War of the Animum

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Tungsten felt like an entertainer as he juggled the bags of supplies Mrs. Upton had shoved into his arms, even she tried to push another toward him, this one looking as though it was filled with dried fruit. While appetizing, he feared that taking one more would cause him to topple over, further proving he was nothing more than a clumsy mess.



“Stay safe,” Mrs. Upton was saying, her face pinched with concern as she fretted over him, far more than she had Sleet-san. “Write to me if at all possible. I know Stewart won't bother, but I'd like to know if... well, I would like to know.”



Tungsten nodded, arms feeling heavy beneath the weight of her offerings. “I promise to keep you informed as best I can,” he said. “We appreciate the hospitality. You and your husband have been accommodating above and beyond what is polite.”



She managed a thin smile before abruptly pulling him into a hug, her arms wrapping tight around him. “Thank you, Tungsten. And I will write to your parents as well, reassure them of your safety. They might take it better from one mother to another.”



“I hope so,” Tungsten said and drew in a deep breath once Mrs. Upton let him go.



“Tungsten! Let's go!” Raven barked at him, in fine spirits now that he was fully healed.



This was truly going to be an enjoyable adventure. Not for the first time does Tungsten lament that he had not been chosen to accompany Alaris-san.



Mrs. Upton patted him on the shoulders and stepped back, standing next to Mr. Upton. “Good luck, Tungsten. May Asherah be your guide.”



“We can only hope,” Tungsten replied. He offered her a small smile before he turned to the others, barely able to see over the pile of bags in his arms.



Raven took one, slinging it over his shoulder. “What's in here? Bricks?”



“Fruit,” Tungsten corrected, trying to hand a bag to Malach-san. The Kurai warrior gave him a long look but took it, easing the load. “And vegetables.” Other things as well. He would have to go through them thoroughly later.



“It is kind of them,” Malach-san said, peering into his bag. “This will be helpful.”



“Feels weird to know they're helpful and Sleet's a brat,” Raven muttered before rolling his shoulders. “Are we leaving now or what?”



Heimdal smirked. “Eager, are we?”



“We've been delayed long enough,” Raven-san said, shifting his weight with a concealed grimace. Obviously in pain, he did his best to hide it.



Tungsten sighed to himself. In the back of his mind, Asclepius giggled, commenting that she was glad he wasn't full of machismo. Tungsten privately thought he could use a dose of it.



“How long will it take?” Tungsten asked. He burned to ask other questions, especially regarding how it would work and the extent of Heimdal's abilities but according to Asclepius, that was rude. Information willingly offered was a different story.



“Half a day, at most,” Heimdal replied, turning his gaze toward the southeast and their eventual destination across the entirety of Lieve.



Tungsten's eyes widened. A half day to travel Lieve. That was impressive.



Some of us can even teleport, Asclepius murmured at the back of his mind. Or they could. Only the first tier had that ability, but they are gone now.



'Balaam?' Tungsten asked.



Asclepius hummed a soft sound of confirmation, grief palpable. In time, the second tier would have gained that ability and stage by stage, so will the rest of us. But not in enough time to be of any use.



Unfortunate but not unexpected. They would simply have to make do with what they had available to them.



“What do we need to do?” Tungsten asked.



“Just stay close. If you don't, I might lose you in the earth and suffocation, I hear, is an unpleasant way to die,” Heimdal answered.



Tungsten shuddered. As did Raven. Close confines were no favorite of the mercenary, apparently, though Malach had no issues with it. He'd lived under a mountain after all.



Raven glanced at the sky, one visible eye squinting at the sun and the dawn fading away. “Time to go.”



“So it is.” Heimdal gestured to them as Malach stepped near to him, their shoulders bumping. “As I said, keep close and hopefully, I won't lose any of you.”



Something prickled in the air, a sensation of magic, but heavy rather than light. Tungsten looked around, half-expecting to see some physical manifestation of Heimdal's power. There was nothing but the ground vibrating beneath his feet. He took a step closer to the deity, swallowing over a lump in his throat.



