Chapter Six: United in Purpose

They came upon the elder's home, only to find it empty; the buzzing sound of insects was the sole response to their rapping on the front door.

Marcel led Enselus down a side path away from the elder's house, down the hill towards the tailor's residence which was on the adjoining property. The tailor was Roland's brother, and they often hosted town council meetings in their large foyer that doubled as the showroom and fitting room for their business.

They were cresting the hill overlooking the front garden of the tailor's house when they noticed someone standing on the path, her back to them. As they got closer, Marcel realized it was Ra Lena.

She wasn't quite standing on the cottage doorstep. Instead, she was a few feet away as if she had been moving towards the door and stopped suddenly in her tracks. In her hand she held an object, or rather the handle of an object, with a large, round head. It was practically dangling it at her side, pointing down towards the ground. She seemed to have forgotten she was even holding it; she was merely staring at the cottage door, paralyzed with indecision. Marcel thought about calling out to her, but before he could say anything, she whirled around to face them, startled. She held the object in front of her defensively.

"Oh, it's you." Her tone was flat, but she didn't relax her stance. Her gaze went to Enselus and sized him up, lanky body and all, before snapping back to Marcel. "Looks like you found the Yukes."

"What are you doing here?" Marcel asked, his eyes falling to the object in her hands. Whatever it was, it was wrapped loosely in canvas, tied together with a thin cord.

She followed his gaze and straightened up, hiding the object behind her back. "What about you?"

He shrugged. He didn't know why she was being so defensive, and it irritated him a little. He was already on edge, having worked up his anxiety during the walk from the Yukes' cottage. Deciding not to answer her either, he gestured a hand at the Yuke standing next to him. "This is Enselus." Then he nodded at her. "Enselus, meet Ra Lena."

"Oh, I know her," Enselus said in a chipper voice, oblivious to his irritation or her radiating tension. "She drops off the deliveries to my grandparents' place sometimes."

Ra Lena didn't acknowledge what he said, but Marcel saw her look down at the wooden box he held under his arm. Again, he decided not to explain. "Are you going in?" he asked shortly.

"I was about to," she snapped.

"Well, I am," he said, all the nervous feelings he'd been carrying since leaving the Yukes' cottage rising in him. He didn't want to wait for Ra Lena, or anyone, to convince him out of what he was going to do, or tell him it was a stupid idea. He just had to do it now while it was the only thought on his mind. He walked past Ra Lena towards the front door.

"Wait," she called after him. "There's a bunch of them in there, having some important—"

Without bothering to knock, he turned the handle and swung the door open.

The front sitting room was large and spacious, neatly decorated with deep blue curtains and simple wooden furnishings. A long, high table took up most of one side, with several bolts of cloth spread out over the top of it. There were a couple simple wooden mannequins and fabric busts lined up against the wall with cloth of various patterns pinned to each one.

But the tailor's work was not the focal point of activity in the room at the moment. Of course, the tailor and his wife were there. Marcel was surprised to find not only Roland and his wife, but both of his parents in the sitting room as well. They were all standing around the table, talking in enthusiastic tones, passionate and pleading, though not loud or angry.

Marcel saw that Rebbeca was sitting on a stool, some fabric and needle and thread in her hands. She had a worried look on her face. He saw that even Grafila the Yuke was there as well, standing not at the table but a little further back against the wall, her hands clasped. The both of them seemed to have separated themselves from the heated conversation.

The tailor was speaking, his voice tense with exasperation. "I'm telling you, Alfitaria's not gonna help us. They—"

At the sound of the door, they had jumped, and turned to face him. Each face registered surprise to see Marcel. When Enselus and Ra Lena entered the foyer behind him, their surprise became visible confusion.

"Marcel," said his father. "What are you doing here, son?"

Marcel looked around at all of them. He hadn't expected his parents to be there, and he realized what he wanted to say was going to be even harder with them around. He took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the table with measured steps, every eye on him. When he reached it, he gently placed the wooden box down in front of them, though he didn't open it. They all stared at the box, then looked back up at him.

"Hello, Ma and Pa. Mister and Mrs. Tailor," Marcel said in greeting, meeting their gazes. "Actually, I'm here to see Roland." Roland's eyebrows shot up. Marcel explained, "I went by your cottage, but no one was home, so I figured you'd be here, and…" he trailed off.

The rest of the group was looking at the box with curiosity and puzzlement, but Roland and his wife, Malayde, looked down at it with serious expressions. "Where did you get this, Marcel?" Roland asked, his voice stern but not unkind.

Marcel turned around and beckoned Enselus forward. "This is Enselus, everyone." Enselus stepped up and waved his large hand, but didn't say anything. Marcel pointed at the box. "Uh, Enselus' grandparents, the old Yuke couple, gave this to me." They all looked up at the Yuke, as if for confirmation, and he nodded in agreement.

After a pause, Marcel leaned over and undid the clasp on the box. He carefully opened the wooden lid. The crystal was nestled in the silk padding, with its faint, almost imperceptible glow. Marcel heard the tailor's wife give a sharp intake of breath when she saw it. Everyone went very still.

Marcel cleared his throat. His hands felt clammy, and he looked down at the floor, racking his brain on how to explain what he wanted to say, when he saw it. A large, round basin tucked nearly underneath the table where they stood, with its familiar curved silhouette.

He looked up at Roland again, pointing at it. "I came to ask if you would lend me the crystal chalice, so that I…" He took a deep breath. "So that I can start a caravan, harvest some myrrh, and…save the town."

