"Are you all right?" Jakea asked as she helped the Buhund up off the floor.
Lola wobbled from side to side as she attempted to regain her composure. "Venice, do you have any of those herbs left?" she asked.
"You’re seasick already?" he replied. "We haven’t even been on the water for more than a minute."
"I’m not seasick yet," the dog declared. "And I’d like to stay that way."
The carpenter began digging around in his vest pockets. "It looks like you’re in luck," he concluded.
Venice withdrew his hand from inside his vest, a small amount of the all too familiar herbs in his grasp. He opened his fingers and held the remedy out to the dog.
Lola snapped her jaws around the tiny herb bundle, wincing painfully as she chewed it. Sam and Emma covered their eyes with their paws as she struggled to choke them down. "Ugh. They’re awful. So awful," the Buhund lamented. "I don’t know if I can bring myself to swallow them."
Rook fluttered up onto the table behind her. "And once again you prove to be nothing more than a wimp."
She swallowed the herbs furiously before turning to the rooster with a snarl. "What was that?" she growled.
He grinned. "A solution to one of your problems," Rook answered before waddling away in the opposite direction.
"That’s the end of that, then," Venice rejoiced as he sat down on the floor against the wall.
Aurora sat at the table, silently prodding the cloth bundle that contained the remnants of her instrument.
"We can get you a new lute, you know," Rook offered. "There’s no need to be so glum about the whole matter."
"It was my mother’s," she agonized. "She died when I was a toddler. It was the only link I had to her."
"Geez, Rook. Heartless much?" Lola scolded.
The rooster’s neck feathers ruffled loudly. "Oh, cram it. You didn’t know either."
Aurora didn’t bother to look up. "It’s fine," she reassured them. "I don’t bring it up because Daddy didn’t like talking about her much. Teaching myself to play her lute and carrying it with me was just my way of staying close to her memory."
The sound of Betty’s rocking chair creaked throughout the car as everyone sat silent. "You’re Sitara and Nikkou Song’s daughter, aren’t you?" the Sage inquired.
Aurora’s eyes widened as she looked up from the table. "You knew them?" she pleaded.
"How is that even possible?" Lola chided.
Betty rocked quietly in her chair for a moment. "Sages from other regions often stay in contact with each other, through letters or by crystal ball," she offered. "Since there’s such a huge gap between New Terre and Prithvi, I only met her once. Many years ago when she was first sworn in as a Sage of Prithvi."
"My mother was a Sage?" the girl exclaimed.
Betty nodded. "She was the youngest of the four when the days of the Empty Sky began," the elderly Sage elaborated. "As I recall, she was the Sage of Western Prithvi. I reckon the reason your father never told you was because he didn’t want you followin’ in her footsteps."
"He told me that she died when I was a toddler and that we moved to Southern Prithvi shortly after," Aurora divulged. "I never knew anything else about her otherwise."
Lola trotted up to the Aurora and placed her head in the girl’s lap. The Buhund smiled up at her as the lutenist looked down. "The silver lining is that now you know," the dog commented. "You could stand to lighten up a bit, though. You’re bringing the whole room down."
Aurora smirked slightly at the Buhund’s remark as she reached down to scratch behind her ears. "You’re right, I’m letting it get to me too much."
Betty rose from her rocking chair and softly walked over to the table. She took hold of the cloth bundle sitting in front of Aurora. "Let’s see what we can do for yer situation," she remarked comfortingly.
The old Sage turned to the back corner of the car, giving the large wooden chest sitting in it a swift kick. "Wake up, ya lazy ingrate," she demanded.
A yelp echoed through the car as the wooden chest began to squirm slightly. Where its lid and base met moved like a pair of lips as it gave a loud yawn. "Whaddya want? You have more bread?" it asked.
Lola gaped in astonishment at the sight of the talking chest. In spite of her prior journeys, she’d never before been in the presence of an animate piece of furniture. Out of simple curiosity and instinct, she crept past Betty’s feet and attempted to sniff the awakened demon chest. "Hey! Get from here!" the chest protested. "I don’t need you lifting your leg on me!"
"I’m a girl dog, you jerk," the Buhund snapped. "And I was just curious."
Betty gave the chest an additional kick. "Just for being rude to my guests, you now owe me a freebie," she insisted. "Fix this lute!"
"Fine, fine," the chest huffed. "Toss it in and I’ll see whats I can do."
Its top swung open wide as Betty carefully set the bundle of lute remains inside of it. The chest’s lid slammed shut loudly as the item sat secured within it. Bits of light peeked through the crack between the chest’s body and lid as it vibrated noisily in the corner.
