Brief depiction of blood and setting a bone near the end of the chapter.


Ingressus ignored the Sendaris for the rest of the day. The Sendaris did the same, glancing into Ingressus's part of the cave every once in a while but moving on when Ingressus refused to acknowledge his presence. Admittedly, the rest of the day wasn't that long. The light began to dim, the bright white of sunlight giving way to the yellow glow of torches and candlelight. There was a redstone lamp beside Ingressus's bed, and after several minutes of leaning halfway off the bed and fiddling with it, he figured out how to turn it on and off without needing to walk on his wounded ankle. It was an interesting thing, he had to admit. There had been nothing like it in the mountains– though the Voltaris would occasionally trade with the Glacians or human merchants, redstone devices just weren't practical enough to justify the price they sold for.

Sorays would have loved this, Ingressus thought sadly.

The tears had already fallen, the weight of the deaths sinking into his heart and leaching into his bones. He wanted to believe that it had been a bad dream, that any minute he would open his eyes and be back in the Barrier Mountains, where he would hug his father and Dominus would reassure him that they were safe, that the raiders would never find their camp. But each time he opened his eyes he was met with only the Sendaris's cave, again and again.

He had fallen into a doze at some point. When he woke the cave was dark and silent, with only an orange-yellow glow shining from around a corner. Ingressus sat up, listening intently. Only the distant sound of wind reached his ears, faint and painfully similar to the sound of a nice day in the mountains. But otherwise the cave was silent.

Ingressus stood, keeping his weight on his good leg. He limped in the direction of the glow– not as silently as he would have liked, but after lingering by the wall for another long minute, the cave was still as silent as before. So, leaning on the wall for support, Ingressus rounded the corner to see what he could find.

The first thing he noticed was the source of the glow: a basin of lava against the far wall. The molten rock bubbled softly as Ingressus stared at it in confusion, the only motion in the cave.

Okay…

The light from the lava cast the rest of the cave in a wash of orange. Nearer to Ingressus was a small bookshelf and a few chests, and a darkened redstone lamp sitting near a table and chair. Closer to the lava basin was what looked like a workshop area: an anvil sat near the lava, with a set of tongs hanging on the wall behind it. Something– squinting in the dark, Ingressus guessed it was a large hammer– rested against the base of the anvil, and a cauldron sat nearby. More chests were arranged over there, holding whatever it was blacksmiths (Ingressus assumed that's what the Sendaris was) used for their trade. There was not a hint of blue markings anywhere– nor the colors of any other clan. Perfect.

Ingressus limped towards the nearest chest and opened it slowly. The hinges let out a quiet squeaking, but there was no hint that anyone had heard. The Sendaris must be a heavy sleeper.

Luck was on Ingressus's side in another way, too– the chest was stocked with food. He saw several slabs of pork, a handful of apples, bread— ooh, was that cake?

Ingressus broke off a piece of the morsel and took a bite, feeling the sweetness burst to life on his tongue. Songs, it was even better than he remembered. Several years ago a few of the adults had returned from a supply run to Northwind, bearing a cake to share with the camp. There had only been a tiny slice for each person, divided as the pastry had been between the couple dozen Voltaris. Most had eaten their piece right away, but Sinaran had become the most popular adult in the camp a few weeks later when the children learned she had been saving her share.

The memory made Ingressus pause, and he reluctantly slipped the rest of the slice into his inventory. He gathered up more pieces of food; a little of this, a little of that, whatever he thought the Sendaris wouldn't miss. His food stash secure, he closed the chest and turned to the next one. That one had nothing of use– he didn't even know what half the things in it were– but the third had a stash of maps that he grabbed and carried over to the lava cauldron to read. He sat on the table next to the anvil and unfurled the first map in the stack, holding it up to the light. The Sendaris had mentioned the Heart of Ardonia, and had implied that it was far from the mountains. That meant next to nothing to Ingressus; aside from the mountains, Northwind, and the Ardoni provinces, geography just hadn't been very relevant in his life. Nor were iron mines, which was what the map he had found depicted. The Sendaris had marked up the map with various notes and scribblings: "idiot supervisor, low-quality ore." "Ask for Garret– fairer prices." "In cahoots with the Defiant Legion?" Ingressus set it aside.