There was a stunned silence. No one moved or said anything for a long moment. It was Grafila, the odd one out, who broke the silence with a very unnatural, out of place giggle. "What a brave young man you are." Marcel realized it was the first time he'd heard her speak, and her voice was strong, loud and clear, not what he was expecting from her timid demeanor. It echoed a little in her helmet, but still rang out clear as a bell.

Her voice seemed to break the spell of bewilderment on all the adults. "Hold on now," said his father, rubbing his hand across his eyes as if to clear his thoughts. "So, you've got a crystal somehow—d'ya even know how much light is left in it?—and now you're asking to borrow the crystal chalice. How are you going to get out of the village?"

"The Yukes lent me their wagon and paopaopamus," Marcel explained. Enselus nodded again behind him in confirmation, still without speaking.

The tailor shook his head. "The journey will require more than just a wagon. What about weapons and armor? And provisions?"

Marcel looked at Roland. "I was hoping you could help with that." Roland rubbed his chin thoughtfully but said nothing.

"Marcel, this is very noble of you, but it's dangerous out there," his mother said. Her tone was gentle, but her brow was furrowed in concern. "The myrrh trees are guarded by powerful monsters. Not to mention they are hidden in deep labyrinths. You could get hurt—or worse, killed!"

"I know, Ma. But I have to do it."

The tailor cut in: "Marcel, like your ma said, it's wonderful that you want to save the town. But there is only a small chance your journey would be successful. We the town council are meeting tomorrow to come up with a plan to relocate the villagers. We've already lost too much." He looked over at his wife, his voice dropping low with emotion. Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Losing Ramsey was devastating," the tailor's wife echoed, spreading her hands. "Marcel, we can't lose you too."

"It was hard to lose Ramsey," Marcel agreed. "And to be honest…you're right, I don't fully know what I'm up against. But—" He took a deep breath, and remembered his conversation with Ra Lena earlier. "When I walked up the hill and looked out over the town, I saw all of our cottages and the mill and the town square, the livelihoods we've all built. I don't want to lose Tipa. This is our home, and if there's a chance we can save it, even if it's small, I want to try." He placed his hand on the wooden box on the table, as if to underscore his point. "When the Yukes gave me this crystal, I…I had hope."

"Marcel," his father said sternly, "Hope is not enough to complete this journey. Even a seasoned warrior would struggle to reach the myrrh trees guarded by monsters. Going alone would almost certainly guarantee your death."

"He won't be going alone," a voice cut in. They all looked up in surprise. Ra Lena stepped forward. She held out the object in her hand now, but Marcel saw that she had removed the canvas covering. The object was in fact a weapon, a racket, and Ra Lena held it in front of her confidently. She glanced over at Marcel with a serious expression, then turned to face the rest of the room. "I'm going to join the caravan."

"Me too," Enselus piped up suddenly. He stepped forward to meet them, level with Marcel and Ra Lena. "I know how to use magicite, and besides, someone has to take care of the paopaopamus." His voice quivered a little, but his hands were balled into determined fists at his sides.

"Hold on a second," the tailor said, holding up his hands as if to stay their enthusiasm. "This is…well, you're all very young, and inexperienced in fighting."

An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind Roland. "But we all have something in common—we want to save this town." They turned to see Rebbeca, who had leapt off her perch on the stool and put down the sewing materials. Her back straight and blonde hair sweeping her chin, she stepped around Roland and walked up to Marcel. She looked straight into his eyes with fierce determination before turning back to the rest of the room. "I'm joining the caravan as well." Marcel's jaw hung open in surprise. Ra Lena looked over with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

Roland shook his head. "Rebbeca, I can't let you go. It's too dangerous."

"Even if it's dangerous, it's something we all want to do," she replied, looking at each of the volunteers. "Pa, we're all united on this. We can do it." She turned and looked meaningfully at Roland. "This is something I have to do." She held his gaze for a long time. Finally, Roland took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Please," Marcel pleaded. The four of them stood there, looking expectantly at the town elder for a response.

Roland looked at each of their young faces for a long moment. The tailor started to say something, but Roland raised his hand to stop him.

Roland stepped forward and placed his hands around the wooden box, as if to cradle the crystal within it. "For many generations, the crystal has represented hope to mankind. When the miasma sought to swallow us up, the light of the crystal held the darkness at bay. It is that kind of hope on which the crystal caravans' journey rests." He sighed and looked over at Marcel's parents. Although his expression was still serious, there was a glimmer of a smile on his face. "And it's the kind of hope that Marcel has instilled in these three as well." Marcel saw his father meet Roland's eyes, and they seemed to share an understanding. Roland looked back at Marcel. "We will bring your proposal to the town council meeting tomorrow. I cannot guarantee that they will agree to it, but I will advocate for you. And if they agree, we will lend you the crystal chalice."

Marcel let out a breath of relief. Malayde stepped forward and took Roland's hand. The tailor and his wife frowned doubtfully, but seemed to acquiesce.

Marcel looked over at his parents, expecting to see disapproval and worry in their faces. His mother did have a concerned look, but she nodded at him, as if to show her support. To his surprise, his father was beaming at him. "Pa?" he said tentatively.

"I'm impressed, son," his father replied, grinning. "You've inspired these three to join your cause."

Grafila spoke again, her clear tone ringing out into the room, with a smile in her voice. "And who knows, perhaps this can inspire an entire town." She turned and faced the four of them. "It has been a long time since I've seen such courage in young ones. Every crystal caravan had to start out in such a way. And there are many who will help you in your journey."

Marcel looked down at the shining crystal with its quiet, unassuming glow. He took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.