Don't worry, Asclepius said to him, her tone thick with enforced cheer. Heimdal's been doing this a lot longer than I have. He'll keep you safe.



Tungsten meant to reply but that was when the ground dropped out from beneath him. A cry caught in his throat and he flailed, caught off balance. He could still feel something solid underneath him, but the sensation of falling remained. Darkness eclipsed the bright of the sun and he felt he was moving, but there was no visible cues to prove it.



He heard rumbling, like another earthquake, and felt the damp coolness of being underground. Bits of dirt and rocks peppered his face, not enough to hurt or sting, but just enough to be palpable. He could hear the others breathing, reassuring him he wasn't alone, and the prickle of magic rested over his skin like a second layer of clothing.



Time seemed to lose meaning. Tungsten fought the urge to reach out, touch something solid. He worried that he might lose his fingers or even his hand. He didn't know the extent of Heimdal's reach and better not to test it. Yet, the fact that he couldn't see his companions was discomfiting. He knew they were there, but without visual confirmation, it felt more like he had to rely on faith.



They are with you, Asclepius said, reassuring him that she was still present. And so am I. It'll be over a lot sooner than you know. I think Heimdal's bending a little more than earth right now.



'How so?'



Asclepius sighed softly. It's hard to explain and has to do with dimensional resonance, basically the magic we tap into to travel between our plane of existence and yours. I think Heimdal's hopping in and out of that resonance.



Tungsten's head spun. He wasn't exactly sure what Asclepius was talking about as he was no scientist or studied anything higher than the basics. Theoretical physics was beyond his purview. Best just to call it immortal magic and let his brain relax.



'I see', he said, though he really didn't.



Asclepius chuckled at him. The how doesn't really matter. Just relax and know that you'll be in Thessalia shortly.



It was a relief. Tungsten inhaled and exhaled, closing his eyes because that seemed more comfortable, and focused on the sensation of magic that surrounded him. This, at least, was familiar. He thought of the marks on his casting rod, lamenting that he would never be able to complete his studies at this rate.



There were others who had lost much more than him. Like Malach, scarred all over and mostly silent. He let Heimdal do the talking and Tungsten despaired to think he would ever become friendly with them. Raven, too, had been harmed by Frost and this war. He had lost his sister and half his vision.



Lieve, Tungsten suspected, would be a smoking pit of despair by the time Balaam was through. Though utter destruction seemed a pointless goal. There had to be more to the story. What was Balaam truly after?



Brace yourself, Asclepius warned.



Tungsten's eyes popped open, revealing that he was still surrounded by darkness and the sensation of falling. 'Why?'



You're almost there.



Magic tightened around them, buzzing against his skin like the taut stretch of a sunburn. He winced, arms wrapping around his torso, when they suddenly burst into brightness. Tungsten squinted, one hand rising to shield his eyes. The ground seemed to spit him out, he and his companions, and he flailed in an attempt to regain his balance.



He was not successful.



His feet hit the ground hard and Tungsten stumbled, landing on hands and knees, scraping his palms. Crunchy plains grass prickled at his skin, the humid heat of late summer washing over him, making sweat break out over his skin. Golden grass, dry as paper, rustled in a mild breeze. Tungsten groaned, sitting back on his heels as he tried to regain his bearings.



They certainly weren't in Toren anymore.



The sound of retching attracted his attention. Tungsten looked to his left and found Raven bent over at the waist, forcefully expelling all that he'd eaten for breakfast. Malach, however, seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the journey, staring into the distance as Heimdal stood by his side, wiping sweat from his brow.



Tungsten pushed himself to his feet, readjusting the straps on his shoulders. He shielded his eyes with one hand. They'd left Toren at dawn; they'd arrived in Thessalia in late afternoon, as best he could tell.



“Where are we?” he asked.



“Kasai,” Heimdal replied, planting his hands on his hips as he looked around. “Just outside of Gorelik.”



