Excerpt: Rough Cut

Em'ril looked up from his journal when a motion out on the sands of the Barren Wastes caught his attention. After a moment, he could see that a tiny figure was trudging its way through the shifting sands towards the border between the Barren Wastes and the arable land.
Finally! His patience was about to pay off. He had set up camp nearly two weeks ago on the plateau where he had first noticed the green shimmer in order to meet the source of the renewed Gemstones - for Renewed Gemstones was what he had finally concluded had to be the origin of the gray-green desert shrubs that had appeared where there should be no life at all.
He carefully set the ancient history book, from which he had been taking copious and detailed notes, back into the small trunk. After securing the front flaps of his tent and picking up his prepared knapsack and walking stick, he started down the hill towards the figure crossing the sands.

Creek was so intent on his journey that Em'ril's sudden appearance in the middle of the dirt path was a complete and total shock. He stopped short and just stared at the man in front of him without making a single sound. The man steadily looked back, also without speaking.
His first instinct was to turn and run. He knew these woods so well that he could easily lose the stranger if he tried to pursue him. That was immediately followed by the realization that running would only heighten the stranger's curiosity about him and would only cause him to continue to seek him out.
The only thing Creek knew for sure at this moment was that he had seriously endangered himself by not preparing for this possibility. His next thought was that he would NOT return to the outside world for any reason whatsoever. He would lose himself out in the Wastes first, even if it meant his own death. With that decision made, he waited for the man to explain his presence in this unpopulated region.
"My name is Em'ril." The man said, then waited for Creek's response.
Creek did not give him one.
"I assume you have a name?" Em'ril asked after a long moment of silence.
"I would rather not give it."
"At least not until you are certain of what I would do with the information," Em'ril replied easily. "I can appreciate your caution." He shifted his gaze to the sands behind Creek for a moment before returning his eyes to Creek himself. "I noticed that you were crossing the Barren Wastes. That is not a usual path for most people."
Creek recognized the hint for what it was, and debated his answer. "I am not most people."
Em'ril smiled, but it took Creek a moment to realize that it was a genuine smile. "That is obvious. I am not most people, either, much to my sister's chagrin. She often wishes right out loud in my hearing that I would stop spending so much of my time out in the middle of nowhere."
In the silence that followed, Creek waited for Em'ril to speak again, then shifted his feet uncomfortably as the silence dragged on and on. It seemed that Em'ril was waiting for him to speak next, but Creek had no idea what to say. Finally, he simply blurted out the truth. "I have tasks I must be about doing, so unless there is something else you wish to say or to know, let me pass."
"There is something I wish to know but I cannot think of a polite way to ask - very unusual for an Elf, as you may know - so I find that I must simply be blunt and hope that you will not take offense."
Creek warily nodded, immediately deciding that if he did not want to satisfy the Elf's curiosity, he would not do so.
"I noticed that there is a new patch of life out there in the Barren Wastes. Am I correct in thinking that you might have something to do with it."
Creek shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Oh, come now. I just saw you walking directly from that very spot to where we now stand. Shall I tell you what I think?"
"I don't suppose that I can truly stop you." Creek knew his expression was growing unfriendly, but he did not care. If this man... Elf... thought he was going to invade Creek's refuge, he was about to have another thought coming to him.
"I think that you live out there in the Barren Wastes. And I think that you brought some Gemstones with you and they have now spilled over into the area outside your home. The question I cannot answer is why you would choose to live there. It cannot be easy."
This was dangerously close to the truth. Creek felt panic rising up. Without thinking, he reached up to hold his Gemstone necklace with one hand. "I don't want to answer any of your questions. And I would greatly prefer that you simply forgot you ever saw me."
"You are rather young to be a man on the run."
"I am older than I look. Are you going to turn me in?"
"Since I don't know your name, that would be difficult. Even if I did know your name, it would still be difficult. You have clearly been out here for a long time, and you could have come from anywhere in the world before that. I'm not sure that whatever reward there may be for your return would be worth that much effort."
Creek started. He hadn't even considered that a reward would be offered for his return. Then he smiled wryly to himself. There was no reward. No one offered rewards for the Incurable Mentally Unstable.
"If you don't want to turn me in, what do you want?"
"As I said before, I am curious why there is new life out in the Barren Wastes and what, if anything, you have to do with it."
"What does it matter?"
"How long have you been out here?" Em'ril answered his question with one of his own.
"Long enough. Why?" Creek made his voice hard.
"Then you probably don't know what has been happening to the rest of us." Em'ril waved one arm to encompass the whole rest of the world. "The Gemstones are breaking down more and more often as the months go on. Crops are poor or failing, people are either starving or dying from plagues, the Barren Wastes continue to eat up more land, Gemstone mines are playing out and very few new ones are being found. In short, the entire world is beginning its death throes. If we do not find a solution, and soon, all life will die out. Including you and me."
"Not me." Creek answered without thinking.
Em'ril looked intrigued. "Not you? Why is that?"
Creek was furious with himself. He hardened his jaw and glared at the Elf. "I'm done here. You would be wise to forget you ever saw me." He turned on his heel to leave, and found himself jerked back around.
"I cannot forget that I saw you. Or that you have somehow managed to bring life back to the Barren Wastes," Em'ril declared flatly. "My world is going to die and you just might be the key to an answer."
"Why should I care about a world that doesn't care about me?" Creek shot back angrily.
"Because, for good or bad, it is the only world either of us has."
"I have my own world. I don't need yours!"
"And what happens when you die? There will be no one left to carry on. Or do you have a family hidden out there?"
"I am prepared to walk out there right now and lose myself in the Wastes. I will not go back to your world."

