The Windcaster [Fantasy/Adventure | Featured | Complete ]

Chapter 53: Torn

“We know Mawlin has a Windcaster aiding their cause, but we also have our own, who will aid us where she can, to cancel the advantage Mawlin poses as a result of that Caster.”

Tia averted her gaze as the roomful of eyes turned her way, particularly Sarpanit’s.

“I believe we are fully prepared for war.” Despite having no actual ability to force people to do his bidding, Lahar’s way of speaking was genuine and earnest. In spite of her aversion to mass violence, Tia couldn’t help but be drawn by his proposal and believe in him. “In the next few days, we will begin our retaliation against Mawlin and drive them back to where they belong. They have been oppressing the other countries for far too long. Their ruthless ways and bloodthirsty methods must be quashed. My brothers, I stand with you.”

They all stood and moved to clasp each other’s hands and slapped each other’s backs. In spite of the grave situation, there were grins on their faces. Declaring war was a terrible decision, but it was a united group decision and Tia actually felt part of a group for the first time in her life. Windcasters were always revered, almost feared, for their affinity with the Wind. They were never together with others of the same ilk either, unless the king called for a meeting. She and Mommu had lived in isolation with Master Anu at their little house for almost a decade.

And yet, here, nobody feared her. Nobody treated her any differently. There was no grovelling at her status or awe at her ability. They just accepted her and her gift and carried on, grateful for her assistance but giving her no more credit than what she was due.

She was happy here.

It was almost ironic that without Mawlin, she would never have been here. She would have lived on, ignorant, serving in Ptarmigan Fortress and eventually becoming a Caster of the king’s Army. The rest of her life she would have spent brainwashed with the propaganda about the Gwentians and distortions of the Dernexan history.

But Mawlin would also be taking all this away.

Sarpanit took her to the outskirts of Abaddon. She had not really appreciated the ancient city of Gwent as her first few weeks had been swallowed by shock and despair. It was a dainty city, with cobblestone streets and old-style sandstone brick houses. Streets ran haphazardly, almost as though it was built in a hurry, and houses accommodated the swerving roads and bends. Sounds of children’s laughter filled the air, although they weren’t playing. Most of the children were busy spreading salt and grit everywhere, hoping to melt the snow and clear the roads further. Tia could feel the crystals crunching beneath her boots of hide.

The snow grew thicker the further they moved away from the city centre. Most of the people had been staying at the Old Palace to avoid being isolated and for safety. The abandoned buildings were buried up to the ground floor windows in snow, some of which had melted and the two girls found themselves slipping every now and then.

“Who is this wood smith that you are taking me to, Sarpanit?” said Tia, jerking to maintain her balance as her left foot slipped from underneath her. Just a few steps ahead, the other girl turned, her red-brown hair gleaming in the sunlight. Tia squinted; the reflection of the sun’s rays on the snow was blinding.

“He hasn’t carved wood for us for many years, but I’ve always heard about his stories from Papa,” Sarpanit said. “He’s familiar with the lore of the Wind, apparently. If he can’t help you, nobody in Abaddon can.”

The frost glistened on the remaining leaves as they made their way up a winding, narrow path through the woods. Birds flapped their wings overhead, knocking off little parts of snow, which showered over Tia. She shook her head, brushing the snow from her chestnut brown hair. There was a delicate quietness in the air, broken only by their soft, muted footsteps and the occasional birdsong. The air was cold and chafing, and Tia’s eyes watered.