The Nextworld Invasion and the Death of Magic - 5. Chapter 5 - Edgedale

Tigath and Othri did not like being called brothers.

The man who had addressed them continued speaking. “We are but humble Urcai, like yourselves, living our quiet life alone in the forest without the influence of others. Our little hamlet is a pure community, and we are happy you have been drawn to us. The people here call me Emerald.” He gestured at his face, hair, and eyes, each of which was a different shade of green. “What are your names, brothers?”

Both Tigath and Othri did their best not to cringe or bristle at his words, and Tigath answered quickly. “We’re just passing through. We didn’t even realize Edgedale was out here, and we kind of stumbled upon it. We’re on our way to the Yellow City.”

Emerald was still smiling, but Tigath and Othri both noticed it faded and no longer reached his eyes. “The Yellow City is a horrible place,” he declared in an icy tone. His fake smile was almost a grimace. “You’ve made it to our haven, and this is where you truly belong, with others of your kind, and no one else.”

Tigath and Othri did not like the sound of that.

“The world is terrible,” Emerald continued, “and it’s full of disgusting people. Anyone who isn’t an Urcai is vile. You two ought to abandon your journey and remain with those who can truly love you.”

The man’s words did not sound like love to Tigath or Othri.

“Come, brothers, join us for our meal, meager though it may be.” Emerald waved for them to sit, and he indicated one of the pots of stew on the center of the table. “What are your names?” he asked again.

Tigath and Othri looked at each other and sat down with their fellow Urcai at the table. They informed the group of their names.

“Well, Othri and Tigath,” Emerald concluded, “you are both most welcome among us. Please, share our food, and tell us a little about yourselves. How have you been wronged by non-Urcai?”

Beneath the table, Tigath grabbed Othri’s muscular thigh and quickly said, “No one of the Noktar or Rothian people has ever harmed us.”

The Urcai around the table cringed at the names of the other races, and one of the women spoke up, “Brothers, we do not use those terms in Edgedale. There are only Urcai, and those who are not. Distinction between the different types of others is superfluous; they are all the enemies of the Urcai.” She continued speaking, but her face became severe, and her voice was suddenly full of anger. “My innocent child was killed by a foul non-Urcai man in Vuliburge! My baby was snatched from this world by one of those hairy creatures!”

Tigath and Othri could only assume she was talking about a Noktar.

“My wife was found dead in the street,” a man added. “She was just lying there. I can still picture her body, all twisted up. She was in an alleyway behind a filthy little café owned by a non-Urcai. She had an arrow in her back, the kind used by those disgusting long-limbed monsters.”

Tigath and Othri knew he was talking about a Rothian, and they were glad Nuji had remained in the forest.

Someone else added, “My brother died at the hands of a non-Urcai,”

Another voice spoke up, “My parents were both abducted and murdered by non-Urcai.”

Emerald then informed Tigath and Othri, “Three of my friends were killed while working with a group of non-Urcai. Now, tell us, how have non-Urcai harmed you, brothers?”

Othri put his hand on top of Tigath’s, which was still on his thigh. “I had my heart broken by a Noktar when I was a teenager. Does that count?”

Several of the Urcai scoffed. They did not appreciate the obstinance.

Tigath squeezed Othri’s leg. “Look,” he implored the group, “I don’t think we belong here,” and he added quickly, “but I get it. You don’t want anything to do with anyone else, and I’m so sorry for the things that have happened to you all.” He glanced around at the gathered Urcai with pity in his purple eyes. “You have each suffered so much. It’s terrible.” Tigath turned to Othri. “But we haven’t. We haven’t been wronged or hurt by anyone outside of the Urcai race.”

This elicited more angry noises from the green-skinned individuals around the table.

“We would love to remain with you for a meal,” Tigath continued over them, “if you’ll allow us to stay.” The grumbling diminished, and he continued more gently. “I’d like to know about what some of you have gone through. I mean no intrusion, and I don’t want any of you to relive your traumas, but I truly would like to hear more of your stories. I am so sorry for everything you’ve all gone through.” He turned to Othri. “The two of us cannot remain here with you, but I honor your decisions to be out here, to leave everything behind because of the pain you’ve suffered. Every one of you is so brave. You’re each continuing on, despite what you’ve experienced. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, nor how strong you are. No one should ever have to go through what each of you has endured, and my heart is broken for everyone here.”

To Othri’s surprise, he noticed that a few of the more wrathful Urcai had gotten choked up at Tigath’s words, and several were crying.

“You need to heal,” Tigath added to the group in a compassionate tone, “and maybe after you’ve had more time to recover out here, some of you will be ready to reconnect with others again. But if not, that’s okay too. What happened to your loved ones was none of your fault. I’m so sad for you all, and I understand wanting to come be with others who have been hurt in the same way that you were hurt. I hope you’re able to heal.” Tigath stopped speaking.

Only a few Urcai still looked angry. Among them was Emerald. “You may stay,” he declared in a cold voice, “but may our food turn to ash in your mouth. May it become stones in your stomach. May you find no satisfaction or sustenance from what we share with you here today.”

“Charming,” Othri breathed to Tigath as one of the men filled two bowls with the hearty stew.

“Thank you for sharing,” Tigath replied to Emerald, ignoring the angry man’s apoplectic words. He ran his fingers through his long purple hair and tied it back. Tigath focused on a man across the table from him who was trying to stop sobbing. “What’s your name, friend?” Tigath reached forward and placed his palm on the back of his fellow Urcai’s hand.

The man focused on Tigath’s knuckles, and he looked up with red eyes. His irises were a deep cherry color, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot from his tears.

