55: Shifting Winds (Patreon)

“Vir? Have you seen my hair tie?” Maiya said, furiously searching every nook and cranny in the bedroom. I think I left it somewh—Challing Ash! Vir!”

Maiya jumped, bonking Vir on his head. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Blond-haired, blue-eyed Vir looked the spitting image of a nobleman’s son. His hair fell all the way to his shoulders, and his skin was like white sand.

“I seriously can’t even recognize you,” Maiya said, looking him up and down.”

“Good,” Vir replied. “That’s kinda the point. Wasn’t sure how it’d work out, but I guess all those hours in front of the mirror paid off…”

“I’ll say!” Maiya said, narrowing her eyes. “Hmm, you’re still not as good as me, though. Sorry Vir.”

Vir smirked and shook his head. “Sure, Maiya. Just needs to be good enough to fool anyone who knows us. And your reaction tells me we ought to be fine… probably. You about ready?”

“Gimme like… an hour?” Maiya said, in the middle of doing her own makeup. “I’ll be ready soon.”

“Got it. I’ll be outside.”

Vir left Maiya to do her thing and crossed his legs on a sofa in the living room. Training would make him sweat, which wasn’t great for the makeup. That left meditation.

He calmed his breaths and reflected upon recent events. The duel with Riyan had honestly not gone well for him. The man had pressured him right from the start, forcing him to burn through valuable usages of his Talents.

He thought about what he could’ve done to avoid that situation, but came up empty. Riyan was just too strong for Vir to have even a chance of besting him. In a proper fight, the only way he’d survive against a man like that would be to run away.

When Vir had awoken after the duel, battered and bruised, he’d drowned in shame, having broken his promise to Maiya.

To his immense surprise, Riyan had not only passed him, he’d actually been quite proud of Vir’s performance. Apparently, few warriors could make Riyan take a fight seriously.

Rarely did Vir come out of a fight with so many advantages, but he wasn’t about to question the whims of the gods. Not when Yuma herself smiled upon him for once.

And that wasn’t all he’d gained from the duel. For once, he’d actually been conscious when Riyan used his Life orbs to heal him. He half-wished he hadn’t—the bone mending process was downright excruciating, to say nothing of the flesh restoration. Riyan had neglected to include Numb Wound in his healing kit. Because of course he had.

Vir came to hate the particular orbs responsible for those tasks. There wasn’t just one orb that did everything, which made the process somewhat long and involved. Set Bone, Mend Bone, Heal Skin, and Mend Flesh were all different orbs from various tiers. Each had to be used in the correct order, or things could get ugly—if flesh healed before the bones were repaired, it could actually make the wound far worse.

By toughing it out, he’d been able to confirm that magic did in fact work how he’d expected—Riyan sucked prana away from his hand, creating a kind of ‘suction’ space. Almost like what happened when you’d suck on a straw.

From there, ambient Life prana had rushed into the orb. Rather, the prana tried to enter Riyan’s body, but became trapped inside the orb instead, charging it. With this, Vir had now proved without a shred of a doubt that magic and Talents leveraged the same fundamental principle. They both relied on ‘sucking’ prana from a part of the body to draw in more from either the ground or the air.

Just that Talents drew ground prana into the body, while mejai used air prana to power orbs instead.

Vir slowly opened his eyes. Through Prana Vision, he sensed Maiya open the bedroom door and walk into the living room. Using the ability incessantly had expanded both its range and resolution, and now, he could detect human prana signatures from a dozen paces away—even through walls, if there wasn’t too much prana in the way.

“Wow…” he said in awe. As much as Prana Vision did for him, it told him nothing about a person’s appearance.

Maiya had once again dressed up as a Sawai aristocrat’s son, but this time, she sported blue eyes and blonde hair, just like him.

“You look… beautiful?” he said.

“Beautiful? Seriously? I’m supposed to be a guy, y’know,” Maiya said with her hands on her hips. “Kind of a problem if I’m ‘beautiful’ like this.”

“Yeah, I know. It feels weird to say that. You look a little effeminate for a guy. But I guess that works, since we’re supposed to be ‘risto kids.”

Maiya looked amused at his words. “Oho? Picked up that bit of slang from Saran, did you?”

“Sawai’s too formal-sounding. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna slip and use the wrong word in front of the Brijers. Now c’mon, let’s be gone. I want to be at the village before sundown.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice! Let’s do it!” Maiya said, grabbing her rucksack and following Vir out the front door. Her eyes burst with expectation.

Neel looked at them forlornly, sad to be left alone. Unable to resist his big, beady eyes, Maiya gave the bandy a big hug. “Don’t worry, Neel. We’ll be back before you know it. Be a good boy while we’re out, okay! And don’t eat up all of your food at once!”

