Echoes of Ceotir

Finlay was packing his rucksack in the kitchen when Keira charged through the front door as though she lived there. Storming into the kitchen, she threw herself onto a chair beside him with enough force that she had to grab the table to stop herself from falling backwards.

“Good morning?” Finlay asked with a questioning tone as he continued his packing.

“Bad.”

“Bad morning?”

“Yes, very.”

“Why so—”

“Finnnnnn!” His question was both interrupted and answered by another voice from the hallway.

A small boy tumbled into the kitchen and ran to the table, bouncing around and peering inside the bag, Finlay was packing.

“I told you to wait outside.”

The boy ignored her and started rushing around the kitchen picking up various things he found for no obvious reason to Finlay. He watched the boy for a moment and then turned back to Keira who had her head in her hands and was busy muttering something under her breath.

“Tea?”

“Please.”

Finlay closed the pack and went to the pot that was already boiled in wait for her arrival. He strained some loose leaves that were from the same plant and company the canned versions they drank the day before were from but now hot and unsweetened. Keira's brother's appearance was normal as she was often forced to look after him, a job she was never happy with.

“Is he supposed to be coming with us?”

“No, after a heated debate with the tyrant, I made it clear I wasn't coming back today so he couldn't come either.”

She took the mug from Finlay in both hands and held it to her face to breathe in the aroma as though it finally allowed her to relax. He sat down drinking his own while he watched the boy, Marcas, run around the adjoining room.

“We have to drop him off at my grandparents, it shouldn’t take long.”

“That’s fine, we’re hardly on a tight schedule.”

“Not the point—” She put the mug down and turned to face Finlay, sitting upright and putting on an air of mockery. “Keira, you’re hardly busy now you’ve finished school, you could at least look after your brother for me.”

Finlay laughed as Keira flopped back into her chair with dramatic derision, and picked her mug back up. “I think she’s deliberately trying to sabotage my application.”

“Could be.”

The boy in the other room appeared to have found a book and had flung himself onto a big chair to look at it. Finlay wasn’t sure which book it was or if the boy even understood what he was reading, but given where he had taken it from it was likely one he had picked up from their last library visit.

“You know she’s just scared of losing you,” he said, looking back at her.

“Don’t you defend her, she’s a tyrant who wants a servant to look after the problem child.” She swung her arm around to point in the general direction of her brother.

“You’re the problem child!” The small voice from the other room yelled back at them.

“No one’s talking to you.” Keira snapped back.

Finlay couldn’t help but laugh and Marcas decided now was the time to come into the kitchen, still carrying the book he had acquired.

“It’s true, Mum says so all the time.”

“She says what all the time?”

“To Dad, she says you’re always fighting her, always causing problems.”

“Ridiculous, what a ridiculous woman.” Keira huffed and got up to start pacing around the kitchen as though she wanted to escape but was trapped by the source of her frustration. Finlay didn't want to press the issue but it seemed as though there was more going on than their normal arguments.

“See, you’re the problem child,” the boy insisted further, finally looking up from the book as he walked to Finlay’s side.

The book, he could now identify as ‘Overcoming the Divide,’ was a philosophical piece on the different realms of the world. There was a lot of debate over the nature of the spiritual world and he had wanted to make sure he was current in knowledge before his application.

“I’m going to take you into the mountains and leave you there.”

“Finn wouldn’t let you, he likes me.”

“He won’t like you much longer if you keep stealing his things and getting your grubby fingers all over them.” She snatched the book from the boy and checked it over before taking it back through to the other room.

Marcas froze, his hands outstretched as though she had stolen the most precious possession he owned and he couldn’t believe it had happened. Finlay patted him on the head and stood up to wash out his mug, it was an all too familiar interaction between the two siblings. Keira complained and made idle threats but he knew she was relentlessly protective over her family.

“Weren’t you bringing breakfast?”

Keira froze in the same way her brother had; standing in the other room, she seemed to be waiting for some spark of insight to take place and excuse her from forgetting the simple task. After a moment of silence that Finlay wasn’t willing to let go, she turned with a very deliberate smile. She was awful at hiding her emotions, and the smile was far too fake.

“I decided we’d be better picking up something on the way.”

“You forgot.”

Her eyes narrowed, “It was a deliberate decision so that I didn’t have to stay in the house longer than I had to.”

“I had breakfast before we left, mum never forgets,” Marcas was rubbing salt in the wound but Finlay wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or just the voice of a child.

“You weren’t included in the breakfast plans anyway.”

“It’s fine, I was in the mood for a pretzel anyway," Finlay said, letting her off the hook.

