User:8bit BlackMage/Between Rock and Rain/Chapter 1

 Calderone Hale peered down into the mist as another courier broke out of the swirling gray to meet a sky glaring with the cold light of a tundral sun. The courier, a gray-mottled male with a splash of dark blue around the neck, sported a huge grin as he landed on the edge of the cliff face. It was the lowest point in the village of Tyre, excluding its deep and seemingly endless mines. From his vantage point a fair distance away along the cliff edge, Calderone watched the drake meet a couple of other couriers on their way to work. They began to scale a huge set of stone steps rising up into the village proper, a stone metropolis comprised of towering clusters of huts that spread vertically more than horizontally, situated on terraces cut into the stone. The steps led up toward an imposing stone temple carved into the side of the peak, a structure that seemed to adorn the city and yet melt into its facade of relentless grey.

The temple held his gaze for only a moment. I've seen enough of it for today. Calderone's piercing blue eyes returned to the cliff dropoff, where the other two couriers are preparing to jump off the ledge, weighed down with silver-laden packs. He studied their movement as they jumped, spreading their wings to resist the acceleration of the fall, tucking into a spiral descent and fading into the mist that cloaked this skyward world from the realm below.

I could do that. He was 17, old and strong enough to be a courier, or at least a miner in the quarries below Tyre, but his lineage has called him to a different path.

“Cal! Cal!” Startled, Calderone finally heard the voice that had been beckoning for several seconds. He looked down from his perch, expecting an irate attendant summoning him back to the temple.

His visitor was a female Drakenaer about his age, slate blue skin similar to Calderone’s, but with silver hair in contrast to his navy.

“Elissa!" His surprise lingered in the air for too long, so she gave him a searching wave. "…How’s it going?”

The youngest child of the Tekhel mining family twirled a pickaxe amusedly in response. “Done with the day shift. Nice to see you out and about, eh?”

“Yeah… I still have a few moments before they call me back again. I want to enjoy them.”

“Oh, I see.” With a tight smile, she motioned to turn towards the steps from which she came.

“I, uh, didn't mean it like that.” Sigh.

His clarification was gratuitous, as Elissa had already about-faced and started to climb up the spire on which he sat. The hand he extended was also superfluous; she vaulted over the final few feet.

“Training tough today?” He noticed Elissa had, for some reason, brought the pickaxe with her.

“It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. Don’t worry about it.”

“Haha, don’t worry about that.” The silver-haired woman slapped Calderone lightly on the arm. “I have enough to worry about myself.”

“Couriers giving you trouble again? Wasn’t Hollin supposed to take care of that?”

“He did. Well, kind of. They’ve got him going groundside so much that there’s plenty of time for the second-rate divers to have their fun poking around in the mines.” Elissa sighed as another courier, stealing a glance at the two and smirking, jumped lazily off the cliff, spreading cobblestone wings as he dissolved into the mist.

"I could have a word-" Calderone began, but a solemn chord interrupts him, struck from the bells of the temple above. “…But that."

"Cal, I mean it. Don't worry about it. Just keep doing what you're doing. You're the only one who can."

I wish they didn’t have to announce my schedule to the whole town.”

"Eh... Tradition, you know.” Elissa hopped off the pillar, her vibrant purple blouse ruffling in the wind. Calderone followed her somewhat less gracefully, and they began to trudge up the path of stone.

“Don’t worry about the couriers, if they’re wasting their time heckling us miners, that’s less you have to deal with.Most of us really appreciate what you’re doing, Cal. Trust me.” They passed a gaggle of middle-aged shepherds, who gave the pair a wide berth and began muttering to each other. Elissa rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Even if we don't show it all the time. Or at all. You know. People."

They spent the rest of the climb in silence, parting at the gates to the temple. Elissa gave him a much warmer smile as she left; Calderone was always unable to return those smiles in full.

The pealing of the bells recalled him to reality. As he parted the temple's doors, the sudden grasp of cold at his face caused him to hesitate. He composed himself, and entered.

"You’re shivering, Calderone. Steel yourself.” A cool, flute-like female voice drifted through the interior of the temple. Stained glass windows decorated the eastern wall lit by sparsely strewn oil lamps. The space was otherwise sparsely decorated, save for a raised platform distant from the doorway. Three figures clustered around it in absolute silence.

