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II
Just remember that being stolen from is experiencing local charm.
-Feizhi, Travels in Gondowan
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Just thought I'd answer a few questions from these wonderful reviewers, namely jollygreendragon, DropOfInk, and Regal5hights. AS does mean After Sun, although historians use the term BE - Before Event- for before the sun, solely to distinguish between a historical period and a swear word. Also, Light Psynergy - rather, Sol Psynergy, as it's called by Weyard - will be explained further in this chapter, as well as why Mahel was ostracized. Thanks to DropOfInk for that grammar issue (seeing as it was around 1:00 AM when I was writing that and the Grammar Nazi within me had gone to bed) as well as Regal5hights for the double review! To all readers, whether you review or not, please enjoy!
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Mahel had spent the majority of his thirty years on Air's Rock perfecting his Jupiter Psynergy. Day by day, he had bared his teeth at the cruelty of fate - the moment he got such power, he found himself without hands. And who could cast advanced Psynergy with four paws?
The lycanthrope had been determined, though, and had tried hundreds of different ways. He had leapt through the air, scrabbling his paws, attempting to throw a whirlwind at his target - a rock on the edge of a cliff - and ended up nearly falling off of his home. He had tried balancing on two legs, but ended up with a giant bruise on his back from falling backwards too many times. Every time he failed, he would curse the Golden Sun.
But nowadays, he had managed to create a system of some sorts. It had come to him when he was at the very base of Air's Rock, scavenging for some edible plants in the arid climate. Amongst the fertile mountains of Garoh, there was a plant good for eating everywhere you turned - but in the middle of the desert, you could be hard-pressed to find one for days. Nearly giving up, he had promised himself to go into only one more small canyon before giving up and subsisting on lizards for the rest of the week. He had turned into the canyon - and gasped. There, on the walls, arcing from side to side, were hundreds of great pictures. Some were just imprints of hands in bronze and white, some were great pictures of lush forests and animals so unlike those Mahel had seen in the dry bush desert. Not even the forests surrounding Garoh had such creatures within them.
And the way the drawings moved across the ancient, red rock… Some, on two legs, had had their arms flung outwards - a motion that, as he was now, Mahel missed every day. Most were on four legs, and skittered across the walls of the small canyon, paws outstretched before them, teeth bared. One drawing's fur, spiked at the collar, looked almost like a lycanthrope's right when they changed, bristles running down the sides of their flanks and bushing up their tails…
The drawings jumped across his vision, everywhere now. The wolf walking on the walls, that paw outstretched, teeth bared, almost an exact copy of his father so many years ago.
Mahel had thrown his paw forward, and howled through his teeth, breath whistling through the gaps in his snarl, and before him a great whirlwind had formed, dust kicking upwards, blanketing the drawings in a sandy cloud. Eyes smarting from the particles attacking them, Mahel stumbled out of the canyon, his quest for plants forgotten. He had used Jupiter Psynergy, just like his father! Maybe, on another day, he could go back to the canyon and learn more from the drawings. Did lycanthropes live at the base of Air's Rock before something drove them out? Did they leave because they needed more food, food that couldn't be found in the desert?
But it wasn't meant to be, he thought to himself, licking his flank as the sun set before him. He walked circles and circles around the massive stone, but he never found the canyon of the pictures ever again. It was as if the earth had closed in the night, sealing off the secret of the ancient lycanthropes from discovery ever again. Mahel had begged something for further guidance, but what was to answer him? The Golden Sun? Please. That evil light never helped, it harmed the land like a sword slicing through a human's armor. Look what it had done to him.
It finally disappeared beneath the horizon, casting one final glancing light across the Hesper Sea and Atteka to the west before being swallowed by the void, to pop up behind Air's Rock another day. Long ago, a traveler from Alhafra had climbed the Rock, and when he had reached the top, he shot a lone arrow at the sky, a lone silhouette against the burning sunlight. Then he had climbed down again, and the arrow embedded itself into the rock. Mahel had left it there. He, often, had wanted to shoot an arrow at the sun.
