She gently places Nipal on a florid levitating creature; its armored, smooth shell of bands providing a comfortable ride for injured little ones. Its shimmering, apparent tail stretches passed the old man's compact, modest hut, and a placid look hides on its ruffled snout. It looks rather content under its shell and surrounded by its sparkly limbs.
Nipal glances at her. "You didn't leave me, Lady Zera."
"Why would I do such a thing? You stayed by my side," she says, caressing his matted head. He smiles as she does, never having smiled at him before, and his heart warms.
"Are you coming with me?"
"No." She frowns, easing the motion of her hand. "I won't be far behind. I need to make the journey back alone."
"You're," he chokes, "you're always doing it alone. I can come with you-"
"No," Zera softly chastises and releases her hand. She pats the floating creature on its chin. "The Sorma will guide you and keep you safe." The Sorma rises in the air on command. Zera's features growing smaller, Nipal starts reaching for her but stops midway and lay his hand on his chest. Her decision is concrete and nothing will break through it.
She waves until she can't see the Sorma's bright tail in the sky anymore. The old man watches Zera's back and then scans down the hill and over the beach. He can't find the right words to say to someone he hardly knows, but it's clear how much pain she's withholding. "Little lady," he begins, clearing his throat and throwing his hands in his pockets, "I hear tale that you youngins' came from the Blue Thicket. Now you're not thinking about going back, yeah?"
She doesn't answer.
"I got ol' Blub two huts down who can patch your wounds and send you on your way. Can you do that?"
She turns back and nods.
"Well, good then. I have more tacos if you want any. I ain't feeding these worms anymore or they'll stick around my hut and I ain't ever getting rid of them.." He wobbles up the hill, flicking sand and talking into the air where nobody can hear him.
Zera walks to the edge of the cliff and peers down, hoping to see a ray of light. It's only the water crashing along the rocks far below, and she loses herself in the solemn noise, letting all thoughts of Leonardo and their adventure together crash the way of the ocean, back to its genesis.
As soon as she steps out of Blub's medic hut, a rather sterile environment in contrast of its run-down exterior, a Sorma is waiting for her. She scoffs at the regal creature, "They haven't wasted any time, right?" expecting a response back, but the Sorma never speak, so it's pointless. The sound of her own voice irritates her.
Confused, the old man gaits out the door and smokes on a long pipe; he talks through the smoke, "What's that, Narvian? Ain't those cloud worms for injured folks?"
She eyes the levitating Sorma, following its every curve and line. The old man fidgets with his pipe, irritated by her persistent silence. His sighs and puffs bring her back to the ground. "The Sorma are part of the Range's court. They have summoned me."
"Are ya going?" A ring of smoke wafts passed Zera's head.
"I'm bound to the Range. It's a privilege."
"Where did those fellers go? They a part of it, too?"
The thought lances her throat. "No. They're foreign."
"Why didn't you go? I saw ya licking lips with one."
She can't be mad at the old prune for trying to care. "I can't go. My place is here."
He smokes on the thought and clears his throat. "Can't argue with that." He turns back to the hut and waves goodbye. "Have a safe one, and come back when ya like but leave the water worms behind. I can't stand those damn things." His last few words are half-way heard through the closing door.
Steadying herself, Zera loops one foot through the glowing blue stir and slings her leg to the other side of the Sorma. Riding one washes a cool sensation through the body followed by warm, fickle spots. It's the perfect ride for the injured and the select recreational. The last time she rode one, it went berserk and launched her into a tent.
Naturally, she is nervous. She slowly reaches around its head and pats its chin. The airlift is harmless enough, watching the ground grow smaller, and finally the wind streams through her ears. The ride will be long, and she'll have ample time to reflect. At this, her stomach burns again.
The Blue Sung Thicket soon trespasses into her view, its shimmering trees and shrubbery reaching far into the yellow and pink diamonds of the sky. As beautiful as it is, she looks forward over the ocean and waits to see her home city in the distance.
The nurses and doctors are nameless, and maybe he sees the same one every now and then. They never smile or ask him anything. Fidgeting often, Nipal peers through a mist around his eyes at the same, straw-lined ceiling. Time crawls. His wounds itch and curd under the skin, testing patience under a thin bridge of endurance. The blessing to change into a walrus has long since gone, as it was a means to deal with stress. Fly away. Fly far from any threat. What will be his next transformation? Will there even be a next transformation?
Does he still hold the title of Reformer?
He drifts mentally, caressing the worrying thoughts and it distilling a bitter taste in his mouth. The last image drops cold in his heart: she hasn't visited. Not a word. Is she okay? Should he hurry and get out of here in case she needs help?