Tomas and Sonia Hale knelt at opposite sides of their son at the foot of a pedestal that bore an ornate, crystalline shield. It was a thing of marvelous beauty, of fragile ice and irascible steel. The sarcophagus of Lotan, first-born of Leviathan, to mortal Drakes the legendary guardian of Tyre. The god himself thought much less of his prison. Lotan had no need of conveying these thoughts to the Ornamented Drakenaer that knelt before him. He had never been able to, not since his powers locked him and Tyre away in Canton’s earthen embrace. No, the god Lotan had, for now, nothing to offer the tribe that had kept his legend alive for hundreds of years. Nothing save for the inexorable icy breath that exuded from the shield, the traditional test for the oft-respected Hale lineage.

Calderone wore nothing but a loincloth, trembling slightly as he weathered the full blast of the icy wind emanating from the shield. His parents, however, signaled no such weakness, their faces expressionless as the mist breezed past them and out the temple, where it kissed the stone steps briefly before dissipating. The teenager reached his hand out to touch the shield, breaking contact only a few seconds afterwards. His shivering grew more violent, and Sonia’s mask of calm began to crack.

“Calderone, a week has passed since the beginning of the final step, and still you cannot endure. You are so close to complete tolerance. Focus your will.” She was the carrier of the Hale name, not her husband. Tomas was the only suitor to withstand the ritual cold and thus the one who won her hand. Together, they did not so much rule the city, but guide it, as elders attempting to pass their talents to their son.

“I am trying.” Calderone’s words were stiff and choppy, betraying chattering teeth.

“This suffering is not something to be tried and discarded. It is our duty – your duty,” intoned Tomas. His clothing was thicker than Calderone’s, but he spoke from experience.

Calderone remained quiet, closing his eyes, wishing he could close his ears. Another attempt at bonding with the shield ended with another bout of shivering.

Sonia shook her head and rose, her posture perfect but for her arms, which trembled as they lifted her son’s right side. “We will try again tomorrow. This week has been… disappointing. So close, and yet so far.”

Tomas supported his son’s other arm. The elder Hale had weakened over the years, even though a life dedicated to Lotan has done much for his hardiness. “Is something bothering you, Calderone? Only recently have you begun to falter…”

“I... It is nothing...” Calderone’s breath was ragged as his parents ushered him away from the pedestal.

“Perhaps you are spending too much time with the couriers and miners… I believe we should further devote your time to training,” said Sonia. It was not a suggestion.

“I already devote much time here, mother. Please, at least allow…”

“Not time enough, it seems. How can you not revere this wondrous gift you have been given? A blessing that protects the hopes and thoughts of this community, far surpassing your own?”

Calderone spoke to the floor. “You know nothing of what I think.”

It was such a rare and unexpected rebuttal. Disquiet crept into the temple, painting the barren walls and smothering the gentle breezes from the shield.

Sonia's expression was simultaneously enraged and confused, but her husband covered for her. “They should be in harmony with that of Tyre. Every other whim is to be forgotten. I have shouldered this responsibility as your mother’s ancestors have. I have endured. She has endured. Will you?” The shield held its breath for the briefest of moments, as if awaiting the initiate's answer.

Hale raised his eyes to look his father in the face – an old Drake, one who had given his whole life to the village. A tear ran down Sonia’s face as she struggled to speak. “Calderone… please…”

"Let him take a break, Sonia. It will do us all some good." Tomas turned to his wife for confirmation, intentionally directing his gaze away from Calderone. His son did not attempt to regain it.

Nor did his mother. "Fine. Return in thirty minutes," Sonia allowed. She closed her eyes, and the shield breathed. "We will ring the bells in advance."

The very mention of the sound sent an echo through Calderone's ears. He stood clumsily, relying too much on his tail for balance. "You don't need to," he muttered, then made for the exit before anything else could be said. The double doors slammed shut just a little too forcefully, until the icy wind nudged them open again.

Of course it's the busy hour. Fifty pairs of interested eyes followed Calderone as he stomped down the stone steps. Why are there so many people at the first terrace, anyway? He had planned to see Hollin, or Elissa again, or...

A Tyrian elder he had evidently just grazed began to hurl abuse at him. "No respect for.. for..." The wizened Drake paused after recognizing his victim, scales pursing up in begrudging respect.

They exchanged the necessary bows. Now everyone was definitely watching him. Or I can just go home.