Em'ril was stunned by this flat declaration, then a great fear rose up that this young stranger would do just that before he could be persuaded to change his mind.
"I would not force you to do anything that you are so strongly against," he told the young man gently. "And I truly understand the need to be alone. But you may hold the key to my dying world and I am desperate to save it. Have you ever had a Gemstone shatter right before your eyes?"
That provoked a reaction from the young man. Em'ril saw a flash of pain, quickly hidden by wary shadows.
"I am a Master Craftsman Forger. I have broken Gemstones by an ill-placed cut or an unworthy setting, but I have never before had Gemstones simply shatter or crumble to dust for no reason at all. This is what is happening right now in forges and workshops, healing houses and family homes every single day across our world! Gemstones are failing everywhere and no one can figure out why. And you, you who have somehow brought new life to a long-dead land, may hold a key that perhaps you are not even aware of. And you would destroy that key before we can even learn whether or not it will work?"
The young man stood absolutely still, but it was clear that he was furiously thinking through everything Em'ril had said. One hand again crept up to hold his necklace, and it was only then that Em'ril realized what the necklace was made of. He lifted his eyes to the young man's face with a new respect.
Few people could tolerate direct contact with a single Gemstone for more than a day or two at a time. This young man wore a necklace made of seven of them! And had for a very long time, if the fraying of the tightly woven strands and his habitual reaching for it were any indication.
"How do you do that?" Em'ril heard himself ask.
A frown creased the young man's forehead, but the wariness did not leave his eyes. "How do I do what?"
"That necklace, do you wear it every day?"
"I never take it off. Why?" A bit of the wariness was replaced by puzzlement.
"How do you tolerate it?"
The young man looked like he didn't understand the question. "What do you mean? Tolerate what?"
Em'ril let an awed smile touch his lips. "Young man, I do not know anyone who can tolerate a Gemstone's direct touch for more than a day or so. A single Gemstone's touch. You are wearing seven that you say you never take off. How long have you worn those? If I may ask." Em'ril added the last with a tone of deep respect.
The young man hesitated, then said quietly, "Six years. I've worn them constantly for six years."
Em'ril didn't know what to say to that.
"I feel sick if I don't wear them," he admitted shyly.
Em'ril really didn't know what to say to that. "That is incredible. And that much contact doesn't hurt you?"
"Hurt me? My Gemstones would never hurt me!" the young man finally looked as astonished as Em'ril felt.
Em'ril did not miss the possessive descriptor, but he did not comment on it. Clearly the Gifts this young man possessed were rare and unique. That only cemented his growing certainty that he held the key to solving the Gemstone crisis. All he had to do now was gain the trust of a young man who had been so hurt by the outside world that he had created his own refuge of safety in a place where no one would ever think to look for him.
Em'ril wanted to laugh. That's all? How did one befriend a young man who already possessed everything he wanted and had nothing left to lose?