Okay guys, this is my Christmas present you all of you. Thanks for giving me another great year here and may all your years be long and amusing!
The Kid always said his prayers…maybe "said" was a bit of a stretch seeing as how no sound came out. But everyday he would bow his head and say a prayer to the gods. Didn't matter the day or where he was. Always.
Before he left for the Wilds he always stopped by the Shrine and always lit the candles by each little altar and before anybody else woke up he did the same and each night he would put them out so the eyes of the gods could close and return to their world.
This day was a bit different. Today he was going out to get the Remembrances. Small offerings to the gods given once a year as a token of what was lost. Memories as thanks and sacrifice. He would get the wood needed for the small carvings.
By the time Rucks, Zulf and Zia woke The Kid was already gone deep into the Wilds to find the Wonderwine tree, the tree of the gods- altar boxes and Remembrances of the wood, sacrificial wine of the leaves and incense of the sap.
Looking around he could only hope that there was a tree nearby, already he could smell the danger. Lunkheands and Lungblossoms being the most noticeable. Tightening his shield across his arm and his machete across his waist he trudged on. Slowly walking through the underbrush he noticed the lack of movement, even here there should have been movement, birds flying, bugs making some noise. Something was wrong.
Ashes hung on the air the further he crept until he saw something that gave him, for the first time since the Calamity, hope. A single boot print, not deep enough in the soil to be a man. Kneeling he looked more intently at the print after a cursory look at his surroundings. It was a woman, the feet were too small to be a man's but the slight ditch in the shape answered more questions, she was well, no limp and her steps were even on the uneven terrain, leading up to another Skyway plate.
The three still on the Bastion were sharpening their carvings knives listening to the gramophone and chatting idly when Zia asked a question that had been bugging her "Mr. Rucks, why does the kid carry that scarf?" she knew from experience that it was a dirty thing, threadbare and worn.
The old Mancer tapped his hand against his good knee for a moment "I don't rightly know…I don't know much about The Kid that you don't." for a moment he felt a bit of shame "I didn't ask"
Zulf smiled contently, in the four months since he was brought back to the Bastion he had found only acceptance, Zia had treated him like nothing changed, Rucks explained the entire thing to him, the things that led up to the loss of so many lives.
The Kid…what was there to say about the Kid? He never smiled, never sighed or laughed, the only thing that broke through his façade was either a frown or an occasional grimace of pain. His words were more then rare, almost non-existent. To the elder Ura he seemed a machine, never stopping or complaining, always going out into the wilderness to fight something only he could or to find something that had eluded people since the beginning of time.
But now The Kid seemed more tense than before, he always looked ready to snap and there were occasions where he seemed asleep on his feet as he marched out to the Wilds.
Now he said something about it "Why does he seem more tense now? He fought through so many places and seemed far more at ease than now"
Zia halted her movements to stare at him. He wasn't wrong, she had thought it was a product of her imagination. Being proven right was a blow to her. She was helpless to help the one person who saved them all. She stood up "I'm going to go check on his things, I think I hear the pecker playing in them" it was true, the baby bird was awfully fond of sitting in the few changes of clothes and the two books that he left in his space, between the Armory and the Forge.
And it was true, the little bird had dug though the few things he had before finding a worn set of clothes and nestling down in them with the anklegator and the squirt. With a sigh of affection towards the creatures she shook her head and gathered his things, there a small trinket fell out, a bauble really, a locket with a picture of a thin woman with the Kid's hair and the Kid himself smiling brightly written by a shaky hand at the bottom were the words
To my little Wais, no matter how far you go
I will be with you.
Slowly she put the dented and worn metal in his bag. Wais… she could feel her cheeks heat up, knowing something that the others didn't put a little giggle in her.
Wais looked above him and stared at the giant tree. It was probably thousands of years old if the tiny one he planted with his mother was anything to go by, that one grew only a foot in the short thirteen years he had his mother. This one was easily half a mile high.
Changing tactic he sniffed the air and when no signs of attack were in the air he slowly slunk around the tree looking for a fallen branch. Finding none he stared again at the tree before sighing in resignation, why couldn't things ever be easy?
Night was falling and each of the members still on the Bastion took a small lantern with them to their tents. Zia gazed at her projects, gifts for those that were around her, she knew Rucks and Zulf were working on theirs as well. But as she put her things away and laid on her bedroll she could only wonder about Wais.
She covered her mouth as she giggled, to her he wasn't…well, all that handsome. Granted she had been in the bard's school where some of the most handsome boys stayed. But he wasn't ugly and he had a…haunting beauty to him, a rugged beauty. Everything about him radiated something, Rucks and Zulf thought it was danger. Zia felt differently, both times he had brought her to the Bastion nothing touched her, it was an all consuming protection.
But her giggles died as she thought about what made him who he was, never knowing his father, the loss of his mother, the five dark years on the Walls and even the Calamity. She wished him luck before she tried to sleep.
