The Windcaster [Fantasy/Adventure | Featured | Complete ]

Chapter 53: Torn

As they rounded a corner, her gaze fell upon a small, wooden hut. It must be hand-built as it was not of any traditional design that Tia had seen. The pillars, carved from wood, depicted dragons twisting into the sky, supporting its slanted roof, which was covered with a thin film of snow. A small set of stairs led up to its front door, which boasted a beautiful phoenix, with its wings spread wide. Dirty glass panes eyed them from the front.

She saw Sarpanit take in a deep breath, as though to steel her nerves, and she marched ahead, taking her leather gloves off and banging loudly on the wooden door. “Mister Kishar!”

Without another word, she opened it and let herself in, leaving Tia outside. Tia stood on the front step, mortified by the casualness.

“Tiamat!” the princess shouted from the inside.

The first things Tia noticed were the intricate wood carvings littering the inside of the small cabin. Beautiful animal shapes lay all around the edge of the room and on the windowsills and hung from the ceiling. Intricately decorated wooden pendants spun in the sunlight.

At the end of the room, surrounded by a pile of wood shavings and half-carved tokens, an old man sat in a wheelchair. His face lit up as soon as Tia stepped through the door.

“A Windcaster!” he exclaimed, in a voice surprisingly strong given his frail appearance. A huge grin spread from one wrinkled, spotted cheek to the other. “I never thought I’d live to see the day… not that I can see you, mind,” he added with a chuckle, his unseeing, pale eyes gazing straight through Tia.

“What happened to your eyes?” Tia said, picking her way over to him.

“It comes with age, my dear.” He winked. “It doesn’t matter much. I can hear as well as you can, although I can’t say I understand what the Wind is saying.” He gestured for her to come closer, with ropey-veined hands.

She squatted next to him. The big bear-like hands swamped hers. He took a deep breath and then eased out.

“You have much energy within you, child. The Wind recognises much of that talent and yields to it, even without a staff to focus your energy.” Tia felt the rough hands squeeze hers as she stared in astonishment. He knows about my freestyle Casting?

“And your heart is pure. Your energy is clean. You are most refreshing, my dear.” He sat back, a benign smile on his weathered face. “What can I do for you?”

Sarpanit gave her a pointed look from behind the old man.

“Don’t bully her, princess,” he chided in a mild voice. Sarpanit pulled a face at him. “I know what you’re doing!” He chuckled.

“I was hoping that you can make a staff for me, Mister Kishar.”

His white eyebrows rose as the laugh died away.

“I’ve had many requests throughout my life,” he said, leaning back on his wooden chair in thought, “but I’ve never been asked to create a Windcaster’s staff before.”

“You won’t do it?” Her heart sank.

“Oh, I will try, my dear. The lore has been passed down my family for generations, although the last to have made a staff would be before my great-grandfather’s time.”

“Who did he make it for?” she asked, puzzled. There had never been a Windcaster in Gwent.

“A Windcaster, of course. I think he was the Consul of Londis at the time.”

“You are a Dernexan?”

“No. I am Gwentian, of Dernexan descent. My ancestors were persecuted for our understanding of Wind magic. I don’t have any loyalty for Dernexes, not when they burned my village to the ground to look for my ancestors.”

Tia went cold. A fleeting image of Ratho, on fire, sprang to her mind.

The old man squeezed her hands again.

“Don’t be sad, child. It’s not your fault. We are not responsible for what our ancestors do; Sarpanit knows as well as any of us how descendants often end up paying the consequences for their fathers’ and their fathers’ fathers’ actions. It shouldn’t be that way. I’ll make your staff for you. Do you have your Wind gem?”

Tia could feel the guilt gripping her chest; her mouth turned down at the corners.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s not your fault. Come back later on this week; I can’t promise anything but I will promise my best efforts to create you a staff.”

She slipped the dark gem into his hands.

“Thank you, Mister Kishar.”

Tia was quiet as they left the hut. Sarpanit linked arms with her and the two took their time walking back. Tia was mulling over more tainted news about her country. The thoughts troubled her; it seemed like no matter who she spoke to, nobody ever spoke kindly of Dernexes. She had loved Dernexes with blind faith until just over a year ago. Doubts had settled in not long after meeting the disappointing King Ea and the royal family, and her admiration had gone downhill from there.

The memories of the goodness of Dernexes nudged her thoughts. The goodwill and kindness of those people who had touched her – Agasaya, Namru, Anshar, Tammuz, Humbaba, Ki – warmed her heart as it had back then.

Dernexes might have had a bloody past and corrupt superiors, but there were good people there. They deserved better. She could do it, for them.