Chapter 12: An Intrepid Expedition
"Come and watch, ladies and gentlemen!" roared a man dressed in a multi-coloured tunic. He waved similarly-coloured flags over his head. His face was red with the effort. "Come and observe the great mage, the Caster who wields Wind without a staff! Come gasp at his talent, come swoon at his skills! Come on, ladies and gentlemen – come and see the Free Style Caster!"
"Did you hear that?" whispered Tia, yanking at Mommu's arm. Mommu stumbled, giving her a reproachful look after she'd pulled him away from a shop selling miniature versions of carriers, which he had rather fancied. He then gave the shouting man a worried glance as his heart rate began to pick up again at a familiar rate.
"Is that even possible?"
Enlil scrutinised the noisy man who was hollering more advertisement to other passers-by.
"He's not the Caster," he said. "He's just a sidekick. Maybe he's paid to attract customers."
"Then where is the Caster?" Tia asked, turning this way and that as though expecting a Windcaster to burst out of the busy shops lining the street. A crowd had begun to gather around the new stage. The speaker waved more enthusiastically, drawing in even more intrigued walkers.
The rabble started to die down and everyone focused their attention on a figure in a dark cloak emerging from the back. His entire figure was swamped in the thick material, the hem of which swished about his feet as he stepped his way to the middle. Mommu could feel power emanating from the mysterious presence. The mob fell to silence, leaving only the distant chatter of people eating and noises from faraway shows.
"No way..." Mommu said under his breath, grey eyes going as round as the moon. He gripped the front of his tunic with disbelief, his fists shaking. The man had held out his two hands, palms facing upward and fingers spread wide, the long sleeves falling back up to his elbows. There was an inkling of an elegant rose on his left wrist. His hands were empty.
He really is going to Cast without a staff, Mommu thought in wonderment.
The energy in the air stilled. He could feel the shift in the power concentrating towards the strange character. To the crowd, nothing was happening yet, but something dramatic was about to occur.
"That is a Caster?" The surprise in Tia's voice was palpable. "Wow," she breathed, eyes going as round as Mommu's. Even Enlil was wordless.
A pile of leaves that had been placed at the man's feet stirred. Two leaves lifted upwards slowly, jerkily, without the natural movement of normal wind. It then fluttered and fell to his feet; then, one by one, the leaves jerked upwards by themselves until they floated in a straight line, one after the other, at eye-level to the spectators.
No staff! Mommu's thoughts were like a whirlwind, caught off-guard by the expertise. No concentration point! Pure energy!
A murmur of disbelief coursed through the viewers.
"That is not possible!" said a man to his wife, next to the three young people. "A Caster who can Cast without a staff? It is unheard of!"
"Not unheard of," said another man, a grin curling at his lips. "I hear some of the great Windcasters of Dernexes are capable of doing that, but not many. A few of the older ones refuse to believe this to be a new branch of Wind magic but I think a few of the younger Censors have managed this."
"How do you know?" Tia asked. The man tapped his nose and winked at her.
"Information is worth more than gold, young miss, but mark my words." His dark eyes flickered over to the hooded figure. "That man up there is no ordinary Windcaster. He must at least be a Consul."
"Why would a Consul be doing such cheap tricks?" Enlil said.
"You do not understand, Enlil," Tia said, awe on her face. "No Casters could ever Cast without a staff! It is almost unheard of. What he is doing is revolutionary! Just look!"
The leaves were dancing in strange, jerky motions round and round the man, tumbling in their course through the air in a controlled manner. His outstretched hands shook. The talent in this man was amazing.
Mommu could feel the man's stamina leaking all around him. The amount of power he was drawing from was ground-breaking. Without a staff to concentrate his affinity to the Wind, he was literally pouring all his strength into the air around him and manipulating it to his will. He had saturated the air with so much of his power that the leaves responded. Waves of wasted energy washed Mommu.
Eventually the leaves fluttered to a stop on the ground. The performer lowered his hands, breathing heavily. He took a stiff bow to rapturous applause and exited in three long strides.
"And so, ladies and gentleman, you have seen the extraordinary power of the Free Style Caster – the Windcaster who can control Wind without a staff! Come back tomorrow for more of his amazing talents..."
"That. Was. Amazing." Tia mopped at her forehead with the edge of her traveller's cloak, her eyes shining. Mommu was breathless. Perhaps he could be like that one day. So much power, so much skill.