The Hale residence was barely a minute's pace from the temple, and Calderone reached it in thirty seconds. From the outside, the hut was no different than the hundreds of others assembled across the spine of Mt. Iola. Inside, it was probably more empty than most. His parents essentially lived at the temple or in the homes of their people, leaving their son a hermit in his own home filled with nothing past the necessities.

Now that he was here, he was not sure what to do. So he ascended the stone stairway, a miniature of the path he had taken earlier in the day. The second floor was essentially an open loft that functioned as his "room." Slouching up the stairs, he defaulted towards the lone window, a thin gash of space with wooden shutters that he never closed. It lay low towards the ground, with an earthen slab underneath it that sufficed as a bench. Calderone passed disinterestedly at the various stone carvings scattered across it, one-winged torsoes grounded in cold basalt, half-hewn mountains emerging from rough rock. Wreathed in dust, a few chisels and a hammer that had once been loved now lay quietly against the grey wall.

There isn't enough time to work on anything, anyway. He sat on the floor and stared past it all, out at Tyre in its quiet, white-roofed glory. In the distance, a Drakenaer-shaped form plunged from the nadir of the city to the other world below. The sight of it etched a frown on Calderone's face, which melted as a ringing voice called from below.

"Hey, boss. Heard you were skipping school."

Calderone's alarm at the statement fizzled when he recognized his visitor, a black-necked Drake a few years older and a few more inches taller than him. "Hollin? How did you know I was h-"

"Word travels quickly around here. Small town, you know?" Hollin could sense his friend's sigh even though he couldn't hear it, and grinned. "Got something for you."

"Oh?" Calderone half expected Hollin to launch something through the window. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Yeah, Elissa suggested it before I left on this morning's dive. Uh... are you going to let me in?"

"Be right down." Calderone stood up quickly, nearly disturbing a statue off the side of the bench. He righted it quickly, then jumped down the stairs, flapping his wings once for no reason. Upon his crude landing, he noticed Hollin had already opened the door to witness it.

The scales on Calderone's cheeks flushed a deeper blue. "Um... want to come upstairs?"

"Sure," Hollin said breezily as he moved to take the stairs three at a time. "Got to see the master at work."

When Calderone reached the loft, he found Hollin inspecting a particular Drakenaer-ish figure, its right side completely uncrafted. "Still haven't finished this one? Come on, it's supposed to be of me!"

"Well, there's... a lot of you to sculpt."

"Pshhhhhhh. Hey, do you want your gift or not?" The black-necked Drakenaer rummaged in his pack good-naturedly.

"What is it?" Calderone asked guardedly. Hopefully not something that will be confiscated...

His friend waved his hand in suspense. "Wait for it..." A flourish produced a medium-sized, white... rock.

Not just any rock, Calderone mused. He took it wordlessly. Lighter than I expected, given its size. It was strangely oily to the touch. "I haven't seen anything like this before."

Hollin seemed disappointed by the muted response. "The Hume merchant called it soapstone. Said it would be really easy to shape. So, what do you think? Worth it? Scam?" He folded his arms, hiding the intricate circular pattern of deep sable scales on his chest.

Calderone rolled the white-grey stone in his hands absentmindedly, then placed it on the bench. "Let's see." A gratified chisel and hammer were plucked from their slumber as he sized up the soapstone. With the lightest of movements, he notched a shallow groove into the material that exposed an even brighter, ghostly pale interior. Four more strokes of the chisel, with some experimental twists and varying degrees of force, established a template for future work. In his mind's eye, Calderone multiplied those cuts a hundredfold, shaping the obloid form into a myriad of shapes. A wing burst forth and melted into a row of evergreens, merging and surging into a full-fledged Drakenaer, which shed its wings, smoothed its features, and stood as a Hume. The figure lingered, alien, before it collapsed and reformed into a plated bulwark, wreathed in ice...''

Calderone blinked, recovering from his reverie. Hollin was handling - carefully, Hale noted - his own miniature, closely inspecting the one finished wing.

"Hollin?" The taller Drake started and looked at him in expectation. For once, he did not speak.

"This is great." Calderone meant it. "I'll definitely finish something with it. And sorry for drifting off. I was just... thinking about what that 'something' might be."

"No worries. I thought that might happen." Hollin beamed and swung his pack back on his shoulder with an air of accomplishment. "I'll let you two get to know each other then, I have to get ready for tonight's dive."

"Ah. Of course." Calderone turned back to the soapstone, with its five miniscule nicks.

