In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Twenty-Two: Adjacent Revelation

Following the forest trail, as they've been for some time, Kirsta, Irzain, Jarae and Mairlynn trudge along the earthen road. Though a well-traveled road, it's thin and curvy, winding around small hills and seemingly every tree. It's been a longer walk than they thought it'd be, but not an unpleasant one, at least not for Irzain. He sighs and turns his emerald eyes toward the leafy canopy, admiring the sunlight that beams through the copious gaps between the many thousands of swaying leaves. The sound of their rustling and the cool breeze on his face are even more comforting to him than the rocking of the Arona-Dahl or the sounds of lapping waves and fluttering sails.

He glances behind him and then straight ahead, looking at his companions. Mairlynn turns the base of her golden Leinehn Egg, which hangs prominently around her neck, preparing it for another day of timekeeping. She's careful not to over wind it, which Valan had warned her about. Kirsta leads the way, keeping her eyes peeled, ever ready for a fight. Like a true warrior, one hand rests on the pommel of her sword, while the other grips the handle of her crossbow pistol, which she carries, having removed it from the carrier on her belt as soon as they'd entered the woods.

Jarae, however, who walks just behind and to the right of Kirsta, seems a thousand miles away. Her lips are curled into a perpetual from around her short, felinesque snout. What could be bothering her so much? Is it Valan? Irzain isn't sure what else it could be. He recalls their first few days after Jarae and Valan were rescued from their little island. She had many chances to be with him, and he was certainly receptive, at least to a budding relationship. Why then would she deny herself, if she'd only regret it so much? It causes him to ponder, and his mind returns to Naoma and Boala.

Steingar had warned him about revealing his interracial relationship with Naoma, for his own safety. It didn't occur to Irzain until a moment ago, but perhaps the reason Boala is even on Bremen is solely because of her social proclivities? Perhaps she had to flee wherever she'd originally lived? Could that fear be what's preventing Jarae from acting, thereby spoiling her chances at happiness? How trivial that would be if that were the case, though it could always be something else. After a long and intense stare, Jarae still doesn't notice his gaze. Her shimmering, pink eyes turn upward, looking away from her feet and toward the horizon.

“This must be the place." She remarks.

Irzain shifts his gaze, looking upon a clearing in the distance, near the end of the trail. As they inch closer, they can see that the clearing contains not a town, but a humble village. Leaving the forest behind, they make their way into the village. They've arrived before high noon. Walking through the settlement, it's full of simple huts, none of them identical in their construction. Old, stone houses, decrepit and in dire need of repair, once belonged to the colonists; now they shelter only the squatters who've made Bremen their home. Weaving through the rows of structures, none of them looks anything like a shop.

“Some town..." Mairlynn murmurs, her ruby eyes scanning their surroundings.

“I wonder how hard it's going to be to find this doctor?" Jarae remarks.

Walking near a hut, a simple, wooden door swings open and a young-looking, Falmun male emerges from within. He nearly slams into Mairlynn as he walks with his head turned back, his eyes looking over his shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it!" Mairlynn jumps back, barely avoiding him.

“I'm sorry!" He swiftly apologizes.

“Ooh..." Mairlynn coos, gazing up at him. “It's alright, handsome."

“I didn't know you'd be there, kid. You should stay closer to your mom." He says, giving Kirsta a glance.

“..."

With a glass vial in-hand, he swerves around Mairlynn and the others, darting off as Jarae and Kirsta struggle to contain their laughter. With an angry, jagged stare, Mairlynn demands their silence. The two women manage to contain their amusement, if only for the humiliated woman's sake. Another man, an older Falmun, suddenly emerges from the hut. He follows behind the younger man, walking with a crooked cane.

“Now remember, take only the recommended dose!" The old elf yells, cupping a hand around his mouth.

Looking between each other, the crew share a smile.

“I hope he heard me. If he uses too much, everything he eats will leak out the other end. Hm... I'd better make him a remedy, just in case he comes back." The old man thinks aloud, stroking his long, white beard.

“Excuse me, sir, but you wouldn't happen to be a doctor and an alchemist, would you?" Irzain politely asks the diminutive, old elf.

“Why, I certainly am, young man... And women! Didn't you see the sign?"

“What sign?" Jarae cocks her head.

“That sign, right over-"

The old man turns his frail body, lifting his cane and pointing to a protruding board. Though there are several holes drilled through it, there's nothing there but the lonely board.