“How far are we from the animus?”



“I believe he or she is in Gorelik,” Malach answered, his accent thick but understandable. “Though there is much ambient noise. We'll need to get closer to pin down the animus' location.”



Raven snorted as he straightened, wiping his hand over the back of his mind. “This ought to be fun,” he said, looking more than a little pale in the face. “I take it we're walking the rest of the way?”



“It is the method least likely to attract attention,” Heimdal confirmed. “Which means I will be making myself scarce. Try not to kill one another in my absence.” He shimmered out of view in that same instant, leaving the three men to look at each other.



“We'll follow your lead, Raven-san,” Tungsten suggested. “After all, you are more well-traveled than the both of us. Do you know anything about Gorelik?”



“No. I've never been to Thessalia,” Raven replied. “But as long as they speak either Common and Sanjaran, we should be fine. Unless they ask for papers.”



“Papers?” Malach frowned.



Tungsten hurried to explain. “Some of the more progressive cities demand written confirmation of your identity. They are official documents handed out by the overseers in a given town, usually for a fee, that declare your name, and your date and place of birth. I think I have mine somewhere.” He patted down his numerous pouches, trying to remember where he'd stashed his and whether he still had it.



“Which is all well and good, but Malach doesn't and neither do I,” Raven said. “So we may have to do this the hard way. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

 

o0o0o

Luck was not on their side.



The guards at the gate were not only demanding papers, but using physical force on those who couldn't produce them fast enough, and arresting those who had none at all. Tungsten didn't know what political strife had infected Kasai for them to invoke such measures, but he didn't want to be caught up in the middle of it.



Neither had Raven.



“You go ahead,” Raven ordered, eye narrowed as he watched the proceedings at the gate. “You're the only one of us who is legitimate. We'll find another way in.”



“How?” Tungsten demanded, and flung a hand toward the wall surrounding the city, patrolled by armed guards bristling with weaponry.



“No city is impenetrable.” Raven's face was grim as he handed his saddlebag to Tungsten and Malach did the same. “We'll move faster without the extra weight.”



Tungsten, meanwhile, sagged beneath it. “I look ridiculous.”



“But legitimate and that's what matters. See if they're handing out vouchers for citizens. Don't say anything stupid. And don't draw attention to yourself,” Raven continued, ignoring Tungsten's protests as he looked him over with a critical eye. “Don't find us. We'll find you.”



Tungsten gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don't think this is a good idea.”



“It's the only idea we have,” Raven said and put his hands on Tungsten's shoulders, physically turning him to face the gate. “Get going already. It's not like you're alone.”



Asclepius giggled. He's right about that.



'Don't encourage him', Tungsten retorted with a sigh, but he gathered his courage and strode forward, feeling the weight of their stares between his shoulderblades. He stumbled beneath the weight of the bags, hoping he remembered where his papers were, and joined the double-file stream of people heading for Gorelik's main gate.



He listened to the conversation around him, some of it in a language he didn't understand. Others were bemoaning the recent and inexplicable shifts in the weather. There was a drought to the east, apparently, and the price of Rozlin had gone up.



No one, however, made any kind of mention of demons or attacking creatures. It was as if the war hadn't touched this portion of Lieve. How lucky for them. Though that meant Tungsten still didn't know why they were being so cautious at the gate.



The line shuffled closer to the guards and Tungsten fumbled his bags, digging in his side pouch for his papers. They crumpled as he yanked them out and promptly dropped two into the muddy, churned roadway.



Tungsten sighed, looking down at them. To bend over and pick them up meant he would drop something else. Raven and Malach should have taken some of this burden.



“Move the line forward!” one of the soldiers barked, gesturing impatiently.



Flustered, Tungsten scrambled to pick up his papers, not lose any of his bags, and rejoin the line. It was a clumsy effort and when he finally handed over the wrinkled, muddy identification, the soldier gave him a raised eyebrow.



