I take in his Mana Sense Skill reading my energies and don’t block them.

“Welcome, Gailneth. There are better cooks than me, I’m just among the better ones that handle the dining halls,” explains Lastar.

“If I can never taste their cooking, they don’t exist,” huffs Medlinith.

A dimple appears under his right cheek as laughter fills Lastar’s gaze. “Shoo, you’ve got a watch shift to complete.”

Medlinith bids me farewell, and only after the front door closes does Lastar speak again.

“I’m sure Medlinith would have pointed you to a few places, so is there anything else I can help you with besides a room for the evening?”

“I was planning to travel further today, but this is the first Isil town I’ve visited, so I have a few questions,” I state and continue when he looks confused. “Medlinith said you’d have information about the best places to trade items.”

“I can do that. We’re just like any of the villages you would have passed through, just on a larger scale,” advises Lastar.

“I arrived via magic south of your town, so it is perhaps more accurate to say this is the first Isil settlement I’ve been in,” I say.

“So it’s what, morning for you still?” Laster asks.

“The sun does rise on the Taurë forest later since it's so far west.”

Laster nods. “I’d heard that before but never experienced it myself. Your town? Did Medlinith not even tell you where you are?”

Smiling, I shrug. “No, but I thought someone would eventually mention the name.”

“Then welcome to the town of Cendëróme, cousin Gailneth, for however long or short your stay,” offers Laster in a formal tone and offers me a graceful bow.

“I thank you for your welcome, cousin Laster,” I reply and return his bow in equal measure, though his classes are higher than mine. “I’ve some herbs and potions to trade for local coinage.”

“What brings you to the east, Gailneth? Youthful wanderlust or something more?”

“Travelling, since it came to my attention that I’ve no first-hand knowledge of the Isil and little of the Andúnë, so I thought I should correct that,” I admit.

“Well, most towns and villages would appreciate aid from someone of your magical strength; if you’re of a mind to linger for a few decades, you’d learn a lot,” advises Laster.

“I might find a place among the Isil to stay a time, but only after I’ve travelled a bit,” I reply, setting some bundles of fresh herbs on the counter. “These are some samples; who do you suggest I look to trade with?”

I spend half the afternoon trading herbs and potions for local goods before moving on. It’s enough time to let me pick up the gossip and snippets of what the locals consider normal. No matter what duty they’re undertaking, every adult has their weapons within arms’ reach.

Besides the battle readiness of the adults, every game I’ve seen children—some as young as eight—play seems to have weapon skills at its core. Maybe I should have asked Medlinith who she meant by a non-combatant.