He finished cleaning his flank and stood up, stretching, relishing the darkness. At nighttime, Air's Rock came alive. Fireflies lit up the skies around him, while lizards fled the shadows, darting into the crevices and caves that were everywhere. An owl, after catching a warning glare from the lycanthrope, flew away, hooting his indignation. When Mahel had been a cub, his father had talked with animation about the beauty of Air's Rock, how he had felt at home there. The werecub hadn't understood - yeah, it was a pretty place, but to live there would be a nightmare!
But during his time here, he had definitely come to understand Maha's feelings. He looked upon his ledge with a sort of humble pride - he, who had managed to eke out a living in a place once deemed impossible. The villagers of Garoh had assumed he had slunk away to darker pastures - to the mountains of Gondowan, where they thought he was revered as a god. Mahel barked a laugh. They honestly thought he was treated as a god? The only ones who knew of his existence were the owls and the lizards.
Mahel left his perch at the edge of the ledge, and went inside his home, where he curled up on a scrap of blanket and went to sleep. Tomorrow would bring more routine.
A young Mahel stumbled out of his sitting position, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Stretching his bones, he attempted to get onto his legs, wondering blearily where his father was.
He fell backward, rolling down a steep hill of sand, fur getting caught on numerous twigs and bushes. When he gained control of himself again, Mahel pushed upwards, looking down with horror to see four paws planted on the ground. He stared up - there was the sun, hot and dry as always. What happened? Had the change happened right when that burst of light had erupted? Was he stuck like this forever? Like Dad?
Dad! Mahel looked around him wildly. He was in the middle of the Air Desert, the Balloo Mountains to the east, the imposing shadow of Air's Rock to the north. He turned to see the Devil's Gate a mile or so away. Pounding the sand with his four feet, Mahel raced up and down the rest of the dunes, leaving the desert behind, running past the signs he had put up and was supposed to take down the next morning. His paws barely touched earth as he skittered to a halt at the end of the Devil's Gate, turned to the narrow portion of the river, and leaped across. A terrified frog jumped into the water and swam for its life.
There! There were the mountains of Garoh, a burst of greenery at the edge of the great sea of golden sand. Racing around them, Mahel bounced eagerly off the cliffs, running past the pool that held the reflection of the moon once a month, and into his village.
A shriek echoed through the village. There, in front of him, was Myha, in her human form. She dropped the bucket of water she was carrying, hands flying to her mouth.
"WOLF!" she screamed. "WOLF!"
Startled, Mahel took a step back. "Myha, it's me! It's Mahel!"
"IT TALKS!" she howled, not bothering to heed his words, and sprinted away. Replacing her were dozens of Garoh's villagers, all in human form, advancing towards him cautiously.
"Guys, guys, it's me, Mahel!" he assured them nervously. "W-w-what's going on?"
"It is Mahel," one said, and the others nodded, but didn't drop their defensive stance.
"Will someone answer me?" he asked.
"What about you?" a man nearby shot back. "Why are you still a wolf? Did you steal it?"
"Steal it?" he repeated in disbelief. "Steal- I- what?"
"You stole your wolf body!" Myha shouted, jumping out at him from behind the men who had advanced earlier. "You stole it from your father!"
"I stole it from my father…" he murmured, shaking his head. "Are you crazy? I woke up in the Air Desert fifteen minutes ago! I don't even know how I got this body! I haven't ever gone into the Rock before!"
"So you say!" a man shouted, and a chorus of agreements sprung up from the whole village. "Look! Look what you've done to our leader!"
And several men carried in a wizened old man.
Mahel had never seen Maha as a human before. He was so… so frail. So unlike the werewolf who had saved his village from being destroyed and ridiculed so many times. And his last moments were led in the guise of a man who had not led the life he had.
"You never worked for your transformation!" someone yelled. "Maha gave everything he had, and you're like this all the time for nothing! You're a lazy disgrace!"
More shouts. Was that his old schoolteacher, leading the crowd, screaming insults left and right? Was that his next door neighbor?
"You have been touched by the Golden Sun!" Myha shrieked suddenly, silencing the angry crowd for an earsplitting second. "We don't want your kind in Garoh."