“Oh! I wonder if they’ll have those fried cinnamon sugar ones.” Any hint of despair and the fake smile disappeared, replaced by a very genuine one.

“So if not morning cake then just straight fried sugar?”

“Sweet people require sweet things.”

"Not sure that's how it works."

She strode across the room, and rinsed her mug in the sink, ignoring his comment. Then she grabbed her brother by the collar who squirmed and complained with a desperate need to be free and pulled him to the doorway.

“Are you ready? Let’s get going.”

*****

Finlay wheeled his bike around to the front path where Keira was waiting with her own. Electric bikes were common among the villages of Aberana. Most people used the main tram system when going between villages or into and around the city. However, once you went beyond the outer ring, you’d generally be travelling cross-country or on rough trails and bikes were the most efficient transport.

For Finlay, it wasn’t about being efficient or convenient, he loved his bike and the freedom it gave him when he could take it out in the country. But even more, he loved to tinker and often experimented with parts to improve it. Keira loved her bike for a different reason, going fast. He often tried to convince her to let him work on it but she was as protective of it as she was of her family.

Marcas was already on the saddle, swinging his feet back and forth as though he was about to jump off. Keira was too busy tucking her long hair under a jacket she hadn't worn in the house to notice—until the boy almost fell, and instinctively she caught him.

“You’re going to melt wearing all that,” Finlay said as he pulled his bike up to hers.

Keira was wearing black leather gear, made from a mycelium that grew in the western forest with giant mushrooms that were big enough to sit on. They pressed the strange fungus into a leather-like material that had become so popular that it had replaced animal leather.

Both her trousers and jacket were matching, though the jacket had a bright yellow design over the right shoulder. She had found the colour and painted the wheel guards and the mount for her battery in the same yellow which gave an iconic appearance.

“Have to set a good example to the kid.”

“I’m sure that’s the reason.”

“Looking awesome is a plus,” she grinned before pulling on her helmet and equally yellow gloves to complete the ensemble.

Finlay couldn’t bring himself to wear full gear with the heat he knew was coming, instead, he wore normal cargo trousers and a light grey top. He still put on his helmet, gloves and boots but otherwise had accepted whatever fate would befall him.

“Can’t I ride with Finn?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the reason you’re getting.”

Marcas sulked as Keira swung herself onto the bike behind him, reaching around on either side to grab the handlebars. He wasn’t wearing any special clothing but did have a cycle helmet on and Keira wouldn't ride fast with him. Finlay got on his bike and with a nod the three stepped off.

The roads were easy to travel, the tram system was enough for most people and while it was simple it was efficient. There was very little other traffic, with only the occasional transport truck but most delivery companies had adopted drones so they were only seen when carrying large loads.

While people milled around heading to work, they kept to the paths on either side of the road and were easy to avoid. The villages weren't designed with any particular intention as they were ever expanding with new refugees. The southern village was the oldest and so was built with fewer people in mind but buildings had become more compacted together over the years as the population increased. There was a simple approach to building here, while the houses were smaller and close together, the main streets were left wide for easy access which allowed a comfortable ride as they travelled.

The buildings were colourful, both from the variety of stone and brick and the various paint colours that people had chosen to use. Being built as individual places whenever the need arose, there wasn’t any particular uniformity to them. This gave way to different shapes, heights and often quirkier designs. A lot of houses became useful landmarks that people relied on for general day-to-day descriptions to the point it was now common to include eccentricities in their designs.

The frustration Keira had felt seemed to disappear as they rode and she started to play with Marcas. First, he got to steer the bike and she flung her arms out to her side like wings. After, they tried to do a wheelie though it was a laughable failure. Finlay felt that was deliberate as he knew she could do them though wouldn't want to risk it with Marcas on the bike. They were weaving around and sped off whenever it was clear to do so.

The two were having so much fun that Keira completely forgot to stop at the pretzel stand. Finlay hopped off his bike, kicked the stand and watched as the two disappeared around a corner. He walked over to the man and his cart, they always set up near this spot as there was a park behind it that extended down through a few streets and was a common place for morning walkers.

The man was still setting up but was cheerful and happy to take his first order of the day. Finlay took a large sea-salted pretzel and two cinnamon sugar ones for the others as well as a few bottles of water that he packed into his bag. It was at that moment that Keira and her brother appeared back around from the corner and raced over beside him.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” she said as Marcas laughed.

“You’re in luck, enjoy your sugar fix,” he handed the pretzel to her and the other one to Marcas who beamed back at him.