“Reason for visit?” he asked as he skimmed Tungsten's documentation, which in retrospect, was probably in a language he couldn't understand.



Reason for...? Tungsten paled. He hadn't thought of a proper cover story! He couldn't very well say that he was here to look for a destined hero to help him take down an evil deity bent on world destruction.



The soldier's eyes narrowed. “Reason for visit?” he repeated, tone sharp.



Sight-seeing! Asclepius all but babbled in his ear, sounding caught between amusement and anxiety. Kasai is known for its brewing facilities and art museums.



“Travel,” Tungsten bit out, failing to conceal his wince as Asclepius' shouts echoed in his head. “I'm something of an art connoisseur.”



The soldier gave him a long look and paged through his documents again. “And your master?”



Master...? Confusion struck before Tungsten realized what he guard meant. He almost smacked himself. The apprentice marks on his forehead, carefully inked each day without much thought, were known all across Lieve.



“I'm in the market,” Tungsten said and patted himself down for his casting rod, eager to provide proof to his story. “My previous master was, shall we say, short-sighted.” The wood tumbled into his hands and he proudly displayed the rod, showing that he only had two of the eight glyphs.



“I see. Then you'd be interested to know that the guild is currently accepting new members, should you prove yourself willing to plant root in Gorelik,” the guard said, folding Tungsten's papers and handing them back. He added a card to the stack, one that was a thick parchment died a minty green. “Your travel pass is for ten days. You may petition for an extension at the chamber of commerce.”



Tungsten nodded, taking his papers and the card. Ten days was more than enough, he suspected. “Thank you,” he said, but the soldier was already heading for the traveler behind Tungsten.



He breathed a sigh of relief. He made it. He hadn't completely made a fool of himself or gotten caught for a liar.



Tungsten joined the trickle heading for the open gate, waving his colored card at the soldier guarding the gate, sharp eyes tracking for approval cards. No one bothered Tungsten or questioned him and he passed into Gorelik without problem, the noise of a busy city instantly enveloping him.



His pace slowed as he looked around him. Gorelik was organized, almost to a fault, the streets laid out in geometric patterns. He could see all the way to the main buildings in the city center, flags waving in a damp breeze above a castle-sized structure. Other buildings lined the main road, wooden signs depicting their purpose.



Gorelik was in the midst of celebration. Streamers and banners decorated all of the buildings, strewn across the road between roofs and twirled around lampposts. Entertainers wove through the crowds, brightly dressed and displaying their skills. Jugglers and musicians and artists and all manner of people.



There were others too, he noticed with a burn to his cheeks. Men and women alike, scantily dressed, only the barest hint of modesty to their dress. Their faces were painted, their looks coy and their hands reached out in offering.



Such an, um, profession, was not allowed in Nippon except for the government-operated mansion that was kept far from the prying eyes of the easily influenced: namely children. They would never be allowed on the streets like this.



Something bumped into Tungsten from behind, jostling him hard enough that he took a tumble. His famous clumsiness showed itself and he dropped to his knees, bags and papers scattering everywhere.



Tungsten scrambled to retrieve his papers and casting rod before they were trampled beneath the boots of the crowd, wincing when one of the bags was snatched by a quick-footed thief. That the boy bore a passing resemblance to Sleet was ironic.



At once, Tungsten was reminded of why he'd grown to despite larger cities. For all the luxuries they provided, there were other downfalls as well.



I suppose you shouldn't stand around gawking, Asclepius teased, though her energies hinted that she itched to pop into existence and help him.



'A rather rude way to teach me a lesson', Tungsten replied and swallowed down a sigh. 'But you are right. Have you seen my...?'



His question died when someone held out the card to him, fingernails painted a bright teal. “You dropped this,” the kind stranger said, husky tones skewing female.



Tungsten smiled, looking up to greet the stranger as he accepted the card. His words of gratitude stuttered on his tongue as the painted woman came into view, also holding one of his bags.