Two maps later, and he found one that depicted the northern half of Ardonia. Major cities were marked in bold lettering, with roads spiderwebbing between them. The Barrier Mountains were largely unmarked, with just a few trade routes running through them to connect Northwind with the rest of Ardonia. He remembered Sinaran mentioning Halvrin's Pass– yes, there it was, twisting through the western part of the mountain range. And there was the Heart of Ardonia, ringed by a weirdly circular pattern of mountains near the bottom of the map.

Ingressus suddenly felt very small. The Barrier Mountains had always seemed endless to him– it was possible to walk for days, even weeks on end and still never reach the edge of the mountain range. But they took up only a small portion of this map. To get back to them from where he was… Ingressus had no idea how long it would take. How the Nether had he drifted this far in the first place?

Ingressus slumped, listening to the lava bloop softly beside him. Getting back to the mountains would be even harder than he'd thought. But what else could he do but try?

He focused on the map again. Ataraxia was labeled on the map, a small speck near the Heart of Ardonia. There were no roads marked on the map leading to the settlement, but there was one that ran outside the mountain range. That road led to a bigger one that arced around far to the west as it made its way north, finally crossing into the Barrier Mountains.

But could he even take the roads? Surviving meant staying hidden, keeping far away from people– especially other Ardoni. There would surely be plenty of other travelers along those paths. But would avoiding the roads be any safer? Any route to the mountains would take him straight through the Ardoni provinces. The mere thought of encountering any raiders again, especially on their own home soil, sent a shiver through him. But what other options were there?

"Take Voltar and run! With this, you are now Master of the Voltaris clan."

Some Master. He couldn't even figure out how to get back to his people. His father would've known what to do.

He hadn't even been able to keep a hold on Voltar. The Master staff had been gone when he woke up, and no matter how many times he had rummaged through his inventory, it and his father's broadsword were nowhere to be found. It could be anywhere; back at the destroyed camp, at the bottom of the ocean… or the Sendaris could have it.

Ingressus rolled the maps up again. Enough of self-pity. He needed to find Voltar, and find a weapon.

The first chest in the Sendaris's workshop contained just a bunch of raw materials. Wood, ores, iron ingots, a handful of diamonds. No weapons, though the iron ingots were decently hard and heavy. He thought he'd struck gold with the next chest: it was filled with shovels, hoes, buckets, a few pieces of armor. But swords, axes, spears– not a one. Not even a woodcutting ax.

What kind of blacksmith doesn't make any weapons?

Was everyone in this Ataraxia place a pacifist? Then again, Ingressus reminded himself, that would be a good thing for him– assuming their pacifism extended to the exiled, demonized Ardoni clan. But still, it was frustrating.

He poked through the chest one last time, even reaching in his arm in the hopes his glow would illuminate something in the darker corners. He closed the chest again with a scowl, looking around for anywhere else the Sendaris might've hidden something. But in the end he was forced to give up. If Voltar was here, it wasn't anywhere he could find.

He was marginally more successful in finding something to fight with. As he was limping past the cauldron, the glow from his markings glinted faintly off something underneath it. He crouched down and discovered a shard of metal, possibly from a sword that had broken during its forging. Lifting it to his eyes, he saw faint traces of rust clinging to the metal, but the edge remained respectably sharp.

Good enough. Maybe with better light he could make a handle for it, and clean it up a bit and make it into a respectable knife.

Feeling a little better now that he could fight back, Ingressus limped painfully back to the room he'd woken in.

When morning dawned, Ingressus almost believed he was back home. His mind was slow to wake, and he felt the closeness of a cave around him, heard the sound of someone moving, and for a moment thought he would open his eyes to the sight of his camp, to the adults sitting around the fire discussing hunting patrols, the kids planning that day's pranks, and his father watching over it all like he had since Ingressus was born. But it was too warm, and the air lacked the crisp bite of a snowy morning, and none of the birds in the mountains sounded like that. And so it was with dismay but no real surprise that he opened his eyes to the Sendaris's cave.

