The Hearts of the Elements: Of Earth

By Brett Kirkpatrick

The darkness inside people is something that cannot be removed, will not be destroyed. For with a lack of darkness, the light itself becomes destructive. This is true of all thingswithout death, life has no purpose. Without oppression, the human spirit has no wings. One must never endure a complete lack of good, nor a complete lack of evil; to do so would destroy everything you are, as well as the potential of what you could be. Do not strive to be purely good, for walking always in the light changes a person. Attempt forever to avoid the darkness, for it will rip you apart. Walk instead a hairs width between the two - it is here, in the darkness before the light, that the great, the influential, and the god-like are most often found.
Kayara Kutaragi

The world has split into its six core elements. The resulting world of the element Earth has four quadrants, each one perpetually one of the seasons: winter, spring, summer, and fall. For longer than any can remember, the world has thrived, the people and animals evolving to live on the new planet.

The gears have begun to turn, however, on a new evolution. A lemure, close kin to the lemurs of the original Earth, brings the girl Aria a tiny emerald. Ameagla is kicked out of the shelter of his homeland to liveor diealone in the harshest quadrant.

Jade takes it on herself to strike a deal with the merchant of death in order to save her fathers life. There, she meets Kaalin and Kayara, who will join her on her task.

The players are set on a world-sized chessboard to unravel the mysteries of the ancients, the technology, and the power they possessed over the very world itself. With the guardians of the seasons and other forces out to deter them, it is unknown what questions will be answered and what answers will reveal more questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504950398

Brett Kirkpatrick

Brett has had a passion for writing since he was first taught how to write creatively in the third grade. Ever since, he has been writing short stories and compiling novel ideas. The Hearts of the Elements is his first full novel, with many more in the works. He currently works as a night auditor at a hotel, though writing is his first passion. He hopes his characters bring as much joy and entertainment to the world as they have brought to him. He lives in the most beautiful state in the United States—Colorado—with his dog, Oleander, and his two cats, Pudge and Galileo. He enjoys no shortage of family near him and the best friends a guy could hope for.

Book preview

THE HEARTS

OF THE ELEMENTS

OF EARTH

BRETT KIRKPATRICK

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Brett Kirkpatrick. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5040-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5038-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5039-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015915230

