Side A – Nia
The principal argument which arose during the evaluation of Gray Rift was, give the results of the contest, who exactly had won the Battle of the Bands.
People were unhappy to be losing their homes, to be sure, but the general consensus was that ‘what Shattering Drumming had broken, Shatter Drumming could put back together again’. That it was likely to take a few weeks to work out how to accomplish the expected miracle people were looking for left the populace with the sense of being on an unexpected vacation rather than being cast out from their homes.
It helped that the effect was startlingly lovely. Where the two regions overlapped brilliant crystals in every color of the rainbow rose up, and on the far side of the town, from whichever direction one was looking, the sun and moon dappled shadows of the Darkwood were visible.
A few daring souls had tried venturing into the Darkwood.
And became trees no more than few paces into the effect.
Nia had explained to the closest friends of then tree-men what she’d done to pull Elgi out and the more sensible Shatter Drummers had managed to call the more adventuresome ones back before the condition became too close to permanent.
Since waking up one morning as a tree did not appeal to anyone except the Stonelings who’d experienced it, the consensus to spend some time out on the road was met with general approval (the few who’d been trees and found the state to be blissfully peaceful wandered back across the border, re-vegified, and were left to photosynthesize until a better solution could be worked out).
“You know who we need,” Margrada said as they rolled along in the wagons, heading towards what was supposed to have been their final stop of the Band’s tour at Bright Port.
“I thought about calling Osdora, but she’s going to be a lot farther away than last time,” Nia said, which was true and also not at all why she’d rejected the idea of reaching out to the best Shatter Drummer she knew of when the need for complicated and difficult Shatter Drumming was on the line.
“The longer we wait, the farther away she’s going to get,” Margrada said.
Nia heard the concern creeping around the corners of Margrada’s words. Reaching out to Osdora meant admitting that they weren’t good enough to figure it out themselves. It meant admitting that they’d messed up so badly that they couldn’t fix their own mistakes. It meant that while they’d played in a Battle of the Bands, they weren’t “really” Shatter Drummers yet.
Which was idiotic. Everyone could make mistakes beyond their ability to fix alone. Nia wanted to shake Margrada and make her see that playing like she had was nothing short of a miracle in itself. That Margrada’s playing had been beyond what anyone else in the band could have managed. That there was no need to be afraid that she’d fallen short simply because she hadn’t managed to solve the problem single handedly.
It took her a good minute of stewing on that thought before she noticed that the arguments she was trying to find a gentle method of making with Margrada all struck home when she tried to apply them to herself.
“You’re right,” Nia said, turning away from the fear that had been holding her down.
“Then let’s see if we can find her,” Margrada said, hopping off the wagon and heading towards the Roadies and the Shatter Drums they were guarding more fiercely than ever.
Side B – Yasgrid
The Fate Dancers were tenacious hunters, Yasgrid had to give them that. That they’d teamed up with Elshira didn’t help matters either.
“They’re going to catch us sooner or later,” Lunacy said, setting the two of them down on the branches of an nondescript tree along the banks of an unnamed river.
Yasgrid still thought of the ex-Trouble as “the Crone” from time to time, but remembering the name Lunacy chose from herself once she was freed was surprisingly easy. It wasn’t a name an Elf or a Stoneling would have taken, but it seemed to fit the ex-Trouble.
“I’m counting on that,” Yasgrid said, listening to the wind and the whispers it brought her.
“Are we running around for my health then?” Lunacy asked.
“It’s certainly not for mine,” King said, hopping up onto the branch beside them.
“My apologies to you both,” Yasgrid said. “Now’s not quite the right time to confront either Elshira or the Fate Dancers.”
“And when will be?” King asked, and began to groom himself.
“The Fate Dancers are currently drunk on new power,” Yasgrid said. “They’re reveling in their new strength and even less willing to listen to reason than they usually are.”
“You could break that power,” Lunacy said.
“Yes, but not without breaking them, and I don’t think she would forgive me for that,” Yasgrid said. “I’m not sure I would either, tempting though it might be.”
“This place is changing,” King said, not speaking directly to anyone.
“I think that’s what it’s been trying to do for a long time now,” Yasgrid said. “The gods I grew up with are like the fire inside the mountains. They are change as destruction, hot and burning and always to be struggled against. The gods of the Darkwood, for as much as I can know them through their creations, are terrible in their own manner but the land they created is a growing one. These woods aren’t defined by stability but by change.”
“Most curious,” King said.
“I wouldn’t have believed a word of that if I hadn’t met you,” Lunacy said. “If I was still who I once was.”
“I don’t know. I think you were ready to believe me even then,” Yasgrid said. “You didn’t even poison my tea after all.”
“The poison was in my tea,” Lunacy said. “I had hoped it would make my ending less painful.”
“Change it rarely painless,” Yasgrid said. “But I’m glad you chose to continue on this path rather than embracing the blade.”
“It’s an easier choice to make once one’s not trapped inside the thing that I was,” Lunacy said.
“Which is also why it’s not quite Elshira’s time either,” Yasgrid said. “She’s been trapped inside who she was for so long that she can’t see how much more she could be.”