Ingressus closed his eyes again and curled into a ball, trying to cling to the memory. It was all a bad dream. He would wake up eventually and it would all be over.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him crack open one eye. The Sendaris was back, and Ingressus gripped the metal shard under the blankets as the older Ardoni drew closer. There was something long tucked under the Sendaris's arm but he didn't think it was a weapon…

The Sendaris stopped near the head of the bed. Ingressus could barely see what he was doing, but couldn't get a better look without revealing he was awake. The Sendaris set something down, then crouched to put the long thing next to the bed. He stood again, and Ingressus heard a sigh.

"Do you really think this kid had anything to do with it, Thalleous?" The Sendaris murmured. "Do you even care?"

With those cryptic words, the Sendaris turned and left again. When he was gone Ingressus lifted his head, looking at what he had left behind. A plate of food was sitting on the ledge beside the bed, and on the floor was something long and wooden– a crutch, with a piece of paper slipped under the handle. Pulling it out, Ingressus found a note in the Sendaris's messy handwriting: I don't recommend walking yet, but if this makes you feel better, then so be it.

Had the Sendaris heard him moving around last night? Probably not, or he would've come to investigate, wouldn't he?

Ingressus picked up the crutch and sat up, studying it. It was true that his foot had hurt more and more the more he'd been walking on it. He was loath to accept a gift from the maybe-maybe-not Champion, but he remembered when Ageron had broken his leg, that he was supposed to stay off it as much as he could to let it heal better. If the crutch could help him to walk normally sooner… fine, he could put up with it.

He stood, propping the crutch under his arm and resting his knee on the padded sticking-out bit by his leg. He hobbled around, nearly overbalancing a few times before he got used to it. It wasn't fast, but at least he could move.

He jumped when a bird flew into the room. It darted in, flew around in confusion, then turned around and flew back the way it had come. Ingressus blinked in confusion but then realized– wait, there was a gap in the wall, disguised from view by the contours of the stone. On the other side was a small balcony area. Ah, so that was how the bird got in. Ingressus limped over to have a look around, but when he reached the balcony he stopped cold, staring in disbelief.

There were mountains outside, but not normal ones. The landmasses were floating, hovering high above the valley floor like giant icebergs. Green grass and even trees coated the tops of the floating islands, while the undersides were studded with ores and cave openings. Wooden bridges and leafy vines stretched between the islands as though it were an ordinary settlement and not a place that broke every rule Ingressus knew about gravity. Stone didn't fly but apparently no one had told Ataraxia that.

Ingressus might've stood there for ages, if a motion on the neighboring island hadn't caught his eye. He looked down and saw a Mendoris standing out on their own balcony, shaking out a blanket over the edge.

Oh crap!

Ingressus recoiled, fell, and scrambled back from the edge. He pressed his back against the stone, cursing his carelessness. Stupid, dangerous, what if he'd been seen—

The appearance of the Sendaris made him snatch up the crutch and point it at him like a spear. (Oh, maybe he could tie the metal shard to the end.) The Sendaris held up his hands placatingly.

"I heard you fall," he said. "Are you all right?"

Ingressus got to his feet without answering, trying not to wince at the pain in his ribs. The Sendaris glanced over, apparently noticing the uneaten food. "You want me to prove that's not poisoned, too?"

"Yes," Ingressus snapped.

The Sendaris obliged, taking a bite each from the bread and egg. Ingressus limped over and sat on the bed, chewing on the food.

"You sure you don't want me to check your wounds?" The Sendaris asked. "Your bandages will have to be changed soon."

Ingressus finished chewing his bite, then nodded. "Fine."

The Sendaris knelt beside the bed, and began unwrapping the bandage from his shin. Ingressus leaned forward, watching as the red-stained cloth fell away and revealed a long wound, dark with half-clotted blood. The Sendaris dabbed a damp cloth around the cut, wiping away the smeared blood and causing Ingressus to grit his teeth and resist kicking him.

