Chapter 27: Gathering What Was Left Behind

Let us set aside the mage's memories for now; Ved first took the mage’s belongings. He stripped off the mage’s robe—a rare piece of fine cloth, still barely worn, and far too precious to waste.

As for the staff, there was little reason to take it. The entire length was riddled with holes from the moss that had grown over it and eaten away the wood, leaving it fragile and split in two by the force of battle. It was nothing more than a broken stick. Ved simply pried out the fractured gemstone embedded in its tip.

The gem was the size of a goose egg, a dark, murky green, dim in color and dusted with grit. At its heart ran a jagged crack, like a frozen fissure, bisecting the stone. Tiny runes were carved upon its surface, though it now held no trace of magic.

Perhaps the thing was already ruined, but as a rare artifact of artifice, it was worth keeping as a curio. In the future, if he ever managed to pass through the Door to the outside world, perhaps he could discover to which culture those inscriptions belonged—learn the wand’s origin. That way, Ved might gain some understanding of his own predicament.

He cared little for history or culture, but he did wish to leave this wasteland behind. The environment here was harsh and treacherous, fraught with constant peril, and sunlight was nowhere to be seen. Though he was a skeleton, and required neither the comforts nor the necessities of the living, he could hardly claim to enjoy this barren place, where even sleep brought no peace and possessions were few.

To find a way out, it was necessary to study this gemstone.

Ved tucked the fractured gem into a pouch he had found. From the mage’s remains, he had recovered three pouches in all: one for the gem, and into the other two he scooped up the glowing moss from the ground.

These were likely seed pouches to begin with, containing a tangle of white mycelium and a few seeds that had begun to sprout inside. Ved stuffed the two pouches full; the glowing moss was scarce, but just enough to fill them. He tied all three pouches securely and strapped them to his ribs.

He left no moss colony behind in this corner. After sifting through the mage’s memories, he understood that this place was not well-suited for such extraordinary plants to flourish. The patch had only managed to grow thanks to some spell the mage had cast before dying.

Prior to Ved and Mia’s arrival, the remnants of the mage, the staff, and the moss had maintained a fragile magical balance, permitting the moss to survive. Now that equilibrium was broken. If the moss were left here, it would wither and die soon enough. Better, then, to take it all and see if it could be cultivated elsewhere.

Ved took his time, stripping the mage’s remains of every useful item. A nearly new magic ring, a goose-egg-sized fractured gemstone, two pouches of glowing moss, a mage’s robe, and a pair of high boots—a bountiful harvest.

He put on the boots at once, laced them tightly around his leg bones, stamped his feet, and found them tolerably snug—certainly better than walking barefoot on the sand.

Before leaving, Ved gathered the mage’s bones, removed the round shield from the left arm, and swept sand over the remains. Mia, imitating Ved, floated down and burrowed into the sand with her diminutive body. She accomplished little, merely rolling about, but seemed delighted, so Ved let her play as she pleased.

He built a grave for the mage—burying a skeleton hardly took much effort. Having taken so much from the deceased, it was the least he could do. He was well accustomed to digging graves for other skeletons; before, he had usually just buried cracked skulls. This was his first time interring an entire body.

To keep the sand from being scattered by the wind, Ved pressed down firmly with his foot. Mia bounced atop the mound, which was, in essence, dancing on the grave. Ved picked her up, took the broken staff, and planted it in the sand as a headstone.

It was time to hurry home—he hoped no wind would rise on the way.

He tied the mage’s robe around his waist; it now hung like a skirt, concealing his lower half. Then, shouldering the thorny branches he had found, he left the corner and set off.

The wind was rising again, but not yet fierce. Ved quickened his pace, took a stance atop a sandy slope, bent his knees as if skiing, and, using the boots as makeshift sleds, slid downward among the great thorns. Long ago, he had learned to ski and knew how to keep his balance. Pity there was no smooth plank to use; sliding on boots was harder, and with his present control over his body, he nearly fell at the bottom.

Perhaps he could fashion a board, Ved mused. As he walked, he considered what could be made from today’s finds.

His vision blurred with dust; the wind-blown sand made it difficult to see. He untied the seed pouch with the gem and motioned for Mia to hide inside, lest she be swept away by the storm. The little ghost dove in, burrowing about before peeking her tiny head out, hands clutching the edge to look outside. She seemed to like the pouch well enough and did not float back out.

Ved told her to stay hidden, then braved the sandstorm on his way home.

At least he managed to return before the worst of the gale began. Soon he saw the stones blocking the cave entrance.

Just in time. Ved strode down the slope, moved the stones aside, and slipped into the cave.

He had barely set down his things when the howling wind began outside. Ved did not idle; he immediately propped up the thorny branches to reinforce the frame of the shelter. He simply pressed the branches against the cave’s edge to help support the weight; lacking a saw or knife, he had to make do for now.

Even so, it worked well enough. On either side of the cave entrance, he built two “thorn walls” that held back the loose sand. For the roof, he had Mia freeze the sand in place for now. About a third of the thorn branches were unused; he set these aside and unpacked the moss.

The faintly glowing moss illuminated the cave. Ved carefully cleared a patch of sand in the back and spread the moss there. He took several thorn branches and made a small square fence to keep the moss from being trampled.

Perhaps they would need water to thrive. Ved had seen the mage water them with blood, but lacking blood, he would try water instead.

As for a container, he picked up the scale. Its rippling concentric patterns formed a hollow, much like a bowl. That was why he had used it as a shovel. It would suffice for now—he could find something better later. He placed the scale beneath the blocks of ice; when they melted, he would have water.

Water... Ice...

Ved glanced at the mage’s robe and at Mia, hiding in the seed pouch. Inspiration struck. Perhaps now he finally had a way to tailor the robe.