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

/Quadrant Four/ /Clan Warrens/

/Quadrant One/ /Song of the Seasons/

/Quadrant Four/ /Old Clan Warrens/

/Quadrant One/ /Seasonal Border - Winter’Spring/

/Quadrant One/ /Edge of Civilization/

/Quadrant Four/ /Seasonal Sector - Winterfall/

/Quadrant One/ /The Grim Mercantile/

/Quadrant One/ /Jo Shua’s Chambers/

/Quadrant Four/ /Winter’s Veil/

/Winter’s Veil/ /City Proper/

/Winter’s Veil/ /Geode’s Heart Hot Spring/

/Quadrant One/ /The Grim Mercantile/

/Quadrant One/ /The Jeweled Bridle/

/Quadrant Four/ /Mother Hubbard’s Residence/

/Quadrant One/ /Gemini Cutter’s Jewelry/

/Quadrant Four/ /Winter’s Veil/

/Quadrant Four/ /Old Clan Warrens/

/Quadrant Two/ /Seasonal Border - Summerspring/

/Quadrant Four/ /Trials of Sino Mein/

/Quadrant Two/ /The Saddled Seasons/

/Quadrant Four/ /Trials of Sino Mein/

/Quadrant One/ /The Grim Mercantile/

/Quadrant Four/ /Control Center Four/

/Quadrant Four/ /Winter Surface - Sino Mein’s Lair/

/Quadrant One/ /Gemini Cutter’s/

/Quadrant Four/ /Ameagla’s Residence/

/Quadrant One/ /Saddled Seasons - Ada’s Camp/

/Quadrant Three/ /Winter-Fall Border/

/Quadrant One/ /Northern Reaches/

/Quadrant One/ /Destruction of Saddled Seasons/

/Quadrant Three/ /Tazran - Upper Branches/

/Quadrant Four/ /Winter’s Veil/

/Quadrant Three/ /Guest Rooms - Royal Floor/

/Quadrant Four/

/Clan Warrens/

The young man stumbled out of the dark cave, his short hair matted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were so wide with fear and horror that there was more white than blue, the red blood trickling from a gash on his forehead creating a stark contrast to the color. Pausing against the ice slick wall to catch his breath, his head snapped around the way he had come to stare into the darkness as the creature’s dying screams reached his ears. With a renewed sense of terror, he realized that if he could hear the wretched creature, so could more of the horribly deformed things. A ghastly wind blew from deep inside the cave as if carried by the creatures wailing. He could smell the stink of blood and long rotten meat. The terrible memories of the short time he spent in that hell were carried on that wind, enough to urge his battered body into movement. Before more of the yeh’ti came, he had to get as far from here as possible.

White puffs of his breath preceded him as he stumbled from the waking nightmare. He held clutched in a white-knuckled grip the splintered shaft of bone he had used to kill the creature. Almost laboriously he came to a stop in the lightly falling snow, allowing the tingling cold to bring him back to his senses. Shaking with the abating terror, breathlessness, and slow removal of adrenaline from his blood stream, he looked down at the bone clutched in his hand. Now that he was far enough into safety, he had a moment to gather his thoughts.

Blood still dripped to the ground from the gruesome makeshift weapon. While he was loathe to give up his only means of defense, it was creating a glaringly bright trail of scent in the fresh snow to lead the yeh’ti directly down his flight path. Eventually - to him.

Still shaking, though now from the cold more than anything, he hefted the jagged bone and a made a fresh cut high up on his left arm, dragging the sharp edge haphazardly through his bicep. Proceeding to lather his own blood over most of the tarnished length, he threw the weapon as far to the left as he possibly could. Hopefully, the large amount of his own scent would mislead the yeh’ti for long enough that they would lose him and be unable to trail after. That was the idea, anyway.

Ripping a strip of cloth from his already tattered shirt, he bound it tightly around the fresh wound on his arm and began again at a markedly improved pace. Now that he had had a moment to rest, he could easily put more distance between himself and the by now frenzied creatures. In his heart, he held out hope that the meat of their fallen comrade would sate their hunger long enough to give him an even bigger lead.

A very slim hope.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Unobserved or bothered by the cold or the yeh’ti, a little, wrinkled old lady knelt above the opening to the clan warrens that the boy had entered and later escaped from.

She sat quietly for a very long period of time, the entire duration of the boy’s stay. Observing events as they would happen, not allowing herself to interfere in the slightest. The green gem that was encased by gripping white gold vines had been glowing brilliantly in her palm when the lad was beneath her, causing verdant green grass to sprout beneath her feet; dandelions and other assorted bouquets of flowers rapidly bloomed into full summer attire.

Still she watched in total silence as the boy beat as hasty a retreat as his body would allow. As the boy gathered distance, the green glow began to dissipate, softening until the gem was an unremarkable emerald once more. The brief life that had sprouted around the old crone withered and died just as swiftly as it had been born.

Yet still, even as the yeh’ti ran screaming in pursuit, she waited, untouched by the cold. Her deep eyes that matched the color of the emerald in her palm continued to stare long after in the direction the boy had gone. More and more time passed until one would almost be sure that she had frozen to death - until a small, black and white le’mure came trotting up to her side. Her gaze shifted to meet the solid whites of the small animal at her feet.

The le’mure returned her gaze solidly and nodded once. With that nod came massive and terrible implications for all, swirling around the old lady like a cataclysm. A vague shadow of events to come. Events that might occur; events that might not.

Reaching down with wrinkled old hands, the crone attached the gem she had been holding to a tiny, unadorned collar around the le’mure’s neck, scratching fondly one last time behind his ear.