"Don't be a stranger, yeah?" Hollin's sable-speckled tail gave a mock-wave as he bounded back outside.

"Yeah," Calderone answered quietly. He could hear Hollin plow over another Drakenaer in the street - probably an elder - and grimaced. As shavings of soapstone fell to the table, a worrying thought crossed his mind. ''How much did Hollin have to pay for this material out of his own wages? It couldn't have been cheap...'' Several firm strikes established the statue's base. ''Elissa probably pitched in too. And she would have been the one to know what kind of rock to look for...''

The facsimile of a face took form, as did the suggestion of a coiled tail. They didn't have to do that...

CLANG.

Soapstone-Hollin's left leg was nearly amputated by a panicked overshoot of the chisel. Godsdamn bell! In a pang of rage, the sculptor flung his hammer across the room. It bounced against the wall with an admonishing clang, but Calderone was already inspecting his project for damage. He turned it over to confirm it had not had been cleaved in two, then snatched the hammer off the floor. Breathing heavily, he rested his work directly underneath the window, and placed the tools softly beside it.

''They will send an attendant to get me if I don't return. I don't have time for this, this...'' He didn't know what it all was. Rubbing his temples, he Hollin and Elissa worked hard to buy this for me. The thought began in reverence, but left Calderone with an uncomfortable sense of envy. He closed his eyes, just as he had been instructed to do countless times. When he opened them, it was just in time to see another courier fly.

Then he made his decision.

The stone doors and a pair of attendants greeted him with disapproval. Calderone ignored their chilliness, even as Lotan's whisper rushed to welcome him. He tasted the words he knew he had to say, swallowed them, and entered the temple once more.

"I am sorry for my earlier actions." He spoke clearly and deferentially, kneeling again before the shield. "I needed some time to think about who I needed to be."

To his left, Tomas nodded, eyes closed. "Understandable." His wife picked up immediately from his ensuing silence.

"Then I must ask you as your father asked you, my son." Sonia stated. She had not moved from where Calderone had left her. "Will you endure?"

Calderone looked at her, and then back at the shield, that eternal impasse, his calling and his curse. “I will.” Unflinchingly, he reached out to grasp the aegis with both hands. The spike of pain seemed mitigated, at first. Nothing I haven't experienced before. In response, the shield sent shockwaves through his arms, each more frigid than the last.

No. With a glare, he dug in with his claws and erased the shield from his sight, replacing it with a harmless lump of white stone. As threads of ice threatened to lance through his heart, he forced the vision to change at his will, to what he wanted to see. ''The edge of the mountain. The world below. Hollin. Elissa. Me.''

This fate is mine to shape.

The softest of whispers surged from - into? - his core.

You are mine.

The temple walls echoed with a shout as Calderone relinquished his deathgrip on the shield, hands burning alabaster. Murmuring intently, his parents rushed to support him, each clasping a hand. Lotan pulsated with renewed vigor, filling the temple with freezing mist.

"You have done well, Calderone," Sonia clenched his fist tightly, searing it anew. He was too exhausted to react. What did I do...?

"Twenty-five seconds. The same time as I before the final step. You have done well," she repeated, letting Calderone's arm fall to the floor. Gasping, she picked it up more gently, but her eyes still shone with vindication. "I... I must inform the elders. Tomas, will you...?" Sonia departed, hope renewed. She did not realize the focus of her hope was growing ever colder.

The wizened Drake took both of his son's hands as his wife vanished behind the stone folds. "We are proud of you, Calderone." Slowly, he shifted so that his back was to the shield. With Lotan blocked from view, Calderone found he could look his father in the face. Blue eyes tinged with cloudy green focused uncertainly back.

A silence yearned between them. It hurt. ''Why are you holding me? Everything is burning...''

Roughly, he pulled away from his father, rubbing his hands together as if kneading an invisible clay. Tomas folded his own. "Much has been demanded of you, physically and mentally. I will not ask more of you today. I will give you some peace." He stood, quaveringly, remaining by his son's side for a moment.

"I cannot profess to know the pain you have suffered, my son. It is not in my blood to know." With a heavy, aching pace, Tomas Hale moved on.

Come back, Calderone wanted to whisper, even though he knew wanted to be alone. ''They trust me. Now I can...''

He couldn't trust himself to tell them.