Mahel tossed and turned in his bed. Half-asleep, he swatted at his ears, begging for the whole nightmare to disappear.
Next to his hut, a man emerged from the darkness, and seemed to be darkness. The moon was empty tonight, a perfect disguise for this intruder. Pulling a strange device from his pocket, he crept inside Mahel's house, staring with distaste at the rough, hand-made surroundings.
Cautiously, he approached the sleeping Mahel, taking care where he placed each footstep. In such hovels rocks and other obnoxious noise-makers could be lying around.
The wolf was curled into a ball now, tail-tip resting over his nose. "Just like a dog," the man snorted quietly, and passed the device over the wolf three times.
A great wind shook the house, knocking over several jars and buckets. The blanket's worn corners whipped the werewolf's sides. Tiredly, the animal rolled over onto his back. The man slunk outside, smiling with satisfaction.
"100 percent success rate," he whispered to no one. "All tests completed quickly and effortlessly . It seems our efforts here weren't wasted after all. Once my calibration comes back, I will decide upon whether he requires further testing.
"At this point, it seems more likely than not."
And the man disappeared, leaving behind only a black spot in the sky, one that would slowly enlarge, like a mosquito gorging itself on blood. He liked to leave it completely dark, not with the purple his colleagues preferred. Just black and dead as night, a hole in Weyard's sky that would eat everything nearby.
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Vande, over the years, had finally seen how it really was. He had realized that the rich folk were bumbling fools who only cared about the latest wine or cheese. That the buskers on the street corners of Belinsk were more likely to be musically talented than they. That his roomies in Central Belinsk were a whole lot more interesting to talk to.
Dimitri had often said, before his death by falling chandelier, that one can't learn music by reading about it. Wasn't that the case, Vande and his buddies had laughed over a bottle of cheap wine, what with all those stupid idiots pretending to be true connoisseurs!
Of course, the beastman had grown out of cheap wine and stumbling home drunk, temporarily having forgotten your identity. He had also left behind the world of petty disagreements, of stares and judgment and coded talk that actually meant the opposite of what they had said. Over the years, after he had moved from Central Belinsk to a tiny apartment in Port Rago, he had outgrown classification like that. While in the harbor, he would play fiddle for the sailors, piano for the rich seafarers, and trumpet for the casual passerby. Sometimes he did all three at once - how, he had no idea.
Duh, his inner Vande told him. You're a genius.
That's how he had come upon his band, on the street corners of Morgal. His fiddler had been begging for food in Saha - his pianist, whistling a symphony while gardening in Kolima. His trumpeteer he had found in Border Town, sobbing after being split from his family, who were all stuck in Bilibin. He had marveled at the idiocy of Belinsk's elite - how they believed only those with money could play instruments well. These beastmen and women had been shunted to the side just for not having thousands of dollars stashed in the bank. Vande wouldn't have any of it, and just as suddenly as he had appeared in high society, he had left it. It was the talk of the Opera House for weeks - Dimitri died, and his prodigy Vande vanished! And they had been considering the boy for a conducting job too. What a shame.
And then, months later, Vande reappeared again, this time with his band in full, playing a marvelous piece in the Bronze Square of Belinsk. The rich gathered with interest, and with a grin, he had played the opening note of the Arangoa Prelude.
That first time… the Prelude was the last piece Dimitri had taught him, hours before his death, and it had been ingrained into Vande's DNA, music, flowing like golden blood through his veins. The ancient murals of his city seemed to swirl together, dancing in a trance, while the populace froze. Even the statue in the center of the Bronze Square seemed to be prancing and leaping around.
Vande sighed fondly, thinking of that memory. The band had all gone their separate ways once the Eclipse ended. Several hatched a plan to get their families out of Bilibin - several settled in Saha and Port Rago. He had continued to wander Morgal, searching for something. What that was, he hadn't known until he had played in Kolima Village. He needed an apprentice, one to pass down the knowledge of the Arangoa Prelude to. Morgal, it seemed, hadn't been able to provide one for him.
