Chương 8

The moment Noah entered the town square the following day, he felt hundreds of eyes turn toward him. He did his best to ignore the sensation, focusing instead on following Ciri as she wove through the crowd. That proved surprisingly easy, given the way his eyes traced her curvy form—appreciating the subtle sway of her hips as she moved. She'd eschewed her usual outfit for something a bit more formal-looking – a dark blue, calf-length dress with sleeves and a high neckline.

Her boots were gone too, replaced by something resembling sandals albeit with many more straps. Across her shoulder she carried a satchel containing her notebook, grimoire, and an array of pencils. Not exactly funeral attire where I'm from, but who am I to judge? At Ciri's mothers' insistence, he'd also put on the more formal outfit that they'd chosen for him: a dark blue shirt with a high collar, black linen pants, and leather shoes that reminded him of dress shoes.

The fact that his shirt matched Ciri's dress perfectly made him feel like he was taking her to prom rather than going to a funeral, but given his lack of knowledge of Fae traditions he elected not to say anything. And on that note, I really hope that we don't end up standing in the middle of this crowd. He thought as they pushed deeper through the throngs of people. The chances of being approached are way too high, and I still don't know what to say.

Fortunately, a familiar voice called their names just as the thought finished crossing his mind. They turned to see Bryn waving enthusiastically, gesturing toward the steps leading up to her workshop. At her feet lay a snoozing Hruk, and standing beside her was a Fae man.

"We should go see what they want," Ciri said to Noah over the hum of conversation around them. When they reached the group, Bryn surged forward and wrapped them both in a wordless, bone‑crushing hug. Noah returned it for a few seconds before tapping her shoulder as his ribs began to protest. She released him with a laugh, allowing him to kneel and scratch Hruk gently behind the ears.

"Come sit with us!" Bryn said boisterously.

"You'll still be able to hear the speeches—mostly, anyway—and it's less crowded here."

"Thanks, Bryn," Noah replied.

"I understand I have you to thank for saving my wife," the Fae man said to Ciri as they took their seats.

"Noah did most of the work. I just healed her," Ciri said, doing her best to deflect the attention." Just healed her," Noah chuckled.

"With magic, no less."

"Interesting," the man said, casting an appraising look at Noah." My Bryn was saved by a man."

"Oh, hush," Bryn scolded, though there was no venom in her voice. Her eyes widened a heartbeat later.

"Where are my manners? Noah, this is Cael—my husband. Cael, this is Noah." Noah took him in for a moment. In many ways, Cael was Bryn's opposite: short and slight, with long hair and skin several shades darker than most of the Fae Noah had seen so far. He looks like a stiff breeze might blow him away. Guess opposites really do attract.

"A pleasure to meet you," Noah said.

"Likewise," Cael replied.

"And thank you both for saving my wife. I'd be happy to repay the debt by writing spells for either of you—at cost."

"Thank you," Noah said.

"Ciri's been using translation spells so I can speak with people, and while she's given me a few books to start learning Fae and Common, I suspect it'll be a while before I'm fluent. We could use a few of those language translation spells as a result."

"An accurate assessment," Ciri said, nodding.

"I see that as fair payment, then," Cael decided. As Noah glanced back at the crowd—still swelling as more people arrived—he seized the chance to raise another issue.

"Bryn, I had a question about the town's defenses."

"Made most of them myself," she said proudly.

"Cael writes the runes that keep wildlife at bay, and I forge the weapons and armor for the guards. We maintain them too – after all, even the rift had a first crack." Making a mental note to ask about the idiom later, Noah continued his line of questioning.

"I didn't see anyone using ranged weapons. Is that intentional?"

"Ranged weapons?" Bryn echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Guns?" Noah asked, drawing on his strategy‑game instincts.

"I don't know what those are."

"Bows?"

"Ah! Yes. Bows—the human weapon," Bryn said, nodding.

"You fling sharpened sticks through the air, right?"

"More or less."

"We don't use them," she said.

"Magic is far more effective. Better to throw fire or lightning."

"Unless you're fighting Corrupted," Noah countered.

"Or anything resistant to magic."

"Well… yes," she conceded.

"But those are rare."

"But not unheard of." If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"No." Bows exist here, but guns don't, Noah reasoned. That tracks if most humans arrived before firearms were invented.

"Why do you ask?" Bryn said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"There's an invention from my world—a gun. Non‑magical, lethal at range. I wondered if something like that might help defend the tribe, but it sounds like it's not an option here."

"I could forge one if you had a design," Bryn offered.

"I can make almost anything."

"I don't think so," Noah said.

"Even with your skill, I'd need deep knowledge of gunpowder chemistry, ignition systems, pressure tolerances, manufacturing processes… and years of trial and error. Best case, it works. Worst case, it explodes in our faces."

"They sound dangerous," Ciri commented.

"Exactly. So no guns." Noah paused.

"But there is something older. A precursor. A crossbow." Both Bryn and Ciri shook their heads.

"Maybe you know it by another name," he said.

"It's easier to draw than explain. Ciri—could I borrow your pencil and paper?"

"Yes, of course," she said, pulling them from her bag and handing them over.

"Just… please don't flip through the pages. Some are private."

"I can't read it anyway," he reminded her. He quickly thumbed through the notepad, realizing that she had sketches in it alongside her written notes. Doing his best to honor her request he tried not to look at any of them, instead stopping at the first blank page he could find and beginning to draw. As he worked Bryn and Cael leaned in, joined soon after by Ciri.

"It works like this," Noah said as he finished.

"The bolt goes here. You pull back the string with this mechanism, then pull the trigger. It releases the string and fires the bolt forward." He paused to ensure they were following.

"I'd need help refining the design, but the concept is simple. These were used for centuries to win wars."

