Elemenchya - Book One

“No, I ain’t gunna give you my hammer and I’ll only be a moment if you get out of my way,” Brista attempted to push past the lanky men standing with hands raised outside what she assumed was the library. The building had tall columns and bookcases and latticework shelves were easily seen inside even in the fading light of Arovdora, but the two men who had seen her marching up to its entrance had stood as a blockade, hand raised and refused her entrance.

The first man with furrowed bushy brown eyebrows widened his arms and advanced on the woman with a half-step forward. “Firstly, you are obviously not an attendant of any school or business that would permit your admittance to this facility,” the man stated with the authority few were able to muster against the muscular woman.

Brista figured his bravado had to come from the fact that he was a full head taller than she was, because he was easily half her weight. “By the Void, man. Do you all talk like that?”

The second robed man, much shorter than the first, took his turn to cast angry faces in Brista’s direction. “Secondly, travelers filled to the brim with such disrespect are not welcome within these quiet halls. Not to mention your weapon is an affront to those inside. Added, your attire…”

“My attire? Keep your lust in check and I promise I won’t touch anyone, with my weapon or otherwise. I just need to grab my companion,” Brista cast a sarcastic grin and attempted to take a full step forward when a hand manifested on her shoulder keeping her from moving past the two men. She turned and found three men standing behind her wearing the same uniform the vimova guarding the gate and walls the group had come through the day before. She raised her hands in a pacifying stance and lowered her head slightly. “Look, I’m just trying to find one of my companions. Little wiry guy, Looks a lot like these two. He’s been in this building since mid-day.”

The guard who had held her shoulder fell into the point of their ‘V’ formation. “I’m sure he can find you elsewhere when he leaves our establishment,” he asserted.

“This town is ridiculous,” she cursed.

“I suggest you make your way out of Scholar District,” the head guard motioned for Brista to follow him away from the library entrance.

“I’m just going to have to come back. We got a room near your Communications building.”

The guard looked at the tallest robed man, who responded silently with a nod of his head. He mirrored it and returned his focus to Brista. “We’re going to make sure that isn’t the case. You can try to find a different place to stay for the night, but I assume you’re going to have a hard time. Most places are full, having heard the recent news the city received of an incoming caravan. I doubt you’ll find a vacancy, with your … demeanor.” He smirked as he moved to position his group between the library and the strange woman.

“I hate to interrupt these festivities,” said a voice from behind the guard wall that blocked Brista’s sight into the library. When the bodies shifted, they revealed Artim, with his arm delicately carrying a messy stack of paper, two scrolls, and a book. He pushed through the formation with a fragile ease and took up a position standing next to Brista who folded her arms and did her best to look justified.

“Alright, lets get going,” she huffed and started to turn away from the confrontation.

“I don’t think so,” said the head guard. “We’re going to need that room emptied for more respectable patrons.”

“Brista?” Artim asked.

“These frass-filled wastes are kicking us out of our scholarly room because I’m too much for their liking,” she yelled.

Artim sighed heavily. After gathering himself, he handed Brista a small coin purse. “Why don’t you find somewhere in Main Market we can get a supper and I’ll go with these fine gentlemen to empty out our room.”

The small bag clanged sharply when Brista swiped it from Artim’s grasp before she turned and stomped off. She assumed he calmly followed the small squad to their tiny room they had purchased but Brista made no attempt to watch them as they walked away. She cleared the open city center toward the blocky frame that announced to all the plain towns vimova where their singular redeeming feature of their boring town was. After passing under it and randomly choosing a side street to lose herself down, Brista paused for a moment and took a breath to reduce her temper.

All the stores and stalls Brista passed were in the process of closing for the night. Even the two taverns she happened upon were cooling down their ovens and had removed their vacancy signs before she had the chance to ask. If another place swapped its signage in front of her, Brista was about ready to ensure a visitor wouldn’t be able to confirm their claim on a room.

The whole of Main Market was growing frustratingly quiet and aside from a few shopkeepers preoccupied with their closing shop, almost no tourists or visitors were walking the same streets that Brista was traversing. When she did find vimova remaining, most were holding private conversations with a familiar acquaintance half hidden by the store that employed them. About twenty paces in front of her was a woman traveling toward her and trying not to be seen studying Brista. She noticed the local easily and shifted her walk to intercept her.