“Uh, thank you,” he said, feeling his face heat. “The crowds are unforgiving, it seems.”



The woman smiled, painted red lips curving upward, handing over his bag as well. “Visitors don't often stand in the middle of the street to gape. Especially not in front of the main gate.”



Tungsten made a point of keeping his gaze northward. She might dress provocatively on purpose, in an attempt to garner attention, but it was still rude to stare. “I have been accused of being easily distracted. Thank you again.” He accepted the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He wondered which had been the one stolen, but he supposed such investigation would have to wait until he was somewhere safer.



“You're welcome.” She tipped her head at him, bouncy curls reminiscent of Asclepius spilling over our shoulders. “I hope you enjoy your visit. And, if you get lonely, you know where to find me.” She winked.



Tungsten's face bloomed with heat and he sputtered something like gratitude, hurrying to join the crowd rushing deeper into Gorelik. He ignored, also, the way Asclepius guffawed at him at the back of his mind and he was relieved that Raven-san had not been present to witness the embarrassment.



Tungsten was, by no means, untouched as Raven-san and the others seemed to believe. Was it wrong that he had a healthy respect for women? That he preferred an honest connection over a meaningless touch of naked flesh?



It's admirable, in my opinion, Asclepius said, some of her amusement fading. You're a gentleman and that's pretty rare. I like you just the way you are.



A smile graced Tungsten's lips. 'Thank you, my dear. Your approval, as always, is worth your weight in gold.'



Pleasure and affection surged across their links, such an intangible thing as it may be.



Tungsten clutched his bags tighter to himself and kept a look out for an inn or a bed and breakfast. He hoped to find something affordable. They had very little coin as it was and--



His shoulders slumped. Well, never mind that. The bag stolen had been the one with the coin in it. He should have known. Thieves had uncanny abilities to sniff out what was most valuable.



'What of the animus?' Tungsten asked, to distract himself from mounting disappointment. 'Can you sense him or her?'



No, Asclepius replied with her own brewing disappointment. There's only a distant sensation of familiar in Gorelik. That tells me that he or she has not accepted the bond with their other. That sensation is their bond lingering, waiting to be heard.



This would not be as easy as Raven made it seem. Tungsten frowned, pulling out the green permissions card he'd been given. There wasn't much to be found on it, a small list of general rules, an arrival and departure date, and a contact location – namely the cultural center.



Raven had said that they would find Tungsten. He would simply have to trust that. In the meantime, perhaps he could make himself useful by locating businesses of interest. Raven might have some idea how they could acquire coin as well.



And we can check out the party! Asclepius said with glee in her voice. Find me a quiet place to pop into view and I can join you. If a disembodied voice could wiggle, Asclepius was certainly doing so.



Tungsten near-sighed, lips twitching toward a smile. It was hard to hold irritation with Asclepius. She was excited about anything. 'Yes, dear. '



He peered through the crowd, looking for somewhere inconspicuous to allow Asclepius to pop into being. That alley would have to do, he supposed, though his nose wrinkled as he approached. Trash was piled in abundance. Lucky that they wouldn't have to be here long. Even luckier, no one was paying them a whit of attention. So when the atmosphere grew heavy, magic surged, and Asclepius popped into view behind him, no one noticed. Or if they did, they didn't make a huge show of it.



Asclepius giggled and bounced up next to him, her bright dress and oddly colored hair blending right into the crowd. “This is going to be fun.”



“We're on a mission,” he reminded her though it was hard to keep a stern face. Stress had left him feeling hollow and exhausted and though their break in Toren had done him a world of good, he still felt as though he were tiptoeing across a bed of needles.



“I remember.” Asclepius' eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly reminded that she was decades older than him, if not more. It was gone in an instant, however, when she smiled again. “But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun in the meantime.”



She grabbed his hand and before Tungsten could form much of a protest, Asclepius dragged him into the thick of the crowd, homing in on the increasingly loud music. She was deceptively strong and Tungsten stumbled after her, keeping a careful grip on his bags. He couldn't afford to lose any more.



