Endalia

Stythl III

We approach the village. It’s a tiny little place, hardly worth being called a village. I doubt more than three hundred people live here. On the far side, I can see three gorse tied to some bloodwood trees. The gorse linger around, munching on the bloodwood leaves. Bloodwood trees are pure red trees. Everything about them is red and they’re average height is three-four hundred feet tall. It’s the only tree that you can successfully tie a gorse to. Gorse are roughly ninety feet tall. They’re horse-shaped and really useful for traveling. They’re called “gorse” because they’re made up of plant vines and gorse. Mainly gorse.

“Do you think we should catch the next gorse to Tourmaline?” I ask Chrissy. “It’s on the southern tip of the Imperial lands. That much closer that much faster to the Southern Wastelands.” I figure we may as well get there as soon as possible so I can leave. I’m not going to the Southern Wastelands. That’s committing suicide. The very air is toxic to humans.

She laughs. I sigh silently in my head. It’s always beautiful. “I think we need to go north to the capitol first.” Chrissy tells me lightly. “We can’t go to the Southern Wastelands until we get to the capitol. I’ve got two breathing masks on hold there.” She looks at me. “What? You think I’d think of going there without breathing masks?” She laughs again. “No way in the seven hells I’d do that.”

“Okay. I just didn’t know if you had it thought out.” I look at her. I imagine...well, you don’t want to know. “We should catch a gorse to the capitol. That should be easier than going to Tourmaline.” I say thoughtfully.

“Mmhmm.” She says. She points. “Don’t you think we should help out with that fire, though?” I look where she’s pointing. There’s a column of smoke coming from a burning house. I sigh.

“I guess so.” I’m not happy about the idea of maybe having to go into the house to get any belongings.

She laughs again. “Relax. I know the Unduna.” I sigh audibly. That will make things so much easier. I wish she’d keep laughing. “Well, come on.” She pulls my hand impatiently. “We could kill someone if we don’t hurry up a bit.”

Needless to say, I come along. Though not a bit unwilling.

We arrive at the burning house to find a few River-Dancers have found their way to the burning house. River-Dancers are Writers who specialize using the Yilliur, the letter for control over water. River-Dancers love to dance, as well. Maybe they’ll put on a show tonight.

“Ooh!” Chrissy gasps and points beyond the house to a plain we couldn’t see up on the hill. “A fair! I bet the River-Dancers have put this on. I love fairs!” Considering how much gold we have, we’re going to go. It’s a safe bet.

“Well, come on.” I chuckle. “Let’s go. I bet they’ll have a dance later tonight. Don’t they usually?” I ask Chrissy.

“Oh yes. I wonder which group this is...I hope they’re the Undrying. Maybe they’re the Treekeepers. Or maybe they’re the Waterrunners! Oh, I hope they’re the Waterrunners!” You can tell River-Dancer groups are very popular in the Imperial lands just by the way Chrissy is getting so excited. I offer to buy her supper.

“Oh, of course. River-Dancer food isn’t all that great, but there will be some Imperial taverns, I hope...or maybe just a food stall.” She squeals. “Oh, look! A muffin-maker! I’ve always wanted to try one out.” She pulls me towards the muffin-maker.

“I’ll have a blueberry muffin!” She says to the muffin man.

“Sure thing, ma’am. Turn the lever second to the right, there.” He points to a lever labeled “blueberry”. Chrissy hops over to it and turns it once.

“Once or twice?” She yells at the muffin man.

“Once will do it.” He tells her. “Unless you want a massive muffin.” Chrissy squeals again and turns it one more time.

“How much will that be?” I ask the muffin man.

“A gold for a massive muffin, seven silver for a normal.” He grunts. I hand him a single gold. “Thanks.” He says.

“No problem.” I say. I turn back to Chrissy. She’s gotten her muffin. It’s quite massive, about the size of a person’s head.

“Want to share?” She asks me. Looking at the muffin doubtfully, she says “I don’t think I can eat this on my own. It’s too big.” I laugh.

“Ma’am, you ordered that. But I’ll have some, sure.” I tell her. I have to laugh.

We turn back to the crowd and see a line starting to build up. Chrissy points at the lion-tamer. “Let’s go there!” She squeals at me. I’m starting to think of her as a little girl, she squeals so much. She pulls me towards him.

The lion-tamer is an old woman. A tough-looking woman. She holds a whip.

“Step back, step back! This lion is a beaut!” She shouts at the crowd. “He’s eaten humans, he’s eaten lions, he’s eaten bears, he even ate an entire gorse once!” The crowd takes a healthy step back. She smiles at us all crookedly. “Just kidding about that last one! But believe me, he tried! Nearly did it.” She laughs maniacally.

The lion comes out of his cage from the far end of the ring. He’s majestic and massive. I whistle. He must be at least twelve feet long.

“What kind of lion is that?” Chrissy says to me, completely awed.

“I don’t know, but I’d chance a guess at it being a Tazerian Lion.” Tazeria is an island off the eastern coast famous for its massive animals. Chrissy oohs at at.

The old lion tamer backs off, then does the Transter letter. The cage around slams into place. The tamer climbs to the top and dangles on the top, just out of the lion’s reach.

“Now this here,” she gasps, “is a Tazerian Lion!” She’s upside down, hanging by her legs. “Tazerian Lions get even bigger than this. I would consider Taon here,” she snaps her whip at the lion, “a rather small one.” That gets the crowd to gasp. “Taon,” She pronounces the name “town”, “was an orphan found by me about twenty years ago. He’s just getting into his prime by Tazerian Lion standards!” She proclaims. She dangles the whip at Taon. “But as you can see,” Taon then proceeds to start batting at it. Suddenly he’s just a little kitten chasing a ball of yarn. “Taon still is a kitten inside!” We all laugh at Taon’s playfulness. He stops playing and stares at us. He growls. We all stop laughing.

“Taon doesn’t like laughter.” The tamer tells us. She climbs back down. She does a few tricks with Taon. It’s clear he’s not a dangerous lion. She turns and bows. Taon pounces on her. She falls down with him on her. We all gasp.

People flock to the cage and try to get it to move. I look at Taon. He’s just licking the tamer’s hair.

“It’s okay, people!” She shouts. “He just thinks my hair is dirty.” We all laugh again, but nervously. She turns over and hugs Taon. “Feel free to come and pet him when I turn the cage!” She shouts through Taon’s licking.

Chrissy pulls me again. I look at her. Her hair is floating around her head. She grabs it. “Oh, I hate humidity.” She tells me. “Come on, there’s an inn just over there. We can get a room and wait for the River-Dancing. How’s that sound?” She asks.

“Wonderful.” I say.