A few moments of racket, the demon chest stopped moving. It let out a vulgar, yet triumphant gagging sound before swinging its lid open again.
Betty gave it another kick. "Manners!" she scolded.
She reached down into the chest and lifted out a large wooden instrument. The item appeared to be made of the same wood as Aurora’s lute but was a completely different shape. "Balrog, this is a guitar," the aging sage commented.
"Hey, I did what I could. My specialty is conjuring enchanted items, not instrument repair," the chest defended.
Betty turned, offering the item to Aurora. "I suppose this is the best we can do," she concluded.
The lutenist took hold of the guitar reluctantly, gentling handling the instrument’s bulky structure. Hesitantly, she attempted to strum its strings only for it to produce a disturbing twang.
"It’ll take some getting used to, I’d wager," Betty added. "Different instruments and all."
Aurora shook her head. "No, it’s just out of tune," she replied as she adjusted the guitar’s friction pegs.
"So, any more pastries?" the chest asked.
"We’re on limited rations until we make our next stop," Jakea advised. "So, I’m afraid not."
Balrog let out a pained groan from the back of the car. "It’s not like you need to eat to stay alive," the fledgling sage wearied.
"Roaron," Sam grumbled.
"My thoughts exactly," Jakea agreed.
Lola trotted over to Venice and plopped herself down beside him. She looked around anxiously as the sound of Aurora attempting to tune her guitar strummed softly throughout the car. "Any clue what we should do to occupy our time while we’re stuck in here?" the Buhund inquired.
Jakea got up from her chair with a slight huff and approached a bookshelf in the back of the car, opposite Balrog. "I don’t suppose any of you read?" she questioned.
Lola’s ears perked up. "I do!" she exclaimed.
Venice slumped farther against the wall of the car. "I do as well, although not as much as I used to."
"We have copies of Trimbelle’s Glossary, Amah’s Memorandum, and several others in here," the young woman elaborated.
"It’s a bit awkward to hear the name of that book with myself in the room," Amah commented, fidgeting in her seat. "Especially since I’m not the one who wrote it."
"Then who in Lumea wrote it?" Wesley queried.
"Manisha Singh, a scholar from the earliest days of the Azure Dahlia Dynasty of Prithvi," Jakea articulated as she brandished the book in the ex-soldier’s face. "Her name is in bold print on the cover."
"You’ll have to forgive his ignorance," Carter implored. "Aerthican society doesn’t really value education, so we’re not exactly well versed in any form of literature."
Wesley huffed under his breath. "They were too busy teaching us how to fight in a war and die to bother grazing over recreational reading," he seethed.
Lola tilted her head in confusion at the topic. The ex-soldier took notice of her perplexed expression. "Aerthican society is militaristic," he explained. "The entire culture is centered around maintaining a powerful army to serve the nation’s higher casts. Anyone lower-born, like Carter and myself, can only achieve the nation’s highest ’honor’ by joining the Aerthican army and dying in combat."
The car was silent for a few moments. "You traveled with us for two months … how could you never have brought this up?" Lola wondered out loud.
"It’s not necessarily something we like talking about," Carter replied. "It’s certainly not something we’re proud of. Being born into a society that’s preoccupied with war and boasts to its people that its army is invincible."
"Or that eats anything that isn’t bipedal," Wesley added. "Nothing but a nation of ruddy, ignorant savages."
The retired soldier’s words took a few seconds to register in the Buhund’s mind. "Aerthicans eat dog?" she blurted.
"Well, not us," Wesley defended.
"And here I thought that was a myth," Venice mused.
"Nope, completely true," Carter remarked. "Dogs, cats, lizards, ferrets … if it isn’t human, they eat it."
Amah shook her head. "I shouldn’t be surprised. They’ve also blocked the whole of the Spirit World out of their culture," she reasoned. "The Spirit Order really doesn’t approve of the Republic of Aerthica’s need to remain at war."
"I’ve certainly never attended a festival there, either," Uzhu added. "Not that it sounds like I’d ever wish to."
"So now you know," Wesley miffed. "We’re both from a country of dog-eating, war-obsessed savages."
"You can’t judge a single person based solely on the nation they hail from, cher," Betty dictated.
"Why are you humans so obsessed with where you come from, anyway?" Lola interjected.
"I guess it’s just how we tell each other apart?" Venice suggested. "Humans feel less isolated when we have a homeland to hail from."
Lola slumped into the wooden floor. "Thank goodness dogs don’t have that issue."
"So, why’d you both leave?" Aurora inquired as she finally finished tuning her instrument. "I recall Wesley talking about Aerthica falling when we confronted Reanja."