The bandy tried to lick her face, but Maiya pushed him away just in time, closing the main door behind her.

“Can’t wait until mom and dad see me like this! I’ll give them the scare of their lives!” she said.

Vir smiled at her as he hopped onto Bumpy, giving her a hand up. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

“I mean, I just want to finally tell them I’m okay. I dunno if the letter we sent at Saran would’ve reached them. They must be worried sick.”

Vir guided Bumpy eastward. Despite their poor experience riding along highways thus far, it really was the only safe option to make it to Brij. After they intercepted the Saran-Daha highway, they’d head south to a junction that forked off to Brij. If they didn’t take a single break, Vir estimated the journey would take six hours.

After a slow, but uneventful, journey across the dunes, they came across the highway that ran parallel to the desert’s border. From there, they made good time.

Bumpy was as bumpy as ever, making the experience a bone jarring one. Vir and Maiya had long ago grown accustomed to the Ash’va’s ride, so neither of them breathed a word of complaint.

“Let’s go over the script again,” Vir said after another hour of jostling. Mainly to keep himself occupied—they’d seen only one other traveler along the road so far, which made for a safe, but uneventful journey. That also meant it was boring, and his conversations with Maiya had long ago petered out.

“Pretty much the same deal as last time, yeah?” Maiya replied. “We’re gonna pose as the children of rich merchant parents on our way to the Viridian coast. We’ll wait there for a trading vessel to pick us up.”

Vir nodded. “I think it makes sense to say we’ll be boarding a ship there. We’ll avoid any suspicion if Hiranya gets wind of our presence there; they’ll think we departed for the sea. My only worry is that the Brijers might see through our disguises.”

“If they do, we’ll leave,” Maiya replied. “They’re just villagers. Not like they can use magic.”

Neither can you. And we were ‘just’ villagers too, not long ago, Vir thought. Maiya was thrilled to ditch her identity as a villager.

Though she continued to practice her magic diligently, she’d made slow progress. Tanya had been ecstatic, but Maiya was left frustrated.

For whatever reason, her command over the prana in her body wasn’t nearly as good as his own. She could barely move it at all, and even after training under Vir’s supervision for hours upon hours each day, her command had improved only slightly.

Vir wondered whether this was the norm, and if he was the odd one for being able to channel prana so easily… but he didn’t know enough mejai to know.

Unfortunately, the smooth sailing lasted only until the junction with the road to Brij. Calling the branching path a road was generous—its severe lack of upkeep meant it was more mud than gravel, and several sections had washed away entirely, forcing the two to detour several times.

By the time they finally arrived, the sun had grown long in the sky, painting long shadows. The scenery changed from desert to barren plains, and finally to the lush greenery that surrounded Brij.

Vir worried that securing accommodation would be tough if they arrived too late, but luckily, there was still activity in the streets.

He found himself lost in nostalgia. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was the one ogling strangers. Now he was the stranger.

“How quickly the winds shift,” he muttered under his breath.

“Tell me about it,” Maiya replied from behind him, tightening her grip around his waist.

Vir didn’t think he held much attachment to the village, not after the way they’d treated him, yet he almost found himself brought to tears. He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for Maiya, who still had family here.

Before long, an entire crowd had gathered around them. Vir found several familiar faces. All of them people who had given him a hard time, throwing rocks at him or siccing their bandies upon him. Now, they looked at him with deference.

Vir wanted to feel angry. He wanted to feel smug at having turned the tables on them. He’d experienced a larger world. They were stuck here. He’d grown while they’d stagnated.

But all he felt was emptiness. To sneer at them felt… hollow. It felt petty, and he couldn’t bring himself to hate them or pity them.

What concerned him the most was the absence of Maiya’s parents. As the head priest, Apramor was the one who usually greeted new strangers.

Instead, another man made his way forth. He sported an enormous handlebar mustache and blading black hair. It was a face Vir knew all too well.

“Greetings strangers! I am Akros, the leader of this humble village. How may I assist you?”

Leader? Vir thought, panicking. Maiya tightened her grip around his waist.

Vir searched the crowd for any signs that they recognized Vir or Maiya, but saw only veiled curiosity.

“Erm, ser?” Akros repeated. Vir had been so shocked by the polite gazes that he’d forgotten to reply.

“Leader?” Maiya said from behind him, her voice an octave lower than usual. “I thought this village was led by a priest? A holy man by the name of Apramor?”

Hushed whispers broke out in the crowd, and Vir did not miss the scowl that passed briefly over Akros’ face.

“I am afraid that there has been a change in leadership lately. I am the leader now,” Akros said testily. “And who might you two be?”