“Oh... I keep forgetting to put that damn sign up. Well, anyway, I'm a doctor. In fact, I'm the only doctor on Bremen! Sovik is my name. Pleased to meet you!" He chirps, grasping Irzain's hand and shaking it vigorously.

“Excellent!" Irzain exclaims.

“Well, that was easy." Kirsta remarks.

“Could I trouble you for a moment of your time, Sovik? I have a problem that I was hoping you could help me with." Irzain begins.

“Which one?" Sovik asks.

“... Which one, what?"

“Which one is pregnant? Or is it all of them? You lucky dog, you." Sovik asks, teasingly elbowing Irzain's side.

“Woah!" Kirsta glares.

“Excuse me?!" Jarae snarls.

“Heh... I wish." Mairlynn murmurs, a little smile on her face.

“That's not my problem!" Irzain replies.

“Oh, I see. You're one of those... Well, my ship doesn't sail in that direction, and I'm too old for you anyway." The doctor teases him.

“Huh? ... Oh! I'm not that way either..." Irzain sighs.

“I would certainly hope not, with such beauties as these following you." Sovik says, leaning over and looking past Irzain, glimpsing all three of his female companions.

“Aww, did you hear that?!" Mairlynn gushes.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we please get on with this?" Jarae grumbles.

“The problem is, sir, that I suffered a bad head injury some time ago. It robbed me of my memories, and I was hoping you might be able to help me." Irzain explains.

“Ah, yes! I believe I can! Come in, please!"

The old man extends a hand, motioning with his fingers to the human and his three female companions. Mairlynn moves first, stepping through the doorway and into the darkness of the hut. Irzain quickly follows her, though Jarae and Kirsta seem more hesitant. Jarae tilts her head, motioning for Sovik to enter. The Jaliscan leads the old elf inside, while Kirsta looks around. After a moment of hesitation, she steps over the threshold, entering last, her crossbow pistol in-hand.

She finds herself standing in a modest hut, a floor mat for a bed and placed beside a central firepit. Small, rickety shelves line the hut, holding only a few articles each. The floor is lined with baskets, sacks and pottery, all filled with food, water and alchemical ingredients. Hanging over the fire is a modest cauldron, and beside it sit a mortar and pestle, with fresh residue staining the stone bowl.

“I was working on a potion to enhance memory some time ago. It's something that I'd become concerned about in my declining years. I've come up with something that might be of some use to you." Sovik begins, looking over his shelves.

“Really?!" Irzain gasps.

“Does it work?!" Kirsta asks.

“I tried it once, and it certainly did something." Sovik replies.

“That's great!" Irzain chirps.

“Uhm... Not to be a downer, but what's this going to cost us?" Mairlynn interjects.

“Are you serious?" Jarae turns her head, raising a brow at the childlike elven woman.

“... What? It's a fair question!" Mairlynn defends herself.

“Oh, no charge!" Sovik chuckles.

“Seriously?!" Kirsta raises her brow in surprise.

“Yes."

“That's wonderful!" Irzain positively glows with excitement.

“Why's that?" Jarae prods.

“Well, this is all very... Experimental... If you promise me that your lovely angels won't be stranded here, or kill me in the event that something bad should happen to you, we'll consider this a continuation of the experiment." Sovik casually explains.

“Uhm... Alright." Irzain shrugs his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, do you really want to agree to that?" Kirsta quietly asks, leaning over and whispering into his ears.

“It's a memory potion; what could go wrong?" Irzain glances at her.

“Oh... Uhm..." Sovik hesitates to speak.

“If you die, can I have your stuff?" Mairlynn innocently asks.

“... What?" Irzain's eyes grow wide.

“I'm almost positive that won't happen!"

Sovik slips an arm around Irzain, guiding him toward a shelf. He collects a single, small, clay jug from the shelf, before looking back at Irzain. With an innocent little smile, the old man presents him the juglet.

“Here! Drink this!"

Holding the clay juglet, Irzain examines the container. It's made of rich, reddish-brown clay, and decorated with three, thick horizontal lines, painted in black. Somehow, Irzain recalls their meaning; it's indicative of a substance with unknown properties. Why would he know this? Was he once an alchemist as well, or is it something he read and merely remembers from his studies? Irzain turns his fearful eyes toward Sovik, reaching out a tremoring hand to the elven doctor. Sovik nods, lifting up the juglet.

“Go on!"