Her clothing was plain, hidden behind an apron tied at the woman’s waist and doubled over letting the neck loop swing casually between her thighs, but Brista instantly noticed the woman’s knee-high boots. They easily explained things about this woman to Brista upon the couple of glances she afforded while closing the distance between them. The leather was well cared for, conditioned, and regularly cleaned from the golden grass dust that billowed from under each step in this trade post. The crafter had worked in structural redundancies into their construction ensuring the boots would last for a long time. The lacing up the outsides of the legs instead of the front told Brista of the artistry that was chosen over the ease. Given that nothing else this woman wore cost more than a loaf of bread, Brista confidently assumed she made the boots for herself. When the local woman lowered her gaze from whatever she was inspecting on Brista to the ground, having gotten close enough for Brista to notice spoke volumes. Brista tried not to grin too much as she shifted closer to the woman who tried to pass by, brought to an abrupt stop from Brista’s firm grasp just above her elbow.

The woman jolted to the side and pulled her arm out of Brista’s loose grip while subconsciously raising her dominant hand in a defensive motion before she regained her “respectability” and lowered her hand, attempting to hide the gesture entirely. It was amazingly difficult for Brista to hide her approval in her playful grin. She raised her hands attempting to calm the local. “Woah, woah. I just had to stop you and ask about your boots.” Brista watched as the pride swelled in the woman and she smiled. “Did you make those?”

“Yea, I did,” the smile on her face almost overtook her words entirely and her entire body eased. She pointed at Brista’s chest piece, “I’m actually really glad you stopped me. I wanted to ask what your bodice is made out of. What leather, I mean.”

The leather bodice that Brista wore was made from tightly woven leather bands that only covered her upper chest, leaving her midriff exposed. Under the leather Brista had thick bandages wrapping and supporting her breast that peaked out from the bodice. She pointed to the leather with her thumb, “It’s vickterren. From beyond the western plain,” she answered.

“Vickterren…” the woman said absent mindedly while her eyes focused far off somewhere in her imagination. “What do they look like?” she asked with almost child-like inquisitiveness.

Brista’s face flinched momentarily with puzzlement while she considered how to answer. “They’re these absurdly tall birds that eat the husks of a fruit that only grows far above your head. Their legs are taller than any vimova and so those who tend to them make long, thick leather straps from their armored legs. They then weave the leather to make leather plate armor,” Brista explained. She raised her fist and rapped against her armor making a stiff, hallow sound.

The woman let an excited giggle escape while she watched Brista knock on the hard leather. She looked back up at Brista, “That’s amazing. I’m S’bowynn,” she said and extended her hand.

“Oi. I’m Brista. Your turn,” Brista responded and threw her hand into a pointed finger hovering next to S’bowynn’s offered hand.

S’bowynn followed the pointed finger toward her boots and remembered how Brista had started this conversation. “Oh,” she said and stepped out one foot so the boot could be more easily seen. “It’s made from a darkduk hide. I have no idea what they look like,” her voice growing solemn.

“Oh, they’re ugly little shits. Big bulging necks, tiny eyes, flat and long so they can crawl across the ice shelves and not break the ice and fall into the waters below. It’s super creepy to watch ‘em run across a river,” Brista explained. She mimed her description of the beast. Once she looked back at S’bowynn she found her watching with intense eyes and a desire held most often in a child when they watched a puppet show in a city square. “You never seen ‘em?”

The wonder on her face broke and was replaced with the reality of a young adult. “No…” her disappointment plain.

Brista shifted back and forth once from foot to foot. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll trade you a story for a story. You tell me interesting news about the caravan coming in from the Communications building, and I’ll tell you a story about the world outside this city. I’ve apparently worn out my welcome with some of the city officials. When you hear something, you come find me. Probably out in that bazaar outside the Main Market. That seems more my speed anyway.”

“I think that sounds fair,” S’bowynn extended her hand instinctively again.

Brista responded by placing both her fists upon her hips. “Great. Now where can I get something to eat?”

S’bowynn retracted her hand and gestured toward the outside of the city. “Your best bet is the Bazaar. Most of the places in Main Market are closing early for the night.”

“The Bazaar. Well, that’s where I’ll be. Food and an unbiased place to sleep. Until then,” she said and walked off down the road, waving idly.