Chương 55: Chapter 54: Tiviski

Repera's cough had started sometime before breakfast, small and dry, nothing that should have troubled anyone. Vector sat beside her, his attention fixed on her whenever she coughed, the faint crease between his brows growing deeper each time. Meredith set water to boil the moment she heard it. Lucien was already fetching the jar of mint leaves from the shelf, bringing it over without being asked. Elma watched from the doorway a moment longer than she needed to. Last night hadn't been cold.

Not cold enough for this, anyway. Jorm sat alone on the low step outside, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing in particular.

"Where'd you two go last night." Elma froze at the question. Silk had appeared at her shoulder without a sound, arms crossed, watching Jorm through the open doorway with the same flat attention she watched everything.

"You followed us?" Elma turned.

"I can't leave Lucien alone. What happened?"

"She went for revenge. I'd guessed as much before she left."

"And?" Silk's eyes hadn't left Jorm's hunched shape outside.

"How is she worse this morning than she was last night?" Elma didn't have an answer for that. She stepped past Silk and out into the cold. The suns were just cresting the horizon, only slivers of their light visible above it. Dawn had barely begun, leaving the city washed in the pale glow of morning. Jorm didn't look up when Elma lowered herself onto the step beside her.

"I froze once," Elma said.

"Before." Jorm's head turned.

"What?"

"You asked me, once, if I'd frozen before." Elma kept her eyes on the empty street ahead of them.

"I have." Something in Jorm's shoulders came undone all at once.

"Oh." A short, humorless breath.

"So we're both cowards, then." We are not cowards, the Other objected, indignant, somewhere behind her ribs.

"I think everyone's a coward," Elma said.

"They just need to care about what they're risking, before it shows." Jorm's eyes filled without her permission.

"I don't understand."

"Do you care about your mother?"

"Of course I do." Jorm dragged a wrist across her eyes.

"You want to be strong enough to protect her." A small nod.

"Jorm, I know what cowards look like," Elma said.

"You're not one. A coward wouldn't go on a suicide mission to avenge their mother." Jorm wiped her nose.

"No. You're just saying that to make me feel better. I'm afraid to die. People say they're not afraid."

"People lie." Elma paused.

"Fearing death is not a defect. It's letting it control you that is. What you fear isn't just being dead. It's leaving your mother alone and what that would do to her. I don't think you should be ashamed of that." Jorm's eyes widened slowly, her tears momentarily forgotten. That seemed to work, Elma noted. Elma paused again, choosing the next part more carefully than she chose most things.

"Maybe your father thought the same. Maybe he couldn't do what the law asked of him, not because he was afraid of dying, but because he couldn't stand being the one who chose to leave. I'm only specul—" Jorm crashed into her before she finished the word, arms locking around her so hard it drove the air from Elma's chest, sobbing an apology into her shoulder, over and over, like the word had run out of anywhere else to go.

She seemed grateful that, for once, someone didn't see her father as a coward, and that she wasn't the only one who believed there had been more to his choice. Elma sat still and let herself be held. Over Jorm's shoulder, in the doorway, Silk gave her a slow, silent nod. The hunt for a fifth member was turning out to be quite the opposite of what Vector had promised. It was nearly noon, and they hadn't found a single person willing to stand with them.

The moment prospective fighters caught sight of Elma's frog mask or recognized the rest of the party, their entire demeanor shifted. Some backed away slowly; others turned on their heels and ran. Their search was severely choked—hemmed in by Alloy patrols sweeping the main thoroughfares and a city that suddenly wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Vector wasn't himself, either. He moved like a ghost, his thoughts constantly drifting back to his sister.

They had left her behind, and there was nothing he could do now but wonder if her cough had returned, if she was resting, if Repera had been right that she was getting better. Every few moments, his brow tightened with quiet worry. They stood huddled in the shadows of a narrow alley in the heart of the city. Staring up through the gap between the rooftops at the massive shape of Aurethion looming overhead, Elma finally understood how to destroy it. Knowing how felt worse than not knowing at all.

Elma studied the sprawling monolith, her mind calculating angles and destructive force. Standard elemental attacks wouldn't even make it past the walls. To break the Aurethion, she needed something unfamiliar to them. Something unstoppable. Her eyes shifted to Vector. She was now certain he was the one Sable had meant when she told Elma to find someone who could help. Even the Shepherd had only spoken to her when she was wondering if she could take Vector to Xenotopia, something that might interest the boy.

He was the key. But he won't do it, Elma thought. Vector's Spatial Inversion was far too distinct. The moment he unleashed it on a grand scale, his face would be plastered across every bounty board in Veraxys, eclipsing even the Other as the most wanted person alive. Not even Xenotopia's deepest shadows would be able to hide him after that. Vector wasn't stupid enough to commit social suicide for a cause that wasn't his own. Elma had less than four days to find the Scale or convince Vector to risk everything.

And she had no idea how to accomplish either.

