Seed of Grebefal (awakening series book 2) 1st draft effort :)

[Harmonious_Echos]

FAIR WARNING!! THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOOK 1!! 

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Seed of Grebefal 

 

The winds were different. Kyirtana Armonia Grebe was sure of it now. He’d been checking the winds for days in the same way, as he did every morning; standing barefoot, clad in only his pants, on the top of the tower, arms outstretched, his hands spread wide. The rushing air pressed against his bare skin, and filtered through his fingers and hair. But his face was still warm, today, even warmer than it had been for the last few days. It shouldn’t be getting warmer; it was already midsummer, and the weather should be getting colder now. Grebefal’s powerful mana-laden winds were cool and pure, and had never stopped circling this tower. They had been like this since before he had even been born. Why were they so odd today?

He paused in his mental exercises and frowned, looking around him at the weathered stones and high outer wall of the tower. Today was his sixteenth birthday, which should be a good thing, great even; today he was officially the heir of the Grebefal Duchy, and an adult. And yet, he felt strangely uneasy. The winds were slower, sluggish today, and carried with them an odd new scent—dust, not cool and earthy like the meadow beyond the castle wall, but harsh and hot, and rough with a slight bitterness. Kyir scowled. It's all wrong, he thought. 

 Maybe he would ask his father to do a scan and see, later. There was definitely something odd going on, and whatever it was, Kyir knew his father, Harlan, would find out what it was. Lord Harlan Grebe was the best Air mage in the world, Kyir was certain; no one else could scan as far, or as accurately, or manipulate the winds as completely as he—not even Kyir’s mother, who was a mage too. But she had other talents, after all. She didn’t control the air, but nobody knew the earth as well as she did. Between the two of them, Grebefal had the best possible governors, and Kyir was proud that they were his parents. Still, it would be nice if they were a bit less busy and could give him the time to ask, before the festival…this might be really important.

Kyir turned to the trapdoor in the floor and reached for the handle to pull it up, but just then it popped open with a soft thump, and a narrow, dark face peered out. It was Muse; his mother’s maid, a shapeshifter and transport expert.
“Kyir? Your Mom needs you for something. I’m to bring you to her.”

Kyir groaned. “Aw, couldn’t I just walk? I don’t like transporting. It makes my stomach turn.”

Muse shook her head, her long, straight hair swishing around her slanted eyes. “She needs you right now, buddy. In the outer fields to the west. It’s important. Oh, and the guests will be arriving for your celebration soon, so you’ll need to dress too. You know it takes too long to walk everywhere; you should be glad you have me to get you around, you know.”

Kyir nodded, resigned. “Yeah yeah…let’s just get this over with.” He pulled on his outdoor tunic, buckled his belt around it, & slid on his boots quickly. Then he reached out his hand to Muse, who hopped nimbly up through the trapdoor, balancing easily on the smooth stones. She grasped his hand in hers, cool and pale.

“Ready?”
He steeled himself and closed his eyes, to prevent the dizziness from making his stomach turn.

“Sure, ok.”
For a moment, the winds howled wildly in his ears; then they were gone, replaced by dull sunshine. The smooth wind-worn stones beneath his feet were now rough, tumbled earth. Kyir owned his eyes; they were in the west fields, outside the city walls. He blinked and stared; the ground was hard, dry, and cracked; the clods of earth felt as sharp as cracked stone, and between the clods, something glittered and sparkled up at them, shining in the sunlight. He knelt down and stared, then pinched a little of it in his fingers, lifting it and letting it trickle down back to the ground. Glass sand. What was glass sand doing here?!

“Kyir! Over here!”
Kyir grinned at the voice, recognizing it instantly. Pasan, his best friend from the village—there she was, waving her long, bare brown arms at him frantically, motioning him over. Beside her stood his mother, who looked grave. Muse followed him as he jogged unsteadily over, stumbling on the large clots of dry, tilled earth.  

