Chapter Seven – The Meetup

  Fulgaday, 11 Tamihr, Year of Folivor the Restful Sloth, 489 years AWA

  Celebration Grounds, Candibaru, Andovarra

  Wisps of cloud veiled the afternoon sun as Kere and Jori made their way through the crowded avenues toward Candibaru's Celebration Grounds. The air hung heavy with humidity, carrying the mingled scents of street vendors' spiced meats and the distant salt of the harbor. Kere methodically cataloged each landmark they passed, while Jori scanned the surroundings with quiet alertness, his hand never straying far from his trident.

  A Human man with a long face and perpetually downturned mouth stood at a small table before the entrance. He regarded them with the weariness of someone who had repeated the same instructions countless times that day.

  "Are you here for the slot at 14 bells?" he asked, consulting a parchment before him.

  "We are," replied Jori with characteristic brevity, then glanced at the small building behind the man. "Is that where we'll be?"

  Kere added, "Can we go ahead and enter?"

  The man tapped a worn quill against his table. "It is where your Trial will be held, but I'm afraid you have to wait until your entire party is here to enter." He studied the parchment again. "Well, at least entries were sold for all eight slots."

  Kere tilted her head slightly. "Do you know anything about those who purchased the other slots?"

  "Entries," corrected the man with a hint of irritation. "And I'm not allowed to say more than all the entries for this time slot were sold."

  Turning to Jori, Kere shrugged, her shoulders tensing slightly. "So I guess we wait."

  Jori nodded, leaning against a nearby post. He absently checked the straps on his leather bracers, making minor adjustments while his eyes continued to scan the grounds.

  Several minutes later, a familiar voice called out across the courtyard. "Hi Jori, hi Kere!" Neric's enthusiastic greeting carried over the ambient noise of the grounds as he approached with an elegant companion at his side. His colorful attire stood in stark contrast to Jori's practical leathers. "This is Cali. Cali, this is my friend Jori and his half-sister Kere."

  Cali studied them both with a perceptive gaze that seemed to look beyond surface appearances, her luminous hair catching what little sunlight filtered through the clouds. There was something gentle yet penetrating in her eyes—the look of someone who instinctively sought deeper meanings. After a moment, she smiled warmly and said in slightly accented Common, "It's nice to meet you both. I've heard much about your work with the coastal ecosystems, Kere."

  Jori assessed her with a ranger’s practiced eye, noting details others might miss. "Your hair is all glowy. You aren't a true Elf, are you.” It was a statement rather than a question, delivered with the blunt practicality typical of him.

  Cali folded her hands thoughtfully before responding, seemingly untroubled by the directness. "Like your half-sister, I am technically Half-Elven, but I favor my Elven mother. My father was a Celestial." She gestured to the subtle aura surrounding her strawberry blonde locks. "The glow often strengthens during times of significant change or when paths begin to converge—like today. I suspect our meeting isn't mere coincidence."

  Kere glanced at Jori, catching the momentary curl of his lip in disgust. She filed the reaction away mentally, planning to ask him about it later when they were alone.

  Before anyone could speak again, two more figures approached—a grizzled male Half-Elf with weather-beaten features who wore spectacles and a young Elven woman with dreamy eyes that nonetheless held a spark of fierce determination.

  "Jenna!" Neric exclaimed, bouncing slightly on his heels. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Where's Sothlen?"

  Jenna brushed a strand of light brown hair behind her pointed ear, her movements delicate and considered. "I won his entry off of him." Her voice had a musical quality to it, and her eyes lit up with quiet excitement. "It felt like I was meant to be here today instead." She gestured toward the Half-Elf beside her with an elegant wave. "This is Perx, and he's joining me in my entry. We met at the Candibaru Library about a month ago when we reached for the same scroll on alchemical applications of arcane theory."

  Perx nodded slightly, his eyes darting briefly to the group before focusing again on some distant calculation only he could see. He adjusted his spectacles with ink-stained fingers and gave the impression of someone whose body was present while his mind explored a dozen different possibilities.