"We have to keep moving," Silk said flatly, her arms crossed as she peered toward the alley mouth.

"Just... give me a minute," Lucien groaned, leaning his back against the brick wall and rubbing his aching thighs.

"My legs are dead. Forget it. Just go on without me..."

"Do forgive the intrusion," a voice called out. The party snapped toward the sound. Stepping gracefully out of the deep shadows at the back of the alley was a man. He was slim, stiff-backed, and wearing the most absurd ensemble Elma had ever laid eyes on. Atop his head sat a rigid, bowl-shaped blue hat with a single polished wooden flute tucked horizontally through a hole in either side, its long body protruding from both sides. A long, sweeping blue feather was fixed to the hat, bobbing with every step.

Below a tailored doublet, he wore voluminous bordeaux breeches pulled over stark white hose. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The man stepped into the light, removing his hat with a grand, sweeping flourish.

"Am I addressing the Little Frog?" he asked, his eyes fixing on Elma's mask.

"The Frog?" Elma's voice was utterly flat.

"Ah, marvelous! It is you," the man declared, letting out a long, theatrical sigh of relief.

"Who the hell are you?" Lucien asked, squinting at the stranger's outfit.

"I am but a humble wayfarer from a distant, less sunnier climes," the man said, executing a deep, flawless bow that nearly brushed his feather against the cobblestones.

"A seeker of melody and modest fortune, cast adrift in this rather boisterous city. My name is Gorji. Gorji Ken, at your service." Vector let out a sudden, quiet snort.

"Gorji? What kind of name is that?" Gorji replaced his hat with meticulous care, adjusting his lapels without losing an ounce of poise.

"A name of distinguished, ancient heritage where I hail from, my dear boy, though I quite grasp why it might strike a local ear as somewhat... eccentric."

"What do you want?" Elma asked.

"Much like your good selves, I have encountered an appalling lack of hospitality regarding this Silver Bastion inscription tournament," Gorji said, resting a pale hand on his hip.

"Chasing gainful employment in Veraxys as a gentleman of foreign extraction has proven dreadfully tedious. I approached every squad I could find, yet each turned me away without a second thought." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Though, if I may speak frankly, I overheard the chatter in the taverns. They spoke of you, Little Frog, and your rather dramatic wager against Lord Sekar. The local turncoats assume your team is thoroughly doomed, hence their utter refusal to associate with you. Yet, standing before you now... I possess a rather keen instinct for these matters. I am quite convinced I am gazing upon the winning cohort." A bet against Sekar, Elma realized. So that was why the streets had turned cold.

Sekar had leaked word of their wager across the lower city. He knew no sane fighter would align themselves with a doomed squad, leaving them disqualified by default. Elma extended her Field, casually sweeping her Resonance across Gorji to gauge his threat level. Her mind momentarily stalled. 500 Will. His Total Resonance Output was literally five hundred Will. He was, without an ounce of exaggeration, the absolute weakest Resonant she had ever encountered in her life.

He was barely a step above a bedridden civilian. There was a very clear reason no other team had taken him in. It doesn't matter, Elma decided instantly. A fifth body was a fifth body. Whether he was a master grandmaster or a glorified busker made zero difference to the tournament board.

"You're in," Elma said. Gorji beamed, placing a hand over his heart with another grand flourish.

"Splendid! My utmost gratitude, Little Frog. I assure you, you shall not have cause to regret extending your hand to a gentleman of the arts."

"Well, we have our fifth," Vector said, looking up at the position of the suns overhead.

"Let's go before the registration window slams shut." They made it with mere minutes to spare before registration closed. Only a few squads stood ahead of them, but Elma felt the weight of every gaze around them. Sekar leaking the wager had only been the beginning. The city wasn't safe. They retreated to Jorm's house to regroup. Repera looked somewhat better, breathing easier in the quiet of the living room, while Gorji executed a sweeping, theatrical bow to introduce himself to the rest of the household.

Elma didn't give them time to settle. She announced they were leaving. All of them. Merideth immediately objected, her voice shaking as she gestured toward her crippled legs and asked why she should leave. Elma cut her off, her voice devoid of inflection as she recounted exactly what she and Jorm had done the night before, along with the unpleasant fact that Hunch had escaped alive.

Jorm sat in absolute silence, staring at the floorboards, while Merideth stared at her daughter, tears finally spilling over her cheeks.

"When this tournament is resolved, you will not have to worry about the lower city ever again," Elma told the weeping woman.

"You are now under our protection." Silk simply nodded, lifting Merideth smoothly from her chair while hoisting the wooden frame over her own shoulder. They packed every usable supply in the house, and Jorm wordlessly guided them through the winding, obscure back alleys of the lower city until they reached the woods, then the sun temple. From there, Elma awakened the dormant Veins beneath it, teleporting the entire group to the sheared cliff face she and the Other had destroyed.

