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Chapter One

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Maedoc grabbed the ends of his shirt, wiped the dried clay off his hands, and waited for the moment that would define his existence.

This is what he had been told to expect. If it had been anyone else, the boy would have shrugged it off in an instant.

How could anyone know something so personal and grand, much less promise it? That’s what he would have thought.

Only thing is, it hadn’t been anyone else. It came from the only man the youth would trust with such a statement. It came from Cynwrig.

He was an older man. That’s what his grayed beard and wrinkles suggested. Beyond that, it was hard to say. Was he 50? Was he 90? He claimed to have forgotten it, and no one else had a clue. Despite his years he was surprisingly spry, and his slight frame did nothing to slow his boundless energy. Once his mind was set, it seemed no force on Aunios could stop him.

As far as the boy knew, there wasn’t a finer individual in the entire village. Born brilliant, he had the uncanny ability to sort a struggle out the instant it crossed his path. Rather than capitalize on the public and make himself a tidy fortune, he found it more entertaining to keep his sights on the little, individual puzzles people found themselves in. Their village was small, and so most everyone had experienced the “Cynsation”, as he termed it.

As if on cue, a striped blur sped past Maedoc’s feet. It rattled its way down the grassy hill, off towards the village shore. A mix of legs, wheels and dangerous inclinations, this peculiar cat was one of Cynwrig’s many clients.

His name was Mern, and he was fearlessly driven to accompany any boat that allowed him entry. Year after year this behavior persisted. The sailors couldn’t make sense of it, but they obliged him just the same.

During one rather nasty morning, a strong wind blew his craft into the one adjacent. There was a crash, and he became the unlucky owner of two broken hind legs.

It took less than a day for Cynwrig to rig up a harness with wheels so he could get around. He knew the cat loved the water, so he fashioned it from waxed wood and straw. Cynwrig believed this would help Mern float upon submersion, and he was right. The daredevil feline now swam even better than before.

The man was an impressive fellow, certainly, but he was far from normal. His conversations meandered in a thousand directions, weaving a quilt of confusion for most anyone who engaged him. Children, oddly enough, had no difficulty keeping up.

Another quirk was his penchant for odd liquors, which he distilled himself in the mill he currently occupied. Celery infusions, black pepper pints packed with spicy intoxicants no one but him dared to drink. One could never predict what a sip might next entail.

The lad eyed the mill as it turned slowly in the gentle breeze.

Seems the man could never be in one place for long. Prior to the mill, he lived in a shack near the lake. Before that, a hut high on the mountain. How did he stay warm up there? A restless icy wind reigned in those parts. Maybe that’s why he moved down?

Normally Maedoc would have no issue being his pawn for the evening. He loved helping him out, for it was never a boring endeavor.

Yet he stood there on the man’s doorstep, feeling haunted.

After locking himself in his house for almost a week, Cynwrig had emerged looking rather disheveled. This was typical attire for him, true, but that wasn’t what bothered the boy. He couldn’t help but notice something was different about him. His eyes, usually warm, had the strangest concoction bubbling behind them.

They were usually so effortless and easy-going. Giddy, and perpetually entertained. Yet on this night Maedoc didn’t see any of that. They were bewildered. Too serious. And it may have been the wavering torchlight, but he detected something else… was it the smallest tinge of fear?

He shook his head. What’s it worth to get all worked up? This was a man he respected, and loved. Besides, he had never felt more needed than he did now. He was a little shaken, yes, but excited all the same.

A clinking of metal, a grunt and a loud crash broke the brainstorm. He was tempted to enter and check on him. It would be a fine excuse to barge in, for he had already been waiting a good 20 minutes, but he knew Cynwrig hated people barging in. The place was always banging, clinking, crashing and grunting anyways. He would wait until he was called for.

A cold drop hit his cheek. Maedoc turned and gawked up at the sky. He had been eyeing it during his work in the fields. Dark clouds had crept ever closer during the past few hours. Looked like the storm was just about to start.

How long are you going to take, Wrig?

At that moment the door opened with great speed, startling the boy. He turned to see an impish face peek out from the shadows. Maedoc saw no concoctions behind these eyes, but instead his signature expression of pure, unadulterated excitement.

“About time you got here! Look at that sky, glorious ain’t it?” He stuck his head out and grinned at the darkening clouds. His gaze fell to Maedoc and his face straightened.

“You brought what I gave you last night, yes?”

Maedoc dug his hand into his pocket and fetched the requested item. What emerged was a hunk of something or other, about the size of a small plum. The color, a dull green. It was an object he had accepted and, as teenagers often do, promptly forgotten about. He showed it to Cynwrig, who flashed him a grin.

“What is this stuff anyways, Wrig?”

“I like to call it Aether. Now get your butt in here!”

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End of Chapter One

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ACQUIRED:

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ITEMS

– Aether

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TECHNIQUES

No additions

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LORE

No additions

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RUMINATIONS

No additions

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[sf_button colour=”black” type=”standard” size=”standard” link=”https://aetheric.org/aethretics-saga-chapter-2/” target=”_self” icon=”” dropshadow=”no” extraclass=””]Chapter Two[/sf_button]

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