So here he stood, in the long queue to get through the Endless Wall Gate. It was a massive accomplishment, the tunnel through the Wall, and as soon as the tensions between Morgal and Sana had eased, it had reopened. Tourists, businessmen, diplomats, and people who had been separated from their respective countries poured in from both sides. Even months after the re-opening of the border, the flow of people never stopped. It was a marvel to Vande, to see the distinctive and beautiful Sanans mixed in once again with the beastmen. Earlier that year, a Sanan woman named Kyi Nau and a beastman named Piotr celebrated the first inter-country marriage on the top of the Endless Wall. Vande had played for them, in a six-man band composed of three men from Tonfon and three from Belinsk. The three Tonfonese had talent, to be sure - Vande was hungry for more. There was sure to be a talented young prodigy in the forests of Sana somewhere.
"Name, identification, and business?" A drab voice woke him from his thoughts. Standing in front of him was a beastwoman that was more beast than woman. She wore a blue coat signifying the Border Crossing Corps, and her gray bear-fur was as flat as her voice.
"You're looking lovely today," Vande said pleasantly. Not really, you ugly piece of roadkill, his inner Vande jeered. "Vande Kozlovsky, tourism," he answered in response to her question, opening his saxophone case and showing her his identification card and passport.
"You're not… the Muzykant!" she gasped in disbelief.
"Why, yes, that is what they call me," he said modestly. Keep groveling, and maybe I'll like you more.
"I'm a big fan," she gushed, as she stamped his passport. "You're free to go. But come back to Morgal soon!"
She winked slowly and slightly lasciviously. Vande swallowed a shudder, nodded a goodbye, and went through.
The Endless Wall Gate arced all around him, a noisy, sweaty clamor of bodies shuffling between countries. The Sana-to-Morgal side walked in slow caravan lines, while the Morgal-to-Sana side seemed to be a free-for-all. Vande was caught in a vicious current of people, tugged this way and that, nearly succumbing to lack of air. Beastman security guards attempted to keep peace from platforms jutting from the stone walls, but the commotion continued on. Vande clutched his saxophone case close to him and attempted to forge forward.
"Civilians traveling to Sana please keep calm!" A security guard yelled from above. He was using Jupiter Psynergy in an advanced way, bending the wind currents so that his voice traveled farther. "A cart has overturned a mile into the tunnel, so if you will rest for a moment, the problem will be fixed and we will be able to move again! Thank you for your cooperation."
Vande and the rest of the travelers settled, only thirty feet from the gaping entrance. He could swear several travelers leaving the Gate were smirking at them.
"Excuse me, good fellow!" A voice next to Vande said, bumping into him. He turned to see a Sanan much younger than him - perhaps by thirty years - smiling worriedly and bowing profusely. "You see, my family is up ahead and I must catch up to them. Sorry, sorry!"
And he was off. Confused, the beastman stared after him, but he soon disappeared into the milling crowd. Well, Vande couldn't blame him. The whole tunnel was pretty loud and terrifying, and if he had kids in his family, he must want to keep them safe.
Then Vande realized that his saxophone case was missing.
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Jin Fu raced through the crowds, ignoring the indignant shouts of those he pushed over. He smiled and opened the case slightly - wow! He didn't play saxophone, but he knew a beautiful instrument when he saw one. It would fetch a nifty price in Tonfon.
There were a couple pieces of paper in there too. Jin Fu fished them out - a passport and identification card. He could sell the passport to someone, it could probably be used as a fake, but ID cards were only required in Morgal. Maybe the curio shop would take it.
Jin Fu took a glance at the ID. Vande Kozlovsky. Wait, wasn't he that famous Morgalian musician! Score! The black market would give him plenty today.
The sax was gorgeous, as golden as Vande's fur. Why didn't Jin Fu recognize him? He had just seen an old beastman who looked easy enough to steal from. Maybe he could have talked with the guy a bit longer before nabbing his stuff. Jin Fu's recent foray into playing the trumpet hadn't gone so well, but maybe he'd hit gold with the sax.
Or maybe he was just musically untalented. He had been told so plenty of times - by the best teachers in Tonfon, by the buskers on the street corner, even by the curio owner. So he had begun to beg for money, until the Eclipse hit. That was when he was told by a curio shop employee that he had the fingers for pickpocketing, and that with such panic around the city it should be easy enough to begin.