Both of the Aerthicans winced at the query. "When the sky went bare and the lights went out, the streets of Aerthica’s cities became a breeding ground for Bogba’el," Carter explained. "The whole nation’s army couldn’t stop them."
"They consumed entire cities in days. I had a wife and two children at home, and they all fell victim to those monsters," Wesley agonized. "I had nothing left, so I threw down my sword and walked away."
"Yeesh, that’s … heavy," Rook remarked.
"It’s been fifteen years, at least on our end of things," the former soldier rejoined. "We’ve learned to cope."
A loud bump ran throughout the caravan’s back car and the shelves and furniture rattled from side-to-side. "What was that?" Venice asked.
Lola stood from her spot and jumped back atop the trunk by the window. As she looked outside, the sea could be seen in the distance behind the caravan. The vehicle’s buoys had transformed back into the wheels they originally were, as they now treaded at incredible speed across a bed of sand underneath. "We’ve crossed the section of sea between Chikyuu and Jigu," she replied.
"How is that even possible?" Jakea pondered as she joined the Buhund in peering out the window.
"Doug really values quick travel, doesn’t he?" the Buhund snarked.
#
As the caravan trekked along through numerous roads and mountain ranges, they’d taken an awkwardly quiet tea. Shortly after that, they succumbed to boredom and took an early dinner as well. Still uncomfortable with the tightly confined space, a majority of them proceeded to the center car for an early night’s sleep. Lola curled up at the foot of the cot Venice had chosen, giving a hearty yawn before reclining onto her side depart into slumber.
Breath after deep breath, she drifted in the darkness of sleep for time untold. The space around her gradually began to blur and distort as she began to descend through the emptiness. Bit by bit, light began creeping in around her and details began weaving themselves through the emptiness. As it finished taking form, it occurred to her that she was suddenly back in that sunny little town she’d once visited.
She found herself standing in the middle of dirt road bordered by unkept yet vibrant green grass. Countless homes of white birch wood, decorated with brick roofs in every imaginable color, could be clearly seen a short distance ahead of her. The sound of footsteps pattered behind her, prompting the Buhund to turn her head in alert.
Behind her stood the same young man from before—so much like Venice, yet not the same. The sun above cast a slight sheen from his jet black hair, his tan skin cast in shadows by the ray of light at his back. A yellow hen sat perched on his left shoulder. "So we meet again," he remarked with a smile. "Your timing is impeccable."
"Who are you?" Lola beseeched.
"Someone who was taken from your world," the young man answered.
"That really doesn’t clarify things," the Buhund grumbled. "Why do I keep dreaming about you?"
"It’s because we need you to help us wake up," he replied.
"Why?" she questioned further.
"Wake up!"
Lola found herself jostled awake as she felt the car’s hard, wooden floor smash against her face. "Wake up! We’re under attack!" Doug shouted from the front car.
A tremor sounded through the center car as everyone scrambled out of their cots. The side windows shattered as the claws of several Bogwraiths tore their way into the vehicle.
"Lousy beasts!" Carter exclaimed, grabbing a sheathed sword from his bedside. He drew the blade and quickly slashed along both windows, the creatures shrieking obnoxiously as the weapon cut past them.
"How are you even hurting them?" Aurora protested.
"I swiped some of that Jakea girl’s cornmeal and rubbed my sword with it," he explained before thrusting the blade at the remaining Bogwraith claws coming in through the windows. "Seemed like a smart thing to do."
"Don’t just stand about like that, do something!" Doug called from the front car again. "Cornmeal, sea salt … throw anything you can at them!"
Lola and Venice scurried into the rear car to find both Jakea and Betty well-alerted to the crisis, as the two women were throwing copious amounts of cornmeal out of the windows at monsters. The Buhund’s eyes immediately shot over to a large sack labeled "salt" seated by the stove. "Venice!" she implored as she pointed to the bag with her paw.
The carpenter’s glance instantly aligned with the sack. "Do you think it’s sea salt?" he pondered.
"There’s only one way to find out," she snapped.
The Buhund dashed for the bag, gripping a single corner in her jaws as she dragged it away from the stove. "Get your crossbow!" she ordered through clenched teeth.
"What are you thinking?" he pled.
"Carter gave me an idea. Just cram it and get your ruddy crossbow," the Buhund demanded.
"One moment," the carpenter replied as he dashed back into the center car.
"And arrows! Don’t forget arrows!" she called after him, her fangs still clenched around the corner of the bag of salt.
