2404 Rab 22, Kindreth

If Kennen knew that being bought meant more time stuck in carts, he might have fought harder to get out of the warehouse. Days had passed since he and Dalan went with the threatening woman whose name he caught to be Trisa Sarthra. Through more eavesdropping, Dalan was able to tell that their destination would be somewhere in Zoriago, a city in the water sprite territory, Desara.

"How do you feel, getting so close to home?" Dalan had asked during the rare times one of them bothered to talk to each other during the long, humid days inside the cart. Kennen almost asked what he meant when the memory of him saying he was a water sprite came flashing back to his mind. Back then, he had just nodded and Dalan seemed keen to let the topic go.

Even if it's close to home, it wouldn't be quite that when he was expected to serve a woman he didn't even know existed until now.

Today's travel proved to be more taxing. They seemed to be climbing a mountain, judging from the slope the cart has been at for so long. It's also the reason why Kennen was pressed against the cart's backdoor with Dalan's shoulder scratching against him on his other side.

His eyes had never stopped observing the lone latch keeping the door from flying out. The image of Kennen tumbling out of the cart and rolling down whatever mountain was this was bright in his mind.

Dalan had been kind enough to hold his own weight against the pull of the earth but even that seemed to be taxing him dearly. More than once, Kennen caught the half-blood wincing and rubbing his sore shoulders as if to dispel the growing tightness in them. Kennen had nothing to offer him but a small, guilty smile which Dalan always returned.

Kennen drew his legs closer to his knees and tucked himself in. He heaved off a sigh, the gust of wind coming off his nostrils hot and scratchy. Black strands of hair fell to his eyes, the dye he applied to it long gone through weeks of sweating and being drenched by the rain. Nobody had batted an eye when Kennen's dark hair began showing through the yellow but he always assumed they already had seen too much to worry about a child's natural hair color.

He craned his neck to the cart's wooden ceiling. Rotting planks and rusty nails held the whole thing together. The creaks emanating from each and every part of the cart brought another pang of anxiety in his gut. A little more breeze and their vehicle might crumble to pieces. What was Trisa thinking, climbing a mountain with it?

"You doing okay?" Dalan's concerned voice bled in Kennen's ears.

Kennen raised his head from his knees to smile at the half-blood. Ever since Trisa had bought them, she tossed a blade in Dalan's direction and snapped at him to get rid of his unkempt hair. Now, the half-blood's beard was trimmed, albeit a little uneven, and his hair was smoothed away from his forehead and tied at the base of his nape. It was still matted but, at least, Dalan didn't look like a beggar whenever they went out of the cart and were seen by passing travelers.

"If this counts as okay, then maybe," Kennen answered, tightening his hold on his legs. Outside, only the wheels' creaks and Trisa's light cussing at every bump they encountered could be heard. "I don't really know how worse could any of this get."

"Hey," Dalan nudged Kennen's shoulder. "At least you're not alone."

That's true in every regard. He might have not made it through anything out of shock if not for Dalan and the others with him in the poachers' cart. This time, he doubted he might have survived the journey with Trisa without the half-blood's comforting presence.

"Why did you do what you did for me?" Kennen blurted, his words bouncing around the cart's wooden walls. Could Trisa hear every word they exchanged from her place in the coach? "You could have minded your own business and left me to be sold on my own."

Dalan hummed, scratching the side of his face with a hooked finger. "Let's just say I know how it feels like to be afraid after being left alone," he said. "I want to be there for someone who might be experiencing scary things for the first time. It's tough when you have no one with you."

Kennen let a tight smile rip into his lips. "Speaking from experience, are you?"

The half-blood chuckled. "How'd you know?"

"You speak an awfully good Keijula for someone not a fairy," Kennen noted. "I've been meaning to say that to you for such a long time but haven't got the chance nor the energy to."

Dalan bobbed his head, the tail made by his tied-back hair bouncing against his shoulders. "It's to our benefit to learn Keijula," he said. "Half-bloods actually have it easier since one part of their brains are hardwired to understand Keijula and the other Ylanenla."

Kennen's eyebrows arched. "The common language?" he asked, knowing full well what Ylanenla was but held back in speaking the actual word in fear of it sounding stupid on his tongue. "That's really nice."

"One of the perks of being me, I guess," the half-blood rolled his shoulders. "That and the fact that we're connected to twice the thrones. Awesome, right?"

Kennen blinked. "Thrones?" he said. "Chairs? How are you connected to a chair?"

Dalan chuckled. "Thrones do not pertain to chairs in which our royals sit upon in order to rule," he said. Kennen didn't fail to notice the half-blood had slipped into his lecturer's voice already. "They are objects of power meant to connect our souls to the well of magic inside this island."

Kennen knitted his eyebrows. "Aren't that from the myths?" he said. "Weren't we connected to this tree or something?"

"The Arbotro Fentimanis?" Dalan stroked his beard. "It could be another explanation. But I prefer to call them antique beliefs about how the world worked. But yes, I believe thrones are our direct connection to the island's magic."