Go, was the only thing she said to send the small creature leaping down the cliff face, racing to his new destination with a haste borne of utmost importance. She slowly stood with the help of her walking stick, leaning on it for support. As she stood there, her cloak and white hair billowing in the icy wind behind her, she knew she must be going to prepare for the times and trials to come.

Softly, she spoke to herself.

I only hope we know what we’re doing.

/Quadrant One/

/Song of the Seasons/

In the tiny village just miles from the border of Quadrant Four, business was going on as usual, the people completely and blissfully unaware of the gathering hardships. In fact, truth be told, the hardships that were to come would not be entirely on the people here. Not immediately. Most would barely notice a change in the weather.

The one that would notice most, the young girl that whistled to herself as she skipped through town, waved to all the townspeople with a grin plastered on her face. The town, dubbed Edge of Civilization due to its proximity to the mostly barren wasteland that was Winter, was known to all here as home. It was a quaint village, nestled under the boughs of a beautiful tree that bloomed forever with the bright greens of leaves and tiny multi-colored flowers. There was the occasional spot of rain here and there, but for the most part the Spring quadrant was a haven, with almost no feral creatures to worry about. At least, none that would risk entering the town where large numbers of people lived.

The girl, Aria, stopped in front of her favorite inn. Almost all of the well traveled patrons came to it if they were preparing to make the perilous trek through the fourth Quadrant. A sign over the door was beautifully painted with the color blue, representing Winter. Green paint was an undertone to the background, representing Spring. Yellow scrollwork around the edges spoke of Summer, and the brown letters that made the words The Song of the Seasons were a tip of the hat to Fall. Stifling a giggle, she cleared her throat and threw open the beaded doorway. In a place that was forever summer, people had no need for closed doors to keep out the elements. Putting on her best imitation of a mean bandit, she held her fingers up like guns.

Alright, mister, put ’em up! I’mma’ lootin’ this here water hole! Though the common room was mostly empty, there were three people in attendance - the bard, the inn keep, and one traveler, who looked up briefly from his mug of cold ale in a drunken delirium, then let his head hit the table again with a crash and a snore. This, coupled with the innkeeper’s genuine astonishment at the sudden loud crash, made the girl giggle quite loudly.

Well, if it isn’t our little Ari! Rufus beamed, gesturing for her to take a seat. As she acquiesced and hopped up onto a stool nearest the bar, she blushed, pulling the cup of lemonade he filled for her closer.

I told you to stop calling me that! She fake pouted. But I’ll accept the lemonade as apology. She gave him the best mischievous grin she could muster, which only garnered another laugh and a hair mussing that he knew she hated even more.

You little scamp. He reached up and tucked a red and blue flower behind her ear before turning back to cleaning last night’s ale cups. I suppose I should count my lucky stars then?

Aria stuck her tongue out at him and hopped down from the bar stool, going over to plop in front of the unlit fireplace near the bard, leaning back on the thick rug laid out for that precise reason. Tell me the tale of the thief of summer again! She chirped, which called for a raised eyebrow and a sigh from the stout man covered in an eyesore of a robe.

Very well, but this is the last time, you hear me? He waggled his finger at her, speaking in an accent that few if any recognized in any of the Quadrants.

You always say that! Rufus hollered from behind the counter as the third glass he had started cleaning squeaked its readiness and he set it down somewhere under the oak top.

Ah, shut your mouth, Roofie. His eyes twinkled as he began to pluck at the strings of his instrument, leaning conspiratorially toward Aria. It began as any story does. He half sang with the notes, It had a beginning. Or at least, it started somewhere. A long, long time ago, when the Quadrants were whole and came upon people unexpectedly. This, they say, was when time was normal. But there lived a little old man out in the world, who was jealous of all the people that had so much time. One year, he had decided ‘I will steal it! Time itself!’ and raised his fist to the sky, screaming ‘Time shall be mine!’

They could hear Rufus snort from behind the counter, but neither the girl nor the bard paid attention to it. Most people found this particular tale one of pure fancy, but Aria and Angelo both knew, deep down, it held a truth.