“Apologies. Where are our manners?” Vir replied. “My name is Barid Daruk, and behind me rides my brother Bakura Daruk,” Vir said, emphasizing their last name. “We are on business for our father, a merchant of some renown operating out of Daha, bound for the Viridian Coast. We seek accommodations for the night in your village. Would you have us?”

Everyone’s attitude flipped the moment he mentioned his last name. Only the Sawai had last names, and a ‘risto arriving at Brij was an event. Vir was sure the villagers would gossip for weeks to come.

“My family would be honored to host you, my esteemed friends,” Akros said, lowering his head. His son Camas—one of Vir’s worst bullies—stepped up and similarly lowered his head as well.

“How quickly the winds shift,” Vir muttered again.

Akros raised his head. “Sorry, what was that?”

Vir glanced at Maiya before responding. “We accept your generous offer. You have my gratitude and the gratitude of my family.” His words came smoothly, despite the tumult of emotions that raged within him.

Being invited to sleep in the home of the one who had tormented him so much felt all sorts of wrong, but Vir couldn’t deny the man without a good reason. And though it may not have mattered much, Akros hadn’t snitched on Vir when he’d been interrogated by the knights. That one action didn’t erase the man’s wrongdoings, but it helped.

Vir and Maiya dismounted and guided Bumpy, following Akros and Camas, leaving the throng of people behind. The sun had just slipped beneath the horizon, and tenders were going around charging the Magic Candle street lamps.

The village looked largely the same as it had when Vir left it. Places like Brij remained static over the years, so not much was bound to change after only six months. At least, it shouldn’t have changed.

While the structures and the people were the same, the atmosphere was not. Vir couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely something different about the vibe. It was slight, and only a resident would have picked up on it, but the Brijers were on edge and more jittery than he remembered.

Vir shot Maiya a glance. She nodded back; she’d felt it as well.

“Tell me about this leadership change,” Vir said, engaging Akros in conversation on the way to his home. Vir knew the way, of course, but pretended like this was his first time visiting. “I was under the assumption that villages like these rarely saw changes in leadership. Did the previous leader fall ill?”

Akros glanced briefly at Vir, and he thought he saw a hint of panic in the man’s eyes.

“The prior leader… our priest, he is gone now.”

“Gone?” Maiya pressed. Though Akros may have found the topic distasteful, he couldn’t brush off a Sawai aristocrat, and Maiya knew that.

“He committed a grave crime and was taken away. Nobody knows where.”

“His wife, too. Serves her right,” Camas replied from beside his father.

Vir squeezed Maiya’s clenched fist. She got the message and wiped the frown from her face, but she continued to fidget.

“Camas! Tend to their Ash’va,” Akros ordered, before turning his attention to Vir and Maiya.

“Is something the matter?” the man asked. “Your brother looks ill.”

“Ah, he’s always like that,” Vir said, covering for Maiya. “Weak constitution, you see?”

“I see, I see. Please, welcome to my home,” he replied, ushering them inside. “I am afraid that ours is a poor village. I pray that my humble accommodations do not offend your refined sensibilities.”

“Not at all,” Vir replied smoothly, his eyes sweeping across the modestly sized house. This was his first time stepping foot inside, and it was far nicer than he’d expected. “Rather, we are thankful to have a bed at all tonight. We were worried we would have to sleep under the stars.”

“Is… something the matter?” Akros said, looking at Maiya.

Vir turned to see Maiya fixated on the dining room table. An ornate, six person table that seemed entirely out of place next to the other, more modest furnishings.

“That’s a fine table you have there,” Maiya said, brushing her fingers over it.

Why would she be so interested in—wait…

The table felt familiar. Where have I seen that before?

“Ah, yes!” Akros said. “A recent acquisition. I am pleased it is to your liking. I am quite proud of it myself!”

“I’m sure,” Maiya said with pursed lips.

Vir finally remembered. His stomach sank.

It’s the table from Maiya’s place!

“And here you are,” Akros said, guiding them to a guest room. “I’m afraid I have but a single bed to spare. Will it be too much to ask you to share a bed with each other?”

Vir waved away his concerns, playing his role perfectly, despite the blood that boiled within his body. “Not at all, thank you.”

Maiya locked the door the moment they were inside. “That dining table was ours, Vir. He stole it from our house!”

“I know,” was all Vir could say in response.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Vir. We have to find out what happened to my parents. We need to go to my house. Right now.”

Vir nodded. He shared Maiya’s worry, and a knot formed in his stomach. He couldn’t shake the small voice in the back of his head.

The one that played Riyan’s words to them over and over on a loop.

You may not like what you find…

“Let’s go.”

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