The Sanan didn't like to admit it, but he was fond of stealing. The initial rush of knowing you're taking something, followed by actually doing it, followed by the rush of escaping… Jin Fu had developed a taste for small crimes, and this - the robbery of Vande Kozlovsky's saxophone - was the crown jewel.
The boy, sprinting lightly on his feet, dodged the numerous waiting travelers and ran towards the light. Almost there, almost there… Beastwomen carrying large suitcases gossiped as one attempted to calm a screaming baby… religious Sanans, heads bent, were reciting the Afternoon Prayer, as was their custom… the cart that had overturned was being righted by Jupiter Psynergy… Jin Fu passed it all and got to the final stretches of the tunnel. He was nearly there!
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"Hey! Come back here! That's my saxophone!" Vande yelled angrily, his bark cutting over the hum of the crowd. "You! Where- wherever you are!"
"Sir?"
The beastman turned abruptly to see a Sanan guard staring at him.
"Some youngster just made off with my saxophone!" he explained. "With all of my identification as well!"
"These things happen," the Sanan said, in a poor attempt at consolation. "We will try our best to locate the thief. Do you have a description?"
These things happen? Inner Vande screamed. Do your job!
Nevertheless, the musician gave the best description to the guard that he could. The man ambled away to go talk to his fellow workers - almost like he was taking an evening stroll! Vande growled at the man's useless backside, until it disappeared into the crowd. It was obvious he wouldn't be getting any help from the officials. Time to divert the crowd's attention a little bit.
On the other side of the cylindrical tunnel, there was a particularly moldy stone built in just a foot or so above Vande's head. Concentrating, he imagined the first piece of music that came to mind, which happened to be Mirnov's Ode to Obnoxious Noises. As soon as the thought left his mind and entered the stone, Vande regretted it.
A horrible scraping that only just resembled the sound of an orchestra boomed down the hall. Panicked travelers began to flee in random directions, unsure of where the noise was coming from. A terrible crashing noise resembling pots and pans emanated from the wall Vande was pressed up against. The Muzykant groaned - the piece had gotten out of control!
Hoisting himself up on a tiny ledge not made for occupation, Vande observed with a cringe the chaos his runaway music had caused. After being forced to listen to Mirnov hundreds of times by Dimitri, he was used to it, but evidently those in the Endless Wall Gate were less accustomed. The short fence dividing the different sides of the Gate had been knocked down, and currents of Sanans and beastmen more wild than those of a tsunami raced around the room. It was a disaster.
Vande frantically thought of another piece to let play from the walls - Birds in the Springtime? Snow Falling Gently while I Make Tea, that would be good, a small, pretty piece. But the beastman reminded himself that it was no good - in his effort to get to the boy who had stolen his saxophone, he had let the music run away from him. It had happened before, resulting in what was now known as the Singing Forest north of Border Town, as well as the Percussion Mountain in South Belinsk. All of them mistakes from his Sol Psynergy not being used correctly.
Instead of clearing a path for Vande, Ode to Obnoxious Noises had all but closed them all. There was no ground to be seen, it was hidden under the mass of stampeding bodies. Vande swallowed a scream when he noticed an old man, unable to keep up with the panicking folk, fell to his knees. The air was becoming unusually hot and sticky, Vande couldn't breathe, oh Sun-
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Jin Fu, at the other end of the tunnel, found his path blocked by a writhing group of Sanans and beastmen, who quickly burst out of the tunnel and poured, screaming, down into the calm Sanan countryside. More people flooded in instantly, replacing the escapees, and Jin Fu found himself dragged down by the solid mass of life surrounding him. Too many…
For a moment he was barreling straight towards the exit, when a stream of Sanans cut in front of them. Then they were flying off to the wall, stopped only from impact by a horde of screaming beastwomen. More bodies pressed up against him - furry beastmen, gasping for air, and sweat-soaked Sanans, screaming for lost relatives. It was a war zone in the Endless Wall Gate, certainly not helped by the horrid music - if you could call it that - exploding from all sides.