Angelo’s tale was cut short rather abruptly, however, to a large commotion that began outside. All three still awake, except the passed out customer, looked toward the doorway as the sounds got louder. Startlingly quick, a little ring tailed le’mure burst through the beaded doorway with a jangle, clutching a bright red apple to its chest. Chittering loudly, it stopped for a moment, its tiny lungs heaving with panic, and looked wide eyed around the room. Focusing on Aria, it darted for her, which caused the girl to scream in astonishment and cover her face. But the little thing only leapt up into her lap and leaned against her as if begging for protection, solid white eyes looking up at her pleadingly. As she moved her hands from her eyes, she met his, and couldn’t help but reach out and stroke its head.

The apple vendor he had nabbed the apple from came rushing in next with a club in her hand, frowning when she saw the little thing curled up in Aria’s lap. Aria, be careful with that thing! It’s a thief. Good girls don’t get mixed up with those types, whatever the species. Most likely rabid, too. Give it here! The woman came striding toward her, and Aria instinctively picked the creature up and held him close to her chest, turning slightly away from the vendor.

No! He’s cute. Besides, he doesn’t have rabies. Do you? She reached down with one hand, still cradling the lemur against her, and fished a mark from her pocket that she had intended to use for the lemonade just in case Rufus made her pay. She flicked it toward the vendor, who caught it in mid air. There’s for your stupid apple. Now leave him alone!

The club wielding woman frowned, and slapped the coin on top of the nearest table. You know your money’s no good to me, girl. But you keep the little rat out of mischief here on out, you plan ta’ be his protector. I’m watchin’ you, monkey. She pointed to her eyes then at the le’mure. The le’mure took a large crunch out of the apple and slowly chewed it, staring directly at the vendor as if to mock her. With a huff, the woman turned and stormed out of the inn, holding her skirts up to keep them out of the dirt.

Aria laughed and began petting the little black and white creature in her arms, watching the apple vendor leave in a fury. As Angelo and Rufus went about what they were doing with the events having passed, Aria plopped down in front of the fireplace again, still petting the le’mure. Now, what shall we call you? Her eyes went to the ceiling in thought, and she began humming the Song of Spring to herself.

The small white-eyed le’mure was looking up at her almost as if he was scrutinizing her, munching contentedly on his apple. Around his neck a small emerald, clutched in white-gold vines, was glowing faintly and the flower behind Aria’s ear began to spread its petals wide with the breath of life.

Eletium. Aria said decisively, then began humming her tune and bobbing her feet to the rhythm once more.

/Quadrant Four/

/Old Clan Warrens/

Ameagla woke with a start as the alarm clock he had personally constructed glinted the fresh morning sun directly in his eyes. With a grunt he swatted the little mirror sitting on the small outcropping of rock, sending it spinning several times, which only helped to make the light that much more irritating as it winked on and off. Pulling the soft blanket down with more muttered curses, he swung his legs over the bed and rubbed the crusts of sleep from his eyes. Putting his hand out to steady the mirror, he yawned and looked about the room, using his hand to comb the stray locks of black hair from his eyes. The fire that had been built up in the pit in the middle of the room had died to blackened chunks of wood over the course of the long winter night, and his breath puffed ever so slightly in the slowly chilling air. Slipping each foot into his pants, he stood and tugged them up, cinching them around his waist. A spare hair tie from beside the mirror gathered and tied his long hair back. He was in no mood to comb it. That particular mood struck him more often than not.

Standing up, he allowed his legs to stretch out the kinks from the night, then stood over his bed, surveying the tousled sheets and the stained pillow. After the moment of survey, he reached down, grabbed his pillow, and put it at the head of the bed. Nodding at how good he was at straightening the bed, especially when he was pretty damn sure nobody would be coming by his cave, he proceeded to the box of food he kept closer to the entrance, throwing the top back. There was just enough food in there for one more breakfast. With a sigh he closed the lid and attended to restarting the fire. While the wood heated and caught flame to warm the meat, he continued getting dressed, tugging on a thin black cotton shirt with one of the sleeves missing. His long, thick coat made of yeh’ti hide followed. The lack of food meant that he would be needing to go over into Quadrant One. As much as he disliked dealing with it, survival was unfortunately a necessity to instigate a long life. As such, he threw the meat on a thin sheet of metal he had made himself, and sat down on a stool in front of the last mirror to his alarm clock.