  Kere observed the man's stance and the particular calluses on his hands. She held out her hand to him. "Nice to meet you, Perx. Unless I miss my guess, you're a sailor. The way you balance your weight, even on solid ground—that's ship-training."

  Perx's eyebrows raised slightly, momentarily jolted from his internal analysis. "An interesting deduction. I used to sail a bit, but haven't been out on a ship in a few years." His voice was measured and precise, as if each word was carefully selected from a mental catalog. "Technically speaking, it's an acquired postural adaptation to compensate for the dynamic equilibrium required on unstable surfaces. I'm finding I miss the intellectual challenge of navigation more than the physical aspects."

  “I’m a druid," Kere replied, absently touching the wooden pendant at her throat, carved into the shape of a dolphin. "My grandfather showed me how to read the currents and navigate by stars." Her voice grew more animated despite herself. "I'm hoping to captain my own vessel someday—nothing elaborate, just seaworthy enough to monitor the coastal ecosystems."

  Perx's expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. "What would you need to do that for?"

  "Keeping things in order for the marine life we want to flourish and removing any unwanted sea predators, mainly," replied Kere, consciously tempering her enthusiasm. She traced the grain of the wooden pendant with her thumb, a habitual gesture when she caught herself becoming too verbose about her passion.

  "Fascinating," Perx murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "The recursive patterns of interconnected marine ecosystems do present an intriguing model..."

  Jenna touched his arm gently. "Perhaps that's a conversation for after the Trial," she suggested with a soft smile.

  As they stood around waiting in the staging area, Neric caught Jori's eye and gave him a subtle nod toward a quieter corner. They stepped aside just enough for a quick word.

  "So," Neric said quietly, his usual animated gestures more contained, "you get a chance to try what we talked about?"

  Jori's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. Practiced on a mirror this morning." He paused, then added with characteristic bluntness, "Still feels really awkward, but it's coming."

  "Good. Remember—" Neric started, but Jori cut him off with a slight shake of his head.

  "I know. Stand straight, look her in the eye, say it once clearly." Jori's voice was flat, but there was something steadier underneath. "Don't explain or justify."

  Kere, overhearing from a few steps away, moved closer. "The hardest part's just starting," she said simply, her tone supportive.

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  Jori nodded once, then glanced back at the other contestants. "We should focus on this first."

  Neric clapped him briefly on the forearm. "One thing at a time. But you've got this, both of them."

  Perx then asked, “Does anyone know anything about who bought the final entry for this time slot? I've been calculating probability models for optimal party configurations in these Trials."

  They all denied knowledge, and Neric turned to the man who seemed to be in charge of check-ins. He approached with a flourish, clapping a friendly hand on the man's forearm.

  "My good fellow," Neric said, his voice taking on the melodic cadence he used during performances, "might you have some insight into who purchased the final entry for two for this slot? Just so we know who we should be watching for, you understand."

  At first the man refused to say, but after additional cajoling from Neric—including a promise to compose "The Ballad of the Generous Timekeeper"—he finally relented.

  "I suppose it would not hurt to tell you this close to your start time. My notes say that two Catfolk purchased the remaining entries."

  "Do you happen to know if one of the Catfolk has black fur?" asked Kere, her voice lifting slightly with interest.

  "I do not," replied the man flatly.

  "Do you know a black Catfolk?" Neric asked Kere, his curiosity piqued.

  Kere nodded, her usual reserve giving way to quiet enthusiasm. "Meri—for those of you who don't know me, she's my dolphin companion—came one day about three weeks ago and started signaling to me in a most agitated manner." She used her hands to demonstrate the distinctive movements dolphins make when trying to communicate. "It became clear she wanted me to go with her and that a ship would not be quick enough."

  She continued, her eyes focused on the middle distance as she recalled the details. "So Jori and I had her take us where she wanted us to go. Another dolphin was keeping a black Catfolk who was unconscious afloat, and that dolphin was clearly tiring. I summoned two other dolphins and had Meri take the black Catfolk to shore while Jori and I rode the two summoned dolphins back."