Within moments she turned again and again, for some reason her focus was set on Wais…
The man strapped himself to the lower branches of the tree for the night, at first light he would take the smallest branch he could for them and be on his way. No need to take more than he needed. That was the gods way and if it was good enough for them it was good enough for him.
Below him on the ground something snorted around through the underbrush. Something big. He knew he wouldn't be able to see anything in the dark so he didn't even bother but closed his eyes to sharpen his other senses, it was quite but not silent. Whispering another silent prayer he gripped his scrap musket closer and listened again. It tried to climb up and he tensed until with a short snort it continued on and he felt a bit of relief, it was too big to climb up the tree.
And thus he had a fitful sleep with the unseen predator skulking around below him.
When he woke he could see claw marks easily the size of his forearm running down the trunk of the tree. He shuddered knowing that if he had fallen then whatever it was could have certainly found him a tasty morsel, after a quick breakfast he climbed to get the branch he had marked the previous day.
Zia stepped out of her tent looking a bit ragged, sleep had eluded her for the majority of the night and she wasn't ready for the new day. Rucks was up before her, no surprise as the man was a notorious early riser, he handed her a cup of hot tea and she gripped the cup letting it's warmth flood her before taking a sip and letting out a hum of approval. The old man laughed and turned around, hiding a smile as he grabbed a few more pieces of firewood "Better get that hair taken care of if you don't want The Kid to see it" he prodded. Only to be met with silence, he turned around and saw the little lady blushing brilliant red before running back to her tent to get her brush. His chuckle turns into a snicker.
As does Zulf's when he hears the story, much to a pouting Zia's embarrassment.
The trip back to the Skyway plate was far less extraordinary than this trip to the tree and for that he's thankful. Things were wild enough as they were, he didn't need a variety of creatures coming after him every step of the way. Though he couldn't explain the tension that seemed to fill him every time he inhaled.
As he flew above mountain tops he could only try to reason why, it had been months since beating back the Ura and he hadn't had a good nights sleep or an honest chance to relax at all. Ever since they had taken off he had been constantly sent out to find parts they needed to keep their flying home aloft.
Still, after everything he went through, it seemed like he could only land face first. Shaking his head he staggered in lifting himself off hard cobbles, the first step in getting to the center of their floating island. Zia was the first to notice him and quickly help him up from his face plant into the stones that Rucks insisted on when building 'they're strong' he said, 'they won't wear' he said.
"They hurt' Kid thinks.
But soon he gives everyone their piece of the wood and they scurry back to their respective places to make their Remembrances and finish up their gifts for the day only 72 hours away.
Those three days were a flurry of hidden excitement. The Kid and Zia made sure that there was bread and other take-and-go foods ready at all hours as everyone toiled away in their respective tents, or in The Kid's case a lean-to built on the same side as the Distillery, the Forge and the Armory and between the latter two buildings. Occasionally somebody went into another building but it was always as quick and secretive as possible. The only exceptions were lunch and dinner when they all met to share in the company.
During one of these meals The Kid passed along the message of another survivor, they took it about as well as could be expected, with a grain of salt. It wasn't often that somebody could survive but they had hope.
Then the night vigil started. From the moonrise on the evening of the twenty-fourth until the sun rose on the morning of the twenty-fifth the fires would burn all night and all four would sit around the fire. Then the morning and each Remembrance would be taken to it's final place in their own tents.
That was the intention.
That's not what happened.
Rucks slowly set his on the grass, another man, with a strong smile and short cropped hair, eyes closed and dimple around his mouth, a Mason by the crest on his back and the hammer he leaned against "A brother long lost…"
Zulf's was a thin lady with long flowing hair and solemn eyes, a scarf covering all of her neck and a leaf shaped ornament in her hair "My beloved, gone into the winds…."
Zia's was much simpler, a man whom she bore a striking resemblance to "My Dad…he wasn't home often but I wish he could have been…"
The Kid's was unmistakable. A stick-thin woman who sat on a chair with a blanket covering her legs, long hair down to her back and eyes that seemed to peer straight through you, even in the small unpainted sculpture. No words were needed. It was his mother.
Rucks started "Now we just take 'em back? Don't seem like much else we can do…"
The Kid picked the wooden figures up before racing to the Forge. The others stood in shock. To burn your own figure was a sign of letting go forever, forgetting. To burn someone else's was a bad omen, to try to force someone to forget something against their will.
But he didn't do that. He came back with a small wick burning in one hand with a bowl carrying a few candles and the figures in the other. Setting towards the Shrine he nodded for them to join him.
Underneath the small altars that held the Idols was a glass box where the Remembrances were placed, the bowl was filled with Wonderwine sap and rosemary which he lit with the wick before lighting the candles underneath each of the Idols.