It took most of the cooking time required to heat the slab of yeh’ti to shave the scruff from around his chin and cheeks, and the remainder of it to comb his hair into a semblance of presentability. Any longer spent on his hair, and the meat would have burned, so he moved the hot metal cooking top from the fire and slid the patty onto a dirtied plate. A plate which he thought was perfectly presentable, having been cleaned just one meal ago instead of the usual two. He wasn’t particularly fond of yeh’ti as a meal, but there were more than ample reason for making it anyway. For one, it was cheap - you couldn’t get much better than free. For another, the only good yeh’ti was a dead yeh’ti, in his book. He saved it as the final meal because the smell of their cooked brethren usually did a fantastic job of keeping the rest of them out of the general area.

Spearing a large mouthful, he went to begin preparation for departure from his home. It would be a rather long trip, a week at the minimum, so he couldn’t leave anything behind he would need. Strapping a gun sling to his hips, he shoved the filed shotgun into its holster. Spearing another chunk of the stringy meat on his plate and going about chewing it into a resemblance of edible, he began pushing shells into the tiny loops all around the belt. It’s not that he was fond of the thing, nor did it accomplish much that his trusted pole arm couldn’t, but stronger firepower up close was definitely a handy thing to have. Out here, one could never be too careful. The shotgun snug and cozy with its shells, he grabbed the small pouch of rations he always brought with him on these journeys. Enough food for two, should something happen and he would have to spend more time out than initially planned. He strapped that to the shotgun belt, cinching it tight so it wouldn’t fall off. A canteen of fresh mountain water joined the rations shortly thereafter.

That finished, he set his unfinished plate aside and lifted his favored weapon from beside the wash basin, strapped it across his back, and pulled the weapon just a little out of the sheath to make sure it would be easy enough to get to. When, no question of if, he needed it. Appeased, he shoved a final bite of meat into his mouth and splashed freezing water in his face. His fingers trailed momentarily on the deep scar running across his jaw as if saying hello to an old friend. Then, grinning crookedly and winking into the mirror above the basin at himself. Fresh as spring rain.

Looking about the small cave with its multiple covers of yeh’ti hides, fur intact to keep in the warmth, he tilted the mirror down that was next to his bed and began the trek up the tunnel. The very tunnel he had run in panic from when he was younger. At the entrance, he grabbed a pike from behind the cover stone that he used to close his cave off when he wasn’t at home and walked out into the crisp winter air, inhaling deeply. The cold never phased him anymore; not as much as it used to. So many years in this quadrant had toughened him to chill temperatures. Though that was of course the exact same reason he hated the warmer climates. To his hardened skin they were doubly hot, and ten times more unbearable.

Slamming the pike into the ground directly in front of his shelter, he turned and heaved the cover stone into place, knowing full well it wouldn’t protect against the larger creatures roaming these ice lands. Those, however, he wasn’t worried about; it was the smaller creatures that more often than not irked him when he returned home. As he turned from the cover stone and began his long trek in silence with his hair and coat whipping around his back, a drop of deep red blood fell from the pike he had slammed into the ground.

The gaping maw of an adult male Yeh’ti was driven onto the end of the pike, cut fresh every few days to remind the wildlife and any other trespassers just who they would be answering to should they try to pass.

He found it worked pretty well.

/Quadrant One/

/Seasonal Border - Winter’Spring/

Aria stood on the edge of the cut off between winter and spring, with her ear length hair capped by a simple, albeit beaten, hat. The borders between the quadrants were something unique and exciting to her that nobody else seemed to care for. It was a phenomenon she had been spending almost all of her life on figuring out. While everyone else just accepted it, she found it endlessly interesting. It was not just that the seasons changed at a very defined point on the planet, but if you picked up a tree branch from the Spring Quadrant and stuck it halfway over the line, snow would occasionally appear covering it; or a flower would always wilt and die, but only on the half sticking over the line. Once brought back over, it sprung back into beautiful color, as if nothing had happened.

