continue this story in the same style as the author: Chapter One - The Night Market "Mage," came the soft rumble of the caravan driver's voice through the heavy curtain. "Mage, are you awake?" There was no answer. The driver pulled the fabric aside and peered into the darkness of the cabin. It smelled faintly of sweet blackberries, and leaves that had been toasting in sunshine. He could make out a shape in the corner of the cabin, lying curled up on the low bed. The mage Tara. A silver of moonshine fell through the window and rested on the girl's face. She looked much younger when asleep, and her long hair was wildly strewn about the pillows like dark snakes, instead of hiding under her hood as it was in the daytime. The caravan driver felt an urge to gather the tresses up and tuck them gently about her small face, but he shook the idea from his head. He had to continually remind himself that the girl was a mage, not one of his own daughters, and so he always called her by her title. "Could you wake up, please, miss," he said, louder this time. "The rain is coming down heavy again. I thought I should let you know before the merchants wake." Tara heard the driver's voice as if from a heavy fog that pressed down on her eyelids and swum in her ears. What was he saying? She could not make it out, but he sounded apologetic, as usual. She fought her own body, which wanted nothing more than to curl under the warm bearskin and drift back into pleasant oblivion. She forced her eyes to open, struggling against the gravity of sleep, and threw back the covers with a sigh. The caravan driver turned away quickly, making her almost laugh. Surely he could not have thought she'd be undressed? Why, she was even wearing her boots still. "Better to be prepared," she explained, glancing down at her well-worn tunic and attempting to smooth the creased fabric. "Surprises seem to always come upon travelers, you know?" The driver's broad face crinkled into a weak smile. "Tis true. But I'm almost used to this weather now," he said grimly, his smile fading. "Doesn't near surprise me anymore. And that's not a good thing, miss." Tara nodded dumbly. She was still too tired to think straight. She flung the thick caravan curtain aside and the moonlight suddenly flooded her small cabin silver, making her blink vigorously. The rain poured down from a cloudless sky, and the moon swum in her vision, a full circle shining blurrily behind the flood. Tara sighed again. Five months of this. She was almost glad to be leaving Eastern, just to experience normal weather again. The strange storms had been ravaging the coast since the beginning of spring, and while it certainly gave her work to do, it was exhausting. She'd been a registered Elemental mage for a year now, specializing in Water magic, for that was the Elemental nature that ran strongest in her. She held mage papers for minor Fire magic as well, but it was harder to find work for Fire mages along the coast, so she rarely carried them with her. Metal she had barely any of, and her Earth and Wind natures were dwindling, for the more a mage developed their leading Elemental nature, the weaker their other natures grew. There had been little work when she first received her mage papers. People had been reluctant to hire a young mage, and when they had, the pay had been poor. A few silver coins a week at most. But then the storms had hit, and shortly after, the nomads had arrived. The Kikran. The mysterious people who had arrived riding strange squid creatures that everyone in the city was gossiping about. It was speculated they had brought the mysterious weather, but Tara paid little attention to rumors. If the nomads were indeed creating the storms, then in truth she had them to thank, for suddenly Water mages were in high demand. She had spent so much time in the last five months using her Water nature to do mage-work that she felt she was almost turning into a sea creature herself. She reached into her own Elemental nature with her mind and felt it, fluid and thick, not unlike the consistency of blood. It ran cold through her veins, except where it met her Fire nature, which flickered faintly around her heart and lungs and barely warmed it as it flowed by. Her Fire was fading slowly. It had grown dim in the past few weeks, and she missed it, especially the warmth of normal body heat. It was April, and even though they were high in the mountains, the merchants all wore short-sleeved summer tunics. No doubt they thought she was merely being a shy maiden, Tara realized; she wore hers to her wrists, with an extra rabbit-skin vest on the inside, and often kept her hood up. She would use her Fire more when they were finally out of the storms, she vowed. Back in the city, she'd heard that the rain only reached the foothills of the mountains, but either that had been a lie or the storms were slowly pushing their way inland. They were three days past the foothills now. They were almost at the town of Luenca, which lay in the valley that stretched south to the border of the Southern provinces and north to the Coralian Sea and the northern cities. And still this rain fell, this rain that could not be predicted, for it came from no clouds and could drench them in an instant without warning. She pushed a liquid tendril of her nature out towards the storm, touching it wearily. At first, Tara had done strong mage-work, magic that had lasted a full day of travel. It had been an effort to keep the spells for such long periods of time, for she had not been used to it. It required forfeiting sleep for days on end, although she was traveling with a band of merchants so raucous that they usually kept her awake at