The Endless Solvent

On a day she was expecting to meet with Jorra and her surly brother again, Aris looked down on the village from her tree and thought things seemed a little different. It wasn’t that they were doing anything different but a kind of tension pulled at the air. The feeling only worsened as she approached the clearing in the forest so she took precautions and turned into Shade form around fifty paces away from her destination to make sure absolutely no one detected her. She stalled in the shadows when the blue flowers just appeared in her sights.

The siblings had switched their usual places: Morton was in the clearing, pacing impatiently in a spot devoid of flowers. Jorra was in the shadows looking anguished and tense, frequently casting glances behind her. Aris chose to keep hidden to silently observe. On the ground between the brother and sister was a bag - Aris floated close enough to see that it was stuffed with all the rune-inscribed sticks she had given them for pest control. They had been instructed to bury them around the perimeter of whatever field they wanted free of pests. She was sure they worked - she tested a few herself before giving it to them. Morton eventually grew impatient and stopped pacing to face the boulder she usually sat on.

“I know you’re here, witch,” he called out. “Come out.”

“All sales are final,” she intoned. Jorra jumped at her disembodied voice and Morton scowled at the air.

“This isn’t a joke,” Morton snapped. “Get rid of this before we all get killed.”

“I recall you being the one who wanted these enchantments to keep beetles away from your crops.”

“I wanted something discreet,” Morton said. “Can you explain why Kuvan officers found these so quickly?”

Aris narrowed her eyes. “You have Kuvanian visitors?”

“We always have Kuvanian visitors!” Morton’s voice rose in annoyance. “Isn’t that fucking obvious? And when we ask for ‘solutions’ to our problems, isn’t it also obvious that we want it hidden from our visitors? Answer me, witch, why did they find out we have this buried under our farms?”

“Perhaps the Kuvanians are actually beetles in disguise,” Aris snapped back. “Or maybe you were incompetent at burying sticks. Have you considered employing a dog? They are probably more competent than you.”

“We should have turned her in to the Kuvanians in the beginning,” Morton said to his sister. “We should have never trusted a witch to the matters of our village. We should never have helped her - ”

“Morton, please,” Jorra said exasperatedly.

“Fine, turn me in,” Aris laughed. “Do you really think they will catch me? They can’t even see me, just like you can’t. If anything they’ll execute both of you for making nice with a witch. Tell anyone about me and you and your sister will be the only ones to suffer.”

“I hope the Parts make you choke on your own contempt,” Morton said disdainfully. “Your hubris. There is nothing more here for you.”

“You’re a hypocrite if you think I’ve done anything wrong.”

“I have no concern over what you call me. You’re just a witch, and an incompetent one at that. Leave before they burn the forest to the ground looking for you.”

Morton stalked out of the clearing, calling out to his sister for her to follow but Jorra stalled at the edge looking hesitatingly into the clearing. Aris watched her eyes scan the area, looking for her. “I-I’m sorry,” Jorra whispered. “But I think you should leave before - ”

“Jorra!”

The woman scurried off after her brother and Aris was left alone as a lone ghost haunting the clearing. She considered leaving the bag of inscribed sticks on the ground but then decided to hide it back at her ‘house’. It was too much damning evidence to leave out in the open.

There was no extra food in the bag, just sticks. They really meant for her to leave. It may not be the worst of ideas - her new Munna friend was situated far north from where she currently resided. It would save her a lot of time to find a better hiding place closer to where she met Tassik. But despite the practicality of the idea, Aris couldn’t shake the bitter taste out of her mouth.

She had no expectation of Morton or Jorra to know who she was - she never planned on ever telling them anyway. Aris simply disliked the idea that she was being rejected from a village that technically belonged to Caelis. It was never supposed to end up like this. How could the Lunaris be removed from a village that belonged to her?

Curse them. How could they not see just giving them those inscribed sticks was already beneath her? How could Morton not remember fighting monsters beside Aris just months ago? She spitefully hoped all their crops got eaten by beetles. Curse them all.

Aris spent the rest of the day and night gathering what little she had and thinking about where to go. It would be impossible to find another place like the one she already had. She may need to find a cave and repurpose it, or even dig her own underground hideout in rockbed. Rock-manipulation was Nilda’s specialty and while Aris wasn’t able to manipulate it at the same speed or precision as her childhood governess, she was still able to do it a little.

Her stomach growled. No, finding a new hideout wasn’t the priority. She had to find a way to scavenge for food. Would Tassik be willing to share again? Gaian ghosts do, indeed, need to eat. Perhaps she will need to raid the village before she leaves so she has enough to eat, but then again would they retaliate if they discover her stealing? Aris stared down at the humble little village: perhaps burning down the forest was the worst they could do. If that was the case, she didn’t care.

Inside her hideout, she emptied the bag with sticks and used the empty bag to carry her belongings. A modest change of clothes, a water skin, her paper and pencils. She would pay Gendis a little visit in the dark of night and fill up the remaining space with whatever food she could find, then leave the Part-damned place to its own demise. If they were content dancing to the Kuvanian tune, then so be it. Aris will remember it when Caelis returns and she and Ral sat at the head of the kingdom - she will remember when Gendis turned their backs on her.

The leather strapped fabric bag was securely tied to her such that nothing rattled around. It allowed her to be as silent as possible even in corporeal form. When she was ready, the sun was already beginning to set so she only had a few more hours until darkness took over. For once she prayed that the moon did not come out. She usually enjoyed the presence of it but tonight she didn’t want it to see what she was doing. She didn’t want the moon to see how far she’d fallen.