"Did they replace bows in your world?" Ciri asked.

"Eventually."

"Why?"

"Because bows are hard to learn," Noah said carefully.

"It takes years to become truly effective. Crossbows are simpler. More maintenance, sure—but anyone can be trained quickly."

"Fascinating," Ciri said.

"The divergence in how human society developed in your realm versus this one is significant."

"Anyone can use them?" Bryn asked as Ciri took back her notepad and started furiously scribbling notes.

"Pretty much. There are records of children using them—though I'm absolutely not recommending that," he added quickly.

"But imagine if the men who stayed inside yesterday had crossbows. The Corrupted might never have reached the town."

"I'm not sure about arming men," Bryn said slowly, "but I'll help you build a few. We can test them."

"Works for me," Noah said.

"I want one too. If I'm chasing my brother across this world, I'd rather not have to use a knife, and I might not have a pot of boiling water close at hand." A hush fell over the square a moment later, and Noah turned toward it. While they'd been talking, more Fae had gathered, swelling the crowd and making him even more grateful for the bench beneath him. Only then did he notice Ken, Aelya, Thala, and Vela standing head and shoulders above the others at the center of the square, with Vela speaking loudly.

Except it's in Fae, Noah realized, recognizing the almost musical cadence of her voice. I must be too far away for the spell to work. Thankfully, Ciri began translating without being prompted.

"She's recognizing those who died during the attack. Naming them. Sharing memories."

"What were their names?"

"Vaelithra, Sylthara, Aethryss, Lioraen, Nyssara, Velkynra, Thalirae, Caelythra, Myrithen, Olyndra, Saelthira, and Virelya." Bryn's smile faded halfway through the list.

"Fuck."

"You okay?" Noah asked quietly.

"It's fine. I knew who we lost before this," she said.

"It's just… Thali was a friend. Hearing her name like this…"

"Makes it final," Noah finished.

"Yeah. I get it."

"You've lost someone before," Bryn said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"Thali wouldn't want me to mourn," Bryn said before producing a flask from her apron and taking a long pull from it. They sat in silence for a while. The wind blew through the square softly, ruffling their clothes and making Ciri's pink hair wave softly. Eventually, Noah glanced toward Ken as he stepped forward.

"What's happening now?"

"It's custom for the Watcher to lead the funeral prayer," Ciri said.

"Ah." Noah nodded.

"This is probably a bad time to ask, but—""Go ahead," Cael said.

"We could use the distraction."

"Do the Fae believe in an afterlife? Gods? Anything like that?"

"To varying degrees," Ciri said.

"The ancient Fae worshipped Danu, Dôn, and Anu—the creators of this world—and their shared husband, Donn, who was said to have created the afterlife. My father is asking Donn to guide the souls of the dead to his house, so they may rest in peace." Noah absorbed that, then frowned.

"Are they… real? The gods, I mean."

"That depends on who you ask," Bryn said as she placed her flask back into her pocket.

"Don't people believe in gods in your world?"

"We do, but most people treat those stories as metaphors rather than literal history," he said.

"Given that magic is real, though, I'm starting to question that."

"There's no way to empirically prove the gods exist," Ciri said.

"The only way to know for certain is to die."

"Right," Noah said quickly.

"And we're not doing that."

"No," Bryn agreed.

"That would be bad." Silence settled again until Cael spoke.

"Will you be staying with the tribe long?"

"A few months, at least," Noah said.

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh?"

"Hænnaethrýael," Ciri supplied.

"Yeah," Noah said, jerking a thumb at her.

"Her." Cael's expression darkened.

"I see."

"Be nice, Cael," Bryn said.

"She still owes me from that last game of—never mind." He shook his head.

"Why are you waiting for her?"

"The last traveller was my brother." Recognition flickered across Cael's face.

"And you want to know where she took him when he left."

"That's right."

"Was he truly your brother? You don't resemble him."

"Yeah. I get that a lot," Noah said.

"But I'm sure."

"What will you do while you wait?" Cael asked.

"Aside from building crossbows."

"Learn," Noah said.

"Ciri's helping me with the language and teaching me how this world works—how not to get myself killed." Ciri's shoulders dipped almost imperceptibly at the mention of him leaving. She stared ahead, resolutely avoiding his gaze. She's going to miss me, Noah realized, a pang settling in his chest. And I'm going to miss her too. But Lucien comes first.

"That's admirable of her," Cael said.

"I regret we didn't have more time with your brother. He was eager to see the world."

"In my world, he was a drifter," Noah said.

"Military background. He can handle himself." Cael nodded.

"Still, if you're staying a while, I have a request."

"Oh here we go," Bryn muttered.

"Ask away," Noah said.

"Though I think I'm supposed to ask for something in return?"

"Yes," Ciri confirmed, still not looking at him.

"I enjoy stories," Cael said.

"Your brother told wonderful ones—tales of adventure I'd never heard. I wrote them down. One of them, though… he never finished. The one about the wars of the stars." The wars in the…oh. Noah blinked as he realized what Cael was talking about.

"You don't know how it ends?!" He shouted, causing Ciri to finally look in his direction.

"He's been speculating for two years," Bryn laughed.

"I'd pay you just to stop hearing about it." Noah laughed.

"Alright. What's the trade?"

"That's for you to decide."

"You could teach him rune drawing," Ciri offered.

"It may be a useful skill in his journey – one that would keep him alive."

"He knows?" Bryn snapped, suddenly looking at her with a serious expression on her face.

"I asked," Noah said quickly.

"Your leaders decided I could be trusted." After a long look, Bryn nodded.

"Your choice."

"I accept," Cael said.

"We'll go to the tower tomorrow. You can tell me the story on the way." Noah grinned. I get to learn magic.