Irzain takes the juglet and brings the container to his lips, hesitating for a moment as he stares at the cork stopper. He takes a breath and holds it, before pulling the stopper from the mouth of the juglet and pressing the spout against his flesh.

“By the Seraphs!" Jarae exclaims, wincing and covering her felinesque nose.

“Hehe! It's a little strong, yes?" Sovik laughs.

Irzain tilts his head back and begins to pour.

“Oh, and be sure to drink it down quick. It's a little strong."

Irzain's eyes widen, bulging out of his head as the acrid fluid splashes against his tongue. It's almost unbearable as he swallows a gulp of the astringent concoction, with a distinct odor of putrid herbs and rotting meat. He almost stops pouring, until he remembers what's at stake. Gulp after painful gulp, he ingests the potion as fast as he can.

“Ahh!" Irzain gasps. “That's awful! What's in that?!"

The old doctor chuckles as he collects the juglet and the cork stopper from his patient.

“Do you really want to know?" Sovik asks, pushing the stopper back into the spout.

“No, I suppose not... So, how long until it... Starts... Wor-"

Irzain can't even finish his sentence before he falls backward. Kirsta and Jarae manage to catch him as his body becomes as limp as a ragdoll's.

“Oh! That was quicker than I remember." Sovik remarks.

“Where do you want him?" Kirsta asks with a grunt.

“There's a floor mat over there that'll keep him dry until he wakes up."

“And how long will that be?" Jarae asks, struggling to hold up the adult male.

Looking to Sovik, he answers them with a shrug.

“You don't know?! How can you not know?!" Kirsta demands.

“Heh... My memory is a little fuzzy." Sovik grins, nervously scratching the back of his bald head.

“Great..." Jarae grumbles, struggling with Irzain's bulk.

They step to the side, wrestling with Irzain's limp body as they drag him to the place that the doctor points out. Kirsta and Jarae pull Irzain the few feet to Sovik's straw mattress, which covers the dank, dirt floor of his humble home. They both grunt as they heave, tossing Irzain's unconscious body atop the mat. He lands with a loud puff, crinkling some of the dry bits of straw.

“Damn, he's heavy." Jarae sighs, resting her hands on her broad hips and arching her back.

“That's almost dead weight! He isn't dead... Is he?" Kirsta turns to Sovik.

“Oh, heavens no!" The old doctor smiles. “Or at least I don't think so..." He slowly strokes his beard.

Mairlynn squats down, taking a knee beside Irzain's body as he lay face-down on the straw matt. She reaches out a little hand, slipping it around his neck. The youthful Falmun pauses for a moment.

“No. He's still alive. I can feel his heart beating." She finally speaks, glancing over to her companions.

“Oh, good. Now I don't have to kill you." Kirsta smiles at Sovik.

“Oh, joy!" Sovik chirps.

Kirsta and Jarae roll Irzain over, arranging him atop the straw mattress as if he was sleeping peacefully. Mairlynn takes a seat beside Irzain's limp body, her ruby eyes scanning his form. She cocks her head as she looks upon his face. She can't help but notice how his eyes dart to the left and to the right.

“What's happening to him?" She softly asks.

“He's dreaming... Remembering." Sovik answers, taking a seat by his unlit firepit.

“Remembering what?" Jarae joins him.

The old man turns his head and flashes her a little smile.

“Whatever the potion in unlocking. Maybe it's what's most important to him, or maybe it's something else? Who's to say!"

“You're instilling us with confidence..." Kirsta murmurs.

“I do what I can, young miss... So, would anyone like some tea?!"

“Sure. Why not?" Mairlynn gently pets Irzain's head.

“I hope he isn't out for too long." Jarae remarks.

“You miss him already?" Kirsta teases.

“Shut up! Th-that's not what it is!" Jarae growls.

“Yeah. When have you ever cared about Valan?" Mairlynn snickers, scooting over and joining them.

“I j-just want to get back t-to the ship. I-I miss my cot, okay?!" Jarae insists with a little whimper.

“Okay. Whatever." Kirsta mutters, taking a clay cup from the floor and brushing it off.

Covering the cauldron with a special lid, the three women and the old man sit in silence around the little fire. Sovik brews a simple tea of tree bark and pine needles, mixed with more traditional herbs. Taking hold of a ladle that hangs beside the cauldron, he collects their cups and pours in their tea.

“We used to brew pine needle tea often, back home." Kirsta remarks, smiling as she looks into the clay cup.