Aris sat in her tree for what may be the last time to watch the people of Gendis. It took her a few moments to realize that there were a few people there she didn’t recognize. A small group of Gaian looking men and women, all dressed in clothes similar to the regular villagers, mingled at the center of the village. A few of them spoke to whom Aris recognized as the village chief. They all looked to be Morton’s age, all of them young adults and they were all armed.

There was a possibility that they were all relatives of one of the villagers and they were visiting. A simple coincidence. Aris watched them disband from their gathering to go off into pairs to different houses. A young man and young woman approached a house and Jorra and Morton appeared to meet them outside. Both siblings turned to go inside their little wooden house, leaving the door open for the two strangers to follow them in. Aris’s face settled into a frown as Jorra turned and Aris was barely able to see the look on her face at such a distance.

She wasn’t completely sure, but she thought the woman looked scared. Aris wished she had her sky watching glasses.

It had become eerily quiet. The village that was usually teeming with activity and the voices of people chattering and laughing was quite still. People have gone inside their houses suspiciously early - the only time everyone went into their houses so early in the evening was if a thunderstorm approached. No, these weren’t simple visitors.

Aris kept to her Shade form and made her way down to Gendis. She recalled one of the closer houses had a pair of strangers in them and she silently crept into the wooden walls to investigate, slipping through the solid wood like air. A loud crash made her jump.

A woman, someone Aris recognized as a villager, started sobbing. One of the strangers dressed in a brown tunic turned and slapped her. “Shut up,” he hissed. The other stranger continued to ransack the small wooden house, throwing everything on the shelves onto the floor. Plates, cups and bowls smashed on the floor.

They were looking for something.

Aris dared to creep closer in the safety of the walls to observe the strangers. Unlike the well worn and humble clothing of the villagers, the strangers wore freshly pressed and crisp tunics as if they were dyed and washed just yesterday. The weapons they had strapped to their hip were also much finer than any weapon humble villagers could afford. Aris noticed one of them had a sword with a hilt of gleaming gold.

Then one of the strangers said something to the other in a foreign language, the words and tones sharp and clipped. Aris stiffened, recognizing the Kuvanian tongue. With her stomach knotted in dread, she quickly left that house and drifted in Shade form as quickly as she could towards Jorra and Morton’s house. Along the way she thought she could hear things crashing on the floor and muffled shouts in the passing houses. She slipped into the walls of Jorra’s house, sticking her head to the other side to see what was happening.

Jorra was huddled in a corner with Morton standing protectively in front of her as they watched the two strangers in their house throw all their belongings onto the floor.

“… be better if you just admit to it,” the woman stranger hissed. Like her comrades her yellow tunic looked new and fresh. Twin scythes strapped discreetly on her hip both with fine gold hilts, the sheath made of fine leather. “It will be too late when the time for judgment happens.”

“We have done nothing wrong,” Morton spat at her.

“Blasphemous enchantments have been discovered on the fields closest to your house,” the man said. “We want an explanation.”

“We have none,” Morton said.

The man gave an unpleasant smile and unsheathed his short sword. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Do you think we didn’t see you digging around last night? Do you think we don’t see the freshly dug up soil in your fields? Do you think us stupid?”

“Tell us who taught you how to draw runes and perhaps the Parts will have mercy on you,” the woman added.

To everyone’s surprise, Morton laughed. It sounded a little unhinged. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he said.

“We the servants of the Parts always believe the truth.”

“Fine,” Morton jutted his chin out. “It was a ghost. They gave us these sticks. You’ll never find them but they haunt the forest, just west of the village, around a patch of blue Moon Iron flowers.”

The man suddenly whipped his sword out and held the tip at Morton’s neck. Jorra made a distressed sound and turned deathly pale. “Do you joke with us, Caelisian?” he snarled.

“I thought we were all Kuvanian,” Morton said, not breaking eye contact with the man holding a sword at his throat. “Don’t you all repeat that every time you come here? We are all Kuvanian now. We are supposed to live by your rules and bow to your king.”

“You will never be Kuvanian,” the woman said acidly. “You are all dirty half-breeds. Dirty, lying half-breeds. Tell us where you learned these enchantments before your sister ends up without a brother.”

“You must be poor servants of the Parts if you don’t recognize the truth,” Morton said. Aris briefly wondered if the man was incredibly brave or just stupid for continuing aggravating the two armed strangers in his house.

“No, please,” Jorra said in a watery voice. “He’s telling the truth. Something… someone in the forests gives us these wards in exchange for food. But they are like ghosts, able to appear and disappear.”

“Enough with this,” the man said disgustedly. The sword slipped and Morton started bleeding. “I’ve had my fill of this fucking place.”

“Unfortunately, so have I,” Aris whispered. She went after the woman first. A ghostly hand sank into the side of her neck and Aris materialized while her hand was through her neck. There was an unpleasant squelching sound and Aris felt out the wet outline of a windpipe. Her fingers grasped it and viscously tore it out of the woman’s body. She then quickly returned to Shade form.

Jorra screamed at the sudden carnage. The male stranger swung around, sword in hand. Aris crept beside the writhing body of the female stranger and closed a ghostly hand around the scythe at her hip, making it into Shade form as well. Exhaling, she deftly tore a chunk of her throat out.

As the woman bled out on the floor, Aris calmly positioned herself behind the man who was still twisting around trying to find her. Morton had backed up as far as possible in the corner to avoid the flailing sword with his sister jammed behind him.

Aris placed the small scythe curved around the man’s throat and returned to her corporeal form, then sank the cruelly sharp inner blade into his neck. The sword clattered to the floor as his hands went to his neck to try to dislodge the curved blade.

“Do you believe in ghosts now?” Aris asked, holding his head in place as she pulled the scythe back. He made terrible gurgling sounds and blood spilled out of his neck and mouth. She almost cut his head off when his arms finally dropped and he slumped to the floor.