Jin Fu was rushed far, far away, to the center of the stampede, thrown in reverse as hundreds charged south to Sana. Screams of terror from those being crushed and cries of relief from those escaping into the fresh air mixed in with the music, a sound like that of a raging sea beast. Once again, the group of people Jin Fu was mixed in with - older beastmen that were shrieking their throats dry - surged towards the wall, where the thief saw a familiar figure. It was Vande, Vande Kozlovsky, the man he had stolen from minutes before. He was collapsed against the stone wall, chest moving in a quick and shallow motion. He was running out of air - they all were.
Pushing forward as hard as he could, Jin Fu broke free of the beastmen and ran to Vande. Miraculously, he had kept hold of the saxophone the entire time, his sweat nearly glueing his fingers to the case.
The thief reached the musician. What should he do now? He had no water…
Jin Fu slapped Vande lightly, trying to wake him up.
"Uh… Mr. Kozlovsky? Mr. Kozlovsky? Vande?"
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"...Mr. Kozlovsky? Mr. Kozlovsky?"
"Wha…" Vande murmured, blinking his eyes open. He looked up into the face of a young Sanan - the thief! The one who stole his saxophone!
ATTACK! shrieked Inner Vande. Outer Vande attempted to say the same thing - and all that came out was a hoarse cough. The air, where was the air?
"Mr. Kozlovsky, it's mayhem in here, and I know you probably hate me, but here." The Sanan tentatively handed the saxophone case back to the beastman. "I found you, fainted, right here. We need to get out, but I don't know how."
Vande dry swallowed, trying to find his voice. Rapidly, his tongue had swelled, making it nearly impossible to talk.
"Mercury…" he rasped, then broke into a cough.
"Mercury? Water?" the Sanan repeated. "But… I'm not an adept. Everyone always told me so."
"You aren't an adept unless you've tried," Vande breathed, and slunk down to the floor again, throat on fire.
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Vande had fallen to the ground. The air was getting hotter and hotter - more and more people were pushing up against the two. Jin Fu looked around frantically - water, water. They didn't need Jupiter right now, they needed Mercury. Mercury, and fast!
Jin Fu, all of a sudden, found himself listening to the awful music. It was an abomination, and definitely the reason all of this mayhem began… it wasn't even music, it was just a combination of sounds. He wished it would all go away.
But wait. If he listened hard enough, if he ignored the sounds emanating from the walls, he could focus on one small, consistent flute, the high notes swept away by the force of the other instruments. It was constant, a cooling presence, barely felt yet always there. If only it was brought out more, it could make the entire room awash with its wonderful chill.
A man, howling for no good reason, charged towards Jin Fu. Others followed, the insanity of the moment rising in intensity. Jin Fu stepped in front of the unconscious Vande. Here they came, oh Sun, here they were-
SNAP.
The impact of the stampede never came. Jin Fu cautiously opened one eye to see the entire group frozen, ice statues before him, already melting away in the intense heat of the Endless Wall Gate.
All around Jin Fu and Vande, ice crystals and stalagmites were forming. They arced across all of the tunnel, and even the music seemed to die away. All eyes, for one long minute, were on the ceiling, while the temperature seemed to fade away in the cooling gaze of the ice.
Jin Fu didn't know how it happened, but the next thing he knew, the whole ground had frozen over. Several people, like the mini-stampeded that was about to hit him, were statues, but some were only caught knee-deep. Vande and Jin Fu were unharmed.
Slinging the beastman over one shoulder and grabbing the saxophone with the other, Jin Fu carefully walked across the ice, across the winter wonderland the Gate had become, to the end of the tunnel. To Sana, at long last.
The thief-turned-good-Samaritan had only one thing on his mind - getting out of this hellhole. He had no idea that Vande Kozlovsky would wake up later, and strike up conversation with him instantly, like they were old friends. He had no idea that the Endless Wall Gate would be closed, and a safer above-ground route would begin construction immediately.
He had no idea that, while sipping herbal tea in a café on the side of Tonfon's canal, Vande would casually say to him, "So, I've been looking for an apprentice…"
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