“Where's home?" Sovik asks.

“It's... Gone." Kirsta sighs.

“As is the fate of us all." He remarks.

“Cheerful." Jarae snickers.

“Well, it's true, isn't it? One day we all return to the dust. We start out young, full of hope and energy, but like the world, we become cynical, slow and tired. We become set in our routines. Sure, there's a storm here and there for flavor, but for the most part, the older you become the more time bleeds." Sovik explains.

“That's an interesting outlook, if a little depressing." Kirsta says as she blows the steam away from her tea.

“You find yourself thinking more, the older you become. Between all of those trips to the chamber pot and in the struggle to climb out of bed, fighting with your aching joints, what else are you going to do? Don't you women ever think about things like that?" He asks.

“I don't know. I try not to think about my mortality." Jarae murmurs.

“Do you at least think about your future?" Sovik poses.

“Should I?" She snaps.

“Of course! Your future is just as important as your past, if not more-so! Especially for you womenfolk!" He chirps.

“How so?" Kirsta raises a brow.

“Well, we all age and die. This is a fact of life: Each one comes with a death sentence. However, we all also struggle with our lives; the pain of heartache, sickness, the loss of loved ones... Women, however, have even more at stake. You, miss..." Sovik glances at Kirsta. “As a human, you have only until your late thirties to have children, and then that's it. Jaliscan, Helngar and Lahnyt are all in the same boat as you. The Falmun can wait until their fifties for children, but that's a risk; most don't try after forty-five."

Mairlynn turns her ruby eyes toward Sovik, before glancing down at her tea. Jarae and Kirsta can see the pain swelling within the Falmun woman. She blows on her tea, before taking a sip, as if the drink will somehow ease her pain or at least distract her from it.

“The Vizhek can wait until their seventies, but their women still have a ticking clock. Though, when you're seventy-five and looking as young as I did when I was thirty, that doesn't seem so strange. I digress! You women are also more delicate than men, and I hate to offend you, but it's true. You're all in a race, a race to find a man. One who is kind, gentle, but also a protector. Someone who's dependable; a man who's loyal, a good provider and hopefully a good lover." Sovik winks. “Of course, once you find that man and once you have your children, especially if you find him early in your life, women tend to have the happier existence. Men still struggle with decades of sweat and backbreaking labor to give their wives and children the lives they deserve... I suppose that's why married women live longer."

“Wh-what if..." Jarae hesitates to speak.

“... Yes? Go on. As old as I am, you couldn't possibly offend me."

“What if... You found a man, but he was not of your race?"

“Okay? ... What's the question?" Sovik raises a snowy eyebrow.

“Ih-is that okay? I mean, wouldn't it be wrong for a Helngar to be with a Lahnyt or a human with a Jaliscan?"

“Why would it, and how could it not be alright?! Our blood is all compatible!" Sovik laughs. “Listen, miss, I'm one hundred and seventeen years old. The time left in my hourglass is but a few grains of sand. When you've lived for as long as I have and seen how miserable some people have made themselves, all because they've followed the social norms of those around them, people who don't even matter to them, you wouldn't even ask such a stupid question."

Sovik smiles before gently blowing on his tea. He takes a sip as Jarae stares at him with wide eyes. Her shimmering, pink orbs show her shock as she sits in silence, dumbfounded by his answer.

“Interesting!" Kirsta nods.

“The question you should be asking yourself is this: How important to me is my own happiness? If you discover something that makes your life worth living, then I would recommend grasping onto it tightly, digging your claws into it, and only letting go when you breathe your last. Damn everyone else who doesn't believe in your right to an unmiserable life." He casually adds, sipping his tea.

“I-I... I don't know..." Jarae whimpers, turning her head away.

“He makes a valid point, though, Jarae. It's certainly something to think about." Kirsta remarks, speaking in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

“It's my life..." The Jaliscan sighs.

“Well, if this 'Valan' makes you happy, then whatever he is, you should ignore it, and enjoy your time with him."

“Just drop it, okay?!" Jarae snarls.

“My apologies, miss. Just giving friendly advice." Sovik bows his head.

“What do you think, Mair?" Kirsta asks the childlike Falmun.

“Hm... I wonder what the studs are doing right now?" Mairlynn thinks aloud, leaning back and looking at the ceiling.

“Figures..." Kirsta sighs, smiling and shaking her head.

“Ah, the trappings of youth." Sovik chuckles.