night anyways. But at least the goods had been dry, and the merchants had been pleased with her work, which was a relief. They'd hired her, after all, with good pay. Excellent pay, even. Three pounds of ginger root, ten metres of sheep's-wool cloth, a barrel of cantaloupe wine and fifty silver coins. Or the promise of such riches, anyways. The coins had been a down payment, but the rest depended on the quality of her work. If the merchants' goods stayed undamaged, she would be delivered the rest upon their arrival in Northern city. But that was four days away yet, and Tara had been awake for the last three. She hadn't slept since they'd begun the steady climb through the mountains, for mage-work could not be done while asleep, and it had rained steadily. When the torrent had finally stopped before nightfall, she'd immediately crawled into her cabin and been unconscious within seconds. She hopped out of the caravan now, cursing under her breath. Her last spell had been weaker than she'd thought. She could feel the edges of it dampening, the rain trickling down the cracks and eating at her mage-work. She glanced briefly at the cluster of caravans stopped along the side of the mountain road, their oiled canvas exteriors gleaming in the moonlight. There was no sharp drumming of raindrops on the canvas, which was good. The spell still held, then. Not for long, perhaps, but long enough to patch it with another one, if she could find the strength. "We're almost at Luenca," the driver said apologetically, by way of encouraging her. "A half hour, most likely. I know you're tired, miss. But there will be a chance to rest properly, while the goods are under shelter." Tara, who had closed her eyes to conserve energy for the mage-work, opened them again in surprise. "I thought we're not stopping? The wine merchant told me we're only passing through. They're in a hurry to reach Northern before some festival or another." "Oh, we'll be there a while," the driver assured her. "They're checking the borders seriously now. For those creatures, you know, those flying squid things. The beasts those nomads flew in on. The Kikran." He said the word harshly, almost spitting it out. "They've found a fair few by now, I've heard." Tara's eyes widened. The nomads' strange beasts, the giant flying squid, had apparently laid thousands of eggs in the outer Eastern Islands, and they were hatching. There was no evidence of this in the city, but it did explain the increasing absence of fishermen's carts at the markets. Tara had always gone to buy fresh oysters on Saturday mornings, but they had been recently hard to come by, and expensive, too. Perhaps the rumors were true, and the Kikran were dangerous, as the Nobility seemed to think. Not that she knew any Nobility personally; but somehow court information seemed to always leak out and spread the city faster than a common cold. "The squid, or their masters?" she asked absently. The caravan driver gave her a strange look. "The squid. Maybe they've caught a few nomads too, but that's more around the Islands, I expect. Don't see how they'd come through the mountains unseen, let alone the city. Or why," he added thoughtfully. Tara shrugged, closing her eyes again and turning her attention to her magic. Kikran. The word sounded strange. Whoever they were, she had much more relevant issues to focus on than a people she'd never even seen and would likely never see, for they were being contained in the outer Eastern Islands. The only thing she'd heard that had really intrigued her was talk of the camouflaging capabilities of the creatures they owned. Flying squid! And ones that could practically turn invisible! The idea was bizarre. Of course, if they really could camouflage almost anywhere, it would explain why she'd never seen one, but then again - She felt the spell slipping. It was weighed down by the weight of the water oozing into it, and she caught it just in time with a wall of magic. She held the rain on the surface of her spell, pushing against it with her own. It was a matter of convincing it to fall elsewhere, to merge it with her Water nature - but it didn't want to. She sensed it was tired, like herself, and had traveled a long distance and just wanted to lay down against the ground and melt into the soft pull of the earth. Tara gritted her teeth. No, rain. No. Follow me. Come, come this way. She merged with it and pulled it away from the caravans, feeling a bit of herself trickle away as her nature flowed into the soil, taking the rain with it. Seeing her forehead knot in focus, the caravan driver left her alone and made his way down the line of cabins, inspecting the widening amount of dry space around the caravans with relief. He glanced back at the girl standing in front of the first caravan, her face pointed towards the sky and her hands clasped together as if in prayers. She could not be more than seventeen, he thought to himself, and wondered what on earth she was doing crossing the mountains by herself with group of loud and possibly dangerous merchants. Not that he distrusted the traders themselves, but they hadn't even brought a mage for protection against anything other than rain. He stared out into the surrounding vast darkness of the Forgotten Mountains. There were plenty of attacks in these parts, especially close to Luenca. The village had once been a fairly quiet little town, famed for its beautiful waterfalls and a favored vacationing spot for Nobility from Eastern city. But the Alliance between the Southern and Northern provinces had seen a new highway built down the centre of the mountain valley that led from the Southern border all the way to the Coralian Sea, passing