  Jori picked up the explanation with characteristic efficiency. "Together, we revived the Catfolk. Her name was Monoffa, but she didn't know where she was from or really anything about herself beyond her name."

  "When she was well enough, she found work and rented a room," Kere added, carefully rewrapping a small bundle of herbs as she spoke. "Jori invited her to join the Trials of Eight, but she did not seem interested. Perhaps the Catfolk she is with made her comfortable enough to change her mind."

  Cali tilted her head with thoughtful consideration. "What an interesting story. I have never met a Catfolk before, although I have seen a few." Her voice took on a gentle, intuitive quality. She absently traced a symbol in the air. "I only arrived here a few days ago myself, drawn by a recurring dream of eight figures standing in a circle of light. Are Catfolk common in Andovarra?"

  "Not really," replied Jori, his fingers tracing a pattern on his leather armguard. "Although you'd probably always find a few at any given time either here in Candibaru or else in Turistil."

  Before Cali could ask where Turistil was, Kere interjected, "Turistil is the big trade city in Andovarra. It's in Jelnavarro Province, which is basically the centermost Province in the country, and all the other provinces have roads that go there. It's sort of like the center of a wheel and the roads out to the other ten provinces are like spokes. For that reason, there's a saying here that all roads lead to Turistil."

  "I suppose that makes sense," replied Cali with an appreciative nod.

  The man tapped his parchment impatiently. "Your friends are cutting it awfully close."

  Kere told the man, "The black Catfolk at least doesn't know her way around town. And if the entry wasn't sold here, then she's never been here before."

  The man's sour look made it clear the entry hadn't been sold at the current location.

  Neric stepped forward again, his demeanor shifting to charming performer mode. "My good sir," he began, gesturing expansively toward the city beyond, "one of the charms of our fair city is our hospitality toward newcomers. How much time does the Trial take, and how long until the next time slot?"

  "We have a hard time limit of 20 minutes for the trial," replied the man, "and the next slot is half a bell after yours."

  "So surely it can't hurt to give our Catfolk friends another five minutes at least?" Neric flashed his most disarming smile. “I’m still willing compose a ballad in your honor.”

  Cali joined in with gentle persuasion. "Is there preparation that has to be done between groups? Perhaps we could help."

  "Not a great deal," admitted the man, then he scowled but said, "Fine. But I can give you no more than eight minutes past your time slot."

  Kere's eyes scanned the entrance to the grounds, already formulating a plan. She touched Jori's arm lightly. "Let's you and I go back to the entrance. We know what Monoffa looks like, and we're used to observing things." To the others, she said, "We'll return shortly."

  They walked back to the entrance, separating to watch different approaches. Jori surveyed the eastern path while Kere monitored the western route, both standing with the attentive stillness of practiced hunters.

  Roughly five minutes later, Jori straightened. "I see them!" He and Kere waved their arms, signaling to Monoffa and an orange-furred Catfolk with auburn-colored hair who accompanied her.

  "We got lost!" called Monoffa, bounding forward with enthusiastic leaps. Her black fur gleamed in the afternoon light as she sprinted the final distance, her companion following at a more measured pace. "But Wenthe figured out the pattern of the banners and led us here.”

  She gestured to her companion, her movements fluid and expressive. "Sea Beauty, Trident Man, this is Spice Fur. She knows me from my past and told me that…."

  Kere gently interrupted, her sense of responsibility overriding her natural tendency to let others finish speaking. "I'm sorry, Monoffa, but you'll have to tell us later. If we don't hurry to the building where the event is being held, we'll lose our slot and the money we paid for our entries." She began hurrying back, calling over her shoulder, "Nice to meet you, um, Spice Fur? I assume that’s just what Monoffa calls you when she doesn’t remember your real name. I'm Kere and this is Jori."