"What in tarnation are y’all doing with my cooking salt?" Betty thundered.
Lola released the bag from her jaws. "It’s sea salt, right?" the dog queried.
"Well, yes, but–"
"I got them!" Venice announced, dashing back into the rear car with his crossbow and arrows in hand.
Lola pushed a nearby jug of water up next to the bag of salt. After quickly ensuring it wouldn’t tip over, she ripped open a corner of the salt sack and looked to the carpenter. "Dampen, dip, and fire. You follow?"
Venice looked lost at her instructions. "Dampen the arrowheads, dip them in the salt, andfire them," she clarified angrily.
"Oh. Bright idea that is," he remarked before grabbing the bag and jug.
He threw open the rear car’s door, fighting back a rush of chilly night air as he knelt on the rear stoop and quickly prepared the supplies. One of the Bogwraiths swooped down onto the entryway at the sight of the carpenter. "You fool, watch out!" Betty called after him.
Before the creature could strike the sound the crossbow’s lever releasing hissed, a single arrow striking it in the shoulder. The Bogwraith let out a deafening screech as the area the arrow had pierced bellowed white smoke.
Venice reloaded and fired the weapon at an astonishing pace, causing several more arrows to strike the ghoul. As the creature flew away from the entryway, he set his sights on the remaining Bogwraiths along the side of the vehicle. Countless more arrows shot toward the monsters at the same impossible speed. Half of his shots connected with the monsters, causing them to flee as the salt-coated arrowheads seared their bodies.
"How on Lumea are you reloading that thing so quickly?" Jakea asked, dumbfounded by the display.
"I haven’t a clue in the slightest," Venice replied.
The carpenter reached for his quiver, only to find the leather container empty. "Sod it all, I’m out of arrows!" he lamented.
"Maybe if you bothered to take the time to aim you wouldn’t run out so quickly," Lola groaned.
"I welcome you to try working a crossbow, Princess Buhund," he growled back at her.
"Aurora, get down from there!" Rook’s voice called from the center car.
Both the carpenter and the Buhund turned to catch sight of the young musician standing atop the center car’s roof. Her guitar held tightly in her grasp, she fought against the force of the wind with every step she took. "Aurora!" Lola and Venice protested in unison.
"Have you gone mad?" the rooster protested as he clawed his way onto the roof beside her.
A lone Bogwraith lurched over the side of the center car toward the young woman. She drove the body of her guitar into the monster’s face before its claws could strike; the creature went flying over the side of the car and the instrument was unscathed by the blow. "Back, you wretched things! Back!" the musician demanded.
"Well, that certainly creates a lot of questions," Lola remarked.
The remainder of the Bogwraiths clawing at the center car ascended to the roof, avidly clawing their way toward the musician. "I said back," Aurora demanded.
She sang out in a melody of pure discord, repelling the ghouls by sheer force of the song. Bogwraiths rained over the side of the car, rolling behind the racing caravan as they thudded to the earth. "That raises even more questions!" Jakea exclaimed.
What a troublesome lot you are, Mikaboh’s voice called out from thin air. We suppose if we want something done right, it’s often best to do it ourselves.
The malevolent spirit’s figure, along with that of Reanja delle Catene di Ferro, materialized in front of them. The two flew through the air alongside the caravan as it continued its course. He hovered to face Aurora atop the center car. Bothersome insect, begone, Mikaboh professed.
An orb of translucent energy formed in his hand, taking the shape of a powerful gale as he launched it toward the young musician. The volley ripped her and the rooster from atop the car without sound. "Aurora! Rook!" Venice called after them as they disappeared over the side of car.
"You royal jerk!" Lola raged.
The Buhund locked eyes with the spirit as he grinned in delight at her anger. In her chest, she felt as if fire were running through her own heart, yearning to escape through her mouth and nostrils. "How dare you hurt my friends!" she thundered.
With little thought, the Buhund leapt from the entryway at the spirit. Venice reached for her in an attempt to pull her back. Time seemed to creep along while she flew through the air, descending to the ground below. As she drifted down, a shock echoed through her entire body. She hit the ground running and kept running.
The scenery around her became countless lines while she locked in on Mikaboh. The ground beneath her feet caught fire when she sped forward, yet the heat and flames left no pain or burns. Before she knew it, she’d not only matched his speed but run past him.
How peculiar, the malevolent spirit commented to his cohort, perplexed. You made no mention of this earlier.
"The last time I dealt with her she only had a lock pick," Reanja bellowed. "I’m afraid this is a completely new development."