“Pasan? Mom? What’s going on?”
Harmony, Kyir’s mother, pointed down at the glittering sand. “Silica sand. Definitely from Ellux—It’s the only place where this type of sand originates on Vacoelus. It’s been blown here somehow, and it’s bad sign. The winds have changed direction.”
Pasan was staring at his mother mutely, with her characteristic dumb, awestruck look. Kyir frowned. He wished Pasan wouldn’t idolize her quite SO much—it was embarrassing. He focused instead on the ground, where the glittering sand lay in little pools between the earthen clods. “I saw. What does it mean? I mean…besides the winds changed, like you said. We never had sand here before. Can’t we just get rid of it?”

Harmony shook her head.
“It’s a mark of the changing the land. Even if we got every grain of sand out of the fields, the wind would simply blow more into the area. It means the borders of the Ellux desert are extending towards us. And even with your father’s powers, we can’t stop an entire desert filled with sand.”

Kyir frowned at the glittering dapples on the ground. “So what do we do then? Move the fields further east? After planting everything?! The farming association will throw a fit!”
Pasan nodded. “Yeah, especially the Twins. They’ll have a cow if we tell them they have to abandon the Western fields and cut a whole new sector to the east, Lady Harmony.”
Harmony smiled diplomatically at Pasan. “Well...can convince them. Still, I hope we won't need to.”
Kyir snorted. “And give up on eating fruit or bread for the entire winter season, too, and eat only eggs and salt pork for the snow months, probably. Gross! And unhealthy." He looked more carefully at the clods; there were tiny shoots of grain poking up here and there, but it already looked dry and brittle. "Mom, isn’t there any way to salvage the crop? At least until next planting?”

Harmony shook her head. “I'm not sure. We could try building a windblock, to stop the sand from accumulating further; and it would take double or triple the waterings to keep it from drying out, with the additional sand in the ground, but your father could probably manage a few more...maybe. He's been very busy lately. I’m sure you’ve sensed it too, Kyir; The winds aren’t circling the tower anymore. They’re blowing from the west, now, with an odd energy I haven’t sensed before. It's taken a toll on his reserves to keep things running as normal.”

Kyir sighed. Why did this have to happen now? On his birthday? Why couldn’t it have happened in, say, three or four days from now, when everything was back to business? This was supposed to be a special day, a day for him to enjoy turning sixteen—and becoming officially a man of Grebefal, an adult according to the laws of the town. Today he would have his first debut as heir, and greet the guests at the head of the festival as the host. Today his father had promised to gift him his memoir, a book of his grandfather’s inventions that Kyir had been longing to read for years. He wanted time to enjoy this—the festival, the legendary book, his day, without worrying about the town, for once. His parents always had to worry about something; the fields, monsters raiding from the northern forests, the merchants and farmers fighting in the association, upkeep of the mana sigils and maintenance of the mineshaft inventions, judging day for citizen's complaints…and he had to worry about lessons, too--riding and sword training, archery and ancient languages, diplomacy and marketing, and everything else. Today was supposed to have been HIS. No lessons, no problems. Or, it had been. He hunched his shoulders a little in agreement. “Yeah. We should ask Dad. He should know.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. This was important, after all. More important than a party. But he couldn’t help feeling a little sad.
Pasan nudged him with a thin brown elbow. She seemed to recognize his feelings. “Heeey, it’s ok, Kyir! Sorry this had to happen on your birthday! But your Dad says we don’t master the winds, remember? They answer only to themselves. We just ask them for favors, sometimes.”
            Harmony nodded at her. “In a way, I suppose. It is poor timing, but we do need to make a plan for these fields, before the sun destroys the crops here. It’s urgent that we save them, since the town depends on the grain planted here. We’ll still celebrate your birthday, Kyir. We might need to move it to sundown, though, instead of noon.”