  When they arrived at the building, catching their breath from the quick pace, Wenthe addressed the waiting group. Her orange fur was adorned with several small trinkets and symbols that seemed to have been collected from various sources. "Hi all, I'm Wenthe," she said with a casual confidence, her sharp eyes quickly taking in everyone present. "Monoffa calls me Spice Fur when she can't remember my name—which is approximately 73% of the time." She smirked, nudging Monoffa playfully. "I've been theorizing that her memory works on a fascinating non-linear system that prioritizes novel experiences over established data patterns. Quite efficient for exploration, less so for remembering appointments."

  The event organizer gestured impatiently toward the building and said dourly, "There's no time for pleasantries. Now get in there and they will help you get set up."

  The group filed into the building, where a chamber containing two rows of four chairs greeted them. Jori immediately assessed the room, noting the crystals inlaid in the walls in a repeating rectangular pattern.

  One assistant, a plain young Human woman in her mid-20s with brown hair and eyes, gestured to the front row. "Please take a seat and Rij and I will get you all strapped in."

  Jori, Kere, Monoffa, and Wenthe sat in the front row while Neric, Cali, Jenna, and Perx took the rear. Monoffa bounced slightly in her seat, unable to contain her excitement.

  "Do you think we'll face dragons? Or maybe giant scorpions? Or what if it's some kind of puzzle battle where we have to solve riddles while fighting?" She turned to Wenthe. "What's your combat specialty? I'm thinking about taking up archery, but then again, daggers are so useful for all sorts of things beyond fighting. Did I ever tell you about the time I used a hairpin to pick a lock on—"

  "Focus, Noffa," Wenthe said with an indulgent smile, even as her eyes scanned the room, analyzing the crystal patterns. "I'm noticing these crystals are arranged in a modified icosahedral lattice structure. Fascinating choice—I wonder if they're using harmonic resonance principles for the illusion generation?"

  Perx leaned forward with sudden interest. "The spatial distribution suggests Thamasic principles rather than standard conjuration.

  Wenthe's tail twitched. "Exactly what I was thinking."

  Cali gently placed a hand on the seat in front of her where Kere sat. "The energy in this room is aligning in a very specific pattern," she murmured, her voice just loud enough for those nearby. "Whatever challenge we face, I sense it will test more than just our combat abilities."

  Jenna nodded, her eyes taking on a distant, dreamy quality. "I feel it too—like the echo of something ancient." She absently twirled a strand of her hair. "I brought some special incense that promotes harmony between allies. Perhaps after this, we could all share a quiet moment to reflect on whatever we experience here."

  Neric immediately struck up conversations with everyone else, ensuring proper introductions as the two assistants fitted each person with intricate circlets.

  Once the circlets were secured, Rij—a Half-Elven male perhaps a few years older than the young woman, with bright red hair that hung to his shoulders and piercing green eyes—addressed the group. "A vision will appear shortly," he explained, adjusting dials on a small control panel. "You will need to fight and defeat the creatures that appear, and you will have twenty minutes in which to do so. You will be able to do anything you'd normally be able to do in real life, and if any of you can do magic, you will know all the spells that you already know. You will have all of the equipment that you have right now."

  He continued, "Any spells you cast during the battle will not count against the number of spells you can cast for the day. Now, does anyone have any questions?"

  The young woman cleared her throat. "You forgot to mention injuries."

  "Oh, yes, injuries," Rij agreed with a nod. "Injuries you may receive during the combat will feel real, but are not real. If you get knocked unconscious, your companions may revive you, but if you die, you will be pulled out of the combat and awaken here. You will not be able to return to the fight. However, if your party is victorious and you qualify for a prize, you will still receive that. Any other questions?"

  "Do all groups get the same foe?" Neric asked, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh—a habit from keeping rhythm during performances.

  "Not the same foe, no," said Rij, "but it is an appropriate difficulty for each group."

  "How will you be determining the winners?" asked Jori, his attention focused on understanding the mechanics of the challenge.

  "A combination of how quickly and how definitively you deal with your adversaries," replied Rij. "Any last questions?"

  When there were none, Rij nodded to the woman. The crystals in the walls began to pulse with a soft blue light, and the air in the center of the room started to shimmer and distort.

  The Trial of Eight had begun.