“As long as you keep a sensor out for our missing animus,” Tungsten said, attempting to sound stern.



“Yes, sir!” Asclepius tossed him a playful salute before continuing her dogged search for what Tungsten suspected was not the missing animus, but some amount of trouble.



A brightly dressed juggler passed them, grinning, eyebrows waggling. It was impressive, but Tungsten didn't have the coin to spare. In fact, many street performers were slipping in amongst the crowd, trying to encourage a coin or two. A woman had set up shop, claiming an ability to read the future, waving her deck of cards at all passing by. Surely she had to be hot draped in all those layers of fabric.



And then the smells wafted his way.



Tungsten's head swung in another direction, mouth filling with saliva. His stomach churned, reminding him that the last he'd eaten had been Mrs. Upton's breakfast and that was hours ago. He had travel food in his pack, but this was fresh! It smelled like home, dumplings in a vegetable broth and sticky noodles with lemon glaze.



He'd gotten used to the standard fare during his travels, the heavy meat and potatoes everyone around him seemed to eat in abundance. He'd been missing the foods more familiar to him: salads and rice and plain noodles. Without coin, however, he couldn't have so much of a taste.



Perhaps he could sell one of his rings. They were mere decoration and the Kurai hadn't taken them, which was either a mercy or a miracle. Tungsten suspected that the Kurai had no interest in jewels to begin with.



Tungsten sighed. His stomach grumbled.



No use focusing on what he wanted. He should be concentrating on what they needed. He had already registered a weapons shop, the sound of a blacksmith at work barely audible beneath the increasingly loud music. They would need a general grocery as well. Tungsten would need to inquire about transportation to the coast and the cost of passage across the great sea as well.



So much to do, and how little time they had.



Asclepius' hand squeezed his as she drew them to a halt. “We'll make it,” she said, tone uncharacteristically subdued.



“I know,” Tungsten said, and managed a smile. “I was having a Raven-san moment, I suppose you could say.”



She giggled. “He is perpetually pessimistic.”



“I prefer to think of it as realistic.”



Tungsten's eyes widened and he turned around, finding both Raven-san and Malach-san standing behind them, looking a little ragged and irritated. In fact, their expressions nearly matched, though Malach-san's edged more toward pain. This many people was probably wreaking havoc on his abilities.



“How did you find us?” Tungsten asked, attempting not to gape.



“Asclepius has been broadcasting. It was easy to pick up on her distinctive energy,” Malach-san replied and lifted a hand, rubbing his temple. “Heimdal says to stop now, before you attract the kind of attention we do not want.”



Meaning Balaam most likely, though Tungsten didn't think they would have to worry about Balaam. After all, Sleet was with Alaris-san and Balaam – or Frost – tended to follow Sleet like a bee did honey.



Asclepius pouted, folding her arms across her chest. “I was broadcasting on purpose. I know what I'm doing. How did you get in?”



“It's not important. Have you found the animus?” Raven demanded.



“No. And I have been looking.”



Tungsten gestured around him. “There's some kind of festival going on. There are a lot of people to wade through.”



Raven's eye narrowed. “What about supplies and lodging?”



Tungsten's shoulders slumped, feeling as though he was about to admit wrongdoing to his father. “There are plenty of shops. Finding the supplies will be no problem. Lodging may be difficult given the amount of visitors here, but that's not our real issue. We're, how shall I say it, broke.”



“Where there's a festival, there are sure to be thieves,” Asclepius added, eyes flashing as though daring Raven to say something untoward.



Raven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath before he raised his voice, “Then I suppose we should be grateful I'm not a complete idiot. I gave you the majority of it, but I kept enough on me that we can get by today.”



“We will need more,” Malach-san said. “What are our options?”



“Few.” Raven sighed. “This is going to be difficult.”



That was an understatement, Tungsten thought. And he hoped, on the other side of Corynth, Alaris-san was faring much better than they were.

***

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