Further, there was only one sun for the entire planet - this much she had confirmed in traveling across the quadrants and recording in her journals. But once you crossed the threshold, the sun would jump to an entirely different location in the sky. It was as if, looking up at the dome above them, the sky were a transparent glass that had been fractured into different streams of time, showing a different cut of the season at any given point. She was a girl of science more than anything, and the idea of a giant time fissure spanning the length of the globe gave her plenty to research.

That was not the only thing she explored or recorded in her journals, however. There were plenty of different creatures that were relative to the seasons, true - from the kilomapedes that helped a traveler cross the Great Distortion in the Summer Quadrant to the mahn’kie in the fall. More relevant to her research, however, were the various places that she had taken to calling ‘sectors,’ strewn throughout all the quadrants. The sectors were, for lack of better explanation, sections of the other seasons sprinkled haphazardly throughout each Quadrant. They ranged anywhere from a mere matter of feet to ones a few miles in diameter, and nobody could figure out quite why they were even there. Was there some type of pattern to their placement? Not that anyone cared as much as Aria did. She was on her way to one of these sectors at this very moment, but first she would have to cross into the Winter Quadrant and brave the barren landscape.

As such, she had snow pants on, and her hands were covered in a pair of thick wool gloves to keep out the cold. One rested balled on her left hip, the other holding a machine’s carrying case, red straps clenched together. Her upper body was hugged in a tight black shirt, and her shining blue eyes surveyed the border with unease. Something was already not quite right about this trip, but she couldn’t put off going into the Winter Quadrant any longer. With a sigh, she placed the machine on the ground and picked up her puffy coat, shoving her arms through the sleeves. Whistling loudly for Eletium, she waited until the little le’mure was near before holding out her arm, which he promptly leapt onto and used as a stepping stone to deftly bound onto her shoulder, gripping the fabric of the coat for balance.

With Eletium nestled for the walk to the nearby summer sector, she began fumbling with the zipper through her ungainly gloves, barely managing to get it caught and partially zipped up before cursing quietly to herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the perpetual emerald glow of Ele’s necklace intensifying, and she stopped, turning her head to look at it. Lifting the necklace gingerly in her gloved hand, she scrutinized it - it had never done this before; true, it was always glowing to her eyes, where as nobody else could see it. It had just never gotten any brighter than the steady glow she was accustomed to. Before she could get a decent conjecture formed about the sudden brightening of the emerald, a man’s voice startled her, causing her to jerk her head in the direction of the seasonal split.

Need some help? A man who she thought dressed very poorly for the winter was standing just outside the border of the quadrants, hands crossed behind his head as if supporting it from falling off. He seemed rather cocky, if she were going to describe him.

Um. She stared at him blankly for a moment, then looked down at her unzipped coat, suddenly realizing what he was talking about. No thanks, I can get it. Eventually. I think. She kept her eyes diverted, suddenly focused on zipping her coat more than anything else. With a soft zipping sound, she managed to get it up to just under chin level.

Shrugging, the man started past her and stopped momentarily to fish into a pouch strapped under his open long coat. She was worried for a moment before she saw a small bit of jerked meat come out between his fingers. He held the bit of meat out to Eletium, who took it eagerly and held it to his mouth, nibbling on the tough end of it. Cute little guy you got there. Scratching behind the le’mure’s ear for a moment, to the contented coos of the little creature, he reached down and hefted the machine’s bag up so she could grab it. She took the straps with caution, not sure what to make of this stranger; she felt like she knew him from somewhere, but she couldn’t place where. Beautiful collar, too. Can’t imagine how you get it to glow like that. Well, good luck over there. It’s not a season for the weak. Without more than a scratch under Eletium’s chin he continued on his way, keeping to the very edge of the path into town. As he got further away, the gem clutched in Eletium’s necklace dimmed once more to the faint glow she was accustomed to.