His father paused at the double doors. "But I wish for you to know this: No matter where you go or who you will be, you will always be a son of this community. You will always carry the hopes and dreams of generations who made possible your own dreams." Then he was gone.

Calderone remained, breath mingling with God's. The frost simultaneously starved and strengthened him. He closed his eyes, for what felt like hours. When he opened them, all doubt was extinguished. Only a cold logic was left.

''I have done my duty here. Tonight I will soar.''

As he stood to leave, the soft pealing of bells hailed him.

The full moon reached its peak as Calderone once more saw the sky, illuminating the swirling abyssal mist. His parents had long since departed, and the stone doors closed with a sigh, the same noise they would make tomorrow morning, and every morning, noontide, and evening after.

But...

He chose a different path this night, not through the thin blanket of snow towards the Eighth Terrace and home. It led him down the entirety of the stone steps, past the nadir of the First Terrace at the cliff's edge. A group of three Drakenaer stood shrouded in mist where couriers would normally gather. Three silhouettes stood against the backdrop of spiraling mist, but Hale was looking only for the tallest.

Hiding behind a small outcrop of rock, he waited for the other two to leave, chatting tiredly about their work night.

"Old man Barone drove a hard bargain for that leather, huh?"

"That cheapskate. I still don't understand why we need cow skin when we've got scales."

"I heard a human doctor groundside say something about our blood being more sensitive to changes in temp-"

"Oh shut up."

As their conversation drifted into the distance, Hale approached the remaining figure, the tallest of the group.

"Hey, Hollin. Taking your time?" The words escaped in a croak. It felt an age since he had spoken to his friend that afternoon. Since he had spoken at all.

Hollin had been stretching his arms lazily, and jumped at the mention of his name. "No sir, I was just about to... Cal? Twice in one day? Heh, you scumbag!" Hollin let out a booming laugh that mixed with the clanking of silver ore within the pack strapped on his back. "Thought you were the supervisor. Though you might as well be, huh?"

"Come off it, Hollin. You complained to me about your entire work schedule for the upcoming week last time we sat down for food at Elissa's." Hollin's banter helped the words come more easily. "Normally I wouldn't listen, but... ow."

Hollin brought his elbow back from Calderone's shoulder and laughed. "But what? Compassion for the courier life, now is it?"

"I've never had any contempt for couriers," Calderone stressed.

"I know Cal, I know. Others in your position might, but, uh.... screw those people. I gotta get dropping though, if you weren't just stopping by to say hi?"

"Not just that." Calderone ignored Syrus's theatrically disappointed face and pointed at his silver pack. "I want to take over for you tonight. I want to go groundside."

“What, do you even know to – uh… Where to fly down to?”

“I learned all about it from my parents while at the temple,” Calderone lied, easily.

“Oh yeah, you do spend hours in there… aren’t you kind of tired tonight? From all the… training and stuff?”

“No. I’m warmed up. You don’t think I can manage?”

“Er, well, it’s not that… it’s just… this my job, you know, and you have more important things to do…” Hollin scratches the back of his head nervously, but Hale sighed and holds out his hand.

“No, I don’t. Hollin, just let me do this. Just once. Please.” The taller Drake avoided locking eyes with Calderone’s, fidgeting and finally relenting, lifting the pack off of his shoulders.

“Okay, geez… I don’t know why you want it so much, but there must be a reason. Just don’t screw up, or it’ll make me look bad, alright?” says Hollin as he hands the pack to Calderone, who slips in over his back.

“I’ve heard a lot of that lately.” Calderone grimaced slightly and straightened his back, clasping on to the straps with both hands.

“Heh. Oh, you might wanna know the human you're reporting to - Old Man Barone. Can't miss him. Think you can handle it, big guy? ” Syrus grins and punched Calderone in the arm again, before running off back towards the residential district. “A night on the town, courtesy of Calderone Hale!” His voice danced in the night and disappeared.

Calderone watched his friend melt towards the dim light in the distance. You deserve it, Hollin.

For a second, he waited in uncertainty. No. Logistics. The pouch attached to the pack listed every detail of the Hume he was to exchange the silver with, just as Hollin had said.

Everything's in order, then. All he had to do was jump.

Calderone walked to the edge of the precipice before another thought could intercept him. One last circumspect sweep confirmed no one else was in sight. Just him and the abyss, rushing by in a blitz of cloud and cold - for he had already dived, a drop of water lost in the immensity of the ocean.