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Part 2: A Shaman's Calling

The slums.
It was the streets themselves.
The filthy labyrinth of alleys.
The dank, dirty world around him.
The world that he was birthed into, the world that provided for him, the world that stole his mother, the world that now harbored him in it's dark and secret places, the only world he knew.
This world had a life to it, and it was beckoning to him.

He couldn't make out words. No, in fact, there was no audible sound at all. It's call was a pull in his mind. A word lost on the tip of the tongue. A memory that danced just out of reach. A sensation that caressed the edges of his being, and it sparked a yearning to move.

Curiosity peaked by the sensation, Arden followed its guidance, wandering the lost and secluded recesses of the streets. He followed the sensations through the faded glimpses of memory, climbing down the sewage tunnels tread by none. He followed the inaudible whispers, traversing the narrow gaps between the oldest of buildings. He followed the unspoken words in his mind, clearing away the loose rubble and bricks from the back of a forsaken guardpost he had never before set foot within. And he followed the itching anticipation up its spiraled stairway, through the vacant dusty cobwebs of decades past.

A wooden door nearly rotten off its hinges hung sparsely by a strand of old rope at the stairs' end. And silence. The guidance, the beckoning, the call from the world - gone. Arden eyed the door with scrutinous interest. So… whatever was behind here, this was what the slums had directed him to. This was what the spirit had urged him to find. He placed his hand upon the aged wood of the door, and gave a soft push.

The boards crumpled as the rope gave way, what was left of the door's rustic construction toppling to the floor, splinters dully dropping down the steps behind him.

What awaited before him was a dim and dreary room. It wasn't big, maybe 10 feet wide, circularly walled to match the tower steps below. Sections of the floor were missing, the floorboards either damaged or rotted away. Four windows positioned at the cardinal directions let in dismal beams of sunlight that barely fought threw the thick webbing and dust which hung in the air.

Not a bad place, Arden figured, testing the floor cautiously before taking a step into the room. Looking out the window, he saw the walls of surrounding warehouses. This tower must have been constructed ages ago, when the slums weren't the slums but were the main streets and heart of the city. Back then, guardposts like this one overlooked the whole city. But, then taller and taller buildings were made, and taller guardposts made these old things outdatedly worthless. Most of them were taken down, or converted to storage centers. Judging by the abandoned warehouses that boxed in the post's perimeter, it would seem that this one was simply lost to antiquity: Too hard-to-get-to to make good use of, or even demolish for that matter. From the state of the steps and the room, it looked like nobody had set foot in this place for.. Well ever.

This would make a good home. Arden extended a foot and tapped, testing another step ahead when a faint sound suddenly registered in his ears. A soft sound, rhythmic, faint, not even a whisper. Was it, breathing?

Arden crouched, instantly consumed by waves of irritation and embarrassment. How had he been caught so off guard? His eyes darted across the room and his hand reflexively moved to rest over the dagger at his side as he tried to pinpoint the sound. There was no place suitable for hiding, no place he could duck for cover.. But.. no place that anyone else could be hiding either.. This didn't make sense. He focused. He could hear breathing, he was sure of it now, but, the room was empty - What gives?

Cautiously he ventured forward, still crouched. Another step forward. The breathing was raspy, weak. Another step. The boards below him creaked loudly, and he winced at his own missteps. Whoever was here, if they didn't hear him before, they most certainly did now.

He continued forward. The source was coming from behind a small box just ahead of him against the wall of the room opposite the entrance. Slowly, carefully, he craned over the box, dagger ready.

"Oh.. hey…"

Arden gawked in surprise as his eyes fell upon a small man, maybe nine inches tall, sitting on an old folded sheet with his back propped against the back wall, wearing what looked like a kilt fashioned from old grass. His body had a dim, grey glow about it, barely noticeable save how it faintly illuminated the dust around him. He looked back up at Arden weakly, as if it took a great effort just to move his neck.

"Been a while since I've seen anybody up here" the man said. Two moth-like wings slowly lifted from his back, and he took in a deep yawn as he stretched his arms wide.

"Been a while since you've eaten anything too, I'd guess?" Arden scrunched his nose as he looked the figure over. To say he was lanky would be grossly misleading. The little man was so thin, his spine was visible through his stomach. His arms were barely more than rough noodles, his ligaments strained and sinewy. His ribs protruded making his form look barely lively enough to escape the term 'skeletal'.

"I could spare a goodberry if you need" Arden shrugged.

The figure looked him over and nodded his head slowly, and Arden fingered a berry from his side pouch, then placed it in the man's lap.

With great effort, the tiny man lifted the berry to his face. It was the size of his head, but he took a large bit out of the side. A thin line of juice spilled down its side, dripping into his lap as he chewed the mouthful of magical sustenance. Instantly, he looked more lively. There was no visible difference to his shabby shape, but the single bite brought a spryness back to his demeanor, and the pale grey glow about him became suddenly more vibrant and blue.

"Not a bad berry" he nodded consent, and indulged in another mouthful before letting the berry roll to the floor. "You must be the one the spirit called, yeah?" The man stood, taking just a moment to verify his balance, before flickering his wings and rising into a hover.

"You heard the spirit too?" Arden asked curiously. "Are you a shaman?"

"Nah, I'm no shaman" the figure stretched its arms and legs as it fluttered a bit higher. "But you must be. See, I'm not doing too hot here. This place, see, it ain't a place you can make it alone."

"I'm making it alone" Arden snuffed in an unamused retort. Seeing no threat from such a meager creature, he sat down and let himself ease a bit.

"Ah, but you wouldn't. Not for long" the figure insisted. "Nobody could. Or, more, nobody should have to. And that's why you're here. Looks like the place took a bit of pity on you. Or, maybe it finally took some pity on me" he shrugged, letting out a reluctant chuckle.

Arden raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked, taking another glance around the room.

"I'm what you'd call, a.. A buddy, a chum, you know? Like a guide, a familiar pal."

A familiar? The term sparked a tender memory. Arden's mother spoke of a familiar that she once had, long ago before he was born. Some kind of cat. She said it helped her communicate with the spirit who assisted in her healing. She could work without it somewhat. Still, she had missed it dearly. Arden always wished he'd had the chance to see for himself what her magic was like with her familiar around, but only had her stories to go on.

"So, who's familiar are you then?" Arden raised an eyebrow, still darting the occasional glance about the room.

"Well, yours" the figure said flatly. "Name's Merrows. Merrows the sprite, at your service" he grinned, fluttering close and extending a hand.

Arden looked the man over; head to toe he was a pitiful sight to behold. Emaciated and frail, and yet, Arden felt a strong connection. There was something to this meeting. This partnership, founded and endorsed by the world around him. What could it hurt, anyways. Arden gave a shrug and extended a finger. "Arden" Arden announced as he shook his finger with the sprite's hand.

"Alright then, Arden and Merrows," the sprite grinned deviously. "We're gonna take this town like a storm."