Odd, she thought to herself as she took a couple of steps toward winter. Almost mid stride, her walking ceased and she turned quickly around as something he said registered with her. Hey, she hollered mid turn. You can see it… But the mysterious man was already long past the bend in the path and she just stood, staring after him. Glow? Eletium jumped off her shoulder having finished his treat, and bounded across the border to play in the freshly fallen snow on the other side. Sighing and shaking it off, Aria turned and began her own trek to the summer sector a scant two miles from spring.

/Quadrant One/

/Edge of Civilization/

Truth be told, Ames hated the name the town had come to be called. He remembered its original name, but that was long in the past and the nickname had stuck. But, then, he was particular to his own Quadrant and this place certainly didn’t feel any more civilized than his own cave back in winter. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he kicked the town’s sign that sported its name in bright plumage, putting it on a tilt as he walked past.

Mornin’, Ames. The town sheriff sat next to the sign this day, relaxing over a cigar as he was wont to do. Nothing exciting ever happened here, and more than likely nothing ever would. The sheriff calmly pushed the sign back up to an upright position as Ameagla grumbled something unintelligible in reply and continued into town. The sheriff watched him for a while, then turned back to the road that ran through and out of town. There was more coming from the winter border than anywhere else in spring, if there would be anything at all. At least that boy keeps the yeh’ti in check, he thought to himself.

His monthly trips to the town had made him a relatively known figure amidst the people, and while he wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms, he was a favorite amongst the children. In trade for the coin to purchase a meager amount of supplies, he always brought carved bone statues and things to the general store, and their parents bought them, thankful for giving the children something else to focus their attention on. Aside from that, his statues had become something of a private market, at least as far as the Summer Quadrant, fetching a decent price among some of the more wealthy. And the people here always got prime deals, as Ameagla wanted only enough to fuel himself to live for another month - perhaps occasionally a mug or two of ale at the inn down the road.

He himself hated children, of course. Just as a matter of principal; one day, they would grow up to be older people, who would then pester and irritate him. And, he was sure, would no doubt irritate him more given that he would be an old man by then. Even though he hated the denser population here, he did like the welcome feeling that he had not had from his own birth town, and the exotic mounts here had always intrigued him. Stopping as always at the stables to the mounts, he leaned on the post of a fence, looking them over.

The creatures used for long distance of travel looked very much like overgrown ferrets, the biggest still only able to hold one rider. Mostly calm, docile creatures, they were not cut out to haul carts of any sort, so they were used solely for the purpose of mounted travel. Instead of fur, there were bright scales running down the length of their torsos, colored very much like a butterfly’s, that sparkled faintly in the spring sun with the colors of a rainbow. One of their elongated necks turned to look at Ames, crunching contentedly on a mouthful of grass and other vegetables. Its eyes locked onto him with detached curiosity before turning back to get another mouth full of food.

From around the side of the stables, a cat like creature with large cupped ears came slinking out of the shadows, prowling up behind the last Ferrefly in the line and twitching its tale, clearly hoping for a bite to eat. The Ferrefly didn’t notice the other creature until it rubbed against its leg, startling it. Ames got to witness something very few people get to see, then. The mount jumped back, a low hum forming in the back of its throat. From along its sides, initially folded like fans, two glittering limbs extended forward and to the sides, directly behind its front legs. They snapped open with a flap as the Ferrefly dropped its head lower to the ground, bearing sharpened teeth at its intruder. The limbs, when fully extended, formed extremely large butterfly wings that were intended to scare off a predator. To Ames, they were beautiful; this one had two large round eye shaped irises towards the upper tips with a display of black swirling lines intermingled in the blues and reds of its vaguely transparent wings.

Ames got a crooked smile as the predator screeched and took off back behind the stables it had come from. As the low hum died in the Ferrefly’s throat, its wings folded back down to fans and replaced themselves alongside its body. He turned and headed for the general store, stepping through the beads of the doorway without bothering to move them first. With light clinks the glass beads of one strand unraveled, hitting the floor and rolling haphazardly in all directions.