"Good news, no infection," the Sendaris said. "Bad news, you reopened it at some point."

He finished cleaning the injury and wrapped it up again, the blood vanishing under the pale cloth. "How're your ribs?"

Ingressus poked gingerly at his side, feeling the pain flare under his touch. "Hurts."

The Sendaris lifted his hand and paused, glanced at Ingressus for permission, then felt at the injury. Ingressus clenched his fist, casting about for a way to distract himself from the pain.

"How do the mountains float?" he asked.

"No one really knows," the Sendaris shrugged. "Some people think it has to do with the redstone ore in the islands. Some say that some powerful mages enchanted this place a few thousand years ago. Others say that it's left over from when the gods made this world. Personally, I just think things are always weird this close to the Heart of Ardonia."

"Redstone can make things float?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't believe that theory."

The Sendaris sat back, moving on to Ingressus's foot. He prodded his ankle and Ingressus pulled back with a hiss.

"Sorry," the Sendaris said.

He glanced apologetically at Ingressus. "This will probably hurt."

Ingressus clenched the blankets in his fist as the Sendaris loosened the bindings around his foot. "What's your name, anyway?"

"You tell me yours first," Ingressus retorted.

"Galleous Sendaris."

Ingressus had expected more arguing than that. If he'd given an adult in his clan that kind of lip, he would've been met with at least a disapproving stare, and likely a lecture on top of that. But Galleous hadn't even blinked.

He wasn't ready to give his name to this stranger, the admitted brother of a killer. So he asked a new question. "Where can I find your brother?"

Galleous gaze shot up to Ingressus. "Oh, no, kid. Don't go there. That's a bad plan."

"My clan deserves justice," Ingressus argued. "And I know none of your people will give it to them."

"Can you see yourself?" Galleous asked, gesturing at Ingressus. "You can barely walk and you look like you've hardly gotten a good meal in your life. My brother has the four Primes, and he got them by being the strongest warrior in our four clans to compete for them. Even if I knew where he was I wouldn't tell you, because you don't stand a chance at revenge."

"What do you care whether I stand a chance?" Ingressus challenged. "I'm a Voltaris, shouldn't you want me dead?"

Galleous pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're clearly insane, kid, but try to think about it– if I wanted you dead, I didn't have to fish you out of the water, I didn't have to patch you up, and I didn't have to keep you hidden. I could've even killed you when you attacked me, and maybe my conscience would've accepted it as self-defense. But I'm not going to kill you, and I'm not going to help you on a suicide mission."

"For all I know, you're saving me for your brother so he can finish me off himself," Ingressus retorted.

Galleous groaned. "I haven't spoken to Thalleous in years. I didn't even know he was the Champion this time around until you told me about it. And I'm not cruel enough to 'save you for him to finish off,' even if we were on speaking terms."

Ingressus shook his head. "I can't trust that."

"You are one difficult kid, you know that?"

"Thank you."

"That was a complaint, not a compliment."

"I know."

Galleous sighed, then looked back down at Ingressus's foot. "I need to re-set this. Try not to hit me."

"What?"

And then it was like his foot burst into flames. Ingressus howled in pain and kicked out as hard as he could, his good leg slamming into Galleous's. The Sendaris grunted and Ingressus fell back onto the bed, panting and his eyes watering. His hand twitched, trying to retrieve his blade from his inventory.

"I'm sorry," Galleous said. "But it's better to do that when you're not expecting it. The worst is over now, I promise."

Ingressus cursed weakly at him, muttering words that would have gotten his ear twisted back in the mountains. And yet, the pain was becoming… less than it was. He tried to move his toes and Songs it hurt but if it hurt that meant he still had them—

He felt Galleous finish wrapping his foot, and then felt something cold lay over it.

"The ice will help," Galleous said gently. "Yell for me if it melts, and I'll bring you more."

"I hate you."

"Yeah. I figured." Galleous stood. "I'll bring you some painkillers."


(3365 words)

Okay, I promise I'm done physically torturing the poor boy now.