Following The Kid they kneeled and he spoke
"Lady Hense, may our pain be for you and may it show our dedication, our pleasure our gift so that we may know your grace. Lady Acobi, may our words and bonds be stronger than steel and may we never feel the abandon of each other. Lord Lemaign, may our hopes be our gifts against the darkness that is despair in this forsaken world. Lord Pyth, may we keep our order at peace against the tide of chaos that may fall around us. Lord Jevel, may the pains of age be kept away by your hand so that the graces you give are appreciated for what they are. Lord Yudrig, may our bravery be our tribute to you and each day our gifts as you rise with each sun. Lord Roathus, keep us away from the haunting thirst that plagued ours since our first morn and may we keep our privileges small so that there may be for others. Lord Olak, keep our minds light and keep us so that the whims that lighten every day are never lost. Lord Garmuth, grace us with a purpose that withstands all of our follies so that we may keep steady." Wais bowed his head until it touched the ground between his hands. "Blessed Mother, Lady Micia, Keeper of the Star of Caelondia, we ask you to keep the longing at bay and remember our losses. May you forgive our tears and give us hope in it's stead." he stood slowly with a deep reverent bow before smothering the candles.
That was the most The Kid had ever spoken to them.
After he spoke and the left the Shrine there wasn't much else to do except for give the gifts they had made for each other. Rucks chuckled "So who's gonna go first?"
Zia stood up "I'd like to" and the old man and the other Ura chuckled, Wais only gave an up twitch of the lips.
She handed Rucks a small painting of Caelondia from the sky, the rising sun capturing all the colors that the city had to offer, to Zulf a small pouch with the Spade of the Ura overlapped by the City Crest, a testament to his dual heritage, inside he quickly put his rings before slipping it around his neck. Then for Wais. She was nervous before handing him the small wooden pipe, it wasn't perfect, some of the holes were bigger than the others and the reeds weren't as small or smooth as she'd like them to be. Taking a breath he played one of the few songs he knew. A child's tune. But with the pipe it became more, it took on an ethereal, darker quality that made every note burn with mystery. It fit him more than a perfect instrument would have. He took a moment to squeeze her hand in thanks and slowly set it inside the padding of his chest plate beneath his scarf.
Neither he nor Zulf noticed the blush on her face, the former for putting his gift in safe keeping and the latter for getting his own gifts.
For Rucks he had a small Ura science journal that one of the tribesmen gave him before the Tazal Terminals were launched into the sky. To The Kid he gave a small personal smoking pipe, a hand carved wooden thing made smooth by hours of sanding and labor. "Zia, I know you probably want to know what happened to your father…" then he handed her back her father's journal. Then a second book. Translations from the Ura language.
Then came Rucks, he meandered back to his tent for the gifts as leisurely as you please, Zia puffed "Not fair slowing down like that Rucks!"
He laughed before turning back "Little Missy, I waited many years for you three, I think you can wait a bit for me" and again the corner of The Kid's mouth twitched up as the other three had a laugh. To Zia he gave an old music book, the spine was cracked from age and use but it was lovingly taken care of. To the other Ura he gifted a small pocket book, the speeches of many men and women advocating peace between the two races. "Kid…there ain't much I can give ya', nothing to repay all you did for us. But I hope that this does show just a bit of what all you've done for an old man with far to many mistakes" The Marshal's badge and a sketch, the hammer sitting beside The Kid who sat on the Monument with his feet over the side and the others around him sharing a moment of peace. The Kid took the old man's hand in both hands before touching his forehead to it in thanks.
Then it was Wais' turn, everyone was silent as they waited for him to come back from his small place. It wasn't unusual for The Kid to distance himself from things like this, but now he had them intrigued.
Reverently The Kid handed Rucks a long cloth that once undone reviled a cane, carved of a dark heavy wood with smooth round head with a City Crest made from a pure white metal embedded in it. For Zulf he had prepared a small case of every Idol, the man of prayer inside the Ura was touched that The Kid could remember something said once and look past all the hardship. Then to Zia he gave a hand carved harp, the wood was heavy enough that the tone resonated deeply and beautifully and all the fittings were brass and placed tightly so they wouldn't slip "I did want another one so I wasn't always playing Mom's"
By the time the feasting was over almost everyone was asleep, the pecker, the anklegator, the squirt, Rucks and Zulf. The Mechanical Bull sat watching over the cobbles with it's own can of gas, a gift for Pyth even though the bull had no will or mind of it's own.
Then there was The Kid. He sat next to the dying fire watching the embers glow faintly. It was funny, even half a year ago he wouldn't have batted an eye for this day besides an extra prayer, but now he didn't think he couldn't have gotten them anything. They were the closest people he had since his mother. A slow set of footsteps echoed in the night before Zia sat next to him and joined him in watching the embers.
It was almost a scene out of a book, the stars above and the dying embers below with a boy who fought all the odds beside her. "So…Wais huh?" His head snapped to look at her with astonished eyes. "I saw your locket one day, the pecker pulled it out." she stood and brushed her dress off before shocking the boy again.
A kiss on the cheek and the words "It's a beautiful name…" both of them had red faces. She quickly walked off but turned to witness a true smile carve across the boy's face as he watched her move.