“You’re a star,” she said, taking the pretzel before helping Marcas off the bike.

As she took off her helmet something clicked and she bolted to the pretzel stand. A moment later she returned with a small paper pot of warm melted chocolate that Marcas immediately reached for.

“Addict.”

“Chocolate’s good for the soul and even better for cinnamon pretzels.”

As they ate, they wandered around the park without much intention. Marcas had spotted a set of swings not far from where they were and immediately charged towards them, half-eaten pretzel in mouth and chocolate-covered fingers ready to make a mess.

“You know, as much as you complain, when we move to the city I think you’ll miss him.”

“The sticky-fingered noise machine that can’t sit still for five minutes?”

“Yeah, you love him really.”

“Probably.”

After they finished eating and Keira had chased Marcas around what seemed like every inch of the park trying to catch him, they went back to their bikes and set off again.

They continued at a steady pace for the rest of their journey. Marcas had hit a sugar crash and was now dozing on the bike which Finlay had started to suspect was Keira’s plan all along. When they finally found themselves reaching the edge of the southern village, they turned off the main road to find a smaller street where Keira’s grandparents lived. Though there was a distinction between the villages, there wasn’t any hard line that separated them as over the years of growth, they had all merged together. The differences came down to economic production as people tried to live close to their work.

Most farming for the entire region came from the western side as there were large areas of open grassland used for fields beyond the houses. While Keira’s grandparents lived in the southern village, the farmlands had extended far beyond this point. Fields of a golden wheat crop surrounded the back of their street and it framed their house under the bright morning sunlight.

As soon as they stopped, Marcas awoke from his sugar daze and squeezed out of Keira’s constraints to run to the front door. Before he could charge through, an elderly smiling woman who had strikingly similar features to Keira caught the boy. She pulled him into a gentle hug and patted his back as she looked over to the two on their bikes. After a pause, she walked along the path from her front door to talk to them, having transitioned the energetic boy from a hug to holding her hand so that she could guide him with her.

“Good morning dear, and hello Finlay.”

“Morning Mrs M—”

“I had a chocolate-covered sweet pretzel and got to steer the bike and the—”

“Now child, what have I told you about interrupting others, especially when they’ve been so good as to bring you here," the woman scolded.

Marcas froze mid-sentence from the stern look she had given him, though her words sounded as gentle as though she were tucking him into bed. The hardness of that look faded as he settled and she turned back to them with her original, calm smile.

“Would you like to come inside?”

“Sorry, we don’t have time, strict schedule and all that,” Keira responded with an abrasive tone.

Marcas looked as though he was about to say something but decided against it. Although Finlay had mentioned there was no rush back in the house, Marcas, having been scolded for interrupting, appeared to have decided that staying quiet was better than pointing this out.

“Are you sure you can’t fit five minutes into that tight schedule? Your mother has been…” She paused and brought a finger to her lips as though trying to find the right words. “Worried about some decisions you’ve made recently that I’d like to talk to you about.”

She had glanced at Finlay and he considered if those recent decisions had involved him but couldn’t think of anything unusual. He had always gotten on well enough with Keira’s family though it was true that she was closer to his dad than he was to her side. However, that was because she was more often at his than he was at hers and he simply didn’t see them as much.

He had met her grandmother many times over the years and they were always friendly, he had fond memories of her letting him help with her baking when he was young. But he was also familiar with her sharpness; there was a certain quality, a tone she could have that seemed to make the rest of the family fall in line. Though Keira always seemed a little more resilient than the rest of them to it.

“No time, sorry. You can tell your daughter to stop worrying so much. I’m great.”

“Don’t be that way, Keira, and if not now then perhaps you can make some time on your way back to stop in and talk with me.”

“Nothing to talk about, everything’s fine like I said.”

There was silence, a silence that seemed unwilling to leave as the woman stood there with that same calm, pleasant smile, unwilling to accept Keira’s response but feeling no need to say any more. It was uncomfortable and Finlay wanted to say something, to break this strangeness but as he was about to suggest they get moving…

“Well maybe, if it’s not too late I’ll stop by,” Keira finally broke.

“That’s settled then, when you come back, we can talk then. I’m sure Finlay will manage to make it home alone from there.”

With that, she turned and ushered the boy back to her house, who waved goodbye for the full length of the path. In one motion she had managed to direct Keira into an important conversation with her and made it clear that Finlay wasn’t invited. Keira groaned as she realised the same and immediately pulled away on her bike to race off as fast as she could, leaving Finlay to follow behind. It was finally time for them to leave Aberana and start their real journey into the mountains.