directly through Luenca. The peasant village had found itself transformed overnight into a traveler's rest stop between the northern cities, Eastern city and the Southern provinces. Safe for Nobility, and those who could afford to hire protection mages. But this girl was clearly not Nobility; she was a working mage herself. Her Elemental nature was strong, he could tell, but not so powerful that she could stay up for three days and nights and not have her magic severely weakened. She must be absolutely exhausted, he realized with sudden concern, seeing her falter against the caravan window and stumble through the frame. He vowed he would let her sleep through Luenca, if he could. Tara woke abruptly. Noises seemed to be coming towards and away from the caravan simultaneously, making her head throb and her ears ache. Horse hooves on stone. The jingle of bells, and the squawk of angry chickens. Children laughing. Children crying. Shouts and singing. She sniffed the air tentatively, and a wafting odor of sizzling meat flooded her nostrils and her stomach growled involuntarily. They must be in Luenca, then. But the caravan walls, despite the thickness of the canvas, glowed and flickered as if from firelight, and Tara was confused. Surely it was daytime? It sounded like a market was in full swing about her. Tara sat up, yawning and rubbing her ears to adjust to the fury of the noise. She peeled the warm bearskin covers back reluctantly and wavered in the small space of the cabin, tugging at her tunic. She would have liked for a mirror, but merchant caravans were not built for traveling in style; it was lucky enough that she'd been given a proper bed, and a cabin to herself. So she contented herself with smoothing down her hair, rubbing a little salve on her lips, and then she peered out from the curtains. The market seemed to whirl by her and she reeled from the intensity of it. Strings of colored lights swung blinking under a black night sky, crisscrossing above swarms of people. Children ran clutching each other and dashing through crowds like schools of fish, scolded by market vendors who stood by their wares, shouting at the passer-by. The cobbled streets were lined with small carts and stalls, selling anything Tara could have possibly ever dreamed of, and more besides. She had been to the markets in Eastern city many times, but they were nothing like this. Never so colorful! It was almost like a festival in its extravagance. And the merchants here did not seem to be so interested in selling wares as in chatting and laughing with each other and bursting out into song. Tara had never seen so many differently dressed people, either. The common garb of Easterners, the simple tunic and pantaloons that she herself wore, was barely visible among the throngs of women draped in parrot-colored gowns and men wearing yellow half-coats. She thought she recognized a few Southern mages, too, not immediately from their attire but from their height, pale skin and dark hair, and gazed at them in interest; Southerners were fairly common, but Southern mages were not allowed to practice certain kinds of their magic in the Northern provinces, so they preferred to travel where their magic was not limited to Elemental laws. She suddenly thought she might be sick from the frenzy of the thing, and she withdrew quickly, sitting on the edge of her bed and shuddering. Her stomach gave another growl and she realized she had not eaten for half a day at least. She sat in the muted darkness, trying to summon the energy to emerge into the crowd, when the curtain swung aside and a face popped through the opening. It was not apologetic face of the caravan driver, as she'd expected, but the grinning burly one of the wine merchant. And, judging by unfocused gaze he was now fixing her with, he had been enjoying his own wares. He burped loudly and then, to her surprise, suddenly flew back through the curtain with a startled squeak. "What did I tell you!" came an angry whisper from the other side of the curtain. "I said to let her rest!" "She weren't asleep," growled the wine merchant. "She were just sitting there!" "You're a fool, and a drunkard. What did you want her for anyways?" Tara didn't wait to hear the answer. She flung the curtains open to reveal the wine merchant wriggling in the grasp of the caravan driver, whose face was more menacing than she'd ever seen him. The wine merchant smiled at her sheepishly, and the driver, who looked apologetic again, released his grip. The wine merchant shook his head vigorously and attempted to stand up straight without stumbling. "Beg pardon, miss," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to bother you." "I wasn't sleeping, anyways," Tara said. "I don't think I could have," she added, as a trolley full of caged piglets squealed by, pushed by a boy shouting out various prices. "Is this what Luenca is always like? I always knew it was a traveler's town, but I never imagined this." The driver opened his mouth to answer her, but the wine merchant snorted loudly and said, "Hah! This isn't Luenca yet, miss. It's not like this in there." "What do you mean?" asked Tara, alarmed by this. "Where are we then?" "Tis the night market, miss. It runs on the outskirts of the town. Takes a while to get in the gates now, so the market's running pretty big these days. That's why I was coming to get you," he explained gruffly, scowling at the caravan driver. "Customs officer is coming around to check papers, and I thought you'd have separate ones, being a mage and all..." he trailed off, losing his balance and stumbling heavily against the caravan driver.

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