Aetherra; by Isaac Ostlund; Chapter 2, Reunion, Part 2

Brant crested the hill as the sun rose directly ahead of him, illuminating the thirty-odd houses and wood buildings in the valley. A thin mist was already forming as dew began to dissipate from the grass. From here Brant could barely make out the movement of a few people already hard at work. He paused to catch his breath, relieved to see such a welcome sight.

Nestled in a deep green valley surrounded by wooded mountains, Kressing was only a small village but had been here even before the splitting of the world. The people of Kressing took exceptional pride in this, as legend told that few cities survived the splitting intact, but this village, their village, had kept living its quiet little life unchanged. True or not, the story was a testament to their way of life, tucked far away in the mountains and hills of the north. Little ever changed because the people did not want it to. The winters were hard and the ground harder, but few ever dreamed of leaving. There was something about the chill breeze in the trees, whispering lightly as it passed over the mountains, that captured the heart, and a person felt as part of the land as the stone peaks themselves. The land was theirs, as each man and woman felt profoundly, but perhaps they belonged to the starry nights and crisp mornings even more.

Brant descended the hill slowly, legs aching from the arduous journey. As he walked through the field towards Kressing he was quickly surrounded by a number of small green creatures, butting and pushing against his legs.

“No, I have nothing for you.” Brant stated loudly, pushing through the herd.

 One of the most incessant of the group hit him soundly with its thick tail. Brant kicked it in return. Grenig were bipedal creatures with green fur. While they were an important staple for the community he had never really liked being near them.

Brant heard a call ahead of him. Henneth, an older man with grey hair and rough skin, was attempting to gather the herd to scavenge for rockwheat.

Leaning against his staff for support the old man called out, “Brant! Good to see you! Thought you were probing the northern border? I don’t think anyone thought you’d be back for another month at least!”

“Plans change.” Brant replied curtly as he pushed past the grenig. He was exhausted, and he had no time for questions.

“That they do lad. That they do.” Henneth said carefully to his back.

Brant kept walking but shook his head. I’ve been away too much. I don’t even remember how to act around people anymore. He kept walking but looked back and called out “Sorry Henneth, I need to talk to the Quorum and then get some sleep. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Of course,” Henneth replied, waving him on. “You’ll find them in the Hall, they’re already meeting to discuss Pon’s proving.”

Brant stopped, “Pon’s proving!? The girl is only twelve!”

“Right you are, but wait till you’ve seen what she has gone and done.” Henneth replied.

Brant paused and then asked, “Do I really want to?”

Henneth laughed, “Ha! That’s a question for the Gods. I’m sure as stone glad the Quorum handles such things.”

“Pon spends all her time running through the woods, where did she get time to make a Token?” Brant asked.

Henneth raised his eyebrows, “You’re one to talk! I seem to recall a young boy who spent weeks in the wild and you seemed to do just fine. Youngest boy to be proven in my memory.”

“Well, maybe, but my Token almost got me killed.”

“And I’ve no doubt Pon has had some close scrapes of her own. Her token is like nothing I have ever seen.” Henneth said, and then he shook his head. “Baffles me, really, the two of you. The woods are a dangerous place, far too dangerous for most folks, but as children you just up and leave, hiking through the trees and hills without a care in the world.”

Brant shook his head, “I wouldn’t say without a care. I knew the risks, and it was frightening at first, I just… needed space.”

Henneth nodded, “I suppose you did, and I don’t blame you for that. Now Pon does the same, in her own way. After your token, and now hers, I’m beginning to wonder if the woods make you stronger than the rest of us.”
Brant was silent for a moment before answering, "Not stronger, but different, I think. Tell me, what has she done? Is her token rally enough to prove her?"

Henneth laughed again, “I'm not saying. I won’t ruin it for the girl, you know as well as I that she would want to show you herself, and she’d have my head for spoiling it.” 

Brant sighed, “You’re right, she would. Besides, I really must get moving.

"Alright then lad, I’ll see you later.” Henneth said.

Brant waved to Henneth and continued into Kressing. By now the rest of the village was awake. People were tending gardens, animals, or otherwise preparing for their day. More than once Brant was greeted in welcome surprise, and each time he felt gladder to be home.

The Hall stood proudly atop a stone foundation, bathed in the golden light of the breaking morn. Great wood pillars and walls upheld a heavy thatched roof. The once rich colors of the columns had long faded but ornate patterns were still visible on the old building, carved onto the doors and pillars years before. Old and sturdy, the hall had weathered storm, time, and attack for more than an age. Thick doors open, it welcomed any to enter and enjoy the warmth and safety of its walls.

Brant climbed the few stone steps leading to the Hall, eager to deliver his message. As he entered he heard the familiar voice of his father, Gevan, echoing through the large room as he conferred with the other members of the Quorum.

“Certain steps will have to be taken. For one, it cannot stay too near the village.” His father said.

“Yes, and we will need to call everyone together and explain.” A woman’s voice answered, old but strong. “Despite the possible danger we have little choice but to accept the risks, we cannot ignore this chance.” It was Dima, another member of the quorum, she was one of the oldest women in Kressing but her voice and mind were as sharp as they had always been.

A third voice, again a woman’s, but younger than Dima, spoke more softly. “Indeed. What you have done is quite remarkable, but you must be careful, everyone will be watching you, for good and ill.” It was Yara, the final member of the Quorum. She was a tall woman with graying brown hair.

Brant stood a few paces into the large room. Thick poles on either side extended the length of the hall, supporting the high ceiling above. White light spilled through the open doors behind him, mixing with the yellow glow of torch and fire. In the middle of the room was a large fire pit, a few logs burning to ward off the morning’s chill. At the other end of the hall was a platform a few steps high. On the platform sat the Quorum, comprised of the three leaders of Kressing. Gevan and Yara sat on either side of Dima, the eldest of the three. Before them stood a small figure with brown hair, long and untidy, wearing a green tunic and heavy cloth pants. Brant recognized her instantly. Pon faced away from him, and the Quorum seemed so engaged in their conversation that they had not noticed him enter.

Brant watched for a moment and then smiled. Pon was trying very diligently to stay still but her feet were getting the better of her. She really was an interesting child. Despite the danger and the fear of her parents she spent the greater part of each day running through the woods. She would play and explore in what most would consider life or death situations, examining each plant, bug, and creature she could find. She was different than him in this regard; she knew things about the way the forest worked that he had never noticed before.  Brant had always preferred to wander, seeking the distant landscapes and peaks. When he was young he had pressed farther into the wild than most people ever did as adults, sometimes not returning for days at a time. They were similar, yes, but perhaps the more similar you were to someone the more you understood how different you really were.