Thar Shaddin

The answer. . .

Kuyeix stared at the blade for a long, quiet moment, expression set in contemplative lines before gradually shifting into a blank inscrutability. She moved her hands through what she'd collected, and seemed to shift focus entirely from her earlier line of inquiry with a simple statement: "I cannot make charm in this."

She was tense, though given their location and the assumed hostility of their surroundings, that wasn't entirely surprising.

She seemed to have accepted its answer, leaving the basilard content to wait. The tribeswoman poked around the debris in a contemplative trance as the basilard watched, feeling the occasional throb of power roll over them both. It was just as well that she was unable to create whatever icon necessary to use her powers. The basilard could not imagine any expenditure of power on her part could match the forces it was currently enduring.

The compass. It restated, attempting to draw her attention away from spiritual matters. I’m sure you saw them in use on the junk. There will be an arrow in it which will always point the same direction. Line it up with the- The basilard took a moment to consider the fact that it was likely neither of them could read. Fortunately, it had still learned how compasses worked and this particular compass had North represented by a deeply stylized arrow, -unique marking.

Our destination is to be a city called Marn. It lies to the left of the stylized arrow, but above the next arrow. When she looked in the right direction down the beach, the basilard said, That is correct. We’ll head that way tomorrow.

It then waited, as it had done for two millennia. She built no shelter from the detritus. It was unusual, but the basilard was pleased by her choice. A shelter would stand out. If she was willing to endure the wind and seawater, it saw little reason to stop her.

Oddly, she had not considered its glow in her effort to hide. Perhaps she had not noticed it under the light of day, but it was rapidly becoming obvious. Then sun was slowly sinking beneath the waves on the horizon, covering the land with a red-orange light. The sun’s rays did not mingle kindly with the basilard’s. The seagrass looked as if it were lit from within by a violet flame. Cover my blade with something. It eventually told her. Cloth will do. I cannot cease my glow.

The frown was not intentional, but it boiled up from her curling toes, stretched her lips out, and bent her eyebrows in. "Compass," she said, feeling the wealth of her own authority settle around her shoulders like the weight of a proper blanket. "This is not what is needed."

But her words were muttered under her breath, as her confusion regarding the blade writhed with her own certainty. Here, she was lost, but the blade was not lost. If this was a cruel trick, then she would die a cruel death. If it was not, then she would die by the stubbornness of her own hand, and that was something that Raven would find most fitting. Arrogance was not a trait that He fostered. So she stilled her tongue under the pressure of the blade, under its steady confidence, and ground down her protestations. She was a totem, and her lot was to obey.

In that way, with silence and deep thought, the night passed. Kuyeix made what preparations she could, and slept with the uneasy weight of the unknown looming all around her. This was something she'd never been prepared for, but she would weather it.

In the morning, she wove grass to form a cover for the blade. It had been years since she'd last made such a thing, and it would have not pleased her mother, grandmother, or aunts, but she was a totem. This was something others were supposed to take care of for her.

She stopped the thought, conscious of Raven's eye, and rose. She went down to the shore, and started harvesting the sea vegetables she found; though they were not altogether similar to those she knew, her belly was cramping with hunger and she would make due.

"I prepare food," she said as she worked. "Wait one day. Then go."

The basilard gave aid to her scrounging as best it could, but it was no herbalist. What little knowledge of plants it had was mostly central to the area of northeastern Tian Xia. In the end, it was only able to warn her away from one toxic plant; even then, it was uncertain. Magic had clearly had an influence on the foliage.

That influence became even clearer when they crossed the initial barrier of leaves. The basilard quickly noticed something that had been all but invisible from the beach.

The leaves do not grow towards the jungle’s center. It observed. It was an accurate assessment. Barring plants moved by the tribeswoman’s search, the plant’s leaves were exceptionally sparse on the north facing side of any branch. Smaller, more flexible plants even leaned towards the beach, in obstinate denial of the ocean wind.

The tribeswoman rested through the night. It considered advising her to travel only by night, considering its improved strength during the darker hours, eventually arriving at the conclusion that it would only do so if forced to use its power. For now, the safety of the one with mobility was more important that its own.

The basilard waited.

Time passed, after the night and Kuyeix's uneasy rest, and she was busy with preparations. The basilard's words repeated themselves in her mind, tumbling around and between her own discordant and uneasy thoughts. It wasn't until the sun had reached its zenith and started its descent that she realized she was delaying herself from beginning the journey in. Not in any big way, no, but nonetheless she'd found one hundred small ways to put off the inevitable that had gradually grown together and become large.

She took a deep breath, finished her current task, and pointed herself towards the trees, cringing even as she said, "We go, unless you do not want."

Excuse.

She self-flagellated herself with her shame at putting off her task and making excuses herself, and used that to not think about what she was doing as she girded herself with the things she'd put together and started walking steadily towards the treeline. Everything about it bothered her, from its strange animals, to the strange plants, to the barren sides of plants. If even the greenery tried to escape itself, who would make that trek? But, no, there was no other choice besides eking out a pitiful existence on the beach until either Raven or the forest itself reached out to smite her for her cowardice. Not that she'd truly be able to live with herself for such a choice, but the human heart was weak. Raven preyed on the weak and foolish.

A shiver passed over her skin as she crossed through the trees, as if some invisible and definite line between the gradual change from beach to forest had been present and invisible beneath her feet. Cold sweat sprung up all over her skin, and with a certain breathlessness she said, "did you feel that?" though she kept moving. It was too unnerving, and she was afraid that if she stopped she would turn and flee, back to the beach and the ocean that, even in its strangeness, seemed much more familiar and safe.

The basilard had grown weary of waiting. Under ordinary circumstances, it was a patient creature. Here in Tenga it held no such quality. When the sun reached its highest point in the sky the basilard resolved to speak. Before it could do so, the tribeswoman abruptly changed direction and picked it up, interrupting its indignation.

It was soon to be given a fresh exasperation when she strode towards the forest. The basilard released a low rumble which carried easily to her through the mark. Had it not instructed her to avoid the flora?

If we must enter the forest, The basilard began, reasoning that it might at least be faster, Show the wisdom to locate a river. The less time spent without the sky above us, the greater your chance of survi-

The basilard choked. Or that was what it sounded like. A sudden loss in its link when she stepped into the woods had thrown the basilard’s thoughts into chaos. It was as if somebody had just flooded the room with light, only instead of the eyes being overwhelmed with sensation it was those very arcane senses it had predicted would become an issue.

I believe I did not hear you. It told her once it had adjusted. Its voice felt somehow blurry. The basilard despaired, for its purpose was in jeopardy as surely as it had been beneath the ocean waves. Proceed as you will, but do so quickly.