A whimper ripples in his throat, and he falls into a dismayed slumber. What feels like hours is only a couple of minutes as a fast shake arouses him. Nipal jerks in the stranger's arms and hazily looks into its bright, protruding green eyes.
"You've been sleeping enough, Reformer. Arise," a dusty, female voice commands of him. He doesn't have long before she's sweeping out wires and sitting him straight. His head swims from the movement, and he's barely able to make out her shape: a tall, slender deer-ling, dressed in a flowing pearl gown, and a look of haste on her peppered brown and black face. Her cupped ears stand to attention. "Move, Reformer!"
"Where is Lady Zera?" he stumbles his words.
She dumps a fresh heap of red suspenders in front of him. "Zera is no longer your Retainer."
"What is your name?"
A cross look turns his bones to silver. "Why are our names important?"
"No reason," he mumbles through the clothes slipping over his head. "I apologize."
The rest of their meeting is silent. He has trouble gaining balance on his stumpy body and nearly falls off the bed until she catches him. "Can you stand?" she asks, holding him at a distance. His swollen eyes stare at her in the place of a response; she twitches her charcoal nose for a fleeting second. "I am Lores. You have a wire still attached to your arm. Hold on." She grabs it and announces, "This will hurt."
The surge of pain tears through his body as she juggles the needle out of his arm; he holds in his defeat and rubs the sore spot. Lores studies his reaction, remaining quiet while organizing wires and soaked needles onto a gold table.
"I want to see Zera." His voice clears after several grunts; he waddles to the door. "Then I'm yours."
Almost in the middle of an objection, she curiously watches her new Reformer dismiss anything more and limp out the door into the sparsely crowded street, pedestrians paying him no mind. Words fall back in her throat, and she investigates this strange, but loyal, Reformer.
Once they reach the castle adorned with black vines over its piercing stone walls, Nipal pauses by the entrance, catching his breath. As terse as she wants to be with such a pitiful creature, Lores gives a gentle push and guides him to the Range's main hall. She wrinkles her nose at her embarrassment by the guards' smirks.
Nipal's legs forge strength again. He looks up at his new Retainer. "You know Lady Zera?"
"I don't like repeating myself. Your focus should be on your new Retainer and serving the present Rook."
He hardly remembers the crisp smell of the castle or its slick floor; the grand walls and monuments of heroes past and present; and the magnificent court and its creatures. His footsteps echo slightly; Lores' has a punch to hers. He knows how angry she is, but for once in his meager life, he doesn't care. "Please tell me about this new Rook."
A resigned line of gray and red-draped soldiers meet their glances and nod approval at their passing. Lores tightens her lips but proceeds smoothly, "He is strong-willed and valiant. He will ensure our safety and prosperity. Food is plentiful and care is provided to all.."
Her speech fades into scattered whispers. He locks eyes on a beautiful harem, swinging curtains of their milky gowns into the air and harmonizing their minds and bodies as one. The Rook sits high on his gray throne encased in a black ice, slithering a pronged tongue through a jail of razor teeth and a enlarged, leathered beak. Nipal quivers at the sight of the giant, scary Rook and why he is hungrily spying at the harem.
But Nipal notices her right away and watches Zera carefully perform with the other ladies. She hasn't looked his way at all.
Lores taps Nipal on the head. "You see she is in the best care possible. It is a privilege to be part of the concubine."
"Then why does she look so sad?"
"Sad?" Lores jeers, tugging tight at her hands crossed behind her back. "You must need more rest, Reformer. That isn't a face of displeasure."
"Can I speak to her?"
"No. You must wait until Underlight when the Rook and his Range have dinner."
"Will you be there?" Nipal looks up at her, twiddling his fingers. "Zera will be there, too, right?"
Her eyes bulge from the irritation. "Reformer, you are no longer bound to her. She is safe. Why are you so obsessed?"
"Because she's my friend and I never got to say goodbye."
"Retainers and Reformers are not friends," Lores snaps, jerking Nipal in his spot. "The sooner you realize this, the better. Come. We have training."
Nipal seizes one more glimpse of his Lady Zera, throwing the veil over her face, finishing the dance, and bowing at the feet of a questionable Rook. The rabbit-ling has one more wild card up his sleeve and he has to time it right, when Lores isn't looking. The stress is enough to trip him over a soldier's foot, have Lores scream at him, and the harem look his way. Lady Zera misses him by seconds.
Next chapter: Scared out of his wits but determined to see it through, Nipal meets with Zera and gives her one final gift: a chance to see Leonardo again.