Only Enlil appeared unimpressed, eyeing his companions up and down with a bemused expression.
"I cannot believe how much talent Kiramone has. And I bet he is not the only Caster! Can you imagine?"
Mommu shook his head, wordless.
****
"Again! Again!" roared the crowd as the performer snatched his long swords from the air with one hand and took a sweeping bow. He grinned, showing some false teeth of silver, and tipped his striped hat back to a jaunty angle. He gave the masses a wink, sending them to a frenzy again as he started to juggle his shining knives into the air. They were an array of different sizes and shapes: meat cleavers, long swords, curved cutlasses and small kitchen knives. He caught each and every one of them neatly by the handle and spun them to the sky over and over.
The group gasped in unison as he, without any warning, grabbed one of the sharper rapiers he had been tossing and threw it at the lady standing in front of a wooden board. It hit the board with a thud and wobbled precariously just over the top of her carefully-combed and styled blonde hair, which fell in waves over her shoulders. She was clad in a tight long dress in a dark pink. The material clung and stretched over her provocative curves. She wiggled her hips, batting her eyelashes. She was a beautiful woman, but looking at her made Mommu uncomfortable. People yelled in excitement, wanting more.
The performer threw a second, third, fourth knife, each of them embedding next to the pretty lady. She did not flinch as they passed her skin, not making a scratch. She pursed her lips and winked at the crowd, sending them to another frenzy. Their lust for more was making Mommu feel caged in, as though he was trapped with raging animals thirsty for blood. Next to him, Tia's bright green eyes surveyed the show, her cheeks pink with exhilaration.
"We should not be here," he whispered.
"Mommu, you are such a bore!" She didn't tear her eyes from the next knife, which landed next to the lady's left hip. "This is amazing!"
"This is foolish!" he said, scandalised. "This is so dangerous – she could get hurt – Enlil, tell her!" he spluttered. She wasn't listening. She never did.
She giggled and squealed with delight as the next knife buried next to the lady's wrist.
"It is the thrill of almost causing bloodshed but not quite that is filling people's thirst for excitement," Enlil said, watching the spectacle with open distaste. He didn't look like he was going to help Mommu's cause. "None of them have actually seen what it is like to be injured and so crave it."
"Cheer up, Enlil!" Tia said with a grin. The man threw his second-to-last long knife, hitting the spot right next to the woman's left shoulder and missing her tumbling blonde hair narrowly. He spun his last weapon confidently in his gloved index finger, his other hand tugging his hat back to reveal a cocky expression. The woman blew a kiss at the people.
Mommu had to admit, the heart-stopping moments that came with each throw made his heart race and his breath catch. The overwhelming adrenaline rush was enjoyable, in a way.
"If these two people knew the implications of actually being hurt by those, they would not be doing it." Enlil's flat voice promptly doused Mommu's excitement.
"Do not give her ideas," he said, taking his eyes off the scene temporarily. Just then, there was a thud and a loud gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by an ear-splitting scream. The excitement plummeted. The two boys winced and turned their attention back to the show.
The last knife had landed immediately next to the woman's neck, not breaking the skin, but the proximity meant that the blade hacked off a chunk of her curly locks, which fluttered to the ground at her feet. Another unearthly screech emanated from her painted lips, her eyes, rimmed in black, rolled in their sockets. The sight made Mommu feel sick.
His eyes darted at his partner-in-training. She didn't appear to be bothered by the ruckus and instead, was observing, almost with glee, the shocked disbelief on the arrogant performer's young face. She tucked her hands back inside her cloak.
"Tia, did you just...?"
"What?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelids. A mischievous smile curved at her lips. Just then, another event further down the colourful street attracted her attention and she flounced off. Enlil was on at her heels at once, a disgruntled expression on his tanned face. Mommu gave another glance behind him as he followed suit, noticing the perplexed performer muttering to one of his acquaintances.
"I do not understand it. I have done it a million times and my aim is always spot-on..."
"Mommu!" Tia called, waving her arm like a windmill. Several passers-by ducked out of the way. Mommu heaved a sigh. Tia was always a handful and rather unpredictable. He ran a hand through his fluffy hair, feeling certain that a few sandy curls had gone grey just in the past hour. Tia didn't have her staff with her and it was near impossible to use magic without a staff to concentrate one's powers and link with the Wind. She couldn't have had anything to do with the performer's mishap.
Could she?
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