Kyir smiled wryly at their attempts to comfort him. “It’s fine, Mom…this is more important. I’ll be fine. I was going ask Dad about the winds anyway; I noticed it was really odd, this morning.”
Muse trailed along behind the three as they walked up the path towards the town gate. She shifted into bird form and fluttered here and there, dropping toxic red bird-berries from trees and chasing away the pigeons that were circling, looking for crumbs. Kyir unconsciously dropped a few steps behind his mother, letting her take the lead as they entered. She smiled and greeted the guards by name, giving polite greetings before hurrying on through. Then she turned to Kyir and Pasan who were walking in lock-step behind her. “Kyir—your father was going to the market today, so we’ll find him there, I expect. Muse?”
The Muse-the-bird fluttered down to perch on her hand. “Yes?”
“Find my intrepid husband, would you?”
Muse cocked her bird-head cheekily. “Of course. Now...Which one was that again?”
Kyir and Pasan both struggled to hide their laughter as Harmony swatted the bird into the air. “Cheeky. Just go find Harlan, already!”
Muse rose high above the market, then swooped back down. “By the exotics merchants’ stand, on the far north of the square. Looks like he’s moving on towards the baked goods and fresh foods inspections, in a minute.”
Harmony nodded and eyed Kyir and Pasan, who was still giggling. “Why don’t you two meet me by the fresh fruit stand, beside the farmer’s association hall? I’ll go with Muse to catch Harlan and bring him there, in the association offices. It’ll be a quieter place for a private conversation.”

Kyir nodded and grinned at Pasan. “C’mon, Pas. Let’s go get a pie, and let my mother catch her intrepid husband on her own.”

His mother’s face turned red; Pasan looked like she’d burst from suppressed laughter as he grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Kyir didn’t bother suppressing it; his laughter rang out over the market as they weaved in and out of the stalls, headed towards the association building. In a few minutes they’d crossed the square and were nearing the baked goods stalls, where fresh breads, pastries and hand-pies were staked on tables.

Kyir waved at the baker, Uther; he was Pasan’s step-brother, a large, strong, square framed man with skin the color of a fresh baked brownie, and a wide, friendly smile. Pasan scooped up a couple of hand-pies and they headed into the farmer’s section. She passed him one—apple-berry, his favorite. “On the house for you today! Happy birthday!” called Uther after them.
Pasan paused in the street for a moment, inhaling her pie, which was a meat pie; then she called back.
“Thanks for breakfast, bro! They’re good today. Tell Riette I said Hi, ok? See you both at the festival later?”
Uther motioned to the tables. “Probably be late. But we’ll be there! Wouldn’t miss it!”
Kyir stuffed his face, his mouth full of buttery pie crust and delicious, tangy apple-berry pie filling. He wiped his face and checked his shirt for crumbs, and they turned into the doors of the large, stocky brick building that housed the Farmer’s association, Merchant’s guild, and Miner’s association. Inside the main doors, a long hall split off into an upper and lower level; Miners had the basement, Merchants the ground floor, and Farmers had the second floor offices. They paused at the landing of the second floor; it was quiet here, in spite of the noisy market going on outside. A faint scent of ink and papers, and the soft rustles and clicks of people working on documents, copywriting, making out orders. This was all new in the last five years; Father had funded the building of this association building and basically forced them to share a building together, to bring a halt to the constant disagreements between the three main Grebefal guilds. The guild leaders had separate offices, a room of their own each. The rest was taken up by the under-secretaries, document runners, and file rooms in each floor, with a sitting-room for important guests and a single large hall on the main floor, for all-association meetings.

Kyir and Pasan headed into the sitting room to wait. It was plain, but comfortable; two low brown leather couches decorated with furs, a side table and a large bookshelf. Grebefal had outgrown the palace courtrooms; so many new people had come to stay that they’d had to build a new sector of the town, to the east. There had been fights, at first. The other town residents had disagreed with the new, and arguments had broken out over land and jobs. But Father had found a way to compromise with them, and somehow made it look easy—he made everything look easy, Kyir thought. Which was incredible, considering that he was blind, and used Air powers to move...his father was the strongest person he knew, and never backed down from any challenge, even if it meant finding ways of doing things he couldn’t physically do on his own...