I know that rude noise! A gruff voice came from the back of the tiny store, and a man came out, wiping his grimy hands on a rag. Lifting the large spectacles off his face to rest on his forehead and tucking the dirty rag into his back pocket, he grinned at his visitor and went back around the counter to the coin box. Amy! Right on schedule, I see.

With a frown, Ameagla began removing his carved bone figures and setting them on the countertop. I told you -

To stop calling me that, Gem. He tried unsuccessfully to mimic Ames’ tone, picking up the figures one by one and looking them and the exquisite detail over thoroughly. Fantastic, as always, my friend. I have a parcel set up per the usual. Salted meats, and this time some fruit. You have to get some more healthy food in your diet. He wagged his finger scoldingly and lifted a tied bundle and a pack from behind the counter. He untied a small bag from his hip with one deft hand and dropped a generous amount of currency on the counter for him. And this is for a couple o’ mugs of ale to warm ya’ for the walk back. With a wink, he started for the back of the store again.

Gem, you know I can’t accept this much. Ames picked up the pack and shoved the parcel of meats and bag of fruit in, cinching it and slinging it over his shoulder, but staring incredulously at the money on the counter.

Nonsense. Gem turned back to look at him through the magnifying glasses resting perched on his beak. I’m busy cutting a Tarsidian Opal in the back that’s gonna make me quite a hefty profit. I’m rich for as long as it lasts, so you damn well better accept the generosity while you can. I might not pay you next time! Guffawing in his rich, deep laugh, the gem cutter slapped his dirtied rag back over his shoulder and disappeared once again behind the shop into his workspace.

Clearly he wasn’t going to have any of it, so Ames scooped the coinage into his hand and dropped them into the pouch at his side that held his rations. Finally he turned to leave the store, heading for the Song of the Seasons.

Ameagla walked into the inn without any introduction, though most of the patrons looked up from their talking, eating, drinking, and gaming to watch him. Only a few immediately went back to their games, even pocketing a few pieces of silver off the table while the others were distracted. Eventually the chatter of the inn returned as Ames placed his pole arm next to the table and sat in his usual place near the fire. Nobody bothered to attempt to strike up conversation with him, as his attitude brooked no jovial attention.

Moments later a mug of ale and a platter of food was set in front of him. Nodding his thanks and dropping four of the silver pieces onto the table, he went about his meal silently.

Next to the fireplace, Angelo looked up from his gathered spectators at the new patron that had sat down. Finishing his previous song, he watched Ames intently. Turning away deliberately, he began strumming on his instrument once more, standing slowly and raising his voice to be sure he was heard.

This is a tale, he began, of past times. Of present. Of times to come and times that may not pass. He began to sing, then; a simple tune that had a bit of a plucky rhythm to it.

The world was split and rendered twain

Six sections it had now became

Of earth wind water, fire dark light

For the people of the past destroyed

The world that they inhabited

And took for granted all the treasures

Gaia had entrusted them

But one day soon the earthen swore,

A gatherer to unite be born

To you my people he will bring

Completeness over the realms

Through trials that the future holds

A master of all he sees

Unite again, or once more threaten

The balance that has come to pass?

Upon them the choice shall rest

Oh Gatherer of the Elements

Decide upon our fate

Rule over us with iron grip

Or let us forge new ways

As the music trailed off and his song was received with cheers and clinking glasses, he saw out of the corner of his eye the traveler merely sitting with a stare that bespoke of no outward target for scrutiny. Angelo knew what the man was analyzing lay nowhere inside the tavern. He did not envy the man whatever dark place he was heading toward.

/Quadrant Four/

/Seasonal Sector - Winterfall/

Aria set her machinery down with a crunch of snow that had been clearly settled from its free fall for quite some time. The exertion of the hike from the wintersummer sector to the winterfall one, coupled with the insulating warmth of her coat, had gotten her to sweating. Pulling first one glove off