Lola ran up the side of the front car and lunged from it, her fangs poised for Mikaboh. When she attempted to bite down she found that her teeth simply passed through him. She flipped in the air, managing to land on her feet, and continued running after him.
Silly doggie. You can’t wound nothingness, he taunted.
"Don’t test me, you overdressed clown!" the dog seethed back at him.
"We’re all right!" Rook called.
Lola caught sight of the rooster flying alongside her, Aurora’s shoulders in the grip of his talons. "How on Lumea are you doing that?" the Buhund exclaimed.
"How on Lumea are you doing that?" he retorted.
"No clue," Lola replied as she sped ahead.
Mikaboh watched with little concern as the dog continued pursuing him. Reanja, make yourself useful while we finish this up, he ordered.
The witch bit her lip angrily as the spirit flew ahead of her. She turned to the dog and extended her hands. Streams of clear, crystalline chains extruded from her palms and tore down into the ground below.
Lola quickly dodged the assault and wove around the flowing chains. With no hesitation, she ran up the side of moving caravan yet again and launched herself at the witch. As she ricochetted off the Boglord’s head and landed, she caught sight of Reanja spinning rapidly in place, attempting to regain her composure while her braids came undone.
Her attention was diverted by the sound of a loud blast, while the caravan suddenly started to slow down. The hum of the vehicle’s engine was absent. Mikaboh’s cackle carried downwind while she witnessed the specter flying away from the front car. Reanja and the remaining Bogwraiths followed behind him.
Lola stopped on her heels when the massive caravan slowly came to a halt. Rook and Aurora touched down not far from where she had stopped. As the dog approached the front car, she could see a large hole visible in the engine’s housing. Steam was pouring out of it.
The doorway to the vehicle’s front section swung open, a very vexed Douglas Rose standing in it. "I swear, nothing’s sacred anymore," he mumbled angrily, stepping out of the front car.
"There’s a hole in the engine," Lola pointed out.
"Lovely," the Sage replied wearily.
He made his way toward the engine housing to examine the damage, Sam waddling out of the front car behind him. While he waved the dying feed of steam from the opening the Sage peeked inside, amidst a steady stream of grumbling. "Half of the bloody engine’s gone!" he lamented. "Gone, vanished, reduced to nothing!"
The Sage stopped briefly, taking in a deep breath. "It’s fine," he reassured himself. "I’ll fix it. I always do."
Sam emitted a low whine. "And where were you when those monsters were tearing up my auto-caravan?" Doug interrogated.
"Roaron," the Parkahund grumbled back.
"Oh, get stuffed, you moldy sausage with legs," the Sage growled.
From nothing, Mikaboh materialized behind him. The malevolent spirit caressed the side of the Sage’s face, and Doug seized in discomfort. Take this warning and take it well, pointless material being, the specter spoke. Do us a favor and stay out of our way.
The aging Sage darted away from the spirit’s grip, overwhelmed by fear. Sam poised himself in front of Doug, his back arched and fangs bared. He emitted a loud growl before curling up his body. His form momentarily became a rolling bundle of fur, then solidified into a rolling mass of polished rock.
The rolling stone tore toward Mikaboh, grass and dirt flying in its wake. When it attempted to collide, however, the mass passed through the spirit and continued on until it smashed into the trunk of a nearby tree. Sam was now upside-down, his back splayed along the splintered plant.
What is it with you doge-kind and trying to harm us? the specter asked in exasperation. You cannot wound nothingness, do not make us state it again.
A volley of sea salt scattered across the malevolent spirit’s form. Amah had snuck up behind him and emptied the remains of Betty’s bag of salt onto him.
Must we reiterate? Mikaboh groaned.
"Consider it a show of my disdain for you," the dethroned Sun Spirit remarked.
You cannot stop us, he responded. And for the moment, we shall not harm you. So we suggest you follow our recommendation and stay out of our way. Things must be set right, after all, dearie.
"You know as well as I do that I won’t stop until you’re sealed away again," Amah dictated.
Big, bad Amah! So stubborn and sure of yourself with your doggie sidekick! Mikaboh cackled back. Haven’t you figured out that there’s no stopping us?
Everyone present looked to one another with unease. "What on Lumea are you prattling on about?" Amah inquired.
The specter grinned widely. With the sound of a soft, quick breeze his form reshaped and compacted. Mikaboh’s tall, slender frame had shifted to the body of a large, black greyhound. Only his head remained the same. Toil as you will, he warned. This world has many secrets for us to unlock, and so many of them will be surely its undoing.
His head tilted unnaturally, turning completely upside-down with a disturbing crack. You have lost.
Mikaboh faded from sight with a thundering cackle.