“What’s your name?” Tigath asked again. He smiled.

“Bo… Bogelle,” the man stuttered.

“Bogelle?” Tigath repeated, and Bogelle nodded. “Tell me what happened to you, Bogelle.”

“My daughter was only fourteen,” he began, sniffing hard. “Her name was Sunblossom. She was coming home from school in the afternoon, but crossing the bridge that led to our neighborhood, a group of rowdy non-Urcai youths playing a game of maliball knocked her into the river…” Bogelle paused and finished quietly, “and she drowned.” He dropped his head to his hands and began to blubber again.

“What a tragedy,” Tigath replied gently. He knew maliball was a game played by the Noktar. “I’m so sorry, Bogelle.” He squeezed the back of the man’s hand. Tigath looked around at the other green faces close to him. “Would any of you also like to tell me what happened to you?” He took a bite of stew, and a skinny woman raised her hand.

“My wife was poisoned.”

Tigath swallowed. “Oh, how awful,” he said quietly. “How did that happen?”

The woman took a deep breath. “She was helping out with a development program that some non-Urcai were doing for a section of the older buildings and trees in Vuliburge. A canister of plant growth potion exploded while it was on her back and covered her in the concoction. The team she was with cleaned it off her, but my wife absorbed a lot of the mixture through her skin, and over the course of a couple weeks, she deteriorated, and her mind broke. She has to be kept at a medical facility in the city, and she doesn’t even know who she is anymore… and it’s all those non-Urcai’s fault!”

Several more of the downtrodden residents of Edgedale told their tales of tragedy, and Tigath and Othri ate and listened. Othri kept glancing over at Emerald, whose face was fixed in a permanent scowl, but Tigath was paying no attention to the all-green man.

After a little while, it was clear that no other members of the group wished to share their sad stories, and Tigath asked, “Friends, why is the town called Edgedale?”

“Because it sits right on the edge of the grasslands,” the red-eyed man across from him answered, “or at least, it used to. In the past few decades, the forest has become a little overgrown beyond the town’s city limits, but Emerald is right,” Bogelle added, “the Yellow City is a horrible place. You should reconsider your trip there. I used to live in the Yellow City.”

“We’re headed to the Grimoire Library,” Tigath explained. “We want to find out about ancient earthmagicks.”

Emerald spoke up again, and his tone was like a knife. “It may seem to you like a noble quest, but you are headed toward destruction. If you refuse to stay here with us, where you belong, why not return from whence you came? You are destined to be corrupted in the cesspit that is the Yellow City.”

Othri responded before Tigath could say anything. “We are fleeing destruction.”

Urcai eyes of many colors focused on him.

“What destruction?” Emerald asked with a snarl.

“Vuliburge has been completely destroyed by the Humans,” Othri stated flatly.

Tigath leaned toward him and whispered, “A little indelicate of you.”

Othri rolled his orange eyes and rose from the table. “I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean destroyed?” someone a few seats down from Tigath asked.

He looked in their direction. “It’s true,” Tigath confirmed in a mournful tone. “Vuliburge has been scorched from the face of the Earth. The Humans broke through into our world. They set the city on fire and killed countless of our fellow inhabitants. We were outside of town and saw it burning, and we escaped into the wilderness.”

Another person at the far end of the table shouted, “But my family still lives in Vuliburge!”

“Yeah,” added someone else, “mine does too!”

“I’m sorry,” Tigath said yet again. “It’s true. If you had anyone close to you who was living in Vuliburge, they are probably gone.”

Othri’s scorn was not without pity. “I guess you lot are lucky that you were out here and weren’t slaughtered in the massacre.”

The group fell silent and stared at him.

He leaned down to where Tigath was still seated and asked, “You coming?”

Tigath stood up from the table, mouthed the words I’m sorry once more, and he and Othri left their fellow Urcai.

“Well, all of that was unexpected,” Othri said under his breath to Tigath as they exited the moldering longhouse.

The pair headed to the eastern border of Edgedale. They could see the brightness of the grasslands through the trees ahead of them, and they made their way in the direction of its glow. They passed a crumbling structure with a warning sign nailed to its front door, and right at the edge of the village, Othri pointed out a path leading to a second well that was not cordoned off with danger signs. Before they left the sad little town behind, they also found another notice stating that the Rothians were not welcome. There was a sign ordering the Noktar to stay out as well.

“Those poor people,” Tigath said to himself. He released his long purple hair back down onto his shoulders.

“They’re doing nothing to heal from their pain,” Othri replied. “They’re just wallowing in it, commiserating in their sorrow and anger rather than trying to grow.”

“Growth is hard,” Tigath stated. “Show a little compassion.”

Othri shrugged. He stepped out from the tree line and brought a hand to his forehead to shield his orange eyes from the sun, but he stopped walking and said nothing. Tigath stepped up next to him and took his hand.

“It’s beautiful,” Tigath whispered.

The two men had never seen the ocean, but the breeze teased the tall plants of the grasslands and caused them to appear like the rolling waves of a forest lake they used to visit outside Vuliburge. The abundant flora was not merely grasses, and as far as they could see, a multitude of vibrant flowers in every color of the rainbow waved back and forth with the gentle wind.

Othri squeezed Tigath’s fingers. “I love you.”

Tigath smiled and leaned against him. “I’m glad you’re with me, Othri.” The men paused, exchanging a brief kiss, and Tigath let out a sigh.

“I wonder what lies before us,” Othri commented. “I mean, besides these grasslands, I wonder what’s waiting for us in the Yellow City.” He turned and looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s never return to Edgedale. Now, where do you suppose Nuji is?”

“She said she’ll find us.”