Though the teleportation itself presented an unexpected hurdle. Vector stood near the edge, staring up at the singular, blinding sun in the sky. He swallowed hard.

"You really can do it," he whispered.

"Good heavens," Gorji gasped, clutching the brim of his blue hat to keep it from blowing away in the high wind.

"Where in the blazes is this?" Vector turned to Elma with a desperate, bargaining look in his eyes.

"Can you take me to Xenotopia now? Just to see it. Just once. I swear I'll come right back with you." Elma looked away. Teleporting two other Resonants earlier had taught her a vital limitation of her power: the green Veins couldn't forcibly relocate a conscious Resonant. The target had to allow themselves to be moved. The Veins couldn't connect to Vector or Gorji until Elma told them to accept the teleportation. Jorm had simply accepted it as before because she trusted Elma.

If Elma transported Vector to Xenotopia now, she had no guarantee he would agree to be pulled back to Veraxys.

"After you help us," Elma said coldly. Merideth, whom Silk had carefully lowered back into her chair, stared at the vast expanse of greenery and the waterfall in the distance.

"I have never seen anything like this power of yours," she breathed, her fear momentarily forgotten.

"This isn't Resonance. Resonance cannot manifest outside a Resonant's Field. Is this... Remnant technology?" Elma said nothing. A dry, rattling cough broke the silence. Repera was hacking into her hands, and Vector's entire demeanor shattered instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside her.

"My throat," the little girl wheezed.

"It feels funny again." Merideth quickly uncorked a small glass bottle of herbal medicine, offering it forward.

"No," Repera whined, pushing it away.

"It tastes bad." It took a solid minute of frantic, quiet pleading from Vector before she finally swallowed the bitter liquid, her eyes glassy with fresh tears. Gorji, who had been watching the exchange closely, stepped forward, scratching his chin.

"What exactly ails the little lass?"

"We don't know," Lucien said, his brow deeply furrowed.

"She just woke up like this today."

"Fascinating," Gorji murmured.

"I thought my nose was perhaps playing tricks on me in the crowded city, but up here in this pristine air, I am quite certain of it."

"Certain of what?" Lucien asked.

"Would any of you, by some bizarre chance, be carrying Tiviski on your person?"

"Tiviski?" Merideth asked.

"I've never heard the name." Neither had the rest of them.

"It is an extraordinarily rare metal," Gorji explained, flourishing a hand.

"Plucked from the deepest, most crushing depths of the earth. It often masquerades as gold. Do any of you possess gold?" The group immediately patted down their coats and pockets. None of them had anything. Elma reached to her chest. The only thing she wore that even remotely resembled gold was the heavy sun pendant resting beneath her dress. She unclasped it and held it up.

"I have this." Lucien stepped closer, his eyes widening in horror as he recognized the symbol.

"Who gave that to you?"

"Christa," Elma said. Lucien slapped a hand hard against his forehead.

"That absolute idiot. I cannot believe it. She is going to get herself killed."

"Good Gods," Gorji exhaled, gingerly taking the pendant from Elma's hand by the very edge of the chain.

"A piece this large... well, no wonder it is affecting the little lass so severely."

"What are you talking about?" Elma asked, her voice dropping an octave.

"How do you know that is what you're looking for?" Gorji didn't answer immediately. He pulled a chunk of rock salt from a pouch in one of the bags, wove a sphere of water into the air, and dissolved the salt within it. With extreme care, he dipped the pendant into the suspended water. Almost instantly, a sickly, silver vapor began rising from the submerged metal. Gorji whipped his fingers in a tight circle, making a miniature whirlwind to trap the toxic fumes before they could spread.

"I must say, I have never seen Tiviski utilized quite like this," Gorji noted, observing the trapped vapor with a critical eye.

"It produces the same reaction when exposed to sweat. A dreadfully inefficient method of assassination. The toxicity is entirely negligible to an adult. But I would strongly advise disposing of this trinket post-haste, Little Frog. Continual exposure is utterly fatal to toddlers." Elma reached up and tore the snake mask off her face. She stood there in the high wind, her real face exposed. A face with the soft, rounded features of a toddler, the exact same physical age as Repera. Her chest heaved.

Her heart hammered a violent rhythm against her ribs. Gorji pulled back, his theatrical posture vanishing entirely.

"Good heavens," he breathed.

"You're but a child." Pyroclast. Gorji shouted in alarm, diving backward as a blinding torrent of emerald fire erupted from Elma's hand. The green flames enveloped the suspended water, the salt, and the pendant, instantly vaporizing the rare metal into absolute nothingness with a deafening crack. You knew about it? No, the Other said. I might've developed an immunity unconsciously? No. It's not that. Looking back, I never felt any difference when you wore it. We were exposed to it from the moment we were born.

I think we were simply born immune to it. Elma stood staring at the empty space where the pendant had been, her jaw clamped tight enough to crack her teeth. Did Christa try to murder us?