Kennen tapped a finger against his knee. Let him convince himself he believed what Dalan was going on about. There was no way it was true. "So what were the thrones, then, if they're not chairs?" he asked. "And where are they?"

Dalan gathered his legs close to him as he sat with them crossed against each other. Kennen attempted to emulate him but only got his limbs in a twist. In the end, Kennen just let his legs splay out.

"There wasn't much information about these objects. But one thing was certain, though," Dalan's eyes flashed with wonder. "The Royals from each territory would be sure to protect it like they protect their lives."

Kennen thought back to the time the Grand Marshal insisted on keeping his access away from the Hall of Symbols. Was that the reason why? Was the Ice Sprite throne inside? Did they even have one as a race deemed extinct and who made themselves extinct?

"Why would they need to protect their own throne?" Kenne tilted his head to one side. "If they're objects of power, could they just protect themselves?"

Dalan sniffed and rubbed his nose with a knuckle. "Anyone could gain access to these thrones and attain their powers for themselves," he said. "Besides, if one throne gets destroyed, the whole race connected to it would cease to exist."

The gravity of what Dalan had said weighed on Kennen. Even though he didn't believe a word of what the half-blood was saying (it sounded like it came from a rumor print going around the black markets), it made sense.

If the beings connected to it were suddenly cut off from the source of magic, their forms would crumble and their souls would meet Pidmena in the Land of Wonders faster. Why? Because magic was the force keeping them together. Without magic, no fairy, human, or half-blood could exist.

Kennen sucked in a breath and shifted his position against the cart's wall. "Do half-bloods have a throne?"

Dalan snorted. "I literally just told you we're connected to two of them."

"How does that work, exactly?" Kennen waved his hand in the air, prompting Dalan to explain more.

The half-blood gave in. "Half-bloods are children of either a fairy and a human or two fairies from different races. Each of the fairy races have their own thrones. Humans have their throne. So...issue solved."

Kennen's lips formed a small circle. "Would it be possible to collect all the thrones in one place?"

Dalan had the nerve to grin and snort in amusement. "To do that, one would either be mad or rich," he said. "Or both."

Kennen didn't say anything more as he propped his arms over his knees once more and laid his head against them. The false darkness the space between his stomach and legs gave him wasn't that much of a comfort.

As their conversation died off, Kennen couldn't shake off the relief it brought him. For once, he wasn't thinking of going home or his eventual life as Trisa's slave. For once, it was just Dalan and him learning about the world they moved in. Lydin's lectures suddenly didn't sound so burdensome anymore. Kennen would give anything just to be back in that lecture room, worrying about nothing but getting out of bed in time and making it back to his room before the lights turned off.

Everything sounded so simple. Kennen did get what he wished, to have explored the world. Now, he understood how dangerous it was and why the ice sprites have had to arm themselves the way they did. The island preys on the weak and in Kennen's case, he wasn't nearly as strong as anyone who remained free.

That was what the Generals and his parents have been trying to tell him. Unfortunately for Kennen, experience has been, and would always be, the best teacher.

"I just want to go home," Kennen muttered to himself aloud, hoping Dalan wouldn't hear. "Pretend all of this was just a bad, bad dream."

A hand rested on his shoulder. He raised his head to find Dalan smiling at him once again. How did he find the strength to be this patient to a child? "I'll help you get home," he said. "When we get the chance in Desara, I say we'll make a run for it."

Kennen swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He really felt bad for the lie he had made Dalan believe and the hope creeping in his friend's voice at the prospect of seeing Kennen home. "Would you like to go to a place where you're not bound to be a slave?" he blurted. The half-blood's eyebrows rose. "You could be really free in that place."

How ironic was it? Kennen left the Ice Capital because he felt like it was a prison. He chased freedom in the outside world, only to have experienced what curtailed freedom really felt like.

"It sure would be a dream come true," Dalan's smile turned sad. Was that Kennen's fault? "I let myself think about that once in a while."

Kennen shook his head. "I mean it," he said. "I know a place where we won't be hurt or persecuted anymore."

"Does such a place really exist?" Dalan's tone was unsure. Uncertain.

"I'm not a water sprite," Kennen blurted before he could stop himself with doubt. Dalan had helped him so much, he deserved at least the truth from Kennen. "My home is not in Desara."

His friend didn't speak as he raised his hand and let his magic flare into the surface. "I'm an ice sprite," he said. "And my home is in the Ice Capital."

He met Dalan's wide eyes as his magic twisted and formed into a tiny ice shard. The sudden cold it brought to his skin almost brought tears into his eyes. How he had missed it, his only reminder of the things and place he had left. "Such a place exists, Dalan," he said. "And I want you to be a part of it for all that you've done for me."

Before Dalan could react, however, shouts of aggression erupted from the opposite side of the wooden walls around them. Metal shrieked against its sheath and clanged against its own kind. Then, in front of their eyes, the cart exploded in a fury of fire and splinters.